Title: Ways of War
Character/s: Arthur, Merlin,
Warnings: Bondage, dub-con
Summary: They weren't supposed to be doing this. They were on opposite sides. That didn't ever stop them.
Word Count: 999
Author's Notes: I had such fun with Victory, that this is almost a prequel to it.
Arthur strode into his tent, flushed with pride on their victory. They had just driven back the enemy once and for all, and the commander of the opposing army was bound and already waiting for him in his tent. He would show them precisely where they belonged and make sure the man had no intention of rising up. But one glance over his prisoner had Arthur’s heart stuttering.
The man had been stripped and his limbs bound to four posts that had been driven into the ground, spreading him out for Arthur’s pleasure. But his eyes were smouldering as he glared up at Arthur and there almost seemed to be a smirk unfurling over his lips as his eyes ran over Arthur’s body even as the commander shrugged off his jacket.
“What’s your name?” Arthur demanded and the smirk only grew.
“Merlin. You must be Arthur, I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“You should treat me with respect,” Arthur informed his prisoner, not really sure what to do when the man just threw back his head and laughed.
“Of course, Sire,” he murmured, voice dripping with sarcasm. Arthur continued undressing, aware that he was beginning to flush under the man’s gaze. Merlin was at his mercy, so why was Arthur the one feeling self-conscious? He finished undressing and went and knelt by the man.
“You know I have to do this,” he muttered, never quite understanding this ritual but knowing the same would have happened to him if their positions were reversing. The opposing leaders had to be claimed. Merlin smirked, craning up against his bonds and licked a nipple.
“Get on with it then,” he responded huskily and Arthur decided he had had enough of the man’s complete lack of care about what was about to happen. He had had enough of trying to be reasonable. One hand curled around Merlin’s neck, angling his head away so that he didn’t have to look at his captive as he thrust in. His eyes widened in surprise – the commander was slick and ready. Arthur rocked a few times, causing Merlin to gasp and his eyes to flutter shut. But just as he picked up a rhythm, a noise from outside the tent made glance over his shoulder.
And by the time he looked back, Merlin’s eyes were flaring gold as his bonds snapped. His hands rested on Arthur’s shoulders, pushing him back and straddling him, never once letting Arthur slip free of his body. Arthur groaned. Of course the man was slick – he knew what would happen if he got caught. And if he got caught, the army had someone right in the centre of the opposing camp, probably with his rival commander. Arthur had just let it play straight into his hands, but before he could say anything, Merlin’s eyes flashed again. This time, it was Arthur’s hands that were pulled above his head and Merlin produced a knife. He rested it against Arthur’s throat even as he rose up Arthur’s cock right to the end before slamming back down again. They both groaned as he repeated the actions, his thighs trembling with the effort of riding the commander yet keeping the knife steady.
“You think we will ever be defeated that easily?” He grunted, picking up his pace as his fucked himself on his jailer’s cock. Arthur tried to call out, tried to do something to make sure his army was ready, but only grunts could fall from his lips as he found himself nearing completion.
“May as well let you die happy,” Merlin murmured, slamming down one last time and pushing Arthur over the edge. His cock twitched in the other man’s body as he came, panting as if he had just run a mile. But through the haze that was his mind, he was aware of Merlin raising the knife to bring it slashing down over his exposed chest.
Arthur craned forward the same way that his supposed captive had first done. It was the only thing that he could think of doing, but Merlin dropped the knife as Arthur’s lips closed around his cock. He hadn’t pulled off yet and Arthur could feel himself stirring again as he sucked. Merlin’s hand came to grip Arthur’s hair, but the bonds fell free. Arthur didn’t move too much, leaving himself embedded in Merlin but propping himself up on his elbows slightly and running his tongue teasingly over the man as he hollowed his cheeks.
“Fuck it…” Merlin muttered, his back arched and his head tilted back as Arthur sucked him off. He seemed to have forgotten about killing Arthur, or even getting word to his own army. Arthur wondered quite how soundproof the tent was as Merlin came down his throat with a hoarse yell, finally pulling off and collapsing down beside him. Both simply lay there in a panting heap and Arthur knew he had to look as wrecked as his so called prisoner.
“Go out the back of the tent, you’ll come to the forest,” Arthur muttered, blinking at how hoarse his voice was.
“You’re letting me go?” Merlin was still panting and that gave Arthur a stirring of satisfaction.
“You let me go,” Arthur responded, gesturing to the knife. Merlin sighed as he stood up, finding his clothes in the corner of the tent and beginning to dress.
“Why?” He asked, one hand already stretching out to the back of the tent but pausing as he glanced back at Arthur. The commander shrugged.
“Haven’t had a challenge for years,” Arthur bluffed and Merlin smirked knowingly. Something told him it wouldn’t be long until he found himself in Merlin’s camp. And the idea of being tied the way Merlin had been, waiting for the commander to come and claim him sent something of a thrill through him and his eyes darkened. Merlin lent forward and kissed him.
“Don’t get killed.”
And just like that, he was gone. But Arthur knew this was just the beginning.