Title: A White Hot Beacon
Character/s: Arthur, Merlin
Summary: The date winds its way back to Arthur's flat...
Word Count: 1147... SORRY.
Author's Notes: I'm glad I had these breaks, it means I've got the perfect prompt for this part!
They barely touch in the taxi. But Arthur is so pretty, Merlin can’t help but look. Little glances over at Arthur’s profile, the perfect lines of it against the gloss dark of the window. Arthur doesn’t stop looking outside. Merlin doesn’t know if he should be disappointed about that.
They pull up at, presumably, Arthur’s building, and Arthur pays before grabbing Merlin’s hand, squeezing it firmly as he tugs Merlin out of the taxi. They leave through Arthur’s passenger door, awkward for Merlin, but it keeps him close to the warmth of Arthur, and he doesn’t have to let go. Arthur doesn’t look at him as he guides Merlin into the lobby of his building, but there’s a tension to him, a wired anticipation, so Merlin doesn’t mind. He barely looks around in the lobby; it’s cleaner than his building, more open, but Merlin has no eyes for potted plants or scattered chairs. Arthur’s there, and he draws all of Merlin’s attention, like a beacon, white-hot and wonderful.
Arthur presses the lift call button; there’s a low ding and it lights up, a small blue up arrow. Merlin giggles a little at the suggestiveness of the image. Arthur catches his eye for the first time, and he smiles before biting his lip, mind clearly slipping to other things. He takes Merlin’s hips in his hands, holding just slightly too hard, and leans in fast to kiss Merlin. It’s a searing kiss, hot and hard and full of teeth, Arthur nibbling at Merlin’s lower lip almost immediately to coax his mouth open, plundering it with his tongue when Merlin gasps. Merlin can’t help but cling to Arthur, one hand combing through his hair, the other spread flat over his back, creeping lower, keeping him close.
Arthur can’t stand the distance between them. The cab ride was too long by far, with Merlin just there, fading in and out of focus in his reflection in the side window. He’s beautiful, devastatingly so, an unearthly look with eyes that seem too bright, cheekbones Arthur is afraid he’ll cut himself on, and his full, kissable lips. Arthur needs to be closer, so as soon as he can, as soon as he has a moment to, he takes Merlin in his hands and he kisses him, almost desperate.
Because Merlin is like nothing he’s ever seen before. Strangely gorgeous, and playful, but reserved. A contradiction that Arthur can’t help but want to solve. And when he kisses him, it’s perfect. Merlin’s mouth is warm and soft, his lips as full as they look, and Arthur has to have more, has to take.
When the lift doors open, Arthur can’t bear to let go. So he does the only thing he can; he catches Merlin behind his thighs, and he lifts, bundling Merlin into the lift, where he can continue to ravage his mouth. He presses Merlin up against the wall and plunders all he can; Merlin’s mouth falls open and all Arthur can feel is satisfaction that he’s affecting Merlin in this way.
When the lift opens again, Arthur breaks free and heads to his door. He unlocks it, quickly, and pulls Merlin inside.
“We skip the tour,” he says, “Straight to bed.”
Merlin doesn’t seem to be objecting, so Arthur leads him through to his bedroom. It’s a spacious room, dominated by the view out over the city. The bed faces the window, so Arthur can look out to the skyline when he wakes. It’s not an overtly personal space, decorated in the height of minimalist fashion, but executed properly with a richness of materials and a splash of colour from the deep red bedding. There are a few personal items, too; photographs, tacky souvenirs from famous cities, ornaments clearly bought for him and not by him, positioned across the room. The bedding is far from neat, and there’s an obvious pair of boxers abandoned on the hard wood floor. Arthur kicks it, surreptitiously, under the bed before pulling Merlin down to kneel over him and kiss him.
Arthur slides his hands under Merlin’s shirt, rucking it up before unbuttoning the top couple of buttons and pulling it off. Merlin’s hands are all over him, and he feels his own shirt being loosened before he pulls back to help Merlin take it off. Merlin’s chest almost glows in the half dark, it’s so pale. It’s narrow and Arthur can almost feel the ribs beneath the skin. That only goes to make Merlin feel more precious, so when Merlin pushes to get him to lie down, he goes easily.
It seems to Merlin that Arthur is careful, that he doesn’t press anything. He moves slowly, though that could just be through a reticence to let go of him. It lets Merlin get carried away, lets him undo Arthur’s trousers, desperate to see the shape of his cock, and scrabble to get them down as Arthur lifts his hips. When Arthur’s hands travel to his waistband there’s only a little reticence before he gives Arthur access, nerves giving way to pure lust.
Because Arthur is beautiful, and if his kisses are anything to go by, he’s just as talented as he boasts on his profile. When they’re both naked, moving slowly together already, Arthur kisses his way over to Merlin’s ear, and he shivers as the words break over him.
“I want you so much. How would you like it?”
“Want you to fuck me,” Merlin murmurs. Arthur all but growls at that, and it sends butterflies through his stomach, even as Arthur rolls them over and presses Merlin into the mattress.
Arthur reaches out for the lube, and goes to pour out a generous amount, only to hear a squeaking sound, with a jet of air shot at his palm. Merlin looks at him, and his eyes sparkle as he laughs. It catches on Arthur’s heart, but he ploughs on, shaking the bottle until the cold liquid squeezes out onto his palm. He pushes Merlin’s legs further open – and with that movement it’s not funny any more. Merlin bites his lip, and his pupils blow with want. It’s all the permission Arthur needs to press in with his finger, to open him thoughtfully, with reverence.
When Merlin is ready, he presses in, slowly at first, carefully. But Merlin wraps his ankles around Arthur’s back and pulls him in, kisses him until he speeds up and Merlin gasps in each breath. They come, Merlin first, with Arthur’s hand on him, then Arthur following in long, hard strokes.
Arthur cleans up quickly, then pulls Merlin into him. He’s usually not one for cuddling, but tonight – he doesn’t know why but he can’t do anything but hold Merlin, close, his nose in Merlin’s hair so he can sense him, even with his eyes closed, the warmth of him, the feel of him.