sickTitle: Safety in Pleasure
Rating: R
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur,
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur,
Summary: He just didn't have the energy to maintain control of the situation.
Warnings: Mild sexual content
Word Count: 1000
Prompt: Approval
Author's Notes: I'm ill; this is the result
Arthur entered the dimly lit room and looked around him. After five victories on the battlefield and plenty of mead later, he had given into his knights cajoling and allowed himself to be led to the nearest brothel. He knew the men had been visiting on a regular basis but he had forced himself to remain disciplined. But with the Saxons firmly on the run now, he knew it was time to join them in the celebrations.
But his smirk soon disappeared. His men selected their partners of choice (some surprised Arthur, others were predictable) and disappeared. Soon, the entrance where Arthur was standing was filled with the sounds of pleasure. Yet there was nothing that caught the eye of the king. None of the girls touched upon his wife, nor the noblewomen he had buggered growing up, and the only lad there looked like he would rather bite off Arthur’s cock than suck it.
Then his eyes fell on the man behind the counter, the one who had aided his men in selecting their partners due to what pleasure they wanted. Arthur felt his eyes darken as he pictured the owner on his knees for the king. He had pretty features, but a spark in his eye that meant Arthur knew he wouldn’t bend over willingly. Still, surely the king had to have someone better than those on option for his men? He approached slowly.
“You.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’ll have you.”
“I am not in the offer, My Lord. This is my establishment, I’m not one of the workers.” His retort was quick and his eyes narrowed in refusal. Arthur, however, just felt a throb begin to pulse in his trousers.
“And I’m the king so technically I own this establishment and you are one of my workers. If it is you I want, it is you I shall have.”
The man stared at him, clearly working out if he could refuse and still keep his establishment or even his life. Arthur made sure his expression hardened; he was a war-hero king, he was not about to be denied by some brothel owner. Eventually, the man gave in and he jerked aside a slight curtain behind him.
“Through here,” he muttered. Arthur followed him through and had to wonder how many others tried to request the owner considering how quick he had been to refuse. There was no fluster, he had dealt with requests like that before.
“Most of them still know me from the days where I worked here on the other side of the counter,” the man answered and Arthur suddenly blinked to realise he had voiced his thoughts out loud. “My name is Merlin.”
“Arthur,” the king muttered, then finding himself flushing. He had been wanting to keep his pride, wanted to stay firmly in control of the situation. But as Merlin stripped, Arthur felt himself flush in arousal even as exhaustion washed over him. It was a strange sensation, and he wasn’t sure which he wanted to win out.
“It’s been a long war, hasn’t it?” Merlin practically purred, and Arthur suddenly realised the man was practically on his lap. He made a startled noise and Merlin chuckled before pushing him back to lie on the bed. Arthur complied, and lethargy washed into his limbs at the feeling of the warm blankets and pillows underneath him. If Merlin had indeed risen from being just a whore, he must have been one of the best to receive tips good enough to own the place.
His thoughts stopped there, however, when a hot mouth engulfed him and Arthur didn’t have a choice but to buck his hips into the waiting heat and groan deeply at just how damn good it felt.
He spilled quickly; Merlin was right about it being a long war. But as Merlin climbed onto the bed next to him and almost started rubbing against him like a cat, Arthur found that he was too tired. Merlin seemed to sense his mood for he sat up.
“Are you alright?” he asked bluntly, and Arthur suddenly knew why he had done so well. Many a nobleman enjoyed being put in their place when they were away from Court and if Merlin had this confidence with the king, he must have had the nobles eating out of the palm of his hand. Not to mention everyone knew they were the best tippers.
Arthur made to try and take control of the situation, only for a yawn to escape him. Merlin chuckled, slipped off the bed and pulled on a robe that just about covered him. Then he climbed back on the bed and pulled a blanket over them. Before Arthur knew what was happening, his head was resting in Merlin’s lap and the man was stroking fingers through his hair gently.
“Why don’t we just talk?” he murmured softly. “Or I’ll talk until you fall asleep. I can’t be that interesting the amount of people who tell me to shut up and use my mouth for something else.”
“You have a talented mouth,” Arthur murmured before blushing. He couldn’t say what it was, but there was something about Merlin that truly met his approval. He wouldn’t mind spending time with the man; not just in bed (because hell, right now he wished he had the energy to see the look on Merlin’s face as the man rode him) but in general. There was a story behind those blue eyes, a story he very much wanted to know.
“I’m told I’m talented elsewhere. Some even describe me as magical,” Merlin whispered seductively and despite his exhaustion, Arthur felt himself stirring with interest. But he sighed and shook his head. If word got out to his men about this, he would be a laughing stock.
“Just hold me,” he whispered. “Please.”
He didn’t expect Merlin to do as he was told, but the man did without complaint and Arthur slept deeper than he had done in months.