Title: Two Sides
Character/s: Arthur, Merlin
Summary: Damn Gwaine. Damn him, damn the stupid bet, and damn Arthur's inability to turn down a challenge. All Arthur had to do was acquire one of the club's tokens as proof that he wasn't "scared of having a little bit of fun." Then he could get the hell out of there.
Warnings: BDSM, maybe slight dubcon
Word Count: 997
Author's Notes: Because I've always wanted sub!Arthur and dom!Merlin.
Anyone could see Arthur was completely out of his element, and that in itself scared the hell out of him. More than the whips and chains that decorated the poorly illuminated walls, more than the blaring music that reverberated in his eardrums, more than the sea of gyrating bodies that were practically naked save for the odd scrap of leather or lace.
He stuck out like a sore thumb in his finely tailored suit--he cursed his decision to come straight from the office instead going home to change--and as he pushed through the crowd towards the bar, he could feel eyes boring into him with confused interest.
Damn Gwaine. Damn him, damn the stupid bet, and damn Arthur's inability to turn down a challenge. All Arthur had to do was acquire one of the club's tokens as proof that he wasn't "scared of having a little bit of fun." Then he could get the hell out of there.
Problem was, he wasn't sure how to get one of said tokens.
He flagged down the bartender (a man who probably set off metal detectors with the amount of piercings in his face alone), ordering two shots and downing them quickly. He nursed the third, relishing the burn in his throat as he turned his attention towards the center of the club.
Between the dancers writhing in cages that looked like something out of the Dark Ages, there was a couple performing on the stage area. The man was on all fours, wearing only a g-string and a ball-gag, while the woman was dressed in a skin-tight vinyl suit and stilettos. She smacked his ass with a rod, his hips thrusting upwards in the air for more.
Disturbed by how much the sight turned him on (and how he easily could imagine himself in the man's place), Arthur tore his gaze away and ordered yet another drink.
"You’ll want to slow down on those."
Arthur spun around to face a pair of the bluest eyes he had ever seen. They seemed to glow brightly even in the dimness of the club, belonging to a man that looked to be around Arthur's age. Even if his tousled ebony hair and fey-like features suggested otherwise.
In fact, he would have been just out of place as Arthur if not for his attire. He wore no shirt, displaying lean, wiry muscles and pale, ethereal skin of his upper torso for all to see. A dragon tattoo curled around his left hipbone, the inked tail dipping underneath the hem of pants that hugged his body like a second skin. They left nothing to the imagination, and Arthur caught himself staring at the prominent bulge tucked in them before jerking his head upwards.
"Excuse me?" he snapped, hating how his cheeks flushed. "Just who the hell are you?"
"I'm Merlin." Arthur stared at the hand thrust in his direction. "And I said--"
"I heard what you said, Merlin," Arthur snorted. “Who’s going to make me? You?”
Merlin just grinned, an unlikely predator sizing up an oblivious prey. "I can," he said, holding up one of the club's trademark coins betwixt two long, slender fingers. "If you let me."
The stupid coin was the only reason Arthur agreed, and definitely not because Merlin's voice held a promise that sent a frisson up Arthur's spine.
Arthur was seriously reconsidering the life choices he made up to that moment. He was in the midst of determining where exactly he went wrong--he suspected Gwaine was involved somehow--when there was a sharp tug to his scalp. Tears sprang immediately to his eyes as he was forced to lock glances with Merlin, whose own eyes burned like the hottest of flames.
"You're thinking, Arthur." Besides instructions and safety words, they had exchanged full introductions once in the sanctity of a private room. "What did I tell you about thinking?"
He was used to giving orders, not following them, and he was just about to say that when there was another yank on his hair.
"Fuck!" he shouted, not knowing how it could hurt so much but feel so damn good. He shamelessly rutted against the table he was lying on, craving any sort of friction against his erection straining at the front of his pants.
"I said no thinking, no talking, and no pleasuring yourself." Merlin's hands left Arthur's hair, and Arthur mourned the loss. That was until he felt those dangerous and delicious fingers tighten the knot that bound his wrists together, using his own tie no less. "Do I need to tie down the rest of you too?"
"That won't be necessary," Arthur croaked, his tongue slithering out to moisten his dry, cracked lips.
"'That won't be necessary'," Merlin mimicked with a throaty chuckle. "Listen to you. You're the lamb that's wandered into the wolves' den, and yet you still think you're the lion."
Merlin grabbed the coin, a wooden slug imprinted with the club's logo, and placed it between Arthur's teeth. "Bite down, and don't let go," he commanded. "Not until I'm done with you."
Too far aroused to argue, Arthur let out a moan as the hem of his trousers and boxers were then jerked down. He almost dropped the token at the paddle’s first strike across the fleshy globes of his ass, choking back the cry that bubbled in his throat. The sting left him feeling delirious for more, and before he could recover from the ache, the paddle came down again.
Faster and faster the strokes fell, his hips involuntarily twitching with each one, until he couldn’t hold back his climax anymore. A strangled sob erupted from his lips, and he shuddered as the coin bounced to the floor.
“So good,” Merlin murmured as he kneaded Arthur’s tender flesh, “And that’s only the beginning.”
Arthur cried out again, this time in anxious anticipation.