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slashthedrabble May. 7th, 2009 12:01 pm)
shinodabear.livejournal.com posting in slashthedrabble May. 7th, 2009 12:01 pm)Title Confess
Fandom: Merlin
Prompt: 067 Secrets
Rating/Warnings: R; Second person POV. First attempt at a pwp in a very long time.
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin (established something or other)
Disclaimer: Nothing here belongs to me.
His hand skims across your back. He has something to tell you; you choose to lean your face towards him, to show him that you wish to listen. His hand settles on your shoulders, fingertips pressing into the hollow between bones; you shift closer and the heel of his hand pushes you forward, ever so slightly. Your foot moves before your head can decipher the message; you’re walking down the corridor soon after, his footsteps echoing behind you, falling into your own. You close your eyes, his silent, urgent whispers circling your thoughts, swirling them with a force that heats your blood, thrums in your chest, steals your breath.
You turn on your heel and he surges against you, pushing you into the nearest (darkest) alcove. His hand is at your shoulder again, joined by another at your waist. The hand at your shoulder sneaks underneath your collar, the one at your waist dips under your hem. Your eyes fall shut; you exhale.
He inhales, stepping in to press his thighs against yours. He pulls back your collar to expose your shoulder. He kisses it, gently, then traces his tongue along the bones. Your head falls back with a sigh; he mouths the column of your neck, pressing and sucking insistently. He’s needed to tell you this for a while now. He’s probably spent all night thinking about this. With a firm hand to his back, you tell him you’ve thought the same, rolling your hips forward as he sinks his teeth into the flesh at the joint of your ear and neck.
A noise escapes your throat, high-pitched with need; you’re an attentive listener. He grins into your neck, maneuvering one leg between your thighs, straddling one of them. He thrusts forward, hiking your shirt up past your chest, greedily scrawling indecipherable messages over your ribs. You’re very glad you’re having this talk; it is most enlightening. You show your gratitude, pressing your leg forward, grabbing his arse and pulling him closer. From here, you’re starting to lose the conversation. His fluid movements begin to stumble and your clear cries turn into harsh, ragged breaths. Your hand is shaking when it comes to tangle in his hair; you weren’t expecting this to end so quickly. His hand clamps down on your shoulder again, a forceful reminder that he needs to tell you something. You bite you lip against your own confessions, hard enough to taste blood.
You pull his face towards you; his eyes are clear. you breathe out as he breathes in, two bodies struggling to remain in one cohesive motion, but failing. For all this, your gazes never wander. There are words buried in them, somewhere and if you just look deeper –
It ends with one rigid tremor, your fingernails digging into his scalp, his fingers burrowing into your shoulder. Unexpectedly, your mouths brush together as you collect yourselves. Your fingers entwine just as unexpectedly. You freeze; he stops breathing.
“Arthur, I –”
“Merlin, I –”
Fandom: Merlin
Prompt: 067 Secrets
Rating/Warnings: R; Second person POV. First attempt at a pwp in a very long time.
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin (established something or other)
Disclaimer: Nothing here belongs to me.
His hand skims across your back. He has something to tell you; you choose to lean your face towards him, to show him that you wish to listen. His hand settles on your shoulders, fingertips pressing into the hollow between bones; you shift closer and the heel of his hand pushes you forward, ever so slightly. Your foot moves before your head can decipher the message; you’re walking down the corridor soon after, his footsteps echoing behind you, falling into your own. You close your eyes, his silent, urgent whispers circling your thoughts, swirling them with a force that heats your blood, thrums in your chest, steals your breath.
You turn on your heel and he surges against you, pushing you into the nearest (darkest) alcove. His hand is at your shoulder again, joined by another at your waist. The hand at your shoulder sneaks underneath your collar, the one at your waist dips under your hem. Your eyes fall shut; you exhale.
He inhales, stepping in to press his thighs against yours. He pulls back your collar to expose your shoulder. He kisses it, gently, then traces his tongue along the bones. Your head falls back with a sigh; he mouths the column of your neck, pressing and sucking insistently. He’s needed to tell you this for a while now. He’s probably spent all night thinking about this. With a firm hand to his back, you tell him you’ve thought the same, rolling your hips forward as he sinks his teeth into the flesh at the joint of your ear and neck.
A noise escapes your throat, high-pitched with need; you’re an attentive listener. He grins into your neck, maneuvering one leg between your thighs, straddling one of them. He thrusts forward, hiking your shirt up past your chest, greedily scrawling indecipherable messages over your ribs. You’re very glad you’re having this talk; it is most enlightening. You show your gratitude, pressing your leg forward, grabbing his arse and pulling him closer. From here, you’re starting to lose the conversation. His fluid movements begin to stumble and your clear cries turn into harsh, ragged breaths. Your hand is shaking when it comes to tangle in his hair; you weren’t expecting this to end so quickly. His hand clamps down on your shoulder again, a forceful reminder that he needs to tell you something. You bite you lip against your own confessions, hard enough to taste blood.
You pull his face towards you; his eyes are clear. you breathe out as he breathes in, two bodies struggling to remain in one cohesive motion, but failing. For all this, your gazes never wander. There are words buried in them, somewhere and if you just look deeper –
It ends with one rigid tremor, your fingernails digging into his scalp, his fingers burrowing into your shoulder. Unexpectedly, your mouths brush together as you collect yourselves. Your fingers entwine just as unexpectedly. You freeze; he stops breathing.
“Arthur, I –”
“Merlin, I –”
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