Author's Note: So, this fic was the product of the Haiti disaster (silver lining, people. Silver lining. Even devastating earthquakes can elicit amazing porn) I auctioned off a story for Haiti Relief donations at one of the LJ sites and after a vicious bidding war (slight exaggeration), the winning bidder (Micolerose) decided to use the story as a gift to our dear friend Alaerys. So, to make a long story longer (as I'm so fond of doing) she gave me a list of Aly's kinks and this story was born. Many thanks go out to Deb (D7Shimmerz) for her beta work, and I hope you all enjoy it.
A hand muffled Merlin's surprised shouts as several strong arms gripped him and doused his sight with a blindfold. He'd been sleeping peacefully, minding his own business when a clattering by his bed had him bolting upright, groggily but more awake than he cared to be. Try as he might, Merlin was given no chance to identify his attackers before his eyes were covered in scratchy fabric. With a swiftness that frightened him, his limbs were tied together forcefully and he was hoisted over a broad shoulder like some sort of damsel in distress. This probably irritated him more than being woken up prematurely. Almost. He had no idea how long he'd even been sleeping, but it still felt dark out, so it couldn't have been long.
As ridiculous as it might seem, in that moment, Merlin's biggest worry wasn't that he'd been unceremoniously kidnapped from his own bed, but that his morning erection was grinding into his captor's shoulder. He hoped that the man didn't notice, although judging by the way he was being strategically jostled so that he rutted against the man's shoulder blades, he assumed that his kidnapper was either oblivious, or liked it. He couldn't decide which was worse.
"Arthur will have your heads for this," Merlin warned after yawning widely.
A coughing laugh erupted from the man carrying him, but it was a voice behind them that spoke.
"You expect us to believe we have anything to fear from the prince? Arthur Pendragon doesn't care about his servants."
"You're wrong," Merlin snarled and his abductors went silent. He couldn't tell how many there were, only that there were at least three including the one holding him, but there could have been a whole troop and he'd never know. He wondered vaguely how long it would take to get the blindfold off after incapacitating the man holding him, or if he should start with the one behind him and then worry about the one whose shoulder he was practically fucking. Before he had a chance to plan any further, Merlin was thrown gently into a rigid chair and he could feel someone in front of him laying their hands on his thighs. He tried not to find the posture erotic and failed.
"Want me to take that off?" the man asked, and Merlin nodded, trying to figure out how he knew that voice.
Arthur's face slowly swam into focus as the fabric fell away and Merlin jolted at the sight. Behind him, the knights of Camelot flanked their prince and Merlin started to worry. Had they discovered his magic book? Had someone seen him perform a spell and turned him in? He wasn't sure if seeing Gwen, Morgana and Gaius there as well should be a relief or another reason to be concerned. Had they all gathered to watch his execution?
"What's going on? Am I in trouble?" he asked softly, and Arthur chuckled darkly.
"Should you be?" the prince asked, blond eyebrow arched in question.
Merlin tried for scoffing laughter, but it came out more like a donkey braying. "Certainly not."
Arthur's face became serious as he addressed his manservant. "Certain information has come to my attention, Merlin. Information that you've been keeping from me."
Merlin's heart thundered in his chest. "I can explain!"
"No need," Arthur said, holding up a hand to silence the young warlock. "Gaius has told me everything."
"Gaius?!" Merlin shouted, his eyes flicking to the guardian who refused to meet his gaze. "Everything?"
"Yes, Merlin," Arthur replied levelly, still leaning on Merlin's trembling thighs. "Everything."
Merlin wanted to struggle in his binds but he knew it was no use. Panic laced through his veins like icy water and suddenly he didn't want to squander a single breath.
"So, I'll ask you only once," Arthur continued, staring down at Merlin's increasingly paler form, "Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday?"
"I couldn't tell you! Your father would have –wait…what?" Merlin stammered. "My birthday? All of this is because of my birthday?!"
"Surprise!" came the shout of what was apparently twenty people or more gathered there to celebrate. It would have been touching if not for the rapid pounding in his chest.
"You are such a prat!" he decided at last, glowering up at Arthur.
"Is that any way to treat the man who threw you a surprise birthday party?" Arthur chided.
"No, but it's the way to treat someone whose kidnapped me in the middle of the night and left me bound in a chair while they went on like they were announcing my death sentence," he countered.
"What could you possibly worry about? You're the most mundane person I know," Arthur pointed out. "Although, I suppose my father might have made being an utter bore punishable by death. Should I check?"
"See," Merlin growled. "Prat."
Arthur laughed and moved out of sight as he ducked behind him. "Promise not to lash out if I untie you?"
A chuckle met his ears, soft and almost sweet and Merlin had to swallow back his attraction to that sound. It certainly wouldn't do to let the prince know how much he affected him. But then another thought occurred to him.
"Er, which one of your goons carried me here?"
"That wasn't a goon," Arthur quipped. "That was me, and I must say, you're heavier than you look. And bonier too."
Merlin laughed, trying to mask the sound with a cough while Arthur grew eerily silent, as if he'd just realized his gaffe. "Right. Up you go," he said and helped Merlin to his feet, both of them oblivious to Morgana near a row of goblets with a vial in her hand.
"A toast to the birthday boy!" she announced, handing a glass to Merlin and another to Arthur. "You'll get my gift tomorrow," she added with a saucy wink that Merlin couldn't even begin to understand.
Well into the night, Merlin danced, laughed, ate and drank with his friends to celebrate another year passing and another year alive. It seemed a lifetime ago that he was still living under his mother's roof in Ealdor. He'd made a life for himself here in Camelot and he generally enjoyed it. If he could only crush his inappropriate attraction to his Sire, everything would be perfect.
He couldn't help but notice Arthur as he worked the room like a pro. One day that obnoxious man was going to be a great king. Merlin had scoffed when the dragon first told him that, but little by little, Merlin started to see the power Arthur carried and the soul buried within that inconveniently lovely body, and he knew the dragon was right.
Merlin had no idea what time it was when he began yawning uncontrollably. Arthur came over and clapped him on the back, teasing that Merlin was obviously too old to stay up late anymore.
"You're older than me," Merlin pointed out, which Arthur seemed to deftly ignore.
"I'll escort you back to your room," Arthur offered and Merlin ducked his head to hide his flushing cheeks.
"That's fair, since you're the one who stole me from it earlier," he chastised.
The two men walked in silence and Merlin couldn't decide if it was uncomfortable or not. There always seemed to be a kind of tension lingering between them and Merlin's could easily be explained away by his secret crush, but he couldn't place the origin of Arthur's discomfort. Although, it was just as likely that Merlin was imagining any tension on the prince's side. He was just a quiet guy, unless he had something to say or he was heckling his manservant.
They reached the door to the chambers he shared with Gaius and waited. For what, he didn't know. Was he expecting some sort of goodnight kiss? He rolled his eyes at the very thought of it.
"I didn't even say anything for you to find annoying," Arthur chuckled, apparently catching the gesture.
"Sorry," Merlin sighed. "It wasn't…it wasn't you."
"I assume Gaius is already in bed," Arthur mentioned.
"I would imagine so. He left the party sort of early and I can't imagine it was to go have drinks with Uther."
Arthur nodded, a subtle smile on his lips. "So, I'll see you tomorrow then? Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?"
"My hair will likely be bushy, but my eyes will not be bright. And you can't be cross with me over it because it's all your fault," Merlin reminded him.
"I'll try and go easy on you then," Arthur sort of promised.
Merlin's hand trailed over the door latch, wishing there was some way to delay his departure, but things were already growing awkward. "Well, goodnight," he said at last. "And thanks for the party."
"No thanks for the kidnapping?" Arthur pressed.
"No. None. In fact, next year, you could just send me an invitation or something like a proper royal prat."
"We'll see." The prince winked at him gallantly, sending Merlin's chest into violent flutters, and then he turned away. With a deep breath Merlin opened the door carefully and quietly so as not to wake Gaius. All his effort was ruined, however, when Arthur shouted over his shoulder, "Oh, and Merlin? Happy birthday."
With a grin, Merlin slipped inside and padded softly to his room, visions of Arthur swimming in his head. And finally, in the wee hours of the morning, Merlin was permitted to snuggle into his bed and sleep without the fear of abduction.
Nothing had managed to go right all day. First, Gaius woke him up early and asked if Merlin had remembered to tell Clive Smithson not to take all three of the roots he'd delivered the day before. Merlin had opened his mouth to say that he most certainly had remembered and that he was offended that Gaius should even ask. He then planned to run off and tell Clive right away, since he had of course forgotten Gaius' instructions. Only instead of an adamant denial, he'd told the whole truth and nothing but the truth. "I got distracted and I forgot," he'd admitted, figuring he'd deserved the swat to the back of the head Gaius dealt him.
Then again, at breakfast, Gwen was complaining about her weight. She asked Merlin if he thought her dress seemed a bit snug and Merlin had told her 'yes'. He was mortified the moment the word left his mouth. He hadn't meant it, or rather, he hadn't meant to say it. He knew well enough that one never said that to a woman, even if it was true. He couldn't explain why he'd agreed at all, but it had Gwen storming out of the room in a huff, Merlin sputtering after her with feigned apologies.
Unbeknownst to Merlin, something similar was happening to Arthur. Twice he'd offended Uther by calling him a royal boob for wanting to waste the Knights of Camelot to round up various people known to have past affiliations with people who used magic. Arthur reasoned that if he kept doing that, they'd have all of Camelot imprisoned and that the king himself would have to be sentenced to death.
Clearly, Uther didn't like this train of thought and voiced opposition and sent a grumbling Arthur to his room. When Merlin finally joined him there, he was met with a bitter mood.
"I need you to make my bed, stoke the fire and polish my boots," Arthur ordered as if there hadn't been friendly revelry between them just hours before.
"I don't really feel like it," Merlin answered honestly, and Arthur looked up, fire in that icy blue gaze.
"What?" The prince seemed baffled by Merlin's brazen answer, but his eyes were locked on Merlin's lips as he stalked over, closing the distance between them.
"I said," Merlin clarified in a louder tone as if Arthur were a small, deaf child, "that I don't really feel like it."
Merlin couldn't breathe. It was like all the air was being sucked from his body and the limited space between his and Arthur's face. He was so close. Why was he so close? "Merlin. Are you going to polish my boots or aren't you?" Arthur asked again, his voice low and gravelly.
"I'll polish something for you, but not your boots," Merlin seethed before clamping a hand over his mouth, his eyes going wide. He didn't know why he'd said that, but it was too late now. Arthur's eyes narrowed to calculated slits as he stalked forward and banished the tiny gap between them.
"You're insolent, Merlin," he hissed. "And a terrible servant. Completely useless."
"Then why am I not in the stocks?" Merlin countered angrily. After all the times he'd saved Arthur's arse, after all the jokes and fond times they'd shared, their entire dynamic always seemed to boil down to this. Arthur was the future king, and Merlin was merely his manservant, destined to bend to Arthur's will.
A growl escaped Arthur's lips, heady and intoxicating and Merlin might have swooned on the spot if not for the prince's strong arms pinning him to the door. And then there were lips and tongue and biting and moaning and Merlin had no idea where it had all come from or how he could stop it or if he even wanted to stop it. Teeth scraped along his jaw and Merlin groaned, his head lolling back to give Arthur access to his throat.
Heat rose inside of Arthur at the gesture of trust and he pressed his teeth lightly to Merlin's pulse point, sucking at the flesh there and delighting in the salty taste of it. He tore at Merlin's clothes, the sound of ripping fabric like music to his ears, made only more delicious when coupled with Merlin's needy gasps.
Somewhere in the melee of bruising kisses, Merlin found his need rising to meet Arthur's in every direction. He grappled with the blond's tunic, trying to tear it away as Arthur had done to his, but his physical strength was no match for Arthur's and he was far too distracted to try and perform magic. For that matter, Arthur was being significantly more attentive than usual and he doubted the use of magic would go unnoticed.
The need for flesh on flesh contact didn't end just because he was incapable of shredding Arthur's clothing to tatters, however, but the prince seemed to understand his dilemma. He took a knife from his belt and sliced through the rich fabric, tearing it at the seams until it fell away from his body and to the cold, stone floor.
Then he used it to free Merlin of his trousers.
Arthur didn't seem terribly careful with the blade as he slid it swiftly between Merlin's tender thighs and the course material, but the prince never nicked him even once. Merlin knew he'd ruined a perfectly good set of clothes, but in that moment he didn't care, because the feel of cool steel against his delicate skin made Merlin's throat go dry and he was forced to wet his lips with a flick of his tongue, an action that Arthur's gaze followed intently. Within heartbeats Merlin found himself pressed once again to the backside of Arthur's bedchamber door, his lips ravaged by the prince's greedy mouth.
A hot, wet tongue slipped between them and there was no halting it, no blocking it from breaking through. Merlin felt utterly exposed at Arthur's every touch, every taste, but he yearned for more. He found his hands fisted in tousled blond hair and he hadn't even known how they got there, only that he loved the snarling groan Arthur made with every minute tug.
Arthur's stubble scratched against Merlin's face as he pulled away and pointed to the fur rug on the floor. "Hands and knees," he ordered his manservant. "Now."
Merlin had never before scrambled so quickly to obey. His heart was thrumming in his chest, unsure of what was about to happen but certain he wanted to stick around and find out. Arthur stalked toward him like some graceful cat eyeing his prey, his nimble fingers already unlacing his trousers.
His servant caught only a glimpse of the prince fully nude before Arthur was behind him and out of sight. The first thing he felt was strong fingers prying his arse cheeks apart and he might have squeaked if not for the heated growl Arthur gave, which seemed to vibrate straight through to Merlin's groin and deprived him of the ability to make any sound that didn't resemble a throaty moan.
Those strong fingers began kneading the flesh of Merlin's arse before working up his back and away from the areas desperately craving the prince's attention. It was so maddening that Merlin nearly shouted at him, but Arthur chose that moment to thread his delicious fingers into Merlin's dark hair and pull until they were chest to back. "You never were very good at following orders, Merlin," he rasped against the wizard's ear. "Do you think you can follow them now?"
Merlin nodded as much as the fist in his mane would allow, the possessiveness of the gesture turning him on more than he would have ever guessed.
"Do you feel this?" Arthur asked and Merlin tried to wiggle away when he felt Arthur's free hand graze his arse and plant itself firmly against his virgin entrance. "Answer me."
"Yes." Merlin's breath was becoming erratic and his entire body trembled against Arthur's touch. He didn't even know how he managed to articulate a full word, only that he felt compelled to heed Arthur's ever command.
"Press back against my fingers until I tell you to stop," he demanded, and Merlin nearly cried out when the first fingertip breached him and urged him forward. Arthur's grip tightened in his hair, holding him in place, and with a deep breath, Merlin obeyed, plunging himself down on the extended digit. It burned as Arthur's finger moved past the first ring of tight muscle but the burn lessened slightly the deeper he went. "Good," Arthur purred, his voice nearly as shaky as Merlin's.
The praise, coupled with the delicious shiver wracking his body, spurred Merlin on and he lifted up, only to impale himself on the digit once again, extracting a violent sound from Arthur's lips.
"Again," the prince demanded, adding a second finger, and Merlin obliged, fucking himself on Arthur's hand with wanton abandon. He'd never felt such delicious friction and he never wanted it to end. Thankfully, Arthur seemed to agree with him for once.
He could feel Arthur's erection pressing into his back, rocking into the cleft of his arse with each downward movement, creating a trail of slickness that helped to ease the journey of Arthur's fingers. "More," Merlin groaned into the air. "More now."
And no one could ever accuse the once and future king of being ungracious. He added a third finger and hooked them in a manner that made Merlin's insides twist and churn with pleasure, his toes curling into the fur rug and he feared he might come without having ever touched his cock.
Arthur continued his assault as Merlin struggled to suck down air around his approaching orgasm, but Arthur made that even more impossible when he twisted Merlin around just enough to plunder his parted lips once more. "I'm going to take you, Merlin. Right now," he told the slighter man. "You're mine, do you hear me? Mine."
Merlin swallowed thickly and lost the battle with breathing as those words caressed such intimate places inside of him he didn't know what to do. So he nodded, like a good, obedient servant, and was rewarded with the heart-pounding, knee-buckling pleasure of being entered for the first time. He'd never felt so full, so possessed, so right.
One of Arthur's hands was still buried in his hair, tugging gently, the other gripping Merlin's hip, keeping him close as if part of him feared Merlin would run away. Merlin was far from running.
Arthur's teeth bit into Merlin's neck as he thrust into him, marking his servant, claiming him with teeth and tongue as he had with seductive words just moments before. Merlin knew he wasn't going to last, the sensations were just too overwhelming. And then the hand that bit into his hip moved to stroke Merlin's cock, wrapping his fist around the throbbing appendage for only a moment before it was all over. Merlin came, shooting ribbon after ribbon of milky fluid into Arthur's hand and the teeth in his shoulder clamped harder, stifling a moan as his thrusts became suddenly erratic and then stopped altogether.
Arthur went limp for a few minutes, unable to do anything but leverage himself against Merlin's wavering body. All Merlin could do was listen to the slowing pants of the other man, feeling his delicious weight on top of him and soft, flowing fur below him. When Merlin finally collapsed to the rug entirely spent, Arthur followed, still sticky and buried inside of his manservant.
"That should teach you to talk back," Arthur huffed at last, when only panting and silence drifted between them.
"Right," Merlin offered sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Certainly wouldn't want to do that again."
"I've created a monster, haven't I?" Arthur asked, still draped across the slighter man, a grin forming on his previously lust-slackened features.
"If by monster, you mean a manservant who purposefully disobeys you in order to get thoroughly fucked by your majesty, then yes. You have," Merlin answered groggily.
"Have you been feeling extra…truthy today?" Arthur asked and Merlin couldn't suppress a giggle.
"I think the word you were looking for is 'honest' and yes," Merlin answered, his nose scrunched up in thought. "I have actually."
"Why do you think that is?" Arthur pressed.
"Magic, maybe," Merlin shrugged. "It always comes down to that doesn't it?"
"But who would do this to us?" The prince seemed only mildly irritated when he asked.
"Mine began first thing this morning, so it could have been Gaius, but that doesn't explain your symptoms. Perhaps it was someone at the party last night?" Merlin suggested.
Both men went through the entire evening in their mind, step-by-step, moment by moment, and both reached the same conclusion.
"Morgana," they announced in unison.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't report you to my father!" Arthur shouted, wagging his finger in Morgana's direction. They had burst into her room after prying themselves reluctantly from the fur rug and cleaning up.
She sat on her bed and stared at them both placidly. She ran a brush through her long, dark mane, drawing Arthur's ire.
"You're not even paying attention, Morgana. This is serious. You used magic on the crowned prince of Camelot. Do you really think Uther would spare you for that?"
"No," Morgana chimed. "I don't doubt his punishment would be swift and deadly." But she went on brushing through her hair as if the world offered her no burdens.
"Then how can you be so arrogant, knowing that a word from me would spell your death," he growled. He hated when Morgana ignored him. He hated when anyone ignored him.
"Because you enjoyed the benefit of the potion," she explained coyly, a knowing grin forming on her lips.
"What makes you say that?" Arthur hissed warily.
Morgana gave him a patient look and merely glanced down at Arthur's hand, which was snuggly joined with Merlin's. "Call it an educated guess," she smirked.
Their hands recoiled from one another and a blush colored both their faces. Merlin hadn't even noticed until Morgana had pointed it out, and obviously neither had Arthur. "Still," Arthur pressed with slightly less venom. "It was shifty and manipulative."
Morgana remained quiet, clearly finding no fault with either assessment. "Will that be all?"
Arthur glowered and turned, stalking to the door. "Merlin, follow me."
"Right," Merlin commented, turning to march after his prince. At the door he turned and shot Morgana a wide grin. "Thanks," he whispered.
"Happy birthday," she replied with a wink.
Author's Note: Hot boys make the best birthday presents. Keep that in mind for future reference.