Title: Lip Fixation
A/N: any excuse for my lip fetish
They're back at the hotel room, drinking again. This latest conference trip has turned into a total piss up. Last night they were out in a nightclub until ridiculously late.
Tonight they are supposed to be having a quiet one. Unfortunately Morgana and Merlin's version of a quiet one involves staying in and drinking tequila and usually ends with nudity, or vomit – sometimes both.
Gwen and Arthur roll their eyes at each other when Morgana suggests truth or dare.
"What are we? Thirteen?" Arthur protests, but he's shouted down as usual and made to drink a shot for being boring. He takes it like a man.
Half an hour later he has admitted to wanking while wearing his armour on set and has had to moon out of the hotel room window. Morgana is stripped down to her underwear. Merlin is now wearing her dress and Gwen has left on a mission to try and find a bell boy to snog. She is required to return with photographic evidence on her phone.
"You look disturbingly like a girl in that dress Merlin," Arthur drawls, making the mistake of actually looking.
Merlin's such a scrawny fucker that Morgana's silky slip of a dress nearly fits him. They haven't managed to do it up completely but it's not far off. It's dark blue silk, and comes below Merlin's knees but is split to the thigh showing an expanse of pale leg. They're a bit hairy for a girl Arthur admits, but from the waist upwards Merlin looks... confusingly attractive. His pale shoulders are delicate under the flimsy straps and his messy dark hair curls around his cheekbones. He'd shaved earlier that evening so his jaw is smooth and his face is dominated, as always, by his full lips and ludicrous cheekbones.
"You do!" Morgana giggles in delight. "You're so pretty Merlin, and you've got such gorgeous lips."
Merlin blows her a kiss and flutters his eyelashes. Arthur feels an uncomfortable jolt in his groin.
"Put some lipstick on, then you'll really look the part," Morgana suggests.
"You do it for me," Merlin pouts, expectantly.
Morgana rummages in her makeup bag and returns with some bright red lip gloss. She straddles Merlin, who is sprawled back against the headboard of the bed and takes his chin in a determined hand. Arthur watches, strangely fascinated.
"Keep still," she orders. "Don't scrunch your lips up – just relax them."
Merlin's lips part slightly and Arthur feels blood rushing unaccountably, but undeniably to his groin, as Morgana carefully traces the shape of Merlin's stupid, ridiculously perfect lips with the shiny gloss, leaving them looking like lips that a porn career could be built on.
Arthur adjusts his straining cock surreptitiously, unable to tear his eyes away from Merlin's mouth. Thoughts and images flood uninvited into his head – very, extremely bad thoughts. Merlin's lips around his cock, his come striping those collarbones and catching on Merlin's eyelashes. Fucking hell Arthur, get a grip! These are not things that he should be thinking about his mate Merlin, the mate that he has to share a room with for the rest of the week.
He does the only sensible thing under the circumstances. He gets up and runs away – not quite literally, it's hard to actually run with a cock that's hard enough to be classed as an offensive weapon, but he moves pretty quickly just the same. Thank god the tequila gives him the perfect excuse.
"Sorry... feeling a bit ropey... Tequila victim, there's always one. I'm going to bed."
They look mildly surprised as he dashes past.
"Okay Arthur, see you later man." Merlin says as he passes.
Arthur sincerely hopes that Merlin will be up with the girls for a while yet. He has some urgent business to attend to that requires privacy.
Arthur leans against the door as it closes behind him. His cock is aching, pressed against the zip of his jeans. He stumbles into the bathroom, rips off his t-shirt and leans over the sink. His face is flushed and his pupils are dilated. His eyes glitter from the heady combination of tequila and sudden, shockingly unexpected lust. You're really going to do this? His rational mind tries to dissuade him but libido wins.
He fumbles with his trousers and a moan echoes off the tiles as his hand closes around the hot skin of his prick. Impatient, desperate for release, he strokes, twisting and teasing the head of his cock with his thumb. He closes his eyes and lets his fevered imagination flood his brain with thoughts of Merlin. It's as if his mind has catalogued all these crazy glorious details about Merlin without him even noticing. Until tonight he hasn't put it all together and made sense of it.
He sees dark hair curling on pale skin, the shocking vulnerability of Merlin's bony wrists, the colour of his eyes and the sweep of his lashes over his cheekbones... and those lips... those fucking lips that would be the death of him.
He moves his hand faster and groans. "Fuck... Merlin!"
An almost imperceptible gasp behind him makes his eyes fly open. Merlin is standing in the doorway behind him, still wearing that bloody dress. His eyes lock with Arthur's in the mirror for a moment, then drop to stare blatantly at his cock.
Arthur is frozen, his hand has stopped moving, but his prick is still hard. The shame isn't enough to quell his erection and he is burning with the need to come. He can't think of a single useful thing to say, the circumstances are pretty damning. He doubts he could fix this with words even if his tongue wasn't currently stuck to the roof of his mouth.
His eyes flicker over Merlin's reflection and his heart skips several beats, as he realises that the thin silk of the dress is pushed out by an unmistakeable bulge. Their eyes meet again and time stretches out between them until something snaps.
Arthur isn't sure who moves first but before he has time to think about what's happening Merlin's hands are on his hips, pulling him round and he is turning and Merlin is dropping to his knees in front of him. Merlin looks up at him for a moment, as if asking permission and Arthur slides his fingers into the dark hair.
"Please!" he manages. His voice is husky and sticks in his throat.
Merlin's eyes flicker up through his lashes as he dips his head and parts his lips around Arthur's cock. They are still painted with lip gloss and Arthur feels it slide, sticky over his sensitive skin. Merlin sucks him deeper, pressing and stroking with his tongue and then slides his mouth back up, leaving a red smear in its wake. Merlin's mouth is hot, demanding and amazing and Arthur knows he won't be able to last long. He bites his lip in an attempt to keep in the embarrassingly needy, whimpering noises which he knows will escape if he lets them.
One of Merlin's hands comes up to clutch at his hip and the other one is pressed against his own erection. He watches in fascination as Merlin's fingers close around his cock through the dark blue silk. Merlin moans around Arthur's prick, taking him deep again and Arthur gasps. White heat explodes behind his eyes and he's coming in Merlin's throat before he can even gasp out a warning. His hips buck forwards and his hands clench reflexively in Merlin's hair. Merlin swallows around him and sucks out the last drops of Arthur's come as his dick gives a last twitch. He pulls away, letting Arthur's softening cock slide from his lips and rests his head against Arthur's hip for a moment, panting into the soft skin. Arthur looks down at his bent head and awkwardly runs a fingertip over the shell of Merlin's ear.
Merlin's shoulders shake and Arthur realises he's chuckling. The absurdity of the situation hits home and Arthur is laughing too. He pulls Merlin up and they are giggling uncontrollably, leaning against the sink, holding each other up. Their eyes meet and Merlin is grinning at him. His cheeks are flushed and his lips are smeared with lip gloss and something that might still be Arthur's spunk. He takes Arthur's breath away.
Arthur presses his lips to Merlin's and licks them open, tasting himself and what's left of the lip gloss and something else that must just be Merlin. Merlin kisses him back and twines his arms around Arthur's neck, clinging to him until Arthur is distracted by cold stickiness sliding against him. He pulls back and eyes widen in horror and understanding as he sees the dark wet stain on the front of the dress.
"Fucking hell!" he gasps in horror, "Morgana is going to cut your bollocks off!"
Merlin shrugs and grins. "She'll just be glad we've finally got together. She's been telling me for months that you fancy me. I thought she was insane – apparently not."
Arthur kisses the smug expression off his face. There clearly isn't any point in trying to deny it.
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If you like this bit of silliness, check out my other stories.