This is pure, shameless, explicit porn with no plot. It's been written as an "I'm sorry-outtake" for all those who felt cock-blocked in the Gwaine/Merlin scene in "In a Land of Myth" :) While it is related to the long story by the usage of the same characters and setting, it can be read as a total standalone and you don't need to know anything about the other story.

For those who've read "In a Land of Myth"—this outtake takes place before the events described there.

Many many thanks to my wonderful best ever beta – Sillygoose and to Emmy for britpicking!

Warnings: slight D/S, bondage (tied-up arms), references to rimming and felching and barebacking, slight orgasm denial, light drug use (weed), mixing drugs with alcohol and d/s sex (btw—I strongly discourage doing it in RL!).


("In a Land of Myth" outtake)

October slowly crawls to an end, waving off its last golden leaves and giving way to the freezing grey drizzles of late Autumn. The gentle air of summer is long forgotten.

Merlin pulls his beanie tightly over his ears and tries to curl into himself against the wind as he climbs the stairs out underground. It's dark already and Merlin sighs, disappointed that yet another day has trapped him inside the office without a single glimpse of sunlight. Work drags as the end of the year approaches, what with all the budget meetings and looming deadlines for last-minute holiday campaigns.

Merlin's phone chimes with an incoming message, and he fishes it out of his pocket with his cold-stiffened fingers.

"Fuck," he says, because he'd forgotten about the night out with colleagues from his office. He desires nothing more at the moment than a hot cuppa and a lazy evening in bed watching Grand Design or Downtown Abbey or whatever repeats would be on. But he can't exactly say no now. He promised to be there. Besides, he needs… distraction. He needs grounding. This time of year always makes him feel stressed out and restless in his skin. His thoughts are crowded; they tire him to the point where an "off" switch for his brain would be a blessing. His body is trapped in a weird anticipation that can be compared to a really violent urge to piss, or that moment just before an orgasm where everything tightens, only there's no release, and Merlin really feels that he's about to burst at the seams. He can't fight off the uneasy feeling in his gut that someone is watching him, following him, about to grab his ankles as he walks.

It's this feeling that makes him turn around and head back to the station. Halloween's the next day and Merlin knows he's about to do something stupid. Again. Overdose on sugar, or drink too much, or fuck someone he shouldn't, or all of those things at once. Whether it is the playful yet scary ambiance that makes him want to get lost in the swirl of the night, or the winter's freeze waiting at the doorstep, he doesn't know.

And if he's angry with himself that once again he's doing something he's not supposed to do, so be it. A little bit of self-hate hasn't killed anyone yet, has it?


"Shite, Merlin, chill." Gwaine places a hand over Merlin's bouncing leg. Merlin's squeezed in a booth between Gwaine from Acquisitions and the receptionist, Gwen, and he feels warm and cosy, but still so nervous for no reason at all. With his index finger, he's circling the wet spot his glass made on the table, trying to keep his mind blank.

Gwaine leans closer to Merlin, way too close. Merlin can feel Gwaine's long hair brushing over his collarbone, which is exposed by his T-shirt because Merlin's shed all the outer layers of clothing along with the incoming drinks.

"You look like you need a good shag, Merlin," Gwaine says, his eyes shining, mischievous.

The booze is making Merlin limbs slightly loose and pliant. He's finally starting to feel more at ease, and he smiles cheekily at Gwaine. "Oh, yeah?"

Gwaine squeezes Merlin's thigh. "Yeah."

"Are you offering?" Merlin asks, looking up at Gwaine from underneath his eyelashes, because the alcohol has possessed him. All of a sudden he's brave and reckless.

"Would you say yes if I were?" Gwaine's stare is so intense, Merlin can't hold it. He giggles—yes, actually giggles—trying to cover up his awkwardness.

Would he say yes? Gwaine's hot, with his handsome face, gigolo hair and perfectly shaped body. And yes, Merlin's seen Gwaine's abs on more than one occasion, be it at a party or sunbathing on the office balcony. Gwaine has this way of getting naked when nobody else is getting naked. Gwaine's also a shameless, flirty tease. Merlin can't keep track of the stream of boys and girls he's seen Gwaine with.

It's not what Merlin normally does, though. He doesn't have sex with friends—and Gwaine is definitely more than just a work-buddy. Merlin doesn't fool around with anyone's feelings. And there would be feelings involved if he decided to fuck Gwaine, wouldn't there?

Merlin's fingertips tingle with anticipation though. His blood is pulsing fast in his veins. He leans closer to Gwaine, licks his lips, and opens his mouth to say something, but no sound comes out at all. It's as if Merlin's brain has frozen. He needs to reboot so he doesn't lose simple functions like breathing or talking.

He can feel Gwaine's hand, palm warm and strong, when Gwaine's fingers slip under Merlin's T-shirt, splay flat on Merlin's stomach, and rest there. Gwaine's not pushing, not teasing; this touch is just a hot reminder of Gwaine's proximity. Just a silent request for permission, a promise of what Merlin could have if he actually said the word "yes".

"Merlin?" Gwaine says, amusement clear in his voice.


"What are you thinking about so intensely? I can see smoke coming out of your ears." Gwaine's hand moves to the waist of Merlin's jeans, fingers pushing under the material just a little bit, then retreating and skimming along the seam of the fly.

And if Merlin had any doubts, he certainly doesn't have them now, not with his cock twitching violently, not with Gwaine's hot palm pressing on it through the jeans, fist curling over it almost painfully.

"You—" Merlin starts.

Gwaine laughs at something that someone else says and Merlin flushes, embarrassed, because he's not sure if what they're doing under the table is obvious to others. Shit, it must be obvious. Merlin's panting with his mouth open and eyes half-closed. He's had too much to drink. He didn't even see when Gwen got up to leave them to themselves.

"Sorry," he mutters, standing up, retreating. He steers to the gents, stumbling a bit on the way, feeling overwhelmed. It's as if all the shadows around him are suddenly crowding him, pushing on him, wanting to consume him.

The loos are packed and he has to wait in the corridor. He leans on the wall and the cold, smooth surface of it calms him, allowing his mind to clear a little. He isn't usually this paranoid. It's just that the air smells weird tonight, making him want to dig his fingers in the ground to establish some connection with the earth that would calm him down.

A movement catches his eye. There's smoke coming out from underneath the bathroom door, curling on the floor in thick circles. Merlin leans down, placing his palms on his knees, trying to inspect it. It's oddly dense as if it's liquid, and Merlin feels like he's being lured to it. He should cry for help or see if there's actually a fire in the bathroom, but instead he wants to crawl down and put his hands inside the smoke. He wants to inhale it, or lick it.

"You all right, mate?"

Merlin feels Gwaine's warm fingers curl around his shoulder and he looks up, flinching a bit. His head is twirling.

"Yeah, yeah, just…" He looks again towards the bathroom door but there's no smoke, only the dirty lino floor stained with the scuff marks of hundreds of feet. "I hate this time of the year," he mutters.

Gwaine rubs his thumb over Merlin's neck. "Wanna go to mine?" And when Merlin looks at him, Gwaine shrugs. "We'll hang out. Share a blunt."

Gwaine's smiling, and Merlin decides smiling Gwaine is a thing he cannot resist. Instead of answering he grins back, tilting his head a bit.

"Flirty bugger." Gwaine laughs, pulling Merlin by his hand out of the bar. They grab their coats on the way, not bothering to explain to anyone where they're going.


Once outside, the wind hits them with an angry blast as though the forces of nature have suddenly decided to put up a fight against them. They run the last few streets, trying to escape the heavy, ice-cold drops that fall down the sky. Merlin tries not to think about how the drops look as black as smoke. He really shouldn't drink; he's such a lightweight, even if he feels totally sober right now.

Gwaine's flat's warm and silent, a nice contrast to the earlier buzz of the bar and the cold drizzle of the street. Gwaine tosses his keys on the kitchen's worktop, dives into the fridge to fetch two beers that he places on a small table next to a huge green velvet sofa, and fiddles with his iPod for a while.

Merlin hums his appreciation when Fun Lovin' Criminal declare their love for Barry White. He eagerly takes the shabby blunt that Gwaine's dug out of a wooden box. His hands shake when he tries to light it with a chipped light-green lighter he's taken from the table with the beers.

"Let me," Gwaine says, taking the lighter from Merlin and keeping it steady until the weed catches fire and Merlin can inhale. Harsh, hot smoke enters Merlin's throat and lungs as he breathes it in and holds it. He passes the blunt to Gwaine and leans back on the sofa, exhaling, watching the puff of smoke dissolve in the air. Thank God, this smoke looks nothing like the oily swirl back at the club, and Merlin hopes the buzz will soon take his mind off of his crazy thoughts. They finish the rest of the joint, and if Gwaine's hands linger on Merlin's every time they share it, Merlin doesn't comment.

A heavy feeling unravels in Merlin's chest, choking him a little, leaving a sweet aftertaste in his mouth. The weed should be relaxing, but instead it's making him even more anxious. His heart's pounding in his chest and his body's shaking from cold. His lips are trembling, and his hands are damp with sweat.

Gwaine places his hand once more on Merlin's leg, squeezes it lightly, and releases. "What are you so nervous about?"

Merlin's teeth start to clatter a bit. He stares at Gwaine, not sure how to answer. He doesn't want to explain how he turns nuts every Halloween. While he's pondering what to say, Gwaine leans over, sending a jolt of warmth down Merlin's body. Gwaine's hair tickles his ear when he asks, "How do you like it, Merlin? What do you want tonight?"

For a moment Merlin considers telling Gwaine what he really wants. He feels so fucking edgy. He wants someone to tie him up and fuck him raw so it would hurt, so it'd take the edge off for just a little while and he'd be brought to his senses and feel normal again. But somehow he doesn't see Gwaine as the type. Gwaine's all joyful energy and "happy fucking" in Merlin's eyes, and Merlin doesn't want to spoil it.

He shrugs. "I don't know. I'm just so… I want to feel it." When Gwaine doesn't say anything, he adds, "Whatever you want."

Gwaine's mouth is so close to Merlin's that their breath mingles. He places his hand on Merlin's cheek, making Merlin jerk at first, because he's all anticipation now, his nerves stretched tight, his body shivering, yearning for more of the touch. But Gwaine stays almost totally still, just looking at Merlin with an expression Merlin doesn't get and lightly stroking Merlin's face with his thumb.

When the kiss comes—only few moments later, although the weed makes it feel as if ages have passed—it's way softer and sweeter than whatever Merlin expected. Merlin melts into it, allowing himself to be consumed by the gloriously dizzy feeling.

"I want to make you feel good," Gwaine says against Merlin's lips, and it sounds like a promise, or even a declaration of sorts. "Come on." He tugs on Merlin's hand and pulls Merlin on top of him, so Merlin's straddling Gwaine's hips.

Gwaine's hands slip underneath Merlin's T-shirt and up, fingertips grazing over Merlin's nipples, making him want to scold Gwaine for teasing him with a feather touch. But just then Gwaine squeezes his nipples really hard, and Merlin stretches, leaning back, feeling like he might purr.

"Yes," he says. "More."

Gwaine pushes the material out of the way, over Merlin's head, and tosses it on the floor. He kisses and nibbles Merlin's skin, just where the sternum starts. Merlin's palms rest lightly on Gwaine's arms. He's not sure if he's allowed to take Gwaine's shirt off. He didn't get permission.

"I'm shite with responsibility, you know?" Gwaine says, surprising Merlin, because no one's talking about commitment, or even trust. It's true, though. Gwaine is delicious, but so absent-minded, so playful.

"But," Gwaine continues, and he thrusts his hips forward, making the erection that is straining in his jeans brush over Merlin's already hardened cock. "But, I really, really want to fuck you. Would you like that? Would you allow me to finger you until you writhe, and then let me fill up that tight, sweet arse of yours?" He squeezes Merlin's butt.

"Yes," Merlin responds between wet kisses that slowly turn into a game of push and conquer. "Yes, I'd love that."

"Just let me fetch the stuff." Gwaine's hands leave Merlin's body reluctantly, brushing Merlin's skin as he pushes Merlin off him and walks to the adjoining room that's probably the bedroom. For a while Merlin hears shuffling and the banging of drawers. When Gwaine comes back, tossing lube and a pack of condoms onto the couch next to Merlin, he's naked. His cock is hard and straining, glistening at the tip, and Gwaine makes a little show of stroking it in front of Merlin.

Merlin stares because this is so hot. Gwaine's body is just perfect—all abs and defined muscles and smooth lines, and the movement of his muscled arm is mesmerizing. Merlin licks his lips. He'd quite like to feel that cock fucking his mouth. But Gwaine bends down and opens Merlin's jeans button by button, teasing knuckles grazing over Merlin's still-clothed cock.

Merlin closes his eyes. His body's buzzing, time stretches and the music that's still playing, slow and deep, is humming with new dimensions of vibration.

"Ah, fuck, I've missed this." Gwaine sighs, straddling Merlin this time and lining their finally naked cocks together. Gwaine strokes them a few times, strong hand going up and down, dry and rough. Next, Gwaine's fingers go around Merlin's waist and trail down his spine until they rest at the very top of Merlin's crack.

"Turn around," Gwaine says, standing up. He looks down at Merlin, waiting.

Merlin obeys, smirking, almost bouncing on his feet he's suddenly so eager to have it.

"Kneel down." Gwaine places Merlin's hands flat on the sofa, one on an armrest and the other on the cushions. "Stay like this," he says. "Don't move."

Merlin stares down at the fabric, wincing a little because God only knows what's been on Gwaine's sofa. Soon he doesn't care though, because he hears the familiar click of the lube cap and Gwaine's reaching Merlin's hole, opening him up fast, a bit rough, with skilled fingers, not wasting time with teasing. At first it's one finger, but immediately knuckle deep, circling, and soon enough it's two, pushing in and out, stretching Merlin in the most delicious way.

"Go on," Merlin says. "I'm used to more." Because he might be single at the moment, but that doesn't mean he's been a saint. In fact, he likes his dildo thick and sturdy when he fucks himself on it in his own bedroom.

"Okay, okay." Gwaine pushes himself up and Merlin hears the tearing of a condom wrapper and the quick, slick sounds of pre-lubed rubber being rolled on a cock.

Despite Merlin's urgency, Gwaine goes slow. He presses in bit-by-bit, steadying Merlin with hands on Merlin's hips and lower back. He waits out Merlin's every huff, every tensing up, until Merlin, agitated and impatient, pushes his arse into Gwaine's hard-on, the sudden stretch almost making him choke.

But when Gwaine finally, finally, gets to it… Jesus. Fuck, yes. Sex with Gwaine is just what Merlin needs. Because Gwaine's a fucking pro at this. And it feels so good to be pressed down, with Gwaine's hands gripping Merlin's wrists, then trailing up his arms, never leaving his skin. When Gwaine circles his hips, plunging deeper, going for a new angle, it puts Merlin's mind into a zone where he's lost to everything but the sensation of Gwaine's cock. God, this is so what he'd been hoping for. He opens his mouth, barely noticing as he drools into the fabric, and stares at the place where the cushions meet the back of the sofa, not seeing it really. He hears himself though, as he grunts with each Gwaine's thrusts.

"I wish you could see your sweet little arse," Gwaine says, and it sounds weirdly like a warning because Gwaine's voice is strained and low. "You don't know, Merlin. You can't know. You can't imagine how fucking gorgeous it is."

Merlin feels like he'll explode if he doesn't come right now, but when he reaches to touch his cock Gwaine grips his arm, stopping him. "No."

"I need—" Merlin starts.

But just then Gwaine's pulling out, leaving Merlin to whine "nggggghhhhhh," because apparently Merlin's lost his coherency altogether.

"Give me your hand," Gwaine says, hoisting Merlin up a little.

Merlin hears the swooshing sound of his belt being pulled out of the loopholes of his jeans, and then Gwaine's holding both Merlin's wrists and wrapping Merlin's leather belt around them, securing them with a tight knot. A wave of panic surges through Merlin because he's high as a kite, and it's still Halloween Eve. He jerks when Gwaine presses his palm to Merlin's shoulder blades, pushing him into the sofa, securing him down with Merlin's face pressed tight to the cushions. He feels a gentle kiss on his back, followed by a brush of warm air when Gwaine says, "You'll tell me the moment anything's not okay." And when Merlin doesn't answer, "I mean it, Merlin. The moment you don't enjoy it, you'll say it, all right?"

Merlin hums "yhm," and hopes that's enough of an answer.

"Breathe," Gwaine orders. "Take a deep breath. And out, now. And another."

While Merlin does just that, trying to focus on the weight of Gwaine's palm spread wide on his back, he feels Gwaine's mouth trailing down, leaving kisses on the top of Merlin's buttocks. It's followed by the press of fingers, of Gwaine's thumb rubbing the rim of his hole in circles, pushing in just over the edge only to retreat and come back. All Merlin's awareness, all his focus, is just on this one point of his body. The lights around him dim, the music rings in his ears, and he feels like he doesn't have legs or hands; he's just this little patch of skin that Gwaine strokes over and over.

"I love the way you look, Merlin, with your hole opened from me and for me. So pink and swollen, so wet from all the lube."

Gwaine's thumb keeps drawing circles, and Merlin's whole body is so tense. His arms, stretched wide and immobilized, start to tremble. He's about to start crying if Gwaine doesn't push his cock in and fuck him hard right now.

He might have said that last bit aloud, because Gwaine chuckles and spreads Merlin's buttocks wider. Before Merlin can brace himself he feels Gwaine's blunt cockhead at his entrance, and Gwaine presses all the way in until he bottoms out. Merlin cries into the cushions and squeezes his eyes tight.

The thrusts are slow and deliberate while Gwaine covers Merlin's body with his, placing one of his hands on Merlin's hip to keep him grounded and the other one on the sofa for leverage. He keeps talking, almost directly into Merlin's ear, hot breath tickling Merlin's over-sensitized skin.

"I'd love to fuck you bare so I could feel exactly how hot you are inside, how slick you are, how tight. I'd fill you up with my come, and then I'd fuck you again and again until you'd be overflowing with my semen. Until it'd be trickling down your arse and thighs. And then I'd splay you on my bed, and I'd hold you down like I'm holding you now, and I'd spread your arse and lick you clean."

"Oh, God," Merlin whimpers. "How can you say that? How can you talk?" How can you even think right now?"

He pulls at the restraints but the belt holds tight. Surprisingly, instead of frightening Merlin, it makes his head spin in a way that's not at all unpleasant. There's something delightfully liberating in letting go, in closing his eyes and allowing himself being fucked like this, without the need to worry about anything.

Merlin's cock is rock hard, trapped in between his body and the edge of the plushy sofa. The friction and pressure there is not enough, but Merlin loves it. He feels his knees being scraped on the carpet, tightens his muscles, and he knows that in a few seconds he'll be coming. He doesn't care if he messes up Gwaine's sofa—it's already wet anyway from his drool and pre-come. He just wants to feel what he's feeling, over and over, until he can't hold on anymore.

His vision goes black when he comes. He feels out of body, but dragged back only to experience another hot wave of orgasm.

Gwaine keeps fucking him, hard now, and suddenly Merlin's sober and very aware of his position: of the hard, burning surface underneath his knees, of the way his body feels strained and stretched, of how his wrists hurt as though being cut through by the belt. Tears are about to fall, and he opens his mouth to say it, but just then, as if sensing Merlin's discomfort, Gwaine pulls out all the way and lets Merlin go. There's a snap of rubber and a quick movement behind Merlin, and then Gwaine grunts. Warm come splashes over Merlin's arse and lower back as Gwaine empties himself on Merlin's skin and then stills.

Gwaine lets his head fall onto Merlin's back. He unbuckles the belt on Merlin's wrists, and when Merlin whines, Gwaine strokes Merlin's arms gently.

"Fucking hell," Gwaine says. He sounds winded as he slumps back on the sofa. Merlin crawls up next to him, leaning his head back and stilling his breath, feeling his muscles cooling down. Gwaine's ceiling is bright white as if freshly painted; there's not a spot or a crack visible in the surface. It's so oddly perfect.

"Did you do a paint job recently?" Merlin asks.

"What?" Gwaine's starts laughing, easy and heartfelt, then pats Merlin's thigh and gets up. "Fancy a Mars? Or a pepperami?" he offers. Kitchen cabinets are being opened and closed loudly.

"Thanks, no thanks," Merlin says, way too exhausted to think about eating. He accepts the beer bottle being pressed into his palm though. His mouth feels dry, and the beer tastes like pure heaven.

"So, I wonder," Gwaine mumbles over his chocolate bar, "do you ever do the buggering part?"

"Yes. Why?" Merlin closes his eyes. His body is sated from the fuck. The weed is slowly wearing off, and Merlin knows that in a moment he'll feel so heavy and tired he won't be able to lift a finger. He's not getting up in the next millennium. If Gwaine wants him to go home, he'll have to carry Merlin to his flat himself all the way through the cold London streets. He smiles. "I wouldn't take you for the type that takes up the arse".

Gwaine laughs. "No, I usually don't. But I'm curious how that monster of yours would feel inside of me."

Despite Merlin's grogginess, his cock twitches at the thought.


When the first rays of dawn lighten up Gwaine's bedroom, Merlin stretches and looks through the window. His lids feel heavy and eyes burn. His body's still shaking from exhaustion. His mind's empty, and yet he's unable to settle down enough to get some sleep after the exertion of the long night.

He takes a deep breath, willing his muscles to relax. Somehow during the night he's forgotten that it's already Halloween. Beside him Gwaine's snoring loudly, a bit drunkenly, with his mouth open, and Merlin thinks that this obnoxious sound is really oddly soothing.

"Gwaine," he says, nudging Gwaine. "Hey, Gwaine?"

"Whaaa?" Gwaine grunts.

"Can I stay over for another night?"

"Fuck off. Whatever you want, yeah? Just lemme sleep." Gwaine turns over with his back to Merlin and Merlin smiles. He turns around too, pressing his face to the pillow.

Waves of warmth wash over his body, taking away the tension, emptying his mind of the shadows and smoke, and leaving him in a state in which every fragment of the world is in order. He listens to Gwaine's breathing, matches his own to the rhythm of it, and before he knows it he's falling, sweet sleep finally claiming him bit-by-bit.