“Look,” said Merlin, in a rational and only slightly slurred tone, “You’re going to tell me about Sophia, and I don’t want to hear about Sophia. Therefore I do not want to talk to you.”
Now Arthur really was looking at him strangely, and as if Merlin was talking gibberish, which he was fairly sure he hadn’t been. Merlin heaved an enormous sigh and struggled up onto his elbows. The problem with Arthur, Merlin thought, was that he had a very thick skull, and sometimes he needed diagrams, diagrams with little arrows and labels and colour coding and stick figure Merlins pointing and frowning very sternly. But Merlin didn’t have any pens with him, and anyway if he got up he thought he might be sick, so instead he leaned forward and pressed his lips sloppily to Arthur’s. It seemed the best solution, and he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t just done this before, since it got his point across extremely well. In the event, he might have missed Arthur’s mouth by a few centimetres, and mainly ended up kissing his chin, but he thought it was clear enough, as kisses without diagrams went, and after precisely two seconds he pulled back, smiled widely and then flopped back down again while Arthur was still sitting and gaping like a landed fish.
There was a much longer silence then, while Merlin closed his eyes and hummed happily to himself, feeling the cider buzzing through his veins and his lips tingling with the memory of Arthur’s mouth (alright, Arthur’s chin). So, he wasn’t at all expecting it when the bright sunlight on the eyelids suddenly darkened and a warm mouth pressed against his, the first touch hesitant, but before Merlin had done much more than open his eyes in surprise, Arthur was kissing him harder, passionate, one large hand coming up to span his jaw and hold him still for Arthur’s mouth. Merlin might have said something, but he couldn’t remember what and it didn’t seem to matter anyway because Arthur was kissing him and kissing him, shifting until he was knelt half over Merlin, one knee pressed into the grass between Merlin’s legs and the other hand twisting into his t-shirt, perilously close to his waist. Merlin decided that he really must be watching this on the telly, or dreaming, and since it couldn’t be real it wouldn’t matter if he threw both arms around Arthur’s neck and dragged him down to sprawl across his too-hot body. Arthur grunted as he fell against him, but it didn’t stop him kissing Merlin, if anything it just seemed to make him kiss him more, and Merlin curled his toes in the grass, wriggling to free his leg from under Arthur’s until he could bend both his knees and pull his legs up to wind around the man now pushing against him. And then it was nothing but hot, wet heat between their mouths, and Merlin feeling like he might burst out of skin, giddy with more than just cider and sunshine.
“You idiot,” Arthur was mumbling now, which Merlin thought was rather ruining his dream, “You’re such an idiot Merlin. Five years. I thought you didn’t even—” Merlin drummed his heels against Arthur’s legs until he stopped talking and got on with the kissing part. It was a pretty impressive dream, all things considered, and Merlin would have to crack open the cider more often, so he was a bit disappointed when it stopped and Arthur was just looking at him, all dark eyed and a bit out of focus, breathing hard.
“Is this the cider? It’s the cider isn’t it?”
Merlin tried to concentrate on what Arthur was saying, but it was hard when he kept going cross eyed trying to see his face properly. Eventually however , he realised that more kissing was unlikely unless he said something and stopped Arthur looking so worried, “I think it’s partly the cider,” he pronounced, a bit louder than he’d intended. He stopped, frowned a bit, and attempted to moderate his voice. “But I think it’s also because I want to shag you.”
Arthur blinked at him, and Merlin lifted his head to try and reach his mouth again, but Arthur moved back. “Like, just today?” he said, uncertainly.
“Well yes,” said Merlin, thinking that was an extremely stupid question, “And yesterday, and all the days since we went swimming in the quarry.”
Now Arthur just looked confused, “The quarry? But I don’t—” His eyes widened, “The quarry when we were fourteen.”
Merlin huffed and nodded. Honestly, the man needed flow charts. “Yes, then. Now hurry up and kiss me again, because I think I’m going to be sick.”
Arthur looked at him like he’d gone and grown another head again, and then like he might actually ravish Merlin there and then (which might shock the neighbours, but Merlin really didn’t mind) before the other comment finally caught up with him and he rolled his eyes and clambered off Merlin and dragged him none too gently to his feet. “Would it kill you to be normal for five minutes.”
“You love me anyway,” Merlin managed as he stumbled against him, and really, really wished he hadn’t drank so much.
Arthur didn’t answer that, but his arm was steady around Merlin’s waist as he pulled him towards the back door (and hopefully the bathroom). “Don’t you dare forget this in the morning,” he muttered.
Re: Merlin! FILLED
Now Arthur really was looking at him strangely, and as if Merlin was talking gibberish, which he was fairly sure he hadn’t been. Merlin heaved an enormous sigh and struggled up onto his elbows. The problem with Arthur, Merlin thought, was that he had a very thick skull, and sometimes he needed diagrams, diagrams with little arrows and labels and colour coding and stick figure Merlins pointing and frowning very sternly. But Merlin didn’t have any pens with him, and anyway if he got up he thought he might be sick, so instead he leaned forward and pressed his lips sloppily to Arthur’s. It seemed the best solution, and he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t just done this before, since it got his point across extremely well. In the event, he might have missed Arthur’s mouth by a few centimetres, and mainly ended up kissing his chin, but he thought it was clear enough, as kisses without diagrams went, and after precisely two seconds he pulled back, smiled widely and then flopped back down again while Arthur was still sitting and gaping like a landed fish.
There was a much longer silence then, while Merlin closed his eyes and hummed happily to himself, feeling the cider buzzing through his veins and his lips tingling with the memory of Arthur’s mouth (alright, Arthur’s chin). So, he wasn’t at all expecting it when the bright sunlight on the eyelids suddenly darkened and a warm mouth pressed against his, the first touch hesitant, but before Merlin had done much more than open his eyes in surprise, Arthur was kissing him harder, passionate, one large hand coming up to span his jaw and hold him still for Arthur’s mouth. Merlin might have said something, but he couldn’t remember what and it didn’t seem to matter anyway because Arthur was kissing him and kissing him, shifting until he was knelt half over Merlin, one knee pressed into the grass between Merlin’s legs and the other hand twisting into his t-shirt, perilously close to his waist. Merlin decided that he really must be watching this on the telly, or dreaming, and since it couldn’t be real it wouldn’t matter if he threw both arms around Arthur’s neck and dragged him down to sprawl across his too-hot body. Arthur grunted as he fell against him, but it didn’t stop him kissing Merlin, if anything it just seemed to make him kiss him more, and Merlin curled his toes in the grass, wriggling to free his leg from under Arthur’s until he could bend both his knees and pull his legs up to wind around the man now pushing against him. And then it was nothing but hot, wet heat between their mouths, and Merlin feeling like he might burst out of skin, giddy with more than just cider and sunshine.
“You idiot,” Arthur was mumbling now, which Merlin thought was rather ruining his dream, “You’re such an idiot Merlin. Five years. I thought you didn’t even—” Merlin drummed his heels against Arthur’s legs until he stopped talking and got on with the kissing part. It was a pretty impressive dream, all things considered, and Merlin would have to crack open the cider more often, so he was a bit disappointed when it stopped and Arthur was just looking at him, all dark eyed and a bit out of focus, breathing hard.
“Is this the cider? It’s the cider isn’t it?”
Merlin tried to concentrate on what Arthur was saying, but it was hard when he kept going cross eyed trying to see his face properly. Eventually however , he realised that more kissing was unlikely unless he said something and stopped Arthur looking so worried, “I think it’s partly the cider,” he pronounced, a bit louder than he’d intended. He stopped, frowned a bit, and attempted to moderate his voice. “But I think it’s also because I want to shag you.”
Arthur blinked at him, and Merlin lifted his head to try and reach his mouth again, but Arthur moved back. “Like, just today?” he said, uncertainly.
“Well yes,” said Merlin, thinking that was an extremely stupid question, “And yesterday, and all the days since we went swimming in the quarry.”
Now Arthur just looked confused, “The quarry? But I don’t—” His eyes widened, “The quarry when we were fourteen.”
Merlin huffed and nodded. Honestly, the man needed flow charts. “Yes, then. Now hurry up and kiss me again, because I think I’m going to be sick.”
Arthur looked at him like he’d gone and grown another head again, and then like he might actually ravish Merlin there and then (which might shock the neighbours, but Merlin really didn’t mind) before the other comment finally caught up with him and he rolled his eyes and clambered off Merlin and dragged him none too gently to his feet. “Would it kill you to be normal for five minutes.”
“You love me anyway,” Merlin managed as he stumbled against him, and really, really wished he hadn’t drank so much.
Arthur didn’t answer that, but his arm was steady around Merlin’s waist as he pulled him towards the back door (and hopefully the bathroom). “Don’t you dare forget this in the morning,” he muttered.
“Forget what?” said Merlin.
End.