Archive of Our Own

Title: At The End Of The Day
Author: Ras Elased
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~2600
Warnings: bottom!arthur, established relationship, schmoop. *g*
Summary: He knew Arthur would never admit it, but they both enjoyed this time together, when they could just be together without the pressures of their stations getting in the way. It took them back to the beginning, when it had been Prince Arthur and his manservant following along at his boot heels with every step of every day.
Author's notes: This is just a short little fic to get back into the swing of things after 6 months of not posting. So, um, here, have some porn! Huge thanks to anevivi for the awesome beta! ♥

~*~

"Impossible!" Arthur shouted, barreling into the room in an uproar, his armor clanging furiously. "Bloody impossible stupidity! Just when I think they've reached the epitome of idiocy, they actually defy my expectations." Arthur yanked his gloves over his fingers and hurled them onto the bedside table as if they'd committed some heinous personal offense. His eyes blazed with banked fury, his hair catching the sunlight like polished bronze as he crossed the room towards Merlin's seat at the window. He looked every inch the unflinching, glorious king that Merlin sometimes overheard tales of in the lower town. "They're damned lucky to be alive. If their stupidity doesn't kill them, then I will!"

Merlin stifled his grin as he stood and began to remove Arthur's armor with practiced ease, his fingers lazy on the buckles. Arthur had a new manservant for this now, but as far as Merlin could recall the boy had rarely had the chance to so much as touch Arthur's armor. "Training with the knights again?" Merlin asked, a wry twist to his mouth.

"Oh, don't you start," Arthur barked, letting Merlin turn his wrist over to get at the buckles. "Somebody needs to get the men ready for battle, and Lancelot is far too polite." As Merlin removed the rest of the armor, Arthur continued to rant about the terrible practice, about how the men had botched simple training moves right and left, and Merlin nodded and made noncommittal noises as if he remembered the tactical maneuvers Arthur kept referencing. But Merlin's focus wandered, taking in the gleam of the silver armor and the way Arthur's fringe clung to his forehead with sweat. Arthur's body had filled out a bit since that first fateful meeting in the courtyard, his shoulders broadening with battle and his middle softening just a little with age. Merlin smiled sometimes when he pictured Arthur years from now with his father's potbelly.

Gauntlets, spaulders, hauberk, each piece shed as Arthur's volume and fury increased. He raised his arms for Merlin to remove the chainmail as he shouted, "And Gawaine just—just moved into the blow as if a move that moronic wouldn't have cost him an arm in actual battle. And then—"

Merlin reached up to capture Arthur's face in his palms. Arthur sputtered like a candle guttering in the wind, then abruptly deflated. He pressed his sweaty forehead to Merlin's and his hands fisted in the hem of Merlin's shirt. He said quietly, "By the gods, Merlin. They get younger every year."

Merlin smiled and let his fingers tangle in the damp hair curling against the skin of Arthur's neck. "I don't think it's their age that's changing, Arthur."

Heaving a deep sigh, Arthur said, "They're practically children. How can I—"

"They're the same age you were during your first campaign. They knew what they were doing when they enlisted to fight for you. Don't deny them that."

Arthur reached up to graze his thumb along Merlin's cheekbone. He made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a growl of frustration, which meant he knew Merlin was right. Arthur planted a brief, familiar kiss to Merlin's lips that Merlin knew was mostly just Arthur's way of ending any further protests Merlin might have made. Arthur turned and headed for the bed, peeling off his sweat-soaked shirt along the way. "I hate it when you're the sensible one," he grumbled, then flung himself down onto the bed in a manner eerily reminiscent of a spoiled, sullen teenager. He buried his face in the pillow and groaned, relaxed and expectant.

Merlin rolled his eyes at Arthur's back, but he was already palming the small bottle of oil from the bedside shelf. "Budge over, you giant prat." Merlin prodded Arthur's hip none too gently, and Arthur grunted something that was most likely an insult but moved over enough to allow Merlin to crawl up onto the bed behind him. Merlin settled himself on Arthur's thighs and drizzled a healthy dollop of oil onto Arthur's spine. As if Arthur's body knew what was to come, some of the tension already started to bleed from his shoulders.

It wasn't exactly a common occurrence for Arthur to lead training with the knights, but it was common enough that this had become something of a routine. Arthur was still relatively young, but years of battle and forging his kingdom had taken their toll on his body. Merlin would usually take pity on him after a training session and rub down his aching muscles. Mostly, Arthur would wind up falling into a welcome sleep, but sometimes, when he wasn't tired enough to get some much needed rest, Merlin would find other ways to make sure Arthur was exhausted enough to pass out.

Merlin slid his palms over Arthur's back, spreading the oil. Arthur gave a pleased little hum into the pillow. He was already relaxing under Merlin's touch, his eyelids fluttering closed, lashes fanning against his cheek. Merlin's fingers were gentle but firm as they worked over Arthur's back, finding the tension and working it from Arthur's body with an expertise borne from years of practice. He knew Arthur would never admit it, but they both enjoyed this time together. They could just be together without the pressures of their stations getting in the way, talk freely about their day, as equals, and feel a little less like they had spent the day apart attending to their duties as King Arthur and the Court Sorcerer. It took them back to the beginning, when it had been Prince Arthur and his manservant following along at his boot heels with every step of every day.

Merlin's hands slipped over Arthur's skin, down his spine, drawing out a contented sigh. "So, Benjamin blew up the East Tower today," Merlin said conversationally.

Arthur's lazy snort was muffled by the pillow. "Again? And here all this time I thought no one could possibly be more incompetent than your last apprentice." That earned Arthur a hard pinch to his side and he flinched, but that didn't stop him from adding, "Not that that's saying much, given his teacher. I hope you at least got it put back together correctly this time."

Merlin couldn't hide the smile as he replied lightly, "Well, all those castle towers are just giant phalluses anyway. I didn't think anyone would notice."

Merlin dug his thumbs into a stubbornly knotted muscle, eliciting a low groan from Arthur that turned into a drowsy chuckle. "You didn't think anyone would notice? Merlin, you turned the East Tower into a giant cock."

Merlin tried to keep the laughter out of his voice when he replied, "It was a monument to your manly virility."

"It was proof that you're a size queen," Arthur countered easily.

"Oi!" Merlin laughed and landed a playful swat to Arthur's bum. "Admit it. You thought it was funny."

"Not in the slightest," Arthur said, deadpan, but Merlin could see the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

Merlin's fingers curled over Arthur's left shoulder, knowing his old injury from the questing beast tended to flare up with too much activity. Arthur gave a small pained grunt as Merlin's fingers worked deep into the aching muscles and over the tender bones, but Merlin gave a gentle push with his magic and Arthur's features smoothed out. From there, Merlin let his magic spread out over the rest of Arthur's body, covering him like a warm blanket. Merlin gentled his touch, waiting for Arthur's breathing to even out, for the last of the tension to leave his muscles, for signs that Arthur was going to succumb to the siren song of sleep. Instead, Arthur heaved a deep, resigned sigh and said, "Merlin, stop that. You know I have to prepare for our visit to the Western Isles. And I need to—"

"That's not until next week."

"It doesn't matter. I still should—"

"Arthur," Merlin leaned forward, draping his weight over Arthur's back and stilling his half-hearted protests. "You need your rest. I promise Camelot will survive without you for an afternoon." The beginnings of Arthur's grumbling protest died in his throat when Merlin pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the nape of Arthur's neck. He followed it up with a series of small, gentle bites along the ridge of Arthur's shoulder. Arthur endured it stoically for all of three seconds, enough time to mount a token protest, then he curled his fingers around the back of Merlin's neck and pulled their mouths together.

Their lips slid over each other with the comfort and ease of long practice, Merlin knowing just how to graze his teeth along Arthur's bottom lip and Arthur knowing just how to lick his tongue into Merlin's mouth. Arthur's fingers curled, scratching ragged nails lightly across the back of Merlin's neck, and Merlin instinctively opened wider, letting Arthur in deeper. The wet press of mouths came as natural at this point as breathing. Merlin's hand glided down the slick skin of Arthur's back and slipped two fingers under the waistband of Arthur's trousers, teasing lightly at the cleft of his arse. Arthur's hips arched towards the touch, just slightly, and he uttered a needy little grunt into the cavern of their mouths. Arthur pulled back just enough to ghost hot breath over Merlin's mouth as he muttered, "Why aren't we naked yet?"

Merlin's face dropped to the curve of Arthur's shoulder and he huffed a laugh into the warm skin, breathing in Arthur's scent. "Always so bloody impatient," Merlin replied, but before he'd finished speaking he'd already waved their clothes away with a flick of his wrist. He was saved from Arthur's retort by the sudden feel of their naked bodies pressed up against each other, skin hot wherever they touched. Merlin's body was draped across half of Arthur's, his legs wound between Arthur's like vines, his cock rapidly hardening against Arthur's hip. Merlin's fingertips traced lazy circles at the base of Arthur's spine.

Merlin mouthed teasingly at the jut of Arthur's shoulder blade. His tongue flicked out to briefly taste the salty bitterness of Arthur's skin, tiny licks that always made Arthur fight to control the hitch in his breath. Merlin once again dragged his hand down into the cleft of Arthur's arse, no longer teasing, and ran oil-slick fingertips over Arthur's entrance. Arthur sucked in a harsh breath, and Merlin knew if he glanced up he'd see Arthur's lip caught between his teeth, eyes shut tight in pleasure and anticipation. Arthur was always like this, eager and demanding, wanting Merlin inside him with a passion that was more than a little frustrating at times given that Arthur was a stubborn, spoilt prat that rarely allowed Merlin the same luxury. Still, Merlin loved the way his hands fit perfectly around the narrow line of Arthur's hips, the feel of Arthur loose and pliant beneath him, around him, letting him wring every last ounce of pleasure from Arthur's body. So he allowed Arthur to believe that in this, Merlin gave in to Arthur's demands, when really Merlin was just as happy to take Arthur as he was to be taken.

Another graze of fingertips and Arthur breathed out, "Merlin—"

"I know," Merlin answered and pressed a gentle kiss to the sharp plane of Arthur's shoulder. He felt his eyes flash as he called the bottle of oil to him, tipping it in midair to messily drizzle oil over his hand and between Arthur's thighs. He circled Arthur's entrance once, getting him good and slick before he pressed a finger inside.

Arthur gave an almost keening sigh and pressed back into Merlin's hand, his hips shifting so Merlin's hard cock dragged along Arthur's flank. Merlin hissed and rocked his hips forward, pressing into Arthur's heat. Merlin could come just from this, he knew. He could come just from the touch of Arthur's skin and the sound of Arthur's breathing, even after all these years together. The tip of his cock dragged a wet trail along the curve of Arthur's arse as he slid his finger in and out in a slow rhythm, teasing at the edge of that place inside Arthur that made him gasp and writhe. Arthur's hips moved in gentle counterpoint, no real purpose behind the gesture besides his reaction to Merlin's touch. His face was pressed into the pillow, his breath coming in short pants as Merlin slipped a second finger inside and scissored them lightly, feeling Arthur stretch and give around him. He found that place inside Arthur and pressed, sending Arthur's back into a sharp bow that lifted his shoulders from the bed. "Merlin—" Arthur gasped, his tone holding that note of desperation that he only ever let Merlin hear.

"Okay, yeah," Merlin answered, sitting back on his knees, Arthur's legs already spreading to let Merlin settle between his thighs. He pulled his fingers free despite Arthur's soft grunt of protest and tipped the bottle into his hand, using the oil to coat his cock, the touch of his own hand making him draw in a shuddering breath. Then his was leaning forward, his hands braced on either side of Arthur's ribs as he pressed inside. Arthur moaned into the pillow, loud and long as he let Merlin in, opening around Merlin's cock until their hips were flush and Merlin got that familiar feeling like he'd never be able to breathe again. Arthur's lungs drew deep, heaving gulps of air as Merlin pressed his face to the back of Arthur's neck, willing himself to follow Arthur's example. "Arthur—"

"Yeah, Merlin, I'm—god, just—" Merlin rocked his hips slightly, wrenching a broken gasp from Arthur's throat. On the next thrust, Arthur rocked back to meet him, and Merlin answered with a soft, messy kiss to the top of Arthur's spine. They continued to move together, sinuous, undulating motions that never brought their hips out of contact for very long, and Merlin continued to mouth hot, wet kisses along Arthur's spine, the join of his neck and shoulder, the spot behind his ear, all the places that made Arthur bite back noises deep in his throat. He punctuated the rougher thrusts with the soft bite of teeth, and Arthur shoved hard back into Merlin, pushing as much as he could with what little leverage he had, demanding more. Merlin answered with a slow, driving plunge that shoved Arthur up the bed with a sharp gasp, then another, and another, their force building until all Merlin could do was press his face between Arthur's shoulder blades and ride it out. Arthur's fingers twisted in the bed linens, white knuckled, too far gone to hold back the noises anymore. Grunts and moans and Merlin's name tumbled past his lips, spilling out until finally he uttered a broken gasp into the pillow, going silent as he came. Merlin felt Arthur clench down around his cock and a few ragged thrusts later Merlin followed, his breath escaping in a trembling sigh against Arthur's skin.

They both laid there for a long time, languishing in the sound of each others' quieting breathing and the touch of over-sensitized skin. Reluctantly, Merlin pulled out of Arthur's body, taking care to run his fingers lightly over Arthur's ribs to distract him from the mild discomfort. Merlin rolled onto his back, their sides still pressed together, sweat rapidly cooling on their skin and mid-afternoon sunlight pouring through the windows. Turning his head, Merlin caught Arthur watching him from under sleepily lowered eyelids. Merlin offered a drowsy smile in answer, lifting his hand to touch the backs of his knuckles to Arthur's arm. Arthur's eyes slipped closed, his breathing finally settling into the deep, slow rhythm of something like sleep, but not before he reached out to place clumsy fingers over the center of Merlin's chest, covering his heart, feeling it beat under Arthur's hand. Merlin smiled and let sleep take him as well, the gesture as clear as any words Arthur could have said.

.

Fic: At The End Of The Day