Destination Unknown
Jul. 19th, 2014 01:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gwyllionTitle: Destination Unknown
Author: gwylliondream
Genre: Modern au
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: R
Words: 678
Author’s Notes: Written for week 1 of![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
summerpornathon for the prompt: Texts from Last Night. I always wanted to participate in the pornathon, so this year I gave it a try! The prompts were pretty intimidating, but I was committed to my team of sloths. Week 1 was a big challenge for me. I don’t know the first thing about sending a text, so I know even less about the Texts from Last Night meme. The text I chose from the options provided was: So I'm sitting here baked on a bridge thinking about how plants think, I miss you so much.
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of BBC/Shine and their creators.
Comments: Comments are welcome anytime, thanks so much for reading!
Merlin buried his face deeper into the pillow, his breath panting softly against the crisp crimson linen. A few feet away, the sunbeams slipped through the open window, the golden glow washing the king’s bedchamber in morning light.
“Arthur,” Merlin pleaded, daring to quirk one eye open long enough to see the first rays of a spring dawn break over Camelot, awakening the realm.
Arthur’s lips nipped hot at his neck, teeth grazing against the tender flesh beneath Merlin’s ear. Merlin reached up with one hand to tug at Arthur’s hair, urging him closer, begging Arthur’s lips to meet his own. Eye to eye, lips barely moving against each other in the slow dance of morning, Merlin lost himself in Arthur’s touch.
Beneath the sheets, Arthur’s cock split Merlin’s arse cheeks in two, eased only by what makeshift lube they convinced Gaius they needed for silencing a squeaking hinge. Merlin let his legs fall open, widening the space to allow Arthur to thrust at his own rhythm while the world outside their window burst alive with birdsong, each creature beginning the new day.
“Arthur,” Merlin whispered, hot slick seeping from his untouched cock.
“I’m here,” Arthur said, grasping Merlin’s bare hip with a sword-calloused hand.
Merlin whimpered as he felt Arthur tug him closer, breaching his hole again with his cock, Merlin’s sweat-glazed back against the warmth of Arthur’s chest. Merlin fell apart, taking care to remember the burn that filled him, flooding him with life, pushing out any despair that he had come to know.
“I’ve got you,” Arthur breathed, his hand crossing from Merlin’s hip to his belly, before taking his cock, hard and needy, into his hand.
After a few strokes from Arthur’s fist, the streets of the lower village came alive. Before long, bread was set to rise. Children shouted in play. The green bounty of a spring harvest was gathered for the day.
Merlin shuddered with his release. His sticky come trickled cool onto the sheets while wet tears of gratitude slid from his eyes to the pillow.
Murmuring for Merlin to hush, Arthur swept the tears away with his thumbs, replacing his touch with tender kisses to Merlin’s eyelids. Merlin choked back a sob as Arthur wrapped him in his arms, keeping him safe and protected against the intrusion of thoughts that threatened to disrupt Merlin’s peace.
He had barely taken another breath, when the sound of the alarm jolted Merlin awake. He shifted onto his knees, the rough concrete scraping the scabs of dried blood that marred his skin.
With one hand, he drew the phone from his pocket, confused because he didn’t recognize it. He couldn’t remember robbing the drunk of the device the night before. Somewhere on the streets, the phone’s owner cursed at his empty pockets. Merlin coughed out a wad of spit, tinged with the sting of smoky alcohol.
He tapped at the phone, silencing the alarm so it didn’t attract attention. Being picked up for vagrancy was the last thing he needed. He got to his feet and leaned against the side of the concrete bridge. The gray stone had been weathered for too long without repair. The chips of crumbling mortar fell to the ancient riverbed below where once a stream had run. In its place lay a broken bottle, the carcass of a dead bird, and a white Styrofoam cup.
Merlin shook his head when the alarm disappeared from the screen and the unfamiliar letters scrolled out. He underlined each word of the text with a crippled finger. He remembered tapping out the message, but he knew not the address for which it was destined.
Merlin sunk to the ground, shirt riding up, his back scraping against the rough concrete of the bridge. He set the phone down between his knees where the weeds had pushed through the veins in the cracked pavement. For a moment, he contemplated them, wondering how they could grow where no light could reach them.
Perhaps they too were waiting for his king to return to a broken Avalon.
Author: gwylliondream
Genre: Modern au
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: R
Words: 678
Author’s Notes: Written for week 1 of
summerpornathon for the prompt: Texts from Last Night. I always wanted to participate in the pornathon, so this year I gave it a try! The prompts were pretty intimidating, but I was committed to my team of sloths. Week 1 was a big challenge for me. I don’t know the first thing about sending a text, so I know even less about the Texts from Last Night meme. The text I chose from the options provided was: So I'm sitting here baked on a bridge thinking about how plants think, I miss you so much.Disclaimer: All characters are the property of BBC/Shine and their creators.
Comments: Comments are welcome anytime, thanks so much for reading!
Merlin buried his face deeper into the pillow, his breath panting softly against the crisp crimson linen. A few feet away, the sunbeams slipped through the open window, the golden glow washing the king’s bedchamber in morning light.
“Arthur,” Merlin pleaded, daring to quirk one eye open long enough to see the first rays of a spring dawn break over Camelot, awakening the realm.
Arthur’s lips nipped hot at his neck, teeth grazing against the tender flesh beneath Merlin’s ear. Merlin reached up with one hand to tug at Arthur’s hair, urging him closer, begging Arthur’s lips to meet his own. Eye to eye, lips barely moving against each other in the slow dance of morning, Merlin lost himself in Arthur’s touch.
Beneath the sheets, Arthur’s cock split Merlin’s arse cheeks in two, eased only by what makeshift lube they convinced Gaius they needed for silencing a squeaking hinge. Merlin let his legs fall open, widening the space to allow Arthur to thrust at his own rhythm while the world outside their window burst alive with birdsong, each creature beginning the new day.
“Arthur,” Merlin whispered, hot slick seeping from his untouched cock.
“I’m here,” Arthur said, grasping Merlin’s bare hip with a sword-calloused hand.
Merlin whimpered as he felt Arthur tug him closer, breaching his hole again with his cock, Merlin’s sweat-glazed back against the warmth of Arthur’s chest. Merlin fell apart, taking care to remember the burn that filled him, flooding him with life, pushing out any despair that he had come to know.
“I’ve got you,” Arthur breathed, his hand crossing from Merlin’s hip to his belly, before taking his cock, hard and needy, into his hand.
After a few strokes from Arthur’s fist, the streets of the lower village came alive. Before long, bread was set to rise. Children shouted in play. The green bounty of a spring harvest was gathered for the day.
Merlin shuddered with his release. His sticky come trickled cool onto the sheets while wet tears of gratitude slid from his eyes to the pillow.
Murmuring for Merlin to hush, Arthur swept the tears away with his thumbs, replacing his touch with tender kisses to Merlin’s eyelids. Merlin choked back a sob as Arthur wrapped him in his arms, keeping him safe and protected against the intrusion of thoughts that threatened to disrupt Merlin’s peace.
He had barely taken another breath, when the sound of the alarm jolted Merlin awake. He shifted onto his knees, the rough concrete scraping the scabs of dried blood that marred his skin.
With one hand, he drew the phone from his pocket, confused because he didn’t recognize it. He couldn’t remember robbing the drunk of the device the night before. Somewhere on the streets, the phone’s owner cursed at his empty pockets. Merlin coughed out a wad of spit, tinged with the sting of smoky alcohol.
He tapped at the phone, silencing the alarm so it didn’t attract attention. Being picked up for vagrancy was the last thing he needed. He got to his feet and leaned against the side of the concrete bridge. The gray stone had been weathered for too long without repair. The chips of crumbling mortar fell to the ancient riverbed below where once a stream had run. In its place lay a broken bottle, the carcass of a dead bird, and a white Styrofoam cup.
Merlin shook his head when the alarm disappeared from the screen and the unfamiliar letters scrolled out. He underlined each word of the text with a crippled finger. He remembered tapping out the message, but he knew not the address for which it was destined.
Merlin sunk to the ground, shirt riding up, his back scraping against the rough concrete of the bridge. He set the phone down between his knees where the weeds had pushed through the veins in the cracked pavement. For a moment, he contemplated them, wondering how they could grow where no light could reach them.
Perhaps they too were waiting for his king to return to a broken Avalon.
