slow plague death and a snippet

Day Three (Four?) of My Life as a Germ Depository:

Due to work rules, I have to go to the doctor today and get a note excusing me from work for having the plague. On the upside, there's no chest congestion, which is yay, as I have been a totally paranoid person and spending a lot of time coughing as much as possible to test this. For anyone who has had pneumonia and the doctor gave you a torture device to breathe with and then cough copiously, you remember this horror, but it's not nearly that bad. On the downside, head congestion is like walking around with lead sewn into my cheekbones and head and a headache that is like an analogy for the hugeness of the Titanic--or perhaps Australia?--and I have no intention of actually thinking up an adequate analogy so just deal.

So. Being miserable and sick, I want attention and basically, I will take it any way I can get it. Snippet below cut. It's a dumb snippet. But I am sick and it made me laugh myself into easy coughing fits to imagine it, so there you go. Dedicated to shinetheway for her life-saving porn ficlets. This is not porn. Which you will see, is the entire problem.



Efficient
by Seperis
Merlin/Arthur

Merlin's found, over time, that there's a relatively predictable pattern to Arthur's bad days, and all of them start with special, deeply familial midday meals with Uther and Morgana. Merlin doesn't even need to guess anymore; when the kitchen tells him they are setting three plates and they don't have visiting courtiers, Merlin knows he's doomed and plans accordingly.

Which is why he's ready, more or less, when he's summoned to Arthur's chambers at nearly midnight, because after the joy that was their afternoon together (fell off horse, fell over due to sword, fell down the stairs carrying armor; basically, Arthur's bad days are also Merlin's bruised days), their evening (he didn't have to duck a thrown dagger or a bottle of ale, but that's about all he can say for it), Arthur won't hesitate to let him escape any more prince/manservant bonding time for anything as ridiculous as sleep.

Merlin reserves the right to be an ass about it, though, pushing open the door and staring resentfully at Arthur, who is camped out in front of the hearth in nothing but his unlaced shirt and trousers, with three skins of wine and a wide, brilliant smile.

Predictable, yes. Merlin closes the door. "I'm not that funny when I'm drunk."

Arthur grins at him winningly. "Yes, you really are."

*****

This is how it goes wrong. Arthur blames society.

"Oh my God," Morgana says, and Arthur lifts his head and regards with no favor the swell of her chest only a few inches above his face. Morgana is not to be faced before breakfast. Or ever, really. "Arthur!"

Arthur reaches for a pillow and finds something terribly un-pillow-like. In fact, it feels a great deal like skin.

"I had--" Morgana, for a wonder, turns a hideous shade of red, backing up a step and actually stumbling. "How long?"

The skin-covered pillow moans and says, "Please, sire, next time, I'll do it without wine, I swear," and Arthur thinks Merlin and wine and fuck as Merlin rolls over and collapses across his back. Swallowing, Arthur tries to decide between vomiting and going back to sleep in hopes this is all a bad dream.

Hope wins. "Later, Morgana," Arthur manages with dignity intact, reaching for an (actual) pillow and covering his head, while Merlin's breath puffs against the back of his neck and he says, "Yes, later. Very sore now."

This cannot end well.

*****

Merlin wakes up to Arthur sitting up (naked) and staring at the floor (he's naked) with an expression somewhere between epic homicide and hilarity (while naked). This is never what anyone sane calls a good sign; Arthur lacks a reasonable sense of humor and finds the oddest and most inappropriate things amusing.

(But naked and Merlin admits, to himself if no one else, his own patience with Arthur grows in inverse proportion to how much he's wearing. Merlin's agreed to many terrifying things when Arthur's bathing. Many things.)

"Sire?" he starts, then realizes that the sheets feel so very good against his naked skin because he's naked as well. Closing his eyes, Merlin reaches for a pillow and covers his head. "Later?"

Arthur drops back on the bed beside him and nearly crawls under him with a sigh. "Yes, please."

*****

Here's what they know: they did not have sex. But no one will ever believe it.

"Merlin, you can't stay in here forever," Arthur argues, though his heart's not in it. Staring at the sun (well above the horizon, which will only add to the entire horror), Arthur stares hatefully at the wineskins and thinks of horrible purges of winesellers throughout the world for their foul discovery of what happens when grapes sit too long in large casks.

"I'm not going out there again," Merlin states, stealing half of Arthur's very late breakfast with the shell-shocked look of someone who was questioned gently about consent and willingness by Morgana for an entire hour in the dining hall and then even more gently questioned by Gaius on whether Arthur had been--had been-- "I can't face another inquiry on my virtue, Arthur. It's not happening. It's not."

Arthur sighs and picks at the bread and cheese and says, "Gaius asked me if I was gentle," Arthur says, staring at the wall. "After you ran away. And if there was bleeding."

Merlin says, "Why isn't there a purge of winesellers?"

"They're next."

Merlin drops his head on the table. "No one will ever believe us. Ever."

Arthur picks up a knife and wonders if falling on it would be such a bad idea. "My father did compliment me on the efficiency of using my staff for dual purposes," Arthur says, and this time, he doesn't even feel like crying. "One who cannot get pregnant."

Merlin lifts his head miserably. "Gwen complimented me on bagging a prince."

Arthur nods thoughtfully. "More wine?"

Merlin nods gratefully. "Please, yes."

*****

Which is how the entire rumor started. How it became true...well, that's a different story entirely.



shinetheway and I are snippeting here on what happens next. Feel free to add if you wish. And no, this is not a desperate and transparent plea for entertainment for the afternoon. Except you know, it totally is.

Comments

[thearchpoet.livejournal.com]

*Flails*

I can't promise much/anything in the way of entertainment but as I am sitting here waiting for the interview of doom:
Morgana has lived at court long enough to know well the signs of a woman badly used. In the days following what she can only think of as the incident it gives her hope that Merlin exhibits none of these. He does not startle at the slightest of sounds, does not cower against the corridor walls, and (most tellingly) does not avoid Arthur’s presence. Ever.

The knowledge is a relief. Morgana does not know what she might have done to Arthur had Merlin been forced. She is her father’s daughter and Uther’s ward. Her sense of Justice is brutal and swift.

Nearly a week passes before she notices the whispers.

On her way to the stables Morgana hears two kitchen maids gossiping, their accents are broad and their and their tongues quick, but even so Morgana makes out the words “wine” and “catamite” and “nightly, now” clear enough. The blood rushes to her head at a pounding march.

It occurs to her that she might have been wrong. Merlin isn’t, after all, a woman.

That night, when most of the castle has retired, she sneaks to Arthur’s room through the shadows. She won’t kill him but she has not yet entirely outgrown the notion that, (when he misbehaves,) it is perfectly acceptable to beat her foster -brother with a stick.

When she arrives, the room is empty. Morgana walks to the far wall and waits there where the torch light cannot illuminate her. It is nearly an hour before Arthur stumbles in.

“Ouch!”

“Would you –!“

“Now which of us is hiding?” There is shoving and grumbling and they are both rather embarrassingly male. Neither, thankfully, notices Morgana drowsing in the corner. “Here, if you stand still, I’ll try and get that bloody thing off.” Arthur’s armor, Morgana notices is dented. “What were you fighting anyway? A catapult?”

Morgana has never seen a catapult outside of her father’s books; she doubts that Uther even knows of such modern technology. Arthur, for his part, does not appear to understand the word. “Yes Merlin,” he answers sarcastically, “I went hunting in my armor. And caught a catapult.” Morgana sees Merlin bite back on his laugh.

Doubt, again, creeps into her mind. Kitchen maids are notoriously unreliable after all.

Arthur is free of his armor soon enough and Merlin too begins to undress.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asks what Morgana thinks.

“Going to bed.”

“Here?” He is not facing her, but Morgana can hear the surprise in Arthur’s voice.

“No, Arthur, I’m going to take off my clothes so that I can return to Gaius’ house naked.”

Merlin walks to Arthur’s bed, utterly ignoring his flabbergast prince, “everyone thinks I... well, not sleep exactly, but they think I spend my nights here anyway. It’s late, it’s cold out, and I want to rest. If anything you should blame yourself.”

Arthur doesn’t immediately reply. He does, however, turn and cast upon Merlin a speculative look. “If you want to stay...”

On the bed, Merlin grins, “I’ll make it worth your while.”

By this point, Morgana has seen everything she needs to. Her own initial instinct was correct. The chambermaids were wrong. She should, most probably, leave. Unfortunately, Arthur stands between her and the door. Arthur strips quickly, and Morgana decidedly does not admire how well he’s grown. In this moment, Arthur has eyes only for Merlin.

Merlin, however, casts his eyes into the shadows, directly at Morgana. He mouths the word “Go”. Merlin’s eyes gleam in the firelight and without questioning it, Morgana leaves. She does not entirely know how she managed to escape the room without Arthur seeing but she is grateful enough that she did.

In the future, she resolves, she will send Gwen to deal with her brother.

She will also, when it is unavoidable, knock.

[seperis.livejournal.com]

...okay, wow, I didn't expect this. You write in Merlin, don't you? This is really good. Wow.

*blinking* Seriously. Excellent.

[thearchpoet.livejournal.com]

Thanks ^_^ Your fic provides me with endless entertainment so I'm really glad you liked this! (Even though it's fic of the biggest-cliche-ever sort.)

I've been job hunting pretty hard for the last 7 months so I haven't really had time to do fandom stuff - but I do have a Merlin AU peculating in a notebook.

[shinetheway.livejournal.com]

Oooooooooooh. [big eyes]

Sequel!!

[thearchpoet.livejournal.com]

I'd love to - but a sequel would most likely entail 3some porn and idk how to write that. (Because, you know, Merlin's idea of payback would involve pulling Morgana into bed with them.)

You're welcome to write it though =P

[shinetheway.livejournal.com]

Oh god. [facepalm] I think I've just become the commentfic porn slut of Merlin fandom. [grins]

[seperis.livejournal.com]

*innocent* Is that your official title?

[shinetheway.livejournal.com]

Okay, I now want an icon with that on it, like, *desperately*.

[sighs] My parents would be so proud...

Pretends that this is not a bribe

[thearchpoet.livejournal.com]

*coughs*

Quick and Dirty but... well.

[thearchpoet.livejournal.com]

*winces*

Crap, something weird happened to the contrast when I saved it.

But you wrote the fic before I offered the bribe so, really, I'm good.

Re: Pretends that this is not a bribe

[shinetheway.livejournal.com]

muahahahahaha!!!!!

[loves]

And, um. yeah. We sluts are easy that way. [headdesk] This one turned out to be TOO GODDAMN BIG FOR THE COMMENT SPACE, even.

[tricksterquinn.livejournal.com]

OH MY GOD YES WRITE IT.

*koffs*

part 1

[shinetheway.livejournal.com]

The next time Morgana finds herself in Arthur's chambers at night, Arthur definitely knows she's there.

She's drunk some wine, but not much. Just enough to make the edges of the world a little soft, but not enough to make her blind to just how crazy this idea truly is.

Merlin is the one who leans down next to her chair at supper with his carefully worded message, but she happened to glance across the table to Arthur, who was watching her carefully, and she knows where the idea came from. Just for that, she has the urge to refuse--the last thing Arthur needs is a sop to his ego--but something about the careful way he watches her makes her hesitate.

When she finally jerks her head down slightly in a nod, Arthur looks away, but there's a new tension in the set of his shoulders. Morgana lives to make Arthur nervous, so it's no real decision to come to his door and knock.

Merlin opens the door, and she sweeps in, regal, head high.

Arthur is sitting in his chair, and when she comes in he stands. Morgana blinks at him, not used to the courtesy.

"Morgana," Merlin said quietly, behind her.

She isn't new. She's done more, seen more, than she would ever tell Uther--or Arthur, for that matter. But that doesn't stop the shiver when Merlin touches her arm, carefully, hesitantly, like he still isn't sure. But Morgana has seen them together, and suddenly this caution seems less polite and more insulting.

She turns, and Merlin watches her with wide eyes as she touches his jaw, draws him close, kisses him.

Behind her there's a scrape of wood over stone, and seconds later Arthur is behind her, broad hands cupping her shoulders. She gasps as he kisses the nape of her neck, and Merlin is kissing her back now, surprisingly submissive under her mouth. She likes it.

Arthur unlaces her dress, kissing the skin of her back as it slowly falls away from her, and she takes Merlin's hands and puts them on her, moves them as she pleases. Merlin is trembling a little, his eyes very blue and somewhat stunned, and his hands are warm and endlessly careful. Morgana finds herself pleased with this.

She's bare now, and both of them are still dressed, and this feels very unfair to her. Also, she's always wished to see this, from the first time she caught two of the knights playing bedgames in the armory after drill, when she was still a girl. She pulls away from them, walks to the bed and then turns deliberately. She's posing, she admits to herself, and preens slightly under their stunned eyes.

"Go on, then," she says, lightly. "Don't mind me."

Re: part 1

[shinetheway.livejournal.com]

Er. [grins sheepishly] I decided that I liked this one. A lot. So I kind of made it longer and posted it properly.

Here. (http://shinetheway.livejournal.com/486935.html?mode=reply)

part 2

[shinetheway.livejournal.com]

Merlin looks at Arthur, and his gaze is familiar and warm, not reverent, and when he touches Arthur, it's with no hesitation. Arthur stands still for his attentions, and Merlin grins up at him, momentarily relaxed. Arthur smiles back at them, and Morgana breathes out as he turns to her, naked and beautiful. Behind him, Merlin strips quickly, efficiently, and Morgana eases back onto the bed, keeping her legs together, sitting on one hip. She feels the sudden urge to look beautiful, as beautiful as they do.

Arthur is golden, solid with layers of muscle. Merlin is pale, sleek and lean, and looks almost shy, half-hiding behind Arthur. Morgana sucks her stomach in, tries to look seductive, and only suceeds in making Arthur smirk. The familiarity of it relaxes her against her will.

"You know," he says, "you don't actually have to pretend with us. We already know you're hideous."

Morgana catches her breath in shock, and then stands in outrage. "Hideous! I am not hideous. I'm far more attractive than you," she sniffs, and Arthur grins and comes over to the bed, dragging Merlin behind him by the wrist.

Merlin grins at her behind Arthur's shoulder, and then Arthur is kissing her, and Merlin's hands on her hips guide her back onto the bed, and she accepts it, follows his lead, and finds herself reclining against his chest, Arthur kneeling in front of her and attending to her breasts with fingers and mouth. The coiling heat in her belly makes her feel restless, and she twists and whimpers.

When Arthur moves lower, Merlin takes over at her breasts, rolling her nipples with curious fingers, and she stares at the canopy of the bed and blinks away tears as Arthur touches her, far more delicately than she would have ever given him credit for her. He spreads her open, sprawls out on his belly, and she shuts her eyes when he leans in to use his tongue.

She comes, silently, as she's trained herself to do, but one hand is digging into Merlin's hip and the other clutches Arthur's shoulder and she doesn't let go for a long time as she shakes apart in their hands.

Afterwards, she lays drowsily and watches, fascinated, as Merlin spreads his thighs wide, tendons standing out. Arthur pushes inside, quivering, and Merlin laughs breathlessly, does something that makes Arthur gasp and drive harder, faster. It's rough and clumsy and Morgana thinks that she could watch it forever, because it isn't new, and it isn't strange, and both of them know each other, trust each other, and it's plain in every familiar touch, every quiet moan. Arthur shudders helplessly, groaning deep in his chest, and Merlin catches him as he collapses. Then he's arching greedily into Arthur's strong hand when Arthur finds him, straining and needy, and it's all over.

Morgana puts a hand on Arthur, feels his sweaty skin, and squeezes gently. Arthur covers her hand and squeezes back.

She gets up, finds her dress draped across the back of a chair, and steps into it. She's just trying to figure out how to close the laces when Merlin is behind her, drawing the laces shut and gives her a lopsided smile when she blushes. It seems ludicrous to be bashful now, when only moments before he was holding her breasts in his hand, but this feels so much more intimate.

She waits until Merlin is back in the bed, safely shroudded behind blankets, before she leaves. The guards in the hall do not look at her, and do not stop her, and she strides forward confidently.

Gwen is waiting for her in her room, and her dark eyes are knowing, but she makes no comment when she removes Morgana's dress, picking out knots that she must know never tied. Merlin, for all his skills, is no lady's maid.

She's in her shift and in bed, the hot brick making the linen sheets warm. Gwen snuffs the candles and undresses in the dark, because Morgana no longer trust the potions Gaius gives her. Only in Gwen's arms can she sleep soundly.

"Was it beautiful?" Gwen asks softly, when she's almost asleep, and she stirs herself to gather her close, bury her face in Gwen's sweet-smelling hair.

"Yes," she says, after a minute, and closes her eyes.

Re: part 2

[thearchpoet.livejournal.com]

*glee*

Just.... <3.

Re: part 2

[shinetheway.livejournal.com]

[giggles helplessly] God, I don't know what I'm *on*. I'm glad you like it, though.

Re: part 2

[seperis.livejournal.com]

Holy Mother of God yes. Oh wow. Oh hell yes.

Re: part 2

[shinetheway.livejournal.com]

[points at icon]

[bounces gleefully]

[blushes a whole lot] You know, seriously, this much fun should be illegal.

Re: part 2

[shinetheway.livejournal.com]

Also, you know, wow. This has totally eaten your post. [is goggling at the threads and threads-from-threads]

Guess you'll just have to post something new tomorrow? [hopeful look]

Re: part 2

[thearchpoet.livejournal.com]

*Guess you'll just have to post something new tomorrow?*

Seconds This!

Also, (as for what you're on,) It's like [Bad username or site: seperis / @ livejournal.com] has been feeding you fic-writing steroids. I wholly approve.

Re: part 2

[shinetheway.livejournal.com]

Or crack. You know. Because that would explain it too.

I really love that icon. God, it's just so frighteningly appropriate. :)

[green-grrl.livejournal.com]

Guh! (I was almost hoping she'd get to see it all, but that would be wrong. *ahem*) I love, love, love the way she looks out for Merlin, to make sure he wasn't forced.

[thearchpoet.livejournal.com]

Glad you liked it! ^_^

And Morgana isn't so much the stand-there-and-watch type so much as she's the siddle over and join-the-fun type. ;D