27 May 2014 @ 02:10 am
Author: [livejournal.com profile] rocknvaughn
Title: Close Quarters
Rating: R
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur, Morgause, Edwin Muirden
Summary: University AU. Albion University's rather unique first-year orientation exercise has Merlin seeing red...and blue, and yellow, and green.
Word Count: 4K
Prompt: #110 ~ Strangers No More
Author's Notes: Yes, I know...a new high for word count. *hides* But, when I get an idea, I just run with it, no matter how many words it ends up being. Hopefully it will at least be entertaining. My thanks to [livejournal.com profile] ekishou for the cheerleading and [livejournal.com profile] k_nightfox for the quick beta. *glomps*

Close Quarters


Merlin had just settled onto the arm of the sectional sofa in the main common room of Camelot Hall (which—according to the notice he’d received in the mail last week—was apparently his new dormitory) when a blonde haired woman clutching a clipboard called above the din, “Quiet, please. Quiet!”

As the rumble of voices petered off into silence the woman nodded and said, “Thank you, and welcome to Albion University. My name is Morgause.” She gestured toward a sandy-haired man standing next to her and continued, “And this is Edwin. We are your RAs here at Camelot Hall.”

Her speech was interrupted by a group of loud students that pushed, shoved, and laughed their way into the room. Merlin took one look at them and rolled his eyes. Every single one of them was built like they played rugby and probably had the combined intelligence of a doorknob. Great, just what we needed; a bunch of gormless footballers to drag down the average IQ of the room…

Morgause just stared at the group with a truly frightening glare until, one by one, they awkwardly fell silent. “You’re late,” she declared sharply, tapping the clipboard with the side of her biro.

The stupidly gorgeous, golden-haired demi-god that appeared to be the group’s ringleader nodded and replied in a voice that was much plummier than Merlin had expected, “Yes, I know. My apologies.”

“Hmm,” Morgause hummed, as if she wasn’t sure she would forgive him before she shrugged one shoulder and nodded toward the middle of the room. “Take a seat and we’ll continue.”

As the rest of the group split up and filtered in between other students to find the last few available seats, the student who had spoken to Morgause shoved his way past Merlin, almost knocking him onto the floor as he passed.

“Oi, you prat!” Merlin hissed, grabbing wildly at the chair back as he windmilled precariously toward the unforgiving-looking linoleum, “Watch where you’re going!”

The man looked back at Merlin over his shoulder and smirked. “Not my fault you have all the balance of a newborn foal,” he sniggered as he plopped down on the seat at the other end of the sectional, next to a pretty girl with brown skin, hair, and eyes.

Livid, Merlin opened his mouth to retort—something about bulls and china shops—when Morgause turned her very scary “Be quiet,” look on him, and that had him shutting his mouth with an audible click.

With a satisfied nod, Morgause continued, "Now that everyone is here, we're going to move this out to the quad for our 'Get to know your roommate' exercise. If you would all follow me, please."

Merlin groaned as he pushed to a stand. He had a bad feeling about this.


Oh, bugger me, Merlin thought as he entered the courtyard. A smattering of hoots, laughter, and applause echoed about the enclosed space. It's even worse than I thought...

Scattered along the grass that lined the pathways was plastic square after plastic square, each one of them adorned with rows of coloured circles.

"Now as you can see," Morgause continued as if she'd never stopped speaking, "we've set up twenty-two mats; one for each first-year room. Once we announce the match ups, we will be playing two man, or two woman, games of Twister."

Oh, great, Merlin thought to himself with more than a little distress, that’s just what I need. Seeing as his interests lay in the male form rather than the female, wrestling about with a complete stranger on a bit of plastic had the potential to be rather embarrassing.

Merlin closed his eyes and prayed for a roommate that he wouldn’t find attractive.

Meanwhile, Morgause held out her clipboard as she walked down the line of plastic squares, calling out the names of the roommates as she pointed to each one.

A moment later, Morgause called out in her clipped, businesslike tone, “Emrys!”

Merlin’s eyelids snapped open and he unconsciously stiffened from having everyone’s eyes upon him. “You’re with Pendragon.”

And that was when ‘Blond God with an Attitude’ shoved himself away from the wall he’d been slouching against with a leer of amusement.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.

Merlin actually looked down at himself to see if he was standing there in just his y-fronts, because this certainly felt like a nightmare. But no, he was unfortunately not dreaming. Woodenly, he shuffled forward toward the square indicated by Morgause’s imperious finger of doom.

This is going to be the worst year of my life, Merlin whinged to himself, convinced that God must hate him to stick him with such a gorgeous but posh plonker of a roommate.

Blondie’s smirk only got wider as Merlin approached. “Nice of you to join me at last,” he deadpanned in his plummy, priggish voice. “Didn’t realize you needed a formal invitation. Although, now that I think on it, you making it across the quad without tripping over your own feet was probably quite an achievement for you.”

Anger flashed in Merlin’s eyes as he deliberately turned his back on the man and spit out, “Please...don’t think. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” And then, half under his breath, he added, “Arse,” for good measure.

Behind him, Blondie snorted. “You’d like to have a go at my arse, wouldn’t you, Emrys?” he breathed, way too close to Merlin’s ear for his liking. Or perhaps he liked it a little too much, since his traitorous dick twitched a little in his pants.

Merlin felt the flush tinting his cheeks, but it was just because he was angry...of course it was, he told himself furiously.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he hissed, stepping away so that Pendragon’s hot breath was no longer caressing his neck in that thoroughly distracting way. “Your head’s already as big as your waist. If it swells any more, we might be cleaning brain matter off the cobblestones. Of course, that’s assuming you actually have a brain, and I certainly wouldn’t make that wager.”

This time, it was Pendragon’s impending tirade that was interrupted by Morgause.

“All right, now that we’ve got everyone paired up, we’re going to get started. We wanted you to have the opportunity to learn more about your new roommate as well as a little bit about yourself. So here’s what we're going to do: Edwin is going to spin the spinner and call out a move. The two of you will get yourselves into position, placing the correct body part on one of the spots of that colour. Once you’re all in place, I will ask a question. You will guess what you think the answer from your roommate will be. After the next move, your roommate will give you the correct answer.”

“And don’t worry if you fall over,” Morgause explained. “There are no penalties for that in this version of the game. Just reset to the last called move and continue from there. I realize this may sound a bit daft, but I assure you that this exercise is very enlightening.”

“Now, if you would all please remove your shoes; we don’t want to rip the mats.” Merlin reluctantly toed off his trainers and set them aside as the Pendragon prat did the same.

After another moment, Morgause asked, “Everyone ready?” If anyone was unprepared, it appeared that no one dared admit it to her.

“Good! Edwin, if you please.”

The sandy-haired man flicked his finger against the plastic pointer and then waited for it to stop moving.

“Left foot blue!” Edwin called out.

Merlin sighed and shuffled onto the mat, placing his sock-clad foot on a blue dot near the center of the line. Instead of facing away from Merlin, Arthur placed his foot on the spot directly in front of him so that their faces were only inches apart.

“First question! Guess your roommate’s first name.”

Merlin wondered if the wanker was standing so close just to intimidate him, or perhaps if he was hoping for some other kind of reaction from Merlin that he could later ridicule. Either way, he was going to find himself sorely disappointed. “Prat,” he ground out between clenched teeth as Merlin pointedly turned his head away from his obnoxious roommate.

A bark of laughter had him glancing back. “Is that your guess? If so, then I would have to assume your name must be ‘Idiot’.”

Before Merlin could come up with a fitting retort, Edwin was calling out the next move. “Left hand red!”

Merlin sighed and crouched down, placing his hand down on the corner spot behind him so he could angle his body away from his roommate’s. Of course, that condition didn’t last for long. The posh git squatted and then twisted at the waist so that it accidentally untucked part of his shirt. Arthur was almost draped over Merlin’s knee while he reached in for the dot near Merlin’s armpit.

“My real name is Arthur,” he said, tilting his head up to meet Merlin’s eye. “And you are?”

“Merlin,” he replied, trying very hard not to think about just how close that sliver of exposed skin was to his crotch.

“Wow,” Arthur teased, “your Mum really didn’t like you, did she, Merlin?”

Merlin narrowed his eyes and glared daggers at Arthur. “It’s a family name.”

“Right hand blue!”

Merlin reached straight back and placed his hand on the blue dot on the one next to the end so that he was a little bit cross-cornered on the mat. He looked a bit like a demented crab, but he was still in better shape than Arthur, who was going to have to pretzel himself in some way to reach toward the blue row with his right hand.

Arthur caught his bottom lip between his teeth and stared at the mat for a long moment. Then he crossed his arm over his chest but under his other one, tucking it between Merlin’s open legs to touch the only spot he could reach: the one directly underneath Merlin’s hovering bum.

Merlin tried not to react, but bugger it if that position didn’t force Arthur’s forearm right up against Merlin’s bollocks! How the hell was he supposed to even think straight under these conditions, let alone answer questions?

Just as his eyes started to flutter shut, his dick perking up and taking interest in his new predicament, Merlin heard Morgause’s voice ask, “So, where do you think your roommate is from?”

“Buckingham Palace,” Merlin retorted dryly, desperately trying to concentrate on how much of a git Arthur was instead of the warmth of said git’s arm that was starting to seep through the material of Merlin’s jeans near the base of his cock.

Startled, both of Arthur’s eyebrows shot up and then he laughed heartily. “Really? I didn’t realize Wills and Harry had a brother.”

Merlin gritted his teeth against the resulting vibrations that Arthur’s laughter had caused and hissed, “Well, you certainly act like you own everything, so I figured you must think you’re some kind of royal.”

“Ha, ha, ha,” Arthur chortled dryly. “Well at least I’m not from Narnia.”

Eyes widening in astonishment, Merlin spluttered, “What are you like? Merlin was from the legend of Camelot, as you should bloody well kn…”

“I know,” Arthur cut in, his one raised eyebrow clearly indicating how much of an idiot he thought Merlin was for believing he was serious. And as Arthur continued to stare at him, Merlin swore he could feel Arthur’s hand slowly creeping forward, as if purposefully trying to increase the friction between his arm and Merlin’s arse. “Can you do magic like your namesake, Merlin?” he asked lightly.

“If I could, you’d be a frog right now, trust me,” Merlin groused, which only made Arthur laugh again.

“Left hand green!”

Picking up his left hand, Arthur deftly twisted his body around so that he was practically lying across Merlin’s lap in the other direction and then set his hand down on a green dot. Merlin shoved himself up and twisted his torso so he could touch the green dot past Arthur’s nose with his fingers...which unfortunately meant that Merlin’s face was practically buried in Arthur’s hair at the nape of his neck.

“I’m...from Westminster,” Arthur admitted, a little bit sheepishly.

“Ha!” Merlin cackled triumphantly in Arthur’s conveniently-placed ear. “Say hello to the Queen for me!”

Merlin sucked in a breath and got a wee bit lightheaded from the enchanting smell of Arthur’s cologne.

“And you’re from?” Arthur’s voice had a slightly breathy quality to it that Merlin chalked up to physical exertion.

“Camarthen. That’s in Wales,” Merlin admitted.

“Hmmm, a Welshman named Merlin. Why am I not surprised?”

“I told you it was a family name.”

“So you did,” Arthur agreed.

The call of “Right foot yellow!” did very little to change their current positions except to hunch them both slightly closer together.

“What is your roommate’s field of study?” Morgause prompted.

“Computer Science,” Arthur guessed, the cocky quality of his voice giving away how certain he was that he was correct.

Merlin‘s breath ruffled the hair at the base of Arthur’s skull. “Athletics,” he replied, equally smug in his answer.

“Right hand red!” Edwin called out, and Merlin and Arthur struggled to move again. Merlin had to learn further down over Arthur’s face in order to stretch his arms wide enough apart for him to touch the red corner spot his other hand had formerly occupied. In the meantime, Arthur finally unwedged his arm from underneath Merlin’s buttocks, but the situation went from bad to worse when Arthur’s new position put Arthur’s buttocks into direct contact with Merlin’s crotch.

Trying in vain to keep his mind centered on the task and not the glorious pressure being exerted by Arthur’s peachlike arse on his now rock-hard dick, Merlin breathed, “Medicine. I’m studying medicine...”

“A doctor?” Arthur snorted from below Merlin’s armpit. “Remind me never to go to whatever hospital you’ll be training at.”

Merlin huffed his annoyance against Arthur’s neck and swore he felt Arthur shiver in response, but then just as quickly decided that he must have imagined it. “What about you?”

“International Relations,” was Arthur’s unsteady answer.

The husky timbre of Arthur’s voice made Merlin’s cock twitch and throb and he caught himself halfway through the motion of rubbing against his probably very-straight roommate’s fleshy buttocks. Shit.

Belatedly, what Arthur had said registered.

Arthur, a politician? What a joke! “God help the fate of this country if you ever get into power,” was Merlin’s cheeky retort.

As if in punishment, Arthur finished Merlin’s aborted movement for him, grinding his arsecheeks down against Merlin’s cock with apparent abandon. Merlin could not quite hold back the tortured groan that resulted from that.

“What’s the matter, Merlin?” Arthur whispered as he turned his head into the crook of Merlin’s neck and let his lips ghost against his pale skin. “Feel something you like?”

Humiliation flooded Merlin as he dropped to the mat in shame. How dare the bastard tease him like that and then make fun of him in the very next breath? “Fuck you, Arthur Pendragon,” he cursed as he extracted his limbs out from under Arthur’s. “You can just sod right the fuck off!”

He pushed himself to a stand with the purpose of heading right to the admissions office—stocking feet and all—and demanding another roommate, preferably one that was not such a queer-baiting fuckwit.

And then there were warm fingers clasped about his wrist. When Merlin looked down, Arthur’s face didn’t look anything like the smug bastard he’d been to him just seconds before. “No. Wait, please,” Arthur softly begged, the contrition plainly written on his features. “I’m sorry. Please come back.”

Morgause and Edwin were staring at them, and other people had started to notice the commotion as well. But Merlin only had eyes for Arthur, and damn it if his particular brand of sincerity and pleading didn’t worm its way into Merlin’s heart.

Arthur’s arm pulled at Merlin’s wrist tentatively, and Merlin reluctantly allowed himself to be dragged back onto his knees on the mat. “Oh, all right. Fine. Let’s get this over with.” He put his right hand onto the closest red spot and let out a put-upon sigh.

He felt both gratified and strangely disappointed when Arthur’s right hand was laid onto a spot two away from his, leaving space between them for the first time since the exercise began.

“Right foot yellow!”

Merlin shuffled around so his foot would cover the yellow spot directly behind his hand. Arthur’s foot landed right beside his but with their torsos angled away from each other, there was still plenty of room between them.

But just when Merlin was starting to think that this bizarre situation would work out all right after all, the penny dropped.

“What is your roommate’s sexual orientation?”

Well, fuck.

“It’s certainly nothing to be ashamed of,” Morgause went on, “but you don’t have to answer this one if it makes you uncomfortable. However, if you guess, then it’s only fair that you also have to answer.”

Merlin didn’t know when what Arthur thought of him had suddenly become so important, but evidently it had. After Arthur had called him back to the mat, Merlin had hoped that they might simply be able to forget what had happened and move on, but now that seemed impossible.

In that moment, Merlin was convinced that God really did truly hate him. He hung his head down between his shoulders in defeat.

After all, it wasn’t as if the answer to this question would be a shock to Arthur, not with the way Merlin’s cock had been prodding him in the arse very insistently a few minutes ago.

And, true to form, Arthur leaned in a little bit and spoke quietly so that no one else could hear, though it still didn’t keep the little note of triumph from colouring the man’s voice as he declared emphatically, “You’re gay.”

Merlin closed his eyes against the sting of tears, imagining Arthur lounging across his bed in their shared room, lording it over his buddies about how he’d already “gotten the poof hard for him” and then sniggering about how easy a target he had been.

God, this year is going to be unbearable...

“And you’re straight,” Merlin mumbled miserably, the end of the word barely audible over Arthur’s swift intake of breath.

A stifling silence stretched out interminably between them, so long and sharp and painful to Merlin that he was on the verge of just begging Edwin to get on with it when he heard the man call out, “Left hand red!”

Keeping his head down to hide his red-rimmed eyes, Merlin placed his left hand onto the dot directly next to his right and sighed. “Yes, Arthur,” he admitted quietly, “I’m gay. I know...big surprise, right?” he replied self-deprecatingly.

In response, Arthur slung an arm over Merlin’s back to touch the red dot on the other side of his body. Arthur slid closer so that it was almost an embrace, his impressively-muscled chest plastered against Merlin’s side.

“I’m gay, too,” he whispered in Merlin’s ear, his lips brushing against the earlobe tantalizingly. Then, as Merlin’s mouth fell open from shock, Arthur asked with a playful lilt, “Would you care to hazard a guess as to what kind of men I like, Merlin? I’ll give you one clue...” and then pressed his very hard cock into the meat of Merlin’s right thigh.

Holy shit, Merlin thought, struggling to process the last few moments of his very messed up life. Arthur's gay? Gay, gorgeous, and apparently hot for me? But how…?

Merlin’s train of thought derailed when Arthur ground his crotch rather emphatically against Merlin’s hip. “Oh, my God…” Merlin moaned aloud, not able to stop himself from leaning back into the touch.

Arthur’s chuckle tickled at the exposed skin at the back of Merlin’s neck, making him shiver. “Usually I don’t hear that particular epithet until after I’ve finished sucking cock, but to each his own I always say,” he teased smugly.

And then, as his dick stood at attention and throbbed against his zip almost painfully, Merlin came to a startling realization: Arthur had never been making fun of him...he’d been flirting with him the whole time!

Suddenly confident, Merlin ground his arse against Arthur’s cock, extracting a tortured groan from him. Merlin turned his head to the side so that his lips grazed Arthur’s cheek. “Feel something you like?” he asked, playfully mimicking Arthur’s earlier words.

The answer was immediate. “Fuck, yes!” Arthur agreed breathlessly as he nipped at Merlin’s ear with his teeth.

“Good,” Merlin said, his breath catching in his throat as Arthur licked a stripe along his neck behind his ear, “because I like yours, too.”

“Right hand blue!”

As the fingers of their right hands entwined over the same blue spot, Morgause’s voice announcing the next question faded into the background.

Arthur declared pompously, “Well, you should. After all, my dick is rather top shelf.”

Instead of being annoyed, amused laughter burbled from Merlin’s full lips. “God, you are so full of yourself!”

Arthur’s voice turned dark and smoky with desire. “No, but I wouldn’t be adverse to being full of you later…”

Merlin gave a full body shiver at that. “Fuck, Arthur…” he swore, barely coherent for the rampant lust now flooding his veins.

“Is that a threat or a promise? Or are you just a tease?” Arthur asked suggestively.

“All of the above,” Merlin panted, his hips hitching back toward the cradle of Arthur’s crotch of their own accord.

“Excellent,” Arthur agreed, dropping a kiss to the join of Merlin’s neck and shoulder. “Then perhaps later, when this is all over, we could re-enact the exercise without our kits?”

“Hell, yes,” Merlin gasped enthusiastically as Arthur thrust up against him again.

“If you two are quite done giving everyone here a show,” came Morgause’s icy voice from right beside them, startling them both from the bubble of their mutual seduction, “perhaps we could get back to the task at hand.”

Both men gawped at her for a long moment, struggling to re-engage their higher brain functions after all their titillating foreplay.

Merlin was the one who found his voice first. “Of...of course,” he stammered shakily. “Sorry.”

Morgause sniffed derisively at them both before flipping her hair over her shoulder and stalking away.

“Christ,” Merlin admitted out loud after Morgause was gone, “she is bloody terrifying.”

“And an amazingly effective cockblock,” Arthur added. “From ten to zero in two point one seconds, I swear!”

Merlin stared at Arthur as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard...and then he just lost it, dissolving into a mess of hysterical giggling. Arthur kept a straight face for just a moment longer before he, too, started to snort and chuckle at his own joke.

And once they’d started, they couldn’t seem to stop. It was as if the adrenaline they’d built up in the last few minutes was thrilled to finally have found an outlet. Just as one of them would settle down, the other would corpse and set the other off again. Soon, their arms were shaking too much to support themselves and the two of them collapsed onto the mat in a heap of helpless laughter.

As a still-chuckling Arthur wound his hands into Merlin’s unruly locks and pulled him into a playful kiss, Merlin decided that he’d had it all wrong:

First-year was going to be, without a doubt, the best year of his life.

20 May 2014 @ 04:22 pm
Title: An Unbearable Fondness
Author:[livejournal.com profile] rocknvaughn
Rating: PG/Teen
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Characters: Merlin, Arthur, OC
Word Count: ~ 1,750
Summary: Regency AU. Continuation of the Fine, But Not Dandy series. Arthur experiences a surprising change of heart.
Prompt: #109 ~ Fond
Author's Notes: Many, many, many thanks to [livejournal.com profile] ekishou for being my Regency Era guru as well as my number one cheerleader for this series. Couldn't do it without you!

For the first installment, click here. Thanks for reading! <3


Arthur lay abed well into the night, but his mind would not quiet enough for sleep. Instead, his thoughts centered on a certain dark-haired, blue-eyed handsome young man. Merlin Emrys had been well-spoken, well-mannered, and well-dressed for his station. It was evident that he must be quite intelligent if he had been singled out by his benefactor for scholarship to University. His loyalty to his mother in her time of strife was particularly moving; to give up his studies in order to assist her showed a particular brand of honor which Arthur could not help but look upon with approbation.

Moreover, Merlin intrigued him. He was a mystery, but one that Arthur desperately wanted to fathom out. And, while their conversation had not ended particularly well, Arthur found himself eager to converse with Merlin once more.

It did not escape Arthur’s notice that Merlin had just about all the qualities that he looked for in a lover.

Granted, being of the same social class would have made the situation easier to manage, but what Merlin lacked in rank, he certainly made up for in integrity. The only thing left to wonder was whether Merlin would be open to such an arrangement.

There was only one way to find out.


The butler that answered the door at the Albion Club seemed momentarily startled at seeing Arthur on the stoop. “L-Lord Shrewsbury!” he stammered as he admitted Arthur to the club’s antechamber.

Arthur didn’t blame the man for his reaction. Until today, Arthur had been a Saturday visitor to Albion, and only a Saturday visitor. “Good day to you, Odin,” he murmured, handing the butler his overcoat and top hat.

“Your usual table, My Lord?” Odin inquired, already recovered from his surprise and exhibiting his customary reserve.

Arthur clapped a hand to Odin’s shoulder as he stepped into the main room. His eyes scanned the room until they found what he’d been hoping to see. “Not today, my good man. I’ve a mind to sit at the bar for a while.”

If Odin found that odd, he was too well-trained to comment on it. “Very good, M'Lord. Have a pleasant evening.”

Arthur seated himself while Merlin had stepped away to serve another patron’s drink. When he spied Arthur sitting at the bar upon his return, Merlin’s eyes widened in momentary surprise.

“Lord Shrewsbury,” he greeted; his voice pleasant, if a bit wary. “What can I get for you this fine evening?”

“A glass of port for now, if you please, Emrys.”

“Of course, My Lord.”

Under the pretense of perusing most recent edition of The Gentleman's Magazine, Arthur watched Merlin from the corner of his eye. The man had more than a little confusion etched on his face, as if he simply could not understand why Arthur was paying him any mind.

A moment later, Merlin approached him again, sliding a crystal glass next to Arthur’s right elbow on the mahogany bar. “Your port, M'Lord.”

“Thank you,” Arthur replied, raising his head so that their eyes met. As before, Merlin’s cerulean gaze held Arthur rapt, and he found himself holding his breath. This time though, it was Merlin who cleared his throat self-consciously and averted his eyes, mumbling an excuse about needing to clear away dirty dishes as he turned to leave.

“Emrys,” Arthur called after him softly before rubbing at the underside of his nose self-consciously.

Merlin paused for a long moment with his back to Arthur and straightened his shoulders as if preparing for battle before he turned around. “Yes? How else may I assist you, My Lord?” he asked, his face a mask of impersonal civility.

“I…” Arthur hesitated, unaccustomed to the task of seeking forgiveness, but forced himself to press on. “I wished to apologize for my behaviour last evening.”

Both of Merlin’s eyebrows rose in apparent astonishment. “I beg your pardon, My Lord?”

“It was unconscionably rude of me to ask such personal questions of you upon such a short acquaintance,” Arthur forged on, determined to finish now that he’d begun.

Merlin tilted his head quizzically and walked back over to where Arthur was seated. He rested his wide palms against the dark wood of the bar, almost bracketing Arthur between them. “I deserve no such apology, M'Lord,” Merlin said at last, his eyes studying the grain of the wood in the space between his hands. “It is I who owes the debt of courtesy, not you. You received the brunt of an ire that should not have been directed at you, but rather toward the one who has earned it.”

“Be that as it may, you had been through much already. It is only natural that you would be out of sorts under such circumstances. I regret that I made a trying evening even more so with my impertinent query. It was not intentional, but still badly done of me.”

A soft smile graced Merlin’s full mouth. “If we closely examine the events of last eve, I believe that the fault cannot be annexed exclusively to one or the other. Mayhap it is best forgotten rather than forgiven?”

Arthur could not help but smile in return. “If it is your wish, then let it be so…so long as you desist in calling me ‘Lord Shrewsbury’ or ‘My Lord’. I get quite enough of that elsewhere, Emrys; I have no need of it here.”

Merlin shook his head firmly. “But it is your title, My Lord. You have earned such a courtesy; it is my duty to give it.”

“I have given you leave to address me otherwise.”

"Indeed you have, and it is gracious of you to offer me such condescension," Merlin agreed wistfully. “However, my employer has not. Lord Ashton made it quite clear to me just this morn that I must preserve the distinction of rank between myself and the club’s patrons if I wish to continue my employment.”

Merlin’s voice dropped to almost a whisper and he bowed his head as if ashamed, “And I...I must retain my position here for my mother’s sake.”

So moved was he by Emrys’ admission, that without thought Arthur placed a hand atop one of Merlin’s and squeezed, trying to offer the young man what little comfort he could. “Then I shall persuade you to it no longer.”

Merlin’s fingers clasped Arthur’s for just a second before slipping free. “My thanks to you, My Lord, for your kindness and understanding.”

The words were so heartfelt and sincere that they drew Arthur’s gaze back to Merlin’s downturned face. He could not help but stare at the very becoming blush that stained Merlin’s cheeks and the lower lip that was again caught uncertainly between his teeth. That Merlin would share this moment of vulnerability with him was humbling, and Arthur found himself suddenly awash with a nearly unbearable fondness for which he had no outlet nor any defense against.

Then, as Arthur’s heart began to hammer in his chest, Merlin stepped back and clasped both hands behind his back in a sign of obvious subservience. “Now, what may I fetch you for your dinner?”


The remainder of the evening was spent by Arthur at his usual table, picking at the roast duck he had ordered (and no longer had an appetite for) and nursing his third after-dinner brandy. Arthur would normally partake of only one digestif, but he was honest enough with himself to own that he was indulging rather more than usual simply to draw Merlin near and to give the poor man a bit of respite from the other patrons.

Arthur was not so foolish as to cause an uproar, even though he longed to stand between Merlin and every man who addressed him beyond what was right and proper. The last thing he desired was to make Merlin feel even more ill at ease. But whenever his back was turned, Arthur glared daggers at any man who dared to importune Merlin by word, look, or deed…and of those there were many.

While none of the violations were as egregious as Lord Wakefield’s had been, there were many instances of not-so-innocent glancing touches, hooded eyes that roamed Merlin's body freely, and double entendres that were veiled in polite conversation.

Honestly, Arthur did not understand how Merlin could endure so many indignities in the space of one evening. But then Arthur recalled Merlin’s bald admission as to how badly he needed the work, and the cruel irony of it turned his stomach. Arthur himself had come to the club that evening with a similar intention to so many of his peers: to take Merlin as a lover. Now, the mere thought of Merlin being forced to accept anyone's attentions was abhorrent to him.

Although it was a rare occurrence, Arthur had partaken of the "delights" of Albion’s back rooms in the past. Yet he had never given more than a passing thought to those partners beyond the pleasure he’d received and the skill with which it was given. But now, for the first time since his election into Albion Club, Arthur wondered just how many others who now worked in the back rooms had started out as Merlin had: duped into innocently serving food and drink while allowing themselves to be pawed at like a piece of horseflesh on auction.

It was disgusting.

But perhaps there was a method in the madness. Mayhap this “running of the gauntlet” was Ashton’s way of determining which of his new hires would earn him the most coin in private rendezvous. While the practice seemed crude and vile to Arthur’s way of thinking, he could not deny that it was effective...and Ashton was nothing if not a shrewd businessman.

And while none of the men who had serviced Arthur at the club appeared to be unhappy with their terms of employment, perhaps it was just that they had accepted the inevitability of their fate and had simply…given in to it.

Yet, as he watched Merlin extract himself from yet another untoward advance with a harried, pinched expression, Arthur felt his righteous indignation swell. It was a crime against nature to witness the lively light fading from Merlin’s eyes and his bright smile become more and more diminished. Arthur could not bear the thought of the young man’s spirit being slowly crushed under Fate’s heel and found himself vowing not to let the inevitable happen to Merlin Emrys, no matter the cost.

13 May 2014 @ 11:07 pm
Author:[livejournal.com profile] rocknvaughn
Title: Nathair
Rating: PG/Teen
Pairing: None (but you're welcome to see it with Merthur specs)
Characters: Merlin, Morgana
Summary: Canon. Season 4 AU. They would do just about anything to make Merlin talk.
Warnings: Physical torture, Whump
Word Count: 391
Prompt: #108 ~ Exquisite
Author's Note: Was feeling quite angsty this evening, so I thought I'd take it out on poor Merlin.

Nathair )
12 May 2014 @ 01:45 pm
Author: [livejournal.com profile] rocknvaughn
Title: Fine, But Not Dandy
Rating: PG-13/Teen
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Characters: Arthur, Merlin, OC
Word Count: 2.3k (or, too many as usual)
Summary: Regency AU. Arthur Pendragon, Earl of Shrewsbury, is spending what he would consider an ordinary Saturday afternoon at the Albion Club... That is, until he meets someone extraordinary.
Prompt: #108 ~ Exquisite
Author's Note: Okay, so me being me, I had to find a unique way to use the prompt. And then I found this:

Exquisite (noun): archaic A person, esp. a man, who takes excessive care in his manner of dress; a dandy.

And, yep... That had my plot bunnies up and running. I ended up with this first installment of a serial Regency AU. Many thanks to [livejournal.com profile] ekishou for a second set of Regency eyes on this. I really hope you like this! (And if there are any posting issues, it's because I don't have working Internet at home and I am posting this from my phone!)

Fine, but Not Dandy )
29 April 2014 @ 08:44 am
Author: [livejournal.com profile] rocknvaughn
Title: Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)
Rating: Explicit
Pairing/s: Arthur/Others (imagined), Arthur/Merlin
Character/s: Arthur, Merlin
Summary: Canon Era AU. No one thought to protect the Crown Prince of Camelot from his own dreams...
Warnings: Non Con, Dub Con, Somnophilia, Mind Control, D/s Themes, Incubus!Merlin. This story is kind of dark and pretty graphic.
Word Count: 2,600 (But it's porn! That's allowed, right?)
Prompt: #106 ~ Sweet
Author's Notes: Um... Yeah... Do NOT ask me where the heck this came from, because I don't know! It was just there, demanding to be written! But it's safe to say that you can thank/blame my friend [livejournal.com profile] amphigoury (to whom I dedicate this story) for the very NSFW inspiration found here.

ETA: Sorry about the coding errors... Doh! Hopefully they're fixed now.

Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)

I. Like Dreamers Do

It starts with dreams. Dreams beyond anything I could have imagined.

Night after night, when I close my eyes and slip into sleep, the dreams assault me with the most exquisite pleasure I have ever known. Visions come to me as sweet as honey: lovely buxom maidens, sometimes one and sometimes many. So many beautiful women with hair of red and gold and black and all of them hot and wet and ready for me to claim them, to plunder their dew filled holes until they scream my name. Then they wrap their lips around my throbbing cock, suck me deep and hard into their mouths and down their throats. The hot flesh presses around me so tight and perfect that I see stars when I come, while they lap up my spend like cats with their cream.

Each morning I wake I feel deeply sated and gloriously weary. The memories of my exploits bring me to a fierce hardness that will not subside, the lust growing ever stronger until I give in and take myself in hand to relieve the ache.

A part of me (a very small part) knows that something is wrong, that the visions cannot possibly be reality. No one could have such a steady stream of lovers; not even the Prince of Camelot. And even if I could, it did not explain the tingling jolt of sensitivity I experience with every step and the almost unbearably sensuous pleasure-pain I feel every time I sit down.

I want to tell someone—Gaius perhaps—but whenever I try to speak, I find that the words won’t come. Like honey, my thoughts are thick and viscous, slowing down in my mind until I cannot concentrate, until it is simply too difficult to think. I can only feel, and the tidal waves of sensation swamp me again and again, leaving me at its mercy and sweeping all sense away in its wake.

II. Metamorphosis

The change, when it comes, is so gradual that at first I hardly notice. There are still the comely women who tease and touch and pleasure me while other phantom, faceless lovers stroke me everywhere. The heat from those caresses lingers well into the waking hours, and the throbbing ache in my arse no longer feels foreign, but right, like it should have been there all along.

But one night I notice that there is a new presence, one that inexplicably excites me: a solid pressure at my back, acres of naked flesh against mine. Large hands grasp my hips and hold me steady, pull me back against the hard, wide plane of a lightly furred chest as a girl with golden hair gags on my stiff cock. I am trapped between them, hard and soft, with breasts pressed against my thighs while a hot prick nestles against my crack. I feel almost trapped but I love it, revel in it, and when I come, it feels amazing.

The next night it is a raven-haired beauty that worships my cock and balls, but the hard lines of the man (for it could only be a man) still press at me from behind. This woman takes her time, insinuating herself between my legs, forcing me to adopt a wider stance so that she can bathe my bollocks with her tongue. She coats them with her spit, rolls them around in her mouth, and my legs wobble from the pleasure as if I were a newborn colt. Again, I feel a wide hand steady me, and then gently lean me back against its owner to more fully absorb my weight. As her ruby red mouth finally encompasses my cockhead, I feel a finger, just one slick finger that rubs against my tight furl, its rhythm a gentle echo of the insistent sucking. My muscles go limp and pliant and my head drops back against the man’s shoulder helplessly, unable to hold back the wail when I finally climax.

And then it is a redhead sucking bruises onto my inner thighs, the grip of her soft fingers firm against my length as she strokes me with a slippery palm. This time the man’s finger does more than just rub; he pushes it inside of me. At first I tense, my fighting spirit coming to the fore, but then the man’s mouth sucks kisses into the join of my neck and my will to resist melts. His slick digit invades again, enters me, presses into me until my hole has yielded entirely to it. And then it starts: the smooth glide of his finger mirroring the motion of the maiden’s hand, pushing in as her hand slides down, pulling out as her grip moves back toward the head. I want to move, to push into both touches at once, but it is impossible and my hips just stutter back and forth in short jerky moments until that hand, that imperious hand, grabs my hip and holds me still. As the woman’s pace slowly increases, the man’s finger curls, brushing against something inside me that warms to his touch, and then tingles before exploding into pulses of pleasure that steal my breath away. I buck and writhe and finally spend all over the redhead’s face, my knees melting, unable to support my weight. That strong arm grasps at me, supports me, holds me close…and the feeling of being held—of being loved—makes me sigh in bliss.

III.   A Burning Ache

The waking hours flow by me like a fast-moving river; all burbles of sight and sound with no meaning. Snippets of faces in various states of concern and dismay parade across my mind: Gaius, Father, Morgana and Gwen. But almost as soon as my attention is caught, it evaporates into the ether like a mirage. My whole life has become a mirage. The only things that still feel real are the touch of my lovers’ bodies against mine and the comfort of my hand as it strips my cock when I think of them.

This time, as I stroke myself, I think of the man. That I have yet to see Him does not matter, for I would know Him anywhere by His touch. As I fuck my fist, I think of His hands, His fingers…how it feels when He breaches me with them, the pleasure they give. I think of those fingers curling around my hip and wish they would curl around my prick instead. I imagine my hand is His and it makes me climax harder than I ever have in the waking world. Ropes of pearl decorate my chest and adorn my right nipple. I idly brush my fingers across the stiff peak of it, massaging in my seed, and then moan when I imagine the rasp of a tongue licking it clean again.


Tonight finds me balls deep in a curvy brunette. She is on her knees upon a low bed, her arse raised to me invitingly, and her back is a soft, smooth canvas of ivory upon which I paint with my tongue. My breath quickens as I detect His presence behind me, as His fingers leave burning trails of yearning everywhere He touches. And for the first time, I hear His voice. It echoes and multiplies, as if the inside of my head were as huge as a cavern rather than one tiny skull.

Oh, my precious human, it purrs, and the pure passion in it makes my toes curl. You have been so good, so compliant. I wish to give you a present, a gift. Open for me, my sweet, so that I might reward you…

“Yes!” I cry aloud, unable to deny the voice anything it wanted. “Yes!” and “Please!” and “More!”

Gently, oh so gently, my arse cheeks are pried apart, but instead of a finger, I feel a hot breath splay against my sensitive furl. And then, and then…a tongue. It’s hotter than I expect and twice as wet, yet slick in a way I’ve never felt before. It undulates in and out of my hole, coats me until I writhe in pleasure, until I am sopping with it.

I gasp. In my preoccupation with His seduction, I have almost completely forgotten that my dick is still encased in a warm, wet cunt. But then He jostles me forward as He stands, and the sensation comes back to me in a rush. My balls draw up suddenly, ready to explode…

No. The one word shivers down my spine and then shackles my release with its power. When I whimper, He pets a long finger down between my shoulder blades and the voice echoes, All in good time.

He gives my back another push and I feel my bollocks rub against the woman’s minge. Lay yourself out for me like a feast…

Obediently, I drape myself forward over the girl’s back and wait. His fingers hold me open and exposed and I shiver into the touch. And then I feel something blunt and wide and hot and perfect press against me. I want to push against it as it starts to breach me, but His hands hold me firmly in place. I feel myself spread wider and wider, my hole stretching to accommodate Him until the head of His cock finally pops inside.

I shall let you remember, Dear Heart, He says as His cock slides in deeper, and deeper, until He bottoms out with His balls against my arse. This time, you will remember it all…

I groan. I can actually feel His smile upon me like it is a tangible thing. Ever so slowly, He pulls halfway out, dropping a tingling path of kisses on the sensitive skin of my neck.

Now, Dear One, He says sweetly, you shall be both the sword and the sheath, the aggressor and the receiver, the dominator and the submissive. Take her, fuck her, but know that you will also be fucking yourself upon me. For every pleasure you give to her, you will receive from me tenfold.

Without conscious thought, my hips stutter backward, chasing that feeling of fullness that He had addicted me to just moments before. But as I do so, the drag of my cock slides out of that hot, tight cunt, temporarily drawing my attention to it. And then I slide back forward, and His cockhead rubs enticingly against that spot and I whimper.

Like the waves upon a beach, I ebb and flow, backward and forward, pleasure growing and multiplying, my dick nearly vibrating from the restrained release while His cock massages my pleasure spot with each and every thrust. I move and move and keep moving until time itself has lost its meaning, until fantasy becomes reality, and pleasure entwines with pain, and love and lust collide.

Finally, I feel as if I’m being ripped apart at the seams and I don’t know whether I think it, pray it, or scream it, but the words break free of me at last.

“Please, please!" I beg. "Please let me! Please…”

He licks at the shell of my ear and whispers, Yes, Dearest…Yes.

And that’s when the entire world goes white.

IV. Claimed

“You,” I gasp incoherently once I remember how to breathe. “Just you. Please you. Only you…”

Yes, Dear One, He says, and His touch is reverent; chaste now that he has given me release. From now on. No one else. Only me.

“I don’t want to go back,” I pant, and tuck myself into His side like a child. His leathery skin is soft as silk against my fingers. “Don’t make me go back.”

His arms cradle me to him, and gentle fingers sift through my hair. His wings curl around me like a cocoon. When He speaks, His voice is almost sad. You must. You do not belong here.

My arms tighten around Him instinctively. “But there is nothing left for me there,” and I bury my face in His chest. His smell is intoxicating, overwhelming and I wish to drown myself in it. “Not now. Not anymore. Not when there’s you.”

Do you know what I am?

At first I do not. I only know that my blood sings and my body thrums like a plucked harp string when He is near and that I need the vibration more than I need air. But then I hear it, I feel the words echoing inside me even as the answer tumbles from my lips.

“An incubus,” I breathe.

The tiniest sliver of my soul knows, remembers what that means, tries to be afraid…but then the familiar honey-thick wave drowns out all thought.

Yes, Dear One, He murmurs and hums appreciatively. A throb of pleasure ignites in my groin at the sound of His voice. And do you know why I come?

“To feed,” I whisper, like the words are sacred. “To feed on me.”

Yes, He purrs, and another surge of desire makes my cock twitch. And your nectar is so very sweet, Dearest.

After a while, He muses, I wonder… and His sweet breath caresses my ear, if you know who you are? Are you aware of your birthright?

Something in His voice compels me to answer, but I know there is no need for force. I give the words gladly, happily, if it means there is a chance that He might let me stay.

“Arthur Pendragon,” I reply, and my own voice sounds dreamy and enthralled—even to my own ears—but I do not care. “I am the Prince of Camelot.”

Oh, Dear Heart, that you are a prince of Men matters not to me, He replies, whispering a kiss against my temple, for men come and go; empires rise and fall. That is not what makes you special in my eyes. That is not what makes you unique.

You were Born of Magic, and not just any magic. Your soul was forged from the magic of this Earth and remains a part of it. It is this bond that keeps you alive, that keeps drawing me to you …what will always draw me to you.

A fierce pride consumes me at His words. I am somehow precious to Him. I could not ask for more.

You are the only one upon whom I may feed with abandon, may love without harm. And you do wish to stay with me, don’t you, Little One?

I nod, preoccupied with the sensuous feel of the drag of my cheek against His chest.

Then you must bind yourself to me so that I might treasure and guard you always.

I undulate my body against His, unable to control the cravings of my body for His touch, for His kiss, for more.

“But how?” I moan, my cock leaving a wet trail across His hip as I move. “Tell me what I must do.”

His fingers trail fire across my skin, heat that inflames my desire and makes me burn.You must say my name.

“But I don’t know it!” I wail, my misery complete. I cannot leave Him… I cannot!

He hushes my worry with a touch of His lips to my temple.You do, He insists. It is inside of you.

Of their own accord, my lips form the name of my Beloved. “Merlin.”


Lust rolls through me like the rumble of thunder and everything is lost to it.

Your pleasure shall be beyond your wildest imaginings, He says, now that I do not have to hide in your dreams. Open your eyes. Look upon me, Arthur, and bind your soul to me.

I cannot help but obey. My eyes open and my head tilts and behold His face—His perfect face—for the first time. The bright gold of His eyes brand me and they are so beautiful that I orgasm from the sight alone. My seed splatters Him and He smiles.

The ritual is complete and my soul sings with joy.

Now and forever, I am His.

21 January 2014 @ 09:37 am
Author: [livejournal.com profile] rocknvaughn
Title: To Trust a Sorcerer
Rating: G
Pairing/s: Gen or Merlin/Arthur depending on your goggles
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur, Gaius
Summary: Post 2x01 AU, Arthur was not quite as unconscious as Merlin thought he was...
Warnings: Magic Reveal
Word Count: 1,411
Prompt: #92 ~ Reconciliation
Author's Notes: This story is sadly, woefully unbeta'd, so please forgive any errors that may ensue. I had a really difficult time with this prompt, so I hope this isn't complete rubbish. Thanks for reading!

To Trust a Sorcerer

The mysteriously glowing blue gem that housed Cornelius Sigan’s soul had conveniently been found on the cobblestones next to Arthur’s right hand when he’d awoken. So naturally, the King had assumed it had been Arthur who had conquered the ancient sorcerer.

But Arthur knew better. Because while he had not been conscious enough to move or to speak, he could still hear…and he had heard everything.

Merlin—his endearingly clumsy, loyal, idiot of a manservant—was a sorcerer. It cast everything he knew about the boy in a new light and explained so much: how , he’d been able to be fast enough to pull Arthur out of the way of the witch’s dagger, why the serpents on Valiant’s shield suddenly came alive where everyone could see, who had healed Guinevere’s father, who had sent the light that had saved him in the Caves of Balor, how Lancelot had been able to kill the Gryphon…the list went on and on. Now that the blinders had been removed, Arthur could see Merlin’s not-so-subtle touches everywhere in the past eighteen months of their shared history.

Moreover, Merlin had unknowingly proven to Arthur beyond a doubt that his father’s views on magic were wrong. Magic itself did not corrupt. How could it if Merlin had it? Merlin, for all his faults, was the probably the purest and kindest hearted person he’d ever met. Even after Arthur had fallen prey to that charlatan Cedric’s flattery, after Arthur had hurt Merlin’s feelings, insulted him, and even locked him in the dungeons, Merlin had still been loyal to Arthur over one of his own kind.

Arthur had had no idea how deeply he had wounded Merlin with his thoughtless actions until he heard him speaking to Sigan. The pain at being misunderstood and the boy’s yearning for acceptance had been a palpable force in that courtyard, and yet, Merlin’s sense of justice and goodness had prevailed.

Better to serve a good man than to rule with an evil one, Merlin had said, and Arthur had never been more humbled, or more grateful.

In the Council Chambers, Arthur had spun a wildly fictitious story to explain how Sigan had come to be trapped inside the gem. While his father had readily believed his tale, it was obvious by Gaius’s incredulous eyebrows that not everyone had been fooled.

Once the meeting had ended, Arthur caught up to the physician under the guise of seeking medical treatment for his wounds. They walked side by side through the castle corridors and neither one spoke until the door to Gaius’s chambers had been closed behind them.

“You know,” Gaius said, with a bone-weary sigh.

Arthur didn’t bother to pretend he didn’t understand. “Yes,” he replied simply.

“I figured as much. ‘The spell reflected off my shield…’ Honestly, Arthur…” Gaius chided with a shake of his head.

“Well, what else was I supposed to say? I certainly wasn’t going to implicate Merlin, even though I doubt that anyone would have believed it even if I had told the truth…”

“Best not to take chances with that sort of thing,” Gaius agreed.

Subdued, Arthur nodded. Then, he glanced toward the closed door behind Gaius’s shoulder and asked, “How is he?”

Gaius looked over his shoulder at the door to Merlin’s room and then back to Arthur. “Oh, he’s not there, Sire.”

Arthur’s brows scrunched up in confusion. “He’s not? Then where is he?” Arthur had a fleeting thought that perhaps he was tending to the injured in Gaius’ stead.

Gaius leveled one eyebrow at Arthur. “Right where you left him, Sire.”

Oh, for the love of…! Merlin had gone ahead and saved Camelot and then locked himself back up in the dungeon?!?

“Right.” Arthur nodded once, grim determination filling his features. “Not for long.”


Arthur found Merlin in his cell, hunched up on a lumpy cot and shivering underneath a threadbare blanket. Even when his key scraped in the lock and the door opened on squeaky hinges, Merlin didn’t turn toward the sound. It wasn’t until Arthur sat upon the creaking cot next to Merlin’s hip and placed a hand on his servant’s shoulder that Merlin finally turned to look at him. Even in the dim lighting of the space, Arthur could see that Merlin’s eyes were red rimmed and wet.

“Come,” was all Arthur said, and wordlessly, Merlin obeyed.

Arthur didn’t stop walking until they reached the grassy knoll of the keep that overlooked the Lower Town. It was still in massive disarray, but the soft pastels of dawn painted the scene with an almost dreamlike quality. Arthur surveyed the area with pride; even battered and bruised, there was no greater city than Camelot. He loved it dearly, and the only reason it was still standing was because of the man beside him, whom—if he allowed himself to admit it—he also loved dearly.

Arthur leaned his hip against the stone wall and faced Merlin. Merlin mirrored the Prince’s action, although he kept his eyes trained on the grass at their feet.

“I’m sorry, Merlin,” Arthur said, his voice soft and warm.

Startled, Merlin’s eyes fixed on Arthur’s. “What?”

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you. You tried to warn me about Cedric, and I was too much of a…What was the word you used? Oh, yes…a clotpole…to listen.”

Merlin’s lips pursed with the effort of holding back a smirk while his cheeks pinked with embarrassment.

“Despite our rather inauspicious beginning, you have been nothing but loyal to me, and you deserved better.”

The blush, Arthur was pleased to note, was now creeping up Merlin’s ears and down his neck. The boy’s eyes skittered away from his as if he couldn’t stand the attention a moment longer.

“And, Merlin?” Arthur waited until he had the servant’s attention again.


“Thank you.”

Merlin’s eyebrows scrunched together and he tilted his head to the side. “For what?”

“For what you did…with Sigan.”

Merlin’s blue eyes opened impossibly wide before he stammered, “Wh-wh-what are you talking about? I didn’t do anything. I was locked up in dungeons, remember?”

“Oh, I remember, all right. I remember you telling Sigan you wouldn’t allow him to harm me. I remember the spell you used to lock him back into that gem, Merlin.”

Merlin’s whole body was trembling like a leaf, but still, he denied Arthur’s words. Instead, he reached a shaking had toward the bump on Arthur’s forehead and joked tremulously, “Exactly how hard did you hit your head?”

“‘Better to serve a good man than to rule with an evil one,’” Arthur quoted. Merlin blanched and swayed in place until Arthur put one hand on the boy’s shoulder to keep him from falling over.

“It’s all right, Merlin,” Arthur said, rubbing his thumb in a soothing motion along his collarbone as his manservant hyperventilated with panic. “Breathe, just breathe…”

“But…but…” Merlin stammered between gasps of air.

“You tried to tell me that day, didn’t you? In Ealdor?”

Merlin nodded. “And I wanted to dozens of other times since.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

Merlin wiped wetness from his cheeks with the back of one hand. “I couldn’t,” he admitted miserably. “I didn’t want you to hate me. I couldn’t bear it if you hated me, Arthur…”

Arthur shook his head and chucked Merlin gently under his chin. “No matter how crazy you make me at times, Merlin, rest assured that I could never hate you.”

Merlin caught his full lower lip between his teeth and blinked rapidly in a vain attempt at holding back more tears.

“Your secret is safe with me. I promise you,” Arthur vowed. “I shall allow no harm to come to you.”
Merlin sniffled and ducked his head. “Thank you, Sire,” came his very muffled reply.

Arthur,” Arthur corrected with a smile.

“Arthur,” Merlin amended, pleasure lighting up his whole face.

Arthur wrapped a friendly arm across Merlin’s shoulder and tugged him away from the wall. “And now…” he said, nudging Merlin with his hip, “you can get us some breakfast. I want to hear the tale of how you were able to pull me out of the way of that dagger. As clumsy as you are, I have to assume that some sort of sorcery was involved…” Arthur teased.

Merlin’s bark of surprised laughter was like balm to Arthur’s soul, and taking the resulting indignant shove from his servant good-naturedly, he knew that, magic or not, they would be just fine.

17 December 2013 @ 09:44 am
Author: [livejournal.com profile] rocknvaughn
Title: When You Wish Upon A Star
Rating: G
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur
Summary: Merlin runs into a spot of (fortuitous) trouble when he leaves home without his inhaler.
Warnings: None
Word Count: ~965
Prompt: #88 ~ Breathless
Author's Notes: Okay, this was *so* not the route I was planning to take with this prompt when I signed up for it, but... what can I say? Who can resist Christmas fluff? (And look, something I wrote was actually under the word limits! Will wonders never cease!)

Makes No Difference Who You Are... )
06 August 2013 @ 08:38 pm
Author: [livejournal.com profile] rocknvaughn
Title: Heart and Soul
Pairing/s: Arthur/Gwen, Arthur/Merlin
Character/s: Arthur, Gwen, Elyan, Merlin
Summary: Sometimes both heart and soul are not a sure thing.
Warnings: Pining
Word Count: 100
Prompt: #69 ~ Envy
Author's Notes: I thought I'd try my hand at an actual honest-to-God drabble this week. (keeps fingers crossed)

Heart and Soul )
24 July 2013 @ 01:33 am
Author: [livejournal.com profile] rocknvaughn
Title: Lessons from the Crystal Cave
Rating: PG
Pairing/s: Canon, but you can spot Merthur if you squint. (You don't have to squint that hard, really)
Character/s: Merlin and Arthur
Summary: 5X13 Alternate Ending. In which Merlin is a BAMF and Arthur doesn't die.

“No,” Merlin said again, resolve coloring his voice and face as he slid his body out from under Arthur’s and laid him gently against the dew filled grass. “I’m not going to lose you: not here, not now, not like this.”

Merlin was not Emrys for nothing. What they meant to each other and to this land was not for nothing. Being two sides of the same coin was not for nothing. It would not end here.

Warnings: None
Word Count: Too many, but that's not unusual for me... (~ 2.1K)
Prompt: #67 ~ Healing
Author's Notes: Okay, you can blame this story on [livejournal.com profile] rodneyscat and her choice of photo at A Shot of Colin today. I couldn't save poor Cathal, so I was damn well going to save Arthur!

It would not end here... )
16 April 2013 @ 09:43 pm
Author: [livejournal.com profile] rocknvaughn
Title: No More Lies
Rating: PG
Character/s: Arthur, Dragoon the Great
Summary: A "The Wicked Day" AU... The discussion between Arthur and Dragoon does not go according to plan.
Warnings: Magic Reveal
Word Count: 960
Prompt: #53 ~ Pretending
Author's Notes: Sorry about the cliffhanger-ish ending... *winks*

No more pretending; no more lies. )
Current Mood: blah
10 April 2013 @ 08:01 am
Author: [livejournal.com profile] rocknvaughn
Title: At Last
Rating: PG
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur
Character/s: Arthur, Merlin
Summary: Finally, Merlin gave in to the temptation he’d felt for practically his whole life; he leaned forward and kissed the man that had long since held all his love and devotion.
Warnings: Spoilers thru 5x13
Word Count: 494
Prompt: #52 ~ At Last
Author's Notes: Sorry this is so late! Got called in to work and then had to work late on top of it. Thanks, and Happy Birthday, Camelot Drabble!

At Last... )
Current Mood: blah
27 February 2013 @ 05:03 am
Author: [livejournal.com profile] rocknvaughn
Title: Trial by Fire
Rating: PG
Character/s: Arthur, Merlin, Morgana
Summary: 4x13 AU. Morgana's dreams reveal Arthur's plans to retake the Citadel. Confident in the knowledge that Emrys is nowhere in sight, she attacks. Too bad she never counted on Merlin.
Warnings: Character Death (Morgana)
Word Count: ~ 3,150
Prompt: #46 ~ Fire
Author's Notes: Sorry this submission is so late! Was sick all weekend and couldn't write worth a darn (brain too fuzzy!).

Trial by Fire )
19 February 2013 @ 11:00 pm
Author: [livejournal.com profile] rocknvaughn
Title: Of Fate and Footie
Rating: PG
Pairing/s: Arthur/Merlin, Gwen/Lance
Character/s: Arthur, Gwaine, Lancelot, Leon, Merlin, Percival
Summary: Arthur's Saturday night out at the pub with his mates suddenly gets interesting when he discovers that the gorgeous mystery man he's been enamored with is there alone...again. Modern AU.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1,077 (aw, close enough!)
Prompt: #45 ~ Love
Author's Notes: I sat down this morning to write a nice little drabble...and then this happened: Boom! Another Modern AU came out of nowhere! *nervous*

Part Three )
Current Mood: relieved
19 February 2013 @ 10:46 pm
Author: [livejournal.com profile] rocknvaughn
Title: Of Fate and Footie
Rating: PG
Pairing/s: Arthur/Merlin, Gwen/Lance
Character/s: Arthur, Gwaine, Lancelot, Leon, Merlin, Percival
Summary: Arthur's Saturday night out at the pub with his mates suddenly gets interesting when he discovers that the gorgeous mystery man he's been enamored with is there alone...again. Modern AU.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 906
Prompt: #45 ~ Love
Author's Notes: I sat down this morning to write a nice little drabble...and then this happened: Boom! Another Modern AU came out of nowhere! *nervous*

Part Two )
19 February 2013 @ 10:31 pm
Author: [livejournal.com profile] rocknvaughn
Title: Of Fate and Footie
Rating: PG
Pairing/s: Arthur/Merlin, Gwen/Lance
Character/s: Arthur, Gwaine, Lancelot, Leon, Merlin, Percival
Summary: Arthur's Saturday night out at the pub with his mates suddenly gets interesting when he discovers that the gorgeous mystery man he's been enamored with is there alone...again. Modern AU.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 995
Prompt: #45 ~ Love
Author's Notes: I sat down this morning to write a nice little drabble...and then this happened: Boom! Another Modern AU came out of nowhere! *nervous*

Part One )
13 February 2013 @ 07:29 am
Author: [livejournal.com profile] rocknvaughn
Title: On Knife's Edge
Rating: PG
Pairing/s: Arthur/Merlin (UST)
Character/s: Arthur
Summary: Arthur ponders the very precarious nature of his relationship with his manservant.
Warnings: Angst?
Word Count: 743
Prompt: #44 ~ Silence
Author's Notes: In my head canon, I'm imagining this happening sometime in S3 (pre 3x12, of course).

Sorry this is so late! I had a devil of a time with the prompt this week. This is the third attempt at writing for this prompt. It came to me as a brainstorm while I was at work yesterday, but had no time until this morning to write it!

On Knife's Edge )
05 February 2013 @ 08:23 am
Author: [livejournal.com profile] rocknvaughn
Title: Memory Restored
Rating: PG
Pairing/s: None
Character/s: Merlin
Summary: Merlin didn't realize there would be repercussions from using the Pensieve. Post 5X13 Canon story.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1,081
Prompt: #43 ~ Photographs
Author's Notes: This is sort of a second part to [livejournal.com profile] k_nightfox 's story The Flash of Thought. Please read that first and this one will make a bit more sense, although it can be read alone. Also thanks to [livejournal.com profile] donutsweeper for jumpstarting my brain with her drabble!

Memory Restored )
29 January 2013 @ 11:56 pm
Author: [livejournal.com profile] rocknvaughn
Title: Lead Us Not Into Temptation
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur
Summary: There was just something fundamentally wrong with wanking to the thought of your best mate starkers, wasn’t there? Modern AU.
Warnings: Explicit
Word Count: ~ 1,200 (I really tried this time! Hey...at least it's smut!)
Prompt: #42 ~ Hunk du Jour
Author's Notes:  Sorry this went up a bit late. I ended up getting roped into working a double shift and didn't get home until after deadline tonight.

Wow, my first Modern AU story! I have to admit that this story was partially inspired by the fic Out of Body by  [livejournal.com profile] magnolia822. (Or at least the part about Merlin being caught wanking by Arthur was...) A fantastic Merlin/Arthur fic! If you are a Merthur fan and you haven't read it, you should!

I tried to britpick this on my own as best as I could. If anything is glaringly wrong, please let me know! Believe it or not, this was my 2nd attempt this week at writing for this prompt. My first attempt got way out of hand word count-wise. If you're interested in seeing that one, too, it's called Drastic Measures, and you can find it on AO3: link here

Lead Us Not Into Temptation )
23 January 2013 @ 01:05 am
Author: [livejournal.com profile] rocknvaughn
Title: Truth Be Told, Part 2
Rating: PG
Character/s: Arthur, Gwen, Hunith, Merlin, Morgana, Will
Summary: Morgana surveys the damage while Will gives Arthur a piece of his mind.
Warnings: Magic Reveal
Word Count: ~ 2,700
Prompt: #41 ~ Ball
Author's Notes: This story is apparently going to take more than two chapters (probs more like five or six they way things are going...), so I'll keep on plugging! Sorry this is so long, but Will had a lot to say! (will do final edit in the morning, in case it needs it...)

Part 2 )
20 January 2013 @ 11:23 am
Author: [livejournal.com profile] rocknvaughn
Title: Truth Be Told
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: None
Character/s: Arthur, Merlin, Morgana, Gwen, Hunith, Will
Summary: AU of 1x10, "The Moment of Truth"
Warnings: Magic Reveal
Word Count: ~2100ish
Prompt: #41 ~ Ball
Author's Notes: Yes, there will be a part two. Okay, now betaed and hopefully no longer cringeworthy...
ETA: Part two is here.

Truth Be Told


“I’d trust Arthur with my life,” Merlin told his friend, trying to make him understand.

Will looked back at him, incredulous. “Is that so? So, he knows your secret then?”

Merlin’s guilty face immediately broadcasted the answer to his oldest friend.

Will shook his head with something resembling pity. “Look, face it, Merlin. You’re living a lie…just like you were here. You’re Arthur’s servant, nothing more. Otherwise, you’d tell him the truth.”


That conversation had haunted Merlin since the day they’d arrived in Ealdor.  As much as it was Merlin’s biggest fear: that he was wrong about Arthur; the he was nothing more than just a servant to him, he didn’t want to believe it.

Despite the difference in their stations, Merlin had felt the camaraderie and the mutual respect build between them in the nine months he’d served the Prince of Camelot. Arthur may not have been good at showing his emotions, but Merlin truly believed he cared, that they were friends.

And friends told friends the truth.

This was the time. As terrified as he was, Merlin couldn’t go into this battle without telling Arthur about his magic. It was a risk, but a calculated one. If nothing else, it was a tactical advantage; Arthur needed to know.  He'd already admitted that they could use all the help they could get.

Merlin swallowed the around the huge lump in his throat. “Whatever happens out there today, please don’t think any differently of me…” he pleaded.

“I won’t.” Arthur gave Merlin a small, empathetic smile. “It’s all right to be scared, Merlin.”

Solemn blue eyes met blue. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What is it?” Arthur asked him curiously. “If you’ve got something to say, now’s the time to say it…” He nodded toward Merlin in encouragement.

"You must understand, Arthur…” Merlin let out a shuddery sigh before he continued, “I have to do anything…anything I can to save my mother, my friends…I can’t let them die.”

Arthur nodded perfunctorily. “Of course, Merlin. I wouldn’t have expected anything less.”

Merlin had imagined this moment every day for months, but he couldn’t believe the time had actually come to reveal his secret. His heart thrummed wildly in his chest, making him feel curiously lightheaded.

“Including this…” Merlin croaked, putting a hand out in front of him.

He whispered the words, “Fromum feohgiftum,” and a glowing ball of blue light hovered in his palm, rolling and swirling for a moment before it rose and hovered in the air between them.

The glow from the enchanted light reflected off of Arthur’s stunned features: his mouth gaped open, his eyes over-wide. “You…” he gasped in shock. “It was you? But…how?”

“I…” Merlin stumbled for the words he needed to explain, “I don’t know how I did it, Arthur. I don’t know how I knew you were in trouble. I just did. I was unconscious, but Gaius said I called out for you and then I made this appear…”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed and his face became shuttered. “You’re a sorcerer!” he hissed, taking a step backward, away from the comfort of the azure sphere.

Seeing the look he most dreaded on Arthur’s face made Merlin’s naïve hope shrivel in his chest. Will was right. He was never Arthur’s friend; he was nothing to the Prince of Camelot. Why would he be?

Merlin sighed wearily and his shoulders slumped as if he were suddenly carrying a terrible weight. “No, Arthur. I’m not a sorcerer; I’m a warlock.”

Arthur’s hand slid surreptitiously to the handle of his sword. “And what does that mean?” he demanded warily.

Merlin noticed the movement and blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. “It means I was born with magic. I never went out and sought it; I’ve always had it whether I wanted it or not.”

This piece of news startled and confused Arthur. Magic was supposed to be a choice…an evil choice. There were no exceptions to that rule. That’s what he’d always been taught, had always believed.

But now Merlin—Merlin, of all people—had magic? He knew it was true…the evidence still floated in the air before him. But Merlin, evil? Merlin, who hated the mere thought of hunting fluffy creatures. Merlin, who in the past year had already saved his life twice; three times if you counted the blue orb that had guided him to safety in the Caves of Balor. How were those the actions of an evil sorcerer?

Supposedly all sorcerers hated the Pendragons, wanted nothing more than to see them dead. Yet, if that were true, Merlin wouldn’t have even had to do magic of his own. All Merlin would have had to do was to let Mary Collins’ dagger hit him instead of dragging him out of the way. Or let him drink from the poisoned cup. Instead, he’d protected Arthur. Why?

It was like having all the pieces to a puzzle, but somehow they didn’t fit together.

Merlin noticed Arthur’s hesitation and saw it for the opportunity it was. He took a deep breath and blurted out, “You don’t have to be afraid of me, Arthur. I won’t hurt you.”  

“I am not afraid of you!” Even though Arthur looked affronted, the wild glint in his eye gave lie to the words.

“Please, Arthur…just give me a chance…please…” Merlin put his hand out again as if he wanted Arthur to shake it like they had moments ago, before Arthur had known of his secret.

Arthur stared at Merlin’s hand for a long moment, but before Merlin could find out whether the prince could accept him, Morgana burst in, saying, “Arthur, they’ve crossed the riv—…”

Morgana’s voice trailed off into nothingness as her attention was caught by the glowing orb still suspended between Merlin and Arthur. Her eyes first widened in amazement and then narrowed in realization.

Arthur raised his eyes to Merlin’s for a split second, his expression unreadable, before he turned and bolted out the door to warn the others.

Morgana turned her head and walked toward Merlin, as if in a daze. She put out a trembling hand and touched the floating orb, immediately feeling warmth, safety, and something indescribably Merlin in it before it disappeared like a gossamer web on the wind. Her eyes snapped to his, and she breathed, “Oh, Merlin…” in a voice that was sad, awed, and accepting all at once.

A tear—just one—escaped the confines of Merlin’s watery eyes before he wiped the moisture away with the heel of his hand. Of course, Morgana would understand…

“Come on, we should go,” she said, placing a hand on Merlin’s forearm.

“Yeah,” he rasped, his throat dry and painful around the word. He grabbed the sword belt from the table in front of him, unsheathed his sword, and then followed Morgana out the door.


Now, Morgana! What are you waiting for?” Arthur hissed under his breath. “Something’s gone wrong…”

That was all Merlin needed to hear before he was tearing off across the open field, Arthur’s shocked, “Merlin!” floating in his wake. Zigzagging wildly to evade the crossbow bolts aimed at him, he skidded to a halt beside a frantic Morgana, who was still trying to light the oil ditch with a flint.

“Watch out!” Merlin said as he raised one hand and whispered, “Baerne.” Morgana’s eyes widened again, shocked as he openly performed magic in front of her. Flames leapt to life underneath his outstretched palm and raced along the ditch, trapping Kanen’s men inside the confines of the town.

Moments later, they heard Arthur’s battle cry and burst out of hiding with the others to attack Kanen's men.

Chaos reigned. Everywhere Merlin looked, his neighbors were fighting for their lives. One of the bandits surged forward, swinging his sword as if to cleave Merlin’s head from his shoulders. He blocked and stepped back, and then cut a sweeping arc through the man’s stomach. Another man engaged him and it was only a few moments of sparring before Merlin had shoved the man's sword aside and stabbed his vulnerable gut. Merlin suddenly felt grateful for every training session he’d ever endured at Arthur’s hand.

Winded, Merlin stood catching his breath for a moment, not noticing the man on horseback thundering up behind him with a mace aimed for Merlin’s head…that is, until he heard a commotion at his back. He turned just in time to watch as Will jumped out of an abandoned cart and tackled the man onto the ground, killing him with his own weapon before stealing the man’s sword.

Merlin’s face blazed with gratitude and delight as he mused, “I didn’t think you were coming…”

Will turned to him with his familiar cocky grin and said, “Neither did I.”

Reunited, the friends stood back to back and fought off their attackers.

Although Will and Merlin were able to defeat the men that had come for them, it was clear to see as they looked around that Ealdor was losing the battle. Not too many of their brethren had lost their lives yet, but the strain of battle was taking its toll. They were still outnumbered; and Kanen’s men fought with crossbows and swords, while Merlin’s family and friends mostly fought with their farm implements or sticks.

Beside him, Will had obviously come to the same conclusion. “There are too many of them.”

Merlin felt his resolve harden. This was it; he would do what he must, even though it would reveal his magic to everyone. “Not for me, there isn’t…”

He aimed his hand at his feet. “Cume þoden.” Immediately, the dust and straw in front of him began to swirl until it grew into a mighty whirlwind. Raising his hand, it pushed it forward with his mind, into the fray, tossing men off horses and ripping weapons out of hands, allowing them to be overpowered.

Then, there was a terrified scream behind him and Merlin's blood ran cold. Even while his right hand controlled the twister, his head twisted round to see his own mother pinned up against a fence by a man twice her size. He pawed at and ripped the neckline of her dress as Hunith grappled with his other hand, holding a dagger away from her neck by inches.

“Arthur!” Merlin screamed, calling the prince’s attention to his mother’s plight, but in his heart, he knew that Arthur could not reach her in time. Instead, Merlin thrust his left hand toward his mother and bellowed, “Hleap on bæc!” closed his hand in a grasping motion, and pulled it towards himself. The man flew backward through the air, landing at Arthur’s feet. The prince wasted no time putting his sword through the bandit’s gut.

Merlin lowered his other hand, allowing the winds to dissipate. It had done its job, giving his neighbors and friends the advantage they’d needed. Many more of Kanen’s men lay dead on the ground, and those that had survived were running away.

But before the victory cry could fully be heard, Kanen’s incensed voice rent the air, “Pendragon!” He stalked around the corner into the main square, ripping off his helmet and tossing it aside. Arthur turned, swung his sword about in his signature flourish, and dropped into his battle stance.

The fight, as harrowing as it was for Merlin to watch, was mercifully short. After Kanen’s failed attack had left him vulnerable, Arthur speared the man underneath his rib cage, watching dispassionately as Kanen collapsed.

Incensed, Arthur stalked forward as his eyes flashed. He made a beeline for Merlin, not even stopping in his stride as he dropped both sword and shield, raised a hand, and cuffed Merlin hard across the cheek. “How dare you? How dare you use magic in front of me, Merlin!”

Merlin fell to his hands and knees in front of the prince as the pain exploded up the right side of his face, making his eyes water.

From his position on the ground, Merlin felt as if time had slowed around him. Each beat of his heart echoed slow and painful where Arthur had struck him. His mother and best friend moved at a snail’s pace, trying to get to him, to intervene on his behalf. But what Merlin saw from his vantage point made him shiver in foreboding: Kanen, with his dying strength, aiming a crossbow at the prince’s vulnerable back.

“No!” Merlin screamed. He thrust a hand forward just as the bolt twanged into the air.

Arthur, startled by Merlin’s outburst, turned to see what his manservant was gawping at. In frantic terror, Arthur watched as a crossbow bolt stuttered to a stop and hovered in midair, an inch away from becoming the mortal wound it was meant to be. The lethal arrow trembled for one moment before it dropped to the ground at Arthur’s feet.

Slowly pivoting on the heels of his boots, Arthur turned back to stare at Merlin with his mouth gaping open. His manservant was still crouched upon the ground, but rather than hiding from the blow he obviously thought was coming, Merlin stared up at Arthur, his cobalt eyes big and round, shimmering with tears.

“You just saved my life…” Arthur said, stunned.

Merlin had to swallow twice in order to speak around the lump in his throat. “Yes…” he whispered.

Arthur stared down at Merlin for a long, long moment, and then turned his back and angrily stalked away.