Category: Porn Battle VII, pride
Summary: Merlin has an (uh)healthy obsession with Arthur's hands.
Notes: Done for the porn battle VII with the prompt of hands, secrets
Merlin has few secrets. No really. By now Arthur knows most of them. He even knows about Merlin's magic and that had been what Merlin had considered his biggest. Sure, Arthur had been so angry with him for almost a month, but eventually his curiosity and their friendship had bridged Arthur's hurt feelings. Hurt, not because Merlin was a sorcerer, but hurt because Merlin had kept it a secret from him.
The question now, is what Arthur might do to him when or if Arthur ever finds out about Merlin's remaining secret.
The fact that Merlin has a weakness for Arthur physically, in general, but his hands, specifically.
Merlin wants, on a good day, to believe that Arthur, if he doesn't share Merlin's interest, will let him down gently. Unfortunately, few days are that good. Most days Merlin fears that Arthur will send him away, if he finds out, in disgust - or even worse, tolerate Merlin because he's useful, but avoid his company forever.
Merlin folds and refolds Arthur's clothes, trying so very hard not to stare at Arthur's hands as he skilfully cleans, oils and swathes his hunting knives. Merlin occasionally does this for him, but Arthur likes doing it himself as well. Not because he doesn't trust Merlin to do a good enough job, no matter what he may occasionally claim, but because he enjoys doing it.
And it only serves to heighten Merlin's awareness of how elegant and strong Arthur's hands are, how the light catches the ring on Arthur's thumb.
He can't help himself, with the added thrill/embarrassment/fear of Arthur finding out, he lets himself think about those hands, how they might feel on his body. Calluses catching on his skin, Arthur holding him down by the hips, hands spanning the width of Merlin's waist, tanned skin stark against Merlin's own pale complexion.
He folds the shirt a third time, lost in the thought of Arthur circling his thumbs, roughly against the jut of Merlin's hip bones. He can almost feel the pressure right this very moment. He twists his hips to the side, to avoid showing Arthur the slight bulge in his trouser. He's tempting fate, but he's sure he can...
Merlin freezes. "Yes?"
"Don't wear my shirt out by refolding it more than it needs," Arthur says evenly, no small amount of humour in his voice.
"For you, sire, only the very best of my folding abilities," Merlin replies, putting the shirt aside and picking up the next. He will have to be more careful.
Arthur snorts, but doesn't comment, just goes back to cleaning his knives.
There are plenty of parts of Arthur's body that Merlin wants to get aquainted with, but the hands are definitely the most important ones. Probably because Merlin sees them every day, sees what they can do, how gentle they are with Arthur's horses, how strong they are when he grips the hilt of his favourite sword.
Merlin swallows hard as he imagines Arthur gripping another hilt, gripping Merlin's cock like that, squeezing, less than gentle, just this side of painful. How Arthur will move his hand, bringing Merlin to the edge, easing his grip and causing Merlin frustration, just like Arthur does every day in most other ways.
"Merlin, the same goes for my trouser - don't wear them out."
Merlin puts the trousers down and chances a quick look at Arthur.
Arthur licks the juice from the apple he's now eating, off his fingers, one digit at a time, and Merlin can only stare, almost, but not quite, missing the knowing look in Arthur's eyes and smirk quirking up the corner of his mouth. He doesn't miss the predatory sway to Arthur's body as he stands and slowly walks towards Merlin, his infuriating smirk only growing though for once, not causing Merlin the usual level of annoyance.
If anything, it causes Merlin to smirk himself, and his trousers to tighten even more as he watches Arthur lifting his hand, cupping Merlin's hip. Maybe he should start a new policy. Never keep secrets around Arthur. Arthur would like that, the prat.