Slashing with Pleasure

Fic: the future is now

mabonwitch — Thu, 02 May 2013 20:28:54 GMT

Title: the future is now
Author: mabonwitch
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin, hint of Arthur/Gwen and unrequited Gwaine/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 5,200
Summary: Merlin's really fucking stubborn and he's not letting Arthur go.
Content Notes: fluff, love, open marriages, so many feelings
Author's Notes: Unabashedly a love letter to fandom, and a fix-it for 5x13, conceptualized when I couldn't sleep due to ANGST after watching it. Canon-compliant through all but the last few scenes of 5x13.

Kilgarrah, over the long years, had proven himself a wise and powerful ally. That didn't mean he always had Merlin's best interests at heart. Or perhaps that he had different ideas about what was in Merlin's best interests.

And Merlin had always had a core of stubbornness.

He wiped the last few tears from his face and pushed Arthur's boat off before scrambling in. His magic hummed under his skin, responding to the intensity of his focus. Though Arthur no longer breathed, and his heart beat but slowly, Merlin could sense the spark of life still flickering deep within him. He would not fail. He would not.

They touched down on the isle within minutes. Merlin hauled Arthur out one last time. There, barely above the shoreline, Merlin knelt down and invoked the magic of the Old Religion. He had seen, in the Cave. It was never the religion that was perverse, no more than magic itself, only the choices of its followers. The Old Religion was impartial.

He was counting on that. There was no spell for this, no more than there had been the first time, with Nimueh a dark threat above him.

"A life for a life," he said, "that's what you want, isn't it?"

The tingling mist that rose in answer stank of Sidhe magic. "Immortality is your gift. It was never meant for man. I'm willing to give it back." The isle listened, the Old Religion coming to bear alongside the Sidhe. "A life for a life. All my immortal years, traded for a mortal lifespan for us both. Bring the spark back to full health in Arthur, and I give up my extra years gladly."

Perhaps it was selfish. Perhaps some future Albion would need Arthur, would need Emrys. But Merlin couldn't care. He needed Arthur, here and now, in this lifetime. He needed more than a few dying days of Arthur's approval. More than bitter moments of equality. They couldn't make up for years of hiding in so brief a time.

Everything was very still. Merlin knelt over Arthur, put both his hands on Arthur's face. "Please," he whispered, and fell into his magic.

**

Arthur woke to wetness on his face. He blinked his eyes open incredulously. His wound had been mortal, he'd been sure of it. "Merlin?"

Merlin sobbed. It occurred to Arthur that the wetness was from Merlin's tears. "Arthur."

Oh. Arthur meant every word he'd said to Merlin over the last two days, and he was sure Merlin had as well. But it still made something in his chest ache to hear Merlin say his name like that, all fierce joy. He realized that if he could feel his chest ache, his side must not be as bad. Arthur shifted to test and was surprised to find no pain. He brought a hand to the wound.

"Merlin? What did you-"

Merlin grinned, the all-encompassing kind that crinkled up his whole face in a ridiculous, endearing mass of joy. "You're alive. We got here in time." He collapsed abruptly to the side, lying on his back in the grass. He threw an arm over his face. "You're alive."

Arthur sat up carefully, but nothing pulled. He put a hand on Merlin's arm. "Merlin. You did it."

He could hear the gratitude in his voice. He could also see the faint tremor going through Merlin's form. He looked like he'd been starved a month, all thin, sharp angles. Arthur was surprised at the rush of protectiveness that welled up at the sight. Apparently knowing Merlin was a dangerous sorcerer didn't make a difference.

"You look like hell."

Merlin snorted softly. "I...might be a little easier to kill now."

Arthur frowned.

"Don't ask." Merlin moved his arm to catch his eyes. "Arthur. I couldn't-"

Arthur didn't ask. Instead, he got them up and off the isle at Merlin's insistence. He didn't comment on the disturbing similarity of the barge Merlin called to a funeral barge. Merlin stumbled to his knees getting out on the far shore.

"'M fine," he tried to insist.

Arthur laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. Despite his recent wound, Arthur felt in the pink of health. Whatever Merlin had done had restored him.

"Merlin," he admonished. "Rest."

Merlin hesitated, which was enough to worry Arthur. His- friend. His friend would normally be up and arguing with Arthur. "Yeah, alright." Merlin sighed and propped himself against a log. "Wake me if there's Saxons."

**

Merlin could only assume that there hadn’t been any Saxons, because he woke to the smell of roasting rabbit with the sun's position suggesting he had not only slept through the night but well into the next day.

"I know you're awake, Merlin Get up."

Arthur's tone was so caustically familiar that Merlin smiled foolishly as he stood. He took in the worried crease smoothing from between Arthur's eyes.

Merlin ducked his head. "Sorry."

"You slept almost a full day. How on Earth do you expect to get anything done like that?"

"It's temporary," Merlin said, stung despite knowing Arthur's veiled concern. "I exhausted myself."

Arthur's expression became serious. "Thank you. Merlin. I would have died a dozen times these last few days without you, and I suspect many more before that."

Tears tried to crawl up his throat again. "It's my honor and my privilege. I told you before Arthur, I'll gladly serve you until the day I die."

Arthur sighed and rose out of his crouch. "Come here, Merlin."

Merlin went gladly, folding himself into Arthur's arms and clinging like he'd been needing since Arthur woke up. Arthur held him tightly, the cool of his armor a welcome relief. Safe.

"Merlin," Arthur said after a long while. "Are you falling asleep again?"

Merlin stirred. "Sorry. I'm really, really tired, Arthur." He suspected his magic was re-calibrating, adjusting to his new status. Whatever it was was exhausting.

Arthur sighed. "Eat first."

**

Merlin managed a decent portion of rabbit before drifting off to sleep again. As restless as he felt, Arthur wouldn't move for the world. Merlin's sword was across his knees- and he would have to ask, at some point, what had happened to his own blade. His back was braced against the same log as Merlin. Most importantly, Merlin was curled into him on one side, tucked warm and pliant under his chin, resting against his heart. He sifted a slow hand through Merlin's hair.

Not for the world.

**

Merlin stirred several times, waking to eat and drink and relieve himself. Each time, he came back to Arthur, feeling a slow uncurling in his gut. He wanted to flop all over Arthur, to feel him alive beneath him. He wanted to be like this always, warm and safe in Arthur's arms. The last few days changed something indefinable between them, loosened some barrier and shook off the idiot manservant/arrogant king divide. Arthur, as he was now, showed every inclination of wanting what Merlin wanted.

When Merlin woke for what felt like the last time, rested and with his magic simmering softly, reassuringly filling him back up, Arthur's hand was in his hair. Arthur stilled when Merlin's eyes opened. Merlin blinked and leaned into the touch.

Arthur smiled. "Hello."

Desire knotted tight in him. Merlin's eyes dropped to Arthur's lips and he leaned forward. Arthur's hand urged him on, bringing their lips together. Arthur's mouth was warm and firm, everything Merlin had imagined. The kiss drew out, long and sweet. At last, Merlin pulled back.

"Gwen." Panic spiked through Merlin and he struggled back another foot.

Arthur grabbed his arm. "Merlin. Gwen has known longer than I have that this- that you- might happen. Since well before we started courting. She's fine."

Merlin swallowed. "She's fine?" he squeaked. Gwen was fine with Arthur, her husband, kissing other people? That didn't sound like the Gwen he knew.

Arthur regarded him steadily. "That's- part of why Lancelot was so difficult. Because we talked, a lot, about what could happen. What we wanted, how to handle all of it. And Lancelot never came up."

Merlin sighed and stopped fighting Arthur's grip. "That wasn't Lancelot."

Arthur squeezed. "What do you mean?"

Merlin cleared his throat. "Morgana did something, something sick. It was Lancelot's body, but Morgana's mind, Morgana's orders. Lancelot's spirit wasn't free." It hurt to relive. Merlin could see it in Arthur's face, as well. "I'm certain, Arthur."

"Oh." For a small space of time, it was silent. Then Arthur shook himself. "Not what I wanted to talk about, Merlin. Come back here."

Merlin flushed and moved tentatively closer again. "I need to talk to Gwen," he warned. "To make sure. She's been my friend a long time, Arthur."

Arthur huffed. "I suppose I can wait." His breath wafted hotly over Merlin's ear. "I have quite a few ideas about just how I want to shut you up."

Merlin shivered.

**

They split the watch that night, Arthur sleeping most of it as he'd been up watching Merlin. It was in the few hours closest to dawn that Merlin slept, and woke to the sound of hoof beats pounding toward them. They rose as one, Arthur's sword clearing his sheath, Merlin readying his magic.

Percival entered their camp at a trot and pulled up short on seeing them. "My lord! Morgana- she caught us and she knows you're here."

Arthur sheathed his sword. "Stand down, Percival. Morgana's dead."

Percival sagged in his saddle. "How?"

Arthur arched his brows and told the truth: "Merlin gutted her. Thoroughly.

Percival turned an impressed look on Merlin. Merlin shrugged. It wasn't how he'd thought she'd die, but it worked.

"Gwaine," Merlin said, abruptly noticing the form slumped behind Percival.

Percival dismounted and got Gwaine on the ground. "He was tortured. Sorry, Merlin, I know you and Gaius are forever saying not to move people..."

Merlin ignored him in favor of checking Gwaine over. Pulse regular, breathing labored. No obvious wounds. "Help me with his armor," he ordered. "Do you know what was done to him?"

Percival answered uneasily. "No. He said he'd failed. He hasn't woken since."

Merlin nodded and continued his examination. Once Gwaine was out of enough armor that Merlin had access to everywhere he needed, he said, "I'll need water. There's a stream nearby; fetch enough to fill a pot."

Percival rose and moved swiftly to follow directions. Merlin waited. Once he was out of earshot, he turned to Arthur.

"I suppose I could ask you to build up the fire, but I don't really need it." He turned back to Gwaine and whispered a word, the quick vision that allowed him to see magic in the body. Gwaine glowed an unhealthy black. Merlin hissed. He knelt close and incanted a string of spells, linked together to wash the black magic from Gwaine and heal his mind. When he blinked his eyes clear, Arthur stood several feet closer, turned to watch for Percival's return.

"Good news," he said to Arthur, rising to his feet. And his magic really had returned in full; he didn't feel at all woozy. It was something of a relief. Percival returned as swiftly as he could without spilling. "Excellent," Merlin said. "Percival, if you build the fire up and get that boiling, I should be able to get the herbs we need. Moving him won't hurt." He clapped a hand to Percival's broad shoulder. "You did the right thing."

Merlin strode off into the forest. Some fennelwort wouldn't hurt anything. His lips quirked up as he heard Percival ask behind him, "Shouldn't someone go with him?"

**

As glad as Arthur was to hear that Gwaine was physically healed, Merlin's whispered explanation about spirits made him somewhat uneasy. The idea that Gwaine was willing himself to die because he believed he'd failed Arthur downright unnerved Arthur. What sort of speech brought a man back from his death?

Arthur had to try.

"Gwaine. Wake up." He gripped the man's shoulder, just as he would if he were waking him for watch duty. "Camelot needs you." There was no response. "You haven't failed me. You brought Morgana straight to her death." Gwaine's breathing seemed a little lighter. "Wake up. We're still deep in Saxon territory; we need all the men we can get." Arthur hesitated. This was a bit of a low blow, but- "Merlin's useless with a sword and I can't guard him all the time on my own." Completely untrue, on both counts, but it did the job. Gwaine frowned and blinked awake.

"He's up!"Arthur called. He helped Gwaine sit. "Good man."

**

Gwen stared out the window, lost as she had been so often over the last few days. She couldn't breathe right around the grief and hope that filled her breast. Five days of waiting, of trying to carry on as though all were well. A clatter of horses drew her attention to the courtyard below. She knew better than to get her hopes up.

No.

But. Yes. There was no mistaking them-

Gwen whirled before she knew what she was doing and raced for the door, running down the halls and stairs full-tilt, heedless of anyone else. She arrived at the doors to the main hall panting, tore them open, and nearly knocked Arthur over.

"Arthur." Over his shoulder, she saw Merlin grinning, and knew he understood exactly how she felt. She looked Arthur over carefully. There was no blood or bandages, and he held himself without the careful stiffness of a wound. Merlin must have healed it.

Arthur held out his arms for her and Gwen pressed herself into them. As much as they normally keep their affections private, Gwen can't help but press a swift kiss to Arthur's lips. She hated the thought of what it did to Merlin, mostly. When she drew back, there was something different in the way Merlin looked at her, less hurt and more curious.

Gwen released Arthur and turned to Merlin. "Merlin," she said, taking both his hands in hers. She wanted to embrace him as she had Arthur. She restrained herself to a squeeze. "You did it. You brought him back." Merlin ducked his head, a familiar embarrassed shuffle of that's-just-what-I-do. "Thank you," Gwen said.

Merlin looked up at her. The flash of their eyes meeting granted Gwen a look at Merlin's quick smile. She held on to him a moment more, until grooms had both their horses in hand. Gwen didn't want to lose Merlin's company just yet.

She hooked an arm through Arthur's. "Anything urgent?" Arthur slid a sideways look at her and shook his head. "Good," she said firmly. "We can take an hour then." She drew him into motion, gesturing for Merlin to come with them. Gwen didn't miss either the subtle tensing before Merlin began following or the flare of heat in Arthur's gaze. As much as she did want to tumble him into bed, there were more important things.

"We'll be just a moment," she told Arthur when they reached their rooms, and shut the door in his face.

"Gwen?"

Gwen bit her lip at the plaintive tone coming through the door. "Just a moment." She dragged Merlin, whose face was lit with surprise and amusement, a few steps down the corridor. "Gaius told me."

Merlin blinked at her. Gwen sighed internally. Of course it would take more than that.

"I was with Gaius when the sorcerer joined the battle on our side. He knew who it was. And then, he told me not to send anyone out after you and Arthur. I asked him- I begged him to tell me if I knew the sorcerer. And he said I did. Merlin..."

Merlin watched her with bright, uncertain eyes.

Gwen smiled slowly, letting her awe color it. "Merlin, you really?"

Merlin matched her, his nod all she needed.

"You saved him," Gwen whispered. "Does he know? About-"

Merlin let out the barest breath of a laugh. "Yes. I told him."

Gwen laughed, full of excitement, and grabbed Merlin again to bring him into their rooms. "Arthur!" she called, "while you were gone, Gaius told me-"

**

Merlin was somewhere between surprised and relieved when Arthur kept him close that evening. Arthur's unabashed handisness in the hour Gwen stole for them earlier left Merlin blushing like a boy. The heavy, hot stare he got as soon as they'd finished dinner was no better.

"Oh." Gwen tilted her head and looked between the two of them. Merlin felt himself go scarlet. "Arthur, did you finally-?"

Arthur shot her wicked little smile. "Merlin wouldn't believe me, Gwen. Will you please tell him I am allowed to do whatever I please with him?"

Gwen shook her head. "Oh Merlin, when has Arthur ever been able to lie to you?"

"Hey!"

Merlin laughed, both at Gwen's unexpected response and at Arthur's entirely predictable protest. "That's true," he said, sliding a smirk toward Arthur. Gwen's smile was conspiratorial. "You really don't mind? It's just-" He raised a self-conscious hand to his face. Oh, damn, he was going to be stuck this shade of red. "I can't imagine being able to have Arthur to myself and being willing to share him."

Merlin couldn't bring himself to watch Arthur's reaction. Gwen just gave him a serious but solemn smile. "Merlin, I love Arthur dearly. And he is never more happy than when he is with you, or when he's coming from having spent time with you." She paused, a mischievous glimmer entering her gaze. "I suspect I've even gotten some fantastic sex-"

"Gwen!"

Merlin squawked over Arthur's protest, hands coming up too late to cover his ears. At least Arthur seemed just as outraged. Arthur didn't say anything further, though. Instead, he took three quick steps and captured Merlin by the back of the neck before bringing him into a kiss.

Arthur's face was beautiful like this, his eyelashes disappearing as he closed his eyes. The candlelight cast his face in broad planes of gold and shadow. Merlin's hand drifted up to weave into his hair. He sank into the lush feel of the kiss. Merlin's other hand settled between them, against Arthur's heart, steady as a drumbeat but quickening. The taste of mead traded lazily between their lips. The heat of embarrassment cooled. Merlin relaxed against Arthur, pressing forward to play his tongue into Arthur's mouth. Arthur responded in kind. A slow flush of another sort of warmth worked through him. Arthur drew back, eyes opening.

"Goodnight, Merlin."

Merlin blinked. If Arthur had sounded even a little mocking, Merlin would have hit him. But he didn't, damn him. Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and blew out a wry breath. He cleared his throat and stepped back.

"Goodnight Arthur. Gwen."

"Goodnight Merlin," Gwen chirped. She sounded a breath from laughter. Merlin wisely didn't look at her and left before he could do something stupid.

Behind him, he heard Gwen squeal as Arthur swept her off her feet. Merlin's heart twisted oddly in his chest. He swallowed. It might not be long before it was him in Arthur's chambers. It was a bizarre thought, tinted with gratitude. Gwen was always the most generous of them all.

**

Gwen propped her feet on the spare chair she'd dragged over to the fire and yawned in content. She wore rather less clothing than was strictly appropriate in front of Merlin, but he'd seen her in less. Also, they’d had a very clarifying conversation the other day. She wasn't terribly surprised to learn that, in this, as in all else, Arthur was the center of Merlin's world. They were always each other's grand love story. She was happy with as much of Arthur as she had.

"That doesn't even make sense," Arthur declared from the bed. Merlin was regaling them with another tale of his magical deeds in Camelot over the years. Gwen lost track of the tale during the increasingly lengthy pauses where Arthur attempted to distract Merlin with kissing and wandering hands.

"Deflected-," Merlin said. "Mmf." Gwen rolled her eyes. Really, they were ridiculous. Four nights of this, with Merlin wandering off looking increasingly ruffled and Arthur taking Gwen to bed with more passion than he'd had since the weeks after their marriage. Behind her, Merlin whined. She twisted to look. Arthur had Merlin laid full out under him. His mouth was bent to Merlin's neck, hands pinning Merlin's to the bed. Merlin's head was tilted back to expose his neck to Arthur.

Gwen couldn't help but laugh, a little flustered. "Would you like some privacy?"

Arthur's head popped up. He sent her a lascivious look. "Yes."

Gwen blinked. She'd had Arthur to herself for several nights. Merlin licked his lips and looked between her and Arthur. "Yes," he agreed.

Gwen cleared her throat and tried not to smirk as she rose. "I'll be in the Queen's Chambers," she said, and let herself out.

**

Despite quite a bit of experience, having Merlin under him left Arthur at a loss. His neck was bare and mottled red from Arthur's mouth. The clean arch of it made Arthur's chest ache. He wanted to take Merlin apart piece by piece.

"Yes?" He lowered his face to rub his cheek softly against Merlin's.

"Yes," Merlin whispered back.

Arthur nipped his ear and sucked the lobe into his mouth. Merlin's breath caught. Warmth flushed through him. Merlin was here now, his. He licked down the tendons of Merlin's neck, brushed kisses over his pulse. Then he returned to kiss Merlin's stubborn chin, the places on his cheeks where he dimpled when he smiled. His brow, softly over his closed eyelids. Arthur ran fingers and lips over Merlin's high, gorgeous cheekbones. At last, responding to the murmur in Merlin's voice, he came to his lips, teasing before he surged forward.

Merlin shifted restlessly beneath him, hands fluttering from his hips to his arms to his back. There they stayed, not quite pulling Arthur down but making sure Arthur knew Merlin wanted him closer. Arthur's heart turned over. This, this was Merlin. Never demanding when it came to something he needed, even when he'd earned it a thousand times over. Always just there, lingering at the edges of Arthur's attention, quietly hinting. For Arthur, he would be loud and demanding, take foolish risks, but never for himself.

He wanted Merlin wrecked with want. More than that, though, he wanted to give Merlin whatever he wanted.

"Anything," he whispered into Merlin's mouth, and dropped his weight down, thigh firmly between Merlin's legs. Merlin choked out a gasp, hips snapping up into the pressure. Arthur kissed him again, hot and fierce.

"Clothes," Merlin said, breaking away. And yes, Arthur wanted Merlin's skin. He levered himself up and watched as Merlin tore off his shirt. He kicked his boots, socks, and breeches off. Arthur stared at where braes where doing exactly nothing to conceal Merlin's erection before they, too, were taken off. He startled when Merlin reached over to pull him out of his own undershirt.

Merlin slid to the floor to unlace Arthur's boots. "I swear to the gods, Arthur, if you make a joke right now I will bite the first time I do this properly."

Arthur choked down anything he wanted to say, breathing heavily through the image of Merlin naked at his feet. Merlin rose to unlace his breeches, a small smile on his lips. He flicked his eyes up to Arthur's and then down again.

"You'll have to get a new manservant," Merlin said. "I cannot possibly do this without taking you to bed."

Arthur rolled his eyes through the clench in his heart. "Don't be ridiculous, Merlin. There's no way you'd let anyone else this near me."

Merlin's fingers stilled. "That is....lamentably true."

And then they were naked and Arthur guided Merlin back down on the bed. Merlin settled eagerly. Arthur paused only a moment to take Merlin in, the high flush on his face and every part of him bare and visible for Arthur. Then he leaned down to claim Merlin, first with a kiss, then with demanding touches. He touched everywhere. All the places he had touched before, arms and shoulders and the back of the neck, became new again. Everywhere he'd half-dreamed of and denied himself, Merlin's ridiculous skinny chest, the hollows of his hips, the long length of his thighs, called him. Arthur touched them all, his mouth trailing behind his hands. Merlin responded with wet gasps, like his skin had been a desert and he was drinking in Arthur's touches. At last, Arthur made his way back up Merlin's body and settled atop him.

"Whatever you want, Merlin," he whispered into the space between them. "Tell me what you want."

"You." Merlin's eyes were steady on him as he spoke, but there was a hint of fear in them, too. "I just....want you, Arthur."

"You have me." Arthur ached, wondering at all the long years of concealed yearning. Merlin was by far the stronger of them both. He stroked his thumb over Merlin's cheek, the gesture more tender than he used with Merlin. "Merlin," and now his voice was husky, "you have me, I promise. I'm not going anywhere."

Merlin's eyes glimmered gold. Not the full gold they turned when he cast a spell, just a hint around the edges. Arthur smiled and ducked his head to kiss Merlin.

"What are you thinking," Arthur said, "that makes your eyes turns gold?"

His care in keeping the question light was rewarded when Merlin looked only startled instead of guilty. "Ah. Er. Um."

Arthur smirked. "There's not going to be a tavern anywhere in this explanation, is there?"

Merlin laughed and smacked him on the arm. "Prat. No." He paused. "I was thinking about the way oaths work, in magic. The way they can be bound."

Arthur sobered and took another kiss. "I meant it. I'm right here."

Merlin shivered. "I want you. I want you in me."

Arthur stilled. "I haven't done that." He breathed out slowly. "Not in a long time, and even then, not- often." Once. He'd dared try it once, when he was a boy and the squires were all horsing around.

Mischief sparked in Merlin's eyes. "Don't worry, I've done it lots. And not so long ago, either." Arthur felt a flash of jealousy, but it was drowned out by Merlin's, "Roll over."

Arthur quirked an eyebrow. "Are we talking about you doing the- because, then I haven't ever, er." And now he was the one stumbling over his words, exactly like he was a boy again.

Merlin smiled cheerfully as he prodded Arthur over onto his back. Arthur went reluctantly. "Don't worry, I like getting buggered." Arthur's breath caught at the lewd words. Merlin leaned forward and fished under Arthur's pillow. Arthur stiffened when Merlin pulled the flask of oil out. Merlin snorted at him. "Just who, exactly, did you think was keeping this filled all these years, sire?"

Arthur flushed. Merlin settled astride him. Arthur licked his lips, getting a clear image of just how this was going to work. He plucked the flask from Merlin's hand and thumbed it open. With his other hand, he urged Merlin up, until he was over Arthur's chest. Arthur spilled the oil over two fingers, rubbing them to get them slick. He reached for Merlin.

"Tell me if it's too much."

Merlin nodded rapidly in agreement, but the bob of his Adam's apple and the thickness of his cock told the tale of how much he wanted this. He shifted, knelt up a little to give Arthur more room to work. Arthur trailed a finger back to find his tight furl. Merlin clenched and loosened against the pad of his finger, mouth falling open with desire. Arthur's cock tightened in response.

He slid a finger in, not too slow, but not rushed either. Merlin whined for it. Arthur's memory of how smooth and slick this was had dimmed. He pushed his finger in and out, over-heating with the feel of it. Merlin flexed into him. Arthur worked him open with two fingers, quicker now. Merlin writhed.

"Curl," he said nonsensically. "Curl your-" Only years of deciphering Merlin's rambling allowed him to untangle his meaning. Obediently, he curled his fingers slightly within Merlin. "Yes, yes." Merlin moaned. "There, like that-"

Arthur watched in lust-addled amazement as Merlin rutted against him. He thought he might expire from the beauty of it. "Merlin," he pleaded.

"Yes, fine, enough," Merlin gasped. Arthur took up the oil again. Merlin snatched it from him, and it took Arthur a long moment to realize he'd done it with magic. If the busy way he was covering his palm in the oil was any indication, Merlin didn't even seem to realize it.

He didn't have any more time to contemplate it. Merlin walked backwards on his knees until he was over Arthur's cock. The firm grasp on his flesh, after minutes of nothing, left him gasping. Merlin stroked until a needy groan forced its way from behind clenched teeth. His smile was smug and hot as he lowered himself onto Arthur.

Arthur dug his hands into the bedsheets and fought not to move. His vision tunneled. Merlin's hips met his and Arthur breathed out heavily. Everything snapped back into place. With a grunt, Arthur tried to force his hips up. He was in Merlin as deep as he could go and he wanted to move. Merlin gave him a lazy smile and shifted into the thrust. He worked himself on Arthur's cock, bearing down until Arthur thrashed.

Merlin looked boneless as he moved. His eyes were dark with arousal, his expression intent. Arthur scrambled to follow his lead, no hesitation in his mind that it was Merlin leading this dance. Their bodies were in harmony, as if all those years of moving around each other had trained them in how to move with each other as well. Arthur got his hand on Merlin's thigh, petting at the flex of muscles under the skin. His hand fell away after a moment, the strain too much in this position. Merlin sped up in increments, until he rode Arthur hard. He shifted forward a little and cried out. Arthur hissed. The hot clench of him almost sent Arthur over, but he was determined to see this through. Every movement sent desperate noises pouring out of Merlin's lips, and his hand was finally on his cock now, tight and fast on the long, beautiful length of it. Arthur wanted to touch him there, to be the one controlling the pace and wrenching noise from Merlin. Next time, he would. He opened his mouth to say so and choked on the words. A tidal wave swept him, starting in his toes and clenching the muscles in his thighs and arms, cresting at Merlin's hungry, "come on." Arthur threw back his head and roared, body aflame as he came so hard his vision went dark. Wet heat on his belly matched Merlin's rising cry and tight grip. Arthur screwed up into him, a last burst leaving him wrung out and weak.

There was a shiver of movement, Merlin sliding off of him a flopping down beside him. Arthur slit his eyes open and rolled to his side. He brought a hand up, tracing the line of a cheek, the flutter of Merlin's eyelashes, the arch of his brow. Merlin sighed softly, content. Satisfied, Arthur pulled him close and slung an arm over him. He drifted off to the feel of Merlin's heart beating next to his, alive and close and precious, all the barriers gone between them at last.

Fic: drowning, please rescue me

mabonwitch — Sun, 14 Apr 2013 20:15:47 GMT

Title: drowning, please rescue me
Author: mabonwitch
Pairings: Tony/Clint, Tony/Pepper, brief mention of Clint/OMCs
Rating: R
Wordcount: 11,000
Summary: Clint is fucked up after Phil dies. Tony has some ideas about how to help.
Content Notes: D/s, bondage, open relationships, PTSD, kink as psychology, sub drop, unrequited feelings, hurt/comfort, team dynamics, kink shaming, happy ending, Pepper is made of awesome
Author's Notes: The rating is for kink, not sex. (Sorry!)

It was, ironically, his desire to do good that sucked him under in the end.

Clint wasn't doing well. Tony knew, because all the Avengers lived in the Tower now, and Tony was a genius. Even when people thought he was being an asshole, he knew stuff. Tony could redesign the armor's left gauntlet, flirt with Pepper, and notice Barton slinking off without eating more than a bite or two all at the same time.

Tony was pretty sure Rogers knew there was something wrong, too, but Rogers might not have the cultural referents to figure it out. Namely, homosexuality in the 21st century. It could, of course, have been Loki's mind-fuck screwing with Barton. Tony calculated that possibility at roughly 2.5%, though. No, it was Coulson.

Coulson had probably been too professional to take advantage of Clint's obvious thing for him. (Or maybe just too straight- he heard things, OK?) The emotional component, though, the way Coulson looked out for Barton, guided him through- there was no reason Coulson should have avoided that. It made sense, on a work level, and on the level of friendship. Tony knew, in a vague way, about Clint's fucked up childhood. Maybe Coulson inferred Barton's need for a little order, seen it as mentoring. Fuck, maybe Barton saw it that way, too.

Tony did not see it that way. Plenty of tabloids could- and had- sneered that Tony saw everything as sex. It wasn't true, but this? This, where Clint suddenly lost the person in his life that told him what to do and how to do it, and Clint wandered around looking lost and cold, even when the temperature in the Tower was cranked up to 85 degrees? This looked like the worst case of sub-drop Tony had ever seen.

He wanted to fix it.

**

Tony lasted three months. Three long, torturous months of watching Clint (because if he was going to think about this, he was calling him Clint, damn it) get worse instead of better. He saw Roger's kindness and Bruce's space and Thor's distractions and Natasha's tough love have exactly zero impact.

At least now everyone had realized something was wrong.

The missed shot was the breaking point. It wasn't a critical shot, and Clint brought the target down with a second arrow on the heels of the first, but. Clint disappeared on them after that, went off-grid for 24 hours, and popped back up at the Tower like nothing had happened. Tony absorbed how pale, how thin, how bloodshot and fucking miserable he looked, and broke.

Tony went to talk to Pepper, because he loved her and needed her. He just needed to be able to do this, too. Pepper's resignation was worse than anger would have been. Seeing it slowly leave her face as he explained, carefully and in great detail, exactly what he wanted to do and why, felt like redemption. At the end, while not over the moon, Pepper was willing to give it a try. (She worried about Clint too, bless her.)

**

Tony did't try to corner Clint, because that was a horrible idea. He did quietly tell his teammates that he has an idea, and needed to run it by Clint. It didn't take long for them to end up alone.

“Hey,” he said. No use pretending something wasn't up. “You've probably been waiting for this, yeah? Everyone else has tried their thing.”

Clint nodded, his shoulders hunching up.

“Yeah, thought so. My idea's more... experimental. An experiment,” he corrected when he saw the look on Clint's face. “You don't like it, you think it's not working, you can bail any time. No harm, no foul.” It was important to get that out there. Clint might not know exactly what he was agreeing too, because hitting him early with “D/s relationship” could be too intense, but he needed to know that much.

Clint frowned. Slowly, he said, “Okay.”

Tony nodded, a small knot sharpening in his gut. “Okay. So, here's my idea. Come down to my lab with me for an hour, and do whatever I say.” He raised a pre-emptive palm. Clint shut his mouth. “One hour. You can leave if it's not working for you. At least give it a chance.”

Clint's mouth pulled into a highly skeptical shape. At last, he shrugged. “Sure, whatever. Not like I got anything better to do.”

That was sort of why Tony was worried. “Cool.”

**

JARVIS cued the play list Tony had created for this when they came through the door together. It was music they agreed on, rough mixed with sweet, all set at a volume considerably lower than Tony's usual. Clint dropped his shoulders an inch when he wasn't blasted walking in the door. Tony pointed at a chair and told Clint to take a seat. He was prepared to follow up with orders about moving around, but that didn't happen.

Twenty minutes in, when Clint stopped fidgeting and sank into sniper stillness, Tony changed the game. He stopped the occasional humming and took his eyes off the work he'd pulled up. Clint blinked as he felt eyes on him.

“Roll that over here,” Tony said. Clint rolled his chair to where Tony gestured, now next to Tony at his desk. Tony took hand out of the hologram as he turned his eyes back to it. “Going to touch your hair now,” he said. “Say if that's not alright.”

When no protest was forthcoming, Tony buried a hand in Clint's short, bristly hair. He stroked through it. Clint didn't startle or shy away, so Tony let himself get mostly reabsorbed in his work. He had a guess that, unlike most, Clint might find it reassuring not to have all the attention focused on him. After awhile, Tony's hand drifted absently down to pat Clint's neck. Tony stilled and blinked away the equations.

“Clint, when was the last time you had a professional massage?” SHIELD agents were supposed to get them regularly, but...

Clint didn't answer. Tony considered. “If you're not going to answer a question I ask, tell me so.” Backing Clint into a verbal corner was as bad as chasing him down would have been.

“I'm not going to answer that,” Clint said immediately. His muscles tensed, like he was preparing for a blow.

Tony took extra care to sound calm when he spoke. “Alright. Turn around.”

It took Clint a minute, but he did it. Tony set both hands firmly on his shoulders, then dug in. Clint grunted. Tony wasn't worried. He worked with his hands and he had a strong sense of how the human body should align. Hell, Bruce preferred his massages to medical's. It wasn't surprising, given their work and his choice of weapon, that Clint's shoulders and neck were knotted painfully. Tony took his time, using careful application of force to work Clint's muscles. He also took an animalistic moment to appreciate the form under his hands.

“I realize we work with a super-soldier and a god, but man, Clint, you are seriously built.” It was only after it left his mouth that Tony realized how that sounded. “Uh, sorry, that was reflex flirtation, not flirtation with intent.”

Clint snorted. “Yeah. Pretty sure Pepper'd kill you.” His voice was minus the sharp edge it held so often recently. Tony resisted the urge to pump his arms in victory.

“Yeah. Plus, turns out I'm a one woman kind of guy when it's Pepper.”

“Turned you down for a threesome, didn't she?”

“You wound me.” And then, because he was honest, added, “Right on the money. Pretty sure Rogers wouldn't've agreed, anyway.”

Clint snickered.

Tony dug his thumbs in at the shoulder and shook him lightly, a playful gesture. “Please, don't tell me you don't want a piece of that.”

Clint laughed. “Pretty sure I don't actually. Too many years hearing Coulson go on about him.” His shoulders came up again, and his voice got sharp as he ended. Tony frowned.

“Deep breath, in and out.” Clint followed orders. As he breathed out, Tony flexed his thumb into a persistent knot, giving Clint an excuse for the pain sound that wanted to escape. “Again.” He watched Clint's back bow and twist. “And one more.”

There. Clint had loosened again, though he was silent now. But that was fine. He ran a hand down Clint's spine to just below his shoulder blades. “Good.”

He could use the excuse to put his hands on Clint more, but he didn't want to push. Clint would let him now. Tony knew that the critical juncture would come later, when Clint looked back on this and decided to come back. So no cuddling, no groping, no overt shows of dominance, no over-the-top praise. Nothing that might raise his hackles.

Instead, they spent the rest of the hour in silence, Tony reaching over to occasionally pat Clint's back or run a hand through his hair. When the hour was over, Tony said so, and accepted Clint's nod when he asked, “Better?” as approbation enough.

**

Clint showed up four nights later at two in the morning, looking like he hadn't slept since Tony had seen him last. Tony waited.

“Again?” Clint sounded unexpectedly small when he asked. He crossed his arms, then let them drop, his fingers twitching at his sides. Tony didn't know what his own body language was saying, but since he wanted Clint here, probably nothing bad. In fact, the lines around Clint's eyes eased as he examined Tony. There was a flicker of surprise.

“Sure.” Tony turned away from his project to take Clint in. He smelled like a shower. His muscles were trembling very slightly. He'd tried to exhaust himself, obviously, and it hadn't worked. “Boots off,” Tony decided. “Sit on the couch.”

Tony scanned through his projects, looking for- “Ah. Here.” He tossed a game he'd been working on to Clint. “Beta test this for me.” It wasn't a Rubric’s cube, quite. It had eight sides, for one. But it was all colors and patterns, needing nothing but patience and mental acuity to solve. Fifteen minutes later, Clint whistled, spinning the toy on a finger triumphantly. “Great,” Tony said. He walked over and tapped one corner twice. Clint's expression as the toy randomized and changed shape was priceless. “Now try the next level.” Clint didn't respond, eyes glinting at the challenge.

Somewhere in level 4, Clint listed sideways. The cube, which by now more closely resembled a geodome, dropped next to him on the couch. Tony breathed a sigh of relief. After finishing up, he dropped onto the other couch (Bruce's) and laid down.

“JARVIS. Decrease lights and volume by 1% every five minutes. Light to 10%, volume off. Raise heat to 70 degrees.”

“Yes, sir.”

**

Clint was gone when he woke up, but JARVIS said he'd slept six hours, more than he had in a few weeks. And also that he'd spent ten minutes staring at Tony before he left.

**

Three weeks and eight sessions in, Tony moved them to his suite. He tossed a cushion to the floor for Clint, took a seat on the couch, and put on “Brave.” Clint laughed and sat. He tucked his chin over Tony's knee comfortably enough. Tony watched the twitch of his fingertips and the slope of his shoulder, though, and asked JARVIS to pause the movie 20 minutes in.

“Thinking too much,” he said, scritching his nails through Clint's hair. Clint sighed into the touch.

“I- yeah, I guess. It's just.” Clint shifted onto his knees, turning to face Tony. “This shouldn't feel like this.” Tony stayed silent. Clint dropped his eyes. “I shouldn't, after everything, I shouldn't want...”

Tony smiled. “You're too self-aware to think it's that simple. Shouldn't want someplace safe? Someone trustworthy there when you relax?” He places careful fingertips on Clint's jaw. “I'm sure you've done some reading.”

With a wry smile, Clint pulled himself into a picture-perfect submissive kneel, knees together, ankles crossed, back straight. Tony laughed warmly.

“Good boy,” Tony teased.

Clint shook him off. “I don't know. What do we even do from here?”

Tony stared thoughtfully. “We can go on as we have been, you know.”

Clint shrugged. “I like reciprocity.” Tony lifted an eyebrow. “Shut up, Tasha buys me books.”

“I could teach you how to do a tea service,” he said, because it's the first thing that came to mind.

“You don't drink tea,” Clint said.

“Not as such, no. But I would if you did a tea service!” Tony's mostly sure he would, too. He actually thinks a minute. “It's kind of nice just having company? I mean, team company is loud, and Pepper-company requires my full attention,” He paused to contemplate that, “...definitely my full attention. You're relaxing.”

Clint considered that. “Huh.”

Tony shrugged. "Also, it's." His thoughts skittered around, trying to find a starting point. "I can make some guesses, but I don't know what you notice, and how well you can trace it back to what it means. So I think with my hands obviously-" he gestured to the floating hologram in the corner, the pieces of a project that have migrated up from the workshop, "-but I don't know if." He stopped. Blew out a deep breath. "I don't- ground well. Can't stop thinking." He laughed. "I lose time. Touching people helps. It makes things clearer."

Clint had set his face to neutral when Tony looked, something straight out of the agent handbook. "Is that why-"

"Yes," Tony said, "some of it." He really, really does not want to analyze all the sex he's had. Really. "'Can I have a cuddle' is not a question you asked growing up here. So."

"But you want one." There was some hesitance there. Not rejection, something else. "With me? What about Pepper? Doesn't she?"

Tony blinked. "Yeah, of course. But she's not here a lot, with work. And yes, with you." He reached out for Clint's shoulder. "If that's not weird?" It sort of was. He fought not to take it back.

Clint crowded forward, moving until his head, arms, and shoulders were draped over Tony's lap. "This OK?"

Clint was warm and solid over his thighs. A frisson of pleasure ran down Tony's spine. He shut his eyes for a moment to enjoy the sensation, hands moving automatically back to Clint's skin.

"Yeah." Tony cleared his throat. "JARVIS, resume movie."

**

After that, if he was in his workshop more than 12 hours, sometimes he'd surface to Clint kneeling by his side, and he'd have his hands all over him. Clint never seemed to mind.

**

And then, because life was like that, Tony had a bad night.

As in, screamed himself awake from a nightmare that was a flashback gone wrong, thank you very fucking much Afghanistan. Like the stalker that won't just die. He doesn't even think about it, but it keeps fucking writing and calling anyway. Goddamn.

He sat there in the dark, dragging a hand repeatedly through his hair, until the sun came up. Pepper was in Australia. He didn't drink. And for once, he was self-aware enough to know that his hands were shaking too badly to be wielding a blowtorch.

Couldn't even think straight enough to work on something that way.

It sucked.

Caffeine helped a bit, even if everyone avoided talking to him after he nearly took Cap's head off. Clint came in after it happened. He obviously picked up the vibe, though, because he stayed silent. Only, then he followed Tony back up to the penthouse and slid the sunglasses off Tony's face. Tony blinked at him. He was off-balance.

"Hey," Clint said, crowding close, "you- kinda look like you could use a hug?"

Tony's not sure what his face does, just that he set his coffee down on the nearest flat surface, hard. Clint pulled him in and squeezed. Tony couldn't help the noises he made as he clung. He didn't cry, but the wounded sounds tripping out of his throat were almost worse. Tony couldn’t make himself care, not when Clint so clearly didn't, because dammit, dammit, Afghanistan sucked and flashbacks sucked-

And it had been awhile since he'd had someone he trusted to hold him like this, right after. Work schedules were weird and he and Pepper just didn't sync up that often, honestly. Clint grabbed him tightly, all that muscle surrounding him and not letting go. Tony was aware, vaguely, that they were moving. Clint got them both on the couch, lying together. When he came to, Clint's shirt was rucked up and Tony's hand was on his stomach. He'd cried after all, because there was a wet patch on Clint's shirt. He tried not to be embarrassed.

Tony loved his brain. Seriously. Because even after that, it only took him maybe five seconds to tune in to exactly how relaxed Clint was. And if Clint was relaxed, then there was absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. Clint pulled back a fraction and took off his shirt. Tony made an appreciative noise and shed his own. He started to lower himself back down, wanting to press into the warmth, then hesitated.

"Is that OK?"

The honest confusion on Clint's face warmed him. "What?"

Tony couldn't help the smile. "The arc reactor. Not gonna weird you out?"

Clint rolled his eyes and tugged him down. Tony closed his eyes in bliss, floating on the warm solidity of skin. Clint and he were pretty matched for height, but the archer was much broader and Tony liked that. Liked how flopping over Clint made him feel surrounded and safe. Wondered hazily if that was how he made Clint feel, when he knelt at Tony's feet. He hoped so. Clint stroked along his back, long even movements. Tony tucked his head into the crook of Clint's shoulder and sighed. They breathed together. Just as he started to drift into sleep, Clint huffed a little laugh.

"You're secretly part cat."

Tony grinned against his skin and chuckled. Pressed close, there was no way for Clint to hide the shiver that evoked. Definitely attracted to men, then. Tony pulled back, because teasing was mean. At least when you weren't going to follow through. Pepper said so, and Pepper was the boss. Also, smart. Sometimes smart about people in a way that Tony wasn't. Anyway, the point was that he and Clint weren't having sex, so getting Clint to shiver and blush like that was an accident. Tony sat up fully.

"Naw, Pepper's the one with the claws," he said. He put a hand on the back of Clint's neck and smiled at him. "Hey, thanks."

Clint stared back at him, then apparently decided to let it go. "You were purring."

"I was not!"

Clint smirked. "Definitely purring. I'm telling Pepper on you."

Tony leered. "Yes, because Pepper doesn't know all about any sounds I may or may not make."

"Oh, is the purring a private thing, Tony?" Clint’s' smirk morphed into a grin. "Does Pepper know you're making private sounds without her?"

OK. Maybe not letting it go entirely. Tony could still play this off, though. "Pepper knows everything Clint." He gave the other man his best wide eyes. "Everything."

"Yeah?" Clint considered that. "She's kind of scary."

Tony laughed. "Fuck "kind of." Those heels are weapons."

Clint grinned. There was just a hint of a leer in his voice when he responded. "Lethal."

Tony grinned back in shared appreciation. "Yeah."

**

The sex was becoming a problem, which was not something Tony thought he'd ever think. Not sex with Pepper- that was great. It was the sex he wasn't having with Clint that was the issue.

Tony could see by now that the contact and the D/s were helping Clint, keeping him more centered. Still mostly palliative at this point, however enjoyable, but definitely an improvement. They'd gone without for a week once, and Clint had been a wreck by the end of it. All of which meant that even if Tony wanted to stop (he didn't), he couldn't without hurting Clint.

So sex. Tony, for a multitude of reasons, didn't want it. Clint did. Touching someone who was badly concealing their attraction was awkward. It was a good sign, on the one hand. It meant Clint trusted him, and that Clint was coming back to himself enough to want sex. All the hitched breaths and faint shivers made Tony uneasy, though, uncertain how to proceed. It would have made the most sense to send Clint out and get him laid somewhere in the city. Except for, well, all the issues that had made the D/s a good idea in the first place meant Clint probably wasn't up for that.

To complicate everything further, the protective bent he felt toward Clint, enhanced by topping him, was coming to a head. So he did what he always did when he was stuck these days. He called Pepper.

"Hmm," Pepper commiserated down the phone. "You want to collar him, don't you?"

Tony blinked. "I- yeah. Yeah, yes, I really do. Is that- is that OK?"

Pepper made a thoughtful sound. "I think so. It's been two months now, and it really hasn't changed anything between us. You were right about that."

"You don't have to sound so surprised."

"Based on your amazing past experience keeping relationships on an even keel?" And, OK, that was fair.

Still, he protested, "Hey, I learned something from every one of those relationships. Granted, sometimes that was "don't get plastered when rich attractive virgins and their fathers are in the same room," but..." They both laughed. "Seriously, Pep, what do I do?"

"You collar him," she responded instantly. "Figure out the sex thing first. Can you screen his partners somehow? Would Natasha help?"

Tony hesitated. "I think Natasha's got a whiff of what we're doing and isn't best pleased. But that's a good general plan. How do you do that?"

"Trade secrets, Mr. Stark."

Tony chuckled. "I'll get them out of you somehow, Ms. Potts."

"You can try."

**

The phone flirting helped, and he and Pepper did eventually settle on a plan. When asked, Clint agreed enthusiastically to Tony watching hm with a man they picked out together. It took a few bars and a few false starts.

Brendan was a shade more masculine than pretty. He moved easily, on the dance floor and once they invited him to the back room of the Glory. If Brendan knew Tony and Clint's other identities, he kept it to himself. He touched Clint with a combination of roughness and playfulness that seemed to suck Clint in. Clint kept looking for Tony every few minutes, regardless of what else he was engaged in.

They were hot together, no question about it. Clint's repeated eye contact hinted at his vulnerability, but it also felt...wrong. Despite Pepper approving all this, tonight was the first time Tony felt like he was cheating. It made him feel dirty.

He kept it off his face and managed to escort Clint safely home without the archer knowing something was wrong. Tony made a beeline for his room, phone already speed-dialing Pepper, as soon as he was alone.

"Tony!" Pepper laughed as she picked up. There's something in her cheerful tone that suggests she's expecting details. Something in Tony's chest clenched.

"Hi."

Pepper stopped laughing. "Tony? What's wrong?"

Tony breathed. "We did the- thing. You know. The thing we talked about doing? Tonight. And it." He kind of stopped in the middle of his sentence.

"Tony. Put me on video chat."

Tony obediently switched over. He smiled at Pepper, who looked composed despite the little worry line between her eyebrows.

"Alright. Talk me through it."

It's her super competent CEO voice, the same one she spent years using to wrangle him. It's her don't-worry-if-you've-fucked-up-'cause-I've-got-this voice. Some of the tension left Tony's shoulders.

"Nothing bad happened. I mean. Nobody's hurt, I didn't do anything I wasn't supposed to. There's not, I don't know, video footage or something. I just." He made a face. "I feel like I cheated on you." Tony forced himself to look at her on the feed. "I didn't cheat on you, did I, Pep?"

Pepper's face went soft. "Tony. Sweetheart. No, hush, you didn't cheat on me. You're OK." Tony put a hand over his face for a moment. Fuck. He didn't realize how badly he'd needed to hear that. He wasn't going to cry, for fuck's sake. "Tony?"

Tony looked back up at her. "Sorry."

Pepper cut her business trip short. Tony didn't feel right in his skin until she was there the next day, holding him. He tucked his nose in the crook of her neck and just breathed.

It took an embarrassing three person conversation over coffee, and two attempts, but they made it work. Eventually, they decided that Tony would stay in the front room (Tony bitched about the shitty beer), Clint got a panic button (Clint bitched about his sex life turning into an op), and Pepper got Tony when they got home (Pepper didn't bitch, just looked smug).

Once he started getting laid more weeks than not, the sexual tension between Clint and Tony eased off and finally dissipated. Tony quietly bought a leather collar, decided it sucked, and taught himself how to make a better one.

**

"Fuck you." Clint shook, part adrenaline and part anger. Tony paused, his right leg still stuck in the suit from where it had been dented in the fight,

"Clint-"

"No, seriously, fuck you. Fuck you, Tony. You don't get to- you're not Coulson."

Tony swore to himself. This was the first time Clint had actually brought him up on purpose since Agent's death. "Clint, that thing was going to smash you into pieces if you tried to scale it."

Clint bared his teeth. "I had it. I didn't need you swooping in-"

"I saved your life!"

Clint shut down. "I had that fucking shot. You don't get to tell me what to do." And he stalked off.

Tony swore and pounded the armor. This was going to be a problem.

**

Clint was a robot- the crappy, uninspired kind, not like Tony's bots- over the next few days. Not that Tony had the chance to witness it firsthand. Clint fled any room Tony entered. The only way Tony saw the bruises forming under his eyes were from vid. Natasha glared when he asked her to watch out for Clint. He didn't know if that was for asking the obvious or if Natasha thought he was doing something awful to Clint.

Tony never found out what Pepper said to Clint. She asked JARVIS to delete the footage, and he did, the traitor. All he knew was that, a week in, Pepper showed up in his workshop behind a shaky Clint. Tony'd spent the last hour staring at the wall, trying to work out how to dig them out of the mess he'd made of things.

"Clint!" Tony leaped to his feet and took two steps forward. "Clint," he said, voice softer, reaching out a hand. Clint swallowed and came to him, looking like each step cost him. Every fear churning in Tony's mind about what this week had been like for Clint turned to lead in his gut. Behind Clint's back, Pepper made a sharp, downward gesture. Tony nodded, and she turned and left. By the time Clint got to him, Tony knew to take his arm and guide him to the couch, setting a cushion on the floor for him. Clint melted onto it, not meeting Tony's eyes. Tony settled on the couch, knees braced wide around Clint, hand steady on his shoulder.

"'orry. Sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." The words started as a whisper and grew into a desperate chant.

Tony frowned. "I'm not trying to replace him, Clint. I can't. No one can."

"-sorry, I'm sorry, I, god, I'm so fucking sorry-"

Tony closed his eyes. Right. Not actually about him. He dragged Clint closer in an uneven hug, Clint's face pressed into his chest. Clint's arms came up and clung. There was a sob in his voice, raw and wrecked, probably the first time he'd let himself cry over Coulson. Tony kept him close. He pressed into the muscles of Clint's arms and shoulders, hands tight in his hair, trying to communicate as much with his body as the reassuring litany coming from his lips.

"Got you, not letting you go. He would never blame you for this Clint, never. Not your fault. Won't let this happen to you again, promise. We'll keep you safe. He can't have you. You're mine. Mine."

Eventually, Clint quieted, shivering in Tony's arms. After a few repetitions, he shuddered when Tony called him his and pulled back enough to look up at Tony.

"Promise?" His eyes were open and wet.

Tony framed his face, both hands cupping his jaw. "Yes." He eased Clint up. "Come here, I made you something. Not, uh, the usual sort of something." Because, OK, he might have a slight tendency to make the Avengers exploding arrows and fast bikes. Clint let out a watery laugh. Tony slid open a drawer and took out the collar.

"Basic design, I know, but it's pretty indestructible. The base is still leather, but I coated it with- well, just trust me. Totally safe to be near skin, but no one can cut or burn that off you."

Clint touched Tony's hand, near the collar. "You- made me a collar."

Tony looked at him. Clint's eyes were fixed on it, his lips soft and hopeful. Tony cleared his throat. "Yeah. I want you to wear it. For me."

Clint ran a finger over it. "It's purple." His voice sounded so honestly amazed. It broke Tony's heart. "And the buckle's a bow and arrow. How did you-?"

"Clint? Will you wear my collar?

Clint hesitated. "What'll we tell the team?"

Tony put a hand under his jaw and forced eye contact. "I don't want you telling them anything, Clint." He considered. "I guess you can talk to Natasha, if you want. But I want you to direct everyone else to talk to me. What they think of this is my concern, not yours. You'll be leaving it up to me."

Clint's finger traced the leather one more time, then he took it from Tony and sank to his knees. He offered the collar up on both hands. "Please."

Tony took the collar. His hands were steady as he opened the catch and settled it around Clint's throat. The special buckle fastened smoothly, everything perfect around Clint's neck. Tony checked the fit carefully. "Alright?"

Clint's eyes fluttered like they wanted to close. "Yes."

Tony chuckled and tugged gently at the collar once more. Clint sighed, boneless and relaxed. Tony ran one hand through Clint's short-cropped hair and down his cheek.

"Good boy." This time it was sincere.

**

Tony made sure he was in the kitchen before Clint the next morning. Rogers and Natasha were the only ones there when Clint wandered in, one hand scrubbing at his face. Sweatpants rode low on his hips and the neck of his T-shirt was loose enough to display his collar.

Natasha stabbed right through the apple she'd been reaching for and into the kitchen table. Clint jumped and gave her a wide-eyed look. She glared back, then turned a deadly look on Tony. Tony eyed her.

"You know what," he said to Clint, "I've changed my mind. Just send them all to me."

Clint edged around the table for his usual toast. "OK." He tossed Natasha another wary look.

"Clint," she hissed. "What the hell?"

Clint turned to her and straightened up. He set his shoulders back and raised his chin, every inch of him proclaiming his determination.

"You heard him," he said, tone a challenge. "If you have any questions about my collar, you ask Tony."

"You're not a pet."

"I won't be answering any questions about this."

"You're letting him order you around?"

Clint ignored her. Tony leaned back in his chair, pleased. It was good to see Clint standing firm. He took a sip of his coffee and eyed Rogers. The man clearly wouldn't know much about this, which could be good or bad. No information, but no preconceptions, either. His confused frown was sliding toward disapproval, though. Fuck Natasha.

Pepper entered the kitchen in her usual whirlwind, clearly two meeting in already. She took in the scene with a quick flick of her eyes before heading straight for Clint.

"Clint!" She turned a full-force Pepper smile on him. "You accepted. It looks lovely on you." She leaned in and brushed a kiss to his cheek. "Congratulations."

Clint darted a look at the rest of the room before giving her a rare, sweet smile of his own. "Thanks."

"Uh." Excellent. Cap was about to make an entrance. "Is something going on between the two of you?" Pepper turned the eyebrow on him. Steve flushed. "I mean, you're OK with the whole-" He gestured to his neck.

"That really isn't your business, Captain." Fucking god, he loved Pepper. He grinned and took another swallow of his coffee.

She linked her arm through Clint's and drew him to the table. Tony stood and poured a second cup of coffee. He bent for a lingering good morning kiss as he delivered it to her. The corners of her eyes crinkled in amusement.

"Good morning, Tony."

He sat back down. "Morning, Pepper." When he glanced at Rogers, the man was bright red and staring down at his plate. Pepper seemed completely unperturbed at having embarrassed him so thoroughly. Clint sat on his other side and munched on his toast. After awhile, his foot started tapping under the table, anxiety bleeding through. Probably due to Natasha's unrelenting glare. Two bits in to his second piece of toast, Clint pushed his plate away.

"Think I'm gonna go to the range," he muttered to Tony.

Tony waited until he was out of earshot. "Smooth, Romanoff. Do you usually throw him of his feed?"

"I'm not the one who's-"

"Taking care of him? No, you're certainly not. That pisses you off, doesn't it?"

Rising from her seat, Natasha exuded deadly intent. She wrestled with herself for a minute before whirling and stalking out of the room. Beside him, Pepper sighed. She rose and kissed his cheek briefly.

"Stay out of trouble, Tony."

He smiled after her. "Got anything else to say?"

Rogers still wouldn't meet his eyes. "It's not my business."

Tony eyed him and relaxed a little. "No, it isn't. But. If you can manage a respectful question, I might answer it."

Rogers stood and gathered everyone’s plates from the table and took them to the sink. "I'll keep that in mind."

Tony took the noise of the water for the escape it was and headed for the lab. He'd check in on Clint later.

**

Clint leaned in a fuzzy pile against Tony's legs. His eyes were at half-mast, that glazed look of sub space. Tony stroked his hands over Clint's bare torso, through his hair and lingered on his collar. He felt a deep flash of satisfaction at seeing it against Clint's skin. Despite tense stand offs and awkward conversations with their teammates and even media attention when someone caught it on film during their last battle, Clint kept Tony's collar on him and on display.

"How do you feel about rope?" Tony blinked. He hadn't been planning on asking that. Still, Clint would look good in rope.

"Mmm?"

"Like a harness." He traced a pattern over Clint's chest. "Bet I could get some purple rope."

Clint laughed. "Everything doesn't have to be purple." He hesitated. "You want to tie me up?"

Tony tilted his head. "I could. But that sort of seems likely to end in nasty memories." He knew he'd chosen right when Clint exhaled, his shoulders coming down. "Yeah, thought so. I was more thinking, you know, shibari. Patterns. I like the concentration of it."

Clint leaned back against Tony. "Sure."

Tony squeezed his neck beneath the collar. "Not now."

Clint settled. "'kay."

**

Tony liked to think it was a sign of maturity that he could separate Natasha's crappy reaction from Natasha as a person. Also, he really didn't want to fuck them up in the field. Doom threw weirder and more dangerous stuff at them all the time.

Which is why he had JARVIS let Natasha find her way to video of him and Clint. JARVIS pinged him when she accessed it.

Tony sighed. "Pull it up on the screen. Split-screen with her."

It was an intimate setting. Clint wasn't collared in it, but he was kneeling at Tony's feet. His eyes were closed as he talked.

"I guess," Clint said. "We used to be close. But- he sort of held it together. Us together. And now I just remember him when I see her."

Tony in the video hummed and ran a hand through Clint's hair. "Have you talked to her at all?"

Clint tensed visibly, his face pulling into a frown. "No."

Tony didn't push.

On the live feed, Natasha's face went still and neutral, a definite sign that she was hiding. She turned away from where she had the video pulled up. Tony sighed.

"Let them go, JARVIS." The wall went back to normal. He rubbed a hand over his face, snorting when he realized he'd left a grease trail. With any luck, the vid would help.

**

Clint did like rope. He'd been curious as Tony crafted cuffs for his arms and legs. He'd run a finger over the bands of rope, six inches wide on each leg and a little shorter on his arms. The cuffs were clearly decorative rather than the sort that could be used to restrain. Clint had become slowly quieter as Tony wound the coils around his chest, fashioning a complicated harness. The diamonds and angles of skin between blue and black rope made an intriguing picture.

Tony didn't know what Clint was responding to: the rope itself, Tony's dominant body language, or simply touch. Whatever it was, Tony could hear the way Clint's breath shallowed out, a slow shift taking him deeper than Tony'd seen him go before. By the time Tony wove patterns over Clint's jeans, he was clearly struggling to keep his feet.

"Good," Tony murmured, stroking over denim, "you're doing good. I've got you." A soft litany of praise and approval got them through the last few knots. Tony stood and guided Clint over to the mirror. "Look."

Clint looked, his eyes huge in the reflection. Tony saw the moment it started to become too much.

"Knees." He grabbed the back of the harness, taking some of Clint's weight as he all but collapsed to his knees. "Kneel back."

Clint's gasps were loud in the room. Tony knelt behind him, pressing close. He moved one hand to his collar and the other to Clint's chest, centering. "I've got you. Clint. Clint."

Clint swallowed heavily. His breathing calmed down some. "T-tony." His hands came up to clutch at Tony's. "Tony."

"Shh." Tony pressed a soft kiss to Clint's head, heard him swallow a whimper. Need poured off him. Tony fought down a shiver of panic. He didn't know what else to do. Clint was still shivering in short bursts. "My good boy," he whispered, hand rubbing a slow circle over Clint's chest. "My good, beautiful, strong boy."

After a minute, when Clint seemed no more responsive, Tony got them onto the couch. He draped a soft blanket over Clint and knelt in front of him, cupping his face between his hands.

"Clint? Do you want the rope off?"

Clint was clearly struggling to focus. "I- I don't know. Maybe some of it? I don't-"

Tony heard his voice start to rise, ratcheting up into panic, and cut him off. "Shh, OK. It's OK. We'll just try some and see how that goes, alright?" As he worked his way backwards, loosening the knots over Clint's legs, he rubbed briskly. "Any numbness?"

Clint took a moment to answer. "No."

"Good," Tony said, relieved to hear Clint. "How are you feeling?"

"Lost."

The response was quicker, but not more reassuring. Tony winced to hear it. By now, Clint was down to wrist and ankle cuffs.

"I- I need Tasha." Tony braced himself and breathed out slowly. Fuck. There were so many ways this could go wrong.

"JARVIS, is Natasha in the building?"

"Yes, sir. She is currently between tasks."

Tony straightened himself up and moved to the vid screen, where Natasha wouldn't be able to see Clint. "Call her, please."

Natasha's face, set to super-spy neutral, appeared, the background a hallway. Literally between tasks, then. "Stark."

Tony didn't waste any time. "Clint's a little shaken up, and he's asking for you. We're in the penthouse."

She nodded briskly and turned, obviously intent on getting to them.

Tony turned back to Clint. "She's coming. Do you want-" He gestured at the cuffs.

Clint shrugged. "They're fine." He swayed toward Tony and away again, as though he weren't certain he wanted to be touched. Tony decided to err on the side of not touching. He stayed near enough to be present but didn't crowd Clint. He wasn't sure what was going on- he hadn't seen anything quite like this before.

Natasha rapped twice before Tony opened the door to her. As soon as the door was open, Clint blurted something at her in- Russian? Probably Russian. Her mask broke into temporary surprise. She said something back, and all the tension seeped out of Clint. He asked something else, his tone softer. She came closer, ran a gentle hand through his hair as she responded. He huffed a soft laugh.

"Sorry, Tony." His eyes were clear again. "I sort of lost track. It felt- the floating was kinda like Loki. And drugs. And I wasn't sure I knew what was real. Tasha's the only one who knows." He shrugged again.

Tony swallowed a thick knot of sick. "Oh. That's. Awful, actually, really awful. I mean, I'm glad Natasha is here and everything but maybe we should, you know, not do stuff that makes you disassociate? Because, uh, bad."

Clint pouted. There was no other word to describe it. "But I was having so much fun up to that point."

Tony sighed and sat on the couch, on the opposite side of Clint from Natasha. "Do I need to make sure you have tea time with your assassin twin after we play?"

Clint laughed and leaned back into him. Tony saw the puppy eyes he gave Natasha, though. Tony rubbed a thumb over the wrist cuff nearest him.

"Ready to have these off?"

Clint complied, letting Tony unwind the rope from his wrists and turning obediently to place his feet in Tony's lap. Natasha was remarkably quiet through it. There was just a hint of rope burn on one wrist. Tony touched it lightly, saw the way Clint's eyes darkened.

"You're going to go get laid tomorrow, aren't you?"

Clint grinned. "With someone who likes rope burn on their men," he agreed.

Tony shook his head and laughed, loose and pleased.

**

The mission had been a a tough one, and now the team was slumped together in the main lounge, a movie playing. Tony let the sounds of a car chase rush over him. Not even the thorough ridiculousness of some of the moves being pulled could penetrate tonight. The armor kept him from more than bumps and bruises mostly. The rest of the team- well, the other guy was fine. Bruce had retired to sleep off post-Hulk exhaustion. But Cap was resting off a couple of bullet wounds to the arm after his suit had torn. Thor laid on his front, because some fucker had torched his back. And Natasha and Clint both sported slices where the fight had gotten personal with a knife or two. Clint's collar sported its first scar, too. As Tony had promised, though, it hadn't torn.

Tony ran a gentle finger over the side. Clint was sacked out, half on Tony, half on the couch. He shifted in his sleep, face scrunched up. Tony grimaced and hoped he wasn't lying on a knife wound. As though in answer, Clint huffed out a soft breath. Tony smiled and let the movie draw his attention again.

The team all knew, at least vaguely, what he and Clint were to each other. They'd opted not to clarify the most personal aspects, especially after the team's initial reactions. People who ranged from belated acceptance to scientific curiosity to bemusement didn't have any right to know whether he and Clint were sleeping together or what exactly made up their dynamic. Aside from the collar's presence, they'd mostly kept it low-key in front of the others. Pepper, and now Natasha, were the only ones who'd seen anything more intimate then Tony tracing a finger over Clint's collar.

On screen, something exploded. Clint whimpered. Tony frowned. Even that alertness didn't prepare him, though. One moment, Clint was sleeping restlessly, and the next he was perched on the back of the couch, eyes blank, a knife in his hand. The team snapped to their feet. JARVIS paused the movie.

They all took in the trembling muscles and darting eyes, clearly seeing them without seeing them. Flashback. This could get nasty.

"Hawkeye," Rogers tried, all Captain voice, "stand down."

"Come, friend Clint, will you not rest? 'Tis only battle-weariness. You are safe, I assure you."

No answer. JARVIS, well-used to PTSD, began a calm recitation. "It is June 17th, 2013. It is 9:12 pm and you are in Avengers Tower. There are no intruders and all security measures are in place."

Clint's eyes moved frantically, trying to locate the speaker. He didn't remember JARVIS. Bad sign. Fuck. "JARVIS, no more."

Natasha tried to move closer. Clint tensed, adjusting his grip on the knife.

"Clint," Tony said. Clint didn't take his eyes off Natasha. She began talking to him, a low murmur of Russian. She edged closer again, but stopped when he growled. She sighed and backed up. Rogers straightened, a grim line to his mouth suggesting he was about to try something stupid, like tackling Clint. Tony took a deep breath. This would either help or he'd end up bleeding all over everything.

Giving no one time to react, he darted forward and grabbed Clint by the collar. He pulled, dragging Clint down to the couch and then the floor, moving just slow enough that Clint could adjust. Clint landed on his knees in front of Tony.

"Clint. Where are you?"

There was along pause. "T-Tony?"

The room exhaled audibly. Tony let his eyes flicker closed for a thankful second. "Where are you, Clint?"

"Here." Clint seemed to register the knife in his hand. "Fuck." The blade disappeared. "I'm here."

Tony ran his free hand through Clint's hair. "Good."

Clint sighed into it. He leaned against Tony's hand. After a minute, he tensed. Tony could see the rising awareness of exactly where they were and who was watching. Clint forced his eyes open, their wideness giving away what a battle it was to keep alert. He didn't tremble as he flexed his legs, preparing to rise.

"Down," Tony barked. No time for niceties. There was no way in hell he was letting Clint up like this, no way he was going to compound the flashback with shame. "Eyes on me or the ground, Clint."

Clint dropped his eyes to the ground. He followed blindly when Tony sat and led him between his knees. It was only a few steps. For Clint to do anything without seeing, though, that was big. He shot one warning look at the other Avengers and then ignored them as he settled Clint. Uneasy frowns he could deal with, as long as they stayed away from Clint.

"I think we're changing movies," Tony announced. "Something lighthearted. Rogers can pick."

By some miracle, Rogers seemed to get the joke. "There's nothing wrong with liking romantic comedies," he retorted. Clint snickered into Tony's knee.

Tony tilted his head. "Do you have something to add?"

"No, sir." Clint's voice was so easy and pleased when he spoke that Tony swallowed down triumph. Clint shifted slightly as Bruce came closer, passing them to examine movie offerings with Rogers.

"Are you looking at something, Clint?" Warning threaded his tone.

Clint shifted, this time in discomfort. "You realize I have ridiculously good peripheral vision, right?"

Tony narrowed his eyes. "If you can't manage watching what I tell you, then close your eyes."

The silence in the room thickened. Clint swallowed. He darted a quick look up at Tony's face. Tony held the eye contact, willing Clint to let himself go. Clint took a deep breath, leaned his cheek against Tony's thigh, and closed his eyes. Tony stroked his hair, part reassurance, part reward.

The rest of movie night passed without disturbance. Thor took one long look at them and offered a pillow to Tony. Tony got it under Clint's knees and nodded to the god. Rogers couldn't seem to keep his eyes off them. By the end of the movie, he looked more like he was trying to memorize them for artistic purposes than figure out a tactical problem. Natasha and Bruce treated them normally. No one missed the way tension melted out of Clint's body the longer he stayed kneeling, his laughter freer at the movie's most ridiculous parts. He was a ball of loose-limbed happiness when the credits rolled.

No one said anything when Clint admitted sheepishly that he didn't want to open his eyes, nor when Tony walked him to his room.

**

Tony stared down at Clint grimly. It was a good thing the team had seen him subbing to Tony before. His previous flashback had nothing on this. Tony shed the armor as fast as he could, but Cap had still had to carry Clint, screaming in terror, into the Tower. There was absolutely no way they were making it further. Clint was comatose now. He didn't respond to Tony's voice. If any of them tried to touch him, Clint flailed wildly and made a sound of such fear that they couldn't sustain the contact. The team was all worried that they might set him back if they tried to move him any further. He was safely within the bounds of the Tower. That was the best they could do.

"I need three pillows, a blanket, a change of clothes for both of us, and a glass of water." Natasha, Bruce, and Steve split off. Tony considered for a moment and grimaced. "Some of that stuff for bruises and an aspirin are probably a good idea too." Thor, unusually silent, left to do his bidding. Tony sighed.

He needed a game plan. Nothing they'd done compared to this. Clint's eyes were squeezed shut. His muscles clenched in anticipation of pain. Whimpers slipped through his clenched teeth. Fighting Loki again had done nothing good for him. They were fucking lucky he'd lasted through the fight.

Bruce returned first. Tony gulped down the water in his hand. "I'm thinking a pitcher might be a good idea."

Bruce raised a sardonic eyebrow. "And possibly a washcloth. Everyone smells like a fight."

Tony blinked. "Oh. Sure. Yeah, good idea."

Natasha came back with clothes as Bruce disappeared back to the kitchen. Tony sighed in relief. She'd picked exactly right: soft, loose clothes that would be easy to get into or out of. Tony recognized the shirt as a favorite of Clint's. She was solemn and even more silent than usual as she handed them over. Tony set the pile on the tiled floor and stripped out of his under armor with a wince. Bruce re-emerged as Thor bounced down the stairs, Steve close behind him. Tony grabbed a washcloth and gave himself a quick rubdown. He dry swallowed the aspirin and scooped out the balm. Once the massive bruise on his hip and thigh was covered in goop, Tony stepped into sweatpants.

The other Avengers hovered nervously through his routine. Tony tugged two pillows out of Steve's pile and laid them on the floor, behind Clint. He grunted as he got himself down onto them. As he carefully arranged himself close to Clint's back, but not touching, he said, "I need everyone to go take the quickest shower of your life. Bruce pointed out we smell like a fight. Nothing to make this worse." He ran over the top of their protests. "JARVIS, throw up a live image of me and Clint in everyone’s showers."

There was a stiff pause. Then Steve turned and sprinted for his room. Inside a minute, they were alone. Tony didn't say anything, didn't try anything. If Clint reacted poorly, he needed physical back up at this point. He just stayed near and breathed. Tony closed his eyes and listened for Clint. He kept his own breathing quiet and deep and let everything from the day wash away. Clint's gasped whimpers slowly faded. His breathing slowed, not enough to match Tony's, but less panicked. Tony blinked open his eyes to see Natasha, hair wrapped in a towel, and Steve, had returned. Carefully, Tony lifted his hand and settled it featherlight on Clint's waist. Clint's breath hitched in a strangled scream. Tony bit the inside of his lip. Clint didn't scream more than once, though. He stilled when nothing further happened. It made Tony want to scream himself, to find Loki and rip every single thing he'd done to Clint from his mind. To find everyone who had ever hurt Clint and make them regret it. What the hell had happened to Clint, to make him this terrified of being touched?

"Natasha," Tony said, careful to keep his voice low and even, "is he likely to have any, ah, surprises tucked into his suit?" She gave him a blistering look in return. Right. Stupid question. "Any idea how many?"

Natasha shrugged. "I could find them all, but it would be- unpleasant."

Tony shifted minutely. "No. Not unless the situation gets worse." Tony moved his hand a little, stroking over Clint's waist and hip. He kept up a quiet conversation. "Is there-" he winced, "-is there anything in his past that might make him associate pleasant touch with trauma?"

Rogers went stony-eyed. Tony didn't want to say it, but the unspoken word echoed in the room anyway. Natasha considered his question. "If he does, I don't know about it. He's never given any indication before."

So it might be recent. And that meant Loki. Or it might be nothing, just misfiring synapses. Fuck knew PTSD didn't make sense all the time. Tony nodded.

"Keep talking. You and Rogers, talk. I want him to hear us without feeling like he has to respond just yet. Maybe something'll sink in."

Natasha and Rogers looked at each other. Tony lengthened the strokes he was making over Clint's body armor. He ran a gentle hand down Clint's arm. He wasn't sure what to do if this didn't work. Clint seemed calmer, but only marginally so. Tony didn't want to try forcing him up. When he tuned back in, Thor and Bruce were listening with some bemusement to Natasha and Steve talk about Russian literature. Apparently Cap had opinions.

Abruptly, Clint convulsed in his arms. He shook so hard Tony had to remind himself not to grip.

"Clint," Tony tried, voice urgent.

"F-fuck," Clint said. He scrambled to all fours to get away from Tony. He made it a few feet before he threw up all over the floor. He gagged.

Tony gestured urgently for the cup of water, pushing it into Clint's hand. "Here. Clean your mouth."

Grimacing, Clint took a mouthful and then paused, eyes darting around.

"Spit," Tony said. "Clint, for fuck's sake, the floor'll clean. Spit."

Clint spat the water onto the floor, then did it again. On the third sip, he swallowed. Tony watched worriedly. He held his hand out for the cup when Clint finished the water. Clint shuffled carefully over to hand it to him. He didn't meet Tony's eyes. Tony sighed and knelt up as best he could, awkward on the cushion with his thigh throbbing. He dragged Clint in by the wrists. Clint came, unresisting. He looked up briefly, a flicker of eye contact that, combined with his quick breaths, told Tony a lot. He squeezed Clint's wrists in a reassuring grip and saw the shiver that worked its way through Clint. Now, more than ever, he needed to know that Tony would tell him what to do. A steady voice to balance what must be terrible memories of Loki and wrenching ones of Coulson.

Into the taut silence came the quick clicking of heels. Pepper appeared a moment later. Her hair whipped around her face and she was nearly running.

"Clint!" She took in the scene in seconds and came to them. "Clint." She pressed a kiss to his forehead. "You're going to be OK."

This, this tenderness and steely resolution, was one of the many reasons he loved her. The tension he'd been carrying since Clint began freaking out eased. "Pep," he said, "Pep. I need the rope in my bedroom."

She straightened. "In the usual place?" He nodded, and she left, no comments. Thank fuck. Clint shook under him.

"Are you sure that's wise?" Natasha meant to be reasonable, Tony was sure, but really? Was this really a good time for questions?

Clint answered her. He nodded yes so vigorously there could be no mistaking his need. Pain splayed out across his face, a desperate misery that made Tony pull him closer.

"Just hang in there," Tony whispered, "Pepper's coming. Just breathe for me."

Clint's shoulders came up. "I'm covered in grime."

Tony chose to take that as literal. "Just sweat. Here, let's get this off you." He reached for a buckle on Clint's suit. Clint flinched and went sniper-still. Tony stopped, hand resting against the material. "Clint?"

Clint's mouth opened and his face twisted. Ah. Vulnerability couldn't be easy after today.

"Just us," Tony said, tilting his forehead to lean against Clint's. "No one can get in."

Natasha stalked past them and drew an alarming amount of knife from...somewhere. Tony didn't like to think about it. She crouched slightly, eyes fixed firmly on the door. Her back was to them. "Go on," she said. Wordlessly, Steve took up a similar position facing the stairs.

Now that the team was guarding them, Clint let Tony peel him out of his costume and body armor. His bare skin showed bruises and scrapes in places, but nothing too bad. The mental damage this time far outstripped the physical. Bruce came forward with the basin and a washcloth- not the one Tony had used, so he must've had two. He put the basin down near them and retreated quietly on socked feet.

"Backwards," Clint muttered. Tony flashed him a quick grin as he began to wash, starting at his forehead and working down.

"Don't worry," he said, "you'll get to do something for me in a minute." Clint nodded, leaning into the rough rub of the cloth.

By the time Pepper came back with the rope, Tony was down to Clint's feet. He glanced up and laughed. Pepper's arms were absolutely full of rope, piled nearly to her chin.

"I'm not doing a full-on suspension. Or tying up the whole team."

"Shut up, dear." Pepper deposited the rope by him and gave him a quick kiss. "Better too much than not enough." She dangled scissors off her finger. He took them and she retreated before he could make a quip about life mottos.

"Um." Apparently Steve had seen the scissors out of some super-solider corner of his eye or something.

Tony cut him off. "They're for emergencies, Cap. To cut the rope off."

"Oh."

Nothing else was forthcoming, so Tony went to work. Clint knelt up and got into sweatpants while Tony sorted through the rope for a short piece. Tony unlooped it and ran it through his hands, automatically checking for weakness or roughness. He frowned slightly, looking quickly around. He needed to be higher than Clint, but the entry hall wasn't exactly a great place for this. Kneeling was killing his thigh. Nothing stuck out. He'd just have to muscle through, then.

"Hands in front," he told Clint. "Lay your forearms together, like you're going to grab the opposite elbow." It took Clint a second, but he figured it out. Clint swayed toward him, lips parted. Tony really wished he were braced better.

The design was basic, just a simple wrap around Clint's forearms. Tony started just short of Clint's left wrist and worked until he was almost at Clint's right. He double-checked for circulation then wove back to the center before braiding the rest, giving himself a short leash to Clint. Tony startled slightly at the clatter of noise behind him.

"Sorry," Cap said. He set down the...ottoman? Where the fuck had he even gotten an ottoman? Tony hadn't even noticed him leaving. He set it down behind Tony. And, alright, it was sort of the perfect height for this. Tony shrugged and hoisted himself up on it. The soft give beneath him reminded him.

"Get one of the pillows under your knees, Clint." He let go of the leash so that Clint could move. He didn't have his hands, not easily, but there were a dozen ways Clint could fetch the pillow. Apparently having his hands tied was helping as much as Tony had hoped, because his eyes lit with mischief.

"Yes, sir." And that was all the warning Tony got before Clint knee-walked over to the pillows and bent in a fluid motion to pick one up with his teeth. He looked fucking proud of himself as he came back and set the pillow at Tony's feet before climbing onto it.

Tony chuckled. "Good boy," he said, and gave Clint's head a scratch to follow up. He felt the way Clint melted into it, partly the touch but mostly the words. "Watch the left thigh," he warned as he guided Clint's head down. "You did good today," he said, softer and less teasing now. Clint exhaled heavily. "I'm proud of you."

"I was good?"

And Tony could hear it, the longing and the disbelief both in Clint's quiet words and it killed him. He heard the hint of Clint's boyhood. Hell, he heard himself, too, all those years of practically begging Howard to notice him, please. Tony reached between them and gathered the leash, wrapping it once around his fist. His heart pounded with protective rage for everyone that had ever convinced Clint he couldn't be good, from his deadbeat dad all the way up to whatever asshole handlers he'd had before Coulson.

"So good," he promised, resting both hands on Clint's shoulders. Clint slumped into him even more. Tony saw how long he'd wanted that, needed to be good for someone. Fucking Loki, turning that need inside out. Fucking Coulson, even, the only person Clint had ever really been good for, dying just when Clint needed him most. Tony curled over Clint, his free hand stroking down Clint's back. Clint turned his face into Tony's thigh, shaking. Tony didn't know if it was shock or grief this time.

"I'm so glad you're here, Clint." Pepper came close again, kneeling next to him. She settled a hand on his shoulder. Tony would've warned off anyone else, but Clint had been responsive to Pepper before. "You've been really good for Tony."

Tony shot a cautious look at her. She didn't mean that in quite the same way Tony did. He couldn't decide if he hoped she meant it, or not.

"That's true." And wow, he had not expected Steve of all people to butt in on his scene. Though he supposed it wasn't quite butting in. Yet. "Tony's been more...stable since you've been, uh, together. Fewer reckless moves."

Huh. Tony thought over the past few months and- yes, OK, he can see it. Apparently, having someone else to take care of made a difference. Not that- his eyes veered to Pepper again, a touch guilty. But. Tony ran a hand over Clint's hair. It wasn't the same. Pepper wouldn't fall to pieces without him. Clint would. He had been.

Either way, it undid Clint. He was crying now, soft, wet sounds smothered in Tony's pants. Tony clenched his teeth and gathered Clint as close as he could in this position. He dug his chin into the top of Clint's head. Fuck. Sub drop didn't even begin to describe this, dammit. Behind them, Natasha said something fierce in Russian, obviously aimed at Clint. Clint sobbed, unable to be quiet anymore.

"Shield brother," Thor said, suddenly closer, "let us move you to somewhere more comfortable, yes?"

Clint tightened his grip on Tony's calf painfully. "Shh," Tony said, "not going anywhere. Let's just get to the den."

Clint shuddered but, after a moment, tried to force himself to his feet. Thor swooped down and picked him up, cushion and all. Clint managed a startled 'urp', and then they were in motion. Tony rose with them, keeping a firm hand on Clint's shortened leash. The rest of the Avengers trailed behind them, carrying pillows and blankets and water.

With some relief, Tony eased himself down onto the couch. Plush cushions, nice and deep, just the way he liked surrounded him. Bruce hovered uncertainly behind Thor, the cushion Clint had been kneeling on clutched in his hands. Before Tony could direct him to put it down, Thor bent and deposited Clint carefully in Tony's lap. Clint squirmed down until only his shoulders and head were in Tony's lap. His eyes were clenched shut, mouth a stubborn line. Tony ran a soothing hand over Clint's forehead and leaned down to deposit a gentle kiss there.

"My good boy," Tony whispered, and Clint shivered. The tears had dried up. There was a flurry of movement, and then Natasha, blanket in hand, curled up against Clint's back. She gave Tony a very cautious look and put her head between Clint's shoulder blades. Tony arched an eyebrow. OK. That was- weird. He took the blanket from her and spread it over both the assassins in his lap. Thor stroked the material once, and sat, completely unselfconscious about being in nearly the same position Clint had been earlier. Of course, his head still came comfortably up to Tony's chest. That helped. Pepper slipped out of her shoes and took the far end of the couch, easing Clint's feet into her lap and stealing a bit of blanket. Steve paced around the room and came to a stop behind the couch. Tony felt a pulse of annoyance. Of course, he would put himself in a more dominant position than Tony.

Pepper sighed. "Steve, stop hovering."

Steve came back into view and, after considering for a minute, moved an armchair closer to the couch. A glance at Bruce, and he moved a second chair, so they formed a sort of- well, he couldn't call it a circle, but it was nice. Close. Clint eased by margins, the anxious tension fading away. Tony straightened cautiously, humming his pleasure when Clint stayed relaxed. Everyone settled in.

Tony drifted, hands moving rhythmically over Clint's hair, his neck and shoulders, tracing his collar. Clint's breathing evened out.

"Is he asleep?" Steve kept his voice to hardly louder than a whisper. Tony stilled a moment.

"Yes."

Steve nodded and leaned back. "Good." He met Tony's eyes steadily. "Tony, I never said...Thank you. For taking care of Clint." There was a soft murmur of assent from the others.

Tony's lips twitched. "You're welcome."

"It's been his pleasure," Pepper said for him dryly. Tony grinned at her.

"It really has." Tony looked from Pepper to his team, all huddled close, to Clint (and possibly Natasha) asleep in his lap and felt, for the first time in a long time, safe and happy.

The End

A Love Letter to Fandom

mabonwitch — Fri, 15 Feb 2013 04:50:05 GMT

Dear fandom,

Today is Valentine's Day, and I just wanted to take this chance to tell you how much I love you. You're a lovely creature, a constant delight. We've been together many years, and here's to many more! Here are some of the many things I love about you:

1. You're an excellent teacher. From you, I've learned how to write better than I ever did before we started seeing each other. I learned how to do some html coding. I learned how to accept compliments and gracefully deal with criticism. I learned how to attract attention and how to be true to my heart.

2. You're a constant companion. When everyone else has fucked off, when my mom is busy and my partner's got some project, when it's 3am and none of my friends would answer a call, you're here.

3. You always know what I need. Whether I'm sad or excited or bored or horny, you have something perfect for me. You're constantly giving me gifts, things that I really want and will use (over and over again).

4. We're good together in bed. I find you constantly sexy. You're always ready and willing to explore new fantasies and kinks. And you give me permission to explore things I would be afraid to otherwise. You never make me feel ashamed. Even when our kinks don't match, your unceasing, bold enthusiasm makes me happy.

5. You've brought out the amateur pornographer in me. And in many of my friends, too. I appreciate that in a partner.

Love always,
mabonwitch

Avengers Fic

mabonwitch — Tue, 08 Jan 2013 20:27:32 GMT

Title: Down Deep (where they all can see)
Author: mabonwitch
Pairing: Tony/Bruce, Bruce/Clint, implied Avengers dogpile
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: ~2700
Summary: They'd been working on the touching thing. On the letting-other-people-touch thing. It just took Bruce awhile to get to a place where he could.
Content Notes: D/s, pain play, mild humiliation, voyeurism (both sexual and nonsexual), dirty talk, objectification, exhibitionism, sub space
Author's Notes: I don't know, I like the idea of all the Avengers watching someone get topped. Deeply inspired by "Remedial Physicality”.

Bruce had a second of warning, just catching the gleeful expression on Tony’s face as he turned, before Tony’s hand sank into his hair and dragged him to his knees. His sharp noise of surprise escaped as a grunt when Tony hit him. The open-handed slap was rough, hot, perfect. By the time Tony hit him three more times, Bruce’s breath was coming in soft pants and his eyes wanted to flutter closed.

Dimly, he was aware of the other Avengers scattered around the common room. They’d been called out, only to spend a long, hot afternoon waiting for a villain that never showed.

"Where are you, Bruce?”

"Yellow, Tony."Red was rage, blue was peace. Tony always took him down fast.

Tony hummed, adjusted his hold on Bruce’s hair. Bruce prepared to move, to follow as Tony shifted back, only to receive one more slap. Only then did Tony move for the couch, dragging Bruce by the hair. Bruce shuffled forward on his knees.

They’d talked about it. About Bruce’s love-hate relationship with touch, about his fears in letting the other Avengers come too close, about his inability to get himself there on his own. Bruce knew, intellectually, that they were all in this together. He knew there was a fair amount of sex, of touch, and sometimes of other things, happening. He could see it, and he wanted it. He wanted in.

Bruce had lost too much, too often. Every time he saw the others, draped over each other at movie nights or comforting each other after battle, he felt like he was drowning a little more. He’d move toward them, and then choke on the panic, rising in a sick, cold wave. Until Tony.

"Are you thinking, Bruce?”

Bruce colored. "Sorry, Tony."Tony just arched an eyebrow. Bruce felt himself flush harder. Rules. There were rules for this; he wasn’t supposed to guess what Tony wanted. "Yes, Tony.”

Tony flexed the hand in his hair. "You’re a genius, Bruce. There’s nothing wrong with thinking. If I don’t want you to think, I’ll stop you.”

Bruce felt his shoulders relax. Tony eyed him, then spun him so his back was to the couch. "Heels.”

Bruce got his legs under him and sat down. Tony straddled him, holding his body up, and pressed into Bruce, forcing his head all the way back before beginning a brutal series of kisses. Bruce tried to kiss back for a moment. Then Tony simply overwhelmed him, made it clear with tongue and teeth that he wanted nothing from Bruce. Tony bit his bottom lip, hard enough to sting. Bruce sucked in air, feeling as though he were drowning. His head swam and his hands came up to clutch instinctively at Tony. A hot wave of tension swept through his body and left calm in its wake.

"There."Tony pulled back a little. "Where are you, Bruce?”

Bruce sighed out a long breath. "Green."His head lolled back against the couch’s seat. Tony rumbled his approval, hands rubbing firmly over Bruce’s chest and arms. He leaned forward to nip affectionately at Bruce’s lip.

"Good boy.”

Someone choked off a moan. Bruce blinked lazily. Tony chuckled. "You look good, Bruce."Bruce stayed still and relaxed as Tony worked the buttons of his shirt open. The same voice from before made a sound when Bruce’s collar came into view. Eventually, Tony tugged him forward to remove his shirt completely. Bruce wished he could watch Tony removing his own shirt, but Tony hadn’t moved his head. Instead, he watched the ceiling, light reflecting in beautiful patterns that seemed random, shadows stretching…

Tony hooked two fingers into his collar and pulled. "Up."

Bruce stood, a faint shiver of embarrassment at his obvious erection winding through him.

"Exquisite."That was Thor. "I had wondered.”

Tony kept his hand on Bruce’s collar and leaned against his back. "Go on,"he said, "take a look at them.”

Bruce swallowed. Hesitantly, he raised his eyes. Thor had seated himself on the other couch and was staring openly, looking every bit as delighted and attentive as the time Tony had introduced him to the microwave. Natasha, face neutral, was tucked close to him, not quite touching. Steve was in the chair nearest the couch, face flushed and eager. He was the only one to have seen them before, and he was practically bouncing with excitement at the repeat performance.

Clint was still on his feet, hand clenched on the back of the recliner. His lips were parted. There was no mistaking the lust flushing his face and dilating his eyes. Bruce shivered and dropped his eyes again.

"Good?"Tony’s murmur was quiet enough that probably no one but Steve would hear. Bruce nodded. "Over.”

Bruce bent loose-limbed over the side of the couch. His chest came to rest against the cushions, his dick pushed into the arm and ass in the air. Tony reached around him to press his chest up. Bruce arched willingly and was repaid with a sharp bite of metal to his nipple, quickly matched on the other side.

Clint choked. "You took nipple clamps to a battle?”

Tony laughed. "Are you kidding me? I’ve been carrying these around since Bruce agreed to this.”

Bruce moaned, faint and jerky. That was ten days ago. Tony’d been to SI meetings, three of them, down in his lab, to a battle, a charity gala, to a meeting on the Helicarrier with Fury, for god’s sake. Heat washed over his face and down his back, deepening the hazy buzz in his head. He could feel his breath coming fast again. Tony casually kicked his legs wider and leaned over Bruce’s back, cock pressed into the crease of Bruce’s slacks. Tony tugged at the clamp. Bruce grunted.

"Where are you, Bruce?”

"Blue."He could hear, distantly, the way his voice slurred when he was down this deep. He sounds drunk or stoned. Tony straightened slowly, tracing a finger down the length of Bruce’s spine. Bruce felt his skin tighten, pimpling in anticipation. He wanted it. Wanted what came next, with a blind hunger. And Tony gave it to him.

He cried out at the first hit. Tony didn’t ease him in. When they did this, it wasn’t playful, and there was no warm up. It was hard, and it kept being hard. It was the brilliant edge, it was pain that tasted like metal, it was all the muscles in Tony’s arms bunching, swinging full force. (Bruce knew, because sometimes Tony let him watch in the mirror.)

Tony’s hand was steady as a drumbeat. He forced sound after sound from Bruce until he couldn’t manage anything but wet gasps, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Being able to do this, post-Hulk, was a gift. He’d confessed that to Tony, once, and Tony had said, Being able to give this to me is a gift for me, too. It had sounded a lot like I love you.

"Close your eyes,"Tony said.

Bruce let his eyes fall shut, floating. Time slipped by. Bursts of light occasionally exploded on the backs of his eyelids. Bruce smiled, loose and empty. Eventually, he became aware that Tony had stopped.

"Bruce?”

"Black.”

Tony stroked over his ass. "Crawl up the couch until you’re all the way on it. You don’t have to open your eyes.”

It sounded like a monumental task. Bruce was fine where he was. But Tony wouldn’t tell him to do it unless he could, unless it would be better for him. He kept his eyes closed as he dragged himself forward. His foot caught on the arm of the couch, and then he was over. A second later, Tony climbed in behind him. Tony’s couches were all ridiculously huge and plush. They fit side by side easily.

Bruce sighed in pleasure as Tony pulled him close. The calluses on his hands were soothing as they made long circles over his back, drifting down to gently pat his ass. He took the clamps off, easing Bruce through it. Tony nuzzled his cheek and neck until he turned into it.

"So beautiful, Bruce,"he said, low and intimate. "Hey guys,"he called softly, "you can come here now.”

He wasn’t expecting Natasha's, "Bruce? Is that alright?”

He turned his head blurrily toward her and slitted his eyes open. "M’kay.”

Apparently, that was enough. In moments, Steve was perched precariously by his thigh, holding onto his hand. Bruce squeezed gently. Bruce let his eyes shut again. Hands in his hair, on his back. Someone taking off his shoes at Tony’s request, peeling his socks off and putting a firm hand on his foot. It all felt wonderful.

Bruce opened his eyes. He wasn’t sure how long had passed, but he felt a little more present now. Thor was on the floor. Clint had his feet. He tilted his head a bit. Yes, those were Natasha’s deadly hands in his hair.

"Hey,"Tony said. "Back with us?"Bruce nodded. Clint squeezed his foot, like some sort of greeting, and began to gently massage. Bruce tried not to wriggle. Tony cocked his head. "Alright."He bent to look up at Natasha. "How are you doing?”

Bruce watched Tony’s throat, blinking rapidly. The foot massage sent signals that bypassed his brain. He didn’t feel capable of focusing too hard. He listened halfheartedly as Tony maneuvered Thor and Natasha out of the room. Tony leaned up and gave Steve a quick kiss. "Scram,"he said, all affection. "I’ll see you later."Steve laughed and left.

Clint paused. "Should I-?”

Tony chuckled. "No, you keep doing what you’re doing.”

Now that he had less of an audience, Bruce shook and moaned.

"Fuck."Clint froze, then dug his thumbs in.

Bruce thrust against the cushion. "Fuck.”

Tony bit softly at his ear. "You wanna turn over, babe?”

Bruce did. Clint stared. If Bruce had thought he looked good before, it was nothing to now. He looked wrecked with lust, pupils completely blown. A heavy erection distorted the line of his pants and a faint sheen of sweat graced his skin. Bruce wanted to bite into those biceps. Clint licked his lips.

"You know,"Tony said, an amused lilt to his voice, "if you keep doing that, we might think you want to suck Bruce’s cock.”

Clint didn’t waste time. "Can I suck your cock, Bruce?”

Bruce whined. "Yes."All the blacked-out pleasure from Tony swarmed in his head. He felt thick, a dark part of his brain pulsing in time with his cock. Clint's eyes were fixed on him, lips parted on a hungry breath.

"Christ, Stark, tell me you have condoms here."

Behind him, Tony's weight shifted away. He saw a condom pass from Tony to Clint.

"Clothes."

Clint paused, poised to tear the condom open.

"Clothes," Tony repeated, impatient. "Get naked, Barton. You wouldn't want to deprive poor Bruce of your delicious body, would you?"

Clint flicked a glance at him, but whatever it was he saw in Bruce's face decided him. Boots hit the floor, the tac suit following. Clint undressed with the same speed he used dressing when an assemble call came in. Taking in the red flush of his torso and the heavy weight of his cock, Bruce appreciated that. Tony made an approving noise, too.

As Clint unwrapped the condom, Tony rearranged them, propping himself on some pillows and pulling Bruce into the cradle of his thighs. Tony was hard, the thin gold under suit he wore to battle doing nothing to conceal that. Clint crawled onto the couch, balancing between their legs.

"Your furniture is ridiculous," Clint said. And then he rolled the condom down Bruce's cock and followed it with his mouth.

"I…I cannot even respond to that,"Tony said. "Jesus. Jesus fuck, Barton, that is some seriously filthy cock-sucking you have going there. Wow."

Bruce' mouth worked wordlessly. The sweet, hot pressure felt like starbursts against the back of his eyes. His thighs flexed in time with Clint's movements, ears burning with the rush of blood. He twisted his hands into the couch, gripping for dear life. Pants and moans spilled out of him, pleading noises, but he kept his hips still.

"Gorgeous like this, isn't he? He can't keep anything back right now. Bet he won't even come unless we say."

Clint moaned around his cock.

"Tell us when you're close, Bruce. I want Clint to get rid of the condom and make you come all over yourself."

Bruce sucked in a breath and choked out, "Close," lost in a haze of want and shame. Tears blurred in his eyes as Clint followed Tony's order, the loss of his mouth changing to tight, sharp jerks.

"Gonna use you after this, all dirty with your come. Go on, Bruce. Make a mess for us."

Bruce went silent, arching at last, coming in a thick spurt over his belly. His vision hazed over. Before it cleared, Tony pushed insistently at his hips. Bruce struggled, managing to make his thighs work enough to brace up for a moment. Tony squirmed his pants down to his thighs and pulled Bruce back down. He grunted in Bruce's ear, a satisfied sound as he slid down the crease of Bruce's ass.

"Get up here, Barton. Bruce made a nice, slick place for you rut."Bruce made a sound like his air had been punched out.

Clint scrambled up, arms braced on either side of them. His cock pulsed heavily where it lay against Bruce's belly.

Tony made a small, annoyed sound and reached around to grab Clint's hip. "Fucking move, Barton."Clint did, jerking his hips rhythmically. The air thickened with gasps and bitten off moans. Bruce's head swirled. He wished desperately that he could get hard again. His whole body felt pierced through with desire as Tony and Clint used him as mindlessly as if he were a sex toy, there only to make a good spot to put their cocks. Clint's eyes focused on him, their intensity swallowing Bruce up.

"Gonna eyefuck him all night, Legolas, or are you planning on kissing?"As rough as Tony's voice was, it sounded more aroused than mocking.

Clint fell forward, lips catching on Bruce's. The kiss was hard and hungry. Bruce lifted his hands instinctively, grabbing Clint's powerful biceps. He dug in with his nails and the kiss went messy as Clint came. Behind him, Tony groaned and smothered it in a vicious bite to Bruce's shoulder as he followed suit, slicking Bruce's ass.

Above him, Clint trembled and fell to the side. Bruce whined at the loss. Tony chuckled and tipped him toward Clint.

"Keep him warm for me."Clint closed an exhausted arm over Bruce's hip and tugged him close. Sighing, Bruce went. Tony disappeared into the kitchen. He re-emerged with a wet washcloth and sat on the edge of the couch. His hip pressed against Bruce's back as he cleaned them up. Clint startled a little at the intimate touch, allowing it after a second. Tony's hand stroked through his hair. Bruce yawned and stretched.

"Good?"

"Mmm."Bruce blinked, feeling more present. "Yes. Good.”

Clint stifled a laugh. "Good to know the two of you don't always speak in polysyllabic science.”

Bruce quirked a smile at him. Clint ran a hand up his back and joined Tony in petting his hair. Bruce arched, eyes slitting. This time, Clint didn't bother biting back his laugh.

"You, Dr. Banner, are secretly a giant cat once you let people touch.”

"He really is.”

Bruce felt he should protest being talked about like he wasn't here, but his mind was getting fuzzy. Not subspace this time, just good old fashioned tiredness.

He blinked his eyes open to look at Clint. "Good?”

Clint grinned. "Fucking spectacular.”

Well, that was taken care of. "Good.”

"Up, Bruce."

"Toonnnyyy.”

"Seriously, Bruce, get up. We're in the lounge, and I really don't think your ready to wake up buck naked to the team watching a movie.”

Sulkily, Bruce levered himself up. Clint got up, too, and sorted out clothes. His hands were gentle as he dressed Bruce, which was nice.

"Come on, Clint. You can come tuck him in with me.”

Clint rolled his eyes at Tony. He still settled a warm hand in the curve of Bruce's back, though, so that was fine. It was good, soothing, even though it wasn't sex or kink anymore. Bruce perked up. That probably meant he could let Clint touch him more, now.

One Avenger down, three to go.

Fic: Now

mabonwitch — Fri, 07 Dec 2012 05:55:19 GMT

Title: Now
Author: mabonwitch
Pairing: none
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: ~1000
Summary: Three ways the magic reveal could go down.
Content Notes: magic reveal, open endings, some angst
Author's Notes: These are based on S5 canon up to 5.9. No particular spoilers, though!

The mood in the council chamber was grim. Morgana's army- and how the hell did she keep fucking amassing these things? - had the citadel surrounded. The castle was brimming with people from the lower town. Outside, they could hear the thwap thwap thwap of the dragon flying by. Merlin winced each time it did.

"There's no time." Arthur braced his hands on the table. "You are each a match for any ten men, and together we are stronger still. But it's not just Morgana out there. She has at least a dozen sorcerers." He let his head bow, conscious of putting on a show of defeat. When he raised it again, he hit his men with the full force of his determined look. "We need a sorcerer of our own."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Gwen spoke up, tentative. "That sorceress, the one who saved me…"

Arthur shook his head, noting the focused look Mordred and Merlin were sharing. "We can't possibly get to her. We need someone who is already here. Someone we can trust." Come on, Merlin. Tell me.

No one moved. Arthur sighed. "Merlin."

Merlin met his gaze, eyes wide. "Arthur?"

"Surely," he said, intent, "surely there's someone…something you can do…"

Merlin stiffened, so slight that if Arthur hadn't been watching for it, he never would have seen it. "I…I don't-"

"Merlin." Tell me, dammit.

Their eyes locked for long, breathless moments. Merlin trembled as he read something from Arthur's gaze. "How long have you known?"

Arthur slumped, relief coursing through him. He reached out, gripped Merlin's shoulder warmly. "Does it matter?"

Merlin breathed under his hand. Slowly, like the sun emerging from the clouds, joy stole over his face. Arthur reeled with the force of it, of the weight Merlin had carried all these years.

"No," Merlin breathed, "no, it doesn't matter."

**

Merlin rode at Arthur's right hand, as he always did. He hoped, right up until they faced Morgana, that he would somehow be able to slip away, face her in private as he had before. If he had to reveal himself, better to Morgana in a fight to the death than to Arthur and all his knights.

"Arthur." Morgana's voice held a purr and a threat, even as she raised it to be heard. "Come to meet your doom?"

"Morgana."

"Do you really think you can face me?" Her lips curled in a mocking smile. "All your swords are worth nothing."

"He doesn't have to." It was a wrench, having Morgana and Arthur both turn to him. Merlin could feel Arthur's protectiveness, his disbelief. But it was Morgana that spoke first.

"You're nothing but a servant, Merlin. Arthur's whipping boy."

Merlin shook faintly, but there was no recourse. This was it. "I have another name, you know." Morgana tilted her head. He had her attention now. "The Druids know it."

Morgana's eyes traveled to Mordred. The army held its breath.

Merlin said to Arthur, quick and low, "I'm sorry." Every bit of wretchedness he felt was in his voice.

In the next instant, Mordred responded. His voice rose clear and flat over the ranks. "The Druids call him…Emrys."

Merlin watched Morgana's face twist through fear and hatred. Before she could settle, he dug his heels in and his mount bolted forward. Morgana threw up her arm and shouted a word. Committed at last, Merlin raised his hands in answer, magic streaming unmistakably from him.

Behind him, he heard Arthur shout, and the battle was met.

**

"No." Merlin broke into a run. "Arthur!"

Against all odds, he'd remained undetected through the battle. Morgana was fallen, but it was all for nothing. Arthur lay on the ground, bleeding from a gut wound. Mordred was restrained several paces away. Percival and Bors held him, Gwaine's blade at his throat. Something black slithered under his skin.

Merlin fell heavily to his knees, hands automatically flying to check Arthur's breath and pulse. They were both weak, growing thinner with every second. Terror pooled in his gut.

"Merlin," Leon said from beside him, "is there anything?"

Arthur was dying in front of him. He couldn't think. There was no time left, no Gaius to be fetched, no excuse to send off all the knights on a quest for water or herbs. There was just him, and his magic was the only chance Arthur had.

He took it.

"Leon, whatever happens in the next few seconds, swear to me you will not interrupt. This is the only way to save him."

He knew how odd it must sound, but Leon was as steady as ever. "You have my word, Merlin."

Merlin couldn't bring himself to look at Leon. He hissed a word, cut the armor open with his power. Placing both hands over the wound, he chanted, dragging up reserves he didn't know he had. His voice rose and fell, magic pulsing steadily from him, until at last the power settled. For a long, quivering moment, there was nothing.

Arthur stirred. Merlin sobbed, let himself close his eyes. Shaking, he forced himself to his feet.

Mordred.

Merlin took three quick steps and gripped Mordred's chin. Gwaine fell back, staring at him like he didn't know if he should be using his sword on Merlin or not. Merlin ignored it. He spat out a last curse. Black oozed from Mordred's eyes and dropped to the ground in a heap.

He caught Percival's eyes. "Somewhere, Morgana'll have a whole bottle of these. The only way to uncurse Mordred permanently is to destroy it. Take it to Gaius; he'll know how."

Mordred blinked, looking confused. With a cry, he straightened in his captor's arms. "The king!"

"It's alright," Merlin said. "I saved him." I used my magic.

Mordred looked up at him, eyes bright with shock and grief. "Emrys," he said, "I can never repay you."

Merlin smiled, and it was brittle but true. "Your loyalty to Arthur is all the payment I will ever need."

What would come, would come. At least, if it came to the worst, he would leave a defender in his place. No one had shouted for his head yet, so there was hope. There was always hope.

Fic for World AIDS Day

mabonwitch — Sun, 02 Dec 2012 00:45:29 GMT

Title: Today is the Only Day
Author: mabonwitch
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG
Wordcount: ~250
Summary: Merlin wakes up. Today is a good day.
Content Notes: none
Author's Notes: Today is World AIDS day. Please, get tested. Know your status.

Merlin took a deep breath and stirred lazily to awareness. He stretched, wiggling in the bed.

Today I am alive.

It was warm under the covers, toasty, even. The covers were mounded over them, and Arthur’s warm weight was pressed against his back. Merlin turned without looking.

Today, there are beautiful things waiting for me.

Merlin slitted his eyes open, a grin stealing over his face at what waited for him. Arthur was awake, his blue eyes fixed on Merlin with could only be described as tenderness. The sun was steaming in through the window, painting Arthur’s bare shoulders and gloriously tousled hair golden. Arthur reached over and traced Merlin’s cheekbone. Merlin sighed into it.

Today, I can change the world.

Some days, the words did nothing. Today they worked, lifting his heart and filling him with hope. He was, at heart, stubborn, and Merlin rather thought that being happy was a good thing to be stubborn about.

“Hey,” he said, leaning forward for a kiss.

“Mornin’,” Arthur replied, voice rough with sleep.

Eight years since the diagnosis, and he was still here. Later, he’d get up in front of a crowd and talk about how life was a gift. Some of them would be terrified, new to being HIV positive, some would be staunch supporters, old timers, and survivors of loved ones now gone. It would be hard, as it always was, but this was how Merlin entered the world.

And for now, he had this: Arthur, warm in his bed and his heart, with the sun breaking out from the clouds.

Avengers Fic

mabonwitch — Thu, 20 Sep 2012 19:51:41 GMT

So sorry, it has been way too long! I come bearing, gifts, though.

Title: Sex, Death, and Love
Author: mabonwitch
Pairing: Clint/Natasha/Phil
Rating: soft R
Wordcount: ~500
Summary: Sometimes they fuck up, but they always make it better.
Content Notes: H/C, threesome, implied use of sex as a weapon
Author's Notes: My first completed Avenger's fanfic!

He knows how it started, of course, but it still kind of astounded Clint that they're here: Natasha's hair spilling around them as she makes soft, gasping noises, Phil's grip perfect and hard on the back of his neck as he thrusts in. On ops, at home, in bed, the three of them just fit. It's the most perfect thing in Clint's life.

That doesn't mean they don't fuck up. Once, when they had collapsed together in a shivering, fucked out heap, Clint had turned to Natasha and said, "So, still pissed at me about getting shot?" It was supposed to be a joke, but Natasha pulled away so fast, utterly stiff as she stalked out of the room, that it left Clint scrambling. It only took him a minute to put it together, sex and lies and manipulation, and then he'd turned to Phil and said, helpless, "Shit. Shit."

He'd gone after her. Of course he had. They'd fixed it, and Clint never made that mistake again.

Phil was harder to read, naturally, so it took Clint three whole days to realize that something had gone wrong, and another five to track it down. It was surprising, in their line of work, but it turned out that Phil really hated to hear people joking about dying. Especially specialists he handled. (Clint couldn't help the way that was always going to sounds like a dirty joke to him now, he really couldn't.) When Clint had finally pried that out of Phil, the round of make-up sex was intense. Phil gasped into his skin, "I can't, I can't lose you," and Clint whispered back apologies and promises and pleas until they were both a sweaty mess. The fingerprints didn't fade from his waist for a week.

Maybe they were just smarter than him, because somehow Natasha and Phil knew what was going to hit his weak spots before they did it. He knew that because they pinned him to the bed- not playfully, seriously pinned him down- before they told him they loved him. Clint jerked, thrashed, trying to run in a knee-jerk panic. They let him struggle. It took awhile, but eventually he quieted, trembling with adrenaline and fear.

Natasha leaned close, brushing the hair off his forehead. "Shush, Clint," she said lightly. "No getting away." She paused. "I love you." Clint stared at her, shaking with fear.

"Look at me, Clint." Clint turned his gaze reluctantly to Phil, whose weight was still steady on top of him, giving him no leverage. Phil leaned down until his lips were nearly against Clint's. With that eerie sense that he had, Phil must've known Clint was reaching the end of his rope, because he didn't say anything about love. Instead, he just said, "Mine," his voice that utterly even tone he used when he knew something for certain.

"Ours," Natasha corrected, curling against his side.

"Ours," Phil agreed. Something hot uncurled in Clint's chest and he settled. He slept in the middle that night.

It took him a year to say it back to them.

It didn't matter. They got there in the end.

Fic: Going Out Under the Radar

mabonwitch — Sat, 21 Apr 2012 23:46:52 GMT

Title: Going Out Under the Radar
Author: mabonwitch
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: R
Wordcount: ~3000
Summary: Merlin kidnaps Arthur for a night out.
Content Notes: underage clubbing, groping, ridiculous store names
Author's Notes: Set in the In a Time of Magic 'verse, after Coming of Age

Merlin had never seen Arthur quite like this, hard-jawed and edgy. He didn't twitch, but Merlin had the unnerving sense that he would if he were a touch less tightly wound. It had been two days, and he still wouldn't tell Merlin what his father had said.

Merlin's gut clenches, thinking about it. He's not fond of Uther; hasn't been since he inadvertently walked in on Arthur crying when they were twelve. Uther demands too much and Merlin hated what it did to Arthur. He knew Arthur had rowed with his father over Merlin before. There was the don't associate with peasants fight, and the he must have ensorcelled you, I'll get him expelled fight, and the being friendly with sorcerers is bad politics fight, once Uther had accepted that Merlin really wasn't using magical wiles on Arthur. He didn't hear them, but Merlin knew there were other fights. He wished he knew if Arthur had just had a dad, I'm gay fight or a dad, I'm in love with a sorcerer fight, or both.

Mostly, he just wished Arthur would be okay again.

Beside him, Arthur sighed. "I wish I could get out of here." He said it quietly, trying to evade the notice of his ever-present guards. He looked like he was going to come out of his skin.

Merlin gnawed his lip. "Grounded?"

Arthur grunted. "I don't trust your judgment right now, Arthur. I think it's best if you stay at the palace for the duration of your break." His voice rises slightly toward the end of the mimicry, until he spat out 'break'.

Merlin winced. He reached over to touch Arthur's arm. Arthur didn't shake him off. He didn't relax either. Slowly, an idea blossomed in his mind. "You really want to go?"

Arthur looked over at him, puzzlement fading into anticipation. "Yes."

The desperation in Arthur's tone sealed it for Merlin. He bowed his head, preparing to cast.

"Wait," Arthur said. "I don't want them to think you-" He stood, pulling Merlin up. "Let's go for a walk, get near the North Gates. Then you can."

**

In the end, it was almost too easy. Merlin didn't precisely make them invisible. He more sort of- blurred them. People saw them without recognizing them. He also, as soon as they were out of the reach of Arthur's guards, made Arthur stop and let him shield him up to a faretheewell. Nothing was going to happen to Arthur, even if it did make him look rather pissy.

"I thought you said no one could recognise me?"

Merlin flailed. "You could get hit by a bus! There could be a drive-by shooting!"

Arthur's eyebrows shot up. "Just where are you planning on taking me, Merlin?"

Merlin pouted. "I didn't have a plan, exactly."

Arthur rolled his eyes, some of the tension he'd held already fading. "Right. Well, we're not just standing about on the outside of the castle gates, instead of the inside. Start walking."

Eventually, they caught a cab. Merlin paid, because Arthur was an idiot and didn't think of things like carrying around his wallet.

"Sorry," Arthur said, grimacing, "sorry, Merlin. I'll pay you back as soon as we get back."

And he would, Merlin knew. Arthur was better like that these days, more conscious that not everyone grew up rich. It was probably Lancelot's influence. Lancelot was a scholarship boy, like Merlin, but with twice the brains, no magic, and a sense of right that left his friends occasionally breathless. He'd earned a place with them when he'd gone head to head with Gwaine in an economics class, and proved he wasn't afraid to do the same with Arthur when presented with the opportunity.

Merlin huffed. "Good, because I don't think this is what my mum wants me spending my savings on."

Arthur ducked his head. "We're on High Street," he said, craning his head around.

Merlin shrugged. "Seemed like a logical place to start."

"Start what?"

Merlin grinned. He thought his idea was rather brilliant. "We're going to get you some normal-people clothes, Your Highness."

Arthur blinked at him for a moment, then his face lit up in slow motion. Merlin grinned and elbowed him.

"I thought you'd like that," he said. Satisfaction threaded his voice. "Not here, obviously, because there's no way I can afford anything. But I know how to get a few places from here."

Arthur clutched his arm. "Jeans? Something that hasn't been tailored to precisely what my publicist thinks is appropriate?"

Merlin shook him off and slung an arm over his shoulder, surprised how different that felt now that he and Arthur were…whatever. Involved, or something. It always felt good, being close to Arthur, but now it was warmer. He thought he might be blushing, actually, which was embarrassing.

"This way," he said.

Ten minutes later, Arthur twitched against his side. "Merlin, we've passed half a dozen stores with the kind of thing I want. Where the hell are you taking me?"

Merlin tugged Arthur along. "Just trust me." He saw Arthur's annoyance fade, to be replaced with a soft look that made Merlin tingle. Fortunately, they arrived before he did anything mortifying. "Here!"

Arthur pulled up, looking at the sign with distrust. "Dungeon of Delight?"

Merlin cracked up at the raised-brow, pursed-lip face Arthur pulled. "Yep. Come on!" He grabbed Arthur and dragged him inside before he could protest further. Once inside, he cut his glamour. "Hey, Morgause."

Morgause, whose eyes had come flying up when she sensed strong magic, relaxed marginally. "Merlin," she said. Merlin took her quick nod as the equivalent of a smile. "Who's your friend?"

Merlin smiled a put a finger alongside his nose and shrugged. Morgause rolled her eyes. "That sort of friend, huh?"

Merlin shrugged again. "It's not his fault he's been denied the sort of awesomeness you provide."

Morgause snorted. "You know where everything is," she said, and turned back to sorting through some silver rings and studs.

Merlin grabbed Arthur's arm again and ducked toward the back of the store. Once they were out of earshot, Arthur exploded.

"Merlin," he hissed. "What the hell was that? She's- she knows your- and her hair! She has no hair! And her nose is pierced!"

Merlin dissolved into laughter. Arthur's face was so thoroughly outraged, he couldn't help it. Merlin had met Morgause when he was eight, completely by accident. His magic had slipped, and his mother had been desperate to get them off the street when Morgause appeared from nowhere and led them to safety. Her store was a sort of magic users' safe haven. Merlin loved it.

He didn't answer Arthur, just turned and began browsing. "How about these?" He held up a pair of black jeans for inspection. "No, wait, this!" The silky red shirt slithered against his palms. Arthur's face was drawn in a frown, his shoulders stiff. "It's your colour," Merlin teased. And it was true; red really did suit Arthur.

Merlin sighed and set his finds down. He stepped closer. "Arthur, nothing bad is going to happen here." He tightened his magic around Arthur in a brief caress and watched some of the tension fade. "Promise. And I thought something a little outré is what you wanted?"

Finally, Arthur sighed, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "Well, it certainly is that." Merlin followed his gaze to the wall of mirrors. Fantastic designs were etched around the edges, and some had words written in lipstick. Everything from the rather sweet "Beauty is within" to "Patriarchy sees you naked, so it doesn't matter what you wear" decorated them. The very last mirror was black and unadorned.

Merlin tucked his chin over Arthur's shoulder. Arthur stiffened. Merlin backed off. They still hadn't really talked about the boundaries of this new thing between them.

"I-" Arthur half-turned and grabbed Merlin's hand. "No, I didn't mean- come back?"

Merlin blinked at that. It was unexpectedly incoherent for Arthur. Once he'd parsed it, he smiled. Feeling unaccountably shy, he leaned back in. Arthur sighed as Merlin settled against him, pulling one of Merlin's arms around him. He turned his head to the side and nuzzled Merlin's cheek.

"It's just," Arthur said, eyes sad, "this is probably the only time we can, in public. I barely have you, and I feel like I'm already losing you."

Merlin forced himself not to tense. It wasn't like he hadn't thought over the ramifications of being with Arthur since his birthday. He dug his chin into Arthur's shoulder in retaliation.

"You don't 'barely have me'," he rebuked. He tightened his magic around Arthur again, a wordless reminder that he really, really wasn't going anywhere. Arthur was his, dammit. His magic had tied them as surely as two people could be tied.

Arthur coughed. "Uh, Merlin, could you stop, uh-"

Merlin let go of Arthur with his magic at once. "Sorry," he muttered.

Arthur coughed again. "No, it's just-" He huffed and twisted in Merlin's arms, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "Maybe not something you should do in public?"

Merlin was so busy staring at the blush that covered Arthur's cheeks that it took a minute for the sense of that to penetrate. His eyes widened and he dropped his gaze down Arthur's body. Sure enough-

"Oh," he said. And now he could feel himself turning tomato red, too.

Arthur's smile was sheepish, but his eyes sparkled. "It's like having essence of Merlin rubbed all over your body."

He pulled away and started browsing through the racks. Merlin didn't really notice. He was still a little fixated on how Arthur got hard because of his magic. And Arthur had said not in public, which meant several very private images were now cavorting through Merlin's brain.

"What do you think about this?"

Merlin caught himself before blurting out that he thought using his magic as a sex toy was basically the best thing ever, and could they go somewhere private now please? Arthur held up a blue shirt for examination.

Merlin blinked. "Too plain. Get something you'd never be allowed! Otherwise, what's the point?"

Arthur laughed. "Those jeans are out, then. Someone might, conceivably, be convinced into letting me get something like that."

"If it's unique you're looking for.." Like a shadow, Morgause appeared. Silently, she offered a pair of trousers. They were black, too, but that was the only similarity. Merlin didn't think they were actually leather- the crowd DoD drew couldn't really afford leather- but it was a nice facsimile. A little stretchier. Lacing down the side.

Arthur reached out a hand to touch the material. After a moment, he seemed to come to a decision. "Not for me. Black's not really my colour. You'd look good in it, though, Merlin."

Morgause made a quietly thoughtful sound. She turned her intense gaze on Merlin. "I have it in your size," she said.

"Er." Merlin looked between them. "Uh, sure?"

He took the trousers Morgause handed him a moment later and retreated to the dressing room. The trousers were awkward to struggle into. He didn't want to unlace and re-lace the sides for real, so he just squirmed around a lot. Once Merlin was in the trousers, he checked himself out in the mirror. Huh. He almost had an arse in these. Aside from that, he couldn't really tell. He was still adjusting to having sexual impulses at all, so maybe it made sense that he couldn't judge sexiness. Or maybe it just felt weird to be looking at himself like that.

Shrugging, Merlin opened the door to the dressing room and emerged. The low murmur of conversation between Arthur and Morgause cut off. Arthur stared and okay, yes, right. Definitely sexy, then. Merlin tried not to squirm and willed his erection away. He looked at Morgause, who fixed him with her usual intense stare. Slowly, she cocked her head to the side and nodded in approval.

"Arthur?" Merlin's voice came out higher than he'd meant it to. It sounded nervous.

Arthur opened his mouth; closed it again. He blinked rapidly. Merlin tried to wait patiently. Instead of speaking, though, Arthur stalked forward and pushed Merlin back into the dressing room, closing the door behind him. He just heard Morgause snort before the door closed.

"No sex in the dressing rooms," Morgause called, sounding way too amused.

Merlin really wanted to answer, but he couldn't think through the way Arthur was kissing him. Merlin didn't think Arthur was aware of pinning Merlin's wrist to the dressing room door. He wondered about how hot he found that. Arthur bit his lip, the pressure sharp and exact. Merlin mostly stifled the sound he wanted to make.

Arthur's lips were red and swollen when he finally pulled back. "I'm buying you those trousers," he said.

Merlin gaped for a second before he felt a huge grin taking over his face. "You like them, huh?"

Arthur smirked. "Can you sneak us past the bouncer at a club? I think we should go dancing."

Merlin grimaced. "I don't really want a misuse of magic on my record." Magic used to commit a crime of any kind brought serious trouble in King Uther's Britain.

Arthur flinched and dropped his hand. "Shit, sorry Merlin. I wasn't thinking."

Merlin shrugged. It was what it was. "I bet Morgause would know somewhere we could go without getting carded," he offered.

Arthur looked at him carefully, probably trying to figure out if he was mad about the slip. Since Merlin really was okay, he let Arthur look. After a minute, Arthur relaxed. "Can we?"

Merlin quirked a smile at him. "Only if you wear something as revealing as these."

Arthur glanced down at Merlin's trousers. When he looked up, his eyes were gleaming. "You're on."

**

"People are staring."

Arthur smiled at him, loose and easy. "Mhmm. It's because you're so gorgeous."

Merlin fidgeted. He didn't know what to do with that, not with the compliment or with the staring. Arthur staring was fine, but he hadn't really factored other people in.

"It's weird," he finally opined. He could feel his shoulders hunching up defensively.

Arthur frowned. "Hey, no." He slipped one arm up around Merlin's shoulders. "Is it really bothering you?"

Merlin shrugged unhappily. He didn't want to ruin their date, but the staring was freaking him out. Arthur's face got all protective and he tugged Merlin into him until Merlin could bury his face in Arthur's shoulder. He let himself relax a moment. When he pulled back, everyone except some creeper at the bar was looking elsewhere. Merlin tilted his head a little and gave Arthur a questioning look. Arthur smiled a little. Merlin huffed and leaned in to kiss him. Like a reward for good behaviour, he figured.

Merlin lost track of the people around them for a little while. Between kissing and being close to Arthur, the awkwardness of dancing wore off. With Arthur's hands on him, he felt sexy instead of silly. And when he looked around, he saw a tough-looking guy with grey hair having firm words with Mr. Creepy. Merlin relaxed fully, enjoying himself.

It was maybe an hour later that he found himself fingering the red satin of Arthur's shirt, hands running up and down Arthur's side. He dropped his hands lower, resting on the trousers Arthur had picked out. They were a soft brown. Merlin didn't know what they were made out of, but they were very soft. Buttery. He stroked.

Arthur nuzzled his ear. "You've stopped dancing again."

Merlin looked up. "Sorry. Distracted."

Arthur ran a hand up Merlin's back and into his hair, dragging him into a kiss. "Want to go make out in a booth?"

Merlin felt himself blushing. He really, really did. He nodded and let Arthur lead him off the floor. They squished in tight together, and Arthur wasted no time diving into more kissing. Merlin wanted to drown in his mouth, in the electric snap that sizzled through him. He gasped as Arthur moved down, trailing his lips over Merlin's neck. The gentle scrape of teeth at his neck made Merlin bite his lip. He clenched his hands in Arthur's hair, silently begging him to do it again. He could feel Arthur's shaky breath against his skin.

"Fuck," Arthur said. He reared up and pushed Merlin's head back against the booth, claiming his mouth, and oh. Merlin whined and scrabbled at Arthur's back, wanting to tear his clothes off and get to skin. Every nerve in his body was telling him how incredibly good it would be to be pressed up against Arthur naked right now.

"We've got to get out of here." Arthur's eyes are dark. "Merlin, I can't-"

Merlin nodded frantically, already pushing Arthur to move out of the booth. They stumbled outside through a side door, hands tangled together. Merlin made it a few steps before Arthur pushed him face-first toward the outside wall of the club. Arthur pressed close behind him, one arm around Merlin's chest and the other tilting Merlin's face back for a kiss. The angle was weird, but it let Merlin feel a hint of Arthur's cock against his arse. The idea of it was so blazingly hot that Merlin pushed his hips back for more. Arthur broke the kiss with a low moan. They stayed like that for long moments, rocking against each other. Merlin was reaching the point where he needed to open his damn trousers already and get a hand on his dick.

"Arthur."

Arthur swore and stepped back. "What am I-?" Merlin couldn't help the bereft noise he made. The hands on his hips turning him around didn't really help. "Shh, no, Merlin, it's okay. Not like this. Not in an alley."

Merlin let the hands that came up to frame his face soothe some of the sting. Arthur stroked a thumb over his cheek. He looked so earnest; Merlin couldn't really get mad.

"I want all the parts of this. I don't want to rush."

Merlin narrowed his eyes. They'd see about that.

Arthur sighed and darted forward for another kiss. "We should probably go," he murmured against Merlin's lips.

**

Listening to Uther's rage-filled bellow through the study door, knowing it was his turn next, was bloody awful. Watching Arthur emerge, clear-eyed and calm, only to stop and brush a tender kiss over Merlin's lips, was worth it. Merlin knew he'd do it all again.

Thing #7

mabonwitch — Sat, 21 Apr 2012 23:10:20 GMT

Here we go, my next Merlin Magic Reveal rec and #7 on the 100 Things posting.

#7 Beltane (and sequels) astolat, 27.8k
R, Complete, AU at S1
4-3-4
Summary: Merlin saves Arthur with magic, Uther exiles them both when Arthur sides with Merlin, and they get into a ridiculous amount of trouble.
How It Happened: Someone else tells Arthur, Merlin saves Arthur's life
Reactions: Arthur is protective, Exile

mabonwitch — Mon, 16 Apr 2012 04:35:27 GMT

Title: Meeting Elena
Author: mabonwitch
Pairing: None
Rating: G
Wordcount: ~200
Summary: Elena pushes Arthur into the mud the first time they meet.
Content Notes: sexism (of the five-year-old-boy-girls-are-icky variety)
Author's Notes: Set in the In a Time of Magic 'verse. Hah, sorry, this is a ridiculous bit of fluff.

Arthur scowls ferociously. "I don't wanna spend time with a girl."

Elena scowls back, putting her hands on her hips. It doesn't look very scary, probably 'cause she's wearing this floofy white dress. "You take that back!"

Arthur doesn't stick out his tongue, but he wants to. He puffs out his chest instead. Elena may be a whole year older than him, but Arthur is the Prince! He's not going to let some stupid girl tell him what to do!

"No," he yells.

Elena pushes him. Arthur pushes back. By the time their distressed nannies get there, Elena has Arthur face-down in the mud, and they are both coated with it. Arthur's lip hurts from where she jabbed him in the face with her elbow. It's okay, though.

"Take it back," Elena snarls. "I'm not a stupid girl."

"Okay," Arthur says. And it isn't because she's won or anything; Arthur could totally get her back. He says it because she isn't.

Later, once Father is done lecturing on being a proper Prince and not attacking guests, even if Elena attacked him first, Arthur puts on his most charming smile.

"Can she come over again?"

Father pauses, blinks slowly. "You wish to see Elena again?"

Arthur nods, decisive, because Father likes it when he makes up his mind about stuff. "She's not a girl girl," he explains.

Father's lips twitch. "I'll see what I can do."

100 Things

mabonwitch — Fri, 13 Apr 2012 19:48:25 GMT

I've been infected with the desire to join the 100 Things Challenge. I pondered a few things, such as tracking down 100 pictures I find inspirational, or my 100 favorite quotes. But then I realized I actually already have something, something I've been meaning to get done and just haven't quite followed through on...

Remember my Merlin Magic Reveal Rec List? No? That's not surprising, as I posted the first batch of five entries and then left it. But! I am now committing, right here in front of y'all, to post 100 Merlin Magic Reveal Recs. Each fic or group of fics will be posted and updated to the main list.

And since I already have a post of five up, that starts me on #6, yes?

#6 August rageprufrock 10,000
R, Complete, AU at S1
3-4-3
Summary: Arthur and Merlin go to visit Hunith. Arthur figures some things out while they're there. Or: (Merlin, shut up, don't judge me) Merlin looked uncertainly to Arthur. “Have you ever made bread?” he asked. / “How hard could it be?” Arthur said.
How It Happened: Merlin tells Arthur, Arthur figures it out
Reactions: Arthur is happy

Fic: In the Councilroom

mabonwitch — Wed, 07 Mar 2012 05:06:07 GMT

Title: In the Councilroom
Author: mabonwitch
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~500
Summary: Arthur misunderstands how disagreeing in public will affect his private relationship with Merlin. Merlin…explains.
Notes: Fourth in the Magical D/s series
Content Notes: D/s, manhandling, orgasm denial, facial, blink-and-you'll-miss-it feminizing

Merlin threw Arthur back against the table.

Arthur gasped and scrambled up. His eyes were wide, his hair mussed. "Sorry, I'm sorry, Merlin."

Merlin smiled thinly at Arthur. "Do you think I'm angry, Arthur?"

Arthur looked around the recently-emptied council room. "Yes?"

He sounded so uncertain; Merlin almost took pity on him. He crowded forward into Arthur's space and grabbed him by the hair.

"No," he corrected. "I'm not angry, Arthur. This-" He shook Arthur roughly by the hair, loving the way he fought not to jerk away, how all his muscles trembled with the strain of it. "-this is just because I want to."

"But-"

Merlin narrowed his eyes. "Shut up now, Arthur."

Arthur looked like he would protest again, so Merlin pulled him down by his hair, until he got the message and went to his knees. Merlin sighed and widened his stance, making a place for Arthur between his thighs. Arthur breathed out noisily, his pupils widening and turning his eyes dark. Merlin smiled.

"Stay." He let go of Arthur. Merlin took his time, unlacing his breeches leisurely. Arthur gasped and trembled and stared. Watching him try to control himself had its usual effect; Merlin's prick twitched and rose to the occasion. Finally, he pushed his breeches down his thighs. He sighed with expansive pleasure, amusement and desire warring at Arthur's unguarded, longing gaze. He took Arthur's jaw in one hand, coaxing it open. Not bothering to aim too carefully, he smeared his cock over Arthur's face before pressing in.

Sighing again in pleasure, Merlin stroked a hand through Arthur's hair. He'd trained well to this; he knew now that Merlin would punish him if he sucked or licked before Merlin allowed it. For now, Merlin used his mouth like a cunt, warm and hot. He pumped lazily in and out.

Eventually, he told Arthur, "Use your tongue on the head, now." Arthur whimpered and did as he was told. Merlin leaned forward and braced a hand on the table. "There," he said, breath quickening, "good."

Arthur moaned around his cock on the next thrust in and Merlin gasped. "Suck," he ordered. "Don't move."

He could feel Arthur's eagerness in the tightness of his lips and the movements of his tongue. Merlin sped up his thrusts. "Whatever you do as king," he gritted through his rising orgasm, "I will always see you like this"

With a mighty effort, Merlin pulled out and came, striping Arthur's face and tunic. Merlin grinned and leaned down to lick a broad swath over Arthur's cheek to his ear. "Clear?"

Arthur swallowed several times before he could speak. "Clear," he croaked.

Merlin believed him. He tucked his cock away and laced up his breeches. Casually, he swiped a finger through the come on Arthur face and sucked it into his mouth.

"Mmm. Well, I have duties to attend to." He headed for the door, leaving Arthur on his knees. "Have a good afternoon. Sire."

Fic: Coming of Age

mabonwitch — Fri, 17 Feb 2012 21:39:26 GMT

Title: Coming of Age
Author: mabonwitch
Paring: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG-13
Words: ~1700
Summary: Merlin's magic wakes up.
Notes: Fourth in the In a Time of Magic series. Sixteen year olds snogging, probably completely unrealistic imagining of boarding school dormitories

Many thanks for the beta work by the lovely lolafeist without whom there would have been a great deal more "was" in this story.. Any remaining mistakes are my own!

Merlin was a grumbling mass of blankets when Arthur got to his dorm. It was ridiculous, but also a little endearing, the way he managed to create a blanket nest in his sleep.

"Hey," Arthur said quietly, "are you OK?"

The answer came out indistinct. Arthur sighed. Merlin was not a morning person, but he was usually at least upright by the time Arthur made it to his rooms. Though there had been days…Arthur smiled, remembering the morning of Merlin's first hangover (Gwaine's fault) or the time they'd stayed up until two a.m. to put the finishing touches on a prank (Arthur's fault). But Arthur had tucked Merlin in himself at ten last night, quite sober. Had nerves kept him up, or was something wrong?

"Hey," he tried again, "happy birthday?" Silence. Arthur gnawed on his lip. "It doesn't hurt, does it?" He winced at how plaintive his voice sounded.

Merlin's head finally emerged. His hair stuck up in spikes on one side and fell flat on the other, and his eyes were crusty. "No," he grumbled. "Just exhausting." He hesitated. "I don't think it's hit properly, yet."

"Oh." Arthur nudged him over and sat on the side of the bed. "It's Wednesday. We're supposed to be in class in half an hour," he said.

Merlin gave him a sleepy smirk. "Sorcerers get their sixteenth off."

"What!" Arthur mock-scowled. "Lucky bastard. I wish I'd had my sixteenth birthday off."

Merlin chuckled. His voice had deepened over the last few months, and the rumble of it made Arthur's skin shiver. Arthur ignored it as best he could. "I'll bet," Merlin said.

Arthur's birthday had required a number of state visits and diplomatic maneuvering, so the boys had decided to celebrate the night before. Arthur had got spectacularly drunk. Merlin, at his request, had magically locked Arthur, his five closest friends, and himself, in a room. Merlin had been the only one not wincing the next day.

"Is anyone checking on you?" Ever since Merlin had explained the whole magical coming of age business, Arthur had worried over this day. Merlin's nerves hadn't helped. ("I'm already powerful enough that some of the teachers look at me funny, what's it going to be like after this?" Arthur had patted him on the back and promised he would always think Merlin was weird, which had resulted in a brief tussle.).

Merlin yawned broadly. "Gaius has a magic watch up, in case anything goes wrong."

Arthur was not reassured. "I can stay."

Merlin frowned. "Don't be stupid. Besides, it's sort of private."

Arthur frowned back. "What do you mean, 'private'?"

Merlin's mouth twisted to one side like it did when he was confused. "Having the rest of your magic come is like…an epiphany."

Arthur blinked at him, his skepticism readily apparent when he asked, "An epiphany?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Look, I don't know, OK? I've never done this before! I'll tell you when it's over." He flopped sulkily back on the mattress. "Now go away. I'm having a lie in."

Arthur stood back up, defeated. "Promise you'll come get me if you need me."

Merlin peered up at him, his expression softening. He breathed out a sigh. "Yeah, OK." He reached up and squeezed Arthur's hand. "I will," he promised.

Arthur squeezed back, and left.

**

Despite his fussing that morning, Arthur hadn't expected to see Merlin again until at least supper, and maybe not at all. So when Merlin burst into his room, buzzing with energy and looking wild-eyed, Arthur was considerably surprised. He pushed his maths aside and stood. "Merlin?"

"Arthur." His eyes were mostly gold. He managed to focus briefly on Owain and Gwaine, who both looked startled, more so when Merlin ordered, "Out."

Arthur felt his gut knot in anxiety and his body tensed for an emergency. He nodded at the others, a silent I'll-explain-later all that was needed. The door clicked shut behind them before Arthur found his voice again. "Merlin?"

Merlin came toward him, right up until he was bumping into him, but Arthur didn't back away. In the next second, he was desperately glad he hadn't. Merlin closed his eyes, and kissed him. His mouth mashed open over Arthur's, his tongue slicking curiously over Arthur's lips. Some distant part of his brain was wittering on about side-effects and vulnerability and doing the right thing. Thankfully, the front of his brain was thinking holy fuck, Merlin is kissing me. Um, badly. and then because he's never kissed anyone else like this, which was enough to let him unfreeze and kiss back.

For someone who tripped over his shoelaces, Merlin was delightfully responsive to Arthur's instructions in kissing, which mostly involved tongues and a hand on his jaw. Arthur was bizarrely reminded of teaching Merlin to play croquet and wished his brain would shut up already and let him kiss in peace. They snogged enthusiastically for a few blissful, heady minutes, long enough to make Arthur dizzy. Just when he was getting to the point when he either needed to pull back for air, or see if Merlin was up for more than a bit of kissing, Merlin abruptly sagged against him. Arthur backed out of the kiss, let Merlin tuck his face against the crook of Arthur's shoulder.

It was about then that Arthur realized Merlin was shaking. Automatically, Arthur reached up a hand and laid it on Merlin's shoulder. They stood there for a moment.

"A-arthur." Merlin's voice sounded pained. "My m-magic…I c-can't."

The shaking increased. Arthur tightened his grip, pulling Merlin into his body. He wanted to protect Merlin from whatever was happening, whatever force was tearing at him. "Ssh," he said, "I've got you."

Merlin made a desperate sound. "Promise?"

Arthur barely managed a "Yeah," before Merlin was kissing him again, and this time it was different. It burned, searing straight through Arthur's veins and seizing his heart. Something tightened and snapped, almost like coming. Arthur moaned in pleasure.

Merlin stepped back. His eyes were bluer now, his expression intense. He cupped Arthur's jaw with his palm, his face glowing with awe. "Arthur," he said. And then, "I hope you meant it."

Arthur swallowed heavily. "'Course I did." He couldn't help it if it came out sounding like I want to bone you against the door. That had been some kiss.

Despite his assurance, Merlin looked nervous. "I- my magic did something."

Arthur nodded. When nothing further was forthcoming, he prodded him. "Start at the beginning."

Merlin nodded, his head bobbing too many times. "Right." He licked his lips, looking a little nervous but mostly just strung out on whatever had happened. "It was…normal. I mean, about how I expected." He went quiet for a second. "Not normal, exactly," he said quietly, "because of the whole, you know-" He waved his arms about. Arthur felt his lips quirking in a smile. That was Merlin for the whole I-am-insanely-powerful thing. Arthur did know, yes. "But then-" Merlin took a big breath, "-then my magic started thrashing. Like that time Percival was trying to tickle Kay to death, and I'm trying to hold onto it for all I'm worth but it's honestly a bit concerning and I can't even tell if I've set Gaius' alarms off so I don't know if I'm in trouble and I was maybe thinking I wished you were there?"

Arthur, who had been getting increasingly uneasy the more Merlin rambled, finally couldn't hold it anymore. "Are you alright?"

Merlin blinked, mouth gaping. "What? Oh! Yeah, I'm fine now." He gave Arthur a sheepish smile. "Sorry, didn't mean to- anyway. My magic goes real quiet all the sudden. Then it starts pulling me. After a minute, I figure out it wants me to go find you. I remember thinking I wasn't sure that was safe. But then, uh." Merlin blushed. "Then I wasn't thinking anymore," he finished lamely.

Arthur had a startled moment to realize exactly what kind of "not thinking" Merlin had been engaged in. "And…you came here."

Merlin shrugged, dropping his eyes bashfully. "I just needed…"

"Someone to snog?" Arthur suggested.

Merlin's voice was low and angry. "You, you utter prat."

"Oh!" Arthur's heart, which had settled down, began to pound again. "Sorry," he offered. "Your magic did something?"

Merlin twitched. "Um. I…think it sort of latched on to you? You…grounded it, somehow."

Arthur struggled to remember the term from his Magic lectures. "Grounding. That's like it is in electricity?"

Merlin wiggled his hand from side to side. "Sort of. The effect was closer to calming it down." He laughed shortly. "Little unnerving, honestly. One minute I'm in the middle of a storm, the next I'm sitting in a calm lake and we're kissing."

Arthur flinched. "Do you regret it?"

Merlin looked at him, and there was such trust, such honesty there. Merlin always looked at him like that, behind the good-natured ribbing. "No," he said. "Do you?"

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. "No." Arthur could feel himself going red. "You know I-"

Merlin smiled at him, joy making his face light up. "Yeah," he said. "I think my magic- I dunno. It's like, all the sudden, I can feel."

Arthur shuddered. He needed to stop having this conversation before he did something stupid. "You still look exhausted," he said, noting it was true. There were dark bruises under Merlin's eyes and he was paler than usual.

Merlin hesitated, then his shoulders drooped. "Yeah."

"Well? Go on then." He tilted his head at the bed.

Surprised pleasure bloomed on Merlin's face. Naturally, he didn't do as suggested, instead stepping close. He leaned into Arthur, chest to chest and cheek to cheek, like they were slow-dancing at a ball. Arthur's arms came up automatically to fold Merlin close and he found himself blind-sided by how right it felt.

"Arthur," Merlin murmured.

Arthur stroked a slow hand through Merlin's hair, trying to speak around the knot in his throat. "Merlin."

Merlin hummed in contentment. After a minute, Merlin pulled back. He shucked his shoes and crawled into Arthur's bed, burrowing under the covers. Arthur sat back at his desk. He watched as Merlin's breathing slowly deepened into sleep.

Then he watched awhile longer.

*Additional note: If you got here via merlinxarthur, you should know that because not all parts of this story feature Arthur and Merlin, most parts have been posted at merlin_tv and my livejournal.

beta beg

mabonwitch — Thu, 09 Feb 2012 03:40:55 GMT

Anyone up to betaing ~1700 words of Arthur/Merlin? No sex, just a bit of kissing, as they're still figuring their relationship out in this snippet.

Merlin Magic Reveal Recs

mabonwitch — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 05:06:09 GMT

Welcome, all, to the first installment of my Merlin magic reveal recs.

What are those numbers? That, my dears, is my personal rating system. It indicates my take on how good the pOrn-pRose-plot of each story is. It is, in short, the story's ORL rating. A 3 is an "OK, this didn't distract me from the story." A porny 5 means orgasm-inducing, a prose 5 made me laugh out loud and/or quote half the fic to someone, a plot 5 made left me impressed with the writer's genius. If I've left a question mark in the "porn" marker, it probably isn't rated high enough to have porn.

How will this be updated? I'm planning on adding a few fics every week or two until I've run through my current list of Merlin magic reveal recs. Recs are essentially anything I liked enough to save to my hard drive. I am likely missing many shorter fics, as I tend to read those online.

Oh, I know a great fic you should add! First, please wait until I am past the alphabeticasl place where the fic you have in mind would go. Still don't see it? Please send me a PM with a link, and I'll go read it!

Anything else I should know? This rec list is spoilery! Each fic is labeled with which Season, roughly, it happened in. They are also tagged with How It Happened: Merlin tells Arthur, Merlin saves Arthur's life, Merlin saves someone else, Merlin is caught out, Arthur figures it out and Reactions: banishment, execution, threat of execution, imprisonment, prison break, magic supressors, Arthur is angry, Arthur is hurt, Arthur doesn't really care, Arthur is curious, Arthur is horny, Arthur takes drastic action to save/free Merlin, Arthur has the sense that he sort of knew all along. Also, I have not warned for anything. Please read the author's warnings before proceeding!

Alright, go play!

A Fistful of Infinity and Starlight junkshop_disco, 63k
NC-17, Set in AU of S4, Gwaine/Merlin
4-3-4
Summary: Uther’s insane, Morgana’s plotting a new assault on Camelot, and Arthur and his knights are clueless but supposedly in charge. In the midst of it, Gwaine finds himself harbouring feelings for a man who apparently has a destiny, and learns something new about magic: it doesn’t play fair, and serving it shakes everything you hold dear – whether you’re a sorcerer or not. (Gwaine/Merlin, with Arthur/Gwen, Gwen/Lancelot, Leon/mead on the side)
How It Happened: Merlin tells Arthur, Merlin tells someone else
Reactions: banishment, Arthur is angry, threat of execution

A Long Way to Go Before We are Truly Divine Staraflur, 45k
R, AU pre-canon, Arthur/Merlin
4-4-4
Summary: When Uther is killed by Nimueh, Arthur and his men retreat to Ealdor, where they meet Merlin. Merlin is rather annoyed by Arthur's prattishness but Gaius convinces him they have a shared destiny. Slowly, Merlin sees the shape of it and agrees to help Arthur take back his throne.
How It Happened: Merlin saves Arthur’s life
Reactions: Arthur is angry, Arthur has the sense that he sort of knew all along

All Its Splendid Glory lozenger8 8k
PG-13, AU S2, Arthur/Merlin
?-5-4
Summary: In the two years and five months Merlin has known him, Arthur has been enchanted to love people he ordinarily wouldn’t nine times. Merlin simply never expects Arthur to be enchanted to love him.
How It Happened: Arthur figures it out
Reactions: Arthur doesn’t really care

And None But We Can Be Such Kings janne_d 8.8k
NC-17, AU S1, Arthur/Merlin
4-3-4
Summary: Arthur courts a bunch ladies for politics. Merlin tries ease the situation before Arthur explodes.
How It Happened: Arthur figures it out
Reactions: Arthur doesn’t really care

Ascension myashke 66k
NC-17, AU S3, Arthur/Merlin
4-3-4
Summary: Faced with the harsh reality of another attack on his father, Arthur sets out to complete the Rites of Ascension alone and unaided, but, as he and Merlin discover, he was never meant to succeed alone.
How It Happened: Arthur figures it out, Merlin tells Arthur
Reactions: Arthur is hurt, Arthur is angry

#6 August rageprufrock 10,000
R, Complete, AU at S1
3-4-3
Summary: Arthur and Merlin go to visit Hunith. Arthur figures some things out while they're there. Or: (Merlin, shut up, don't judge me) Merlin looked uncertainly to Arthur. “Have you ever made bread?” he asked. / “How hard could it be?” Arthur said.
How It Happened: Merlin tells Arthur, Arthur figures it out
Reactions: Arthur is happy

#7 Beltane (and sequels) astolat, 27.8k
R, Complete, AU at S1
4-3-4
Summary: Merlin saves Arthur with magic, Uther exiles them both when Arthur sides with Merlin, and they get into a ridiculous amount of trouble.
How It Happened: Someone else tells Arthur, Merlin saves Arthur's life
Reactions: Arthur is protective, Exile

Happy Merlinversary to Me!

mabonwitch — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 04:35:53 GMT

Today is my one-year anniversary in Merlin fandom- at least, in writing here. I checked. The very first thing I wrote, which is a repost of some comment porn for leashy_bebes follows.

Title: Sweetness
Wordcount: ~3,000
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Summary: Arthur sees Merlin in a dress.
Notes: crossdressing, semi-public sex, dirty talk, extremely unlikely existence of "alternative" pubs in canon era. Written before I saw 2x09, btw.

Sweetness, you can come home with me
Against all hope and sense of decency
Sweetness, take off that dress for me
Against all hope and sense of dignity

And the world spins round and I don't care any more

Oh sweetness, you can fall in love with me
Against all hope and sense of dignity
My sweetness, you can come be by my side
Against all hope and sense of human pride

And the world spins round and I don't care any more
And the world spins round and I don't care any more

Merlin has absolutely no idea where the desire to do it came from. He thinks maybe it's Gwen's fault, because once he'd, OK, maybe been somewhere he technically shouldn't have been and he'd asked for help and she'd bundled him up in a spare maid's uniform to get him out. She'd thought it was hilarious, teasing him about his fetching figure in whispers for weeks after.

This was not that dress. Merlin gulped. He looked at himself in Arthur's mirror, smoothing the silky red gown down his front. This was something completely different.

He knew he was taking a risk, doing this here, but Arthur was supposed to be out on a hunting trip overnight. And it wasn't as though there was a plethora of mirrors around the castle: of Arthur, Morgana, and the king, he'd really prefer to be caught here.

Besides, it was dark out. Everyone but the guards was bedded down for the night. At least, in the castle. Merlin snuffed the candle carefully.

He wasn't planning on staying in the castle.

Merlin threw a cloak over the dress, but really, he thought, it wasn't as though he was going to get caught. He'd made his way down to the lower city after curfew so many times he could probably manage it blindfolded. Merlin shivered faintly. Not that he was going to let anyone blindfold him. Though if he was, he sort of got the feeling that the place he was headed for was the right kind of place. An anything-goes sort of place that it had taken nearly a month of spying on the knights and servants alike to discover.

Merlin made the walk quickly, darting from shadow to shadow behind the guards. Once he got out of the castle, it was easier. He drew little notice as most people were either asleep or drunk. With one nervous, steadying breath, he approached the place he'd been told of and knocked, three sharp raps.

After a moment, the door opened a crack and a tall, broad-shouldered man filled the door. He looked suspiciously at Merlin. "What's a lady like you doing-" Merlin let his cloak slip a little, framing his face. "Ah." The man's face softened. "Welcome to the den," he said, and backed up to let Merlin pass.

Comment!porn 3

Merlin expected it to be creepy but it's actually...not. The den (seriously? As in "a den of inequity"?) was pretty well lit. There were maybe a dozen, well, he'd say tables but they weren't all tables. Um. OK, so Merlin isn't sure what all of the...stations?...are. One is sort of a table, only with some metal bolts sticking out and a man is tied down to it. Merlin has a panicked moment of 'oh gods, don't look before he realizes that a lot of people are looking. So apparently looking is OK here.

Merlin takes a look around and edges himself toward one of the less frightening tables and sits. He sort of wishes that he could find a dim corner, but there don't appear to be any. There are an abundance of candles and a few torches on the wall, rare in a tavern. And there are people.

Merlin remembers when he first came to Camelot, how he thought he'd never seen so many different kinds of people in his life. After two years, he thought he'd figured it out. There were knights, and servants, nobles and royalty, merchants, raiders, and the occasional evil sorcerer or sorceress.

The people here didn't quite seem like any of that. The man, for example. His hair and the muscles said he was a fighter. Yet he was naked and tied down and seemed, uh, quite happy. Merlin couldn't imagine any of the knights leaving themselves so vulnerable. (But then, how exactly would he know?) And there was a couple over in the corner, but Merlin didn't think any nobleman would let his daughter out dressed in that, nor would they let some fellow cut it off her. And he could swear that was a wealthy merchant looking softly at a stable hand, the two men leaning in for a kiss a moment after Merlin saw them.

Gradually, a picture formed. Merlin realized it was just what he'd been told: a place where anyone...unusual was welcome.

Part 4

Merlin's been sitting for about an hour when it happens. He's relaxed some, he'd even got up to get ale. There's another room off of the one he's in, he knows. Periodically, someone will come in or go out. From the noises, he thinks it might be even raunchier than the main room, and Merlin is simultaneously curious and embarrassed.

Another tumble of noise that sounds like a bizarre cross between sparring and fucking jerks his head around to look. Three men are coming out, laughing together. Merlin doesn't know two of them but he would recognize the third man anywhere. He has barely a moment to think oh no, oh gods, he's going to see me before Arthur is turning. Merlin hunches hopefully into his cloak but of course Arthur is good at this sort of thing and notices him right away. His expression is kind of funny actually; his eyes actually bulge. He waves his companions off and comes striding toward Merlin. There is, fuck, absolutely no way Arthur is not going to notice that Merlin is wearing a dress. Not a chance.

Arthur stops at the edge of the table and, yes, definitely notices the dress. "Hunting trip?" Merlin hates his tendency to blurt things, but every once in awhile it is useful.

Arthur's jaw works a few times, silently. His mouth twists and he says, "I couldn't exactly say I wanted to-" He waves enigmatically at the room. Merlin can't believe how badly he wants Arthur to finish that statement. What does Arthur do here? His brain goes into overload trying to picture Arthur doing every single thing he's witnessed tonight, from both ends. He's almost caught by surprise when Arthur says, very softly, "Merlin?"

Part 5

Nervously, Merlin licks his lips. "Yes?"

Arthur is staring, eyes dark. "Can I- sit?"

Merlin has never seen him this uncertain about something personal. He swallows, nods. His heart is pounding and he can feel himself blushing in slow motion. Arthur is just staring at him, not saying anything, and Merlin begins to shake slightly.

Arthur blinks and frowns, but it's more worried than angry. "I-" He reaches across the table and takes one of Merlin's hands in his, big and warm and says, "Merlin! You know I'm not going to hurt you, don't you?"

"I- yes," he says, uncertain, "I mean, I know that. Truly."

He thinks Arthur will let go of his hand, then, but he doesn't. Instead he squeezes gently. After a long moment, he says, "That's a nice dress." Merlin doesn't quite know what to think of that, can't tell if Arthur is teasing or what.

"Uh," he stutters, "thanks?"

Arthur grins at him, that rare smile that means I really do like you, even if I'm a prat sometimes and Merlin shivers again, this time for a completely different reason.

Part 6

"Why are you-"

Arthur sort of freezes, then takes a deep breath. "It's just. Sometimes I need." His eyes slide away from Merlin's, and Merlin squirms. "Um. Men." Arthur looks back at him and gives him a quick guilty smile.

That's it? Just men? "You're surrounded by the knights all day," Merlin says stupidly.

Arthur squeezes his hand. "Exactly."

Merlin blinks. Oh. "Oh!" That- right, that makes some sort of sense.

Arthur looks even more embarrassed now. "I need them to work together," he says, all in a rush, "to fight as a unit. I can't- There can't be any sort of favoritism. And, gods, what if one of them who didn't really want- approached me because they thought-"

Merlin is nodding, because that really is precisely like Arthur, like the king he will one day be. His heart skips a beat, admiration swelling in him. "So you come here," and, shit, he hadn't meant to sound breathless when he said that.

Arthur's eyes focus back on him again. "Yes," he says, voice hoarse. "And you come here to..." He nods at the dress.

Merlin can't quite catch his breath as he nods slightly.

Part 7

"Merlin," Arthur says suddenly, "did you come down here like that?"

"Yes?"

Arthur is giving him an odd look. "Where," he says very precisely, "did you change?"

Merlin feels the blush, which had been gradually subsiding, rush back into his face. "Um."

Arthur smirks. "Merlin," and, oh fuck, that's the you idiot tone. "Did you change in my chambers?"

Merlin gives Arthur a sort of helpless look. He's always been a crap liar. If Arthur ever asks if he's a warlock, he's dead. This, though, Arthur looks wickedly amused.

In fact, he lets go of Merlin's hand and leans back in his chair, all lazy grace. "That's a yes, then. Why?"

Merlin gulps. Arthur looks like a predator, now, like he's measuring Merlin before a battle. It does what it always does to him; Merlin goes hard under the dress. "Mirror," he croaks out.

Arthur crosses his arms, eyes lidded. "And you wanted to see." He makes it sound dirty, Merlin thinks. And then, oh gods, is Arthur hitting on him? The thought sends more blood pulsing downward. Arthur scrapes back his chair and holds out a peremptory hand. "Come here."

Part 8

Merlin stands shakily because there is nothing else to do, and gives Arthur his hand. "There's a mirror here," Arthur says, guiding him toward the back. Merlin nearly swallows his tongue when they cross into the other room, flashes of flesh and a flogger and someone dressed only in boots sending him stumbling forward. Arthur steadies him, ignores it all and guides him to a corner.

They stop in front of a mirror. It is a full length one, like Morgana has. Arthur stands behind him and puts his hands on Merlin's hips to center Merlin in front of it. "There," Arthur says. Merlin drinks up how he looks hungrily, the red making his lips bright and clinging down his body, his cock obvious against the fabric. Arthur makes a small sound behind him, and his voice is rough and unmistakably hungry when he says, "Merlin."

Merlin shivers, eyes fluttering closed, and leans back. Arthur pulls him in, tight, then turns him and kisses him. Merlin drowns in it.

Part 9

Arthur kisses exactly like he sounded a moment ago. Merlin feels like he's being eaten alive and he moans helplessly with it. Arthur has a hand in his hair and is making short, urgent noises into Merlin's mouth. It takes surprisingly little time for Arthur's other hand to end up on Merlin's ass. Merlin clings, hands knotted in Arthur's tunic, which he is never, ever going to be able to regard the same way again. The red from Arthur's jacket and Merlin's dress match. Merlin wonders if he picked the dress with this subconsciously in mind. Arthur backs him up and then Merlin's back is, fuck, pressed against the mirror and he has a wonderful, dirty moment imagining what they look like.

Part 10

Merlin's eyes close against the sight of all that red, bleeding into each other. Arthur, gods, the heat of him is just sinking in, and Merlin, who has spent his whole life a little cold, wants more. He lets go of Arthur's tunic and slides his arms around him, under that damn jacket, clutching at muscles he's watched on the practice field.

Arthur releases his mouth with a gasp and trails hot, nipping kisses down Merlin's neck. Merlin's head falls back heavily to rest against the mirror. Oh. He didn't know how sensitive that was. He opens and closes his hands against Arthur's back helplessly. More, gods he wants more. Arthur moves closer, using his chest to pin Merlin.

"Good," Arthur whispers against his skin, "good, Merlin, so good." It wrenches a moan from Merlin. Arthur pulls back, eyes dark. "Turn around," he says.

A little off balance, Merlin turns to see himself in the mirror again. And it's, wow, so much better now. He looks flushed and sexy. Arthur is panting in his ear, nuzzling a careful kiss, fingers brushing along the nape of his neck. Oh. He's- oh. Arthur keeps his touch soft and careful as he unlaces the back of the dress. He keeps whispering Merlin's name, unexpectedly tender. When the top is loose, practically falling off, Arthur puts a palm flat against his back, skin to skin. He uses the other arm to wrap against Merlin's chest, pulling him back into an embrace. "See," he murmurs, and slides his hand around to rest against Merlin's stomach.

Merlin quivers. Arthur's hand is like a fucking brand and he wants, gods, to come out of his skin. Or possibly just for Arthur to move, to move his hand just a few inches and wrap around Merlin's cock. Merlin has never been this hard in his life. He can hear the sound he makes, near sobbing. Arthur licks slowly at his ear and inches his hand down. "Yes?"

Arthur actually sounds hesitant, and Merlin can barely even think. He just thrusts his hips forward obscenely and hisses. "Yes!" Arthur wraps a hand around him and it is glorious, the best thing ever. Merlin makes more noises, unable to stop, he never wants to stop, and he thinks maybe he says this because Arthur huffs quietly. The blinding goodness of it makes him whine. "Faster," he says. Arthur tries but the angle isn't good. Merlin thinks he's going to die.

Part 11

Practically snarling, Arthur wrenches his hand away. The shock of it brings Merlin to his senses, enough that he protests when Arthur tries to tear the dress off him entirely.

Arthur's eyes are wide and confused. "Merlin?"

"I-" Merlin swallows, clutching his dress. "I don't want everyone to see."

The sense of this takes a moment to penetrate but Merlin can see when Arthur gets it. His face softens. He nods and draws Merlin close, kissing him gently. "I won't let anyone see," he says and it sounds like a promise. Holding him close, Arthur steers him again through the room to a corner where there are several curtained off beds. "Here," Arthur says, and pushes Merlin into one.

Merlin turns, half-sprawled, to watch Arthur shed his boots and crawl in. He looks bright, eyes shining, lips red. Arthur takes Merlin's boots off him and eases the fastening at his wrists open. He bends over Merlin, kissing him blind. This time, Merlin lets Arthur arch his back off the bed and peel his dress down. He expects to end naked, but Arthur leaves the dress pooled around his waist. "What," he asks hazily.

Arthur leans back, eyes flashing, and strips off his jacket, tunic, and shirt. Then he rolls onto Merlin and Merlin moans. Arthur is hot, his skin flushed and pressed close, and Merlin can't get enough. He doesn't know when he started touching Arthur, just that his back and chest and stomach are rippling under Merlin's hands. Arthur's mouth is ravaging his, licking and biting, tongue plunging. Every once in awhile, Arthur will grind his hips down and Merlin's hips leap in response. Merlin is desperate for contact; he wants Arthur's hands and his mouth and his cock and everything.

Part 12

Finally, finally, Arthur eases the bottom of his dress up until his cock is revealed. Merlin has a moment to feel horribly exposed while Arthur fumbles at his breeches. The second they're at his knees, Arthur covers him. The feel of Arthur's cock next to his short-circuits something in his brain. Keening, Merlin arches. Arthur answers with a long, deep moan, rolling his hips down, and again. Merlin clings to the bed and wraps his legs around Arthur. Arthur has one hand on the bed and one hand on Merlin's hip and the intent look on his face makes Merlin's eyes roll back for a second. Arthur, gods, Arthur, is trying to make him come. He's going to just fly apart, just, any second-

"Merlin," Arthur growls, and that's fucking it. Merlin is coming, like the best rush of magic he's ever done. As his thighs go limp, Arthur tenses above him, head going back. His jaw drops open and Merlin feels the wet rush of his come over his belly.

They lie there for a moment, in a fucked out heap. Arthur stirs and kisses his eyelids, soft and sweet. Merlin smiles sleepily and shifts a bit. They'd probably better get the come off before- oh no! He struggles up. "My dress!" A surge of dismay hits him. There is, indeed, come all over the dress, impossible to get clean properly. It had taken nearly a year's wages to get this dress. He feels like crying.

Arthur pulls him close. "I'll get you another."

Merlin blinks at him stupidly.

Arthur huffs. "Merlin. I'll get you an entire fucking wardrobe."

Merlin blushes. That's- oh. "Really?"

"Really," Arthur answers, smiling. "Trust me."

Merlin melts. "I do," he whispers. "I trust you."

Arthur squeezes him. "Good."

...The END. *collapses in exhausted heap*

Wow...

mabonwitch — Sat, 28 Jan 2012 23:08:39 GMT

That was a fairly epic writing sprint by my standards. And now my kinkspiration entry is done! Anyway up to doing a quick beta for 3,000 words of underage Arthur/Morgana porn?

Fic: First Kiss

mabonwitch — Sun, 27 Nov 2011 01:43:23 GMT

Title: First Kiss
Author: mabonwitch
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG
Words: 566
Summary: When they're fifteen, Arthur kisses Merlin.
Notes: Third in the "In a Time of Magic" series. Underage kissing, minor angst.

Merlin touched a finger to his lips and blinked. Arthur watched him hopefully.

"Well," Merlin said, "that was different."

Arthur drooped, suddenly finding the floor interesting. Not quite the response he was hoping for when he kissed Merlin. "Interesting," he said flatly.

"Yeah." Merlin's face was crinkling in that way it did when he was processing half a step behind everyone else. It amazed Arthur that someone who had so much trouble figuring out normal human interactions could do so well in their classes. "I mean," Merlin went on, "I've never kissed a guy before."

Arthur stiffened and tried not to remember Freya and the semester she'd hung about before disappearing who-knew-where. Watching her make cow's eyes at Merlin had been torture.

"Right," Arthur said. He began inching away, an urge to hide in his dorm and never come out coiling up his spine. "I'll just-"

"What? Wait!"

Arthur paused, ill-advised hope rising.

"Not a bad interesting," Merlin protested. "Just, you know, interesting. I've never really thought about it before."

When nothing more was forthcoming, Arthur nodded cautiously. "I've- thought about it. A bit." If by 'a bit', one meant 'all the bloody time, including time I should be sleeping'. But there was no need for Merlin to know that. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur could see Merlin studying him curiously. Arthur winced internally. He was really going to have to stop finding all of Merlin's expressions adorable. Assuming Merlin still wanted to be his friend after this.

"Oh no," Merlin said. "Come on, Arthur, don't be all- you've got your awkward penguin face on."

Arthur tried to relax his facial muscles, but a lifetime of hiding any uncomfortable emotion behind a formal mask was hard to overcome. Besides, Arthur was finding it difficult to look at Merlin.

Merlin grabbed his wrist. "Don't," he said again. "It's not- look; it's not a big deal, all right?" Arthur wanted to punch him and declare that yes, it was a big deal. Instead, he nodded. "I mean, it's not like I'm going to pop out and tell everyone. Or anyone! We'll just- you’re my friend."

Arthur swallowed. It was like getting punched in the face. "Right."

Merlin bit his lip. "Sorry. If I felt that way about anyone, it'd be you. But I just, um. Haven't figured that stuff out yet."

Arthur blinked, the tense feeling in his throat easing slightly. "Stuff?"

"Sex. Um. Stuff." And now Merlin was blushing a bright red.

Arthur quirked an eyebrow, faintly disbelieving. "Merlin, we're fifteen. Are you telling me you haven't…?" Arthur wasn't quite sure what he was asking. He didn't think Merlin had had sex or anything, but there was a difference between that and not knowing what gender you were attracted to.

Merlin's shoulders hunched up defensively. He scowled at the ground as he answered Arthur. "I just haven't got around to it."

Arthur eyed him. "So you're…what? A late bloomer?"

Merlin kicked the toe of his shoe against the floor. "Arthur, I swear, if you start breaking out in flower metaphors like that god-awful sex ed teacher last year, I will hit you."

Arthur huffed a tiny laugh. "Yeah, OK."

Merlin smirked. "I think I'm having a deleterious effect on your vocabulary, Your Highness."

Arthur swatted at him. "Idiot. Shut up." His tutors would probably be horrified. Arthur figured he was allowed some time to be a person and not just a Prince. He hesitated, but added, "Keep it in mind?"

Merlin gave him an embarrassed smile. "Yeah, I will."

They would be all right. Somehow.

mabonwitch — Wed, 23 Nov 2011 05:14:25 GMT

Title: Restraint
Author: mabonwitch
Rating: PG
Words: 430
Summary: Merlin remembers exactly why keeping the strength of his magic under wraps is important.
Notes: Second story in the "In a Time of Magic" series. Magical-ism. (Shush, I'm making it a word.)

"Merlin! Concentrate."

Merlin bowed his head and looked up through his lashes at Gaius. The older man softened, his scowl morphing into a sigh.

"Merlin, I know you want to do more advanced work. But for that to be possible, you must master the Incarcerate Incantations first." He slanted an eyebrow at Merlin. "You know why it's important."

Merlin winced. He was, of course, getting taught magic in with all his other classes at Eton, but Gaius was his private tutor and had known him a long time. He was an old family friend. As such, he knew all about Merlin's early problems.

Merlin was powerful. So powerful that, at the age of eight, he'd thrown a neighborhood boy who was threatening him into a wall. He hadn't exactly meant to, and he certainly hadn't known a spell to. The boy's parents had called the police, and a stern-faced social worker had been assigned.

He could still remember the metallic sheen as the social worker pulled out the restraint. Now young man, you'll have to wear this until you prove you can be trusted. Merlin had sensed his mother stiffen behind him and had responded, all big eyes, What if I don't wear it? He could tell she didn't like that, and he would learn that she didn't like questions at all. Then the police will arrest you. Merlin's mother had gasped. Merlin, scared, had held out his hand.

When the restraint had snapped into place, the world had gone dim. It had been like all the colors faded away. Merlin remembered how frightened he'd been and how his mother had comforted him. The social worker hadn't understood, a fact he was grateful for now. Only a trusted few knew the extent of his power: how magic was breath and life for him. He absently caressed his wrist, where the restraint that cut him off had lain for three awful months.

I know this isn't fair, Merlin, his mother had said, but you must keep it on for now. There are strong people, people who hate magic, who would hurt us if they could. We must be careful. But Merlin, your magic is a good thing, a great thing, and I wouldn't change one single part of you for the world. I love you, my boy. Be patient. It will all be worth it.

And in the morning, Gaius had arrived. Merlin shuddered at the memory.

"I know." He straightened and looked his mentor in the eye. "I know, Gaius. I'll do it." He took a deep breath. "All right. The Incarcerate Incantations. From the beginning?"

Gaius smiled approvingly. Merlin began.

mabonwitch — Sun, 20 Nov 2011 01:35:52 GMT

Title: Eton
Series: In a Time of Magic
Author: mabonwitch
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin, pre-slash
Words: ~350
Rating: PG
Summary: Modern AU. Magic exists, but Arthur was never supposed to become friends with a sorcerer. Perhaps his father should have told that to Destiny.
Notes: Er. Magical-ism? Discrimination against people because of their magic.

Whatever Arthur's father had intended him to learn by sending him to Eton, he is sure Not all sorcerers are dangerous was not it. And yet, that is practically the first thing he learns. It is all on account of Merlin.

As prince, Arthur is allowed onto campus ahead of everyone else. He figures it is less a privilege and more so his security can crawl into every corner of the school and make it so secure he will never escape. On the first day the rest of his classmates join him, he meets Merlin. Or, well. It really goes more like this.

Arthur is headed for lunch. He is surrounded by the same bunch of boys he grew up with, because apparently if the prince does something, it is the thing to do. Eton has suddenly been flooded with minor royalty and nobility since word went out that Arthur would be going there. Anyway, he is listening absentmindedly to the chatter when a lanky boy with big ears barrels into him.

Well, no. To be fair, it seems more like someone has pushed him; he is tripping over his own feet as he falls into Arthur. None of that, though, stops Arthur's book bag from flying off his shoulder and into the air.

The boy's eyes widen comically. "Sorry!" The bag freezes in midair. Slowly, the books slide back into it. "Um, sorry. Sorry." Arthur's bag lowers and hovers in front of him.

It occurs to Arthur unhurriedly, with some bemusement, that this was magic. This boy is a sorcerer, and he is using magic. On Arthur's book bag. Arthur takes the bag. He doesn't know what expression he has on his face, but the boy droops.

"Sorry," he says again. Kay glares and Bedivere grabs Arthur's arm and drags him away, muttering under his breath about dirty sorcerers. Arthur glances back one last time to see Merlin- he would later take great care to find out his name- cringing under the withering glare of a hall monitor. Merlin looks up, and their eyes meet. Arthur feels an odd little spark of something.

Destiny, Merlin would joke.

And Arthur would smile and say, Yeah.

mabonwitch — Wed, 16 Nov 2011 22:27:12 GMT

Title: Up to You
Author: mabonwitch
Rating: NC-17
Words: 759
Summary: Arthur gives Merlin what he needs.
Notes: S/M, flogging, crying

Arthur looked at the place where Merlin was holding his arm too tight, surprise painting itself across his face. Merlin panted. He felt wild, his control hovering dangerously near a breaking point.

Arthur licked his lips. "Are you-"

Merlin swallowed. It wasn't that they hadn't talked about this, about what Merlin liked to do with his partners sometimes. But this wasn't how he'd intended to introduce Arthur to it.

"I-"

Arthur seemed to read something the way Merlin cut himself off. He softened, the uncertainty smoothing itself from his expression.

"What do you need?"

Something hot and tight uncoiled in Merlin's spine, finally allowing him to loosen his hold on Arthur's arm. He rubbed the skin there for a moment, considering. The flogger, he decided.

"Anything," Arthur said, tilting his head in invitation.

A vicious hunger lit in his stomach. "Come here." Arthur followed through to his bedroom obediently. "On your knees." Arthur smirked, a little of his cockiness showing through. He knelt, not gracefully, but with strong, sure movements. Merlin let him. "No," he said, "face the bed."

Merlin knew his smile was hard. The off-balance look on Arthur's face at the order gave him a frission of pleasure. Let Arthur wonder. He sighed and stretched, settling into his skin. Softly, he walked to the closet and opened the door on the left. Taking his time, he ran his hands over the selection before picking out a medium-weight flogger. The strands were soft and rough in his hands. He walked back until he was behind Arthur.

"Shirt off. Arms on the bed." Arthur didn't look behind him while complying. Merlin paused to admire the strong lines of his lover's back. He ran a hand down the length of Arthur's spine. "This is going to hurt," he said.

Arthur blew out a slow breath and laid his cheek against the bed. Merlin didn't know if he was responding to the words or to the pleasure in Merlin's voice, and found he didn't care anymore. He took three steps back and swung the flogger, reminding himself of its weigh and movement. Then he began.

Merlin managed a few minutes of warm-up strokes, though they probably felt like quite a lot to Arthur. But then Arthur made a sound, and that was it. Merlin let go and swung. His strikes were precise, reddening Arthur's back, avoiding the few danger spots. Arthur's hands clenched in the bedsheets, but he didn't move otherwise. Merlin drank in his restraint, drank in the gradually louder hurt noises. Merlin took Arthur's pain and wanted more. He struck harder, harder, until Arthur screamed, a hoarse bellow. Merlin hissed and kept going. He kept a steady, pounding pace. Arthur's screams died down, petered out, and now Merlin eased back a bit. The sweep of the flogger slowed.

Then he heard it. It was quite, compared to everything else, almost hidden. Merlin was listening for it, though. The hitched, sobbing breath signified Arthur's capitulation. It meant he'd given up. Merlin dropped the flogger and went to his knees beside Arthur. He pulled Arthur's head up from the bed and cradled it between his palms. He took in the slack, red mouth and the tear-swollen eyes.

"Oh, Arthur." He rubbed his face alongside Arthur's. Arthur didn't try to hold anything back; he wept unashamedly against Merlin. Merlin made soothing sounds in the back of his throat, kissed the tears and licked them up. "Oh, sweetheart. You're a mess. Here, let me-"

It didn't surprise him, when he nudged Arthur around and got his pants down, that Arthur was flaccid. Merlin was determined, though. He coaxed Arthur with soft kisses and tender licks to his cock. Soon, the promise of pleasure made him stiffen, harden under Merlin's tongue. Merlin sucked him slowly, arms braced on Arthur's thighs from where he'd splayed back against the bed. Arthur put a tentative hand in Merlin's hair, and Merlin encouraged it, wanting to pour out all his praise in the work of his mouth. It didn't take long before Arthur spilled in his mouth.

Merlin got them both on their feet, undressed them, and tucked them into bed. Arthur winced when he rested on his back and flipped over. He wiggled down in the bed, under the covers, and put his face on Merlin's belly. Merlin laughed.

"Was it what you wanted?"

Merlin closed his eyes. He reached down, found Arthur's face, traced it. "You are the most amazing thing," he said.

Arthur smiled against his palm, kissed it. "I love you."

"Love you too.

Nano Is Staring At Me, So I Wrote Other Stuff

mabonwitch — Wed, 16 Nov 2011 22:21:34 GMT

Title: Magic at Dawn
Author: mabonwitch
Rating: PG-13
Words: ~950
Summary: Merlin protects Arthur. Magic reveal.
Notes: Angst, character death (not Arthur or Merlin)
Additional notes: lj is giving me flak, so apologies for any weird-looking errors. I am trying to fix it!

"Now is not the time."

Agony contorted Merlin's face. "If not now, then when?"

Gaius had no response.

**

"Gwaine. I need you to do something for me."

Gwaine looked up. "Anything. You know that, Merlin."

Merlin smiled. "Good."

And then he explained about Agravaine.

**

Merlin had held out some small hope, but no. Morgana's army was many times the size of theirs. In the end, they were surrounded: Arthur, the knights, and him. Morgana pushed her way to the front of her men to brag.

"Well well," she sneered, "here we are again."

Merlin saw Arthur stiffen, prepare to respond, but he couldn't let him. If these were the last memories Arthur would have of him, let them be brave ones. He cut in ahead of his king.

"Yes," Merlin said, "here we are."

"Merlin," Arthur hissed. Merlin ignored him.

Morgana tore her venomous gaze from Arthur and pinned Merlin with it. "You're not very bright, are you, Merlin?"

Merlin smiled defiantly. "That's a funny thing to say to someone who keeps tripping you up."

"Coincidence." Merlin saw the uncertain flicker in her eyes.

"Right. Just like the last time we defeated an army with these odds. Too bad your sister's not here to help you this time."

Morgana snarled. "Shut up."

"I don't think you really want me to do that. After all, I know something you've been trying to figure out."

Greed had always been Morgana's downfall. "Gaius," she hissed, "he told you. I knew it!"

Merlin didn't contradict her. "I might be willing to trade."

Morgana's lips drew up, an amused smirk covering her face before she twisted it into a mockery of pity. "Oh, poor boy. I know you have trouble counting sometimes, but you're outnumbered."

Merlin laughed in her face. "Do you really think you can force me?"

"Fine," Morgana spat. "What do you want? Riches? Position? I'm sure I could find something better for you than manservant."

"Single combat." Merlin smiled at her confusion. "All I want is for this to be decided in single combat."

She laughed. "You think I'll choose a champion, let you and my dear brother walk off the field if he wins?"

"No. I want you to fight."

Her smile was cruel and delighted. "Against who? I hardly think Camelot has been harboring sorcerers."

"Do you agree?"

Morgana's eyes narrowed. "In return for what?"

Merlin braced himself. "If you win, not only will I tell you who Emrys is and how to find him, I'll take care of him myself."

"And if I lose?" Her contempt dripped from her tone.

"Your death will be enough."

The smile drained from her face, replaced by rage. "And who will be foolish enough to fight me?"

Merlin hesitated. He wished he could risk taking his eyes off Morgana. "Sorry about this, Arthur." He straightened in his saddle. "I will."

Merlin could see that Morgana still didn't understand, but the silence at his back told him that the knights did. "Done," she spat.

Merlin smiled, and the weight of his power rose up in his throat and slammed into the word. "Done."

Merlin saw her eyes widen, but he didn't let her comprehension sink all the way in before he rushed her, magic flowing in a wave before him. The battle was quick and fierce. Bolts of pure power and lashes of light flew between them. Fire and ice rained down, the earth trembled, and the sky boiled with magic. In the end, though, Merlin was stronger. He leaned over her and drew the dagger Arthur had given him for his naming day three years ago.

"I am Emrys," he whispered, and thrust it into her throat. Wearied, nursing a burn on his side and a ragged scrape down one leg, he turned. Morgana's general was staring at him, shocked. Merlin pulled himself up. He let fire flicker in his fingers. "Run."

In moments, a route was in order, Morgana's great army running from the site of her defeat. Only Arthur and his knights were left. Gwaine had Agravaine on his knees, a blade to his throat.

"What do you want me to do with this traitor?"

Arthur, blank-faced, looked away from Merlin and stared at his uncle.

"Sire," Agravaine said, "Arthur, surely you don't believe-"

Gwaine twitched his blade. Arthur licked his lips. "What proof is there against him?"

Merlin wished he didn't have to speak. "I saw him meeting with Morgana with my own eyes, more than once."

Agravaine snorted. "How convenient that she's dead. Arthur, surely you don't trust-"

Gwaine tightened his hold. "I ought to slit your lying throat. Maybe just cut out your slithering tongue, hmm?" He turned to Arthur. "If you believe this more than the man who risked his life to defeat your greatest enemy, you're an idiot."

Arthur's face stayed neutral.

Suddenly, Leon weighed in. "Forgive me for speaking out of turn, sire. My life has been saved by magic. I cannot see it, alone, as a reason to distrust a man. And- we have all seen how Agravaine's advice ends in disaster."

"The war."

"Gwen."

"Gaius."

"And wasn't it his advice that led us here?"

Arthur's gaze settled on his uncle. "Alright. Secure him. He can go to the dungeons when we get back to Camelot."

"Arthur-"

Arthur met his uncle's eyes unflinchingly. "Silence."

Merlin sighed and bent down, cleaning the dagger in the grass. He resheathed it and looked at Arthur's back.

"Arthur."

Arthur stiffened. Slowly, he turned. Lines of pain bracketed his mouth and tightened his eyes. Their beautiful blue was dark with hurt. He held himself as though he would fall at any moment.

"Merlin."

The World Is Love

mabonwitch — Sat, 12 Nov 2011 02:20:26 GMT

Quests! So, like, a thousand years behind everyone else, I finally watched the Quest videos. BOYS! OMFG, Colin is really adorably unable to answer things on the fly, isn't he? And Bradley is so protective! My favorite things: Colin drawing a wildren, Bradley and Colin both choosing nonhuman characters for the card-on-the-forehead game, and Bradley being able to guess all of Colin's FEELINGS right off on that one quest. HOW SO ADORABLE?

Nano! I am writing many words! I'm am totally on target to finish 10k by November 14th, which was my first goal. Then there will be editing, and submitting! And more writing, obviously. My main character is a 6'7" black dude with a rune tattoo all over his right arm, a transdimensional motorcycle, and James Bond's job, only for the earth instead of just Britain.

BEF! HALP. I finished writing it, in all its 58,000 word glory, two weeks ago and am trying to edit, but instead plot bunnies for extras are flooding my brain. SOMEBODY STOP ME!

Flist! My flist is full of fluff and love right now. YES! Also, those blue spiders? Totally the only spiders I will ever find acceptable. Spiders freak me out, but these are adorable. Thanks!

And finally, a round up of the drabbles I've been dropping everywhere.

When Bradley saw the addendum to Colin's Season 2 contract, he laughed. "Seriously? You actually got them to put it in?"

Colin mock-scowled, his happy eyes giving him away. "Yes, well. I wouldn't have to if it weren't for you."

Bradley smirked. "You took your shirt off in Season 1. You don't think people will wonder?"

"Better wondering than flashing this at the whole of make-up and costumes and who-knows-what-all."

Bradley ran a thumb over the tender mark under Colin's nipple that he'd left there earlier. "Suppose that would be a bit hard to explain," he agreed.

Colin rolled his eyes. "I love you, you ridiculous man."

Anything Bradley might have said was lost in the resulting kiss.

"He's mine!"

"No, mine!"

Merlin rolled his eyes and grabbed them both by the belt. "Oh gods, shut up. Learn to share."

"But-" Arthur's furious exclamation cut off when Merlin glared.

Merlin focused on Gwaine first. He let his eyes go sweet. "Did you know that Arthur has a really big bed?"

While Gwaine was contemplating that, Merlin turned to Arthur. "Did you know that Gwaine loves to do rim jobs?"

There was a loaded silence. Finally, Gwaine looked sideways at Arthur and muttered, "He does have a lovely arse."

Arthur swallowed. "I- yeah, OK."

Merlin smiled in satisfaction.

"So," Gwen said, sounding bored, "at what point do we move on?"

Merlin couldn't take his eyes off the scene in front of him. Somehow, spin-the-bottle had turned into Arthur and Gwaine tussling aggressively with lots of tongue involved. He thought Freya might have answered Gwen, but he couldn't be sure. He was too busy watching Gwaine lick his way down Arthur's jaw. Arthur's head had gone back, eyes fluttering shut.

They kissed again, Arthur's hand going into Gwaine's hair. Dimly, Merlin heard Percy wolf whistle as Freya and Viv kissed, so apparently the game had moved on. Arthur flipped Gwaine over, and it was starting to look less like wrestling and more like rutting. He thought of the way Gwaine kissed, rough and eager, and the way Arthur did, focused and consuming. He wondered if they would mind him joining them.

Probably not.

Merlin scrambled up.

Warnings: Noncon (Merlin isn't consenting), bondage, self-shame, spot of blood. SPOILERS FOR 4x6

Morgana pushes him down, her hand cruel as she presses his cheek into the bed. "I don't really care what you want, Merlin."

The words shouldn't make him hard, shouldn’t make him straining and desperate. He wants to believe it is a spell, that Morgana has bewitched him. Merlin knows better, though.

She doesn't ask as she grabs his cock through his clothes, doesn't ask as she rips them open. She doesn't ask as she grips him too hard or rucks up her skirt and crawls up his body. She doesn't ask as she sinks down on him, and it makes Merlin want to die and die and die.

Merlin wants to stop her, to tear away the skin that is flushing too hot under the scrape of her nails down his chest. He can't; Morgana has his hands tied to the headboard. He wonders how it came to this.

Morgana is brutal with him, riding him hard and using her nails until he bled in sluggish jots. Her smile was malicious and gleeful. Merlin hated himself for the small, helpless way his hips jerked up. He fought it, but his orgasm wouldn't be denied. Morgana wouldn't let him keep even this small scrap of dignity. It tore through him, and he roared with it.

Morgana climbed off him, laughing. She bent over and kissed him slow and deep. He was still too stupid with release to think of biting until she was out of range.

"There now," she purred, radiating smugness, "that wasn't so bad, was it?"

Merlin didn't answer.

Right! That's that, then.

Fic for 4x6 (you are all very surprised, I know)

mabonwitch — Sun, 06 Nov 2011 04:16:17 GMT

Title: Stop (I'm Starting Again)
Author: mabonwitch
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Words: ~300
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Extended take on a 4x6 scene. Merlin will keep Arthur safe.
Notes: Spoilers for 4x6, noncon canon bondage, mentions of consensual bondage and piss play (but really, I swear it's PG-13)

The ropes were probably supposed to make him feel helpless. They didn't, though; Merlin had too many good memories of Arthur doing this, hands gentle and sure, to be terrified. The ropes were his safety, his harbor. In fact, the longer he focused on the tightness winding around his wrists, the more alert Merlin felt.

If he'd ever had a moment of doubt about his actions against Morgana, it was swept away now. Her pouty lips and glaring eyes had no more effect on him than they had when she'd wielded them as the king's ward. Her sneering words only brought the memory of Arthur carrying him, protecting him, and calling him friend, more sharply to mind. He wanted to laugh when she questioned his loyalty.

Arthur was his king. He was sometimes misguided, yes, but he was more often noble. Merlin watched him struggle to better himself and to keep his people safe and happy all the time. Arthur was his friend. He'd defended Merlin to his father. He'd fought for Ealdor and allowed (and later, welcomed) Merlin along on all his quests.

Arthur was his lover. A month after Morgana had disappeared, Arthur had looked at him with lost eyes and pressed him up against a wall. And then a bed. And once in Merlin's tiny little room when Gaius was out. And a couple other places, really, until waking up together was normal. It had taken a few months before they'd worked out the other things, the tying-Merlin-up things and the pissing-on-Arthur things, but they had.

Arthur was everything, and Morgana was nothing, and he hoped she saw it in his eyes when he answered.

He knew how important it was that Morgana not know about his magic, so he was going to have to be subtle. As soon as Morgana moved behind him in her incanting, Merlin let his eyes close and reached for his magic. He twisted up the part of him that protected Arthur, always, and buried it deep, underneath her magic and away where nothing could reach it. It would be his best secret, thwarting the formora-controlled part of his brain.

He remembered no more.

mabonwitch — Wed, 02 Nov 2011 00:34:32 GMT

Title: Under
Author: mabonwitch
Pairing: Bradley/Colin
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~800
Summary: Bradley figures out Colin's secret.
Notes: Cross-dressing. Written for round 2 of kinkspiration

Colin looked absolutely wrecked. His normally mobile face was sort of collapsed in on itself; his eyes were so dark they looked out of place, like they belonged to someone else, and his lips kept fluttering open and closed.

"Christ," Bradley muttered. The thing was, Bradley was sort of used to poking at Colin. Left on his own, Colin got all quiet and shy, which was ridiculous in an actor, but there you had it. So Bradley, almost from the start of Merlin, would ask him bizarre questions and drag him out drinking, and get him involved in pranks. And they were always sort of popping in and out of each other's rooms. Somewhere in the middle of filming for season two they'd stopped knocking. And Bradley was the only one who was pretty much always welcome. It made him feel special, which he was never, ever saying out loud, because Katie would hear.

Katie was scary.

But anyway, that wasn't the point. The point was that, when Bradley had burst in one day and Colin tried to hide something from him, he'd gotten curios. Colin was secretive by nature, but Bradley had thought that he knew all of Colin's secrets. He even knew that Colin was bisexual, and Colin knew in turn that Bradley considered himself straight, but there'd been a few times with guys.

So, the hiding thing was odd. Bradley tried to bring it up a few times, but Colin got really distressed. Bradley didn't want to make Colin distressed. Instead, he tried to figure it out on his own. Finally, the day after Colin had got some mysterious package, Bradley finished shooting early and decided to have a poke in Colin's room. Which turned up the panties.

Bradley was not into panties. No, really. It was just, once Colin was convinced that Bradley was not going to take the mickey, he got all stuttery and quiet trying to explain. And it got very obvious, very fast, why exactly Colin was ordering lacy, silky, women's underthings.

Bradley did like getting Colin to react. A little experimentation showed that just a word about this whispered in his ear could completely derail Colin. This was intriguing.

It sort of all led inevitably to Colin, dressed in nothing more than black, silky panties, kneeling in front of Bradley and about to indulge in some cock-sucking. Bradley swallowed. "I- yeah, go ahead."

Colin brought his hands up to brace on Bradley's thighs. He felt good there, touching Bradley. There hadn't been much touching so far, just telling Colin to strip down and watching him get progressively more turned on the closer he got to revealing his underwear. It still seemed a little odd to Bradley, but watching a flush spread over Colin's cheekbones and down his chest made up for it. Seeing his cock stretch at the thin fabric got his own interested. Colin slid his hands up Bradley's thighs, testing, probably. They'd decided on this, but it was reasonable for Colin to be a little nervous. Bradley reached out and touched his face, tracing his thumb along the line of his cheekbone and smearing a finger across his lips. Abruptly, he bent down and kissed Colin. Colin startled under his mouth. Bradley licked him open, teasing until Colin leaned in and kissed back messily. He straightened slowly, keeping his hands in place.

"Right," he said. "Come on, then."

Colin grinned up at him, sweet and familiar. He rubbed his palm over the shape of Bradley's cock through the jeans. Bradley groaned and bucked his hips forward. Colin's nimble fingers got the fastening open and Bradley's jeans and Y-fronts down around his thighs. Colin pushed his shirt up, out of the way, leaning in to nuzzle at the base. Bradley locked his knees as Colin kissed up his cock. Watching Colin's finely carved features next to his cock was definitely something that was going to stick with him awhile. Eventually, though, Colin backed up and sucked him in. Bradley gasped in surprise. Fuck. Colin was really good at this.

"Cols." The name came out hoarse with lust. Colin moaned around his cock. "Ssss, crap, Cols. You- your mouth-" Colin did something tricky with his tongue that made Bradley grunt. He drifted awhile on the glorious suction, sliding up and down his cock. Distantly, he became aware of Colin's arm moving.

"Don't," Bradley panted, feeling his orgasm close in on him, "don't get yourself off, let me-" Colin whimpered, and the vibrations made the top of his head come off. "Christ," Bradley swore. He thrust deep, once, twice, and held as he came harder than he had in awhile. Breathing hard, he managed to draw back. His knees felt weak, but he still levered Colin to his feet.

"Here," he said, quiet, against Colin's mouth. He put his hand on the soft skin of Colin's belly, ran it down. Colin had leaked precome through the silk, leaving a wet blotch that Bradley fingered curiously. Colin made a hitched little sound, barely there. Bradley did it again, his other hand warm on Colin's back. "Lovely," he breathed.

Colin's eyes fell closed as he came, the material growing damp under Bradley's hand. He rubbed until Colin shuddered, too sensitive. Bradley shivered all over and gave him a quick kiss.

"Fuck, that's hot."