Hi!
So the chapters are a bit on the shorter side. This story got hacked into awkward parts because of the word limit on the meme and now the shorter chapters just seem to fit right.
And beginning to be NSFW, so MATURE Readers only. Show me your card. That's right, your perv card...
MERLIN
Merlin had barely slept in three days, plagued by dreams of tall knights and busty maidens who toyed with him and dissolved into mist right before he spent. Again and again he woke with a gasp, sweaty and unsatisfied.
Trying to relieve himself in desperate shameful fisting had somehow only stoked the fire. As Merlin spilled wetly over his fingers, unfulfilled instincts only increased in strength; his hand was not what he wanted, was not what he needed and he nearly wept at the frustration of it all.
Merlin had tried to continue his work, tried to go about his daily business. No one need know he had transformed into a lecherous angry creature.
The burden of keeping a calm façade had grown harder and harder to bear as the week advanced.
Everything bugged Merlin; his scratchy clothing, Morgana and her perfect luscious hair, Lancelot and his ridiculously perfect behind, Arthur and his stupid perfect lips and perfectly tousled hair and perfectly blue eyes and the sound of clinking when he walked and just everything that was so…Arthur.
Arthur had certainly not helped Merlin remain calm. He'd been distant and cold, pulling into himself as he used to before he'd come to trust Merlin. As the week progressed, he'd become increasingly agitated, rather like Merlin himself.
The Prince threw himself into training, until sweat drenched his body and he could barely stand. He argued with his father, rode the horses to exhaustion, had fits over nothing and was generally impossible to please.
To top things off, for the last two days, he had coldly refused that Merlin draw his bath every night. Merlin felt hurt and disappointed; Arthur's bathing was a calming private moment. A comforting time of ease. A together moment, where Merlin actually felt useful and Arthur finally relaxed.
Instead, Arthur had taken to dousing himself with a pail of ice-cold water from the stream, rough and shivering, before dismissing Merlin for the night.
It shouldn't have bothered Merlin, it really shouldn't.
Except he was already bubbling with frustration and having Arthur locking him out and regressing back to being a prat was almost too much.
Merlin had to bite his lip to keep the scathing comments down. Really physically bite his lip and stand stiffly by the door until he could finally go.
Otherwise he might just grab the crown prince and smack him good, wipe the arrogant smile from his face. Or bend him over the table and spank the twat.
The thought was disturbing, as Merlin had never experienced the urge to apply physical violence towards Arthur before. Sure, he was annoying. But Merlin had never actually quivered with the urge to just seize him and… Images pulled from his lusty dreams blended with the fantasy of punishing Arthur and Merlin blushed furiously, thankful Arthur couldn't read his mind.
Merlin's temper was made even more volatile during those moments before bed because the smell was so much worse in Arthur's chambers.
Although Merlin had searched the place thoroughly, again and again, he had never found anything out of the ordinary to explain the odor.
Merlin shivered, pulled back to the present by the cold. The rough wet cloth of Merlin's trousers was beginning to chafe against his privates. With a sigh, he pushed away from the table and climbed the steps to his chamber.
Changing into dry clothing didn't help the irritation just boiling inside and Merlin's hands shook quite badly.
Sighing again, he knew he would have to go to Gaius.
He couldn't continue this way. Something was going to happen, something huge and terrible. Merlin's magic stewed inside him, straining at his control.
His rod was hard, pulsing and demanding when he freed it from the wet wool. Merlin's long fingers squeezed- a punishing clench.
He was rather awed at how potent it felt, angry red and so full of blood. Merlin had never been ashamed of his equipment before, but he'd never seen himself quite so… vigourous.
With a final exasperated sigh, Merlin awkwardly shoved the swollen length into his pants, wincing. His member protested, throbbing.
In a fit of frustration, Merlin tugged his laces tight.
Then tighter.
Somehow, the action made him feel better. To be able to contain his tumescent organ was strangely satisfying after a week of being buffeted by passions out of his control.
Merlin groaned at the bite of the crisscrossing leather, feeling his member pushing back, pulsing painfully against the bindings.
Patting the front of his straining breeches, Merlin quietly savored the ache for a moment. Then he wiggled into his tunic, thankful for the cloth that covered the sight of his depraved arousal.
Merlin walked briskly, ignoring the tremble in his thighs, as headed toward the royal apartments to seek Gaius.
Something needed to happen.
Merlin had reached his limit.
He felt as though he might explode at any moment.
Explode.
Like the damn spheres of water.
Ha.
It would have been funny, if only Merlin wasn't struggling so hard against the urge to kick something.
The first part of this story is Merlin POV and is three short chapters. I will post them all today to get you guys in the mood for the rest!
