"A Hot, Heavy Weight"
@merthurmicrofic prompts "Longing" and "Shirt" | Excerpt 441 words & Mature | Full Microfic 700 words & Explicit (second half only on AO3)
Merlin rises with the sun, making his way to the prince’s chambers. He urges Arthur out of bed — with prodding, then jibes, and finally, threats — ignoring the longing to crawl beneath the blankets and curl around him instead. Merlin has become well-practiced at keeping his yearning close to his heart — just like the other secret he carries. He resolutely does not stare as Arthur pulls off his nightshirt, baring a tantalizing expanse of smooth skin over well-built muscle. Averting his eyes as he assists Arthur with his clothing, Merlin instead focuses on the grounding feel of Arthur's grip on his shoulder, the clink of armour and mail and sword. But later, when Arthur is otherwise engaged, Merlin is helpless to stop himself from watching — — as Arthur performs a series of tests with his men, stabbing and twirling, a glorious display of manhood and steel under the burning summer sun. — as Arthur lounges at the dinner table chatting with Morgana, relaxed and easy while he sips from the cup Merlin brings; throat working as he swallows a mouthful of wine. — as Arthur lowers himself into the tub of water Merlin's heated for him — gifting Merlin with a perfect view of his powerful thighs, shapely arse, and narrow hips as they sink inch-by-inch to disappear beneath the steaming surface. Throughout it all, Merlin struggles to tamp down the flames of his desire. It does not help when Arthur calls him to wash his back, and all that separates Merlin's hand from touching Arthur's wet, sleek skin is the small square of flannel. Merlin recites the Latin names of common herbs and flowers to himself while he runs the cloth over the proud breadth of Arthur's strong, muscular shoulders. He silently counts backwards from one hundred when Arthur stands later, flushed rosy and sweet smelling from the warm, soapy water. Merlin's eyes track the passage of said water as it sluices down Arthur's sculpted chest — and lower still — until he has to make himself look away once more. And then, a clean nightshirt goes over the damp head, and Arthur is supine in his bed, where Merlin found him as the day began. And — once again — Merlin finds himself avoiding the temptation of sliding in beside him. To lie together, two bodies tangled up as one in the dark. "Was there anything else you require tonight?" he asks, pleased his voice does not waver; gives away nothing of the quickened tempo of his heart. "That will be all, Merlin." Arthur turns to settle into his pillows, granting one more glimpse of that broad, strong back, and Merlin escapes with the scraps of his sanity.
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