derryere: Pavlov Penis
Woozily he notices a well-liked presence, a smell of sorts, and turns to face a long stretch of a neck. Instinctively he grabs the wrist pouring his wine, holding it in place. There's suggestion of early morning arousal, of bored, hot evenings and comfort, and he doesn't really know where it comes from but he also doesn't feel it's that important and so he runs his nose under the line of a jaw without so much as a hesitation. He breathes in, deeply, tilting his head to try and feel the skin with his lips. But then Merlin pulls away. And Arthur knows it's Merlin, but he also sort of doesn't. "Oh," Arthur says, stupidly grinning. "Hello." "You're drunk," Merlin points out. "That, I am!" Arthur agrees, and downs some more of his wine. The rest of the night fades out into a blur of colours, noises, hands at his arms and then ends—at a very unspectacular moment—in his room, on his bed. He says something to someone who is taking off his boots, and then forgets everything altogether.
Arthur's chambers feel awkward when he's not there, but it's the kind of awkward Merlin feels at home in. It's a hot day and the higher rooms of the castle are cooler than the lower levels, farther from the heated ground—more prone to catching rare changes in air with all the windows open. He's on the floor next to the bed, sprawled out on the chilled tiles and trying very hard not to move. There's a corner of a pillow peeking over the edge of the mattress, just above his head, and he stares as it while thinking of nothing in particular. Earlier that day Gwen'd been humming a tune that'd played at a previous feast, and now that's stuck in his head, on a loop. He starts humming it too, on a nearly silent breath, and lifts his hand to pull at the pillow's cloth—randomly. It falls off the bed and lands high on his chest, under his chin, and the fabric is cool enough for him to leave it there for a few seconds.
""Move," he mutters, digging a knee low into Merlin's back. "Mooooove, Merlin, come on." But Merlin's sleep-addled brain doesn't process this message and instead he just turns to lie on his back, blearily squinting one eye open at Arthur—humming a low, 'hmm?' in question. "You're all—" Arthur tries to explain, voice rough with sleep. "Just—move." Merlin screws his one eye shut again, frowning before opening them both, mumbling a slurry 'mmmkay' and turning to his side again, shuffling from his spot but going in the wrong direction altogether—getting closer to Arthur, familiarly tucking his head under Arthur's chin, trying to fit their bodies together and— "What the hell," Arthur grumbles, tiredly pushing him away. "Merlin, wrong way—other—move the other--" "Mmmkay," is all he gets, and then as Merlin shifts to get back again" HEEE SLEEPY BOYS <33333
In which Merlin is hot for Arthur's bed, Arthur's hot for the laundry and there's this big fucking heatwave all over the place (?!)
Merlin's bed gets infested with bedbugs, and Arthur gets addicted the mysterious scent his own suddenly has.
Arthur notices and becomes quite addicted to a new scent in his bed - at the same time Merlin finds he sleeps best in Arthur's bed.
In which Arthur is in love with Merlin's smell and Merlin is in love with Arthut's bed. Lazy porn ensues. <3
Author: derryere Summary: In which Merlin is hot for Arthur's bed, Arthur's hot for the laundry and there's this big fucking heatwave all over the place.
Hot boys getting off on each other's scent
In which Merlin is hot for Arthur's bed, Arthur's hot for the laundry and there's this big fucking heatwave all over the place