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Title: Name and Business (Outlaw Song)
Author: kaizoku
Fandom: Merlin (BBC Series)
Pairing/character: Merlin/Arthur, a tiny hint of Merlin/Gwen
Rating: R or FRM.
Word Count: 3,900
Prompts: forest, mug's game, spanking
Notes/Warnings: AU, no spoilers (though I did crib some dialogue from the pilot episode.) Betaed by my boy. Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
rounds_of_kink's April Fool's Mini Round.
Summary: "The sheriff wouldn't dare come out here. And that means --" a flash of metal and suddenly a dagger was at Merlin's throat, "you'll be telling me exactly what your business here is."
Name and Business (Outlaw Song)
It was just a small sound, the crack of a twig, but an arm snapped out -- and before he could think of what to do, Merlin was being yanked out into the open, tripping over a log and falling on his arse on the loamy ground.
"What's this, then?" The man who had pulled him out of the bushes sneered down at him. "A little forest bird?" Other men crowded around him; escape began to look doubtful.
"Looks like a rat to me," one of them, a burly man with a beard, commented. "What say we make stew of 'im?"
"Not enough meat on his bones to bother with," laughed the first man.
Merlin scrambled to his feet and drew himself up to his full height, pleased to find that his attacker was a tad shorter than himself. The man didn't seem to share his satisfaction. Despite his deepening scowl, the man was surprisingly pretty -- shiny golden hair and blue eyes fit for a prince, the thick shoulders of a fighter. Merlin's eyes dropped to the toned thighs in tight green leggings, before a growl brought his attention back to more pressing matters.
"I was just out for a walk, friend," Merlin said lightly. "No need to attack me."
"Friend? You might want to rethink that one. Not only are you trespassing on my land, you also had the audacity to follow us."
Merlin glanced over the men surrounding him. They looked to be a rough bunch -- outlaws and bandits, probably. This was a fairly rural area but Merlin somehow didn't think they owned this patch of woods -- at least, not in any official capacity.
Unfortunately, as usual, wit reached his tongue before common sense.
"Ah, and I'm sure the local sheriff would agree with that sentiment," Merlin said with a grin.
There was some threatening-sounding muttering from behind him but the leader cut in.
"The sheriff, the sheriff! Oh, no..." The man spoke in a mock-terrified voice. "Oh, wait! The sheriff wouldn't dare come out here. And that means --" a flash of metal and suddenly a dagger was at Merlin's throat, "you'll be telling me exactly what your business here is." The leader's eyes cut into his and Merlin tried desperately not to gulp. Or get an erection.
"Look," Merlin said diplomatically. "I think we got off on the wrong foot. I'm Merlin." He held out his hand. Sadly, it was ignored.
"Now, Merlin," the man growled, "if you want to keep your foot." The men behind him chuckled.
"I really was just out for a walk," he tried.
"A walk."
"Yes, I, uh... well, I got a little lost. I was hoping if I followed your, uh, band of merry men, I might find my way back to a road."
"You're not from around here."
Merlin was a bit surprised by that. He had a good ear for dialects and no one so far had suspected that he wasn't a common English peasant. His estimation of the man in front of him went up.
"No, you're right. I'm..." Merlin paused for dramatic effect. "I'm on a pilgrimage. I'm a monk."
It wasn't so far off from the truth... and much more believable to boot.
The man stared at him for a long moment, then, without warning, burst into laughter.
So it was that Merlin found himself tied to a tree for the night, instead of on the road to Canterbury as he had hoped.
It seemed that the group of bandits upon whom he'd stumbled had an ongoing struggle with the church -- over money, naturally.
"Look what we found -- our own little monk wandering about in the woods!" The burly bear of a man yelled, as Merlin was shoved forward into the crowd.
The bandits had brought him back to their camp where a half-dozen other men were evidently lazing about. Mostly they looked to be in their twenties or thirties, but there were a couple boys as well.
One boy pushed into the circle of men surrounding Merlin and pinched his arm, frowning up at him. "He doesn't look like much."
"No," said their leader. "But he's worth quite a bit, if I don't miss my mark." His eyes met Merlin's briefly.
"What'd ya mean, Arthur?" The boy asked. Merlin noted the name, since the man hadn't bothered to introduce himself earlier.
"Well, Gawain," Arthur grinned. "The bishop should offer a goodly purse for a monk, even if he's from elsewhere. I reckon we'll get a good six month's income off him for this poor bastard."
The men cheered. There was some talk then of the bishop being corrupt and getting his comeuppance, but Merlin knew enough of human nature that men like this would say such things whether or not there was any basis in truth.
Merlin could have told them that their ploy was unlikely to work, but then there would have been more questions, and quite possibly blows to the head as well. Merlin was very protective of his head... And his mission, too, obviously. Not that a lousy bunch of bandits would ever get that out of him.
Perhaps it was the being tied to a tree, or the fact that they'd gone through all of his stuff, laughed at it, and then either thrown items on the ground or taken them, or perhaps it was that they hadn't bothered to give him any dinner (and that roast rabbit or whatever had smelled delicious) but Merlin was not in the best of moods.
When Arthur sauntered by, chewing on a drumstick, Merlin gave up on his dignity and called out.
"Hey! How long are you planning to keep me tied up here without food?"
"Well that depends on how quickly the bishop sends the gold," Arthur said, leaning a hand against Merlin's tree. Merlin wanted to wipe the grin off the man's arrogant face -- with his fist, preferably.
"And if you starve me to death, you think he'll pay you?" he said irritably.
Arthur laughed. "You are skinny but I don't think a few days will kill you." He pushed off the tree, then casually tossed the bone he'd been gnawing to the ground next to Merlin. "There, now, quit complaining," he said, striding off.
Merlin scowled after him, but eventually managed to nudge it up against his leg and then bend over far enough to pick at it with his teeth. It was awkward and he got some dead leaves along with the meat... but he didn't want to try to make his escape on an empty stomach. He tended to get a bit dizzy when he didn't eat.
There was some commotion then, and Merlin looked up in time to see a figure riding into the clearing. His heart jumped in hope and trepidation before the welcoming shouts of the men made it clear that this was no stranger. They crowded around the horse as the person dismounted. A few moments later, the crowd parted for the rider, Arthur beside her.
It was a woman, and she was gorgeous. She was garbed in a brown riding dress, which clung tightly to her generous figure; the split skirt yielded enticing glimpses of her shapely white-clad legs. Merlin caught his breath when she turned -- she had a lovely, open face, a little flushed from her ride, framed by curling tendrils of dark hair. She smiled at Arthur as they talked and Merlin found himself wishing she would turn that smile in his direction. He strained to hear what they were saying.
"She's sure it'll be the north road?" Arthur asked.
"Yes, that is definite. After the rains, the west road is far too dangerous. And they'll be three wagons and a full company of guards."
"Good, good," Arthur said. "Give her my thanks, as usual."
"Of course," the woman smiled. "She wanted have come herself, but I dissuaded her. She's still not entirely recovered from that fever."
"Thank you, Guinevere. I'd rather that neither of you came out here --"
"It's not a problem!"
"But I know you're both too stubborn to heed me," Arthur finished, looking resigned.
The two had walked a little ways out from the fire, talking, while the men went back to their business. Merlin saw not a few of their eyes strayed to the lady in appreciation. As the two turned to walk back, the woman glanced up and spotted Merlin.
"Who's that, then?" She asked. Merlin sat up a bit straighter against the tree.
"Oh, an idiot we found wandering about in the woods earlier."
"Arthur!" The woman said, coming closer. "You can't just abduct random peasants."
"He's a monk, not a peasant. Or so he claims. I rather thought he was one of Gaius' spies at first, but he's not from around here."
"A monk and a stranger -- that's so much better!" The woman reprimanded him. Arthur actually looked a bit sheepish.
"We won't hurt him. It's just to gain some... leverage with the bishop."
She gave him a look of approbation, then knelt next to Merlin.
"Hello. I'm Guinevere. Everyone, well everyone except for Arthur, calls me Gwen though."
"I'm Merlin," he said, feeling a bit tongue-tied. She really was even prettier closer up.
"Also known as idiot," Arthur growled from behind her.
"Well, you must be very brave if Arthur hasn't terrified you out of your wits yet," Gwen said. She whispered not-at-all-quietly, "He's such a bully."
"I am not!" Arthur protested.
"It's lovely to make your acquaintance, Gwen," Merlin said, bowing as much as his restraints allowed. He wasn't going to call her Guinevere if that was what Arthur, the pretentious git, called her.
Gwen blushed a dusky pink and smiled more genuinely at him.
"I'll leave you two alone, then, shall I?" Arthur snapped. Merlin raised one eyebrow, watching as he stomped off, which made Gwen laugh.
"He's not really so bad, Arthur," she said.
"I'm just embarrassed he caught me," Merlin said. "Well, he and his twenty mates."
"Not much of contest, huh?" Gwen asked.
"Oh, I could have taken them," Merlin replied hotly, "I just didn't want to draw attention." He stopped then, realizing he might have said a bit too much.
"Really," Gwen said, looking him up and down, "You don't look that strong -- that is -- I mean, you're not all big and muscley. Not that there's anything wrong with that."
Merlin winked at her. "I'm in disguise."
Gwen laughed again, a bright, clear sound and then glanced up. "Oh no, it's getting dark already. I should get back."
"Of course," Merlin said, feeling a little disappointed. The camp -- and the whole kidnapping experience -- had been brightened considerably by Gwen's presence.
"Perhaps I'll see you again," Gwen said, getting up.
"Perhaps," Merlin allowed. Unlikely given that he'd been leaving tonight, but maybe afterwards. It'd be worth coming back this way for the chance to see Gwen again.
He waited until the men had all bedded down for the night, besides his guard. By then, he had a crick in his neck and his wrists were scratched raw from the rope around them, and worst of all, his left hip had a terrible itch that he couldn't get at even by rubbing up against the tree (which drew a couple of lewd stares at his squirming.)
Then he waited a bit more.
When the camp was all quiet and the sliver moon had risen over the tops of the trees, he let the magic flow out. All it took was a whisper and a twitch of his fingers and the guard was slumping over, and a few minutes later, snoring in an easy rhythm.
He could have just melted the ropes off his hands and feet, but that might have looked suspicious and he wanted to make sure these bandits had no reason to follow him beyond simple greed, so he took the time to slice through the ropes so it would look like the work of a knife or a sharp rock. He would leave it up to them to imagine how he might have obtained such a thing. He felt a bit bad for the guard, who would no doubt be sharply reprimanded -- but not too bad.
The loss of his provisions he regretted but not enough to do more than pick up some of clothes the men had disdained. The letters were another matter -- he couldn't leave those here. He had seen Arthur take them earlier and shove them into a sack. He wondered if Arthur could even read. But no, it wouldn't surprise Merlin if he could. The man seemed somehow a higher caliber than the others of his band.
It was easy enough to lift the sack from beside Arthur's bedroll and slip silently into the woods.
He stole a quick look down at the robber's face as he turned to go. It was still and quite beautiful in the glimmer of moonlight. Well, Merlin thought with a vague touch of regret, there were plenty of other good-looking men and women in the world and surely a few who wouldn't try to kidnap him.
The forest was cool and dark but there was just enough light to find his way. Though he didn't want to use too much magic, he cast another spell to silence his footsteps until he was well away from the camp. Then he went quickly, speeding up to a brisk jog through the trees. After his captivity, it felt wonderfully refreshing and free. He hoped he would come to the road soon and that a village wouldn't be far along it. Or maybe a farm, where he could charm a farmwife out of an egg or two.
He was entirely taken up with thoughts of frying eggs and bacon, when he heard something behind him and again -- damn it! -- he was borne down to the ground before he could cast a spell or even look back. This was beginning to get embarrassing.
Merlin struggled, pinned down on his stomach -- he heard a gasp as he planted an elbow firmly in his opponent's abdomen -- and managed to flip over, but then the weight was back across his hips and chest, forcing him down again. He caught sight of furious blue eyes as they tussled. Merlin had the odd sense that the person fighting him didn't want to hurt him -- there was no hard punch to the face for one thing -- and he redoubled his efforts to get free, bringing his knees up to push back. It succeeded for a moment, but then his lower body was pinned and he was left mindlessly scratching and biting at anything that he could reach... It was too late though. In a few moments, he couldn't move at all, his wrists in a painful grip and an arm across his throat, pressing down on his windpipe.
"Do you give?" Arthur panted into his face.
"Yes," Merlin grunted.
The pressure eased off and Merlin bucked as hard as he could -- and then Arthur did hit him, hard enough that his ears rang.
"Damnit, I didn't want to do that," he heard Arthur say, sounding far away.
Before he could recover his bearings, Merlin was being yanked up and pulled along, branches snapping him in the face.
Merlin tried to balk several times on the way back to the camp, but Arthur didn't let him stop moving.
"I would like to get a bit of sleep tonight, if you don't mind," Arthur snarled the third time and Merlin realized that somewhere along the way, he'd given up on actually getting free.
After all, it should have been easy, right? They were out in the middle of the woods, alone. All he had to do was spell Arthur asleep or turn him into a pig or whatever, and he could go on his merry way. But, for some reason, he hadn't. Even now he could do some, feint away and use his magic. Bind Arthur to a tree if he wanted.
But he didn't.
He puzzled over that as he was tugged along through the dark.
False dawn was breaking over the camp. Merlin was docile as Arthur led him back to the familiar tree. His putative guard was still snoozing away next to it. First, Arthur patted him down and turned out Merlin's pockets. His hands felt sort of nice. If Arthur was surprised not to find a knife, he didn't show it.
"Didn't you have a sack with you?" Arthur said, startling him out of his tired daze.
Merlin didn't respond. He'd dropped it a ways back, under the cover of some bushes, when he realized that his curiosity had overcome his better judgment and he didn't intend to employ his magic to escape Arthur's clutches. He might risk himself, but not those documents.
Perhaps his smugness came across in his face though, for Arthur scowled. "We'll find it."
Yawning, Arthur began tying him to the tree.
"I'll just escape again if you tie me here," Merlin said quietly, without knowing why.
Arthur paused for long seconds.
"There's something... strange about you," Arthur murmured, staring at him.
Merlin stilled. He could hear everything -- his own heartbeat and Arthur's, the small noises of men sleeping and birds beginning to awaken in the trees.
"You're not a monk, are you." Arthur said. It wasn't a question.
"Technically," Merlin breathed, "no."
Arthur huffed out a laugh. "No. You wouldn't be." Arthur looked away, staring off into space.
"What am I going to do with you, Merlin?" He said finally.
Merlin shrugged. He almost wanted to comfort Arthur. He really -- he didn't know what he was doing. Just, there was some part of him that was drawn to this man. The crazy part, Merlin thought to himself.
"You'll be punished tomorrow," Arthur said abruptly, decisively, his eyes sharp on Merlin.
"What?" Merlin blurted. "You can't punish me for running away!"
"No," Arthur said. "For lying."
"Oh."
Arthur grinned into Merlin's face. "In front of all the men, I think. Perhaps I'll have John do it."
Merlin gulped. If he remembered aright, John was the tall, burly man who had seemed to enjoy insulting him a bit too much.
"And by punished, you mean...?"
"Oh, a few strokes of the belt should do it. Will you cry, Merlin?" Arthur taunted.
Like coming out of a trance, Merlin suddenly remembered that he didn't like Arthur at all.
"You're mad! You can't beat me for not telling the truth! You kidnapped me!" His voice was rising.
"Quiet!" Arthur hushed him, voice and breath right in Merlin's ear, making him shiver. The hand on Merlin's shoulder tightened and then he was being pulled back into the woods.
"What do I care if I wake them up?" Merlin said.
"You'll care if I whip you in front of them," Arthur muttered back, and then apparently deciding they were out of hearing range, shoved Merlin up against another tree. "Won't you, Merlin?"
"Stop saying my name like that," Merlin growled.
"I'll say whatever I want to you!"
Their eyes met and clashed. With an effort, Merlin held back the magic, knowing his eyes would start glowing if he let go an inch.
"You whip me in front of your men, and I'll kill you," Merlin said and meant it.
Arthur moved so fast, it was a blur, and then his arm was pressing up against Merlin's throat again.
"And if I whip you here, now?" Arthur asked, breath hot on his cheek.
"Do it," Merlin said, like a dare.
And then he was being shoved face-first into the dirt -- again -- and Arthur was jerking down his breeches. Merlin had a moment to be glad they were loose on him and didn't rip as they were dragged over his hips, and then Arthur's hand hit him.
He had expected leather -- a belt -- or a switch, not Arthur's bare hand, and it shocked and then angered him. What did Arthur think he was, a child? Humiliation curled in his gut and he tried to twist away, but Arthur pushed him back down, laughing. As if he thought Merlin was trying to get away from the pain!
It didn't even hurt that much. Merlin swore to stay still and silent for the rest. He would just ignore it.
A whimper, barely voiced, escaped him after a particularly hard hit, and Arthur leaned in and whispered, "Quiet."
I'll kill you in your sleep, Merlin thought grimly and then Arthur bit his ear and Merlin clamped down on the moan that almost provoked.
"I know your type," Arthur said against his ear, all damp heat and lust-tinged laughter. "You're enjoying this."
And, damn him, but it was true. The humiliation, giving himself up and letting Arthur do whatever he wanted, it was starting to get to him. He was going harder with each slap of Arthur's hand on his naked arse. And just thinking of that made him rise faster.
He wasn't even angry with Arthur any more -- he was practically thanking him with every gasped breath.
Then, of course, it stopped. Merlin lay panting on the cold ground, coming back to himself. He should probably get up, but that would mean facing Arthur and he wasn't sure he was ready for that yet. Or if he ever would be.
Then he felt Arthur's hand on his head, combing through Merlin's hair with his fingers over and over. It felt lovely and Merlin relaxed into it. After a moment, the hand continued down his back and smoothed over his bottom. He moaned softly.
"Come on," Arthur said, drawing away. His voice seemed oddly hoarse. "Let's go to bed."
Everyone was still sleeping when they stumbled back out of the woods, Merlin rubbing at his bum self-consciously. It was odd to think that he'd been awake all night. The sun was just starting to creep up, but apparently Arthur's band of bandits didn't get up at the crack of dawn.
Arthur glanced at him, and then stopped and turned.
"What?" Merlin whispered.
"Nothing, just -- hold still," Arthur whispered back and then wet the edge of his sleeve in his mouth and wiped at Merlin's face. "You've got some dirt."
It was strange and intimate, though Arthur mostly refused to meet Merlin's eyes and Merlin couldn't help but be sort of glad for that.
Arthur insisted on tying his hands again, despite Merlin's protests. But he wasn't tied to the tree this time. Instead he was to share Arthur's bedroll.
"I'm not going after you again tonight," Arthur told him grumpily. "And I'll wake up if you try anything."
Merlin was still hard as rock when he lay down with Arthur behind him.
After a few minutes, he heard Arthur's breath even out. He maneuvered until he could rub as silently and with as little movement as possible against his tied hands.
"Merlin, stop wiggling," Arthur murmured, breath brushing his ear.
He cursed silently and waited a bit more, then tried again.
Arthur's arm came around his shoulders and he pressed his forehead into Merlin's neck.
"Sleep," he ordered.
Arthur, Merlin decided as he lay there -- achingly hard and unable to do anything about it -- was a total bastard.
P.S. This is a stand-alone but there may very well be a sequel, because I kind of want to see Maid Morgana and Gaius of Gisborn... *cough* if anyone else wants to take that up, feel free!
Author: kaizoku
Fandom: Merlin (BBC Series)
Pairing/character: Merlin/Arthur, a tiny hint of Merlin/Gwen
Rating: R or FRM.
Word Count: 3,900
Prompts: forest, mug's game, spanking
Notes/Warnings: AU, no spoilers (though I did crib some dialogue from the pilot episode.) Betaed by my boy. Written for
rounds_of_kink's April Fool's Mini Round.Summary: "The sheriff wouldn't dare come out here. And that means --" a flash of metal and suddenly a dagger was at Merlin's throat, "you'll be telling me exactly what your business here is."
Name and Business (Outlaw Song)
It was just a small sound, the crack of a twig, but an arm snapped out -- and before he could think of what to do, Merlin was being yanked out into the open, tripping over a log and falling on his arse on the loamy ground.
"What's this, then?" The man who had pulled him out of the bushes sneered down at him. "A little forest bird?" Other men crowded around him; escape began to look doubtful.
"Looks like a rat to me," one of them, a burly man with a beard, commented. "What say we make stew of 'im?"
"Not enough meat on his bones to bother with," laughed the first man.
Merlin scrambled to his feet and drew himself up to his full height, pleased to find that his attacker was a tad shorter than himself. The man didn't seem to share his satisfaction. Despite his deepening scowl, the man was surprisingly pretty -- shiny golden hair and blue eyes fit for a prince, the thick shoulders of a fighter. Merlin's eyes dropped to the toned thighs in tight green leggings, before a growl brought his attention back to more pressing matters.
"I was just out for a walk, friend," Merlin said lightly. "No need to attack me."
"Friend? You might want to rethink that one. Not only are you trespassing on my land, you also had the audacity to follow us."
Merlin glanced over the men surrounding him. They looked to be a rough bunch -- outlaws and bandits, probably. This was a fairly rural area but Merlin somehow didn't think they owned this patch of woods -- at least, not in any official capacity.
Unfortunately, as usual, wit reached his tongue before common sense.
"Ah, and I'm sure the local sheriff would agree with that sentiment," Merlin said with a grin.
There was some threatening-sounding muttering from behind him but the leader cut in.
"The sheriff, the sheriff! Oh, no..." The man spoke in a mock-terrified voice. "Oh, wait! The sheriff wouldn't dare come out here. And that means --" a flash of metal and suddenly a dagger was at Merlin's throat, "you'll be telling me exactly what your business here is." The leader's eyes cut into his and Merlin tried desperately not to gulp. Or get an erection.
"Look," Merlin said diplomatically. "I think we got off on the wrong foot. I'm Merlin." He held out his hand. Sadly, it was ignored.
"Now, Merlin," the man growled, "if you want to keep your foot." The men behind him chuckled.
"I really was just out for a walk," he tried.
"A walk."
"Yes, I, uh... well, I got a little lost. I was hoping if I followed your, uh, band of merry men, I might find my way back to a road."
"You're not from around here."
Merlin was a bit surprised by that. He had a good ear for dialects and no one so far had suspected that he wasn't a common English peasant. His estimation of the man in front of him went up.
"No, you're right. I'm..." Merlin paused for dramatic effect. "I'm on a pilgrimage. I'm a monk."
It wasn't so far off from the truth... and much more believable to boot.
The man stared at him for a long moment, then, without warning, burst into laughter.
So it was that Merlin found himself tied to a tree for the night, instead of on the road to Canterbury as he had hoped.
It seemed that the group of bandits upon whom he'd stumbled had an ongoing struggle with the church -- over money, naturally.
"Look what we found -- our own little monk wandering about in the woods!" The burly bear of a man yelled, as Merlin was shoved forward into the crowd.
The bandits had brought him back to their camp where a half-dozen other men were evidently lazing about. Mostly they looked to be in their twenties or thirties, but there were a couple boys as well.
One boy pushed into the circle of men surrounding Merlin and pinched his arm, frowning up at him. "He doesn't look like much."
"No," said their leader. "But he's worth quite a bit, if I don't miss my mark." His eyes met Merlin's briefly.
"What'd ya mean, Arthur?" The boy asked. Merlin noted the name, since the man hadn't bothered to introduce himself earlier.
"Well, Gawain," Arthur grinned. "The bishop should offer a goodly purse for a monk, even if he's from elsewhere. I reckon we'll get a good six month's income off him for this poor bastard."
The men cheered. There was some talk then of the bishop being corrupt and getting his comeuppance, but Merlin knew enough of human nature that men like this would say such things whether or not there was any basis in truth.
Merlin could have told them that their ploy was unlikely to work, but then there would have been more questions, and quite possibly blows to the head as well. Merlin was very protective of his head... And his mission, too, obviously. Not that a lousy bunch of bandits would ever get that out of him.
Perhaps it was the being tied to a tree, or the fact that they'd gone through all of his stuff, laughed at it, and then either thrown items on the ground or taken them, or perhaps it was that they hadn't bothered to give him any dinner (and that roast rabbit or whatever had smelled delicious) but Merlin was not in the best of moods.
When Arthur sauntered by, chewing on a drumstick, Merlin gave up on his dignity and called out.
"Hey! How long are you planning to keep me tied up here without food?"
"Well that depends on how quickly the bishop sends the gold," Arthur said, leaning a hand against Merlin's tree. Merlin wanted to wipe the grin off the man's arrogant face -- with his fist, preferably.
"And if you starve me to death, you think he'll pay you?" he said irritably.
Arthur laughed. "You are skinny but I don't think a few days will kill you." He pushed off the tree, then casually tossed the bone he'd been gnawing to the ground next to Merlin. "There, now, quit complaining," he said, striding off.
Merlin scowled after him, but eventually managed to nudge it up against his leg and then bend over far enough to pick at it with his teeth. It was awkward and he got some dead leaves along with the meat... but he didn't want to try to make his escape on an empty stomach. He tended to get a bit dizzy when he didn't eat.
There was some commotion then, and Merlin looked up in time to see a figure riding into the clearing. His heart jumped in hope and trepidation before the welcoming shouts of the men made it clear that this was no stranger. They crowded around the horse as the person dismounted. A few moments later, the crowd parted for the rider, Arthur beside her.
It was a woman, and she was gorgeous. She was garbed in a brown riding dress, which clung tightly to her generous figure; the split skirt yielded enticing glimpses of her shapely white-clad legs. Merlin caught his breath when she turned -- she had a lovely, open face, a little flushed from her ride, framed by curling tendrils of dark hair. She smiled at Arthur as they talked and Merlin found himself wishing she would turn that smile in his direction. He strained to hear what they were saying.
"She's sure it'll be the north road?" Arthur asked.
"Yes, that is definite. After the rains, the west road is far too dangerous. And they'll be three wagons and a full company of guards."
"Good, good," Arthur said. "Give her my thanks, as usual."
"Of course," the woman smiled. "She wanted have come herself, but I dissuaded her. She's still not entirely recovered from that fever."
"Thank you, Guinevere. I'd rather that neither of you came out here --"
"It's not a problem!"
"But I know you're both too stubborn to heed me," Arthur finished, looking resigned.
The two had walked a little ways out from the fire, talking, while the men went back to their business. Merlin saw not a few of their eyes strayed to the lady in appreciation. As the two turned to walk back, the woman glanced up and spotted Merlin.
"Who's that, then?" She asked. Merlin sat up a bit straighter against the tree.
"Oh, an idiot we found wandering about in the woods earlier."
"Arthur!" The woman said, coming closer. "You can't just abduct random peasants."
"He's a monk, not a peasant. Or so he claims. I rather thought he was one of Gaius' spies at first, but he's not from around here."
"A monk and a stranger -- that's so much better!" The woman reprimanded him. Arthur actually looked a bit sheepish.
"We won't hurt him. It's just to gain some... leverage with the bishop."
She gave him a look of approbation, then knelt next to Merlin.
"Hello. I'm Guinevere. Everyone, well everyone except for Arthur, calls me Gwen though."
"I'm Merlin," he said, feeling a bit tongue-tied. She really was even prettier closer up.
"Also known as idiot," Arthur growled from behind her.
"Well, you must be very brave if Arthur hasn't terrified you out of your wits yet," Gwen said. She whispered not-at-all-quietly, "He's such a bully."
"I am not!" Arthur protested.
"It's lovely to make your acquaintance, Gwen," Merlin said, bowing as much as his restraints allowed. He wasn't going to call her Guinevere if that was what Arthur, the pretentious git, called her.
Gwen blushed a dusky pink and smiled more genuinely at him.
"I'll leave you two alone, then, shall I?" Arthur snapped. Merlin raised one eyebrow, watching as he stomped off, which made Gwen laugh.
"He's not really so bad, Arthur," she said.
"I'm just embarrassed he caught me," Merlin said. "Well, he and his twenty mates."
"Not much of contest, huh?" Gwen asked.
"Oh, I could have taken them," Merlin replied hotly, "I just didn't want to draw attention." He stopped then, realizing he might have said a bit too much.
"Really," Gwen said, looking him up and down, "You don't look that strong -- that is -- I mean, you're not all big and muscley. Not that there's anything wrong with that."
Merlin winked at her. "I'm in disguise."
Gwen laughed again, a bright, clear sound and then glanced up. "Oh no, it's getting dark already. I should get back."
"Of course," Merlin said, feeling a little disappointed. The camp -- and the whole kidnapping experience -- had been brightened considerably by Gwen's presence.
"Perhaps I'll see you again," Gwen said, getting up.
"Perhaps," Merlin allowed. Unlikely given that he'd been leaving tonight, but maybe afterwards. It'd be worth coming back this way for the chance to see Gwen again.
He waited until the men had all bedded down for the night, besides his guard. By then, he had a crick in his neck and his wrists were scratched raw from the rope around them, and worst of all, his left hip had a terrible itch that he couldn't get at even by rubbing up against the tree (which drew a couple of lewd stares at his squirming.)
Then he waited a bit more.
When the camp was all quiet and the sliver moon had risen over the tops of the trees, he let the magic flow out. All it took was a whisper and a twitch of his fingers and the guard was slumping over, and a few minutes later, snoring in an easy rhythm.
He could have just melted the ropes off his hands and feet, but that might have looked suspicious and he wanted to make sure these bandits had no reason to follow him beyond simple greed, so he took the time to slice through the ropes so it would look like the work of a knife or a sharp rock. He would leave it up to them to imagine how he might have obtained such a thing. He felt a bit bad for the guard, who would no doubt be sharply reprimanded -- but not too bad.
The loss of his provisions he regretted but not enough to do more than pick up some of clothes the men had disdained. The letters were another matter -- he couldn't leave those here. He had seen Arthur take them earlier and shove them into a sack. He wondered if Arthur could even read. But no, it wouldn't surprise Merlin if he could. The man seemed somehow a higher caliber than the others of his band.
It was easy enough to lift the sack from beside Arthur's bedroll and slip silently into the woods.
He stole a quick look down at the robber's face as he turned to go. It was still and quite beautiful in the glimmer of moonlight. Well, Merlin thought with a vague touch of regret, there were plenty of other good-looking men and women in the world and surely a few who wouldn't try to kidnap him.
The forest was cool and dark but there was just enough light to find his way. Though he didn't want to use too much magic, he cast another spell to silence his footsteps until he was well away from the camp. Then he went quickly, speeding up to a brisk jog through the trees. After his captivity, it felt wonderfully refreshing and free. He hoped he would come to the road soon and that a village wouldn't be far along it. Or maybe a farm, where he could charm a farmwife out of an egg or two.
He was entirely taken up with thoughts of frying eggs and bacon, when he heard something behind him and again -- damn it! -- he was borne down to the ground before he could cast a spell or even look back. This was beginning to get embarrassing.
Merlin struggled, pinned down on his stomach -- he heard a gasp as he planted an elbow firmly in his opponent's abdomen -- and managed to flip over, but then the weight was back across his hips and chest, forcing him down again. He caught sight of furious blue eyes as they tussled. Merlin had the odd sense that the person fighting him didn't want to hurt him -- there was no hard punch to the face for one thing -- and he redoubled his efforts to get free, bringing his knees up to push back. It succeeded for a moment, but then his lower body was pinned and he was left mindlessly scratching and biting at anything that he could reach... It was too late though. In a few moments, he couldn't move at all, his wrists in a painful grip and an arm across his throat, pressing down on his windpipe.
"Do you give?" Arthur panted into his face.
"Yes," Merlin grunted.
The pressure eased off and Merlin bucked as hard as he could -- and then Arthur did hit him, hard enough that his ears rang.
"Damnit, I didn't want to do that," he heard Arthur say, sounding far away.
Before he could recover his bearings, Merlin was being yanked up and pulled along, branches snapping him in the face.
Merlin tried to balk several times on the way back to the camp, but Arthur didn't let him stop moving.
"I would like to get a bit of sleep tonight, if you don't mind," Arthur snarled the third time and Merlin realized that somewhere along the way, he'd given up on actually getting free.
After all, it should have been easy, right? They were out in the middle of the woods, alone. All he had to do was spell Arthur asleep or turn him into a pig or whatever, and he could go on his merry way. But, for some reason, he hadn't. Even now he could do some, feint away and use his magic. Bind Arthur to a tree if he wanted.
But he didn't.
He puzzled over that as he was tugged along through the dark.
False dawn was breaking over the camp. Merlin was docile as Arthur led him back to the familiar tree. His putative guard was still snoozing away next to it. First, Arthur patted him down and turned out Merlin's pockets. His hands felt sort of nice. If Arthur was surprised not to find a knife, he didn't show it.
"Didn't you have a sack with you?" Arthur said, startling him out of his tired daze.
Merlin didn't respond. He'd dropped it a ways back, under the cover of some bushes, when he realized that his curiosity had overcome his better judgment and he didn't intend to employ his magic to escape Arthur's clutches. He might risk himself, but not those documents.
Perhaps his smugness came across in his face though, for Arthur scowled. "We'll find it."
Yawning, Arthur began tying him to the tree.
"I'll just escape again if you tie me here," Merlin said quietly, without knowing why.
Arthur paused for long seconds.
"There's something... strange about you," Arthur murmured, staring at him.
Merlin stilled. He could hear everything -- his own heartbeat and Arthur's, the small noises of men sleeping and birds beginning to awaken in the trees.
"You're not a monk, are you." Arthur said. It wasn't a question.
"Technically," Merlin breathed, "no."
Arthur huffed out a laugh. "No. You wouldn't be." Arthur looked away, staring off into space.
"What am I going to do with you, Merlin?" He said finally.
Merlin shrugged. He almost wanted to comfort Arthur. He really -- he didn't know what he was doing. Just, there was some part of him that was drawn to this man. The crazy part, Merlin thought to himself.
"You'll be punished tomorrow," Arthur said abruptly, decisively, his eyes sharp on Merlin.
"What?" Merlin blurted. "You can't punish me for running away!"
"No," Arthur said. "For lying."
"Oh."
Arthur grinned into Merlin's face. "In front of all the men, I think. Perhaps I'll have John do it."
Merlin gulped. If he remembered aright, John was the tall, burly man who had seemed to enjoy insulting him a bit too much.
"And by punished, you mean...?"
"Oh, a few strokes of the belt should do it. Will you cry, Merlin?" Arthur taunted.
Like coming out of a trance, Merlin suddenly remembered that he didn't like Arthur at all.
"You're mad! You can't beat me for not telling the truth! You kidnapped me!" His voice was rising.
"Quiet!" Arthur hushed him, voice and breath right in Merlin's ear, making him shiver. The hand on Merlin's shoulder tightened and then he was being pulled back into the woods.
"What do I care if I wake them up?" Merlin said.
"You'll care if I whip you in front of them," Arthur muttered back, and then apparently deciding they were out of hearing range, shoved Merlin up against another tree. "Won't you, Merlin?"
"Stop saying my name like that," Merlin growled.
"I'll say whatever I want to you!"
Their eyes met and clashed. With an effort, Merlin held back the magic, knowing his eyes would start glowing if he let go an inch.
"You whip me in front of your men, and I'll kill you," Merlin said and meant it.
Arthur moved so fast, it was a blur, and then his arm was pressing up against Merlin's throat again.
"And if I whip you here, now?" Arthur asked, breath hot on his cheek.
"Do it," Merlin said, like a dare.
And then he was being shoved face-first into the dirt -- again -- and Arthur was jerking down his breeches. Merlin had a moment to be glad they were loose on him and didn't rip as they were dragged over his hips, and then Arthur's hand hit him.
He had expected leather -- a belt -- or a switch, not Arthur's bare hand, and it shocked and then angered him. What did Arthur think he was, a child? Humiliation curled in his gut and he tried to twist away, but Arthur pushed him back down, laughing. As if he thought Merlin was trying to get away from the pain!
It didn't even hurt that much. Merlin swore to stay still and silent for the rest. He would just ignore it.
A whimper, barely voiced, escaped him after a particularly hard hit, and Arthur leaned in and whispered, "Quiet."
I'll kill you in your sleep, Merlin thought grimly and then Arthur bit his ear and Merlin clamped down on the moan that almost provoked.
"I know your type," Arthur said against his ear, all damp heat and lust-tinged laughter. "You're enjoying this."
And, damn him, but it was true. The humiliation, giving himself up and letting Arthur do whatever he wanted, it was starting to get to him. He was going harder with each slap of Arthur's hand on his naked arse. And just thinking of that made him rise faster.
He wasn't even angry with Arthur any more -- he was practically thanking him with every gasped breath.
Then, of course, it stopped. Merlin lay panting on the cold ground, coming back to himself. He should probably get up, but that would mean facing Arthur and he wasn't sure he was ready for that yet. Or if he ever would be.
Then he felt Arthur's hand on his head, combing through Merlin's hair with his fingers over and over. It felt lovely and Merlin relaxed into it. After a moment, the hand continued down his back and smoothed over his bottom. He moaned softly.
"Come on," Arthur said, drawing away. His voice seemed oddly hoarse. "Let's go to bed."
Everyone was still sleeping when they stumbled back out of the woods, Merlin rubbing at his bum self-consciously. It was odd to think that he'd been awake all night. The sun was just starting to creep up, but apparently Arthur's band of bandits didn't get up at the crack of dawn.
Arthur glanced at him, and then stopped and turned.
"What?" Merlin whispered.
"Nothing, just -- hold still," Arthur whispered back and then wet the edge of his sleeve in his mouth and wiped at Merlin's face. "You've got some dirt."
It was strange and intimate, though Arthur mostly refused to meet Merlin's eyes and Merlin couldn't help but be sort of glad for that.
Arthur insisted on tying his hands again, despite Merlin's protests. But he wasn't tied to the tree this time. Instead he was to share Arthur's bedroll.
"I'm not going after you again tonight," Arthur told him grumpily. "And I'll wake up if you try anything."
Merlin was still hard as rock when he lay down with Arthur behind him.
After a few minutes, he heard Arthur's breath even out. He maneuvered until he could rub as silently and with as little movement as possible against his tied hands.
"Merlin, stop wiggling," Arthur murmured, breath brushing his ear.
He cursed silently and waited a bit more, then tried again.
Arthur's arm came around his shoulders and he pressed his forehead into Merlin's neck.
"Sleep," he ordered.
Arthur, Merlin decided as he lay there -- achingly hard and unable to do anything about it -- was a total bastard.
P.S. This is a stand-alone but there may very well be a sequel, because I kind of want to see Maid Morgana and Gaius of Gisborn... *cough* if anyone else wants to take that up, feel free!
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I am seriously complaining about how you can write such a nice story and then let us all breathless waiting for what happens next!
No kidding!
*begging* ... please ... grab your pen (methaphoric pen...) and keep going!
pretty please :-)
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And a damn tease! ÖÖ
Poor Merlin!
Ow! How come we don't have a sequel? Pretty, please! You just can't leave Merlin like that!
You did great^^
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^__________^
What a good news!
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(I really, really hope you'll write more of this – but even if you don't, at least this leaves me to imagine that Merlin stays tied up in what passes for Arthur's bed forever *dreamy* :p)
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Ha! Now, that's an image! Thanks for the comment. I'm glad you liked Gwen! :-)
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I HOPE there's a sequel. Poor Merlin.
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^_^
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I know! I seriously can't believe there isn't more of it. Thanks for the comment!
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Merlin as a fake-monk was hilarious, and Gwen was awesome, and Arthur was an ass even without his prince face on, but ever so entertaining and clearly with layers. The spanking thing was a bit random, but given it was a prompt? Meh. Arthur is--what was the phrase?--a total bastard, but all the same...
*whispers* add me to the legions of readers pining for Robin Hood!Arthur. :D
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The spanking thing was a bit random
Heh, you noticed that? Yiss, that could be better. I am hoping to make a bit more sense of that in the sequel, which, uh... I guess I'm writing. :-)
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Am I a bad slash fan if I'm interested in the plot (and by that I mean, what was in those documents and who Merlin is exactly)? I think I am. -_-
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I'm so intrigued! I mean, there's the Merlin plot, which is fascinating even though we know next to nothing about his mission. There was Gwen being all awesomely Gwenish (with bonus flirting!). And then there was Arthur being hothotHOT and the spanking and... yeah, okay, you found a list of my kinks and went down the checklist, didn't you? ADMIT IT.
I LOVE this and will read any sequels with GREAT JOY.
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OKAY, YOU ASKED FOR IT. But I won't hold you to it.
Here, the paragraph that starts with "Kink is good..."
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So yes, I would adore a sequel if you're planning one - especially as you deserve some kind of award for the genius that is Gaius of Gisborne (I nearly spat tea all over my keyboard when I read that bit)
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thanks a lot to share.