The dichotomy of Götterdämerung

Birthday Fic for troygirl68

2009-10-27T13:55:14Z

Happy Birthday Babycakes, I know it's a bit early, but it is the 28th here so deal :*

Author:goetterdamerung
Title: Time doesn't always heal
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur... ish
Rating: PG13
Warnings: No sex, not even implied (queue the shocked gasps). This is about love lost and unrequited love.

Summary: A millennia has passed and Merlin remembers.

Wizened eyes surveyed the remnants of his former home; its dream left incomplete and an air of melancholy pervading the very ground upon which his feet and gnarled body stood. Staring out beyond the horizon, his pupils dilating widely as images from the past superimposed themselves upon the present, until before him his past had recreated itself. Letting himself drift into the memory he closed his eyes and allowed them take over; propelling himself back, a millennia back – to his home... to Arthur.

~**~

“Will you get a move on Merlin? I don’t have all day to waste waiting for you.” Arthur’s annoyed voice echoes from within the chamber, jarring Merlin from his reverie.

“Prat,” Merlin mutters under his breath before replying louder “Coming... Your Highness.” Never let it be said that he couldn’t manage deference and sarcasm, just doing both at the same time meant that he was being a good efficient servant... At least that was what Merlin thought anyway.

A loud put upon sigh is his only reply and letting his own – albeit quieter – sigh out, he just knows that today was going to be one of those days, Merlin finished packing the saddle bags with a little more speed and much more care than usual.

No need to aggravate Arthur any further he supposed.

Feeling eyes boring into his back, Merlin turns to face Arthur, only to be faced with an inscrutable glare and clenched jaw... yes, today was definitely going to be one of those days.

Turning back to his task, Merlin put Arthur’s mood to one side and focussed on finishing packing.

The strange thing about trying to put something aside in your mind; the more you try to ignore it, the more it stays stubbornly there daring you to face it. Merlin has seen that look before, actually, it seems that that particular expression was solely reserved for him these days and was becoming, more often than not, the default for any interaction between Arthur and himself.

Finally finished with the packing, Merlin reaches for the saddlebags and swings them onto his shoulder... and forgetting inertia, promptly pirouettes’, landing in a graceless heap at a seething Arthur’s feet.

The slam of the chamber door cuts Arthur’s invective short, leaving nothing but an echo of the slam and a red faced manservant sprawled on the floor.

~**~

“It doesn’t matter what I do Gwen, as far as he’s concerned, nothing is good enough for him. His armour is never polished enough, his mail still has rust spots, his sword still has nicks in it, his...”

“Aren’t you taking this a bit personal Merlin?” Gwen replies cautiously, “I mean, he is the Prince and you haven’t been his manservant for that long, maybe...”

“No Gwen, I know all my chores are done perfectly, what is the point in using ma... my brain to observe how things as done.”

Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, he hadn’t realised he was getting that worked up that he almost revealed it. Just what he needed, a quick trip to the headsman to round off an already phenomenally bad day, not that Gwen would tell... but you could never be too careful either.

“I think I’ll just head back to my chambers, see if I can avoid anymore disasters today.”

“That might be an idea Merlin; perhaps you might be able to follow at least one order then tomorrow without making a hash of it.”

Arthur’s voice making Merlin leap in the air, cheeks flaming in mortification and not a small amount of anger, looking up at Arthur defiantly, Merlin replies tersely, “As you wish.”

Praying to whatever divinity may be listening so not to make a fool of him; he turns and walks back to his chamber.

It seems that Loki must have been the one listening in on his prayer as one foot caught the riser of the step. On his way down Merlin reminds himself that he needs to find another god to listen in as the steps race to meet him up close and personal.

Merlin was right, today was one of those days.

~**~

Opening his eyes, Merlin lets the present reassert itself in his mind, a wry smile creasing his face even more than the passage of a millennium. He knows just how he seemed to Arthur in those first few months, nothing more than an idiot boy with an over-inflated opinion of himself and big ears... can’t forget the big ears. His wry smile turning into a real one as he remembers Arthur’s views on his ears; and if his smile turns melancholy, so be it, there was no-one else around to see anyway.

Many things change with time, most things really, but there are some things that don’t... Arthur’s place in Merlin’s heart is one such constant.

Oh yes, it took months for Merlin to realise just what was going on inside his mind and body, even longer to accept it inside his heart as well, but once there and acknowledged, it was there for all time... for all good and all the bad.

So much time has passed since he last saw Arthur, so much time since Merlin finally uttered those three words as Arthur lay dying at Mont Badon with Mordred’s blade still embedded within his side.

Over a thousand years has passed since Arthur looked at him and said, “I know.”

Merlin knows his time is soon nigh, there is nowhere left here for him anymore. History has been distorted by time into nothing more than tales and fantasy and like any other creature of the old religion, Merlin remains on this plane only by belief and soon that belief will be gone leaving him nothing more than a memory... the same that Arthur is to him.

Shaking off his sense of loss and sadness, Merlin turns and slowly walks back into the welcoming shadows of the forest, perversely glad that the fading daylight matches his mood as the darkness swallows him once more.

J² Fic By Candlelight, He Can See NC-17

2009-07-20T16:23:48Z

Title: By Candlelight, He Can See
Author: goetterdamerung
Pairing: Jensen/Jared Jared/Sandy(implied)
Series: None, One Shot
Warnings: Implied Het, BDSM, Wax Play, Angst

Author's Notes: A fic in two parts, each part tells one side. Each side tells of love, of lust and of loss.

Summary: Through the blind eyes of one, and through the other's eyes that are blinded by love.

Part One
Waking, my senses assailed by the scent of flesh, creak of leather, the taste of man.

I wake, blind to the world with my eyes bound and perpetual darkness overwhelming me.

I wake to the combination of ecstasy and agony through his tortured flesh.

"You're awake," comes the gravelly voice of my tormentor.

Mouth and throat so dry he could only nod his answer, the power of that voice already working on my ravaged and spent cock. Slowly rising from its nest of matted curls.

"Ready for round two, I see." His voice mocks me.

Blindfolded, I could only vaguely tell where his tormentor is positioned. Wriggling my body towards his voice, I manage to grind out two words... "Take me."

A quickening of breath is his only reply, a slight hitch and gasp, but that hitch and gasp tells me all I need to know.

Raising my legs slowly over my shoulders; my legs akimbo, spreading myself wide to welcome him, my lover, my torturer... my saviour.

All I can hear is the flick flick of a lighter and then the unmistakable hiss of a wick being lit.

I can’t control my reaction as my body shivers in suspense, I know this game, I know it well; I’m never to know when the next drop of wax would fall. The only thing I do know is the bright pain of where it hits, the pain I need... that I craved.

Gasping aloud as the first drops hits my cock, causing it to jump, as I feel dampness spread from where it laid. Leaking from the tip of my cock as the burning heat works its way to my balls.

Revelling in the pain I feel as more wax joins the first drop, I spread my legs even wider, my hands clenching my ass cheeks as I expose my hole further to him.

Minutes pass and the waiting becomes unbearable, my need is all encompassing, my body thrums with apprehension.

"YES!" is wrenched from my ragged throat as another drop finally hits my cock, then another and another, falling as liquid fire... God's punishment of the heathens; his reign of fire.

The crackle and hiss of the candle is the only noise I hear until I feel heat near my ass. I can hear him breathing deeply, with exhalations coursing through the hair on my groin.

Even with my eyes covered, I can see him through my mind’s eye, a candle poised above, a solitary drop of wax clinging tenaciously to it, refusing to drop, making me stir and writhe with the want, needing that pain, but knowing I have to wait.

His hand brushes my hole, a teasing motion that only teases and taunts me, I can feel his fingers start to dig deeper in me, opening me up for him and exposing me completely to him.

His fingers leave me, leave my hole open and needing, leaving me bereft of his touch until... The blunt end of the candle is fed slowly, inexorably deeper inside me.

Pushing harder and deeper inside me; slowly leaking drops of wax into my hole, welding the candle in and sealing in the pain.

Sealing out the anguish.

All thought bar one is pushed from my mind as his hand reaches for my balls and roughly twisted into a parody of puppetry.

And this is all I need, I can feel the beginnings of release start, my hands make their way up to my nipples and grab and twist them as he squeezes my nuts harder, the pain all merging into one allowing me the freedom I need to focus on the one.

The one not here, the one who should be here... The one who needs to be doing this to me

Anger, pain and fear each take their own holds on me as my cock jumps once... twice, shuddering and quivering I scream my release into the night.

Knowing even as it happened I was blacking out, the pain and pleasure so intense and unbearable, I get a word... a name, the name of The One.

"Sandy."

Part Two

I see him there. He awakes. All around us is the scent of sex, the raw scent of man, of leather, of him.

He wakes, blind to his surroundings, every other sense heightened.

He wakes, wanting, needing... but not me.

"You're awake," I say, my voice roughened with lust and need. The need to hurt, the need to help... the need to heal.

Looking at him lying there, I want, I need, I can have, but only this once.

He nods his head fractionally, but his cock makes more of a statement. It hardens, slowly and I know that I caused his arousal, it is my voice that brings him to heel.

But it is not me he craves.

"Ready for round two, I see." He does this with me, not for me. It hurts.

He'll never know that I know it, but each whimper, each cry, every single shudder of pleasure that I elicit from him, is not for me.

It is for HER.

He twists his ass around to me, opening his legs, baring his body to me, begging to be taken, to be owned... but not by me.

"Take me," is all he manages to say, but it's enough. What he gives is what I'll take.

A quick, ragged breath is all the response I am capable of; a gasp of air into starved lungs, but it is enough to betray me.

Spreading himself wider, even more open, I glance around to find what it is I know he needs.

A cold smile graces my face as I see it. Leaning over, I take it from the shelf.

I imagine how and where it would be best employed, but even as I do so, he takes the choice from me.

Opening his legs wider and rolling even further onto his back, I know. I want.

Flicking the zippo, I watch it ignite and with it, my own lust reignites, knowing what I can do, and how I can do it.

I smile coldly to myself. I will make him mine.

Lighting the candle, I see him quiver. He knows, he wants, he needs.

Quietly I stalk over to him, trying not to let him know where, or when.

I watch, I look at his form; his cock, so recently used and abused, still red raw.

But still needing.

My eyes alight on his ass, seeing the sheen that anticipation and desire has placed there.

I see the swollen ring, used hard. I can see it quiver in lust and terror, opening and closing to its own beat.

I see him become more restless, wanting, needing this. I want to prolong it, make him want me, but my own needs are just as overpowering as his.

I give in and let a solitary drop of wax fall, just above his cock. So close, yet so far.

His response is immediate, the clench, the gasp, the sheer need that his cock shows me as it jumps and forms a drop on the tip of his prick.

I tilt the candle again and let a few more drops land directly onto the head of his cock, watching as they slowly drip down onto his balls, seeing him react to the pain with only need, watching him want this pain.

I right the candle and watch... and wait. I’ll know when to continue. He won't.

I move around so I'm looking straight at his cock and balls. Seeing him so close, I wait...

I blow softly across his cock, seeing the hair move in the slight breeze, and watch the sweat drip down and collect in his hole.

I place a hand across his hole, one finger opening him further, stretching his ass open.

His hole has a mind of its own. It wants, it needs and it doesn't care that I am not the one that the rest of him wants.

I give in, I give in to it, not him, not what it wants, but what I do. Slowly I push the candle in, rocking left to right, teasing his hole, letting a few drops drip down, sealing the candle in.

I push harder. I want him to take it in, feel it deep. More wax drips down and hardens against his ring.

He cries out louder now; he is close. I can see his balls drawing up, and with a final push I shove the candle in further. He screams at the force, but it is not a scream of pain.

Grabbing his balls I heft them high, trying to prevent the unpreventable. Twisting hard I feel his ball give within my fist; it is too late, it has started.

I watch as he comes, listen as he screams into the dark. I have lost, again. I'd lost him when he first met the one.

I pull tighter as I see his eyes glaze, knowing he will black out.

I may have lost him, but I've still won this fight.

As the light leaves his eyes, his solitary word disabuses me of that thought.

"Sandy."

I look down at his still form. I have lost him.

Looking back up at the door, I see a form move into the light, it is her...

The One.

DreamWidth update

2009-04-20T21:58:02Z

So I am now a fully fledged member of DreamWidth

You can find me Here if you are on there.

As before, I will be crossposting to both DW and LJ so no need to sign up just for little 'ole me ;þ~

Book II Förlorad Igen (Lost Again) Part 6 - Ängeln i Rummet (An Angel in the Room)

2009-04-19T17:20:23Z

Series Title: Vad Hjärtat Aldrig Ser (What the Heart Never Sees)
Book Title: Förlorad Igen (Lost again)
Chapter Title: Ängeln i Rummet (An Angel in the Room)
Author: goetterdamerung
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Author's Note: As before, this wont make much sense unless you have read Mellan Sommar och Höst (Between Summer and Autumn). Also, I have been asked several times why I have titles in Swedish so I shall extrapolate my reasoning here:
Partially it is a whim, but mostly it is due to the limits of the english language sometimes. Those of you who know me from previous fandoms are aware that most of my fics have a Scandinavian slant to them, whether that be title, theme, or even folklore. Swedish in particular has built in suffixes that go beyond the limits or extremes of emotion/feeling/intensities than are found in english. I suppose the best way to put it would be 'mostest, bestest, best' which although is not gramatically correct at all, does convey an extreme image, but personally, I find that the usage of such english extremes in an emotionally charged, serious story t be laughable. Ergo, I use the Swedish to convey the intensity and I use approximate English translations as well. So hopefully thatclears up why I use Swedish and other languages at times during my fics.

Summary: No matter which Parthenon you believe in, there is always an Angel looking out for you.

Previously: Jag Behöver Dig (I Need You) | Vår Tid Är Nu (Our Time is Now) | Broder Claudius (Brother Claudius) | Så Långt, Långtifrån Hem (So Very Far From Home) | Förnuftet Speglar Sanningen (Reason Reflects The Truth) |

Swallowing heavily, I raise my face in defiance of the sword pressed against my throat; the face that meets my eyes is the one who I should have known better than to discount, “Julius Gaius... you are quite the distance from Tirol.”

A tall man with the swarthy complexion indicative of our region, his dark eyes burning with the fanaticism of the overly devout, once he was my friend... but circumstances and familial duties put paid to our friendship many years prior. His friendship to me at the time was invaluable, his desertion on the other hand... cut as liquid fire through me.

“Why are you here Julius?”

“I would have thought it was obvious.” His voice, accented harshly, no longer the rolling gait of our native Tirol.

“Benedict.” No more needed to be said.

The slight quiver that went through him translating itself through his sword and nicking my neck. This one hesitation was all the mercy Julius was prepared to offer, I feel his sword raise once more and close my eyes to await its descent.

“For the mercy of Our Lord, I forgive thee Julius.”

Waiting for the blow that would surely sever my head from my shoulders, dreams of the past and present flash past my eyes, images of a red headed warrior queen crowned with oak and circled with gold, avenging her loss and grief. Prescience has never been one of my gifts, but I know that this woman was the answer and a warning all at once.

With her name on my lips and the sweep of air from the descending blade, I make my peace.

The pain that follows is indescribable as the air is forced from my body by the agony, but where I had expected to lose my head, my arm instead receives the blow. As my vision fades, an ethereal glow lights the room and an angel appears before me and I am positive that it is Archangel Michaelus here to bring me home.

~**~

I think this is the first wilful lie I have told Arthur... being magical doesn’t count, not when my own head was on the line... but just now, I told Arthur that I understood Claudius’ feelings and felt no ill will to him.

Wrong, Arthur is mine, has always been mine... and always will be mine. Do I hold Claudius’ feelings against him? Asked and answered... of course I do. Do I want Claudius hurt because of them? Maybe.

Releasing a sigh, I realise that no matter what I want, my own jealousy is the seat of it all. I resent that Claudius had those five years with Arthur, five years in which he could fall for him and be near him... five years in which all I did was be apart from him.

Those five years sped by me as five months, with my wings locked I circled Albion from above, always dreaming of being below, but never able to do so. Fear, fear is what held me back, I knew that Arthur would know I still lived, the ring on his finger would have told him, but my fear of being sent away from him shaped as I was, was enough to keep me at a distance.

It took all of my strength to land on that oak and every bit of my will to land on the Falconer’s wrist that time. To be so close to Arthur, but so far from him was heartbreaking, the best I could do was to perch on the bars of his cell and gaze longingly inside. Until that moment when Arthur raised his hand to me I knew not what his reaction would have been to me, and it is this fear that shames me now... that and the fact that I am going to face Claudius reeking of sex, Arthur’s scent all over me. And even knowing just what that will do to Claudius, I still will do it regardless.

People call me many things, Royal Consort, Court Magician, Emrys... all of these things are only titles. People forget that I am still a man, a man from a small village, whose mother named Merlin and even if they do call me by my name, it is not the man that they speak to, but the image of something greater that has been imagined and foreseen.

It was easier when all I had to worry about was cleaning up after Arthur and not being killed by Uther.

~**~

“I would have thought it was obvious.”

Checking my stride at the unknown voice, I pause, waiting for an answer that did not want to come.

“Benedict.”

I have to know what is being said, gathering my will, I turn my awareness inwards, spiralling towards the realm of thought and belief. Releasing my mind from the physical I feel a detachment from the world around me as I cast my mind towards the Claudius’ room

A faint blue tinge surrounds everything, focusing upon Claudius, resplendent within a golden glow, the other one dark and smudged with green and murky hues. It is here that I realise that my own feelings of jealousy and spite towards Claudius are unwarranted.

With the other lifting his sword, I feel the strength of hatred this man has towards Claudius. Not needing any further prompting, I cast my mind towards this man and lock his body in place.

The sword, that once was at Claudius’ throat now embedded in his arm and his mind calling and grasping at mine as I am caught within the grasp of his vision.

A queen, fiery locks, with her sword in hand; a golden torc surrounding her throat and woven oak leaves circle her brow. This Queens grief shown by the haggard lines etched upon her visage, her kin gone... perhaps dead and her terrible vengeance upon those she blamed. Her name is Boudica, the sound of her war cry floating on the aethers, a guide and a curse... a way and a warning. She too battled the Romans and she won, but the price... the price was too dear, a pyrrhic victory against the roman invaders, the battles won, but the price was her crown and kingdom.

Why she would appear in a vision granted to a Christer I do not know, but the reason for the vision was clear, there was a way to defeat Rome, but the price may be too high.

Thrust free from our shared sight by Claudius’ exhausted and agonised mind, I feel my mind recoil back to the physical in a flare of light that outlined my shape on the walls. Arms outstretched, exactly as if I was flying again, the glow surrounding the shadow making it appear as if I had wings again.

The calmness in Claudius’ eyes before they glazed and closed frightened me, he had seen me with his visions, and I had no doubt that another name would be added to my growing list of honorific’s.

~**~

Calling out for a guard, I rush to Claudius’ body, his arm almost severed and his life blood pooling on the cold stones beneath, raising my hands to his arm, I can see there is nothing I can do to save it, but if I hurry, I can at least save his life.

Looking inwards again and thanking Gaius for forcing me to learn some anatomy, I trace the lines of his blood flow, closing and sealing each severed or torn vessel, burning the flesh to seal and protect the remains of the stump of his arm. Drawing the pain from his body as easily as one would water from a jug.

I wait until I see Claudius’ breathing deepen and his colour return from that ghastly pallor. Always a pale man, Claudius now seemed translucent from the loos of blood and I could only hope I had done enough to save him, now it was up to him if he had the will to go on.

Fic: Förnuftet speglar sanningen (Reason Reflects The Truth) Part 5 of Book II - Förlorad Igen (Lost

2009-04-12T15:30:45Z

Series Title: Vad Hjärtat Aldrig Ser (What the Heart Never Sees)
Book Title: Förlorad Igen (Lost again)
Chapter Title: Förnuftet speglar sanningen (Reason Reflects The Truth)
Author: goetterdamerung
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Mild SM, Spanking
Summary: Arthur sees the truth of his relationship with Merlin... and so do others

Previously: Jag Behöver Dig (I Need You) | Vår Tid Är Nu (Our Time is Now) | Broder Claudius (Brother Claudius) | Så Långt, Långtifrån Hem (So Very Far From Home) |

“He owns a piece of your heart?” His eyebrow rises inquisitively. “And just exactly when did that happen?” Conversational, but with that fine edge of possessiveness that just does things to me.

“So, just how many others may lay claim to pieces of your heart My King.” That My King is definitely mocking, the rest is pure jealousy... and a jealous Merlin is one that completely disregards rank and takes me like the dog I am.

“Everyone loves the king Merlin... everyone.” Smirking as his eyes turn dark and his breathing hitches. It is so easy to play him when he gets like this, I know who will pay for it as well... and I’m counting on it.

“And does everyone get to lay claim to more than a piece of your heart? Do they lay you down and take their pleasure from you? Or do you go down on your knees before them, mouth their cocks through their robes? I know you Arthur Pendragon, you can’t get by without satisfying that urge you get, that urge that turns you into a slattern... a cock craving hole.”

Merlin’s eyes are pure black now, glaring holes through me, I am so going to pay for it this time... and I can’t wait.

“I think you need to be reminded just who exactly you belong to Arthur,” dark, gravelly tone now, just making me want him more and more.

Standing upright with his shoulders back gives him an air of power, the lazy arrogance of his stance make me want to submit to him even more, his eyes no longer boring holes through me, but instead indifferent and ambivalent... as if I am now beneath his notice.

“Strip.”

Reaching up to remove my crown, almost thankful I can take it off... it is not light you know.

“Leave it... leave it on... take the rest off.”

This drags a moan from deep inside me; the crowned king of Camelot, servicing his lover. The weight of the crown only another symbol to add to the many it already has.

Remembering all those years ago in the hunting lodge, me stripping down slowly for him, his eyes ablaze with lust, me riding him with abandon... everything about that night fixed in my mind as one of the most erotic experiences of my life.

Only now I want more, I need him to take me totally, to possess and use me... to make me his.

Fumbling with the closures on my robes, my hands trembling as his eyes flicker over me and then away again. Giving up with the closures and gripping either side of the front yokes, I rent them apart, sundering the garment in two.

Shrugging both pieces from my shoulders and watching them pool of the floor around my feet. Feeling Merlin’s approving gaze flash over me. Yanking the tunic up over my head and letting it drop to join the ruined robe... black upon blood red, the gold of the Pendragon Crest marred by the black of the tunic and hidden from view as my under-tunic lands on top of the pile.

Naked apart from my crown, I reach for Merlin’s signet, the one I gave to him as a betrothal ring only hours before, pressing my lips to it and whispering over it, “My Lord.”

A groan, barely heard from Merlin, almost a growl breathed softly, as I make my way down his body, past his legs to his feet. Easing each boot off and placing them out of the way, his stockings follow in the same way until his feet are bared.

Bringing my knees up so my back arches I dip my head to his feet. Each toe in turn, taken in to my mouth before lifting each foot and nuzzling his instep, my tongue flickering constantly across his skin.

Glancing up, I meet his impassive stare with humbled eyes before looking back down again quickly.

Reaching beneath his robe, I undo the ties of his breeches and let them pool at his feet and lifting each foot in turn, remove them from him

Placing each arm behind my back, I use my head and the back of my neck to get under Merlin’s robe, rising to my knees and looking at Merlin’s cock directly in front of my face in the dim gloom beneath his robe.

Laying my cheek against the crease of his thigh, I inhale deeply the scents of his body and his cock, musky and earthy smells that is purely Merlin alone. His half-hardened cock jutting out slightly as the scent of his arousal assails my body. Mouthing where his leg meets his groin, the flavour and taste of Merlin intensifies as his hand forces my head hard onto his crotch, my nose crushed against the base of his now hard cock.

Opening my mouth to take him in is the only option I have left as my own arousal peaks and washes over me, leaving me breathless.

Taking his head between my lips, his foreskin not fully back, I slide my tongue beneath it and the full taste of Merlin explodes on my tongue, acrid piss and musky arousal, the slight tang of his pre-come all combine as my tongue swirls around the head of his prick.

With his hand forcing my head further down, I swallow his length further and further, my lips and tongue surrounding the firm flesh and soft skin. His hips driving himself deeper and deeper down my throat until my nose rests on the dark hairs at the base of his prick, so unbelievably deep... so unbelievably good.

His hand keeps forcing my head down further, pressing the crown almost painfully against my skull, but I could not care either way. His cock so deep in my gullet, almost blocking any air, thrusting harder and deeper I can’t help it as my throat contracts against his prick, gagging... milking.

Feeling the tremors in his legs, I renew my efforts, fucking my throat on his cock, revelling in his taste. His hand lifts from my head, then reconnects powerfully above my ear as he pulls his cock from my mouth, not willing to let go I dive deeper on it again, receiving another crack to my head.

Finally getting the message, I let his cock spring from my mouth to make a wet splat against his belly and rest my head back against his thigh and I wait.

Pushing my head down, down past his cock and his thighs, his thin legs and long elegant feet until my cheek rests upon the cold flagstone below.

I blink as the bright light of the room is revealed once more as Merlin steps away from me.

I hear my own breath panting and my spittle coating my chin and dripping down the length of my throat. My face feels hot and flushed, my cock hard and aching and my body feels a yearning for more.

I can hear him rummage through the garderobe, the sound of clothing being discarded to the floor the only thing I hear apart from my own breathing, until his faint footsteps tell me he returns.

His foot between my legs, forcing my knees further apart, his other foot leans heavily on my back, forcing it to arch and then I feel it.

Trailing lightly across the small of my back, across the top of my arse... my sword belt.

The faint smell of leather and the feather light touch as it caresses my body.

A sweat breaks out on my forehead as I imagine what comes next, fear wars with anticipation, want battles with run and as the first stoke sears my arse, pain fights with pleasure.

That lightning strike that feels cool for only a fraction of a moment, giving way to a burn so intense and precise that finally dies to a sullen ache.

“Who do you belong to?”

Another strike and another flaming welt crosses the previous one, burning away any pretence of my power, proving to me that I am just a man.

Another stripe and the same question again.

Tears mingle with the sweat as the air gets driven from my lungs with each stroke of leather. Cries with every taste of the cruel belt as words refuse to form and I am incapable of speech.

“Who do you belong to Arthur Pendragon?”

A final, terrible blow lands directly across all of the other welts and I scream for forgiveness and pledge my life and soul to him... to Merlin.

My tears trek down my face and onto the cold hard stone below as his voice hovers softly just above me, “Yes Arthur... you belong to me... and I belong to you.” His hands cradle my face and his lips are as a benediction, soothing away my tears and holding my heart in his hands

Raising my face to meet his, our lips finally meet and all pain is forgotten.

“Go to the bed and wait for me, I will be back shortly... it is time to speak to Claudius.”

Shocked, I can do nothing but stare incomprehensively at him, “Why speak to him now? Why leave here reeking of me to speak to him now?”

“You may think it is cruel Arthur, but I do understand how he feels for you... how could I not? I shall not harm nor raise my voice; he will understand that I have claimed you without anything being said. Plus, we must find out more about Benedict tonight, although I fear we may already be too late to prevent whatever plot he may have devised.”

“No, I must go now, I shall not be long and when I return, I shall take you over and over again until all you can recall is my body in yours.”

His eyes are full of desire and need, I am sure my show the same.

I know he is right and that we must find out what Benedict has planned, but after the past hour, I’m not sure I can be removed enough... no Merlin is right, he must speak to Claudius alone and he must do it this evening.

With a petulant sigh I capitulate, “Make sure you come straight back here Merlin, I need to feel you.”

Pulling his head back down to meet mine, I place a chaste kiss upon his lips, “Now go... and hurry back.”

~**~

Looking around at the spartan room, I revel in the memory of Arthur’s kiss. I know nothing may come of my love for him, but that I have some place in his heart soothes the ache that I shall never taste him again.

Glancing around, I need to do something about this chamber, whilst I have simple tastes, this austerity that my predecessor believed in is too stark for my tastes... perhaps some simple wall hangings and maybe bed curtains would help liven the room up.

Lost in a simple desire to have something of my own I fail to hear the knock at my chamber door until it is opened roughly and a sword is pointed at my throat.

Så Långt, Långtifrån Hem (So Very Far From Home)

2009-04-10T16:47:41Z

Series Title: Vad Hjärtat Aldrig Ser (What the Heart Never Sees)
Book Title: Förlorad Igen (Lost again)
Chapter Title: Så Långt, Långtifrån Hem (So Very Far From Home)
Author: goetterdamerung
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Truths can hurt even the most unlikely of souls

Previously: Jag Behöver Dig (I Need You) | Vår Tid Är Nu (Our Time is Now) | Broder Claudius (Brother Claudius) |

It is a miracle to see the open affection and outright love that Arthur has showered Merlin with so far tonight, not a miracle that he is doing so, but a miracle that only a small murmur is heard from all present. It is almost as if the last twenty five years had never occurred.

The natural emulation of the King accounts for some of this, but certainly not all; maid and maid no longer skulk the corners and shadows or hide in their chambers, servants and masters, mistress’ and maids, lads and lads. No more do these furtive glances and forbidden touches remain within the realms of punishment and death; no... they are now seen as openly as those whom court the other sex... although certainly not quite so blatantly.

Camelot has mourned and now they celebrate, it celebrates the coronation of a new king and also celebrates the coming of a new age, but there is still two people here tonight who are not celebrating; Benedict, my... Arch Bishop still sits at the high table, but he is well aware that tonight is the last he shall spend within these walls. The other is Morgana, deep in her cups and from what I have seen, no longer waters her drink, but drinks directly from the mether before her and is obviously worse for wear for it. Her maid Guinevere seems to be just as upset as her mistress if the cool looks she darts occasionally to Arthur are any indication.

I can feel eyes upon my back and without looking I know to whom they belong, Benedict... it is only a matter of time before he makes a move this evening. Unable to directly face Arthur he will go for the one he can, the one he has always been able to coerce and force, the same person who now holds the position he so desperately craved... Me.

Since my formal appointment this afternoon, I have made a quick study into the practices and habits of the former advisor. The accounts and tallies that line his shelves made for interesting reading, it appears that some dozen or more estates have been tithed to the Church of Rome and some eight or nine have been left to Benedict personally as payment for indulgences and willed to the Church upon death leaving the remaining family destitute and homeless. The yearly taxation from these estates alone equals fifteen times what my family’s estates back in Rome earn within five years and those familial estates are very lucrative and vast.

And there you see my shame; I, Claudius Alfonse de’ Justine, only son to Augustus Perinos de’ Justine, Governor of the Tirol region. I myself was ‘elected’ to the post of Magistrati. It was the pure nepotism that lead me to defy my father and my family and take the vows in Rome... not the most ignoble of reasons, but certainly not ones that could give me any comfort either.

Regardless, my family’s estates were sizable and their income high, but this still doesn’t begin to come close to the wealth that Benedict had managed to sequester away in his time of service to the King. I had promised myself that I would allow Arthur and Merlin the evening to enjoy themselves as they could, but the feeling of unease... and to be honest vindictiveness, leads me directly to Arthur’s feet.

“Your Majesties, may I have a moment of time before you?” Nice to know I still hadn’t forgotten the niceties.

Raising an eyebrow in askance, Arthur turns quickly to Merlin and I am positive an unspoken conversation occurred.

“Come, this would be better conducted in private.” Merlin’s voice grave.

Motioning to a couple of knights, Arthur had a hurried word to them and indicated over to where Benedict still was seated at the board. With nods of acquiescence the knights positioned themselves either side of the board and waited... for what I didn’t know.

“Come, I think I know who you wish to discuss... and maybe even what.” Arthur’s face betrayed his worry and if it didn’t, then the fact he repeatedly kept worrying his lower lip with his teeth did.

~**~

“Benedict.” Short and flat, almost expressionless.

Nodding my head even though it was rhetorical, “Yes, Benedict. There is much more to him than just his control over the former King and Christendom in Albion.” The distaste in my words does nothing to dispel the feelings of sickness and anger in my stomach.

“Albion has made Benedict a very wealthy man, many demenses have been tithed to the Church or willed personally to Benedict upon the ruling lord’s demise. At a quick accounting, more than ninety thousand gold has been transferred from personal estates to either the Church or Benedict himself. Benedict enjoys great power and luxury, even though his personal chambers are sparse. A man with that sort of wealth may purchase many things... even the death of an inconvenient King.”

Arthur’s face is incredulous.

“No man, however well placed, would seek the death of a ruling monarch.”

I think my face mirrored Arthur’s incredulous one of before, “Are you such a fool then Arthur Pendragon? To believe that such a thing is impossible, if a man such as Benedict wants you gone, you can be sure that there would be many who would happily do his bidding for the right incentive.”

Looking to Merlin, I can see that he understands the situation much more than his erstwhile lover does, but yet he remains silent on the matter. The only indication that he wishes me to continue is a small nod of his head.

"My own country’s history is full of such tales, not to mention your own. Your great, great grandfather was second cousin to the king, he himself led an uprising against the ruling monarch and sequestered himself as King. You must know this and yet you deign to believe that such a thing is impossible? You are either naive, or foolishly misguided... or just plain stupid.”

The backhand slap that connects with my cheek brings tears to my eyes as I realise that he is no longer the imprisoned Prince, but instead the ruling King.

“Forgive me Your Majesty; it was not my place to speak as such.”

Mortified that I had the temerity to speak as such to the king has my cheeks flaming brighter than the handprint that adorns my left cheek and I drop to my knees and abase myself before him.

Minutes pass with only the fraught silence screaming louder than a bansidhe. I feel fingers lift my chin and there before my very eyes is Arthur, tears upon his own cheeks.

“No, forgive me Claudius, you speak of things that I wish to remain ignorant of, but know better regardless. You are correct about my father’s grandsire; he did murder his own king to ascend the throne in his place... I have raised you to personal advisor and yet I myself find that there is much of my own father in me when it comes to unpalatable truths, for even Uther would not listen when others more wise would speak if he it deemed so.”

His fingers rest under my chin, his thumb just above my lips and it is more than I can bear as my mind shuts off and my body reacts to his touch. With his thumb softly caressing my lips, I open my mouth slightly and pursing my lips lay the gentlest of kisses on his thumb.

My own mortal weakness has been that this man is one I would follow to my death, not for allegiance, not for duty, but for love.

“Claudius.” Softly breathed against my forehead, followed by the brief press of his lips, swiftly there and gone.

The air surrounds us with such power as we both remember the other still in the room.

Merlin’s eyes are a blazing gold and his expression murderous, power crackling the very air around us.

Reaching out to Merlin, Arthur rests one hand upon his leg.

“Mer... both Claudius and I know who my heart belongs to, but this man before us has helped me in ways you were unable to. Nothing untoward has ever occurred, nor will it ever... but remember this, I have been aware of Caludius’ feelings for me for many years and I too in my own way care for him deeply. But it is you Merlin that makes my heart beat... I may wear the ring bound to your heart, but my heart is tied to it as well, for if your heart ceases to beat, then mine will as well moments after. You have nothing to fear from Claudius and you have even less to fear from his feelings for me.”

Even knowing the truth of his words, my own heart cries out at the injustice of it, where was Merlin when his lover was locked away? Who was the one person that cared for the Prince during his isolation...? I knew regardless where his heart has and will always be focused... and it is not on me.

“Claudius, Merlin and I need to discuss this, it would be better if you left us. Remember one thing though, you do own a piece of my heart, please be content with that. I could not bear to send you away anymore than I could bear to lose Merlin over this.”

Both Merlin and I knew that this was directed at both of us; with his words, Arthur was reassuring both of us and still letting us both know how it was.

The air around us stilled, as if some great power was about to be loosed, then nothing, the air was nothing more than something we breathe.

Moving over to Merlin, I bow my head, “Forgive me, you must know how I feel and why.”

Merlin’s response was his hand on top of my head and his voice, soft and understanding, “I understand only too well what lengths Arthur Pendragon can make us go for nothing but his love. Go now, we shall talk privately anon.”

Shuffling out the door, my head low and heart in two... I let the fact that Arthur does care for me warm me as tears of loss break free.

Sigh So this is what people do instead of sleep

2009-04-06T17:31:19Z

Kind of Ficced out atm, been writing solidly for the last month or so... not bad after a 2 year hiatus from Ficcing.

Still, need a break from writing for a day or two (or was that night or two), so what does one do instead of write in the wee hours??????

One bakes?!?!?!?

So far this evening I have two loaves of White bread, one loaf of Dark Rye Sour Dough with carraway seed, 3 dozen hot atheist buns and I haved just pulled out a Blackberry Scroll bun from the oven...

The Croissant dough is chillaxing in the fridge (why yes, I do make my own flaky pasty thank you for asking) and I still want to do the Kügelhopf if I get time.

Fuck, so wishing I was back in the UK atm, I miss HRH, I miss someone in bed with me and I MISS SEX!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thank Christ I'm on holidays atm or these sleepless nights and work would end up killing me.

Mind you, on the subject of fic...

I have managed to get swept up into a new fandom - J2... I can't believe it RPS?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!??!

The irony is that I don't like supernatural, but just want to screw Jensen and Jared sideways/upsidedown/vertically with a twist even and *sigh* yet again

Merlin is still eating my brain so I am now active in two fandoms at once and my muse is pissing me off by not co-operating with either set of series atm.

At last count I have 3 Merlin series on the go, 4 stand alone Merlin fics done, One heavy J2 series and two stand alone J2 fics done...

that is about 180k words all totalled in a month

*whimpers*

At least the Angst is still running in top gear and I have fully embraced my destiny to torture/mutilate/rape/mind game and generally give all the protagonists in my fics fifteen different types of shit.

Nice to know THAT at least hasn't changed.

:þ~

Fic RPS Jensen/Jared 'The Loser - Part 5/9'

2009-04-05T16:31:26Z

Title: The Loser – Part 5/9
Author: goetterdamerung
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17
Genre: ANGST (big time)
Warnings: Self Harm, Psychological Manipulation, Heavy angst (male style), Hardcore sex (eventually), Topping from the bottom
Disclaimer: Not mine, Kripke’s et al and some American mob.
Summary: Sometimes Losers can be winners to.

Previously: The Loser - Part 1 | - Part 2 | - Part 3 | - Part 4 |

I suppose I could say the next few days were the best we’ve ever had together... but that would mean that I am deaf, dumb, blind and an idiot to boot... well scratch the deaf, dumb and blind thing, I’ll cop being an idiot.

Where before everything was an uphill battle with Jared, now he is just so fucking passive and agreeable it’s like I’m living with a fucking Stepford Wife. He’s more than happy to go along with anything I suggest... and he’s as miserable as anything. We come home from the set and he’s on his knees blowing me or he’s leading me to the bedroom and slowly riding my cock till we both come all over the place. He never forgets to tell me that he loves me... this coming from a guy that couldn’t even fuck face to face before!

It’s gotten to the point that people on set are asking questions, none of which I want to answer. It’s gotten to the point that I am stuck playing amateur shrink... got to love the internet for that. According to some simple research Jared could be suffering from Dissociative Identity Disorder, Manic Depression, Bi-Polar disorder, hormone imbalance, Type I Diabetes and so on. None of which I can do a fucking thing about.

He told me he was going out with a few of the guys from the set for a couple of drinks, Jar speak for getting shitfaced, but he should be back before midnight... that passed four hours ago.

~**~

The sound of glass breaking wakes me from my stupor, sunlight is streaming through the windows and my feet are wet from where the glass dropped and smashed, remnants of the bourbon splashed over the floor and my feet. Barely with it, I struggle to open my eyes properly and when I do... I wish I hadn’t.

Jared, looking at me with murder in his eyes, “Couldn’t help yourself... could ya?” His voice mocking and harsh, “just had to go and get pissed the minute I’m not around.”

My mouth is thick and dry, I can’t even string a few words together coherently, but try any case, “Youth thuposed t’be out wit’ t’ boyths... lef’ me here ‘lone.” Pathetic, fucking pathetic Jensen.

Judging by the look on Jared’s face, he agrees completely. “You fucking dick, I went out with a couple of friends so I could tell them.”

Half pissed or not, that still didn’t make any sense.

“Wha’?”

“Us, you dick... I told them about me... and about us.” Fear entering his voice and apprehension in his eyes.

As his words filter through my drink soaked brain, my sobriety level increases exponentially. “Are you fucking mad? You can’t even admit you’re gay to me... and I’m the guy fucking you. Yet you fucking decide to spill all to a few people we have nothing to do with except for seeing them on he set? What the fuck were you thinking?”

That does it, all traces of drink gone and I am cold sober and fucking furious. Standing in a rush, the sudden pain in my foot doesn’t make any sense until I look down.

“FUCK!” Blood pissing out of my foot where it came down heavily onto the broken glass.

“Shit, shit, shit.” That fucking hurts.

Jared stands frozen looking down at my foot, “Don’t just fucking stand there, go get the kit you dick.” I’ve never been good with pain; it always makes me a snarky son of a bitch.

Jared runs back with the kit and a bowl, the irony doesn’t escape me at all... usually I’m the one patching him up. The rueful smile that graces Jared’s face for a moment tells me he also appreciates the irony.

“Look at me Jens,” grasping my jaw reminiscent of my usual trick, “Yes, me... us. I’ve never told a single person the truth before... not even myself. Yeah, I got problems, everyone has, but I’m trying to deal... I don’t need you going all pisshead on me as well.”

This is a new one, he’s barely looking at me, concentrating on patching up my foot and having the gall to have a go at me about my drinking... fucking hypocrite.

Opening my mouth to respond, I’m shocked when his hand covers my mouth.

“Oi, you don’t get to but in yet... I’m still talking. Do you have any idea what it is like being with you sometimes? Everyone seems to think you’re the perfect one, can’t do no wrong. They’re fucking crazy, you’re just as bad as the rest of us slobs... you just make sure your public don’t see what you’re really like, and you call me a fucking hypocrite.”

A touch of the old Jared is peeking out; I’m not sure whether to be thankful or terrified.

“As I said before, yeah... I got problems, big fucking problems if you want me to be honest about it, but I’m working on ‘em. You got any idea how fucking hard it was to tell those guys I like it up the ass? How hard it was that I am in fucking love with a guy, let alone in love with you? You got no fucking clue; everything is perfect in your little world... I’m just the dirty little secret.”

Hissing through my teeth as his hands turn rough on my cut foot, certainly not because his barbs hit home... besides, I’m not the one turning drama queen with a pair of box-cutters and artistically arranged cuts and such. There’s no fucking way I’m wearing that.

“There’s a heap of shit that’s happened which you know nothing about and I’m not ready yet to tell you... but I want to be able to. I need you to be there, not head first in a bottle of Jacks. Ya get me?”

Shit, why do I get the feeling I’ve just had my legs taken out from under me?

“Just answer me one question Jared, does any of this stuff have anything to do with why you gotta cut yourself and shit? Cos I gotta tell ya, that shit scares the crap outta me.” And it does, believe me; I still have nightmares about him cutting himself that bad I can’t do anything about it to help. Then something else he said made me sit up and listen...so to speak, “and did I hear you right before, you told the guys you were in love with me?” I can’t help it, got the goofy grin plastered all over my face, I can feel it.

A soft snort is the only response I get, but that’s enough... at least for the second part, I’m still waiting for an answer for the first part.

Running my thumb down his cheek I ask again, “You don’t have to tell me about it yet, but I need to know if this thing in the past is what causes you to pull this shit you do? Cos, I can’t deal with that any more ya know?”

This is it, if he answers me, then maybe we can sort this shit out, otherwise...

“Yeah... big part really, but that’s shit I can’t talk about yet... not for a long time even. I just need you to know I’m not crazy, not really, I just can’t deal with things sometimes.”

I nod, it’s enough.

“You finished with my foot yet, cos I really wanna kiss you now.”

His filthy grin is all the answer I need.

RPS Jensen/Jared - The Loser - 4/9

2009-04-05T11:05:06Z

Title: The Loser – Part 4/9
Author: goetterdamerung
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17
Genre: ANGST (big time)
Warnings: Self Harm, Psychological Manipulation, Heavy angst (male style), Hardcore sex (eventually), Topping from the bottom
Disclaimer: Not mine, Kripke’s et al and some American mob.
Summary: Denial can be a wonderful thing, especially if you are the loser

Previous: The Loser - Part 1/9 | Part 2/9 | Part 3/9 |

This is fucked, only half an hour ago I’m ready to walk out on him, now here he is wrapped around me like a deranged octopus; his face nuzzling my chest and his fingers ghosting up and down my sides.

“You’re a sick cunt Jar; positively fucked in the head... you know that?” Resigned once more to continuing this circle of shit we have going.

You know what my problem is? I am that fucking stupidly in love with the guy, that as long as he is here next to me, I’ll put up with all his games and crap just to have him in my arms... I’m beginning to wonder who the sick fucker really is... him or me.

I’m not really expecting an answer from him, so his response comes as a shock to me.

“I know... always been this way.” His face hard against my chest muffles his voice as his lips whisper across my skin with each word he speaks.

Feeling moisture roll down my chest and thinking that the cut on my chest was still seeping a little blood, turning my head to look down; it is not blood I see, but two tears slowly making their way down my front and pooling in the hollow of my stomach.

“Oh Jar... you’re driving me nuts here” and he is, he really is driving me nuts... but even that doesn’t stop me from leaning a little further down and pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head, before adding, “but even still Jar... I can’t help myself... I still love you, you crazy bastard.”

And I guess that says it all now, doesn’t it?

~**~

Easing both of us down to the floor and bringing him level with me so we are looking each other eye to eye; I rest my forehead against his and my arms curl protectively around him, pulling him in closer and I let out a sigh as I feel him mould himself against me... everything feeling right for the first time in a very, very long time. I knew it wouldn’t last, but come hell or high water I would enjoy it while it did.

Gently nudging his head back slightly, I make my way down his face until our mouths meet, letting my tongue flicker against his lightly parted lips, teasing them gently... softly demanding entry as I capture his bottom lip between my teeth and letting his tongue flicker against my upper lip.

Rolling him over onto his back, my weight holding him down, elicits a moan from deep within both of us as our kisses become more frantic and demanding, his whole body undulating beneath mine, each rise of his hips met by the downward thrust of my own.

I could stay in this moment forever, but Jared is as determined as ever, “Fuck me Jens, Fuck me.” I feel his legs spread beneath mine and come up and wrap themselves around my back, his hips canting forward and up, trying to get his hole in line with my cock.

Gripping both his hands in mine, I bring them above his head and hold them there as I attack his neck, pinching the thin skin between my teeth before letting my tongue soothe the sting away. Running my stubble along the side of his face and panting heavily into his ear, “You can fucking well wait till I’m good and ready.”
Truth be told, I’m so turned on and horny as fuck, this is the first time he’s wanted face to face and I don’t want it to be over just yet... which would be about ten seconds after I entered him if I didn’t calm myself down a bit first.

“Kiss me Jar, kiss me” I’m begging here and I don’t give a flying fuck, need to feel his lips on mine, need to feel that connection that has been missing for so long.

Playful nips is about all I getting here and frustration is driving me wild; no longer caring, I force his head still and claim his mouth as my own... fucking his mouth with my tongue, his own cries and moans drowned out by my own.

Need to feel his mouth ‘round my cock, force myself hard and deep down his throat, feel his lips and tongue surround my prick as I fuck myself deeper and deeper down his throat.

Letting go of his hands and raising myself up, the added pressure against my cock drags a needy groan from me. Breaking the grip his legs have around my waist, I surge forwards till my cock sits heavily across his mouth... my eyes begging him to take it into his mouth.

Feeling his tongue slide along the underside of my prick is my undoing, “Suck it, fucking suck it.” Desperation is driving me wild and his teasing is getting close to breaking me.

The whimper I make as he finally relents and takes me deep in his throat would be embarrassing if I actually cared any longer... all I needed to be was embedded deep inside him, either hole... I was beyond being fussy.

What he was doing with his tongue was nothing short of pure filth as his hands went behind me and pushed my ass forwards, plunging me deeper as he choked around a throat-full of cock, but still kept sucking and swallowing.

Pulling out before I blew down his throat there and then and looking down at his face; his lips swollen and bruised, eyes almost black with a feral glint showing and his face looking as debauched as I have ever seen it.

Scrabbling down his body till I’m eye level with his straining cock, the head flushed a dull purple and leaking from the tip leaving crystal strands as his cock throbbed and bobbed against his body. Taking a quick breath, I swallow him down to his balls, ignoring the overpowering need to gag as I force more and more of him in my mouth till his balls hit my chin. Rolling his balls in my fingers and tracing beneath them, searching for his sweat-slicked hole. Letting his cock slip out of my mouth I move further down... my tongue flicking at his balls as I go further down.

Lifting his legs either side of my head and bringing his ass high in the air, I blow gently across his exposed hole and watch as he convulsively clenches and relaxes his hole before diving tongue first into it myself.

Musky, earthy taste surrounds me as his ass relaxes around my tongue, letting me fuck him deeper and deeper with my tongue. His moans and cries more and more incoherent as his head thrashes from side to side, all the while thrusting his ass higher and higher in the air... begging for more, for deeper, just to fuck him for fuck’s sake.

For once what he wants and what I want match.

“We’re doing it my way” I finally manage to gasp as such a desperate need sweeps over me.

“Don’t care... just get in me for Christ’s sake.”

I’ve never seen him so totally into it, his cock bouncing as his ass clenches spasmodically, he’s practically gagging for it.

Dragging his hips over till they hit my knees, I roll his legs up and over his shoulders so his feet touch the floor behind his head, his hole so open and ready. Rising up I aim my cock straight at his hole then lay my whole body weight along him and slowly sink into him from gravity alone.

I can feel the trembling in his thighs as the unaccustomed position puts unexpected strain on the muscles. My hands above his head on the floor, my hips at an angle to his hole, short, sharp thrusts... each one slamming into his prostate as I devour his mouth.

I feel him clench around me as I rut into him.

“More fuck you... harder, more.” He’s fucking sobbing as each thrust goes right through him, but I need more, I need to be deeper.

Bringing his legs forward to my hook over my shoulders, I raise up on my knees fully and allow myself to slowly pull right out of him.

“Look at me, fucking look at me Jar.” Harsh and commanding.

Holding still until he does seems like an age, but he finally locks eyes with me.

Sliding slowly into him, not stopping till my balls rest against his ass, I grip his prick in my hand and slowly pull my cock almost out again, matching the rhythm of my stroke on his cock to the thrusts of my cock; long, leisurely, languorous stroke designed to drive both of us crazy with the need for more.

“Jens... please... more... need more.” His eyes still haven’t left mine and with my own need for more I comply.

Revving up slightly, a little more of a snap to my hips as I hit the deepest parts of him only to pull out and repeat over and over, both of us staring at the other.

“Loveyouloveyouloveyou” A liturgy tumbles from my mouth as the pace increases until I am driving into him.

Feeling his ass clamp down hard I know he’s about to blow, ramming my cock harder and harder into him as the first stream of come explodes from him and lands on his neck and face, each thrust forces more come out of him until he is nothing more than a quivering wreck.

“Love you Jens.” So soft, but I hear it and let my own release hit as lights dance in front of my eyes until the whole world turns grey then black and I hear and feel nothing more.

Next Chapter

Fic RPS Jensen/Jared 'The Loser 3/9'

2009-04-03T18:04:54Z

Title: The Loser – Part 3/9
Author: goetterdamerung
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17
Genre: ANGST (big time)
Warnings: Self Harm, Psychological Manipulation, Heavy angst (male style), Hardcore sex (eventually), Topping from the bottom
Disclaimer: Not mine, Kripke’s et al and some American mob.
Summary: Love’s a bitch, she always gets even in the end... and in the end you lose, you always lose.

Previously: The Loser - Part 1 | - Part 2 |

I’m not sure anymore if these tears are for hurt, anger or pain... it all feels disconnected. There are so many ways I could have handled that; but no, like a dick I have to go for the melodramatic version. This is what I mean... we’re both trapped in this viscous cycle until one of us breaks free... or snaps completely.

He’s still sitting there; his eyes haven’t left where I’ve curled up on the couch. His eyes... that’s one of the first things I noticed about him, unfathomable depths shrouded in secrets all wrapped in this perfect package.

Goes to show you what I know, doesn’t it?

Now I can tell exactly what he is thinking just by looking at his eyes, I can see when he’s lying, can see when he’s horny and I can see when he’s hurt; those being the most common expressions he has these days.

I don’t think I know how to stop this insanity barring one of us leaving. Christ, Freud would have had a field day with us... Jung as well, come to think of it and Kinsey... well, best to leave that well the fuck alone.

Just off the top of my head, we have a co-dependent, dysfunctional psycho-sexual relationship with self image angst and passive aggressive tendencies. We also have attention seeking, self mutilation and alcoholism to boot. Yup, no shrink would touch us with a ten foot bargepole

Still, something has to be done about this situation otherwise I might as well book myself accommodation at the nearest rubber room resort for the next ten or fifteen years or so.

Did I mention masochism as one of my faults as well?

No choices left got to try and at least get some space going between us. No game plan ready, no strategy either, gonna have to wing it and hope for the best.

Grabbing the couch throw and wrapping it around my shoulders, I grunt at the effort required to haul my ass up off the couch again and trudge exactly half the distance to where Jared still sits.

“Jared, come here... sit down here, we have to talk.” Resignation and pain make my voice sharper than I intended, but it seems to have done the trick as Jared’s eyes lock onto mine and a minute nod is sent my way.

Practically falling where I stand, I bring my legs in close to my body and wrap my arms around them... an eerie initiation of Jared’s earlier position. Resting my head on my knees I watch as Jared slowly gets to his knees and crawls over to where I’m seated.

Arrogant bastard still hasn’t put any clothes on, how the fuck am I supposed to think when he’s sitting there like that?

Ripping the throw from around me, I pelt it at Jared, “Wrap this around you, I don’t need to see everything you’ve got, I’ve been there done that with it all.” Harsh, but necessary... I really don’t want to be staring at his prick when I’m trying to break up with him... kind of defeats the purpose really.

The bastard just grins smugly at me, this is going to stop and stop now.
Closing my eyes briefly and breathing in slowly lets me calm down before I let rip at him yet again... and we know how well that went last time.

“We can’t go on like this anymore Jar, it’s killing me. Just answer me why, why cut yourself up and shit? I know it is only superficial cuts, only there to get me to do as you want, but why... why do it?”

Fuck, didn’t want half that crap to come out, it just seemed I opened my mouth and the fucking truth came out. Shit, talk about negotiating from a position of weakness.

He still hasn’t even taken breath to reply, just glued his eyes to mine, that stupid smirk still fixed in place. I really want to knock it off his face, but I know that’ll just start all the same crap over again.

Fuck, there’s really no point trying, all he’s going to do is just grin inanely at me and refuse to talk about anything... did I really expect any different...? Rhetorical question there.

“Fine, that answers that then, no point continuing is there? I’ll pack what’s left of my shit and move out today.”

No fucking response, I’ve fucking had it; I can’t believe it has taken me this long to wise the fuck up.

“Nice to know you Jar, nice to fucking know ya.”

Heaving to my feet I am stopped by Jared’s hand darting out and catching my arm tightly.

“You’re not leaving.” Jared finally speaks, as flat and unemotional as it is.

“Piss off Jared, I’m gone, you’ve had every fucking chance under the sun... I’m sick to death of your crap.”

Shaking his hand off is easier than I thought it would be, that is until I get about three steps away and get taken out at the knees by a dive tackle.

“You’re not fucking going anywhere Jens” his voice slightly muffled with his face pressed to my thigh.

“Jar, we can’t keep on like this, you have to know that.” Fuck, why don’t I just lie down and wave the white flag already.

“You can’t leave me Jen... I’ll end up losing it if you go.” Never a truer word has been spoken... or mumbled in this case.

Have you ever been so angry with someone that you literally shake with the rage? Right, now try that as well feeling so impotently helpless that everything is numb around you. Capitulation is just around the corner, I can’t think straight with him like this... so much like the Jared I thought I knew all those years ago.

With a self deprecating snort, I feel the anger and fire cool down and ice numbness take their place. Screwing my eyes tightly shut I finally submit to his will again, the taste of which is like ashes in my mouth.

Once more Jared Padalecki gets his way and I give in once more.

Reaching out to cup his cheek, the very one stained with my blood, I give in and pull him up level with me.

With a satisfied sigh Jared drops his head on my shoulder as I card my finger absently through his hair... staring blankly into the air and contemplating the feeling of loss once more.

Next Chapter

Fic RPS Jensen/Jared 'The Loser 2/9'

2009-04-03T09:26:02Z

Title: The Loser – Part 2/9
Author: goetterdamerung
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17
Genre: ANGST (big time)
Warnings: Self Harm, Psychological Manipulation, Heavy angst (male style) Hardcore sex (eventually), Topping form the bottom
Disclaimer: Not mine, Kripke’s et al and some American mob.
Summary: Love is a game that two people play, but one will always be... The Loser

Previous: The Loser - Part 1/9 |

Not asleep and not awake, I border on the fringe in between both; the quiet snick of a door opening is enough to rouse wakefulness. I can sense him well before I can see him, that unwashed, stale odour of the confirmed slob, but there is bitterness to it as well, an acrid, metallic scent... the scent of blood.

Flicking my eyes to the bedroom door I can just see him huddled there; hair dishevelled and dull, hiding his eyes behind a veil of lacklustre brown.

He’s there naked, knees brought up to his chest, encircled by filthy, blood stained arms. Blood... it’s everywhere, some fresh and some old. In his hand a box-cutter, matted with blood and hair.

His entire posture and attitude screams dejection and utter hopelessness with a poignancy that borders on heartbreak... pity it’s all feigned, staged for an audience of one.

I know I am supposed to see the box-cutter, its presence and position alone tells me that. He’s only holding it with one finger obscuring the blade while the rest of it sits atop his fingers; ensuring the best possible view. The hair that covers his face has the too perfect angle to hide and shield his eyes, the blood streaks are works of art in physiology and the cuts themselves are faint and shallow... too carefully positioned for maximum effect and minimal damage and scarring.

Twice he’s done this before, each time after I’ve called us off, but he still goes and does it anyway. For Jared, it is all about control, not controlling his own anger and pain... that I could perhaps help with. No, this is about controlling me, binding me to him, making me complicit in his deception of the world. I remember the first time he did this to himself, the way he initially bound my soul to his whims.

~**~

I’d gotten back from the set late, going through some new rewrites, the table had been set for a cosy dinner for two, wine breathing on the sideboard, candles burnt down to the base and the meal congealing on the plates.

The guilt that assailed me practically knocked me to my knees with its savagery. For once Jared had tried to do something sweet instead of his usual trick and forcing me into bed... it had seemed as if he was learning... trying to accept the relationship instead of denying its very existence.

I called out to him, tears in my eyes and begging forgiveness. I remember wanting to find him and hold him tightly to me as I begged to be allowed to try make it up to him.

Walking into that bedroom, Christ; I‘ll never forget that first sight of him on the bed. His arms carelessly thrown above his head, blood smearing the wall as an arm had slid down it. His head tipped right back on its side, a single streak of blood, marring the ghastly white pallor of his face, ran along his cheekbone and back into his hair.

But the worst of it was still to come...

On the bedside a letter sat, fat drops of blood in stark relief to the crisp whiteness of the page.

It read:

Jensen,
Who is he that takes your heart from where it belongs?
Who is he that blinds you to the truth of my love?
Who is he that beguiles and fascinates you?
Who is he that makes you watch as my life-blood flows free?
Who is he?

The frantic calls to 911 and Jared’s incoherent moans all merged into a singular sound... the sound of despair and failure.

Vowing to prove my heart was his and his alone I stood vigil at his bedside, binding my very soul to his existence... just as long as he would still be there.

It turned out that all of the cuts were minor, some of the blood streaks had actually been smeared on deliberately and the pallor and listlessness were from the excessive use of emetics.

I had promised myself that if I did everything I could for Jar, then we could work through his problems, but instead the manipulation and violence had only worsened until I was just as guilty as him.

Just as at fault for being his doormat... and just as unable to stop in any case.

The game had begun.

~**~

Closing my eyes once again I knew what had to be done, I knew that I had to get out... but I also knew I couldn’t just leave him here like this either.

See what I mean? I’m just as guilty as him for all of this... except, I’m the one who should know better.

Groaning as my muscles cramp from inactivity, I heave myself out of the couch and make my way to the faucet.

Trying to pretend I haven’t done this too many times before, I reach for the first aid kit and some clean cloths. Filling a bowl with warm water, I can’t help but add a liberal dose of salt to it.

Fuck it, he keeps hurting me... as those lawyers keep saying, ’Quid pro quo’

Supplies at hand I walk back to where Jared still sits; he hasn’t moved, but I know he has kept track of my movements. He knows what will happen next... or at least he thinks he does.

Wetting the cloth in the water and wringing it loosely out, I cup his chin in one hand and force his head up to meet mine.

Without a word, I clean away the blood and dirt, relishing his hisses as the saline water stings his cuts, till eventually his face his clean and he’s looking back at me.

Taking off my rumpled shirt, I see his eyes dilate slightly... I hide the grin that threatens to break out from behind the stoic mask of indifference I have going.

Reaching down I take the box-cutter from his hand and place it behind me, taking the freshly rinsed cloth I repeat my earlier ministrations on his hands and arms.

Grabbing the box-cutter once more, I place it in the washbowl and carefully clean all the blood and grime from it. Once cleaned, the cutter looks like brand new, its edge gleaming in the weak morning light.

Taking it up in my hand I place the edge against my chest, just over my heart, and slice down.

The pain is almost non-existent, barely registering as Jared’s eyes narrow in alarm.

Not a word has been spoken.

Running my fingers through the blood dripping down my chest, I reach over and streak my blood from the corner of his eye down his cheek... the ultimate parody of tears.

“Two can play this game Jared.” Cold and implacable; a simple statement of fact, I no longer care about the consequences anymore.

Getting to my feet in front of a stunned Jared, I make my way back over to the couch, lie down and finally let the tears flow.

Next Chapter

RPS Jensen/Jared - 'The Loser - Part 1'

2009-04-02T15:53:56Z

Title: The Loser – Part 1
Author: goetterdamerung
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17
Genre: ANGST (big time)
Warnings: Heavy angst (male style) Hardcore sex (eventually)
Disclaimer: Not mine, Kripke’s et al and some American mob.
Authors Notes: This was going to be PWP, then the angst monster reared its head now we have a series (glares at avon_09 see what you’ve got me doing now)
Summary: In love’s game, there isn’t always a happy ending... eventually someone is the loser.

Kiss, kill... kiss or kill... fuck or fight?

His hair lies lank and oily in my fist; he obviously hasn’t had a shower since finishing on set... Christ, sweaty and musky all over.

The thought of taking him while he’s all sweaty and rank, fucking him from behind as I pin him against the wall, hard and fast, gets my prick hard as rock... fuck wins.

Yanking his head to almost to mine, I can see the fear lurking deep in his eyes, almost hiding his lust, but his cock ain’t lying, no, his cock trapped hard beneath his jeans; clearly outlined... he dressed to the left this morning.

Breathing down at him through my nose in disdain, letting it ghost across his face, the couple of Jack’s I downed earlier wafting over and around him now mingling with his own stale scent.

“You want this Jar, I know it, your cock knows it and your ass will know it”, all but spitting in his face, my voice is nothing but sheer contempt.

Stepping in closer, forcing him against the wall, head still held back by his hair, I grind my crotch into his... his own hardness puts paid to his next words.

“Come on Jens, you know I ain’t into guys”, claims the big man with the little whimper, now which do I believe, his lies... or his thighs?

“Right fagot and I suppose this just means you’re happy to see me? Huh?” Grinding the palm of my hand into his crotch just to prove the point... soon answered with a combined whimper groan from him.

“Thought so.”

Giving his crotch a harsh squeeze and a not so gentle ‘farewell for now’ pat, I close the final distance between us so we are crotch to crotch and chest to chest.

Forcing his lips to mine, nibbling and biting at them till he surrenders and opens up, I claim them forcefully. My tongue deep in his throat, his tongue lying passive beneath mine, until I gentle the kiss slightly, easing back my tongue, caressing his along the edges until he joins in.

Letting go of his hair, I slide my hand down to the back of his neck, working the muscles with my thumb until an answering groan is forced from his lips and swallowed by me.

Tracing the back of my fingers down his cheek I have to ask, “Why Jar? Why is it always a battle with you?” I have to ask, but I know the answer before it leaves his lips.

“You know why Jens.” His voice bored, as if we have had this discussion a hundred times... which we have.

“Just pretend I don’t Jar; just for once give me an answer that means something other than your ridiculous pride and pseudo masculinity.”

I can’t help it, I know the fucking answer, and it is the same every time; image to protect, loss of his fucking so-called masculinity... the fact I’m fucking shorter than him.

Fuck, I’m over six foot, that’s fucking tall enough for anyone... with the exception of his royal nibs that is.

But that is not quite it either, simply put Jar loves wild, hard sex... loved to be fucked within an inch of his life, ridden hard and put away wet whatever you want to call it... and yet he is too fucking gutless to admit it to anyone, including me... which if you think about it is just plain fucking stupid seeing as I’m the one putting my back out each night making sure he gets off how he wants.

Just once I’d like to do something regular, like a meal or a drink beforehand. Just unwind a bit.

I’d like to take him in my arms and slowly slide into him while looking into his eyes for once. I’m sick to death of this from behind crap, I want to see his face as he blows, to know I did that to him... instead all I get is the back of his head slamming into my cheek and invective.

Fucking Jared Padalecki, and I mean that in every sense, it is a dangerous game and one I’m not sure I want to play anymore.

“Look Jar, forget it, I’m too tired to play this crap anymore. I can’t always be the one who has to deal with your crap. I don’t care that you’re gagging for a fuck, I don’t care that your precious ego is bigger than your inseam.” Resignation colours my voice a murky grey, all colour and tone stripped from it.

“Go sleep in ‘your’ bedroom, I can’t look at you anymore.”

Dropping both hands to my sides, I turn around and leave the bedroom in search of Jack; he always knows how to make me feel better.

“Jens, I...”

I throw my hand up to stop him; all ghetto like, Christ I have to stop watching Jerry Springer. Surprisingly, it works and I leave the room without another word spoken.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blessed silence at last, looking blearily at the clock I figure it is about three quarters of a bottle of Jack past fuck knows... that sounds about right.

I haven’t seen Jared either, haven’t seen him, but certainly heard him. I think I’ve heard him destroying everything in that room. I know I heard the bookcase get upended and I’m pretty sure the bed is in pieces now as well.

Raising my glass I blink into it, not sure where Jack went, he was in there before... at least I think he was. Ah, yup, there he is, hiding from Jared in the bottle... better get him out of there, he’s probably lonely... god knows I am.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ah fuck my head, this is not good, my head is throbbing, I reek of bourbon and I’m curled up on the couch. Trying to sort through hazy memories the only thing I can recall is Jared... me walking out on Jared, then diving head first into a bottle of grog.

“Smart move Ackles, smart fucking move.” No point yelling at myself but anything is better than this god awful silence.

Fucking men, just why couldn’t I have been normal, got off on chicks, go muff diving? Nah, course not Jensen, you have to go and be all fucking queer so you can fuck yourself up by falling in love with the one son of a bitch who doesn’t deserve it. The using cunt that he is.

No fucking point crying over him, even though I know it is useless as helpless tears sting my eyes.

“Fucking cunt.” More resigned than angry, talk about going down for the l final count, that’s me, down and out. Jared Padalecki versus Jensen Ackles, with Ackles down in the final round with a TKO, match over, title lost... I’m officially the loser.

Next Chapter

Fic: Taking matters into your own hands NC-17 J2 RPS

2009-03-30T17:28:06Z

Title: Taking matters into your own hands
Author: goetterdamerung
Pairing: RPS Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine, the boys are their own people... although I think Kripke owns their collective arses. This is fiction ergo not true.
Summary: When all he wanted was some privacy... instead he got it all.

‘So fucking tired, can’t be bothered even grabbing something to eat’, I think to myself tiredly, ‘just need to go to bed, rub one out and sleep the sleep of the sated.’

Rolling my shoulders to work out the stiffness and easing my shirt over them and letting it drop to the floor, ‘fuck it, I’ll tidy it tomorrow.’

Running my hand down my chest, letting it linger at my nipples; gently teasing and twisting them, before splaying my hand over my pec and rubbing the muscle as my other hand makes short work of my jeans and cradles my cock. Slowly grinding the heel of my palm into the growing hardness beneath it and letting my head fall back as the heat ramps up a notch and a slow burn develops in my balls.

Stepping out of my jeans is effort enough as I collapse backwards onto my bed and I stretch out an undulate my hips as my hand gently squeezes my cock, matching the rhythm of my hips as that slow burn heats up.

Letting my mind pull up a few favourite images of the many I have stored, I let my mind’s eye run down his chest to his waist, long fingers unbuttoning his jeans until they part just leaving a triangle where his thick dark curls can be seen before disappearing from view beneath the denim. Turning his back to me my eyes trace the broad shoulders and slope downwards as his torso tapers down till the small of his back and the faint tufts of hair that are just visible.

Letting out a groan as my hand slowly works my cock to full length, slow gentle stroke upwards ending with a slight twist as I hit the end, then a firm slide back down again; my preferred rhythm for a good, lasting handjob. Getting my other hand in on the action, I rake it upwards from my thigh, leaving faint marks from my nails as they pass, until my hand is just below my balls and grasping them gently at first, roll them around, lightly tugging on them.

Closing my eyes I let both hands work on me in sync, the relentless pull, twist and glide coupled with the rolling and squeezing soon get’s my breathing deep and slightly ragged.

Picturing his face down by my cock, his mouth open and ready to take me in deep; his hair in his eyes; back arched and his ass in the air, all ready for me to take my pleasure with... all ready for me to...

“Oi Jens, where are you?”

Fuck.

The moment I open my mouth, he’s going to be in here annoying the crap out of me. Biting back a groan of frustration and giving my cock a conciliatory squeeze, the beginnings of an idea forms.

Sprawling wantonly over the bed, one hand wrapped firmly around my cock, the other resting just above it on my stomach, I yell out to him, “Where the fuck you think I am?” I just know that will bring him running, if only to just try and piss me off.

Sure enough, my door get’s flung open and a flushed Jared is in my doorway, eyes glued to the hand making its way up and down my cock.

“What you want? Can’t you see I’m busy here?” Laughing to myself, the good old shock and awe manoeuvre.

Sighing loudly, I repeat myself, slowly and very carefully enunciated, “I said... what you want?”

Swallowing loudly, Jared’s eyes haven’t left that hand; making matters worse is that this is turning me on even more, knowing he is watching my every move.
“Oi, busy here!”

Half to myself I mutter, “What’s a guy got to do to get some privacy so he can jerk off in peace?”

Giving this up as a bad job, my hand slows and finally stills and yet still his eyes haven’t moved.

Hearing him swallow again and seeing him fidget nervously I almost don’t hear his reply.

“You don’t have to do that on your own Jen.” His cheeks are flushed, but at he has raised his eyes to meet mine.

My turn to swallow now as Jared quickly moves over to the bed, his hand repeatedly making aborted attempts to reach out.

This close, I can see his eyes are black, pupils completely dilated and his breathing ragged. Each breath of his ghosting over my cock, making it jerk in response.

“Jens?” Soft, but definitely asking permission.

My own breathing is coming short and fast as the only thing I can say is, “Suck me.”

Letting his tongue wet his lips, Jared inhales sharply, then leans over my cock which is starting to thrum in anticipation. Gently pursing his lips, Jared softly lets his breath out, the cool air teasing my cock and making me gasp.

“For fuck’s sake Jar, suck me... please.” I’m close to begging as every image I have of him leads to this moment, the one where he first takes my cock into his mouth.

Taking my hand in his, he places it on top of his head and tangles it in his hair.

A groan escapes me as his lips first caress my cock, teasing it, little nibbles just under the head, slow deliberate swipes of his tongue from my balls to the tip... finally taking mercy he opens his mouth and I watch amazed as my cock disappears into his mouth... his hot tight mouth.

Wrapping his lips around my prick, he keeps descending until I’m at the back of his throat. With the hand that still remains on top of mine on his head he pushes down, forcing his own head further down and my cock deeper down his throat.

Unable to keep my hips still any further, I slowly thrust up into his mouth, throwing my head back as he swallows again, taking me past his gagging point; not stopping till his lips are nuzzling the hairs at the base of my cock which my hips keep pushing up hard into his face.

I can’t take much more of this, I don’t want to stop, but I don’t want to shoot yet either, gripping his hair tightly, I pull his head off my cock with a loud slurp and the sound of his faint mewling protests.

“Too much, too good... not yet.” It’s all I can stutter out in the state I’m in.

His eyes go hooded as he looks up at me trough his lashes; his voice when he speaks is like treacle, thick, dark and sweet.

“Fuck me.”

Two words and I’m gripping my cock at the base like there’s no tomorrow to stave of blowing just from hearing him say that.

My breath is catching in my chest as he gets onto the bed and stands before me, his shirt torn from him and his jeans following shortly after.

His cock juts out hard, heavy and flushed a dark red, his balls tight against his body... and his body trembling with need

Diving into the bedside, praying to Christ that there are some condoms and something that could be used as lube in there... somewhere.

As I pull out the condom and hand lotion, Jared grabs them from me, his fingers fumbling with the wrapper, but finally getting the condom out.

Pinching the tip, he places the condom over the head and slowly rolls it down over my prick, firm strokes... just how I like it.

Grabbing the lotion he pours some onto his hand then turns around so his asshole is looking straight at me and squats above my cock. His fingers, coated in the lotion come from under his cock as he begins to open himself up, fucking himself on his fingers, one finger, two fingers... three.

His moans are getting louder and my cock wants in on the action, lining it up against his hole, I grip his hips and guide him down onto my cock.

Watching my cock go up his hole is like having a religious experience as the tightness and heat surround me and I can’t help but thrust deeper into him, every moan urging me deeper.

His own body weight forces him to take more and more of my prick until he is finally seated on me and his balls are resting against mine.

So fucking deep inside him, so fucking good.

Bracing myself on my elbows for leverage, I thrust up harder into him, feeling his ass milk my cock as he tightens and loosens his muscles rhythmically in time with my thrusts.

Forcing my legs flat onto the bed, he grips his ass tightly around me and slowly swivels on my cock so he is facing me.

The groan that is ripped from both of us speaks of desperation and need, raising himself up he slams back onto my cock, fucking himself with each rise and drop of his hips.

“So close Jen, harder... fucking harder.”

Close myself all I can do is obey as my hips lift off the bed and slam into him as he drops down onto me, thrusting... fucking... screwing.

Obscenities fly and voices wail as his hand works his cock hard and fast, he’s literally trying to pull the come from him as I try to fuck it out of him.

Then it hits him, his ass clamps down hard on my prick as I feel the first drops hit my chest, hot streams flying from his cock and landing on my chest and neck. His ass forcing my own release as one thrust ten another embeds myself deeper that ever into him.

My voice echoing through the room as his own joins mine as I finally feel the last feeble squirts from my dick that leaves it sensitive and raw.

His head on my chest and my arms around him, we don’t even bother cleaning up as sleep finally claims us both.

Broder Claudius (Brother Claudius)

2009-03-29T11:28:04Z

Series Title: Vad Hjärtat Aldrig Ser (What the Heart Never Sees)
Book Title: Förlorad Igen (Lost again)
Chapter Title: Broder Claudius (Brother Claudius)
Author: goetterdamerung
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Arthur would like to believe it is a coup d'etat, but will his first decrees set a chain of events in place that Camelot can not fight?

Previously: Jag Behöver Dig (I Need You) | Vår Tid Är Nu (Our Time is Now) |

Many things have changed for me, even in me, in the last five years. I still hold deeply to my belief in Jesu, but... but the hold of the Church on me has lessened, its dogma and hypocrisy anathema to me. Even my own desires have become acceptable to me, as never before Arthur would I even have allowed myself to dream.

For all that the Church denounces the worship of Pagan gods and magic and even sodomy; I am now left with a feeling of ease with all of these... and one of them in particular.

Let me go back a few years and tell you of my first meeting with Prince Arthur.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“The son has cast his soul with the evil ones which abound in this land, that the Prince of this realm has taken for himself a catamite is disgrace and shame enough for his father, who although is newly devout... devout he is none the less, but that this boy has also been burnt as a practitioner of the occult and magic leaves King Uther’s heart and spirit’s low and he has beseeched us to focus our attention on the Prince. That it was you yourself that witnessed his evil congress with the sorcerer may be used here. Rome has decided that you Brother Claudius, shall be tasked with the conversion to Christerdom of King Uther’s son, you have until Uther’s death for this miracle to happen, so there’s ample time for you to persuade the heir to the throne to mend his ways. I image that being an indulged prince will have made him soft, certainly not one who could endure any extended time in the dungeons.”

With my mouth I say, “Yes Your Eminence, with the strength and wisdom of Our Father I shall do my best”, but in my heart I know his evaluation of the prince is wrong, dangerously wrong... and it will be my head on the block each time I walk into that cell, Arthur will never forgive those who had his lover killed and I’m not sure I blame him... even if I am one of those involved.

I know that the Arch Bishop has foisted this onto me, as punishment and as well for the simple necessity of it needing to be done... and there is no way he would sully himself with the task, not when he has the current King eating out of his palm, no the future is mine to deal with and suffer for.

Walking down to the dungeons it amazes me how people can change so drastically when they allow the church into their heart, letting Jesu and Our Father in is an easy task for they espouse that all men are equal in Our Father’s love and divine wisdom, but it is the church that espouses the separation of self from the flesh, the condemnation of the body and heart and the principle of indulgences for future usage. Even if I am of the Church, I am not of the church.

King Uther has proven himself to be an impetuous and foolish ruler, fear of magic I can well understand, but hunting it to extinction is not something that Jesu would decree. The fact that the king has imprisoned his own son tells me more than I wish to know about that particular family structure... and the king wonders why his son gave his heart to a male sorcerer. Fairly obvious I think.

Approaching the cell door, I am reminded of a wild creature that has been injured, fiercely protective and violent, as he stalks about the cell, the whole four paces each way. Taking a deep breath I prepare to enter the lion’s den.

“You!”

Barely within the cell proper and his hands are around my throat already.

“Because of you, Prestor my lover has burnt.” His voice alone terrifies me and his hands are squeezing the life from me as tears course down his cheeks and I finally see how true his love was for the dark haired lad.

With the last breaths I have I manage to croak out, “Forgive me my Prince, for I knew no better”, and I wait for my blessed peace and accounting with Our Lord.

Moments pass as ages when suddenly his hands leave my throat and I drop to ground gasping for air.

“Why?” I ask, after I have sufficient breath in my body, “Why not take my life in vengeance for the one taken from you?” My mind cannot comprehend why he has ceased his, at that point, fairly successful attempt on my life.

“Is that what you Christers preach, to take life needlessly; to kill without just cause, to murder those who disagree with you?” He snarls this out in disgust. The contempt plain in his voice and on his countenance as he spits out, “I may be a sodomite, nay not just a sodomite, I am the prince of them and my lover was a sorcerer, but even such as we have values. I could no more kill you, as much as I dearly wish I could, than I could a child who has disobeyed his father. I detest all you are and all you stand for, but it is not my right to kill you. Even a disgraced knight of Camelot has more honour than that.”

His entire body resonates with the conviction of his speech and I am humbled before him.

“Now leave me mourn in peace.” Pain and anguish thread their way through his entire being and cowed I scramble for the door and leave with as much haste as I can.

From that day onwards, I too became an acolyte of Prince Arthur’s Camelot and my dearest wish was only to serve as befitted a believer of Jesu and Our Father... but not a disciple of the Church.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His Eminence has not deemed me important enough to tell me anything bar that Uther has passed on and I pray that I am forgiven for the joy that these words bring me, pray that I am forgiven even though I am unrepentant.

Arthur... actually, King Arthur now stands before all and sundry as the Arch Bishop has just crowned and anointed him the King of Camelot and Defender of the Faith. Even from this distance, I can see Arthur’s mouth twist a little at this last.

Walking to the front of the dais where the Throne of Camelot sits in majestic splendour, Arthur dips his head for a moment then raises it to face those assembled. A soft mutter breaks out through the room as tears roll slowly down Arthur’s cheek.

“Your Royal Majesties, my Lords and Ladies, all of you present today to mourn a great King. During my... isolation over these five years past, I have come to appreciate all the little things that when put together make up the whole. With the loss of my lover”, sharp intakes of breath could be heard the entire hall through, “with the loss of my lover I have decreed that I shall take no paramour to replace he that I lost, no other could nor would grant me the solace and devotion shown to me by this one man. The succession will still hold firm with The Lady Morgana, Queen to follow me and her heirs to follow her.”

The outcry is nigh deafening as the nobles clamoured to be heard and the ladies decried their missed chances.

“Silence!” the voice of command.

“I have said that I will take no other than the one who was taken from me and in this vein I decree that Sodomy nor any love between and man and a man, nor a woman and a woman be a crime within Camelot.”

Raising his voice even louder to be heard above the outcry he continues, “Therefore I give you your new King Consort, Merlin of Ealdor.”

Striding through the crowds to the dais I see the same dark haired man I saw those many years ago, the one worshiping Arthur’s soul and body... I saw Merlin before us all.

“Futhermore, the ban on the practice of magic is also lifted and I welcome to the ranks of Royal Advisors, His Royal Highness Merlin of Ealdor, Royal Court Sorcerer.”

After the outcry of Merlin’s apparent rebirth, this silence is unnerving as all recalled the fate of Merlin previously. For him to be here now was the mark of power unheard of, the power of life and death.

Dropping to one knee before his King, Merlin reached out for Arthurs hand with the royal signet and placed the Kiss of Fealty upon its ruby surface.

The Arch Bishop seemed to be having problems breathing by this point, although not that anyone on the dais paid any heed. His fit of apoplexy just a joy to behold as dear to me as Arthur and his Merlin now.

“We have one final appointment to the Royal Privy Council; I call upon Brother Claudius to be our Spiritual Advisor and Representative to the Church of Rome. I thank his Eminence, The Arch Bishop of Albion for his time and efforts here in the Court of Camelot and do wish him well on his imminent return to Rome.”

None present could mistake the courtly words for anything other than what they were; Arthur was banishing the Arch Bishop back to Rome and placing his own candidate in the position of power... oh Lord above, he means me.

“We call Brother Claudius to present himself to us.”

From behind me, hands press into my back as I am propelled towards the dais and their Royal Majesties. Unable to miss the inscrutable gaze of Merlin and feeling fear within my entire being I abase myself before them.

“Nay my friend... rise.”

Taking hold of my hand, I am pulled upright by King Arthur himself.

Speaking softer now to both Merlin and myself, Arthur’s voice is pitched to just above a whisper, “If it were not for you Claudius, I would have gone insane in that cell, for that alone I would have honoured and respected you, but you have also proven to me that Christers are not all like Benedict and most just wish to live in peace, for that your are honoured, respected and raised to the honour of Royal Advisor.”

Seeing Merlin’s face soften at Arthur’s words and then to hear him speak was a balm to my soul.

“Arthur has not had much time to tell me of his time below the castle and although you are not one who I would have expected to care, you obviously did and did so unstintingly, for this you have my thanks and respect, but we shall speak further anon.”

Seeing the look of pure malevolence directed at me by the Arch Bishop left a chill that settled deep into my bones and which took many hours to dissipate.

“Now guests all, we shall make our way to the great hall and we shall remember the King, My Father, Uther.”

Holy F*&K - J2 RPS... Me??????? I blame avon_09

2009-03-29T06:31:53Z

Title: Not a Fag, but...
Author: goetterdamerung
Pairing: RPS Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Evil Jensen, Non-con, Rape, Explicit violence, Explicit Sex
Author’s Notes: Written for avon_09 My first fic in SPN Fandom, this is fairly hardcore, but those of you from other fandoms who know me are used to that so welcome to me :þ
About the title, I am a gay male so don’t start on about the word fag, it is used in the fic as a LITERARY DEVICE only, so no crap, k? Unbeta’d written in 40 minutes, so all mistakes my own
Summary: Sometimes you should never, ever cross a mate.

ETA. Sorry, it has just been pointed out that the name Donna is actually J's mother's name, the delightful scriptcat has corrected this for me.

Jensen still doesn’t know who sent him the text message telling him to be here; a rundown motel, miles from anywhere, the room furthermost from the reception desk. He doesn’t know who, but at least now he knows why.

He’s seen enough... enough to know that he’s been fucked over, twice even; once by Danneel the slut and the second... the second one to fuck him over, Jared.

And the anger burns white hot inside.

Getting into the car he plots and he plans, coming up with one idea then another until he finally turns onto Maple Street he knows exactly what he’s going to do.

The face he presents to the store clerk at the hardware is pleasant enough, amiable even, but if the clerk knew just what exactly he had planned, well... 911 would have been receiving a call quick smart.

‘And that my friends, is why I am an actor’, Jensen thinks to himself. That butter wouldn’t melt in the mouth look fools them every time... but he knows... he knows exactly what is going down.

Looking at the clock he can see it is almost nine at night, Padalecki should be in by ten, so that gives him an hour to relax and have a drink or three... just to get him in the mood.

At quarter to, he turns the lights out and banks the fire for the night, till just the dying embers glow weakly in the dim gloom. Arming the alarm for just the front entry so Jared thinks he’s gone to bed. He walks over to the recliner and sits facing the fire, the chair back facing the entryway and the irony forces a barked laugh out of him... who said Hitchcock didn’t know anything about creating atmosphere...?

Ten past and he hears a car pull into the drive, slouching down in the recliner he waits, knowing Jared will soon find out what being fucked over really means...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Looking quickly through the front windows he can see Jensen has gone to bed, the lights are off and the fire banked and he breathes a sigh of relief, at least he won’t have to face Jensen straight away. It’s not everyday you get to finally nail the girl you’ve been lusting after fir months... even if that girl is your best mate’s girlfriend.

Feeling a little guilty, but not enough to make him wish he hadn’t boned her, he pauses at the door and lets the memories wash over him...

Long chestnut hair, firm supple breasts and legs that were made to wrap around your waist, feeling himself harden Jared lets his hand lightly stroke over his denim clad cock as thoughts of Danneel’s lips around it make him harden fully and a groan escape him. Seeing her legs spread eagerly, waiting for him to fuck her, demanding him to go harder and faster as her finger frantically rubs her clit making her more moist and turned on. Watching her beg for his load on her face and seeing her lick him clean afterwards... Yeah, he loved it when bitches did that, he loved every dirty motherfucking thing she did... he supposed he had Jensen to thank for some of it... but not all.

Turning his key in the lock and opening the door quietly Jared stole past the rec room and into the kitchen. Grabbing a beer from the fridge and downing half of it before turning to the rec room and froze as he heard.

“Good night Padalecki?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Good night Padalecki?”

Drawing it out like in the old flicks, he slowly turns the chair to face Jared, the dying embers lighting half his face as Jensen looks directly at Jared.

“I can smell her on you from here”, he spat out in disgust.

Turning his attention back to the bourbon glass, Jensen swirls the remaining drink slowly before downing the lot. Slowly putting the glass back down, he looks back up at the cunt with anger burning in his eyes and vengeance seething in his soul.

“Did she swallow you down to your balls? Did she let you fuck her up the ass, rub her cunt all over your face?” Ice cold anger has replaced any heat in his voice.

Staring up at him he sees the classic ‘deer in the headlights’ look, which makes him look even more fucking stupid than usual. Rising from his seat, he pulls himself up to his full height and slowly staggers over to him... to it; it was now time to pay.

Faking another stumble almost lets him get within striking distance, only a couple more tiny steps to go. Pretending to twist around to grab the table ledge he knows Jared doesn’t see the fist coming from his blindside until it connects soundly with his temple. Watching him drop like a sack of shit isn’t as satisfying as Jensen thought it would be as he shakes out his fist in pain.

Giving his fist one last shake he bends down and grabs Jared by the legs and drags him through the kitchen and over to the dining table where he has everything laid out ready.

Tying Jared’s hands together, he then lays him out face down on the table and roughly ties his arms to the table legs. Hearing Jared stir quietly, he fists his hair and slams his face down into the table.

“Shut the fuck up... it’s time you fucking learnt a few things cunt.”

Satisfied that Jared was back down for the count, he then tied each leg tightly to the other table legs. Picking up the scissors he plays with them for a few seconds as he decides exactly what was going to go down.

Gripping the back collar o his shirt, Jensen roughly yanks it high enough t hear chocked gasps coming from below. Not caring if they gouged in or not, he thrust the opened scissors against the fabric and ripped rather than cut the top away. Pulling the scissors away and catching the sight of blood on them from the corner of his eye Jensen smiled for the first time since he got the text message.

Looking down he sees the faint red lines that have begun to bead blood and a hunger awakens inside him. Leaning down Jensen laps at the blood with his tongue and he knows he’s really going to enjoy the next few hours.

Dispensing with the jeans the same way he did with the top, Jensen allows himself a moment to gloat, light cuts and scratches mar the skin before him, faint red smears where his tongue has licked at the cuts. Drawing the scissors up the inside of one thigh hard enough to leave a fine cut he pauses to enjoy the gasp this elicits from the bound man as he comes around from the blows to his head.

“Ya fucked up, didn’t ya J?” It is almost conversational, but the fine edge of rage still underlies his words with a tinge of madness.

“Ya see, ya don’t go ‘round fucking your mate’s woman now, s’not the right thing to do.”

“See, ya don’t got no woman yourself, so ya have to fuck someone else’s, I can see that, but why you gotta go and fuck mine?”

Rage, alcohol and an aching hard on leaves his voice thick and slightly slurred, making him sound more like the country boy he tries to forget.

“S’not right. So I’m gonna make sure you won’t do that again in a hurry. Just remember it’s only fair.”

With that Jensen strips out of his jeans and leaves only his wife beater on.

Letting his hand caress his cock he looks down at Jared and says almost friendly, “now I’m no fag, and I know you’re no fag either, but I think it’s time you learnt what it feels like to be fucked over... literally.”

Gripping him by his hair, he forces him to look at the cock in front of him.

“Yeah, take a real good fucking look at it cunt, ‘cos it’s the one that’s gonna teach you not to fuck ya mates over. Can ya imagine this inside you, ripping ya apart...? Just like ya did to me, remember fair’s fair.”

Taking the socks and the tape, he stuffs the socks in Jareds mouth, then wraps the tape around his head keeping him gagged. With a final stroke of his hand he pulls down on his cock till the head brushes Jared’s face, smearing the pre-come all over him.

Not really caring one way or the other for the comfort of Jared, but not wanting blood and shit all over his cock, he unrolls a condom and gets out a dollop of hand cream to ease his way in with.

Not even bothering to open him up first he places his cock at Jared’s hole and grips his hips tightly.

“Daddy’s coming home baby.”

And puts all his weight behind the thrust.

Even gagged, Jared manages to scream loudly enough to wake the dead, but he thinks that just makes it all the sweeter, that tightness squeezes him and having to ram him hard to get any movement going, he’s never had a fuck this tight before.

Feeling the end draw close, he puts some extra effort into it, more of the hip roll, pulling out further till only his head remains embedded in him. Jared’s screams have died down into pathetic whimpers now and that takes some of the fun out of it, but still, it’s been good anyway.

Ramming in as hard and as far as possible, he lets loose his load and rides out the pleasure as the final thrust forces a squeal from Jared. Collapsing onto Jared’s back, he gives himself a few moments to get his breath back.

Pulling out roughly and ripping the condom off, he walks around to face Jared. Turning the condom upside down he waits till his come just starts to leak out, then throws the condom at Jared’s face so the come runs slowly down his face.

“Now that is how you fuck someone over my friend... remember it.”

Turning around he flicks the lights off and walks out of the house.

Let’s Play

2009-03-26T06:23:57Z

Title: Let’s Play
Author: goetterdamerung
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Genre: PWP, Dom!Merlin (as if there was a doubt with me writing), Kink – Wax Play, Bondage, Toy Play
Rating: Well above NC-17 (what a shocker)
Warnings: Dom/sub scene with explicit sex and moderate violence.
Authors Notes: Not for the squeamish, this is by far the heaviest I have written to date including my TW Ragarok Cycle. Don’t try this at home kids, I am an experienced Dom and have been involved in scenarios of this calibre for many years. So yes, the positions and activities described herein are accurate, with a certain allowance for 6th century technology.
Summary: Merlin shows Arthur some of the darker games he knows.

3000 Words of pure Porn

“You are here of your own free will?” Merlin’s voice is dark and dangerous, promising pleasure and promising pain.

Nodding my head in the affirmative I am surprised when his hand darts out and grips my jaw, “Answer either yes or no... nothing else.” His voice like poisoned honey mead, thick and sweet but with an edge.

“Yes.”

Still gripping my jaw his other hand cuffs the back of my head, “Yes what... Boy?”

And so it begins...

“Yes Sire.”

Softening his grip on my jaw, Merlin lets his fingers run lightly along my jaw line, his eyes boring into my own, making promises that I’m not sure I want.

Dropping his hand from my jaw, he looks straight through me and orders, “Strip.”

Short, barked commands; so similar to how I train the knights, that instinctual voice of command that doesn’t doubt obedience.

Unlacing my tunic, looking askance at him and all I see is a bored indifference, as if I am beneath his notice... my usual look.

Pulling the tunic over my head and letting it drop carelessly on the ground only garners an indrawn breath from Merlin before his hand connects with the back of my head.

“You don’t have a manservant anymore... hang it over a chair.” His voice betraying his irritation at the delay and his anger at my casual disregard; his eyes narrowing and his hand raised.

Bending over quickly to grab the tunic from the floor only gives him further opportunity to grasp the hairs along the nape of my neck and tug sharply forwards, pulling me off balance... pulling my face hard against his crotch, his hard length trapped between my face and his body.

Even though I am expecting it this time, his hand making contact with the back of my head again leaves a faint ringing in my ears and as he pushes my head away from him I stagger a little from the blow.

Hurriedly I reach for the tunic again and move quickly over to the chain and lay the tunic carefully over the back. Pulling the ties on my breeches and slipping them down my thighs, I still feel a touch dizzy from his whacks to my head, steadying myself with the chair back I step out of the breeches and lean over to pick them up and place them over the chair as well.

Quickly walking back over in front of Merlin, I drop my head and wait.

And I wait.

Even with my head down, I can feel his eyes roving across my body, planning just what he wants to do to me. The weight of his eyes alone feels heavy across my shoulders and I struggle not to straighten my posture as I know this would be met with another crack to my head.

Waiting for him to make a move, to do something... anything but just stand there looking... looking down at me.

“Turn around.”

I am almost thankful for the command; the waiting was beginning to wear on me. Turning my back to him I can’t suppress the shiver that makes its way down my spine as I feel more exposed than before.

“Put your hands behind your back.” It is almost a bored tone, but it carries an underlining threat as well.

Placing my hands behind me, I feel his hand grasp them tightly and pull me slowly backwards towards him. I can feel him bind my hands together tightly, tying them together then wrapping a binding tightly from my wrists to top of my forearms.

I can already feel the strain on my shoulders as they are pulled firmly back, forcing my chest out and making it a little difficult to breathe.

“Get on your knees and face me.”

It is difficult to kneel down and I have to move slowly to compensate for the change in posture my bound hands and arms create.

My eyes are now level with his crotch and something tells me this is not a coincidence.

Moving closer to me his hand once more grasps my jaw and digging his fingers into the joint forces my mouth wide open, letting go of my jaw his hand moves to the back of my head and forces my face firmly into his crotch.

Using his hand to guide my head along his length, I mouth the hardness before me, wetting the fabric of his breeches with my spit. As I reach the tip of his covered cock, I let my mouth enclose it and suck firmly, drawing the taste of his cock and the scent of sex through the layers of fabric directly into my mouth and tongue.

A strong, musky scent is thick in my nostrils, the slight acrid taste of his piss lingering on the edge of his foreskin and the taste of his cock; they all explode on my tongue and mingle into the familiar flavour of Merlin.

Closing my eyes I caress his cock with my mouth, laving it with my tongue until his entire crotch is soaking wet from my mouth.

Putting his hand to the ties at the front of his breeches, Merlin undoes them with sharp tugs until the placket falls open revealing a triangle of skin and hair and a fair amount of cock.

Using my tongue, I let it flicker over his length as he gasps briefly for breath. My nose I pushes at his cock until the tip is forced from beneath the fabric and standing upright and free. Raising my head as high as I can I take the crown in and slowly swallow his cock until I can feel it at the back of my throat.

His hand moves to the top of my head and pressing down, forces more of him into my mouth and down my throat until I can feel my throat start to spasm and gag around it. Pushing his hands harder down presses his tip past the point where I can control and slowly I begin to feel faint as his cock blocks any air that I may have received.

From above I faintly hear, “There’s still more of it to take Arthur”, before my head is shoved down hard and my chin rests on his balls. I am giddy now and desperate for air and I begin to struggle against his hand forcing my head down.

Trying to force a scream past his cock lodged deep down my throat only makes him groan and push down harder. My jaw aches and spots are appearing before my eyes when his hand grasps my hair and tears my head off and away from his cock.

Tears running down my face, gasping for air, my face a bright red I turn my eyes up to Merlin only to see a feral smile on his face and his eyes promising more of the same.

Forcing me to stand upright then gathering my half erect cock in his hand, Merlin fondles it until I am fully hard before grasping my balls and tying them tightly with a cord. With another cord he loops it around my cock several times before tying it off with the cord that wraps my balls.

Moving away from me I see Merlin reaching over my work desk for something, it is a paperweight, a very heavy paperweight in the form of a dragon. Tying the ends of the cords around the wings of the dragon, Merlin lifts the dragon as far as he can; pulling my cock and balls upwards painfully before dropping the paperweight and letting my balls take the weight, pulling them sharply down.

I can’t help the scream this elicits from me as my balls and cock are weighted down cruelly.

“Jump Arthur... jump up and down.”

That voice again, menacing and dark, promising pain, I have no choice, my cock is straining in its bindings.. desperate for release.

Rising to the tips of my toes I crouch slightly and push myself off the ground and steel myself for the jar as the paperweight pulls down on my balls once more. The sharp lick of leather winds its way across my back and my arms around to my chest, the tip biting painfully on my nipple and the shock of it makes me forget the weight between my legs as I howl in pain only just then realising that Merlin had taken the whip to me.

“That was not a jump Arthur, for that you will receive four more caresses of the whip... when you’ve finished jumping properly.”

Cold and indifferent, not even angry... cruel.

“Jump.”

Bending my knees I force myself to jump higher, my mind beginning to ignore the throbbing in my balls.

“Again.”

Again I crouch and push myself higher; again and again I jump, no longer feeling the pain in my groin instead feeling stronger and more powerful as I continue to jump. Pain no longer flares instead pleasure begins to coil around my cock, that blissful moment before releasing that every man wants to last forever. On and on I jump, craving that feeling needing more.

“Stop!”

I am so close, that feeling just out of reach, my body is trembling and my breathing is ragged, my entire groin ready to explode in pleasure.

“Please, please.” I beg.

Pulling me gently to him, Merlin gentles my trembling with his kisses, soft and sweet.

“Soon... soon.” He croons.

Reaching behind me, Merlin begins to undo the bindings on my arms, the pain as blood rushes back into them almost drives me to my knees, the only reason it doesn’t is Merlin’s arm holding me up.

Rubbing my arms gently Merlin presses gentle kisses along my jaw line, little nips with his teeth teasing me. As my trembles stop, the pain once more flares in my balls, making me gasp at the intensity.

Reading this as a signal, Merlin’s eyes turn hard once more, his gentling hands firmer and more demanding, his features cruel once more.

“You still have four more stripes before we continue.”

The first lash of the whip left a narrow welt, burning across my back and chest and I can’t help as whimper escapes me.

“Stand against the wall, arms and legs spread.”

Dry, dispassionate, a frightening accurate imitation of my father at his worst.

Moving slowly to the wall, trying to avoid too much movement of the paperweight still tied to my cock and balls, I stop just before the wall and let my head rest against its cool surface for a moment before placing my arms and legs into position.

A bead of sweat forms at the nape of my neck and slowly gathers momentum as it slides down my back... waiting, waiting once more for the bite of the whip, my body tense and tight as it anticipates the flaring pain to strike. One breathe, two, breaths, thre...

A sharp bite digs into my thigh and curls around driving my breath from me and leaving me with tremors. A bare moment later the second lands sharply across the base of my back and ending with a painful flick of my arse, I am shaking now, my whole body feel aflame with the burning bite of the whip. The third strike and its lands in the middle of my back; crossing the previous one with an agonising burn that forces me to scream out loud.

Waiting, still waiting for the last one, the one I know that will force me to my knees... waiting

The last strike feels almost as a caress at first, my arse and balls lovingly fondled by the wet leather; the pain doesn’t hit until a few moments later and as I guessed drove me to my knees howling. The pain, the agonising pain burning through me, turning me inside out and teaching me to welcome its touch.

Tears streaming down my cheeks, howling and wrapped in Merlin’s arms... nothing makes sense anymore.

It may have been five minutes or five hours yet Merlin still clasps me close to him, soothing the bite of the whip and caressing my face. The dull ache of arousal still present as my cock throbs, still desperate for release.

“Ready for the next game Arthur”, softly spoken, but just as menacing as an outright order.

“Yes Sire.”

Leading me to the table I see a collection of candles in different shapes and one in particular catches my eye.

“Thought that one would interest you.”

It is shaped as a cone with a shaft and base and it doesn’t take a prince to work out why it is shaped that way.

“I even made sure it was made from red wax, I know how much you like the colour.” Mocking me and he may do so, but a new desire was overtaking me, I needed that inside me, needed to feel overfull and stuffed.

My cock now throbs in time with my heartbeat as want overrides any sense I had remaining. I know Merlin is laughing at me, but I care not, I have to have this, I need to have this thing inside me.

“Lay on the table on your back.”

He doesn’t really have to tell me twice as I moved onto the table and spread my legs waiting.

“Eager little bitch today are we Arthur?”

I don’t care.

Merlin reaches forward and unties the paperweight from my balls, but still leaves the bindings in place, with his next movements I know why.

Grabbing a stout timber from beneath the table, Merlin first ties one foot then the other to each of the ends, making sure they are cross tied so no movement is possible. Gathering a rope, Merlin ties one end to the centre of the timber then loops the rope over a hook in the ceiling that used to hold my bed hangings.

Raising the timber and tying it off on a table leg, Merlin then grasps the ties that bind my balls and tie them to the beam, making sure they are pulled tight and my balls fully engorged with blood making them as hard as possible.

“Now your arms.”

One at a time, Merlin ties off my arms to the table legs only allowing a tiny amount of give and I finally see what this game is about...

Taking the conical shaped candle in his hands, Merlin walks around the table and stands directly in front of my spread open arse, picking up a vial of oil Merlin tips it over the candle and watches as the viscous liquid slowly runs down it. Running his hand all over it, Merlin then begins to press the candle against me.

My eyes rolling as the thick candle is pushed into me, opening me wide, thrashing my head from side to side as he moves it deeper inside me then lets it ease out a little before pushing again until... Feeling my hole close over the widest part of the candle and snugly embracing the remaining shaft.

Rolling my hips I force the candle hard against that nub inside me, the slight tugging on my balls from being tied to the beam only adding to the delicious feeling of fullness.

Coming around to the side of me, Merlin takes another candle and lights it with a word, hold it up high in his hands, he waits.

Tipping his hand ever so slightly, a thin trickle of wax falls from the candle and lands in burning splatters across my belly, making me hiss and contract my muscles, drawing my balls further from the beam. Again the candle tips and again molten wax falls onto me this time my nipples making me thrash against the burning sensation and further torturing my balls and my arse quivering around the candle inside it, pushing against the nub yet again.

Lowering his hand so it is just above my body, Merlin moves further down to where my cock stands proud and literally pours the candle wax over the tip of my prick.

Screaming as the burn sears my cock and the wax dips down to my abused balls, leaving me shaking with arousal and with pain. I feel Merlin undoing the ties around my cock and his hand firmly stroking it. More wax is dripped onto me and again the burn mingles with the pleasure of his hands around me and the candle inside me, again and again the wax, driving me insane as the pain fades to pure pleasure and the build up begins once more at the base of my cock.

Placing down the candle, Merlin quickens his strokes as his other hand moves down between my legs and grasps the base of the candle and pushes it deeper inside me. On and on his hand milks me and the candle fucks me, on and on the build up increases until I am shaking once again from need

“Now.”

One word, but that’s all I need as my release is ripped from me with a hard stroke and a hard push with the candle, my body spasming and twisting against my bounds, yanking and pulling on my balls as I try to get as much as I can out of this release. Minutes... hours later I am finished, completely wrung out and unable to move.

Merlin finally undoes the ties on my balls and brings the beam down and unties my legs. Leaving my arms tied he moves to above my face and presses his crotch into it. His crotch is damp and sticky, his own release staining the fabric, running my tongue along his spent length the sharp taste of his release bursts onto my tongue as I clean his breeches of all trace and nuzzle his spent cock with my mouth.

Undoing my arms finally I am pulled into his embrace, all signs of evil Merlin gone and in his place my idiot Merlin. Holding him tightly to me, I murmur to him, “Same time tomorrow?” and his reply...

“I was thinking later tonight actually.”

Vår Tid är Nu (Our Time is Now)

2009-03-25T13:20:55Z

Series Title: Vad Hjärtat Aldrig Ser (What the Heart Never Sees)
Book Title: Förlorad Igen (Lost again)
Chapter Title: Vår Tid är Nu (Our Time is Now)
Author: goetterdamerung
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Summary: No longer a falcon, Merlin still shows he’s an animal
Preivously: Jag Behöver Dig (I Need You)

I am just an old man who has lived and seen more in my life than one man should. Six years ago a bright light entered my world and five years ago that light was extinguished... and now that light has been relit; not only for myself, but also for our King... King Arthur.

How I despaired that this witless boy could ever master his gift without the known world hounding him, but day by day that witless fool became more and more a man. A dangerous man; a good hearted man and more importantly he affected all others around him.

Arthur was always the golden boy, born to privilege and station. Many feared the day that the prince would become their king... until Merlin came along.

Arthur changed, slowly at first, from an arrogant adolescent to a man that many attempted to emulate and if history is a kind mistress, she will place that change at the feet of a tall, lanky lad with odd ears and an ever present smile.

The only problem is... history is a fickle lady and her tune changes with the passage of time until her original melody is no longer remembered and any changes are left in the hands of those who know no better.

History is written by the victor, not by the participants themselves and therefore she may only sing with one voice and I fear... I fear that she will be singing the glory of God whilst the ruins of Camelot crumble beneath her song and the true heroes will be only remembered as a legend.

She will not remember Arthur and Merlin and the beauty of this time, only the bards shall ever speak their names and only those currently living will know the truth.

The truth that is Camelot, the truth of her King and his companion.

Merlin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lying in my arms he is yet to stir, my arm has fallen numb several hours ago, but I am loathe to move... I have waited for five years to feel him against me once more and nothing, nothing shall take him from me now.

My hand rests above his heart, my ring echoing his heartbeat, there is so much I need to say and even more I want to say to him, but for now I am happy just to have him in my arms again... the rest can wait.

I know that there are so many things to organise and prepare my... father’s funeral, my coronation and the abolishment of certain laws to name the most pressing of the enormous list. There is also the problem that Uther has left, The Christers; my views have changed over the years speaking to Brother Claudius and I am sure that the general majority are peaceable and wish nothing more than to live their lives the same as any of us. It is the upper echelons that give me pause.

Brother Alfonso, Claudius’ superior at the abbey, he was a kindly old man who believed that men should live and let live; sure, he believed whole heartedly in Jesu and Christerdom, but not to the exclusion of basic human needs, a true believer caught in a power struggle between the Church and secular bodies. Power can be translated as land, you control the land; you have the power... even Uther understood this and he made sure I did as well.

Yet... Brother Alfonso paid the price for frustrating his superior’s schemes and now that poor old man is nothing more that bones in the abbey graveyard. Claudius has managed to stay here in relative safety in the castle and I must find a way to keep him safe for I believe that the old ways are just that, the old ways and that Christerdom shall spread until there is nothing remaining of the old ways and magic. No, he must keep Claudius safe while forcing Benedict away.

Now we hit the crux of the matter, while I had no issue with the run of the mill Christers, the ruling class on the other hand, they had to be stopped before Camelot and even Albion is caught in the middle of an armed insurrection.

These thoughts and more race through my mind, but my mind is never far from the man in my arms either because without him, I could not do what I intend to do. As my first act as king, I shall repeal the laws regarding magic and sodomy... basically, I am going to declare war on the Church of Rome.

Running my hand his front, just to be able to feel him, to know he is really here. He has changed since the last time we were together; his hair has grown long and wild, reaching past his shoulders. His face has grown more masculine, his cheekbones no longer dominated his face instead complemented it and his ears... his ears... well, let’s just say that they are as endearing as before.

His chest is now broader and muscled, I suppose flapping your wings for the last five years would help there, whereas before there was only a light sprinkling of hair running down the middle of his chest and continuing down... now there is an even coverage, slightly coarse, whorling patterns all over his chest. Masculine and definitely male, letting my eyes rove further down they alight upon his cock lying there thick and heavy, nestled in a thick patch of dark curls, it’s hood slightly pulled back and his tip peeking through.

I remember the first time he fucked me, dry, no preparation, he pushed into me, forcing himself deep inside me. The pain was indescribable as he stretched me wide and buried himself firmly inside me, but regardless, he pulled me apart and put me back together that night. His cock huge within me; he controlled me inside and out and I have never since regretted it... sometimes even Prince’s have to learn when to give up control.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is still several hours till dawn and Merlin finally stirs enough for me to move my arm from beneath him. I am distracted from rubbing my arm by a feather light touch upon my cheek. I am incapable of ignoring his touch and I push my cheek into it, craving his skin on mine.

His eyes are iridescent in the reflected moonlight and they are staring at me in wonder, a soft crooning sound coming from deep within his chest, the same croon he would make when he was the merlin falcon. Raising his hand in one of mine, I lift it to my lips and place a chaste kiss upon each of his fingers, never once breaking away from his eyes.

As if this was an unspoken signal, Merlin gathers me in his arms and pulls me close, rubbing his face against mine.

“I thought I would never see you again, at least not in my real body... I’ve missed having arms and legs.”

Still the same Merlin, quirky grin and all, his eyes lit up voice as eager as a puppy, it is nice to know that some things never change.

My ache for him must be visible; even in this dim light, as he bears down upon me and parts my lips with his own.

Again I am reminded of our first encounter, fierce and passionate, uncoordinated and clumsy, perfect, simply perfect.

Plundering my mouth with his tongue, forcing me to capitulate; both our bodies rocking against the other, grinding cocks and bruising hips... rough... wild... and just right.

Rolling me over onto my back he stills, then draws back to sit upon my hips looking down at me, hungry and wild... feral.

Leaning forward again, his hand cupping my neck whilst the other firmly grasping my hip, squeezing and kneading my flesh, driving me wild as I undulate beneath him... needing more contact, more of him... just more.

Easing first one leg then the other from beneath him, I lay both my legs astride his hips and gathering his hand in mine I pull it up to my mouth and wrap my tongue and lips around a finger, teasing him and me, showing him what I want and what I need, grinding my arse against his hard prick, telling it where it should be.

Guiding his finger down between my splayed legs, down past my balls to where I want him to be. Pushing his finger into me, not caring of the pain it causes me... I need this, I need him opening me up and getting me ready for his prick.

A deep moan makes its way from within me as my arse feels another finger enter. It has been so long and I need him now, all of him as hard as he can. I need to remember and I need to forget.

“Merlin, please... now, inside.”

An evil glint lights his eyes at that, his own desire and need taking over.

“Hold your own legs in the air... King Arthur... hold them wide and hold them back”, his voice similar to a predators snarl just before the kill.

Pulling my legs back as far as I can and resting my elbows behind my knees I am as open as I can be... and still he waits.

His fingers plunging in and out, but it’s not enough, I need all of him and I need it now.

“Merlin, FUCK ME!” Sheer exasperation and need make my voice rough and harsh as my own arousal thrums.

Surging to his knees he places his arms above my shoulders on the bed and nudges my arse with his prick, teasing me. Raising one hand off the bed, he positions his cock right at my hole, but instead of thrusting into me he lets his own body weight push him into me.

A harsh scream is rent from my throat as the dual feelings of pain and pleasure assail me once again as I cant my hips further forward, trying to drive him in deeper as he arches his back, changing his centre of balance and forcing him further into me.

The pain is as I remembered it, but the pleasure far exceeds what I do remember, that exquisite feeling of being breached and plundered; taken without remorse, and as he begins to thrust in earnest... I learn to fly.

Jag Behöver Dig (I Need You)

2009-03-24T13:20:39Z

Series Title: Vad Hjärtat Aldrig Ser (What the Heart Never Sees)
Book Title: Förlorad Igen (Lost again)
Chapter Title: Jag Behöver Dig (I Need You )
Author: goetterdamerung
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Five years have passed since Merlin’s execution and Arthur still remembers and hopes.
Authors Notes: This will make no sense what so ever if you have not read Book I Mellan Sommar och Höst first.

Soaring high above, clouds obscuring him from view, the merlin’s sharp eyes see its prey and with a piercing shriek he dives, talons outstretched... hungry for blood.

Barely dodging the errant bird; Uther, King of Camelot curses loudly.

“Haven’t you got that cursed bird trained yet? It just missed my head you fool.” Both fury and embarrassment colour his words and so they should... this is the fifth time in two weeks the new falcon has swooped him.

The Falconer can’t work it out; the bird, albeit only new to the hood, was certainly capable and always brought down the kill. This behaviour was as strange as the circumstances of the bird’s presence in the castle itself.

It was only four weeks previously when the Falconer spotted a magnificent merlin, perched in the tree opposite the grating that acted as a window into the Prince’s cell. Slowly moving over to the tree, the Falconer raised his arm, startling the bird, but then incredibly, the bird swooped down and landed on his outstretched arm and began to preen and clean his feathers, completely unconcerned as the amazed handler took him back to the mews.

He may have been a magnificent bird, well trained and a natural at diving for the kill, but for reasons of its own, the merlin would always ignore the prey in favour of the King and would dive for him every time. Shrugging his shoulders, the falconer whistled for the errant bird and held his arm out... for nothing, for the first time, the bird ignored his call and flew to the grating, using his talons to anchor himself in place and flapping his wings urgently to maintain his balance and a piercing shriek that echoed through the cells. His sharp eyes picking out the details of the cell within; a thin pallet made up with threadbare blanket, a rickety writing desk, liberally spattered with ink and candle wax, a bookshelf full of books... and on the wall... a cross.

With a disdainful cry the merlin focussed his eyes on the cells occupant, his sharp cries changing to a soft crooning trill as he sees the man inside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I can’t believe my ears at first, I have been hearing that Merlin’s cry every day now since that day... My Merlin’s death and Merlin the Falcon’s birth, hearing it every day with my mind’s ears and my hearts memory, but now it is my physical ears that hear him... My Merlin.

Looking up at the grating, my heart lurches as I see a falcon gripping the grating and flapping his wings furiously.

“Mer... Merlin? Is that you?”

I’m not sure what to believe anymore, Merlin’s ring thrums on my finger but I have been hearing his cry so often that hearing it now and seeing him clawing at the grating is like a dream, the same dream I have also been having since that day.

With his cries changing to a soft crooning, I race to the grating and reaching my arm up as far as it can, grip the lowest end of the grating... then nothing... nothing until I feel soft feathers caressing my fingertips.

“Merlin.” Soft and loving tone as my heart hammers in my chest and Merlin drops his feathered head to my fingers and rubs his head against my fingers and his eyes flash a brilliant gold before returning to their falcon amber.

My Merlin... Home again, home with me.

The reality of the situation takes a while to sink in; why is he back? Can he change back into a man or is he to remain as a bird for the remainder of his life...? And if he could... would he still feel the same?

Five years, almost to the day, I remember exactly how Merlin looked, how he felt against me but now... now, I am different. Gone is the bulk from training and wearing armour every day, gone is the colour that time in the sun bestows, gone is the arrogance and regal bearing. Instead all there is left is a thin, pale ghost of a man, my hands have turned soft and my strength is gone all that is left is a memory of what used to be and the image in my mind of how I used to be.

It has been a long five years, as each day drew to an end I would mark the wall and fall asleep and dream I was in Merlin’s arms... as the days turned to months and months turned slowly into years my hope that Merlin would return slowly died and crumbled. As my body lost its warrior build and took on more of a scholars build, my mind began to crave ways to keep busy. Surprisingly, the one who helped me the most risked his very existence every time he set foot into my cell... Brother Claudius.

The personification of all I saw that took Merlin from me... he has ended up being the one person I could speak to about everything. At first I gloried in verbally sparing with him over everything, he had no choice but to return day after day... you see it was his duty from his Arch Bishop AND King Uther that I be converted to Christerdom. You can imagine my response to that, a pale, weak man; deeply entrenched in the dogma of his order trying to convert me, ME the Crown Prince of Camelot to Christerdom.

Can you see the irony there, I couldn’t at first, but slowly as I began to really talk to him, out of sheer desperation mind you, I could see that he was nearing the end of his patience, but eventually we managed to ignore the real reason he was here and instead began to speak about everyday things, the goings on at court and eventually, began talking about the church and Rome.

If it wasn’t for Claudius, I would have gone mad from grief and boredom combined.

But that is for another time, now all I can think of is Merlin and what it means that he is back, in one shape or another.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For six weeks now, Merlin has perched on the grating, every day as the sun reaches the zenith of the sky and for a few glorious moments I can touch my Merlin. A few glorious moments I feel like my old self... a few glorious fucking moments.

And every day, a few minutes after Merlin has left, I turn introspective and morose, a few moments with Merlin... a fucking bird... it is not enough, but as I said to Merlin many years ago, I am not strong enough to send him away.

I still love Merlin the same as I did before everything went to pieces and I lost him.

Uther on the other hand... well I’m not sure anymore. Gone is the intense hatred I had before, gone but not forgotten. As I promised him, I still have not forgiven him and I never will, but after spending my life living for his approval... it is those times when he would grace me with a smile or a ‘well done’ nod that I miss. It is not his fault... completely that he is the way he is, Claudius had managed to discover quiet a lot out listening in to conversations, so I know some of the reasons for Uther’s hatred of magic.

Uther loved his wife, of this I have no doubt, loved her as much as I love Merlin, where fire took mine away... magic took his away. I can understand, but still, never forgive.

Hearing keys rattling, I am thinking that Claudius is coming to visit early, but no.

Five guards, dressed in the Church Guards uniform of unrelieved black with a white cross emblazoned across their chest.

“Your Highness, King Uther has ordered your presence before him.”The guard’s voice is stark and uninflected; but the man’s disapproval shines through clearly and I wonder, not for the first time, just what reason Uther has given for my imprisonment. Claudius, for reasons of his own, has refused to disclose that information to me.

Drawing upon my memory for the haughty, regal manner I used to respond to those of lesser station, “Am I to be presented to the King as I am? You may wear the insignia of the Church, but you are still subject to secular authority as well. I have not been disbarred nor disinherited. I am still your Crown Prince, you will allow me to bathe and change into raiment more suitable for an audience with the King.”

Judging by the uncertain and slightly worried look on the guards’ face, I still have it when I need it and I allow myself a small grin as I enjoy this small victory.

“Very well Your Highness, we shall escort you to your former chambers and allow you to bathe and change, you only have a few minutes though as King Uther has demanded your presence immediately.”

Alright then, a very small victory, but still a victory none the less.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A bath, even a cold one, feels wonderful; I have had to make do with a cloth and a bucket of water and I push the tolerance of the guards by taking my time. Clothes on the other hand became more of a nightmare; everything I owned were made for my former build, only some of my older clothing came close to fitting my thinner and reduced frame.

Unable to put it off any further, I dressed in an old pair of breeches of mine and one of Merlin’s tunic’s that was left in my chambers from happier days... I wish I could say that I could still smell Merlin on the tunic... but I can’t... I can’t smell him at all, but I can still feel him just by wearing his clothes. Taking a deep breath to help control the sense of longing that was plaguing me, I turned to the guards. “I am ready.”

As I walk to King Uther’s chambers, I can see the changes that have occurred during my incarceration, the art decorating the walls has been removed, furnishings and draperies have been toned down to an almost austere quality, but the most noticeable change was the Christers cross presence in every room and on every wall... it seems as if the Church of Rome had moved its court and relocated to the halls of Camelot.

Leaving my ‘escort’ at Uther’s door I pause a moment as I gather my courage before lifting my hand to knock. So many thoughts running through my mind and no time to sort any of them into a semblance of order, finally knocking I wait to be called to enter.

Moments pass as I wait in vain for a call to enter; instead the door opens and in front of me stands the Arch Bishop, Benedict.

“Your father will see you now Arthur.”

That voice, that hated voice, I am positive he had something to do with Uther catching Merlin and I in the woods. Pushing past the man, like the bug he is I turn to him, “He is not my father, my King perhaps, but he is not my father... he lost the right to that appellation five years ago.”

My eyes are directing all my anger and pain at this man, but for all the vitriol I aim at him... it slides off of him all but untouched.

It is then my eyes light upon King Uther for the first time in five years.

Uther’s face is gaunt and grey, he has aged in the past five years, much more so than just the passage of time would warrant. Letting my eyes roam around his chambers, I am surprised to see signs of everyday business present; it is almost as if Uther hasn’t left his chambers for some time.

It is clear that Uther is unwell and Gaius’ presence confirms this as he enters the room and I feel his hand lightly on my shoulder.

“Your father is gravely ill Arthur... Sire. I don’t expect him to last much longer.”

“What is wrong with him?” My voice is quiet and more worried than I am wont to let people know.

“Grief... anguish and grief is killing him Sire... the same as what is killing me as well.”

Gaius spoke this last as if to himself, his own suffering and grief obvious to any with eyes and ears.

“Your father and I have both lost our sons Arthur, mine is ashes, his cut from his heart by his own actions, but regardless he suffers and he pays and soon he will pay the same price as Merlin. He will die for his love of you.”

Hearing Gaius’ grief brings my own back to the surface, but I know Merlin is still with us. I shall speak to Gaius after Uther has finished with me.

With a tear coursing my cheek I look up to Gaius’s face and see one tracing his own. United in our grief for the same man, we don’t hear Uther’s faint call at first.

“Arthur...my son.”

As much as I don’t wish to, I can hear how much Uther is in pain, how much of that is physical I don’t know.

“I am here as you commanded My King.”

This is the man who ordered my Merlin to the flames.

“Ahhh, I had hoped you may have relented whilst you were away.”

“Away! Let me refresh your memory my liege, you had my lover... MY LOVER, murdered, burnt alive because he was different, because I AM different... then, then you have me imprisoned for five years after you made me watch Merlin die in agony. All of this and you still complain that my heart has closed to you?”

My anger knows no bounds as the man who destroyed my life and who killed my Merlin dared to have the temerity to hope that I would forgive?

“For all of my hopes Arthur, forgiveness is not one of them. I have hated magic because it took my beloved Igraine away from me, I have hated magic for so long that I have turned it into a personal crusade. Lying here as I am, I know I am dying Arthur... I know what the loss of your beloved means... no, I do not ask your forgiveness, for I know I still haven’t forgiven magic.”

His voice even though weak, still holds some power of authority as I listen to him. Unwilling to feel anything other than anger and still failing as I see the state of him... Uther, King of Camelot and... my father.

“I do not expect you to forgive me for taking Merlin from you Arthur and that is something that although I dearly wish, if your mother could see us now, she would be appalled at me, her husband treat our son so. No, I only wish to apologise for the damage I have done to you Arthur, to you and soon to Camelot for when I die, you will be King... free to make your own decisions... and allegiances.

A noisy flapping at the open window draws our attention as Merlin, my Merlin lands on the sill.

“Who let that falcon loose”, Uther demanded weakly, but I am ignoring him as I finally can see and hold Merlin properly for the first time in five years.

Whistling softly to Merlin I extend my arm, hoping that he will perch upon it. As he takes wing, Merlin flies across to Gaius and perches briefly on his shoulder and leans his head against the old physicians. A moment later Merlin is perched on my shoulder and is rubbing his face alongside my own.

“Merlin, oh my Merlin, I have missed you so much.” Tears that were held in check since speaking to Gaius run free as Merlin presses against my face.

Turning to Uther, my father, “This is not just a falcon father... it is a Merlin... my Merlin.”

Uther’s face is a study of mixed emotions, fear, understanding, regret and finally relief.

With a hop and jump, Merlin is perched at the foot of Uther’s bed, his eyes glowing a vibrant gold.

Pulling himself into a seated position, Uther extends his hand to Merlin and so quietly that I almost don’t hear says, “Forgive me for my ignorance, forgive me for my jealousy and forgive my hatred... Merlin.”

Hopping closer to Uther, Merlin moves close to Uther’s outstretched hand and lays his head on the opened palm.

“Thank you, tha...”

We never heard the rest, My father’s heart finally gave out and his chest rattled and a silent sigh escaped him. His arm dropped back down and his head hit the pillow beneath it.

With a quaking cry Gaius raises his voice, “The King is dead, long live the king... Long live King Arthur.”

Turning to look back at my father, I see the same golden glow as Merlin’s eyes surround both Merlin and my father, brighter and brighter it became, surrounding them both until it was impossible to look directly at them. When the glow faded, my father was gone, but Merlin was laying there in his place, naked and fully man shaped.

To the sound of Gaius collapsing to the ground in a dead faint, I leap upon the bed and cradle Merlin to my chest.

Merlin is alive and Merlin has returned to me once more.

Sista Morgonen (The Last Morning)

2009-03-21T15:51:45Z

Series: Vad Hjärtat Aldrig Ser (What the Heart Never Sees)
Book Title: Mellan Sommar och Höst (Between Summer and Autumn)
Chapter Title: Sista Morgonen (The Last Morning)
Author: goetterdamerung
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Authors Notes: This is the final instalment in this arc, the next arc continues five years into the future with Uther on his deathbed and an old acquaintance returning to Camelot.
Summary: Read and see

Previously: Äntligen (Finally) | Berusa Mig (Intoxicate Me) | Varmt och Djupt (Hot and Deep) | Helig Man (Holy Man) | Aldrig Som Främlingar (Never as Strangers)| Genom Ett Krossat Fönster (Through a Broken Window) | Hur Kan Du Lova Mig? (How Can You Promise Me?) | Tillbaks Igen (Back Again) | Kött och Blod (Flesh and Blood) | Gränsen Mellan Kärlek och Hat (The Boundary Between Love and Hate) |

We have spent hours just laying here by the stream bank; Merlin had setup camp and prepared our meal with a simple flash of his eyes and we haven’t moved since.

Merlin’s eyes are half closed, a golden gleam shows where his normal blue would; his right hand clenches as the golden glow surrounds it, flaring brilliantly... then fading into nothing.

“I want you to have this Arthur”, as his hand opens slowly.

In his hand is a ring, the band is twisted gold, but it is the stone that catches my attention. It is a ruby, so highly polished that it looks more like a red sun in full brilliance.

“Look closely at the ruby Arthur.”

Peering into the deep red stone I see it is carved into the Pendragon crest, although the dragon is more lifelike that any I have seen, it looks more as if it was frozen in time, each scale, each talon etched into the stone in sharp relief.

“Put it on and look at it again.”

Placing the ring onto my pointer finger I feel rather than see a ruby light surrounding both Merlin and I. Taking a startled gasp I look askance at Merlin.

Seeing my questioning look he says, “Trust me.”

I can feel the ring absorb the warmth from the light and then a gentle throbbing can be felt from the ring.

Looking down I see the ruby lighten and darken rhythmically.

“Give me your other hand Arthur.”

Raising my left hand, he takes it in both of his and opening my fingers flat he places my palm against his chest... just over his heart.

“The ruby is linked to my heartbeat Arthur, you will be able to feel and see each beat, when you hold me, you will feel it speed up, and when we make love you will feel it hammering the same as my heart does as I drive into you... basically you hold my heart in your hand, take it off and my heart will cease to beat. Wear it always and you will know my heart beats for you and you alone.”

The world around me blurs as the implications of his gift hit me.

“Your heart... your life”, it is too much to take in, “Why...? A simple ring is enough.” He has completely floored me here.

“Arthur, I have already pledged my life to you, my heart I also pledged to you long ago, but now that we have...” his hand waves between us, “it is one and the same, my heart and my life... you are my heart and life. If you were to no longer want this...” his hand closing over mine, which still rests above his heart, “then I would die inside anyway.”

Letting my tears fall now as Merlin’s own course down his face and all I can say in response, “Forever.”

It is a vow that can only be taken once, from this lifetime onwards Forever and Merlin will mean the same thing... Us.

I’m not sure who reached for whom first, but everything seemed to slow down as a moment stretched into hours. His mouth all over me as his eyes glow and my clothes disappear while his hands caress my body and tease me endlessly.

The burning desperation that usually accompanied our couplings is absent and in its place is a sense of wholeness and rightness; this is how I had always imagined two people who were meant for each other in each and every way imaginable... I had come home.

Opening my eyes as I feel him breach me, my legs wrap around his waist as his arms wrap around me and then I finally realise that there is nothing beneath me.

“Trust me”, he says it over and over as I relax into thrusts, no longer caring that we are defying the very laws of nature. The freedom of being suspended in the air allows both of us to move unrestricted. His long, leisurely strokes; leaving me open to him as never before.

His hand grasps me and strokes me in time to his thrusts, and I know that I can’t hold any longer.

It is perfect.

“Seize them!”

The sudden drop from the air to the ground jarring me back to the real world... there, surrounding us were my father’s guards... and there in front of me, Uther, King of Camelot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I can’t believe it, after everything we have been through it ends like this, me deep inside Arthur and us floating several feet in the air while doing it. The only thing I hope for now is that Uther will not punish Arthur for it. In his arrogance; Uther will assume that I have bewitched Arthur... I hope.

The malicious smile that Uther wears sends chills down my spine, seconds before my head his struck from behind and I tumble into darkness and my fate.

My final thought, ‘Arthur’.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wake slowly, I can feel my hands and feet bound, I must be slung over a horse as its gait jars my body with every step. Trying to keep quiet and attention from myself I shift my head to try and see Arthur and seconds later wish I hadn’t.

Arthur, still naked and bound as I am, slung over his horse like a common criminal, his father... his fucking father, leads his horse by the reins and my heart burns for Arthur and what I have now cost him.

But what draws my attention more is the bleeding cut down Arthurs left cheek, jagged edged and swollen, the bastard struck his own son. Unable to bear witness to Arthur’s shame any longer, I close my own eyes and wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I can’t believe it, to be caught not only being penetrated by Merlin, but to be caught whilst suspended in midair. He will kill him, what he does to me is of little consequence, but while I have life, he will pay.

I have been in this cell for hours now, the king still has not spoken a word to me and I fear for Merlin. His ring on my finger pulses weakly and I know Merlin has been hard pressed by the king’s torturers. I can feel every blow, cut and burn through the ring as his heart slows and speeds.

Giving him the only comfort I can I raise the ring to my lips and tenderly kiss it, hoping that somehow he can feel it and that it does offer some comfort... or at least let him know how I feel.

Hearing the bolts on the door, I pull back to the corner. Instead of them coming for me, they have returned Merlin. The bastards have left him chained to the wall, even in this poor light, I can see the damage they have done.

Waiting for the guards to bolt the door closed once more, I look at Merlin; both of his arms look broken, knife wounds mar his chest. His feet look burnt and broken and his legs shattered but... but what makes me turn into the corner and heave anything that remained in my stomach.

Blood, streaking down his legs and a broken off haft of a spear embedded inside him, in cruel mockery of our love making... and this, this is what breaks me.

Moving over to Merlin, my hands itching to touch and comfort, but terrified of hurting him any further.

“Mer, please Mer.” I am not sure of what I am asking, but cannot remain silent.

“Mer... so sorry, sorry, so sorry.”

“How touching, a prince and his catamite lover... actually more like the servant and his catamite prince lover.” Uther’s voice cuts through the silence from behind the grating in the door.

Ignoring him is the easiest thing I have ever done, all my attention is on Merlin. Standing up and leaning into Merlin’s face, my lips touch his as Uther enters the cell

“I love you Mer... Forgive me.” And our lips touch one last time before my head is dragged away by my hair.

“You dare, in front of your king... in front of your father.”

“I have no father.” Simple statement of fact.

“He has bewitched you.” His voice is almost pleading for it to be true.

“No, he loves me and I love him.”

Uther’s face swings around as if I slapped him.

“You could not love him, he is a man... he is a sorcerer... he is pure evil.” His voice is fanatical, caught up in his hatred of both magic and sodomy.

“He is Merlin, he is a man, he is a sorcerer and he is innocence personified, you... YOU are the one consumed by evil and I hope that by this god you now believe in will forgive you... for I shall never.”

“Very well then, you shall remain in this cell until my final breath is breathed. You are my son and for that I cannot order your death, but you shall sit in here until the day I die... consider this the final gift from the father you no longer have. Regardless, the boy dies now.”

Unable to control myself I fling myself at Uther’s knees and beg, “please, no... Please... father, no.”

As he kicks me away he turns to the guard and orders Merlin to be removed to the courtyard and tied to the stake. Turning back to me, his eyes cold, “You have no father Arthur... remember?” then he turned and left, with Merlin being dragged out before him.

It is only minutes later as I am screaming and pounding the door that it opens again.

“The King has ordered your presence at the execution.” The chains in his hands and several guards behind him prove his allegiance to the new order.

I can’t bear the thought of watching Merlin die, but I will... for him and for us... I owe us that much before my revenge.

Chained and manacled, I am carried from the cell, up the steps and dragged to the stake where Merlin is already tied.

There are only guards and Uther present, and the executioner.

Time slows as I turn to face Merlin, his eyes are barely open, but he still sees me before him. As the lit brand touches the rushes beneath the pyre, Merlin’s eyes open fully and he looks directly to me. A tear streaks down his filthy cheek, but his smile... his smile is pure love and devotion and it is directed at me.

My own look of love is shadowed by the grimaces of pain that sear Merlin’s face as the flames lick higher, searing skin and flesh.

It is over quickly, I know Merlin has gone when the ring grows cool and lifeless on my finger. As the flames consume his body I stand before him still until there is nothing left and dawn’s cold light breaks the sky.

Alone again back in the dungeon cell that is to be my new home, the day’s light bright through the grating that acts as a window, I finally let the tears flow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Above, I strain to hear the movements of the castle when a faint cry is heard from far above, it sounds like a Falcon’s cry, a Merlin... and the ring flares back into life and the reassuring cadence of a heartbeat is present once more.

Closing my eyes I raise the ring to my lips and kiss it tenderly as tears again fall from my eyes, but this time I know they are not from grief, but from joy.

Merlin will return to me.

Gränsen Mellan Kärlek och Hat (The Boundary Between Love and Hate)

2009-03-20T05:44:14Z

Series: Vad Hjärtat Aldrig Ser (What the Heart Never Sees)
Book Title: Mellan Sommar och Höst (Between Summer and Autumn)
Chapter Title: Gränsen Mellan Kärlek och Hat (The Boundary Between Love and Hate)
Author: goetterdamerung
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Summary: What they don’t know will not hurt them, but when everyone suspects they know... that is a different story

Previously: Äntligen (Finally) | Berusa Mig (Intoxicate Me) | Varmt och Djupt (Hot and Deep) | Helig Man (Holy Man) | Aldrig Som Främlingar (Never as Strangers)| Genom Ett Krossat Fönster (Through a Broken Window) | Hur Kan Du Lova Mig? (How Can You Promise Me?) | Tillbaks Igen (Back Again) | Kött och Blod (Flesh and Blood) |

”... while I respect your desire to return to the abbey, I believe Our Lord has called upon you for this task and this task alone. You, Brother Claudius, shall remain here in Camelot and shall become the Prince’s Spiritual Advisor and tutor in the ways of Our Lord.” His tone alone belies the apparent politeness of his words and with the next words out of his mouth, Brother Claudius knew them for what they were... a punishment.

“I also believe that this incident would have been avoided if you had told me initially who the two participants of this tryst really were instead of relying on Brother Alfonso to tell me instead... poor Brother Alfonso really didn’t have it in him to obfuscate to me, our poor brother will need some considerable time to recuperate from his ... injuries.”

Claudius had guessed what had happened to Alfonso, but hearing it from the man responsible sent a cold shiver throughout him.

“I expect you to perform the Actus Contritionis one hundred times before the None’s in reparation of your error.”

Closing his eyes briefly, Claudius murmured a silent prayer for Brother Alfonso before replying, “Yes Your Eminence, I have been remiss and with Our Lord’s help, shall strive to be better in future.”

Kneeling before the simple cross on the wall, Claudius bends his head and begins, “Deus meus, ex toto corde poenitet me omnium meorum peccatorum, eaque detestor, quia peccando, non solum poenas a Te iuste statutas promeritus sum...”*

To the sounds of the humble prayer, Benedict allowed a satisfied smile a moment to shine before masking his face back into the neutral demeanour it previously wore. As Claudius finished the first and started the second repetition, Benedict turned his thoughts to the Crown Prince, Arthur Pendragon and under his breath muttered, “soon my prince you shall be unmasked as the degenerate you are, befouler of the innocent and enemy of the church; soon... but not until I am ready”, and with an evil smile he turns and leaving the kneeling priest alone to his prayer, exits the chamber as silently as ever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Merlin’s touches are less frequent; his voice no longer pitched sweetly soft for my ears only and his presence less visible than before. I think he has come to believe that our secret is not only ours anymore... and I don’t think he is wrong to believe so.

There is only the two Prestors here now, the third has been sent back, but... I’m not sure how healthy he was when he left. Merlin said that Gaius had been called at the Arch Bishop’s request and had been sent away again only moments later with a fearsome look on his face.

It has been two days since Owain and Perrinore were executed... murdered I suppose would be more accurate, but not even that really for it was Merlin who granted them merciful death before the agonies of the fire could consume them.

I am sure that the Prestors know that it was not Owain and Perrinore who were seen, but Merlin and I; and I can say that it frightens me that they know this. I have been raised to be king, I have learnt tactics and warfare, the art of ruling and the art of diplomacy... even spycraft was included in my studies, but I think that my tutors were amateurs in comparison to this Prestor of Rome.

The King, no longer father in my eyes, has informed me that the other Prestor is to be my advisor and tutor in church doctrine. A direct order, not subject to negotiation I was told. This Prestor will undoubtedly be nothing more than a spy for Rome, the same as his superior.

Merlin tells me not to worry too much, if need be he can protect himself, and I know this, but it is also my job to protect my lover with every method I know... and Merlin, knowing this, will just have to live with it.

It seems that Uther has also taken an interest in the whereabouts of Merlin, a thought which leaves me cold, Uther can never know about us... or about Merlin either for that matter.

From what Merlin has told me, he has been spending a fair amount of time with Morgana’s maid Gwen in the hopes of hiding in plain sight, as well as fending off any potential rumours; sensible... but I miss his presence by my side.

As for Uther... well... I have no idea what is going on inside his head. I used to be able to read him well, but that was before... well that was just before. Now, on the other hand, he is as closed to me as never before.

I need to see Merlin, to be able to hold him, even briefly, if I am to continue without going mad... and that is a madness of itself, wanting this whilst in the middle of this power play between Rome and Camelot. Still, my mind set, I send for a page to hunt down Merlin and to tell him to attend me, riding I think... yes riding, anything to get out of the castle for a few hours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had forgotten how sweet Gwen can be, I had also forgotten how perceptive Gwen can be as well.

“Merlin, you know that Morgana tells me sometimes of her dreams?”

My eyes look askance at that, this is one area I don’t want to delve too deeply into.

“She told me that she saw a great calamity fall upon Camelot”, her eyes downcast and voice serious for once, “she also told me that it was you... well you and Arthur who saved us.”

Raising an eyebrow doesn’t achieve the desired result, either for her to continue or to leave this topic alone... for all our sakes.

Can we say ambivalent here?

Gwen for once sees that it is time for some plain talking... and by the end of it I prayed to any deity that she had remained oblivious.

“Merlin, I know about your magic, my mistress knows about your magic. We suspect that Uther also knows and there is no way for us to protect you... you must leave Camelot before Uther sends for you.”

With a sense of rising horror I stare at her uncomprehendingly, trying to deny what I know that they know is fact... I can’t.

“What will you do Gwen, you and Morgana...? It IS worth my life in case you missed that.”

I can’t help it, sarcasm is my natural defence mechanism and it always comes out directed at the people who deserve it least... well excepting the prat that is.

Rolling her eyes is the only response Gwen gives for a moment. “We, that is my mistress and I will do nothing more than what we have always done... Merlin, we have known for months, but if we are right and Uther does know, you MUST leave and soon.”

“I can’t, I can’t leave him.” Brain to mouth, brain to mouth we have a problem here.

“Him... Gaius you mean.” Her eyes tell me that she already knows that it is not Gaius I am talking about.

“Do I have to say it Gwen?” My voice quavers on her name.

Looking me straight in the face, “Arthur... it has always been Arthur”, and her voice made me feel like I had clubbed her beloved puppy to death... in front of her.

“Yes”, I agreed softly, “Arthur.”

Seeing her eyes cloud over and mist is my undoing, “I’m sorry Gwen, but I love him.”

Taking a deep breath seems to steady her, “And what about Arthur, where does he stand in this?”

Poor Gwen, clinging to a thread of hope, “Arthur loves me as well Gwen”, putting all I do feel for him into my voice.

“Morgana tried to warn me, she told me to love you as a friend... but not to let myself fall in love with you. I tried, I tried so hard, but you... you... damn you Merlin. Why?”

And at that lets her eyes brim over as I pull her into my arms and rock her gently amid her constant tears and questions of why.

I can’t tell her the answer she wants to hear, only the one that is true and that is simple... ‘Because, just because’.

It is then of course that the page Arthur sent finds us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is the longest we have spent in each other’s company since Owain and Perrinore’s deaths. It is killing me not to be able to touch him... it is also killing me that when the page returned to me, he informed me that Merlin, would be along shortly... after he had finished clinging to Guinevere; this last had been spoken with a smirk.

I trust Merlin, I do... but... Guinevere also has feelings for Merlin, I don’t think he suspects, but it would be so easy for him to hide behind her charms and within her arms to ride out this storm, that I feel threatened by her.

Yes... ok... I am jealous, this is not news to me and for a moment I had the pleasant thought of sending her to the dungeon until she learnt better, of course when Morgana found out I was the one who had sent her maidservant there, my life would have been over.

Still, the thought was pleasant while it lasted.

It is getting late in the afternoon when Merlin stops his horse, “Arthur, they know... they know everything.”

Hearing this shocks me to my core, “Who, how, who?” I babble.

Leading his horse to the stream so it can drink, Merlin doesn’t answer me for a minute, “Morgana and Gwen, they know everything... my magic... us.”

Staring out across the stream, Merlin’s eyes darken, “She is in love with me”, softly spoken, but not soft enough.

“What Morgana?” I yell.

Looking at me as if I was an idiot, “Guinevere you prat.”

“Anyway, what do you mean they know?” A sinking feeling in my gut.

“Morgana... well, she dreams.”

Nodding my head, everyone knew that.

“Well, these dreams have a habit of coming true.”

That sinking pit has left my stomach and now I feel like I am standing in it and am up to my armpits.

“She’s a seer Arthur.”

“That’s ridiculous, there is no such thing as a real life seer.” Putting my point across mildly, as if Morgana of all people was actually a seer, a prophetess even.

“Of course Arthur, exactly the same as me being an all powerful sorcerer, just a figment of our imaginations... no such thing exists. Grow up Arthur and deal with it.”

Ouch, I’d forgotten how pointed Merlin can be when he is proving a point, must be something he picked up from Gaius I suspect. Forget armpits, this pit has swallowed me whole.

“Oh.”

“Yes Arthur, Oh, so what do we do about it?”

Thinking quickly, “I don’t think there is too much to worry about there Merlin; if she is a seer, then she has as much too lose as you if she was caught. I don’t think either of the girls would risk it.”

Stopping abruptly I venture into the question I really wanted an answer to, “How did they find out about us Merlin?”

Merlin looks a little sheepish at this

“Umm.... ehhh... I told her.”

Seeing the thundercloud on my countenance, Merlin hurriedly coninues.

“Gwen was telling me that both her and Morgana knew about my magic, they also suspected Uther of knowing as well and wanted me to leave Camelot.”

My heart stopped right there, Merlin leaving Camelot, never going to happen.

“I told her I couldn’t leave, not without... without.”

His look begs me not to push, but I have to know.

“Without what Merlin?”

“I said I could leave without him... at first she thought of Gaius, but no, she could read the truth and that was when she asked me about you and I... then about us.”

Bugger, just when I was about to enjoy tearing into Merlin, legitimately this time, he comes out with this and how on earth could I attempt it now, it’d be like kicking a puppy, he looks so woebegone.

Taking a deep breath and a quick glance to see that Merlin is still expecting his world to collapse, I walk up to him and simply wrap my whole body around his.

“It’s alright Mer, I don’t think they will do anything about it.”

It is not enough, but at least it removes that look of abject terror from his face.

Leaning in to him once more, I let my tongue part his lips, as he has done to me many times before, and slowly drag us down onto the stream bank.

There is a desperation to this kiss that all of our previous ones have not had, a hunger that burns from within and an unquenchable fire that heightens every touch, every sensation until we are both feeling the same thing at the same time.

After the passion had cooled... ever so slightly, of which the mud we were rolling around in was a major contributor to, Merlin quirks that eyebrow of his; he really is spending too much time with Gaius.

“Well have a look at us, we look like pigs in the sty... fancy a dip in the stream to cleanup?” This last is said in a voice filthier than we could ever be rolling around in the mud.

“Stay there, I want you to watch... just like I did in the hunting lodge.”

Gods that voice drives a man insane, filthy and obscene, coming out with double entendres that have me hard again in seconds.

“Don’t touch yourself, just watch me and imagine what I’m going to do to you afterwards.”

Striding out into the stream, Merlin sinks down into the shallow water, leaning his head back, wetting it and running his fingers through it. After he is satisfied that he is as wet as possible he stands before me.

His hard cock perfectly outlined by his wet breeches, he has lifted his shirt over his head so it is caught behind it and leaves his chest exposed to my hungry view. One hand is splayed across his chest while the other slowly undoes the ties on his breeches.

“Watch me Arthur, see what you do to me, see how hard my prick is for you, how much it wants to be inside you... how much I want to fuck you till you scream.”

Tiny rivulets of water run down his chest, his hand matting the fine dark hairs that flow down towards his cock as he runs his fingers absently up and down. He has freed his dick from his breeches and it is right there, taunting me, hard flesh jutting outwards proudly.

Taking himself in his hand he lets out a groan so dirty that I clench my arse in anticipation, his hand roughly pulling hard then gentling as his fingers hit the head before roughly gripping and pulling downwards again. Each stroke pulling his hood right back from the head, leaving it an angry flushed red.

Gods I must taste him, I have to have him in my mouth.

“You want this Arthur...? You want this in your mouth...? Maybe you want it up your arse... fuck you till you spill over, is that what you want?”

I can’t help myself as my fingers push past my own throbbing cock to seek my hole, I need to be fucked, something up me... anything up, just do it now.

I don’t realise that I gasped this last bit out loud until Merlin’s voice is heard again.

“Yeah, you need to be fucked, but first, get over here and put your mouth where it does the most good.”

Oh fuck, Merlin talking dirty, treating me like a slut, fuck... not sure if I can handle much more... need control, need to control myself before I go off.

“I’m waiting bitch.”

And that’s it, my breeches are ripped off and my tunic torn from me as I rush to get on my knees before him and take that prick deep in my mouth.

Merlin’s face when I do this is an incredible sight, as much as his words sound dirty and demeaning, it is his face that tell me the truth and that truth is incandescent, he loves me, every movement of his eyes, each hitched breath tells me this.

Feeling him at the back of my throat the musky taste forced deeper inside me is a feeling I have come to crave, his prick, not overly thick but very long, it is the kind of cock made for depth, made for long slow strokes and hard fast thrusts. If Uther wants me to find religion, then I’ll just setup an altar here and continue to worship Merlin’s cock.

I can tell from the way his hips falter he is close, but I want him inside me when he comes. Pulling off of his prick is not easy, but I want it somewhere else more.

Merlin’s face is covered in sweat as his eyes narrow to pinpoints as I turn around and kneel on all fours in the stream. Arching my back and thrusting my arse outwards and he gets the message as his blunt cockhead nudges my hole.

“Now, please Merlin, now!” I am practically incoherent with lust, I need this, I crave this.

Grasping my shoulders, Merlin begins a slow forceful push into me, the pain is exquisite as I slowly open to him and the burn centres on my already over stimulated cock.

This slow burn continues until I feel his thighs on my backside, knowing he is fully in me. Clenching hard makes him choke out a cry as he pulls back out till just his head is still inside me.

No warning this time as he slams his cock back in hard as the scream is forced out of my lungs, not pain this time, but pure animal lust.

I’m babbling now I can’t help it; hard, fast, full, thrusts into me; I’m so close now, just once more should push me over

With a primal scream Merlin puts all his power behind this last thrust and I feel him embed himself so deep that I’ll never forget it and then my world goes white as my climax hits me and just before I collapse face first into the water I realise he has brought me off without touching me, literally fucked my seed out of me... then I think no more as my face hits the water.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Moments... minutes... hours later I wake back on the bank with my head curled in Merlin’s lap and his fingers carding through my hair... and I wish we never had to return to that castle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Actus Contritionis

Deus meus, ex toto corde poenitet me omnium meorum peccatorum, eaque detestor, quia peccando, non solum poenas a Te iuste statutas promeritus sum, sed praesertim quia offendi Te, summum bonum, ac dignum qui super omnia diligaris. Ideo firmiter propono, adiuvante gratia Tua, de cetero me non peccaturum peccandique occasiones proximas fugiturum. Amen.

Act of Contrition

O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins,because of thy just punishment, but most of all because they offend Thee, my God, Who are all-good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace to confess my sins,to do penance and to amend my life. Amen.

The Conclusion of Book 1

Kött och Blod (Flesh and Blood)

2009-03-17T14:44:13Z

Series: Vad Hjärtat Aldrig Ser (What the Heart Never Sees)
Book Title: Mellan Sommar och Höst (Between Summer and Autumn)
Chapter Title: Kött och Blod (Flesh and Blood)
Author: goetterdamerung
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Minor Character Deaths, Self Flagellation
Summary: Excrement is well and truly distributed by an aeration device and the castle gardens get some fresh fertiliser.

Previously: Äntligen (Finally) | Berusa Mig (Intoxicate Me) | Varmt och Djupt (Hot and Deep) | Helig Man (Holy Man) | Aldrig Som Främlingar (Never as Strangers)| Genom Ett Krossat Fönster (Through a Broken Window) | Hur Kan Du Lova Mig? (How Can You Promise Me?) | Tillbaks Igen (Back Again) |

His Eminence, Benedict, The Archbishop of Brittany, sits alone in his chambers, his formal gowns of office placed reverently on the bed before him. In his hands a blooded knout, dripping onto the floor; his shift a tattered mess with the blood slowly congealing. His back a mass of scars; some old, some new... and some still raw enough that the blood still flowed.

He felt clean again, his body and soul purged of sin in the fashion of Christ. Stripping off his shift Benedict welcomes the pain from his abused back; stepping into the frigid bath he cleanses his external body with the minimal of touching.

His robes donned, he turns his back and exits the austere room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Arthur, let me go you great oaf!” The git has picked me up again, not that I mind, but he’s just gotten out of the bath and he is soaking wet.

“Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, I promised I would never let you go”, comes the sing song reply.

I can’t help the sappy grin, “Now who’s the girl Arthur?”

Pointed silence is the only response I get as Arthur lets me down to the ground. Twisting in his arms I am faced with an unexpectedly sombre expression.

“That’s just it Merlin, if you were and girl... or if I was... we could be happy together and safe... at least as safe as a magic user could be, but at least we wouldn’t have ‘THIS’ hanging over our head”, the fear in his voice scares me more than his words, and they alone terrify me.

“But neither of us is a girl Arthur.” Spoken so softly it is barely a whisper, “but you are still my Arthur and I am still your Merlin... that is all that matters.”

Grasping his chin firmly, I tilt his head upwards to look directly into my eyes, “I wouldn’t change anything Arthur... anything.”

His eyes are so soft, people forget how easily Arthur hides himself behind his princely persona, but if you know what to look for his eyes will tell you everything... and I know what they are telling me as I lean down for a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Come now, we must get you read for the feast.”

Moving away from Arthur, I am halted by his hand still gripping mine tightly, “Thank you Merlin, I needed to hear that.” It is soft, but I still hear it loud and clear and I squeeze his hand in acknowledgement before dropping it.

“Time to get ready.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Owain” Perrinore gasps out as his release hits him, “every time is like the first with you.”

Cradling Perrinore’s head, Owain’s deep voice is surprisingly gentle, “You promised me forever and I promised you beyond, but I want to give you this.”

In his hand lies an exact copy of his signet ring, “I know you can’t wear it, but I wanted you to have something of mine on at all times”, pulling out a chain Owain slides the signet ring onto it and reverently placing the chain around Perrinore’s neck.

“Forever.” The large blonde’s voice breaking as he pronounces the final syllable.

“Forever and beyond.” Perrinore’s eyes are hidden by his raven locks, but they do not hide the solitary tear that makes its way down his cheek.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Again the emissary from Rome has taken my place at Uther’s side of the board. Looking around it doesn't take a genius to see that this feast is a sombre affair, my father may be welcoming the Christers with open arms, but the castle inhabitants are uneasy with this foreign religion that has the ear of their king, their mutterings and whispers are louder than the actual conversations.

Merlin leans over me, ostensibly to fill my goblet, but in reality to lay a reassuring hand on my thigh.

I just want to leave and escape to my chambers, to my chambers and to Merlin.

As I stand, preparing to leave my father looks over and says, “I believe you should stay Arthur, Him Eminence has a few words he wishes to say.”

My blood runs cold as The Prestor looks coldly over myself and Merlin.

“Of course Sire.”

Seating myself again as the Prestor stands and walks to the front of the board.

“Thank you Your Majesty, as you are aware, I am a man of few words and I believe more in actions. This morning, two Brothers of my order entered Camelot on a mission. This mission was to stamp out abomination and degeneracy.”

Deadly silence permeates the room as everyone within experiences a moment of fear.

“These two brothers brought to me first hand evidence of mortal sin being committed by one of your highest”, the Prestor’s eyes gleam with righteous fury, “Degenerate behaviour, abhorrent to all of our Lord’s children, committed on the very soil of Camelot’s heartland.”

Looking towards Uther, Benedict received a slight nod, “By the order of Uther, King of Camelot I demand Owain, Duke of Gwynedd be brought to our Lord’s justice for the heinous crime of sodomy.”

“Noooooo!” It was a howl of anguish, torn from Perrinore’s very depths, but it was too late

Owain, at sword point, is dragged before the Prestor. About to speak yet again, Benedict is interrupted as an almighty roar and clash of swords erupts.

Perrinore, his face ashen, sword drawn and two guards dead at his feet, charging down the board only to be stopped by a sword slicing his legs.

I feel all colour drain from my face, unable to tear my gaze from the two lovers who I know my father will have executed... my father and the Prestor that is.

I can feel Merlin’s body trembling behind me, his terror palpable...as is mine.

“Your Majesty”, the Prestor’s voice sonorous in the terrified silence, “Both the Church’s and Camelot’s law is in accord on this matter, the punishment for this crime against nature is death by fire.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hall is empty save my father, Merlin and me. Silence reigns until my father finally speaks.

“Did you know of this Arthur?” Cold and imperious.

“Know of what father? Know that you are going to execute two of Camelot’s finest knight’s? Did I know what happens between two people behind closed chamber doors? Or did you mean did I know that you hate anyone who is lucky enough to find love, for it has been years since you have ever felt its stirrings?”

The backhanded blow is expected, but I refuse to flinch from it.

“You dare to compare my relationship to your mother with that of those two degenerates?” Those cold and silky tones masking a towering fury.

“Enough, you will be expected tomorrow morning to witness... make sure your manservant is present as well, it might put some ideas out of his head.”

Turning to Merlin, “Remember boy, a sin of thought is the same as a sin of the flesh.”

I can feel Merlin’s terror, the same as I can feel my own, he can’t know, please... he can’t know.

“Remember, both of you, tomorrow morning”, and with a furious glare at me and a dismissive sniff at Merlin, he strides out of the hall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Merlin hasn’t spoken; he’s turning down the bed, trying to ignore my presence. He can’t stay here tonight, at least not as he has done for the past couple.

“Merlin, make yourself up a pallet here at the foot of the bed.”
Merlin’s relief is clear as he breathes out audibly and his shoulders relax to a more normal posture.

“I thought... I thought he knew, it wasn’t Owain those Prestors saw was it?”

Letting out my own breath, “No, Mer, I don’t believe it was.”

I can’t sleep without him, but we can’t take the risk, not now. Moving up to Merlin, I run my hand down his cheek.

“Try to sleep.”

A minute nod and he is making up his pallet, as he does this, I prepare myself for a sleepless night when I overhear Merlin say.

“I still wouldn’t change anything, if it means I still have you.” It is quiet, but it is vehement.

“Me either Merlin, me either.”

Sleep eludes both of us until I feel Merlin’s fingers reach up and grasp my toes tightly, without a word spoken we both settle into a painful sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sunrise is still about an hour away, but the guard still patrols the dungeons, looking in to the cell he sees two men, clasped in each other’s arms, both bloodied and beaten, skin torn and limbs broken, but still they cling together on their final night on this earth. Turning away the guards hopes that there is something else for them on the other side and that their journey is quick and together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We have no option Merlin, my father is suspicious already, we must be there.”

Already and familial affection for my father is gone, replaced by only cold hope and white hot anger.

I refuse to wear anything bar the ceremonial armour of the Knights of Camelot; Merlin in his own way is honouring the two knights, for after he had strapped me into my armour, he dressed himself in the formal servant attire...complete with the hat.

Without being asked Merlin explained, “Owain always teased me about the hat and Perrinore bought me new feathers for it as well”, a slight reminiscent smile gracing his face. “They were always kind to me.”

A simple testimonial, honestly stated and heartfelt to boot.

“Come, it is time.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Owain and Perrinore are already tied in place at the stake, in a cruel parody of a hug; Owain’s arms are wrapped around Perrinore’s shoulders and Perrinore’s wrapped around Owain’s waist. Condemned to die, but bound together for eternity... Forever and Beyond.

At a nod from Uther, the executioner lights the brand and walks to the pyre, not a voice is heard bar the hypocritical prayers offered by one of the Prestors for the condemned men.

As the brand touches the pyre, sobs are heard from the witnesses present, the Knights of Camelot all present and in full ceremonial armour, just as I am, arms bared in salute to the comrades... a fact not unnoticed by Uther I think to myself with an internal grin.

With the flame licking at their feet and their lives about to be over, Owain and Perrinore stare at each other, it is obvious to those who can see that they are saying their goodbyes.

The pyre is fully ablaze and the men obscured by the flames as a breeze parts the flames for a moment and all can see, Owain and Perrinore are dead, Their lips pressed together in a final kiss as their hearts stopped at the same time... well before the flames themselves could have killed them.

Merlin is standing behind me, behind all of us and as I turn to him, I catch a tiny glimpse of gold out of the corner of my eye.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking into my chamber Merlin begins to divest me of the armour and I had to ask him, “Why take a risk like that?”

Merlin stopped what he was doing and looked at me in surprise, “because Arthur, if they had to die, then they deserved to die with dignity.”

No other words were spoken.

Tillbaks Igen (Back Again)

2009-03-17T08:19:16Z

Series: Vad Hjärtat Aldrig Ser (What the Heart Never Sees)
Book Title: Mellan Sommar och Höst (Between Summer and Autumn)
Chapter Title: Tillbaks Igen (Back Again)
Author: goetterdamerung
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Merlin and Arthur while away the time, secluded in their lodge, but the new Archbishop of Brittany has Uther's ear and some information that will destroy both mens happiness

Previously: Äntligen (Finally) | Berusa Mig (Intoxicate Me) | Varmt och Djupt (Hot and Deep) | Helig Man (Holy Man) | Aldrig Som Främlingar (Never as Strangers) | Genom Ett Krossat Fönster (Through a Broken Window) | Hur Kan Du Lova Mig? (How Can You Promise Me?)

“Brother Claudius, you absented yourself from both Compline and Vigils last evening, was there any reason for this?” Brother Alfonso’s kindly face reducing the sting from the rebuke.

“Last evening past, I was walking in contemplation of our most holy father, when my feet took me in a direction unfamiliar to me. Trusting in the guidance of our lord, I happened upon a hunting lodge with horses corralled alongside.”

Taking a deep breath he continues uncertainly, “On approaching the abode I paused and glanced through the shuttered window and witnessed... witnessed an unspeakable act.”

Shame and mortification spreading through him as the memory assailed him yet again, taunting him... teasing him.

Mistaking his flush for embarrassment Brother Alfonso prompted, “Which act do you refer to Claudio”, in the hope the use of his familiar name would calm the man beside him.

Claudius jerked back, as if the words themselves burnt him, his face turning dark. Gathering his righteous anger around him as one would a cloak, “Sodomy, two of the vaunted knights of Camelot together in evil congress. An abomination within the eyes of our lord and an affront to all decent peoples.”

Trying to control the roiling motion of his stomach, Claudius inhaled deeply, vainly trying to stem the tide of shame assaulting him; he had saw, he had watched every movement the blonde knight made... Claudius coveted that feeling of contentment and bliss. Willing the bile down and the shame from his cheeks he waited for his superior’s view.

Brother Alfonso had his eyes pressed tightly shut as his own opinions and his church’s collided. “We must inform His Eminence of this, it is beyond the authority of this abbey to condemn any of the nobility of this realm.”

Sighing to himself, Alfonso wished yet again for a relaxation from the onerous strictures imposed by Rome... imposed by, but certainly not followed by Alfonso thought viscously, a rule for others, not a rule for themselves.

“Come Claudius, we must prepare to journey to Camelot, His Eminence is currently there in anticipation of an advisory role to King Uther.”

Without waiting for his underling to follow, Alfonso turns his back and makes his way slowly out to the stables, his head low and his heart heavy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Waking up has never felt as pleasant as I worm deeper into Arthur’s arms and snuffle into his chest. Spying the table out of the corner of my eye my joy turns sour as I recall the events of the previous evening.

Everything was great... until I saw Arthur willingly allowing himself to be restrained to the table, it was then I realised just what exactly Arthur would do for me, to try and protect me... at the cost of us.

An unacceptable cost in my mind.

It was then I think I lost it, instead of a hard, intense fuck, I ended up crying all over him, what he must think of me now... I don’t know.

The last thing I remember was calling him a liar and falling asleep, wrapped in his arms on the table. Well the wrapped in his arms part is right, but he must have moved us from the table at some point last night, although I am surprised... as much as Arthur says I am as thin as a stick, I know I am not that light.

Arching into Arthur’s embrace and wrapping my arms tightly around him earns me a good morning grunt from the pratly one and a much nicer hello from down below. Deigning to ignore the prat and instead pay some attention to the emphatically happy to see me member down below is only fair I decide as I slither down Arthur’s chest and legs and place myself ‘eye to eye’ with the much nicer version of the Pendragon head.

Gently letting my morning’s stubble rasp along Arthur’s length, slowly up and down, teasing his head from its hood. His morning scent wafts heavily around his prick and balls, masculine and musky, that quintessential odour of men.

Running my head back down to the base of his shaft, I nudge his prick away and concentrate my attentions on the crease of hip and thigh. A long smooth glide of the tongue followed up by nibbles and slurps; forcing his legs apart I tongue further down to his balls.

Taking each in turn in my mouth, rolling them from side to side with my tongue, before taking both at once and sucking forcefully before pulling my head away as Arthur’s moans become louder and more insistent. Letting his balls fall wetly from my mouth, I grasp them with my hand and hold them above, exposing that sensitive area behind them... leaning down further I swipe viscously there; savage swipes of the tongue and sharp bites with my teeth, before gentling the area with my tongue then repeating it all over again.

Further down my tongue quests, looking for his hole and the tender tissues surrounding it and taking a deep breath I dive my tongue straight into his hole, still slightly loosened from the previous night. A raw, earthy taste, tender flesh quivering as I lap at his hole. Firming my tongue I push deeper and deeper into him, his cries at fever pitch, and his head thrashing to and fro.

Grasping him by his legs I pull him forward so my knees hit his arse, lifting both legs up, I bring his arse forwards and upwards giving me better access to him. Bringing both hands to either arse cheek I pull them aside, exposing his hole further and dive back in slathering it in spit and fucking him with my tongue.

His prick, heavy and flushed dark, straining upwards and gently throbbing in time to his heart beat, tip glistening and his balls tight... he’s close, only a little more and he’ll go off. Taking two fingers I moisten them in my mouth and push them into him deeply. Arching one finger upwards until I find that spot inside him, his deep moan telling when I hit it and then I keep stroking it... over and over.

His release when it hits is a sight to see, his arse clamping down hard on my fingers, his balls drawn up high and tight and his cock shooting his seed in rope like streams over his chest and even some onto his face.

Ignoring the ache within my own breeches, I let Arthur’s legs fall and make my way to his flushed face. His seed has landed all over his chin and his nose. Leaning in I lap at the wetness there, cleaning him until there is nothing more to be had until I open his lips and force my tongue into his mouth, letting him taste himself on me; his seed mingled with the earthy taste of his hole and the sounds of his deep moans as he tastes himself for the first time are indescribable; dirty, filthy noises that demand more.

“You are such a slattern Arthur... and I love it”, my voice still husky and rough.

“We should start packing and get ready to leave.”

My disappointment that our time is over for now is strong, but I am still thankful we had this time together at all, “thank you for this Arthur, for this time and for last night... I don’t think you realise how badly I needed to escape Camelot; even just for a few days.”

“You’d be surprised just how well I do understand Merlin, why do you think I take you hunting all the time... it lets me escape and lets me talk to you as Arthur, not as the Prince.” His voice is soft and serious, slightly coloured with affection and laced throughout with care. It is not often he lets this side of himself out and I am glad today of all days he has let it do so.

“But first, we need to clean ourselves up... any suggestions?” Minx, still raring for another round... I’d love to, but that feeling from this morning is only getting stronger the longer we are away from the castle.

Cleaning ourselves is only a matter of willing it done and with a flare of gold we are clean, dressed and ready to set off.

Arthur’s face is a sight to see though, his bottom lip sticking out and his eyes puppy soft... that face would tempt anyone, but we must go.

“Stop pouting Arthur, it looks ridiculous on you.” Hehe who said I wasn’t a good liar?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Could you identify them again if you were to see them?”

His face is sharp and angular, a long crooked nose and thin lips, permanently set into a sneer, it is a cruel face, not one that a favourite of Rome would be thought to have, but...

“Ye... Yes Your Eminence. I am sure I could if I was to see them again.” Brother Claudius stammered nervously, after all, this man was second only to his Holiness Pope Symmachus I.

“Tonight then at the feast, you shall both attend me and you will identify these knights, we shall then see if Uther is a pious as he claims when two of his vaunted knights are to be put to death.”

Neither man before him could mistake the distaste and resentment behind their superior’s voice, Archbishop Benedict of Brittany had finally come into full flower and both men realised just how dangerous that was.

Next

The Liturgy of the Hours as Practised in Medieval Brittany circa 480 – 585AD
Matins (at sunrise)
Prime (during the first hour of daylight)
Terce (at the third hour)
Sext (at the sixth hour)
None (at the ninth hour)
Vespers (at the end of the day)
Compline (upon retiring)
Vigils (sometime during the night)

Hur Kan Du Lova Mig? (How Can You Promise Me?)

2009-03-15T14:15:33Z

Series: Vad Hjärtat Aldrig Ser (What the Heart Never Sees)
Book Title: Mellan Sommar och Höst (Between Summer and Autumn)
Chapter Title: Hur Kan Du Lova Mig? (How Can You Promise Me?)
Author: goetterdamerung
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slight bondage and forced sex – all consensual.
Summary: For God sees through our lies and into our hearts and sometimes love will cause you to hurt and others it will cause you to heal.

Previously: Äntligen (Finally) | Berusa Mig (Intoxicate Me) | Varmt och Djupt (Hot and Deep) | Helig Man (Holy Man) | Aldrig Som Främlingar (Never as Strangers)| Genom Ett Krossat Fönster (Through a Broken Window)

Standing there transfixed, Claudius beheld the union before him, the abhorrent nature of the act seared into his brain, even as he mouthed the protective psalm that would allow him safe passage to The Heavenly Father.

Claudius had no idea of the participant’s identity; to him it was one and the same be it crofter or be it prince. He knew he must return to the abbey and inform Brother Alfonso... but there was something there which held him rooted to the spot. The one abasing himself before the other, his eyes, they were... at peace, the same kind of peace and contentment he himself felt by the benediction of Our Father.

As doubt begins to cloud his mind, Claudius flees.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My legs have no feeling left in them and it is the absence of that feeling that wakens me.

Yes, still in the same position as we fell asleep in, the only difference is that Merlin has rolled us onto his side, my leg trapped under his body and my other one twisted around his.

Smiling to myself, I can still feel Merlin inside me, much smaller, but still there inside me... where he belongs.

His skin in the moonlight seems preternaturally pale, almost translucent, but it is that very same translucence that allows his heart to glow from within. What that boy... man can do to me, I doubt I could deny him anything were he to ask it; and it is to his credit that he does not.

I know he used magic last night, but it was such a soft and welcoming thing, neither harsh nor emphatic, only gently guiding me to do his bidding... as if I needed the encouragement.

Until two nights prior, Merlin was my friend first, my manservant second. Since that time though, Merlin has become my lover and all that entails. I find I no longer want him to much out the stables, or to fetch my bathwater, instead I find I want him nearby; I want to be able to discuss the management of the kingdom with him... I want to grow old with him and I want to die with him.

Shaking my head for the folly of my thoughts, Arthur Pendragon always gets what he wants... except for the things that really make a difference. My duty is to Camelot, but my heart lies only a foot away... snoring.

Well, that at least can be fixed; I remember the other night when he teased my nipples... I thought only women could feel pleasure from that, but for once I was glad to be proven wrong.

Rolling us both back up until he is back on his back takes some doing.

Leaning back down so my head is just hovering above his nipple, sparse, fine black hair dotting the perimeter, I gently lick it, coating it with my spittle, blowing against it sees instant results. His nipple hardens into a tight nub; licking again earns me a mumble from Merlin.

I can also feel something happening to his cock as well, a slow filling sensation, ever so slightly stretching me again as he slowly becomes fully hard inside my arse.

“Arth’r.” Comes the mumbled response and a slow roll of his hips, pushing more of him inside me.

It’s not enough and it’s too much all at once, that gentle motion is already beginning to drive me insane. I want to heave my hips forward and come back down hard, force him deeper and deeper inside me, but at the same time, I want this to last forever.

Licking his other nipple only encourages him more as his thrusts become a little harder, his cock gliding against that spot, making me grow harder with each thrust. I want him to wake so he can take my lips and part them with his tongue. I want his tongue to delve deep inside my mouth just as his cock is doing to my arse.

And that’s when I see it, a faint grin make its way across his face, his eyebrows rising minutely and his breathing changing. I know now that I can lean into his lips and take the kiss I need.

He must sense when I am almost there, his lips part sensuously, the tip of his tongue protruding slightly and I am only a man. Leaning down that last fraction I open my mouth slightly and take him in.

Merlin kisses like he fucks, soft and gentle, deep and strong or a combination of them all. His tongue deep inside my mouth, ravaging it, his cock barely moving to and fro, the juxtaposition is enough to make me come apart at the seams as I raise my head and force myself down hard onto his prick.

“Arthur” Merlin’s throaty moan protests, but I don’t want to listen, the constant ramming into me taking me over.

Suddenly it all stops.

His arms lifting me off of his cock and his head turned from me. His eyes though are still locked onto mine... and his show disappointment as well as a hint of challenge.

“Why?” That’s all I have to ask.

“Because I can.” And that’s all he has to say.

Stalemate.

“Do you trust me?” He asks, never doubting the answer, but wanting to hear it anyway.

“You know I do.”

A feral look flashes across his face before disappearing again.

“Go lie on the table Arthur.”

I wait for the flash of his eyes, but there is nothing; it seems this is the real test of trust. Slowly making my way to my feet, my legs unstable as the blood flows back into them, I stagger slightly to the table and clamber on top of it.

It is too short for me to lie on it full length, either my head must hang over... or my knees do... or both.

“One more time Arthur... do you trust me?” Implacable.

Closing my eyes and tilting my head back I answer, “I trust you Merlin,” and I await my fate.

I can hear water being poured into the basin and I can hear Merlin searching in the packs. A few minutes pass and Merlin stands before me. I know he is there, just above my head, I can sense it.

“Open your eyes Arthur, I want you to see what I am going to do to you.” His voice mild, but expectant.

Opening my eyes allows me to see Merlin, naked and wet, he must have cleaned himself off.

“I am going to tie you down to the table Arthur, then I am going to fuck your throat and if you behave, I’ll then fuck your arse.” Simple words, even more simply spoken, a statement of fact... which we both know they are.

In his hands are lengths of rope. Another flash of his eyes and each length moves towards each corner of the table.

“Arthur, by placing your hands and feet at the corners of the table you are agreeing to this, there is neither harm nor fault for you not doing this... but I would like you to try, for me.”

Oh Jesu, it is not fear that prevents me, it is sheer desire. He must be able to see my prick standing upright; nevertheless I take a deep breath and place my left hand on the corner top of the table.

Quickly the rope ties my wrist down to the table leg, not overly tight, but not much give either.

Looking directly into Merlin’s eyes, I position my other hand and both feet at their respective corners and as quickly as the first, they are tied down with limited movement available.

Leaning down over me, his cock just above my head, his hands splayed out over each nipple. I reach my tongue out to lap at the head of his cock, to tease his weeping slit, to taste Merlin.

A needy moan breaks free from him as he drops his hips lower so I can take him in my mouth. His hands kneading my chest, his mouth whispering my name. Taking his prick further into my mouth, I wrap my tongue around his sensitive tip, tipping my head back further... urging him deeper.

Harder and harder his hips thrust into me, forcing me to take more and more of him; his hands roughly twisting my nipples, tearing out any chest hairs that get caught in his grip. The pain that is there is inconsequential as his murmurs begin to form clear words.

“Promise me, promise me, promise me.” It is almost a chant.

He knows I can’t answer him, but it makes little difference, this is something he needs to get out of his system before we head back to Camelot.

Head backwards with your manservant’s/friend’s/lover’s cock deep in your throat can sometimes give you unexpected insights; he wants me to promise him the impossible and he knows that I can’t, but still he asks.

Merlin’s litany continues, louder and louder and rougher and rougher. Tears are falling from his eyes as he asks over and over to promise him.

With a final thrust, Merlin’s seed is forced down my throat and his tears flow with the same speed.

My heart weeps with him as the one thing I cannot promise is that everything will be fine, he knows this and I know this; but still he needs that safety.

I feel the ropes loosen and drop to the ground as his control shatters and I find myself with an armful of Merlin howling his fears into my shoulder and all I can do is lie.

“I promise Merlin, I promise.”

Over and over again I repeat it until his breathing slows and his tears cease.

“You’re lying.” He says to me, “but thank you anyway.”

It is a bittersweet victory, Merlin knows that nothing is safe, but he trusts me to protect him as much as I trust Merlin to protect me.

As I said, sometimes the strangest things will cause you to see clearer and further than you ever could before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Claudius restlessly tossed on his pallet, guilt gnawing at him, keeping him from the sleep of the truly faithful as his mind warred with his heart.

Next

Genom Ett Krossat Fönster (Through a Broken Window)

2009-03-15T09:10:04Z

Series: Vad Hjärtat Aldrig Ser (What the Heart Never Sees)
Book Title: Mellan Sommar och Höst (Between Summer and Autumn)
Chapter Title: Genom Ett Krossat Fönster (Through a Broken Window)</span></p>

Author: goetterdamerung

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Merlin ponders as Arthur plans a surprise

Previously: Äntligen (Finally) | Berusa Mig (Intoxicate Me) | Varmt och Djupt (Hot and Deep) | Helig Man (Holy Man) | Aldrig Som Främlingar (Never as Strangers)

Looking at him lying there, the pale moonlight from the window illuminating him with almost an ethereal glow, it seems difficult to believe the troubles that weigh on his shoulders... he looks so peaceful.

I suppose he has enough to worry about, if I could shoulder even a few of the burdens to ease the load he carries... but I can’t. He must live with the knowledge same as I do... and for the same reasons.

One day ago if you had asked me if my life could have gotten any better, I would have told you that there was no possible way it could... now it seems that the only way it could get any worse would be to lose Arthur.

I’ll admit that I’m worried and not just because of the Prestor. Arthur lives with so many expectations that it is a wonder he doesn’t break from them all. Uther is hard on him, as he should be, Arthur is part of a legacy as old as time.

The art of Kingship is one very few may hope to understand and even fewer can master. It is ironic that a King must spend their life rearing and educating the heir only to die before they may see the results. On the flip side, the heir must lose his parent before their life’s work may truly begin. It is a savage irony here that Arthur may never be king if the Prestor discovers our secrets first.

Arthur once told me ‘... diplomacy is one part truth and nine parts obfuscation... and being able to know the difference yourself.’ The Church of Rome will make a powerful ally, but also a deadly adversary if things don’t go their way.

All this worry for something I was born with and something as simple as love. I can see this will all end in tears one way or another... it already has and the board has only just been set for play.

The only problem is... who makes the first move?

I knew it wouldn’t last, Arthur already grows restless in his sleep... he would be surprised to discover that I have watched him sleep many a time. It seems to be the only time he does relax enough that the furrow in the middle of his brow disappears.

I want to go to him and hold him safe against everything I can, but regardless of what Arthur and I are to one another... there are some things that must be faced alone and there are some things we can face together... although it seems to be more of the former than of the later.

Time may pass, battles won and lost, but this is the time that we can look back on as being purely ours alone. These early mornings and late nights are the only times when Arthur and I can be ourselves... a few stolen hours amongst the many of the day.

A faint pink suffuses the room heralding the beginning of a new day and signalling the end of our time. Always the dawn of a new day must bring the end of ours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Merlin, are my hunting leathers cleaned?”

“They should be Sire; will you be wanting them today?” I sigh to myself, I’ll never understand Arthur’s fascination with hunting, or the need to drag me along each and every time.

“Yes, you’ll also need to go to the kitchens and get enough food to last us for two days and nights... oh and Merlin, see if you can grab a bottle or two of that mead from the other night as well.”

I feel my eyebrow arch as I look directly at Arthur who at least has the grace to look caught out, “will you be requiring anything else then; maybe some oil to polish your sword with.”

It is only a random innuendo, but manages to make Arthur blush... a rather appealing look on him if I do say.

“Enough of your cheek Merlin... but pack some... just in case.”

A fiery blush staining his cheeks like a maiden and the stutter just turns Prince Prat into a hopeful puppy and I deny anyone to be able to refuse him.

Hmmm, maybe this hunting lark won’t be so bad after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We have ridden for several hours and my earlier opinion that hunting wouldn’t be so bad has been drastically changed to something along the lines of ‘Kill Arthur, kill Arthur’. I am sure I’ll have bruises along my rump for days, this bloody horse does NOT know the definition of trot; no, he only knows two speeds, stop and charge.

“Merlin, quit your complaining, you don’t see me whining and bemoaning my fate.”

Bloody smart arse, just because he was born in a saddle, doesn’t mean the rest of us were.

“You try hanging on when your ride decides to buck and throw you every few minutes. See how you like it.”

Another classic Merlin example of open mouth, insert foot... or some other appendage as Arthur’s face goes crimson yet again.

“Promises, promises Merlin... later.”

The look he sends me would char the meat on a cow as I realise exactly how Arthur had taken what I had said. Great, now I have to ride with a bruised arse and a cock you could run a pennon up.

“I don’t suppose we could stop just here could we.” I ask weakly as visions of Arthur straddling my thighs as he rides my aching prick all the way to oblivion assail my very being.

With something between a smartarse smirk and a horny gulp, Arthur’s hand goes to his crotch and I can see the need roiling off of him in waves.

“Soon Merlin, soon.”

Oh-ho, methinks Arthur knows exactly what he is doing to me, but it is nice to know he’s suffering for it as well.

It turns out that Arthur’s definition of soon and mine weren’t even close to each other as for another two hours we rode along the trail before Arthur turned off to follow a little game trail.

“Not far now, keep up.”

Bloody sanctimonious git, just he wait until I get my hands on him, he’ll get the fucking of his life and then a few more times just so the message sinks in.

We finally arrive at a deserted hunting lodge, the shutters on one of the windows half broken off and hanging precariously on its last hinge.

“We can stay here tonight Merlin, help me bring in the packs and light a fire; then we can get more comfortable.”

Have you ever tried to dismount a horse that stands over 17 hands tall when you have the mother of all problems sticking up past the top of your breeches? I can tell you now, not a pleasant experience, no matter what you do; you end up squashing yourself in a rather painful way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With the packs brought inside and a fire blazing merrily away, I actually take the time to look around the old lodge. Old, threadbare tapestries hang crookedly along the main wall, a well aged oak table and rickety chairs line the back wall and a surprisingly comfortable looking sleeping pallet nestled between the fire and the side wall.

Looking first at the pallet then to Arthur I ask, “Something here doesn’t quite fit the rest of the ambiance, any guesses as to what?”

I emphasise my point by dropping heavily onto the sinfully soft pallet.

“Something I should know is there Arthur?”

Dropping his head and shuffling his foot in the dirt Arthur manages to mumble something.

“Sorry, missed that, would you like to try that again in a language we can both understand?” I love to play Arthur like this; it is so easy to get him to bite.

“I said, I had Sir Owain and Sir Perrinore come out here a yesterday and set everything up... I thought it would be nice to have a couple of days away.” His voice trailed off at this.

“Yes, but you had two of your knights make up a pallet big enough for two, then when only you and I left this castle this morning. Arthur, it will be all over the castle you prat!”

“Give me some credit Merlin, I know what I’m doing.”

Thinking about this, I have to concede that although he may be a prat, he’s not a stupid one.

“Think about it Merlin, why would I have two of my most trusted knights do this for me. It is not as if both Owain and Perrinore are close to each other or anything and it certainly not as if maybe that it was done also as an escape for them. Is your tiny sorcerer’s brain managing to add one and one yet?”

“Oh.” Understanding finally sets in.

“Yes Merlin, oh.”

Walking up to Arthur I venture a hand upon his shoulder, “I’m sorry Arthur, I should have known better. It’s just these Christers that have me worried sick for you.”

Placing his hand over mine and gently squeezing it. “I know Merlin and to be honest, I am scared for you as well.”

Trying to lighten the mood a little I quip out, “Still, Owain and Perrinore? I need to scrub my eyes clean.”

“Funny, that’s what they said about us you know.” Arthur said with a grin, “they couldn’t believe that, that... that you would want me.” Arthur’s voice is soft, and questioning.

Turning Arthur around I pull him in close to me and whisper over his lips, “Of course I want you.”, before closing the space between us and finally kissing him for the first time since early this morning.
Seeing his blonde hair mussed and his lips bruised and swollen from kissing is a heady sight, his breath coming in ragged gasps and his body quivering with lust.

“Merlin... fuck me.”

Three words, three tiny words, but tiny words or not they tell me exactly how things are going to be for this evening.

“Later Arthur, first...Suck me.” My voice is hoarse and honey mead, as I guide his head down to my crotch, holding him in place as I grind my covered cock into his face.

“Merlin.” Arthur’s groan resonates through us both as I force his face harder and harder against my prick.

His mouth, rough against my breeches, soon soak the fabric and my cock get’s slowly moister as he runs his mouth along my full length.

I curse the day that made homespun linen the standard for breeches, the rough fabric adding its own kind of torture to my already over sensitised prick.

Gasping for breath myself, i barely manage to pull his head from my crotch, “Strip.” Letting my eyes glow for a second as I issue the command, reining back the power that wants to be let free.

Watching Arthur’s own eyes dilate even further as my power loosely wraps around that one word, not quite a command and not quite a compulsion, but making it something that cannot be denied.

Moving backwards towards the pallet, I indicate that Arthur should stand before me and wait.

Lying back onto the pallet I raise myself on my elbows and stare at Arthur through heavy lidded eyes.

“Strip... slowly.”

And that is all it takes, Arthur’s eyes jerk upwards to meet my own, his fingers on the first tie of his jacket. Self-consciously at first he runs his fingers lightly across his chest, lightly sighing at the pleasure his gives himself.

Ever so slowly his fingers work all the ties of his jacket undone; one hand disappears beneath the lapel to worry a nipple, his face flushed as tiny bolts of pain and pleasure surge down to his cock. His other hand pushing the jacket off one shoulder before letting both arms drop to his side and shrugging the garment from him.

My eyes never leave his, my hand slowly palming myself through my damp breeches as I watch the Prince of Camelot seduce me with his body.

His tunic is undone now, letting a thin strip of flesh show from behind the fabric, pale gold skin with a fine scattering of slightly darker hair plastered back from the sweat. Taking both his hands and scraping his nails along the insides of his thigh, upwards until they pass his breeches and still not stopping, slowly part his tunic leaving the evidence of their passing with red welts vivid on his skin.

I can see him gulping down air as his throat bobs involuntarily, the outline of his cock, showing clearly on his breeches. Reaching his arms over his head and grasping the yoke behind I see his muscles tense and bulge as he grips the fabric tightly, sweat beads on his brow as a loud renting sound can be heard and the tunic rips down from the back of his neckline until only his shoulders hold the pieces up.

Going down to his knees before me, Arthur offers me one side of the front of his tunic and with a smooth motion leans backwards as my grip slowly pulls the offending piece of fabric from his body.

Drawing his nails along his chest, Arthur’s claws against his skin leaving more raised welts... leaving my throat parched. There must be some god out there, maybe the god of idiots I don’t know, but whoever it is, I thank them.

Unlacing the front of his breeches, Arthur lets the front flaps fall open, leaving a dark gold trail leading down to where his cock lies, hard and heavy... and waiting for me.

Standing up he turns around, his hands on the waistband of his breeches, ever so slowly dragging them down past his hips, his thighs, his calves... until they pool at his feet on the ground

Turning around once more to face me, his eyes heavy, chest heaving and his cock jerking in time to his heartbeat... mine, he is all mine.

Yanking my own breeches down with much less finesse or care, I wrap one hand around my cock and let the other hand fondle my balls. Looking up at him, he’s transfixed, his eyes following the slow path my hand makes up and down my length.

With a throatily groaned “Suck me.” He is back on his knees in front of me, lips wrapped around my shaft and a look of sheer bliss in his eyes.

I can’t take much of this, all day I have been so aroused and his strip show almost was the end of me. Reaching under the furs, I pull out a vial of oil and place it on my chest, directly in Arthurs line of sight.

The moan he lets out as his eyes alight on the vial and as his head sinks to the base of my cock should have made be explode there and then. Holding on tightly to what was left of my control I growl out, “Prepare yourself for me.”

There is no denying his answering moan was anything but willing. Reaching for the vial, he opens it and pours some onto his fingers.

Looking directly into my eyes, he reaches back and slowly begins to open himself up, fucking himself on his fingers, his eyes glued to mine.

Dropping his head next to my crotch, I see him arch his back into his fingers, forcing them deeper inside of him, stretching him wider.

Unable to watch any longer I grunt out to him, “Sit on my prick.” Hard and guttural, I need this, I need to be inside him now.

Slowly crawling his way up to my cock, Arthur swoops in with his lips and steals the lightest of touches against my own, the touch searing for all its brevity.

Straddling my hips, I watch as he lines my cock up with his hole and I watch in fascination as he slowly sinks down on it, my name wordlessly on his lips as his arse takes every inch till his he seated on me.

He is so hot around me, I can feel his muscles clenching and relaxing around me, milking me. Rolling his hips and arching his back he beings to screw himself on me, each time angling himself to hit that spot inside him, the one that makes him see stars and the one that makes me feel invincible.

Neither of us can last long like this; we have both been on slow burn all day. Watching as he grasps his cock and strokes himself to match the cadence of his riding me is inexplicably hot. I can feel his tempo change as he draws closer, slamming himself down onto me, only to lift up and slam down harder again.

His eyes are glues to mine, his yell comes deep from inside him as I feel him release all over my chest, my neck and my face. His lips mouthing ‘I love you’ as my own release hits as his arse muscles ripple all over my cock, milking me dry.

Unable to speak, we remain as we were, me embedded inside him, him being cradled in my arms along my chest, the last thing I see is a shadow moving past that broken shutter as my mind shuts down and sleep takes over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next

Aldrig Som Främlingar (Never as Strangers)

2009-03-12T16:10:50Z

Series: Vad Hjärtat Aldrig Ser (What the Heart Never Sees)
Book Title: Mellan Sommar och Höst (Between Summer and Autumn)
Chapter Title: Aldrig Som Främlingar (Never as Strangers)</span></p>

Author: goetterdamerung

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur

Rating: NC-17

Genre: AU – Using BBC Merlin characters within the correct time frames, but altering the BBC universe to suit historical and perceived requirements.

Caveat Lector: My Arthurian Universe is based upon characters from the BBC Series Merlin, as this production is so full of historical inaccuracies; I have decided to base any relevant historical fact on both the Historia Brittonum (The History of the Britons) and the Annales Cambriae (The Welsh Annals).

Using these chronicles, I have dated this ‘verse from theyear 510AD onwards, The Battle of Mount Badon (516-518) is one of the most famous battles in Briton history as well as the Battle of Camlann(537-539) where Arthur and Medraut (Mordred) were both killed.

This series will encompass the years 510 - 540

The church during this period of time had a total of three Popes:

St. Symmachus (498 - 514)
St. Hormisdas (514 - 523)
St. John I (523 - 526)

I am most certainly not a historian, nor am I in any way shape or form a theologian, but...

I am performing my own version of the counter-reformation with this work as well as adding my own dogma to suit the needs of this work of fiction ~~(sounds very much like the Bible imho)~~

Any reference to Church Law or Dogma DOES NOT reflect past or current papal encyclicals or view points and are only there as a plo tdevice.

Gah, apologies for the War and Peace version of the Authors Notes.

Summary: Rome meets Camelot

Previously: Äntligen (Finally) | Berusa Mig (Intoxicate Me) | Varmt och Djupt (Hot and Deep) | Helig Man (Holy Man) |

“Arthur, come on... your father is expecting you for court shortly.”

Regardless of what Arthur and I now are... some things will never change. Arthur’s distaste for court and the formal presentations of ambassadors is high on that list... Still, he looks good when dressed in the formal court attire.

“Merlin... why don’t we just go hunting, or go out for a ride somewhere?” Arthur’s leer is obvious in his voice and as tempted as I am – believe me when I say just how tempted I am – there is no choice in the matter, Uther’s ‘request’ that Arthur be there was emphatic in the least.

“Arthur, you have no choice, your father told you point blank that you must attend. The representative from Gwynedd is being presented as well as someone from the Christers.” My distaste for the latter is abundantly evident as I snarl out his affiliation.

Arthur’s appreciative smile lights the room for a moment then fades away as he adds, “he may be from the Christers Merlin, but he is not just someone. From what my father told me the other night, this representative is the personal envoy of Pope Symmachus... something is afoot Merlin, the Papacy never sends their personal staff on general envoy missions. It has my father concerned and if he is concerned... then something is about to happen.”

I sigh softly to myself, knowing he is right and hating every second of it, I know that if something is going to happen, it will happen to Arthur... It always does.

Taking my hand in his, he pulls me towards him and wraps his other arm around me.

“Come Merlin, I need to bathe and change, as you said, I have to be there soon.”

Giving me a sideways look; I see a flash of uncertainty in his eyes, as if he is unsure how to continue.

“Merlin, could you... you know?” Waving his hand in the air and wiggling his fingers, I get the gist of what he means.

“You want me to magic you up a bath then Sire? Are you sure, that Prestor may already be here?”

“Then let them be here, this is my personal chamber and they have no say in what happens inside these walls.”

I am a little surprised at the venom injected into his words, these and his earlier words about the eminence of the visitor to Camelot leave an uneasy feeling in my gut.

As this will be the first magic of note I have performed in front of Arthur... that he knows of anyway. I think I went a little overboard with the theatrics as the look on his face went from scorn to outright laughter. Still at least the laughter was much better than that bleak look he had before.

“Your bath awaits you Sire.” I reply with as courtly a tone as I possess, “this way now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I can’t help myself as I gaze upon Arthur’s form as he reclines in the bath, when this evening’s feast in concluded I intend to map every contour of his body, know every subtle variance in flavour as I work him into oblivion.

“Merlin, thinking happy thoughts there are you?” Arthur’s tone conveys his amusement.

Looking down I can see that my thoughts have indeed been ‘happy’ if the tenting in my breeches is anything to go by.

“Later Sire, just saving it for later.”

The heat from his look practically sears me with its intensity and makes me shudder with want.

“Enough, I have to go play prince, as you said... later.” This is said with a certain amount of regret and a large amount of want.
As he rises from his bath, I can see he is in a similar state to me, swallowing my desire I hold up his under tunic ready for him as he climbs out of the bath and begins to dry himself off.

You would be surprised how long it takes to dress someone in formal attire, there are more layers than are practical and each and every layer becomes more and more elaborate. With the amount of ties and threading... plus of course the mandatory fondling, we just manage to finish with only enough time for Arthur to hurry out of his chamber and downstairs into the Throne Room.

Just as he is about to open his chamber door, Arthur stops for a moment and turns and looks straight at me.

His demeanour is determined, his posture erect, but there is something slightly off in his eyes and I can’t place it.

So softly that I almost miss it he says, “Remember Merlin... later.” And without looking back leaves his chamber.

It is only later that I recognise what was off, Arthur was afraid.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Looking about the Great Hall from my position behind Arthur, I can see that this is not a normal feast; it is quieter, more subdued... and it worries me. It worries me that Arthur will not look directly at me; it worries me that his place on the right hand side of King Uther has been usurped by a Prestor... The Prestor.

My attention is drawn back to my prince as he gestures for yet another refill of his wine. As I stoop to pour his wine I hear him whisper into my ear.

“Soon, be ready soon... there are things we must talk about.”

A chill runs down my spine as I manage to nod deferentially and withdraw to my place. Before Arthur was afraid, now it is I who is. It has to do with this Prestor, I know it.

Running through my limited knowledge of the Christers I try to ascertain what the problem could be. I know that magic is seen as evil, as a worship of the deity named Luficer. I also know that what Arthur and I share is considered in the same vein... both punishable with death.

I don’t fear for myself, worst case I could escape, but Arthur... Arthur would have to remain here. He is the son of a king; he is to be the next king. They wouldn’t ... would they?

Never has my ignorance frustrated me more than now. For all the things I do know mean naught compared to what I need to know now, you hear rumours about the Christers; frightening rumours, but who is to say they are true?

For all I know they could simply be tales told to frighten children into behaving... or... or they could be the unvarnished truth.

Round and round these thoughts go within my mind until at last my prince saves me from myself by the simple expedient of grabbing my arm and dragging me away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We are silent as we make our way up to Arthur’s chambers... It is not a comfortable silence.

Even as the chamber door is unlocked and I am pushed inside, we are both silent and I then I know that this can’t be good.

“Arthur?” I dare not speak above a whisper, “what’s going on?”

Finally looking at me Arthur begins, “The Prestor has asked for permission to set up a bishopric within Camelot’s borders. Furthermore, it has been deemed by my father and Pope Symmachus that the royal family shall henceforth be deemed as Christers and are to be baptised as in the manner of their religion.”

Arthur’s voice is blunt and to the point, but his anger shines through every syllable he says.

“It has also been decided that I am to be educated in their religion and all of its practises and finally... it has been decreed that this Prestor be given a seat as an advisor to both myself and my father.”

“Why...when...how?” I’m not sure I want to know, but I have to ask.

“How is simple Merlin, my father has agreed to it.” Arthur all but snaps at me.

“As for when...it will be formally announced at the next formal court sitting, effective immediately.”

“And as for why?” I ask quietly.

“As for why,” Arthur reaches over and pulls me close to him and continues in barely a whisper, “why is because of my father’s rigid beliefs regarding two things Merlin... magic and sodomites.”

Fear paralyses me as Arthur’s words sink in; clinging to Arthur is all I am capable of.

“If they find out, they will kill you Merlin... and I can’t allow that, but I am weak.” Arthur’s voice breaks as he speaks this last.

“Weak?” Is all I can manage in reply.

“Yes, weak... I’ve only just got you... I can’t send you away... I’m not strong enough to.”

And with that his tears start.

Gently guiding him to the bed, my arms locked around him. I lay us down and whisper to him, “I wouldn’t go anyway.”

And my tears join his on the pillow.

Next

The dichotomy of Götterdämerung

Birthday Fic for troygirl68

J² Fic By Candlelight, He Can See NC-17

DreamWidth update

Book II Förlorad Igen (Lost Again) Part 6 - Ängeln i Rummet (An Angel in the Room)

Fic: Förnuftet speglar sanningen (Reason Reflects The Truth) Part 5 of Book II - Förlorad Igen (Lost

Så Långt, Långtifrån Hem (So Very Far From Home)

*Sigh* So this is what people do instead of sleep

Fic RPS Jensen/Jared 'The Loser - Part 5/9'

RPS Jensen/Jared - The Loser - 4/9

Fic RPS Jensen/Jared 'The Loser 3/9'

Fic RPS Jensen/Jared 'The Loser 2/9'

RPS Jensen/Jared - 'The Loser - Part 1'

Fic: Taking matters into your own hands NC-17 J2 RPS

Broder Claudius (Brother Claudius)

Holy F*&K - J2 RPS... Me??????? I blame avon_09

Let’s Play

Vår Tid är Nu (Our Time is Now)

Jag Behöver Dig (I Need You)

Sista Morgonen (The Last Morning)

Gränsen Mellan Kärlek och Hat (The Boundary Between Love and Hate)

Kött och Blod (Flesh and Blood)

Tillbaks Igen (Back Again)

Hur Kan Du Lova Mig? (How Can You Promise Me?)

Genom Ett Krossat Fönster (Through a Broken Window)

Aldrig Som Främlingar (Never as Strangers)

Sigh So this is what people do instead of sleep