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Merlin - Have It All
Okay, so I might totally regret this, but I am de-anoning something from the kink meme. It's kind of a way to say thank you to everyone who put up with my rambly NaNo posts for the past month only, you know, with genderbender porn.
Title: Have It All
Genre: Genderbend, Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Length: ~4,000 words
Spoilers: General for the series, more for the myths.
Warnings: Er, sex? Girl!Merlin
Summary: It was unexpected but, after waiting this long, could never not be welcomed.
Author’s Notes: Originally for this prompt over at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
kinkme_merlin: Modern AU in which Merlin is made into a girl when Arthur gets him out of the tree. Cue massive teasing, underwear shopping, and newfound lust. Finally de-anoning.
Disclaimer: I do not own this interpretation of the myths and am making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
He claws at the bark, tears it from the trunk, would tear the oak from the roots themselves if given the chance, if he thought it would help. Long, too long, he has waited. Unknowing, walking through life in a fog until this moment, this one vitally important moment. He cannot wait any longer. He will not wait any longer. Another yank, another slice against his palms and fingertips, another branch scratching deep along his wrist, and he feels it, finally feels it: flesh. Warm and breathing and soon to be free. “I’m bringing you home,” he whispers, and swears he hears the heartfelt sigh of a reply.
When he awoke in this body, he did so with the knowledge of a lifetime, more than that really. He had gone to sleep one night the son of a former prime minister, wondering how he would make his mark on the world. He awoke Arthur Pendragon, with the memories of his reign, memories of the life he had lived thus far in this strange and new world, and memories of everything in between.
He remembers his death on the field of battle. Of being brought to Avalon and laid to rest. Of the world changing around him until darkness descended. Of the life he had been given that was so very much like his own, granting him access to the things he would need to make things right again.
One thing had been missing though. His memories told him what and where and he had spent the last two months searching. He knows he should have been paying attention to the chaos and falling world order, but it was nothing, all meaningless, unless and until he had his greatest ally at his side.
There’s a shifting beneath his fingertips and he knows that’s the only warning he’s going to get. He backs up, three steps away and to the left, brings an arm up to cover his face as the tree explodes around him, bark and leaves and branches and debris cascading to the ground around a figure that wobbles and then collapses into the mess.
He’s there in an instant, brushes off the dust that settles onto the mop of dark hair and the ever so pale skin. He pulls his friend to him, stands and cradles the still weak being to him and remembers a time when the world trembled at their feet, wonders if it will once more.
He shifts, needs to see that face, that wonderfully expressive face with its bright blue eyes, and that’s when his world shifts, everything tilts to the side, and he has to actively try to stay upright and not drop his precious bundle. “Merlin?” he breathes.
The figure moves, shoulders pulled back and upright, shaky legs finally supporting weight on their own. The mop of hair moves as Merlin looks down, then back up again, eyes wide in disbelief. “Well, that is certainly unexpected,” she says.
Arthur nods dumbly, takes in everything laid out before him. The blue eyes are still there, and the face is as expressive as ever, just... softer somehow. The planes and angles are more curved, and the high cheekbones are framed by the hint of curls from around her temples. The pale skin still goes on for miles, but the hips are wider, waist slimmer than Arthur could ever remember. The breasts and lack of a dick are new as well.
“Um,” he says, and scratches behind his ear. He had turned out nearly the same as his original form, blond hair, bronzed skin, square jaw as always. He really has no idea what to say or what to do. To say this is unanticipated would be an understatement.
Merlin crosses her arms in front of her and shivers in the slight breeze. That, at least, Arthur knows what to do with. He pulls off the long duster he had been wearing and wraps it around her shoulders, pulls her close to share the heat of his body and hopes that is all that is shared, at least for now.
“Thanks,” Merlin flashes him a grin and sinks into his embrace.
There is so much he wants to say, so much to explain about his life and the world and he wonders if Merlin was aware all those long years trapped away or if everything will be new and scary and exciting like it was the morning he himself awoke. Instead, all that comes out is, “I guess you’ll be needing some new clothes.”
Merlin laughs, which reminds him she would have needed them even if she was reborn a man, and he blushes. She turns in his arms and tilts his chin up with one long finger, makes him meet her gaze. “Will we have time to shop, or is the apocalypse neigh?”
“The most powerful wizard in the history of mankind can’t just apparate them?” he asks, only slightly doubtingly. Another thought crosses his mind, and he speaks it. “Can the most powerful wizard in the history of mankind turn himself back into a man again?” That, he knew, sounded almost too hopeful.
Merlin closes her eyes for a moment and, when she opens them, there’s a hint of gold swimming in those blue depths. She shakes her head, sadly. “I can barely stand; I think I used up everything to get out of that damned tree,” she admits.
Arthur raises an eyebrow. “Everything?” he asks. He somehow doubts every last drop of magic was used for her release. They have been brought back together to stop evil from overtaking the world; they might need some help from the metaphysical side of things along the way.
She rolls her eyes and the gold disappears. “For now, at least,” she amends. “I can still feel my magic, but its weak and I can’t really access it right now. Give me a few days and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Deal,” he agrees. He still needs to figure out how to get her out of the woods and back home dressed in nothing but a trench coat, and wonders what kind of field day the tabloids will have with him this time if he tries.
As he debates the merits of an extended camping trip until Merlin’s able to dress herself, and possibly change from a herself to a himself, Merlin leans forward and rests her head upon his shoulder. “Arthur?” she asks in a far too familiar tone. It usually means Merlin wants something and is willing to resort to puppy dog eyes if needed to get it. Not waiting for an answer as she likely knows he will give in anyway, she continues, “I’m rather famished. Can we get something to eat?”
Arthur figures waking after a few centuries only to have to break yourself out of a prison built by Nature might work up a bit of an appetite and agrees, only pausing to clarify, “Real food or that rabbit food you were eating towards the end?”
“It was perfectly nutritious,” she huffs.
“I’m getting you a burger,” Arthur counters, and does just that.
They make their way out of the woods and to his car only having to duck away from hikers once, and he is quite thankful for a garage that allows him to park off the street and close the door behind him before letting the unknown, half-naked woman out of his passenger seat. He’s also thankful for the minimal staff and how he had learned to avoid them years ago, so sneaking Merlin up to his room goes off without a hitch.
He runs out for takeaway and relents when hit by the image of Merlin’s pleading eyes and pouty little lip and gets a veggie burger at the last moment instead, but orders himself a real deal heaped with everything to make up for it. She’s grateful as she lounges on his bed in one of his t-shirts and what looks to be a pair of his boxers and no, he does not want to know how she’s even keeping those up, hair wet and slightly styled fresh from a shower.
Not that it matters much as soon enough she’s dapping her mouth with a napkin and then stripping off and trying to tempt him and his is so very tempted right up until he gets a call from his father telling him about yet another crisis. He buttons up his shirt and checks his fly before running off to leave Merlin to rest for the night. He comes back late and finds her asleep on the pillow, blanket half-off the bed. He curls up close and breathes in the smell of nature and Merlin and home, and drifts off thinking things could be much worse.
The next morning, he wakes first, Merlin still dead to the world. He fetches breakfast from downstairs and wakes her to share it before darting into his step sister’s room for some provisions. Her name is Morgan now, and he is only waiting for her to become someone else, but knows she will take no offense to him raiding her closet for someone in need.
He steals a sports bra, a pair of knickers, a button down shirt, and a pair of trousers, and grabs a pair of slip on shoes as an afterthought. Merlin looks askance at the selection, but dutifully puts on everything save for the shirt, preferring to wear another of Arthur’s own t-shirts instead. She steals a zip-up jumper from him as well and gestures towards the door, the seduction from last night forgotten or at least placed to the side in lieu of obtaining necessities instead.
Those necessities were going to be the death of him. She tries on a few different things to find her size and, with the shop girl’s encouragement, keeps peeking out to show him what things look like and to ask if it’s alright. The tight jeans and fitted blazer look more than alright to him, but the shop girl points out that, to truly know if they fit the way they are supposed to, it’s time for a real bra and not the confining sports bra and that is how Arthur finds himself in the lingerie section trying to seem cool, calm, and collected.
Merlin, for her part, rolls her eyes again and drags him into one of the changing rooms with her. She has him help with clasps and hooks that she’s never had to deal with and that he is much better at undoing than doing. The satin frames her in ways that make his breath hitch and he wonders if this whole stuck-in-a-girl’s-body thing is really that bad. He also wonders if she needs to try on quite so many given that the shop girl was nice enough to do whatever embarrassing measuring process they have, and everything he’s helped with fits her like a glove. She rubs up against him once with a sly smile and he excuses himself to go look at men’s ties or possibly the fountain or something equally mundane, returning only to brandish the credit card to magically make her purchases appear in a neat embossed bag.
She darts back into the fitting room to change and then it’s off to the shoe store and he is really hoping the appearance of breasts (and they are quite magnificent breasts, properly supported and new shirt dipping just so for the whole world to get a glimpse at them) does not make her suddenly the stereotypical airhead with a love for stilettos and other frightening things. Thankfully, she makes a face at those and chooses a pair of sturdy boots and a pair of trainers instead. He doesn’t know why he questions it, but she replies with a simple, “Somehow, I think these will hold up better come the apocalypse, even if those red ones are cute.”
He feels indulgent and can’t help thinking it’s Merlin and he’s back, even if she’s a she, but can’t justify adding “the red ones” to the total if he’s going to be back to a him in only a few days. They sit down at a small Italian place and order too much pasta, sans meat for her, and he shows her the latest headlines and they talk about possibilities, and he can’t help but wonder if she is one of them.
They go back to his place again, and this time the staff does see but no one says a thing because it’s not the first time he’s come back with a pretty little thing on his arm with pretty little bags on hers. Merlin feels stronger now, and levitates the packages to the wardrobe just because she can, but reluctantly admits that no, she cannot change back to a man and that, from the feel of things, the way the magic resists her, this may be how she has to stay for quite some time. She then mutters something about, “Damned witch,” and “Communing with Mother Nature for a few centuries should not make you turn into Her,” and Arthur finally gives into the urge to kiss her temple and tell her things are going to be all right.
He holds her for a while, remembers holding the same being in a different form, and revels in being able to touch, even this much, even if it’s only for a little while. His email dings and she slips free to let him check his laptop set up in the corner, and he figures it’s a sign to get back to business so he begins to pull up some of the sites and spreadsheets he’s been tracking to share with her.
He turns around when she clears her throat to find her standing at the doorway to the en suite, dressed in a tiny red teddy that hugs her curves in all the right places and matches the blush rising on her pale cheeks. He most definitely does not remember her trying that one on and opens his mouth to comment on that when he realizes she looks ready to bolt back behind the door and lock herself away.
He closes his mouth and licks his suddenly dry lips, shifts on his chair to hopefully loosen the sudden tightness of his trousers across his lap. Her eyes go wide and she hesitantly asks, “Arthur?”
“I assure you, you have my full attention,” he replies, voice deeper than he intended.
Her lips quirk as she shuffles forward, still not fully comfortable in her own skin, but obviously willing to give it a go. He notes the color of the fabric. Red. Pendragon red. Bold and full of vitality against her pale skin, swishing slightly at her hips as she moves. He has the passing thought that yes, he should have bought her those shoes, and then he has very little thought at all as she is now standing before him, close enough to touch, close enough to note her nipples pert against the thin fabric.
He gives into temptation and cups her breast, runs his thumb over the little bump, and watches as her eyes drift close and her breath hitches just so. He loves Merlin’s eyes, always has, always has adored the way they express things no words ever can, and decides that will not do at all. He pinches the nub lightly, gently, just to watch her eyes fly open at the sensation. “Watch me?” he whispers, and knows she will give in to the request.
Merlin nods, shifts her feet on the plush rug to steady herself, takes a deep breath as she meets Arthur’s gaze. Arthur slides his hand around to her back, feels the silky fabric end and the soft skin begin. He tugs her closer, his other hand already at her thigh to catch her. Much more and she will be straddling him. He decides there’s far too much he wants to do before he reaches that point.
He slides his left hand up her thigh and runs his thumb under the hem of the teddy to find the edge of the tiny panties she wears beneath it. His right hand pushes against her back forward slightly as he leans in and mouths at her breasts beneath the fabric, tastes satin against his tongue, feels the moist material cling to his lips as it clings to her skin. He keeps eye contact the entire time, watches as she struggles to keep her word and watch him through it all.
A shift and his thumb sweeps lower, finds a warm wetness pooling between her legs. He runs his thumb in tight circles and feels her thighs tremble, sees her eyelids flutter. She steadies herself by resting her hands upon his shoulders, and slowly lets one drift to the nape of his neck to play with the small hairs there.
He brings his right hand around to mirror his left, lets his fingers curl around her waistband before yanking down in one swift movement. She gasps and bites her bottom lip as she steps out of the fabric now pooling around her ankles, kicking it to the side and behind her. He uses the distraction to run two fingers along her folds, feels the moisture there, and finally has to look away as he presses his forehead against her stomach and simply breathes her in. She smells like Merlin, and more, different but the same.
He brings his fingers to his lips and thinks she moans, but cannot be certain as any sound she makes is blocked out by his own. The taste explodes on his tongue, sweet and musky and familiar but not, and he wants more. He slouches lower in his chair and rucks up teddy around her waist, licks his lips at the thought of what he’s about to experience.
He stops only when Merlin tugs sharply at his hair, looks up to see a wild look in her still wide eyes. “Bed?” she suggests and he means to agree but his hand has a mind of its own and presses two fingers deep within her.
She groans, hips pressing forward and hands pressing down on his shoulders as he now supports her weight. He curves his fingers slightly in that tight heat and her breathing speeds up and her grip tightens. He lets his fingers slide in and out a few times before removing them completely, only to circle her clit with her own moisture.
The pressure on his shoulder releases, becomes a sharp tug as she demands, “Bed. Now.”
He’s only too happy to comply. She steps back and lets him stand, hands already unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it down his arms. He staggers forward as she staggers back, nimble fingers working at his belt, a mockery of Merlin’s old duties but neither seem to mind as it snakes free and tumbles to the floor. His fly is next, button and zipper and her thighs have already hit the mattress. He presses her back upon it and steps out of the last bits of clothing to kneel between her outstretched legs on the bed.
She shifts upwards and he shifts downwards and his hands slide beneath the fabric of the teddy she still wears to cup and fondle and pinch and roll. He tilts his head downward, mouths at the curly hair he finds, and finally lets his tongue slide deep between her folds. Her hips buck up and he hits his chin on something soft and damp and slides a hand down to hold her steady as he slowly takes her apart.
He licks and sucks and nips and thrusts his tongue, fucking her with it while she writhes beneath him, moaning a combination of praise and profanity, calling him names of old and names of new all in the same breath.
It’s not enough, he doesn’t think it will ever be enough. He looks up and she stares back at him and slowly, deliberately, bends her knees and spreads herself wider. He looks around frantically, realizes he has no condoms nearby even as he wonders if he truly needs them. She answers that question for him by taking his cock in a steady grasp and stroking twice in a way that nearly has him falling apart before pulling him to her and positioning him at her entrance.
“Do it,” she breathes even though he thinks consent has already been given and taken several times by now.
He pushes in slowly, feels a near unbearable tightness envelope him, knows he won’t last long. He looks up just as she winces and a new realization dawns. This body was new, virginal, and she offered it all to him. He resolves to make it worth her while, to gift her with everything he has to offer as she has already done so with him.
He pulls back and feels the air cool between their skin, pushes back into the heat and bites his lip at the way she struggles to accept him. He sets a gentle, steady rhythm, lowers his head to mouth once more at her breasts and any available skin, keeps his weight up and off of her slender body even though he wants to press against it, feel every fiber of her being collide with his. He braces himself on one arm to slide his other hand down between them and press his thumb against her clit while he presses deep inside her.
She grabs his jaw in her hands and pulls upwards, crushes their mouths together and claims him with lips and tongue while he claims her with cock and fingers. Her back arches at an impossible angle and she tightens even more around him and he knows she coming, knows he did this, knows he caused this pleasure.
It’s too much and the heat that had been coiling in his belly explodes outwards, the world around him whiting out only to resolve into the face of the person he loves as he slowly comes back to himself once more.
He realizes that he’s collapsed on top of her and hurries to take his own weight even as he reluctantly pulls out of her, careful as he knows how sensitive she must still be. Short nails scratch across his back and now it is her turn to hold him in place. Her eyes glow gold with magic and mischief as she asks, “Can we do that again?”
He laughs, deep and free, feels the answering reverberations of her chuckles as he promises, “Whenever we are both able.” He accentuated his words with a quick press of his finger against her still throbbing clit and she gasps and bucks again.
The gold swirls and he feels the familiar feel of Merlin’s magic wrap around him even as he feels a stirring far too soon to be natural. “You know, I can help with that,” she teases.
He slides the strap of her doubtlessly ruined teddy down her shoulder and kisses the pale skin there. “I’m sure you can,” he agrees and rolls them over so she is now straddling his hips, moisture sliding across his abdomen as she shifts ever so slightly to get more comfortable.
She pulls off the flimsy fabric and presses her warm skin against his overheated own and he knows he will not deny her anything. Man or woman, trapped in this body or one far more familiar, Merlin is Merlin, and Merlin is his. They still have the horrors of the world to face and a society to save, but they have this, have each other, and that means they have it all.
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
Title: Have It All
Genre: Genderbend, Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Length: ~4,000 words
Spoilers: General for the series, more for the myths.
Warnings: Er, sex? Girl!Merlin
Summary: It was unexpected but, after waiting this long, could never not be welcomed.
Author’s Notes: Originally for this prompt over at
kinkme_merlin: Modern AU in which Merlin is made into a girl when Arthur gets him out of the tree. Cue massive teasing, underwear shopping, and newfound lust. Finally de-anoning.Disclaimer: I do not own this interpretation of the myths and am making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
He claws at the bark, tears it from the trunk, would tear the oak from the roots themselves if given the chance, if he thought it would help. Long, too long, he has waited. Unknowing, walking through life in a fog until this moment, this one vitally important moment. He cannot wait any longer. He will not wait any longer. Another yank, another slice against his palms and fingertips, another branch scratching deep along his wrist, and he feels it, finally feels it: flesh. Warm and breathing and soon to be free. “I’m bringing you home,” he whispers, and swears he hears the heartfelt sigh of a reply.
When he awoke in this body, he did so with the knowledge of a lifetime, more than that really. He had gone to sleep one night the son of a former prime minister, wondering how he would make his mark on the world. He awoke Arthur Pendragon, with the memories of his reign, memories of the life he had lived thus far in this strange and new world, and memories of everything in between.
He remembers his death on the field of battle. Of being brought to Avalon and laid to rest. Of the world changing around him until darkness descended. Of the life he had been given that was so very much like his own, granting him access to the things he would need to make things right again.
One thing had been missing though. His memories told him what and where and he had spent the last two months searching. He knows he should have been paying attention to the chaos and falling world order, but it was nothing, all meaningless, unless and until he had his greatest ally at his side.
There’s a shifting beneath his fingertips and he knows that’s the only warning he’s going to get. He backs up, three steps away and to the left, brings an arm up to cover his face as the tree explodes around him, bark and leaves and branches and debris cascading to the ground around a figure that wobbles and then collapses into the mess.
He’s there in an instant, brushes off the dust that settles onto the mop of dark hair and the ever so pale skin. He pulls his friend to him, stands and cradles the still weak being to him and remembers a time when the world trembled at their feet, wonders if it will once more.
He shifts, needs to see that face, that wonderfully expressive face with its bright blue eyes, and that’s when his world shifts, everything tilts to the side, and he has to actively try to stay upright and not drop his precious bundle. “Merlin?” he breathes.
The figure moves, shoulders pulled back and upright, shaky legs finally supporting weight on their own. The mop of hair moves as Merlin looks down, then back up again, eyes wide in disbelief. “Well, that is certainly unexpected,” she says.
Arthur nods dumbly, takes in everything laid out before him. The blue eyes are still there, and the face is as expressive as ever, just... softer somehow. The planes and angles are more curved, and the high cheekbones are framed by the hint of curls from around her temples. The pale skin still goes on for miles, but the hips are wider, waist slimmer than Arthur could ever remember. The breasts and lack of a dick are new as well.
“Um,” he says, and scratches behind his ear. He had turned out nearly the same as his original form, blond hair, bronzed skin, square jaw as always. He really has no idea what to say or what to do. To say this is unanticipated would be an understatement.
Merlin crosses her arms in front of her and shivers in the slight breeze. That, at least, Arthur knows what to do with. He pulls off the long duster he had been wearing and wraps it around her shoulders, pulls her close to share the heat of his body and hopes that is all that is shared, at least for now.
“Thanks,” Merlin flashes him a grin and sinks into his embrace.
There is so much he wants to say, so much to explain about his life and the world and he wonders if Merlin was aware all those long years trapped away or if everything will be new and scary and exciting like it was the morning he himself awoke. Instead, all that comes out is, “I guess you’ll be needing some new clothes.”
Merlin laughs, which reminds him she would have needed them even if she was reborn a man, and he blushes. She turns in his arms and tilts his chin up with one long finger, makes him meet her gaze. “Will we have time to shop, or is the apocalypse neigh?”
“The most powerful wizard in the history of mankind can’t just apparate them?” he asks, only slightly doubtingly. Another thought crosses his mind, and he speaks it. “Can the most powerful wizard in the history of mankind turn himself back into a man again?” That, he knew, sounded almost too hopeful.
Merlin closes her eyes for a moment and, when she opens them, there’s a hint of gold swimming in those blue depths. She shakes her head, sadly. “I can barely stand; I think I used up everything to get out of that damned tree,” she admits.
Arthur raises an eyebrow. “Everything?” he asks. He somehow doubts every last drop of magic was used for her release. They have been brought back together to stop evil from overtaking the world; they might need some help from the metaphysical side of things along the way.
She rolls her eyes and the gold disappears. “For now, at least,” she amends. “I can still feel my magic, but its weak and I can’t really access it right now. Give me a few days and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Deal,” he agrees. He still needs to figure out how to get her out of the woods and back home dressed in nothing but a trench coat, and wonders what kind of field day the tabloids will have with him this time if he tries.
As he debates the merits of an extended camping trip until Merlin’s able to dress herself, and possibly change from a herself to a himself, Merlin leans forward and rests her head upon his shoulder. “Arthur?” she asks in a far too familiar tone. It usually means Merlin wants something and is willing to resort to puppy dog eyes if needed to get it. Not waiting for an answer as she likely knows he will give in anyway, she continues, “I’m rather famished. Can we get something to eat?”
Arthur figures waking after a few centuries only to have to break yourself out of a prison built by Nature might work up a bit of an appetite and agrees, only pausing to clarify, “Real food or that rabbit food you were eating towards the end?”
“It was perfectly nutritious,” she huffs.
“I’m getting you a burger,” Arthur counters, and does just that.
They make their way out of the woods and to his car only having to duck away from hikers once, and he is quite thankful for a garage that allows him to park off the street and close the door behind him before letting the unknown, half-naked woman out of his passenger seat. He’s also thankful for the minimal staff and how he had learned to avoid them years ago, so sneaking Merlin up to his room goes off without a hitch.
He runs out for takeaway and relents when hit by the image of Merlin’s pleading eyes and pouty little lip and gets a veggie burger at the last moment instead, but orders himself a real deal heaped with everything to make up for it. She’s grateful as she lounges on his bed in one of his t-shirts and what looks to be a pair of his boxers and no, he does not want to know how she’s even keeping those up, hair wet and slightly styled fresh from a shower.
Not that it matters much as soon enough she’s dapping her mouth with a napkin and then stripping off and trying to tempt him and his is so very tempted right up until he gets a call from his father telling him about yet another crisis. He buttons up his shirt and checks his fly before running off to leave Merlin to rest for the night. He comes back late and finds her asleep on the pillow, blanket half-off the bed. He curls up close and breathes in the smell of nature and Merlin and home, and drifts off thinking things could be much worse.
The next morning, he wakes first, Merlin still dead to the world. He fetches breakfast from downstairs and wakes her to share it before darting into his step sister’s room for some provisions. Her name is Morgan now, and he is only waiting for her to become someone else, but knows she will take no offense to him raiding her closet for someone in need.
He steals a sports bra, a pair of knickers, a button down shirt, and a pair of trousers, and grabs a pair of slip on shoes as an afterthought. Merlin looks askance at the selection, but dutifully puts on everything save for the shirt, preferring to wear another of Arthur’s own t-shirts instead. She steals a zip-up jumper from him as well and gestures towards the door, the seduction from last night forgotten or at least placed to the side in lieu of obtaining necessities instead.
Those necessities were going to be the death of him. She tries on a few different things to find her size and, with the shop girl’s encouragement, keeps peeking out to show him what things look like and to ask if it’s alright. The tight jeans and fitted blazer look more than alright to him, but the shop girl points out that, to truly know if they fit the way they are supposed to, it’s time for a real bra and not the confining sports bra and that is how Arthur finds himself in the lingerie section trying to seem cool, calm, and collected.
Merlin, for her part, rolls her eyes again and drags him into one of the changing rooms with her. She has him help with clasps and hooks that she’s never had to deal with and that he is much better at undoing than doing. The satin frames her in ways that make his breath hitch and he wonders if this whole stuck-in-a-girl’s-body thing is really that bad. He also wonders if she needs to try on quite so many given that the shop girl was nice enough to do whatever embarrassing measuring process they have, and everything he’s helped with fits her like a glove. She rubs up against him once with a sly smile and he excuses himself to go look at men’s ties or possibly the fountain or something equally mundane, returning only to brandish the credit card to magically make her purchases appear in a neat embossed bag.
She darts back into the fitting room to change and then it’s off to the shoe store and he is really hoping the appearance of breasts (and they are quite magnificent breasts, properly supported and new shirt dipping just so for the whole world to get a glimpse at them) does not make her suddenly the stereotypical airhead with a love for stilettos and other frightening things. Thankfully, she makes a face at those and chooses a pair of sturdy boots and a pair of trainers instead. He doesn’t know why he questions it, but she replies with a simple, “Somehow, I think these will hold up better come the apocalypse, even if those red ones are cute.”
He feels indulgent and can’t help thinking it’s Merlin and he’s back, even if she’s a she, but can’t justify adding “the red ones” to the total if he’s going to be back to a him in only a few days. They sit down at a small Italian place and order too much pasta, sans meat for her, and he shows her the latest headlines and they talk about possibilities, and he can’t help but wonder if she is one of them.
They go back to his place again, and this time the staff does see but no one says a thing because it’s not the first time he’s come back with a pretty little thing on his arm with pretty little bags on hers. Merlin feels stronger now, and levitates the packages to the wardrobe just because she can, but reluctantly admits that no, she cannot change back to a man and that, from the feel of things, the way the magic resists her, this may be how she has to stay for quite some time. She then mutters something about, “Damned witch,” and “Communing with Mother Nature for a few centuries should not make you turn into Her,” and Arthur finally gives into the urge to kiss her temple and tell her things are going to be all right.
He holds her for a while, remembers holding the same being in a different form, and revels in being able to touch, even this much, even if it’s only for a little while. His email dings and she slips free to let him check his laptop set up in the corner, and he figures it’s a sign to get back to business so he begins to pull up some of the sites and spreadsheets he’s been tracking to share with her.
He turns around when she clears her throat to find her standing at the doorway to the en suite, dressed in a tiny red teddy that hugs her curves in all the right places and matches the blush rising on her pale cheeks. He most definitely does not remember her trying that one on and opens his mouth to comment on that when he realizes she looks ready to bolt back behind the door and lock herself away.
He closes his mouth and licks his suddenly dry lips, shifts on his chair to hopefully loosen the sudden tightness of his trousers across his lap. Her eyes go wide and she hesitantly asks, “Arthur?”
“I assure you, you have my full attention,” he replies, voice deeper than he intended.
Her lips quirk as she shuffles forward, still not fully comfortable in her own skin, but obviously willing to give it a go. He notes the color of the fabric. Red. Pendragon red. Bold and full of vitality against her pale skin, swishing slightly at her hips as she moves. He has the passing thought that yes, he should have bought her those shoes, and then he has very little thought at all as she is now standing before him, close enough to touch, close enough to note her nipples pert against the thin fabric.
He gives into temptation and cups her breast, runs his thumb over the little bump, and watches as her eyes drift close and her breath hitches just so. He loves Merlin’s eyes, always has, always has adored the way they express things no words ever can, and decides that will not do at all. He pinches the nub lightly, gently, just to watch her eyes fly open at the sensation. “Watch me?” he whispers, and knows she will give in to the request.
Merlin nods, shifts her feet on the plush rug to steady herself, takes a deep breath as she meets Arthur’s gaze. Arthur slides his hand around to her back, feels the silky fabric end and the soft skin begin. He tugs her closer, his other hand already at her thigh to catch her. Much more and she will be straddling him. He decides there’s far too much he wants to do before he reaches that point.
He slides his left hand up her thigh and runs his thumb under the hem of the teddy to find the edge of the tiny panties she wears beneath it. His right hand pushes against her back forward slightly as he leans in and mouths at her breasts beneath the fabric, tastes satin against his tongue, feels the moist material cling to his lips as it clings to her skin. He keeps eye contact the entire time, watches as she struggles to keep her word and watch him through it all.
A shift and his thumb sweeps lower, finds a warm wetness pooling between her legs. He runs his thumb in tight circles and feels her thighs tremble, sees her eyelids flutter. She steadies herself by resting her hands upon his shoulders, and slowly lets one drift to the nape of his neck to play with the small hairs there.
He brings his right hand around to mirror his left, lets his fingers curl around her waistband before yanking down in one swift movement. She gasps and bites her bottom lip as she steps out of the fabric now pooling around her ankles, kicking it to the side and behind her. He uses the distraction to run two fingers along her folds, feels the moisture there, and finally has to look away as he presses his forehead against her stomach and simply breathes her in. She smells like Merlin, and more, different but the same.
He brings his fingers to his lips and thinks she moans, but cannot be certain as any sound she makes is blocked out by his own. The taste explodes on his tongue, sweet and musky and familiar but not, and he wants more. He slouches lower in his chair and rucks up teddy around her waist, licks his lips at the thought of what he’s about to experience.
He stops only when Merlin tugs sharply at his hair, looks up to see a wild look in her still wide eyes. “Bed?” she suggests and he means to agree but his hand has a mind of its own and presses two fingers deep within her.
She groans, hips pressing forward and hands pressing down on his shoulders as he now supports her weight. He curves his fingers slightly in that tight heat and her breathing speeds up and her grip tightens. He lets his fingers slide in and out a few times before removing them completely, only to circle her clit with her own moisture.
The pressure on his shoulder releases, becomes a sharp tug as she demands, “Bed. Now.”
He’s only too happy to comply. She steps back and lets him stand, hands already unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it down his arms. He staggers forward as she staggers back, nimble fingers working at his belt, a mockery of Merlin’s old duties but neither seem to mind as it snakes free and tumbles to the floor. His fly is next, button and zipper and her thighs have already hit the mattress. He presses her back upon it and steps out of the last bits of clothing to kneel between her outstretched legs on the bed.
She shifts upwards and he shifts downwards and his hands slide beneath the fabric of the teddy she still wears to cup and fondle and pinch and roll. He tilts his head downward, mouths at the curly hair he finds, and finally lets his tongue slide deep between her folds. Her hips buck up and he hits his chin on something soft and damp and slides a hand down to hold her steady as he slowly takes her apart.
He licks and sucks and nips and thrusts his tongue, fucking her with it while she writhes beneath him, moaning a combination of praise and profanity, calling him names of old and names of new all in the same breath.
It’s not enough, he doesn’t think it will ever be enough. He looks up and she stares back at him and slowly, deliberately, bends her knees and spreads herself wider. He looks around frantically, realizes he has no condoms nearby even as he wonders if he truly needs them. She answers that question for him by taking his cock in a steady grasp and stroking twice in a way that nearly has him falling apart before pulling him to her and positioning him at her entrance.
“Do it,” she breathes even though he thinks consent has already been given and taken several times by now.
He pushes in slowly, feels a near unbearable tightness envelope him, knows he won’t last long. He looks up just as she winces and a new realization dawns. This body was new, virginal, and she offered it all to him. He resolves to make it worth her while, to gift her with everything he has to offer as she has already done so with him.
He pulls back and feels the air cool between their skin, pushes back into the heat and bites his lip at the way she struggles to accept him. He sets a gentle, steady rhythm, lowers his head to mouth once more at her breasts and any available skin, keeps his weight up and off of her slender body even though he wants to press against it, feel every fiber of her being collide with his. He braces himself on one arm to slide his other hand down between them and press his thumb against her clit while he presses deep inside her.
She grabs his jaw in her hands and pulls upwards, crushes their mouths together and claims him with lips and tongue while he claims her with cock and fingers. Her back arches at an impossible angle and she tightens even more around him and he knows she coming, knows he did this, knows he caused this pleasure.
It’s too much and the heat that had been coiling in his belly explodes outwards, the world around him whiting out only to resolve into the face of the person he loves as he slowly comes back to himself once more.
He realizes that he’s collapsed on top of her and hurries to take his own weight even as he reluctantly pulls out of her, careful as he knows how sensitive she must still be. Short nails scratch across his back and now it is her turn to hold him in place. Her eyes glow gold with magic and mischief as she asks, “Can we do that again?”
He laughs, deep and free, feels the answering reverberations of her chuckles as he promises, “Whenever we are both able.” He accentuated his words with a quick press of his finger against her still throbbing clit and she gasps and bucks again.
The gold swirls and he feels the familiar feel of Merlin’s magic wrap around him even as he feels a stirring far too soon to be natural. “You know, I can help with that,” she teases.
He slides the strap of her doubtlessly ruined teddy down her shoulder and kisses the pale skin there. “I’m sure you can,” he agrees and rolls them over so she is now straddling his hips, moisture sliding across his abdomen as she shifts ever so slightly to get more comfortable.
She pulls off the flimsy fabric and presses her warm skin against his overheated own and he knows he will not deny her anything. Man or woman, trapped in this body or one far more familiar, Merlin is Merlin, and Merlin is his. They still have the horrors of the world to face and a society to save, but they have this, have each other, and that means they have it all.
~~~~~~~~~~
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