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Entry tags:
Merlin - Fred
Title: Fred
Genre: Crack, Slash (Merlin/Gwaine), Implied Mpreg
Length: ~ 1,770 words
Rating: R
Warnings: Crack, Mpreg, Tentacles, Dub-Con
Spoilers: Through the end of Series 3, characters only.
Synopsis: Merlin and Gwaine fall into a lake. Or, the one with the Magical MPreg Tentacle Monster.
Author’s Notes: This was born of far too much caffeine after reading through prompts and the like over at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tentacle_fest (which is totally ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
briar_pipe’s fault). Thanks/sympathies go out to threnodyjones for insisting on historically accurate classifications... in a cracky mpreg tentacle fic. Oh, and threnodyjones, drag_on_king and I have decided the monster’s name is Fred, thus the title.
Disclaimer: I do not own this interpretation of the myths and am making no profit from this.
“Oh, this is not good,” Merlin managed to mutter before he was pulled down again. The sun-warmed lake water washed over him, drenching him fully. He was blinded for a moment before he managed to free a hand to rub at his eyes, and then looked over to find he was not the only one caught up in this mess.
“Just relax,” Gwaine told him from no more than the breadth of a horse away from him. Of course it would be Gwaine. The knight probably saw him get pulled in and jumped right in after him. “It doesn’t seem to dunk you as much if you don’t fight it.”
Merlin tried to relax, he really did, but it was hard to do with an oversized polypus wrapped around him. At least he thought it was a polypus. It looked a lot like the picture of one Gaius showed him in a book one time, so that was what he was going to call it for now. Of course, the book said nothing about curious tentacles randomly tugging and squeezing and... “Hey!” Merlin shouted. “No getting fresh!” He slapped at the offending appendage and got dunked again for his efforts.
Gwaine chuckled, but did try to reach for him to help him right himself once more. Apparently the thing liked him as it was keeping his head above water fairly constantly, even if one of its suckers appeared to be doing inappropriate things to the front of his tunic. “Don’t worry,” he said as he tugged on a wet sleeve, Merlin’s wrist slipping from his grasp. “Arthur should be here soon.”
“Great, just what we need,” Merlin groaned. “He will never let me live this down.”
“Now, now,” a new voice chided from the shoreline. It was, of course, Arthur, with Lancelot at his side. The two of them were standing just outside of the upturned rocks and mud that marked Merlin’s descent into the water, safely out of reach. “I’m sure you’ll do something even more embarrassing soon enough,” Arthur grinned.
“Are you injured?” Lancelot called. Merlin wanted to thank him for actually caring, but noticed Arthur also had his sword out and at the ready so he was likely thinking up ways to free them, all teasing aside.
“Not really,” Gwaine assured him.
“Speak for yourself!” Merlin yelled at him. “You’re not the one with tentacles trying to get in your – Hey! I said knock that off!” Merlin cut himself off mid-sentence as something distinctively slippery slid inside his waistband. He was rewarded for his thrashing by being dunked yet again, and this time rose to the surface gasping for air as his mouth had still be open at the time. He spat out lake water and glared at what he thought was the monster’s body, only belatedly realizing Arthur was shouting something from the shore.
“He’s fine,” Gwaine reassured, likely in answer to whatever Arthur had been asking. “It drags you down if you fight it. And no, Merlin, you are not the only one with little suckered things in private places.”
Merlin looked over to him with wide eyes. “How can you be so calm?” he asked, clawing at the thing that was now stroking back and forth over something it really should not be stroking back and forth over. His price this time was not only another trip underwater, but to have his wrists bound together by one of the tentacles not currently invading his personal space in other ways.
“Told you,” Gwaine said with what he now realized was forced patience. There was also a little extra gasp at the end of his words that Merlin was trying not to think about. “It only punishes you if you try to stop it.”
“And if you don’t try to stop it?” Merlin asked, still thrashing.
He swore he saw a blush rise on Gwaine’s bearded cheeks as he reluctantly admitted, “Think of it as a different form of punishment.”
“Gwaine!” Merlin protested. The thing was becoming more and more intimate and had even managed to somehow completely untie his trousers, which was not fair on so many levels.
“I think I know what this is,” Arthur announced. To Merlin’s horror, he was tucking his sword away and motioning for Lancelot to do the same.
“Care to enlighten us?” Merlin asked with far less respect than Arthur usually required.
Arthur hesitated, which was never a good thing. Reluctantly, and possibly goaded on by the matching glares he received from his friends, he explained, “My father mentioned a monster like this. He used it on occasion, but stopped when he realised the consequences.”
“Consequences?” Gwaine asked with raised eyebrows. Merlin was just happy that he had lost some of his façade and actually looked like he cared.
Arthur nodded. “He thought it just dragged people in and drowned those with magic, but it actually did something else.” If Arthur recognized Merlin’s sigh of relief at that, he ignored it. “It always took two, usually couples, and, if one was a witch, they glowed upon... well, completion. He thought problem solved and would then kill them. Instead he discovered an after effect. With the witch dead, the person dragged in with her became with child, regardless of whether the person was a man or woman.”
“And if it was a sorcerer and not a witch?” Merlin asked, wincing in anticipation of the response.
“I am not certain,” Arthur admitted with a shrug. “Most of the sorcerers drowned after thrashing around like you. One survived and escaped. It was the oddest thing. The knight that volunteered to go in with him requested the right to go visit his father’s lands shortly thereafter. Something about his wife being with child, but no one could remember who he was married to and he had been in service to the castle for nearly a year at that point. His son’s one of the squires now, so it must have all turned out.”
Merlin swore profusely under his breath, willing to place coinage on the son being Phillip, who looked nothing like his father and had already had several discussions late at night about hiding the whole glowing eyes thing. He was also remembering several stories regarding magically inclined women who travelled to a specific lake to become with child when nothing else was working. He must have become a gambling man as he was also willing to bet just what lake.
“There’s nothing to worry about, really,” Arthur insisted. “It’s not like either of you are sorcerers. Though you may still drown if you keep splashing about.”
Merlin tried once more to relax. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, but to no avail. With his eyes still closed, he tried to use his magic to make the thing go away, only to have something slip where it most definitely should not be. Eyes wide open now, he tried very hard not to think of how it felt just like Gwaine had only the night before, how the water even smelled like the spice and sweat and armoury oil his lover always smelled like after a particularly intense day of training.
His eyes drifted from Gwaine’s knowing look to the way the water around him undulated with every shift of his hips, and how that undulation translated to sensations elsewhere. Gwaine shrugged unapologetically and Merlin found himself tempted to smile in response.
Or at least he did until he remembered they still had an audience.
“Lancelot!” he hissed, really hoping no one heard the little catch at the end.
He turned his head to the side to find his friend absolutely scarlet. A pointed look spurred him to action, however, and the knight placed a hand on Arthur’s sleeve and bade, “Sire, perhaps they should have a little privacy?”
Arthur did not seem to want to look away as he asked, “But how are we to know if they find re-, that is, if they are released?”
“By them swimming back to shore,” Lancelot said dryly.
Arthur looked chagrined, and a little pink, as he stuttered, “Yes, yes, of course. Let’s give them their privacy and just leave this whole matter behind us.”
Merlin swore he heard Lancelot mumble something that sounded suspiciously like, “Somehow, I believe that will be more difficult than you think,” as they turned their backs, but was distracted by a sensation that seemed to tap into his very magic.
“Just imagine it’s me,” Gwaine whispered, suddenly much closer and a bit breathier than before.
The sensations surged, and it was like the night before, only multiplied tenfold. His entire body tingled with pleasure and he managed a strangled gasp of his lover’s name. His hands were suddenly freed and he pulled Gwaine closer, needing to touch, needing to feel the real him. Everything intensified and he suspected he was making noises he would later deny. He knew he was close, oh so very close, and just barely had the state of mind to wonder just how brightly he was about to glow and whether or not Arthur would behead him immediately or wait for him to dry off so as not to risk rusting his sword.
Gwaine leaned close, lips tickling his damp ear, as he breathed, “Hey, Merlin, I’m about to become a father!”
Merlin’s release was drowned out by their combined huffs of laughter, and then he found himself floating, free save for the familiar arms that quickly wrapped around him and pulled him close, soaking cloth to soaking cloth, chilled skin to chilled skin, no beefy tentacles to be found.
Gwaine kissed him then, again and again and again, hands everywhere and damn but he seemed to be trying for a repeat performance sans any unwanted accessories. Every kiss, every touch, was accented with half formed utterances of, “We can go to Ealdor...” and, “Pretend it’s a foundling...” and, “Would tell him it’s ours if you let me...”
Somewhere on the edge of his awareness, he heard Lancelot and Arthur arguing, followed by Arthur’s surprised, “You have got to be kidding me!”
He ignored that for now though, as well as the splashing that most definitely was not coming from either himself or Gwaine. He was not certain if it was from rocks being tossed at them to get them to separate, which was not going to happen, or something far larger and possibly prince and knight and polypus sized. He figured he would worry about that later. For now, he had other things on his mind.
Feedback is always welcomed. Even for this.
Genre: Crack, Slash (Merlin/Gwaine), Implied Mpreg
Length: ~ 1,770 words
Rating: R
Warnings: Crack, Mpreg, Tentacles, Dub-Con
Spoilers: Through the end of Series 3, characters only.
Synopsis: Merlin and Gwaine fall into a lake. Or, the one with the Magical MPreg Tentacle Monster.
Author’s Notes: This was born of far too much caffeine after reading through prompts and the like over at
tentacle_fest (which is totally briar_pipe’s fault). Thanks/sympathies go out to threnodyjones for insisting on historically accurate classifications... in a cracky mpreg tentacle fic. Oh, and threnodyjones, drag_on_king and I have decided the monster’s name is Fred, thus the title.Disclaimer: I do not own this interpretation of the myths and am making no profit from this.
“Oh, this is not good,” Merlin managed to mutter before he was pulled down again. The sun-warmed lake water washed over him, drenching him fully. He was blinded for a moment before he managed to free a hand to rub at his eyes, and then looked over to find he was not the only one caught up in this mess.
“Just relax,” Gwaine told him from no more than the breadth of a horse away from him. Of course it would be Gwaine. The knight probably saw him get pulled in and jumped right in after him. “It doesn’t seem to dunk you as much if you don’t fight it.”
Merlin tried to relax, he really did, but it was hard to do with an oversized polypus wrapped around him. At least he thought it was a polypus. It looked a lot like the picture of one Gaius showed him in a book one time, so that was what he was going to call it for now. Of course, the book said nothing about curious tentacles randomly tugging and squeezing and... “Hey!” Merlin shouted. “No getting fresh!” He slapped at the offending appendage and got dunked again for his efforts.
Gwaine chuckled, but did try to reach for him to help him right himself once more. Apparently the thing liked him as it was keeping his head above water fairly constantly, even if one of its suckers appeared to be doing inappropriate things to the front of his tunic. “Don’t worry,” he said as he tugged on a wet sleeve, Merlin’s wrist slipping from his grasp. “Arthur should be here soon.”
“Great, just what we need,” Merlin groaned. “He will never let me live this down.”
“Now, now,” a new voice chided from the shoreline. It was, of course, Arthur, with Lancelot at his side. The two of them were standing just outside of the upturned rocks and mud that marked Merlin’s descent into the water, safely out of reach. “I’m sure you’ll do something even more embarrassing soon enough,” Arthur grinned.
“Are you injured?” Lancelot called. Merlin wanted to thank him for actually caring, but noticed Arthur also had his sword out and at the ready so he was likely thinking up ways to free them, all teasing aside.
“Not really,” Gwaine assured him.
“Speak for yourself!” Merlin yelled at him. “You’re not the one with tentacles trying to get in your – Hey! I said knock that off!” Merlin cut himself off mid-sentence as something distinctively slippery slid inside his waistband. He was rewarded for his thrashing by being dunked yet again, and this time rose to the surface gasping for air as his mouth had still be open at the time. He spat out lake water and glared at what he thought was the monster’s body, only belatedly realizing Arthur was shouting something from the shore.
“He’s fine,” Gwaine reassured, likely in answer to whatever Arthur had been asking. “It drags you down if you fight it. And no, Merlin, you are not the only one with little suckered things in private places.”
Merlin looked over to him with wide eyes. “How can you be so calm?” he asked, clawing at the thing that was now stroking back and forth over something it really should not be stroking back and forth over. His price this time was not only another trip underwater, but to have his wrists bound together by one of the tentacles not currently invading his personal space in other ways.
“Told you,” Gwaine said with what he now realized was forced patience. There was also a little extra gasp at the end of his words that Merlin was trying not to think about. “It only punishes you if you try to stop it.”
“And if you don’t try to stop it?” Merlin asked, still thrashing.
He swore he saw a blush rise on Gwaine’s bearded cheeks as he reluctantly admitted, “Think of it as a different form of punishment.”
“Gwaine!” Merlin protested. The thing was becoming more and more intimate and had even managed to somehow completely untie his trousers, which was not fair on so many levels.
“I think I know what this is,” Arthur announced. To Merlin’s horror, he was tucking his sword away and motioning for Lancelot to do the same.
“Care to enlighten us?” Merlin asked with far less respect than Arthur usually required.
Arthur hesitated, which was never a good thing. Reluctantly, and possibly goaded on by the matching glares he received from his friends, he explained, “My father mentioned a monster like this. He used it on occasion, but stopped when he realised the consequences.”
“Consequences?” Gwaine asked with raised eyebrows. Merlin was just happy that he had lost some of his façade and actually looked like he cared.
Arthur nodded. “He thought it just dragged people in and drowned those with magic, but it actually did something else.” If Arthur recognized Merlin’s sigh of relief at that, he ignored it. “It always took two, usually couples, and, if one was a witch, they glowed upon... well, completion. He thought problem solved and would then kill them. Instead he discovered an after effect. With the witch dead, the person dragged in with her became with child, regardless of whether the person was a man or woman.”
“And if it was a sorcerer and not a witch?” Merlin asked, wincing in anticipation of the response.
“I am not certain,” Arthur admitted with a shrug. “Most of the sorcerers drowned after thrashing around like you. One survived and escaped. It was the oddest thing. The knight that volunteered to go in with him requested the right to go visit his father’s lands shortly thereafter. Something about his wife being with child, but no one could remember who he was married to and he had been in service to the castle for nearly a year at that point. His son’s one of the squires now, so it must have all turned out.”
Merlin swore profusely under his breath, willing to place coinage on the son being Phillip, who looked nothing like his father and had already had several discussions late at night about hiding the whole glowing eyes thing. He was also remembering several stories regarding magically inclined women who travelled to a specific lake to become with child when nothing else was working. He must have become a gambling man as he was also willing to bet just what lake.
“There’s nothing to worry about, really,” Arthur insisted. “It’s not like either of you are sorcerers. Though you may still drown if you keep splashing about.”
Merlin tried once more to relax. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, but to no avail. With his eyes still closed, he tried to use his magic to make the thing go away, only to have something slip where it most definitely should not be. Eyes wide open now, he tried very hard not to think of how it felt just like Gwaine had only the night before, how the water even smelled like the spice and sweat and armoury oil his lover always smelled like after a particularly intense day of training.
His eyes drifted from Gwaine’s knowing look to the way the water around him undulated with every shift of his hips, and how that undulation translated to sensations elsewhere. Gwaine shrugged unapologetically and Merlin found himself tempted to smile in response.
Or at least he did until he remembered they still had an audience.
“Lancelot!” he hissed, really hoping no one heard the little catch at the end.
He turned his head to the side to find his friend absolutely scarlet. A pointed look spurred him to action, however, and the knight placed a hand on Arthur’s sleeve and bade, “Sire, perhaps they should have a little privacy?”
Arthur did not seem to want to look away as he asked, “But how are we to know if they find re-, that is, if they are released?”
“By them swimming back to shore,” Lancelot said dryly.
Arthur looked chagrined, and a little pink, as he stuttered, “Yes, yes, of course. Let’s give them their privacy and just leave this whole matter behind us.”
Merlin swore he heard Lancelot mumble something that sounded suspiciously like, “Somehow, I believe that will be more difficult than you think,” as they turned their backs, but was distracted by a sensation that seemed to tap into his very magic.
“Just imagine it’s me,” Gwaine whispered, suddenly much closer and a bit breathier than before.
The sensations surged, and it was like the night before, only multiplied tenfold. His entire body tingled with pleasure and he managed a strangled gasp of his lover’s name. His hands were suddenly freed and he pulled Gwaine closer, needing to touch, needing to feel the real him. Everything intensified and he suspected he was making noises he would later deny. He knew he was close, oh so very close, and just barely had the state of mind to wonder just how brightly he was about to glow and whether or not Arthur would behead him immediately or wait for him to dry off so as not to risk rusting his sword.
Gwaine leaned close, lips tickling his damp ear, as he breathed, “Hey, Merlin, I’m about to become a father!”
Merlin’s release was drowned out by their combined huffs of laughter, and then he found himself floating, free save for the familiar arms that quickly wrapped around him and pulled him close, soaking cloth to soaking cloth, chilled skin to chilled skin, no beefy tentacles to be found.
Gwaine kissed him then, again and again and again, hands everywhere and damn but he seemed to be trying for a repeat performance sans any unwanted accessories. Every kiss, every touch, was accented with half formed utterances of, “We can go to Ealdor...” and, “Pretend it’s a foundling...” and, “Would tell him it’s ours if you let me...”
Somewhere on the edge of his awareness, he heard Lancelot and Arthur arguing, followed by Arthur’s surprised, “You have got to be kidding me!”
He ignored that for now though, as well as the splashing that most definitely was not coming from either himself or Gwaine. He was not certain if it was from rocks being tossed at them to get them to separate, which was not going to happen, or something far larger and possibly prince and knight and polypus sized. He figured he would worry about that later. For now, he had other things on his mind.
Feedback is always welcomed. Even for this.
no subject
Hilarity and glee aside, I really loved the bit where Gwaine wanted to tell everyone the child was Merlin's. That implies such a depth and dedication to their relationship that it stole my breath for a moment. And it was so very Gwaine.
In short, I will HAPPILY take the blame for instigating this! ^__________^
no subject
It was going to be just pure and utter crack, but it seemed so natural for Gwaine to be all protective and loving, even after having just gotten off with a giant tentacle monster that just knocked up his boyfriend...
no subject