Before the Sun Rises.pdf

Before the Sun Rises

Title: Before the Sun Rises

Recipient:

Recipient: pkai7

pkai7

Author: marguerite_26

marguerite_26

Rating: NC-17

Pairings:

Pairings: Merlin/Arthur

Word Count:

Word Count: ~9k

Warnings:

Warnings: AU, age disparity

Summary:

Summary: After saving King ArthurÔs life, a seventeen year old Merlin is asked to move

to Camelot and become his manservant.

Author's Notes:

Author's Notes: Thank you to tourdefierce

tourdefierce , nympha_alba

nympha_alba and snegurochka_lee

snegurochka_lee for

the cheerleading, advice and beta help.

pkai7

pkai7 , you asked for: H/C, age-different, possessive!Arthur, protective!Arthur,

jealous!Arthur, powerful!Merlin, oblivious!Merlin . Hope you find each of those hidden in here

somewhere. Thanks for the inspiration. ♥

Disclaimer:

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to Shine and BBC. I make no profit

from this endeavour.

Before the Sun Rises

It was MerlinÔs third week as manservant to the king, and how heÔd ever stumbled into

that job, heÔd never quite understand. But saving the kingÔs life after finding him the lone

survivor of an ambush from bandits along the border of CenredÔs and PendragonÔs

kingdoms, and seeing to his wounds (with a small bit of magic), dragging the man with

his bare hands (and a fair bit more magic) to his MotherÔs home had endeared Merlin to

King Arthur -- so much that a job he didnÔt want in the first place became his reward.

He picked up the kingÔs breakfast platter from the kitchen and got a wink from Cook.

ÑNot late today, then?Ò

He gave her a sheepish smile and stole a roll, still hot from the ovens. He wasnÔt late, no.

Three weeks of hurried breakfasts, tepid baths and cold hearths had considerably lessened

King ArthurÔs generosity towards the boy whoÔd saved his life. The kingÔs perpetual huff,

and his habit of muttering, worst servant ever , never failed to make MerlinÔs cheeks heat.

He was trying , but without the use of magic, the chores were rather harder than they were

back home. Merlin had vowed to himself that heÔd get it right today and with that in mind,

heÔd risen before the sun and would, without a doubt, be early .

As he walked the last flight of stairs, in his mindÔs eye he could already see the bright

smile on the kingÔs face, the one that lit up the whole room but rarely made an appearance.

Arthur would grin, his eyes crinkling, and say, ÑWell done, Merlin.Ò Or some such. It

hadnÔt even been spoken but Merlin could already feel the swell of pride in his chest.

He nodded to the guards and knocked softly before pushing the door open and balancing

Title:

Recipient:

Author:

Rating:

Pairings:

Word Count:

Warnings:

Summary:

Author's Notes:

tourdefierce

nympha_alba

snegurochka_lee

pkai7

Disclaimer:

the platter against his shoulder. He tiptoed in, wanting to set the entire meal before he

roused the king.

As Merlin slid the platter onto the table, his cheeks hurt from the size of his grin. The

smile faltered as he turned towards the bed. It had been a hot stretch of summer in

Camelot and Merlin shouldnÔt have been surprised to see only a thin sheet covering the

kingÔs naked body Ï Merlin had slept the same way for weeks. The king had always been

dressed by the time Merlin managed to deliver breakfast. At night, Arthur waved him off,

saying he had no need for such attentions and was perfectly capable of readying himself

for bed. Arthur was an intensely private person, heÔd been told the day he arrived and was

instructed on his duties. Merlin knew that meant he trusted no one.

The kingÔs eyes were shut tight, too tense at the edges for sleep, his mouth open, panting

and MerlinÔs mind raced to catch up with the clues. But his body knew. Even before his

eyes fell to the unmistakable tent of the sheet at ArthurÔs groin, and the outline of

ArthurÔs hand wrapped around his own erection, pumping slow and steady Ï even before

that, heat pooled low in MerlinÔs belly.

Arthur wasnÔt old , not like Gaius or James in the stables, or even some of the other knights

whoÔd gone grey at the temples. Arthur had been crowned at twenty-one, they said, and

the coronation had been only a couple of years past. But the king hid his age behind

chainmail and heavy cloaks, a grim down turn of his lips and the stiff set of his shoulders

as he sat upon his throne.

He wasnÔt old, but he had to be too old to be having a one off in his bed like a young boy ,

like Merlin , who was more often than not late for that very reason. His cock took that

opportunity to remind him of his negligence that morning by growing heavier in his

breeches.

Only a few seconds had passed of Merlin standing, dumb, watching ArthurÔs hand move

methodically up and down his shaft. He needed to move, yet the small dot of wetness

darkening the sheet at the tip of ArthurÔs cock caught and held his attention.

Enraptured, he watched the spot grow. The hand never broke its torturously slow slide up

and down, up and down. Why on earth was he going so slow? Merlin could have come

twice by now, and might still with the rate his own cock was pushing at his laces. He

pressed it with his palm to relieve the pressure and had to bite his lip.

ArthurÔs soft moan snapped him back to reality. He couldnÔt be caught here. It would be

his head for sure Ï though heÔd always thought itÔd be magic that placed him on the block.

He scrambled for the door and cursed as his toe caught ArthurÔs chair and sent it dragging

across the floor. The scrape of wood on stone was deafening.

He didnÔt dare look back. He fled the room, tugging his shirt out over his breeches and

didnÔt meet a single eye, return a single greeting Ï he barely managed to breathe Ï until he

was safely back in his little room off GaiusÔs chambers.

When his hand slipped into his breeches, his head knocked back against the door. He

didnÔt last longer than three pulls. He was grateful Gaius was not around to hear the

hissed, Ñ Sire Ò that echoed through his chambers as he pulsed into his hand.

~o~

The king was working through reports, head bent low at his writing desk, when Merlin

re-entered his chambers mid-morning. The breakfast platter heÔd carried up early was now

empty and waiting to be removed. He needed to return, the room needed some tidying but

perhaps if he cleared off the dishes, by the time he returned Arthur would be at court.

ÑMy knives need a cleaning before this afternoonÔs training, Merlin.Ò Arthur didnÔt look

up as he spoke, sprinkling sand on a recent signature and blowing off the excess.

Merlin bent to wrap the knives in a cloth. HeÔd clean them in his own room. As he rose he

inhaled sharply at the feel of the kingÔs broad chest at his back.

ÑDo change the sheets, Merlin.Ò The kingÔs breath tickled MerlinÔs ear as he whispered.

ÑTheyÔre filthy.Ò

Merlin squeaked and fumbled the package of knives in his hand. Arthur roared with

laughter as they clattered to the floor. Merlin scrambled for them, dizzy with

mortification and the warm tingle the kingÔs laughter had left in his belly. HeÔd never

heard the sound before.

Arthur clapped Merlin on the shoulder, turning him around. ÑI was once sixteen, you

know, Merlin. And I happen to remember spending that year with my hands down my

breeches as often as not. Surely your innocence wasnÔt shattered by your little spying

session this morning?Ò

ÑNo, Sire.Ò Merlin struggled to find the words. ÑItÔs just that youÔre ÏÑ He refused to say

old because the stocks chafed his neck. ÑYouÔre king.Ò

ÑIÔm still a man.Ò

Merlin tried and failed not to let his eyes flicker to the kingÔs crotch. ÑBut surely...Ò

ÑI have my pick of bed warmers?Ò Arthur provided. ÑYou arenÔt wrong. But there is

always a cost to those types of arrangements, and my bedroom habits being gossip fodder

annoys me.Ò

MerlinÔs mind drifted to the chatter in the kitchens and the way Mary smugly whispered

of the fine scarf Sir Kay had given her, for her hard work at polishing his sword, and how

they had all snickered when Merlin had asked where sheÔd learned to use a whetstone.

ÑRegardless, the time before the sun has risen is my own. I expect to keep it that way.Ò

ArthurÔs stern expression brokered no arguments, and Merlin bowed his head. ÑYes, Sire.Ò

ÑThough I do appreciate your attempt at being on time, so IÔll forgive your mistake in

judgement. Next time, IÔd like my breakfast after the cock crows.Ò

A giggle escaped MerlinÔs chest before he could suppress it.

Arthur winked, and with an amused grin, gathered his report and left Merlin to his sheet

changing.

Merlin shook his head, confused at this new side of the king. Teasing, almost playful were

not attributes heÔd ever associated with King Arthur. He doubted many would. He opted

to take care of the sheets first. He averted his eyes and tried not to think of this morning,

of having to wash the stain heÔd made on his own breeches, of the thoughts that had

fuelled his orgasm.

Today had been the first time since heÔd entered Camelot that heÔd come to thoughts of

King Arthur. He only hoped the fantasies that had crept into his mind this morning

would disappear with the setting sun or his life was about to get awkward.

~o~

For the next week Merlin was various shades of late and Arthur was ruthless with his

teasing. The twinkle of mischief in ArthurÔs eye when Merlin entered a room after a loud

knock only made him more nervous. The worst was attending the kingÔs bath for the first

time.

Arthur sat with his eyes closed. The dayÔs training hadnÔt gone well. Merlin could see it in

the tension of his shoulders and the furrow of his brow. He didnÔt know what to say or do

to improve the kingÔs mood so he hovered, eyes on the hole in the toe of his boot, listening

to the splash of water as Arthur trailed a wash cloth over his chest and rubbed down his

aching muscles.

Merlin clenched the drying cloth in his hand and cursed ever entering the gates of

Camelot, that he had to submit to the torture of being an armÔs length away from his

unreasonably attractive (naked) king and not allowed to look. Then Arthur was standing

and Merlin lost himself in the slow drip of water that pooled in the ripples of ArthurÔs

chest and clumped the downy hair into darkened curls.

Ñ Mer lin!Ò

Merlin was yanked from his thoughts. He blinked up to find Arthur dripping and naked,

with an amused expression on his face. Merlin fumbled the drying cloth, juggling his hold

until it ultimately was saved from the dirty floor by ArthurÔs outstretched hand.

ÑYouÔre a right jittery thing, arenÔt you? ItÔs almost endearing.Ò He rubbed the cloth across

his face, then wrapped it around his waist.

Merlin held out his arm to offer a stable hold for Arthur to step out of the tub. Merlin kept

his eyes averted, mostly. He looked up, counting the cracks of the ceiling Ï anything to

resist the temptation of a peek as Arthur rubbed down his wet, naked body. He rocked

back and forth on his heels, having reached twenty four cracks before Arthur chuckled.

ÑYou amuse me, Merlin. That poor maid that gives you your first romp is going to have

her hands full. SheÔll have to tie you to the bed to keep you from scampering off in a

panic.Ò

Merlin coughed, suddenly hot all over.

Arthur threw his head back and laughed, rich and throaty. The damp cloth hit MerlinÔs

face and he looked down in time to catch ArthurÔs bare backside as he walked across the

room to fetch his night shirt Ï which Merlin had forgotten to place by the hearth as heÔd

been instructed. How was he supposed to concentrate on the details when the king walked

around naked ?

When Arthur turned, already dressed for bed, Merlin caught himself staring again. It was

hardly fair; there was something about the soft flicker of candlelight that loved the angles

of the kingÔs face.

Arthur smirked. ÑWhat do you think of Matilda, Merlin? I saw her watching you at

ThursdayÔs feast. I imagine sheÔd love to make a man out of you.Ò

Merlin bit his lip to stop himself from blurting out something far too honest as his brain

flitted to Sir Gwaine and Sir Lancelot, who were always so kind to him Ï and, unlike

Matilda, didnÔt pinch his bottom as he passed. Though he would likely forgive them if

they did.

ArthurÔs eyes flicked to MerlinÔs mouth and his smile softened to a sort of fond look that

made MerlinÔs cheeks heat. As Arthur continued to look at him , the heat travelled south

and the thoughts of Gwaine and Lancelot were replaced with shimmering blond hair

wrapped in a band of gold. He needed to get out of there before he embarrassed himself.

He scampered backwards, aiming for the door. But he managed to trip over the bath.

As he landed arse first into the cooling water, the kingÔs boom of laughter was loud

enough to bring the guards rushing in. He knew immediately he wouldnÔt be able to walk

anywhere in the castle without hearing stifled giggles for the next week.

~o~

That night when MerlinÔs hand slipped under the covers, his mind drifted to ArthurÔs

eyes on him Ï tender and amused in a way that Merlin never saw the king look any other

time.

HeÔd yet to forget the sight and sounds of the king pleasuring himself. He doubted those

images would ever leave him. They certainly came to him easily now while he was trying

to imitate that rhythm just to know how it felt. But it was achingly slow. Merlin was too

far gone and after a few languished strokes he was already out of breath and thrusting his

cock into his palm at a furious pace. He tugged and pulled as reckless and impatient as

always. As his relief toppled over far too quickly, the ghost of ArthurÔs laughter rang in

his ears.

Merlin fell asleep that night trying to think of ways to hear that laughter, see that smile.

Arthur glowed in those times he let down his guard and it made Merlin itch to have it

happen again and again, though ideally without making a fool of himself in the process.

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