bitchprince | Room 325, Sunday Afternoon

Bored. Bored bored bored. A morning spent in the salle had not alleviated Arthur's enormous helping of boredom. He needed to distract himself. With no weapons allowed in the dorms, it had been a bit difficult (if not impossible, but he'd put it aside after a while) to work on Merlin's not-really-a-Christmas-present-anymore, so that was out, too.

He had already put Francine's sweater away as far as he could (it wasn't that he didn't appreciate the gesture. It was just that it wasn't... well, you know. He was trying to be nice, and it was decent craftsmanship, but it kept reminding him of Merlin's absurd obsession with items of clothing his mother had made), poked around the room, tried the Teevee (still not pleasant, especially without the distraction of someone in the room) and gone through the first chapter of Salammbo.

Nothing.

Which was why, by the time the middle of the afternoon rolled around, there was a dog sitting on Arthur's floor.

"Stay. Just-- no. Stay."

[[ open post, half-open door ]]

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"You would, but you'd be wrong." He gave Merlin's bottom another leisurely grope, then let his hand travel up.

"Ho-OW would I be wrong?" There was no hitch in his voice there. At all.

Merlin moved his cold hands on up to Arthur's neck in retaliation.

"The way you usually are," Arthur told him. Okay. Cold hands. Cold, cold hands. He jerked the slightest bit, but that wasn't capitulation.

Someone might want to tell him that sliding his fingers up along the knobs of Merlin's spine was only revenge if your hands were actually cold. "Utterly."

"And you--" Merlin replied, pulling him in for a kiss. "Can't see past your own nose."

Room 325, Sunday Afternoon

Re: NFB from here!

Re: NFB from here!

Re: NFB from here!

Re: NFB from here!