Random gay one shots

Merthur- Sword fighting

Word Count: 1175
Tags/warnings: angst? Fluff? Pinning. A little scandalous at the end but only implied. Moves real fast.

Merlin was fucking tired of that conceded prat. He was a wizard! A powerful young warlock and yet here he was, shinning some narcissistic ass's armor because he couldn't handle getting knocked down a peg in front of his precious wannabe knights. Can't take a bloody joke without being insulted.
Fuck rules and etiquette, tomorrow he wouldn't allow Arthur to use him as a bloody punching bag during stupid practice. Magic or not, he could, would, take Arthur in a fight.

"Today were going to be refining our swordsmanship skills. Manservant, my sword." He held his hand out expectantly not once glancing in Merlin's direction.
Merlin scoffed and tossed the swords over to the prince, which Arthur registered in his peripheral just in time to not get hit by the shinning metal. He barley managed to catch the flying dagger before it fell, after which he cast an unamused scowl at Merlin but made no move to reprimand him.
"Now who shall like to dual against me first?"
None of the prince's entourage made a move to fight. Merlin rolled his eyes. For the most respected men of bravery in the kingdom, they really had no backbone against the prince. Though for their credit, most of them were more scared accidentally besting the prince and facing the wrath of the royal egomaniac than of actually losing.
"Ay, fine since you all insist." Merlin picked up a sword and moved toward the prince. "Let's have at it then."
Arthur turned, to face him almost dumbfounded by his servant's audacity. "Excuse me?"
"Now don't go hard if hearing so young, sire."
Arthur raised his eyebrows, challenging Merlin to take back his comments.
Merlin stood his ground.
"Ready when you are, sire."
Arthur smiled, accepting the issue to duel. He lifted his sword, Merlin mirroring his movements. They began slowly, circling each other, smiling devilishly daring the other to make a move. Arthur cocked his eyebrows and began to lift his weapon, just in time for Merlin to make the first strike.
They moved gracefully back and forth, slicing and defending in harmonious rhythm. Had Arthur the second to wonder, it may have crossed his mind to consider how the servant had suddenly gained such skill without training. It may have also crossed his mind that the occasional gold shimmer in Merlin's eye wasn't a reflection of the sun- it was an overcast day as it was most days in the kingdom during this raining season. Instead Arthur allowed himself to be consumed in the duel and fought valiantly, smiling all the while, almost enjoying having a close match for once. After an even back and forth, for a moment, Arthur caught the upper hand.
Their two swords grinded against each other, the handler of each flushed from the strenuous use of muscle as they each attempted to overpower the other. Arthur pushed down against his foe, each second growing closer to victory. The heavy breaths Merlin pushed in and out grazed Arthur's face and pulled him out the tension of the moment as he realized the proximity of his body to that of Merlin.
He found himself staring at the soft pink lips pushing hot air out onto his face. He chanced his gaze upward and noticed the stunning grey blue of Merlin's eyes which stared back at his own face. Their eyes connected for a moment, barely a moment, but still long enough for Arthur to feel Merlin searching in his soul. A shattered breath pulled Arthur back down to his surprisingly rosy lips, surrounded by a soft, dark stubble that matched perfectly to his carelessly groomed raven locks. He felt himself drawn in; he pushed closer, taking a step forward so his thigh pressed between his adversaries legs, no longer caring to overpower Merlin in the duel but still for some reason wanting to show the servant his ability and strength. He pressed forward still, until their bodies leaned back over the curve of Merlin's spine. Suddenly, there was pain.
Merlin jerked his knee up hitting the prince in his royal jewels. Arthur collapsed on the ground, biting down on his check to keep from crying out.

"I'm really sorry, Arthur."
Merlin's poured the heated water into the porcelain tub inside the princes chambers. "Really, I am. It was a knee jerk reaction!"
Arthur gave his servant a stern look.
"Bad phrasing. My fault."
He helped the future monarch out of his robes and into the clean water. He grabbed the oils off the tray on the chiffonier and walked back to the tub, still chattering.
"Truly, as much as I harass you for being a prat- which is still entire true, I'm not going back on that- it was never my intention to injure you."
He knelt beside the tub and began to massage the oils into Arthur's hair.
"Arthur? Sire? Hello?"
"Hmm? What?"
He opened his eyes realizing that he had almost fallen asleep to the steady hum of Merlin's voice.
"I asked if you wanted me to bring you your robe now?"
"Oh, yes, thank you."
Merlin smiled to himself as he crossed the room to collect the prince's robe. It was rare that Arthur actually bothered to thank him- not that Merlin couldn't distinguish when Arthur was grateful from any of his other multitude of moods.
"Here." Merlin held the robe out of the prince to step into, averting his eyes from the dripping body. Arthur noticed this as he stepped out the water. Rather than slipping his arms into the cloth, he stood there for a second, admiring the man before him.
"Sire?" Merlin questioned, opening one eye slightly.
"Yes?" Arthur responded, still refusing to accept the dressing gown.
"Your robes?"
Arthur sighed, sliding his arms through the out held sleeves. He turned back around to face his servant once again. Unfortunately, he miscalculated Merlin's proximity and found himself pressed full flesh against the manservant.
"Oh." Merlin stuttered out, yet refused to move back.
Arthur examined the face in front of him. The grey blue eye seemed confused yet interested, perhaps as intrigued as Arthur was. The slight gap between his rosy lips appeared an open invitation. The dark hair covering his jaw, soft and very touchable. He realized for the first time that he actually had to look up slightly at Merlin. He wasn't more than a fingers length taller but still, taller.
"Stop me now if I'm wrong and nothing more will come of it," Arthur whispered, eyes strained on the lips in front of him.
"Wh- I um- I'm not sure what you mean," Merlin whispered, equally as enthralled by the peach mouth in front of his own.
"Then let me make myself quite clear, you buffoon," Arthur teased. "If you don't want me to shove my tongue down your throat and to do all sorts of unspeakable things to your magnificent body on that bed behind us, leave in the next three seconds."
Merlin made no move to leave.
And Arthur made good on his promise.