Sophinisba Solis (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sophinisba) wrote2010-08-15 02:39 pm
sophinisba) wrote2010-08-15 02:39 pm
Entry tags:
Merlin fic: My Best Kept Secret
Title: My Best Kept Secret
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Merlin/Freya
Word count: 1900
Rating: R
Warnings: Dark, consent issues (highlight for details) Merlin is holding Freya captive, so the sex is coerced (although not in this instance violent).
Summary: Modern (or mid-20th-century) AU - Merlin brings Freya a present.
Author's notes at the end of the story.
The woman on the bed sits up at the sound of the door opening, sets her book on the pillow and her feet on the floor, tucks her hair behind her ear.
The man who enters is grinning, holding one hand behind his back, like he's got a secret he can't wait to share.
"Guess what I brought you," he says.
"Oh, I don't know! I haven't asked you to bring anything special, and I don't think it would be another book again so soon. Maybe something to eat?"
He nods encouragingly.
"We already had lunch," she says, "and I don't think it's time for supper yet, plus it must be something small…and I won't guess any more than that."
"Close your eyes?"
After only a brief hesitation she does so. He sits on the little wooden chair facing the bed and she leans forward, towards him. She doesn't flinch when he touches her lip with his thumb, just opens her mouth slightly. He puts the fruit in her mouth and she moans softly as she bites it off. When she opens her eyes he's watching her closely, savouring the look on her face as much as she's savouring the taste.
"Strawberries," she says once she's had a chance to swallow. "That's so kind of you, Merlin. Thank you for remembering."
"Of course," he says, ducking his head, almost shy.
Picking up another strawberry from the bowl in his hands, she adds, "I wasn't even thinking about it, but it's May, isn't it? It must be lovely outside."
His smile freezes in place for a moment, but then he relaxes and nods. "I'm sorry I couldn't bring them before, when you asked."
"That's all right, not your fault it was winter." She smiles, waits for him to look up at her again. "You're going to eat some too, aren't you?"
When they finish he sets the bowl on the table behind him and comes to sit next to her on the bed. She brings her feet up and nuzzles close to him. He puts an arm around her and leans in to kiss her temple.
"You're so sweet, so good to me," she murmurs. "You always bring me sweet things. I like it when you come and talk to me…and when you stay."
"I'm sorry I can't keep you company more of the time. I still have to go to work…"
"Of course, you know I wouldn't blame you for that."
"I like being with you, Freya."
She sits closer to him, puts her legs around his hips and kisses him on the mouth, pulling him towards her. She guides his hand to the front of her dress and together they start undoing the buttons. It takes some time – there are buttons all the way down to her knees – but they kiss and laugh and smile and touch as they go, and then she's lying in her underwear with the dress open underneath her like a sheet, and she spreads her legs and lets him play, kissing her belly and down her hip, slowly peeling off her knickers.
She plays with his hair. She looks up at the ceiling and squeezes her eyes shut tight, lets out a tiny, silent sigh. Then she goes back to soft murmurs and slow movements underneath him.
He makes love slowly – not just tender but tentative, as if he's afraid at any moment she'll call the whole thing off, even though she's the one guiding him through every movement. When he's kissing her cunt he could still be talking about strawberries at the market. He's careful, conscientious, unhurried, and she lets him know that he's doing it right. He only starts to lose control when his prick is buried inside her, and she's yelling, Let go, Merlin, like that, let me, yes.
When it's over he lies down next to her, gives her room to breathe, and she kisses him and thanks him again before she says, "Let me go wash up," and steps over to the washroom adjoining the bedroom.
He lies down on the bed and waits for her.
There's not much to look at in the little room, just the bed, two chairs and the table. There's print hanging on the wall by the door, a painting of children catching butterflies. A shelf by the bed with a vase of purple wildflowers, a glass of water and four paracetamol tablets. On the shelf below that, a dozen novels, two pens and a notebook.
He reaches for the notebook – a journal – and turns over a few pages. There's nothing written on them, just the dates at the top of each page crossed off.
He's still holding it open when she comes back and lies down next to him.
"You never write in this anymore," he says.
"No, well. Not a lot to tell. My life's not too exciting these days."
She might be teasing, but he's hesitant and quiet as he asks, "You're not still upset that I read it?"
She pauses and thinks for a moment. "Well, it's like you said when I found out, isn't it? You gave it to me, so I shouldn't have been surprised when you wanted to read it later."
He nods in agreement and she takes hold of his hand.
"Never mind that," she says, "let's talk about the future. I think we ought to do something different one of these days. Give me something to write about. Maybe we could go out and pick strawberries together sometime. Do you think there are any growing by that lake you told me about?"
He shrugs.
"Do you still think we might go there?"
"Yeah," he says, "we will, soon, I promise." With an uneasy smile he adds, "Just as soon as I know I can trust you."
She laughs softly. "You trust me enough to take me to bed but not to take me out to the country, or even to go for a walk? I miss the fresh air, you know."
His smile fades. "The last time we went out you tried to leave."
She reaches for him, brushes the hair back from his forehead, and kisses him on the mouth. He lets her do it but doesn't take it deeper. "That was almost two months ago," she says. "We're getting along so much better now, don't you think?"
She puts a hand on his thigh. He lets her. He says nothing.
"I know it hurt your feelings when I tried to go," she says, soothing him. "I'm sorry about that. I was…I was just thinking about myself, and I didn't realise you cared so much. I didn't want to hurt you, even though I didn't know you well then, not like I do now. But I still…I still wonder, are you planning to keep me in this room forever?"
"No!" he says, turning to lean over her and glare. She only draws back a little, lets her hands go still on his skin but doesn't pull away. He won't strike her. "I told you, we just need a little more time. For you to get to know me better, and then you'll actually want to be with me, and it won't be all this talk about…keeping you here."
She nods. "I want to get to know you better too," she says, carefully. "But I still think it would be easier for us to be friends if I could also see my family."
"Why do you always do this, Freya?" he pleads. His voice is loud and fragile in the small space.
"What am I doing wrong?"
"You…you make it out like I'm doing something wrong, but I'm not. I rescued you! If I hadn't, that man –"
"Brian wasn't –"
"And I take care of you." She bites her tongue and doesn't try to argue as he goes on. "I give you shelter, clothes, I bring you food, all these books, everything you ask for!"
"Even strawberries," she says affectionately. "That's all true. I've never been hungry in all the time I've been here. You kept me warm here all through the winter. Thank you for that. It wasn't…." She hesitates, softens her voice yet again as she continues, "I never asked you to do any of those things, but I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I know you want what's best for me. But I think, if you could even take a message to my mum, just to let her know I'm all right, that I haven't forgotten abou –"
"I never hurt you," he says.
She doesn't nod this time, though she keeps his gaze.
"You hurt your arm at the beginning, when you…when you first came here. But I took care of you and you got better. And when you tried to run away it was…I wasn't trying to hurt you, I just couldn't let you leave."
"I know, Merlin."
"Please don't ever do that again." He touches her face gently. She swallows and licks her lip.
"Promise, Freya. I made you a promise that I wouldn't let that man or anyone else hurt you. Why can't you –"
"Have you told anyone else about me?" she interrupts, ignoring his scowl. "What about Arthur, or Gaius? You always say Gaius is –"
"I told you, I can't talk to them about this. Those people, outside…they're not like us. They wouldn't understand."
"All right, maybe the people at your job wouldn't, but what about your mother? She may not be like us, but she cares about you. She wants you to do what's right. I want to know what she'd think of this. Have you told her?"
"I'll tell her when it's time," he says. "When you're ready to go with me to see her."
"When I'm…ready to marry you, you mean? And we'll move out to that house you used to talk about?"
He nods.
"All right. That's…I know I said no before, but maybe that time's not so far off. Your mother sounds like a wonderful woman. I'd like to meet her."
"You will, but not yet. You don't love me yet, not for real. You're just pretending." He pulls up her chin and cocks his head to the side to study her face as he asks, "Did you think I couldn't tell?"
She swallows a few times, fear and surprise in her eyes for the first time since he came in. "I'm sorry, Merlin. I thought it would help if I –"
"Oh, don't worry, I'm not angry." He sits up and draws back, his movements surer now. "I can tell you're trying. You weren't at first, but you are now. It does help, and it doesn't matter that you're still lying most of the time. If you practice long enough, even if it feels funny at first, it becomes real. My mum taught me that."
She stares at him. She's run out of things to say.
"I'll bring you supper at seven," he says. "Just like always." He pats her shoulder as he stands up.
There's no clock in the room. She nods once, but he's turned his back and doesn't look at her again as he goes out.
She watches the lock turn, listens to the steps fade away up the stairs. She lies down on the bed and lets go of her tears.
Notes: Another pass at the "confined/caged" square of my![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kink_bingo card. I've been meaning to write this fic for a long time! Thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
claudia603 for looking over an earlier version of this for me.
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Merlin/Freya
Word count: 1900
Rating: R
Warnings: Dark, consent issues (highlight for details) Merlin is holding Freya captive, so the sex is coerced (although not in this instance violent).
Summary: Modern (or mid-20th-century) AU - Merlin brings Freya a present.
Author's notes at the end of the story.
The woman on the bed sits up at the sound of the door opening, sets her book on the pillow and her feet on the floor, tucks her hair behind her ear.
The man who enters is grinning, holding one hand behind his back, like he's got a secret he can't wait to share.
"Guess what I brought you," he says.
"Oh, I don't know! I haven't asked you to bring anything special, and I don't think it would be another book again so soon. Maybe something to eat?"
He nods encouragingly.
"We already had lunch," she says, "and I don't think it's time for supper yet, plus it must be something small…and I won't guess any more than that."
"Close your eyes?"
After only a brief hesitation she does so. He sits on the little wooden chair facing the bed and she leans forward, towards him. She doesn't flinch when he touches her lip with his thumb, just opens her mouth slightly. He puts the fruit in her mouth and she moans softly as she bites it off. When she opens her eyes he's watching her closely, savouring the look on her face as much as she's savouring the taste.
"Strawberries," she says once she's had a chance to swallow. "That's so kind of you, Merlin. Thank you for remembering."
"Of course," he says, ducking his head, almost shy.
Picking up another strawberry from the bowl in his hands, she adds, "I wasn't even thinking about it, but it's May, isn't it? It must be lovely outside."
His smile freezes in place for a moment, but then he relaxes and nods. "I'm sorry I couldn't bring them before, when you asked."
"That's all right, not your fault it was winter." She smiles, waits for him to look up at her again. "You're going to eat some too, aren't you?"
When they finish he sets the bowl on the table behind him and comes to sit next to her on the bed. She brings her feet up and nuzzles close to him. He puts an arm around her and leans in to kiss her temple.
"You're so sweet, so good to me," she murmurs. "You always bring me sweet things. I like it when you come and talk to me…and when you stay."
"I'm sorry I can't keep you company more of the time. I still have to go to work…"
"Of course, you know I wouldn't blame you for that."
"I like being with you, Freya."
She sits closer to him, puts her legs around his hips and kisses him on the mouth, pulling him towards her. She guides his hand to the front of her dress and together they start undoing the buttons. It takes some time – there are buttons all the way down to her knees – but they kiss and laugh and smile and touch as they go, and then she's lying in her underwear with the dress open underneath her like a sheet, and she spreads her legs and lets him play, kissing her belly and down her hip, slowly peeling off her knickers.
She plays with his hair. She looks up at the ceiling and squeezes her eyes shut tight, lets out a tiny, silent sigh. Then she goes back to soft murmurs and slow movements underneath him.
He makes love slowly – not just tender but tentative, as if he's afraid at any moment she'll call the whole thing off, even though she's the one guiding him through every movement. When he's kissing her cunt he could still be talking about strawberries at the market. He's careful, conscientious, unhurried, and she lets him know that he's doing it right. He only starts to lose control when his prick is buried inside her, and she's yelling, Let go, Merlin, like that, let me, yes.
When it's over he lies down next to her, gives her room to breathe, and she kisses him and thanks him again before she says, "Let me go wash up," and steps over to the washroom adjoining the bedroom.
He lies down on the bed and waits for her.
There's not much to look at in the little room, just the bed, two chairs and the table. There's print hanging on the wall by the door, a painting of children catching butterflies. A shelf by the bed with a vase of purple wildflowers, a glass of water and four paracetamol tablets. On the shelf below that, a dozen novels, two pens and a notebook.
He reaches for the notebook – a journal – and turns over a few pages. There's nothing written on them, just the dates at the top of each page crossed off.
He's still holding it open when she comes back and lies down next to him.
"You never write in this anymore," he says.
"No, well. Not a lot to tell. My life's not too exciting these days."
She might be teasing, but he's hesitant and quiet as he asks, "You're not still upset that I read it?"
She pauses and thinks for a moment. "Well, it's like you said when I found out, isn't it? You gave it to me, so I shouldn't have been surprised when you wanted to read it later."
He nods in agreement and she takes hold of his hand.
"Never mind that," she says, "let's talk about the future. I think we ought to do something different one of these days. Give me something to write about. Maybe we could go out and pick strawberries together sometime. Do you think there are any growing by that lake you told me about?"
He shrugs.
"Do you still think we might go there?"
"Yeah," he says, "we will, soon, I promise." With an uneasy smile he adds, "Just as soon as I know I can trust you."
She laughs softly. "You trust me enough to take me to bed but not to take me out to the country, or even to go for a walk? I miss the fresh air, you know."
His smile fades. "The last time we went out you tried to leave."
She reaches for him, brushes the hair back from his forehead, and kisses him on the mouth. He lets her do it but doesn't take it deeper. "That was almost two months ago," she says. "We're getting along so much better now, don't you think?"
She puts a hand on his thigh. He lets her. He says nothing.
"I know it hurt your feelings when I tried to go," she says, soothing him. "I'm sorry about that. I was…I was just thinking about myself, and I didn't realise you cared so much. I didn't want to hurt you, even though I didn't know you well then, not like I do now. But I still…I still wonder, are you planning to keep me in this room forever?"
"No!" he says, turning to lean over her and glare. She only draws back a little, lets her hands go still on his skin but doesn't pull away. He won't strike her. "I told you, we just need a little more time. For you to get to know me better, and then you'll actually want to be with me, and it won't be all this talk about…keeping you here."
She nods. "I want to get to know you better too," she says, carefully. "But I still think it would be easier for us to be friends if I could also see my family."
"Why do you always do this, Freya?" he pleads. His voice is loud and fragile in the small space.
"What am I doing wrong?"
"You…you make it out like I'm doing something wrong, but I'm not. I rescued you! If I hadn't, that man –"
"Brian wasn't –"
"And I take care of you." She bites her tongue and doesn't try to argue as he goes on. "I give you shelter, clothes, I bring you food, all these books, everything you ask for!"
"Even strawberries," she says affectionately. "That's all true. I've never been hungry in all the time I've been here. You kept me warm here all through the winter. Thank you for that. It wasn't…." She hesitates, softens her voice yet again as she continues, "I never asked you to do any of those things, but I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I know you want what's best for me. But I think, if you could even take a message to my mum, just to let her know I'm all right, that I haven't forgotten abou –"
"I never hurt you," he says.
She doesn't nod this time, though she keeps his gaze.
"You hurt your arm at the beginning, when you…when you first came here. But I took care of you and you got better. And when you tried to run away it was…I wasn't trying to hurt you, I just couldn't let you leave."
"I know, Merlin."
"Please don't ever do that again." He touches her face gently. She swallows and licks her lip.
"Promise, Freya. I made you a promise that I wouldn't let that man or anyone else hurt you. Why can't you –"
"Have you told anyone else about me?" she interrupts, ignoring his scowl. "What about Arthur, or Gaius? You always say Gaius is –"
"I told you, I can't talk to them about this. Those people, outside…they're not like us. They wouldn't understand."
"All right, maybe the people at your job wouldn't, but what about your mother? She may not be like us, but she cares about you. She wants you to do what's right. I want to know what she'd think of this. Have you told her?"
"I'll tell her when it's time," he says. "When you're ready to go with me to see her."
"When I'm…ready to marry you, you mean? And we'll move out to that house you used to talk about?"
He nods.
"All right. That's…I know I said no before, but maybe that time's not so far off. Your mother sounds like a wonderful woman. I'd like to meet her."
"You will, but not yet. You don't love me yet, not for real. You're just pretending." He pulls up her chin and cocks his head to the side to study her face as he asks, "Did you think I couldn't tell?"
She swallows a few times, fear and surprise in her eyes for the first time since he came in. "I'm sorry, Merlin. I thought it would help if I –"
"Oh, don't worry, I'm not angry." He sits up and draws back, his movements surer now. "I can tell you're trying. You weren't at first, but you are now. It does help, and it doesn't matter that you're still lying most of the time. If you practice long enough, even if it feels funny at first, it becomes real. My mum taught me that."
She stares at him. She's run out of things to say.
"I'll bring you supper at seven," he says. "Just like always." He pats her shoulder as he stands up.
There's no clock in the room. She nods once, but he's turned his back and doesn't look at her again as he goes out.
She watches the lock turn, listens to the steps fade away up the stairs. She lies down on the bed and lets go of her tears.
Notes: Another pass at the "confined/caged" square of my
kink_bingo card. I've been meaning to write this fic for a long time! Thanks to claudia603 for looking over an earlier version of this for me.
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