I laughed so hard when I saw it. I mean, I know it was to challenge all of the A/M writers out there to try something new, since they take up such a huge corner of the fandom, but for me, where I prefer having a minor character in the relationship, it was just kind of silly.
So I wrote more Arthur/Percival, lol.
TITLE: One Rule
WORD COUNT: 748
WARNINGS: Rimming, condoned cheating.
SUMMARY: Modern AU. Percival only has one rule when it comes to sex. Except when he breaks it.
NOTES: Written for challenge 4 at summerpornathon, where we needed to write from the POV of a minor character.
DISCLAIMER: The characters depicted herein belong to Shine and BBC. I make no profit from this endeavor.
When it comes to sex, Percival has one rule. No married men. Not because the sex isn’t fantastic—it is, married men are so desperate for cock, they make the best sluts—but because he hates the guilt.
Arthur isn’t wearing a ring when they meet. At Merlin and Gwaine’s anniversary party. At the gayest bar in Soho.
That’s a valid defense of his actions…isn’t it?
Arthur isn’t dancing like the others, instead sitting at the bar nursing a beer, chatting and smiling and looking so damn delicious, Percival has to constantly adjust his hard-on. The one time he catches Arthur glancing in his direction, he makes sure he’s not quite so discreet about it.
Five minutes later, the gents’ door swings open.
“Bit loud out there,” Arthur says, not quite capable of lifting his eyes higher than Percival’s chest.
Percival leans against the edge of the sink. It brings him closer to Arthur’s level—toilets are great for the intimidation factor, not so hot for putting nervous guys at ease.
Arthur glances down. His nostrils flare and the tip of his tongue appears when it swipes over his lower lip.
Percival tries not to grin. His stance also puts the long bulge of his erection on prominent display.
“Lock the door,” he instructs. Arthur obeys after just a moment’s hesitation. “Now on your knees.”
This second command is met with more resistance, Arthur’s brows drawing together into a frown, his hand lingering on the door handle. For a second, Percival wonders if he read him wrong, but then Arthur swallows, shudders once, lets his arm drop back to his side.
“Look…” But Arthur’s voice fades away, failing or whatnot, and that’s when Percival susses it out, that he’s still fresh, maybe newly come out or off a recent break, and he wants this badly enough to ignore his reservations.
Straightening, Percival walks around Arthur and bends down to lick across his sweaty nape. Arthur groans, and his shoulders tremble, his head dropping to expose more skin to Percival’s tongue. He complies, gladly, taking away each salty drop, inhaling the musky scent of a man desperate from the want of it. His arms steal around the broad chest to draw Arthur closer, back to front, muscle to muscle, and it feels so good, this time the trembling is mutual.
“How about I get on my knees first?” he whispers.
Arthur’s moan sounds like assent. The way his hands mold over Percival’s to undo his jeans and shove them down to his ankles is definitely a yes.
Percival slides down, taking his time to map his hands over the hard body the clothes had hidden away. Arthur’s cock is thick and throbbing, the head wet with pre-come when he fists it and pulls the foreskin back to play with the slit.
But that’s not what Percival wants right now, not what he meant at all. Arthur’s ass has been calling to him from the moment he saw it, and he finally can bury his face between the full cheeks, breathing him in, tracing his tongue down the crack to the tiny clenching hole.
“Oh, fuck,” Arthur hisses. He grabs the edge of the sink, angling forward, spreading wider for Percival’s hungry mouth. Then comes… “Please.” And Percival can’t say no, because really, that’s the most perfect word in the entire English language.
He licks up and down, around the opening and over, letting the coarse hairs tickle his cheeks and tongue. When he uses his thumbs to dig into Arthur’s quivering ass, he has to sit back enough to watch the pucker tighten then relax, because the promise of it all has his cock aching, his mouth watering to eat him for hours to come.
He doesn’t get hours. Within two minutes of his tongue plunging inside, Arthur strokes his cock twice and shoots all over the sink.
Percival folds over his back, soothing his hands up and down Arthur’s arms to calm him down.
“Sorry,” Arthur mutters. “I haven’t been with another bloke since before I got married.”
Percival freezes. Fuck. “You’re married?”
“Not that that stopped her from getting a girlfriend.”
So this is revenge. Even worse.
When he tries to let Arthur go, however, Arthur stops him. “It’s not what you think. We agreed we could each have this. Just ask Merlin.” And then, “Please.”
It’s also the most powerful word. Because it convinces him to break his one rule.
And it’s Arthur.