Writers Block

Merlin didn’t go back to the bar for almost three weeks. Something akin to shame washed over him each time he almost pulled into the car-park, or was it something more primal? He couldn’t believe what he’d written down in his notepad about the bartender; he couldn’t believe it the forty times he’d re-read it since either. Okay – it was closer to seventy times.

He tried to tell himself it was just a little free-writing, nothing to get too worked up over and he almost had himself believing it too. Until he sat down at his computer to do a new piece on a lovely country town he’d visited the week before and came up blank. He couldn’t write a word, everything began with the blonde lady at the post office, or the blonde men on the wharf – hell, he even tried writing about the blonde in his bed again – but nothing. He was blocked.

There was only one thing for it – he had to go back to the bar – for professional reasons of course. If he couldn’t write - his entire existence would cease to exist. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact Merlin couldn’t figure out whether the barman’s hair really was the colour of gold or if it was the trick of the lights.

He entered the darkness of the bar and glanced at his watch, it was only four in the afternoon. He hoped nobody thought he had a drinking problem coming in as early as this, but he needn’t have worried, the place was once again busy. This time he didn’t run into any objects or trip over at the door, although his heart was racing and he wasn’t sure why. Maybe he shouldn’t have had the extra serve of jalapenos with his Mexican for lunch that day – he was probably suffering heart burn, yes – that’s what the feeling in his chest was.

The heart burn increased ten-fold as he reached the bar, and just as he thought he’d have to order an antacid instead of a beer, a small dark haired woman came up to get his order.
Merlin stood there like a fish, mouth opening and closing a few times. The girl asked him again for his order, but Merlin came up blank – where was the annoying, arrogant bartender?

“Toilets?” he asked instead.

“Oh, down the side there, end of corridor on the right.”

Merlin nodded his thanks and walked stiffly in the direction the woman had pointed. Why in hell was he acting like a tool? Was the fact the blonde man wasn’t working today enough to rattle Merlin so much? Obviously it had, he’d spent three weeks avoiding the place like a plague and when he finally came in to face his problem, he had the audacity to have time off. What a dick.

As Merlin walked down the long corridor he noticed one side of it was completely glass and on the other side was an outdoor bar, it was nestled in a large back area, clearly set out for smokers. But whoever had taken over the bar had an eye for perfection; they had somehow made it feel like a small hidden forest was just a few metres away. The walls had black tree motifs stencilled onto the stark white walls; large ferns in huge pots lined the area and small trendy dark wicker furniture with cushions took up the rest of the space – it was beautiful.

A few patrons were outside, and as Merlin pushed on the toilet door he saw him. The barman was sitting at a tall bench alone, reading a book while eating a plate of sandwiches. He was on a break Merlin realised, a second later he found himself still standing in one spot, a foot inside of the bathroom and the door was half open. Merlin had literally stopped in his tracks. It was at this moment the blonde looked up and their eyes met.

Suddenly a smirk took over the blonde’s features and Merlin like a complete dolt flipped him the bird. The shock on the man’s face was apparent just before Merlin saw him laugh like he hadn’t for years. Merlin felt himself flush crimson again and he finally managed to get his feet to work and went into the bathroom. What was wrong with him, apart from the obvious, of course? There was no reason for this person to make Merlin feel so…out of sorts.

He made it back to the bar and ordered a lager from the girl and sat at the same table he had earlier in the month. It was still comfier than his couch. He saw no sign of the blonde as he pulled out his notepad and sat back, pen in hand. Merlin needed to free write again and now he was back at the place it had all started to go pear-shaped he hoped he could get back on track. He sat there, finished his drink and looked at the blank page, he got another lager and sat down again and looked around at the other patrons, his page still remained blank.

“You’re a rude prick, you know?”

Merlin started, spilling some of his beer as a body slid into the chair before him. A wide smile and crinkled blue eyes greeted him when he finally looked up after wiping the excess beer from his leg. Frowning, Merlin raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not the one who sat down uninvited.”

He had to give the barman credit - he didn’t flinch, just grinned wider. This man before Merlin was too handsome, too cocky and had lips begging for a cock to slide past their almost pout-like plumpness – where the fuck had that thought come from? And why was he sitting here with Merlin? Although Merlin knew he was far from ugly, the usual type who found him attractive were more like him – a little alternative, lean and nerdy. The man, whose name tag was once again frustratingly obstructed, was extremely out of his league.

“Yes, but I need to make amends, you did threaten to complain to my boss after all.” The blonde sat back and placed his hands behind his head, which sent Merlin’s brain into short-circuit mode as a slender slice of skin showed under his shirt which rode up. Merlin focused his eyes on the Guinness logo on the blonde’s breast pocket and took a deep slow breath in trying to get images of a fireman licking his fingers from his thoughts.

“And how is annoying me making amends?” Merlin said in a voice an octave higher than he would have liked. He took another gulp of beer.

“It’s a skill I picked up. Mr Men, hey?”

It took a moment for Merlin to realise the blonde was indicting towards his left hand, the hand he’d almost severed with a sheath of paper in the office today. The nurse had once again fallen through with any form of adult band aid; he was beginning to believe she did this on purpose.

“Paper-cuts can be serious,” Merlin blurted before thinking, still fantasising on other skills this man may have. Oh God, he was a moron, this crazy good looking barman would now slowly back away, then make a run for it. Instead he watched as the blonde laughed and shook his head like Merlin was funny – he wasn’t, he was just slightly inept in social situations.

“What’s your name? Clumsy, though accurate just doesn’t have a nice ring to it.” The blonde was looking at Merlin expectantly, he was more than just cocky and arrogant – he was extremely confident and for once Merlin was finding it a turn on. Although if Merlin thought about it seriously this guy was just a local barman, he wasn’t trying to pick Merlin up, if anything he was trying to drum up business. But it was a good way to find out his name, not that he needed it or anything like that - he still quite liked calling out Ryan Gosling’s name when wanking.

“Merlin…”

“Merlin….suits you.”

“You don’t have to say it like that,” Merlin felt that same old ball of anger burst into flame, was this man mocking his name? “And what’s yours, bloody Sir Prat of Prattsville, the next King of England?”

“Arthur, we need you.” The small girl yelled out across the now crowded bar.

Arthur turned back to an almost blushing Merlin, “Close, but not quite. Nice to meet you officially, Merlin.”

With another infuriating wink, the blonde had pushed back and left Merlin sitting alone feeling slightly like he thought a twelve year old boy would have after meeting Justin Bieber for the first time. Slightly shocked, a little in awe and ready to pin up a secret poster behind his bedroom door – or roof…

He watched surreptitiously as Arthur strode in behind the bar like he owned the place and sorted out the waiting customers. He was good at his job and after another fifteen minutes of staring and not writing, Merlin got annoyed. He needed to do what he came for, he needed to write and he needed to get this strange feeling in his chest to disappear. What he felt like doing though, was to put Arthur in his place. There was only one way he could gain the upper hand - on paper. Merlin picked up his pen, took another sip of beer and started.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Merlin looked out over the training ring and felt a small tug which almost morphed into a smile. His Gladiators were fighting well today; beyond well. They trained hard, fought harder and if they died, they died like Gods. He’d never really wanted to run his own house, The House of Emrys, but his father had died suddenly when he was only 21 and suddenly Merlin had his own dojo. Over the last eight years he’d become a good master, not too lenient but not brutal as he had seen some masters be to their slaves.

One fighter in particular caught his eye this day, a relatively new addition to his house; the man’s muscled back gleamed with sweat in the afternoon sunlight. Merlin found his eyes more oft than not wandering over Arthur’s lithe form as he wielded his sword and wooden shield. He fought like a man possessed when cornered. His one downfall – he was an arrogant cocky slave. Merlin on more than one occasion had to show Arthur who was the master and who was the slave – it always made Merlin feel a little discomforted and slightly hot afterwards.

“I think Arthur is ready.”

Merlin turned to see his master of arms standing slightly behind him to the left, Merlin indicated he could move forward and Percival’s large frame paused before offering a small polite bow. The men who worked for The House of Emrys had much respect for their master. He was never too harsh, he fed them well, clothed, cleaned and let the men have free reign of the compound, not locked them away like animals. It was because of this, the men fought harder and his house was one Gladiator’s all over aspired to join.

“Ready for what, a smack under the ear for his impertinence?” Merlin felt that smile wanting to break free over his petulant fighter, he hid it well.

“The Arena, Master. He needs to get his sword bloodied.”

Looking down at the men coming into formation for his inspection he inclined his head. “Perhaps, Percival - let me think of a suitable opponent.”

Percival nodded and led the way to the training floor. The sand was hot under Merlin’s bare feet, and his thin cotton sheath which was draped over his shoulder and fastened at the hip seemed almost unbearably warm in the sun. He didn’t know how some of the men hadn’t fainted – but they were quite clearly tougher than him. Although Merlin had taken it upon himself to learn the art of fighting – he just didn’t let many people know of this. No one had ever mentioned his toned arms and muscular thighs which he was quietly proud of. Though next to his Gladiators he was positively tiny, not in height but of build.

Smiling warmly at his men he slapped a few on the back, congratulating them on a good session. He never missed one and he always gave praise when warranted, the men seemed to appreciate his effort too. A few shy smiles and bawdy remarks were bandied around, but it was all in jest. When he got to Arthur, Merlin stopped and looked him dead in the eye – Arthur did not drop his gaze as was protocol. Merlin felt a thrill run through him at this man’s defiance.

Percival smacked Arthur on the back of his knees with a wooden sword, forcing the fighter to kneel - his gaze never left Merlin’s face. Smirking, Arthur let his gaze slowly travel down Merlin’s form, lingering on the slight bulge of his cock, almost visible through the thin cotton. Merlin felt his prick twitch at the look and knew he was in trouble with this one.

He continued with his inspection then let the men go clean up, ready for the dinner he was holding. He would be showing off his Gladiator’s tonight, in readiness of the fights that weekend. It was the least satisfying part to his job – schmoozing with the other House Masters and their followers.
Before Percival left to supervise the men, he grabbed his shoulder.

“Send Arthur to my Library – he needs a lesson in manners.”

“Of course,” Percival smiled back, knowing Merlin could make a man quake in his boots without lifting a hand. Arthur wouldn’t know what hit him.

Sitting back against his wooden chair Merlin felt something stir in his stomach – was he nervous about this one-on-one meeting with his Gladiator Arthur? It wasn’t the first time he’d had Arthur come to his library for a hard lesson on who was boss – but he’d always had Percival or another Gladiator to keep it civil. Somehow he knew Arthur was going to continually push the boundaries and he wasn’t sure on how to keep him in line.

The door clicked open and Merlin watched as Arthur was let in, he stood to attention about a metre away from the desk Merlin was sitting behind. For once his eyes did not rest on Merlin, but straight ahead as a good slave should. Frowning slightly, Merlin stood up and walked around to the other side of the stone table and leant against it casually.

They were completely alone and Merlin felt a small tingling up his spine, knowing this strong man could in all honesty snap his neck with a flick of his wrist. But Merlin trusted his Gladiators, even this new one – he’d never have let him in his house if he hadn’t been sure on what man Arthur proclaimed to be. But his defiance could not be tolerated before the other men – Merlin may be smaller but he was definitely not weak. He sighed as he wondered how to approach this arrogant man.

“Do I not feed you?” Merlin asked with a gesture of his hand.

“Yes, Master.”

“Do I not keep a roof over your head?”

“Yes, Master.” Arthur’s voice was deep and respectful; it was
not what Merlin expected.

“Do I not make sure you are well clothed and cared for?”

“Yes, Master.”

Merlin thought he saw the smallest flicker of amusement in Arthur’s eye, but he could not be sure. Running a hand through his hair Merlin stood up straight and came closer to the blonde. “Then what is your issue here? Do I not see to your every need?”

“No, Master - you do not.” Arthur’s voice had deepened and
Merlin looked at him in shock, he was still looking up at the wall behind him. “Not my every need.”

The temperature soared as Merlin looked at the Gladiator before him, blue eyes flicked towards Merlin’s slightly parted lips. It was only a fleeting glance but it felt like Arthur had touched him.

“I give you whores after each round of fights - do you dare question my generosity?” Merlin had to get this conversation back to safer ground, else he do something reckless.

“No Master – but it is not whores which make my cock hard each time I glance at them, nor is it the whores I think on when I fuck my own hand in my rooms. My cock craves just one hole, a hole I want to dominate and own.”

Merlin took one shaky step back, his newest Gladiator had an
unpolished mouth, one which was making his own prick harder than rock under his cotton sheath. “You outstep your boundaries – a Gladiator is a slave – he owns nothing.”

“In name, I can own nothing – I know this well. But, in sex I can own a person’s pleasure – I can with-hold their seed, make them beg and tear them apart – all with my tongue.”

Palming himself quickly as he turned his back on Arthur,
Merlin stifled a groan at the blonde’s impertinent words and vivid imagery. He prayed to his Gods for guidance and when he took in a shaky breath he turned around. Arthur still stood straight yet with one difference. His engorged cock jutted out proudly from his loin cloth. It was bold and brawny, just like its master.

Merlin took one step forward and grasped Arthur’s dick and squeezed hard, his Gladiator didn’t flinch – he stood his ground and waited. When Merlin let his hand slide gently to the tip of his cock then back down to the base - the barest of shudders raced through the muscles on Arthur’s neck making Merlin smirk.

Going against his policy of not touching his fighters, Merlin pulled the clasp of Arthur’s cloth; it dropped to the floor exposing him in all his muscular glory. Running a hand over Arthur’s taut arse, he pushed against the sinew and tendons below the surface and realised even his buttocks were solid, it would be like fucking a God.

He let his fingers trail down the cleft of Arthur’s arse and he saw the small twitch one cheek gave as his finger rested against the pucker of his hole. He teased for a moment, pressing so very gently, feeling the small suction which made Merlin just want to bury his cock in there – but there would be time for that later.

Moving around to Arthur’s front again, he came face to face with the blonde, they were of a height – blue eyes still stared respectably over his shoulder. Before he over-thought his position, Merlin sank to his knees and heard a startled gasp from above him.

“Master, no – I meant for me to…” Arthur’s words were cut off as Merlin’s hot mouth wrapped itself around his hardness. It was almost more than a mouthful and Merlin found himself coating the blonde’s cock liberally with his saliva in order to slide it all the way to the back of his throat. It tasted delicious.

The crude sounds of sucking flooded the air of Merlin’s library, along with deep moans from the bottom of his stomach at having such a large cock in his mouth. Arthur’s hands never strayed from his side; they didn’t try and guide Merlin or try to touch him in any way. It seemed Merlin had found a way to tame his Gladiator.

He tightened his fist around Arthur’s cock and began to pump him while licking down the shaft. Tonguing his way back to the tip he let his tongue flick around the small hole on top eliciting a small sharp breath from the man above him.
Squeezing the shaft just below the head, Merlin held firm and continued to tongue him using hard strokes of his tongue. He felt a small pulse in Arthur’s hardness and the salty elixir of his seed teased Merlin’s tastebuds.

It only took another few sharp tugs for Arthur to quietly release his load into Merlin’s open mouth. Come spurted from the head snaking its way to the back of Merlin’s throat, he swallowed greedily, before releasing the Gladiator from his grip.

Blue eyes, as large as saucers greeted his gaze when Merlin stood, and he smirked. But before he could revel in the glory at finally making this cocky Gladiator quiet and amiable he found coarse hands ripping his cotton sheath off.

Warm air hit all of Merlin’s body as he was roughly spun around and pushed over his desk. Panic hit him for one second – had he misread the situation, did he not make it clear who was in control? Then he felt it. Reverent hands sliding up and down his back, over his bare arse and down his thighs, until Arthur fell on his knees behind him.

“I never thought – I just…wanted to please you, let me pleasure you.” The words were quiet and shaky, and Merlin knew he had Arthur exactly where he wanted him. His cheek rested against Merlin’s buttocks and he started to pepper small kisses to their flesh. Merlin’s cock went rigid immediately.

Merlin allowed himself to be held over the desk, it was quite submissive, but the feel of the cold stone against his exposed cock was electric. Two large hands pulled his cheeks apart and Merlin felt a slithering wetness coat his quivering hole. He let out a moan and felt himself push back against Arthur’s insatiable tongue. He pushed in an inch or two, teasing and wriggling, the sensation stiff and wet. Merlin growled as Arthur began to fuck him with his long hot tongue. He was coming undone all over his desk, pre-come smeared against the stone making small wet patches, but Merlin didn’t give a fuck. One of his Gladiators had his tongue shoved so far up his arsehole he was seeing stars – literally. As Arthur swirled further inside, Merlin felt a hand grasp his cock. It took all of three long hard strokes and Merlin came all over his desk.

~~~~~~~~~

“Can I entice your tastebuds?”

Merlin was ripped from his writing and looked up into blue eyes, holding out a plate of bar munchies. It took a few seconds for Merlin to realise he was fucking hard in his pants and that the only thing he wanted on his tastebuds was something a hell of a lot more saltier than the mini pies Arthur was offering. He hoped like anything the barman couldn’t tell in the dark corner that Merlin’s pants were tented. Swallowing thickly he spoke.

“Um, no thanks…” he coughed, because what came out sounded like a four year old boy. “I’m good.”

He looked down at his pad, and quickly turned over the page so only a blank piece of paper showed. He did not need Arthur to catch a glimpse of his name and then ask uncomfortable questions Merlin wasn’t sure how to answer.

“You sure, you’ve been here for a few hours?”

Merlin jerked his head towards the clock – hell it was after seven, he needed to get going. Standing up quickly he sat down almost immediately – shit, he was still hard.

“Maybe one pie then,” he conceded.

Arthur grinned and Merlin wanted to look away, because that cheeky smirk was not helping his pants problem. On the bright side the pie was delicious.

“Are you going to tell me what you’re furiously writing about yet?” Glancing up sharply Merlin saw Arthur raise his hands in surrender. “Okay, no problem – sorry to ask again, but, if you’re writing a best-selling novel I want royalties.”

“Why would you get royalties? And it’s something for work.” Merlin lied through his teeth – he could only imagine his publisher’s face if he handed up what his version of ‘whimsy’ was.

“Because it’s obvious I’m your muse.”

Merlin raised his eyebrow, “You are most certainly not my muse.” While frantically thinking, Arthur just might be his muse – this was a disaster, why in hell had he walked into this annoying little Irish pub in the first place?

“I was joking, no need to sound so offended. You need to lighten up, Merlin. Next time you’re in I’ll make you a special drink to relax with.”

"What makes you think I’ll be back?” Merlin snarked while putting away his things – blessedly his cock had decided to settle down finally.

“You will, I know these things. Drive safe.” Arthur patted Merlin on the shoulder as he walked on offering pies to other patrons. Merlin was aware of the touch long after Arthur had disappeared into the crowd.

As Merlin got into his car he remembered the reason for his writing tonight – he’d wanted to put Arthur in his place – how in hell did it turn around so Merlin was the submissive one? Resting his head on his steering wheel for a moment he knew with everything in his gut he shouldn’t come back to the bar again – he knew he would.