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“I don’t think this is what Aziraphale had in mind when he asked you to take care of his bookshop while he’s gone,” Arthur manages to pant out, his breath hitching several times as Merlin lets his imagination lead his hands in winding the thick ropes around Arthur’s body.
“Nothing wrong with having a bit of fun,” Merlin says, sending a tendril of his magic to guide the other end of the rope secured to Arthur’s arms through a metal circle with a triskelion inside. “We’re not endangering any books. I even put the rug aside.”
The rope loops over the metal and pulls down, forcing Arthur to his tiptoes without any previous warning. Merlin doesn’t let him lose his balance, keeping his hands on Arthur’s hips to steady him while he gets used to his current fate.
“Right over the summoning circle though?” Arthur gasps out, squirming as Merlin slowly drags his hands up his sides, tracing the ropes, teasing the skin amongst them.
“How else would I send a symbolic fuck you to those bastards upstairs?” Merlin asks, dropping his right hand to Arthur’s underbelly, resting it right above the base of Arthur’s hard cock, playing with the hair he finds there. “There will be nothing symbolic about what will happen to you though.”
He tugs sharply at the hair he was lovingly caressing just a second before. Arthur yelps and sways away from the attack, pressing himself right against Merlin’s bare chest. Merlin wraps his left arm around him before Arthur can sway forward and lose his footing. He tugs at the hair some more with less force, loving every single sound escaping Arthur’s throat.
“I bet you’re clenching around that toy buried inside you, wishing it filled you more,” Merlin says, letting go of the hair and trailing one fingertip alongside the hard length of Arthur’s cock.
Arthur’s answer is a wanton moan and a twitch of his cock.
“I bet you want me to squeeze every last drop of cum out of you,” Merlin says, accompanying his words by grabbing Arthur’s balls and squeezing hard enough to make Arthur whine and trash in Merlin’s hold, losing his footing for several seconds of mindless flailing.
Yet precome drips from the tip of Arthur’s cock in direct contradiction to his display of suffering.
“I’ll grant you what you wish for, but it will come at a cost of more pain,” Merlin says, pressing a kiss to the bare skin of Arthur’s back. “Do you accept?”
“Yes!” Arthur cries out. “Please, I need your cock.”
“No, that was not the deal,” Merlin says, smiling and pressing one more kiss to Arthur’s back. “You’ll get my cock when I want to give it to you.”
He sends his magic to the dildo buried in Arthur’s hole and nudges it to grow to thrice its original width, feeling Arthur’s groan at the sudden stretch reverberating through his own chest where they are pressed together.
The magic begins to move the toy, shifting from slow pace to punishingly fast in under a minute. The dildo drags over Merlin’s clothed cock every single time it slides out of Arthur’s body, the imperfect friction a delicious form of sweet torture.
He calls more magic to his fingertips, lets it produce zaps of electricity as he trails his hand over Arthur’s torso. Arthur’s moans of pain and pleasure fill the space, his pleading for more, for respite, for release growing more desperate with each passing minute.
When he finally decides to grant Arthur mercy, the magic’s aim turns precise, the dildo stimulating Arthur’s prostate with each stroke. Merlin wraps his hand around Arthur’s cock, moves it in time with the magic’s pace. The rope keeping Arthur’s on his tiptoes lifts him clean off the ground, making him panic and kick his feet around for a few moments before he succumbs to his fate, his head hanging back, his mouth open as he pants in exertion while the combined internal and external stimulation drags him towards his release.
He’s silent when he tumbles over the edge, the pearly white drops of his come spraying all over the symbols painted on the floor, his body convulsing in Merlin’s hold, his abdominal muscles contracting and expanding under Merlin’s hand. Only when the aftershocks set in does his voice come back, tiny moans of pleasure and relief shifting into breathy gasps of mounting discomfort.
He sends his magic to wrap around Arthur. The rope holding Arthur in the air lowers him back down to his feet, allows his still bound arms to drop down in front of him. He guides Arthur’s head to his shoulder as he breathes through the pins and needles of the blood rushing back to his arms.
“Alright?” he whispers, getting a nod in response.
He ignores his painfully hard cock for now, concentrating on Arthur and his comfort, knowing there’s no need to rush. They have hours, days even, to play.
“Do you think Aziraphale will know what we did here?” Arthur asks, a smile audible in his voice.
“Doubt it,” Merlin says, a grin slipping on his own lips. “Though I bet Crowley will know the second he opens the door.”