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The first time, it’s an accident. He’s got Merlin at his mercy, one of his legs threaded through Merlin’s long limbs, his one hand trailing its way over Merlin’s bare torso, the other splayed on Merlin’s back as he works his teeth and lips along the expanse of the man’s neck, from the hollow of his collarbone to just below the delightful curve of his ear. Merlin’s head is tossed back, providing him access to the line of pale flesh that torments him daily. He laves his way up and moves his teeth to Merlin’s earlobe, making the other man shudder and flail. (He loves it when Merlin flails, and makes it his goal every time.) In this flailing Merlin gropes for something to grab on to and the first thing he finds is the back of Arthur’s head. Those long fingers thread through his hair, and when Arthur swirls his tongue around the shell edge of Merlin’s ear they tighten, accidentally pulling his hair and pulling it hard.
Merlin’s eyes pop open immediately and he’s probably going to apologize, but the moan that Arthur lets out surprises both of them. Merlin’s fingers loosen in his hair, Arthur lifts his head from the curve of Merlin’s neck, and they stare at each other for a moment. Then Merlin, his lips quirking and his eyes lighting up, experimentally grasps a lock of blonde hair and tugs.
The breath rushes right out of Arthur as it sends electricity straight from his scalp to his groin. Merlin takes the opportunity to roll him over, and when Arthur makes to protest Merlin just pulls his hair again, grinning when his eyes flutter closed. “Well now,” Merlin says, his voice husky and hot on his skin. “Isn’t that interesting?”
“Shut up and do it again,” he gasps out.
Merlin is only too happy to comply.
And once Merlin figures out that he can render the prince panting and moaning with a little tug on his hair he uses it to his advantage all the time. When he’s dressing Arthur and settling his armor in place he’ll let his fingers graze up a little higher and grasp the hair at the nape of his neck and just give a quick little pull, enough that Arthur will feel himself flush and then Merlin will pull away, leaving him shifting uncomfortably in his armor and muttering under his breath about teasing servants who need to learn their place. Or, when he’s taking a bath—something that has become incredibly erotic ever since Merlin started staying in the room, pouring water over him and dragging soft wash cloths over his skin—Merlin will splay a hand over his skull and pull his hair until Arthur finally lets his neck bend back, at which point Merlin will cover his gasping lips with his own.
The best is when he has Merlin sprawled on his bed, when he licks his way down the lean planes of Merlin’s body and takes his cock into his mouth and Merlin’s hands slide into his hair. He bobs his head back and forth, lips sliding over the length of Merlin’s cock according to the pace that Merlin sets, letting the pull of his hair and the exquisite mixture of pleasure and pain that makes his own cock absolutely ache guide him. Merlin bucks and thrusts upwards into his mouth and pulls harder; in turn Arthur moans and hums around the cock in his mouth and they fall into a pattern as Arthur swirls his tongue faster and Merlin thrusts and pulls his hair the hardest as he spills himself into Arthur’s mouth. Dizzy black spots swirl in front of Arthur’s eyes as he swallows, as Merlin’s fingers hold tight on his hair and his own cock is so hard that he’s going to explode at any minute. Tugging on his hair, Merlin pulls him up the length of his body, so that they fit together, so that their lips press together and Merlin licks the remnants of his own semen from Arthur’s mouth, his hand curling around Arthur’s cock. Merlin strokes, pulls, and as the electric pain from his scalp mixes with the shuddering pleasure, Arthur tumbles over the edge of his own orgasm. And afterwards, when they both lay spent on the slightly sticky sheets, Merlin cards his fingers gently through blonde hair and Arthur tries not to purr.