bakerstreet | Alpha/Beta/Omega Meme

Alpha/Beta/Omega Meme

THE ALPHA/BETA/OMEGA MEME

In our world, sexual roles are commonly defined by genders -- male or female or other, by sexualities -- gay or straight, bi or asexual or in-between. But what if they were defined by something else entirely?

Alpha/Beta/Omegaverse is a fusion of fanfiction tropes and animalistic behavior. In this world, sexual roles are divided into three categories: the Alphas (the dominant, the protective and the aggressive), the Betas (ordinary humans) and the Omegas (submissive, fertile and able to carry children).

RESOURCES:
Fanlore on the Alpha/Beta/Omegaverse
Alphas, Betas and Omegas: A primer.

CONTENT WARNING: Below the cut contains descriptions of animalistic sexual behavior as applied to humans, situations of dubious consent, explicit situations, mpreg, and scenarios of societal oppression. Click with caution!

ROLES:
1 - The Alpha.
* Stereotypically type A personalities.
* Anatomically: Males have a penis; females may have a penis in addition to a vagina.
* Alphas knot their mates, meaning that the base of the penis swells and locks them inside their mate while they produce copious amounts of semen in an effort to breed.
* Strong sense of smell.
* Near an Omega in heat, they experience a compulsion to mate that is almost impossible to overcome.
* Alphas may go into rut, which is their equivalent of Omega heat, and drives them to mate.

2 - The Beta.
* Ordinary human being.
* Males have penises; females have vaginas.
* Can mate to anyone.
* Might be able to smell hormones of Omegas and Alphas, but will not be overwhelmingly affected by them.

3 - The Omega.
* Stereotypically submissive, quiet, intelligent and less physically able.
* Female anatomy is similar to Betas; males are self-lubricating and may have either an external or internal vaginal setup.
* Regularly go into heat, which involves being overcome by the urge to mate. They are unable to consent while in heat.
* May be made compliant by a bite to the neck. However, that may also induce a mating bond.
* Often regarded as second-class citizens or prizes to be won.

SITUATIONS:
1 - Bonding - Love at first sight. You've spotted your soulmate. You can smell them, you can feel them, you know that they'll be with you until the end of your days. Unless there's something between the two of you. It could be age - maybe one of you has to wait until the other has reached maturity. It could be that the bond is one-sided, and the other has yet to fall in love. It could be an unwanted bond, or society could have divided you into different places. Is your love strong enough to conquer?

2 - Heat/Rut - The need is coming on you strong. Everyone for a half-mile around can smell it. Better find someone to ride it out with, or hole yourself up in a room with a few bottles of water and a durable sex toy. And you'd better hope that there isn't someone out there who will take advantage of your pliable state. Best case scenario, there might be a Beta who can take care of you, or fend off anyone too predatory.

3 - Pregnancy - Whether through a heat or not, you're pregnant. Congratulations - or condolences. Is it time to start a family, or time to start panicking?

4 - Suppressants - You're using suppressants to keep yourself on an even hormone cycle, skipping heats, or maybe pretending to pass as a different class of society. After all, Omegas might want to be in the military, where they're not usually allowed - or an Alpha might want to take a job in a university or as a nurse. Shouldn't they be allowed to, if their hormones are suppressed? Just hope that you don't miss a dose.

5 - Mistaken Identity - That friend that you always thought was an Alpha, or an Omega, or a neutral Beta, turns out to be something entirely different, and your world is turned absolutely upside down. Does it challenge your preconceptions? Or does it just ruin the balance between you two?

6 - Unlikely Pairs - After all, there's no actual reason that Alphas have to mate with Omegas. Maybe two Omegas can satisfy each other. Or two Alphas. Or your intended mate could easily be a Beta. Maybe this is just about breaking out of your pre-established role and becoming something new.

7 - Manifestation - In some cases, an individual may not know they are Omega, Beta or Alpha until their first heat/rut/manifestation, usually happening in early teen years. It may take you by surprise; it may be a blessing, or may be a deep disappointment.

8 - Other - Adventures in getting jobs, making families, fighting bad guys, and anything else you can come up with!

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There's really no 'maybe' about it, although Arthur can't admit that to himself, let alone Merlin. He watches, hawklike and interested, as his manservant finally gives in and picks up the bottle, and takes a deep, slow breath when he finally pours it away. Good. Great—now he can't go back on this, because that's his dose for the night and Gaius always knows precisely how much to brew him. Even if he took another of the doses in his cabinet, one night would be missing before the next batch.

"Good."

Arthur nods once before reaching across for his half-filled cup of wine. He might need a little liquid courage before he puts voice to his suggestion, although really, there's no one in the world he trusts more than he trusts Merlin. And since they're both ... since neither of them has ...

He swallows deeply.

"Stay with me," he commands, but only because he's not accustomed to asking. There's question in his expression though, because he'd never force Merlin to do this with him, but he's feeling rebellious and he wants to know so badly what he's been missing. Arthur blinks slowly as the warmth of the wine stirs pleasantly beneath his skin. Wine and something else. He exhales shortly through his nose.

"I want you to stay."

Merlin's breath catches in his throat. He can feel his face turning pink, the flush in his skin travelling all the way up to his ears and down to his collarbone.

"Arthur, if I stay - I haven't taken my tonic in half a day, if you - I mean I've never - I don't know that I could stop - you know what will happen - !"

He closes his mouth around the next desperate clutch of words that want to escape and just looks at Arthur. Really, properly looks at him.

He shuts the window, listening to the rain drumming against the glass.

"You know what will happen," he says again, but it's not a protest any more, and his voice is softened by the weight of his own need.

This feels right.

"Of course I know what'll happen," he huffs, rolling his eyes the once before draining the rest of his cup. He thought he'd made as much fairly obvious when he instructed him to pour out the tonic. Standing, Arthur wipes off his lips with the back of his hand before closing the distance between them for a second time.

"If you don't want to, you have to tell me." But the closer he gets, the more difficult it is to string together sensible thoughts. Merlin's scent is stronger now, less hindered by the conjoined effects of both their tonics, and Arthur hesitates for half a heartbeat before reaching for Merlin's shoulder. He turns him; Merlin might be taller, but Arthur traps him there with his physical strength. Ink-black pupils shrink to pinpricks before slowly, steadily, dilating wide.

Gods, those lips. A jagged bolt of heat strikes low behind his balls, and Arthur wavers just a little as his hands fist Merlin's jacket.

"Tell me, or stay and—us." The Omega uncurls, shakes itself awake, before placing a rare word on the tip of Arthur's tongue. Dark blonde lashes flutter low, because yes, it feels more than right. "Please, Merlin."

"I - I can't tell you that, Arthur."

Please. He doesn't know that he's ever heard Arthur say that, not to him,never to him.

"I do want to. I want to stay, I want - us."

But Arthur's so close now, and he smells so good and want is such a weak inaccurate word now. He needs this, needs Arthur. The Alpha is somewhere between purring its satisfaction at finally finding an outlet and growling in displeasure because really, how dare Arthur be trying to trap him anywhere, right now? He wants him face-down, bent over, naked and begging and his for the taking --

He surges forward, closing the tiny gap to crush his mouth against his prince's lips with a sort of hunger he's never felt in his whole life.

The moment Merlin's lips touch his, Arthur knows he's lost. The heat swells like something physical inside him: every hair on his body seems to stand on end as he melts to the kiss, his eyes slipping shut, and his cock jumps in his smalls because this is finally, finally happening. The kiss is ferocious because it needs to be. Arthur wants them both bruised and aching by tomorrow morning: an Omega by birth, perhaps, but the prince never does anything by half. In this, he's not even sure he could.

His body rubs close to Merlin's, teasing and coaxing in a way that makes him shiver with anticipation. Arthur's never seduced anyone before but it comes so naturally like this: Alpha and Omega; Merlin and Arthur; the two of them doing what they were born to. Dimly, Arthur finds himself wondering why this didn't happen between them sooner, and when he breaks the kiss to gasp for air he glances towards his bed.

Arthur doesn't know what he wants first. His clothes are itchy, sticking to his body, but Merlin's mouth tastes so good, and a frustrated whine tears from his throat as he claims his lips again.

It's then that he feels it. Wetness there, and he's more embarrassed than he's ever been, but he also knows he's never needed anything like he needs Merlin in this moment.

"Off." He's pulling at Merlin's clothes, in particular that damn neck-scarf that's covering up so much of that powerful scent. Eyes half-lidded, red lips parted, Arthur is wholly Merlin's.

Almost.

"Take it off, Merlin."

"No."

Merlin hears the words escape him before he's conscious of having spoken, but he can't unsay it. The Alpha's instincts are dulled by what's left of the tonic in his system, and maybe that's for the best because he doesn't quite want to throw caution to the wind the way Arthur seems to (at least not yet), but the urge to take charge is so difficult to overcome that he doesn't even try.

He can feel his body stirring to life in a way he's never felt before, not during any of the furtive and ultimately unsatisfying sessions with his own hand after he's absolutely certain Gaius is asleep. His cock is stirring in his smallclothes, his skin tingling.

Arthur's his prince, his master, and in the light of day he gives the orders. But it's dark outside, and Arthur smells incredible, and Merlin is his Alpha.

"You do it," he goes on, with more authority, just the slightest edge to his tone. "Undress me."

Edited 2013-12-10 19:29 (UTC)

Arthur's never been denied by a servant before, much as he's never been given orders by one ... but then that hardly matters right now, does it, because Merlin's not just a servant, he's an Alpha. The prince shivers agains him, nodding distractedly as his body bends to Merlin's authoritative words, chastised by his refusal enough to nuzzle against his jaw.

"Yes ... yeah, all right."

The heat is coming on strong and fast. He fumbles with the knot at Merlin's neck for a moment before pulling it away, victorious, then he's pushing his jacket from his shoulders to puddle around their feet. Each layer removed bring him a layer closer to what he wants, and when his hands slide up under Merlin' shirt it takes all of his willpower not to just rip it off.

The skin beneath his palms is hot, smooth for the most part, roughened only by the light spattering of hair leading down from his navel. There's some at the centre of his chest too; Arthur guides his arms up over his head so he can pull the shirt off and really see him.

The feeling of power and arousal that floods him when Arthur obeys the order is nothing short of dizzying. He's never felt anything like it, not even when he's fought other sorcerers or slain magical beasts: the control he's exercising over Arthur tops them all.

All the same, he's briefly reluctant to lift his arms and let Arthur strip him. Half the reason he wears a long tunic is to conceal the constantly obvious bulge in his trousers. He's average for an Alpha - which is to say, large compared to a Beta and massive compared to an Omega - but when he still expected to die a virgin, it just seemed like a cumbersome piece of unnecessary equipment. Now he's aroused, he feels so trapped it actually hurts; he can't imagine how it's going to look.

But now has to be the best time to find out, and he lets Arthur strip him to the waist without protest. He feels hot all over and he knows it isn't the kind of heat that fewer clothes will resolve.

Arthur's too distracted by Merlin's newly bared skin to notice the tent in his trousers immediately. His body is so different in comparison to his own: there's strength there, yes, but it's the discreet and wirey kind, and he's slender through the waist down to his narrow hips. Arthur's hungry-eyed gaze skims down over the neat swirl of his navel, and it's then, then that he pauses over his crotch.

Merlin is huge. He stares for a moment, the shape of his cock pressing obscenely against his trousers, making Arthur's stomach turn flips even as his mouth waters for a taste. More of that clear, hot fluid wets between his cheeks as he strokes a finger over the bulge;

"How in God's name did you keep this a secret for so long?"

His voice is hoarse, even a little desperate. His own cock gives a little kick: Arthur's smaller than Merlin, much smaller, slightly less than average even when hard, but then an Omega would never need to pack anything substantial. He palms Merlin's crotch to feel out the length of it with his fingers, his lips parted and his lashes low as his breathing gets a little heavier.

He wants it. All of it. Needs to claim this part of Merlin as his own; he's struggling with the laces of his breeches a second later to get his hands around it bare.

"It wasn't like you ever had a reason to see me naked," Merlin says faintly. He can't help but feel a little foolish; he's seen Arthur naked and he just assumed that he was, well, more a grower than a shower. It had never even occurred to him that...

But he's never been more delighted to be wrong about something.

He's been panting since Arthur first touched him through his trousers and when he unties the laces he can hear himself making a sound almost like a growl, a noise he's never heard himself make before. He reaches down to help and finds himself snapping the lace, the seam on his smalls tearing on one side when he yanks them down. His cock's already beading with moisture, the knot barely more than a very slight thickening at the base right now.

"Touch it," he groans. "Touch me, please."

Merlin's groan inflames Arthur; has him responding in kind with a low purr as they tear away his smalls to get to his cock. It's perfect, heavy and thick, shiny with moisture at the tip, and Arthur suddenly wants nothing more than to fall to his knees and worship it in every way he knows how. He laps at Merlin's lips just the once as he begins to pump it, exploring his length, unable to swallow down his soft sighs as he thumbs over the head.

The scent of him is overwhelming. Arthur feels hot and juicy inside, overripe from years of waiting, and he shifts impatiently before pausing his stroking to lick at his hand. It makes each pull smooth and easy; Arthur gasps, fisting the tip a few times as their pheromones claw at each other.

"Is it good?"

He wants so badly for it to be good. Arthur needs to please him more than he's ever needed to please anyone before: compared to Merlin, here, like this, everything else seems trivial.

"S'good," Merlin pants, hips rocking into Arthur's touch. Good doesn't even begin to cover it. He's never really understood the appeal of having someone else touch him in a way he could just as easily touch himself, but this is extraordinary - the unexpected movements, the wet warmth, the sheer newness of Arthur's hand on him.

"It's incredible, Arthur. You're incredible."

He doesn't so much kiss him as he just mouths helplessly at the other man's lips.

"I want to see you naked."

And it's just as well that the last traces of tonic in his blood give him the self-control not to immediately make that ambition a reality. He's fairly sure that Arthur wouldn't be able to take in stride his being a sorcerer on top of everything else.

Merlin's approval has Arthur tingling from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Pleasing him is paramount: Arthur strokes with renewed vigour as Merlin pants; as his mouth twists; dimly realising that if this is how he had to spend the rest of his life? He'd probably die happy. Happy and pleasuring his Alpha—because there's no denying that Merlin is his—but then he's murmuring against his lips and Arthur slows his eager stroking.

"You've seen me naked before," he points out, but not in disobedience. There's a reluctant little whine as he lets go of Merlin's prick, but then he's tearing himself out of his clothes without half a thought for princely finesse. His shirt goes first, then his boots and socks, finally followed by his sticky trousers and smalls, until he's standing there before Merlin looking flushed and tousled and eager.

The pheromones in his sweat are impossible to ignore. Arthur can smell the sex on himself: it's a sweet, yielding scent that lures the Alphas out to mate, and he's been repressed for so long that they're diffusing stronger than ever.

"Well?" He moves back into Merlin's space, licking over his jaw; nibbling at his lips. The touch of skin against skin has him moaning softly into his mouth. "Please ... please, Merlin. Just—touch me."

Anywhere.

It's true. He's seen him naked plenty of times before, dozens, but this is different. Arthur's not just physically naked now but exposed, bared to his gaze and his touch in every conceivable way. And that scent...God help him, but he doesn't know how the entire castle can't smell it. How they're not stirring on the far walls and the outlying villages.

Though if anyone came sniffing around his Omega right now, Merlin feels like he'd take their head with his bare hands. And he's got better uses for those right now.

His movements are barely conscious. He grips the nape of Arthur's neck with one long hand, fingers biting into the soft skin there, and he turns Arthur around to push him down on his belly on the bed. It feels like the best place for him. Inherently right.

"Stick your arse out," he says, his own words barely registering with him. "I want to put my mouth on you."

The possessive grip at the base of his neck weakens Arthur at the knees. He's never felt owned before, never felt like giving himself to someone before, but when Merlin turns him and pushes him down it's all he can do not to whine in the sheets. He feels open and spread and good knowing that his manservant is there behind him; that he'll take care of him, give him what he needs while taking what he needs in return.

He's sweating now, and his hair is a little darker around his temples. It takes a moment for Merlin's instruction to register: Arthur opens his thighs and lifts up a little, most of his weight going through his elbows, and his breath hitches just barely as cool air tickles over his hole. He's never lain like this before, even when pleasuring himself with his fingers in the dead of night.

This is all for Merlin.

"Like this?" Arthur looks back over his shoulder. He wants to see him; wants to watch Merlin enjoy the feast of his body; and then when he puts his mouth on him ...

The prince moans, arching out further to entice his Alpha closer.

"Come on."

"When I'm ready," he snaps, and it's all Alpha, precious little Merlin in his voice. He wants to take the time to admire Arthur's body: the gleam of sweat, the dip in his spine, the spread of those strong thighs exposing the slick pink of his hole.

He feels himself gripped by an impulse to simply mount him that's almost overwhelming, but - no. He can't. He still doesn't entirely know what this is, how long it's going to last - is Arthur just using him to experience something he never thought he'd get to taste? Will he be back on the tonic, tomorrow?

Merlin can only afford to focus on the moment, and take everything he can get. Enjoy this to its fullest.

He spreads Arthur's cheeks apart with his palms, breathes deeply in the sweet earthy scent of the wet leaking out of him, and then leans in to drag his tongue over the swollen rim of his hole.

Arthur's cock twitches against his belly when Merlin snaps back at him, but again, it's enough to put him in his place for the time being. He'd never thought that he'd be able to find enjoyment in submission, but in this, with Merlin there, Arthur can't imagine anything other than giving himself to him. The easy spread of his cheeks reaffirms those hazy thoughts: Arthur's hole twitches, more wetness leaking to make it slippery and glossy;

"Gods, Merlin!"

But it ends on a low whine of pleasure as his rim flutters against Merlin's tongue. He fists the sheets and presses back, shameless in his begging for more, and who would have ever thought that something so dirty feel so completely bone-deep good?

"Please ... please ..." Because what more is there to say? Begging has never seemed so natural, and Arthur needs more of his tongue. His fingers. His cock. Anything to fill up the space inside him that's been waiting for an Alpha ...

No. Waiting for Merlin.

Merlin moans against Arthur's skin. He's never heard anything as good as his pleading; everything about Arthur's body language is desperation and hunger and he wants to breathe it in, soak in it, make Arthur's his so that hunger will always be his to satisfy--

He wants to knot him, bite him, bond him.

He knows he's getting a long way ahead of himself.

Putting his mouth on Arthur's hole doesn't feel dirty. The heat has turned it into something else, a completely sexual orifice, wet and inviting. He presses his lips tight to his rim and pushes his tongue into him, tasting the thick sweet scent of his copious wetness. He reaches down with one hand to play with Arthur's cock almost as an afterthought, feeling it hard and hot in his fist.

Merlin's moans reverberate through Arthur to puddle heat behind his balls, and he squirms there against the sheets as he gives more and more of himself to his Alpha. He can't wait to feel him pressed over him, mounting him, using him and filling him up ... but gods, that would mean ending this, and he's not sure he ever wants to.

Of course, nothing could quite prepare him for the sudden press of Merlin's tongue inside him. His eyes snap wide before closing tightly as he sobs into fine-spun sheets, his thighs trembling either side of Merlin with the effort of keeping him up. He'd thought his rim impossibly sensitive but this, this is torture, and a second later he's moving to keep his cheeks held open with his own hands. It's inappropriate and obscene but so, so right: Arthur makes an offering of himself in the most intimate way possible.

Dizzy with need, he hisses sharply when clever fingers fondle his cock. He'd almost forgotten it—his pleasure seems almost entirely within his hole—but a bead of pre-come pearls at the tip all the same as Merlin plays with it.

Merlin catches it on his fingertips, smearing that hot translucence over the sensitive tip of Arthur's prick. It feels small in his hand compared to his own but it's perfect, it feels right and it fits into his curled fingers so beautifully that he's never ever going to want to touch anyone else this intimately. It's a thought that lodges in his heart and he knows it's not just the momentary infatuation of a first time.

Arthur's not just the first Omega who happened to ask. He's his.

"You taste amazing," he says when he lifts his head, voice hoarse but softened with something like awe, and he notices for the first time that Arthur's holding himself open wide for him. It's good; now he can use both hands, fondling his balls and rubbing his thumb along the tight smooth skin between his sac and his arse. "You're amazing, Arthur, I can't - "

Can't stop. Would probably choose not to, if he could. He shifts up onto his knees and covers Arthur's body with his own, bearing down on Arthur with his modest weight and pressing his face into the sweat-damp nape of his neck.

His mouth waters. He wants so badly to bite but he resists (for now, the voice of his Alpha grumbles), restricting himself to sucking hard enough to leave a bruise.

Arthur bemoans the loss of Merlin's tongue privately when he finally pulls away, lust-drunk on how good it felt to be kissed so intimately. He hears him talking, soft and ragged, and it stirs something low in Arthur's chest; so much so that when he moves over him he reaches back to catch one of his hands in his own. An anchor. They're in this together, and gods, it is amazing, it's all he needs.

He stretches languorously beneath him when Merlin settles, their bodies flush. Taking his weight is easy—Arthur is strong—but more than that, it's a pleasure, and he's all but purring as he arches his arse to rub back against his crotch. He's soaked between his cheeks both from his own wetness and Merlin's mouth; it's perfect, how it should be, how he should always be for Merlin.

Wet and ready.

Lips brush over the nape of his neck. Arthur squeezes Merlin's hand hard, torn between stopping him and encouraging him to bite, but then his Alpha makes the decision for him by setting his mouth against him and sucking. It's cruel, so very cruel for him to tease them both like this, in a parody of something Arthur's never wanted more. He shivers beneath him, spreading his thighs wider for Merlin's body.

"Merlin," he gasps, his own lips red from where he's bitten them. Arthur glances back over his shoulder, his eyes black and soft and pleading. He wants to feel Merlin's teeth; he wants a taste, even if he can't have it. "Merlin, I need— harder."

Merlin looks a mess, face flushed, sweat plastering his hair to his brow, pupils huge and dark and yet he looks and feels more focused than he's ever been. There's nothing else in the world that matters in the least beyond the corners of this bed; an army could march on the Citadel and Merlin feels like he would just destroy them with a wave of the hand so he could go back to bed. Back to Arthur.

Yet he has to give himself a moment to think when Arthur speaks. Harder means teeth, and he isn't sure that he can stop himself going all the way (do it, bond him, claim him, who can really stop you taking what you want?) Finally he just presses a kiss to the bruise he's left.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. But an apology's not enough, he wants to distract him, and to do that he pulls back a little so he can push three long fingers into the drooling wetness of Arthur's hole.

Merlin's right, an apology isn't enough, but Arthur doesn't have enough time to protest and persuade. Those three fingers of distraction choke him off before he opens his mouth: the Alpha knows what's best, Merlin knows what's best, and Arthur squirms and gasps for air as they press further in and stretch.

Had he been anything other than an Omega he wouldn't have been able to take them; it would have been an agonising push; but the wetness of his hole and the eagerness of that ring of muscle sucks them in greedily.

He's done this to himself. He knows how good it should feel, but the sheer fact that this time it's Merlin's fingers inside him? It has Arthur fraying at the seams. Panting eagerly, the prince adjusts the tilt of his hips to encourage them a little deeper. If he can't sample the bite then he'll demand this of him at the very least, and he does, in the roll of his hips and the low groan pulled from his lips.

"Come on," he breathes, squeezing tight around Merlin's fingers. "I won't break."

"I know you won't," he whispers, and his voice trembles when he feels Arthur so tight and slick on his fingers. "You - gods. It feels like I could get my whole fist in here."

Just the thought of it - the idea of touching Arthur so intimately, feeling his stretched rim around his wrist - hits him with a wave of lust so intense it almost knocks him over. He pushes a fourth finger inside, groaning at how easily he swallows it up, and pumps his hand against his Omega's hole in quick, deep strokes that make his arm ache almost instantly but he doesn't care.

"You're so greedy," he says, the wet noise of Arthur's fluids making him bright red. He sounds almost giddy, amazed and a little awed by this new side of Arthur coming to light.

Merlin isn't the only one weakened by his lusty words: Arthur moans into his forearm, uncharacteristically needy, as more of that wetness slicks his hole, his eyes vacant and glassy with need as he presses back onto those fingers. He knows he could do it—he could take anything Merlin saw fit to give to him—because he is greedy, and all he wants is to be filled by as much of him as possible. His tongue, his fist, his cock ...

Arthur's balls squeeze tight and his prick dribbles just a little. He puts his weight through one elbow and reaches down to play with his cock; not quite rubbing, not quite stroking, but touching and fondling the head. His whole body shakes with it when he rubs the pad of his finger over the tip;

"Let me come." He cusses on a groan, his mouth a bruised 'o' of pleasure. "Merlin— Gods, Merlin, please."

The wet sound of it is killing him. Arthur's hole is almost as noisy about it's pleasure as Arthur's mouth, thanks to the steady trickle of fluid keeping him slippery for Merlin's fingers.

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