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fic: Breaking Point

Title: Breaking Point
Rating: R
Word Count: 740
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin (fusion with Batman/Robin)
Warnings: Merlin's age is never specified but he's younger that Arthur here and so you can take that any way you want to ;)
Summary: They stare at one another, neither backing down. “I think I was meant to be by your side," Merlin says.
Notes: Written for summerpornathon for the fusion/crossover challenge. I have plans to turn this into a whole huge fic of doom, but for now, here it is. Did a Batman fusion, so Arthur is Batman and Merlin is Robin.

The boy is an orphan. He reminds Arthur of himself, the sad lines of his face caving in against the misery of losing his parents, of being helpless to turn back time and do something different--anything--to save them.

Arthur presses one broad hand to the boy’s tiny shoulder. It could snap under the weight, and so he is careful. Merlin looks up at him with a dull, directionless gaze. A child no more, drowning in grief. Arthur wants to pull him out of it. He has the means to take him in, at least. Merlin will be his ward. He will live at Pendragon Manor, will have every luxury and protection. Arthur will find the sonofabitch who ordered the hit. He will track him down. Justice will be served.


The boy sits at the console when Arthur drives through the waterfall, into the Cave. Alarms have been going off since Merlin snuck in twenty minutes ago. Too curious, touching everything. He steps out of the Batmobile, frowns at the deep pain and frustration etched onto Merlin’s young face.

“Why didn’t you save my parents? You were there that night. You could have stopped it. You’re Batman.”

The cowl conceals his expression. It offers protection from physical injury, but it also distorts reality in Arthur’s favour, in all the ways that truly matter. “We’ll discuss this later.”

“We’ll discuss it now.” They stare at one another, neither backing down. “I must be here for a reason. I watched you tonight. You could use my help. I think I was meant to be by your side.”


The darkness of Gotham--his city--is his salvation.

That he would do anything to protect it is an understatement. There is no other reason that the boy at his side is to become his partner tonight.

Arthur Pendragon, billionaire playboy and CEO of Pendragon Enterprises, doesn’t like the idea. He thinks Batman must act alone. He thinks the boy is too young, that his pain is too fresh, that his inexperience will show despite his skill and the intense training Arthur put him through these past months. Arthur thinks it’s going to get him in trouble; the second he cares more about Merlin’s welfare than Gotham’s is the moment he descends down the slippery slope towards vengeance.

Batman, though, the part of him that lives and breathes and tastes the city, knows that becoming Robin is Merlin’s fate, his destiny.

Together, they crouch on the roof of the GCPD building, the men on the streets like black ants scattering through the cracks of the sidewalk below. Merlin is antsy at his side. Arthur lays one large hand over his skinny shoulder. Still too small.

“You’re ready?” Arthur won’t ask twice.

Merlin’s boyish enthusiasm is almost contagious. He nods.


After a particularly rough night, Arthur tends to Merlin’s wounds at the Cave. Scrapes and bruises mostly. The boy is a wonder sometimes, his nimble acrobatics something like magic to behold and just as awing.

“I’m fine. Arthur.” His voice is rough-raw, pitched, as he holds Arthur’s hands in his own. “It takes more than a little fall to get rid of me.”

“That wasn’t a little fall.”

“I’m here.” Merlin’s thin, pale hands pry the cowl down, peel off the mystery one layer at a time, and all the boundaries that separate them emotionally, physically come down with it. “I’m right here.”

Arthur isn’t sure who leans in first. The meeting of their mouths is mutual, urgent. And once his lips have tasted Merlin, he cannot stop himself from feeding. Greedy, a man possessed, hands everywhere at once and restless, snapping the clasps at Robin’s cape, tugging his tunic off with hasty, impatient yanks. He tastes Merlin’s tongue, the sweat on his chin, the salt on the skin at the flat of his hip.

For a man who kneels for no one, Arthur kneels for Merlin.

He takes his time with Merlin’s cock, holds it on his tongue until the boy is panting, thrusting, coming completely undone. Arthur slicks his fingers with whatever is handy, pries Merlin open, so rough that he is afraid he is hurt when he moans.

“Don’t stop. Arthur, please...”

He thrusts in, bending the boy’s supple, lean body over the medical bay, bottoming out inside him with half his suit still in the way. There are more intimate places to do this, but that will come later. Right now, Arthur needs Merlin like men need oxygen to breathe.


trusting things beyond mistake

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