Les Lettres Défi Part 2
Summary: Merlin is Arthur's new secretary and is oddly appealing. Also, just to complicate things, eccentric Uther has introduced a penpal scheme within the office to promote team unity, and despite initially being at blows, Arthur and his anonymous penpal are getting on extremely well. Somehow Arthur has to balance his physical attraction to Merlin, and his emotional attraction to his penpal... While baking some exceptional puddings, because lemon drizzle cake is nice.
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin, background Gwen/Lance
Word Count: Just over 31k
Full notes in Masterpost
Part 1
"Why are we leaving? We've only just introduced them, and Gwen's only talking to Percy at the moment anyway."
"All part of my masterplan. Within the next two and a half minutes, Leon will offer them all a drink, and Percy will have to go with him to help him carry them, but they will tell Lance to stay there to save the spot. As such, Gwen and Lance will be forced into conversation and getting to know each other. We keep an eye on it from here, if it goes well we can conveniently disappear, if it doesn't we can be back and saving things within seconds. It's genius, if I may say so myself."
"It's evil is what it is," Merlin muttered, as he glanced over Arthur's shoulder to see Leon and Percy excusing themselves as Lance's face made its best effort to do an impression of a radish. "But it seems to be working."
"Of course it's working," Arthur grinned smugly. "I'm brilliant."
Merlin laughed at the other man's vanity. "Well I hope you're brilliant with deep pockets, because to get Gwen over there I told her you'd promised to buy us drinks, so that'll have to happen otherwise she'll think I lied."
"You did lie! You want me to protect your character by validating your lies?" Arthur's face was almost perfectly serious, only the wicked glint in his eye giving him away.
"Pretty much, yeah. Anyway, I said you'd owe me."
"So me buying drinks makes us even?"
"Oh god no. This is just the start."
From: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: YOU ARE ACTUALLY FUCKING KIDDING ME, RIGHT???
Please tell me this is just a complete coincidence.
Please.
I genuinely don't think I could cope if you confirmed the fact that you actually got UTHER FUCKING PENDRAGON, the BIG BOSSMAN OF THE ENTIRE FUCKING COMPANY, wearing an actual, honest-to-god GRYFFINDOR TIE.
Seriously now. I don't know whether to laugh or cry.
Please put me out of my misery before I explode with the suspense.
Arthur chuckled at the memory of the phone call he'd had with his father the previous night. He'd been tempted to wear the tie himself - he was, after all, about as high up in the company as you could get, but thought it would be cheating. He'd known that Uther was due to have a meeting with important clients first thing Monday morning and had managed to convince him to forsake his usual soberly coloured tie for one in the colours of the company logo - a golden dragon on a red background. The stripes kept it formal, he'd said, but the colours would be a show of confidence in the company to both the employees and the clients. To be honest, he hadn't expected it to work at all. But it had. And it had impressed Dewin.
From: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Challenge completed
What can I say, I'm a competitive bugger :)
Impressed? ;)
x
From: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Re: Challenge completed
Trying very hard not to admit to being gobsmacked, to be honest...
But now I know the level you're up to, I'll have to think up some harder challenges!
Dare I ask your methods? I was always half convinced that my friend back home had really juicy dirt on all the teachers and was just blackmailing them all...
Also, just so you know, the cake is in place - planted by a friend so that it can't be traced back to me! I'm practically 007...
x
From: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Live & Let Die
Considering naming challenges after Bond films, seeing as you're 007 (Craig? Connery? Brosnan?). This one is Live & Let Die because I'm kinda scared of actual death from food poisoning...
Haven't tried cake yet, but going down for lunch break soon, so I'll let you know how many corpses I see down there.
And of course I can't tell you my methods, a magician never reveals his secrets! Anyway, you might use them against me, and as I said, I'm pretty damn competitive!
x
From: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Re: Live & Let Die
Aha, you've fallen into my trap! Bond (none of the above) strikes again - I have an ally keeping an eye out for who takes cake... Inside information will be reaching me shortly.
A magician - what are you, Harry Potter? Fits with the Gryffindor-ness I suppose.
Also, I resent the implication that my cake will kill people - I tried very hard, I'll have you know!
x
From: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Re: Re: Live & Let Die
Ahh Mr Bond, I'm not so easily tricked! I very cleverly (one could even call me a genius...) got a friend to pick me up a slice to prevent tracking. It's not just you who's sneaky!
Coffee cake - fairly ambitious for a first cake. Tasty though, sponge slightly dry (maybe five minutes less in the oven next time), but just the right amount of coffee flavour. I declare this challenge a success.
And even though Draco Malfoy is clearly more badass, I'll happily be Potter. Good at sports, centre of attention, rich, I could live with that :P
x
From: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Live & Let Die
My spy kinda failed me anyway, turns out she spent most of her time flirting with this guy she's into. TRAITOR TO THE CAUSE. It must have worked though, because he took an extra slice of cake... My cake brings all the boys to the yard.
Also, don't lie, I know the real reason she didn't see you - you were wearing your invisibility cloak, weren't you?
Glad you enjoyed the cake - I blame the dryness on far too much work and therefore subsequent accidental napping.
x
From: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Live & Let Die
Well I shall have to stop setting you cake challenges, don't want to have to share the cake - or, for that matter, you - with all the other boys it might attract to your yard.
Nearly the end of the day, chat tomorrow. Thanks for the cake, Bond :)
xxx
From: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Live & Let Live
I shall try not to lure too many men with my baking overnight ;)
You're welcome, Potter :)
xxx
--------------------------------------------
Arthur was doing an excellent job of completely ignoring the ringing phone until Merlin came into his office, without knocking, of course, threw a scrunched up ball of paper at his head (and Arthur dreaded to think what important and confidential pieces of information might be contained in this particular piece of ammunition), and told him to answer it because it was Morgana and she was threatening violence to everyone in his office if he didn't pick up the damn phone. Arthur, ever the epitome of sophistication, stuck his tongue out, and carefully ignored Merlin's answering grin as he grabbed the offending phone, resolutely not watching his assisstant leave the room.
"I have just had missiles launched at my cranium for this, what do you want?"
"Honestly darling, I take it from your slow response and lack of rage that you haven't checked your emails in the last half an hour?"
"No, I'm trying to get these bloody stats sorted, why?"
"I suggest you have a look. Don't worry, I can wait." And she started to hum an annoyingly cheery tune as he opened up his email, grumbling under his breath all the while. He suppressed the grin that threatened to emerge on seeing Dewin's name, and went straight to the email from Uther.
From: Uther.Pendragon@Camelot.org.uk
To: All Staff
Subject: Merger
It is my pleasure to announce that, after months of negotiations, our merger with Mercia LTD has been successful. As such, I wish to announce that this Friday will be a half day, and I shall be hosting an informal drinks reception at the Boar's Head in celebration.
This merger is excellent news for the future of the company, and I extend my thanks to all those whose hard work brought it to fruition.
"Oh for fuck's sake." Arthur groaned.
"Now there's the brother I know and love!" Arthur could hear the grin in Morgana's voice. "Which bit shall we complain about first?"
"Firstly, the merger isn't finished, we've still got weeks of work on it, especially your lot in HR. Secondly, is he really trying to spin it as a friendly merger instead of a violent takeover?"
"I have a theory, that when Uther was a child he would call it sharing when he stole the toys from other children. He just has a way with words..."
"Thirdly, this email is going to make the people that work here think he's nice. He's not. He's an evil dictator and we both know it."
"Everyone that works here knows it too, I can't shake the suspicion he's just trying to get everyone to let their guard down so that he can strike when we least expect it. I think he's descended from snakes."
"And finally, why the hell do we have to go to the Boar's Head for this stupid drinks reception? I hate that place."
"Oh come on Arthur, it's just your kind of place, full of old boys who've never had to lift a finger - you fit in perfectly!"
"Fuck off. Why can't we just go down the Dragon's like any other Friday?"
"Because then Uther would come. Can you imagine, Uther in the Dragon's? It's like sacred ground, I can't figure out if he'd melt or if the bar would."
Arthur shuddered at the thought.
"Look, Morg, I really need to get these numbers in order, but I'll give you a ring later. Okay? I'm sure we can find a way of avoiding it, or skipping out early at least."
"You know he'll never let us miss it. All right, you put your scheming brain into action, I hope the cogs aren't too rusty."
"Oh fuck off" he said affectionately, before saying goodbye and putting the phone down.
--------------------------------------------
From: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Challenge?
Hey. Are we doing challenges this weekend?
x
From: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Re: Challenge?
We can do, why, you got a devious one in mind?
x
From: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Re: Re: Challenge?
No, not particularly, just used to them now I guess. My weekends would be a lot more boring without them!
And anyway, gives me a way to get to know you better :)
x
From: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Challenge?
I'd say you already know me pretty well! Better than a lot of my face-to-face friends by now probably, and if that isn't worrying I don't know what is :P
Okay, I shall dig deep within my brain to try and find a suitable challenge for you...
x
From: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Your challenge, should you accept...
Not well enough!
I had a thought for a challenge, but it's a bit different, so let me know if it's crap...
I challenge you to tell someone the truth. Not like "Your hair is brown" kinda truth, a hard truth, an important truth, capital-T Truth. Because from things you've told me it sounds like you're far too nice and polite to people, it's about time you told someone where to shove it :)
Only catch is you then have to tell me!
x
From: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Challenge accepted!
Interesting challenge! I like it though. I accept the challenge, though I can't for the life of me think what to do for it.
Similarly abstract challenge for you: I challenge you to do something unexpected.
x
From: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Unexpected?
I'm not so good at unexpected, just ask my friends or my sister quite how predictable I am. Seriously, I'm so predictable that I have a friend who can correlate my mood and what day of the week it is and tell me exactly what baked good I am working on at that time - it's actually a bit depressing how accurate he is, I'm sure he must have CCTV installed in my flat or something.
So yeah, I guess unexpected would be a good thing!
I accept your challenge with trepidation and manly bravery ;)
x
--------------------------------------------
"Hey Lance, are you going to this drinks reception on Friday?"
"No."
"Why not? I need you there to stop me from killing someone. Potentially myself."
"Because Uther isn't my father, I don't need to go. You'll have Merlin, I trust him to prevent too much bloodshed. I'm going down the Dragon's like every other Friday."
"Gwen will be there, Morgana's making her go."
"Good for her, I hope she enjoys herself at the expense of the two of you."
"Lance. Please?"
"Nope."
"I hate you."
-----------------------------------
From: Arthur.Pendragon@Camelot.org.uk
To: Merlin.Emrys@Camelot.org.uk
Subject: 'Informal' drinks
Thought I'd better warn you - when my father says 'Informal', he's lying.
Do you own a suit?
From: Merlin.Emrys@Camelot.org.uk
To: Arthur.Pendragon@Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Re: 'Informal' drinks
What do you think I wear to work every day?
From: Arthur.Pendragon@Camelot.org.uk
To: Merlin.Emrys@Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Re: Re: 'Informal' drinks
Oh Merlin, please. Black trousers and a wrinkled shirt do not a suit make.
Seriously, do you have a proper suit, waistcoat, jacket and all? The place Uther is forcing us to go to is stupidly posh, no joke. Oh, and have you got any tie that isn't that vile blue one? I can lend you one if you want.
From: Merlin.Emrys@Camelot.org.uk
To: Arthur.Pendragon@Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Re: Re: Re: 'Informal' drinks
So posh even you think it's posh? Jeez, I'm pretty fucked then. Um, I've got a friend I can probably borrow a nice suit from, not promising it'll fit me perfectly though, he's broader round the chest than me. A tie would be great if you wouldn't mind.
Don't see what's wrong with my nice blue one though...
------------------------
Arthur was already cross, uncomfortable and more than a little tipsy by the time Merlin arrived. The first thing to catch his eye was his own tie round the other man's neck - it does bring out his eyes perfectly, he said to himself, just like I knew it would. Shame about the suit though...
Merlin's suit was black with a dark grey pinstripe, looked surprisingly expensive and well made, and was fitted perfectly - except not to Merlin.
"Who did you borrow that off then?"
Merlin flushed with embarrassment. "Is it that obvious?" Arthur raised his eyebrows, taking in the extra room around the man's waist, the loose shoulders, and the slightly too-short trouser leg.
"Yes."
"Oh. I was kind of hoping no one would notice. I borrowed it from my friend Gwaine."
"Oh yeah? What does he do that requires a suit like that?"
"Very little to be honest. He's an artist, does mostly freelance graphic design stuff to pay the bills. His agent made him get a nice suit for interviews and openings and things, but these days I think he pretty much just rolls it out every time his girlfriend calls him a slob just to try and prove her wrong. Though to be fair I reckon she's just as much of a slob as he is, she probably only calls him a slob to get to see him in the suit."
"He's got a girlfriend, huh?"
"Yeah, Viv, she's lovely."
"Good."
"Why?"
"Oh, you know, if you were wearing another man's clothes and you were both single it might, I don't know, mean something." Arthur reddened slightly, mentally blaming the vodka in his hand for his inability to verbalise what went through his brain. In fact he could probably blame the vodka for the fact it went through his head in the first place.
Both men had either forgotten or deigned to not mention the fact that Merlin was indeed wearing the clothing of another single man in the form of Arthur's silk tie. It was probably a bad idea to dwell on the thought that that might 'I don't know, mean something', so the subject was swiftly changed to which particular alcoholic substance might make the party more bearable, in addition to what on earth Morgana was wearing and why.
------------------------
Within the hour, Arthur and Merlin were pleasantly tipsy, leaning on each other in the corner as they simultaneously avoided and judged everyone else, sharing quiet words and suppressed laughter. Morgana joined them briefly, smirking every time their snarky comments were aimed at each other instead of the rest of the room, before calling them a pair of giggling schoolgirls and going to join Gwen in a different part of the room to do pretty much exactly the same thing. They enjoyed aiming their light-hearted vitriol solely at Morgana for at least ten minutes after that, grinning happily at each other each time a joke was made.
The drinks reception itself was indeed a dull affair, filled mainly with the more senior management staff and the ambitious young up-and-comers trying to brown-nose their way into a promotion. Arthur was far too used to these events, usually spending them at his father's side, smiling politely and carefully ignoring the barely hidden snide comments about nepotism and how easy he must have had it. Oh how he wished he could just snap at them, informing them that actually, his father expected far more from him than from anyone else, and how hard he had to work to prove to the company, his father and himself that he had earnt his position, not just been born into it. Because he worked hard, dammit, and was good at what he did - not that any of these people saw that, they just saw another hurdle on their way to the top.
"Who's that over there, talking to Morgana? She doesn't half look like she wants to punch him..."
"Morgana wants to punch everyone, never forget that. If she's angry, it means she wants to punch you. If she's happy, it means she wants to punch you. Except you're not related to the damn woman, so she probably won't follow through on it."
"She's really not as bad as you make her out to be, you know. And you didn't answer the question."
"Oh, that's George. He's working with Morgana in HR at the moment, though he's made his way through most of the departments at the company by now. He was my assistant for a while, good at his job too."
"Yeah? Why did he stop working for you?"
"Honestly, Merlin, he is one of the most boring men I've ever had the misfortune to meet. Each department puts up with him for about six months then fobs him off to someone else. He makes jokes about stats. Stats, for fuck's sake! I'd rather have someone working for me who is a bit crap at their job but keeps me entertained than have someone who makes jokes about stats."
"Are you saying I'm a bit crap at my job?"
"Oh shush, you know that's not what I meant. Oh god, he's seen us. Quick, if we run to the bar he might not talk to us!"
And so the two shuffled as quickly as they could in the direction of the bar, very definitely not giggling, but possibly chuckling in a manly fashion. They propped themselves next to Gwen, who had migrated that far by that point, nudged each others shoulders, met each others eyes, managed to keep straight faces for all of ten seconds, then collapsed in semi-hysterical laughter. Gwen merely raised her eyebrows.
By that point, Morgana had escaped George's deadly clutches, and was stalking towards them with a murderous glint in her eye. She came to a halt in front of Arthur, poking a perfectly manicured fingernail into the centre of his chest.
"Why didn't you save me?"
Oh honestly, Morgana, you never save me when he accosts me. And anyway, this is Merlin's first time at one of these things, I've got to look after him. God only knows what he'd get up to if I didn't."
"You do know he's an adult, right? He's perfectly capable of looking after himself."
"You'd think so, but actually he's not - he's genuinely quite incapable of interacting like a normal human being without my expert help."
"Really? This is the excuse you're using to escape the usual Pendragon meet-and-greet? It honestly is your turn, if I have to make polite small talk with one more lecherous old man who makes conversation with my breasts instead of me, I swear they will not survive the night. And you might not, either."
"Well if you are going to wear that dress, I don't know what you expect."
"He's right, you know," Merlin interjected with a sly grin. "Not about the dress - although, you know, he's got a point - but I am really quite spectacularly useless. Now, Arthur, could you please teach a poor simpleton such as myself how a normal human being might go about downing a double vodka and coke in less than ten seconds?"
"Why Merlin, it would be my honour and pleasure to instruct you." And with that, the two men turned triumphantly back towards the bar, muttering quietly between themselves as if congratulating each other on a battle well fought. Morgana stared incredulously at them for a moment before turning her accusing glare on Gwen, who had ignored the entire exchange in favour of tapping away happily on her phone.
"What? Oh, sorry, Lance texted." And her small smile was filled with such pure joy that Morgana honestly couldn't stay angry - hard as she tried.
-----------------------
It couldn't have been more than half an hour later that Arthur and Merlin came to find Morgana and Gwen, who were talking to Gwen's friends from the canteen. Morgana was instantly suspicious, mainly down to their matching sheepish expressions and the large, dark red stain that was slowly spreading itself down Merlin's torso.
Tempted as she was to start asking precisely who did what this time (honestly, it was like having children sometimes), she merely crossed her arms, raised a single eyebrow, and released her patented Glare Of Doom. Merlin faltered almost immediately, but Arthur was unfortunately more used to it.
"Here's the thing, Morg. Merlin is useless and clumsy and spills everything."
"Me?" Merlin spluttered. "You're the one who dropped nearly a whole glass of red wine on me!"
Arthur reddened. "Yes, well, that doesn't negate the fact that you're clumsy and useless."
"Your face is clumsy and useless."
"What does that even mean?"
"I don't even know, but -" The two seemed dangerously close to erupting into giggles once more, so Morgana felt the need to interrupt.
"Boys. What did you come over here to tell me?"
"Well Clumsy-and-useless over here managed to spill my glass of good red wine all down himself -"
"Lies! You're the one who spilt it."
"- and his friend needs his suit back tomorrow, so I've offered to get it cleaned like the good and generous pal I am."
"More like, because it was your fault."
"So we're off."
"Off?" Morgana near screeched, causing Gwen to turn round to see what was going on. "You're deserting me here?"
"Yeah, pretty much. Look, take Gwen, make an excuse, and leave. Go join Lance and the boys at the Dragon's or something, we might pop round there later, and Father can cope with getting his arse licked without one of us to hold his hand. Because now I think about it, that's actually a pretty fucking disgusting thought. But have a good night, ok?" Arthur leant forward, kissed his sister on the cheek, threw a smile at Gwen and left, his hand at the small of Merlin's back as he led him through the crowd towards the door.
"You know, he's got a point. We've been here long enough that Uther can't throw a fit if you leave, and by the sound of his texts, Lance and that lot are having a lot more fun..." Much as she hated to admit it, Morgana had to concede that perhaps if even Gwen agreed, Arthur might indeed have a point.
------------------------
The train back to Merlin's part of town was quite short, but felt longer as they talked (with only hints of slurring) about everything and nothing, pressed together thigh-to-thigh and shoulder-to-shoulder as they leant into the heat of each other's bodies. They discussed how close Gwen and Lance were getting ("My genius plan is working!"), the fake vintage Leica camera that formed Merlin's phone case, the book that Arthur currently couldn't stop reading - if he ever got the time - and the virtues of living that bit further out of town.
As they walked from the station towards Merlin's flat, the closeness remained as the backs of their hands brushed together with almost every step. It seemed as though their skin was made of flint and tinder, each touch creating sparks that felt as if they must leave trails of heat in their wake.
By the time they got to Merlin's door, they had fallen into a comfortable silence, occasionally meeting each other's eyes and sharing grins. Merlin managed to unlock the door with only three tries, and ushered Arthur inside in front of him.
"It's probably nowhere near as nice as anything you're used to, but, you know. It's home."
"Don't be silly. It's, well. It's lovely, actually." And it was. Okay, it was a bit messy, and the fittings and furniture were older and cheaper than Arthur's own, but it was homely, and comfortable, and just so Merlin. And let's be honest, Merlin was lovely.
"Can I offer you a drink or anything?" Merlin seemed to have suddenly realised that he and Arthur were standing in his hallway in the semi-dark, perilously close as Arthur's breath ghosted on his cheek. Merlin bit his lower lip nervously, and once the idea had popped into Arthur's head that he should replace those teeth with his own, he couldn't escape the image that filled his mind. He stared unashamedly at Merlin's lips, stained slightly from red wine and laughter, contrasting beautifully with the white teeth that worried them. The effort that it took to keep himself standing still prevented Arthur from answering that question for slightly too long.
"No, I'm - I'm fine, thanks."
Unable to hold himself back any longer, as if the words had released his muscles, Arthur stepped forward, crashing his lips into Merlin's, taking advantage of the man's surprised gasp to thrust his tongue into his mouth, making the most of an intimacy that he was sure would be stopped - possibly violently - any second. It was his turn to be surprised as, after a few seconds, Merlin relaxed into the kiss and started giving as good as he got, their tongues locked in a duel for dominance as they slid against each other, their hands grasping desparately at hip, waist, neck, hair, as if fearful one of them might come to their senses any moment. Arthur slid his hands down to Merlin's arse, gripping and lifting, and nibbled on the lighter man's bottom lip as Merlin got the hint, bracing himself on Arthur's shoulders and wrapping his legs around his waist. Merlin couldn't help but let out a groan as Arthur stepped forward and slammed Merlin's back against the wall, never pausing his assault in his lips. That heady mix of pleasure and pain was only heightened as Arthur rolled his hips, grinding their groins together as they breathed in each other's moans.
Soon all Merlin's brain could focus on was the inability to comprehend why they were both wearing so many clothes and, held in place with the wall at his back and Arthur's muscular chest to his front, Merlin slid his hands to the front of Arthur's shirt, pulling, fiddling and ripping until there was nothing holding it together, at which point he pushed his hands over Arthur's shoulders, forcing the shirt and the jacket that had been worn over it to the ground. This made Merlin do something he hadn't previously managed - he tugged his lips away from Arthur's mouth, and instead ran both his fingers and his eyes over that chest, those arms, those shoulders. Oh those shoulders... And in that moment, there was nothing he wanted more than to do loving and increasingly rude things to this man, this gorgeous, perfect, statue of a man whose hands held him easily and whose lips nuzzled at his throat, coaxing out the moans that Merlin couldn't hold in.
He reluctantly unwrapped his legs from Arthur's waist, carefully lowering his toes to meet the floor and didn't fail to catch the uncertainty and hunger in Arthur's eyes as he raised his head to meet Merlin's gaze. Merlin grinned, leant forward, dragged his tongue along Arthur's jaw to culminate in a light nibble on his earlobe, and whispered just one word.
"Bedroom."
In any other situation, the growl that eminated from deep in Arthur's throat might have been frightening.
Somehow they made it from the kitchen to Merlin's bedroom, pausing for several make out sessions against a variety of surfaces and removal of clothes on the way. By the time Merlin pushed Arthur down onto the bed, they both still had boxers on, Arthur had retained both socks, and Merlin still had one sock and the tie that had been so painstakingly perfected earlier in the evening. Arthur wasted no time in using it to pull Merlin forward until he was straddling Arthur's hips, leaning forwards and capturing those lips once more as he made Arthur very aware that there were only two thin layers of cotton between their equally hard cocks that seemed to crave the touch of flesh.
Soon, the taste of Arthur's mouth wasn't enough for Merlin, he wanted to sample every inch of the body beneath him. He wanted to devour. He reluctantly moved away from the man's lips, finding it difficult to resist the groans of complaint that ensued, and set about changing them to groans of pleasure as he licked, nibbled and sucked his way down Arthur's throat and chest. He was caught between a smug grin and an insatiable moan as Arthur's fingernails scraped down his back in response.
Merlin bit sharply on one of Arthur's nipples, eliciting a shocked gasp, and swiftly smoothed the sensitive skin with gentle, lapping licks before repeating the treatment on the other side as his fingers explored the firm muscles of Arthur's stomach. He moved further down, trailing a line with his tongue all the way down to Arthur's navel in his wake, and hooked his fingers into the waistband of Arthur's soft black boxers. He paused a moment, steeling himself for the point of no return, then pulled them down, freeing Arthur's rock hard cock.
Merlin took a moment to smile at his luck - the dick in front of him precisely matched the man it was attached to: beautiful, sculpted, big in all the best ways, and fucking edible. He couldn't hold himself back, and leant forward to lick a stripe along the underside, from root to tip, and couldn't help but notice the way Arthur's hips jerked as if he were trying his hardest not to thrust all the way into Merlin's mouth. Merlin decided it was only polite to remove the temptation, so abruptly licked his lips, fit his mouth over Arthur's head and slid down as far as he could, sucking lightly and humming with pleasure. This surprised Arthur, but pleasantly, if the loud moans were to be believed.
Merlin moved his head leisurely up and down, sucking, hollowing his cheeks and swirling his tongue around Arthur's cock, tasting every inch he could get his mouth on. He loved the experience of Arthur's gradual loss of control as the man allowed more moans to escape, and his hips jerked more each time Merlin put pressure on the thick, throbbing vein on the underside of his cock with his clever tongue. Merlin's fingers were soft as they stroked and fondled Arthur's balls in unpredictable patterns, til his forefinger found its way further back - the gentleness of its touch in direct contradiction with the rough but skilled desperation of his mouth - over his perineum and toward the puckered heat of his hole.
Merlin was often perfectly happy to bottom during sex, in fact there was little he loved more than a good hard cock pounding into him, the perfect balance of burning pain and scorching pleasure. But when he heard the sharp hitch in Arthur's breath as his finger circled the man's entrance, there was nothing he wanted more in that moment than to be inside him; filling him, breaking him apart and completing him with each thrust. Groaning at the thought, he pulled off of Arthur with an obscene pop and kissed his way back up his body, leaving his finger teasing the soft skin at the crease of his arse.
"I want to fuck you" Merlin murmured into Arthur's ear, then regretted it immediately as the man stiffened underneath him. Dammit, he shouldn't have mentioned it, especially when he would have been more than happy for Arthur to fuck him into the mattress. And now he'd made Arthur uncomfortable, and he'd ruined the whole damn thing, and he shouldn't have fucked with the status quo, and -
"Fucking get on with it then." Arthur growled, relaxing back into Merlin's touch and flexing his back, pushing down until Merlin's finger breached the tight ring of muscle, eliciting a low moan from both men at the dry friction of it. Merlin wasted no time in removing his finger carefully and leaning over to his bedside table, tugging open the top drawer and quickly grabbing a condom and a bottle of lube before settling himself back between Arthur's legs.
Merlin took a deep breath and flicked open the cap on the lube, pouring a generous amount onto his fingers and warming it between his hands before returning his hand to Arthur's arse and carefully but surely sliding one slim finger inside. He started to pump his finger in and out, circling and stretching, as he leant back over Arthur, kissing the man's lips, jaw, neck. Before he knew it he had three fingers squeezed inside Arthur's tight hole, burying them up to the knuckle with each thrust and curling them, rubbing across his prostate and making him groan and arch his hips into Merlin's.
Arthur's hands seemed to be everywhere all at once: they scratched angry marks down Merlin's back, they pushed his boxers down, they pulled his hair, gripped the back of his neck, tugged his cock. Merlin knew that with Arthur around his fingers and Arthur's fingers around him he couldn't last much longer, so he pulled back, grabbed the foil packet of the condom between his teeth and ripped it open before rolling it quickly onto himself. He manoeuvred Arthur's legs, placing one around his waist and resting the other up on his shoulder to make it easier for both of them, planted his hands firmly either side of Arthur's head, then looked into those piercing blue eyes for a final confirmation that this was ok.
Arthur pulled Merlin down, his hands buried in messy black hair, and - in a moment of surprising tenderness - kissed him softly on the lips. The men paused for a moment, caught in the balance, but couldn't hold themselves back for long - Arthur bit down hard on Merlin's bottom lip as Merlin thrust forward, pushing and pushing until he could push no more, and could feel Arthur's buttocks against his thighs. This pause did not hold balance or softness, but was full of clenched fingers, panted breaths and low grunts.
Merlin started to move, slowly rolling his hips and uttering swear words under his breath at the sensations as he worked up to long, deep thrusts. Arthur moved beneath him, raising his hips to meet each thrust and changing the angle slightly so that Merlin hit that blessed bundle of nerves each time, pushing exhalations, moans and "Fuck, Merlin"s out of him.
A warm tingling running up his thighs told Merlin that he wasn't going to be able to last much longer, the tight heat of being inside Arthur - of, oh god, filling him completely - threatening to overwhelm him. A voice at the back of his head said he should try to avoid coming an embarrassing amount of time before Arthur, so he reached a hand down and started pulling roughly at the man's large cock, trying to match the pace of his own thrusts and grounding himself with the teeth nipping at his collarbone. He moaned loudly as a larger hand came down to cover his, quickening the rhythm and tightening the grip until Arthur's movements stuttered, stilled and, with an impressive groan that might have started out as Merlin's name, he came, covering both of their hands and torsos with the hot white liquid.
Even if Merlin hadn't been close before, the sight of Arthur's face contorted with pleasure and the clench of his arse as he came would have completely done him in. As it was, he managed two more short thrusts before his conscious mind exploded in bursts of light and heat and stars and goddamned galaxies and the best orgasm he'd ever fucking had. He floated on air for what seemed like forever but was probably only a few seconds, and when he came back to earth he found that he'd collapsed onto Arthur, who was breathing as heavily as he was.
After a few minutes, Merlin reluctantly pulled out of Arthur - trying not to feel guilty as he winced slightly - tied a knot in the very full condom and threw it in the general direction of the bin. He grabbed the corner of the duvet that had found its way to the edge of the bed and pulled it unceremoniously over them, and was only slightly surprised when Arthur pulled him into his arms and kissed him slowly and deeply before settling back down onto the pillow.
The two men, fingers locked and legs tangled, were asleep within minutes.
-----------------------
Merlin awoke slowly, trying to combat the sensation of OH-GOD-OW-WHY-ME that seemed to be trying to consume his face and brain, presumably in punishment for his own consumption of far too much wine and possibly a vodka or two the previous night.
He curled underneath his duvet, quietly processing his current state. Well rested, yes, so he'd slept well for once. Hungover, pretty self explanatory. Nauseous, but not about to throw up any minute, so a fry up was out of the question but a dry breakfast should be okay. Somewhat unhappy, probably mourning his own lack of brain function. Cold, blame the lack of clothes. Lonely, that was - wait. Hang on. Lack of clothes?
He looked groggily around to confirm his assessment and found that, not only was he utterly devoid of clothes, but the only items of clothing from the previous night he could see in the room were his boxers, one sock and - peeking out from under his pillow - his tie. Damn. Time to dig down into the sodden recesses of his memories from last night and try to figure out what - or, oh god, who - he'd done.
He remembered Gwen, Lance, giggling, and shots. He remembered deciding that the bottle of Merlot was his and shouldn't be shared. He remembered laughing, and joking, and insulting, and teasing, and flirting, and blonde, and blue, and being pushed up against a wall and kissing like the world was about to end.
Arthur. Oh fuck.
Merlin groaned with disbelief, scouring his brain for any alternate scenario in which he might not have actually just fucked his boss, but was unsuccessful. He froze for a moment, listening to see if there was any evidence of anyone else still in his flat, but couldn't hear anything, so decided to be brave and have a look.
He managed to crawl out of bed and put on clean boxers and a jumper, then retreated to the bathroom to piss, splash cold water on his face, and take at least twice the recommended dose of nurofen. He then made his way slowly throughout the rest of the flat, peeking round corners before turning them as if Arthur may be hiding, ready to jump out at Merlin any moment. He wasn't.
The only pieces of evidence in the flat that the previous night had been anything out of the ordinary were the occasional item of Merlin's clothing strewn in increasingly interesting places (the floor? Fine. The toaster? Baffling. Around the light? Actually quite impressive), and a plate in the kitchen that was covered in a teatowel and letting off a thin ribbon of steam.
Merlin inspected it suspiciously for a few moments before deciding that Arthur probably wasn't a murderer and it probably wasn't a bomb, and he removed the towel with a flourish.
Pancakes.
On his old, chipped dinner plate (handpainted with pansies by his mother) sat a pile of about eight small scotch pancakes, golden brown and still warm, obviously cooked fresh that morning.
He glared at the plate for a minute, wondering if he was still dreaming, then decided that if he were dreaming he might as well enjoy it, and shoved the topmost scotch pancake unceremoniously into his mouth. He nearly moaned in pleasure as his teeth broke through the slightly crisp edge to reveal the inside - soft, light and fluffy. Perfectly flavoured, not too sweet. He grabbed the butter out of the fridge to put a quick smear on the next pancake before devouring that one too.
As he quickly made his way through the plate, he couldn't help but wonder - who the hell makes pancakes for a drunken one-night-stand?
----------------------------------
Arthur stood in his kitchen, stirring a bowl of cake batter furiously. As much as he didn't want the cake to sink due to over-mixing (a mistake he hadn't allowed himself to make in years), he had to let his frustrations out on something, and beating cake mix tended to be less painful than beating walls.
What had he been thinking? It was like he was determined to sabotage himself - he'd only just made the decision to see how things went with this penpal guy (who, he reminded himself, was funny, witty and charming - not to mention had no clue about his standing in the company), and the next thing he knew he was drunk and fucking some other man. His assisstant, no less, because apparently even when being a complete pissing cliche he had to go the whole hog.
He didn't even want to think about the fact that Merlin had topped. Arthur hadn't bottomed for anyone since he lost his virginity (because, oh god, he never wanted to repeat that experience), and really didn't want to consider what it might mean that he'd not only bottomed for Merlin, he'd been so fucking enthusiastic about it.
To be honest, he really didn't want to think about it at all. It had clearly been a mistake - a very, very drunken one - and meant nothing to either of them. All he needed to do was ignore the fact that it happened, go back to things being normal with Merlin - his assisstant, no more - and focus on Dewin.
He tried to ignore the miniature Morgana in his head yelling "Pretending things don't exist doesn't make them go away, it just makes you delusional" as the full size one had repeated to him many times, divided the batter evenly between two greased springform tins, and thrust them unceremoniously into the pre-heated oven. He reached into the fridge for eggs, milk and cream, thinking about the fact that he hadn't made himself a creme caramel in ages. And not about Merlin at all.
----------------------------------
"...And I tell you what, they were the best pancakes I've ever eaten. And the washing up had been done! I mean, who does that?"
Merlin was sat at the desk in his uncle's empty bookshop, recounting the tale of the previous night (leaving out, of course, the gory details) to his uncle, Gaius, who was shuffling round the shelves checking stock and ticking things off on an old, ratty clipboard as he listened intently.
Gaius's shop was old, a bit dusty, and sold predominantly second hand occult books, so it wasn't exactly the busiest place. It generally picked up a bit on Saturday afternoons, though, and Merlin frequently helped out by manning the counter while his uncle sorted stock, or reshelving, or accounting - things Merlin didn't particularly understand or care about.
He was happy to help though, the customers were mainly regulars who all knew him, and it gave him an excuse to spend time with Gaius, who was the closest thing to a father figure he had. Also, Gaius didn't know Arthur, so Merlin could talk to him about the man's odd actions.
"Well, had you talked about what this might mean to either of you?"
"No, we were a bit... Distracted." Merlin blushed. "I don't even know if I want it to be more, I mean I like him, and we get on, and, you know, pancakes. But he's my boss."
Gaius nodded sagely - as if the concept of screwing your male boss was one he understood all too well, an image Merlin really did not need.
"Romances in the workplace can be tricky. Though talking of which, I thought you were getting on well with that penpal chap of yours?"
Merlin winced. "Yeah, we are getting on really well... But if I had the choice between getting to know someone in person and getting to know them by email, there's no contest, you know? I mean, Mort and I get on like a house on fire now that he's stopped being an arsehole, and if I could meet him in person I'd jump at the chance, but you can't wake up in the arms of a laptop. Does that make sense?"
"Yes, I see what you mean. Well I suppose all you can do now is wait and see how Arthur feels."
"Though sometimes people find it difficult to see clearly what they want - like one side of a coin trying to see the side that makes it whole." Merlin jumped as the voice came from behind the bookshelf that Gaius was stood next to, then took a deep, calming breath as he saw a regular customer of the shop shuffling slowly towards them.
"Oh hello, Mr Gareth." Merlin said. "I didn't know you were there."
"How many times must I tell you, call me Cillian. And that is so often the case with the youth of today, not seeing what is right in front of them. Am I right, Gaius?" The man smirked in an infuriatingly knowing way at Gaius, who swiftly changed the subject, telling Merlin he'd decided he wanted to do up the shop building's wild and unruly back garden, and asking Merlin to go outside and see how much work he think it might need.
On occasion, Merlin thought Gaius might be slightly magic, in his constant knowledge of when an argument needed to be pre-emptively avoided and precisely how to do so.
------------------------
When Monday morning rolled around, Merlin was almost looking forward to seeing Arthur. He'd spent most of the weekend in the back garden of Gauis's shop, attempting to 'trim' grass he was sure was taller than him, and had found that gardening (/battling his way through the jungle) lent itself to deep thinking.
Merlin had never overly wanted to get involved with anyone he'd worked with, but then he'd never worked with Arthur, and the more he thought about it the more he thought they'd compliment each other. He'd been nervous of the man at first, but once he'd managed to worm his way past the serious and workaholic exterior (admittedly with the help of a couple of beers), he'd found a fun, warm man with whom he shared a sense of humour that was equal parts darkly sarcastic and immaturely silly. A man he could talk to, laugh with, and who was - let's face it - a fucking beast in the sack.
And so, when Merlin sauntered from the lift into the office, a small smile played about his lips. He hadn't slept fantastically, but had managed to wake up in plenty of time and hadn't had to hurry to catch the train for once. He loaded his computer as the kettle boiled, firing off a quick email to Gwaine to nag him that it was his turn to host their occasional Dr Who and tequila night (the tequila helped assuage the shame of ugly crying about Ten and Rose). He didn't have any emails from Arthur even though the man was clearly in his office, so he assumed that he would want a coffee - it was first thing on a Monday, after all.
When Merlin had stirred all of the sugar in, he crossed to Arthur's door, knocking merely as a formality before he wandered in regardless. Arthur sat hunched over a pile of papers, concentrating with pen in hand. He looked tired. Merlin placed the mug next to him and stood, starting to feel a bit awkward by this point, next to the desk as he waited for Arthur to look up. The pause that followed was thick and lasted too long for comfort before Arthur finally broke it.
"Can I help you?" If that hadn't been enough to cut through Merlin's hopeful optimism, the look he proceeded to give him was - it wasn't even neutral, it was a dischordant symphony of uncaring scorn, the kind of look one would flash at a stranger in the street if they were to spit on the ground, before promptly forgetting their existance.
Merlin's heart dropped through his feet as if on a particularly unpleasant rollercoaster and he quickly shook his head in response before leaving the room, closing the door carefully behind him. He sat behind his desk, took a large gulp of his cup of tea and breathed heavily, wondering when he'd allowed Arthur the power over him to change his mood so drastically in such a short amount of time.
----------------------------
From: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Morning
Good morning. You had a good weekend?
x
From: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Re: Morning
Hey.
Hasn't been too bad, haven't been sleeping all that well though so pretty tired this morning.
How did you do with this week's challenge?
x
From: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Re: Re: Morning
Not so well to be honest, haven't really had an opportunity to tell a big truth! I told the truth to a friend after a few drinks on Friday night, but that doesn't count.
I guess the closest thing would have been telling my uncle that I really don't want to spend every weekend in the forseeable future trying to sort out the godforsaken hellhole that he calls the back garden to his shop. (He's got me doing it anyway, so this time the truth didn't help! Oh well.)
x
From: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Morning
What did you say to the friend then?
That sounds like a nearly useful truth, and it does seem like the truth, so I'll allow it :P
x
From: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Morning
Ah nothing important, bit of a long story anyway.
How was doing something unexpected?
x
From: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Morning
Not as unexpected as I expected! It's possible I may have overthought the whole thing and possibly also done some chickening out...
I did something kind of unexpected Friday night I guess (what is it about Friday night?), and also made creme caramels - my friend nearly had a heart attack when I told him what I'd cooked, which was good because it was obviously unexpected, but also slightly worrying that something as insignificant as my baking could provoke such a reaction... I think I should make him go to more regular check-ups at the doctors.
x
From: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Yawn
Well I'm proud of you anyway, from the sounds of it, any change (however slight) to your slightly OCD cooking habits is an achievement!
What happened Friday?
x
From: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Hope that's out of tiredness, not me being boring...
Friday was just a few drunken antics - but I don't usually drink enough to have 'antics', and was with a friend I haven't known very long, so I reckon I can count that as doubly unexpected - more points for me.
Is there an actual points system for this challenge, or do we just make it up as we go along?
x
From: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Sorry, really knackered :S
Of course we just make it up as we go along, wouldn't be fun any other way :)
x
From: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Me too.
Ha, of course not. I'm winning anyway though, right?
Sorry I'm all blargh today, feeling so out of it.
xxx
From: Dewin@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
To: Mort@Unity.Camelot.org.uk
Subject: Re: Me too.
Of course you're winning... For now! I'm just lulling you into a false sense of security, it's all part of my master plan ;)
That's fine, I am too. We'll talk tomorrow though, yeah?
And 'blargh' isn't a word :P
xxx
-------------------------
Morgana sauntered easily into Arthur's office without warning - as usual - on Tuesday and stated that she'd asked Merlin to get them coffee because they were going to need it if they were going to get these forms filled in by the deadline.
"What forms?"
"What forms? Arthur, are you joking with me? Because that's not funny. The personnel ones from the merger, we need them in HR by midday." Arthur groaned and tried very hard to resist the urge to bash his head resoundingly and repeatedly on the surface of his desk. He hadn't forgotten something this important for years.
As if finding his pain amusing (which, in his opinion, it most definitely did), the universe chose that moment to send Merlin bumbling through the door carefully balancing two mugs of coffee and glaring resolutely at the dark liquid inside them. Arthur found that he had to quickly suppress a blush before it forced him to explore whether it was caused by anger or embarrassment.
"Merlin, where did you put those personnel forms from the merger?"
"They'll be somewhere amongst the 'In' pile on your desk, where you asked for them, sir."
Arthur fumed silently, and couldn't completely suppress the flush that coloured his cheeks this time as Merlin placed the two mugs on the desk and swiftly left. Before the whole debacle between them, there wouldn't have been anything in the 'In' pile. He always kept up to date, even if it meant staying in the office til ten in the evening, or working full days at the weekend. How had he let himself get so distracted? It wasn't like him at all.
Morgana, as ever too observant for her own good, had watched the exchange and Arthur's attempts at a neutral facial expression with a calculating look in her eye, and ended up at the only logical conclusion.
"Arthur, what did you do?" Arthur looked up at her as if he'd forgotten she was there and narrowed his eyes.
"What do you mean, what did I do? You automatically assume I've done something wrong?"
"Well when was the last time Merlin brought you a cup of tea or coffee without you having to ask?"
"Probably Friday, why?"
"And the last time he insulted you? Or called you on your superiority complex bullshit? Or smiled at you? Or joked with you? Or came up with increasingly complex and convoluted dastardly schemes to force Gwen and Lance together with you?"
Arthur was completely fed up of her condescending, accusatory tone and couldn't stop himself from yelling "Last week. Why? What the fuck point are you trying to make, you utter harpy?"
Morgana just looked unhappy and sat silently for a few minutes, waiting for Arthur's anger to run out of steam. Finally she spoke softly and sadly.
"Arthur. What did you do?"
Part 3