Brassed Off Calendar Girls do the Full Monty in Camelot (16/?)
Gradually, Merlin found that the dates with Arthur were blending together as they spent more and more time with each other. Gradually, his panic and urge to flee subsided. Gradually, their musical styles began to converge and build into something new and great, as they practiced together, and played blues together.
They sat, resignedly, through Kahill’s inevitable lectures and the rest of the band’s relentless teasing at rehearsals.
“Well done, Arthur, love,” one such lecture began on a rainy Monday at band practice. “You’re beginning to draw some music out of the notes. But I think that section could, if anything, handle a bit more rubato.”
A bit later on Kahill turned to Merlin. “Well done, Merlin, love,” he said. “Your stamina is really improving.”
“That’s not what Arthur told me,” called out Leon from behind his enormous instrument. A flurry of snorts rattled round the band room. Merlin coughed; Gwen frowned and opened her mouth, then closed it again.
“Great to see you are paying attention to the basics,” continued Kahill, ignoring them. “You could do some upper register work though-you need to make sure you get the same depth of tone above the stave as you do beneath it.”
As the date of the Full Monty approached, they were also rehearsing stripping more often-both with the other boys, and, perhaps less effectively, but more gratifyingly, in the privacy of Arthur’s flat.
On one such evening Merlin turned up at Arthur’s with a care package that contained-in addition to the mandatory packets of Jammy Dodgers-a bottle of wine, some vegetable samosas, some Nerf gun darts-Arthur and Merlin liked to fire Nerf guns at certain politicians on TV during Newsnight-and a large pot of Nutella. They’d had the best intentions of finishing their Full Monty practice, but somehow before they’d both got completely naked they’d started to strip each other, and the stimulation of Arthur’s hands on Merlin’s exercise-hot sweaty skin was enough to make him hard and panting, and he had to pull himself and Arthur off, hands wrapped round them both, before they could even think about concentrating on their moves. And then of course they were filthy and sticky, so they had to step into the shower, and what with one thing and another he ended up on his knees in the shower with his lips round Arthur’s gorgeous engorged knob.
“Fuck,” he said, mouth full, so it sounded like “mfk.” He withdrew his mouth for a second, nosing Arthur’s wet bollocks. “Your prick, Arthur, tastes like...” and he looked up, blinded by water in his eyes, a sudden idea occurring to him.
“Bed!” he hissed, suddenly, cutting short the moment momentarily to pull Arthur, still wet and hard, out of the shower, and thrust him face down and protesting onto the bed.
“Merlin!” said Arthur. “Hey, wait, you haven’t finished. Come back here! You really are the most useless…mfff” and he couldn’t continue because Merlin had returned from the kitchen and leapt on top of him with a happy squawk.
“Stay there Arthur,” he said, breathless with excitement. Arthur was pink, flushed and dishevelled, wet hair pooling water all over his pillow. “Stay there and let me see your saucy arse. Now, on your hands and knees. ”
Arthur complied, still uttering muffled complaints. Merlin couldn’t resist tapping first one pert, pink mound and then the other with a playful slap. Arthur squeaked.
“Stop complaining! Such a gorgeous fucking arse, fuck Arthur, if you could just see it,” Merlin said appreciatively. He slathered a thick, dark brown smear of Nutella all over Arthur’s bare, pink arse cheeks with his fingers.
“Arthur!” he admonished. “Your filthy arse needs washing, so fucking dirty, Arthur. You have brown stains on those golden hairs. Good job you have me here to take care of you. Here,” and he reached round to push his Nutella-stained fingers into Arthur’s mouth. “Suck it off,” he commanded.
Arthur stilled, as he finally got the message, and stopped grumbling, instead starting to moan helplessly, salivating round Merlin’s fingers, reaching to touch his rampant cock.
“God, Merlin,” he breathed, totally vulnerable. “I love you and your deviant Irish brain.”
Merlin, startled, stored that statement up to bring out and treasure later, and batted Arthur’s hand away.
“I’ll tell you when you can touch yourself, you’re too dirty now,” he chided.
If there was one thing that Merlin loved nearly as much as Arthur’s perky bottom it was Nutella. The gooey, chocolatey mess softened tantalisingly onto Arthur’s golden hairs and the act of licking it off, combined with the deep, needy groans that this elicited from Arthur’s throat, was very nearly, but not quite enough to push Merlin over the edge.
He pressed a generous glob of Nutella deep into Arthur’s crack, pulling his hips backwards so that he could see the brown smear next to Arthur’s puckered pink hole. He was breathing deeply as he pressed his face into that musky crevice, his breath, lips, tongue and teeth delighting in the mingled scent and taste of chocolate and Arthur.
“Fuck, Arthur,” he breathed, his tongue snaking out and burying itself as deep as he could go into that tight furl, pressing one finger alongside it, listening to the wanton gasps that drew from Arthur’s mouth. “I have a sweet tooth, and you taste like heaven.”
Arthur bit off a choked cry, pushing his hips back towards Merlin in open invitation.
And later, after Merlin had worked Arthur open with his fingers and tongue, sheathed himself in a condom, slid inside and fucked Arthur hard into the bed, after he’d come apart in Arthur’s tight clench and heat, after he’d cleaned them both up and they’d dozed in a pink tangle of sweaty limbs, after they’d munched companionably on Jammy Dodgers in Arthur’s messed up bed, Merlin peeped up at Arthur from his biscuit-crumb infested pillow on Arthur’s chest and whispered.
“Me too, Arthur, so very, very much.”
Arthur looked confused at first, and then smiled uncertainly, remembering, and Merlin’s heart swelled at the sight.
"You love your deviant Irish brain?" Arthur teased, voice rumbling in his chest and tickling Merlin's ear. Merlin punched his arm.
"No you prat, stop being deliberately obtuse. You. I. Love. You. I love you, you infuriatingly gorgeous clotpole." Arthur tightened his grip.
"Such a girl," he said in a fond voice. "I love you, you idiot, and never forget it." And he kissed the top of Merlin's head. Merlin felt like purring as he burrowed contently into Arthur's wiry chest hair.