[Fic]: Corporal Reward | NC-17 | 2/2
(Part 1)
“Well?” Arthur says, leaning back on Merlin’s heavy door until it closes, leaving him canted at a casual angle like he thinks he’s James Dean. Merlin’s blood thumps. “What did you think?”
“About what?” Merlin says.
He has spent so much time watching Arthur by now that it’s become easy to see past his affectations. Like his smug expression, decaying into something fixed and uncertain the longer Merlin stares at him, letting the moment stretch. Or his costly weekend wear, which gives away more than he knows; he’s young enough to forget (or perhaps not even realize) that the slim cut of his jeans and artful dishevelment of his shirt broadcast his effort to change out of his uniform and into something calculated for display.
And there’s the fact that he came to Merlin at all, when a more seasoned man would have known his moment to wait.
Merlin is more seasoned. This is his moment to wait.
“I did what you told me,” Arthur says, visibly retreating behind his straightforward, linear thought. Merlin isn’t playing by the rules, and rules are what Arthur understands. “Did you not...watch? I was showing you-you said to come back when I knew what I wanted.”
“Is that what you were doing?” Merlin asks. “Showing me what you wanted?”
Arthur pauses for a second, as if he’s trying to decide if he wants to commit to his answer. “Yes.”
“Let’s say I didn’t watch,” Merlin says, folding his hands in his lap. Arthur opens his mouth but Merlin gives him a look and he closes it again. “What would I have seen?” He gets to a count of two in his head before Arthur goes scarlet.
“You want me to tell you?”
“Wasn’t that the point, Arthur?” Merlin stands, making his way around his desk. “Or did you really think you could get away with your own...unique and stupidly elaborate take on some obscene hand gestures and hope I would get the picture?”
Arthur goes defensive immediately, sputtering “I wasn’t-” when Merlin crowds into his space and says, “You were. You don’t fuck those boys because you think it’s the best way to get what you want, you fuck them because they’re safe and don’t ask questions if you want to be slapped around a bit. ‘Our Arthur, just likes it a little rough, doesn’t he?’” Merlin mocks, fascinated by the way Arthur starts to change right before his eyes, like Merlin’s found a loose thread that’s threatening to unravel him. “Do they even know what they’re doing to you?”
“They’re not,” Arthur shakes his head, avoiding Merlin’s eyes, breath uneven, “they’re not doing anything to me.”
“On the contrary,” Merlin says, forceful like a shove to Arthur’s chest. “They use you like a whore. They stick their fingers and cocks in you, they come all over your pretty mouth and face and you don’t just tolerate it, Arthur,” Merlin hisses, speaking right into Arthur’s hot red ear, “you’re not just being a good sport, are you?”
“Fuck you,” Arthur bites out. “They’re my friends.”
“I never said they weren’t.”
“It’s not- I want them to,” he insists, ardent, “I tell them to-”
“Then why can’t you tell me?” Merlin says, and at some point he put his hands to either side of Arthur’s head on the door. “Tell me.”
“I-” Arthur falters.
“Do you like it when it hurts?” Merlin prompts, gentle, drowning in warm grass and green apples.
“...Yes,” Arthur whispers. He’s shaking, speaking to his shoes.
“Say it.”
“I like it when it hurts.”
“You like being told what to do.”
“I like being told what to do.”
“You like having dick shoved down your throat,” Merlin says, letting his fingers just touch the silky strands of golden hair at Arthur’s temple. “You like having your ass spread, it makes you squirm inside to imagine some man staring at your hole.”
“I,” Arthur swallows, pupils blown out wide and dark. “Sir...”
“What does he think, seeing you so desperate for it? Does he call you a whore? An easy little cockslut?”
“God,” Arthur trembles, squeezing his eyes shut tight. “Please-”
“Does he make you beg, Arthur? Does he make you crawl?” Merlin asks, voice gone harsh.
“Merlin, please, s-sto-”
“Tell me,” Merlin demands, shaking the door in its casing with his palms shoving at the wood. “Just tell me, tell me what you want.”
“No, no-ohgod,” Arthur whines, body going tight for a long second before he loosens like his strings have been cut, chest heaving. Merlin stares at him; it feels like all the air in the room has burned away to nothing.
“Did you just...?” he starts, and Arthur’s face crumples. “Oh, fuck,” he says, grabbing Arthur by his shoulders when he tries to turn away. “No, don’t you fucking dare,” he cups Arthur’s face in his hands, thumbing at the wetness collecting on his lashes. “God, you beautiful creature, don’t you dare,” he says, fingers tightening on Arthur’s jaw, holding him still for a savage, desperate kiss.
Arthur quivers under him, shaking hands coming up to fist at Merlin’s collar, making short, hurt little noises in the back of his throat while Merlin tongue-fucks his mouth like there is nothing and no one else in the world.
Arthur breaks away, gasping for breath. His throat is thick with tears when he says, “I came in-in my pants,” making Merlin’s core go hot and ferocious. “I feel so s-stupid.”
“Don’t,” Merlin says. He has to close his eyes, give himself a moment of space from Arthur’s cringing, humiliated expression and uncomfortable stance before the sucking undertow of lust takes him down and he wrestles Arthur over his desk. “That is the sexiest thing I’ve seen you do yet.”
Arthur laughs a little, wetly, giving Merlin a sideways look. Almost shy, he leans forward and takes his first kiss from Merlin, soft at the side of his mouth. Merlin breathes, burying his fingers in the smooth hair at Arthur’s nape.
“Come home with me,” he says. Arthur nods.
-----
Merlin takes off his jacket when they get inside, hanging it on the coat rack before sitting on the little entryway bench to take off his shoes. Arthur follows his example and toes off his own sneakers, eager for something to do that doesn’t leave him standing there looking out of place. But then he’s in Merlin’s foyer in his socks and he’s obviously back to feeling nervous; his eyes flicker around absorbing all the details of Merlin’s small home without settling on any one thing for too long.
Merlin considers him, wondering if he’s ever gone home with one of his friends. He imagines Arthur riding Percy’s cock in some squeaky little twin bed. Probably not, Merlin finally decides, letting the thought dissolve. Why stick around at school to have sex if there had been beds to abuse that were equally free of the risk of interruption by siblings and parents? In the flawed reality in which the cameras at the school were just for show, it would make sense to think the gym or empty classrooms allowed for a modicum of privacy that their homes wouldn’t. Especially Arthur’s home, Merlin figures, where he assumes the Colonel has his own terrifyingly sophisticated surveillance system in place.
Merlin’s home is quiet and, but for being completely unfamiliar to Arthur, safe. Merlin slides his shoes out of the way under the bench before standing and drawing Arthur close by the back of the neck for a kiss. Arthur relaxes, curling into the touch like it reassures him. Merlin marvels at the unpracticed press of his lips and soft hesitance of his tongue, groaning a little at the reminder that Arthur is still so young. He’s had no one to seduce him, no one to take advantage of his body’s newness beyond the figurative and literal scatter-shot of some group fucking with his equally inexperienced friends. Arthur isn’t afraid of sex, and he’s not exactly new to it, but for Merlin’s intents and purposes he’s a virgin.
The thought has Merlin pressing Arthur against the wall, licking Arthur’s mouth wider and making the kiss slick and filthy. “Listen to me,” he says, pulling away only when Arthur starts to whimper. “If I do anything, anything tonight that you don’t want, say ‘red.’ Do you understand?”
Arthur’s eyes go wide. “A safeword?”
“Just in case,” Merlin says, letting his thumb ride the bob of Arthur’s adam’s apple. He pauses for a moment, wondering if his plans might be better left a surprise, but then he thinks Arthur will likely be surprised enough even if he shares his intentions in advance. “I’m going to tie you down,” he says gently, closing his fingers around Arthur’s wrists. “I’m going to suck your cock, and then I’m going to fuck you very, very slowly.”
“That sounds...really good,” Arthur whispers, looking seconds from coming in his pants again. Merlin grins.
“Get on the bed and get undressed. I’ll be there in a moment.”
He collects a length of nylon rope from his closet and a plain ring of stretchy silicone from his bathroom. Arthur has followed his instructions to the letter when Merlin kicks his bedroom door shut behind him, naked and spread over the deep red coverlet, already pumping eagerly at his cock. Merlin laughs, climbing on top of him and batting his hands away, peppering kisses along his cheek.
“I didn’t say to get started without me,” he says, nipping at Arthur’s earlobe.
“Sorry,” Arthur says, hands making their way to the new territory of Merlin’s ass. Merlin laughs again, twining their fingers together and using them to press Arthur’s arms over his head. They kiss more; Merlin thrills a little inside every time Arthur’s hands try to wander and Merlin gets to hold him down, keep him still, swallow Arthur’s surprised little moans. Arthur rubs up against him like an especially affectionate cat, going so far as to try to clamp their hips together by wrapping his lean thighs and calves around Merlin’s middle.
“Impatient beast,” Merlin murmurs, biting into the tender skin at the join of Arthur’s jaw and neck. He leans away, waiting until Arthur stops trying to follow him with his mouth and meets his eyes before he says very firmly, “Stay.”
Arthur swallows and settles back, not even dropping his arms to his sides when Merlin climbs up his body and straddles his chest. Merlin lets his approval show in his sharp smile and the press of his fingers when he takes the rope and begins to wind it around Arthur’s wrists. It’s a simple knot design that cuffs Arthur’s arms in a prayer-like pose, loose enough to allow his fingers to curl against his palms but tight enough that he can’t quite bring his elbows down around the width of his ribcage. Arthur’s eyes are dark as Merlin runs his hands over the layered bracelets of nylon, slipping his pinky finger just between the rope and Arthur’s skin. “Good?” Merlin asks, serious, and Arthur nods. Merlin takes the loose tails of the rope and tugs Arthur’s arms back over his head, tying the loop off around one of the middle iron rails of his headboard. He sits back, watching Arthur test the knots for give. He can feel Arthur’s heartbeat kick up under his legs when the rope doesn’t so much as budge.
Merlin carefully rolls off the bed and stands, loosening his tie and undoing his cuffs like he would any other evening, as if he has all the time in the world. Arthur follows Merlin with his eyes while he undresses. His hands curl and twitch a little against their bonds, nervous. The clink of Merlin’s belt and fly as he steps out of his slacks and boxers sound loud in the otherwise quiet room. He feels conscious of his body with Arthur staring, trying to imagine what he must look like through Arthur’s eyes as he comes back to the bed and kneels up on the mattress between his legs.
Merlin is comfortable in his skin - he’s just curious what it feels like from the other side, measuring the breadth of a grown man’s shoulders and the long muscles down his sides and not quite knowing how they’ll be applied to your own body but yearning for it all the same. He puts a hand to the thin skin at Arthur’s hip and rubs, enjoying its texture and the way Arthur’s eyes flutter a bit at the touch.
“I’m alright,” Arthur says, like he’s trying to convince himself more than reassure Merlin. “I’m actually, uh...used to feeling a little more held down than this,” he admits.
“You find it comforting,” Merlin says, leaning over Arthur’s body to nose against his neck, behind his ear. Arthur shudders.
“I s’pose, yeah.”
“You know you’d have better luck shaking off all five of your friends than you do of getting out of this rope without my help.”
“Oh,” Arthur bites his lip, the muscles in his arms standing out faintly when he tugs again, as if he just can’t help himself. “Yeah, I know. It’s only that it feels different.”
Merlin looks at Arthur, their faces so close together their noses almost touch. He brushes his thumb over the silky line of Arthur’s eyebrow, studying the colors in his irises. “The rope is a symbol,” he says quietly. “It has its practical uses, but it’s a symbol. Just as five young men holding you down are their own symbol. There’s a kind of freedom in immobility, and in succumbing to overwhelming force.”
“I’ve told you,” Arthur frowns. “They never forced me.”
“I know, I know there was no violence in the things you’ve done with your friends, Arthur. It was just an illusion of force. They provided you with everything you needed to let go, and then some. But what was lost in that illusion was the moment that you gave in, because it was already a foregone conclusion,” Merlin says, letting his mouth skip over the sharp line of Arthur’s cheek. “Do you understand?”
“I - I don’t know,” Arthur says.
“The rope puts you in my hands. It says you’re at my mercy, and it takes away your power, but there is no illusion of force. I don’t need to strap you to my bed to make you take what I’m going to do to you, because the rope says you trust me and that you are giving in willingly.” Merlin slides down to press a kiss to Arthur’s sternum, digging his thumbs into Arthur’s hips until he releases his held breath and starts to pant.
Arthur jumps when Merlin bites at his ribs, looking almost surprised that it gets him nowhere. And again when Merlin presses his tongue to Arthur’s navel, curious and slow. He makes little hiccuppy laughs when Merlin sits back and nibbles at the arch of his foot, the sound settling into a hum when Merlin puts his teeth to the knob of his ankle, growing into a low, urgent whine when Merlin kisses down his leg in pursuit of the soft, untouched skin of Arthur’s inner thighs and sucks until blood blooms to the surface beneath his lips.
Merlin glances up Arthur’s body, impish as he tilts Arthur’s cock out of his eye-line with two impersonal fingers. He makes sure Arthur is watching before placing a small kiss at the root of his dick, and then carefully licks Arthur’s balls into his mouth. Arthur grunts, dropping his head back against the pillows.
Merlin sucks slow and tidal, holding Arthur’s narrow hips down to the mattress. His hands look long and pale against Arthur’s sunny complexion. As Merlin hollows his cheeks, the muffled noises issuing from the head of the bed suggest Arthur’s biting down on either an unlucky pillow or his own arm. Merlin enjoys himself for several long, thorough minutes before he finally pulls away with a series of indulgent, fond licks. Arthur shudders, both relieved and devastated until Merlin promptly captures his cockhead with his tongue and lets it skid over his lips.
They’ve been kissing and playing for long enough that Merlin knows what his mouth looks like. Arthur’s staring at it desperately, and while Merlin enjoys teasing in general, right now he’d rather hunt for all of the little secrets to making Arthur come apart.
He wraps his lips just over the wide, fat head and suckles, flicking his tongue against Arthur’s slit. Precome floods his mouth and Arthur clenches his eyes shut, jaw dropping open while Merlin laps at him. He takes Arthur deep at an irregular rhythm just to come back up and curl every little salty dribble away with the tip of his tongue.
“Oh god, oh fuck,” Arthur rasps, abs tensing. Merlin quickly settles back, licking off the excess slickness on his lips while he watches Arthur struggle, groin twitching with the effort not to come. Eyeing Arthur’s tense sprawl across his sheets with a satisfied hum, Merlin fishes for the little circle of silicone in the churned up folds of the coverlet.
Arthur’s eyes snap open when he feels Merlin rolling the ring around the root of his prick and balls, laying tiny kisses up and down his shaft before pulling away completely.
“Wha- why are you-?” Arthur blurts, wiggling his hips.
Merlin shushes him, shifting up and patting Arthur’s flank so he rolls over onto his belly, his confusion taking on an alarmed edge. “It’s okay,” Merlin says, rubbing at his lower back, nudging and pushing until he’s pulled his knees in so his ass is up and he’s leaning forward on his elbows. Merlin can’t see him blush, but the way Arthur buries his face between his arms is telling enough. He must think they’re going to fuck now, that Merlin’s just going to set him up like a prop and push his cock inside. Merlin suffers conflicting bolts of arousal and dismay at the idea. To think that Arthur would bend over for such a thing without understanding what it means to do so sends a dangerous lash of heat through Merlin.
He jerks Arthur’s cheeks wide with both palms. Arthur makes a shocked little noise, but it’s nothing compared to the way he shouts, flailing, when Merlin licks a wide stripe right over his hole.
“You can’t do that!” he says, so obviously scandalized Merlin has to set his teeth in the meat of Arthur’s thigh for a second to keep himself from laughing.
“Are you going to stop me?” he asks, amused.
“N-no,” Arthur says, not in response to the question; he lurches sideways when Merlin makes to lean in again. Merlin wrenches him back in place, pulling his knees wide and holding them there so he can’t get any purchase except to squirm against the bed. Merlin presses his tongue to Arthur’s perineum and up, then in, shoving with the tip until he slips just inside Arthur’s hole. With nothing to ground his struggling Arthur can’t do much more than shake as Merlin worms his way deeper, jaw already twinging with the strain. “No, no Merlin,” Arthur begs, voice going thready and high, writhing with mortification. “Oh god, Merlin stop, stop,” he whines, a cascade of jagged sounds burbling out of him as Merlin begins to pump his tongue. Merlin groans and sucks, licking and pushing his way past the helpless resistance of that tight little clench of muscle. “I’m gonna,” Arthur gasps, going taut like a strung wire. “I’m, I’m gonna come, Merlin, I-I’m-” And he stills, for one second, two, while Merlin keeps brutally working at him until he starts to struggle again, uttering a betrayed, strangled cry.
“I forgot to mention,” Merlin gulps wetly, and Arthur wails into his arm, hips rocking.
“Merlin,” he whimpers, “Merlin I can’t, please, let me-”
“Not yet, sweetheart,” Merlin hushes, kissing over the small of his back and his spine. “You’re doing so well, shhh, just breathe.” It takes several minutes for Arthur to calm down, during which Merlin stretches him with two gentle, cautious fingers. “Are you ready?” Merlin murmurs into his shoulder, grabbing a condom and his little bottle of lube from the drawer of his bedside dresser. Arthur nods. There is already a tremble in his arms and thighs, a fine layer of sweat down his back. Merlin is almost surprised by his own arousal when he finally starts to roll on the condom; even that basic clinical touch is enough to have him biting his lip. He squeezes some lube onto his cockhead and sets the bottle back on the dresser, impatient but loving the wait, slowly coating his shaft and thumbing a smear of the excess over Arthur’s hole. “Gorgeous,” Merlin praises, helping Arthur shift his hips to a better angle. He fits his cock against Arthur’s ass and circles it there, pressing until the head finally pops inside. After that it’s easy to sink down into him, even as tightly as Arthur’s body wrings and clutches at the intrusion.
Merlin swallows air and thrusts deep, the sensation so overwhelming he doesn’t give them much time to adjust before a driving rhythm establishes itself and he is helpless to it, gritting his teeth in a snarl at just how fucking good the physical reality of Arthur actually feels. For his part, Arthur is breathing out a long, tremulous ‘oh’ that’s punctuated with every bump of Merlin’s hips against him. Merlin forces himself to slow, stroking down Arthur’s back with both hands in a soothing gesture, sweeping them back up again and around Arthur’s chest until he has both nipples in his fingers and he twists, hard.
Arthur jolts, throat working silently. Merlin groans “Fuck, yes,” at the spasmodic clenching around his dick and just lays into Arthur’s ass, fucking the most beautiful, broken animal noises the likes of which he’s never heard out of Arthur’s mouth. “God, yes, come on,” Merlin bites out, tucking his chin over Arthur’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around his chest. “Fuck, Arthur,” he says, breathing into Arthur’s ear. “Arthur you have no idea, no idea the things I want to do to you, you beautiful, innocent thing.” He slows his manic pace again, hooking himself into Arthur’s body instead with heavy, languid rolls of his hips. Arthur is shaking everywhere, even his fisted hands above the ropes. Merlin palms his face, the sweaty mop of his lovely hair; Merlin’s entire body crests with an incredible nameless feeling. “I’m so close,” he whispers, closing his eyes against Arthur’s neck. “I wish I could come inside you,” he confesses desperately. “I want you to feel it, what you do to me, I need you to know - oh! Arthur,” he swears, biting down at the join of Arthur’s neck and shoulder. His balls tighten, like a sudden, full-body switch being flipped - and he’s coming, clutching Arthur like a mooring as the wave hits. The momentum of his orgasm dizzies him, leaving him disoriented, turned inside out, feeling like one giant rhythmic throb of pleasure.
He slumps to the side, taking Arthur with him so they spoon messily. He lays reverent kisses all over Arthur’s neck and shoulders, in his damp, fragrant hair, getting his breath back. When he hitches up on his elbow Arthur looks at him slowly, his eyes glassy and dazed, like he’s not exactly present. Merlin doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more striking; it steals his wind again.
He rubs low at Arthur’s belly, fingers trailing in sweat as he dips them into the hair around Arthur’s groin. He is very, very careful stretching the cock ring off over Arthur’s balls and prick, tossing it away over the side of the bed.
Arthur doesn’t come instantly. There is a long moment like a held breath. Merlin runs his fingers lightly over the head of Arthur’s cock, touching him with incredible gentleness. “It’s okay,” he says softly into the skin behind Arthur’s ear. “Come for me, Arthur. Show me. Let it go.” Merlin is hardly even cradling Arthur’s cock in his hands when it begins to leak, and then spit, twitching in Merlin’s fingers while Arthur quakes against him silently. Merlin strokes him through the end of it, making it tight and fast, making it hurt just a little so that Arthur finally unclenches in Merlin’s arms and starts to cry.
He’s still crying quietly when Merlin unties the knot tethering him to the bed. Merlin leaves the wrist restraints as they are, turning Arthur towards him and looping his stiff arms around his neck. He tugs the comforter up around them both, creating a warm little cocoon for Arthur to curl into, holding him and petting him as he comes down, his face buried against Merlin’s chest.
-----
Merlin wakes to Arthur’s eyes on him. He’s backlit by the pale yellow sunlight filtering through the blinds; it makes the sleep-ruffled haystack of his hair glow.
“You snore,” Arthur says. His arms are curled up between them, still bound, fingers playing absently with the hair on Merlin’s chest.
Merlin blinks, yawning. “Did I wake you?”
“No,” Arthur snorts. “I have to pee. Can you...?” He lifts his arms. Merlin reaches for the knots, kissing over Arthur’s knuckles in a warm, sleepy doze while he picks at them. Arthur is very quiet. He rolls his wrists when they’re free, sits up and pulls his arms behind his back to stretch his shoulders. Aside from some red criss-crossing over his skin the nylon hasn’t left a mark on him. In a few moments even the little pink and white depressions will fade, probably while Arthur is still in the bathroom.
Merlin rolls over onto his back, staring at the ceiling and listening to the toilet flush, the water run. He gets out of bed, pulls on some shorts and heads to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. Arthur meets him there, hair smoothed down so it’s nearer to presentable, wearing his clothes from the night before. It’s like watching themselves move in rewind, the layers and the distance being pieced back together, leaving Merlin’s stomach to its own rebellious devices.
Arthur wrinkles his nose at the offer of coffee and Merlin’s conscience heaves. No matter that Arthur bends to Merlin’s hands like he was born to do it, he is still so young.
“Is it a problem that you stayed out last night?” Merlin asks, neutral. Arthur lifts a shoulder.
“Dad will assume I’m with one of the guys. He doesn’t really care.”
Merlin sets his mug down sharply, and that’s going to pose a problem for his already conflicted ethics. He has neither the room for nor the right to jealousy. “I’ll drive you home.”
“I’m not ready to leave yet,” Arthur says. Merlin looks at him. Arthur’s gaze is very frank and level and clear, and Merlin is not prepared to have this conversation. His expression betrays him. “You regret doing this,” Arthur realizes, which is not quite right but close enough to the mark for it not to matter much.
“No,” Merlin says. “No, I don’t,” he repeats firmly when Arthur still looks uncertain. He can’t make an excuse about his job or the fact that Arthur is a student. Partially because Arthur is both smart and direct enough to throw the DVDs locked in Merlin’s filing cabinet right in his face, but mostly because Merlin couldn’t care less about the job. He certainly doesn’t want to lose his job, but he figures Arthur is of a perfectly legal age to decide with whom he will or won’t share his body. In a practical world Merlin also understands if word ever got out that he tied Arthur to his bed and fucked him until he cried, he wouldn’t have a lot of free time to get fired before Uther Pendragon murdered him with his bare hands.
No, the real problem is that he looks at Arthur and all he wants to do is touch him - the insides of his elbows, the shallow dip of his spine, his ankles. He wants to pull on his hair and shove him into walls and across table-tops. He doesn’t want anyone else to flog welts into Arthur’s beautiful back for the first time. He doesn’t want anyone else to hold Arthur when he’s shaking from an endorphin crash, or wipe the come and lube from his thighs when he can hardly hold his head up anymore. He can’t understand how Arthur can be a boy with big feet and the long muscles of an adolescent and at the same time something as untouchable and hard to look at directly as the sun.
Arthur peers at him, like he’s searching for a button to push. “I want this,” he says. He puts himself right in front of Merlin, until their chests are almost touching. “You told me to come back when I knew what I want,” he says slowly - not with hesitance this time, but significance. “I want this. I want you.”
“God, Arthur, you’re eighteen,” Merlin says, brushing the tufty blonde hair at his temples down flat.
“Don’t be stupid,” Arthur says, a little impatient. Merlin cocks an eyebrow at him, but Arthur only shrugs.
“I don’t...do this lightly,” Merlin says, voice going tight. “This is not a distraction, or a game, or a way to pass the time. If you want me,” he pauses, wetting his lips, “then no more of the others. No more Gwaine or Percy or Lance.” He touches his fingers to the line of Arthur’s collarbones, knowing he has no right to demand such a thing. Unable to do anything but. It would be better to have had Arthur once than to share him.
Arthur leans in to Merlin’s neck, nosing his chin up in a surprisingly sensual gesture. “Why go back to the buffet,” he murmurs, “when I have all the chateubriand I could ever want right here?”
Merlin smiles, closing his eyes. “You’re such a little shit.”
“You think I’m charming. You find me irresistible,” Arthur says, smug. He closes his teeth on Merlin’s ear.
Merlin fists his hands in Arthur’s hair and his stupidly preppy shirt. Arthur kisses like he means it, and Merlin bites back because he believes him.
“Well?” Arthur says, leaning back on Merlin’s heavy door until it closes, leaving him canted at a casual angle like he thinks he’s James Dean. Merlin’s blood thumps. “What did you think?”
“About what?” Merlin says.
He has spent so much time watching Arthur by now that it’s become easy to see past his affectations. Like his smug expression, decaying into something fixed and uncertain the longer Merlin stares at him, letting the moment stretch. Or his costly weekend wear, which gives away more than he knows; he’s young enough to forget (or perhaps not even realize) that the slim cut of his jeans and artful dishevelment of his shirt broadcast his effort to change out of his uniform and into something calculated for display.
And there’s the fact that he came to Merlin at all, when a more seasoned man would have known his moment to wait.
Merlin is more seasoned. This is his moment to wait.
“I did what you told me,” Arthur says, visibly retreating behind his straightforward, linear thought. Merlin isn’t playing by the rules, and rules are what Arthur understands. “Did you not...watch? I was showing you-you said to come back when I knew what I wanted.”
“Is that what you were doing?” Merlin asks. “Showing me what you wanted?”
Arthur pauses for a second, as if he’s trying to decide if he wants to commit to his answer. “Yes.”
“Let’s say I didn’t watch,” Merlin says, folding his hands in his lap. Arthur opens his mouth but Merlin gives him a look and he closes it again. “What would I have seen?” He gets to a count of two in his head before Arthur goes scarlet.
“You want me to tell you?”
“Wasn’t that the point, Arthur?” Merlin stands, making his way around his desk. “Or did you really think you could get away with your own...unique and stupidly elaborate take on some obscene hand gestures and hope I would get the picture?”
Arthur goes defensive immediately, sputtering “I wasn’t-” when Merlin crowds into his space and says, “You were. You don’t fuck those boys because you think it’s the best way to get what you want, you fuck them because they’re safe and don’t ask questions if you want to be slapped around a bit. ‘Our Arthur, just likes it a little rough, doesn’t he?’” Merlin mocks, fascinated by the way Arthur starts to change right before his eyes, like Merlin’s found a loose thread that’s threatening to unravel him. “Do they even know what they’re doing to you?”
“They’re not,” Arthur shakes his head, avoiding Merlin’s eyes, breath uneven, “they’re not doing anything to me.”
“On the contrary,” Merlin says, forceful like a shove to Arthur’s chest. “They use you like a whore. They stick their fingers and cocks in you, they come all over your pretty mouth and face and you don’t just tolerate it, Arthur,” Merlin hisses, speaking right into Arthur’s hot red ear, “you’re not just being a good sport, are you?”
“Fuck you,” Arthur bites out. “They’re my friends.”
“I never said they weren’t.”
“It’s not- I want them to,” he insists, ardent, “I tell them to-”
“Then why can’t you tell me?” Merlin says, and at some point he put his hands to either side of Arthur’s head on the door. “Tell me.”
“I-” Arthur falters.
“Do you like it when it hurts?” Merlin prompts, gentle, drowning in warm grass and green apples.
“...Yes,” Arthur whispers. He’s shaking, speaking to his shoes.
“Say it.”
“I like it when it hurts.”
“You like being told what to do.”
“I like being told what to do.”
“You like having dick shoved down your throat,” Merlin says, letting his fingers just touch the silky strands of golden hair at Arthur’s temple. “You like having your ass spread, it makes you squirm inside to imagine some man staring at your hole.”
“I,” Arthur swallows, pupils blown out wide and dark. “Sir...”
“What does he think, seeing you so desperate for it? Does he call you a whore? An easy little cockslut?”
“God,” Arthur trembles, squeezing his eyes shut tight. “Please-”
“Does he make you beg, Arthur? Does he make you crawl?” Merlin asks, voice gone harsh.
“Merlin, please, s-sto-”
“Tell me,” Merlin demands, shaking the door in its casing with his palms shoving at the wood. “Just tell me, tell me what you want.”
“No, no-ohgod,” Arthur whines, body going tight for a long second before he loosens like his strings have been cut, chest heaving. Merlin stares at him; it feels like all the air in the room has burned away to nothing.
“Did you just...?” he starts, and Arthur’s face crumples. “Oh, fuck,” he says, grabbing Arthur by his shoulders when he tries to turn away. “No, don’t you fucking dare,” he cups Arthur’s face in his hands, thumbing at the wetness collecting on his lashes. “God, you beautiful creature, don’t you dare,” he says, fingers tightening on Arthur’s jaw, holding him still for a savage, desperate kiss.
Arthur quivers under him, shaking hands coming up to fist at Merlin’s collar, making short, hurt little noises in the back of his throat while Merlin tongue-fucks his mouth like there is nothing and no one else in the world.
Arthur breaks away, gasping for breath. His throat is thick with tears when he says, “I came in-in my pants,” making Merlin’s core go hot and ferocious. “I feel so s-stupid.”
“Don’t,” Merlin says. He has to close his eyes, give himself a moment of space from Arthur’s cringing, humiliated expression and uncomfortable stance before the sucking undertow of lust takes him down and he wrestles Arthur over his desk. “That is the sexiest thing I’ve seen you do yet.”
Arthur laughs a little, wetly, giving Merlin a sideways look. Almost shy, he leans forward and takes his first kiss from Merlin, soft at the side of his mouth. Merlin breathes, burying his fingers in the smooth hair at Arthur’s nape.
“Come home with me,” he says. Arthur nods.
-----
Merlin takes off his jacket when they get inside, hanging it on the coat rack before sitting on the little entryway bench to take off his shoes. Arthur follows his example and toes off his own sneakers, eager for something to do that doesn’t leave him standing there looking out of place. But then he’s in Merlin’s foyer in his socks and he’s obviously back to feeling nervous; his eyes flicker around absorbing all the details of Merlin’s small home without settling on any one thing for too long.
Merlin considers him, wondering if he’s ever gone home with one of his friends. He imagines Arthur riding Percy’s cock in some squeaky little twin bed. Probably not, Merlin finally decides, letting the thought dissolve. Why stick around at school to have sex if there had been beds to abuse that were equally free of the risk of interruption by siblings and parents? In the flawed reality in which the cameras at the school were just for show, it would make sense to think the gym or empty classrooms allowed for a modicum of privacy that their homes wouldn’t. Especially Arthur’s home, Merlin figures, where he assumes the Colonel has his own terrifyingly sophisticated surveillance system in place.
Merlin’s home is quiet and, but for being completely unfamiliar to Arthur, safe. Merlin slides his shoes out of the way under the bench before standing and drawing Arthur close by the back of the neck for a kiss. Arthur relaxes, curling into the touch like it reassures him. Merlin marvels at the unpracticed press of his lips and soft hesitance of his tongue, groaning a little at the reminder that Arthur is still so young. He’s had no one to seduce him, no one to take advantage of his body’s newness beyond the figurative and literal scatter-shot of some group fucking with his equally inexperienced friends. Arthur isn’t afraid of sex, and he’s not exactly new to it, but for Merlin’s intents and purposes he’s a virgin.
The thought has Merlin pressing Arthur against the wall, licking Arthur’s mouth wider and making the kiss slick and filthy. “Listen to me,” he says, pulling away only when Arthur starts to whimper. “If I do anything, anything tonight that you don’t want, say ‘red.’ Do you understand?”
Arthur’s eyes go wide. “A safeword?”
“Just in case,” Merlin says, letting his thumb ride the bob of Arthur’s adam’s apple. He pauses for a moment, wondering if his plans might be better left a surprise, but then he thinks Arthur will likely be surprised enough even if he shares his intentions in advance. “I’m going to tie you down,” he says gently, closing his fingers around Arthur’s wrists. “I’m going to suck your cock, and then I’m going to fuck you very, very slowly.”
“That sounds...really good,” Arthur whispers, looking seconds from coming in his pants again. Merlin grins.
“Get on the bed and get undressed. I’ll be there in a moment.”
He collects a length of nylon rope from his closet and a plain ring of stretchy silicone from his bathroom. Arthur has followed his instructions to the letter when Merlin kicks his bedroom door shut behind him, naked and spread over the deep red coverlet, already pumping eagerly at his cock. Merlin laughs, climbing on top of him and batting his hands away, peppering kisses along his cheek.
“I didn’t say to get started without me,” he says, nipping at Arthur’s earlobe.
“Sorry,” Arthur says, hands making their way to the new territory of Merlin’s ass. Merlin laughs again, twining their fingers together and using them to press Arthur’s arms over his head. They kiss more; Merlin thrills a little inside every time Arthur’s hands try to wander and Merlin gets to hold him down, keep him still, swallow Arthur’s surprised little moans. Arthur rubs up against him like an especially affectionate cat, going so far as to try to clamp their hips together by wrapping his lean thighs and calves around Merlin’s middle.
“Impatient beast,” Merlin murmurs, biting into the tender skin at the join of Arthur’s jaw and neck. He leans away, waiting until Arthur stops trying to follow him with his mouth and meets his eyes before he says very firmly, “Stay.”
Arthur swallows and settles back, not even dropping his arms to his sides when Merlin climbs up his body and straddles his chest. Merlin lets his approval show in his sharp smile and the press of his fingers when he takes the rope and begins to wind it around Arthur’s wrists. It’s a simple knot design that cuffs Arthur’s arms in a prayer-like pose, loose enough to allow his fingers to curl against his palms but tight enough that he can’t quite bring his elbows down around the width of his ribcage. Arthur’s eyes are dark as Merlin runs his hands over the layered bracelets of nylon, slipping his pinky finger just between the rope and Arthur’s skin. “Good?” Merlin asks, serious, and Arthur nods. Merlin takes the loose tails of the rope and tugs Arthur’s arms back over his head, tying the loop off around one of the middle iron rails of his headboard. He sits back, watching Arthur test the knots for give. He can feel Arthur’s heartbeat kick up under his legs when the rope doesn’t so much as budge.
Merlin carefully rolls off the bed and stands, loosening his tie and undoing his cuffs like he would any other evening, as if he has all the time in the world. Arthur follows Merlin with his eyes while he undresses. His hands curl and twitch a little against their bonds, nervous. The clink of Merlin’s belt and fly as he steps out of his slacks and boxers sound loud in the otherwise quiet room. He feels conscious of his body with Arthur staring, trying to imagine what he must look like through Arthur’s eyes as he comes back to the bed and kneels up on the mattress between his legs.
Merlin is comfortable in his skin - he’s just curious what it feels like from the other side, measuring the breadth of a grown man’s shoulders and the long muscles down his sides and not quite knowing how they’ll be applied to your own body but yearning for it all the same. He puts a hand to the thin skin at Arthur’s hip and rubs, enjoying its texture and the way Arthur’s eyes flutter a bit at the touch.
“I’m alright,” Arthur says, like he’s trying to convince himself more than reassure Merlin. “I’m actually, uh...used to feeling a little more held down than this,” he admits.
“You find it comforting,” Merlin says, leaning over Arthur’s body to nose against his neck, behind his ear. Arthur shudders.
“I s’pose, yeah.”
“You know you’d have better luck shaking off all five of your friends than you do of getting out of this rope without my help.”
“Oh,” Arthur bites his lip, the muscles in his arms standing out faintly when he tugs again, as if he just can’t help himself. “Yeah, I know. It’s only that it feels different.”
Merlin looks at Arthur, their faces so close together their noses almost touch. He brushes his thumb over the silky line of Arthur’s eyebrow, studying the colors in his irises. “The rope is a symbol,” he says quietly. “It has its practical uses, but it’s a symbol. Just as five young men holding you down are their own symbol. There’s a kind of freedom in immobility, and in succumbing to overwhelming force.”
“I’ve told you,” Arthur frowns. “They never forced me.”
“I know, I know there was no violence in the things you’ve done with your friends, Arthur. It was just an illusion of force. They provided you with everything you needed to let go, and then some. But what was lost in that illusion was the moment that you gave in, because it was already a foregone conclusion,” Merlin says, letting his mouth skip over the sharp line of Arthur’s cheek. “Do you understand?”
“I - I don’t know,” Arthur says.
“The rope puts you in my hands. It says you’re at my mercy, and it takes away your power, but there is no illusion of force. I don’t need to strap you to my bed to make you take what I’m going to do to you, because the rope says you trust me and that you are giving in willingly.” Merlin slides down to press a kiss to Arthur’s sternum, digging his thumbs into Arthur’s hips until he releases his held breath and starts to pant.
Arthur jumps when Merlin bites at his ribs, looking almost surprised that it gets him nowhere. And again when Merlin presses his tongue to Arthur’s navel, curious and slow. He makes little hiccuppy laughs when Merlin sits back and nibbles at the arch of his foot, the sound settling into a hum when Merlin puts his teeth to the knob of his ankle, growing into a low, urgent whine when Merlin kisses down his leg in pursuit of the soft, untouched skin of Arthur’s inner thighs and sucks until blood blooms to the surface beneath his lips.
Merlin glances up Arthur’s body, impish as he tilts Arthur’s cock out of his eye-line with two impersonal fingers. He makes sure Arthur is watching before placing a small kiss at the root of his dick, and then carefully licks Arthur’s balls into his mouth. Arthur grunts, dropping his head back against the pillows.
Merlin sucks slow and tidal, holding Arthur’s narrow hips down to the mattress. His hands look long and pale against Arthur’s sunny complexion. As Merlin hollows his cheeks, the muffled noises issuing from the head of the bed suggest Arthur’s biting down on either an unlucky pillow or his own arm. Merlin enjoys himself for several long, thorough minutes before he finally pulls away with a series of indulgent, fond licks. Arthur shudders, both relieved and devastated until Merlin promptly captures his cockhead with his tongue and lets it skid over his lips.
They’ve been kissing and playing for long enough that Merlin knows what his mouth looks like. Arthur’s staring at it desperately, and while Merlin enjoys teasing in general, right now he’d rather hunt for all of the little secrets to making Arthur come apart.
He wraps his lips just over the wide, fat head and suckles, flicking his tongue against Arthur’s slit. Precome floods his mouth and Arthur clenches his eyes shut, jaw dropping open while Merlin laps at him. He takes Arthur deep at an irregular rhythm just to come back up and curl every little salty dribble away with the tip of his tongue.
“Oh god, oh fuck,” Arthur rasps, abs tensing. Merlin quickly settles back, licking off the excess slickness on his lips while he watches Arthur struggle, groin twitching with the effort not to come. Eyeing Arthur’s tense sprawl across his sheets with a satisfied hum, Merlin fishes for the little circle of silicone in the churned up folds of the coverlet.
Arthur’s eyes snap open when he feels Merlin rolling the ring around the root of his prick and balls, laying tiny kisses up and down his shaft before pulling away completely.
“Wha- why are you-?” Arthur blurts, wiggling his hips.
Merlin shushes him, shifting up and patting Arthur’s flank so he rolls over onto his belly, his confusion taking on an alarmed edge. “It’s okay,” Merlin says, rubbing at his lower back, nudging and pushing until he’s pulled his knees in so his ass is up and he’s leaning forward on his elbows. Merlin can’t see him blush, but the way Arthur buries his face between his arms is telling enough. He must think they’re going to fuck now, that Merlin’s just going to set him up like a prop and push his cock inside. Merlin suffers conflicting bolts of arousal and dismay at the idea. To think that Arthur would bend over for such a thing without understanding what it means to do so sends a dangerous lash of heat through Merlin.
He jerks Arthur’s cheeks wide with both palms. Arthur makes a shocked little noise, but it’s nothing compared to the way he shouts, flailing, when Merlin licks a wide stripe right over his hole.
“You can’t do that!” he says, so obviously scandalized Merlin has to set his teeth in the meat of Arthur’s thigh for a second to keep himself from laughing.
“Are you going to stop me?” he asks, amused.
“N-no,” Arthur says, not in response to the question; he lurches sideways when Merlin makes to lean in again. Merlin wrenches him back in place, pulling his knees wide and holding them there so he can’t get any purchase except to squirm against the bed. Merlin presses his tongue to Arthur’s perineum and up, then in, shoving with the tip until he slips just inside Arthur’s hole. With nothing to ground his struggling Arthur can’t do much more than shake as Merlin worms his way deeper, jaw already twinging with the strain. “No, no Merlin,” Arthur begs, voice going thready and high, writhing with mortification. “Oh god, Merlin stop, stop,” he whines, a cascade of jagged sounds burbling out of him as Merlin begins to pump his tongue. Merlin groans and sucks, licking and pushing his way past the helpless resistance of that tight little clench of muscle. “I’m gonna,” Arthur gasps, going taut like a strung wire. “I’m, I’m gonna come, Merlin, I-I’m-” And he stills, for one second, two, while Merlin keeps brutally working at him until he starts to struggle again, uttering a betrayed, strangled cry.
“I forgot to mention,” Merlin gulps wetly, and Arthur wails into his arm, hips rocking.
“Merlin,” he whimpers, “Merlin I can’t, please, let me-”
“Not yet, sweetheart,” Merlin hushes, kissing over the small of his back and his spine. “You’re doing so well, shhh, just breathe.” It takes several minutes for Arthur to calm down, during which Merlin stretches him with two gentle, cautious fingers. “Are you ready?” Merlin murmurs into his shoulder, grabbing a condom and his little bottle of lube from the drawer of his bedside dresser. Arthur nods. There is already a tremble in his arms and thighs, a fine layer of sweat down his back. Merlin is almost surprised by his own arousal when he finally starts to roll on the condom; even that basic clinical touch is enough to have him biting his lip. He squeezes some lube onto his cockhead and sets the bottle back on the dresser, impatient but loving the wait, slowly coating his shaft and thumbing a smear of the excess over Arthur’s hole. “Gorgeous,” Merlin praises, helping Arthur shift his hips to a better angle. He fits his cock against Arthur’s ass and circles it there, pressing until the head finally pops inside. After that it’s easy to sink down into him, even as tightly as Arthur’s body wrings and clutches at the intrusion.
Merlin swallows air and thrusts deep, the sensation so overwhelming he doesn’t give them much time to adjust before a driving rhythm establishes itself and he is helpless to it, gritting his teeth in a snarl at just how fucking good the physical reality of Arthur actually feels. For his part, Arthur is breathing out a long, tremulous ‘oh’ that’s punctuated with every bump of Merlin’s hips against him. Merlin forces himself to slow, stroking down Arthur’s back with both hands in a soothing gesture, sweeping them back up again and around Arthur’s chest until he has both nipples in his fingers and he twists, hard.
Arthur jolts, throat working silently. Merlin groans “Fuck, yes,” at the spasmodic clenching around his dick and just lays into Arthur’s ass, fucking the most beautiful, broken animal noises the likes of which he’s never heard out of Arthur’s mouth. “God, yes, come on,” Merlin bites out, tucking his chin over Arthur’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around his chest. “Fuck, Arthur,” he says, breathing into Arthur’s ear. “Arthur you have no idea, no idea the things I want to do to you, you beautiful, innocent thing.” He slows his manic pace again, hooking himself into Arthur’s body instead with heavy, languid rolls of his hips. Arthur is shaking everywhere, even his fisted hands above the ropes. Merlin palms his face, the sweaty mop of his lovely hair; Merlin’s entire body crests with an incredible nameless feeling. “I’m so close,” he whispers, closing his eyes against Arthur’s neck. “I wish I could come inside you,” he confesses desperately. “I want you to feel it, what you do to me, I need you to know - oh! Arthur,” he swears, biting down at the join of Arthur’s neck and shoulder. His balls tighten, like a sudden, full-body switch being flipped - and he’s coming, clutching Arthur like a mooring as the wave hits. The momentum of his orgasm dizzies him, leaving him disoriented, turned inside out, feeling like one giant rhythmic throb of pleasure.
He slumps to the side, taking Arthur with him so they spoon messily. He lays reverent kisses all over Arthur’s neck and shoulders, in his damp, fragrant hair, getting his breath back. When he hitches up on his elbow Arthur looks at him slowly, his eyes glassy and dazed, like he’s not exactly present. Merlin doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more striking; it steals his wind again.
He rubs low at Arthur’s belly, fingers trailing in sweat as he dips them into the hair around Arthur’s groin. He is very, very careful stretching the cock ring off over Arthur’s balls and prick, tossing it away over the side of the bed.
Arthur doesn’t come instantly. There is a long moment like a held breath. Merlin runs his fingers lightly over the head of Arthur’s cock, touching him with incredible gentleness. “It’s okay,” he says softly into the skin behind Arthur’s ear. “Come for me, Arthur. Show me. Let it go.” Merlin is hardly even cradling Arthur’s cock in his hands when it begins to leak, and then spit, twitching in Merlin’s fingers while Arthur quakes against him silently. Merlin strokes him through the end of it, making it tight and fast, making it hurt just a little so that Arthur finally unclenches in Merlin’s arms and starts to cry.
He’s still crying quietly when Merlin unties the knot tethering him to the bed. Merlin leaves the wrist restraints as they are, turning Arthur towards him and looping his stiff arms around his neck. He tugs the comforter up around them both, creating a warm little cocoon for Arthur to curl into, holding him and petting him as he comes down, his face buried against Merlin’s chest.
-----
Merlin wakes to Arthur’s eyes on him. He’s backlit by the pale yellow sunlight filtering through the blinds; it makes the sleep-ruffled haystack of his hair glow.
“You snore,” Arthur says. His arms are curled up between them, still bound, fingers playing absently with the hair on Merlin’s chest.
Merlin blinks, yawning. “Did I wake you?”
“No,” Arthur snorts. “I have to pee. Can you...?” He lifts his arms. Merlin reaches for the knots, kissing over Arthur’s knuckles in a warm, sleepy doze while he picks at them. Arthur is very quiet. He rolls his wrists when they’re free, sits up and pulls his arms behind his back to stretch his shoulders. Aside from some red criss-crossing over his skin the nylon hasn’t left a mark on him. In a few moments even the little pink and white depressions will fade, probably while Arthur is still in the bathroom.
Merlin rolls over onto his back, staring at the ceiling and listening to the toilet flush, the water run. He gets out of bed, pulls on some shorts and heads to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. Arthur meets him there, hair smoothed down so it’s nearer to presentable, wearing his clothes from the night before. It’s like watching themselves move in rewind, the layers and the distance being pieced back together, leaving Merlin’s stomach to its own rebellious devices.
Arthur wrinkles his nose at the offer of coffee and Merlin’s conscience heaves. No matter that Arthur bends to Merlin’s hands like he was born to do it, he is still so young.
“Is it a problem that you stayed out last night?” Merlin asks, neutral. Arthur lifts a shoulder.
“Dad will assume I’m with one of the guys. He doesn’t really care.”
Merlin sets his mug down sharply, and that’s going to pose a problem for his already conflicted ethics. He has neither the room for nor the right to jealousy. “I’ll drive you home.”
“I’m not ready to leave yet,” Arthur says. Merlin looks at him. Arthur’s gaze is very frank and level and clear, and Merlin is not prepared to have this conversation. His expression betrays him. “You regret doing this,” Arthur realizes, which is not quite right but close enough to the mark for it not to matter much.
“No,” Merlin says. “No, I don’t,” he repeats firmly when Arthur still looks uncertain. He can’t make an excuse about his job or the fact that Arthur is a student. Partially because Arthur is both smart and direct enough to throw the DVDs locked in Merlin’s filing cabinet right in his face, but mostly because Merlin couldn’t care less about the job. He certainly doesn’t want to lose his job, but he figures Arthur is of a perfectly legal age to decide with whom he will or won’t share his body. In a practical world Merlin also understands if word ever got out that he tied Arthur to his bed and fucked him until he cried, he wouldn’t have a lot of free time to get fired before Uther Pendragon murdered him with his bare hands.
No, the real problem is that he looks at Arthur and all he wants to do is touch him - the insides of his elbows, the shallow dip of his spine, his ankles. He wants to pull on his hair and shove him into walls and across table-tops. He doesn’t want anyone else to flog welts into Arthur’s beautiful back for the first time. He doesn’t want anyone else to hold Arthur when he’s shaking from an endorphin crash, or wipe the come and lube from his thighs when he can hardly hold his head up anymore. He can’t understand how Arthur can be a boy with big feet and the long muscles of an adolescent and at the same time something as untouchable and hard to look at directly as the sun.
Arthur peers at him, like he’s searching for a button to push. “I want this,” he says. He puts himself right in front of Merlin, until their chests are almost touching. “You told me to come back when I knew what I want,” he says slowly - not with hesitance this time, but significance. “I want this. I want you.”
“God, Arthur, you’re eighteen,” Merlin says, brushing the tufty blonde hair at his temples down flat.
“Don’t be stupid,” Arthur says, a little impatient. Merlin cocks an eyebrow at him, but Arthur only shrugs.
“I don’t...do this lightly,” Merlin says, voice going tight. “This is not a distraction, or a game, or a way to pass the time. If you want me,” he pauses, wetting his lips, “then no more of the others. No more Gwaine or Percy or Lance.” He touches his fingers to the line of Arthur’s collarbones, knowing he has no right to demand such a thing. Unable to do anything but. It would be better to have had Arthur once than to share him.
Arthur leans in to Merlin’s neck, nosing his chin up in a surprisingly sensual gesture. “Why go back to the buffet,” he murmurs, “when I have all the chateubriand I could ever want right here?”
Merlin smiles, closing his eyes. “You’re such a little shit.”
“You think I’m charming. You find me irresistible,” Arthur says, smug. He closes his teeth on Merlin’s ear.
Merlin fists his hands in Arthur’s hair and his stupidly preppy shirt. Arthur kisses like he means it, and Merlin bites back because he believes him.