Merlin - Woods for the Trees (AU, Merlin/Arthur, NC-17)
I said, "I have no inspiration for Merlin anymore."
zoetrope said, "I really like modern!day London AU's.
trolleys created one of the most exquisite Merlin drawings I've ever seen.
My brain said, "Make it work or die."
Merlin
Arthur/Merlin, NC-17
Word Count: 6,200
Alternate Universe.
Woods for the Trees
Merlin sleeps like the dead. A dead octopus that is.
His arms splay out across the mattress as though he's embracing a vast mountain terrain in his sleep, and his hips shift, spreading out his legs as though they're the bottom half of a lower-case 'h'.
Merlin moves so much in the night that inevitably his shirt moves up to his ribs, and his pyjama bottoms ride down enough that Arthur can see the crack of Merlin's backside when he pulls back the bed covers.
Arthur should be used to Merlin's imperious command of his bed by now, they've lived together long enough that they've passed out in the same space more than a few times, but the manner in which Merlin manages to contort himself in the name of a few hours of rest never ceases to amaze him.
"Feckless," he says, poking Merlin in the ribs. "Get up."
Merlin makes an indescribable noise. "Gnhhrrr."
Arthur rolls his eyes and turns on the bedside lamp. "Merlin!" he snaps. "If you don't wake up immediately, I'm going to make you eternally sorry; your choice. I'm giving you to the count of three."
Merlin makes another noise, rubbing his nose with his fist. Arthur isn't charmed in the slightest. Not even a little bit.
"One."
Merlin turns his head away.
"Two."
Merlin snorts softly. Arthur leans down and moves Merlin's bed covers back a bit more. All he needs is a holding point; he wraps his fingers around Merlin's ankle. "Two and a half, Merlin."
Merlin bats out at Arthur and Arthur snorts. "Have it your ways, Emrys," he says. "Three!"
Arthur gives an enormous tug, and Merlin shoots out of his bed, landing in an ungainly heap on the floor. "Jesus, Arthur!" Merlin bitches to the hardwood flooring before managing to roll over onto his back. "I asked you to wake me up, not commit GBH!"
Arthur chuckles. "Just doing you a favour."
Merlin's face is creased with sleep and his shirt is rucked up around his torso like the bottom half magically went walkabout. Arthur is not looking at the dark hair on Merlin's chest or the way it tapers off in a line before disappearing under the waistband of his pyjamas.
Arthur's seen Merlin shirtless before. He's scrawny. It's not attractive in the slightest.
Really.
Merlin rubs his face around a yawn. "That was so unnecessary."
Arthur grins down sharply at his flatmate. "You're the one who begged me to wake you up, Merlin."
Merlin gives Arthur an evil glare; it's hampered by the fact that his hair is standing up as though he stuck his finger in an electric socket.
"I can't be late," Arthur says in his best Merlin impression. "I've got an important meeting. I'll do the washing up and lick your trainers clean if you do this for me. I'll tell everyone you're brilliant in bed."
"You're a prick," Merlin retorts. "And I don't recall that last one."
Arthur shrugs. "You said it," he insists before turning on his heel. "I've got it recorded on my mobile. Maybe I'll make it my new ringtone."
Merlin's still sputtering as Arthur walks out, pausing to turn on Radio 1.
Merlin hates Radio 1; he'll be forced to get up just to turn it off.
"It doesn't count if I was pissed," Merlin hollers over Lily Allen.
"Yes, Merlin," Arthur calls back. "It does."
Merlin takes his tea white, with two sugars.
Arthur takes his tea black, with one sugar.
In the six-plus years that Arthur's known Merlin -- three at Cambridge, one of Merlin travelling the world and "finding himself", the six months Merlin spent on Arthur's sofa doing fuck all, and the two years that Merlin's actually been employed at Pendragon Creative -- Arthur has never known Merlin to take his tea black.
Today, however, Arthur winds up pouring Merlin's milk on the counter, because Merlin snatches his mug away before Arthur's had a chance to finish making the tea.
Arthur's obliviousness to Merlin's approach has nothing to do with his looking out the kitchen window at the couple across the street who like to shag in front of their sitting room windows every Wednesday.
He thought today was Tuesday. Huh.
"Fucking hell, Merlin!" he curses as the milk just misses spilling off the counter and onto his shoes. "A bit of warning would've been nice," he says, grabbing a cloth to mop up the mess.
When Arthur's done, he tosses the cloth in Merlin's general direction. It lands on top of Merlin's hair, which is already a damp mop from his shower, the wet tendrils curling over his forehead and against his neck.
Merlin pulls the cloth off and tosses it at Arthur. "Pwar," he says, around a mouthful of toast.
Arthur's toast.
"Did you ask me if you could eat that, you skeletal, brain-addled kleptomaniac?" Arthur says, snatching back his half-eaten toast. He frowns at the little corner he manages to free from Merlin's clutches.
"I am not your mother, Merlin. If you want me to make you breakfast, you'll have to suck my cock and make me come my brains out first, just like everyone else."
Merlin smirks, chewing the last of Arthur's toast and picking up his tea. "Tempting," he says mock thoughtfully, after swallowing, "but I'll pass."
Arthur raises an eyebrow. "I know you spend your days yearning to get your nobbly fingers on my body; you're only human, you can't help yourself."
Merlin chokes on his tea, producing a massive coughing fit. "Yearning?" he manages to spit out. "Really?"
"I know, Merlin," Arthur says placatingly. "It's all right. Greater men and women than you have got on their knees and begged for my condescension."
"Condescension?" Merlin quips. "I thought your cock was called 'microscopic'."
It would be wrong of Arthur to flash Merlin and show him otherwise. He's already dressed. They really do need to get to the office. It'll be a nightmare at Euston when they have to change lines if they wait much longer, but he only has to undo his belt and unfasten his flies.
Merlin's jaw drops as Arthur pushes his trousers down -- and flashes his briefs.
Arthur smiles broadly as Merlin shake his head and claps. "Well played."
It's always nice to start his day with Merlin speechless.
The world is full of people Arthur Pendragon wants to avoid on penalty of death: ex-partners, ex-one night stands, ex-one night stands who thought they would be partners, people selling the Big Issue, his step-sister Morgana.
At least Arthur's father has a driver and has probably never seen the inside of a tube station.
Sometimes though, the entire world just happens to be at Hampstead tube.
Today is one of those days.
Arthur grips Merlin's bicep thirty seconds after they step onto the platform, hauling him in the opposite direction from where Merlin's feet are going. He speaks urgently through clenched teeth.
"Dear god, it's Sophia," Arthur says, moving Merlin away from the chocolate machine. "Smile and act as though I just shagged your brains out."
Merlin laughs, shaking off Arthur's arm. "Don't you mean that I shagged your brains out," he corrects.
Arthur dares a glance in the direction of his most deranged ex-shag-to-date, and glares at Merlin. "No, I do not. Besides, you owe me for the last time we saw Will."
"Will never threatened to cut off my prick and post it to my dad."
"You don't even know your dad," Arthur retorts.
"Or my mum." Merlin's voice has taken on a decidedly sing-song tone.
Damn him.
"It's not as though she's going to believe we're together," Merlin says. "She's been to our flat."
"Everybody thinks we're shagging," Arthur counters.
"No, you just think everyone thinks we're shagging."
"Probably because that's what you told them when you were living on my sofa and leeching off of me like a parasite. 'I pay rent in blowjobs' -- isn't that what you said during one particularly long evening at The King's Head?"
Merlin's grin is all teeth. "I suppose I did," he says thoughtfully. "You never took me up on that, you know."
Arthur blinks and then shakes his head. "No," he crosses his arms. "It's beneath me."
"More like beneath me," Merlin corrects.
Arthur narrows his eyes.
Merlin's grin broadens and he raises an eyebrow. "All right, I'll just be over there -" he says, beginning to walk away. Arthur grabs Merlin by one of his belt loops and drags him back.
"Fine," he hisses in Merlin's ear. "You shagged my brains out, are you happy now?"
Merlin's smile is enormous and for a moment Arthur's entire body reacts very strangely. With the way his heartbeat quickens and his palms go a bit clammy it's almost as though Merlin did shag his brains out, but Arthur's sure he would remember that.
"I am deliriously happy," Merlin says, grabbing Arthur by his favourite Paul Smith tie and hauling him close.
"You couldn't have grabbed my coat?" Arthur bitches. "You've probably ruined my tie."
Merlin rolls his eyes, even as he adjusts Arthur's tie. He never actually lets go.
From this proximity, Arthur can see the way Merlin's eyelashes are sticking together and how his hair isn't completely dry yet. Then again, it's barely above two degrees, Merlin's wearing those fingerless gloves that are utterly pointless and he should be happy his hair hasn't frozen on his head.
"I think I should snog you," Merlin says thoughtfully.
Arthur narrows his eyes. "We're in public."
"You want it to be convincing, don't you?" Merlin's eyes are far too bright.
"Merlin."
"Sophia is ten feet away, so, I'm going to snog you now," Merlin announces very softly, tugging Arthur that much closer. "Try not to faint, all right?"
"Not on your best day," Arthur retorts. His eyes track Merlin's movements right until Merlin's lips brush his own. Arthur doesn't mean to close his eyes. Really. Buggery. It doesn't help that Merlin makes this noise in the back of his throat that makes Arthur's knees go a bit funny.
Merlin keeps his tongue to himself, but his mouthing at Arthur's bottom lip doesn't help Arthur's sanity. Arthur can feel his body responding in ways that it is not supposed to around Merlin.
He's been through this already: just because two men are queer does not mean they should fuck. Especially when one of the men is Merlin and he's the other.
A blast of air blows up the back of Arthur's wool coat, and Merlin pulls away leaving Arthur's mouth feeling strangely exposed. "Train's here," Merlin says.
Arthur clears his throat, willing the heat away from his cheeks. "Thank god."
"I always knew you were gay," a female voice hisses behind Arthur's back.
Arthur plasters a guileless smile on his face as he turns around. "Hello, Sophia--"
"You shag like a gay man," Sophia declares, which takes Arthur aback. He's not exclusively anything; he likes to keep his options open.
"Exactly how many gay men have you shagged?" Merlin asks, wrapping an arm around Arthur's waist and peeking over his shoulder.
"And you," she sputters, pointing at Merlin. "You probably made him gay in the first place!"
Just behind Sophia, several other people seem entirely too interested in the turn this conversation has taken. Or possibly they're just waiting to get on the train.
"Yes, I'm a magical gay sorcerer," Merlin snorts. "I use my magic to make men gay, and we must go before you taint us with your warped heterosexuality."
Arthur laughs loudly as Merlin drags him down the platform to get into another car.
They just barely make the closing doors.
"You are never boring," Arthur says, tossing an amused look at Merlin as they wedge themselves in with the other passengers. "I'll give you that."
Merlin's answering grin is enormous. "Anything for you, your highness."
Pendragon Creative, Inc is the largest public relations conglomerate in the United Kingdom, with additional offices in Paris, Madrid, Barcelona, Rome, Brussels, New York and Los Angeles. There are also satellite offices in Mumbai, Hong Kong, Sydney, Cairo and Vancouver. In short, anywhere that famous people get in trouble, PC is there to protect them. Which is another way of saying that what PC does for its clients, including the Royal Family, really depends on the client's needs. Whether it's keeping the birth of an illegitimate child out of the papers, hiding that second wife from the first or something as simple as maintaining a pop star's reputation during her vodka-snorting induced breakdown, PC handles it all.
Correction: Arthur's father handles the clients. Arthur handles his father. Morgana handles the press. Guinevere handles Morgana. And everyone else does whatever it is that they're paid to do that keeps Arthur in his bespoke Ozwald Boateng suits and Ferragamo shoes.
What Merlin does in this entire cog work, apart from maintaining the websites of vodka-snorting pop stars and royal persons interested in killing endangered animals, is that he keeps Arthur entertained.
This is no small feat during the course of Arthur's day, which involves interminable meetings with his father and their clients, and meeting with his father about their clients, and meeting with Morgana about the meetings he has with his father about their clients.
Generally, this entertainment is provided in the form of Instant Messaging and emails.
To: merlin.emrys@pendragon.co.uk
From: arthur.pendragon@pendragon.co.uk
Date: 17 February 2009, 10:53 GMT
Subject: Tea
I want tea.
To: arthur.pendragon @pendragon.co.uk
From: merlin.emrys @pendragon.co.uk
Date: 17 February 2009, 10:57 GMT
Subject: Re: Tea
Your point being?
To: merlin.emrys@pendragon.co.uk
From: arthur.pendragon@pendragon.co.uk
Date: 17 February 2009, 11:01 GMT
Subject: Re: Tea
Have you become illiterate in the last ten minutes? I said, I want tea.
To: arthur.pendragon @pendragon.co.uk
From: merlin.emrys @pendragon.co.uk
Date: 17 February 2009, 11:04 GMT
Subject: Re: Tea
See my last e-mail, prat. Don't you have an assistant for that?
To: merlin.emrys@pendragon.co.uk
From: arthur.pendragon@pendragon.co.uk
Date: 17 February 2009, 11:08 GMT
Subject: Re: Tea
That is not the point. You are clearly the worst fake boyfriend ever.
Thirty seconds after Arthur hits send, his phone rings. And then it rings again. Arthur normally answers all calls from Merlin, but today… "Can you get that?" he calls out to his assistant.
Two seconds later the crisp tones of Arthur's rather fabulous assistant, Emma, who would never think twice about making Arthur tea, resonate through his office. "Arthur Pendragon's office, Emma Martin speaking." A pause. "Hello, Merlin."
There's another pause followed by something that sounds like a snort. "I'll tell him," Emma says.
Arthur looks up when Emma appears in the doorway in all her five foot, perfectly-coiffed, British-by-way-of-Jamaica-and-Brixton glory. "Mr Emrys gave me a message for you, would you like to hear it, sir?" She says, the corners of her mouth twitching.
Arthur sits back in his chair. "By all means."
"In the censored form?"
"In the uncensored form, if it's not too much trouble."
Emma clears her throat. "Tell that self-important, micro-dicked arse that if he wants his tea so badly, he should go down the hall and make it himself if he can suss out that the bag doesn't go up his backside. Full stop."
Arthur does not smile. Not even a little bit. Okay, maybe a little bit.
Grabbing his mug, Arthur stands up, stretching his arms over his head. "Well, Emma, if you'll excuse this self-important arse, I'm going to make myself a cup of tea. Would you like one?"
Emma just shakes her head. "No, I'm all right," she says before going back to her desk.
Arthur pauses to send an e-mail before he leaves.
To: merlin.emrys@pendragon.co.uk
From: arthur.pendragon@pendragon.co.uk
Date: 17 February 2009, 11:21 GMT
Subject: Re: Tea
I'm going to remember this insolence when I get home. If I were you, I'd sleep with one eye open tonight, Emrys.
"And then she threw all of his clothes out the window and chased them out of the house with a shotgun." Morgana pauses in recalling her latest client debacle to take a sip of wine.
Three days a week, Arthur has a working lunch with his step-sister Morgana Le Fay. The other two days of the week, he has lunch with his father. It's been a long time since Arthur has actually managed to finish any of his lunch and/or eat without suffering from heartburn afterwards. Even lunch at The Ivy can't improve on some news.
Arthur scoops up a bit of potato. "So it was a naked foot chase?"
Morgana's brow lifts. "What do you think?"
Arthur ponders this. "Where'd Nimueh get the shotgun?"
"Leftover prop from the film they met on, apparently."
Arthur nods. "A convincing prop I take it."
"There's a policeman in Primrose Hill who certainly thought so. He's just come into a tidy sum of money."
Arthur shakes his head. "She got booked?"
"Almost," Morgana says lightly.
Pendragon Creative gets paid a lot of money to make sure that that 'almost' stays an 'almost.'
Arthur pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth. "I see Nimueh's taking her method acting classes to heart," he says before putting his fork back down.
Morgana cuts her steak deftly. "This is what happens when you try to settle down with your co-stars after filming. It never works out," she says, chewing her steak easily. "Plus, she went and chose Valiant. Once a whoring bastard, always a whoring bastard. Present company excluded of course."
Arthur just raises an eyebrow. "I'm a whoring bastard, again? What have I done this time?"
Morgana's grin is so sharp it could cut glass. "How's Merlin anyway?"
Arthur narrows his eyes. "Fine."
"I saw Will when I was in Finance last week."
Arthur had tried to have Will sacked after he broke it off with Merlin; Merlin wouldn't let him. "Speaking of whoring bastards," he says dismissively.
Morgana just shakes her head. "Are you still going on about that? I thought you'd moved on."
"To whom exactly?" Arthur asks.
Morgana narrows her eyes. "You cannot possibly be this thick."
Arthur shifts in his chair. He knows where this is going. "No, Morgana."
Morgana sighs dramatically. "Are you still harping on about 'ruining your friendship with your magnificent sex'? My god, you sound like an old woman. Allow me to enlighten you based on what I've heard - you're not that good a shag, Arthur. Merlin won't wait on you forever."
"Merlin can barely wait for the tube," Arthur says, looking for a waiter to take away his food. "Besides, I don't want to muck up a perfectly good thing."
He wasn't really hungry anyway; this is why his desk is full of packets of McVities, instant ramen noodles and the takeaway menus for every Indian restaurant in proximity to the PC offices.
Maybe he can stop by Merlin's desk and pilfer some crisps or half of Merlin's Pret-a-Manger sandwich.
"I think you're the one who doesn't understand," Morgana says with a shake of her head. "But have it your way -- you always do."
Meetings with his father always tend to leave Arthur a bit frayed at the edges. Meetings that are called at the last minute are even worse. Meetings where Morgana and Gwen are already waiting outside the cavernous double doors that lead to the inner sanctum are somewhere past ominous and into straight into 'oh dear god, let the earth swallow me whole now' terrain.
As they await entrance, Arthur straightens his tie, Morgana straightens her hem, and Gwen brushes away invisible lint. They should not be able to hear Arthur's father through the doors, the fact that there's some noise bleeding through is bad news all around, but Arthur's been groomed to handle other people's disasters from day one.
When the doors open and they walk in, Arthur is prepared for anything. Except for the bit where Morgana's lunchtime story apparently acquired a real shotgun.
"So, Nimueh shot Valiant," Arthur sums up succinctly.
"Yes," Uther confirms.
"Is anyone dead?" Morgana asks.
"No, and I think that's something we have to make very clear in the broadsheets."
"Is anybody maimed?" Morgana presses.
"Well, if you don't count the thirty-odd pieces of buckshot in the backside of the film industry's leading man, then no."
"So, we're fine then," Morgana says dismissively.
Arthur eyes Morgana incredulously. "You did hear the part where she shot him, right?"
Morgana makes a scoffing noise. "As though that'll slow Valiant down."
Gwen clears her throat and three sets of eyes turn towards her. Gwen is generally seen and not heard, so when she speaks, they tend to listen if only out of curiosity. "Yes, Guinevere," Uther snaps.
"They don't know about the pregnancy, do they?" Gwen asks.
Arthur's jaw may drop open a bit. "There's a baby?"
"Please tell me it's not Nimueh's," Uther says.
"No, from what I heard - about three hours ago from my sources at The Sun, so tread carefully -- was that the mistress was the one who was pregnant."
"Oh, this is good," Uther says.
"But it's not Valiant's," Gwen finishes.
"Guinevere," Uther says thoughtfully. "I think it's time you had a raise."
Arthur goes back to his office in a daze. The things that some people get up to just because they're in love, or lust, or agony, or some version of all three, never cease to amaze (and horrify) him.
He wouldn't go through all that if someone left him. There's nobody who's worth all that trouble. Besides, he's got Merlin and -
Okay, a shotgun might be called for if Merlin up and left one day.
Possibly.
Probably.
Emma says something to him as he passes by her desk, but he has no idea what it is until he steps inside his office and sees Merlin tapping away at his keyboard.
Arthur's mouth thins into a frown. "What're you doing, Merlin?" he asks, tossing his suit jacket on his black leather sofa and loosening his tie.
Merlin smiles brightly. "Watching gay porn."
Arthur pauses, his fingers caught in the knot of his tie. "What?"
Merlin shakes his head sadly. "I see your father has once again removed your sense of humour via every available orifice."
"Keep your voice down," Arthur says by rote, before sprawling in one of his guest chairs and closing his eyes. Maybe he's still asleep. Maybe he overslept. Maybe -- "Didn't you have some huge meeting this morning?" He asks, cracking open one eye.
He opens both eyes and sits up sharply when he realises Merlin's come from behind the desk and is now standing between him and said desk. "It was fine," Merlin says. "The client had apparently been shooting heroin between his toes and was too out of it to look at the website, but his people are happy, so we all get paid."
Arthur shrugs. "That's all that counts."
Merlin's smile is small. "I heard you had an emergency meeting with your father."
"How'd you -- Gwen," Arthur deduces.
Merlin's smile grows. "I brought you tea."
Arthur rolls his eyes. "Yes, I made my own, thank you very much."
Merlin leans back against Arthur's desk, hips thrusting forward as he twists to reach back behind him. Arthur does not need to see Merlin's threadbare blue tee shirt riding up and showing bare skin. Maybe he should stop looking.
He blinks when Merlin waves a large paper cup in his face. "What's that?"
Merlin shakes his head. "Your tea. From that coffee shop you like so much, next to the Waterstone's."
Arthur reaches forward automatically and takes the tea. The paper container is still fairly warm. Merlin must've just got back, except that coffee shop is at least twenty minutes away. Merlin must've taken a taxi; Merlin never takes taxis.
Arthur looks up curiously. "You went and got me tea?"
Merlin shrugs. "You woke me up for my meeting."
"You were my fake, gay-making, wizard boyfriend."
Merlin shakes his head as though Arthur's missed something. "Yes, because I am the best fake boyfriend ever," he says. "And don't you forget it."
The fiasco with the actress who chased her boyfriend and his mistress, who was pregnant by someone who wasn't the cheating boyfriend, out into the street with a fake shotgun, and then shot her cheating ex with a real shotgun is the sort of story that Pendragon Creative lives to cover up. It's also the sort of story that requires a lot of man hours.
By the time Arthur, Morgana and Gwen are able to get down to the pub for drinks, it's last orders. Merlin greets them on his way out the door. "I was just on my way to the chippy," he protests as they propel him back inside.
"No," Arthur corrects. "You're going to get us a round. And then I might let you live for not suffering through that conference call with the idiots in our Los Angeles office who seem to think that this is great press."
"That's because California is full of fruits and nuts," Gwen says sagely.
Merlin grins. "You mean shooting someone with a shotgun isn't great press? It did wonders for that American Vice-President, didn't it?"
Morgana, Gwen and Arthur's hands all collide in an effort to smack Merlin in the head.
Merlin just laughs.
They take a black cab home, because Arthur's too knackered to deal with the tube. Merlin makes various displeased noises as Arthur sprawls out the backseat. He could try to keep his head from lolling onto Merlin's shoulder, but he can't be bothered.
"You are incredibly spoiled, you know that?" Merlin asks, shifting to give Arthur more room before draping his arm over Arthur's shoulders.
"Even fake boyfriends have to make an effort," Arthur says, closing his eyes and shifting until his nose rubs against the scratchiness of Merlin's favourite red scarf. "It's called courtesy."
"By squashing me against the door and putting your cold nose on me? How very thoughtful."
"I am the most thoughtful person you know," Arthur mutters.
"The most high-maintenance certainly," Merlin agrees. "I don't need a boyfriend when I have you."
Arthur chuckles softly. "Which makes this the most sex-less relationship ever."
"I, personally, have far too much pride to put up with you," Merlin carries on. "I mean, who would want all that living in the same flat, sex-on-demand anyway?"
"Yes, because I'm so demanding." Arthur makes a noise when Merlin brushes the hair away from his face.
"You really are," Merlin says softly.
Arthur snorts, dozing off only to open his eyes when the taxi rolls to a stop in front of their flat. "Free at last," he says, disentangling himself from Merlin to find his wallet and pay the driver.
If he's a little slow in untangling himself from Merlin, well, he's tired anyway.
Arthur doesn't even realise he's fallen asleep on the sofa until he wakes up to Merlin pulling off his shoes and socks. "Come on, your highness," Merlin coaxes, "Get up. I don't want to hear about how much your neck aches because you fell asleep in front of the telly again."
Arthur sniffs. "I don't complain," he mumbles as Merlin urges him to his feet. "I just have standards."
Merlin snorts. "Very high standards" he says, loosening Arthur's tie before unbuttoning a few buttons on Arthur's shirt.
Merlin's fingers on his bare skin is a shock to Arthur's system. He feels less exhausted all of sudden.
"You're undressing me," Arthur says thoughtfully.
"Teaching by example," Merlin mocks. "If I start, you can finish."
Arthur ponders this for moment. And then he leans forward and kisses Merlin softly.
"Huh," Merlin says when Arthur pulls away. "I don't remember that lesson."
"This morning," Arthur says, "at the tube."
Merlin bites his lower lip thoughtfully. "I don't think I snogged you like that," he says curling his hand around the nape of Arthur's neck and pulling him forward. "I think it was more like this."
Arthur's brain shorts when Merlin licks his way inside Arthur's mouth, and for a moment all he can do is stand there, marginally undressed, while Merlin kisses him.
And then Merlin pulls back, a wary look on his face. "Arthur, if we're going to shag ourselves stupid and ruin our friendship forever, you're going to have to particip--"
Merlin's words die off when Arthur leans in and nuzzles the side of Merlin's face. He brushes his mouth along Merlin's jaw and over a cheekbone, and Merlin makes a strangled noise when Arthur's fingers find the waistband of Merlin's jeans and tug him forward. "I think," Arthur says, "that we should fuck now, and then you can worry like a girl tomorrow."
"I don't worry like a--" Merlin protests right before Arthur shoves him onto the sofa.
Merlin lands hard, the sofa squeaking across the floor a little, and his mouth falls open as Arthur yanks off his own tie and begins pulling off his shirt.
"Clothes off," Arthur orders. "Now."
"I thought you were knackered," Merlin says, even as he scrambles to pull off his clothes. His dingy trainers fly over the arm of the sofa, followed by his socks, neckerchief and tee shirt.
"You thought that we were going to take it nice and slow," Arthur laughs, kicking off his trousers and leaving only his briefs on. Merlin's eyes go dark and he stops trying to kick off his jeans and boxers to yank Arthur on top of him on the sofa.
Arthur lands awkwardly, but he makes an approving noise when Merlin grabs hold of his backside and pulls him forward. "We'll take it nice and slow later, right now I'm going to fuck your brains out," Arthur promises, grinding himself against Merlin's erection.
One of Merlin's hands cups the back of Arthur's head again. "I've been waiting on you for fucking ever," he says sharply. "You don't get to give the orders now."
And then Merlin's kissing Arthur again, licking his way inside Arthur's mouth as his fingers trail down Arthur's back before slipping underneath the waistband of Arthur's briefs and grabbing handfuls of his arse.
Merlin pulls Arthur down and forward, until Arthur's rubbing himself against Merlin's erection repeatedly. Merlin's pasty and skinny and oddly hirsute, but he's also incredibly wiry, and he man-handles Arthur in ways that Arthur's only thought about in the shower very early in the morning.
Arthur's fingers tangle in Merlin's hair as he works to gain control of the kiss. It's not easy with the way Merlin keeps nipping at his upper lip and thrusting suggestively against him. There are clearly too many clothes in the way, and when Merlin's fingers stroke the crease of Arthur's arse someone makes this wholly undignified noise, it might even be Arthur.
He has to push Merlin away to breathe, and then it's much easier to just shove Merlin the length of the sofa and try to free him of his boxers. "I can do it," Merlin protests, laughing as Arthur keeps pushing his hands away.
Arthur's fingers splay across Merlin's chest as he straddles him again and holds him down. "No, Merlin. Knowing you, you'll get your fingers caught in your boxers, break a finger and we'll spend the night in A&E instead of with your cock in my mouth."
Merlin pulls his hands away immediately, and Arthur smiles approvingly as Merlin lifts his hips so he can pull down his boxers. Merlin's cock is full and the head is wet, it's thin and long, not unlike Merlin, and when Arthur gives it a preliminary stroke, Merlin makes a keening noise in the back of his throat, his fingers grabbing at the sofa cushions.
"You like that, don't you?" Arthur asks, his thumb rubbing the hood back and forth, watching the wetness spread over the head.
Merlin takes a shuddering breath before glaring at Arthur. "You, are a prat. Less talking and more getting me off."
Arthur tightens his grip a little, and Merlin bucks into his hand once more. "Yeah, you do like that," Arthur says, before shifting back and lowering his mouth to Merlin's cock.
He takes an experimental lick, more to tease Merlin than anything else, but one lick becomes two, and then he's sucking instead of teasing. He's loud and messy, enthusiastic where he's normally more into technique and appearance.
Merlin says his name in this long, drawn out way, which is even more distracting than the way Arthur knows he's humping the sofa. He could let go of Merlin for a moment and jerk himself off, but instead he finds himself spreading Merlin's legs and letting his hands run along the insides of Merlin's thighs.
Merlin thrusts upward sharply. He's babbling now. Promising Arthur all kinds of things. Out the corner of his eye, Arthur can see Merlin's fingers white-knuckling the sofa, and when Arthur pulls away for a moment, he can feel the saliva running down his chin.
"I don't want to be king," he says around a grin, continuing to stroke Merlin's cock rapidly. "You haven't got a kingdom to give me anyway."
Merlin lifts his head, his mouth falling into an 'o', and then he's coming, little spurts that land on Arthur's chin and chest.
Arthur leans back, wiping perfunctorily at his face. "Huh," he says, rubbing himself through his briefs with his other hand.
Merlin sighs, covering his eyes with his forearm. "You look like filthy gay porn, it's not my fault."
Arthur looks like filthy gay porn? He is never letting Merlin live this one down.
Well, after he gets off.
Arthur pulls Merlin's left hand away from the sofa cushions and uses it to rub his cock through the cotton of his briefs; he can't believe he's still wearing underwear, what was he thinking? Get Merlin naked. Ah, right.
Apparently, Merlin's left fingernail marks in the sofa fabric, but they can talk about that later.
"Merlin, pay attention," Arthur orders. "If you fall asleep on me, I will shave off your eyebrows."
Merlin gives Arthur cock a sharp squeeze, uncovering his eyes to look when Arthur thrusts into his hand. He does it again, and Arthur has to push Merlin's hand down harder. "Merlin," he says more urgently. He knows what he wants to say, but it's too much to verbalise right now.
He's completely taken off guard when Merlin shoves him off of his lap, and he ends up on his back. But then Merlin's crawling over him, biting him in random places: his right knee, his left thigh, above his navel, a flicker of tongue against his nipple.
Just as Arthur's about to complain at length, Merlin's hovering over him, licking at his lower lip and then diving in to kiss him hard and deep.
He can feel Merlin's tongue licking, stroking, tasting himself in Arthur's mouth.
Arthur grunts when Merlin's fingers hook into the waistband of his pants and yank them down. His briefs don't seem to go very far, but it's enough for Merlin's hand to wrap around Arthur's cock, so it's plenty. He's so hard, it'll be a miracle if he lasts long enough to finish this thought.
He can't breathe with Merlin snogging him. He turns his head away to gasp for air, but then Merlin's biting him, sharp nips at his shoulder and his collarbone that make Arthur's cock ache even more. It's quite possible he came in his briefs already and this is just an extra gift.
Merlin's hand on him is slick and tight, and then Merlin does this twist of his wrist, and Arthur's coming, heat washing through him, stripping away the ache and leaving him bare.
He pants at the ceiling as Merlin tries to insinuate himself between Arthur and the back of the sofa. Apparently they've got a few cracks that need to be tended to.
"So," Merlin says after a moment, warm and damp against Arthur's side. "Have we ruined our friendship irreparably?"
Arthur scoffs lightly. "For sex like that, I can live with the loss."
He can feel it when Merlin chuckles. "Imagine if you hadn't been so difficult all this time, we could've been doing this for years."
Years?
Arthur turns his head and says the only thing he can think of. "Shut up, Merlin."
Merlin's smile is enormous. "Even after sex, you're still a prat."
"So nothing's changed," Arthur says.
"Mmm hmm."
Arthur smirks. "I knew you couldn't resist me."
Merlin rolls his eyes and pushes Arthur onto the floor. "Ow!"
"I'm going to bed," Merlin says, getting up off the sofa and very deliberately walking towards Arthur's bedroom. "You can join me when your ego lets you up."
Arthur scowls, disentangling himself from his briefs and getting to his feet.
"You are the worst fake boyfriend ever," he says, stalking past Merlin and into his room.
Merlin follows on his heels. "We'll see if you feel the same way after you've had my cock up your arse."
Arthur freezes as Merlin passes by, turns on the light on the nightstand and gets into Arthur's bed.
"Any time you're ready, your highness," Merlin teases.
Arthur just shakes his head as he climbs in after Merlin and turns out the light. "You are incorrigible."
Merlin chuckles, curling against Arthur's side. "Yes, it's why you like me."
Arthur shakes his head in the darkness. "God help me, you're right."
Arthur can hear Merlin smiling when he says, "I know I am."
-end-
This story was inspired by the flawless artistic stylings of trolleys, who put Arthur in a tie, and zoetrope, who proves yet again that if you catch me on the right day at the right time you can get me to write anything.
Beta provided by the fabulously tolerant lazlet, who, when I say, "It's short! It's only 10, 15, 20 pages" knows to ignore me. This cheerleader is for you. *\o/*
zoetrope said, "I really like modern!day London AU's.
trolleys created one of the most exquisite Merlin drawings I've ever seen.
My brain said, "Make it work or die."
Merlin
Arthur/Merlin, NC-17
Word Count: 6,200
Alternate Universe.
Woods for the Trees
Merlin sleeps like the dead. A dead octopus that is.
His arms splay out across the mattress as though he's embracing a vast mountain terrain in his sleep, and his hips shift, spreading out his legs as though they're the bottom half of a lower-case 'h'.
Merlin moves so much in the night that inevitably his shirt moves up to his ribs, and his pyjama bottoms ride down enough that Arthur can see the crack of Merlin's backside when he pulls back the bed covers.
Arthur should be used to Merlin's imperious command of his bed by now, they've lived together long enough that they've passed out in the same space more than a few times, but the manner in which Merlin manages to contort himself in the name of a few hours of rest never ceases to amaze him.
"Feckless," he says, poking Merlin in the ribs. "Get up."
Merlin makes an indescribable noise. "Gnhhrrr."
Arthur rolls his eyes and turns on the bedside lamp. "Merlin!" he snaps. "If you don't wake up immediately, I'm going to make you eternally sorry; your choice. I'm giving you to the count of three."
Merlin makes another noise, rubbing his nose with his fist. Arthur isn't charmed in the slightest. Not even a little bit.
"One."
Merlin turns his head away.
"Two."
Merlin snorts softly. Arthur leans down and moves Merlin's bed covers back a bit more. All he needs is a holding point; he wraps his fingers around Merlin's ankle. "Two and a half, Merlin."
Merlin bats out at Arthur and Arthur snorts. "Have it your ways, Emrys," he says. "Three!"
Arthur gives an enormous tug, and Merlin shoots out of his bed, landing in an ungainly heap on the floor. "Jesus, Arthur!" Merlin bitches to the hardwood flooring before managing to roll over onto his back. "I asked you to wake me up, not commit GBH!"
Arthur chuckles. "Just doing you a favour."
Merlin's face is creased with sleep and his shirt is rucked up around his torso like the bottom half magically went walkabout. Arthur is not looking at the dark hair on Merlin's chest or the way it tapers off in a line before disappearing under the waistband of his pyjamas.
Arthur's seen Merlin shirtless before. He's scrawny. It's not attractive in the slightest.
Really.
Merlin rubs his face around a yawn. "That was so unnecessary."
Arthur grins down sharply at his flatmate. "You're the one who begged me to wake you up, Merlin."
Merlin gives Arthur an evil glare; it's hampered by the fact that his hair is standing up as though he stuck his finger in an electric socket.
"I can't be late," Arthur says in his best Merlin impression. "I've got an important meeting. I'll do the washing up and lick your trainers clean if you do this for me. I'll tell everyone you're brilliant in bed."
"You're a prick," Merlin retorts. "And I don't recall that last one."
Arthur shrugs. "You said it," he insists before turning on his heel. "I've got it recorded on my mobile. Maybe I'll make it my new ringtone."
Merlin's still sputtering as Arthur walks out, pausing to turn on Radio 1.
Merlin hates Radio 1; he'll be forced to get up just to turn it off.
"It doesn't count if I was pissed," Merlin hollers over Lily Allen.
"Yes, Merlin," Arthur calls back. "It does."
Merlin takes his tea white, with two sugars.
Arthur takes his tea black, with one sugar.
In the six-plus years that Arthur's known Merlin -- three at Cambridge, one of Merlin travelling the world and "finding himself", the six months Merlin spent on Arthur's sofa doing fuck all, and the two years that Merlin's actually been employed at Pendragon Creative -- Arthur has never known Merlin to take his tea black.
Today, however, Arthur winds up pouring Merlin's milk on the counter, because Merlin snatches his mug away before Arthur's had a chance to finish making the tea.
Arthur's obliviousness to Merlin's approach has nothing to do with his looking out the kitchen window at the couple across the street who like to shag in front of their sitting room windows every Wednesday.
He thought today was Tuesday. Huh.
"Fucking hell, Merlin!" he curses as the milk just misses spilling off the counter and onto his shoes. "A bit of warning would've been nice," he says, grabbing a cloth to mop up the mess.
When Arthur's done, he tosses the cloth in Merlin's general direction. It lands on top of Merlin's hair, which is already a damp mop from his shower, the wet tendrils curling over his forehead and against his neck.
Merlin pulls the cloth off and tosses it at Arthur. "Pwar," he says, around a mouthful of toast.
Arthur's toast.
"Did you ask me if you could eat that, you skeletal, brain-addled kleptomaniac?" Arthur says, snatching back his half-eaten toast. He frowns at the little corner he manages to free from Merlin's clutches.
"I am not your mother, Merlin. If you want me to make you breakfast, you'll have to suck my cock and make me come my brains out first, just like everyone else."
Merlin smirks, chewing the last of Arthur's toast and picking up his tea. "Tempting," he says mock thoughtfully, after swallowing, "but I'll pass."
Arthur raises an eyebrow. "I know you spend your days yearning to get your nobbly fingers on my body; you're only human, you can't help yourself."
Merlin chokes on his tea, producing a massive coughing fit. "Yearning?" he manages to spit out. "Really?"
"I know, Merlin," Arthur says placatingly. "It's all right. Greater men and women than you have got on their knees and begged for my condescension."
"Condescension?" Merlin quips. "I thought your cock was called 'microscopic'."
It would be wrong of Arthur to flash Merlin and show him otherwise. He's already dressed. They really do need to get to the office. It'll be a nightmare at Euston when they have to change lines if they wait much longer, but he only has to undo his belt and unfasten his flies.
Merlin's jaw drops as Arthur pushes his trousers down -- and flashes his briefs.
Arthur smiles broadly as Merlin shake his head and claps. "Well played."
It's always nice to start his day with Merlin speechless.
The world is full of people Arthur Pendragon wants to avoid on penalty of death: ex-partners, ex-one night stands, ex-one night stands who thought they would be partners, people selling the Big Issue, his step-sister Morgana.
At least Arthur's father has a driver and has probably never seen the inside of a tube station.
Sometimes though, the entire world just happens to be at Hampstead tube.
Today is one of those days.
Arthur grips Merlin's bicep thirty seconds after they step onto the platform, hauling him in the opposite direction from where Merlin's feet are going. He speaks urgently through clenched teeth.
"Dear god, it's Sophia," Arthur says, moving Merlin away from the chocolate machine. "Smile and act as though I just shagged your brains out."
Merlin laughs, shaking off Arthur's arm. "Don't you mean that I shagged your brains out," he corrects.
Arthur dares a glance in the direction of his most deranged ex-shag-to-date, and glares at Merlin. "No, I do not. Besides, you owe me for the last time we saw Will."
"Will never threatened to cut off my prick and post it to my dad."
"You don't even know your dad," Arthur retorts.
"Or my mum." Merlin's voice has taken on a decidedly sing-song tone.
Damn him.
"It's not as though she's going to believe we're together," Merlin says. "She's been to our flat."
"Everybody thinks we're shagging," Arthur counters.
"No, you just think everyone thinks we're shagging."
"Probably because that's what you told them when you were living on my sofa and leeching off of me like a parasite. 'I pay rent in blowjobs' -- isn't that what you said during one particularly long evening at The King's Head?"
Merlin's grin is all teeth. "I suppose I did," he says thoughtfully. "You never took me up on that, you know."
Arthur blinks and then shakes his head. "No," he crosses his arms. "It's beneath me."
"More like beneath me," Merlin corrects.
Arthur narrows his eyes.
Merlin's grin broadens and he raises an eyebrow. "All right, I'll just be over there -" he says, beginning to walk away. Arthur grabs Merlin by one of his belt loops and drags him back.
"Fine," he hisses in Merlin's ear. "You shagged my brains out, are you happy now?"
Merlin's smile is enormous and for a moment Arthur's entire body reacts very strangely. With the way his heartbeat quickens and his palms go a bit clammy it's almost as though Merlin did shag his brains out, but Arthur's sure he would remember that.
"I am deliriously happy," Merlin says, grabbing Arthur by his favourite Paul Smith tie and hauling him close.
"You couldn't have grabbed my coat?" Arthur bitches. "You've probably ruined my tie."
Merlin rolls his eyes, even as he adjusts Arthur's tie. He never actually lets go.
From this proximity, Arthur can see the way Merlin's eyelashes are sticking together and how his hair isn't completely dry yet. Then again, it's barely above two degrees, Merlin's wearing those fingerless gloves that are utterly pointless and he should be happy his hair hasn't frozen on his head.
"I think I should snog you," Merlin says thoughtfully.
Arthur narrows his eyes. "We're in public."
"You want it to be convincing, don't you?" Merlin's eyes are far too bright.
"Merlin."
"Sophia is ten feet away, so, I'm going to snog you now," Merlin announces very softly, tugging Arthur that much closer. "Try not to faint, all right?"
"Not on your best day," Arthur retorts. His eyes track Merlin's movements right until Merlin's lips brush his own. Arthur doesn't mean to close his eyes. Really. Buggery. It doesn't help that Merlin makes this noise in the back of his throat that makes Arthur's knees go a bit funny.
Merlin keeps his tongue to himself, but his mouthing at Arthur's bottom lip doesn't help Arthur's sanity. Arthur can feel his body responding in ways that it is not supposed to around Merlin.
He's been through this already: just because two men are queer does not mean they should fuck. Especially when one of the men is Merlin and he's the other.
A blast of air blows up the back of Arthur's wool coat, and Merlin pulls away leaving Arthur's mouth feeling strangely exposed. "Train's here," Merlin says.
Arthur clears his throat, willing the heat away from his cheeks. "Thank god."
"I always knew you were gay," a female voice hisses behind Arthur's back.
Arthur plasters a guileless smile on his face as he turns around. "Hello, Sophia--"
"You shag like a gay man," Sophia declares, which takes Arthur aback. He's not exclusively anything; he likes to keep his options open.
"Exactly how many gay men have you shagged?" Merlin asks, wrapping an arm around Arthur's waist and peeking over his shoulder.
"And you," she sputters, pointing at Merlin. "You probably made him gay in the first place!"
Just behind Sophia, several other people seem entirely too interested in the turn this conversation has taken. Or possibly they're just waiting to get on the train.
"Yes, I'm a magical gay sorcerer," Merlin snorts. "I use my magic to make men gay, and we must go before you taint us with your warped heterosexuality."
Arthur laughs loudly as Merlin drags him down the platform to get into another car.
They just barely make the closing doors.
"You are never boring," Arthur says, tossing an amused look at Merlin as they wedge themselves in with the other passengers. "I'll give you that."
Merlin's answering grin is enormous. "Anything for you, your highness."
Pendragon Creative, Inc is the largest public relations conglomerate in the United Kingdom, with additional offices in Paris, Madrid, Barcelona, Rome, Brussels, New York and Los Angeles. There are also satellite offices in Mumbai, Hong Kong, Sydney, Cairo and Vancouver. In short, anywhere that famous people get in trouble, PC is there to protect them. Which is another way of saying that what PC does for its clients, including the Royal Family, really depends on the client's needs. Whether it's keeping the birth of an illegitimate child out of the papers, hiding that second wife from the first or something as simple as maintaining a pop star's reputation during her vodka-snorting induced breakdown, PC handles it all.
Correction: Arthur's father handles the clients. Arthur handles his father. Morgana handles the press. Guinevere handles Morgana. And everyone else does whatever it is that they're paid to do that keeps Arthur in his bespoke Ozwald Boateng suits and Ferragamo shoes.
What Merlin does in this entire cog work, apart from maintaining the websites of vodka-snorting pop stars and royal persons interested in killing endangered animals, is that he keeps Arthur entertained.
This is no small feat during the course of Arthur's day, which involves interminable meetings with his father and their clients, and meeting with his father about their clients, and meeting with Morgana about the meetings he has with his father about their clients.
Generally, this entertainment is provided in the form of Instant Messaging and emails.
To: merlin.emrys@pendragon.co.uk
From: arthur.pendragon@pendragon.co.uk
Date: 17 February 2009, 10:53 GMT
Subject: Tea
I want tea.
To: arthur.pendragon @pendragon.co.uk
From: merlin.emrys @pendragon.co.uk
Date: 17 February 2009, 10:57 GMT
Subject: Re: Tea
Your point being?
To: merlin.emrys@pendragon.co.uk
From: arthur.pendragon@pendragon.co.uk
Date: 17 February 2009, 11:01 GMT
Subject: Re: Tea
Have you become illiterate in the last ten minutes? I said, I want tea.
To: arthur.pendragon @pendragon.co.uk
From: merlin.emrys @pendragon.co.uk
Date: 17 February 2009, 11:04 GMT
Subject: Re: Tea
See my last e-mail, prat. Don't you have an assistant for that?
To: merlin.emrys@pendragon.co.uk
From: arthur.pendragon@pendragon.co.uk
Date: 17 February 2009, 11:08 GMT
Subject: Re: Tea
That is not the point. You are clearly the worst fake boyfriend ever.
Thirty seconds after Arthur hits send, his phone rings. And then it rings again. Arthur normally answers all calls from Merlin, but today… "Can you get that?" he calls out to his assistant.
Two seconds later the crisp tones of Arthur's rather fabulous assistant, Emma, who would never think twice about making Arthur tea, resonate through his office. "Arthur Pendragon's office, Emma Martin speaking." A pause. "Hello, Merlin."
There's another pause followed by something that sounds like a snort. "I'll tell him," Emma says.
Arthur looks up when Emma appears in the doorway in all her five foot, perfectly-coiffed, British-by-way-of-Jamaica-and-Brixton glory. "Mr Emrys gave me a message for you, would you like to hear it, sir?" She says, the corners of her mouth twitching.
Arthur sits back in his chair. "By all means."
"In the censored form?"
"In the uncensored form, if it's not too much trouble."
Emma clears her throat. "Tell that self-important, micro-dicked arse that if he wants his tea so badly, he should go down the hall and make it himself if he can suss out that the bag doesn't go up his backside. Full stop."
Arthur does not smile. Not even a little bit. Okay, maybe a little bit.
Grabbing his mug, Arthur stands up, stretching his arms over his head. "Well, Emma, if you'll excuse this self-important arse, I'm going to make myself a cup of tea. Would you like one?"
Emma just shakes her head. "No, I'm all right," she says before going back to her desk.
Arthur pauses to send an e-mail before he leaves.
To: merlin.emrys@pendragon.co.uk
From: arthur.pendragon@pendragon.co.uk
Date: 17 February 2009, 11:21 GMT
Subject: Re: Tea
I'm going to remember this insolence when I get home. If I were you, I'd sleep with one eye open tonight, Emrys.
"And then she threw all of his clothes out the window and chased them out of the house with a shotgun." Morgana pauses in recalling her latest client debacle to take a sip of wine.
Three days a week, Arthur has a working lunch with his step-sister Morgana Le Fay. The other two days of the week, he has lunch with his father. It's been a long time since Arthur has actually managed to finish any of his lunch and/or eat without suffering from heartburn afterwards. Even lunch at The Ivy can't improve on some news.
Arthur scoops up a bit of potato. "So it was a naked foot chase?"
Morgana's brow lifts. "What do you think?"
Arthur ponders this. "Where'd Nimueh get the shotgun?"
"Leftover prop from the film they met on, apparently."
Arthur nods. "A convincing prop I take it."
"There's a policeman in Primrose Hill who certainly thought so. He's just come into a tidy sum of money."
Arthur shakes his head. "She got booked?"
"Almost," Morgana says lightly.
Pendragon Creative gets paid a lot of money to make sure that that 'almost' stays an 'almost.'
Arthur pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth. "I see Nimueh's taking her method acting classes to heart," he says before putting his fork back down.
Morgana cuts her steak deftly. "This is what happens when you try to settle down with your co-stars after filming. It never works out," she says, chewing her steak easily. "Plus, she went and chose Valiant. Once a whoring bastard, always a whoring bastard. Present company excluded of course."
Arthur just raises an eyebrow. "I'm a whoring bastard, again? What have I done this time?"
Morgana's grin is so sharp it could cut glass. "How's Merlin anyway?"
Arthur narrows his eyes. "Fine."
"I saw Will when I was in Finance last week."
Arthur had tried to have Will sacked after he broke it off with Merlin; Merlin wouldn't let him. "Speaking of whoring bastards," he says dismissively.
Morgana just shakes her head. "Are you still going on about that? I thought you'd moved on."
"To whom exactly?" Arthur asks.
Morgana narrows her eyes. "You cannot possibly be this thick."
Arthur shifts in his chair. He knows where this is going. "No, Morgana."
Morgana sighs dramatically. "Are you still harping on about 'ruining your friendship with your magnificent sex'? My god, you sound like an old woman. Allow me to enlighten you based on what I've heard - you're not that good a shag, Arthur. Merlin won't wait on you forever."
"Merlin can barely wait for the tube," Arthur says, looking for a waiter to take away his food. "Besides, I don't want to muck up a perfectly good thing."
He wasn't really hungry anyway; this is why his desk is full of packets of McVities, instant ramen noodles and the takeaway menus for every Indian restaurant in proximity to the PC offices.
Maybe he can stop by Merlin's desk and pilfer some crisps or half of Merlin's Pret-a-Manger sandwich.
"I think you're the one who doesn't understand," Morgana says with a shake of her head. "But have it your way -- you always do."
Meetings with his father always tend to leave Arthur a bit frayed at the edges. Meetings that are called at the last minute are even worse. Meetings where Morgana and Gwen are already waiting outside the cavernous double doors that lead to the inner sanctum are somewhere past ominous and into straight into 'oh dear god, let the earth swallow me whole now' terrain.
As they await entrance, Arthur straightens his tie, Morgana straightens her hem, and Gwen brushes away invisible lint. They should not be able to hear Arthur's father through the doors, the fact that there's some noise bleeding through is bad news all around, but Arthur's been groomed to handle other people's disasters from day one.
When the doors open and they walk in, Arthur is prepared for anything. Except for the bit where Morgana's lunchtime story apparently acquired a real shotgun.
"So, Nimueh shot Valiant," Arthur sums up succinctly.
"Yes," Uther confirms.
"Is anyone dead?" Morgana asks.
"No, and I think that's something we have to make very clear in the broadsheets."
"Is anybody maimed?" Morgana presses.
"Well, if you don't count the thirty-odd pieces of buckshot in the backside of the film industry's leading man, then no."
"So, we're fine then," Morgana says dismissively.
Arthur eyes Morgana incredulously. "You did hear the part where she shot him, right?"
Morgana makes a scoffing noise. "As though that'll slow Valiant down."
Gwen clears her throat and three sets of eyes turn towards her. Gwen is generally seen and not heard, so when she speaks, they tend to listen if only out of curiosity. "Yes, Guinevere," Uther snaps.
"They don't know about the pregnancy, do they?" Gwen asks.
Arthur's jaw may drop open a bit. "There's a baby?"
"Please tell me it's not Nimueh's," Uther says.
"No, from what I heard - about three hours ago from my sources at The Sun, so tread carefully -- was that the mistress was the one who was pregnant."
"Oh, this is good," Uther says.
"But it's not Valiant's," Gwen finishes.
"Guinevere," Uther says thoughtfully. "I think it's time you had a raise."
Arthur goes back to his office in a daze. The things that some people get up to just because they're in love, or lust, or agony, or some version of all three, never cease to amaze (and horrify) him.
He wouldn't go through all that if someone left him. There's nobody who's worth all that trouble. Besides, he's got Merlin and -
Okay, a shotgun might be called for if Merlin up and left one day.
Possibly.
Probably.
Emma says something to him as he passes by her desk, but he has no idea what it is until he steps inside his office and sees Merlin tapping away at his keyboard.
Arthur's mouth thins into a frown. "What're you doing, Merlin?" he asks, tossing his suit jacket on his black leather sofa and loosening his tie.
Merlin smiles brightly. "Watching gay porn."
Arthur pauses, his fingers caught in the knot of his tie. "What?"
Merlin shakes his head sadly. "I see your father has once again removed your sense of humour via every available orifice."
"Keep your voice down," Arthur says by rote, before sprawling in one of his guest chairs and closing his eyes. Maybe he's still asleep. Maybe he overslept. Maybe -- "Didn't you have some huge meeting this morning?" He asks, cracking open one eye.
He opens both eyes and sits up sharply when he realises Merlin's come from behind the desk and is now standing between him and said desk. "It was fine," Merlin says. "The client had apparently been shooting heroin between his toes and was too out of it to look at the website, but his people are happy, so we all get paid."
Arthur shrugs. "That's all that counts."
Merlin's smile is small. "I heard you had an emergency meeting with your father."
"How'd you -- Gwen," Arthur deduces.
Merlin's smile grows. "I brought you tea."
Arthur rolls his eyes. "Yes, I made my own, thank you very much."
Merlin leans back against Arthur's desk, hips thrusting forward as he twists to reach back behind him. Arthur does not need to see Merlin's threadbare blue tee shirt riding up and showing bare skin. Maybe he should stop looking.
He blinks when Merlin waves a large paper cup in his face. "What's that?"
Merlin shakes his head. "Your tea. From that coffee shop you like so much, next to the Waterstone's."
Arthur reaches forward automatically and takes the tea. The paper container is still fairly warm. Merlin must've just got back, except that coffee shop is at least twenty minutes away. Merlin must've taken a taxi; Merlin never takes taxis.
Arthur looks up curiously. "You went and got me tea?"
Merlin shrugs. "You woke me up for my meeting."
"You were my fake, gay-making, wizard boyfriend."
Merlin shakes his head as though Arthur's missed something. "Yes, because I am the best fake boyfriend ever," he says. "And don't you forget it."
The fiasco with the actress who chased her boyfriend and his mistress, who was pregnant by someone who wasn't the cheating boyfriend, out into the street with a fake shotgun, and then shot her cheating ex with a real shotgun is the sort of story that Pendragon Creative lives to cover up. It's also the sort of story that requires a lot of man hours.
By the time Arthur, Morgana and Gwen are able to get down to the pub for drinks, it's last orders. Merlin greets them on his way out the door. "I was just on my way to the chippy," he protests as they propel him back inside.
"No," Arthur corrects. "You're going to get us a round. And then I might let you live for not suffering through that conference call with the idiots in our Los Angeles office who seem to think that this is great press."
"That's because California is full of fruits and nuts," Gwen says sagely.
Merlin grins. "You mean shooting someone with a shotgun isn't great press? It did wonders for that American Vice-President, didn't it?"
Morgana, Gwen and Arthur's hands all collide in an effort to smack Merlin in the head.
Merlin just laughs.
They take a black cab home, because Arthur's too knackered to deal with the tube. Merlin makes various displeased noises as Arthur sprawls out the backseat. He could try to keep his head from lolling onto Merlin's shoulder, but he can't be bothered.
"You are incredibly spoiled, you know that?" Merlin asks, shifting to give Arthur more room before draping his arm over Arthur's shoulders.
"Even fake boyfriends have to make an effort," Arthur says, closing his eyes and shifting until his nose rubs against the scratchiness of Merlin's favourite red scarf. "It's called courtesy."
"By squashing me against the door and putting your cold nose on me? How very thoughtful."
"I am the most thoughtful person you know," Arthur mutters.
"The most high-maintenance certainly," Merlin agrees. "I don't need a boyfriend when I have you."
Arthur chuckles softly. "Which makes this the most sex-less relationship ever."
"I, personally, have far too much pride to put up with you," Merlin carries on. "I mean, who would want all that living in the same flat, sex-on-demand anyway?"
"Yes, because I'm so demanding." Arthur makes a noise when Merlin brushes the hair away from his face.
"You really are," Merlin says softly.
Arthur snorts, dozing off only to open his eyes when the taxi rolls to a stop in front of their flat. "Free at last," he says, disentangling himself from Merlin to find his wallet and pay the driver.
If he's a little slow in untangling himself from Merlin, well, he's tired anyway.
Arthur doesn't even realise he's fallen asleep on the sofa until he wakes up to Merlin pulling off his shoes and socks. "Come on, your highness," Merlin coaxes, "Get up. I don't want to hear about how much your neck aches because you fell asleep in front of the telly again."
Arthur sniffs. "I don't complain," he mumbles as Merlin urges him to his feet. "I just have standards."
Merlin snorts. "Very high standards" he says, loosening Arthur's tie before unbuttoning a few buttons on Arthur's shirt.
Merlin's fingers on his bare skin is a shock to Arthur's system. He feels less exhausted all of sudden.
"You're undressing me," Arthur says thoughtfully.
"Teaching by example," Merlin mocks. "If I start, you can finish."
Arthur ponders this for moment. And then he leans forward and kisses Merlin softly.
"Huh," Merlin says when Arthur pulls away. "I don't remember that lesson."
"This morning," Arthur says, "at the tube."
Merlin bites his lower lip thoughtfully. "I don't think I snogged you like that," he says curling his hand around the nape of Arthur's neck and pulling him forward. "I think it was more like this."
Arthur's brain shorts when Merlin licks his way inside Arthur's mouth, and for a moment all he can do is stand there, marginally undressed, while Merlin kisses him.
And then Merlin pulls back, a wary look on his face. "Arthur, if we're going to shag ourselves stupid and ruin our friendship forever, you're going to have to particip--"
Merlin's words die off when Arthur leans in and nuzzles the side of Merlin's face. He brushes his mouth along Merlin's jaw and over a cheekbone, and Merlin makes a strangled noise when Arthur's fingers find the waistband of Merlin's jeans and tug him forward. "I think," Arthur says, "that we should fuck now, and then you can worry like a girl tomorrow."
"I don't worry like a--" Merlin protests right before Arthur shoves him onto the sofa.
Merlin lands hard, the sofa squeaking across the floor a little, and his mouth falls open as Arthur yanks off his own tie and begins pulling off his shirt.
"Clothes off," Arthur orders. "Now."
"I thought you were knackered," Merlin says, even as he scrambles to pull off his clothes. His dingy trainers fly over the arm of the sofa, followed by his socks, neckerchief and tee shirt.
"You thought that we were going to take it nice and slow," Arthur laughs, kicking off his trousers and leaving only his briefs on. Merlin's eyes go dark and he stops trying to kick off his jeans and boxers to yank Arthur on top of him on the sofa.
Arthur lands awkwardly, but he makes an approving noise when Merlin grabs hold of his backside and pulls him forward. "We'll take it nice and slow later, right now I'm going to fuck your brains out," Arthur promises, grinding himself against Merlin's erection.
One of Merlin's hands cups the back of Arthur's head again. "I've been waiting on you for fucking ever," he says sharply. "You don't get to give the orders now."
And then Merlin's kissing Arthur again, licking his way inside Arthur's mouth as his fingers trail down Arthur's back before slipping underneath the waistband of Arthur's briefs and grabbing handfuls of his arse.
Merlin pulls Arthur down and forward, until Arthur's rubbing himself against Merlin's erection repeatedly. Merlin's pasty and skinny and oddly hirsute, but he's also incredibly wiry, and he man-handles Arthur in ways that Arthur's only thought about in the shower very early in the morning.
Arthur's fingers tangle in Merlin's hair as he works to gain control of the kiss. It's not easy with the way Merlin keeps nipping at his upper lip and thrusting suggestively against him. There are clearly too many clothes in the way, and when Merlin's fingers stroke the crease of Arthur's arse someone makes this wholly undignified noise, it might even be Arthur.
He has to push Merlin away to breathe, and then it's much easier to just shove Merlin the length of the sofa and try to free him of his boxers. "I can do it," Merlin protests, laughing as Arthur keeps pushing his hands away.
Arthur's fingers splay across Merlin's chest as he straddles him again and holds him down. "No, Merlin. Knowing you, you'll get your fingers caught in your boxers, break a finger and we'll spend the night in A&E instead of with your cock in my mouth."
Merlin pulls his hands away immediately, and Arthur smiles approvingly as Merlin lifts his hips so he can pull down his boxers. Merlin's cock is full and the head is wet, it's thin and long, not unlike Merlin, and when Arthur gives it a preliminary stroke, Merlin makes a keening noise in the back of his throat, his fingers grabbing at the sofa cushions.
"You like that, don't you?" Arthur asks, his thumb rubbing the hood back and forth, watching the wetness spread over the head.
Merlin takes a shuddering breath before glaring at Arthur. "You, are a prat. Less talking and more getting me off."
Arthur tightens his grip a little, and Merlin bucks into his hand once more. "Yeah, you do like that," Arthur says, before shifting back and lowering his mouth to Merlin's cock.
He takes an experimental lick, more to tease Merlin than anything else, but one lick becomes two, and then he's sucking instead of teasing. He's loud and messy, enthusiastic where he's normally more into technique and appearance.
Merlin says his name in this long, drawn out way, which is even more distracting than the way Arthur knows he's humping the sofa. He could let go of Merlin for a moment and jerk himself off, but instead he finds himself spreading Merlin's legs and letting his hands run along the insides of Merlin's thighs.
Merlin thrusts upward sharply. He's babbling now. Promising Arthur all kinds of things. Out the corner of his eye, Arthur can see Merlin's fingers white-knuckling the sofa, and when Arthur pulls away for a moment, he can feel the saliva running down his chin.
"I don't want to be king," he says around a grin, continuing to stroke Merlin's cock rapidly. "You haven't got a kingdom to give me anyway."
Merlin lifts his head, his mouth falling into an 'o', and then he's coming, little spurts that land on Arthur's chin and chest.
Arthur leans back, wiping perfunctorily at his face. "Huh," he says, rubbing himself through his briefs with his other hand.
Merlin sighs, covering his eyes with his forearm. "You look like filthy gay porn, it's not my fault."
Arthur looks like filthy gay porn? He is never letting Merlin live this one down.
Well, after he gets off.
Arthur pulls Merlin's left hand away from the sofa cushions and uses it to rub his cock through the cotton of his briefs; he can't believe he's still wearing underwear, what was he thinking? Get Merlin naked. Ah, right.
Apparently, Merlin's left fingernail marks in the sofa fabric, but they can talk about that later.
"Merlin, pay attention," Arthur orders. "If you fall asleep on me, I will shave off your eyebrows."
Merlin gives Arthur cock a sharp squeeze, uncovering his eyes to look when Arthur thrusts into his hand. He does it again, and Arthur has to push Merlin's hand down harder. "Merlin," he says more urgently. He knows what he wants to say, but it's too much to verbalise right now.
He's completely taken off guard when Merlin shoves him off of his lap, and he ends up on his back. But then Merlin's crawling over him, biting him in random places: his right knee, his left thigh, above his navel, a flicker of tongue against his nipple.
Just as Arthur's about to complain at length, Merlin's hovering over him, licking at his lower lip and then diving in to kiss him hard and deep.
He can feel Merlin's tongue licking, stroking, tasting himself in Arthur's mouth.
Arthur grunts when Merlin's fingers hook into the waistband of his pants and yank them down. His briefs don't seem to go very far, but it's enough for Merlin's hand to wrap around Arthur's cock, so it's plenty. He's so hard, it'll be a miracle if he lasts long enough to finish this thought.
He can't breathe with Merlin snogging him. He turns his head away to gasp for air, but then Merlin's biting him, sharp nips at his shoulder and his collarbone that make Arthur's cock ache even more. It's quite possible he came in his briefs already and this is just an extra gift.
Merlin's hand on him is slick and tight, and then Merlin does this twist of his wrist, and Arthur's coming, heat washing through him, stripping away the ache and leaving him bare.
He pants at the ceiling as Merlin tries to insinuate himself between Arthur and the back of the sofa. Apparently they've got a few cracks that need to be tended to.
"So," Merlin says after a moment, warm and damp against Arthur's side. "Have we ruined our friendship irreparably?"
Arthur scoffs lightly. "For sex like that, I can live with the loss."
He can feel it when Merlin chuckles. "Imagine if you hadn't been so difficult all this time, we could've been doing this for years."
Years?
Arthur turns his head and says the only thing he can think of. "Shut up, Merlin."
Merlin's smile is enormous. "Even after sex, you're still a prat."
"So nothing's changed," Arthur says.
"Mmm hmm."
Arthur smirks. "I knew you couldn't resist me."
Merlin rolls his eyes and pushes Arthur onto the floor. "Ow!"
"I'm going to bed," Merlin says, getting up off the sofa and very deliberately walking towards Arthur's bedroom. "You can join me when your ego lets you up."
Arthur scowls, disentangling himself from his briefs and getting to his feet.
"You are the worst fake boyfriend ever," he says, stalking past Merlin and into his room.
Merlin follows on his heels. "We'll see if you feel the same way after you've had my cock up your arse."
Arthur freezes as Merlin passes by, turns on the light on the nightstand and gets into Arthur's bed.
"Any time you're ready, your highness," Merlin teases.
Arthur just shakes his head as he climbs in after Merlin and turns out the light. "You are incorrigible."
Merlin chuckles, curling against Arthur's side. "Yes, it's why you like me."
Arthur shakes his head in the darkness. "God help me, you're right."
Arthur can hear Merlin smiling when he says, "I know I am."
-end-
This story was inspired by the flawless artistic stylings of trolleys, who put Arthur in a tie, and zoetrope, who proves yet again that if you catch me on the right day at the right time you can get me to write anything.
Beta provided by the fabulously tolerant lazlet, who, when I say, "It's short! It's only 10, 15, 20 pages" knows to ignore me. This cheerleader is for you. *\o/*