Kink Me! #24
Kink Me! #24
Closed to new prompts - go to the newest meme!Welcome to Kink Me! Merlin #24!
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‘I think it’s happening again,’ Merlin says, facing the window, his back to Arthur.
Even half-befuddled with sleep, Arthur knows instantly what he’s talking about. He scrambles out of bed and wraps his arms around Merlin from the back, knowing that his arms can only give the illusion of safety.
He’s suspected as much for days now. Merlin’s recent paintings are all unfinished, and there are times when he seems to float into a daze, his eyes blank and unseeing. His skin is pale, ashen even.
It terrifies Arthur.
The worst is when Merlin begins wearing long-sleeved sweaters all the time and making excuses to not shower with Arthur, to make love in the dark so Arthur can’t see the cuts on his arms. When Arthur wordlessly pushes up the soft cotton of the black sleeve that falls over his knuckles, Merlin says nothing in response. He just buries his face in Arthur’s chest and sobs as though his heart is breaking.
So is Arthur’s.
They go to visit Dr Gaius together, Merlin clutching Arthur’s hand tightly throughout the appointment. When Dr Gaius writes out a prescription, Merlin turns imploring eyes on Arthur before turning back to the doctor.
‘Gaius, I can’t. I can’t take those medicines. They make me feel like I’m dead, I can’t do anything, I can’t paint, I can’t eat, Gaius, please.’
‘Isn’t there any other kind of treatment we could try?’ Arthur asks, rubbing his thumb along Merlin’s, holding his hand tightly.
Gaius turns his wise, kindly eyes to Arthur. ‘I wish there were something else I could recommend, Arthur. But this is the only thing that will help.’ He stands up and places a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, squeezing gently. ‘Take heart, my dear boy. When you feel better, we’ll reduce the dose. All right?’
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For the next couple of months, Merlin seems to be improving. He doesn’t get much painting done but he’s begun teaching a course at a local art school, which gets him out of the house on most days, forces him to maintain a routine.
Some days he almost seems his old self, the laughing, brilliant young man Arthur had met at university, full of spirit and so beautiful that it almost aches to look at him. One evening Arthur cooks his favourite meal-pasta with spinach and mushrooms in white sauce with homemade garlic bread-and they share a bottle of wine over the meal, talking and laughing. Later, Merlin begs to be fucked over the kitchen table, responding with exuberance when Arthur grants him his wish, gripping Arthur’s hair with his fingers, wrapping his long legs around Arthur’s waist and dirty-talking them both to orgasm.
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