Kink Me! #7
Kink Me! #7
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Welcome to Kink Me! Merlin #7!
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Closed to new prompts
Welcome to Kink Me! Merlin #7!
Read the rules before you post anything. We freeze or screen anything that breaks the rules! Got a question? Ask the mods!
So you want to post a fill?
Your attention to detail helps make our archiving possible, and also tells us you've read the rules.
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“Does it even matter?” Merlin asked. “You could have sung YMCA in pink lycra hot-pants and built a shrine to Clive Owen’s arse and I wouldn’t have cared.”
Arthur took a moment to contemplate that image before shuddering, joined only a second later by Merlin.
“Pink lycra hot-pants?” he asked after a second. Merlin grinned and gave a lopsided shrug.
“For example.”
“I’m gay, not on Little Britain,” Arthur told him, but he smiled anyway.
It was a little awkward, with Merlin knowing about everything. Sometimes there would be an uncomfortable silence, where Arthur would have used to grab hold of Merlin or wrestle him to the ground, when he would draw back instead, and things would get a little stilted.
Merlin went back to his own University on the Sunday night and Arthur stood on the station to see him off, hands stuck in his pockets, trying to ignore the urge to grab him and snog the life out of him.
He had stuck his hand out, feeling a little like a robot or a doll, but Merlin had looked at it like the sight of his fingers, stuck together with tension and cold, was a huge insult.
He had grabbed Arthur and pulled him into a huge bear hug that Arthur wouldn’t have felt comfortable with even if Merlin hadn’t just found out he was gay and in love with him. Then, as he finally pulled away, leaving Arthur a little bereft, he had whispered into Arthur’s ear.
“I don’t care.”
He obviously meant it to be reassuring, in a Merlin sort of way, but it had the opposite effect entirely. Arthur felt it like a cut right into his heart. Merlin didn’t care either way, whether Arthur liked him or not.
When the train pulled away, Arthur was still standing on the platform, his hands shoved deep into his pockets again, glaring at the floor and feeling like his world had crumbled around him.
Arthur got on with his life… after a fashion.
He learnt about gay sex - more than Merlin’s awkward descriptions had ever told him about sleeping with women - and found there were more than enough men willing to teach him. He learnt gasping on his hands and knees, and up against toilet walls, and on his knees with his lips wrapped tight around hot flesh. He made up for time lost and wasted on a dream that would never come true, a child’s belief in fairy tale endings. But every time and every thing he learnt, he thought about Merlin and when he woke up in the mornings he wondered whether it was really possible to meet the love of your life when you were five years old, or whether he was crazy.
He told Merlin about a couple of the men, the ones who lasted more than a badly thought out night, the ones who made it back to his bedroom, and he could hear the relief as Merlin joked and commented on it. The unspoken question ‘you’re over me right?’ answered as well as he could with stories about chatting up a guy in a bar with the worst lines he could think of, hoping Merlin couldn’t hear the ‘never’ that lay underneath it all.
Morgana came up out of the blue and caught him with his hands down another man’s pants, up against the wall of his room. She rolled her eyes and walked out again and he found her in the bar a few minutes later, after bundling the other guy out as fast as he could and struggling to straighten himself up.
She shook her head at him and didn’t mention Merlin’s name, but it hung over the entire evening and Arthur couldn’t relax at all.
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