Fic: Through Which We Look
Title: Through Which We Look
Rating:NC-17
Words: about 8700
Summary: In which Merlin and Arthur make a sex tape and Merlin is absolutely horrified at what he's like during sex. Arthur finds it hot though and can't understand what's wrong with Merlin...
From the Kinkme_Merlin prompt
Disclaimer: I own nothing but an overactive imagination. And a computer.
Notes: Pretty much as posted on the meme but with a few glaring errors corrected. Otherwise unbetaed and unedited.
Merlin never realised before how vocal he was during sex.
Until now.
Even the tinny playback on Arthur’s battered video camera could not disguise it, a stream of “God, yes, Arthur, fuck!” a litany of obscenities and endearments, compliments and demands, spilled unheeded from his lips, all the more enforced by Arthur’s relative silence. A few grunts and groans and whispered promises into Merlin’s skin, not picked up by the microphone but supplied by Merlin’s memory.
Merlin couldn’t remember which of them had come up with the great idea to film them, who had unhelpfully suggested that it would be hot, but he cursed them, inwardly swearing at the both of them for thinking that filming themselves in such an intimate, vulnerable way could be anything less than embarrassing. Excruciating.
He squirmed anxiously on the bedclothes as he saw himself onscreen, chirruping something about Arthur’s massive cock and sounding like the worst possible porn movie script. Although he was enthusiastic, which was the best he could say about it.
He glanced over at Arthur, who was shifting uncomfortably under the bedcovers, not looking back at Merlin.
Merlin reluctantly returned his attention to the screen and…was that a whinnying noise he was making? A desperate, needy high-pitched whine that possibly came from the back of his throat but more likely, Merlin feared, came out from his nose.
“Harder, Arthur…I won’t break…fuck me!” his grainy image demanded and Merlin wanted to hurl himself of the window in mortification, whilst his on screen self cried out suddenly, in time with the distant thudding of a headboard, an “Oh! Oh! Oh!” until eventually, finally, Merlin watched himself come with a shrill squeak of Arthur’s name, bordering on a scream, and - oh god was that what he looked like? - a sweaty, twisting grimace, open mouthed and slack limbed and about as far from attractive as you could possibly get.
The video cut off abruptly.
Merlin risked another glance at Arthur, who was still lying with the bedclothes pulled up to his chin and staring at the screen wordlessly.
Merlin got up abruptly.
“Where are you going?” Arthur asked, puzzled.
“I need a drink.” Said Merlin, feeling his cheeks burning, “do you want one?”
Arthur shook his head mutely and Merlin hurried out of the bedroom as fast as he could.
*
Merlin poured himself a large glass of water and downed it eagerly, wishing it were something stronger, before placing the cool glass against his burning forehead and taking two deep, shuddering breaths.
“You okay?” Arthur asked, materialising behind Merlin, wrapping his arms around him and pressing a soft kiss onto Merlin’s left shoulder.
“Yeah, just, you know…” he gestured vaguely with his empty glass. “Hot.”
Arthur unwound himself from Merlin and leant back against the sink to look at Merlin’s face. “You do look a bit flushed.” He said after a few moments’ scrutiny.
Merlin felt himself get warmer.
Arthur regarded him with an intense blue gaze and frowned. “Why don’t you go on to bed?” he said gently, plucking the empty glass from Merlin’s hands and putting it safely in the sink. “I’ll lock up and everything.” He stretched, rising slightly on to the balls of his feet to press a tender kiss on Merlin’s forehead. “Hmm…” he said, still frowning.
Wordlessly, Merlin acquiesced, returning to their bedroom and crawled beneath their warm, crumpled sheets that smelt of them, and sweat, and sex, and immediately wanted to get out and strip them off, toss them into the laundry basket and wash away his mortification in a soapy lather.
He deliberated for a moment but by then Arthur had come in.
“I brought you a glass of water in case you want it later,” Arthur said, placing it onto Merlin’s bedside table.
“Thanks,” Merlin said softly as Arthur flicked off the lights and pulled the curtains before joining Merlin under the covers.
“You are very warm.” Arthur commented as he fluffed up his pillows and wriggled into a comfortable position beside Merlin.
“Yeah,” Merlin said as he rolled onto his side. “Night, Arthur.”
“Mmm,” murmured Arthur, giving Merlin a kiss between his shoulder blades before spooning himself against Merlin’s back.
Merlin fidgeted for a moment, lifted his head and flipped his pillow over before pressing his stinging cheek into the cool linen and wondered miserably if he’d ever be able to enjoy sex again.
*
Merlin was still half asleep when he felt fingers brushing gently over his chest, and the tender pressure of Arthur’s lips against his neck, nuzzling against him, Arthur’s nose softly nudging at Merlin’s earlobe.
“Sleeping.” Merlin mumbled.
Arthur chuckled into Merlin’s hair, continuing to skirt his fingers down Merlin’s side before resting a hand on his hip. “Time to wake up Merlin.”
Merlin felt warm and fuzzy and heavy limbed and didn’t want to let go of the last vestiges of sleep. “Not gonna.”
“I’ll make it worth your while,” Arthur promised, and Merlin felt Arthur’s weight shift, pressing him further into the mattress and kissing a wet, leisurely trail from Merlin’s shoulder, along his collarbone and down his chest.
Merlin let out a moan of pleasure that sounded unnaturally loud in the early morning hush, and then his eyes popped open, all sleepiness unceremoniously shoved out of his head as his painful memories of the previous night slammed into his consciousness.
“Good morning,” Arthur said, grinning down at Merlin and completely missing the fleeting look of horror on Merlin’s face. “I’m glad you decided to join me.” And Merlin realised he was half hard already - well, he was only human and Arthur was rather persuasive. Arthur stretched himself above Merlin, settling between his thighs - treacherous! - Merlin thought as they fell apart without his permission to give Arthur room. Arthur hummed happy kisses into Merlin’s neck and gently thumbed his nipple and Merlin dragged his foot up Arthur’s calf.
Arthur huffed a hot, breathy laugh into Merlin’s jaw and then nipped as his earlobe. Merlin’s breath hitched and he arched his spine, curving further into the warm, long line of Arthur’s body, an involuntary “ooooh” falling from his lips that he desperately wanted to claw back and was unnaturally grateful when Arthur sought his mouth and silenced him with a lazy slide of lips and tongues, a languid, intimate tangle of arms and legs and lips and a languorous rolling of hips, sliding together, delicious friction and yet not enough. Merlin was almost relieved when Arthur’s mouth resumed its exploration of Merlin’s neck, shifting so that Arthur was rocking against Merlin’s thigh, Merlin’s own cock leaving a slick trail along Arthur’s stomach.
Arthur was murmuring his delight into Merlin’s shoulder, a hand back on his hip, holding Merlin down with just the right about of pressure, moving his hips to realign their cocks, so that when Merlin thrust upwards into the solid heat of Arthur’s body, their cocks rubbed firmly and Arthur rocked down instinctively until they were nestled flush against each other. Merlin crossed his wrists behind Arthur’s neck, threaded his fingers into Arthur’s hair and bit his lip to stop the words bubbling behind them from spilling out, trying to tie down the overwhelming pleasure he felt as they rocked together with ease.
Arthur moved again, lifting himself up an infinitesimal amount to press his hips down, harder, Merlin wrapped a leg around Arthur’s to pull him closer and bent his other leg up so he could use his foot to push up, moulding himself to Arthur’s body. Arthur lifted his head from Merlin’s collarbone and stared at him, with pupils so full blown there was hardly any blue left in his eyes. Arthur placed his hands either side of Merlin’s shoulders, arms trembling with the exertion of holding himself up and at the anticipation of further pleasure as he thrust roughly, making Merlin arch his back and dig his fingers into Arthur’s hips with need.
Arthur was still looking at Merlin’s face when he felt the first tingles of orgasm spark beneath his skin, smouldering at the base of his spine before rushing through him and even as his vision clouded Arthur was still staring and Merlin didn’t want it, didn’t want Arthur to see and as he came with an unchecked whimper of Arthur’s name, he turned his head away and nearly ended up with Arthur’s tongue in his ear.
Arthur gave a loud groan as he continued to thrust into the slippery wetness between them and then came with a long shuddering breath, tiny tremors shaking along his spine and down his arms before flopping onto his back beside Merlin, panting softly with desire and exertion.
Merlin stared at the ceiling.
“Much better than an alarm clock.” Arthur said once his breath had evened out.
“Yeah.” Said Merlin tonelessly.
Arthur rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow to look at Merlin. “You okay? You were a bit…quiet.” He reached out to stroke Merlin’s nearest arm.
“I’m fine.” Merlin replied, unmoving.
Arthur stilled his fingers. “Was it…was it good for you?” he asked eventually.
Merlin missed the wince that passed across Arthur’s face at the question and thought it rather redundant as the evidence of his enjoyment was splattered across his stomach and so simply made a noise of assent.
“Say something Merlin,” Arthur prompted.
“There’s a crack in the ceiling.” Merlin said.
Arthur twisted his neck to look upwards. “Oh yeah.”
Merlin sat up.
Arthur blinked “What are doing?” He placed a hand on Merlin’s arm.
“Getting up.” Said Merlin.
“It’s Sunday!” protested Arthur, “come back to bed.”
Merlin threw the bedcovers off of his legs and avoided looking at Arthur. “I need a shower.”
Arthur let him go.
*
“Merlin? Merlin?”
Merlin stared at the paperwork on the table in front of him, only dimly registering someone calling his name and immediately dismissing it. “This doesn’t even make sense,” he muttered with a glare at the offending sentence, circling it with a red pen and scrawling a question mark in the margin.
“Merlin?” the voice said again and Merlin felt a hand on his shoulder.
He jumped.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to make you jump.” Arthur said, dropping his hand from Merlin’s shoulder “I’m off to bed.”
“Oh,” said Merlin, surprised, as he finally noticed the closed curtains, the switched off TV, and the fact that Arthur was in pyjamas. He glanced at the mess of paper on their dining table with unease, “I…um…” Merlin rarely brought work home, but he had been very busy and the paperwork had been a very good distraction from niggling questions he’d rather not answer. He’d become ensconced in his work and lost a whole evening. “I just need to finish this…”
Arthur gave a soft chuckle. “Don’t stay up too late.” He said fondly, gently ruffling Merlin’s hair before dropping a kiss into the rumpled peaks.
Merlin grunted in agreement and picked up his pen.
When he finally laid down his pen, everything was still and ominously quiet, the kitchen light stark and uninviting in the dark shadows of the rest of the apartment. Merlin rubbed his eyes and began to stack his paperwork into a more manageable pile on the table. Then he switched off the light and edged his way carefully towards the bedroom door.
Arthur was fast asleep, sprawled on his back, snoring lightly. A stream of moonlight poured through a gap in the curtains, bathing Arthur in a silvery glow, like a spotlight, highlighting Arthur’s toned arms, tanned skin and golden hair, drawing Merlin’s attention at once. Arthur’s pyjama top lay crumpled on the floor, flung off shortly after he’d slipped underneath the covers, which Merlin picked up automatically, folding it and placing it neatly on the chair. Then he collected his own sleep shorts and padded into their bathroom, closing the door quietly behind him before flicking the light on.
He shucked off his clothes and tossed them into the laundry basket. Then he moved to the sink and stopped in front of the mirror.
He looked awful, pasty-faced, scrawny-chested with sharp angles of protruding bones, a mop of truly horrendous hair, tired, red-rimmed eyes, exhausted, careworn and if all that wasn’t enough…
Ears
He brought his hands up, pulled his ears backwards, twisted his head from side to side to see if it made any difference, and then let go with a sigh, shame and disgust burning in his stomach, his chest, his throat, tasting like bile and he wondered, not for the first time, how anyone could ever find him attractive.
He turned away deliberately and left the bathroom, only to be confronted by the sight of Arthur, still sleeping peacefully, looking like a Greek God.
Merlin went to the window, cutting off the stream of light with an abrupt tug at the curtain. He tiptoed carefully to the bed and climbed in, lying ramrod straight on his back, covers pulled up to his chin, looking at the ceiling.
Arthur stirred rolling towards Merlin and throwing an arm over him. Merlin stilled cautiously, but Arthur settled immediately, evidently still asleep and Merlin let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.
Merlin lay staring at the crack in the ceiling (had it grown bigger since yesterday?) until the pale light of dawn began to creep in around the edges of the curtains and he fell into an exhausted sleep.
*
Merlin’s week passed in a monotonous blur, relentless work and restless nights, staring at the blemished plaster on the bedroom ceiling and trying desperately not to see it as some sort of metaphor for his relationship with Arthur, insidious little splinters creeping along, marring what was once perfect. It was a stupid leap for his brain to make, but it kept Merlin awake at night and by the time he trudged home from work on Friday evening all he wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep for a hundred years.
The apartment was dark when Merlin pushed open the door, but a warm smell of cooking greeted him and made him feel properly hungry for the first time that week. It smelt delicious and tantalisingly familiar.
“Arthur?” Merlin squinted into the dimly lit flat; he could see a faint light from the kitchen area.
“Wait, wait!” Arthur said and appeared out of nowhere, covering Merlin’s eyes with his hand. “Okay, you can come in.”
“What are you doing?” Merlin asked curiously as Arthur led him, eyes covered, across the apartment.
“You’ll see,” said Arthur as they stopped. “There!” he said dramatically removing his hand.
Merlin blinked a couple of times as he took in the sight before him; their dining table was properly laid out, with placemats and a tablecloth and wine glasses. The only source of light was a candle stuck into the top of an empty beer bottle, flickering in the centre of the table.
“What’s brought all this on?” Merlin asked as his lips curled into a smile.
Arthur put a hand on Merlin’s face, softly brushing at the dark smudges beneath his eyes. “You’ve had a hard week. I thought you deserved a treat.”
Merlin caught hold of the hand Arthur held to his face and pressed a kiss into Arthur’s palm. “What have I done to deserve you?” he asked, only half in jest.
Arthur beamed at him, a gleaming white crooked grin that made Merlin’s heart squeeze. “Oh, I can think of a few things.” Arthur said with a waggle of his eyebrows that, on anyone else, would look ridiculous but on him looked ridiculously hot. Merlin would usually make a somewhat suggestive comment and they’d end up having sex on the nearest horizontal surface, but this time his brain froze and he hesitated a moment too long.
Arthur cleared his throat and Merlin realised he was still clutching at Arthur’s hand whilst Arthur looked at him curiously. “You okay?”
“Fine,” Merlin said giving Arthur’s hand a quick squeeze before letting it go. He sniffed obviously. “Dinner smells delicious.”
This distracted Arthur, spurring him into an efficient bustle, “Come and sit down, it’ll be ready in a sec.”
Merlin shrugged off his coat, hung it neatly on the back of a spare chair and took his place at the table, watching as Arthur uncorked a bottle of wine and poured for them.
“I thought about taking you out to that little Italian on the high street - remember it?” Arthur said in a deliberately light tone that would normally have made Merlin instantly suspicious.
Instead Merlin smiled nostalgically, “Bel Cibo. Our first date.”
“Yeah.” Arthur handed Merlin his wine, and they clinked their glasses together as they always did, “But then I figured that if you were as tired as you’ve been all week you wouldn’t appreciate me dragging you back out. So I cooked instead.”
“I’m already impressed.” Merlin said.
Arthur took a sip of his wine, before hurrying over to the other side of the kitchen, “Well, I’m not promising miracles, but…” he returned with two plates, laying one in front of Merlin with a flourish, “dinner is served!”
Merlin glanced down at his plate of Spaghetti Carbonara and then up at Arthur who had taken his seat opposite Merlin and was looking earnestly at him. “You remembered?”
“Our first date?” Arthur picked up his fork, “Of course, what we ate, what we wore, what we talked about. Even…oh, wait a moment!” Arthur left his seat and crossed the kitchen quickly, flicking on the old CD player. As he sat down again a lilting, beautiful, familiar classical melody spilled from the speakers.
Merlin smothered a gasp, “How do you even have this?”
Arthur looked little embarrassed, “They kept playing it. You were humming along and saying how much you loved it. I went out and bought it the next day. It reminded me of you.”
Merlin’s heart squeezed as he looked speechlessly at Arthur, at this utterly, utterly wonderful, caring, romantic, adorable, perfect boyfriend. “Arthur I…I really don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything.” Arthur said, picking up his fork again, “Eat up.”
*
The food was delicious and Merlin soon found that words came easily, genuinely. Dinner was quiet, but in an intimate rather than awkward way and for the first time that week Merlin relaxed, enjoying the food, the wine and simply being with Arthur.
After they had shared a, less impressive but still delicious, dessert of strawberries and cream, Merlin began to pile dishes into the sink and run the water.
“What do you think you are doing?” Arthur asked, pressing up behind him, putting his hands over Merlin’s hips and propping his chin on Merlin’s shoulder.
Merlin rolled his eyes and squirted Fairy Liquid into the sink. “Washing up.”
Arthur hummed lazily into Merlin’s neck. “I can see that,” he said eventually as he slid his hands forwards and slipped them into Merlin’s front pockets. “What I meant is, why?”
Merlin plunged his ungloved hands into the hot water. “Because you made dinner?”
Arthur nudged at Merlin’s earlobe with his nose, tracing it’s outline gently before he spoke in a hot breath of air against the sensitive skin of Merlin’s neck. “You don’t sound too sure about that.”
“Because you made dinner.” Merlin repeated, this time with more certainty.
“I did,” agreed Arthur, “and now I will wash up whilst you go and have a good long soak in the bath.”
Merlin paused, “Did you burn a hole in the bottom of one of my saucepans again?” he asked suspiciously, “because you know I’ll find out eventually so you might as well tell me. I won’t be mad, I promise.”
Arthur huffed and nipped gently at Merlin’s earlobe, “I can’t believe you’d accuse me of such a thing!”
“I wouldn’t be the first time.”
“I promise you there were no accidents of any nature.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Merlin said and resumed washing.
“Hey!” Arthur slid a hand out of Merlin’s pocket and tapped him on the hip. “Stop!”
“It won’t take long Arthur if you’d just let me…”
“No.” Arthur said firmly, removing the glass and dishcloth from Merlin’s hands. Merlin blinked at him in surprise. “I told you I was treating you tonight, so that means no washing up! Now go and have that bath before I change my mind and put you on washing up duty for a year.”
“Yes sire” Merlin said with a mock salute, and then flicked the remainder of the water on his hands into Arthur’s face. Arthur gave a shout of protest and shooed him away with the dishcloth, grinning.
Merlin made a strategic retreat into the bathroom to find a new bottle of his favourite bubble bath standing on the edge of the bathtub and, prominently displayed on the bathroom unit, was a wineglass and a bucket of mostly melted ice and a wine bottle. Propped against the glass was a note written in Arthur’s loopy handwriting
Treat yourself
A x
Merlin felt a prickly feeling in his eyes that felt horribly like the beginning of tears and he blinked them back furiously as he plucked Arthur’s note from it’s place and pocketed it.
He poured a glass of wine as he ran a bath, with a generous helping of bubble bath. When it was finally full he sank into its blissful warmth with a sigh, lying there becoming loose limbed, exhaustion dissolving slowly with the bubbles until the water cooled around his wrinkled skin.
When he finally emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in his dressing gown, he’d flushed a healthier shade of pink; a mixture of warmth and wine and rest, and he knew he looked better already. He felt better.
Arthur was already in their bed, reading, a sight that never failed to make Merlin smile. Arthur never used to read much at all before they’d became a couple; something that had horrified Merlin who had taken it upon himself to reintroduce Arthur to the delights of a good book.
Arthur glanced up at Merlin over the top of his reading glasses and smiled. “Have a nice bath?”
“Wonderful.” Merlin said, coming over to put his empty wine glass on his bedside table, almost knocking over a small pile of ash he hadn’t seen. “What’s that?” he asked poking it suspiciously.
Arthur cleared his throat, “It’s…um…incense.”
Merlin looked at him incredulously.
“It’s jasmine.” Arthur said, holding his book to his chest like a shield, “it helps you sleep. Morgana swears by it.”
Arthur’s stepsister had been having sleeping problems since before Merlin had known her. He wasn’t sure whether this meant taking advice from her was a wise thing to do but he was touched that Arthur had thought of it. Arthur seemed to recover from his momentary embarrassment quickly and patted the bed beside him invitingly.
Merlin hung his dressing gown over the back of a chair and climbed into bed, sliding into the body-warmed, Arthur-scented softness with the deep-seated resigned weariness of one who is certain that the desperately needed good night’s sleep he craves will not be forthcoming. He lay, staring at the ceiling, whilst Arthur resumed his reading.
It was about twenty minutes later when Arthur shut his book, removed his glasses and placed them both on the nightstand. He switched off the bedside lamp and shuffled under the covers immediately reaching for Merlin.
Merlin had to force himself not to tense up, didn’t want this otherwise perfect evening to be marred by sex he could no longer bring himself to enjoy. “Arthur…” he said hesitantly, even apologetically.
“Ssshh,” soothed Arthur, “I know Merlin, you’re exhausted. But you’re never going to sleep like that, flat like an ironing board. Come here.” Merlin let Arthur manoeuvre him about until he was nestled in the crook of Arthur’s arm.
“Close your eyes now.” Arthur said softly and Merlin was tired, so, so tired, and it felt good to have someone telling him what to do, he didn’t even have to think, so he obeyed without another thought, listening to the gentle, steady beat of Arthur’s heart and feeling Arthur fingers brush softly through his hair, lulling him softly to sleep and the last thing he remembered as he tipped over the edge into his dreams was Arthur pressing a soft kiss into his hair.
*
Merlin woke, still nestled against Arthur, to the sound of birds singing outside their bedroom window. Arthur was still sleeping, soft snoring exhalations ticking Merlin’s fringe against his face. Merlin lifted his head up gently to glance at the clock. It was later than the pale autumn light, masked by their curtains, suggested but Merlin still settled back down, waiting for the heavy pull of exhaustion that had tormented him all week to drag him back to sleep.
It didn’t come.
Merlin was pleasantly surprised to realise that, for once, he hadn’t woken up and immediately felt tired. He lay for a few moments, the heavy comfort of the duvet and the irresistible warmth of Arthur alongside him; soothing him even as he stretched and blinked the last of the sleep from his eyes. Eventually Merlin managed to extricate himself from Arthur’s embrace and a tangle of sheets, both of which seemed intent on holding him hostage, and made his way into the kitchen, pulling on his dressing gown against the slight chill of the morning.
The kitchen was spotless; the only sign of the previous last night was the stump of the candle and the wax-patterned beer bottle. Merlin filled the kettle and gave his saucepans a cursory glance (bottoms all still intact) whilst he waited for it to boil.
Twenty minutes later Merlin was placing a tray with breakfast - bacon, sausage, eggs, toast and tea, on the small table in his and Arthur’s bedroom. Arthur, as usual in Merlin’s absence, had sprawled across the bed; face pushed into Merlin’s pillow and was clutching at it tightly.
Merlin crawled onto the end of the bed and called Arthur’s name gently. Arthur shifted and mumbled something illegible around a mouthful of pillow. Merlin tried again and Arthur stirred and rolled onto his back.
Merlin scooted alongside Arthur, close enough to reach out and brush Arthur’s hair gently out of his eyes. Arthur snuffled and murmured sleepily, “I can smell bacon.”
Merlin chuckled, low and warm in the base of his throat, “Breakfast in bed.”
Arthur stilled, “Don’t tease.”
“I would never tease about bacon.” Merlin said solemnly, “come on, open your eyes.” He climbed off the bed to pick up the plates and mugs. When he turned back, Arthur was sitting up and grinning sleepily at him.
“I love weekends.” Arthur said as he examined his plate eagerly. Merlin nodded his agreement as he dipped his toast into his egg. “Did you check all your saucepans then?” Arthur asked shrewdly. Merlin gave him a sheepish grin and Arthur responded with a sharp bark of laughter.
They ate their breakfast leisurely in a companionable silence punctuated by the crunching of bacon and the slurping of tea. It was a quiet, domestic moment, the sort that could happen to anyone, them, sprawled on their unmade bed, feet tangled together and it was nice, good, comfortable.
Then, when the dishes were cleared to one side, Arthur pushed Merlin into the toast-crumbed sheets; Merlin felt that sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach and his heart felt like it was in his throat. Merlin closed his eyes, hoping that without the sight of Arthur, gloriously golden and sex flushed, the filthy platitudes would be shut off too. But it was all too much, heightened, the pressure of Arthur’s weight above him, the tickle of feather-soft touches along his side, the quickly soothed sting of Arthur nipping at his collarbone, marking him, tracing the lines of Merlin’s neck with his tongue, fumbling about with slicked up fingers, opening Merlin up and finally pushing into him. Merlin stifled a gasp, folded his fingers into Arthur’s hair, cradling his head even as Arthur continued to suck bruises into Merlin’s shoulder, he clung to Arthur, nails digging slightly into the shifting muscles of Arthur’s back. For one moment, feeling blissfully full, Merlin just wanted to let go.
It lasted a mere moment before the sickening shame clenched in his stomach, burned behind his eyes and so, as Arthur continued to thrust slowly into him with soft grunts of exertion, Merlin was forced to stare at the ceiling with gritted teeth silently reciting his times tables to stave off unwanted embarrassment.
Merlin was struggling over eight times six when Arthur stilled, shaking as he spilled inside Merlin with a tiny groan and flopped on top of him like a limp rag doll, still buried in him. Merlin felt guiltily relieved, flicking the soft short strands of damp hair at the base of Arthur’s hairline. It wasn’t long before Arthur stirred, slid down the bed without warning and took Merlin’s half-hard cock into his mouth, startling an orgasm out of Merlin who cried “Arthur!” without restraint (and decided afterwards, reluctantly, that it was probably a better reaction than “forty eight!”). Arthur swallowed eagerly as Merlin poured his unexpected release down Arthur’s throat until he was completely spent, then Arthur let Merlin slip from his mouth and snuggled down into their dishevelled sheets, his head pillowed on Merlin’s thigh.
Merlin couldn’t relax, couldn’t lie naked upon his bed with Arthur whilst feeling disgusting, miserable and exposed. It wasn’t long before he shook Arthur gently off of his leg and got up with a muttered excuse about needing more milk.
Arthur didn’t protest when Merlin walked into their bathroom and locked the door.
*
The following three days were almost unbearable. Seventy-two hours of stilted conversation and awkward silences, evenings filled with words but with nothing really being said, nights lying alongside each other, hardly touching, barely sleeping, lonely and empty and wrong.
Tuesday had dawned like any other October day, mostly cloudy but with the promise of sunlight pushing it’s way through the misty morning grey. By lunchtime the sky had turned an ugly black and rain was lashing down, splashing viciously off the tarmac and running in rivers down the roads. In his more fanciful moments, Merlin believed that the weather was determined by his mood, his life, and, although he knew it was ridiculous, when the storm hadn’t abated as he went home he couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding that hammered in his chest.
Merlin noticed Arthur’s wet coat hanging on the peg in their hallway as he shed his own damp coat, shoes and socks. Arthur wasn’t in the lounge or the kitchen and the flat was eerily quiet. Then, Merlin noticed a faint strip of light coming from their slightly ajar bedroom door and pushed it open, slipping into the room.
Arthur was sat on the end of their bed frowning at the DVD logo bouncing around on their TV screen.
Merlin cleared his throat softly, “Arthur?”
Arthur tensed at the sound of Merlin’s voice but didn’t give any other indication that he’d heard him. After a few seconds, he spoke. “Have I forgotten something? An anniversary? Your mum’s birthday? Because I can’t work it out.”
“Um…” Merlin was confused, “No I don’t think so.”
Arthur nodded slowly. “Are you in some sort of trouble? Problems at work? Are…” his voice broke, stumbling over his next sentence and he looked directly at Merlin who was startled to see pain in Arthur’s eyes, “…are you ill?”
“No!” Merlin said quickly. Then, reassuringly, “No everything’s fine.”
Relief flooded Arthur’s features, swiftly followed by uncertainty and something Merlin didn’t have time to decipher as Arthur dropped his gaze to the floor and his shoulders slumped forward. Arthur seemed to be struggling to speak, swallowing with difficulty and unable to form words. When he did speak again, it was so soft and mumbled Merlin had to strain to hear it. “Is there someone else?”
“What?” cried Merlin, taking a few instinctive steps towards Arthur but stopping short of the bed. “No! No…no…I would never…what would give you that idea?”
Arthur gave a shaky sigh and gestured towards the TV screen with the remote control. The picture fuzzed and then cleared and Merlin could see two bodies entwined on a bed, hear sloppy kissing sounds and then…
“Mmmmm…Arthur! Oh, yes, ooooooooh,”
Merlin sprang forward and snatched the remote out of Arthur’s hands, shutting off the TV abruptly and then hurled the control across the room.
“Merlin!” Arthur rose to his feet.
“I’m sorry!” Merlin said, panicked, “I just…I can’t…I’ve tried…”
“Merlin…”
“I know it’s not…not great, but I’ve been working on it I promise and I’ll try, I really will, just…” Now the words had started, Merlin couldn’t stop them, “please, please give me a chance Arthur…”
“Merlin…”
“I know it must disgust you but I swear…”
“MERLIN!” Arthur roared, the only way he could make himself heard. Merlin stopped his rambling and stared at Arthur, mouth open, “Merlin, what on earth are you going on about?”
Merlin closed his mouth with an audible click. Then he opened it again but his verbosity of a few moments before had gone.
“Merlin,” Arthur said gently, as if he were coaxing a child. He took one of Merlin’s hands in his own. “What’s wrong?”
Merlin turned his head to avoid Arthur’s gaze, felt the heat both of Arthur’s stare and of the furious blush staining his own cheeks. His tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth, too dry and unable to form words. He looked at the floor and shook his head forlornly.
“Merlin,” Arthur grasped his elbows and gave him a gentle shake, “what do you mean? What do you think must disgust me?”
Merlin made an unintelligible sound; his throat working furiously in an attempt to form something articulate until he eventually managed a small “me.”
Arthur tightened his grip on Merlin’s arms. “What do you mean?” He demanded.
Merlin winced, at both Arthur’s tone and the tightness of the grip upon his arms. “You know...” He said eventually with a slight stammer, “when we…” he nodded towards their bed.
“Wha…” said Arthur, “what?”
“I didn’t know how…how bad it was until the video.” Merlin sighed heavily, “How I sounded…”
“Let me get this straight.” Said Arthur. “You think I would be disgusted with you because of what you sound like when we’re having sex?”
“Yes,” said Merlin sadly, feeling oddly relieved to have his shameful confession voiced, “You are so…wonderful and amazing and…and…perfect and there I am like some sort of…porn star.”
Arthur released his hold on Merlin, threw his head back and laughed, almost wildly.
“Don’t…” said Merlin and was annoyed to feel tears pooling into his eyes. “…don’t laugh at me Arthur.”
“Oh, Merlin!” Arthur said sinking down onto the foot of the bed and wiping at his eyes. “I thought it was something awful.” Merlin stiffened and gave a small, involuntary start as if he were about to run from the room. “No, wait!” Arthur caught hold of Merlin’s hand. “At first I thought maybe it was me, maybe I was doing something wrong, maybe I couldn’t satisfy you anymore. And then you were so withdrawn, and quiet, so I thought perhaps you were ill, but then I thought that no, you would have said something, unless it was something really bad and then…then my brain ran away with itself…” Arthur choked, “God, Merlin, I thought you were dying.”
Merlin stared at Arthur who looked so earnest, and fearful, and relieved all at the same time and squeezed his hand reassuringly. He sat next to Arthur. “I’m sorry,” he said in a small voice.
“So am I,” said Arthur.
Merlin looked at him questioningly.
“I like how you sound.” Arthur explained.
“Oh?” said Merlin faintly.
“Yeah,” Arthur leant towards Merlin and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “I like it a lot.”
“Oh!” Merlin turned to look at him with wide, inquisitive, interested eyes.
“You’re so open and free,” Arthur explained, clutching at Merlin’s hand as if he feared Merlin would try to escape, “you’re…raw and uninhibited…you say what you think and I wish I could have half your honesty.”
“You do?”
“There are so many things I would say to you.” Arthur said simply.
Merlin could feel Arthur breathing steadily next to him, firm, measured breaths in and out, an attempt to be controlled but knew, instinctively, that Arthur’s heart was hammering at the same pace as Merlin’s as they teetered on the precipice of full understanding.
Merlin hesitated for a moment. Then he placed a chaste kiss on Arthur’s lips, full of sweetness and promise, before drawing him close and resting his chin on Arthur’s shoulder. He turned his lips to Arthur’s ear and whispered, “tell me.”
“Hmmm…” Arthur considered, “well…I love the sound you make when I do this.” He nipped at Merlin’s earlobe, a gently sharp tug, and smirked as Merlin caught his breath with a half whimpered ‘aaah!’ “Is that a good start?” he asked, nosing along Merlin’s jaw line and pausing to drop a kiss on his chin.
“Yes,” Merlin said breathlessly, “yes that’s very good.”
Arthur smiled; nudging his lips against Merlin’s, barely-there brushes until Merlin parted his lips enough to catch Arthur’s bottom lip, plump and smooth, between his own chapped ones. Arthur gave a soft noise of surprised approval. “Are you sure?” he mumbled around Merlin’s lips when he was able.
“Yes,” Merlin breathed, dragging his lips across Arthur’s smile, “yes.” He pressed insistent kisses at the corners of Arthur’s mouth and then tilted his head to kiss him deeper, open-mouthed kisses, licking their way into each other’s mouths with increasing urgency until Arthur had his fingers tangled in Merlin’s hair, and Merlin was scrunching the hem of Arthur’s t-shirt between his fingers. Merlin closed his eyes, lost in the warmth of Arthur, Arthur, dizzying kisses, light stubble against his jaw, hot and wet, and then Arthur’s tongue traced the roof of Merlin’s mouth and Merlin’s brain gave up thinking and just let go.
Arthur started kissing his way down Merlin’s neck, sucking his adam’s apple, and Merlin dropped his head back, shamelessly exposing more skin that Arthur immediately covered. Merlin had stopped crumpling Arthur’s t-shirt in favour of stroking his hand over Arthur’s side, beneath the thin fabric, pushing the top further and further up until Merlin’s thumb grazed over Arthur’s nipple, peaking in the cooler air. Arthur groaned around a mouthful of Merlin’s inconveniently placed shirt collar.
“Merlin. I want…” Arthur tried to say but gave up in favour of toying with Merlin’s shirt buttons
“I know,” Merlin said, he drew back far enough to drag Arthur’s t-shirt off. Arthur reciprocated, pulling at Merlin’s shirt until it hung open and he could slip it down Merlin’s arms, following its progress with feather light strokes. Merlin reached for Arthur eagerly, one hand at base of Arthur’s neck, the other curling round his side, just below his ribs. Arthur had a hand on Merlin’s hip, gentle pressure, pushing him down onto the mattress, finding Merlin’s mouth with his own again and Merlin moaned happily. Their kisses were different, less sweet and exploratory, more desperate, thrilling molten heat that had them pawing at each other, needy and heady, breath sounding unnaturally loud, punctuated by little whimpers as Arthur chased a bead of sweat along Merlin’s collarbones, peppered his chest with filthy open mouthed flicks of tongue, grazing a nipple with his teeth; not too hard but enough to make Merlin arch up, breath hitching, and curl his fingers into Arthur’s hair.
They kissed until they were dizzy, had to part for air, a panting tangle of limbs at the foot of their bed, Arthur simply looked at Merlin, tracing the wet outline of reddened lips with his thumb. Merlin smiled at him.
“I love you, you know.” Arthur said seriously as he a hooked a finger through a belt loop on Merlin’s trousers. “I probably don’t say it enough. But I do.”
Merlin’s smile stretched into a grin and he kissed Arthur’s forehead. “I know. I love you too.”
“Good,” said Arthur, “because I am going to take these off of you,” he pulled gently at Merlin’s trousers. “And then I’m going to do something about this…” he brushed his hand over the unmistakable bulge straining against the zip of Merlin’s trousers.
Merlin was unable to do anything except allow Arthur to manhandle him; undoing his trousers and pulling them off, letting them drop to the floor. Then, as Arthur knelt at the foot of the bed, mouthing at the outline of Merlin’s erection through the thin, already damp, cotton of his boxers, all Merlin could do was throw his head back and growl.
Arthur climbed in the space between Merlin’s thighs, placed his hands on the bed just above Merlin’s shoulders and dipped his head, pressing soft kisses onto Merlin’s neck, teasingly light. It was not entirely unexpected when Merlin pushed, flipping Arthur on to his back and straddling him determinedly. Arthur seemed unperturbed, pushing himself up to rest on his elbows as Merlin leant forwards, licking his way filthily into Arthur’s mouth.
“God, Arthur,” Merlin moaned around kisses as he struggled to undo Arthur’s tightly fastened belt. Arthur made no move to help, simply leaning back and lazily returning Merlin’s sloppy kisses. Eventually Merlin succeeded in undoing Arthur’s belt, letting it fall open with a clink, popped open the button and then abandoned any idea of removing the trousers completely, instead shoving his hand beneath the waistband of Arthur’s boxers.
Arthur gave a start, jerked his hips, pushing himself further into Merlin’s exploratory hand. “Mer…Merlin!” he stumbled over the name, more of a deep, throaty groan than an actual word. Merlin smirked at him, trying to curl his hand in a loose fist to stroke Arthur’s cock, but the angle was uncomfortable and there was no space in the confines of Arthur’s trousers for Merlin’s hand to move properly so he settled for squeezing Arthur gently and flicking his thumb against hot, slick skin. Arthur responded with a series of grunts that Merlin licked into silence.
“Like that?” Merlin asked, hot against Arthur’s ear, gave an almost-painful brush of nails. He moved slightly, pressing his own erection into Arthur’s hip.
“God, yeah,” Arthur shifted his weight to one side, freeing a hand to tangle it into Merlin’s hair, pulling him down for a kiss, teeth clashing. Merlin withdrew his hand and began undoing Arthur’s trousers properly.
Before he realised what had happened, Merlin found himself on his back, dangerously close to the foot of the bed. His hands were pinned above his head; Arthur straddling him, grinding their still clothed cocks together. “Too slow,” Arthur growled, and bent to lick the delicate skin at Merlin’s wrist. He hooked his fingers under the waistband of Merlin’s boxers and wriggled off the foot of the bed, dragging the unwanted article of clothing with him. Then he proceeded to strip off the remainder of his own clothes with ruthless efficiency and leave them haphazardly on the floor.
Merlin blinked up at Arthur for a few seconds before he, too, moved, scooting backwards on the bed to a safer position and rummaging through the top drawer in the bedside cabinet. Then, pot of lube in hand, he sprawled back onto the pillows, a shameless invitation.
Arthur crawled up the bed, kissed his way up Merlin’s chest, plucked the jar out of Merlin’s hand and slid his way back down Merlin’s stretched out body with little nips and licks in all the sensitive spots, Merlin’s nipples and belly and the inside of his thigh.
Merlin keened delightedly as Arthur teased the head of his cock, a rough drag of tongue before his erection was engulfed in the soft wetness of Arthur’s mouth. Arthur gave a muffled hum of satisfaction as he moved, letting Merlin slide in and out of his mouth. Merlin didn’t try to hold back his contented sighs, feeling the familiar delicious warmth of pleasure swirl low in his belly, letting his fears and apprehensions float away on a tide of bliss, so that when Arthur pushed slick fingers inside him he cried out without hesitation, toes curling into the sheets beneath him as he felt Arthur smile around him, opening him up with eager intensity and Merlin just wanted…
Arthur crooked his fingers, nudging at the nub inside Merlin that made him lose all breath and concentration, pressed again with fervour and Merlin pulled insistently on Arthur’s hair with a breathless “stop”.
Arthur let Merlin fall from his mouth with an obscene noise, allowed Merlin to drag him up so they were face to face.
“Need you,” Merlin demanded between fierce kisses, “don’t want to come until you’re inside me.”
“God, Merlin,” Arthur said, “yeah…”
Merlin let his eyes close briefly as Arthur pushed into him with slow, assured movements, felt himself opening up, feeling both full and yet incomplete at the same time, and didn’t open his eyes until Arthur was fully inside, looking up at Arthur, face tinged pink with exertion, who stared back with full blown eyes. Arthur pushed the hair back off Merlin’s face, cupping his cheek in a gesture that, oddly, seemed to be the most intimate part of the entire night.
“Come on, Arthur,” Merlin said eventually, pulling at Arthur hips and Arthur huffed a laugh and rocked his hips, shallow thrusts that only made Merlin want more and writhe against the bedclothes in need, throwing them out of rhythm by wrapping a leg around Arthur’s back and rocking his own hips upwards.
Arthur was staring at Merlin hungrily. “Love…” he panted, “love being inside you. So…so tight…”
“Yes,” said Merlin, “yes!” and he planted a foot firmly on the bed and shoved his hips upwards with as much force as he could.
Arthur huffed a laugh, “Impatient!” but he sped up his thrusts and curled a hand round Merlin’s cock, beaming as Merlin moaned his approval.
“More, Arthur,” Merlin gasped, arching his back to press them together, “please, Arthur, I need…I need…”
Arthur bit at Merlin’s earlobe, “Say it,”
“Harder…Arthur…I need…fuck me harder…”
Arthur withdrew, ignoring Merlin’s moue of disappointment, and braced one hand on either side of Merlin. Then he grabbed hold of the leg Merlin had wrapped around him, pushing it upwards until Merlin’s calf dangled over Arthur’s shoulder before sliding back in with a particularly forceful thrust that made Merlin emit a cry of “nnnrrggh” and his eyes rolled back.
Merlin reached up over his head to grip at the headboard, throbs of pleasure sparking through him as Arthur nudged against his prostate with unerring accuracy. “Yes!” Merlin panted, “yes, there, Arthur, don’t stop…don’t stop!”
“God, Merlin, you’re so fucking hot,” Arthur muttered hoarsely “…gorgeous, love this, love you,” he turned his head and placed a kiss on Merlin’s quivering calf muscle.
“Oh!” cried Merlin, feeling closer to Arthur than he’d ever done before, “ah, ah, ah…” the warmth coiling in his belly suddenly erupted and he was coming between them in hot, drawn out pulses, crying out loudly, “ah…ah…Arthur…” shuddering as the force pounded through him, cresting and soaring until he felt himself drifting in a idyllic bliss, barely registering Arthur reaching his own climax, slopping messy kisses into Merlin’s hair.
The last thing he remembered as he gave himself up to sensation was Arthur’s fading voice gasping, “God, Merlin, you’re so beautiful when you come.”
*
The world was a kaleidoscope of colour and muffled noise. At first Merlin drifted, warm and calm, and eventually began blinking repeatedly as the hazy fragments sharpened and fell into focus before him.
Arthur was kneeling above him, talking indistinctly, as he wiped a towel gently across Merlin’s stomach and chest. He looked up, as if he sensed Merlin’s gaze and paused in his ministrations to crowd into Merlin’s eye line. “Hey you,” he said softly.
Merlin managed something that sounded like “glurg.”
Arthur laughed and dabbed at Merlin’s cheek with a corner of the towel before tossing it to the floor. “Very articulate,” he said and placed a kiss on the tip of Merlin’s nose, and then on his lips.
Merlin reached for Arthur, pulling him down on top of him, seeking Arthur’s lips with his own for a long, deep kiss.
“I should move.” Arthur said eventually
“Don’t.” Merlin tightened his arms around Arthur.
“I’ll squash you,”
“Need to feel you’re here.”
“I am,” Arthur whispered as he nudged at Merlin’s ear with his nose, “I am.”
Merlin hummed happily and threaded his fingers through Arthur’s hair. Arthur tucked his face into Merlin’s neck and inhaled deeply. They curled together, lulled by each other’s reassuring warmth, and slept lightly until the air chilled and Merlin declared that, actually, Arthur was squashing him a bit and did Arthur realise his bottom was all goose-pimply?
The rest of the evening was reminiscent of the days when they had first moved in together; ordering in pizza, making a den of their duvet and snuggling together in the downy warmth, naked and feeding each other deliciously greasy strands of melted cheese, watching endless reruns of QI and pretending to know the answers, stopping mid sentence to lick their way into the other’s mouth just because they could.
It was late when Arthur left their makeshift cocoon to switch off all the lights and lock up, long after the pizza had all been eaten and Merlin had licked his fingers clean then stretched against the sheets and looked up at Arthur just as hungrily. Arthur had laughed and straddled Merlin’s hips, slopped deliberately messy kisses onto his face and chased the sweet hint of pineapple on Merlin’s tongue.
Much later, after they’d wrestled each other into submission and Arthur had pinned Merlin to the sheets, lazily ridden him until they both shuddered they way to noisy completion, the storm-heavy rain suddenly stopped and they were sprawled in their bed, their slightly breathless pants the only sound in the still of the night. Merlin rolled into Arthur’s side, wrapped his arms around Arthur’s chest and held him tight.
Then he slept.
*
The morning dawned unexpectedly clear, the sky washed blue, but the brilliance of the day paled in comparison to the sunny beams Merlin and Arthur exchanged over toast and tea at their kitchen table. Merlin had woken feeling refreshed and relieved, rediscovering how it felt not to have any niggling worries the second he awoke.
Work passed in a blur and Merlin left promptly at five o’clock, walking briskly; so eager to get home to Arthur it felt like he was floating. He ran up the stairs to his flat, fumbled with the lock and fell through the door.
“Careful, Merlin” Arthur said, emerging from their bedroom with a paintbrush in his hand.
“I’m okay!” Merlin said, then did a double take, “what are you wearing?”
Arthur glanced down and his old sweatpants and paint spattered t-shirt. “Oh yeah,” he grinned, “come and see.” He disappeared back into their room.
Merlin followed cautiously, entering their room to find Arthur lying on their mattress, stripped of all its sheets, which were in a heap on the floor next to the bed. “What is it?”
Arthur patted the mattress beside him and Merlin obediently climbed onto the bed next to him and lay down. “See,” Arthur announced.
“What are we looking at?” Merlin asked, puzzled.
“That crack in the ceiling you noticed.” Arthur said and Merlin realised he couldn’t see it. “I thought I’d fix it. It wasn’t as bad as it looked at all. Just the paint peeling.” He turned his head to nudge his nose against Merlin’s ear. “Not bad, hey?”
Merlin looked at where the ugly mark had been; his sort-of companion through his anguished nights now smoothed over and fixed with ease, and he laughed.
He was still laughing when Arthur rolled them off their bed and onto the pile of bedclothes and kissed him.
Rating:NC-17
Words: about 8700
Summary: In which Merlin and Arthur make a sex tape and Merlin is absolutely horrified at what he's like during sex. Arthur finds it hot though and can't understand what's wrong with Merlin...
From the Kinkme_Merlin prompt
Disclaimer: I own nothing but an overactive imagination. And a computer.
Notes: Pretty much as posted on the meme but with a few glaring errors corrected. Otherwise unbetaed and unedited.
Merlin never realised before how vocal he was during sex.
Until now.
Even the tinny playback on Arthur’s battered video camera could not disguise it, a stream of “God, yes, Arthur, fuck!” a litany of obscenities and endearments, compliments and demands, spilled unheeded from his lips, all the more enforced by Arthur’s relative silence. A few grunts and groans and whispered promises into Merlin’s skin, not picked up by the microphone but supplied by Merlin’s memory.
Merlin couldn’t remember which of them had come up with the great idea to film them, who had unhelpfully suggested that it would be hot, but he cursed them, inwardly swearing at the both of them for thinking that filming themselves in such an intimate, vulnerable way could be anything less than embarrassing. Excruciating.
He squirmed anxiously on the bedclothes as he saw himself onscreen, chirruping something about Arthur’s massive cock and sounding like the worst possible porn movie script. Although he was enthusiastic, which was the best he could say about it.
He glanced over at Arthur, who was shifting uncomfortably under the bedcovers, not looking back at Merlin.
Merlin reluctantly returned his attention to the screen and…was that a whinnying noise he was making? A desperate, needy high-pitched whine that possibly came from the back of his throat but more likely, Merlin feared, came out from his nose.
“Harder, Arthur…I won’t break…fuck me!” his grainy image demanded and Merlin wanted to hurl himself of the window in mortification, whilst his on screen self cried out suddenly, in time with the distant thudding of a headboard, an “Oh! Oh! Oh!” until eventually, finally, Merlin watched himself come with a shrill squeak of Arthur’s name, bordering on a scream, and - oh god was that what he looked like? - a sweaty, twisting grimace, open mouthed and slack limbed and about as far from attractive as you could possibly get.
The video cut off abruptly.
Merlin risked another glance at Arthur, who was still lying with the bedclothes pulled up to his chin and staring at the screen wordlessly.
Merlin got up abruptly.
“Where are you going?” Arthur asked, puzzled.
“I need a drink.” Said Merlin, feeling his cheeks burning, “do you want one?”
Arthur shook his head mutely and Merlin hurried out of the bedroom as fast as he could.
*
Merlin poured himself a large glass of water and downed it eagerly, wishing it were something stronger, before placing the cool glass against his burning forehead and taking two deep, shuddering breaths.
“You okay?” Arthur asked, materialising behind Merlin, wrapping his arms around him and pressing a soft kiss onto Merlin’s left shoulder.
“Yeah, just, you know…” he gestured vaguely with his empty glass. “Hot.”
Arthur unwound himself from Merlin and leant back against the sink to look at Merlin’s face. “You do look a bit flushed.” He said after a few moments’ scrutiny.
Merlin felt himself get warmer.
Arthur regarded him with an intense blue gaze and frowned. “Why don’t you go on to bed?” he said gently, plucking the empty glass from Merlin’s hands and putting it safely in the sink. “I’ll lock up and everything.” He stretched, rising slightly on to the balls of his feet to press a tender kiss on Merlin’s forehead. “Hmm…” he said, still frowning.
Wordlessly, Merlin acquiesced, returning to their bedroom and crawled beneath their warm, crumpled sheets that smelt of them, and sweat, and sex, and immediately wanted to get out and strip them off, toss them into the laundry basket and wash away his mortification in a soapy lather.
He deliberated for a moment but by then Arthur had come in.
“I brought you a glass of water in case you want it later,” Arthur said, placing it onto Merlin’s bedside table.
“Thanks,” Merlin said softly as Arthur flicked off the lights and pulled the curtains before joining Merlin under the covers.
“You are very warm.” Arthur commented as he fluffed up his pillows and wriggled into a comfortable position beside Merlin.
“Yeah,” Merlin said as he rolled onto his side. “Night, Arthur.”
“Mmm,” murmured Arthur, giving Merlin a kiss between his shoulder blades before spooning himself against Merlin’s back.
Merlin fidgeted for a moment, lifted his head and flipped his pillow over before pressing his stinging cheek into the cool linen and wondered miserably if he’d ever be able to enjoy sex again.
*
Merlin was still half asleep when he felt fingers brushing gently over his chest, and the tender pressure of Arthur’s lips against his neck, nuzzling against him, Arthur’s nose softly nudging at Merlin’s earlobe.
“Sleeping.” Merlin mumbled.
Arthur chuckled into Merlin’s hair, continuing to skirt his fingers down Merlin’s side before resting a hand on his hip. “Time to wake up Merlin.”
Merlin felt warm and fuzzy and heavy limbed and didn’t want to let go of the last vestiges of sleep. “Not gonna.”
“I’ll make it worth your while,” Arthur promised, and Merlin felt Arthur’s weight shift, pressing him further into the mattress and kissing a wet, leisurely trail from Merlin’s shoulder, along his collarbone and down his chest.
Merlin let out a moan of pleasure that sounded unnaturally loud in the early morning hush, and then his eyes popped open, all sleepiness unceremoniously shoved out of his head as his painful memories of the previous night slammed into his consciousness.
“Good morning,” Arthur said, grinning down at Merlin and completely missing the fleeting look of horror on Merlin’s face. “I’m glad you decided to join me.” And Merlin realised he was half hard already - well, he was only human and Arthur was rather persuasive. Arthur stretched himself above Merlin, settling between his thighs - treacherous! - Merlin thought as they fell apart without his permission to give Arthur room. Arthur hummed happy kisses into Merlin’s neck and gently thumbed his nipple and Merlin dragged his foot up Arthur’s calf.
Arthur huffed a hot, breathy laugh into Merlin’s jaw and then nipped as his earlobe. Merlin’s breath hitched and he arched his spine, curving further into the warm, long line of Arthur’s body, an involuntary “ooooh” falling from his lips that he desperately wanted to claw back and was unnaturally grateful when Arthur sought his mouth and silenced him with a lazy slide of lips and tongues, a languid, intimate tangle of arms and legs and lips and a languorous rolling of hips, sliding together, delicious friction and yet not enough. Merlin was almost relieved when Arthur’s mouth resumed its exploration of Merlin’s neck, shifting so that Arthur was rocking against Merlin’s thigh, Merlin’s own cock leaving a slick trail along Arthur’s stomach.
Arthur was murmuring his delight into Merlin’s shoulder, a hand back on his hip, holding Merlin down with just the right about of pressure, moving his hips to realign their cocks, so that when Merlin thrust upwards into the solid heat of Arthur’s body, their cocks rubbed firmly and Arthur rocked down instinctively until they were nestled flush against each other. Merlin crossed his wrists behind Arthur’s neck, threaded his fingers into Arthur’s hair and bit his lip to stop the words bubbling behind them from spilling out, trying to tie down the overwhelming pleasure he felt as they rocked together with ease.
Arthur moved again, lifting himself up an infinitesimal amount to press his hips down, harder, Merlin wrapped a leg around Arthur’s to pull him closer and bent his other leg up so he could use his foot to push up, moulding himself to Arthur’s body. Arthur lifted his head from Merlin’s collarbone and stared at him, with pupils so full blown there was hardly any blue left in his eyes. Arthur placed his hands either side of Merlin’s shoulders, arms trembling with the exertion of holding himself up and at the anticipation of further pleasure as he thrust roughly, making Merlin arch his back and dig his fingers into Arthur’s hips with need.
Arthur was still looking at Merlin’s face when he felt the first tingles of orgasm spark beneath his skin, smouldering at the base of his spine before rushing through him and even as his vision clouded Arthur was still staring and Merlin didn’t want it, didn’t want Arthur to see and as he came with an unchecked whimper of Arthur’s name, he turned his head away and nearly ended up with Arthur’s tongue in his ear.
Arthur gave a loud groan as he continued to thrust into the slippery wetness between them and then came with a long shuddering breath, tiny tremors shaking along his spine and down his arms before flopping onto his back beside Merlin, panting softly with desire and exertion.
Merlin stared at the ceiling.
“Much better than an alarm clock.” Arthur said once his breath had evened out.
“Yeah.” Said Merlin tonelessly.
Arthur rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow to look at Merlin. “You okay? You were a bit…quiet.” He reached out to stroke Merlin’s nearest arm.
“I’m fine.” Merlin replied, unmoving.
Arthur stilled his fingers. “Was it…was it good for you?” he asked eventually.
Merlin missed the wince that passed across Arthur’s face at the question and thought it rather redundant as the evidence of his enjoyment was splattered across his stomach and so simply made a noise of assent.
“Say something Merlin,” Arthur prompted.
“There’s a crack in the ceiling.” Merlin said.
Arthur twisted his neck to look upwards. “Oh yeah.”
Merlin sat up.
Arthur blinked “What are doing?” He placed a hand on Merlin’s arm.
“Getting up.” Said Merlin.
“It’s Sunday!” protested Arthur, “come back to bed.”
Merlin threw the bedcovers off of his legs and avoided looking at Arthur. “I need a shower.”
Arthur let him go.
*
“Merlin? Merlin?”
Merlin stared at the paperwork on the table in front of him, only dimly registering someone calling his name and immediately dismissing it. “This doesn’t even make sense,” he muttered with a glare at the offending sentence, circling it with a red pen and scrawling a question mark in the margin.
“Merlin?” the voice said again and Merlin felt a hand on his shoulder.
He jumped.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to make you jump.” Arthur said, dropping his hand from Merlin’s shoulder “I’m off to bed.”
“Oh,” said Merlin, surprised, as he finally noticed the closed curtains, the switched off TV, and the fact that Arthur was in pyjamas. He glanced at the mess of paper on their dining table with unease, “I…um…” Merlin rarely brought work home, but he had been very busy and the paperwork had been a very good distraction from niggling questions he’d rather not answer. He’d become ensconced in his work and lost a whole evening. “I just need to finish this…”
Arthur gave a soft chuckle. “Don’t stay up too late.” He said fondly, gently ruffling Merlin’s hair before dropping a kiss into the rumpled peaks.
Merlin grunted in agreement and picked up his pen.
When he finally laid down his pen, everything was still and ominously quiet, the kitchen light stark and uninviting in the dark shadows of the rest of the apartment. Merlin rubbed his eyes and began to stack his paperwork into a more manageable pile on the table. Then he switched off the light and edged his way carefully towards the bedroom door.
Arthur was fast asleep, sprawled on his back, snoring lightly. A stream of moonlight poured through a gap in the curtains, bathing Arthur in a silvery glow, like a spotlight, highlighting Arthur’s toned arms, tanned skin and golden hair, drawing Merlin’s attention at once. Arthur’s pyjama top lay crumpled on the floor, flung off shortly after he’d slipped underneath the covers, which Merlin picked up automatically, folding it and placing it neatly on the chair. Then he collected his own sleep shorts and padded into their bathroom, closing the door quietly behind him before flicking the light on.
He shucked off his clothes and tossed them into the laundry basket. Then he moved to the sink and stopped in front of the mirror.
He looked awful, pasty-faced, scrawny-chested with sharp angles of protruding bones, a mop of truly horrendous hair, tired, red-rimmed eyes, exhausted, careworn and if all that wasn’t enough…
Ears
He brought his hands up, pulled his ears backwards, twisted his head from side to side to see if it made any difference, and then let go with a sigh, shame and disgust burning in his stomach, his chest, his throat, tasting like bile and he wondered, not for the first time, how anyone could ever find him attractive.
He turned away deliberately and left the bathroom, only to be confronted by the sight of Arthur, still sleeping peacefully, looking like a Greek God.
Merlin went to the window, cutting off the stream of light with an abrupt tug at the curtain. He tiptoed carefully to the bed and climbed in, lying ramrod straight on his back, covers pulled up to his chin, looking at the ceiling.
Arthur stirred rolling towards Merlin and throwing an arm over him. Merlin stilled cautiously, but Arthur settled immediately, evidently still asleep and Merlin let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.
Merlin lay staring at the crack in the ceiling (had it grown bigger since yesterday?) until the pale light of dawn began to creep in around the edges of the curtains and he fell into an exhausted sleep.
*
Merlin’s week passed in a monotonous blur, relentless work and restless nights, staring at the blemished plaster on the bedroom ceiling and trying desperately not to see it as some sort of metaphor for his relationship with Arthur, insidious little splinters creeping along, marring what was once perfect. It was a stupid leap for his brain to make, but it kept Merlin awake at night and by the time he trudged home from work on Friday evening all he wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep for a hundred years.
The apartment was dark when Merlin pushed open the door, but a warm smell of cooking greeted him and made him feel properly hungry for the first time that week. It smelt delicious and tantalisingly familiar.
“Arthur?” Merlin squinted into the dimly lit flat; he could see a faint light from the kitchen area.
“Wait, wait!” Arthur said and appeared out of nowhere, covering Merlin’s eyes with his hand. “Okay, you can come in.”
“What are you doing?” Merlin asked curiously as Arthur led him, eyes covered, across the apartment.
“You’ll see,” said Arthur as they stopped. “There!” he said dramatically removing his hand.
Merlin blinked a couple of times as he took in the sight before him; their dining table was properly laid out, with placemats and a tablecloth and wine glasses. The only source of light was a candle stuck into the top of an empty beer bottle, flickering in the centre of the table.
“What’s brought all this on?” Merlin asked as his lips curled into a smile.
Arthur put a hand on Merlin’s face, softly brushing at the dark smudges beneath his eyes. “You’ve had a hard week. I thought you deserved a treat.”
Merlin caught hold of the hand Arthur held to his face and pressed a kiss into Arthur’s palm. “What have I done to deserve you?” he asked, only half in jest.
Arthur beamed at him, a gleaming white crooked grin that made Merlin’s heart squeeze. “Oh, I can think of a few things.” Arthur said with a waggle of his eyebrows that, on anyone else, would look ridiculous but on him looked ridiculously hot. Merlin would usually make a somewhat suggestive comment and they’d end up having sex on the nearest horizontal surface, but this time his brain froze and he hesitated a moment too long.
Arthur cleared his throat and Merlin realised he was still clutching at Arthur’s hand whilst Arthur looked at him curiously. “You okay?”
“Fine,” Merlin said giving Arthur’s hand a quick squeeze before letting it go. He sniffed obviously. “Dinner smells delicious.”
This distracted Arthur, spurring him into an efficient bustle, “Come and sit down, it’ll be ready in a sec.”
Merlin shrugged off his coat, hung it neatly on the back of a spare chair and took his place at the table, watching as Arthur uncorked a bottle of wine and poured for them.
“I thought about taking you out to that little Italian on the high street - remember it?” Arthur said in a deliberately light tone that would normally have made Merlin instantly suspicious.
Instead Merlin smiled nostalgically, “Bel Cibo. Our first date.”
“Yeah.” Arthur handed Merlin his wine, and they clinked their glasses together as they always did, “But then I figured that if you were as tired as you’ve been all week you wouldn’t appreciate me dragging you back out. So I cooked instead.”
“I’m already impressed.” Merlin said.
Arthur took a sip of his wine, before hurrying over to the other side of the kitchen, “Well, I’m not promising miracles, but…” he returned with two plates, laying one in front of Merlin with a flourish, “dinner is served!”
Merlin glanced down at his plate of Spaghetti Carbonara and then up at Arthur who had taken his seat opposite Merlin and was looking earnestly at him. “You remembered?”
“Our first date?” Arthur picked up his fork, “Of course, what we ate, what we wore, what we talked about. Even…oh, wait a moment!” Arthur left his seat and crossed the kitchen quickly, flicking on the old CD player. As he sat down again a lilting, beautiful, familiar classical melody spilled from the speakers.
Merlin smothered a gasp, “How do you even have this?”
Arthur looked little embarrassed, “They kept playing it. You were humming along and saying how much you loved it. I went out and bought it the next day. It reminded me of you.”
Merlin’s heart squeezed as he looked speechlessly at Arthur, at this utterly, utterly wonderful, caring, romantic, adorable, perfect boyfriend. “Arthur I…I really don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything.” Arthur said, picking up his fork again, “Eat up.”
*
The food was delicious and Merlin soon found that words came easily, genuinely. Dinner was quiet, but in an intimate rather than awkward way and for the first time that week Merlin relaxed, enjoying the food, the wine and simply being with Arthur.
After they had shared a, less impressive but still delicious, dessert of strawberries and cream, Merlin began to pile dishes into the sink and run the water.
“What do you think you are doing?” Arthur asked, pressing up behind him, putting his hands over Merlin’s hips and propping his chin on Merlin’s shoulder.
Merlin rolled his eyes and squirted Fairy Liquid into the sink. “Washing up.”
Arthur hummed lazily into Merlin’s neck. “I can see that,” he said eventually as he slid his hands forwards and slipped them into Merlin’s front pockets. “What I meant is, why?”
Merlin plunged his ungloved hands into the hot water. “Because you made dinner?”
Arthur nudged at Merlin’s earlobe with his nose, tracing it’s outline gently before he spoke in a hot breath of air against the sensitive skin of Merlin’s neck. “You don’t sound too sure about that.”
“Because you made dinner.” Merlin repeated, this time with more certainty.
“I did,” agreed Arthur, “and now I will wash up whilst you go and have a good long soak in the bath.”
Merlin paused, “Did you burn a hole in the bottom of one of my saucepans again?” he asked suspiciously, “because you know I’ll find out eventually so you might as well tell me. I won’t be mad, I promise.”
Arthur huffed and nipped gently at Merlin’s earlobe, “I can’t believe you’d accuse me of such a thing!”
“I wouldn’t be the first time.”
“I promise you there were no accidents of any nature.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Merlin said and resumed washing.
“Hey!” Arthur slid a hand out of Merlin’s pocket and tapped him on the hip. “Stop!”
“It won’t take long Arthur if you’d just let me…”
“No.” Arthur said firmly, removing the glass and dishcloth from Merlin’s hands. Merlin blinked at him in surprise. “I told you I was treating you tonight, so that means no washing up! Now go and have that bath before I change my mind and put you on washing up duty for a year.”
“Yes sire” Merlin said with a mock salute, and then flicked the remainder of the water on his hands into Arthur’s face. Arthur gave a shout of protest and shooed him away with the dishcloth, grinning.
Merlin made a strategic retreat into the bathroom to find a new bottle of his favourite bubble bath standing on the edge of the bathtub and, prominently displayed on the bathroom unit, was a wineglass and a bucket of mostly melted ice and a wine bottle. Propped against the glass was a note written in Arthur’s loopy handwriting
Treat yourself
A x
Merlin felt a prickly feeling in his eyes that felt horribly like the beginning of tears and he blinked them back furiously as he plucked Arthur’s note from it’s place and pocketed it.
He poured a glass of wine as he ran a bath, with a generous helping of bubble bath. When it was finally full he sank into its blissful warmth with a sigh, lying there becoming loose limbed, exhaustion dissolving slowly with the bubbles until the water cooled around his wrinkled skin.
When he finally emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in his dressing gown, he’d flushed a healthier shade of pink; a mixture of warmth and wine and rest, and he knew he looked better already. He felt better.
Arthur was already in their bed, reading, a sight that never failed to make Merlin smile. Arthur never used to read much at all before they’d became a couple; something that had horrified Merlin who had taken it upon himself to reintroduce Arthur to the delights of a good book.
Arthur glanced up at Merlin over the top of his reading glasses and smiled. “Have a nice bath?”
“Wonderful.” Merlin said, coming over to put his empty wine glass on his bedside table, almost knocking over a small pile of ash he hadn’t seen. “What’s that?” he asked poking it suspiciously.
Arthur cleared his throat, “It’s…um…incense.”
Merlin looked at him incredulously.
“It’s jasmine.” Arthur said, holding his book to his chest like a shield, “it helps you sleep. Morgana swears by it.”
Arthur’s stepsister had been having sleeping problems since before Merlin had known her. He wasn’t sure whether this meant taking advice from her was a wise thing to do but he was touched that Arthur had thought of it. Arthur seemed to recover from his momentary embarrassment quickly and patted the bed beside him invitingly.
Merlin hung his dressing gown over the back of a chair and climbed into bed, sliding into the body-warmed, Arthur-scented softness with the deep-seated resigned weariness of one who is certain that the desperately needed good night’s sleep he craves will not be forthcoming. He lay, staring at the ceiling, whilst Arthur resumed his reading.
It was about twenty minutes later when Arthur shut his book, removed his glasses and placed them both on the nightstand. He switched off the bedside lamp and shuffled under the covers immediately reaching for Merlin.
Merlin had to force himself not to tense up, didn’t want this otherwise perfect evening to be marred by sex he could no longer bring himself to enjoy. “Arthur…” he said hesitantly, even apologetically.
“Ssshh,” soothed Arthur, “I know Merlin, you’re exhausted. But you’re never going to sleep like that, flat like an ironing board. Come here.” Merlin let Arthur manoeuvre him about until he was nestled in the crook of Arthur’s arm.
“Close your eyes now.” Arthur said softly and Merlin was tired, so, so tired, and it felt good to have someone telling him what to do, he didn’t even have to think, so he obeyed without another thought, listening to the gentle, steady beat of Arthur’s heart and feeling Arthur fingers brush softly through his hair, lulling him softly to sleep and the last thing he remembered as he tipped over the edge into his dreams was Arthur pressing a soft kiss into his hair.
*
Merlin woke, still nestled against Arthur, to the sound of birds singing outside their bedroom window. Arthur was still sleeping, soft snoring exhalations ticking Merlin’s fringe against his face. Merlin lifted his head up gently to glance at the clock. It was later than the pale autumn light, masked by their curtains, suggested but Merlin still settled back down, waiting for the heavy pull of exhaustion that had tormented him all week to drag him back to sleep.
It didn’t come.
Merlin was pleasantly surprised to realise that, for once, he hadn’t woken up and immediately felt tired. He lay for a few moments, the heavy comfort of the duvet and the irresistible warmth of Arthur alongside him; soothing him even as he stretched and blinked the last of the sleep from his eyes. Eventually Merlin managed to extricate himself from Arthur’s embrace and a tangle of sheets, both of which seemed intent on holding him hostage, and made his way into the kitchen, pulling on his dressing gown against the slight chill of the morning.
The kitchen was spotless; the only sign of the previous last night was the stump of the candle and the wax-patterned beer bottle. Merlin filled the kettle and gave his saucepans a cursory glance (bottoms all still intact) whilst he waited for it to boil.
Twenty minutes later Merlin was placing a tray with breakfast - bacon, sausage, eggs, toast and tea, on the small table in his and Arthur’s bedroom. Arthur, as usual in Merlin’s absence, had sprawled across the bed; face pushed into Merlin’s pillow and was clutching at it tightly.
Merlin crawled onto the end of the bed and called Arthur’s name gently. Arthur shifted and mumbled something illegible around a mouthful of pillow. Merlin tried again and Arthur stirred and rolled onto his back.
Merlin scooted alongside Arthur, close enough to reach out and brush Arthur’s hair gently out of his eyes. Arthur snuffled and murmured sleepily, “I can smell bacon.”
Merlin chuckled, low and warm in the base of his throat, “Breakfast in bed.”
Arthur stilled, “Don’t tease.”
“I would never tease about bacon.” Merlin said solemnly, “come on, open your eyes.” He climbed off the bed to pick up the plates and mugs. When he turned back, Arthur was sitting up and grinning sleepily at him.
“I love weekends.” Arthur said as he examined his plate eagerly. Merlin nodded his agreement as he dipped his toast into his egg. “Did you check all your saucepans then?” Arthur asked shrewdly. Merlin gave him a sheepish grin and Arthur responded with a sharp bark of laughter.
They ate their breakfast leisurely in a companionable silence punctuated by the crunching of bacon and the slurping of tea. It was a quiet, domestic moment, the sort that could happen to anyone, them, sprawled on their unmade bed, feet tangled together and it was nice, good, comfortable.
Then, when the dishes were cleared to one side, Arthur pushed Merlin into the toast-crumbed sheets; Merlin felt that sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach and his heart felt like it was in his throat. Merlin closed his eyes, hoping that without the sight of Arthur, gloriously golden and sex flushed, the filthy platitudes would be shut off too. But it was all too much, heightened, the pressure of Arthur’s weight above him, the tickle of feather-soft touches along his side, the quickly soothed sting of Arthur nipping at his collarbone, marking him, tracing the lines of Merlin’s neck with his tongue, fumbling about with slicked up fingers, opening Merlin up and finally pushing into him. Merlin stifled a gasp, folded his fingers into Arthur’s hair, cradling his head even as Arthur continued to suck bruises into Merlin’s shoulder, he clung to Arthur, nails digging slightly into the shifting muscles of Arthur’s back. For one moment, feeling blissfully full, Merlin just wanted to let go.
It lasted a mere moment before the sickening shame clenched in his stomach, burned behind his eyes and so, as Arthur continued to thrust slowly into him with soft grunts of exertion, Merlin was forced to stare at the ceiling with gritted teeth silently reciting his times tables to stave off unwanted embarrassment.
Merlin was struggling over eight times six when Arthur stilled, shaking as he spilled inside Merlin with a tiny groan and flopped on top of him like a limp rag doll, still buried in him. Merlin felt guiltily relieved, flicking the soft short strands of damp hair at the base of Arthur’s hairline. It wasn’t long before Arthur stirred, slid down the bed without warning and took Merlin’s half-hard cock into his mouth, startling an orgasm out of Merlin who cried “Arthur!” without restraint (and decided afterwards, reluctantly, that it was probably a better reaction than “forty eight!”). Arthur swallowed eagerly as Merlin poured his unexpected release down Arthur’s throat until he was completely spent, then Arthur let Merlin slip from his mouth and snuggled down into their dishevelled sheets, his head pillowed on Merlin’s thigh.
Merlin couldn’t relax, couldn’t lie naked upon his bed with Arthur whilst feeling disgusting, miserable and exposed. It wasn’t long before he shook Arthur gently off of his leg and got up with a muttered excuse about needing more milk.
Arthur didn’t protest when Merlin walked into their bathroom and locked the door.
*
The following three days were almost unbearable. Seventy-two hours of stilted conversation and awkward silences, evenings filled with words but with nothing really being said, nights lying alongside each other, hardly touching, barely sleeping, lonely and empty and wrong.
Tuesday had dawned like any other October day, mostly cloudy but with the promise of sunlight pushing it’s way through the misty morning grey. By lunchtime the sky had turned an ugly black and rain was lashing down, splashing viciously off the tarmac and running in rivers down the roads. In his more fanciful moments, Merlin believed that the weather was determined by his mood, his life, and, although he knew it was ridiculous, when the storm hadn’t abated as he went home he couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding that hammered in his chest.
Merlin noticed Arthur’s wet coat hanging on the peg in their hallway as he shed his own damp coat, shoes and socks. Arthur wasn’t in the lounge or the kitchen and the flat was eerily quiet. Then, Merlin noticed a faint strip of light coming from their slightly ajar bedroom door and pushed it open, slipping into the room.
Arthur was sat on the end of their bed frowning at the DVD logo bouncing around on their TV screen.
Merlin cleared his throat softly, “Arthur?”
Arthur tensed at the sound of Merlin’s voice but didn’t give any other indication that he’d heard him. After a few seconds, he spoke. “Have I forgotten something? An anniversary? Your mum’s birthday? Because I can’t work it out.”
“Um…” Merlin was confused, “No I don’t think so.”
Arthur nodded slowly. “Are you in some sort of trouble? Problems at work? Are…” his voice broke, stumbling over his next sentence and he looked directly at Merlin who was startled to see pain in Arthur’s eyes, “…are you ill?”
“No!” Merlin said quickly. Then, reassuringly, “No everything’s fine.”
Relief flooded Arthur’s features, swiftly followed by uncertainty and something Merlin didn’t have time to decipher as Arthur dropped his gaze to the floor and his shoulders slumped forward. Arthur seemed to be struggling to speak, swallowing with difficulty and unable to form words. When he did speak again, it was so soft and mumbled Merlin had to strain to hear it. “Is there someone else?”
“What?” cried Merlin, taking a few instinctive steps towards Arthur but stopping short of the bed. “No! No…no…I would never…what would give you that idea?”
Arthur gave a shaky sigh and gestured towards the TV screen with the remote control. The picture fuzzed and then cleared and Merlin could see two bodies entwined on a bed, hear sloppy kissing sounds and then…
“Mmmmm…Arthur! Oh, yes, ooooooooh,”
Merlin sprang forward and snatched the remote out of Arthur’s hands, shutting off the TV abruptly and then hurled the control across the room.
“Merlin!” Arthur rose to his feet.
“I’m sorry!” Merlin said, panicked, “I just…I can’t…I’ve tried…”
“Merlin…”
“I know it’s not…not great, but I’ve been working on it I promise and I’ll try, I really will, just…” Now the words had started, Merlin couldn’t stop them, “please, please give me a chance Arthur…”
“Merlin…”
“I know it must disgust you but I swear…”
“MERLIN!” Arthur roared, the only way he could make himself heard. Merlin stopped his rambling and stared at Arthur, mouth open, “Merlin, what on earth are you going on about?”
Merlin closed his mouth with an audible click. Then he opened it again but his verbosity of a few moments before had gone.
“Merlin,” Arthur said gently, as if he were coaxing a child. He took one of Merlin’s hands in his own. “What’s wrong?”
Merlin turned his head to avoid Arthur’s gaze, felt the heat both of Arthur’s stare and of the furious blush staining his own cheeks. His tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth, too dry and unable to form words. He looked at the floor and shook his head forlornly.
“Merlin,” Arthur grasped his elbows and gave him a gentle shake, “what do you mean? What do you think must disgust me?”
Merlin made an unintelligible sound; his throat working furiously in an attempt to form something articulate until he eventually managed a small “me.”
Arthur tightened his grip on Merlin’s arms. “What do you mean?” He demanded.
Merlin winced, at both Arthur’s tone and the tightness of the grip upon his arms. “You know...” He said eventually with a slight stammer, “when we…” he nodded towards their bed.
“Wha…” said Arthur, “what?”
“I didn’t know how…how bad it was until the video.” Merlin sighed heavily, “How I sounded…”
“Let me get this straight.” Said Arthur. “You think I would be disgusted with you because of what you sound like when we’re having sex?”
“Yes,” said Merlin sadly, feeling oddly relieved to have his shameful confession voiced, “You are so…wonderful and amazing and…and…perfect and there I am like some sort of…porn star.”
Arthur released his hold on Merlin, threw his head back and laughed, almost wildly.
“Don’t…” said Merlin and was annoyed to feel tears pooling into his eyes. “…don’t laugh at me Arthur.”
“Oh, Merlin!” Arthur said sinking down onto the foot of the bed and wiping at his eyes. “I thought it was something awful.” Merlin stiffened and gave a small, involuntary start as if he were about to run from the room. “No, wait!” Arthur caught hold of Merlin’s hand. “At first I thought maybe it was me, maybe I was doing something wrong, maybe I couldn’t satisfy you anymore. And then you were so withdrawn, and quiet, so I thought perhaps you were ill, but then I thought that no, you would have said something, unless it was something really bad and then…then my brain ran away with itself…” Arthur choked, “God, Merlin, I thought you were dying.”
Merlin stared at Arthur who looked so earnest, and fearful, and relieved all at the same time and squeezed his hand reassuringly. He sat next to Arthur. “I’m sorry,” he said in a small voice.
“So am I,” said Arthur.
Merlin looked at him questioningly.
“I like how you sound.” Arthur explained.
“Oh?” said Merlin faintly.
“Yeah,” Arthur leant towards Merlin and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “I like it a lot.”
“Oh!” Merlin turned to look at him with wide, inquisitive, interested eyes.
“You’re so open and free,” Arthur explained, clutching at Merlin’s hand as if he feared Merlin would try to escape, “you’re…raw and uninhibited…you say what you think and I wish I could have half your honesty.”
“You do?”
“There are so many things I would say to you.” Arthur said simply.
Merlin could feel Arthur breathing steadily next to him, firm, measured breaths in and out, an attempt to be controlled but knew, instinctively, that Arthur’s heart was hammering at the same pace as Merlin’s as they teetered on the precipice of full understanding.
Merlin hesitated for a moment. Then he placed a chaste kiss on Arthur’s lips, full of sweetness and promise, before drawing him close and resting his chin on Arthur’s shoulder. He turned his lips to Arthur’s ear and whispered, “tell me.”
“Hmmm…” Arthur considered, “well…I love the sound you make when I do this.” He nipped at Merlin’s earlobe, a gently sharp tug, and smirked as Merlin caught his breath with a half whimpered ‘aaah!’ “Is that a good start?” he asked, nosing along Merlin’s jaw line and pausing to drop a kiss on his chin.
“Yes,” Merlin said breathlessly, “yes that’s very good.”
Arthur smiled; nudging his lips against Merlin’s, barely-there brushes until Merlin parted his lips enough to catch Arthur’s bottom lip, plump and smooth, between his own chapped ones. Arthur gave a soft noise of surprised approval. “Are you sure?” he mumbled around Merlin’s lips when he was able.
“Yes,” Merlin breathed, dragging his lips across Arthur’s smile, “yes.” He pressed insistent kisses at the corners of Arthur’s mouth and then tilted his head to kiss him deeper, open-mouthed kisses, licking their way into each other’s mouths with increasing urgency until Arthur had his fingers tangled in Merlin’s hair, and Merlin was scrunching the hem of Arthur’s t-shirt between his fingers. Merlin closed his eyes, lost in the warmth of Arthur, Arthur, dizzying kisses, light stubble against his jaw, hot and wet, and then Arthur’s tongue traced the roof of Merlin’s mouth and Merlin’s brain gave up thinking and just let go.
Arthur started kissing his way down Merlin’s neck, sucking his adam’s apple, and Merlin dropped his head back, shamelessly exposing more skin that Arthur immediately covered. Merlin had stopped crumpling Arthur’s t-shirt in favour of stroking his hand over Arthur’s side, beneath the thin fabric, pushing the top further and further up until Merlin’s thumb grazed over Arthur’s nipple, peaking in the cooler air. Arthur groaned around a mouthful of Merlin’s inconveniently placed shirt collar.
“Merlin. I want…” Arthur tried to say but gave up in favour of toying with Merlin’s shirt buttons
“I know,” Merlin said, he drew back far enough to drag Arthur’s t-shirt off. Arthur reciprocated, pulling at Merlin’s shirt until it hung open and he could slip it down Merlin’s arms, following its progress with feather light strokes. Merlin reached for Arthur eagerly, one hand at base of Arthur’s neck, the other curling round his side, just below his ribs. Arthur had a hand on Merlin’s hip, gentle pressure, pushing him down onto the mattress, finding Merlin’s mouth with his own again and Merlin moaned happily. Their kisses were different, less sweet and exploratory, more desperate, thrilling molten heat that had them pawing at each other, needy and heady, breath sounding unnaturally loud, punctuated by little whimpers as Arthur chased a bead of sweat along Merlin’s collarbones, peppered his chest with filthy open mouthed flicks of tongue, grazing a nipple with his teeth; not too hard but enough to make Merlin arch up, breath hitching, and curl his fingers into Arthur’s hair.
They kissed until they were dizzy, had to part for air, a panting tangle of limbs at the foot of their bed, Arthur simply looked at Merlin, tracing the wet outline of reddened lips with his thumb. Merlin smiled at him.
“I love you, you know.” Arthur said seriously as he a hooked a finger through a belt loop on Merlin’s trousers. “I probably don’t say it enough. But I do.”
Merlin’s smile stretched into a grin and he kissed Arthur’s forehead. “I know. I love you too.”
“Good,” said Arthur, “because I am going to take these off of you,” he pulled gently at Merlin’s trousers. “And then I’m going to do something about this…” he brushed his hand over the unmistakable bulge straining against the zip of Merlin’s trousers.
Merlin was unable to do anything except allow Arthur to manhandle him; undoing his trousers and pulling them off, letting them drop to the floor. Then, as Arthur knelt at the foot of the bed, mouthing at the outline of Merlin’s erection through the thin, already damp, cotton of his boxers, all Merlin could do was throw his head back and growl.
Arthur climbed in the space between Merlin’s thighs, placed his hands on the bed just above Merlin’s shoulders and dipped his head, pressing soft kisses onto Merlin’s neck, teasingly light. It was not entirely unexpected when Merlin pushed, flipping Arthur on to his back and straddling him determinedly. Arthur seemed unperturbed, pushing himself up to rest on his elbows as Merlin leant forwards, licking his way filthily into Arthur’s mouth.
“God, Arthur,” Merlin moaned around kisses as he struggled to undo Arthur’s tightly fastened belt. Arthur made no move to help, simply leaning back and lazily returning Merlin’s sloppy kisses. Eventually Merlin succeeded in undoing Arthur’s belt, letting it fall open with a clink, popped open the button and then abandoned any idea of removing the trousers completely, instead shoving his hand beneath the waistband of Arthur’s boxers.
Arthur gave a start, jerked his hips, pushing himself further into Merlin’s exploratory hand. “Mer…Merlin!” he stumbled over the name, more of a deep, throaty groan than an actual word. Merlin smirked at him, trying to curl his hand in a loose fist to stroke Arthur’s cock, but the angle was uncomfortable and there was no space in the confines of Arthur’s trousers for Merlin’s hand to move properly so he settled for squeezing Arthur gently and flicking his thumb against hot, slick skin. Arthur responded with a series of grunts that Merlin licked into silence.
“Like that?” Merlin asked, hot against Arthur’s ear, gave an almost-painful brush of nails. He moved slightly, pressing his own erection into Arthur’s hip.
“God, yeah,” Arthur shifted his weight to one side, freeing a hand to tangle it into Merlin’s hair, pulling him down for a kiss, teeth clashing. Merlin withdrew his hand and began undoing Arthur’s trousers properly.
Before he realised what had happened, Merlin found himself on his back, dangerously close to the foot of the bed. His hands were pinned above his head; Arthur straddling him, grinding their still clothed cocks together. “Too slow,” Arthur growled, and bent to lick the delicate skin at Merlin’s wrist. He hooked his fingers under the waistband of Merlin’s boxers and wriggled off the foot of the bed, dragging the unwanted article of clothing with him. Then he proceeded to strip off the remainder of his own clothes with ruthless efficiency and leave them haphazardly on the floor.
Merlin blinked up at Arthur for a few seconds before he, too, moved, scooting backwards on the bed to a safer position and rummaging through the top drawer in the bedside cabinet. Then, pot of lube in hand, he sprawled back onto the pillows, a shameless invitation.
Arthur crawled up the bed, kissed his way up Merlin’s chest, plucked the jar out of Merlin’s hand and slid his way back down Merlin’s stretched out body with little nips and licks in all the sensitive spots, Merlin’s nipples and belly and the inside of his thigh.
Merlin keened delightedly as Arthur teased the head of his cock, a rough drag of tongue before his erection was engulfed in the soft wetness of Arthur’s mouth. Arthur gave a muffled hum of satisfaction as he moved, letting Merlin slide in and out of his mouth. Merlin didn’t try to hold back his contented sighs, feeling the familiar delicious warmth of pleasure swirl low in his belly, letting his fears and apprehensions float away on a tide of bliss, so that when Arthur pushed slick fingers inside him he cried out without hesitation, toes curling into the sheets beneath him as he felt Arthur smile around him, opening him up with eager intensity and Merlin just wanted…
Arthur crooked his fingers, nudging at the nub inside Merlin that made him lose all breath and concentration, pressed again with fervour and Merlin pulled insistently on Arthur’s hair with a breathless “stop”.
Arthur let Merlin fall from his mouth with an obscene noise, allowed Merlin to drag him up so they were face to face.
“Need you,” Merlin demanded between fierce kisses, “don’t want to come until you’re inside me.”
“God, Merlin,” Arthur said, “yeah…”
Merlin let his eyes close briefly as Arthur pushed into him with slow, assured movements, felt himself opening up, feeling both full and yet incomplete at the same time, and didn’t open his eyes until Arthur was fully inside, looking up at Arthur, face tinged pink with exertion, who stared back with full blown eyes. Arthur pushed the hair back off Merlin’s face, cupping his cheek in a gesture that, oddly, seemed to be the most intimate part of the entire night.
“Come on, Arthur,” Merlin said eventually, pulling at Arthur hips and Arthur huffed a laugh and rocked his hips, shallow thrusts that only made Merlin want more and writhe against the bedclothes in need, throwing them out of rhythm by wrapping a leg around Arthur’s back and rocking his own hips upwards.
Arthur was staring at Merlin hungrily. “Love…” he panted, “love being inside you. So…so tight…”
“Yes,” said Merlin, “yes!” and he planted a foot firmly on the bed and shoved his hips upwards with as much force as he could.
Arthur huffed a laugh, “Impatient!” but he sped up his thrusts and curled a hand round Merlin’s cock, beaming as Merlin moaned his approval.
“More, Arthur,” Merlin gasped, arching his back to press them together, “please, Arthur, I need…I need…”
Arthur bit at Merlin’s earlobe, “Say it,”
“Harder…Arthur…I need…fuck me harder…”
Arthur withdrew, ignoring Merlin’s moue of disappointment, and braced one hand on either side of Merlin. Then he grabbed hold of the leg Merlin had wrapped around him, pushing it upwards until Merlin’s calf dangled over Arthur’s shoulder before sliding back in with a particularly forceful thrust that made Merlin emit a cry of “nnnrrggh” and his eyes rolled back.
Merlin reached up over his head to grip at the headboard, throbs of pleasure sparking through him as Arthur nudged against his prostate with unerring accuracy. “Yes!” Merlin panted, “yes, there, Arthur, don’t stop…don’t stop!”
“God, Merlin, you’re so fucking hot,” Arthur muttered hoarsely “…gorgeous, love this, love you,” he turned his head and placed a kiss on Merlin’s quivering calf muscle.
“Oh!” cried Merlin, feeling closer to Arthur than he’d ever done before, “ah, ah, ah…” the warmth coiling in his belly suddenly erupted and he was coming between them in hot, drawn out pulses, crying out loudly, “ah…ah…Arthur…” shuddering as the force pounded through him, cresting and soaring until he felt himself drifting in a idyllic bliss, barely registering Arthur reaching his own climax, slopping messy kisses into Merlin’s hair.
The last thing he remembered as he gave himself up to sensation was Arthur’s fading voice gasping, “God, Merlin, you’re so beautiful when you come.”
*
The world was a kaleidoscope of colour and muffled noise. At first Merlin drifted, warm and calm, and eventually began blinking repeatedly as the hazy fragments sharpened and fell into focus before him.
Arthur was kneeling above him, talking indistinctly, as he wiped a towel gently across Merlin’s stomach and chest. He looked up, as if he sensed Merlin’s gaze and paused in his ministrations to crowd into Merlin’s eye line. “Hey you,” he said softly.
Merlin managed something that sounded like “glurg.”
Arthur laughed and dabbed at Merlin’s cheek with a corner of the towel before tossing it to the floor. “Very articulate,” he said and placed a kiss on the tip of Merlin’s nose, and then on his lips.
Merlin reached for Arthur, pulling him down on top of him, seeking Arthur’s lips with his own for a long, deep kiss.
“I should move.” Arthur said eventually
“Don’t.” Merlin tightened his arms around Arthur.
“I’ll squash you,”
“Need to feel you’re here.”
“I am,” Arthur whispered as he nudged at Merlin’s ear with his nose, “I am.”
Merlin hummed happily and threaded his fingers through Arthur’s hair. Arthur tucked his face into Merlin’s neck and inhaled deeply. They curled together, lulled by each other’s reassuring warmth, and slept lightly until the air chilled and Merlin declared that, actually, Arthur was squashing him a bit and did Arthur realise his bottom was all goose-pimply?
The rest of the evening was reminiscent of the days when they had first moved in together; ordering in pizza, making a den of their duvet and snuggling together in the downy warmth, naked and feeding each other deliciously greasy strands of melted cheese, watching endless reruns of QI and pretending to know the answers, stopping mid sentence to lick their way into the other’s mouth just because they could.
It was late when Arthur left their makeshift cocoon to switch off all the lights and lock up, long after the pizza had all been eaten and Merlin had licked his fingers clean then stretched against the sheets and looked up at Arthur just as hungrily. Arthur had laughed and straddled Merlin’s hips, slopped deliberately messy kisses onto his face and chased the sweet hint of pineapple on Merlin’s tongue.
Much later, after they’d wrestled each other into submission and Arthur had pinned Merlin to the sheets, lazily ridden him until they both shuddered they way to noisy completion, the storm-heavy rain suddenly stopped and they were sprawled in their bed, their slightly breathless pants the only sound in the still of the night. Merlin rolled into Arthur’s side, wrapped his arms around Arthur’s chest and held him tight.
Then he slept.
*
The morning dawned unexpectedly clear, the sky washed blue, but the brilliance of the day paled in comparison to the sunny beams Merlin and Arthur exchanged over toast and tea at their kitchen table. Merlin had woken feeling refreshed and relieved, rediscovering how it felt not to have any niggling worries the second he awoke.
Work passed in a blur and Merlin left promptly at five o’clock, walking briskly; so eager to get home to Arthur it felt like he was floating. He ran up the stairs to his flat, fumbled with the lock and fell through the door.
“Careful, Merlin” Arthur said, emerging from their bedroom with a paintbrush in his hand.
“I’m okay!” Merlin said, then did a double take, “what are you wearing?”
Arthur glanced down and his old sweatpants and paint spattered t-shirt. “Oh yeah,” he grinned, “come and see.” He disappeared back into their room.
Merlin followed cautiously, entering their room to find Arthur lying on their mattress, stripped of all its sheets, which were in a heap on the floor next to the bed. “What is it?”
Arthur patted the mattress beside him and Merlin obediently climbed onto the bed next to him and lay down. “See,” Arthur announced.
“What are we looking at?” Merlin asked, puzzled.
“That crack in the ceiling you noticed.” Arthur said and Merlin realised he couldn’t see it. “I thought I’d fix it. It wasn’t as bad as it looked at all. Just the paint peeling.” He turned his head to nudge his nose against Merlin’s ear. “Not bad, hey?”
Merlin looked at where the ugly mark had been; his sort-of companion through his anguished nights now smoothed over and fixed with ease, and he laughed.
He was still laughing when Arthur rolled them off their bed and onto the pile of bedclothes and kissed him.