[FIC] Masquerade - Part II (Arthur/Merlin; NC-17)
Masquerade - Part II
The fallout was severe, just as Aredian had predicted. The studio rescinded the Prince Hal offer and gave him no more work. His father sent him distraught telegrams, threatening all sorts of dire consequences that Arthur doubted he’d follow through with. He was the only Pendragon son, after all. Aredian tried to make him change his mind, but Arthur wouldn’t budge.
“I can’t live a lie,” he told Aredian. Once he’d made the decision, he knew with his heart and soul that it was the right thing to do. He felt lighter than he had in years.
“Then you’re a fool. You have no idea how the world works. This town will eat you alive,” Aredian said.
“Perhaps. I’ll take the risk.” He decided not to mention the plan he was already contemplating. When the time was right, he’d talk to both Uther and Aredian about it.
He tried not to think of Merlin and whether he’d take him back, even though he yearned to reconnect with him. In the end, he hadn’t done it for Merlin, but for himself, and he needed to sit with that, live with it in his bones for awhile and let the reality sink in. He felt too fragile right now to risk Merlin’s rejection. For now, he just needed to be.
~*~
“You’ve done it again, you.” Arthur laughed as he caught up with Elena. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks ruddy, blonde hair tucked tidily under her black riding cap. “One of these days, you’re simply going to have to let me win,” he huffed as his horse pulled even with Elena’s. “I mean, my god, woman, you’re a menace. Haven’t you ever heard of male ego? It’s worth stroking once in awhile, just for form’s sake. Wouldn’t want you to get out of practise with the studio execs.”
She laughed along with him. “Oh really? That’ll be the day. You just need to up your game, Pendragon. No excuses now.” And she lifted the reins and spurred her horse into a canter across the dry, dusty field toward the stable.
“Hey!” Arthur kicked his horse into hot pursuit after her, enjoying the rush of air against his ears and the thrum of the horse’s hooves reverberating through his body.
He’d been getting a lot of riding practice because Elena was obsessed. He found it endearing, particularly her penchant for wearing riding attire in her leisure hours and the ensuing admiring glances she got from certain women.
It was just one of many things he’d learned about Elena in the last few months. After the fiasco of the wedding, they’d become fast friends. Fortunately, the studio didn’t deem marriage as much of a necessity for women as for men - Elena was kept on and was getting parts. Arthur was glad of that; it removed a source of guilt.
Moments later, they reached the stables, Arthur hot on Elena’s heels. She’d already hopped off her mount and was fishing a carrot out of her pocket for her horse. She gave Arthur a quick glance, her brow furrowed. “Did you know Merlin has a new picture?”
Arthur busied himself with putting away the horse’s gear. “No, I didn’t.”
“I’ll show you the ad in the paper. He’s got the lead. I just thought you might want a heads up.”
~*~
Merlin was starring in a bio pic of Chopin, which explained the nineteenth century costume Arthur had seen him wearing. Arthur’s stomach had flipped when he saw the full page ad with Merlin’s name prominently displayed, his profile leaning over the keyboard of a piano. He’d even thought about calling him to congratulate him. But at the last minute, he’d put the phone down. He was thrilled for Merlin, but he just wasn’t ready to take the plunge and try to talk to him again.
Still, there were times when he saw couples on the street walking arm in arm, sharing a kiss, and his heart simply ached.
On one of those days, he gave in and bought a ticket to Merlin’s movie, Nocturne. He knew it was foolish but he needed to see Merlin, even if it was on screen.
He wasn’t disappointed. He watched raptly as the camera zoomed in on Merlin’s face. The dark and light created captivating shadows that highlighted his bone structure and brought out his eyes, just as Arthur had predicted. The costumes perfectly suited his supple frame, a waistcoat hugging his slim waist and dark trousers making his legs look miles long. His pale skin practically gleamed. The entire audience was firmly under Merlin’s spell - there wasn’t a sound as Merlin’s slender fingers danced over the keyboard, as he leaned into his co-star for a kiss, long dark hair curling around his neck and tumbling over his forehead. A chorus of sniffling rose up as he languished in bed, coughing charmingly as the sickly Chopin, pale and anguished, his eyes full of tears. Every woman in the theatre was weeping by the end and probably a few men as well.
It was a hit. Variety gave it four stars and pronounced Merlin the next Valentino. Arthur went to see it a dozen times in secret, yearning for Merlin in the dark and feeling miserable.
~*~
Elena handed him two tickets.
“SS Camelot - New York to London?” Arthur read. “What’s this?”
“You. Me. We’re going home. A bit of fish and chips, London rain, a few West End shows. It will be good for you.”
“What?”
“You need to get out of here. You’re moping, in case you think I hadn’t noticed.” Elena had her hands on her hips in a stance that brooked no argument. She looked like she might wrestle him to the ground if he resisted. “Look. The marriage thing didn’t work out, but we’re best mates and I can’t stand seeing you unhappy.”
Arthur rolled his eyes and snorted good-naturedly.
Elena swatted him on the arm. “So,” she continued pointedly. “I don’t have a job for the next few weeks and I think you’ve memorized that Chopin movie by now, am I right?”
Arthur’s gaze skittered away.
“Yeah, right, just as I thought. When was the last time you went home, anyway?”
“I haven’t,” Arthur admitted.
“Exactly. I think it makes perfect sense for us to go back to England for a visit. Get your bags packed. We’re going on the road.”
~*~
Preparing for the long trip was at least a distraction. As their train chugged across the plains and cornfields of middle America on the way to New York, however, Arthur’s thoughts kept returning to Merlin. He couldn’t rid himself of the mental image of Merlin as Chopin, his handsome face intent over the keyboard, carried away by the music. He ended up spending a lot of time in the bar car.
New York Harbor: the bustle of passengers arriving on the dock, waving goodbye to friends and family and finding their cabins on board, the panoply of accents, all contributed to an atmosphere of giddy excitement in which Arthur was momentarily caught up. Elena had her best female drag on, playing the role of starlet to the hilt as they posed for some photographers on the dock before boarding. Thankfully, the New York journos didn’t seem to know or care about Elena and Arthur’s aborted trip to the altar and there were no questions about it.
The SS Camelot was the most elegant ship Arthur had ever seen. His cabin was appointed in the latest fashion, all clean lines in the modern style, done up in red and gold. It was as large as a good-sized apartment and surprisingly comfortable, with two twin beds and a lounge area that could accommodate a small gathering.
After their luggage was stowed, Arthur and Elena spent the first day exploring the ship’s many amenities. The glittering first class dining room was on a par with the most refined restaurant on land, with high ceilings hung with sparkling chandeliers above, long pillars of lit glass along the walls, and thick carpeting muffling the waiters’ steps below. There were indoor and outdoor swimming pools, a theatre and a restaurant that doubled as a club in the evening. It was spectacular. Arthur could get used to this.
He wished Merlin could see it. He wondered what he was doing now - was he promoting Nocturne, had he already moved on to his next film, or was he perhaps doing a play in Pasadena?
“A drink?” he asked Elena. A little blurring of reality might be beneficial right about now, as he felt the familiar ache start to take hold. He gestured to a small cocktail bar that seemed to appear out of nowhere, just one of many spots throughout the ship where one could stop for refreshment or entertainment.
“Oh, yes, that would be wonderful,” Elena said, steadying herself on the counter top of the bar. It was taking her awhile to get her sea legs.
They watched as the white-jacketed bartender carefully mixed their drinks then settled in with martinis to watch the passing parade of people. As the ship was primarily first class, the passengers were dressed to impress and Elena kept up a constant patter of tart observation. She was trying hard to distract him.
The second day on board, the sea was less calm. They could feel the waves even through the vast bulk of the SS Camelot, the ship swaying noticeably as they awoke.
“Arthur.” Elena looked pale, eyeing her eggs at breakfast as if they were sewage. “I think I need to go lie down. This knocking about is finally getting to me.” She held her stomach, grimacing.
“Let me take you back to your cabin,” Arthur said. He supported her with an arm around her back and they wended their way through the endless corridors, trying not to bang into things as the ship lurched like a drunken sailor.
The halls of the ship became more deserted as the day went on under skies thick with clouds. The great ship pitched and rocked. Waiters sidestepped across the floor to deliver their orders; the staff erected ropes to aid passengers attempting to walk through the ship but otherwise gamely forged on as normal. Bingo had to be cancelled for lack of participation.
~*~
Arthur tapped a cigarette against his case and inserted it in his mouth, thankful for his immunity to seasickness. He was sitting on a sofa in a small lounge area, one leg crossed over the other at the knee, smoking and staring down the hallway simply for something to look at. Occasionally someone would stagger down the hallway, pitching this way and that. He sipped slowly at a glass of champagne, trying to make it last.
Elena had taken to her bed, looking green and waving him off. “Go. Have fun. You and your cast-iron stomach. Be prepared to be punched in it when I’m feeling better.” The ship rolled dramatically and she groaned. “Just leave me to my misery. You’re entirely too healthy. Go take your hale hearty self to dinner and have a few drinks on my behalf.”
Fun. Yes. Arthur wasn’t sure how to go about that. There were plenty of activities on board, but nothing appealed to him. Apparently he preferred to stew in his own miserable thoughts. He heaved a sigh and took another sip of champagne.
When he’d finished his drink and cigarette, he ambled down the hallway and descended a grand staircase which opened onto a large sitting area dotted with a few hardy passengers. He plonked down into one of the red velvet chairs, wishing he hadn’t left his book in the cabin. He was thinking about going back to get it when he heard the sound of a piano. The source was mysterious as there was no piano nearby.
He sat back and listened to the haunting music. It was beautiful; romantic; familiar. Arthur bolted upright. Merlin, or rather, Chopin, had played the very same piece in the movie. A nocturne, if he wasn’t mistaken. The one they used for the theme music.
He swayed off the chair, the rolling of the ship hurling him out of the sitting area like a billiard ball. Down a nearby hallway he lurched toward the music, his heart knocking in his chest. It was coming through an open door that led to a room bright with primary colours. As he entered, he could see it was a playroom. The walls were covered with charming murals of Babar riding in a car and cavorting in the jungle. There were large stuffed elephants, toy trains and other toys scattered about, some rolling along the floor with the movement of the ship. But no children were there today.
Incongruously nestled in the corner was a grand piano. Behind the piano sat someone familiar, deep in concentration. Arthur’s stomach clenched, but it had nothing to do with the waves.
It was Merlin.
Shocked, Arthur fell into the nearest chair.
Merlin finished playing and his fingers remained poised over the keyboard where they stopped, lightly touching the keys as the sound died away. His eyes were closed, his face still caught up in the spirit of the music. He was so beautiful he made Arthur’s heart ache. When he looked up to see Arthur sitting only a few yards away, Merlin leaped to his feet.
“My God. Arthur. What are you doing here?”
“Play some more,” Arthur said. “It’s lovely.” He stood up, needing to move, not knowing what to do with his body. Then the ship heaved and he stumbled closer to Merlin, grabbed onto a chair and fell into it. “I didn’t even know you played.”
Merlin was still gaping at him. “I...I didn’t. Well, not very well. I brushed up for a role.”
“Yes, I know. Chopin.” Arthur’s gaze wandered over Merlin’s familiar features, drinking him in. “You were marvellous.”
“You saw it?” Merlin’s mouth twitched.
“Of course, you idiot,” he said fondly. “More than once. I recognised the piece.”
“Oh.” Merlin ducked his head, a tentative smile playing on his lips. “So what are you doing here?” he asked again, looking up.
“I could ask the same of you.”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“I’m going home. Just for a trip. I guess you’d call it a holiday,” Arthur said.
“Are you alone?” Merlin’s face was inscrutable.
“No. I came with Elena, she dragged me along. She thought I needed to get away, said a change of scenery would do me good.” He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, blew out the smoke, giving himself a moment to adjust. “Merlin, I didn’t marry her. I couldn’t, in the end. You were right.” He watched Merlin for his reaction.
“I know.”
“What, you know?”
“Of course, everybody did.”
“Oh.” Arthur hadn’t expected that; it threw him off-kilter. “I haven’t been home yet, you know.”
“No, I haven’t either. Mum begged me. I had a break and the funds, so here I am.”
“Here you are.” Arthur’s eyes roved over him. He desperately wanted to touch him, but he didn’t know if Merlin would permit it. Just a hand on his shoulder to reassure himself Merlin was real. But he had no idea where the boundaries were between them any more. His emotions matched the pitching of the ship, rocking wildly to and fro, not knowing where to land. “Look, as long as we’re here, let’s go get a drink. Just us. Elena’s indisposed. Sea sick along with everyone else. Thank god for my iron constitution. I see you’re doing all right in that department.”
Merlin laughed. “Yes thank god.” His face tilted up at Arthur, eyes crinkling and his lips curving into the broad smile that made Arthur’s heart swell like nothing else. “All right, why not?”
~*~
“And then the director told her to kiss me and I said, why heavens, sir, I’m not that kind of girl.” Merlin guffawed loudly and Arthur joined in. One drink had turned into a few and they were the only ones left in the lounge. The bartender wiped the counter with a rag over and over and periodically shot annoyed glances at them.
“Seriously, Merlin, your piano playing is exquisite. I’m impressed.”
Merlin’s cheeks turned pink and he nodded. “Well, I’ve always fooled around with it. Learned as a child but didn’t really keep it up. I found an excellent teacher and it came back naturally. I love it.”
“It shows. You were wonderful as Chopin.” Arthur’s voice was soft. “Your charisma on screen is amazing. Not to mention the costume suited you.” His eyes raked over Merlin’s slim torso. He knew he was playing with fire, letting himself get this close to Merlin, but there was something about being on the ship, with no one around - it all felt like a dream, completely unhinged from reality.
“Really?” Merlin looked at Arthur from under his lashes and leaned in so his hair brushed against Arthur’s face. He could smell Merlin’s cologne.
This was getting dangerous. He wasn’t sure he cared.
After that, Merlin began talking about his next project and Arthur was happy to sit back and listen to Merlin’s voice, watch his eyes and mouth, the way he shifted his limbs. He marveled at the fact that Merlin was sitting here with him, having a normal conversation.
The talk died down and they both stilled. Arthur’s gaze caught in Merlin’s, his eyes deep and blue. They stared at each other, the silence weighed down by everything that had happened, a thousand unspoken thoughts.
“I was proud of you, Arthur. I almost called to tell you,” Merlin said.
“I couldn’t go through with it in the end. I just kept thinking of you and...” Arthur’s gaze skittered away. “I couldn’t live with myself if I’d done it. I want to keep acting in films, see my name on the marquee, but not that way.” He wanted to take Merlin’s hand. “I’ll find a way. I’m working on it. You know, I thought about calling you when I found out about Nocturne. The lead, Merlin, I was so happy for you. You deserved it. I didn’t know if you’d want to talk to me though.”
“I was angry with you, yes, and disappointed. When you didn’t go through with the marriage, I had second thoughts, but then you didn’t ring and well... ” He trailed off, looking uncertain.
“Maybe we can start on a fresh foot,” Arthur said.
Merlin gave a little smile. “Maybe.”
Yet another silence spread between them and Arthur ventured a slightly brittle smile, his mind filled with countless warring thoughts. The bartender started whistling and they both looked up, surprised.
Arthur slapped his hands on his thighs. “I probably need to see how Elena’s doing. Will you play for me again? I cut short your practice.”
“All right. Tomorrow. I’ll meet you in the playroom. They say the seas will still be stormy, so it should be quiet.”
“That sounds wonderful. I look forward to it.”
~*~
The sun began peeking out from the clouds the next day, but the ocean continued to toss the Camelot about as if it were a toy boat in a bathtub. Elena was still feeling poorly and didn’t want to get out of bed. Arthur mentioned to her that Merlin was on board and that he’d had a drink with him.
She gave him a long, assessing look. “Is everything all right?” she asked. She knew something of what Merlin meant to him, although he’d never confided in her all the details.
“Yes. I think so. I...I missed him. It was good to see him.”
Elena patted him on the hand and simply looked at him. “Go. Be with him. Nobody’s here.”
Arthur stared at her, swallowing down his trepidation. “I don’t know.” LA was far away but they had to return eventually. “The whole ship is sea sick. There’s hardly anyone about.”
“Yes, that’s what I’m saying,” she groaned. “Just go and leave me to my misery.” He rose and she grabbed his hand. “Life’s too short, Arthur.”
~*~
The SS Camelot’s hallways were endless, Arthur discovered during a morning of wandering aimlessly, venturing outside occasionally to peer at the dark, churning waves and smoke the occasional cigarette. The few passengers he saw seemed as disinterested in conversation as he was. Eventually he went for a swim in the indoor pool, tiled in a glorious, deep blue that made him feel like he was actually under the sea. Through the water he sliced his arms, working himself hard, hoping to achieve some clarity of mind by exhausting his body.
Elena was right. Life was too short. Seeing Merlin again had brought everything out in the open again, uncovered the seething mass of emotions that he’d taken such pains to bury. He was having trouble believing he could let them out to breathe in the open air.
The strains of a Chopin waltz wafted down the corridor, mournful and plaintive, the lilting rhythm echoing the rocking of the ship. Arthur stood in the door of the empty playroom, the toys forlorn in the absence of children to play with them. Merlin’s head was bowed, a cap of dark curls above a sliver of pale face, and he swayed to the music as his hands moved deftly over the keys.
Arthur’s gut twisted with want, a wave of it washing through him. The sadness of the music swirled into him, mixing with the desire until he felt like sobbing. Regret gnawed at him and his hands curled into fists. He focused on the glimmer of hope that had arisen since yesterday.
The waltz ended, the last chord resolving unexpectedly into a major key, resounding full and triumphant through the room.
Merlin looked up at Arthur. “Oh, hello.” Merlin smiled, a simple and pure curve of his lips that made Arthur feel certain that everything was going to be all right.
“Hi.” Arthur walked over and leaned into the nook of the piano. He gripped the edge to stop the trembling of his hands. Merlin’s own hands were relaxed in his lap, the fingers nestled casually in his palm. Arthur couldn’t stop looking at them, at Merlin’s face, his dark eyelashes, his adorably prominent ears. Merlin simply stared back, silent, eyes dark and enigmatic. The moment blanketed them; the ship a cocoon swaddled in cloudy, pale light, adrift at sea, removed from the rest of the world.
Something resolved inside Arthur, clicked into place.
He skirted around to the piano bench and sat next to Merlin, who moved over to make room. Merlin’s body warmth emanated through his clothes, made Arthur’s breath catch. Merlin was wearing trousers of soft grey wool that draped comfortably over his endlessly long legs and a pale blue shirt that brought out the colour of his eyes, a deeper blue tie knotted at his neck. Arthur’s gaze lingered at the spot where the collar met his skin, just below the jut of his adam’s apple, imagining unbuttoning that top button and pressing his tongue to the hollow at the base of his neck. When he managed to drag his eyes up to Merlin’s face, Merlin was looking at him with a bemused expression.
Arthur swallowed, unnerved by Merlin’s eyes on him, so close. Their hips and thighs pressed together.
“What were you playing?” Arthur said.
“More Chopin. I haven’t got round to learning anything else yet.” Merlin snorted and one side of his mouth inched up in a small grin.
Arthur darted another glance down Merlin’s chest. His fingers itched to loosen Merlin’s tie, unpeel his layers. “Hmmm.”
“It’s a waltz.” Merlin continued, looking at Arthur’s mouth. His lips parted, rosy and glistening, and he raised his eyes to meet Arthur’s. “I know you know how to waltz.”
“Yes.” Heat rushed to Arthur’s groin. He found himself leaning into Merlin’s side, their bodies molding together like two halves of something that had been broken and fit back together perfectly. It felt so good to be close to him.
Merlin didn’t pull away.
Arthur took in a shaky breath, dangling on the edge of a precipice.
A hand settled on Arthur’s back; the warmth of Merlin’s palm seeped through Arthur’s clothes, each finger pressing like an imprint, possessive. He thought of Merlin’s fingers dancing over the keys. “Arthur,” Merlin said softly into his ear, his breath gusting on his temple. “There’s no one in my cabin. I’m here alone.” His low voice sent a shiver down Arthur’s spine.
“Okay,” Arthur breathed out and he let his weight sag into Merlin’s arm.
They made their way back to Merlin’s cabin, which wasn’t far from Arthur’s. On the way, they kept bumping shoulders. They could blame it on the rocking of the ship. But the touch was teasing and Merlin kept looking at him, catching his eye. At one point, their hands brushed together, and Arthur briefly captured Merlin’s fingers and half-smiled at him, a cautious curl of happiness unfurling in his chest. For a moment he was lost in the broad smile that Merlin threw back at him, all white teeth and full lips, his eyes lifting at the corners. Arthur didn’t want to ever do without that smile again.
“We’re here,” Merlin announced when he stopped before the door to his cabin. He paused, eyebrows arched, as if to give Arthur a chance to stop things before they went any further. Arthur glanced around to make sure they were alone before he brought a hand up to cup the back of Merlin’s neck.
“Go on then,” he said softly before kissing his lips. His hand drifted down Merlin’s back, the jumper soft under his fingers. “Open the door.” He pulled Merlin in by the waist, pressing their hips together.
“Stop, you crazy,” Merlin said, smiling.
What had come over him? Arthur didn’t care if anyone saw, he didn’t care what anyone thought. He just wanted Merlin with a burning desperation. And somehow, miraculously, after everything that had happened, Merlin wanted him too.
Merlin flung the door open and they stumbled in, limbs knocking together. They stopped in the entryway, mere inches apart, pausing to look at each other intently before Arthur abruptly crowded Merlin up against the wall, overwhelmed with the need to get his hands on as much of him as possible. Merlin made a strangled noise in his throat and tangled a hand in Arthur’s hair as Arthur pressed in to devour his mouth, slide his hips against Merlin’s.
Merlin was here, now, alive and so, so close. He couldn’t get enough. Arthur’s hands roved over Merlin’s body as if to reassure himself he was real, not a dream or a flickering image on the screen. His fingers skirted over his skin, he kissed his mouth, filled his nose with Merlin’s scent; he clutched at his arse and squeezed his thin shoulders; sucked and laved at Merlin’s full, plump lips.
Merlin kissed him back avidly, forcing Arthur’s mouth open to slip a tongue in. The taste ratcheted up Arthur’s arousal and he ground his hips helplessly into Merlin’s until he could feel his thick, hard cock straining against his trousers, rubbing against Arthur’s own.
Merlin pushed back forcefully and walked Arthur backwards until they fell on the bed kissing. They writhed madly against each other, their movements gradually gathering purpose. Arthur nimbly peeled off Merlin’s layers of clothing, unwrapping him like a present and carelessly tossing items of clothing about the room until they were both naked, Merlin’s bare chest pressed blissfully against Arthur’s.
“Missed you so much,” Arthur said, trailing a path of kisses down the warm skin of Merlin’s ribcage.
“Me too,” Merlin replied, a hand grappling between Arthur’s legs until his fingers, those supple, agile fingers, gripped Arthur’s cock and twisted. Arthur clenched his eyes against the flood of sensation.
“Fuck. Merlin,” he groaned, pulling Merlin close and sealing their mouths together in a deep kiss, his tongue seeking that arousing taste. The coiled ball of his feelings unraveled into the kiss; regret, sadness, relief and love, everything that said ‘Merlin.’ The frantic touch of Merlin’s fingers, the desperate press of his lips and tongue against his, told him Merlin’s emotions were running just as high.
The movements of Merlin’s fist on Arthur’s cock grew faster, slickened now with pre-come, and Arthur’s own hand wrapped urgently around Merlin’s dark, jutting erection, stroking tentatively at first, then curling his fingers over the tip to moisten his way.
The intimacy was intoxicating. Arthur felt shucked of all pretense, with no role to play other than himself, stripped bare under Merlin’s touch. Soon his release shuddered through him, hot and messy on Merlin’s belly. Merlin’s breath was ragged against his neck as he pulsed out between Arthur’s thighs, a silent cry on his lips.
They took up kissing again, this time languid and exploring, slow glides of tongue against tongue, a gentle bite to the lower lip, hips rolling together in a lazy, sticky grind, Arthur dragging a finger curiously down Merlin’s softening erection. He hoped against hope that this was the beginning of something bigger and not just an interlude at sea.
He draped a leg across Merlin’s and curled into him, pushing aside that thought so his mind was empty of anything but post-coital torpor and sheer bloody amazement. They lay together, the ship rocking them, and there was no one else, just them, together.
Now that the initial burning need had been sated, Arthur lingered over Merlin’s body. He traced the protrusions of bone with his hand and mouth, the sleek stretches of muscle, then paused for an embrace, peppering Merlin’s face with kisses. He nosed across his cheek and nuzzled into his hair, reveling in the dark thick waves, the way it contrasted with his pale skin and bright eyes.
Merlin pulled back, eyes roving over Arthur’s chest. “Look at you.” He stroked up the curve of Arthur’s ribcage, then rubbed the pad of his thumb around a nipple until it formed a peak and Arthur helplessly arched his back. “You’re bloody gorgeous under all those clothes.”
“To run into you here of all places,” Arthur murmured, twirling a strand of dark hair around his index finger. “It’s unreal.”
“It is a bit odd,” Merlin said, thin fingers clutching Arthur’s shoulders. His hand glided down Arthur’s chest, rested against his heartbeat. “Maybe it was meant to be.”
Ridiculous; Merlin must be teasing. But Arthur’s heart knocked hard against Merlin’s hand and the words reverberated in his mind.
Merlin squeezed Arthur’s cock and balls in the palm of his hand and Arthur sucked in a breath.
“Oi, if you think my recovery time is that quick, you’d better think again.”
Merlin chuckled and rolled on top of Arthur, looking down on him with wondering eyes, his hair tumbled over his forehead. With his swollen red lips, sweat-sheened cheeks and dishevelled hair, he looked like a debauched angel. Merlin twitched his hips. “Old man,” he chided.
“I’m out of practice.”
Merlin’s eyes shadowed. “Yeah.” He lay his head on Arthur’s chest and looked away. Arthur sighed. He carded a hand through Merlin’s hair and tried not to think about anything.
The ship rolled dramatically, almost flinging them off the bed and they clutched at the sheets to avoid falling. Arthur was abruptly reminded of Elena and her seasickness and all the rest of reality came crashing back in his mind.
“What are we going to do?” Arthur asked. After this, he didn’t think he could let Merlin go again.
“I don’t know,” Merlin said quietly.
“They never asked you to get married, did they? When you took the Chopin role?”
Merlin raised his head. “No, they didn’t. I don’t know why.”
They were silent for a moment, caught in their own thoughts.
“Would you? If they asked?”
“Don’t...” Merlin turned away.
Arthur looked at the ceiling. “All right.”
Merlin quickly sat up and faced the wall, away from Arthur. Arthur reached out and touched his back. “We’ve got some time until we get to England, yeah?”
Merlin looked at him over his shoulder, eyes full of unspoken questions. “A few days.”
“Yeah.” Arthur sat up and scooted next to Merlin, put his arm around him. Merlin leaned into him and Arthur kissed the side of his head, a mass of emotions pressing in on him, not really knowing what to say.
“You’ll stay the night.” Merlin made it a statement, not a question.
“Yes.”
Merlin pulled the sheets down and they settled under the covers, curled together, Arthur holding Merlin tightly to his chest as the ship steamed through the black sea night.
Overnight, certainty lodged in Arthur’s mind. Waking to Merlin’s dazzling smile and welcoming arms was like a tonic. He felt clear as the sky outside the windows, where blue, becalmed waves reflected the sun.
“What are you smiling about?” Merlin asked.
Arthur pulled him in close, intending to never let go. “I’m happy. That’s all. Just happy.” And he kissed Merlin hard, passionately, until their lips ached.
~*~
It had taken a few months of planning and organisation, tedious meetings with lawyers poring over documents and financial details, but it was finally done. Thanks to Arthur’s inheritance from his mother, he didn’t need his father’s help. The idea had been just a glimmer in Arthur’s mind when Merlin had told him about his King Arthur screenplay; now it was about to become a reality.
After all that hard work, Arthur wanted to put the sign up with his own two hands. He straightened it just so and climbed down the ladder. With any luck, the gargantuan, mostly empty building would soon be buzzing with film sets, camera crews and costumed extras. He stepped back to join Merlin, wiping his hands on his trousers and pulling down his shirtsleeves. They looked up at it together.
PENDRAGON PICTURES
The logo was a swirling red dragon, its tail looping around the letters. Arthur was particularly pleased with that part; it had been Merlin’s idea.
Merlin bumped his shoulder and Arthur bumped back, and they grinned at the sign for a few minutes.
“You did it,” Merlin said.
“We did it. You helped just as much,” Arthur said.
“Well, I might have dashed in at the last minute a few times to save the day.”
“If that’s what you call bringing in Chinese takeaway and beer.”
“You would have forgotten to eat and passed out if I hadn’t, admit it,” Merlin said. “Good thing I’ll be helping out around here. Otherwise I might never see you, the hours you’ve been putting in.”
Arthur put an arm around Merlin’s shoulder. “You gave me the idea, you know. What you said about my father, getting out from under him. I needed to stake my own territory, not just follow in my father’s shadow.” He gently hit Merlin’s other arm with a fist. “So, is your screenplay ready? Merlin and Arthur play Merlin and Arthur. It has a certain symmetry to it, don’t you think? It should definitely be our first production.”
The ringing of the office phone interrupted their reverie. Elena appeared at the door. “Arthur! Stop canoodling and get in here. The phone!”
“Our first phone call?” Merlin asked.
“Time to get to work,” Arthur replied, flashing another smile at Merlin before dashing inside.
THE END
A/N: The SS Camelot was modeled on the SS Normandie, a French ocean liner known for its cutting edge design.
The ocean liner scenes were inspired by similar scenes in the 1981 TV adaptation of Brideshead Revisited, by Evelyn Waugh. (Tip o’ the hat to N.)
The theme song for Nocturne that Arthur hears Merlin playing on the ship was Nocturne, Op. 9, No. 2 by Frédéric Chopin.
For background on gays and lesbians in Hollywood’s studio era, I used two fascinating books: Behind The Screen: How Gays and Lesbians Shaped Hollywood, 1910-1969, by William J. Mann, and Gay L.A.: A History of Sexual Outlaws, Power Politics, and Lipstick Lesbians, by Lillian Faderman and Stuart Timmons.
The fallout was severe, just as Aredian had predicted. The studio rescinded the Prince Hal offer and gave him no more work. His father sent him distraught telegrams, threatening all sorts of dire consequences that Arthur doubted he’d follow through with. He was the only Pendragon son, after all. Aredian tried to make him change his mind, but Arthur wouldn’t budge.
“I can’t live a lie,” he told Aredian. Once he’d made the decision, he knew with his heart and soul that it was the right thing to do. He felt lighter than he had in years.
“Then you’re a fool. You have no idea how the world works. This town will eat you alive,” Aredian said.
“Perhaps. I’ll take the risk.” He decided not to mention the plan he was already contemplating. When the time was right, he’d talk to both Uther and Aredian about it.
He tried not to think of Merlin and whether he’d take him back, even though he yearned to reconnect with him. In the end, he hadn’t done it for Merlin, but for himself, and he needed to sit with that, live with it in his bones for awhile and let the reality sink in. He felt too fragile right now to risk Merlin’s rejection. For now, he just needed to be.
~*~
“You’ve done it again, you.” Arthur laughed as he caught up with Elena. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks ruddy, blonde hair tucked tidily under her black riding cap. “One of these days, you’re simply going to have to let me win,” he huffed as his horse pulled even with Elena’s. “I mean, my god, woman, you’re a menace. Haven’t you ever heard of male ego? It’s worth stroking once in awhile, just for form’s sake. Wouldn’t want you to get out of practise with the studio execs.”
She laughed along with him. “Oh really? That’ll be the day. You just need to up your game, Pendragon. No excuses now.” And she lifted the reins and spurred her horse into a canter across the dry, dusty field toward the stable.
“Hey!” Arthur kicked his horse into hot pursuit after her, enjoying the rush of air against his ears and the thrum of the horse’s hooves reverberating through his body.
He’d been getting a lot of riding practice because Elena was obsessed. He found it endearing, particularly her penchant for wearing riding attire in her leisure hours and the ensuing admiring glances she got from certain women.
It was just one of many things he’d learned about Elena in the last few months. After the fiasco of the wedding, they’d become fast friends. Fortunately, the studio didn’t deem marriage as much of a necessity for women as for men - Elena was kept on and was getting parts. Arthur was glad of that; it removed a source of guilt.
Moments later, they reached the stables, Arthur hot on Elena’s heels. She’d already hopped off her mount and was fishing a carrot out of her pocket for her horse. She gave Arthur a quick glance, her brow furrowed. “Did you know Merlin has a new picture?”
Arthur busied himself with putting away the horse’s gear. “No, I didn’t.”
“I’ll show you the ad in the paper. He’s got the lead. I just thought you might want a heads up.”
~*~
Merlin was starring in a bio pic of Chopin, which explained the nineteenth century costume Arthur had seen him wearing. Arthur’s stomach had flipped when he saw the full page ad with Merlin’s name prominently displayed, his profile leaning over the keyboard of a piano. He’d even thought about calling him to congratulate him. But at the last minute, he’d put the phone down. He was thrilled for Merlin, but he just wasn’t ready to take the plunge and try to talk to him again.
Still, there were times when he saw couples on the street walking arm in arm, sharing a kiss, and his heart simply ached.
On one of those days, he gave in and bought a ticket to Merlin’s movie, Nocturne. He knew it was foolish but he needed to see Merlin, even if it was on screen.
He wasn’t disappointed. He watched raptly as the camera zoomed in on Merlin’s face. The dark and light created captivating shadows that highlighted his bone structure and brought out his eyes, just as Arthur had predicted. The costumes perfectly suited his supple frame, a waistcoat hugging his slim waist and dark trousers making his legs look miles long. His pale skin practically gleamed. The entire audience was firmly under Merlin’s spell - there wasn’t a sound as Merlin’s slender fingers danced over the keyboard, as he leaned into his co-star for a kiss, long dark hair curling around his neck and tumbling over his forehead. A chorus of sniffling rose up as he languished in bed, coughing charmingly as the sickly Chopin, pale and anguished, his eyes full of tears. Every woman in the theatre was weeping by the end and probably a few men as well.
It was a hit. Variety gave it four stars and pronounced Merlin the next Valentino. Arthur went to see it a dozen times in secret, yearning for Merlin in the dark and feeling miserable.
~*~
Elena handed him two tickets.
“SS Camelot - New York to London?” Arthur read. “What’s this?”
“You. Me. We’re going home. A bit of fish and chips, London rain, a few West End shows. It will be good for you.”
“What?”
“You need to get out of here. You’re moping, in case you think I hadn’t noticed.” Elena had her hands on her hips in a stance that brooked no argument. She looked like she might wrestle him to the ground if he resisted. “Look. The marriage thing didn’t work out, but we’re best mates and I can’t stand seeing you unhappy.”
Arthur rolled his eyes and snorted good-naturedly.
Elena swatted him on the arm. “So,” she continued pointedly. “I don’t have a job for the next few weeks and I think you’ve memorized that Chopin movie by now, am I right?”
Arthur’s gaze skittered away.
“Yeah, right, just as I thought. When was the last time you went home, anyway?”
“I haven’t,” Arthur admitted.
“Exactly. I think it makes perfect sense for us to go back to England for a visit. Get your bags packed. We’re going on the road.”
~*~
Preparing for the long trip was at least a distraction. As their train chugged across the plains and cornfields of middle America on the way to New York, however, Arthur’s thoughts kept returning to Merlin. He couldn’t rid himself of the mental image of Merlin as Chopin, his handsome face intent over the keyboard, carried away by the music. He ended up spending a lot of time in the bar car.
New York Harbor: the bustle of passengers arriving on the dock, waving goodbye to friends and family and finding their cabins on board, the panoply of accents, all contributed to an atmosphere of giddy excitement in which Arthur was momentarily caught up. Elena had her best female drag on, playing the role of starlet to the hilt as they posed for some photographers on the dock before boarding. Thankfully, the New York journos didn’t seem to know or care about Elena and Arthur’s aborted trip to the altar and there were no questions about it.
The SS Camelot was the most elegant ship Arthur had ever seen. His cabin was appointed in the latest fashion, all clean lines in the modern style, done up in red and gold. It was as large as a good-sized apartment and surprisingly comfortable, with two twin beds and a lounge area that could accommodate a small gathering.
After their luggage was stowed, Arthur and Elena spent the first day exploring the ship’s many amenities. The glittering first class dining room was on a par with the most refined restaurant on land, with high ceilings hung with sparkling chandeliers above, long pillars of lit glass along the walls, and thick carpeting muffling the waiters’ steps below. There were indoor and outdoor swimming pools, a theatre and a restaurant that doubled as a club in the evening. It was spectacular. Arthur could get used to this.
He wished Merlin could see it. He wondered what he was doing now - was he promoting Nocturne, had he already moved on to his next film, or was he perhaps doing a play in Pasadena?
“A drink?” he asked Elena. A little blurring of reality might be beneficial right about now, as he felt the familiar ache start to take hold. He gestured to a small cocktail bar that seemed to appear out of nowhere, just one of many spots throughout the ship where one could stop for refreshment or entertainment.
“Oh, yes, that would be wonderful,” Elena said, steadying herself on the counter top of the bar. It was taking her awhile to get her sea legs.
They watched as the white-jacketed bartender carefully mixed their drinks then settled in with martinis to watch the passing parade of people. As the ship was primarily first class, the passengers were dressed to impress and Elena kept up a constant patter of tart observation. She was trying hard to distract him.
The second day on board, the sea was less calm. They could feel the waves even through the vast bulk of the SS Camelot, the ship swaying noticeably as they awoke.
“Arthur.” Elena looked pale, eyeing her eggs at breakfast as if they were sewage. “I think I need to go lie down. This knocking about is finally getting to me.” She held her stomach, grimacing.
“Let me take you back to your cabin,” Arthur said. He supported her with an arm around her back and they wended their way through the endless corridors, trying not to bang into things as the ship lurched like a drunken sailor.
The halls of the ship became more deserted as the day went on under skies thick with clouds. The great ship pitched and rocked. Waiters sidestepped across the floor to deliver their orders; the staff erected ropes to aid passengers attempting to walk through the ship but otherwise gamely forged on as normal. Bingo had to be cancelled for lack of participation.
~*~
Arthur tapped a cigarette against his case and inserted it in his mouth, thankful for his immunity to seasickness. He was sitting on a sofa in a small lounge area, one leg crossed over the other at the knee, smoking and staring down the hallway simply for something to look at. Occasionally someone would stagger down the hallway, pitching this way and that. He sipped slowly at a glass of champagne, trying to make it last.
Elena had taken to her bed, looking green and waving him off. “Go. Have fun. You and your cast-iron stomach. Be prepared to be punched in it when I’m feeling better.” The ship rolled dramatically and she groaned. “Just leave me to my misery. You’re entirely too healthy. Go take your hale hearty self to dinner and have a few drinks on my behalf.”
Fun. Yes. Arthur wasn’t sure how to go about that. There were plenty of activities on board, but nothing appealed to him. Apparently he preferred to stew in his own miserable thoughts. He heaved a sigh and took another sip of champagne.
When he’d finished his drink and cigarette, he ambled down the hallway and descended a grand staircase which opened onto a large sitting area dotted with a few hardy passengers. He plonked down into one of the red velvet chairs, wishing he hadn’t left his book in the cabin. He was thinking about going back to get it when he heard the sound of a piano. The source was mysterious as there was no piano nearby.
He sat back and listened to the haunting music. It was beautiful; romantic; familiar. Arthur bolted upright. Merlin, or rather, Chopin, had played the very same piece in the movie. A nocturne, if he wasn’t mistaken. The one they used for the theme music.
He swayed off the chair, the rolling of the ship hurling him out of the sitting area like a billiard ball. Down a nearby hallway he lurched toward the music, his heart knocking in his chest. It was coming through an open door that led to a room bright with primary colours. As he entered, he could see it was a playroom. The walls were covered with charming murals of Babar riding in a car and cavorting in the jungle. There were large stuffed elephants, toy trains and other toys scattered about, some rolling along the floor with the movement of the ship. But no children were there today.
Incongruously nestled in the corner was a grand piano. Behind the piano sat someone familiar, deep in concentration. Arthur’s stomach clenched, but it had nothing to do with the waves.
It was Merlin.
Shocked, Arthur fell into the nearest chair.
Merlin finished playing and his fingers remained poised over the keyboard where they stopped, lightly touching the keys as the sound died away. His eyes were closed, his face still caught up in the spirit of the music. He was so beautiful he made Arthur’s heart ache. When he looked up to see Arthur sitting only a few yards away, Merlin leaped to his feet.
“My God. Arthur. What are you doing here?”
“Play some more,” Arthur said. “It’s lovely.” He stood up, needing to move, not knowing what to do with his body. Then the ship heaved and he stumbled closer to Merlin, grabbed onto a chair and fell into it. “I didn’t even know you played.”
Merlin was still gaping at him. “I...I didn’t. Well, not very well. I brushed up for a role.”
“Yes, I know. Chopin.” Arthur’s gaze wandered over Merlin’s familiar features, drinking him in. “You were marvellous.”
“You saw it?” Merlin’s mouth twitched.
“Of course, you idiot,” he said fondly. “More than once. I recognised the piece.”
“Oh.” Merlin ducked his head, a tentative smile playing on his lips. “So what are you doing here?” he asked again, looking up.
“I could ask the same of you.”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“I’m going home. Just for a trip. I guess you’d call it a holiday,” Arthur said.
“Are you alone?” Merlin’s face was inscrutable.
“No. I came with Elena, she dragged me along. She thought I needed to get away, said a change of scenery would do me good.” He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, blew out the smoke, giving himself a moment to adjust. “Merlin, I didn’t marry her. I couldn’t, in the end. You were right.” He watched Merlin for his reaction.
“I know.”
“What, you know?”
“Of course, everybody did.”
“Oh.” Arthur hadn’t expected that; it threw him off-kilter. “I haven’t been home yet, you know.”
“No, I haven’t either. Mum begged me. I had a break and the funds, so here I am.”
“Here you are.” Arthur’s eyes roved over him. He desperately wanted to touch him, but he didn’t know if Merlin would permit it. Just a hand on his shoulder to reassure himself Merlin was real. But he had no idea where the boundaries were between them any more. His emotions matched the pitching of the ship, rocking wildly to and fro, not knowing where to land. “Look, as long as we’re here, let’s go get a drink. Just us. Elena’s indisposed. Sea sick along with everyone else. Thank god for my iron constitution. I see you’re doing all right in that department.”
Merlin laughed. “Yes thank god.” His face tilted up at Arthur, eyes crinkling and his lips curving into the broad smile that made Arthur’s heart swell like nothing else. “All right, why not?”
~*~
“And then the director told her to kiss me and I said, why heavens, sir, I’m not that kind of girl.” Merlin guffawed loudly and Arthur joined in. One drink had turned into a few and they were the only ones left in the lounge. The bartender wiped the counter with a rag over and over and periodically shot annoyed glances at them.
“Seriously, Merlin, your piano playing is exquisite. I’m impressed.”
Merlin’s cheeks turned pink and he nodded. “Well, I’ve always fooled around with it. Learned as a child but didn’t really keep it up. I found an excellent teacher and it came back naturally. I love it.”
“It shows. You were wonderful as Chopin.” Arthur’s voice was soft. “Your charisma on screen is amazing. Not to mention the costume suited you.” His eyes raked over Merlin’s slim torso. He knew he was playing with fire, letting himself get this close to Merlin, but there was something about being on the ship, with no one around - it all felt like a dream, completely unhinged from reality.
“Really?” Merlin looked at Arthur from under his lashes and leaned in so his hair brushed against Arthur’s face. He could smell Merlin’s cologne.
This was getting dangerous. He wasn’t sure he cared.
After that, Merlin began talking about his next project and Arthur was happy to sit back and listen to Merlin’s voice, watch his eyes and mouth, the way he shifted his limbs. He marveled at the fact that Merlin was sitting here with him, having a normal conversation.
The talk died down and they both stilled. Arthur’s gaze caught in Merlin’s, his eyes deep and blue. They stared at each other, the silence weighed down by everything that had happened, a thousand unspoken thoughts.
“I was proud of you, Arthur. I almost called to tell you,” Merlin said.
“I couldn’t go through with it in the end. I just kept thinking of you and...” Arthur’s gaze skittered away. “I couldn’t live with myself if I’d done it. I want to keep acting in films, see my name on the marquee, but not that way.” He wanted to take Merlin’s hand. “I’ll find a way. I’m working on it. You know, I thought about calling you when I found out about Nocturne. The lead, Merlin, I was so happy for you. You deserved it. I didn’t know if you’d want to talk to me though.”
“I was angry with you, yes, and disappointed. When you didn’t go through with the marriage, I had second thoughts, but then you didn’t ring and well... ” He trailed off, looking uncertain.
“Maybe we can start on a fresh foot,” Arthur said.
Merlin gave a little smile. “Maybe.”
Yet another silence spread between them and Arthur ventured a slightly brittle smile, his mind filled with countless warring thoughts. The bartender started whistling and they both looked up, surprised.
Arthur slapped his hands on his thighs. “I probably need to see how Elena’s doing. Will you play for me again? I cut short your practice.”
“All right. Tomorrow. I’ll meet you in the playroom. They say the seas will still be stormy, so it should be quiet.”
“That sounds wonderful. I look forward to it.”
~*~
The sun began peeking out from the clouds the next day, but the ocean continued to toss the Camelot about as if it were a toy boat in a bathtub. Elena was still feeling poorly and didn’t want to get out of bed. Arthur mentioned to her that Merlin was on board and that he’d had a drink with him.
She gave him a long, assessing look. “Is everything all right?” she asked. She knew something of what Merlin meant to him, although he’d never confided in her all the details.
“Yes. I think so. I...I missed him. It was good to see him.”
Elena patted him on the hand and simply looked at him. “Go. Be with him. Nobody’s here.”
Arthur stared at her, swallowing down his trepidation. “I don’t know.” LA was far away but they had to return eventually. “The whole ship is sea sick. There’s hardly anyone about.”
“Yes, that’s what I’m saying,” she groaned. “Just go and leave me to my misery.” He rose and she grabbed his hand. “Life’s too short, Arthur.”
~*~
The SS Camelot’s hallways were endless, Arthur discovered during a morning of wandering aimlessly, venturing outside occasionally to peer at the dark, churning waves and smoke the occasional cigarette. The few passengers he saw seemed as disinterested in conversation as he was. Eventually he went for a swim in the indoor pool, tiled in a glorious, deep blue that made him feel like he was actually under the sea. Through the water he sliced his arms, working himself hard, hoping to achieve some clarity of mind by exhausting his body.
Elena was right. Life was too short. Seeing Merlin again had brought everything out in the open again, uncovered the seething mass of emotions that he’d taken such pains to bury. He was having trouble believing he could let them out to breathe in the open air.
The strains of a Chopin waltz wafted down the corridor, mournful and plaintive, the lilting rhythm echoing the rocking of the ship. Arthur stood in the door of the empty playroom, the toys forlorn in the absence of children to play with them. Merlin’s head was bowed, a cap of dark curls above a sliver of pale face, and he swayed to the music as his hands moved deftly over the keys.
Arthur’s gut twisted with want, a wave of it washing through him. The sadness of the music swirled into him, mixing with the desire until he felt like sobbing. Regret gnawed at him and his hands curled into fists. He focused on the glimmer of hope that had arisen since yesterday.
The waltz ended, the last chord resolving unexpectedly into a major key, resounding full and triumphant through the room.
Merlin looked up at Arthur. “Oh, hello.” Merlin smiled, a simple and pure curve of his lips that made Arthur feel certain that everything was going to be all right.
“Hi.” Arthur walked over and leaned into the nook of the piano. He gripped the edge to stop the trembling of his hands. Merlin’s own hands were relaxed in his lap, the fingers nestled casually in his palm. Arthur couldn’t stop looking at them, at Merlin’s face, his dark eyelashes, his adorably prominent ears. Merlin simply stared back, silent, eyes dark and enigmatic. The moment blanketed them; the ship a cocoon swaddled in cloudy, pale light, adrift at sea, removed from the rest of the world.
Something resolved inside Arthur, clicked into place.
He skirted around to the piano bench and sat next to Merlin, who moved over to make room. Merlin’s body warmth emanated through his clothes, made Arthur’s breath catch. Merlin was wearing trousers of soft grey wool that draped comfortably over his endlessly long legs and a pale blue shirt that brought out the colour of his eyes, a deeper blue tie knotted at his neck. Arthur’s gaze lingered at the spot where the collar met his skin, just below the jut of his adam’s apple, imagining unbuttoning that top button and pressing his tongue to the hollow at the base of his neck. When he managed to drag his eyes up to Merlin’s face, Merlin was looking at him with a bemused expression.
Arthur swallowed, unnerved by Merlin’s eyes on him, so close. Their hips and thighs pressed together.
“What were you playing?” Arthur said.
“More Chopin. I haven’t got round to learning anything else yet.” Merlin snorted and one side of his mouth inched up in a small grin.
Arthur darted another glance down Merlin’s chest. His fingers itched to loosen Merlin’s tie, unpeel his layers. “Hmmm.”
“It’s a waltz.” Merlin continued, looking at Arthur’s mouth. His lips parted, rosy and glistening, and he raised his eyes to meet Arthur’s. “I know you know how to waltz.”
“Yes.” Heat rushed to Arthur’s groin. He found himself leaning into Merlin’s side, their bodies molding together like two halves of something that had been broken and fit back together perfectly. It felt so good to be close to him.
Merlin didn’t pull away.
Arthur took in a shaky breath, dangling on the edge of a precipice.
A hand settled on Arthur’s back; the warmth of Merlin’s palm seeped through Arthur’s clothes, each finger pressing like an imprint, possessive. He thought of Merlin’s fingers dancing over the keys. “Arthur,” Merlin said softly into his ear, his breath gusting on his temple. “There’s no one in my cabin. I’m here alone.” His low voice sent a shiver down Arthur’s spine.
“Okay,” Arthur breathed out and he let his weight sag into Merlin’s arm.
They made their way back to Merlin’s cabin, which wasn’t far from Arthur’s. On the way, they kept bumping shoulders. They could blame it on the rocking of the ship. But the touch was teasing and Merlin kept looking at him, catching his eye. At one point, their hands brushed together, and Arthur briefly captured Merlin’s fingers and half-smiled at him, a cautious curl of happiness unfurling in his chest. For a moment he was lost in the broad smile that Merlin threw back at him, all white teeth and full lips, his eyes lifting at the corners. Arthur didn’t want to ever do without that smile again.
“We’re here,” Merlin announced when he stopped before the door to his cabin. He paused, eyebrows arched, as if to give Arthur a chance to stop things before they went any further. Arthur glanced around to make sure they were alone before he brought a hand up to cup the back of Merlin’s neck.
“Go on then,” he said softly before kissing his lips. His hand drifted down Merlin’s back, the jumper soft under his fingers. “Open the door.” He pulled Merlin in by the waist, pressing their hips together.
“Stop, you crazy,” Merlin said, smiling.
What had come over him? Arthur didn’t care if anyone saw, he didn’t care what anyone thought. He just wanted Merlin with a burning desperation. And somehow, miraculously, after everything that had happened, Merlin wanted him too.
Merlin flung the door open and they stumbled in, limbs knocking together. They stopped in the entryway, mere inches apart, pausing to look at each other intently before Arthur abruptly crowded Merlin up against the wall, overwhelmed with the need to get his hands on as much of him as possible. Merlin made a strangled noise in his throat and tangled a hand in Arthur’s hair as Arthur pressed in to devour his mouth, slide his hips against Merlin’s.
Merlin was here, now, alive and so, so close. He couldn’t get enough. Arthur’s hands roved over Merlin’s body as if to reassure himself he was real, not a dream or a flickering image on the screen. His fingers skirted over his skin, he kissed his mouth, filled his nose with Merlin’s scent; he clutched at his arse and squeezed his thin shoulders; sucked and laved at Merlin’s full, plump lips.
Merlin kissed him back avidly, forcing Arthur’s mouth open to slip a tongue in. The taste ratcheted up Arthur’s arousal and he ground his hips helplessly into Merlin’s until he could feel his thick, hard cock straining against his trousers, rubbing against Arthur’s own.
Merlin pushed back forcefully and walked Arthur backwards until they fell on the bed kissing. They writhed madly against each other, their movements gradually gathering purpose. Arthur nimbly peeled off Merlin’s layers of clothing, unwrapping him like a present and carelessly tossing items of clothing about the room until they were both naked, Merlin’s bare chest pressed blissfully against Arthur’s.
“Missed you so much,” Arthur said, trailing a path of kisses down the warm skin of Merlin’s ribcage.
“Me too,” Merlin replied, a hand grappling between Arthur’s legs until his fingers, those supple, agile fingers, gripped Arthur’s cock and twisted. Arthur clenched his eyes against the flood of sensation.
“Fuck. Merlin,” he groaned, pulling Merlin close and sealing their mouths together in a deep kiss, his tongue seeking that arousing taste. The coiled ball of his feelings unraveled into the kiss; regret, sadness, relief and love, everything that said ‘Merlin.’ The frantic touch of Merlin’s fingers, the desperate press of his lips and tongue against his, told him Merlin’s emotions were running just as high.
The movements of Merlin’s fist on Arthur’s cock grew faster, slickened now with pre-come, and Arthur’s own hand wrapped urgently around Merlin’s dark, jutting erection, stroking tentatively at first, then curling his fingers over the tip to moisten his way.
The intimacy was intoxicating. Arthur felt shucked of all pretense, with no role to play other than himself, stripped bare under Merlin’s touch. Soon his release shuddered through him, hot and messy on Merlin’s belly. Merlin’s breath was ragged against his neck as he pulsed out between Arthur’s thighs, a silent cry on his lips.
They took up kissing again, this time languid and exploring, slow glides of tongue against tongue, a gentle bite to the lower lip, hips rolling together in a lazy, sticky grind, Arthur dragging a finger curiously down Merlin’s softening erection. He hoped against hope that this was the beginning of something bigger and not just an interlude at sea.
He draped a leg across Merlin’s and curled into him, pushing aside that thought so his mind was empty of anything but post-coital torpor and sheer bloody amazement. They lay together, the ship rocking them, and there was no one else, just them, together.
Now that the initial burning need had been sated, Arthur lingered over Merlin’s body. He traced the protrusions of bone with his hand and mouth, the sleek stretches of muscle, then paused for an embrace, peppering Merlin’s face with kisses. He nosed across his cheek and nuzzled into his hair, reveling in the dark thick waves, the way it contrasted with his pale skin and bright eyes.
Merlin pulled back, eyes roving over Arthur’s chest. “Look at you.” He stroked up the curve of Arthur’s ribcage, then rubbed the pad of his thumb around a nipple until it formed a peak and Arthur helplessly arched his back. “You’re bloody gorgeous under all those clothes.”
“To run into you here of all places,” Arthur murmured, twirling a strand of dark hair around his index finger. “It’s unreal.”
“It is a bit odd,” Merlin said, thin fingers clutching Arthur’s shoulders. His hand glided down Arthur’s chest, rested against his heartbeat. “Maybe it was meant to be.”
Ridiculous; Merlin must be teasing. But Arthur’s heart knocked hard against Merlin’s hand and the words reverberated in his mind.
Merlin squeezed Arthur’s cock and balls in the palm of his hand and Arthur sucked in a breath.
“Oi, if you think my recovery time is that quick, you’d better think again.”
Merlin chuckled and rolled on top of Arthur, looking down on him with wondering eyes, his hair tumbled over his forehead. With his swollen red lips, sweat-sheened cheeks and dishevelled hair, he looked like a debauched angel. Merlin twitched his hips. “Old man,” he chided.
“I’m out of practice.”
Merlin’s eyes shadowed. “Yeah.” He lay his head on Arthur’s chest and looked away. Arthur sighed. He carded a hand through Merlin’s hair and tried not to think about anything.
The ship rolled dramatically, almost flinging them off the bed and they clutched at the sheets to avoid falling. Arthur was abruptly reminded of Elena and her seasickness and all the rest of reality came crashing back in his mind.
“What are we going to do?” Arthur asked. After this, he didn’t think he could let Merlin go again.
“I don’t know,” Merlin said quietly.
“They never asked you to get married, did they? When you took the Chopin role?”
Merlin raised his head. “No, they didn’t. I don’t know why.”
They were silent for a moment, caught in their own thoughts.
“Would you? If they asked?”
“Don’t...” Merlin turned away.
Arthur looked at the ceiling. “All right.”
Merlin quickly sat up and faced the wall, away from Arthur. Arthur reached out and touched his back. “We’ve got some time until we get to England, yeah?”
Merlin looked at him over his shoulder, eyes full of unspoken questions. “A few days.”
“Yeah.” Arthur sat up and scooted next to Merlin, put his arm around him. Merlin leaned into him and Arthur kissed the side of his head, a mass of emotions pressing in on him, not really knowing what to say.
“You’ll stay the night.” Merlin made it a statement, not a question.
“Yes.”
Merlin pulled the sheets down and they settled under the covers, curled together, Arthur holding Merlin tightly to his chest as the ship steamed through the black sea night.
Overnight, certainty lodged in Arthur’s mind. Waking to Merlin’s dazzling smile and welcoming arms was like a tonic. He felt clear as the sky outside the windows, where blue, becalmed waves reflected the sun.
“What are you smiling about?” Merlin asked.
Arthur pulled him in close, intending to never let go. “I’m happy. That’s all. Just happy.” And he kissed Merlin hard, passionately, until their lips ached.
~*~
It had taken a few months of planning and organisation, tedious meetings with lawyers poring over documents and financial details, but it was finally done. Thanks to Arthur’s inheritance from his mother, he didn’t need his father’s help. The idea had been just a glimmer in Arthur’s mind when Merlin had told him about his King Arthur screenplay; now it was about to become a reality.
After all that hard work, Arthur wanted to put the sign up with his own two hands. He straightened it just so and climbed down the ladder. With any luck, the gargantuan, mostly empty building would soon be buzzing with film sets, camera crews and costumed extras. He stepped back to join Merlin, wiping his hands on his trousers and pulling down his shirtsleeves. They looked up at it together.
PENDRAGON PICTURES
The logo was a swirling red dragon, its tail looping around the letters. Arthur was particularly pleased with that part; it had been Merlin’s idea.
Merlin bumped his shoulder and Arthur bumped back, and they grinned at the sign for a few minutes.
“You did it,” Merlin said.
“We did it. You helped just as much,” Arthur said.
“Well, I might have dashed in at the last minute a few times to save the day.”
“If that’s what you call bringing in Chinese takeaway and beer.”
“You would have forgotten to eat and passed out if I hadn’t, admit it,” Merlin said. “Good thing I’ll be helping out around here. Otherwise I might never see you, the hours you’ve been putting in.”
Arthur put an arm around Merlin’s shoulder. “You gave me the idea, you know. What you said about my father, getting out from under him. I needed to stake my own territory, not just follow in my father’s shadow.” He gently hit Merlin’s other arm with a fist. “So, is your screenplay ready? Merlin and Arthur play Merlin and Arthur. It has a certain symmetry to it, don’t you think? It should definitely be our first production.”
The ringing of the office phone interrupted their reverie. Elena appeared at the door. “Arthur! Stop canoodling and get in here. The phone!”
“Our first phone call?” Merlin asked.
“Time to get to work,” Arthur replied, flashing another smile at Merlin before dashing inside.
THE END
A/N: The SS Camelot was modeled on the SS Normandie, a French ocean liner known for its cutting edge design.
The ocean liner scenes were inspired by similar scenes in the 1981 TV adaptation of Brideshead Revisited, by Evelyn Waugh. (Tip o’ the hat to N.)
The theme song for Nocturne that Arthur hears Merlin playing on the ship was Nocturne, Op. 9, No. 2 by Frédéric Chopin.
For background on gays and lesbians in Hollywood’s studio era, I used two fascinating books: Behind The Screen: How Gays and Lesbians Shaped Hollywood, 1910-1969, by William J. Mann, and Gay L.A.: A History of Sexual Outlaws, Power Politics, and Lipstick Lesbians, by Lillian Faderman and Stuart Timmons.