[FIC] Fast Lane - Part II (Arthur/Merlin; NC-17)
The new EX-26 is solid.
Leafield, Oxford, (UK): Over the last two Grand Prix, Excalibur has unveiled the car that it hopes will end a three-year run of bad luck for the motoring team.
The new car features a brand new body, new barge board and tail if compared to last year's EX-26. After an amazing start that has seen Excalibur on the podium three times, it will be this single-seater's turn to compete for the rest of this year's F1 championship.
"This is a new beginning for us, a new beginning that will cement effort towards one goal: to add to our wonderful history," Excalibur team principal Matthew Taliesin said Thursday, otherwise singing the praise of new team designer Merlin Emrys, who replaces Marcus Bedivere at the helm of the Design team.
Excalibur last won the constructors' title in 2009 with Tristan Cornwall and Amir Zohar behind the wheel while Michel Balan won the team's last drivers' title in 2008.
Over its long history Excalibur has accumulated a record 17 constructors titles but those have rarefied in the past few years due to an overly prudent innovation policy.
This time around things have been shaken up. The appearance of Emrys, fresh from a Southampton MSc, has seen to that.
With Pendragon vying for the driver's championship - after losing it to Valiant of Western last year -- the team seems to be set for great things. Although a look at Pendragon's record will tell you that since he left his father's team he's never taken home the drivers' tittle, Excalibur and its head driver seem to be set for glory this year.
This season continues with the UBS Chinese Grand Prix on 14. April.
Arthur pushed the magazine aside and looked up. With all further testing having concluded, no one was in the office at Leafield apart from Arthur, who was unwinding, and Merlin who was still blinking at his laptop downstairs.
Arthur could see him from where he was, sitting at a table on the mezzanine floor, while Merlin had the lower ground one to himself.
Even though the team had placed on the podium for the last three races, (with a first, third and second place), Merlin still spent most of his nights glued to a screen or flitting around the car, asking one of the newest mechanics, Elena, whom Merlin had requested specifically, to test this or that component. She was perennially showing him the graphics relating to their performance.
Elena was the one who usually stayed late with him for just that purpose but tonight she wasn't and Merlin was sitting alone, squinting at screens, reams of papers featuring complex diagrams spread out on his table.
Arthur had always felt that Merlin's duty was to work hard. It was just right that he should and something that Arthur ought to encourage on behalf of the team. But now Merlin was clearly overworking himself. His eyes were so bloodshot they looked zombie-like even from the floor above and his entire body was folding in on itself and slumping forwards.
Was Merlin still afraid he'd be given the sack? With their three podiums that seemed unlikely now. Unless he fucked up mid-season. But the same could be said of Arthur. He could fuck up mid season too and nobody'd blame him if he did. The papers would write about how he'd lost his touch since he'd left his father's team, how he was getting older, but Mr Taliesin wouldn't lay him off. Not until Arthur retired on his own.
The same should be expected of Merlin at this point.
Arthur stretched and got up, slowly descending the stairs and walking over to the table Merlin had claimed. Arthur placed both hands on it and leant against it. “Are you banking on haunting this place?”
Merlin looked up, mouth dropping open as he took in Arthur. “What?”
“You've been here how long?” Arthur asked, looking at the clock hanging back in the hall behind Merlin. “Twelve hours? I thought you were about to die here - thirst and hunger likely causes - and haunt the premises.”
“Ha, ha,” said Merlin, looking back at his screen. “Very funny.”
“No, seriously, how long have you been here?”
Merlin squinted at his laptop's sidebar clock. “Er, twelve hours.”
Arthur shook his head, huffing a laugh. “And here I thought I was exaggerating.”
Merlin bit his lip. “And what's it to you?”
“Oh come on,” said Arthur, “don't be like that.” Arthur knew he'd been less than cordial to Merlin on occasion. And that he'd started out not trusting him with the car or his life. But Merlin hadn't done too bad a job with the 26 and Arthur had only been gently teasing him lately. “I meant to be a good boy and drive you home.”
“Won't be necessary,” said Merlin, tapping at his screen. “I was counting on working a couple of hours more.”
“What! You'd only be done by... midnight!” Arthur grabbed Merlin's laptop and shut the lid.
Merlin stood up and leant over, a tableful between them, to make a grab for the object. “That's my data you're tampering with.”
“The laptop's only on stand-by. Your data's safe,” said Arthur, hugging Merlin's rather costly laptop to himself. “You can save it later. What you're endangering now is your health. Look, your eyes are red. Like really blood injected. You look like a Dracula film outcast. Go home.”
“Dracula hasn't got red eyes.”
“Whatever,” said Arthur, “point still stands. I doubt you're in a state to crunch numbers.”
“I can crunch numbers in my sleep.”
“Oh, so that's what you were doing just now then.”
The line of his shoulders curving, Merlin burst out laughing, his eyes becoming smaller and getting surrounded by little crow feet. “Okay, all right. Maybe you're right. I should go home.”
Arthur put down the laptop and fished for his car keys and jingled them before Merlin's nose. “Come on. You really want to ride in my car.”
Merlin chuckled. “What, you have one of those cars that are actually F1 cars passed off as street cars?”
“Wait and see, Merlin. Wait and see.”
Merlin's face when Arthur's Beetle was revealed was something Arthur would have loved to take a snapshot of and show everyone. Merlin's mouth fell open and his eyes lightened up and got bigger. They were so round Arthur wanted to laugh.
He placed a hand on the roof of his car, letting the metal chill his palm. “Come on, climb in.”
Merlin shook his head but did follow him inside, placing his laptop case at his feet on the mat.
“So, where do you live?” Arthur asked, key in the ignition.
Merlin gave him an address Arthur's sat nav confirmed as being located in the outskirts of Oxford. It was going to be a good hour's drive. At first Merlin tried to talk. Since they weren't friends and weren't close, his conversation stuck to small talk, but as the clock ticked on it slowly wound down. When after a couple of minutes of silence Arthur turned his head to look at him he found that Merlin had fallen asleep.
Arthur let him snore on until he had to pull up. Merlin startled, the heel of his hand going to his forehead. “Wha, what?”
“Thanks for the inspiring conversation,” Arthur said. “My ears are hurting.”
“Idiot,” Merlin said, “You were driving so slow.”
“What are you on about?” Arthur said, rolling his eyes. “You expect me to drive as if I was on a circuit?”
Merlin dimpled and tapped his mouth. “Lemme think... Mmmm, no. I'd rather live. But it was lulling.”
“Lulling?” Arthur repeated, snorting. “That's the worst insult you could hurl a racer.”
“Hardly.”
“So my driving bores you?”
Merlin leant his head back against the headrest, doing a little shake and fixing his eyes on the roof. “Maybe it's your personality you have thank for my snooze attacks.”
“There's nothing wrong with my personality!” Arthur said in a high pitch that wasn't really angry. He'd have listed the reasons why there wasn't anything amiss with it - he thought he was quite a nice person - if Merlin hadn't interrupted him by saying, “You realise this is not my street, do you?”
Arthur tapped his sat nav screen. “This says it is.”
“And the man who's supposed to live there says it isn't,” Merlin said.
“It's- it's--” Arthur pushed buttons and checked the data he'd entered. “Impossible.”
Merlin burst out laughing. “I'll have to build you a new sat nav. One that works.”
“You can do that?”
Merlin waved his hands at his face. “Hello, you drive the thingy I designed, so I guess, yeah?”
It was Arthur's turn to laugh.
“Okay, all right, care to direct me the old-fashioned way?”
They were still laughing under their breath by the time they got to Merlin's.
*****
Over the following four weeks Excalibur ran two more races and accumulated more points. In Spain Arthur finished second. Monaco granted him the first step on the podium. Even though he had to be in the second pole for the head start, right behind De Ganis and Valiant, in the first pole, Arthur managed to get to the front right from the start. He controlled the whole 50 laps of the championship. His rivals couldn't catch up with him.
Merlin watched the whole race unfold from the boxes; headphones covering his ears, eyes glued to the monitors hanging above his head.
Merlin had never been a formula 1 junkie. Not even a formula 1 aficionado. He loved engines. He loved the way they worked. He loved disassembling them, devising ways to make them work to the best of their potential. But he'd never been into sports, unless you counted watching the Vuelta and the Tour the France and going for a bit of a bike ride around the country as being into sports.
He'd never tuned in at unholy hours just to see who'd won an F1 race. He'd never had posters of his sports heroes pinned to his wall. He'd never had enough passion for that. Sure, his studies had brought him here, but it wasn't for the races themselves.
Formula 1 was simply top of the line when it came to engineering. The money put into it allowed for research, innovation, experimentation. The feats that were possible in the F1 world were merely a dream in other civil engineering fields. And that was why Merlin was here. His true heroes were the designers and mechanics who constructed the prototypes and allowed them to work.
But lately things had changed. He'd started feeling adrenalin surge through him whenever he watched Arthur - and Lancelot, too - compete. He bit his nails. Supported his team and waved flags around.
Today he was jumping up and down, hugging Elena and lifting her up in triumph, as he watched Arthur take the trophy and get the paddock girls' kisses. He laughed when Valiant, relegated to third place today, cursed and elbowed Arthur, his pout caught on camera forever.
“He's a sore loser,” said Elyan, clapping abundantly. “Someone should tell him he looks ridiculous.”
Merlin put Elena down but she wouldn't let go, mussing up his hair. “I just think he's so funny. Looks like a toddler who lost his toy.”
“It's all the team that's like that,” said Elena, slinging an arm across Merlin's shoulders. “One of their mechanics snubbed me!”
“Well, they're idiots,” Merlin said. “They won last year. Why can't they take us winning this year?”
“Do I detect some budding team spirit?” joked Elyan while Elena said, “Shut up. He's always been a supporter.”
Merlin shrugged and said. “Valiant is a dick, is all.”
Merlin was confirmed in his opinion when later that afternoon he took in one of Valiant's post race interviews a Monaco TV station was airing.
Merlin was having a drink at the hotel terrace bar and, when he heard Valiant's words, he almost spit out half his beer.
“Last year was the best year of my career,” Valiant was saying, chest puffed out as he spat words into his microphone. “I was very happy with my performance, but I think this year will be better.”
“How do you feel about today's race and Excalibur's win?” a journalist asked, out of shot.
Valiant laughed, spittle flying. “Pendragon was good for a second place driver.”
Merlin shook his head at the TV. “The wanker.”
The person sitting next to him at the bar said, “No, he's not. He's giving attitude but he's right.”
Merlin turned around, a muscle along his jaw ticking. “Pardon?”
“I mean,” the man said, pushing his drink aside and gesticulating, “that Pendragon fella hasn't won a World Championship in years. He's done.”
“And yet he's the one who's won today,” Merlin said, pointing at the race footage that was being shown. “I'd say he isn't a second place driver.”
“Nah,” the bar patron said, waving a hand in denial. “He's got a faster car because there's some sort of genius on the team now. That's why he won. But without mechanics Valiant's the better racer.”
Merlin swivelled on his stool and gave a big breath. “Arthur Pendragon is the best.”
The bar patron scoffed. “Please that's layman fantalk.”
Merlin's lips tilted upwards. “Layman?”
“Yeah,” said the bar patron. “It's like when you support a loser football team because it's the one from your home town but you know, it's not an opinion based on facts.”
“Well, I do know a thing or two about the Excalibur car,” Merlin found himself blabbing out. His job wasn't a secret but he hadn't meant to say that out loud.
“Me too.” The bar patron gave a look at the TV. On screen a reporter was giving stats about both the EX 26 and the Western 306 model. “Maybe you read some info on a motoring magazine or maybe you fancy Pendragon, but I'm telling you, he isn't that great of a pilot. Not to the levels of King Fisher, for example.”
Merlin said, “I have reason to think he's quite good because I designed the EX and know that without him, the car alone wouldn't be getting the team all those poles and trophies. He's a champion.”
The man in front of Merlin spluttered, saying, “You, you work for-- You're--”
A hand landed on Merlin's shoulder. “I didn't know you thought that well of me, Merlin.”
Merlin turned around. Sure enough, Arthur was there. He was wearing capris and a tee, eyes shielded by sunglasses, even though it was only April and the sun wasn't shining. “I-- I was just--”
Merlin was spared from embarrassing himself. The bar patron goggled at Arthur and said, “Did you overhear? I'm so sorry I didn't mean to say you weren't an ace driver just that contextually speaking--”
Arthur spread his hands out to stop him. “No, no. I got it. I'm sure that based on your experience you're right.“ He clucked his tongue. “Come on, Merlin, let's go for a swim. That pool is waiting for no one.”
They ambled back over to the terrace overlooking the pool, where Merlin stopped in his tracks. “Thank you for extricating me. That guy was appalling. Thought he knew everything. I think I'll go back to my room now.”
Merlin was thinking of how to avoid the annoying bar patron, planning a circuitous route around the lifts well, when Arthur said, “Oh come on, Merlin. I wasn't just playing good Samaritan. I meant to have a swim. I thought you'd be happy to tag along.” Arthur scanned the pool area and Merlin couldn't tell what he was thinking or feeling.
“It's April,” Merlin said, because it was and he couldn't think of anything better to say. “Sun still hiding somewhere behind those big clouds.”
Arthur chuckled. “Come on, Merlin, live a little. Go change and come down.”
“You want me to wear trunks when it's 12° degrees?” Merlin could feel the wind hitting his skin; he didn't want to know how it would feel if he shed his jeans and jumper.
“Yeah, Merlin, I do. Go to your room and change.”
Merlin frowned. “I'm sorry but I don't even have swimming trunks. I thought this was a job; I didn't exactly pack holiday stuff.”
“Come with me up to mine,” Arthur said, giving him a once over that ended with a bit of a smirk. “You can borrow one from me. I think we can find a pair that'll fit you.”
Merlin afforded Arthur's hips a look, was promptly attacked by less than chaste thoughts (Arthur was hot, after all) and said, “You actually own a pair of trunks that would fit me and not fall off my hips, leaving me naked for all of Monte Carlo to see?”
“Yes, I do,” Arthur said, pushing his sunglasses down his nose with the tip of his finger. “Though that wouldn't be too bad in my books, but since I'm a gentleman I'll spare your sensibilities...”
“Hardly.”
Arthur pushed Merlin back towards the lobby and to the lift. “I get it, Merlin, you're a bashful flower.”
Merlin snorted. “Please, that's not true.”
Arthur basically shoved Merlin into the lift and said, “True enough.”
Arthur's room was larger, looked like a Versailles salon, and had a better view than Merlin's, but that made sense because Arthur was their pole racer, their star. Merlin had no complaint since he was treated pretty well himself. He'd never been better off in his life. Nevertheless he didn't hide a snigger or - two - at the preferential treatment Arthur was getting.
“What?” said Arthur, already rooting into his wardrobe. “What are you making that face for?”
“Nothing,” said Merlin, grabbing the pair of trunks Arthur had tossed him. “Just noticing the VIP treatment.”
Arthur folded his arms and laughed through his nose.
Merlin stared at him till Arthur tipped his eyebrow at him.
“What?”
“Aren't you changing?”
“You're blocking the way to the bathroom,” Merlin pointed out with a head tilt aimed at the door of said room.
Arthur's eyebrow stayed put.
Oh, it was like that then. Without hesitation (more or less) Merlin yanked his jumper up and off, and kicked off his trainers and jeans. The socks went with them. Thought catching up with him, his hands lingered at his waist for a moment or two, but then he realised that not doing it would be the equivalent of admitting Arthur was right in deeming Merlin a blushing flower. He pushed down his underwear.
He stepped out of his boxers slowly and leisurely, just to make a point. Even if he knew that Arthur's eyes were glued to his groin - and that was a thing that just happened when nudity was involved - Merlin took his time pulling up his borrowed trunks. He acted as though he wasn't blushing. Or as if his cock wasn't... tightening. He was very blasé about it even though he felt the heat in his face all right.
He acted as if this was the best idea ever, if only because of Arthur's clear discomfiture: his slightly parted mouth and catching flies expression. This was a win for Merlin. He didn't know what game he was playing and what he'd won, but it felt good.
“Shall we?” he said, cocking an eyebrow at the window overlooking the pool.
Arthur startled but nodded quickly. They were only delayed by Merlin's mobile buzzing with a text from Vivian.
congrats on victory. when next in town and i know u're gonna b cause silverstone, we shld meet up. xo.
Merlin typed a quick answer
deal
“What are you smiling at?” Arthur asked, his voice sounding a little snappish. “Girlfriend's text?”
Merlin hooked his mobile to its charger and left it on Arthur's hotel room desk, before making for the door. “If you're insinuating I'm smiling because I got a sext from a girl you would be wrong on two counts. One because I'm gay and two because I was texting your girlfriend.”
Arthur made a surprised face that was so funny Merlin nearly needed to hold his sides to stop laughing. “Who?”
“Vivian.”
Arthur's voice went into high-pitched whine territory. “I'll have you know that she never was. She dumped me for you.”
“Not really though,” Merlin said, finding Arthur's indignation hilarious. “Since she's not getting any from me.”
“I don't understand.”
“What?” Merlin asked turning around and leaning against the door so Arthur couldn't exit stage left and find salvation in the pool. “It doesn't compute that a girl would give up sex with you in favour of no sex at all, champ?”
“I-- I--” Arthur said. “I thought she was going for something.”
Merlin lowered his head while he kept shaking it. “Not that, Arthur, not that.”
Arthur stammered something about 'not getting it'.
“Don't worry, Arthur,” Merlin said. “Maybe you'll attract some pool side lounger with your VIP status.”
Arthur recovered his flair of sarcasm too quickly. “Yeah, that was most certainly what I was banking on when I invited you out for a swim,” he said. He eyed the door behind Merlin. “Now will you?”
Merlin opened the door with a flourish. Arthur led the way to the pool.
When Merlin tried the pool by submerging his foot, he found that Arthur's idea was really a bad one. “Shit, it's cold. I was right. It's not the season for this. We should have gone swimming when we were in Australia.”
Arthur was standing behind him by the side of the pool. “Really, Merlin,” he said in a crowing tone Merlin didn't trust a little bit. “How obvious.”
“I told you it was too early to go bathing in Europe.” Merlin glanced up at the overcast sky. And that was most of what he saw when Arthur pushed him over the pool's edge so that Merlin ended up arse first in the water, having to kick to break the surface. He cursed Arthur out loud when he did.
Except he didn't see him poolside. Merlin looked around. They were the only bathers in. No one had tried actually taking a plunge in this weather. Merlin glanced downwards and then he saw a flash under water.
A few seconds before someone, someone who could only be Arthur, grabbed him by the hips and pulled down his trunks.
“Arthur,” Merlin shouted. “We're in bloody public!”
Arthur re-emerged, eyes half closed, water cascading down his torso and neck, hair plastered across his forehead. He breathed out through a pursed mouth, forked his hair back, and dangled Merlin's stolen trunks before his nose.
Arthur stepped closer so there was only an inch or so between them. “Then come and get your trunks.” He said that before he dove again, shoulders working, arms straight so he could plough water.
“Wanker,” Merlin called after him, doubting Arthur would hear him with all the water trickling in his ears. There was nothing but one thing to do, go in pursuit.
Merlin dove after him.
****
Silverstone was a particularly flat circuit made up of a number of long straights linked one to the other by fast, open corners. As a circuit, Silverstone had the most complex curves of any racing track Arthur had ever run. It was a mixed bag of high and low speed corners: it also had some long straights. Every driver worth their salt knew that overtaking there was difficult, but not impossible. If you knew how to work your car and the circuit, you could do it. This made the track physically demanding but Arthur loved it like no other.
And not just because it was home turf and he liked winning on home turf. But because he liked the challenge. However, the nature of the beast required a lot of pre-emptive adjustments. They had to adapt the car to the track and make sure they made the choices that would suit it the most to it.
A week and a few days short of Silverstone, Arthur was testing new car configs and rigging, doing laps to test the outcomes. This was his fifth lap today, checking on the fifth type of set up. He was barrelling down a straight when Mr Taliesin's voice came over the radio, “Arthur the track is cold. It's affecting the grip of tyres too much for us to get a decent idea of how the new tyres will perform. Come back to the box, please. There's something I have to tell you anyway.”
“Got it,” said Arthur, wondering what it was that Taliesin wanted to tell him.
He left the car with the team of mechanics and walked into the bay where Mr Taliesin was waiting for him together with Howard Pellinore, their sponsorship manager. Pellinore was the man who organised sponsor weekends, made sure to ratchet up numbers of interested parties to take part in them, and made sure that all requirements were met by both the team and the sponsors.
His underlings were the ones who handled day to day publicity, made certain sure that paddock passes were distributed to entice more people into the sponsor game and triple checked that all the sponsors' logos were put out for all the world to see.
Pellinore being there, meant that there'd be something Arthur was required to do publicity wise. That was the only part of his contract that he truly, truly loathed. Being asked to smile on cue, do ads and pose for photos equalled hell for him. He didn't like it and often felt like a clown when he was paraded around that way.
Yet contract obligations were contract obligations. “Ha, Arthur, there you are. Mr Pellinore has something to say to you.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Pellinore. “I do. Though, first of all let me tell you that I'm proud of yours and the team's achievements so far.”
“Thank you,” said Arthur, suspecting a but was coming.
“The publicity's team is overjoyed to be working at promoting your successes,” said Pellinore. “We only wish we could do it more intensively right about now.”
And there it was, the but Arthur had been waiting for. “And we're not being intense enough?”
Pellinore smiled affably. “Seeing as we're winning, no, not nearly. Look at what Team Western is doing, getting more and more sponsors, and putting Valiant out there more.”
Arthur sighed. “What do you want me to do?”
“Only go on a dinner with a representative from Energy Buzz,” said Mr Pellinore, putting a friendly hand on Arthur's shoulder. “So we can close a business deal with him.”
Arthur could see what they wanted from him. “You want me to play nice?”
“I want you to be charming, Arthur,” said Pellinore, squeezing Arthur's shoulder before letting go. “Something you can easily be.”
Arthur looked to the bay area exit door as a source of freedom but knew he couldn't back off. “All right,” he said, sounding exactly like he felt: not eager. “When do you need me?”
“Tonight,” said Mr Pellinore, “I would have gone myself but I'm sure the Energy Buzz delegate doesn't want to deal with a PR person but with the man who'll end up being the face of their product.”
“Tonight?” said Arthur, who was already saying good bye to his dreams of a quiet evening at home. This was one of those times when he actually could just drive back home instead of to a hotel or the motor home. He missed having some down time and regretted the loss of his privacy already. “Isn't that short notice?”
Mr Pellinore said, “I'm sure you understand.” Then getting into full-fledged business mode, Mr Taliesin added, “You have a table booked at Corrigan's. Be there by eight o' clock.” Mr Taliesin was noddling idly at Mr Pellinore, who finished by saying, “And bring Emrys with you. He's a whiz kid and whiz kids are in somehow.”
Arthur swallowed. “Merlin?”
“Are you and Emrys getting along now, Arthur?” Mr Pellinore asked even though Mr Taliesin was making signs meaning it was better not to enquire.
“Why? Arthur asked, not addressing the question directly.
Mr Pellinore had a rather serious look on his face. “Well, we heard rumours about you asking he be fired.”
“Only if we didn't win,” said Arthur, then rethinking it he added, “But not like that.”
Mr Pellinore raised a lone eyebrow.
“I mean,” Arthur rephrased. “Merlin is okay. He's a cool engineer. He's cool.” The truth was that Merlin and he might have started things on the wrong foot but Merlin wasn't that bad. Antagonising him was still fun but there was little bite behind the barbs he threw at Merlin now. And the banter they did trade, well, that was all in good fun. Arthur didn't indulge in it deliberately. He just picked at Merlin because teasing Merlin was entertaining and it made him want to preen a bit. It made him smile and it was an exhilarating exercise.
“If you say so,” said Mr Pellinore. “I hope any remaining animosity can be kept under lock and key. We wouldn't want it aired before the sponsors.”
“There's none,” said Arthur, looking at the engineers bay where Merlin was tinkering with a screwdriver he most certainly (with all the technology he could command) didn't need. “Actually, I'll go tell him about the change of plans right now.” He smiled a 32 teeth smile just in case a normal one wasn't convincing enough, then bounded over to Merlin.
Merlin was at his station, tinkering with a square box faced with a screen similar to a tablet's.
“Hi,” Arthur said, knowing he was startling Merlin since Merlin had been so caught up with his trafficking that he hadn't noticed Arthur.
Merlin jumped up, screwdriver flying out of his hands and landing somewhere behind him. “What a dick,” he said, but he was smiling so Arthur didn't think Merlin was planning his death. If anything, the smile was welcoming and pleasant. Arthur loved having it directed at him. Merlin beamed at everybody but never at Arthur. And that had been off-putting. Now, though, he was doing it and Arthur was the recipient. That made Arthur feel as though everything was right with the world.
Instead of telling Merlin about their date tonight, Arthur said, “What are you doing there?”
Merlin looked at the object he'd been trafficking with. “This is your new sat nav. A Merlin model, mind you, not one of those things you buy from Amazon.”
Arthur burst out laughing. “You still think I have no sense of direction?”
“Hey, you were the one who got lost in Oxfordshire,” said Merlin with a toothy, knowing grin. “Think of it as a custom present.”
“But I--” Arthur said, torn between feeling indignation at Merlin's estimation of his orientation skills and feeling pleased and happy he'd got a present crafted for him.
“Take it, Arthur.” Merlin extended the object to him.
Arthur stuck his chest out. “Okay, but then you'll have to program in the address of Corrigan's. Because we're going there tonight to court a sponsor person.”
Merlin's smile fell. “What, who, why?”
“Sponsors,” said Arthur, “the people who provide financial backing so that more research can be done and you can devise more perfect engines. We've got to play nice.”
“Nice?” Merlin said in a questioning tone. “I'm not sure I can 'play' nice.”
Arthur hooked his hand around Merlin's nape and pulled him closer. “Just do as I do.”
Merlin batted his eye-lashes. “But you're not nice.”
“Idiot.”
They both drove back home because they needed to shower and change. Arthur smelled like petrol and Merlin looked the worse for wear and needed some grooming. They agreed on meeting at the hotel that housed the ritzy restaurant a few minutes prior their scheduled meeting with their prospective sponsor.
When later that night Arthur saw Merlin in the hotel lobby he had to do double take, almost not recognising Merlin in his formal suit. Merlin never wore suits. He was perpetually wearing jeans and T-shirts. But tonight he'd gone for a perfectly pressed grey ensemble that made him look really good.
Tall and slim, broad-shouldered. The works. And the good thing about it was that Merlin was unconscious of just how appealing he was. Most people who could clean up that nice would be self conscious about it. Would know and act accordingly. There was an innocence to Merlin that was refreshing and made him look even more stunning instead. The thought slammed into Arthur like a sledge hammer, feasting on his higher brain functions.
His brain cells were so fried that he didn't realise Merlin was making his way towards him until he greeted Arthur. “Hi,” he said, “you made it. I have to suppose my new sat nav worked then.”
Arthur's gaze made a pass from the top of Merlin's head down to his shiny leather loafers. “Hello, Merlin, and, yes, thank you, I made it here just fine and without any external sat nav support.”
“And here I thought I'd saved the day,” said Merlin, cocking his head at the dining hall. “Shall we?”
Arthur made a sign to indicate that Merlin should go first. Arthur wasn't about to pass on the opportunity of checking Merlin out a bit and this seemed to be like a prime one. Merlin's arse looked nice in tailored trousers.
His ogling couldn't last indefinitely though, and he entered the restaurant. Corrigan's was your typical high end hotel dining place, its low lit dining room decorated with hunting and fishing motifs.
They found their sponsor already sitting at a table, reading the menu. He was dressed more casually than either Merlin or Arthur and was wearing his hair long and a little wild. His scruffy beard looked a little unkempt. Despite that Arthur would still call the man somewhat handsome.
When he saw them, the man rose and said, “Arthur Pendragon, the man whose face will sell more energy drinks than ever before and...” He gave Merlin a once over that was pretty piercing. “His companion. You two make a lovely couple, you know.”
Merlin flailed his hands about sheepishly. “No actually... We're not. A couple. I mean...” Merlin had nearly run out of breath. "I'm Excalibur's new CD.”
Their sponsor leered. “Oh, well, I was told I'd get to meet the new CD but I wouldn't have guessed he'd be so young and handsome.” Their sponsor kept his gaze steadily locked on Merlin. “Well, good for me. I'm Gwaine Jones, head of contracts at Energy Buzz.” He shook Merlin's hand and forgot to do the same by Arthur.
“I thought this was supposed to be a business meeting,” Arthur said, pointing out what he thought to be the obvious: Jones was making eyes at Merlin and that was so unprofessional Arthur couldn't even wrap his mind around it. It was obnoxious and low and disrespectful to Merlin, who was here in a business capacity.
Seeing the look of thunder on Arthur's face steered the conversation back to the dinner. “Well, let's order and discuss our idea then.”
They had their own private butler, who helped them place their orders, and were served wine by an expert waiter who was aware of every wine distilled on the planet. Over their food Gwaine started talking shop, bloody finally. They discussed the contract, what would be required of Arthur, and the impact that Arthur winning would have on Energy Buzz sales.
“He's poised to,” said Merlin, talking about Arthur's chances. Arthur wasn't sure if he believed what he was saying or was simply toeing the company line. Arthur really hoped it was the former. “Arthur's been the best so far.”
Gwaine smirked at Arthur. “If he can secure the WDC title then Energy Buzz would be doubly overjoyed.”
“He can,” said Merlin confidently. “He will.”
Gwaine weighed Arthur with his eyes. “Hey, closing this contract would be in my best interests too, especially if Pendragon here dragged Valiant, who's about to close a multi-million deal with a rival of ours, in the dirt.”
Arthur felt very much like this conversation was taking place over his head. He scowled.
“He will win.” Merlin winked at Arthur, then noticing Arthur was put out, he added, “Won't you?”
Arthur placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder. “I'll rip Valiant to shreds.”
“Well, I'd only be glad if his contract fell through,” said Gwaine. “His prospective sponsor would have to find a new suitable candidate and that would take time. That means less publicity for them. My boss would be very happy.”
“We should always try to be happy, shouldn't we?” Merlin joked.
Gwaine said, “Mind being happy with me?”
And Arthur couldn't stop himself from dragging his chair closer to Merlin's and saying, “God, that's one hell of a one track mind!”
Gwaine, who had gone for a sip of his Chablis, spluttered. Errant stains covered his tie. He laughed when he noticed, put his glass down and said, “Heading for the toilets to fix this. You two sort yourselves and your relationship out. If you'll excuse me.” Before going though he gave Arthur a stare Arthur was sure meant something and Merlin a wink.
Merlin's head snapped to Arthur. “What the fuck are you doing? The man's going to broker our deal with Fizzy Buzz.”
“Energy Buzz,” Arthur corrected. He liked to be precise.
“Whatever,” Merlin said, “we're here to close a contract and you're antagonising the man!”
Arthur scratched at a little stain lying at the bottom of his tie. “He was flirting with you. That's out of line.”
“Oh come on, Arthur,” Merlin said. “It's innocuous. He doesn't really mean it in an Indecent Proposal kind of way. People flirt with people.”
“You never flirt with me,” Arthur said. That stain seemed to be gone now that Arthur had picked at it with his nail.
“That's because we work together and you have enough of that from your adoring fans and why would you even want me to?” Merlin's voice was climbing. “To flatter your ego a bit more?”
Arthur waved his hand in the general direction of the loo. “You were flattering his.”
“That actually doesn't deserve a response, Arthur,” Merlin said, shaking his head though he was wearing a patient smile.
Arthur was about to retort (though he had no argument that made sense) when Gwaine came back and nipped any retort in the bud.
“So, where were we?” he said, taking to his chair again. “Signing you and Excalibur on, I believe.”
After dessert Arthur signed on the dotted line. Though he'd accomplished what he'd come for, the thought somehow didn't make him too happy.
*****
While Arthur didn't like testing new parts on the simulator, Merlin loved it. It was about the pure science of the thing, the whole effort depending on raw data and numbers. Yes, some scenarios were less easy to make allowance for, but in this day and age technology could supply an almost infinite number of variables. Any that could present itself on a real track could be programmed into the simulator.
With the new introduction of the blown diffuser to test, they'd been at it for hours. But that was worth it because now they had something to defend: after four strong races they had the championship lead to protect.
In that light the back to back tests were worth it. Even Arthur saw that and though normally the reserve driver would have conducted the tests, Arthur was the one to insist on carrying this batch out.
Merlin chose to tune the car into what the circuit was like at the factory, got data from the circuit and tried to get a car that was suited to it. That took time. This meant that they'd been at the factory ever since morning. Now it was nearly midnight and most of the mechanics had gone home as had Mr Taliesin.
Merlin and Arthur were almost the last ones left standing. Elyan was upstairs working at some alterations. Elena had fallen asleep on a bench and was snoring softy and the few remaining team members had made themselves scarce. Merlin didn't know where they were. Probably checking computer monitors.
Arthur himself was rubbing at his eyes.
“You're getting a lot of down-force when you're on the throttle with a blown floor,” Merlin said, almost to himself. “This new floor should give you better performance in the next race but we should keep in mind that there'd be differences in corner entries and exits on the real track.”
Arthur yawned.
“Excuse me,” Merlin said, “am I boring you?”
Arthur let go of the controls. “A little.”
Merlin huffed and looked away. “I thought you wanted to win, too.”
“Oh, come on,” said Arthur, “this is boring. This is not how you get a feel for the car.”
“And how do you propose to do it then?”
Arthur jumped out of the simulator. “On a proper F1 car.”
“We do that already,” said Merlin. “We take your feedback and...”
Arthur put both hands on Merlin's shoulders and shook his head, eyes dancing. “No, that's not what I meant.”
Merlin wasn't sure he was getting it. “Then what do you mean? Because that's standard practice.”
Arthur pushed him towards the garage, where one of the EX-26 was. “You'll only get a proper understanding if you drive it.”
“That's why-”
The garage was deserted; only the car set there. Arthur was guiding him by the hips now, his fingers digging into his skin. His voice sounded low in Merlin's ear as he said. “Feel the adrenalin, Merlin. Feel the car.”
It dawned on Merlin that Arthur meant he should drive the monocoque. “I'm not a pro driver,” Merlin said. He wanted to come up with a list of reasons why Arthur's suggestion wasn't wise at all but truth be told he was more preoccupied with the way Arthur was leaning into him - almost draped along his back - and touching him, than with Arthur's proposition. Arthur's touch felt good. It was sending Merlin's heartbeat spiking. A hollow drum of expectation beat a tattoo in his stomach. What the hell?
“I'll be on the radio.”
“If I crash the car Mr Taliesin will kill me,” Merlin pointed out, clinging to any shred of logic he had left in spite of Arthur's disorientating touch. “Though in that case I might have killed myself in the first place, so...”
“We have spare chassis,” Arthur said, guiding him on and towards the car. “And you know how the car works.”
“Theoretically, still not--”
Arthur turned him around. “Live a little, Merlin, feel it,” he said and before Merlin could tell him it wasn't so easy at all, Arthur leant in, sucked in a deep breath and touched his lips to Merlin's. They were hot.
For a second it was all that registered. Then they closed around his, sucking and licking wetly, and though there was no hint of tongue, Merlin's knees trembled. That registered way more.
Without letting go of his hips, Arthur sucked on his mouth until Merlin started thinking that any ideas Arthur might ever have were good ones. They most definitely were, if they got him more of this. Because, damn, but Arthur was a sensational kisser. One that made Merlin go soft on the inside.
Merlin kissed back for a whole handful of seconds, returning the pressure and closing his eyes to enjoy the sensations. It was a bit like floating softly on a cloud though his blood was racing in his ears.
Merlin didn't have time to do more than tentatively clutch at Arthur's shoulder before Arthur was leaning away, wearing a satisfied grin that made Merlin - nearly - wish he hadn't kissed back. Arthur needed to dial down his own sense of how personally brilliant he was. But then again Merlin did think him special and though he didn't want to feed his star racer ego he did want to explore the kissing option again in the near future.
“So, how about you change?”
Merlin looked around. There were no witnesses. “If we get caught you'll be the one to plead guilty.”
Arthur put a hand on his heart. “Swear.”
Merlin sniggered all the way to the changing rooms. He borrowed one of the coverall fireproof suits drivers used and though the team had many Arthur gave him his own helmet for some mysterious reason. Before Merlin could wear it, Arthur came up to him, smiling in his face, all bouncy. He cupped Merlin's face but didn't go for a kiss. He just grinned to himself and lowered the helmet over Merlin's head himself.
He was also the one that got the car started, inserting the wand in the gearbox and pushing the starter motor button. Normally an entire team would have overseen this but tonight it was just the two of them pulling a stunt worthy of little kids. (Thankfully the rest of the staff was nowhere to be found and couldn't hear the engine being turned over.) That also meant they had no one to check engine speed and oil pressure, but that was no biggie since Merlin wasn't really competing. Without doing those checks Arthur turned the ignition on.
Engine fired, Merlin went for a clutch bite point check and then started. Before he knew what was happening he was on the track. Oh God, the powers that be would kill him for this.
“Do burn outs,” Arthur told him over the radio. Merlin was now on the factory track and giving his utmost attention to not crashing the car, but there Arthur was, telling him to warm the tyres when there was no need because he didn't need them to be. “I'm not racing, Arthur,” Merlin reminded him.”I don't need to perform.”
“Believe me, you will need to,” said Arthur in a low burr that wasn't at all typical of his intonation.
“Come off it,” Merlin said, half laughing, half trying to absorb the shock of being behind the wheel of this powerful car. For now he was going relatively slowly but the effects of driving the EX-26 weren't lost on him.
It was thrilling and a bit scary. He felt both on top of the world and really, really powerless to control this thing, this thing he himself had made.
To begin with Merlin could see nothing at all at the front of the car and had to imagine where the front wing was. Merlin knew the design by heart, so he could place any mechanical part and point to it on a design chart, but being in the cockpit was completely different.
He was going fast and could see so little! Tunnel vision was taking over and at this speed it was something else.
Merlin barrelled over a bridge and down a straight. “Arthuuuur,” he said, pushing the radio button. He didn't mean anything by it and he wasn't sure he even wanted any answer back. He was just living the moment. And he needed to shout, a little.
“You're about to go into a corner,” Arthur told him. “Do all your breaking and shifting now before you're into it.”
Merlin obeyed because Arthur would know. Entering the curve was a new experience and like nothing Merlin had ever been through before. The cockpit was already tight enough and the G force levels were having a field day with him. But taking that curve was something else and even worse. His head felt like it was being blown off his neck and he was being pushed against the seat. It was one thing to know about and provide for G-forces theoretically, quite another to feel them on yourself.
“The steering wheel is your friend, Merlin,” Arthur teased.
“Hey,” Merlin told him, “it's enough that I'm driiiiiving this monster.”
“Merlin,” Arthur said, a lilt like an attempt to conceal the laughter in his tone. “Are you having fun?”
Merlin was. The speed level alone was exciting even though he wasn't pushing it. Blood roared in his ears and his body was being tested to the max. He shook so hard when the car careened up and down a bump that his vision went blurry for a second and his foot bounced up and down on the accelerator pedal on its own. But that too was its own kind of brilliant. Shocking, but great.
“Trust the car's traction,” Arthur said to him, his voice warm as if he was having fun with this too. Maybe he just liked going into teacher mode. “You've built a good car.”
Merlin did and the following two laps were heaps of fun. He was going fast enough to sense the adrenalin coursing through him but not fast enough to put himself in danger. The thrill of driving his own creation was all there: heart hammering in his chest, sweaty palms within his gloves, goose flesh all over him.
He still made mistakes like when he hit the gas a little too hard on an exit and the back end of the car stepped out faster than he'd thought it would, causing the car to spin sideways, but that didn't stop the enjoyment. Although he shouted, “Arthur”
“Give lock, Merlin, give lock.”
Merlin blindly obeyed, feathering his foot on the accelerator. Before he could count to three the car was straight again and still on the track. Merlin whooped. After the release of energy, he felt on a high. Now he could understand a couple more things about Arthur.
Driving The EX26 was just incomparable. Merlin feared his electric car would never feel quite the same after this. This was motoring heaven. Merlin could go round and round on the EX forever.
Well, he couldn't keep doing it indefinitely. Fuel levels were going down and he was close to wearing down the tyres. Something he couldn't explain without getting the telling off of the century. This had to be it. With a sigh he hoped Arthur hadn't heard, Merlin drove back to the garage and shut the car down.
Arthur was there to extract him from it, which wasn't as easy as it seemed if you weren't used to the confined space. With Merlin sitting astride its side, Arthur took off Merlin's helmet, his face in his hands and kissed Merlin.
At first he bit down on Merlin’s lower lip but when Merlin gasped he found himself tasting Arthur’s tongue. It was spit-wet and hot and passionate. They were playing tongue tag and gasping in each other's mouths until they had no breath to breathe.
Withdrawing, Merlin brushed his lips and tongue against Arthur's in one final pass. “That was,” he said, “pretty brilliant.”
“The car or the kiss?” Arthur asked. There was a mischievous light in his eyes that told Merlin he wasn't even the littlest bit serious.
“The product of my own genius,” Merlin deadpanned and Arthur laughed.
Arthur gripped Merlin's chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Mine or yours?”
“Mine,” said Merlin, wanting to have Arthur in his world but okay with pretty much anything as long as he got to undress Arthur and have sex with him.
Before that could happen though they had to put everything back in place and change into their day clothes. That didn't mean that they wouldn't touch when the opportunity presented itself but they have to stave most of that off.
Until at least they got to Merlin's.
Once they were there things changed. Merlin knew that things were more charged now.
Arthur was looking at him with a hunger in his eyes that Merlin didn't know he could feel and, as for Merlin, his pulse was drumming hard in his throat, so much so he couldn't swallow around it.
They came together quickly and in a clash of limbs. Merlin had Arthur slammed against the door. They were breathing hard, not kissing yet, but looking into each other's widened eyes.
Arthur's trousers were tented and Merlin felt a stir that meant his would be soon too. Even though Arthur was the one with his back to the door it was him that pulled Merlin forward to his mouth. With a hand cupped around Merlin's nape he just reeled him in.
Merlin couldn't complain. He went for the kiss; touched the tip of his tongue to Arthur's lips. Arthur's mouth opened. He tilted his head so Merlin could delve deeper, which Merlin did, catching a taste of Arthur as their tongues met.
Arthur groaned against his mouth and pulled Merlin flush against himself. He cupped his bottom and then started mouthing at Merlin's face, his own pressed against Merlin's throat.
Arthur was giving hard biting kisses that were sure to leave bruises. Nipping at the skin, licking, sending Merlin's heartbeat spiking he was so conscious of it.
Arthur's hands weren't steady as he lifted Merlin's shirt up to touch his skin. They trembled all the way down to the small of Merlin's back, where they rested, pulling Merlin towards Arthur's body even though there was no space left between them.
Merlin moaned and said, “Eager.”
“You are baffling,” Arthur said. “And crazy and stupid and I want you.”
Merlin smiled against Arthur's mouth. “I don't see the problem.”
There was some more wet and frantic kissing but by then Merlin was so hard he didn't think he could take staying clothed much longer.
Knowing that neither of them would put an end to the touching but that that would stop them from getting undressed, Merlin stepped backwards. “Clothes,” he said. “Clothes have got to go.”
Arthur nodded, his breath coming heavy. He fumbled with his belt while Merlin pulled off his jumper. He stripped while watching Arthur do the same. They walked back one towards the other when all their clothes were lying in a pile on the floor.
Completely bare, their bodies met again. Arthur kissed his throat, teasing him with his tongue and teeth. Artfully, he raised a tiny welt that made Merlin gasp. “Where's your bedroom?” he asked.
Merlin pointed backwards. “That...” Merlin had to gulp before he could complete the sentence because Arthur wasn't really refraining from touching him. “That way.”
They waltzed backwards and sideways, hands on each other, Merlin's by Arthur's flanks, Arthur's on his chest until they passed the bedroom door and Arthur could shove him down on the bed.
There was a moment in between when Merlin felt the lack of contact keenly, but then Arthur crawled up the bed and slid up between Merlin's spread knees, pushing a hand through Merlin's hair to bare his throat.
He latched on with parted lips, moving on to trace a clavicle and then downwards to take Merlin's nipple in his mouth, under his tongue, rolling it across the tip and making it pebble until the skin was wrinkling around it and Merlin writhing.
Then Arthur lowered his body, their thighs brushing one against the other, their bellies close together, dampened with sweat. Arthur's pre-come glistened on Merlin's skin; when he moved their cocks grazed. It felt so good Merlin had to bite his lip bloody so as not to shout and give Arthur's eventual teasing more ammunition.
But Arthur wasn't smirking; he wasn't even talking much. He looked dazed and serious, his eyes big, his gaze intent as if he was concentrating.
Pushing a raw groan out of him. Arthur shifted. Merlin arched up into him, trying to angle his body so that their cocks would touch again, but when Arthur's mouth sealed over his, Merlin became unable to do anything other than buck up and search for more of that touch.
“I've wanted you for quite a long while, you know,” said Arthur.
“You didn't say,” Merlin gasped, their bodies, slotting together and creating friction.
“I didn't know what it was,” Arthur said, levering himself up just to fall back down again.
Merlin's hands grasped at Arthur’s back, clawing, opening, closing again. He wanted to chase Arthur's body, wrap himself around it. He wanted to feel Arthur, his weight, his breath, his taste. He knew what he wanted with more clarity than before. Arthur wasn't just hot: he was lovely and the way he was looking at Merlin, soft, addled, attentive was moving. The degree of attention he was giving Merlin wasn't unlike the one he sported on the job when his life was on the line. The way he was looking at Merlin was smiliar to the way he focused on the job. Merlin felt a bit like a car, but in the good way, because he knew Arthur had a passion for them and would get all lovingly distracted when he was introduced to a feat of engineering. Feeling like he was Arthur's passion wasn't bad at all. “Do you have condoms?” he panted.
Arthur's body stuttered to a halt, his body damp with sweat, his eyes large as were the pupils within. “Yeah,” he said. “You want to...”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, then,” Arthur said, propping himself up on his elbow. “I'm going to... get one. Got one in my wallet. Because--”
Merlin laughed. He'd never heard Arthur mess up his delivery so much. “Go and get it. I'll get the lube.”
By the time Merlin had got it from his bathroom cabinet, Arthur had come back with the condom. Finding their places back on the bed was a bit awkward at first but after they’d sorted themselves (and limbs) out they had a laugh about it and fell into their groove.
Arthur opened him up with his fingers, then greased him up with the lube. He made of it something exciting, a slow torment, instead of something perfunctory. Merlin felt new sweat break upon his body. The surges of pleasure made him stiffen and sob and make noise. There were live-wire flares of it that made his body jerk, his heart fill, and his cock leak on his belly. Made him spasm and thresh and shiver.
“Look at you,” Arthur said.
Merlin wanted to scream. He hoped Arthur wasn't teasing him, because Merlin was on the edge. Arthur did say it in a wondering way and he had an earnest look about him. But Merlin wasn't in a state to parse looks, so he said, “I'd like it if you did a little bit more than look at me.”
“Bossy,” Arthur said, but he complied.
They slotted back together, Arthur sliding on top of him. With Merlin so ready from minutes of prep, he pushed in in one slick move.
They didn't pick up a rhythm at first; pussyfooting around the new sensations until Arthur gave into the stimulus of movement, inching in and drawing back only to fill Merlin up again.
Fire skittered down Merlin's flesh, like tiny tongues licking at his fingertips, growing deep inside him. His pleasure pulsed thicker as Arthur pressed close into him.
Merlin was tasting Arthur's breath as well as a return of his own caught on the edge of Arthur's breathing pattern. Their mouths were so close, a hair's breadth apart, a kiss was about to bloom there. It didn't quite. Merlin sank his teeth into Arthur's lower lip because Arthur had pushed in, and Merlin needed to grasp something, gasp, return just a bit of the energy that Arthur was giving him.
He had to do, give, act. Arthur was the same.
Their hands were everywhere all at once, holding, rubbing, caressing. Merlin lifted up, Arthur bore down, trapping Merlin's cock between their bodies, grinding down. He was trembling, mumbling words that made little sense, tipping forwards. “Come on, Merlin, come on.”
Merlin didn't think he needed any more exhortations. The air between them was thick and Arthur was moving just right, hitting all the most perfect spots. On one last pass he angled his hips so that Merlin just blacked out, coming almost an afterthought to the pleasure.
Arthur nuzzled his face, kissed him, told him he was, “Beautiful, and shit, Merlin,” all the while shoving into him. His thrusts were now short, hard, fast. The nonsense spilling out of his mouth incomprehensible. But he looked good, lovely, and Merlin could understand the intent behind the words if not the words. It was all about how good it was and the surprise of it. A surprise so staggering Arthur was startled by his orgasm, grabbing onto Merlin's flank, freezing, body locked, until Merlin could feel him on the inside, pulsing and spilling, condom notwithstanding.
“Fuck,” said Arthur, toppling down, his weight pinning Merlin to the mattress.
“How poetic,” Merlin said, a gasp and a hiss following as Arthur slipped out.
“I am,” said Arthur, flopped onto his belly, reaching out so he could touch Merlin's face. “You just haven't learnt to appreciate me.”
Merlin's muscles twitched a little at Arthur's tactile reading of his face. “Should I?” he asked.
“Should you what?” The pads of Arthur's fingers were light on Merlin's upper lip.
“Take my time with you?”
“Yes,” Arthur said, eyes glinting in the semi-darkness. “Yes, you should. You should give me a chance.”
“I think I will.”
*****
Part III
Leafield, Oxford, (UK): Over the last two Grand Prix, Excalibur has unveiled the car that it hopes will end a three-year run of bad luck for the motoring team.
The new car features a brand new body, new barge board and tail if compared to last year's EX-26. After an amazing start that has seen Excalibur on the podium three times, it will be this single-seater's turn to compete for the rest of this year's F1 championship.
"This is a new beginning for us, a new beginning that will cement effort towards one goal: to add to our wonderful history," Excalibur team principal Matthew Taliesin said Thursday, otherwise singing the praise of new team designer Merlin Emrys, who replaces Marcus Bedivere at the helm of the Design team.
Excalibur last won the constructors' title in 2009 with Tristan Cornwall and Amir Zohar behind the wheel while Michel Balan won the team's last drivers' title in 2008.
Over its long history Excalibur has accumulated a record 17 constructors titles but those have rarefied in the past few years due to an overly prudent innovation policy.
This time around things have been shaken up. The appearance of Emrys, fresh from a Southampton MSc, has seen to that.
With Pendragon vying for the driver's championship - after losing it to Valiant of Western last year -- the team seems to be set for great things. Although a look at Pendragon's record will tell you that since he left his father's team he's never taken home the drivers' tittle, Excalibur and its head driver seem to be set for glory this year.
This season continues with the UBS Chinese Grand Prix on 14. April.
Arthur pushed the magazine aside and looked up. With all further testing having concluded, no one was in the office at Leafield apart from Arthur, who was unwinding, and Merlin who was still blinking at his laptop downstairs.
Arthur could see him from where he was, sitting at a table on the mezzanine floor, while Merlin had the lower ground one to himself.
Even though the team had placed on the podium for the last three races, (with a first, third and second place), Merlin still spent most of his nights glued to a screen or flitting around the car, asking one of the newest mechanics, Elena, whom Merlin had requested specifically, to test this or that component. She was perennially showing him the graphics relating to their performance.
Elena was the one who usually stayed late with him for just that purpose but tonight she wasn't and Merlin was sitting alone, squinting at screens, reams of papers featuring complex diagrams spread out on his table.
Arthur had always felt that Merlin's duty was to work hard. It was just right that he should and something that Arthur ought to encourage on behalf of the team. But now Merlin was clearly overworking himself. His eyes were so bloodshot they looked zombie-like even from the floor above and his entire body was folding in on itself and slumping forwards.
Was Merlin still afraid he'd be given the sack? With their three podiums that seemed unlikely now. Unless he fucked up mid-season. But the same could be said of Arthur. He could fuck up mid season too and nobody'd blame him if he did. The papers would write about how he'd lost his touch since he'd left his father's team, how he was getting older, but Mr Taliesin wouldn't lay him off. Not until Arthur retired on his own.
The same should be expected of Merlin at this point.
Arthur stretched and got up, slowly descending the stairs and walking over to the table Merlin had claimed. Arthur placed both hands on it and leant against it. “Are you banking on haunting this place?”
Merlin looked up, mouth dropping open as he took in Arthur. “What?”
“You've been here how long?” Arthur asked, looking at the clock hanging back in the hall behind Merlin. “Twelve hours? I thought you were about to die here - thirst and hunger likely causes - and haunt the premises.”
“Ha, ha,” said Merlin, looking back at his screen. “Very funny.”
“No, seriously, how long have you been here?”
Merlin squinted at his laptop's sidebar clock. “Er, twelve hours.”
Arthur shook his head, huffing a laugh. “And here I thought I was exaggerating.”
Merlin bit his lip. “And what's it to you?”
“Oh come on,” said Arthur, “don't be like that.” Arthur knew he'd been less than cordial to Merlin on occasion. And that he'd started out not trusting him with the car or his life. But Merlin hadn't done too bad a job with the 26 and Arthur had only been gently teasing him lately. “I meant to be a good boy and drive you home.”
“Won't be necessary,” said Merlin, tapping at his screen. “I was counting on working a couple of hours more.”
“What! You'd only be done by... midnight!” Arthur grabbed Merlin's laptop and shut the lid.
Merlin stood up and leant over, a tableful between them, to make a grab for the object. “That's my data you're tampering with.”
“The laptop's only on stand-by. Your data's safe,” said Arthur, hugging Merlin's rather costly laptop to himself. “You can save it later. What you're endangering now is your health. Look, your eyes are red. Like really blood injected. You look like a Dracula film outcast. Go home.”
“Dracula hasn't got red eyes.”
“Whatever,” said Arthur, “point still stands. I doubt you're in a state to crunch numbers.”
“I can crunch numbers in my sleep.”
“Oh, so that's what you were doing just now then.”
The line of his shoulders curving, Merlin burst out laughing, his eyes becoming smaller and getting surrounded by little crow feet. “Okay, all right. Maybe you're right. I should go home.”
Arthur put down the laptop and fished for his car keys and jingled them before Merlin's nose. “Come on. You really want to ride in my car.”
Merlin chuckled. “What, you have one of those cars that are actually F1 cars passed off as street cars?”
“Wait and see, Merlin. Wait and see.”
Merlin's face when Arthur's Beetle was revealed was something Arthur would have loved to take a snapshot of and show everyone. Merlin's mouth fell open and his eyes lightened up and got bigger. They were so round Arthur wanted to laugh.
He placed a hand on the roof of his car, letting the metal chill his palm. “Come on, climb in.”
Merlin shook his head but did follow him inside, placing his laptop case at his feet on the mat.
“So, where do you live?” Arthur asked, key in the ignition.
Merlin gave him an address Arthur's sat nav confirmed as being located in the outskirts of Oxford. It was going to be a good hour's drive. At first Merlin tried to talk. Since they weren't friends and weren't close, his conversation stuck to small talk, but as the clock ticked on it slowly wound down. When after a couple of minutes of silence Arthur turned his head to look at him he found that Merlin had fallen asleep.
Arthur let him snore on until he had to pull up. Merlin startled, the heel of his hand going to his forehead. “Wha, what?”
“Thanks for the inspiring conversation,” Arthur said. “My ears are hurting.”
“Idiot,” Merlin said, “You were driving so slow.”
“What are you on about?” Arthur said, rolling his eyes. “You expect me to drive as if I was on a circuit?”
Merlin dimpled and tapped his mouth. “Lemme think... Mmmm, no. I'd rather live. But it was lulling.”
“Lulling?” Arthur repeated, snorting. “That's the worst insult you could hurl a racer.”
“Hardly.”
“So my driving bores you?”
Merlin leant his head back against the headrest, doing a little shake and fixing his eyes on the roof. “Maybe it's your personality you have thank for my snooze attacks.”
“There's nothing wrong with my personality!” Arthur said in a high pitch that wasn't really angry. He'd have listed the reasons why there wasn't anything amiss with it - he thought he was quite a nice person - if Merlin hadn't interrupted him by saying, “You realise this is not my street, do you?”
Arthur tapped his sat nav screen. “This says it is.”
“And the man who's supposed to live there says it isn't,” Merlin said.
“It's- it's--” Arthur pushed buttons and checked the data he'd entered. “Impossible.”
Merlin burst out laughing. “I'll have to build you a new sat nav. One that works.”
“You can do that?”
Merlin waved his hands at his face. “Hello, you drive the thingy I designed, so I guess, yeah?”
It was Arthur's turn to laugh.
“Okay, all right, care to direct me the old-fashioned way?”
They were still laughing under their breath by the time they got to Merlin's.
*****
Over the following four weeks Excalibur ran two more races and accumulated more points. In Spain Arthur finished second. Monaco granted him the first step on the podium. Even though he had to be in the second pole for the head start, right behind De Ganis and Valiant, in the first pole, Arthur managed to get to the front right from the start. He controlled the whole 50 laps of the championship. His rivals couldn't catch up with him.
Merlin watched the whole race unfold from the boxes; headphones covering his ears, eyes glued to the monitors hanging above his head.
Merlin had never been a formula 1 junkie. Not even a formula 1 aficionado. He loved engines. He loved the way they worked. He loved disassembling them, devising ways to make them work to the best of their potential. But he'd never been into sports, unless you counted watching the Vuelta and the Tour the France and going for a bit of a bike ride around the country as being into sports.
He'd never tuned in at unholy hours just to see who'd won an F1 race. He'd never had posters of his sports heroes pinned to his wall. He'd never had enough passion for that. Sure, his studies had brought him here, but it wasn't for the races themselves.
Formula 1 was simply top of the line when it came to engineering. The money put into it allowed for research, innovation, experimentation. The feats that were possible in the F1 world were merely a dream in other civil engineering fields. And that was why Merlin was here. His true heroes were the designers and mechanics who constructed the prototypes and allowed them to work.
But lately things had changed. He'd started feeling adrenalin surge through him whenever he watched Arthur - and Lancelot, too - compete. He bit his nails. Supported his team and waved flags around.
Today he was jumping up and down, hugging Elena and lifting her up in triumph, as he watched Arthur take the trophy and get the paddock girls' kisses. He laughed when Valiant, relegated to third place today, cursed and elbowed Arthur, his pout caught on camera forever.
“He's a sore loser,” said Elyan, clapping abundantly. “Someone should tell him he looks ridiculous.”
Merlin put Elena down but she wouldn't let go, mussing up his hair. “I just think he's so funny. Looks like a toddler who lost his toy.”
“It's all the team that's like that,” said Elena, slinging an arm across Merlin's shoulders. “One of their mechanics snubbed me!”
“Well, they're idiots,” Merlin said. “They won last year. Why can't they take us winning this year?”
“Do I detect some budding team spirit?” joked Elyan while Elena said, “Shut up. He's always been a supporter.”
Merlin shrugged and said. “Valiant is a dick, is all.”
Merlin was confirmed in his opinion when later that afternoon he took in one of Valiant's post race interviews a Monaco TV station was airing.
Merlin was having a drink at the hotel terrace bar and, when he heard Valiant's words, he almost spit out half his beer.
“Last year was the best year of my career,” Valiant was saying, chest puffed out as he spat words into his microphone. “I was very happy with my performance, but I think this year will be better.”
“How do you feel about today's race and Excalibur's win?” a journalist asked, out of shot.
Valiant laughed, spittle flying. “Pendragon was good for a second place driver.”
Merlin shook his head at the TV. “The wanker.”
The person sitting next to him at the bar said, “No, he's not. He's giving attitude but he's right.”
Merlin turned around, a muscle along his jaw ticking. “Pardon?”
“I mean,” the man said, pushing his drink aside and gesticulating, “that Pendragon fella hasn't won a World Championship in years. He's done.”
“And yet he's the one who's won today,” Merlin said, pointing at the race footage that was being shown. “I'd say he isn't a second place driver.”
“Nah,” the bar patron said, waving a hand in denial. “He's got a faster car because there's some sort of genius on the team now. That's why he won. But without mechanics Valiant's the better racer.”
Merlin swivelled on his stool and gave a big breath. “Arthur Pendragon is the best.”
The bar patron scoffed. “Please that's layman fantalk.”
Merlin's lips tilted upwards. “Layman?”
“Yeah,” said the bar patron. “It's like when you support a loser football team because it's the one from your home town but you know, it's not an opinion based on facts.”
“Well, I do know a thing or two about the Excalibur car,” Merlin found himself blabbing out. His job wasn't a secret but he hadn't meant to say that out loud.
“Me too.” The bar patron gave a look at the TV. On screen a reporter was giving stats about both the EX 26 and the Western 306 model. “Maybe you read some info on a motoring magazine or maybe you fancy Pendragon, but I'm telling you, he isn't that great of a pilot. Not to the levels of King Fisher, for example.”
Merlin said, “I have reason to think he's quite good because I designed the EX and know that without him, the car alone wouldn't be getting the team all those poles and trophies. He's a champion.”
The man in front of Merlin spluttered, saying, “You, you work for-- You're--”
A hand landed on Merlin's shoulder. “I didn't know you thought that well of me, Merlin.”
Merlin turned around. Sure enough, Arthur was there. He was wearing capris and a tee, eyes shielded by sunglasses, even though it was only April and the sun wasn't shining. “I-- I was just--”
Merlin was spared from embarrassing himself. The bar patron goggled at Arthur and said, “Did you overhear? I'm so sorry I didn't mean to say you weren't an ace driver just that contextually speaking--”
Arthur spread his hands out to stop him. “No, no. I got it. I'm sure that based on your experience you're right.“ He clucked his tongue. “Come on, Merlin, let's go for a swim. That pool is waiting for no one.”
They ambled back over to the terrace overlooking the pool, where Merlin stopped in his tracks. “Thank you for extricating me. That guy was appalling. Thought he knew everything. I think I'll go back to my room now.”
Merlin was thinking of how to avoid the annoying bar patron, planning a circuitous route around the lifts well, when Arthur said, “Oh come on, Merlin. I wasn't just playing good Samaritan. I meant to have a swim. I thought you'd be happy to tag along.” Arthur scanned the pool area and Merlin couldn't tell what he was thinking or feeling.
“It's April,” Merlin said, because it was and he couldn't think of anything better to say. “Sun still hiding somewhere behind those big clouds.”
Arthur chuckled. “Come on, Merlin, live a little. Go change and come down.”
“You want me to wear trunks when it's 12° degrees?” Merlin could feel the wind hitting his skin; he didn't want to know how it would feel if he shed his jeans and jumper.
“Yeah, Merlin, I do. Go to your room and change.”
Merlin frowned. “I'm sorry but I don't even have swimming trunks. I thought this was a job; I didn't exactly pack holiday stuff.”
“Come with me up to mine,” Arthur said, giving him a once over that ended with a bit of a smirk. “You can borrow one from me. I think we can find a pair that'll fit you.”
Merlin afforded Arthur's hips a look, was promptly attacked by less than chaste thoughts (Arthur was hot, after all) and said, “You actually own a pair of trunks that would fit me and not fall off my hips, leaving me naked for all of Monte Carlo to see?”
“Yes, I do,” Arthur said, pushing his sunglasses down his nose with the tip of his finger. “Though that wouldn't be too bad in my books, but since I'm a gentleman I'll spare your sensibilities...”
“Hardly.”
Arthur pushed Merlin back towards the lobby and to the lift. “I get it, Merlin, you're a bashful flower.”
Merlin snorted. “Please, that's not true.”
Arthur basically shoved Merlin into the lift and said, “True enough.”
Arthur's room was larger, looked like a Versailles salon, and had a better view than Merlin's, but that made sense because Arthur was their pole racer, their star. Merlin had no complaint since he was treated pretty well himself. He'd never been better off in his life. Nevertheless he didn't hide a snigger or - two - at the preferential treatment Arthur was getting.
“What?” said Arthur, already rooting into his wardrobe. “What are you making that face for?”
“Nothing,” said Merlin, grabbing the pair of trunks Arthur had tossed him. “Just noticing the VIP treatment.”
Arthur folded his arms and laughed through his nose.
Merlin stared at him till Arthur tipped his eyebrow at him.
“What?”
“Aren't you changing?”
“You're blocking the way to the bathroom,” Merlin pointed out with a head tilt aimed at the door of said room.
Arthur's eyebrow stayed put.
Oh, it was like that then. Without hesitation (more or less) Merlin yanked his jumper up and off, and kicked off his trainers and jeans. The socks went with them. Thought catching up with him, his hands lingered at his waist for a moment or two, but then he realised that not doing it would be the equivalent of admitting Arthur was right in deeming Merlin a blushing flower. He pushed down his underwear.
He stepped out of his boxers slowly and leisurely, just to make a point. Even if he knew that Arthur's eyes were glued to his groin - and that was a thing that just happened when nudity was involved - Merlin took his time pulling up his borrowed trunks. He acted as though he wasn't blushing. Or as if his cock wasn't... tightening. He was very blasé about it even though he felt the heat in his face all right.
He acted as if this was the best idea ever, if only because of Arthur's clear discomfiture: his slightly parted mouth and catching flies expression. This was a win for Merlin. He didn't know what game he was playing and what he'd won, but it felt good.
“Shall we?” he said, cocking an eyebrow at the window overlooking the pool.
Arthur startled but nodded quickly. They were only delayed by Merlin's mobile buzzing with a text from Vivian.
congrats on victory. when next in town and i know u're gonna b cause silverstone, we shld meet up. xo.
Merlin typed a quick answer
deal
“What are you smiling at?” Arthur asked, his voice sounding a little snappish. “Girlfriend's text?”
Merlin hooked his mobile to its charger and left it on Arthur's hotel room desk, before making for the door. “If you're insinuating I'm smiling because I got a sext from a girl you would be wrong on two counts. One because I'm gay and two because I was texting your girlfriend.”
Arthur made a surprised face that was so funny Merlin nearly needed to hold his sides to stop laughing. “Who?”
“Vivian.”
Arthur's voice went into high-pitched whine territory. “I'll have you know that she never was. She dumped me for you.”
“Not really though,” Merlin said, finding Arthur's indignation hilarious. “Since she's not getting any from me.”
“I don't understand.”
“What?” Merlin asked turning around and leaning against the door so Arthur couldn't exit stage left and find salvation in the pool. “It doesn't compute that a girl would give up sex with you in favour of no sex at all, champ?”
“I-- I--” Arthur said. “I thought she was going for something.”
Merlin lowered his head while he kept shaking it. “Not that, Arthur, not that.”
Arthur stammered something about 'not getting it'.
“Don't worry, Arthur,” Merlin said. “Maybe you'll attract some pool side lounger with your VIP status.”
Arthur recovered his flair of sarcasm too quickly. “Yeah, that was most certainly what I was banking on when I invited you out for a swim,” he said. He eyed the door behind Merlin. “Now will you?”
Merlin opened the door with a flourish. Arthur led the way to the pool.
When Merlin tried the pool by submerging his foot, he found that Arthur's idea was really a bad one. “Shit, it's cold. I was right. It's not the season for this. We should have gone swimming when we were in Australia.”
Arthur was standing behind him by the side of the pool. “Really, Merlin,” he said in a crowing tone Merlin didn't trust a little bit. “How obvious.”
“I told you it was too early to go bathing in Europe.” Merlin glanced up at the overcast sky. And that was most of what he saw when Arthur pushed him over the pool's edge so that Merlin ended up arse first in the water, having to kick to break the surface. He cursed Arthur out loud when he did.
Except he didn't see him poolside. Merlin looked around. They were the only bathers in. No one had tried actually taking a plunge in this weather. Merlin glanced downwards and then he saw a flash under water.
A few seconds before someone, someone who could only be Arthur, grabbed him by the hips and pulled down his trunks.
“Arthur,” Merlin shouted. “We're in bloody public!”
Arthur re-emerged, eyes half closed, water cascading down his torso and neck, hair plastered across his forehead. He breathed out through a pursed mouth, forked his hair back, and dangled Merlin's stolen trunks before his nose.
Arthur stepped closer so there was only an inch or so between them. “Then come and get your trunks.” He said that before he dove again, shoulders working, arms straight so he could plough water.
“Wanker,” Merlin called after him, doubting Arthur would hear him with all the water trickling in his ears. There was nothing but one thing to do, go in pursuit.
Merlin dove after him.
****
Silverstone was a particularly flat circuit made up of a number of long straights linked one to the other by fast, open corners. As a circuit, Silverstone had the most complex curves of any racing track Arthur had ever run. It was a mixed bag of high and low speed corners: it also had some long straights. Every driver worth their salt knew that overtaking there was difficult, but not impossible. If you knew how to work your car and the circuit, you could do it. This made the track physically demanding but Arthur loved it like no other.
And not just because it was home turf and he liked winning on home turf. But because he liked the challenge. However, the nature of the beast required a lot of pre-emptive adjustments. They had to adapt the car to the track and make sure they made the choices that would suit it the most to it.
A week and a few days short of Silverstone, Arthur was testing new car configs and rigging, doing laps to test the outcomes. This was his fifth lap today, checking on the fifth type of set up. He was barrelling down a straight when Mr Taliesin's voice came over the radio, “Arthur the track is cold. It's affecting the grip of tyres too much for us to get a decent idea of how the new tyres will perform. Come back to the box, please. There's something I have to tell you anyway.”
“Got it,” said Arthur, wondering what it was that Taliesin wanted to tell him.
He left the car with the team of mechanics and walked into the bay where Mr Taliesin was waiting for him together with Howard Pellinore, their sponsorship manager. Pellinore was the man who organised sponsor weekends, made sure to ratchet up numbers of interested parties to take part in them, and made sure that all requirements were met by both the team and the sponsors.
His underlings were the ones who handled day to day publicity, made certain sure that paddock passes were distributed to entice more people into the sponsor game and triple checked that all the sponsors' logos were put out for all the world to see.
Pellinore being there, meant that there'd be something Arthur was required to do publicity wise. That was the only part of his contract that he truly, truly loathed. Being asked to smile on cue, do ads and pose for photos equalled hell for him. He didn't like it and often felt like a clown when he was paraded around that way.
Yet contract obligations were contract obligations. “Ha, Arthur, there you are. Mr Pellinore has something to say to you.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Pellinore. “I do. Though, first of all let me tell you that I'm proud of yours and the team's achievements so far.”
“Thank you,” said Arthur, suspecting a but was coming.
“The publicity's team is overjoyed to be working at promoting your successes,” said Pellinore. “We only wish we could do it more intensively right about now.”
And there it was, the but Arthur had been waiting for. “And we're not being intense enough?”
Pellinore smiled affably. “Seeing as we're winning, no, not nearly. Look at what Team Western is doing, getting more and more sponsors, and putting Valiant out there more.”
Arthur sighed. “What do you want me to do?”
“Only go on a dinner with a representative from Energy Buzz,” said Mr Pellinore, putting a friendly hand on Arthur's shoulder. “So we can close a business deal with him.”
Arthur could see what they wanted from him. “You want me to play nice?”
“I want you to be charming, Arthur,” said Pellinore, squeezing Arthur's shoulder before letting go. “Something you can easily be.”
Arthur looked to the bay area exit door as a source of freedom but knew he couldn't back off. “All right,” he said, sounding exactly like he felt: not eager. “When do you need me?”
“Tonight,” said Mr Pellinore, “I would have gone myself but I'm sure the Energy Buzz delegate doesn't want to deal with a PR person but with the man who'll end up being the face of their product.”
“Tonight?” said Arthur, who was already saying good bye to his dreams of a quiet evening at home. This was one of those times when he actually could just drive back home instead of to a hotel or the motor home. He missed having some down time and regretted the loss of his privacy already. “Isn't that short notice?”
Mr Pellinore said, “I'm sure you understand.” Then getting into full-fledged business mode, Mr Taliesin added, “You have a table booked at Corrigan's. Be there by eight o' clock.” Mr Taliesin was noddling idly at Mr Pellinore, who finished by saying, “And bring Emrys with you. He's a whiz kid and whiz kids are in somehow.”
Arthur swallowed. “Merlin?”
“Are you and Emrys getting along now, Arthur?” Mr Pellinore asked even though Mr Taliesin was making signs meaning it was better not to enquire.
“Why? Arthur asked, not addressing the question directly.
Mr Pellinore had a rather serious look on his face. “Well, we heard rumours about you asking he be fired.”
“Only if we didn't win,” said Arthur, then rethinking it he added, “But not like that.”
Mr Pellinore raised a lone eyebrow.
“I mean,” Arthur rephrased. “Merlin is okay. He's a cool engineer. He's cool.” The truth was that Merlin and he might have started things on the wrong foot but Merlin wasn't that bad. Antagonising him was still fun but there was little bite behind the barbs he threw at Merlin now. And the banter they did trade, well, that was all in good fun. Arthur didn't indulge in it deliberately. He just picked at Merlin because teasing Merlin was entertaining and it made him want to preen a bit. It made him smile and it was an exhilarating exercise.
“If you say so,” said Mr Pellinore. “I hope any remaining animosity can be kept under lock and key. We wouldn't want it aired before the sponsors.”
“There's none,” said Arthur, looking at the engineers bay where Merlin was tinkering with a screwdriver he most certainly (with all the technology he could command) didn't need. “Actually, I'll go tell him about the change of plans right now.” He smiled a 32 teeth smile just in case a normal one wasn't convincing enough, then bounded over to Merlin.
Merlin was at his station, tinkering with a square box faced with a screen similar to a tablet's.
“Hi,” Arthur said, knowing he was startling Merlin since Merlin had been so caught up with his trafficking that he hadn't noticed Arthur.
Merlin jumped up, screwdriver flying out of his hands and landing somewhere behind him. “What a dick,” he said, but he was smiling so Arthur didn't think Merlin was planning his death. If anything, the smile was welcoming and pleasant. Arthur loved having it directed at him. Merlin beamed at everybody but never at Arthur. And that had been off-putting. Now, though, he was doing it and Arthur was the recipient. That made Arthur feel as though everything was right with the world.
Instead of telling Merlin about their date tonight, Arthur said, “What are you doing there?”
Merlin looked at the object he'd been trafficking with. “This is your new sat nav. A Merlin model, mind you, not one of those things you buy from Amazon.”
Arthur burst out laughing. “You still think I have no sense of direction?”
“Hey, you were the one who got lost in Oxfordshire,” said Merlin with a toothy, knowing grin. “Think of it as a custom present.”
“But I--” Arthur said, torn between feeling indignation at Merlin's estimation of his orientation skills and feeling pleased and happy he'd got a present crafted for him.
“Take it, Arthur.” Merlin extended the object to him.
Arthur stuck his chest out. “Okay, but then you'll have to program in the address of Corrigan's. Because we're going there tonight to court a sponsor person.”
Merlin's smile fell. “What, who, why?”
“Sponsors,” said Arthur, “the people who provide financial backing so that more research can be done and you can devise more perfect engines. We've got to play nice.”
“Nice?” Merlin said in a questioning tone. “I'm not sure I can 'play' nice.”
Arthur hooked his hand around Merlin's nape and pulled him closer. “Just do as I do.”
Merlin batted his eye-lashes. “But you're not nice.”
“Idiot.”
They both drove back home because they needed to shower and change. Arthur smelled like petrol and Merlin looked the worse for wear and needed some grooming. They agreed on meeting at the hotel that housed the ritzy restaurant a few minutes prior their scheduled meeting with their prospective sponsor.
When later that night Arthur saw Merlin in the hotel lobby he had to do double take, almost not recognising Merlin in his formal suit. Merlin never wore suits. He was perpetually wearing jeans and T-shirts. But tonight he'd gone for a perfectly pressed grey ensemble that made him look really good.
Tall and slim, broad-shouldered. The works. And the good thing about it was that Merlin was unconscious of just how appealing he was. Most people who could clean up that nice would be self conscious about it. Would know and act accordingly. There was an innocence to Merlin that was refreshing and made him look even more stunning instead. The thought slammed into Arthur like a sledge hammer, feasting on his higher brain functions.
His brain cells were so fried that he didn't realise Merlin was making his way towards him until he greeted Arthur. “Hi,” he said, “you made it. I have to suppose my new sat nav worked then.”
Arthur's gaze made a pass from the top of Merlin's head down to his shiny leather loafers. “Hello, Merlin, and, yes, thank you, I made it here just fine and without any external sat nav support.”
“And here I thought I'd saved the day,” said Merlin, cocking his head at the dining hall. “Shall we?”
Arthur made a sign to indicate that Merlin should go first. Arthur wasn't about to pass on the opportunity of checking Merlin out a bit and this seemed to be like a prime one. Merlin's arse looked nice in tailored trousers.
His ogling couldn't last indefinitely though, and he entered the restaurant. Corrigan's was your typical high end hotel dining place, its low lit dining room decorated with hunting and fishing motifs.
They found their sponsor already sitting at a table, reading the menu. He was dressed more casually than either Merlin or Arthur and was wearing his hair long and a little wild. His scruffy beard looked a little unkempt. Despite that Arthur would still call the man somewhat handsome.
When he saw them, the man rose and said, “Arthur Pendragon, the man whose face will sell more energy drinks than ever before and...” He gave Merlin a once over that was pretty piercing. “His companion. You two make a lovely couple, you know.”
Merlin flailed his hands about sheepishly. “No actually... We're not. A couple. I mean...” Merlin had nearly run out of breath. "I'm Excalibur's new CD.”
Their sponsor leered. “Oh, well, I was told I'd get to meet the new CD but I wouldn't have guessed he'd be so young and handsome.” Their sponsor kept his gaze steadily locked on Merlin. “Well, good for me. I'm Gwaine Jones, head of contracts at Energy Buzz.” He shook Merlin's hand and forgot to do the same by Arthur.
“I thought this was supposed to be a business meeting,” Arthur said, pointing out what he thought to be the obvious: Jones was making eyes at Merlin and that was so unprofessional Arthur couldn't even wrap his mind around it. It was obnoxious and low and disrespectful to Merlin, who was here in a business capacity.
Seeing the look of thunder on Arthur's face steered the conversation back to the dinner. “Well, let's order and discuss our idea then.”
They had their own private butler, who helped them place their orders, and were served wine by an expert waiter who was aware of every wine distilled on the planet. Over their food Gwaine started talking shop, bloody finally. They discussed the contract, what would be required of Arthur, and the impact that Arthur winning would have on Energy Buzz sales.
“He's poised to,” said Merlin, talking about Arthur's chances. Arthur wasn't sure if he believed what he was saying or was simply toeing the company line. Arthur really hoped it was the former. “Arthur's been the best so far.”
Gwaine smirked at Arthur. “If he can secure the WDC title then Energy Buzz would be doubly overjoyed.”
“He can,” said Merlin confidently. “He will.”
Gwaine weighed Arthur with his eyes. “Hey, closing this contract would be in my best interests too, especially if Pendragon here dragged Valiant, who's about to close a multi-million deal with a rival of ours, in the dirt.”
Arthur felt very much like this conversation was taking place over his head. He scowled.
“He will win.” Merlin winked at Arthur, then noticing Arthur was put out, he added, “Won't you?”
Arthur placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder. “I'll rip Valiant to shreds.”
“Well, I'd only be glad if his contract fell through,” said Gwaine. “His prospective sponsor would have to find a new suitable candidate and that would take time. That means less publicity for them. My boss would be very happy.”
“We should always try to be happy, shouldn't we?” Merlin joked.
Gwaine said, “Mind being happy with me?”
And Arthur couldn't stop himself from dragging his chair closer to Merlin's and saying, “God, that's one hell of a one track mind!”
Gwaine, who had gone for a sip of his Chablis, spluttered. Errant stains covered his tie. He laughed when he noticed, put his glass down and said, “Heading for the toilets to fix this. You two sort yourselves and your relationship out. If you'll excuse me.” Before going though he gave Arthur a stare Arthur was sure meant something and Merlin a wink.
Merlin's head snapped to Arthur. “What the fuck are you doing? The man's going to broker our deal with Fizzy Buzz.”
“Energy Buzz,” Arthur corrected. He liked to be precise.
“Whatever,” Merlin said, “we're here to close a contract and you're antagonising the man!”
Arthur scratched at a little stain lying at the bottom of his tie. “He was flirting with you. That's out of line.”
“Oh come on, Arthur,” Merlin said. “It's innocuous. He doesn't really mean it in an Indecent Proposal kind of way. People flirt with people.”
“You never flirt with me,” Arthur said. That stain seemed to be gone now that Arthur had picked at it with his nail.
“That's because we work together and you have enough of that from your adoring fans and why would you even want me to?” Merlin's voice was climbing. “To flatter your ego a bit more?”
Arthur waved his hand in the general direction of the loo. “You were flattering his.”
“That actually doesn't deserve a response, Arthur,” Merlin said, shaking his head though he was wearing a patient smile.
Arthur was about to retort (though he had no argument that made sense) when Gwaine came back and nipped any retort in the bud.
“So, where were we?” he said, taking to his chair again. “Signing you and Excalibur on, I believe.”
After dessert Arthur signed on the dotted line. Though he'd accomplished what he'd come for, the thought somehow didn't make him too happy.
*****
While Arthur didn't like testing new parts on the simulator, Merlin loved it. It was about the pure science of the thing, the whole effort depending on raw data and numbers. Yes, some scenarios were less easy to make allowance for, but in this day and age technology could supply an almost infinite number of variables. Any that could present itself on a real track could be programmed into the simulator.
With the new introduction of the blown diffuser to test, they'd been at it for hours. But that was worth it because now they had something to defend: after four strong races they had the championship lead to protect.
In that light the back to back tests were worth it. Even Arthur saw that and though normally the reserve driver would have conducted the tests, Arthur was the one to insist on carrying this batch out.
Merlin chose to tune the car into what the circuit was like at the factory, got data from the circuit and tried to get a car that was suited to it. That took time. This meant that they'd been at the factory ever since morning. Now it was nearly midnight and most of the mechanics had gone home as had Mr Taliesin.
Merlin and Arthur were almost the last ones left standing. Elyan was upstairs working at some alterations. Elena had fallen asleep on a bench and was snoring softy and the few remaining team members had made themselves scarce. Merlin didn't know where they were. Probably checking computer monitors.
Arthur himself was rubbing at his eyes.
“You're getting a lot of down-force when you're on the throttle with a blown floor,” Merlin said, almost to himself. “This new floor should give you better performance in the next race but we should keep in mind that there'd be differences in corner entries and exits on the real track.”
Arthur yawned.
“Excuse me,” Merlin said, “am I boring you?”
Arthur let go of the controls. “A little.”
Merlin huffed and looked away. “I thought you wanted to win, too.”
“Oh, come on,” said Arthur, “this is boring. This is not how you get a feel for the car.”
“And how do you propose to do it then?”
Arthur jumped out of the simulator. “On a proper F1 car.”
“We do that already,” said Merlin. “We take your feedback and...”
Arthur put both hands on Merlin's shoulders and shook his head, eyes dancing. “No, that's not what I meant.”
Merlin wasn't sure he was getting it. “Then what do you mean? Because that's standard practice.”
Arthur pushed him towards the garage, where one of the EX-26 was. “You'll only get a proper understanding if you drive it.”
“That's why-”
The garage was deserted; only the car set there. Arthur was guiding him by the hips now, his fingers digging into his skin. His voice sounded low in Merlin's ear as he said. “Feel the adrenalin, Merlin. Feel the car.”
It dawned on Merlin that Arthur meant he should drive the monocoque. “I'm not a pro driver,” Merlin said. He wanted to come up with a list of reasons why Arthur's suggestion wasn't wise at all but truth be told he was more preoccupied with the way Arthur was leaning into him - almost draped along his back - and touching him, than with Arthur's proposition. Arthur's touch felt good. It was sending Merlin's heartbeat spiking. A hollow drum of expectation beat a tattoo in his stomach. What the hell?
“I'll be on the radio.”
“If I crash the car Mr Taliesin will kill me,” Merlin pointed out, clinging to any shred of logic he had left in spite of Arthur's disorientating touch. “Though in that case I might have killed myself in the first place, so...”
“We have spare chassis,” Arthur said, guiding him on and towards the car. “And you know how the car works.”
“Theoretically, still not--”
Arthur turned him around. “Live a little, Merlin, feel it,” he said and before Merlin could tell him it wasn't so easy at all, Arthur leant in, sucked in a deep breath and touched his lips to Merlin's. They were hot.
For a second it was all that registered. Then they closed around his, sucking and licking wetly, and though there was no hint of tongue, Merlin's knees trembled. That registered way more.
Without letting go of his hips, Arthur sucked on his mouth until Merlin started thinking that any ideas Arthur might ever have were good ones. They most definitely were, if they got him more of this. Because, damn, but Arthur was a sensational kisser. One that made Merlin go soft on the inside.
Merlin kissed back for a whole handful of seconds, returning the pressure and closing his eyes to enjoy the sensations. It was a bit like floating softly on a cloud though his blood was racing in his ears.
Merlin didn't have time to do more than tentatively clutch at Arthur's shoulder before Arthur was leaning away, wearing a satisfied grin that made Merlin - nearly - wish he hadn't kissed back. Arthur needed to dial down his own sense of how personally brilliant he was. But then again Merlin did think him special and though he didn't want to feed his star racer ego he did want to explore the kissing option again in the near future.
“So, how about you change?”
Merlin looked around. There were no witnesses. “If we get caught you'll be the one to plead guilty.”
Arthur put a hand on his heart. “Swear.”
Merlin sniggered all the way to the changing rooms. He borrowed one of the coverall fireproof suits drivers used and though the team had many Arthur gave him his own helmet for some mysterious reason. Before Merlin could wear it, Arthur came up to him, smiling in his face, all bouncy. He cupped Merlin's face but didn't go for a kiss. He just grinned to himself and lowered the helmet over Merlin's head himself.
He was also the one that got the car started, inserting the wand in the gearbox and pushing the starter motor button. Normally an entire team would have overseen this but tonight it was just the two of them pulling a stunt worthy of little kids. (Thankfully the rest of the staff was nowhere to be found and couldn't hear the engine being turned over.) That also meant they had no one to check engine speed and oil pressure, but that was no biggie since Merlin wasn't really competing. Without doing those checks Arthur turned the ignition on.
Engine fired, Merlin went for a clutch bite point check and then started. Before he knew what was happening he was on the track. Oh God, the powers that be would kill him for this.
“Do burn outs,” Arthur told him over the radio. Merlin was now on the factory track and giving his utmost attention to not crashing the car, but there Arthur was, telling him to warm the tyres when there was no need because he didn't need them to be. “I'm not racing, Arthur,” Merlin reminded him.”I don't need to perform.”
“Believe me, you will need to,” said Arthur in a low burr that wasn't at all typical of his intonation.
“Come off it,” Merlin said, half laughing, half trying to absorb the shock of being behind the wheel of this powerful car. For now he was going relatively slowly but the effects of driving the EX-26 weren't lost on him.
It was thrilling and a bit scary. He felt both on top of the world and really, really powerless to control this thing, this thing he himself had made.
To begin with Merlin could see nothing at all at the front of the car and had to imagine where the front wing was. Merlin knew the design by heart, so he could place any mechanical part and point to it on a design chart, but being in the cockpit was completely different.
He was going fast and could see so little! Tunnel vision was taking over and at this speed it was something else.
Merlin barrelled over a bridge and down a straight. “Arthuuuur,” he said, pushing the radio button. He didn't mean anything by it and he wasn't sure he even wanted any answer back. He was just living the moment. And he needed to shout, a little.
“You're about to go into a corner,” Arthur told him. “Do all your breaking and shifting now before you're into it.”
Merlin obeyed because Arthur would know. Entering the curve was a new experience and like nothing Merlin had ever been through before. The cockpit was already tight enough and the G force levels were having a field day with him. But taking that curve was something else and even worse. His head felt like it was being blown off his neck and he was being pushed against the seat. It was one thing to know about and provide for G-forces theoretically, quite another to feel them on yourself.
“The steering wheel is your friend, Merlin,” Arthur teased.
“Hey,” Merlin told him, “it's enough that I'm driiiiiving this monster.”
“Merlin,” Arthur said, a lilt like an attempt to conceal the laughter in his tone. “Are you having fun?”
Merlin was. The speed level alone was exciting even though he wasn't pushing it. Blood roared in his ears and his body was being tested to the max. He shook so hard when the car careened up and down a bump that his vision went blurry for a second and his foot bounced up and down on the accelerator pedal on its own. But that too was its own kind of brilliant. Shocking, but great.
“Trust the car's traction,” Arthur said to him, his voice warm as if he was having fun with this too. Maybe he just liked going into teacher mode. “You've built a good car.”
Merlin did and the following two laps were heaps of fun. He was going fast enough to sense the adrenalin coursing through him but not fast enough to put himself in danger. The thrill of driving his own creation was all there: heart hammering in his chest, sweaty palms within his gloves, goose flesh all over him.
He still made mistakes like when he hit the gas a little too hard on an exit and the back end of the car stepped out faster than he'd thought it would, causing the car to spin sideways, but that didn't stop the enjoyment. Although he shouted, “Arthur”
“Give lock, Merlin, give lock.”
Merlin blindly obeyed, feathering his foot on the accelerator. Before he could count to three the car was straight again and still on the track. Merlin whooped. After the release of energy, he felt on a high. Now he could understand a couple more things about Arthur.
Driving The EX26 was just incomparable. Merlin feared his electric car would never feel quite the same after this. This was motoring heaven. Merlin could go round and round on the EX forever.
Well, he couldn't keep doing it indefinitely. Fuel levels were going down and he was close to wearing down the tyres. Something he couldn't explain without getting the telling off of the century. This had to be it. With a sigh he hoped Arthur hadn't heard, Merlin drove back to the garage and shut the car down.
Arthur was there to extract him from it, which wasn't as easy as it seemed if you weren't used to the confined space. With Merlin sitting astride its side, Arthur took off Merlin's helmet, his face in his hands and kissed Merlin.
At first he bit down on Merlin’s lower lip but when Merlin gasped he found himself tasting Arthur’s tongue. It was spit-wet and hot and passionate. They were playing tongue tag and gasping in each other's mouths until they had no breath to breathe.
Withdrawing, Merlin brushed his lips and tongue against Arthur's in one final pass. “That was,” he said, “pretty brilliant.”
“The car or the kiss?” Arthur asked. There was a mischievous light in his eyes that told Merlin he wasn't even the littlest bit serious.
“The product of my own genius,” Merlin deadpanned and Arthur laughed.
Arthur gripped Merlin's chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Mine or yours?”
“Mine,” said Merlin, wanting to have Arthur in his world but okay with pretty much anything as long as he got to undress Arthur and have sex with him.
Before that could happen though they had to put everything back in place and change into their day clothes. That didn't mean that they wouldn't touch when the opportunity presented itself but they have to stave most of that off.
Until at least they got to Merlin's.
Once they were there things changed. Merlin knew that things were more charged now.
Arthur was looking at him with a hunger in his eyes that Merlin didn't know he could feel and, as for Merlin, his pulse was drumming hard in his throat, so much so he couldn't swallow around it.
They came together quickly and in a clash of limbs. Merlin had Arthur slammed against the door. They were breathing hard, not kissing yet, but looking into each other's widened eyes.
Arthur's trousers were tented and Merlin felt a stir that meant his would be soon too. Even though Arthur was the one with his back to the door it was him that pulled Merlin forward to his mouth. With a hand cupped around Merlin's nape he just reeled him in.
Merlin couldn't complain. He went for the kiss; touched the tip of his tongue to Arthur's lips. Arthur's mouth opened. He tilted his head so Merlin could delve deeper, which Merlin did, catching a taste of Arthur as their tongues met.
Arthur groaned against his mouth and pulled Merlin flush against himself. He cupped his bottom and then started mouthing at Merlin's face, his own pressed against Merlin's throat.
Arthur was giving hard biting kisses that were sure to leave bruises. Nipping at the skin, licking, sending Merlin's heartbeat spiking he was so conscious of it.
Arthur's hands weren't steady as he lifted Merlin's shirt up to touch his skin. They trembled all the way down to the small of Merlin's back, where they rested, pulling Merlin towards Arthur's body even though there was no space left between them.
Merlin moaned and said, “Eager.”
“You are baffling,” Arthur said. “And crazy and stupid and I want you.”
Merlin smiled against Arthur's mouth. “I don't see the problem.”
There was some more wet and frantic kissing but by then Merlin was so hard he didn't think he could take staying clothed much longer.
Knowing that neither of them would put an end to the touching but that that would stop them from getting undressed, Merlin stepped backwards. “Clothes,” he said. “Clothes have got to go.”
Arthur nodded, his breath coming heavy. He fumbled with his belt while Merlin pulled off his jumper. He stripped while watching Arthur do the same. They walked back one towards the other when all their clothes were lying in a pile on the floor.
Completely bare, their bodies met again. Arthur kissed his throat, teasing him with his tongue and teeth. Artfully, he raised a tiny welt that made Merlin gasp. “Where's your bedroom?” he asked.
Merlin pointed backwards. “That...” Merlin had to gulp before he could complete the sentence because Arthur wasn't really refraining from touching him. “That way.”
They waltzed backwards and sideways, hands on each other, Merlin's by Arthur's flanks, Arthur's on his chest until they passed the bedroom door and Arthur could shove him down on the bed.
There was a moment in between when Merlin felt the lack of contact keenly, but then Arthur crawled up the bed and slid up between Merlin's spread knees, pushing a hand through Merlin's hair to bare his throat.
He latched on with parted lips, moving on to trace a clavicle and then downwards to take Merlin's nipple in his mouth, under his tongue, rolling it across the tip and making it pebble until the skin was wrinkling around it and Merlin writhing.
Then Arthur lowered his body, their thighs brushing one against the other, their bellies close together, dampened with sweat. Arthur's pre-come glistened on Merlin's skin; when he moved their cocks grazed. It felt so good Merlin had to bite his lip bloody so as not to shout and give Arthur's eventual teasing more ammunition.
But Arthur wasn't smirking; he wasn't even talking much. He looked dazed and serious, his eyes big, his gaze intent as if he was concentrating.
Pushing a raw groan out of him. Arthur shifted. Merlin arched up into him, trying to angle his body so that their cocks would touch again, but when Arthur's mouth sealed over his, Merlin became unable to do anything other than buck up and search for more of that touch.
“I've wanted you for quite a long while, you know,” said Arthur.
“You didn't say,” Merlin gasped, their bodies, slotting together and creating friction.
“I didn't know what it was,” Arthur said, levering himself up just to fall back down again.
Merlin's hands grasped at Arthur’s back, clawing, opening, closing again. He wanted to chase Arthur's body, wrap himself around it. He wanted to feel Arthur, his weight, his breath, his taste. He knew what he wanted with more clarity than before. Arthur wasn't just hot: he was lovely and the way he was looking at Merlin, soft, addled, attentive was moving. The degree of attention he was giving Merlin wasn't unlike the one he sported on the job when his life was on the line. The way he was looking at Merlin was smiliar to the way he focused on the job. Merlin felt a bit like a car, but in the good way, because he knew Arthur had a passion for them and would get all lovingly distracted when he was introduced to a feat of engineering. Feeling like he was Arthur's passion wasn't bad at all. “Do you have condoms?” he panted.
Arthur's body stuttered to a halt, his body damp with sweat, his eyes large as were the pupils within. “Yeah,” he said. “You want to...”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, then,” Arthur said, propping himself up on his elbow. “I'm going to... get one. Got one in my wallet. Because--”
Merlin laughed. He'd never heard Arthur mess up his delivery so much. “Go and get it. I'll get the lube.”
By the time Merlin had got it from his bathroom cabinet, Arthur had come back with the condom. Finding their places back on the bed was a bit awkward at first but after they’d sorted themselves (and limbs) out they had a laugh about it and fell into their groove.
Arthur opened him up with his fingers, then greased him up with the lube. He made of it something exciting, a slow torment, instead of something perfunctory. Merlin felt new sweat break upon his body. The surges of pleasure made him stiffen and sob and make noise. There were live-wire flares of it that made his body jerk, his heart fill, and his cock leak on his belly. Made him spasm and thresh and shiver.
“Look at you,” Arthur said.
Merlin wanted to scream. He hoped Arthur wasn't teasing him, because Merlin was on the edge. Arthur did say it in a wondering way and he had an earnest look about him. But Merlin wasn't in a state to parse looks, so he said, “I'd like it if you did a little bit more than look at me.”
“Bossy,” Arthur said, but he complied.
They slotted back together, Arthur sliding on top of him. With Merlin so ready from minutes of prep, he pushed in in one slick move.
They didn't pick up a rhythm at first; pussyfooting around the new sensations until Arthur gave into the stimulus of movement, inching in and drawing back only to fill Merlin up again.
Fire skittered down Merlin's flesh, like tiny tongues licking at his fingertips, growing deep inside him. His pleasure pulsed thicker as Arthur pressed close into him.
Merlin was tasting Arthur's breath as well as a return of his own caught on the edge of Arthur's breathing pattern. Their mouths were so close, a hair's breadth apart, a kiss was about to bloom there. It didn't quite. Merlin sank his teeth into Arthur's lower lip because Arthur had pushed in, and Merlin needed to grasp something, gasp, return just a bit of the energy that Arthur was giving him.
He had to do, give, act. Arthur was the same.
Their hands were everywhere all at once, holding, rubbing, caressing. Merlin lifted up, Arthur bore down, trapping Merlin's cock between their bodies, grinding down. He was trembling, mumbling words that made little sense, tipping forwards. “Come on, Merlin, come on.”
Merlin didn't think he needed any more exhortations. The air between them was thick and Arthur was moving just right, hitting all the most perfect spots. On one last pass he angled his hips so that Merlin just blacked out, coming almost an afterthought to the pleasure.
Arthur nuzzled his face, kissed him, told him he was, “Beautiful, and shit, Merlin,” all the while shoving into him. His thrusts were now short, hard, fast. The nonsense spilling out of his mouth incomprehensible. But he looked good, lovely, and Merlin could understand the intent behind the words if not the words. It was all about how good it was and the surprise of it. A surprise so staggering Arthur was startled by his orgasm, grabbing onto Merlin's flank, freezing, body locked, until Merlin could feel him on the inside, pulsing and spilling, condom notwithstanding.
“Fuck,” said Arthur, toppling down, his weight pinning Merlin to the mattress.
“How poetic,” Merlin said, a gasp and a hiss following as Arthur slipped out.
“I am,” said Arthur, flopped onto his belly, reaching out so he could touch Merlin's face. “You just haven't learnt to appreciate me.”
Merlin's muscles twitched a little at Arthur's tactile reading of his face. “Should I?” he asked.
“Should you what?” The pads of Arthur's fingers were light on Merlin's upper lip.
“Take my time with you?”
“Yes,” Arthur said, eyes glinting in the semi-darkness. “Yes, you should. You should give me a chance.”
“I think I will.”
*****
Part III