A tempting proposition 2/3
Merlin sighed. Everything else about that night had been wrong; the con, the lie, circumstance, the role reversal; when was Arthur ever submissive? When would the prince he dreamt about have ever lain still and bound while somebody else took control? It had been wrong entirely, too generous, Merlin had had his cake and eaten it too, and the next morning he spent entirely in wait of the backlash. Of course, he knew it wouldn’t come; it had all been too easy.
One of the thoughts which had coaxed Merlin into going through with the deed whispered that the prince would find him out and he would be punished horribly; that would have made the pleasure more bearable afterwards. Instead he now felt like he’d just carried out the perfect murder and the only justice that found him was guilt.
He completely repressed the fact that Arthur had indeed called out Merlin’s name, had moaned it, making obvious whose face was burned into his eyelids as he rode out the pulses; as he writhed. That wasn’t helpful though, it just created more problems. If, for some reason, the prince had envisaged Merlin doing those things to him that night; if the prince had wanted him, then that was a secret the prince had obviously wanted to keep hidden, hence the escort. Merlin had no right to take that from him. He ignored the searing heat which tightened his stomach when he remembered the way his name had sounded; ignored it in favour of the guilt.
There was but one release. Merlin hadn’t fucked Arthur. He liked to think it was because his mind had considered the aftermath, that though the entire situation had been wrong, there was one thing that wouldn’t be touched; their place, their niche. Merlin belonged to Arthur, not only being his manservant, his friend, but he had already given mind, soul, and magic to the man; it only made sense that he should give body too. He liked to think it was because his conscience wouldn’t let him take Arthur. But in reality, he knew that the dull throbbing, the faint burn inside his body, was the only physical thing that would be left with him of the night, once he closed the chamber door. And this was why, even though the pain was definite, he hobbled blissfully through the castle the next day because of it.
And that was why Morgana stopped when she spotted Merlin in the hallway outside Arthur’s room.
“Merlin,” she said to catch his attention, and “I wouldn’t open that door if I were you,” to hold it.
His eyes widened.
“Not if you’re planning on limping inside like that,” she continued, waltzing in her fashion towards him. Her hand soon covered his on Arthur’s door-handle, stilling all movement.
“I... um,” he stuttered, blush immediately covering the span of all skin exposed.
Morgana raised her eyebrows.
“Come,” she said, simply. She tugged on his hand and motioned him to turn with her.
“But I... Arthur needs...”
“Yes,” she interrupted, “I’m sure you’ve taken good care of Arthur’s needs.”
He dropped his chin at once and concentrated hard on the ripples of the wooden floor, wondering how many he’d have to count before she left him alone. His struggle was in vain.
“Merlin, you don’t need to look so frightened,” she said lightly, lifting his chin up so that he looked into her eyes, “Arthur doesn’t know a thing.”
He saw that she was being sincere, and blushed at how his guilt had instantly tried to make her the enemy. He let out a breath, smiled as much as he could manage, and followed her down the hall to her own chambers.
He could have guessed, really, what she would want to speak of when they sat down behind closed doors. He knew that she knew he’d gone through with the plan, there was no way she could still be in doubt, and though a small part of Merlin gulped in fear at the prospect of her asking for details, he knew that it wasn’t why she had invited him to her chambers. So when her first words were:
“How was it? As good as you’d hoped?”
He choked a little on his tongue.
“Erm... I...” she didn’t let him get any further that this, though, before she started laughing.
“I’m teasing you Merlin. Believe me, the details you can keep all to yourself.”
He cringed, feeling the heat flush the shell of his ears.
“No, I asked you here today because I didn’t manage to sleep a wink all night long,” she said, leaning forwards in her chair opposite Merlin, until her knees nearly touched his, and he shuffled back; his chair creaking loudly on the floor.
“Do you know why I couldn’t sleep all night?”
“Erm,” Merlin blinked, momentarily considering the option that Morgana hadn’t wanted to discuss him and Arthur at all, “do you need me to fetch you something from Gaius?”
Morgana smirked, staring hard into his eyes.
“No,” she said, “No that’s not what I mean. The reason why I didn’t sleep is because I felt excruciatingly guilty and simply couldn’t close my eyes without thinking about it.”
Merlin took in a sharp breath. He allowed himself a moment of panic in which his prime thoughts consisted of: Oh god, here it is, she wants to confess everything to Arthur. The game is up, before he realised that that was exactly what he wanted; the only way to heal some of his own torn insides. Unfortunately, Morgana carried on along a different thread.
“You see, Merlin, I wasn’t entirely truthful to you when I came bearing my proposition.”
He swallowed the thick saliva in his raw throat.
“Erm, okay...?”
“When a person who has all the information, and both points of view, decides to give only a limited amount of that away, addressing only one of those points, then that person somehow becomes like a puppet-master and the situation her play. Do you see what I’m saying?”
Merlin was listening to her, he really was, but the sudden itchiness of his skin was unbearable and the room temperature must have lifted easily ten degrees.
“I do...?”
“And while that person may have in the past been completely satisfied with the position of puppet-master; remaining behind the scenes but manipulating the action, there have been times... such as now, when the subject matter has been a little too... delicate... to be treated as mere entertainment.”
“Um, I see.”
“You do see, don’t you?”
“Erm...”
“What I’m trying to say, Merlin,” Morgana sighed, realising that the boy’s nerves were making him about as responsive as a deer caught in candle-light, “is that I’ve been watching you and Arthur for a while now, and when I offered you the chance to do... what you did...”
Here Merlin bit his lip, looking away from Morgana’s eyes, until she clutched his chin and returned his stare forwards.
“While I offered you that chance,” she repeated, emphasising whose fault she deemed the situation to lie with, “I did so without telling you why.”
Merlin stared at her for a long time. His ears buzzed faintly, and for a second he thought he could hear every single sound within the room defined perfectly.
“What haven’t you told me?”
Morgana sighed, rubbing her temples with her fingers, and scrunching her eyes tight in a manner that channelled Arthur exactly. It helped to focus Merlin on the face which would hang about his eyes long after Morgana’s next sentence.
“Arthur wants you.”
He heard it. He did hear it, and he knew it to be true, deep down in the pit of his memory, but he still asked:
“Arthur wants me.... where?”
Morgana stood up then, shaking her head and throwing her arms up into the air; the conversation having apparently taken its toll.
“I don’t know... on his bed; against the wall; bent over his desk! How did you do it last night?”
Merlin opened his mouth. And then shut it. And then he opened it again.
“Because Arthur was, in his mind, doing whatever you boys did with you. Merlin. And that’s the truth. ”
Merlin took a deep, cleansing breath, and shut his eyes. Morgana sat down again, her voice returning to its gentleness, and she rubbed her hand tenderly on his knee.
“I’ve seen the way he watches you, and you must already know what you mean to him.”
Merlin looked up at her, seeming so helpless then that Morgana almost reached forward to hug him.
“I think you should tell him how you feel.”
Merlin stared so genuinely, but with a small something of relief on his face.
“You think I should confess...”
“No!” Morgana interrupted.
Merlin opened his mouth to ask why but she continued before he could.
“He... I don’t think he’d appreciate it,” she finished.
Merlin gulped.
“Just,” Morgana said, putting on a smile, “just forget what you did; what Arthur doesn’t know can’t hurt him... and start afresh. Tell him how you feel, and all will be righted.”
And that’s just what Merlin intended to do, that night, when he walked to the prince’s chamber. He had avoided Arthur all day, but had not been sent for either, until a servant came to inform him that he had the evening off too. He spared no thought for why the prince hadn’t missed his presence, realising that dwelling on that fact was counter-productive, and he couldn’t waste his best opportunity; if he told the prince how he felt tonight, he could just leave if somehow Morgana had been wrong and Arthur didn’t return his sentiments. And even with all the assurance, all the blatant proof, Merlin still considered this a possibility.
Unfortunately, fate had its own part to play.
Merlin knew the prince used an escort. He knew the last scheduled “appointment” had been last night, and he should have guessed that the next one should have been some time soon. But nothing could have prepared him for the realisation that prince had booked an impromptu visit.
He stopped still outside Arthur’s door, could hear the quiet noises from within, could imagine the bodies and match their movements perfectly to the sounds, and he suddenly, violently couldn’t bear it. He used his magic to open the door a sliver silently, and then he peered through.
The light from the hallway was fainter than the flickering candle inside, so the ray cast across the bed, along Arthur’s body with the escort sitting on top, didn’t disturb either man. Merlin almost clenched his jaw as he looked over the back of the prince’s bed warmer, but a stinging sense of familiarity stopped him. It took a few seconds, but after the realisation hit, he relaxed. The escort, at least from behind, and in proportions, looked almost exactly like himself. A heat pooled low between his legs.
“Mm,” Arthur moaned, less eagerly than he had with him, Merlin noted with a sick sense of satisfaction. He shifted his neckerchief and briefly considered leaving, but then Arthur groaned again and he couldn’t think of anything else.
“Could we do it like we did last time?”
Merlin’s heart had been beating at double speed, and he only noticed this because now it had completely stopped altogether.
“This is very different from last time,” murmured a voice, coming from the escort, as he licked a landing route down Arthur’s taught stomach.
Arthur choked back a small laugh, lifting his hips and trembling as the tongue on his abs moved lower slowly. Merlin winced as the prince moaned, his throat drying quickly.
“You’ve forgotten already? It was only last night.”
“I don’t think anybody could forget the sight of you like this, sire.”
If Merlin could think of anything else except for the dangerous direction the conversation was headed in, he would have mentally applauded the escort. He was very good. The prince bristled slightly, only for a brief moment, but the boy above him noticed.
“Something wrong, sire?”
“Don’t address me like that... I... call me Arthur.”
The escort then suddenly sat up fully upright. His muscles tightened; his movements froze. Arthur quickly caught onto the fact that something was wrong. He too drew himself up, as much as the neckerchief would allow, and paused to think. The escort had never addressed him as Arthur before, and yet the prince was sure he could remember his name being moaned reverently the last time they’d done this.
“Sire?” the boy asked with more than a little confusion in his tone.
“When do you last remember... meeting me?”
“Four nights ago, like I’d said earlier.”
“Four! Are you sure?”
“I’m certain. I counted every hour until I could come to you again. Until I could do this,” he traced a fingernail from Arthur’s jaw, down his neck, along his torso, until it reached his groin, “again.”
The prince shuddered, but this time it wasn’t in pleasure. The escort pulled his hand back immediately.
“Did I... am I doing something wrong?” he asked, eyes questioningly wide, “Is that why you cancelled our last meeting?”
Arthur’s spine went completely rigid. The atmosphere of the room tightened so quickly that it could be plucked like a string.
“What!?”
The escort took the cue in the tone of the prince’s voice, and shifted his body down as Arthur shook his hands free from the neckerchief violently, bringing one to the blindfold and tearing it from his eyes. The boy watched on, growing more and more curious and slightly fearful by each second. He locked eyes with Arthur, whose intimidating stare was lessened by the furious blush on his cheeks.
“I’ve been tricked.”
Merlin turned and fled as quickly and quietly as he could from the hallway.