Winter Kiss (2/3)
They meet in early December, the year after Arthur returns from college.
Arthur's just bought his first apartment and is struggling to make ends meet with his frankly miserable pay check, and there's an easy solution to all his problems because his father has already offered him a partnership at their family firm, but Arthur is on a mission, he has something to prove, to his father, to his friends, to himself - that he can be independent, that he can make it without his father holding his hand. So Arthur takes his MSc in criminology and criminal justice from Oxford and goes to a minor, more local firm that barely even registers on his father's radar. It's a nice environment, his co-workers are pleasant, and he is treated with respect, there is no pressure of always having to be the best, no feeling that he's not good enough. Of course, there are also no high profile cases, and he doesn't make a fraction of what he would at Pendragon & De Bois, but that's okay. One day, Arthur is going to earn himself a partnership there.
He's preparing his closing argument for the robbery he's working on when Merlin walks in.
It's an open and shut case, it's plain for everyone to see, but the thief, for some reason, thinks himself to be Jim Moriarty or something, and won't plead guilty. Arthur could have gotten a conviction in his sleep, but he still spends all his free time making strategies and preparing cross-examinations and finding precedences because he knows that every case means the world to his clients. He's closing his briefcase and getting out, so he only catches bits and pieces of the conversation between some tall kid in dark jeans and a plaid shirt and his boss, things like I'm sorry, Mr. Emrys, but you have no experience working for a law firm and I'm a quick study, I promise!, but it doesn't concern him, so he walks out.
Of course, his car won't start. It's probably the cold, because really, Arthur doesn't remember a winter this cold ever happening before, which is also why there is no way he's running to the courtroom - it hurts to breathe at all, cold air filling his lungs like little needles, and the snow is far too deep to even walk through.
“Hey, need a ride?” someone asks behind him. Arthur could kiss him.
“Yes!” he agrees before he even turns around. “Thank you.”
“Hey, I'm not doing it for free,” the guy says. It's the kid from inside, the one looking for a job, and now that Arthur looks at him more carefully, he's not really that much of a kid, maybe only a few years younger than Arthur himself. He already has his keys in his hand and he's leaning against a battered looking old Honda. Arthur doesn't have a lot of choice.
“How much?” he asks, and the guy grins at him and opens the door for him.
“Talk to your bosses. I really need that job.”
“I'll see what I can do,” Arthur agrees getting into the car. “Does this thing even drive?” he can't resist inquiring as soon as the guy sits behind the wheel. The guy looks at him pointedly as he inserts the key and turns it. The engine revs into life.
“It starts. Unlike yours,” he points out with a smirk.
~*~
By January, they're living together.
It's not really planned, it's more of a decision made on the spot, a bit reckless and risky, but it works out in the end. Arthur does manage to convince his boss to hire Merlin, and Merlin, while he's not the best assistant ever and he takes a bit to learn all of his duties, is actually an asset to the firm in the end. However, his pay is even worse than Arthur's, and his family is poor, and he's about to be evicted; Arthur is barely managing to pay the bills for his apartment, so he offers cohabitation to which Merlin desperately agrees. Neither of them thinks it through, though, and at first, it's pretty damn awful.
Merlin is messy and lazy, he sleeps in whenever he can and his stuff is all over the place. He prefers to study (he's studying medicine, and it takes Arthur a long, long, time to be able to imagine Merlin as a doctor and to see why Merlin will be good at being one) at night, which usually doesn't bother Arthur, but Merlin is clumsy, like, really clumsy, and he usually ends up falling or knocking over one thing or another, which in turn wakes Arthur up. Arthur plays the part of the pushy, demanding, overbearing landlord and pretends he doesn't realize it when Merlin calls him on it.
On the other hand, it's fun, and it's nice to have someone around. Arthur loves their mock bickering, and Merlin's sarcasm, and the fact that someone is there when he comes home and he's no longer the crazy guy talking to himself. And besides, his messy ways notwithstanding, Merlin is a good tenant. He doesn't go out late and he doesn't bring anyone home, he gives Arthur enough personal space while still spending enough time with him for them to become friends. He pays his share in time, even when Arthur knows he doesn't have much, because the pay is late.
After a while, Arthur gets used to more noise and more clutter and more Merlin. It's totally worth it.
~*~
Arthur knows he's in love in July, when Gwaine, who is visiting for a few days, flirts with a very shirtless Merlin, who walks out of his room complaining about the heat and who flirts back, and Arthur gets ridiculously jealous. However, Christmas is weeks behind them when he first asks Merlin out.
There are several reasons why Arthur doesn't do it sooner, not the least of them being his absolute refusal to believe that he's in love with the man who's quickly becoming one of his best friends. So, he makes a point of going out with every guy who wants him (which a considerable number) and bringing them home as often as possible. None of them stays for longer than a couple of weeks, but at least the sex is good. And for some reason, even better because he knows Merlin can hear them.
Of course, then he ruins it by asking Merlin if he minds, which leads to the conversation Arthur kind of dreads, but also is kind of dying to have, the conversation that drags through the entire night, about there respective sexualities (Merlin declares his bisexuality with pride) and their stories of discovery and their families' reactions; it leaves Arthur slightly jealous of Merlin's accepting mother, and kind of liking Merlin even more because Merlin proclaims Uther the worst parent ever and feels righteously angry on Arthur's behalf, and hopeful, because Merlin is, in fact, into guys as well (which is stupid, because Arthur is not actually in love with Merlin, of course).
And then, just when Arthur realizes he's being bloody ridiculous, Merlin starts dating. And it's Morgana of all people. Arthur is torn between being so angry he wants to strangle his sister with his bare hands and being so contrite he kind of wants to slap himself.
But he moves on. Well, in the sense that he resigns himself to the future in which Merlin is just a friend and Arthur is a miserable old man. Which is, of course, the point when Merlin breaks up with Morgana.
It's been two weeks since then, and Arthur feels that he's given Merlin enough time to get over it. So he goes to Merlin's university, picks him up and takes him out for coffee. The venue and the hour aside, it's not much different from any other time they've gone out. Which is probably why Merlin doesn't even know it's a date until Arthur pays for them both (at which point Arthur realizes Merlin doesn't know, because Merlin's eyes give off surprise, then confusion, and then Arthur stops looking because he's afraid of what else he might see).
They get dressed and walk to Arthur's car in uncomfortable silence. Arthur considers just driving Merlin back and pretending nothing happened, but he thinks Merlin (and their friendship) deserves more of an effort so he turns around and opens his mouth to apologize, but then promptly shuts up because Merlin's face is about an inch away and Merlin's nose is red from cold and Merlin's smiling like his birthday came early.
“Idiot,” Merlin says fondly before kissing him.
Merlin's lips are chapped from the cold, his fingers are like icicles on Arthur's face and there is snow in his hair that Arthur can't stop staring at, until he realizes that he is fucking kissing Merlin, at which point he closes his eyes and kisses back. It feels like they've been doing this forever, there is no awkward bumping of noses or unpractised clanking of teeth, just the wet, gentle softness of Merlin's lips on his, of Merlin's tongue in his mouth and it's good, it's so good, it's better than Arthur imagined; Merlin seems to know exactly what to do, kisses like he was born to do that, and Arthur feels a little weak at the knees, but also a little angry because he kind of wishes Merlin knew nothing about kissing, kind of wishes he were the one to teach him, because he really doesn't dare to think how many people Merlin's kissed so far to know all these tricks.
On the other hand, Merlin's expertise has its merits, like how Arthur has to lean against his car because he can't focus on standing up while the tips of Merlin's fingers stroke his cheekbone and Merlin's tongue slides over the roof of his mouth and Merlin's body presses against his with far too many layers of clothing in between.
When Merlin steps away, Arthur wants to grab him by the shoulders and kiss him again and again and again, but instead, he opens his eyes to see the expression on Merlin's face. Merlin is smiling brightly, and his eyes are shining and his cheeks are stained red and Arthur has to smile goofily back at him. They stare at each other like lovesick fools (which they are, Arthur admits to himself grudgingly) for a while before Merlin snaps out of it and laughs.
“Take me back, I'm already late!” he says, shaking his head and still smiling.
~*~
This is how they spend the last moments of that year and the first minutes of the next:
They're drunk. Well, Arthur is drunk and he is pretty sure Merlin is drunk too, but he can't be sure because he's too drunk to be sure. Which is not surprising, because this is Gwaine's party, and that can only mean one thing - alcohol. Copious amounts of alcohol. Arthur half expected alcohol to be falling from the skies.
Fifteen minutes (or something) ago they were dancing. Arthur doesn't like dancing and he's not very good at it. But he was already drunk and didn't care. Merlin was dancing with him, of course, his back to Arthur's front, and he was grinding his ass against Arthur's crotch and what was Arthur to do other than get hard. So Merlin suggested they start the new year not with dancing, but with sex. Certainly a more appealing activity in Arthur's (not so) humble opinion. So Arthur took Merlin's hand and dragged him to the bathroom.
Which is how they ended up here. Merlin is on his knees in front of Arthur and Arthur is holding on to the wall because his legs are shaking and he doesn't trust himself to stay up if he doesn't have something solid to lean on. Their friends counted down to midnight some time ago, while Arthur could still form more or less coherent sentences, and what brain function he was temporarily robbed of, was lost to drunkenness, not to Merlin's ridiculous skills at sucking cock.
But that was then, and this is now - one of Merlin's hands is wrapped around the base of Arthur's cock, holding it as Merlin slides his mouth on and off with obscene slurping sounds, his other hand is cupping Arthur's balls, fondling them and playing with them, while the tips of his fingers press very deliberately into the sensitive skin behind; Arthur is moaning so loudly that he thinks the whole street would hear him if not for the music, and god, it only occurs to him right then that the door is not locked and someone could walk in and see them and that somehow, for some reason makes him impossibly harder. Merlin hums around him and swallows and Arthur can't stop his hips stuttering forward, but that, thankfully, only makes Merlin moan and open his mouth wider. Arthur fucks it in quick and hard thrusts, completely out of control; he's so close, he can taste it and he is pretty sure Merlin can too, because he thinks he's leaked more come during the last few minutes than he shot the first ten or so times he jerked off. He doesn't think he's ever been with anyone who can give such amazing head while so epically drunk.
And then, in an apparent attempt to blow Arthur's mind instead of his cock, Merlin opens his eyes and looks up through his lashes, slowly, pointedly unwrapping his fingers one by one from Arthur's cock, then sliding down all the way, the crown of Arthur's dick going straight down Merlin's throat. Arthur wants to scream from the pleasure building up in him, but Merlin's now free hand moves behind him, grabs his ass and squeezes briefly, before his fingers slip between the cheeks and one of them presses right against Arthur's hole; the air from Arthur's lungs is suddenly gone as he comes down Merlin's throat so hard, he almost blacks out.
When he can finally breathe again, Merlin is crowding him against the wall, his jeans undone and his hand moving frantically over his flushed cock as he slurs sweet, drunken words into the skin of Arthur's neck.
“God, you're so good, I love to see you come undone like that, love to taste you on my tongue for hours after we're done,” Merlin is moaning, voice rough and scratchy and Arthur can do little other than put his arms around Merlin's waist and rest his forehead against Merlin's shoulder and watch, hypnotized, as Merlin strokes himself at near-impossible speed. “Hnnng, Arthur, you don't know, I dream about this,” Merlin goes on, babbling to the top of Arthur's head, “sometimes I just can't stop thinking about this, wanna kneel in front of you and suck you till I can't breathe, wanna feel you come down my throat and drink it all...”
“God, Merlin, you say the filthiest damn things,” Arthur comments with a breathy laugh, because he can feel his cock twitching uselessly and he's pretty sure he'd be up for another round now if he weren't so drunk and if he hadn't just come as hard as he had.
“Mmmm,” Merlin hums, kissing the side of Arthur's head. “There are times when, oh god, I see you at work, and all I can think about, fuck-“ Merlin is close now, Arthur can tell, so he moves one of his lazy hands to Merlin's front and find his nipples under his shirt, starts playing with one of them; as if on cue, Merlin moans and throws his head back. “...think about is bending you over your desk and taking you raw, damn it,” Merlin rants, his whole body restless and flushed and covered in sweat. Arthur is beginning to get a grip now, so he starts kissing whatever part of exposed skin he can find, continues to play with Merlin's nipples and grabs a handful of his ass, squeezing rhythmically. “...or lying down on the floor and spreading myself for you, mmmmh, we need to do that sometime.”
Arthur laughs even though he's pretty intrigued by the idea as well, finds Merlin's mouth and kisses him, just wet, uncoordinated licks of his tongue and too much spit and too little lips. Merlin barely responds, quick laps and little bites in between moans and grunts and indistinguishable words and Arthur enjoys every single second of it, especially when Merlin finally shuts up and seals their lips together as he comes in hot spurts over Arthur's stomach, cock and balls. Then it's Arthur's turn to wait for Merlin to recover while he watches the dimly lit white tiles of the bathroom and listens to the repeatable beat of the music. He thinks he hears the click of the door closing, but he doesn't care, too lost in the pleasant haze of post-orgasmic bliss and alcohol. It's a good start to the year.
~*~
That turns out to be the last time Arthur celebrates New Year without being an orphan - his father dies on December 21st.
The funeral happens to be on the day before Christmas, and it's the worst timing ever, but there's nothing to it when it needs to be done. Arthur organizes everything and pays for it with money he's just inherited. Morgana is of little help, by her own choice. She doesn't even show up at the service. Arthur understands, to a certain extent, but he wishes he didn't have to go through it alone anyway. Merlin's home for the holidays. His mother is sick and he needs to take care of her, and Arthur understands that as well, but it doesn't stop him from selfishly wishing Merlin was by his side as he leafs through a collection of caskets.
The thing is, Arthur is still kind of new to the whole being independent thing. Sure, he's long come to the point in his life where he doesn't need his name or his wealth or his father because he's made a name for himself as one of the best young lawyers in the country, and he got to pick where he wanted to work a couple of months ago when he decided to leave his old firm, and he had enough cases to refuse them, but through it all, someone's always been there; and besides, he's always had the reassurance of knowing, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he had a father, one with whom he'd become very estranged, one who didn't care to call for his birthday, one who hated the one person he couldn't imagine his life without simply because of their gender, but a living, breathing father nonetheless.
Morgana calls him every evening and asks if he's okay. He says he is. The conversations are short and strained, but they always happen nonetheless and Arthur is grateful for them. He knows that it's not easy for Morgana either, but she's too proud, too opinionated to show it. And that's okay, because everyone deals with their grief in their own way.
Gwaine and Lancelot, who remain his best friends aside from Merlin, are on a holiday in France, but they call him as soon as they hear and offer to come back. Arthur refuses, because he doesn't want to ruin their trip and be a burden, so instead they text him periodically, probably more out of concern than actual need for socializing. That's okay too, they're his friends and they're allowed to worry, but they should have their own lives.
Merlin, on the other hand, is on the phone with him almost constantly; they talk until their batteries die and then they talk again as soon as their phones are recharged. Merlin immediately offers to come back, but Arthur knows how important it is to him to be with his mother at this time, so he says no even though he desperately wants Merlin there. Merlin doesn't ask him if he's all right, doesn't ask what he needs or how he's doing, like he can sense that Arthur has other people to inquire about that. Instead, he talks about his days, about how his mother is recovering and how behind he is on his studying, he tells Arthur about his friend Will, whom he hasn't seen since he moved to London, and Arthur would probably be jealous, if Merlin didn't say, at least four times per every conversation, just how much he missed Arthur. So that's okay too, Merlin being away, because they find ways of staying in touch.
Except that none of it is okay, because Arthur's just lost his father, and yes, they had issues, and yes, in many ways (as awful as it is for Arthur to admit) this is a relief, and yes, they've barely spoken in the last two years or so of Arthur's relationship with Merlin, but this was his father, god damn it, and he grew up idolizing the man, wanting to be like him, and it's still a lot to deal with, and god, he really wishes he didn't have to do it alone. It's suddenly all too much, far too much for him to deal with, for anyone to deal with on their own, and as his newly acquired sleek, fancy car gets closer to the cemetery, driven by his father's driver, Arthur feels like he's about to break down and cry, which is the last thing he needs happening in front of his future associates and his father's intimidating acquaintances, the people he will now need to impress anew. Suddenly, this strong, successful, independent young man that he's become seems like an act, and he feels like he's 13 again, the new kid with no one on his side. It's ludicrous to blame his friends for not being here, and Arthur does understand they have their own lives, he really does, but he selfishly, petulantly wants them to be here.
He doesn't really have the time to compose himself before they arrive, so it's a good thing he's developed pretty admirable acting skills over his time as Uther Pendragon's son, who also happens to be a lawyer. Kind of sad, but most of his life consists of acting in one way or another.
However, when he steps out of the car, things take a sharp turn as he sees a familiar battered Honda parked a bit to the side of the cemetery gates, his beautiful, wonderful, amazing partner, wearing a smart black suit, leaning on the hood, an older woman standing by his side. Once Arthur convinces himself he's not, in fact, dreaming, he wants to run to Merlin, hug him, and kiss him, and thank him, and he would probably do just that, but a group of men his father's age approach him with stern expressions on their faces and deep, flat voice that express dishonest sympathies, and judging eyes that only see his age and the ways in which he differs from his father.
He's ready to get rid of them as fast as possible without seeming rude, but while he's still talking to them, Merlin spots him and approaches. He seems uncertain on whether he should join the conversation or stay on the sidelines, if he should pretend to be a friend or be honest about their relationship. But Arthur is at that point when he couldn't care less what other people will think, he needs the comfort of Merlin's hands and Merlin's kisses and Merlin's support, he can't bear to see Merlin standing just out of reach, so he offers Merlin his hand and Merlin takes it easily, with a small smile.
Once Arthur can squeeze Merlin's cold fingers, feel them there, he doesn't want to let go. It's like he's just split the weight of all the feelings that have haunted him for the last two days in halves, and Merlin is carrying one now.
“Hi,” Merlin breathes, pressing a brief, chaste kiss to his lips.
“You're here,” Arthur says stupidly, holding Merlin's hand probably a bit too tightly, but Merlin doesn't complain.
“I couldn't let you be alone for this,” Merlin replies, sliding his hand out of Arthur's and snaking his arm around Arthur's waist. “How are you holding up?” he whispers, just for Arthur's ears and Arthur could kiss him for it. Actually, he will. He buries his face in the crook of Merlin's neck and inhales his familiar scent; it's like coming home after an extremely long day.
“Better,” he replies.
“Good. Come, I want you to meet someone,” Merlin says, with a contained smile that Arthur can hear in the words.
During the funeral, Hunith stays a polite distance away, while Merlin holds Arthur close and kisses him every time Arthur feels like he might break down. Merlin later insists that Arthur come back to his village for the rest of the holidays, so Arthur does. Hunith turns out to be the mother Arthur has always imagined Igraine would have been. It's at once the best and the worst winter holiday season of his life. Oddly appropriate, considering where he started out, like closing a full circle, ending a chapter in his life.
~*~
He loses a case in February.
It's too early to go back to work, only a month since his father's death, it's too early and he's not ready, but he has to prove himself and the only way he can do it, is by winning cases. Now, Arthur was born and raised not to be good, but to be the best, and that's what he's become, never having lost a case. Until, of course, it is vital not to lose, which is when he screws up.
Now, his client, admittedly not a very good man, is going to jail for 8 years, for a crime he didn't actually commit. It should have been easy, for a lawyer as good as Arthur, it should have a been a piece of cake to get an acquittal with an innocent client, but something went wrong, and the worst thing is, Arthur doesn't know what.
He feels like his brain has grown to the size of Jupiter, but is still crammed inside his regular-sized skull. It hurts like hell, hurts worse than it did when he got his first hangover, and that's saying something. He walks into their apartment exhausted and cranky, drops his stuff in the hallway, takes off his shoes and flops down on the sofa. It's about as much as he feels capable of doing.
“Hey,” he hears Merlin say from the general direction of the bedroom. He mumbles something gibberish in response. He knows that Merlin will, of course, pick up on something being wrong immediately, but he can't bring himself to say anything more at the moment. And, sure enough, “What's up?”
“I have a headache,” Arthur replies, rubbing at his eyes. He doesn't want to talk about it, doesn't want to have to tell Merlin that he failed or see the disappointment in his eyes. He feels it when Merlin leans on the back of the sofa and Merlin's fingers trail over where Arthur's clavicle is exposed by his loosened tie and unbuttoned shirt.
“I can help you with that,” Merlin whispers, words laden with innuendo. “Your body produces hormones that are basically the natural pain-“
“I get it, Merlin, you passed your endocrinology exam,” Arthur snaps, batting Merlin's hand away.
“Whoa, okay,” Merlin says, retreating his hands. For a moment, Arthur actually thinks Merlin's given up, but then the sofa dips and one of Merlin's skinny legs is pressed against Arthur's side as he sits down. Merlin's fingers gently pry Arthur's hands away from his face, then replace them, stroking his cheeks and brows. “Hey... What happened?” Merlin asks with such care and tenderness, Arthur feels like kicking himself for snapping at him.
But instead of apologizing, he looks at Merlin's face and just says, “I lost,” counting on Merlin to hear the sorry. They're equally difficult to say anyway.
“Oh,” is Merlin's only answer. There's no disappointment in his eyes, no judging, he doesn't look shocked or repulsed, just understanding and a little sad. “You can't win every time, you know,” he adds later when Arthur's relaxed a bit, started leaning into the stroking of Merlin's fingers through his hair.
“There's no can and can't right now; I have to win every time,” Arthur replies, because it's true, he's taking over the family business from none other than Uther Pendragon - those are big shoes to fill, and Arthur is not sure he's up to the challenge anymore. He's not used to losing. “There's an innocent man going to jail today because I screwed up,” he finally voices what he's been thinking for the last few hours.
“Hardly innocent,” Merlin huffs, kneeling down on the floor next to Arthur's head and kissing his forehead. “Hey, don't blame yourself, okay? You did your best. It's not your fault that he's a dick and the jury didn't like him. Hell, even you didn't like him.”
And Arthur knows Merlin is right - truth be told, he doesn't feel bad for not keeping Aredian free (honestly, the man is a horrible person, and perhaps he didn't orchestrate the robbery that he was charged with this time, but he is really not that innocent; as far as his clients go, there were worse people to let down); what's eating at him is that he lost. Ever since everything began with losing his mother, he's always been petrified of losing things and people from his life, it's part of the reason why he's so possessive and protective.
Merlin nuzzles his cheek and kisses it, murmuring, “You're still one of the best lawyers out there, don't let anyone tell you different.” And Arthur really, honestly doesn't know how he ever managed to get through more than twenty years without Merlin or what he would do if Merlin suddenly wasn't there. He tilts his head and rubs their noses together just to watch Merlin smile at him. Then he kisses that smile off.
It can't be a very comfortable position for Merlin to be in, on his knees and twisting his neck to get to Arthur's mouth at the right angle, but Merlin doesn't complain, so Arthur doesn't stop. He kisses Merlin slowly, lazily, just for the sake of kissing him, not even trying to get anywhere with it, and Merlin kisses back at the same pace, just easy, unassuming licks of his tongue behind Arthur's teeth and over the roof of his mouth. Without noticing, Arthur lets Merlin dictate the kiss and take over control, something he wouldn't let just anyone have, but Merlin is different, he trusts Merlin, knows Merlin won't let him down.
Merlin's hand is on his chest, undoing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, just pushing them aside so his fingers can have access to Arthur's skin, dance over his chest and stomach, more teasing than really touching, so light, Arthur only feels them as a ghost of a tickle. Merlin doesn't break the kiss even as he single-handedly undoes Arthur's belt and trousers, then runs a finger over the length of Arthur's half-hard cock. Arthur is barely even aware of any of it happening, like it's background noise to the single clear note of Merlin's kiss, so when Merlin moves away, just far enough to be able to ask, “What do you want?” Arthur is not really sure what he's being asked. Luckily, that seems to be answer enough for Merlin, who stands up, presses a kiss to Arthur's forehead and disappears into their room for a few minutes, coming back with the half-spent bottle of lube and a condom in his hands.
Arthur hasn't moved since Merlin left, opting to stay sprawled over the sofa, his head on an arm rest, his clothes, mostly, still there but pushed aside. His body feels too heavy to move, like he's so tired he literally can't even lift a finger anymore, the emotional drain of doing a high profile case, and losing it on top of that, catching up with him and making him exhausted. But it doesn't matter, Arthur realizes, as he watches Merlin strip quickly and efficiently, dropping his clothes on the armchair next to the sofa, because as long as Merlin's here, Arthur can sometimes be tired, and lazy, and drained, and Merlin will take care of him.
Merlin catches him watching and smiles, an unguarded, intimate little smile that Arthur has only ever seen directed at himself and that he doesn't want to share with anyone; he smiles back and folds his legs up so Merlin can kneel on the sofa with him. Merlin runs his hands over Arthur's legs, up from is ankles to his knees, which he squeezes lightly, then all the way to his hips, where he hooks his fingers into the fabric of Arthur's trousers and underwear and pulls them down, letting them bunch up around the middle of Arthur's thighs. Arthur just watches, still feeling like he is in some kind of a daze, like he's trying to move underwater, and the best he can do is rest one of his hands on Merlin's shoulder, while letting the other roam absently over Merlin's chest. Merlin doesn't seem bothered by this lack of participation as he manoeuvres Arthur's legs to the side, so that they hang over the sofa, bends over and kisses Arthur again.
Arthur gets lost in the kiss, everything else blurring away as he closes his eyes and just enjoys the way Merlin knows exactly the rhythm Arthur needs right now. He is dimly aware of one of Merlin's hands stroking him to full hardness, while the fingers of the other run teasingly over his cleft, but he can't bring himself to focus on that when he's too busy enjoying the way he can close his eyes and not be afraid that once he opens them, Merlin will be gone, the way he can let Merlin take away his control and not be afraid of it not being given back, the Merlin still kisses him lovingly and like he's the most wonderful thing that ever existed, even when he screws up. It's easier to relax and think and come to terms with having lost when he can feel the reassuring press of Merlin's lips against his.
He doesn't know how long it is before Merlin nips at his lip and says, “You know, I'm only slightly offended that you're not paying attention.” But it's teasing and sweet, especially when Merlin's lips then trail over Arthur's cheek and to his ear and he asks, quietly, like someone might hear, like it's a secret, “Is this working for you?”
They've been together for two years and they've had sex plenty of times, so Arthur knows it's not performance anxiety that makes Merlin ask that; he squeezes Merlin's shoulder and nuzzles his neck, breathing, “Yeah, yeah it's working,” in the same hushed voice, as if speaking any louder will break the spell.
“Good,” Merlin replies, pulling a little bit away and reaching out to the coffee table, “because I'm only just getting started.” He moves their supplies to the bed and Arthur watches intently as he opens the cap of the lube and spreads the clear gel over his right hand, making a show. It works, of course, Arthur's cock twitches in anticipation and his ass clenches on nothing, a reaction that's become almost instinctive upon seeing Merlin play with lube. Everything is sharper and more focused than it was only seconds ago now that Merlin is not directly on top of him, kissing him and distracting him, violently different, and although Arthur enjoys the ways in which Merlin can make his skin prickle and his fingers itch with the need to touch, today is not that kind of day, and Arthur already misses the feeling of heady, hazy drowsiness of being drunk on Merlin's lips.
Merlin seems to understand that, because he leans forward and carries on kissing Arthur; Arthur closes his eyes and gets lost in the way Merlin's soft, wet mouth soothes him as Merlin wraps a hand around his cock and starts pumping. There's a certain kind of ease, of assurance in the way Merlin moves, slow kisses and strong strokes and wet, probing fingers stroking over Arthur's hole, something that makes Arthur want to give in and let Merlin take charge, let someone else be in control for once in his life. It's easy with Merlin, because Merlin knows how to get him to that point when he wants to give in, knows how to relax him and soothe him, without making him feel like he's somehow lesser for needing that. He doesn't really know why Merlin is so special, but he is, and Arthur feels comfortable enough with him to sink back into the soft cushions of the sofa and let Merlin do whatever he wants.
Everything Merlin does stays slow, from the kisses, to the way he strokes Arthur's dick to the eventual ease of his slick fingers into Arthur's hole; the position Arthur is in makes his muscles stretch and burn and that, too, feels good, and Arthur has no doubt that Merlin positioned him like that for a reason. Arthur keeps his eyes closed, like a barrier from the world, focusing only on Merlin, the smell of Merlin filling his nostrils, the feel of Merlin's naked body over his, still mostly clothed one, the taste of Merlin in his mouth, the tips of Merlin's fingers stroking inside his ass; Merlin is everywhere around him, over him and inside him, and Arthur just soaks in that knowledge, in the feeling of being completely and utterly one with someone. It's a connection he's never felt before, and he distantly thinks that he never wants to let it go, that he wants it to be forever.
Arthur thinks that maybe he's melting, or his body has just turned to warm wax or something equally easily manipulated, he feels completely boneless and can't bring himself to move a single muscle more than what is necessary to keep his arms around Merlin's neck and to respond to Merlin's kisses. It's like becoming jelly, or maybe clouds or smoke, something that is barely physical, something to be created and shaped by Merlin's expert hands; he's no longer Arthur, the lawyer who lost a case, or Arthur, the failing son, he's whatever Merlin wants him to be, he's reduced to the moaning, shaking pile of relaxed muscles and hazy thoughts, and it's exactly the respite he needs from his stressful, every day life.
When he comes, it's not the usual, explosive and breathtaking orgasm that he knows Merlin is capable of bringing him to, it's a slow, burning build-up that lasts and leaves him tingly all over his body. It doesn't break the pattern of their (and Arthur never believed he'd ever be in a situation where he'd use this phrase in a tone that is not heavily ironic and mocking, but he honestly can't think of it in any different way) love-making, and Arthur is perfectly capable of staying in his almost-ethereal state as Merlin carefully extracts his fingers and gives Arthur's spent cock one more squeeze before taking his hand away. He has to stop kissing Arthur as he moves away to dig out the condom from the mess of Arthur's clothes and legs, but this time, it doesn't break the magic, and Arthur is still stranded somewhere in the land between alert and unconscious as he watches Merlin rip the foil of the condom.
“Don't,” he finds himself saying. Despite the way he feels distant from the world, he doesn't sound it, he just sounds wrecked and maybe a bit sappy, as he reaches out and bats the condom away. “I want to feel it when you come.” Merlin raises an eyebrow, even though he doesn't reach out to take the condom from where it's fallen to the floor. “I'm clean, you're clean, we're monogamous. Where's the risk?” Arthur asks with a shrug.
Merlin studies his face for a few seconds longer before moving his hips forward and entering him in one smooth move. “In your ego,” he moans, folding over to lick at Arthur's lips with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Arthur laughs and it's honest and light, like the small, belated snowflakes drifting past the window.
~*~
They have their biggest fight...