fic: Who Do You Want Me To Be 9/14
Title: Who Do You Want Me To Be?
Author: writteninhaste previously feathergirl89
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Warnings: AU. Adult subject matter. Later chapters are likely to be rated NC-17 for explicit content.
Spoilers: Lines from dialogue of various episodes are used, but no reference is made to the plot or content of said episodes.
Summary: Merlin had once dreamt that his life would mean something. That time is passed. There’s not much meaning to a life of turning tricks.
Who Do You Want Me To Be?
Chapter 9
Merlin took the steps leading up from the tube station two at a time. He pushed his way past kids in school uniform and well dressed men and woman heading towards the various exclusive boutiques and art stores that populated that area around Arthur Pendragon’s house.
Merlin did not slow his pace, but jogged down the streets and up the steps to Arthur’s house.
For all that Nimueh’s threats had bordered on the cliché in their vocabulary, Merlin knew they were very, very real. The moment she had left, Merlin had placed a frantic call to Gwen, thanking every god he knew the name of that she had taken a risk and stayed at Lancelot’s the night before.
He had nearly cried with relief when Gwen had answered, assuring him that she would not leave Lancelot’s apartment. The only problem was that for all Lancelot had assured Merlin he had been making plans to get himself out of the country, a paramedics wage was unlikely to get them very far and Nimueh controlled all her employees’ bank accounts. By now Gwen would have no access to any of her money - aside from the meagre sum she had managed to siphon off from the main account.
Merlin leant heavily against Arthur’s door bell and waited, breathing heavily.
When Arthur opened the door, his expression immediately went from one of polite inquiry to concerned surprise.
“Merlin. What are you doing here? Are you alright?”
Merlin fidgeted, stealing a glance nervously over his shoulder. “I need a favour.” He told the other man, eyes darting left and right.
Arthur seemed to sense his agitation. “Of course, come in.”
Merlin nodded his thanks and slid past Arthur into the hallway. As Arthur shut the door and made to lead Merlin further into the house, Merlin stopped him.
“How quickly could you get two residents visas, for anywhere out of the country?” He asked, ignoring the way Arthur’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. “And don’t tell me the six to eight weeks crap the embassy gives, I know you can get them faster than that.”
Arthur nodded. “Visas requested by a corporation can be established within a week. Why?”
“Nimueh found out about Gwen was seeing someone. He wasn’t a client. We’re not allowed to have personal relationships. The last time that happened -” Merlin trailed off. The man in question had been found mutilated in his flat, dead. The coroner had ruled it self inflicted and suicide, but everyone had their doubts. Merlin was not willing to risk Gwen’s life. Arthur could help.
He held Arthur’s gaze, and let him see just how desperate Merlin was. “Please.”
Arthur stared at him clearly weighing the sincerity of Merlin’s desperation. Eventually, he nodded.
“I need the names.”
Merlin nearly collapsed in relief. “Guinevere Cameliard and Lancelot du Lac.” Arthur looked up sharply when Merlin mentioned Lancelot’s name and something akin to recognition flashed through his eyes.
“Qualifications?” He asked brusquely.
“Gwen has a degree in nursing. Lancelot’s a paramedic but he wants to enter law enforcement.”
“Good.” Arthur said. “Health care professionals are always in short supply. I can swing visas for the United States. I won’t be able to get them a residents’ visa straight away. The most I’ll be able to manage is a tourist visa. I have a friend, we went to Cambridge together, he lives in DC, his father’s a senator. I can ask him to arrange it. He’ll help them secure at least a six month visa if I explain the situation to him.”
“Thank you.” Merlin poured all the gratitude he felt into that one statement.
Arthur scowled and fixed Merlin with a glare. “I want you to swear to me that the situation is as desperate as you’re making it seem.”
“It is. Arthur I swear I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think Gwen’s life was in danger.”
Arthur sighed and nodded. “Then I believe you.”
They stood in silence for a few moments before Arthur snorted. Merlin looked at him quizzically.
“You do realise this whole thing is like a scene from a bad spy movie, don’t you?” Arthur’s eyes were crinkled in amusement. Merlin smiled half-heartedly in return, his amusement at the situation slightly dampened by his fear.
“Go on, get out of here.” Arthur said, not unkindly. “I have visas to arrange.”
Merlin stayed where he was. “If you ever need anything -” He offered, ignoring how ridiculous of an idea it was that Arthur Pendragon would ever need anything from him.
The expression on Arthur’s face suggested he thought much the same thing, but all he said was, “Thank you, Merlin.”
Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard someone knocking firmly on his door. Gently putting the book he was reading down on the table, Merlin padded softly over to the door. Peering nervously through the key hole, Merlin felt a wash of both surprise and relief when he saw Arthur Pendragon on the other side.
Undoing the chain and the two locks he had added in light of Nimueh’s midnight visit, Merlin pulled the door open.
“How did you find where I live?”
“It honestly wasn’t that hard.”
Merlin sighed and gestured Arthur into the apartment, shutting and locking the door behind him. If Arthur thought three locks a little excessive, he did not say anything.
As Merlin set about making tea for two - neglecting to ask whether Arthur wanted any - Arthur settled himself against the kitchen cabinets.
“I’ve arranged for the company jet to take your friends to DC next Monday. The flight time’s early - five A.M. to be exact, but it was the only slot I could get on such short notice. The visas will be ready and waiting for them when they board. I’ll send a car to pick them up at whichever address you choose. My friend said he’ll help as much as he can, but they may have to country hop for a while. I’m sorry, but it was the best I could do.”
Merlin stared, open mouthed, the used teabag in his hand forgotten. He only remembered it again when the heat began to sear through his skin. With a yelp, he dropped it to the floor with a wet splat, spraying brown liquid all over the tiles. He made to pick it up, but Arthur swooped in and grabbed his hand, thrusting it beneath the cold water tap and holding it there.
Merlin was too busy contemplating the fact that he rather liked the feel of Arthur’s hands on his skin to move at first, and then the implications of that thought simply fed his paralysis. He let Arthur twist his hand back and forth beneath the spray, muttering to himself as he checked for signs of burns, all the while telling himself that he did not like Arthur Pendragon. He did not bother trying to deny being attracted to him. Merlin knew a lost cause when he saw one.
“I don’t think you’ve burnt yourself too badly,” Arthur was saying, “but do be careful next time. I doubt Nimueh would appreciate it if I returned her favourite plaything damaged.”
Tension snapped into place along Merlin’s spine and he yanked his hand from Arthur’s grip. The other man’s brain seemed to catch up with what he had said and a look of guilt flashed momentarily over his face; he did not apologise.
“Are you paying for this meeting?” Merlin asked calmly, for all the world, as though he did not care about the answer.
“What would you do if I said ‘yes’?”
“Whatever you wanted me to, Arthur.” The blonde moved forward and crowded Merlin against the kitchen counter, ducking his head to suck at Merlin’s neck. “Did Nimueh tell you where I live?”
Arthur did not answer, but his mouth stilled against Merlin’s throat.
“You’re not paying for this, are you?”
Arthur raised his head. “No.” His hips pressed further into Merlin’s, grinding him against the hard wood surface. He brushed his lips, feather light, against Merlin’s mouth, hovering mere millimetres above the skin.
“Tell me to stop and I will.” Arthur murmured. Merlin simply closed his eyes and pressed his lips to Arthur’s in a kiss.
“My bedroom’s down the hall.”
They stumbled to the side of the bed in an inelegant, uncoordinated tangle of limbs. There suddenly seemed to be too many arms and not enough legs vying for the same area of space. Merlin’s hands trembled as he fumbled to pull Arthur’s jumper over his head; Arthur narrowly missed causing Merlin excruciating pain when his hand slipped from the fly of Merlin’s jeans.
The two men fell messily onto the mattress, clawing and tugging at clothing with all the grace and finesse of a pair of teenagers. Eventually, Merlin succeeded in pulling Arthur’s jumper off over his head, revealing the smooth, tan skin beneath. He reached for his prize, only to be thwarted when Arthur sat back and held out his hands to stop him.
“No.” Arthur said and Merlin felt his heart clench. “This isn’t about me.”
Gently, almost tenderly, Arthur grasped Merlin wrists, pressing the other man down into the mattress and raising his wrists to smooth against the pillows. He instantly released Merlin’s wrists, ghosting his fingertips down the other man’s arms, along his sides and to his hips.
Arthur hands danced endless steps on Merlin’s skin, mapping every ridge and mark, tracing childhood scars and fading bruises left by clients other than him. He kissed each and every one, and Merlin wondered if this is what if felt like, to be able to have sex with someone of your choosing. He knew that in reality this was just a cheap imitation - he may be giving this for free, but Arthur would continue to pay for him.
“Stop thinking.”
Merlin opened his eyes, unable to remember when he had closed them, to see Arthur lying between his legs. When had they lost the rest of their clothes?
Something must have been written on his face, because Arthur sighed and bowed his head. His hands braced to push himself up off the bed, but Merlin laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t stop.”
Arthur held his gaze for longer than Merlin was comfortable with before he once again lowered his head to Merlin’s hip. Without breaking eye contact, Arthur licked a strip along Merlin’s pelvis, tantalising close to his groin.
Merlin groaned and let his head fall back against the pillow. He could not help the groan that slipped past his lips when Arthur wrapped his lips around the tip of Merlin’s cock and sucked. The groan turned to a gasping moan when Arthur breathed through his nose and swallowed Merlin to the hilt.
Merlin surrendered to the exquisite sensations sparking down his spine. He whimpered with loss when Arthur pulled back.
“Lube.”
Merlin’s sex addled brain took a while to protest the request. When the word finally made it through, Merlin flushed with embarrassment.
“Um. I don’t have any.”
There was silence for a heartbeat. Then, “What?”
“I don’t have any. We’re not allowed to date, and I never bring clients here. And I don’t -”
“Bugger.”
“Yeah.”
Arthur raised a hand to caress Merlin’s flagging erection, but Merlin waved him away, glancing down as he did so. Arthur was not in much better shape.
Face creasing in frustration, Arthur crawled up the bed and flopped down next to Merlin, face pressed into the pillows. This was so phenomenally awkward.
“Go out with me.”
Merlin turned his head to stare at Arthur. The other man was propped up on his elbow, looking at him.
“Huh?” Merlin asked intelligently.
“Go out with me.”
Merlin’s lips twisted in a bitter grimace and he shook his head, fixing his gaze on the ceiling. “No.”
“Why not?”
Jesus. Was that honestly confusion in Arthur’s tone.
“Mr Pendragon,” Merlin said, ignoring the way Arthur flinched slightly, “You regularly pay good money to have me in your bed. You call Nimueh, she calls me, I turn up, we fuck. You don’t even try to pretend that this isn’t prostitution - which, for the record, could get you into serious trouble one day. Why on Earth would I want to go out with you?” Merlin studiously ignored the list of reasons in his head as to why he would want to do precisely that. Namely, the fact that Merlin, if he was honest with himself, actually liked Arthur.
From the corner of his eye, Merlin saw Arthur move in a blur of colour, and the next thing he knew the naked form of the son of Uther Pendragon was leaning over him.
“Because you like me.”
“We don’t even know each other.” Merlin protested weakly.
Arthur smirked, “And yet, you like me.”
Merlin knew he was right, he did like Arthur. The man was a prat, used to throwing his weight around in the business industry. His own satisfaction had always taken precedence to Merlin’s own and yet Merlin had felt less like an escort with Arthur than he had with any other client. Of course there had been times in the months Merlin had spent with Arthur, when Merlin was reminded exactly of what he was. But more often than not, Arthur let him behave in a way more resembling a friend than a hired companion. They had laughed and argued (both of which resulted in rather spectacular sex), gone out and stayed in; Merlin had lost tract of the number of times the words ‘prat’ and ‘idiot’ had been exchanged in varying degrees of fond regard.
Hell, there had even been times when the day or night spent together had not ended in sex. The opening of the new Bond movie, the final night of Aida at the Opera, that time Arthur had hired him simply to take him to an old second hand bookshop Arthur had found and thought Merlin should see.
Arthur ran a hand through his hair, frustrated at Merlin’s silence, and Merlin had to fight not to reach out and run his fingers through the mess, just to feel the silky strands slip across his skin.
“It was never really consensual between us, was it?” Arthur asked eventually, after the silence had entered that resigned phase that occurs when awkward can no longer last.
“I could have said ‘no’.” Merlin murmured, but Arthur did not seem to hear him.
“Whatever you think of me, I’m not into rape.” Arthur told him bluntly, “I never would have pushed the issue, if I didn’t think you were at the very least willing, though I’ll not delude myself into thinking you eager.”
“I’m a very good actor when I need to be.” Merlin whispered quietly.
“So you never wanted to sleep with me?”
Merlin remained silent.
“Well?”
“I didn’t not want to, but I never really had a choice.”
“What would Nimueh do to you? If she found out you had said ‘no’ to a client.”
Merlin laughed, the sound harsh and twisted and bitter as it bubbled from his lips.
“That bad?”
“Oh yeah” The words were choked by the laughter that was still tearing its way from Merlin’s throat; he knew he was in danger of becoming hysteric.
“I’m sorry.”
Merlin’s laughter died in his throat. He turned to stare at Arthur who, at some point, had rolled over to lie back down on the bed.
“W-what?”
The look on Arthur’s face said very loudly that he was not repeating himself.
“Oh.”
“So you’ll go out with me?” Arthur asked.
“Yeah,” Merlin said, losing the will to argue anymore. “Sure, I guess.”
Part 10
’The big difference between sex for money and sex for free is that sex for money costs less.’ - Brendan Francis
Author: writteninhaste previously feathergirl89
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Warnings: AU. Adult subject matter. Later chapters are likely to be rated NC-17 for explicit content.
Spoilers: Lines from dialogue of various episodes are used, but no reference is made to the plot or content of said episodes.
Summary: Merlin had once dreamt that his life would mean something. That time is passed. There’s not much meaning to a life of turning tricks.
Who Do You Want Me To Be?
Chapter 9
Merlin took the steps leading up from the tube station two at a time. He pushed his way past kids in school uniform and well dressed men and woman heading towards the various exclusive boutiques and art stores that populated that area around Arthur Pendragon’s house.
Merlin did not slow his pace, but jogged down the streets and up the steps to Arthur’s house.
For all that Nimueh’s threats had bordered on the cliché in their vocabulary, Merlin knew they were very, very real. The moment she had left, Merlin had placed a frantic call to Gwen, thanking every god he knew the name of that she had taken a risk and stayed at Lancelot’s the night before.
He had nearly cried with relief when Gwen had answered, assuring him that she would not leave Lancelot’s apartment. The only problem was that for all Lancelot had assured Merlin he had been making plans to get himself out of the country, a paramedics wage was unlikely to get them very far and Nimueh controlled all her employees’ bank accounts. By now Gwen would have no access to any of her money - aside from the meagre sum she had managed to siphon off from the main account.
Merlin leant heavily against Arthur’s door bell and waited, breathing heavily.
When Arthur opened the door, his expression immediately went from one of polite inquiry to concerned surprise.
“Merlin. What are you doing here? Are you alright?”
Merlin fidgeted, stealing a glance nervously over his shoulder. “I need a favour.” He told the other man, eyes darting left and right.
Arthur seemed to sense his agitation. “Of course, come in.”
Merlin nodded his thanks and slid past Arthur into the hallway. As Arthur shut the door and made to lead Merlin further into the house, Merlin stopped him.
“How quickly could you get two residents visas, for anywhere out of the country?” He asked, ignoring the way Arthur’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. “And don’t tell me the six to eight weeks crap the embassy gives, I know you can get them faster than that.”
Arthur nodded. “Visas requested by a corporation can be established within a week. Why?”
“Nimueh found out about Gwen was seeing someone. He wasn’t a client. We’re not allowed to have personal relationships. The last time that happened -” Merlin trailed off. The man in question had been found mutilated in his flat, dead. The coroner had ruled it self inflicted and suicide, but everyone had their doubts. Merlin was not willing to risk Gwen’s life. Arthur could help.
He held Arthur’s gaze, and let him see just how desperate Merlin was. “Please.”
Arthur stared at him clearly weighing the sincerity of Merlin’s desperation. Eventually, he nodded.
“I need the names.”
Merlin nearly collapsed in relief. “Guinevere Cameliard and Lancelot du Lac.” Arthur looked up sharply when Merlin mentioned Lancelot’s name and something akin to recognition flashed through his eyes.
“Qualifications?” He asked brusquely.
“Gwen has a degree in nursing. Lancelot’s a paramedic but he wants to enter law enforcement.”
“Good.” Arthur said. “Health care professionals are always in short supply. I can swing visas for the United States. I won’t be able to get them a residents’ visa straight away. The most I’ll be able to manage is a tourist visa. I have a friend, we went to Cambridge together, he lives in DC, his father’s a senator. I can ask him to arrange it. He’ll help them secure at least a six month visa if I explain the situation to him.”
“Thank you.” Merlin poured all the gratitude he felt into that one statement.
Arthur scowled and fixed Merlin with a glare. “I want you to swear to me that the situation is as desperate as you’re making it seem.”
“It is. Arthur I swear I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think Gwen’s life was in danger.”
Arthur sighed and nodded. “Then I believe you.”
They stood in silence for a few moments before Arthur snorted. Merlin looked at him quizzically.
“You do realise this whole thing is like a scene from a bad spy movie, don’t you?” Arthur’s eyes were crinkled in amusement. Merlin smiled half-heartedly in return, his amusement at the situation slightly dampened by his fear.
“Go on, get out of here.” Arthur said, not unkindly. “I have visas to arrange.”
Merlin stayed where he was. “If you ever need anything -” He offered, ignoring how ridiculous of an idea it was that Arthur Pendragon would ever need anything from him.
The expression on Arthur’s face suggested he thought much the same thing, but all he said was, “Thank you, Merlin.”
Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard someone knocking firmly on his door. Gently putting the book he was reading down on the table, Merlin padded softly over to the door. Peering nervously through the key hole, Merlin felt a wash of both surprise and relief when he saw Arthur Pendragon on the other side.
Undoing the chain and the two locks he had added in light of Nimueh’s midnight visit, Merlin pulled the door open.
“How did you find where I live?”
“It honestly wasn’t that hard.”
Merlin sighed and gestured Arthur into the apartment, shutting and locking the door behind him. If Arthur thought three locks a little excessive, he did not say anything.
As Merlin set about making tea for two - neglecting to ask whether Arthur wanted any - Arthur settled himself against the kitchen cabinets.
“I’ve arranged for the company jet to take your friends to DC next Monday. The flight time’s early - five A.M. to be exact, but it was the only slot I could get on such short notice. The visas will be ready and waiting for them when they board. I’ll send a car to pick them up at whichever address you choose. My friend said he’ll help as much as he can, but they may have to country hop for a while. I’m sorry, but it was the best I could do.”
Merlin stared, open mouthed, the used teabag in his hand forgotten. He only remembered it again when the heat began to sear through his skin. With a yelp, he dropped it to the floor with a wet splat, spraying brown liquid all over the tiles. He made to pick it up, but Arthur swooped in and grabbed his hand, thrusting it beneath the cold water tap and holding it there.
Merlin was too busy contemplating the fact that he rather liked the feel of Arthur’s hands on his skin to move at first, and then the implications of that thought simply fed his paralysis. He let Arthur twist his hand back and forth beneath the spray, muttering to himself as he checked for signs of burns, all the while telling himself that he did not like Arthur Pendragon. He did not bother trying to deny being attracted to him. Merlin knew a lost cause when he saw one.
“I don’t think you’ve burnt yourself too badly,” Arthur was saying, “but do be careful next time. I doubt Nimueh would appreciate it if I returned her favourite plaything damaged.”
Tension snapped into place along Merlin’s spine and he yanked his hand from Arthur’s grip. The other man’s brain seemed to catch up with what he had said and a look of guilt flashed momentarily over his face; he did not apologise.
“Are you paying for this meeting?” Merlin asked calmly, for all the world, as though he did not care about the answer.
“What would you do if I said ‘yes’?”
“Whatever you wanted me to, Arthur.” The blonde moved forward and crowded Merlin against the kitchen counter, ducking his head to suck at Merlin’s neck. “Did Nimueh tell you where I live?”
Arthur did not answer, but his mouth stilled against Merlin’s throat.
“You’re not paying for this, are you?”
Arthur raised his head. “No.” His hips pressed further into Merlin’s, grinding him against the hard wood surface. He brushed his lips, feather light, against Merlin’s mouth, hovering mere millimetres above the skin.
“Tell me to stop and I will.” Arthur murmured. Merlin simply closed his eyes and pressed his lips to Arthur’s in a kiss.
“My bedroom’s down the hall.”
They stumbled to the side of the bed in an inelegant, uncoordinated tangle of limbs. There suddenly seemed to be too many arms and not enough legs vying for the same area of space. Merlin’s hands trembled as he fumbled to pull Arthur’s jumper over his head; Arthur narrowly missed causing Merlin excruciating pain when his hand slipped from the fly of Merlin’s jeans.
The two men fell messily onto the mattress, clawing and tugging at clothing with all the grace and finesse of a pair of teenagers. Eventually, Merlin succeeded in pulling Arthur’s jumper off over his head, revealing the smooth, tan skin beneath. He reached for his prize, only to be thwarted when Arthur sat back and held out his hands to stop him.
“No.” Arthur said and Merlin felt his heart clench. “This isn’t about me.”
Gently, almost tenderly, Arthur grasped Merlin wrists, pressing the other man down into the mattress and raising his wrists to smooth against the pillows. He instantly released Merlin’s wrists, ghosting his fingertips down the other man’s arms, along his sides and to his hips.
Arthur hands danced endless steps on Merlin’s skin, mapping every ridge and mark, tracing childhood scars and fading bruises left by clients other than him. He kissed each and every one, and Merlin wondered if this is what if felt like, to be able to have sex with someone of your choosing. He knew that in reality this was just a cheap imitation - he may be giving this for free, but Arthur would continue to pay for him.
“Stop thinking.”
Merlin opened his eyes, unable to remember when he had closed them, to see Arthur lying between his legs. When had they lost the rest of their clothes?
Something must have been written on his face, because Arthur sighed and bowed his head. His hands braced to push himself up off the bed, but Merlin laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t stop.”
Arthur held his gaze for longer than Merlin was comfortable with before he once again lowered his head to Merlin’s hip. Without breaking eye contact, Arthur licked a strip along Merlin’s pelvis, tantalising close to his groin.
Merlin groaned and let his head fall back against the pillow. He could not help the groan that slipped past his lips when Arthur wrapped his lips around the tip of Merlin’s cock and sucked. The groan turned to a gasping moan when Arthur breathed through his nose and swallowed Merlin to the hilt.
Merlin surrendered to the exquisite sensations sparking down his spine. He whimpered with loss when Arthur pulled back.
“Lube.”
Merlin’s sex addled brain took a while to protest the request. When the word finally made it through, Merlin flushed with embarrassment.
“Um. I don’t have any.”
There was silence for a heartbeat. Then, “What?”
“I don’t have any. We’re not allowed to date, and I never bring clients here. And I don’t -”
“Bugger.”
“Yeah.”
Arthur raised a hand to caress Merlin’s flagging erection, but Merlin waved him away, glancing down as he did so. Arthur was not in much better shape.
Face creasing in frustration, Arthur crawled up the bed and flopped down next to Merlin, face pressed into the pillows. This was so phenomenally awkward.
“Go out with me.”
Merlin turned his head to stare at Arthur. The other man was propped up on his elbow, looking at him.
“Huh?” Merlin asked intelligently.
“Go out with me.”
Merlin’s lips twisted in a bitter grimace and he shook his head, fixing his gaze on the ceiling. “No.”
“Why not?”
Jesus. Was that honestly confusion in Arthur’s tone.
“Mr Pendragon,” Merlin said, ignoring the way Arthur flinched slightly, “You regularly pay good money to have me in your bed. You call Nimueh, she calls me, I turn up, we fuck. You don’t even try to pretend that this isn’t prostitution - which, for the record, could get you into serious trouble one day. Why on Earth would I want to go out with you?” Merlin studiously ignored the list of reasons in his head as to why he would want to do precisely that. Namely, the fact that Merlin, if he was honest with himself, actually liked Arthur.
From the corner of his eye, Merlin saw Arthur move in a blur of colour, and the next thing he knew the naked form of the son of Uther Pendragon was leaning over him.
“Because you like me.”
“We don’t even know each other.” Merlin protested weakly.
Arthur smirked, “And yet, you like me.”
Merlin knew he was right, he did like Arthur. The man was a prat, used to throwing his weight around in the business industry. His own satisfaction had always taken precedence to Merlin’s own and yet Merlin had felt less like an escort with Arthur than he had with any other client. Of course there had been times in the months Merlin had spent with Arthur, when Merlin was reminded exactly of what he was. But more often than not, Arthur let him behave in a way more resembling a friend than a hired companion. They had laughed and argued (both of which resulted in rather spectacular sex), gone out and stayed in; Merlin had lost tract of the number of times the words ‘prat’ and ‘idiot’ had been exchanged in varying degrees of fond regard.
Hell, there had even been times when the day or night spent together had not ended in sex. The opening of the new Bond movie, the final night of Aida at the Opera, that time Arthur had hired him simply to take him to an old second hand bookshop Arthur had found and thought Merlin should see.
Arthur ran a hand through his hair, frustrated at Merlin’s silence, and Merlin had to fight not to reach out and run his fingers through the mess, just to feel the silky strands slip across his skin.
“It was never really consensual between us, was it?” Arthur asked eventually, after the silence had entered that resigned phase that occurs when awkward can no longer last.
“I could have said ‘no’.” Merlin murmured, but Arthur did not seem to hear him.
“Whatever you think of me, I’m not into rape.” Arthur told him bluntly, “I never would have pushed the issue, if I didn’t think you were at the very least willing, though I’ll not delude myself into thinking you eager.”
“I’m a very good actor when I need to be.” Merlin whispered quietly.
“So you never wanted to sleep with me?”
Merlin remained silent.
“Well?”
“I didn’t not want to, but I never really had a choice.”
“What would Nimueh do to you? If she found out you had said ‘no’ to a client.”
Merlin laughed, the sound harsh and twisted and bitter as it bubbled from his lips.
“That bad?”
“Oh yeah” The words were choked by the laughter that was still tearing its way from Merlin’s throat; he knew he was in danger of becoming hysteric.
“I’m sorry.”
Merlin’s laughter died in his throat. He turned to stare at Arthur who, at some point, had rolled over to lie back down on the bed.
“W-what?”
The look on Arthur’s face said very loudly that he was not repeating himself.
“Oh.”
“So you’ll go out with me?” Arthur asked.
“Yeah,” Merlin said, losing the will to argue anymore. “Sure, I guess.”
Part 10
’The big difference between sex for money and sex for free is that sex for money costs less.’ - Brendan Francis