Anniversary - Merlin - Arthur/Merlin

[toestastegood]

Title: Anniversary
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Word Count: 4471
Rating: R
Warnings: blood, vampires
A/N: A vampire AU set in the Scent 'verse
Summary: It is the anniversary of the night Arthur and Morgana were turned. Merlin thinks they ought to celebrate. Arthur thinks he's gone mad.


Merlin takes his time preparing Arthur's sleeping quarters when night falls. Arthur is still with his father, probably embroiled in an argument that involves a ridiculous amount of masculine posturing. He'll be cranky when he comes back.

There are candles burning to fight back the dark and Merlin has arranged and rearranged the pillows countless times by now. If he prods them any more, they might explode in a frenzy of sneeze-inducing feathers. As fun as it would be to try to explain that to Arthur, Merlin forces himself to resist. When he's bored and restless, his usual method to combat it would be to visit someone within the castle. After careful deliberation, however, he's had to rule everyone out.

It is far too late to visit his mother and Gaius. Gaius would probably answer the door dressed for bed and eyebrow at him until he scurried away. Merlin isn't entirely sure how Gaius manages to transform his eyebrow into a verb, but it's an impressive and terrifying skill nonetheless. Sometimes he worries that that eyebrow is plotting something against him, but he tends to retreat when it appears so that it doesn't get the chance.

His mother would humour him for as long as she could, and would resist yawning in his face, but night had fallen a long time ago and Merlin doesn't want to be a burden. He feels as if he has ruined his mother's life enough without adding unnecessary wakings to her burden.

Ordinarily, Gwen and Morgana might be the next people on his list, but considering the tension between them recently he feels it would be best to keep his distance - especially tonight of all nights. He doesn't know exactly what happened, and no amount of gently trying to tease the answer from Gwen has yielded any results. Whatever it is, they're keeping it secret. It's far from reassuring, but Merlin has to assume that they'll spill the beans when they're ready, probably at an extremely bad time for everyone, because in Merlin's life there never seems to be a 'good time' to unveil secrets.

He gives up on preparing the bed to Arthur's liking and lies back on it instead, toeing his boots off. It's hard to think of this bed as his bed as well as Arthur's. He sleeps here regularly with Arthur entwined beside him, cold to the touch but slowly getting better at snuggling. The bed is more comfortable than Merlin thinks it ought to be without magical assistance, and when he's sleeping at Arthur's side it means that he doesn't have to wake up nearly as early in the morning as he had when he was sleeping on the other side of the castle.

He's half-dozing, still fully dressed and on top of the covers, by the time that the sound of the door quietly creaking open registers. He only opens his bleary eyes when the mattress dips and he feels Arthur ever-so tenderly shoving his shoulder to wake him up.

"If you were anyone else you'd be fired for this," Arthur scolds while he is still grumpily pushing his way towards consciousness. He slumps down to lie beside Merlin; it means that Merlin doesn't have to sit up to talk to him, and for that he is incredibly grateful. "Then I'd have to get a manservant who could actually stay awake for the entire day."

"I'm sure that would be a terrible sacrifice for you to have to make, hiring someone who is actually qualified for the job," Merlin mumbles. Even now that he understands Arthur's need to have him nearby at all times, he still finds his position in the castle a joke. He's not ready for this at all and doesn't have a clue what he's doing. Half of the time he feels as if he's being paid to be Arthur's housewife: to tidy his bedroom, clean his shoes, press his shirts. It's irritating, though he knows that Arthur would scoff if he bothered to bring it up to him. He holds his tongue. "You're back late anyway. How was I supposed to stay awake that long?"

"I'm back at a perfectly reasonable hour," Arthur tells him, although the darkness outside would like to argue with him just as much as Merlin would. "My discussions with my father went on a little longer than I'd expected."

"Anything interesting?" Merlin asks out of habit; he very much doubts if anything interesting is ever said in those meetings, and even if there was Arthur would probably not be allowed to let him know.

"Death and taxes," Arthur sighs. His mouth nuzzles against Merlin's jaw in a way designed to distract him and make him shiver. His hand has already found its way onto Merlin's hip, stroking softly through his clothes. "I don't want to talk about it," he mumbles against Merlin's skin.

Merlin shifts his head so that he can divert Arthur's attention from his jaw to his mouth, lips sliding together. It is altogether more satisfying this way, as he coaxes Arthur into relaxing against him and giving him exactly what he wants. Arthur lets out a breathy sigh against Merlin's lips and he allows Merlin to push him onto his back and roll into his lap. Merlin knows that his weight must feel like nothing to Arthur, but he makes a damn good effort at pinning him down all the same, his hands heavy on Arthur's shoulders.

Merlin knows what day it is. He's been keeping an eye on Arthur as best as he can for a while: it's the anniversary of the day he was turned. He has to trust that Gwen is there to look out for Morgana today, because he's got his hands full with Arthur. Uther has kept him busy all day, and Merlin suspects that it might be his own way of looking after his son's well-being. As terrifying as Merlin finds Uther, he cares about his son and ward.

Merlin's hands relax where he had been pinning Arthur down. He pulls back and sits up, leaving Arthur to whine a complaint at him. "I know what day it is," he says quietly.

"Congratulations, you're making great progress," Arthur says, purposefully obtuse. If this was any other day, Merlin would be happy to roll his eyes at him. "Any day now you'll even be able to count to ten without getting confused."

"Gwen told me," Merlin continues as if Arthur hadn't said a word. Sometimes it is in both of their best interests to ignore him when he decides to talk nonsense. "Are you okay?"

Arthur makes a vague sound that isn't much of an answer at all. He's not really one for talking and sharing his feelings. Sometimes Merlin thinks that if he was a better friend he would take more time to coax him into opening up more. Gwen and Morgana are able to share everything; shouldn't he and Arthur be able to do the same?

Yet it's far harder in action than in theory, and he usually just gives up. If there's a large problem, he is sure that Arthur will be able to address it in his usual obnoxious way.

"I've been thinking," he says determinedly. He decides not to hear Arthur's apprehensive groan. "I think we should try it."

Arthur pauses for a long, uncertain moment before he gives up and says, "Try what?"

"Y'know..." Merlin says. Arthur's slow blink implies that he certainly does not 'know' anything at all. "I think we should do what Gwen and Morgana do."

"They're girls, Merlin," Arthur tells him. "We don't have the right parts."

Merlin thinks that Arthur has to be missing the point on purpose. No one in the world is that dense. He tilts his head to the side to illustrate what he means, his neck on show and pale in the warmth of their room. The sudden clench of Arthur's hands on his hips is enough to tell him that Arthur's got the message.

"Don't," Arthur says, speaking between clenched teeth.

Merlin straightens his head once more. If Arthur is determined not to do it then he doesn't want to force him - but he needs to show that he's willing to try. They can get there, if they work on it. He's more than capable of defending himself if matters get out of hand. "You have more self-control than you realise, Arthur," he says. "It's hard for you, I know that, but I think you're stronger than you think. We've been sharing a bed for ages now and I've not yet turned into a midnight snack. That's got to mean something good, right?"

"Or it could merely mean that it's only a matter of time," Arthur says, "and that you're tempting fate right now."

"I'm okay with that. I can take on fate, easily." He could take it on and smash it to the ground if he had to. When he's around Arthur, Merlin feels like they're unstoppable. "You don't have to do it. I just thought I'd bring it up."

"It's a nice thought. A completely stupid one, but it's sweet." Arthur's hand travels up the front of his body until it reaches his neck. Two fingers rest upon his pulse point, counting the beating of his heart. There is a wistful expression on Arthur's face, and it's almost enough to make Merlin feel guilty for having the humanity that Arthur envies. "You have no idea how hard I fight against doing this, Merlin."

"Maybe that's the problem," Merlin says. "You're wound so tight that you're scared of snapping at any second. And when you do snap, it's violent and not exactly enjoyable for me. So I thought that if we, uh, snapped you now, in controlled circumstances, then it would be - better. Damage control, something like that. Preventative measures."

Arthur blinks at him. Merlin can't tell whether or not that's a good thing.

"Unless there's more vampire stuff I don't know about," Merlin says. It's hard to get himself to stop talking when Arthur is looking at him like this. "I mean, I just thought that because Morgana and Gwen manage it we could too, but if there is some crazy vampire loophole that I don't know about you need to actually tell me. Because I don't know everything, so I might be suggesting something stupid."

It's pretty likely, actually, and yet Arthur's expression is thoughtful. Thoughtful is good, Merlin thinks. It's better than mocking, in any case. "You must have a death wish," Arthur says eventually.

"Not really," Merlin says. "I quite like being alive." Not to mention that if Arthur slipped up he would have both Gaius and Hunith to deal with. It really is in Arthur's best interests to keep him breathing.

"I quite like you being alive as well," Arthur confesses. "Are you sure about this? If something goes wrong, it will go really wrong."

A battalion of butterflies take flight in Merlin's stomach as he realises that Arthur is considering his suggestion. "I know. I trust you."

"You shouldn't," Arthur says. "If you knew the way I think about you, you'd run away screaming."

Merlin wants to be scared. It would really be the sane emotion to experience right now, hearing Arthur confessing to the way he wants to kill him. It's not normal, and it's not healthy for either of them. "I'm not a screaming kind of guy," Merlin says. "Or a running away kind of guy either."

Arthur frowns at him. "When I first met you, I wanted to kill you. Remember - I pinned you against the wall and took in your scent. I wanted to taste you. I wanted to kill you, Merlin."

And, yeah, that's every single bit as frightening as it ought to be. Back then, he hadn't had a clue what was really happening. He had written Arthur off as a strange, eccentric royal who he ought to avoid if it was at all possible. His cluelessness could easily have got him killed.

"But you didn't," Merlin points out. "That's something to celebrate." He had never thought that simply being alive would be something this amazing. When he's been spending most of his time with a blood-thirsty vampire, however, he reckons it's something of a triumph.

Arthur shakes his head silently, but he doesn't say a word. Merlin hates the expression on his face and he wishes he knew how to chase it away. Merlin isn't frightened of Arthur, but it doesn't matter: Arthur is frightened of himself. He would probably deny it if questioned on the matter, but Merlin can tell. Arthur isn't quite as large a mystery as he likes to believe that he is. Merlin is gradually learning how to decode him.

"If you're going to change your mind, you should do so now," Arthur tells him. His voice is thick with the kind of tension that should spell danger. He's looking down at the hem of Merlin's shirt, shielding his eyes from view. Merlin can imagine what colour they must be right now. It won't be Arthur's usual blue. "Are you sure about this?"

"I'm sure if you're sure." They could probably go around in circles all night, both of them too cautious to take the next step. He climbs off of Arthur and hangs over the side of the best to retrieve some of the belongings that he has stashed under there. Towels, bandages, supplies. He's ready.

"You've really thought about this," Arthur observes. Merlin can't quite work out the tone in his voice. It is somewhere between impressed and disbelieving.

He busies himself with folding and refolding the cream-coloured towels, needlessly. "I didn't just decide it on the spur of the moment, Arthur," he points out, although he knows that that is exactly what Arthur would have expected him to do. Everyone that knows him thinks that he is rash and reckless; he's not quite sure how he gathered that reputation, but he would like to say that it's unjustified. "It's a good idea. It's a great idea."

"It's a dangerous idea," Arthur adds, lounging on the bed. His body language is full of fake relaxation, as if he is trying to pretend that he is more at ease at this than he is. Sometimes Merlin is left to wonder if Arthur ever intends on allowing him to see beneath the bullshit attitude that he puts forth. He doubts it.

Merlin looks up once he cannot distract himself any more. Arthur's gaze is steady - and utterly black. There is no hint of colour in his eyes, no sign of anything other than supernatural hunger. Merlin swallows. He feels like prey.

It takes him a moment to begin to move again, but he manages to prod himself into action. Slowly, he crawls back over the bed to take his place atop Arthur once more. "Let's do this," he says confidently.

Rather than arguing with him, Arthur takes a fistful of his shirt and pulls him down. Their mouths meet clumsily; Merlin is glad that his rumble of laughter is caught and muffled against Arthur's mouth. He doesn't think that Arthur would appreciate a laughing fit at a time like this. Arthur's hand tangles in the hair at the back of his head. Merlin's tongue makes the first exploration - and he can't stop his sharp intake of breath when he meets fang instead of teeth.

They both freeze for a moment, Arthur's hands clenching. Merlin takes a few deep breaths through his nose, mouths still pressed together, and it takes him a moment before he can dare to move again. Arthur's tongue meets his own, and a moment later Merlin flinches when he feels a stab of pain in his bottom lip, the skin splitting under the needle-like intensity of Arthur's teeth. Blood wells.

A deep moan rumbles through them, and Merlin isn't quite sure which of them it came from. His heart pounds; his body is aware it is in danger, even though his mind tries to fight this automatic reaction. Arthur sucks at his bottom lip, drawing a few drops at a time from the small cut that he has created. His tongue laps at Merlin's bottom lip in a way that Merlin thinks is far more gentle than it ought to be.

From his position on top of Arthur, it is easy to press his hand against his shoulder and sit upright. Arthur whines about it, a sound that is utterly unnatural from his lips, but he allows Merlin to slip from his grasp. It's good. That is progress.

"Wait five seconds," Merlin says, keeping his hand on Arthur's shoulders to remind him not to chase after his blood yet. It is readily apparent that if Arthur wanted to drink from him, Merlin wouldn't be able to stop him with brute strength - but that isn't the point. They are testing Arthur's control and waiting to see what the boundaries are. "Five, four, three-"

Arthur starts to count with him. "-two, one." He takes his time when he sits up, as if proving to himself that he doesn't have to rush. Merlin smiles to confirm that his prey isn't going anywhere, although it hurts the cut on his lip when he does so.

Arthur's hands rest on Merlin's hips, and from the rise and fall of his chest through unnecessarily breath, Merlin can see the strain that it is putting on him not to give in to his instincts. "Merlin," Arthur pants. "Shirt."

One word sentences seem to be as much as Arthur can handle right now, so Merlin makes as good an interpretation that he is capable of. He pulls his tunic off over his head as Arthur watches with greedy black eyes, his gaze hungrily absorbing the pale skin that is put on show at his request. His hands take the chance to explore Merlin's chest, moving so slowly that it as if he has never seen it before, as if everything is new. Merlin watches him, unable to find any words to speak.

"Here," Arthur says decisively when his fingers rest upon one nipple. His other hand travels upwards, choosing the dip above Merlin's collarbone. "And here."

Merlin nods his consent; he could say that he's happy to go along with whatever Arthur wants, but he knows that Arthur needs something a little more specific than that. "Brilliant choices," he says, looking down at when Arthur's hands are placed upon his torso.

Even though he is ready for it, he still feels a jolt when Arthur rolls them over. Merlin winds up on his back, his heart racing as his head rests on the pillow. Above him, with his battle-worn muscles and golden hair, Arthur doesn't look human even before the blackened eyes are taken into account. There is something more to him. Merlin thinks that it must always have been there long before he was turned. Something different, something special.

Arthur moves - slowly, hesitantly, jerkily - to place his mouth over Merlin's nipple. Merlin jerks in surprise at the contact of Arthur's lips on his skin. He breathes with his mouth open. His hand shifts to cup the back of Arthur's head, silently urging him on. He wants this, he reminds himself. He is the one that had suggested it.

The pain is sharp again when Arthur breaks the skin, but it's different this time. It's okay. Merlin watches as Arthur drinks and can feel the way his mouth moves and swallows the liquid that flows. He can feel his entire body tingling, every nerve and every drop of magic in his blood on alert to what is happening. He needs to fight to rein it in, knowing that he could easily do damage. They had thought of the way Merlin might be in danger in this situation; they had neglected to think of the danger that Arthur brought upon himself.

Merlin closes his eyes and strokes Arthur's hair. As he sinks into the sensations, he can feel a slow wash of calm begin to cover him. He can remember the serene expression on Gwen's face from the few times that he has accidentally stumbled upon Morgana feeding from her. He hadn't been able to understand how something that was painful could allow her to appear so at ease - now, as he allows Arthur to drink, he thinks he is starting to get it.

Arthur pulls back and looks up at him. There is startling red blood over his chin and staining his teeth. It makes him look like a monster. "Are you alright?" he asks, panting his way through the words. In his eyes, dark gold shimmers.

Merlin nods. "I'm fine," he answers, smiling ridiculously wide on instinct. He looks down and can see the collection of fang-marks circled on one side of his chest, drops of blood still welling up. "It barely even hurts. How are you?"

"I'm well," Arthur answers. He even smiles a little, his lips painted red. "I feel great."

It makes Merlin feel warm to know that he has been able to make Arthur feel like that. After the mental torture he's been putting himself through, Arthur deserves something good in his life. "One more bite," Merlin says, tapping the second spot that Arthur had selected.

"I don't want to take too much," Arthur says. With his eyes coloured over by black and gold it is difficult to read any true expression into them, but Merlin thinks that he looks concerned.

"I'm fine," he repeats. Maybe if he says it often enough Arthur will learn to listen to him, but in all honesty he doubts it. One of the special abilities that comes with vampirism appears to be an exceptionally thick skull. Both Arthur and Morgana are known for being supernaturally stubborn, after all. "Seriously, Arthur. I'm fine. I'm healthy; I'm alive; I'll do anything you need me to do to prove it. Hurry up and bite me."

"I am certain that no servant ought to be this pushy with royalty," Arthur complains, knowing exactly how to ruffle Merlin's feathers.

"I'm not your servant right now, 'sire'," Merlin says. One of these days he will learn not to rise to the bait when Arthur decides to tease him - he just hopes that that day is not in the near future. Bickering with Arthur is far too much fun to want to stop. "And if I am then I have to complain that your behaviour is incredibly inappropriate as my employer."

"I'm your master, not your employer," Arthur says. His fingers skin back and forth over Merlin's collarbone, causing goosebumps in their wake. "Actually, I'm not even your master, I'm your prince."

"You're not a prince, you're a prat," Merlin says. The words are comfortable on his lips and he manages to make Arthur smile again, something that is soft and hard-won. Pinned underneath him, Merlin bucks his hips insistently to attract Arthur's attention. There is a hard pressure pushed against him that is enough to send a thrill through his body. He isn't the only one turned on by this, clearly. "C'mon. I don't like waiting."

"You are an utter brat," Arthur murmurs, but he gives in - he always does.

It feels so much better this time when he breaks the skin. Merlin thinks that he must be getting used to it, adapting, or perhaps Arthur is getting better at it. His eyes close and he rests his head against the pillow. Arthur feels heavy above him and the blood leaving his body is hot. His finger-tips tingle and he relaxes, completely at ease for one of the first moments in his life. There isn't anything to worry about, although he knows that there should be. If anyone else in the castle knew that they were trying this, Merlin can imagine the lectures about recklessness and stupidity that they would receive. His ears would be ringing for days.

Arthur's hips are moving lazily against him as he drinks, and it takes Merlin less than a second to join in. They've never done this before, anything like this. It's always been too dangerous, too tempting, too much. They had to be careful not to damage Arthur's self-control, but caution is thrown to the wind now and they are willing to take what they want, whatever they want. Merlin's hand strokes Arthur's hair as he pants for breath, and together they moan and writhe through the night.

When the sun is starting to rise through the window and Merlin has managed to doze fitfully for a few hours, he groans his unhappiness about being awake and rolls onto his front. Vampires and sex, he decides as he looks around the bed, are two incredibly messy things. Messy and sticky. Messy, sticky and sort of gross.

"Merlin, are you awake?" Arthur asks.

It isn't a surprise that he sounds perfectly alert. Merlin isn't even certain whether or not Arthur sleeps, seeing as he has never managed to get a straight answer out of him on the subject. "If you ask me to go and get something for you, I'm going to throw a pillow at you," Merlin warns. He is officially off-duty. Unlike physicians, servants don't stay on-call. He doesn't know whether that is officially true or not, but if it isn't then he will force Arthur to enshrine it in law the second he gets the chance.

"Calm down," Arthur tells him, flicking a solitary finger at his bare shoulder. It collides with a dull ping that has no effect other than to make Merlin mumble in complaint. "I wanted to check that you were alright."

His voice is thick and awkward, stilted in a way that it usually only is in court. Merlin smiles and shuffles towards him, draping himself over Arthur's body. It takes a moment before Arthur's arms move to curl around him. Arthur still needs lessons in cuddling. Lots of lessons. Thankfully, Merlin has the time and inclination to provide them.

"I'm more than alright. Don't worry about it." The bite marks aren't deep. Arthur had offered to heal them away while Merlin's magic still flowed through him, but Merlin had declined. He'd cited legitimate concerns for his safety and a desire not to spend the rest of his days as a twitching rodent; really, he just likes having the marks. It means something, like he's wearing a badge to show that Arthur isn't completely ruled by his instincts. He drank and he stopped, willingly. There is more to him than the monster. He can makes himself stop whenever he wants to. "Happy anniversary," Merlin says with a grin.

He receives a roll of Arthur's eyes - and, although he's certain Arthur would deny it, he knows that he hears him murmur, "Thank you," in return.