Lines and Boundaries - Merlin - Arthur/Merlin
Title: Lines and Boundaries
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin (Merlin/Others)
Word Count: 6634
Rating: NC-17
A/N: This is a modern day hooker!AU that throws all pretences at realism right out the window.
Summary: After working for Arthur for over a year, Merlin finds that his favourite client is starting to confuse work and reality.
The hotel room is grander than most that he's been to. Usually, Merlin finds himself on his knees in by-the-hour rooms, counting stains on the ceiling when he gets bored - the kind of place where the staff won't meet his eyes because they know exactly why he's there. This room is so different from that. Beneath his bare feet, the carpet is soft and plush. The bed is large and the sheets that cover it are dark red and regal. This is pleasantly far from his experiences on most nights.
Arthur, of course, is far from a typical client. Merlin has never fooled himself into believing that he's high-class. He attracts a certain brand of client - men looking for someone younger and smaller than themselves to take advantage of - and he gets paid enough. He is not paid well, but it is enough to justify what he does.
He can't help smiling as he explores the suite, imagining what it must feel like to be able to afford this kind of luxury. As he spots the view from the window he bounces forward until he's close enough to rest his hand against the glass. He can see everything from here, the entire city, and the light makes his black hair shine. The Thames sparkles, lit up at night by streetlamps like fairy lights.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Arthur says. Without turning around, Merlin can imagine the smug smile on his face. He's been working for Arthur long enough - once a month for over a year now - that he knows how to predict his moods and expressions well enough.
"It's brilliant," he says. His breath steams against the glass. "Absolutely brilliant."
"I'm pleased you like it."
Merlin peers over his shoulder to find Arthur leaning against the wall on the other side of the room as he watches him.
"Of course I like it, Arthur," Merlin says as he moves back towards him like a fish being reeled in by nothing more than the power of his eyes - and his wallet. "You have excellent taste, as always."
"You don't need to flatter me, William," Arthur says. When Merlin is close enough, he curls a finger beneath his chin but he doesn't kiss him - yet. Merlin knows that it will be a while until he does. When Arthur hires him for the night, he likes to take his time. He likes to pretend that he is a gentleman, far from the type of man that would pay for sex from a male street-whore.
"Wouldn't say it if I didn't think it. I wouldn't pander to your ego. Don't need that head of yours getting any bigger, do we?" He wouldn't dare to talk like this to any other client - it would be career suicide. With Arthur, it's different: he needs it.
He fixes Arthur's tie for him then straightens the lapels of his suit jacket. In his jeans and t-shirt, Merlin feels a little too casual. "So what are we going to do tonight?" he asks.
Arthur's hands rest on his shoulders and he watches Merlin for a few moments. Studying me, Merlin thinks, so he stays calm and smiling. Arthur has something of a Prince Charming delusion going on and Merlin's willing to play along: he lets Arthur think that he's protecting him. Merlin doesn't want to imagine what his reaction would be if Merlin ever turned up for an appointment trying to hide bruises.
"Dinner and a show," Arthur announces, once he's satisfied that Merlin is fine. "I have a reservation."
Merlin should have seen that coming. It's never about the sex for Arthur; never just about sex, anyway. It'd be easier if it was. Merlin knows sex. This… This, he doesn't know.
"Sounds posh," he says. He looks down at what he's wearing and then looks back up at Arthur. "I'm a little underdressed, aren't I?"
"Turn up like that and they probably won't even let you in." Arthur smirks. "You'll have to stand at the window and watch me eat."
Merlin rolls his eyes. "And I'm sure you'd just love sitting there all alone."
"Might be a little boring." Arthur presses his lips together as if he's thinking about it. Merlin smiles, trying to look cute, and he isn't surprised at all when Arthur pats his hand again Merlin's shoulder. "Go to the closet," he says, gesturing at it.
Merlin moves where he's told, opening the closet doors: already, a shirt and suit wait for him. His size. Arthur is thorough and prepared. Merlin strokes the sleeve; he doesn't know what fabric it's made out of, but he can tell from one touch that it costs more than he'd ever be able to afford for himself.
"This is amazing," he says.
Behind him, Arthur chuckles. "Of course it is. Hurry up and get changed - we'll be late."
"If we're late, Arthur, I'll take none of the blame."
He does hurry when he gets changed, even with Arthur watching him as he strips off, pulling his t-shirt over his head. When he slips the shirt on, the pale red - he refuses to acknowledge that it's actually pink - feels even smoother than it had against his fingertips.
"You might not get this back from me after tonight," he tells Arthur.
"Why on Earth would I want it back?" Arthur says. "It wouldn't fit me. You're tiny."
Merlin pulls on the jacket and squares his shoulders, stubborn and defiant like Arthur wants him to be. "I am not tiny. You're unreasonably bulky."
"'Bulky'?" Arthur repeats, before he laughs, mouth wide. "I amn't a weakling like you, if that's what you mean."
He offers his arm for Merlin to take, ever the gentleman.
Yeah, 'cos all gentlemen pay for sex, Merlin thinks, but he smiles as he takes the offered arm and allows Arthur to lead them to the door. "You are very strong," he agrees. "Nobody would doubt that you're the brawn out of the two of us, not the brains."
"Does that mean that you're the brains?" Arthur says. "Dear God, we're doomed."
With Arthur, Merlin doesn't have to fake his laughter.
*
They keep the bedside light on, but the rest of the room is soft and dark. The blinds have been drawn across the huge windows. Merlin lies on his back under warm, expensive bed covers. Above him, Arthur's dimly lit face shines with happiness and sweat.
He turns his head and kisses Merlin's ankle where his foot rests against Arthur's shoulder. "How are you? Is this okay?" he asks, his voice choked with the effort of restraining himself.
"I appreciate the concern," Merlin says - he lets himself sound a little breathless, though he's taken men much larger than Arthur before. His fingertips slowly trace down Arthur's side. "But I'm fine. Really, I'm fine."
"Thank god," Arthur mutters, before capturing Merlin's mouth with his own as he pulls out so slowly, setting a torturous pace that convinces Merlin that he's either a sadist or a masochist, perhaps some combination of the two.
It feels more like Arthur is making love to him than fucking him.
Merlin is never quite sure how to respond to that.
*
Arthur arranges another appointment in a week rather than a month. Perhaps Merlin should have realised at the time that this had to mean something out of the ordinary, but he's being shepherded towards an unnecessarily large and loud house before his misgivings get the better of him. "I'm not sure if this is such a great idea."
"It is an excellent idea," Arthur says. He claps his arm around Merlin's shoulders and Merlin doesn't pull away. "It's either I take you or I have to bring some vapid, shallow airhead to keep me company."
"I appreciate the sentiment, but these are your friends, Arthur. Generally speaking, you don't introduce a…"
He pauses. It's rarely a good idea to bring up what he is: reminding Arthur that he's paying for Merlin's time is awkward, to say the least. It's better to skirt around that particular issue, and-
"Whore?" Arthur finishes before Merlin has to try. Merlin's eyebrows rise. "I'm hardly going to introduce you that way. 'Hi guys, this is William, the man I pay to fuck. His oral skills are admirable and you should really ask him to show you just how flexible he is once you get him on his back. Incredibly good value for money, and -'"
"Alright, alright. I get the message." Merlin smiles. They're nearly at the front doors by now. Merlin swears the building is actually looming over him, ready to swallow him up for good.
They reach the door. It's made from thick, expensive wood. On the steps leading up to it there are a collection of non-flowering plants in pots of varying sizes and an odd collection of rocks and pebbles clustered near them that Merlin supposes are meant to look decorative.
Arthur's lips bump the top of his head. "It'll be alright," he says after ringing the doorbell. "Just try not to be even more of a dork than usual."
"'Dork'?" Merlin snorts, but he's cut off from criticising Arthur's word choice when the door is opened by a woman more stunningly beautiful than he'd ever anticipated.
With plaster-white skin and hair so dark that the colour seems dredged from the depths of empty skin, she smiles at him. "This must be William," she says. "The only man masochistic enough to put up with Arthur for more than two weeks…"
"And this is Morgana," Arthur says. Merlin is sure that he would claim that the red flush that had come to his cheeks is because of the summer heat. "The only step-sister sadistic enough to mention that the second she opens the door."
"He loves me really," Morgana says, flashing a killer smile at Merlin. "He needs us to keep him in place."
"Are you planning on inviting us in any time soon?" Arthur says. "Or are you just going to harass William on the doorstep all night?"
"I don't think I'm the one being harassed, to be honest," Merlin points out.
It makes Morgana beam and hold the door open for the pair of them. On the way in, Morgana's hand pats Merlin's back.
"Jesus," Merlin says once he's stepped inside. He looks around the hallway and feels dwarfed. "This place is ridiculous."
"That's a compliment," Arthur tells Morgana. "William's not very good at them."
His arm stays around Merlin's shoulders and the step-siblings lead him out of the hallway and further into the house. The crowd barely numbers twenty people, but Merlin instantly feels on display. From the reception he gets, he has to wonder what Arthur has told them about him. The hype makes him feel like a rock star.
It isn't long before he needs to escape, slipping from Arthur's side even though while being paid he probably ought to stay close. He leaves Arthur talking in the centre of a group, the life and soul of the party. Breathing deep, he finds his way to a kitchen so spotless it looks as if it's never been used. It takes forever to find a cup, opening and closing many bare cupboards. He drinks water, leaning against the kitchen counter.
The door opens, but he doesn't remember the name of the girl who walks in. He remembers that she's quiet, that she hardly spoke in the group, and that her smile is nice.
"Sorry," she says. "I didn't mean to startle you."
Merlin smiles, half-hidden by his glass. "I'm not startled. I'm just… hiding, to be completely honest."
Smiling, she nods. "They're a little much, aren't they?"
"A lot," Merlin corrects.
"I'm Guinevere, by the way. Gwen."
"I'm William." He doesn't hesitate. With Arthur, his own personality starts to bleed into his work persona, but there's a line. There has to be a line, always.
"I know," Gwen says, before she blushes and looks down. "Arthur… He talks about you. Quite a lot, actually."
Merlin's eyebrows rise: he isn't sure if he wants to know this, but he asks, "Really?"
"Really. I'm sure he's too much of a…"
"Prat?"
"Exactly - I'm sure he's too much of a prat to say it, but I think he's smitten. It's sweet. It's a side of him most people wouldn't see, I don't think. He's too busy being…"
"A prat?" Merlin suggests again.
"His father's son," Gwen says instead. She moves with practiced ease to the cupboard where the cups are stored: plastic, just like the one in Merlin's hand. It's probably from Ikea, and it makes this iceberg house feel a little more real. "It can't be easy, living up to Uther's expectations."
"I suppose not…" Merlin agrees, and it occurs to him that he knows laughably little about Arthur's life outside of their meetings.
Gwen clears her throat as she pours herself a drink of water, just like him. "But, anyway. We're all glad to finally meet you. Morgana had been beginning to think that he was making you up, to be honest. Six months and we'd never even seen you? It's not like him at all.
"I think we wanted to keep things quiet for a while," Merlin says with a bashful smile. He's a little more concerned than he'll let on, but he has to continue. He can talk to his own friends in the morning about it - tonight, he needs to focus on his work and nothing else. "So how did you meet Arthur?"
She's happy to talk and he's happy to listen, prompting her when he needs to. She's Morgana's friend, not Arthur's, and Merlin can't say that he's surprised. Arthur has the air of a man who used to be a bully at high school; Gwen feels as if she used to hide away in the library at lunch. Oil and water. Under ordinary circumstances they'd never mix.
It's better than he'd imagined it would be, but he's still glad when Arthurs decides to drag them away in the small hours of the morning. "It was so good to finally meet you," Morgana says, smiling as she hugs him by the door. Near her neck he smells a waft of citrus-scented perfume. "You will come back, right? We haven't scared you off?"
"Not yet," Merlin answers with a smile.
"Damn," Morgana says as she pulls back from the hug. "I'll have to try harder if I want to ruin Arthur's lovelife."
"And that is my cue to get William away from you," Arthur says, his hands on Merlin's shoulders as he shepherds him away. He stops to let his step-sister kiss him on the cheek. "See you tomorrow."
"One o'clock."
She waves them off as they leave the house and begin to wander down the ridiculously long driveway.
"Thank you for coming," Arthur says.
Merlin doesn't mention that he's only here because Arthur is paying him to be, or that he would probably have found a way to get out of it if he'd known that Arthur had been planning on introducing his 'boyfriend' to his friends. There are boundaries and lines that must not be crossed when he's working: Arthur leaps over them all easily.
"No problem… 's not like I had anything better to do…" He grins and Arthur grabs him - headlocking him even as they walk.
"Shut it, you - admit that you had a good time tonight."
Merlin squirms. "How am I supposed to shut up and admit that at the same time?"
He's rewarded when Arthur's other hand reaches around to his stomach to search and tickle. Merlin laughs and tries not to shriek as he clumsily attempts to get away without offering a confession.
It's fun; it's natural; it's easy.
And Merlin knows - Merlin is sure - that it has to stop soon.
*
Arthur looks up at him like he's a god, straddling Arthur's legs and riding his cock. Arthur's skin his tanned and his hair is golden, a contrast with the red pillow case. Merlin's hands hold onto Arthur's where they rest on his hips, fingers entwined. Bright blue, Arthur's eyes are hungry as they watch him.
But it's not about him. Work is never about him.
He lets Arthur drag him down even though the angle is awkward. When Arthur kisses him, Merlin pretends that he doesn't hear him whisper, "Fuck, I love you," against his lips.
*
"Get out," Gaius says immediately once he hears about the situation. He peers at Merlin over the thin rims of his glasses. "I know you like this boy, Merlin, but you have to walk away. It's far too dangerous."
Merlin should listen. Gaius has never steered him wrong: he knows more about the industry than Merlin could ever hope or want to. He retired years ago - runs a café now that sells the best bacon rolls Merlin has ever tasted - but he still knows his stuff.
Sighing, Merlin glances at Lancelot instead. Outside of the café's window, Londoners walk past on their way to legitimate jobs: the harassed expressions on their faces make Merlin feel guiltier than any wad of cash could. "What do you think, Lance?"
Lancelot looks away from him at Gaius - nervous about saying the wrong thing for either of them. Eventually he sighs and looks down at his frothy cappuccino "I agree with Gaius. This man thinks he's actually dating you."
"He thinks he's dating William."
"I'm not sure if there's a difference," Lancelot says. He sounds like he'd rather be anywhere other than here in this conversation. "It might not be only him that's become too attached…"
"It's not like that." Merlin looks away - he doesn't want to snap at Lancelot, who is so gentle-natured that he can't mean any harm. But Lancelot doesn't understand. He's gorgeous: he hardly has to actually work for clients at all. All he needs to do is show up, look pretty, and they feel like luckiest people in the world. He's got a long list of repeat customers that's only ever getting longer. It's easy for him. So easy. "I'll think about it…"
"Which means that you will do nothing of the sort," Gaius sighs at him in frustration. "You should be more careful."
"I am. You know I am!" He's more careful than either of them give him credit for.
Gaius scowls at him. "If you were 'careful', Merlin, this situation would never have happened."
"You needn't be so hard on him," Lancelot protests on his behalf. "Merlin's not to blame."
"There probably isn't even anything to be 'blamed' for," Merlin adds. He wishes he'd never told them. "Arthur's harmless. He's a little pushy, and a huge wanker at times, but he wouldn't hurt me. Not ever." He smiles as he thinks about it. Arthur's a good guy, beneath the bullshit. He's got a sharp tongue and a bad attitude, but to go along with it there's an old-fashioned sense of chivalry and honour. He opens doors for women - and Merlin, for that matter - and he carries himself like a king.
"I think I agree with Lancelot - perhaps it isn't only him that we need to worry about." Gaius frowns. He looks like a cloudy day. "That smile on your face… You're attached, Merlin. Far too attached. Last night may even have convinced you that what you have with this man is 'real' in some way. You must not forget that, to him, you are someone that he pays, a mere employee - and what you provide him with is a commodity that he buys, ultimately disposable."
Merlin looks down at the tabletop, his face burning. "I know that," he mumbles. "I'm not entirely stupid."
"Then stop acting like you are. Don't take another appointment with him - for my peace of mine, if not for your own safety."
Merlin gives an unconvincing smile and an even more unconvincing promise. He has no intention of refusing to see Arthur again, but he'll say whatever he needs to in order to set his friends' minds at rest.
*
His only other regular apart from Arthur is another oddity: Summer. In her 50s, she is one of the few female clients that Merlin has ever had. 'Regular' might be too strong a term: repeat customer, that would be best.
Her hair is beginning to grey and she always laughs when they tumble into bed together. With a hand on his shoulder she guides him down between her spread legs, to lick and suck until she trembles and screams.
She always tips generously.
It's not a bad way to make a living, Merlin thinks, not really.
*
Arthur twirls the handcuffs around his finger, smiling smugly at Merlin. The metal shines when the light hits it: the cuffs look new, never used. There isn't a single tiny scratch or dent.
"I've never done that before," Merlin says uncertainly.
"You trust me, don't you?" Arthur asks. He smiles and leans back on the four-poster bed, spread before him arrogantly: he knows exactly how attractive he is. He's leering, he's actually leering, and Merlin can't help but grin in amusement. "It'll be fun, I promise…"
"Fun for who?" Merlin grumbles, but he finds himself being drawn over to the bed, powerless.
"Me, mostly," Arthur admits as Merlin slides neatly into his lap. His hands rest on Merlin's hips; the handcuffs dangle down against his thighs. "Though I'm sure I'll make it work for you as well."
Merlin kisses the side of his mouth, along his jaw, his ear lobe. Slow and easy. Overly intimate. "D'you promise?" he asks.
It's one of his rules, usually: never let a client get you into a situation that you can't get out of. Handcuffs certainly count as something inescapable.
But it's Arthur…
It's Arthur, and that means -
That means a lot more than it should.
"I promise," Arthur murmurs. He reaches for the bottom of Merlin's t-shirt, peeling it up and over his head. He throws the bunched material down onto the ground and then places a hand on Merlin's hip to roll him underneath him. Arthur's weight is strong and comforting, something that Merlin thinks he could so easily get used to. Arthur smirks down at him. "I've been thinking about this for so long, Merlin," he whispers as he takes hold of one of Merlin's slim, pale wrists.
He starts to guide it to the bedpost, but Merlin abruptly jerks free. Eyes wide, he stares up at Arthur.
Laughing - awkwardly - Arthur sits back as he stays straddled across Merlin's lap. "What? Is there something wrong? You're not having second thoughts already, are you?"
"Get off of me. Right now, Arthur, get off."
Something in his voice makes Arthur listen. He climbs off of him without any further questions and kneels on the bed at his side. Scrambling, Merlin moves away - right off the bed until his feet hit the floor. He grabs his t-shirt and pulls it back on and curses himself again and again for not listening to Gaius and Lancelot earlier.
"William, what's going on? I didn't mean to scare you, you idiot - I can put the cuffs away. It's fine. Come back to bed."
"You called me Merlin," he says, words clipped out. His finger rises to point at Arthur, a pinpoint of betrayal and rage.
The guilt flashes on Arthur's face - eyes widen; eyebrows rise; he breathes in deeply - but it's plastered over in record time. He laughs. Fake. "Why on Earth would I call you something so ridiculous?"
Merlin shakes his head: he can't listen to Arthur clumsily feign ignorance. "Why do you know my name?" When Arthur looks ready to lie to him again he snaps, "Why?"
Arthur's shoulders slump and he heaves a sigh - he sounds irritated. "I was curious; I had an investigator dig around a little, that's all. It's really nothing to get so worked up about."
"You…" And he's speechless. For once in his life he's actually speechless. Such an invasion… It scares him to think of how bloody easy it was for Arthur to do this. What else does he know?
"I want you to stay away from me from now on," Merlin demands, reaching into his back pocket to remove the envelope Arthur had given him at the beginning of the evening. "Just stay away."
He places the white envelope down on the bed and starts walking before Arthur can tell him not to. As he reaches the door he can hear Arthur calling his name - both real and fake - but it doesn't make him stop.
He doesn't stop at all, in fact, taking the stairs instead of the lift and walking instead of hailing a cab. His feet ache and his heart still races. He doesn't want to think about what happened - not now. Maybe not ever.
*
Finds himself on his knees in an alleyway. A bit public; a bit risky. He isn't being paid even half of what he usually asks for. In his mouth, the cock feels large and tastes stale but that's fine. He feels rough hands in his hair and feels like he might gag as the man pounds home in his mouth.
It hurts and his throat will feel raw and abused tomorrow. Fine, that's fine - more than fine, that's right, that's how it should be.
This guy doesn't care if there are strained tears being held back in Merlin eyes from the pain.
Merlin takes all he can dish and pockets the cash.
He tells himself he doesn't think of Arthur at all.
*
He quits after that, though it scares the hell out of him to do so. He abandons the email address he uses for work; changes his phone number; donates to charity the clothes that he'd never wear but William had; finds a job. A real, poorly-paid, under-valued job. He works behind the counter at a local bookstore's coffee shop. The drinks all have complicated names that he can never quite remember, but he's slowly beginning to get the hang of it. He hasn't dropped anything in an entire week.
His hair always smells of coffee beans and sometimes he scalds his hand on boiling water, but on the scale of things he has to admit that the perils of this job are an significant improvement on the last one.
"Careful, Merlin," Will says, placing a hand on his wrist to stop him before he manages to press the wrong button on the till and jam it up - again. "Gail'll have your head if you do that again.
Merlin flashes a grateful smile and presses the right button this time as he deals with his current customer. "Thanks. You just saved my life."
"That's what I'm here for." Will rolls his eyes - and as odd as it is to work with someone who has his old work name, he likes Will. He's a sarcastic, argumentative son of a bitch. He's Arthur without the complications, without the danger.
He's caught in his thoughts, face flushed from more than merely the heat behind the counter, and so he doesn't immediately recognise the next customers that he turns to. "What can I get for you?" he asks the two women.
"William?" one of them asks in surprise.
Merlin's heart sinks. Nothing good can come from that name.
"I'm sorry?"
Feigning innocence seems like the best possible route, especially as he recognises them: Gwen and Morgana, from Arthur's little party. They have a clutch of newly bought books in their hands and Gwen has thread a few purple summer flowers into her hair.
"You should be," Morgana says. Her eyes narrow dangerously. "Do you have any idea what you did to Arthur, taking off like that? He's been absolutely dreadful."
"I think you must have the wrong person. My name's not William."
"Yeah, like that's a surprise. A con-artist, is that it? I should've seen it coming."
"Seriously - I'm not whoever you think I am."
"Merlin, are you alright?" Will asks, placing a cautious and over-friendly hand on Merlin's shoulder. His eyes evaluate Gwen and Morgana as if sizing them up: Will is always so ready to leap into an argument, even when it's not required.
"Yeah, just a little misunderstanding," Merlin answers, but he can't take his gaze away from Gwen's confused eyes. Her expression is a frown that won't fade. He clears his throat. "So what can I get you today?"
Gwen soothes Morgana as well as she can. "I think he's telling the truth. Why don't you go and find a table? I'll get the drinks."
With one last glare -so cold that it could freeze oceans - Morgana leaves in a flurry of expensive material. Threat passed, Will floats back to the second till at the other side of the counter. Merlin smiles gratefully at Gwen. "Thanks."
She doesn't smile back. "It is you, though, isn't it? You're William - Arthur's ex?"
Merlin wants to lie and he knows that it would be the safest thing to do, but there's something about the soft colour of Gwen's eyes. It makes him trust her. "It's me," he admits. "My name really isn't William, though."
He has to take her order and uses that to distract her from asking the next obvious question: why had he been using a fake name?
Really, he isn't sure if the question that replaces it is any better. "What happened between you two? Arthur's been a mess. He actually punched his father in a board meeting, have you heard about that? Not that I mean to gossip or pry or anything, but it's worrying. Something bad must have happened."
"It's complicated," Merlin says. "It didn't end well." He doesn't want to bad-mouth Arthur to his friends, and there's no way to explain what actually happened. It doesn't make sense outside of the professional context.
There must be something on his face: something sad and hidden in his expression. Gwen's eyes widen in alarm. "He didn't hurt you, did he?" Her voice is lowered so that he can hardly hear her above the churning and steaming of the coffee machine.
Merlin laughs in surprise. "No! No, god, no. This is Arthur we're talking about."
Her shoulders relax. He places Morgana's coffee on a tray and a pot of tea for Gwen beside it.
"It was just a… I don't know. We didn't work well together. I'm a private person; he pried where he shouldn't have." And Merlin misses him, though he knows that he shouldn't. Their meetings once a month had been such bright highlights for him to look forward to, and now that's gone. It's all gone because Arthur's too nosy for his own good; all because he thinks boundaries don't apply to him. He sighs. "How is he?"
"He's getting by," Gwen tells him as she hands him a bank note. He has to frown in concentration as he focuses on the till: he'll get the hang of it eventually. "You should call him. I mean, it'd be nice if you did. For both of you, maybe?"
He tries to offer a smile as he hands her the change from her cash. "I'll think about it," he says. For Gwen, even though he hardly knows her, he'd like to be able to promise to patch things up with his fake-boyfriend.
She picks up her tray and says goodbye. Though it's awkward to have them sitting so nearby, Merlin hardly stops smiling for the rest of his shift: hearing about Arthur's current emotional state allows him to think that maybe whatever had been between them had been real.
*
It's been three months since he had sex, personally or professionally. Lying in his bed alone, Merlin smiles and rolls onto his side. If he's honest, this early retirement feels pretty good.
*
He gets home from work nursing a blister on his left forefinger. He's getting better at his job, but there is still a lot of improvement to be made before Will can stop watching his back. His shoulders hurt; his feet ache; there's a smile on his face. He's looking forward to a good, long shower this evening.
When he turns the corner to the street of his apartment building, his footsteps falter. Leaning against the wall of his building there's a broad, blond man. Arms crossed. Shirt and suit, with the suit jacket nowhere in sight - probably forgotten at the office even though the days are getting colder.
Arthur.
Arthur is here. Right here, right outside his home.
"Shit."
He looks over his shoulder and contemplates whether he ought to simply go and stay with Gaius for the night. It would be the safest thing to do, the smartest thing to do.
I've never been too good at the 'smart thing', he thinks as he throws caution to the wind and rounds the corner, walking to his door while he hunts in the pocket of his coat for his keys.
"You're blocking my way," he points out when he's close to his front door. He can't think of what else to say.
Arthur looks exactly as he remembers. Same blond hair; same blue eyes; same expensive suits.
The expression, though, that is new. Arrogance has been replaced by uncertainty.
"You've been ignoring me. How else am I supposed to get your attention?"
"I think what you're supposed to do is get the hint." He jangles his keys in his hand, unable to keep still. This doesn't feel real. He doesn't know if Arthur can really be standing here. "How did you even know how to find me?"
"Same way I knew your real name, Merlin. It's rather easy, to be honest." Arthur rubs at his forehead. It makes him look like a confused child. "And, well, Gwen suggested that I ought to speak to you."
"She did?"
"I wouldn't have come otherwise." He closes his mouth and pauses for a bare moment as he thinks. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I wasn't prying."
"Yeah. You were." The very fact that Arthur won't apologise is infuriating. He's so very convinced that he's right, in this as in all other things. "I was someone you paid for sex, Arthur. That's all. You wouldn't go poking into the private life of your secretary or your chef, would you? Not like that. Why should I have been different?"
"Because you were different," Arthur snaps, as if that's actually an answer. "It wasn't just about sex, not for either of us. You cared about me."
"So?" He can't deny it. Wouldn't try.
"So I cared about you too! And you never told me anything. It drove me mad, Merlin - it still drives me mad. Thinking about you working with other people, touching them the way you touched me…" He trails off. He isn't looking at Merlin any more but there's something dark in his expression, something violent. "I needed to have something nobody else did."
When he admits it, he at least has the good grace to appear ashamed. That's a start, Merlin supposes.
"You could've just asked, you idiot," Merlin says.
Arthur doesn't smile. "And you would have told me, would you? Easy as that?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I would, actually." The truth of that answer takes him by surprise as much as it does Arthur. "That hardly matters now anyway. You screwed up."
Arthur's jaw clenches. He doesn't take defeat gracefully in anything. "Is that it, then? I screwed up so you decided to run off?"
"Pretty much, yeah."
"Coward." Arthur breathes heavily through his nose, watching Merlin like he's prey. "So if I kissed you now - right now - you'd send me away?"
Merlin flounders. He can't deal with this here. Arthur is outside his home. It's too confusing. "Yes," he says uncertainly. "Of course I would."
"I don't believe you." Arthur moves closer until he reaches the point where Merlin ought to push him away.
"You should," Merlin whispers with no conviction. "I'm a very believable person."
Arthur brushes the back of his fingers over Merlin's jaw, so lightly that Merlin can hardly feel it. "Liar," he accuses with a warm, confident smile. His head bows and his lips press against Merlin's mouth. Soft, gentle, pleading. Merlin moans: he feels light-headed and breathless from the faintest kiss.
Arthur pulls back and rests their forehead together. "See?" he says. "You haven't sent me away yet."
"I'm getting around to it," Merlin says, though his hands float to rest on Arthur's hips, holding him close. "Any minute now."
"Mm," Arthur murmurs. "I'll just wait, shall I?"
"Might be a while, to be honest. I'm awfully busy." Merlin smiles. "D'you want to come and wait inside?"
Arthur answers by kissing him again, lips connecting with a harsh ferocity. It's easy to get swept up in this: he's missed it, missed him, and he needs it more than he should. It's been too long.
They have to pull away so that Merlin can open the door, but Arthur stays pressed close against his back, lips teasing the nape of his neck. Merlin misses the keyhole the first time he tries and Arthur reaches around to take his hand. He steadies him, his hand larger than Merlin's own. They unlock the door together, with Arthur murmuring teasing words about his incompetence with locks into his ear.
It's a wonder they manage to make it up the stairs, but when they tumble into bed it is Merlin on top of Arthur - and this time Arthur knows that it is Merlin here, not 'William'.
*
His head rises and falls as he rests against Arthur's chest. Arthur's arm curls around Merlin's shoulders. "Have you ever tidied up in here?" Arthur asks, surveying Merlin's messy bedroom. "Ever?"
"Maybe once," Merlin says, because he's too spent to argue more enthusiastically. Arthur really is the bossiest bottom in history - and he can't say he's too surprised to discover that. "Or twice."
"You are such a pig."
Merlin murmurs in agreement. Arthur's fingers play with the hair at the back of his head, twirling strands idly. It's something they've never really done before, lying around like this. Merlin's body is so relaxed that he's practically fluid.
"I've been waiting a while now," Arthur announces. "Have you decided when you're going to chuck me out yet?" Merlin can hear the smile in his voice.
"I've been thinking about it," Merlin says. Beneath the covers his finger circles Arthur's navel. His stomach is flat and hard: Merlin thinks that he must have worked hard at achieving that and feels like laughing at the thought of Arthur working out. "Does 'never' work for you?"
"Hmm…" Arthur pulls a face as if he's thinking about it. "I suppose we could make that work." He presses his lips against the top of Merlin's head and Merlin hears him breathe in deeply. "I need to know something first, though. Are you still…"
He doesn't say it, but Merlin knows what he means. "I quit," he admits. "Right after what happened with you, I quit. Seemed like the best thing to do, to be honest."
Arthur nods and says nothing more on the topic. Merlin wonders if this is something they should talk about more, but he won't be the one to bring it up. He has Arthur in his bed with no secrets between them. He rests against him, feeling calm, safe and protection. Though he knows that happy endings shouldn't exist for people like him, Merlin just can't bring himself to question it.
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin (Merlin/Others)
Word Count: 6634
Rating: NC-17
A/N: This is a modern day hooker!AU that throws all pretences at realism right out the window.
Summary: After working for Arthur for over a year, Merlin finds that his favourite client is starting to confuse work and reality.
The hotel room is grander than most that he's been to. Usually, Merlin finds himself on his knees in by-the-hour rooms, counting stains on the ceiling when he gets bored - the kind of place where the staff won't meet his eyes because they know exactly why he's there. This room is so different from that. Beneath his bare feet, the carpet is soft and plush. The bed is large and the sheets that cover it are dark red and regal. This is pleasantly far from his experiences on most nights.
Arthur, of course, is far from a typical client. Merlin has never fooled himself into believing that he's high-class. He attracts a certain brand of client - men looking for someone younger and smaller than themselves to take advantage of - and he gets paid enough. He is not paid well, but it is enough to justify what he does.
He can't help smiling as he explores the suite, imagining what it must feel like to be able to afford this kind of luxury. As he spots the view from the window he bounces forward until he's close enough to rest his hand against the glass. He can see everything from here, the entire city, and the light makes his black hair shine. The Thames sparkles, lit up at night by streetlamps like fairy lights.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Arthur says. Without turning around, Merlin can imagine the smug smile on his face. He's been working for Arthur long enough - once a month for over a year now - that he knows how to predict his moods and expressions well enough.
"It's brilliant," he says. His breath steams against the glass. "Absolutely brilliant."
"I'm pleased you like it."
Merlin peers over his shoulder to find Arthur leaning against the wall on the other side of the room as he watches him.
"Of course I like it, Arthur," Merlin says as he moves back towards him like a fish being reeled in by nothing more than the power of his eyes - and his wallet. "You have excellent taste, as always."
"You don't need to flatter me, William," Arthur says. When Merlin is close enough, he curls a finger beneath his chin but he doesn't kiss him - yet. Merlin knows that it will be a while until he does. When Arthur hires him for the night, he likes to take his time. He likes to pretend that he is a gentleman, far from the type of man that would pay for sex from a male street-whore.
"Wouldn't say it if I didn't think it. I wouldn't pander to your ego. Don't need that head of yours getting any bigger, do we?" He wouldn't dare to talk like this to any other client - it would be career suicide. With Arthur, it's different: he needs it.
He fixes Arthur's tie for him then straightens the lapels of his suit jacket. In his jeans and t-shirt, Merlin feels a little too casual. "So what are we going to do tonight?" he asks.
Arthur's hands rest on his shoulders and he watches Merlin for a few moments. Studying me, Merlin thinks, so he stays calm and smiling. Arthur has something of a Prince Charming delusion going on and Merlin's willing to play along: he lets Arthur think that he's protecting him. Merlin doesn't want to imagine what his reaction would be if Merlin ever turned up for an appointment trying to hide bruises.
"Dinner and a show," Arthur announces, once he's satisfied that Merlin is fine. "I have a reservation."
Merlin should have seen that coming. It's never about the sex for Arthur; never just about sex, anyway. It'd be easier if it was. Merlin knows sex. This… This, he doesn't know.
"Sounds posh," he says. He looks down at what he's wearing and then looks back up at Arthur. "I'm a little underdressed, aren't I?"
"Turn up like that and they probably won't even let you in." Arthur smirks. "You'll have to stand at the window and watch me eat."
Merlin rolls his eyes. "And I'm sure you'd just love sitting there all alone."
"Might be a little boring." Arthur presses his lips together as if he's thinking about it. Merlin smiles, trying to look cute, and he isn't surprised at all when Arthur pats his hand again Merlin's shoulder. "Go to the closet," he says, gesturing at it.
Merlin moves where he's told, opening the closet doors: already, a shirt and suit wait for him. His size. Arthur is thorough and prepared. Merlin strokes the sleeve; he doesn't know what fabric it's made out of, but he can tell from one touch that it costs more than he'd ever be able to afford for himself.
"This is amazing," he says.
Behind him, Arthur chuckles. "Of course it is. Hurry up and get changed - we'll be late."
"If we're late, Arthur, I'll take none of the blame."
He does hurry when he gets changed, even with Arthur watching him as he strips off, pulling his t-shirt over his head. When he slips the shirt on, the pale red - he refuses to acknowledge that it's actually pink - feels even smoother than it had against his fingertips.
"You might not get this back from me after tonight," he tells Arthur.
"Why on Earth would I want it back?" Arthur says. "It wouldn't fit me. You're tiny."
Merlin pulls on the jacket and squares his shoulders, stubborn and defiant like Arthur wants him to be. "I am not tiny. You're unreasonably bulky."
"'Bulky'?" Arthur repeats, before he laughs, mouth wide. "I amn't a weakling like you, if that's what you mean."
He offers his arm for Merlin to take, ever the gentleman.
Yeah, 'cos all gentlemen pay for sex, Merlin thinks, but he smiles as he takes the offered arm and allows Arthur to lead them to the door. "You are very strong," he agrees. "Nobody would doubt that you're the brawn out of the two of us, not the brains."
"Does that mean that you're the brains?" Arthur says. "Dear God, we're doomed."
With Arthur, Merlin doesn't have to fake his laughter.
*
They keep the bedside light on, but the rest of the room is soft and dark. The blinds have been drawn across the huge windows. Merlin lies on his back under warm, expensive bed covers. Above him, Arthur's dimly lit face shines with happiness and sweat.
He turns his head and kisses Merlin's ankle where his foot rests against Arthur's shoulder. "How are you? Is this okay?" he asks, his voice choked with the effort of restraining himself.
"I appreciate the concern," Merlin says - he lets himself sound a little breathless, though he's taken men much larger than Arthur before. His fingertips slowly trace down Arthur's side. "But I'm fine. Really, I'm fine."
"Thank god," Arthur mutters, before capturing Merlin's mouth with his own as he pulls out so slowly, setting a torturous pace that convinces Merlin that he's either a sadist or a masochist, perhaps some combination of the two.
It feels more like Arthur is making love to him than fucking him.
Merlin is never quite sure how to respond to that.
*
Arthur arranges another appointment in a week rather than a month. Perhaps Merlin should have realised at the time that this had to mean something out of the ordinary, but he's being shepherded towards an unnecessarily large and loud house before his misgivings get the better of him. "I'm not sure if this is such a great idea."
"It is an excellent idea," Arthur says. He claps his arm around Merlin's shoulders and Merlin doesn't pull away. "It's either I take you or I have to bring some vapid, shallow airhead to keep me company."
"I appreciate the sentiment, but these are your friends, Arthur. Generally speaking, you don't introduce a…"
He pauses. It's rarely a good idea to bring up what he is: reminding Arthur that he's paying for Merlin's time is awkward, to say the least. It's better to skirt around that particular issue, and-
"Whore?" Arthur finishes before Merlin has to try. Merlin's eyebrows rise. "I'm hardly going to introduce you that way. 'Hi guys, this is William, the man I pay to fuck. His oral skills are admirable and you should really ask him to show you just how flexible he is once you get him on his back. Incredibly good value for money, and -'"
"Alright, alright. I get the message." Merlin smiles. They're nearly at the front doors by now. Merlin swears the building is actually looming over him, ready to swallow him up for good.
They reach the door. It's made from thick, expensive wood. On the steps leading up to it there are a collection of non-flowering plants in pots of varying sizes and an odd collection of rocks and pebbles clustered near them that Merlin supposes are meant to look decorative.
Arthur's lips bump the top of his head. "It'll be alright," he says after ringing the doorbell. "Just try not to be even more of a dork than usual."
"'Dork'?" Merlin snorts, but he's cut off from criticising Arthur's word choice when the door is opened by a woman more stunningly beautiful than he'd ever anticipated.
With plaster-white skin and hair so dark that the colour seems dredged from the depths of empty skin, she smiles at him. "This must be William," she says. "The only man masochistic enough to put up with Arthur for more than two weeks…"
"And this is Morgana," Arthur says. Merlin is sure that he would claim that the red flush that had come to his cheeks is because of the summer heat. "The only step-sister sadistic enough to mention that the second she opens the door."
"He loves me really," Morgana says, flashing a killer smile at Merlin. "He needs us to keep him in place."
"Are you planning on inviting us in any time soon?" Arthur says. "Or are you just going to harass William on the doorstep all night?"
"I don't think I'm the one being harassed, to be honest," Merlin points out.
It makes Morgana beam and hold the door open for the pair of them. On the way in, Morgana's hand pats Merlin's back.
"Jesus," Merlin says once he's stepped inside. He looks around the hallway and feels dwarfed. "This place is ridiculous."
"That's a compliment," Arthur tells Morgana. "William's not very good at them."
His arm stays around Merlin's shoulders and the step-siblings lead him out of the hallway and further into the house. The crowd barely numbers twenty people, but Merlin instantly feels on display. From the reception he gets, he has to wonder what Arthur has told them about him. The hype makes him feel like a rock star.
It isn't long before he needs to escape, slipping from Arthur's side even though while being paid he probably ought to stay close. He leaves Arthur talking in the centre of a group, the life and soul of the party. Breathing deep, he finds his way to a kitchen so spotless it looks as if it's never been used. It takes forever to find a cup, opening and closing many bare cupboards. He drinks water, leaning against the kitchen counter.
The door opens, but he doesn't remember the name of the girl who walks in. He remembers that she's quiet, that she hardly spoke in the group, and that her smile is nice.
"Sorry," she says. "I didn't mean to startle you."
Merlin smiles, half-hidden by his glass. "I'm not startled. I'm just… hiding, to be completely honest."
Smiling, she nods. "They're a little much, aren't they?"
"A lot," Merlin corrects.
"I'm Guinevere, by the way. Gwen."
"I'm William." He doesn't hesitate. With Arthur, his own personality starts to bleed into his work persona, but there's a line. There has to be a line, always.
"I know," Gwen says, before she blushes and looks down. "Arthur… He talks about you. Quite a lot, actually."
Merlin's eyebrows rise: he isn't sure if he wants to know this, but he asks, "Really?"
"Really. I'm sure he's too much of a…"
"Prat?"
"Exactly - I'm sure he's too much of a prat to say it, but I think he's smitten. It's sweet. It's a side of him most people wouldn't see, I don't think. He's too busy being…"
"A prat?" Merlin suggests again.
"His father's son," Gwen says instead. She moves with practiced ease to the cupboard where the cups are stored: plastic, just like the one in Merlin's hand. It's probably from Ikea, and it makes this iceberg house feel a little more real. "It can't be easy, living up to Uther's expectations."
"I suppose not…" Merlin agrees, and it occurs to him that he knows laughably little about Arthur's life outside of their meetings.
Gwen clears her throat as she pours herself a drink of water, just like him. "But, anyway. We're all glad to finally meet you. Morgana had been beginning to think that he was making you up, to be honest. Six months and we'd never even seen you? It's not like him at all.
"I think we wanted to keep things quiet for a while," Merlin says with a bashful smile. He's a little more concerned than he'll let on, but he has to continue. He can talk to his own friends in the morning about it - tonight, he needs to focus on his work and nothing else. "So how did you meet Arthur?"
She's happy to talk and he's happy to listen, prompting her when he needs to. She's Morgana's friend, not Arthur's, and Merlin can't say that he's surprised. Arthur has the air of a man who used to be a bully at high school; Gwen feels as if she used to hide away in the library at lunch. Oil and water. Under ordinary circumstances they'd never mix.
It's better than he'd imagined it would be, but he's still glad when Arthurs decides to drag them away in the small hours of the morning. "It was so good to finally meet you," Morgana says, smiling as she hugs him by the door. Near her neck he smells a waft of citrus-scented perfume. "You will come back, right? We haven't scared you off?"
"Not yet," Merlin answers with a smile.
"Damn," Morgana says as she pulls back from the hug. "I'll have to try harder if I want to ruin Arthur's lovelife."
"And that is my cue to get William away from you," Arthur says, his hands on Merlin's shoulders as he shepherds him away. He stops to let his step-sister kiss him on the cheek. "See you tomorrow."
"One o'clock."
She waves them off as they leave the house and begin to wander down the ridiculously long driveway.
"Thank you for coming," Arthur says.
Merlin doesn't mention that he's only here because Arthur is paying him to be, or that he would probably have found a way to get out of it if he'd known that Arthur had been planning on introducing his 'boyfriend' to his friends. There are boundaries and lines that must not be crossed when he's working: Arthur leaps over them all easily.
"No problem… 's not like I had anything better to do…" He grins and Arthur grabs him - headlocking him even as they walk.
"Shut it, you - admit that you had a good time tonight."
Merlin squirms. "How am I supposed to shut up and admit that at the same time?"
He's rewarded when Arthur's other hand reaches around to his stomach to search and tickle. Merlin laughs and tries not to shriek as he clumsily attempts to get away without offering a confession.
It's fun; it's natural; it's easy.
And Merlin knows - Merlin is sure - that it has to stop soon.
*
Arthur looks up at him like he's a god, straddling Arthur's legs and riding his cock. Arthur's skin his tanned and his hair is golden, a contrast with the red pillow case. Merlin's hands hold onto Arthur's where they rest on his hips, fingers entwined. Bright blue, Arthur's eyes are hungry as they watch him.
But it's not about him. Work is never about him.
He lets Arthur drag him down even though the angle is awkward. When Arthur kisses him, Merlin pretends that he doesn't hear him whisper, "Fuck, I love you," against his lips.
*
"Get out," Gaius says immediately once he hears about the situation. He peers at Merlin over the thin rims of his glasses. "I know you like this boy, Merlin, but you have to walk away. It's far too dangerous."
Merlin should listen. Gaius has never steered him wrong: he knows more about the industry than Merlin could ever hope or want to. He retired years ago - runs a café now that sells the best bacon rolls Merlin has ever tasted - but he still knows his stuff.
Sighing, Merlin glances at Lancelot instead. Outside of the café's window, Londoners walk past on their way to legitimate jobs: the harassed expressions on their faces make Merlin feel guiltier than any wad of cash could. "What do you think, Lance?"
Lancelot looks away from him at Gaius - nervous about saying the wrong thing for either of them. Eventually he sighs and looks down at his frothy cappuccino "I agree with Gaius. This man thinks he's actually dating you."
"He thinks he's dating William."
"I'm not sure if there's a difference," Lancelot says. He sounds like he'd rather be anywhere other than here in this conversation. "It might not be only him that's become too attached…"
"It's not like that." Merlin looks away - he doesn't want to snap at Lancelot, who is so gentle-natured that he can't mean any harm. But Lancelot doesn't understand. He's gorgeous: he hardly has to actually work for clients at all. All he needs to do is show up, look pretty, and they feel like luckiest people in the world. He's got a long list of repeat customers that's only ever getting longer. It's easy for him. So easy. "I'll think about it…"
"Which means that you will do nothing of the sort," Gaius sighs at him in frustration. "You should be more careful."
"I am. You know I am!" He's more careful than either of them give him credit for.
Gaius scowls at him. "If you were 'careful', Merlin, this situation would never have happened."
"You needn't be so hard on him," Lancelot protests on his behalf. "Merlin's not to blame."
"There probably isn't even anything to be 'blamed' for," Merlin adds. He wishes he'd never told them. "Arthur's harmless. He's a little pushy, and a huge wanker at times, but he wouldn't hurt me. Not ever." He smiles as he thinks about it. Arthur's a good guy, beneath the bullshit. He's got a sharp tongue and a bad attitude, but to go along with it there's an old-fashioned sense of chivalry and honour. He opens doors for women - and Merlin, for that matter - and he carries himself like a king.
"I think I agree with Lancelot - perhaps it isn't only him that we need to worry about." Gaius frowns. He looks like a cloudy day. "That smile on your face… You're attached, Merlin. Far too attached. Last night may even have convinced you that what you have with this man is 'real' in some way. You must not forget that, to him, you are someone that he pays, a mere employee - and what you provide him with is a commodity that he buys, ultimately disposable."
Merlin looks down at the tabletop, his face burning. "I know that," he mumbles. "I'm not entirely stupid."
"Then stop acting like you are. Don't take another appointment with him - for my peace of mine, if not for your own safety."
Merlin gives an unconvincing smile and an even more unconvincing promise. He has no intention of refusing to see Arthur again, but he'll say whatever he needs to in order to set his friends' minds at rest.
*
His only other regular apart from Arthur is another oddity: Summer. In her 50s, she is one of the few female clients that Merlin has ever had. 'Regular' might be too strong a term: repeat customer, that would be best.
Her hair is beginning to grey and she always laughs when they tumble into bed together. With a hand on his shoulder she guides him down between her spread legs, to lick and suck until she trembles and screams.
She always tips generously.
It's not a bad way to make a living, Merlin thinks, not really.
*
Arthur twirls the handcuffs around his finger, smiling smugly at Merlin. The metal shines when the light hits it: the cuffs look new, never used. There isn't a single tiny scratch or dent.
"I've never done that before," Merlin says uncertainly.
"You trust me, don't you?" Arthur asks. He smiles and leans back on the four-poster bed, spread before him arrogantly: he knows exactly how attractive he is. He's leering, he's actually leering, and Merlin can't help but grin in amusement. "It'll be fun, I promise…"
"Fun for who?" Merlin grumbles, but he finds himself being drawn over to the bed, powerless.
"Me, mostly," Arthur admits as Merlin slides neatly into his lap. His hands rest on Merlin's hips; the handcuffs dangle down against his thighs. "Though I'm sure I'll make it work for you as well."
Merlin kisses the side of his mouth, along his jaw, his ear lobe. Slow and easy. Overly intimate. "D'you promise?" he asks.
It's one of his rules, usually: never let a client get you into a situation that you can't get out of. Handcuffs certainly count as something inescapable.
But it's Arthur…
It's Arthur, and that means -
That means a lot more than it should.
"I promise," Arthur murmurs. He reaches for the bottom of Merlin's t-shirt, peeling it up and over his head. He throws the bunched material down onto the ground and then places a hand on Merlin's hip to roll him underneath him. Arthur's weight is strong and comforting, something that Merlin thinks he could so easily get used to. Arthur smirks down at him. "I've been thinking about this for so long, Merlin," he whispers as he takes hold of one of Merlin's slim, pale wrists.
He starts to guide it to the bedpost, but Merlin abruptly jerks free. Eyes wide, he stares up at Arthur.
Laughing - awkwardly - Arthur sits back as he stays straddled across Merlin's lap. "What? Is there something wrong? You're not having second thoughts already, are you?"
"Get off of me. Right now, Arthur, get off."
Something in his voice makes Arthur listen. He climbs off of him without any further questions and kneels on the bed at his side. Scrambling, Merlin moves away - right off the bed until his feet hit the floor. He grabs his t-shirt and pulls it back on and curses himself again and again for not listening to Gaius and Lancelot earlier.
"William, what's going on? I didn't mean to scare you, you idiot - I can put the cuffs away. It's fine. Come back to bed."
"You called me Merlin," he says, words clipped out. His finger rises to point at Arthur, a pinpoint of betrayal and rage.
The guilt flashes on Arthur's face - eyes widen; eyebrows rise; he breathes in deeply - but it's plastered over in record time. He laughs. Fake. "Why on Earth would I call you something so ridiculous?"
Merlin shakes his head: he can't listen to Arthur clumsily feign ignorance. "Why do you know my name?" When Arthur looks ready to lie to him again he snaps, "Why?"
Arthur's shoulders slump and he heaves a sigh - he sounds irritated. "I was curious; I had an investigator dig around a little, that's all. It's really nothing to get so worked up about."
"You…" And he's speechless. For once in his life he's actually speechless. Such an invasion… It scares him to think of how bloody easy it was for Arthur to do this. What else does he know?
"I want you to stay away from me from now on," Merlin demands, reaching into his back pocket to remove the envelope Arthur had given him at the beginning of the evening. "Just stay away."
He places the white envelope down on the bed and starts walking before Arthur can tell him not to. As he reaches the door he can hear Arthur calling his name - both real and fake - but it doesn't make him stop.
He doesn't stop at all, in fact, taking the stairs instead of the lift and walking instead of hailing a cab. His feet ache and his heart still races. He doesn't want to think about what happened - not now. Maybe not ever.
*
Finds himself on his knees in an alleyway. A bit public; a bit risky. He isn't being paid even half of what he usually asks for. In his mouth, the cock feels large and tastes stale but that's fine. He feels rough hands in his hair and feels like he might gag as the man pounds home in his mouth.
It hurts and his throat will feel raw and abused tomorrow. Fine, that's fine - more than fine, that's right, that's how it should be.
This guy doesn't care if there are strained tears being held back in Merlin eyes from the pain.
Merlin takes all he can dish and pockets the cash.
He tells himself he doesn't think of Arthur at all.
*
He quits after that, though it scares the hell out of him to do so. He abandons the email address he uses for work; changes his phone number; donates to charity the clothes that he'd never wear but William had; finds a job. A real, poorly-paid, under-valued job. He works behind the counter at a local bookstore's coffee shop. The drinks all have complicated names that he can never quite remember, but he's slowly beginning to get the hang of it. He hasn't dropped anything in an entire week.
His hair always smells of coffee beans and sometimes he scalds his hand on boiling water, but on the scale of things he has to admit that the perils of this job are an significant improvement on the last one.
"Careful, Merlin," Will says, placing a hand on his wrist to stop him before he manages to press the wrong button on the till and jam it up - again. "Gail'll have your head if you do that again.
Merlin flashes a grateful smile and presses the right button this time as he deals with his current customer. "Thanks. You just saved my life."
"That's what I'm here for." Will rolls his eyes - and as odd as it is to work with someone who has his old work name, he likes Will. He's a sarcastic, argumentative son of a bitch. He's Arthur without the complications, without the danger.
He's caught in his thoughts, face flushed from more than merely the heat behind the counter, and so he doesn't immediately recognise the next customers that he turns to. "What can I get for you?" he asks the two women.
"William?" one of them asks in surprise.
Merlin's heart sinks. Nothing good can come from that name.
"I'm sorry?"
Feigning innocence seems like the best possible route, especially as he recognises them: Gwen and Morgana, from Arthur's little party. They have a clutch of newly bought books in their hands and Gwen has thread a few purple summer flowers into her hair.
"You should be," Morgana says. Her eyes narrow dangerously. "Do you have any idea what you did to Arthur, taking off like that? He's been absolutely dreadful."
"I think you must have the wrong person. My name's not William."
"Yeah, like that's a surprise. A con-artist, is that it? I should've seen it coming."
"Seriously - I'm not whoever you think I am."
"Merlin, are you alright?" Will asks, placing a cautious and over-friendly hand on Merlin's shoulder. His eyes evaluate Gwen and Morgana as if sizing them up: Will is always so ready to leap into an argument, even when it's not required.
"Yeah, just a little misunderstanding," Merlin answers, but he can't take his gaze away from Gwen's confused eyes. Her expression is a frown that won't fade. He clears his throat. "So what can I get you today?"
Gwen soothes Morgana as well as she can. "I think he's telling the truth. Why don't you go and find a table? I'll get the drinks."
With one last glare -so cold that it could freeze oceans - Morgana leaves in a flurry of expensive material. Threat passed, Will floats back to the second till at the other side of the counter. Merlin smiles gratefully at Gwen. "Thanks."
She doesn't smile back. "It is you, though, isn't it? You're William - Arthur's ex?"
Merlin wants to lie and he knows that it would be the safest thing to do, but there's something about the soft colour of Gwen's eyes. It makes him trust her. "It's me," he admits. "My name really isn't William, though."
He has to take her order and uses that to distract her from asking the next obvious question: why had he been using a fake name?
Really, he isn't sure if the question that replaces it is any better. "What happened between you two? Arthur's been a mess. He actually punched his father in a board meeting, have you heard about that? Not that I mean to gossip or pry or anything, but it's worrying. Something bad must have happened."
"It's complicated," Merlin says. "It didn't end well." He doesn't want to bad-mouth Arthur to his friends, and there's no way to explain what actually happened. It doesn't make sense outside of the professional context.
There must be something on his face: something sad and hidden in his expression. Gwen's eyes widen in alarm. "He didn't hurt you, did he?" Her voice is lowered so that he can hardly hear her above the churning and steaming of the coffee machine.
Merlin laughs in surprise. "No! No, god, no. This is Arthur we're talking about."
Her shoulders relax. He places Morgana's coffee on a tray and a pot of tea for Gwen beside it.
"It was just a… I don't know. We didn't work well together. I'm a private person; he pried where he shouldn't have." And Merlin misses him, though he knows that he shouldn't. Their meetings once a month had been such bright highlights for him to look forward to, and now that's gone. It's all gone because Arthur's too nosy for his own good; all because he thinks boundaries don't apply to him. He sighs. "How is he?"
"He's getting by," Gwen tells him as she hands him a bank note. He has to frown in concentration as he focuses on the till: he'll get the hang of it eventually. "You should call him. I mean, it'd be nice if you did. For both of you, maybe?"
He tries to offer a smile as he hands her the change from her cash. "I'll think about it," he says. For Gwen, even though he hardly knows her, he'd like to be able to promise to patch things up with his fake-boyfriend.
She picks up her tray and says goodbye. Though it's awkward to have them sitting so nearby, Merlin hardly stops smiling for the rest of his shift: hearing about Arthur's current emotional state allows him to think that maybe whatever had been between them had been real.
*
It's been three months since he had sex, personally or professionally. Lying in his bed alone, Merlin smiles and rolls onto his side. If he's honest, this early retirement feels pretty good.
*
He gets home from work nursing a blister on his left forefinger. He's getting better at his job, but there is still a lot of improvement to be made before Will can stop watching his back. His shoulders hurt; his feet ache; there's a smile on his face. He's looking forward to a good, long shower this evening.
When he turns the corner to the street of his apartment building, his footsteps falter. Leaning against the wall of his building there's a broad, blond man. Arms crossed. Shirt and suit, with the suit jacket nowhere in sight - probably forgotten at the office even though the days are getting colder.
Arthur.
Arthur is here. Right here, right outside his home.
"Shit."
He looks over his shoulder and contemplates whether he ought to simply go and stay with Gaius for the night. It would be the safest thing to do, the smartest thing to do.
I've never been too good at the 'smart thing', he thinks as he throws caution to the wind and rounds the corner, walking to his door while he hunts in the pocket of his coat for his keys.
"You're blocking my way," he points out when he's close to his front door. He can't think of what else to say.
Arthur looks exactly as he remembers. Same blond hair; same blue eyes; same expensive suits.
The expression, though, that is new. Arrogance has been replaced by uncertainty.
"You've been ignoring me. How else am I supposed to get your attention?"
"I think what you're supposed to do is get the hint." He jangles his keys in his hand, unable to keep still. This doesn't feel real. He doesn't know if Arthur can really be standing here. "How did you even know how to find me?"
"Same way I knew your real name, Merlin. It's rather easy, to be honest." Arthur rubs at his forehead. It makes him look like a confused child. "And, well, Gwen suggested that I ought to speak to you."
"She did?"
"I wouldn't have come otherwise." He closes his mouth and pauses for a bare moment as he thinks. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I wasn't prying."
"Yeah. You were." The very fact that Arthur won't apologise is infuriating. He's so very convinced that he's right, in this as in all other things. "I was someone you paid for sex, Arthur. That's all. You wouldn't go poking into the private life of your secretary or your chef, would you? Not like that. Why should I have been different?"
"Because you were different," Arthur snaps, as if that's actually an answer. "It wasn't just about sex, not for either of us. You cared about me."
"So?" He can't deny it. Wouldn't try.
"So I cared about you too! And you never told me anything. It drove me mad, Merlin - it still drives me mad. Thinking about you working with other people, touching them the way you touched me…" He trails off. He isn't looking at Merlin any more but there's something dark in his expression, something violent. "I needed to have something nobody else did."
When he admits it, he at least has the good grace to appear ashamed. That's a start, Merlin supposes.
"You could've just asked, you idiot," Merlin says.
Arthur doesn't smile. "And you would have told me, would you? Easy as that?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I would, actually." The truth of that answer takes him by surprise as much as it does Arthur. "That hardly matters now anyway. You screwed up."
Arthur's jaw clenches. He doesn't take defeat gracefully in anything. "Is that it, then? I screwed up so you decided to run off?"
"Pretty much, yeah."
"Coward." Arthur breathes heavily through his nose, watching Merlin like he's prey. "So if I kissed you now - right now - you'd send me away?"
Merlin flounders. He can't deal with this here. Arthur is outside his home. It's too confusing. "Yes," he says uncertainly. "Of course I would."
"I don't believe you." Arthur moves closer until he reaches the point where Merlin ought to push him away.
"You should," Merlin whispers with no conviction. "I'm a very believable person."
Arthur brushes the back of his fingers over Merlin's jaw, so lightly that Merlin can hardly feel it. "Liar," he accuses with a warm, confident smile. His head bows and his lips press against Merlin's mouth. Soft, gentle, pleading. Merlin moans: he feels light-headed and breathless from the faintest kiss.
Arthur pulls back and rests their forehead together. "See?" he says. "You haven't sent me away yet."
"I'm getting around to it," Merlin says, though his hands float to rest on Arthur's hips, holding him close. "Any minute now."
"Mm," Arthur murmurs. "I'll just wait, shall I?"
"Might be a while, to be honest. I'm awfully busy." Merlin smiles. "D'you want to come and wait inside?"
Arthur answers by kissing him again, lips connecting with a harsh ferocity. It's easy to get swept up in this: he's missed it, missed him, and he needs it more than he should. It's been too long.
They have to pull away so that Merlin can open the door, but Arthur stays pressed close against his back, lips teasing the nape of his neck. Merlin misses the keyhole the first time he tries and Arthur reaches around to take his hand. He steadies him, his hand larger than Merlin's own. They unlock the door together, with Arthur murmuring teasing words about his incompetence with locks into his ear.
It's a wonder they manage to make it up the stairs, but when they tumble into bed it is Merlin on top of Arthur - and this time Arthur knows that it is Merlin here, not 'William'.
*
His head rises and falls as he rests against Arthur's chest. Arthur's arm curls around Merlin's shoulders. "Have you ever tidied up in here?" Arthur asks, surveying Merlin's messy bedroom. "Ever?"
"Maybe once," Merlin says, because he's too spent to argue more enthusiastically. Arthur really is the bossiest bottom in history - and he can't say he's too surprised to discover that. "Or twice."
"You are such a pig."
Merlin murmurs in agreement. Arthur's fingers play with the hair at the back of his head, twirling strands idly. It's something they've never really done before, lying around like this. Merlin's body is so relaxed that he's practically fluid.
"I've been waiting a while now," Arthur announces. "Have you decided when you're going to chuck me out yet?" Merlin can hear the smile in his voice.
"I've been thinking about it," Merlin says. Beneath the covers his finger circles Arthur's navel. His stomach is flat and hard: Merlin thinks that he must have worked hard at achieving that and feels like laughing at the thought of Arthur working out. "Does 'never' work for you?"
"Hmm…" Arthur pulls a face as if he's thinking about it. "I suppose we could make that work." He presses his lips against the top of Merlin's head and Merlin hears him breathe in deeply. "I need to know something first, though. Are you still…"
He doesn't say it, but Merlin knows what he means. "I quit," he admits. "Right after what happened with you, I quit. Seemed like the best thing to do, to be honest."
Arthur nods and says nothing more on the topic. Merlin wonders if this is something they should talk about more, but he won't be the one to bring it up. He has Arthur in his bed with no secrets between them. He rests against him, feeling calm, safe and protection. Though he knows that happy endings shouldn't exist for people like him, Merlin just can't bring himself to question it.