A Night Without Regret (4/11)
Title: 4/11
pairing: Merlin/Uther, Arthur/Merlin (mentions of Arthur/Gwen, Merlin/Morgana, Merlin/Will)
word count = 1727
Rating: 17+
Disclaimer: Characters are adapted from BBC reproductions of characters from Arthurian legend.
Warning:
Beta:
Summary: Merlin received an anonymous invitation to a party the likes of which he never knew existed. Naughty bits were in the last instalment, now characters start to suffer the consequences.
4.1
Merlin’s body churned with adrenaline as the fight or flight reflex took hold.
Who was this man, what did he want? What did I just do?!
“Figure of speech, nothing more; I should have chosen my words more carefully. Luckily the candles went out instead of toppling or you would surely have been burned.” The distorted whispers smoothed the edge off Merlin’s panic as the stranger’s restrictive grip slackened. He calmed Merlin’s trembling limbs with a caring caress and eased his previous alarm with softly reassuring words. “The thought of your smooth perfection marred by even those smallest of flames is unbearable. I’ve never hated this mask more, the way it stops me tasting your skin and touching you here with my tongue.” Each fingertip drifted softly over the hardened nubs on Merlin’s chest in seductive patterns and the thrill of contact removed every trace of fear. He had not been discovered after all. He leaned back into the tender embrace with a mildly moaning sigh. “There will be no more tonight I’m afraid. It is improper for a Host to isolate themself from the flock for so long as it is. We are not permitted the same level of indulgence we encourage others to pursue, else I would gladly remain at your service. You are far more than I expected, far more. Partake of what you will in my absence; there is no need for you to hurry away simply because I must. May I make you comfortable before leaving?”
Merlin did not know how to reply and silently allowed the stranger to lead him to the hearth. The man dipped a cloth from the mantle into the warm water and proceeded to carefully sponge Merlin clean from face to foot as if he were a man born of highest nobility, not merely a servant who had boldly assumed control of their pleasure for the preceding hours. His touch was respectful and Merlin felt as if his lust haggard body was a priceless rarity to be polished before returned to its accustomed place.
They remained silent as his Host collected Merlin’s discarded clothes, shook them with an efficient snap of the wrists and dressed him. Merlin was too overwhelmed to protest. Was this standard behaviour toward invited guests? Had Gaius and Gwen been treated the same way by their highborn lovers? He couldn’t imagine Arthur doing this for him. He’d be more likely to lay there in a gorgeous naked lump, face buried in a pillow while grumbling that he felt a chill in his nether regions and shouldn’t Merlin be building up the fire or something equally useful rather than lounging about all over him? Merlin flushed and flinched at the thought.
Arthur.
It would be very different with Arthur - too familiar to be profound, too extraordinary to remain comfortable. He had made the right decision.
He had.
Hadn’t he?
4.2
Uther deemed Merlin presentable with a satisfied nod. Rumpled as those clothes were, they only enhanced his lithe build and mysterious allure. Many who saw Merlin leave in such a state would put his name forward for the next purple event.
“Thank you,” Merlin offered nervously.
The contrast in his demeanour was astounding. Uther had mistakenly thought him simple - not often unintelligent but certainly never complex in behaviour. From his arrival in Camelot, Merlin had shown the habit of bumbling into situations only to bumble his way out again and now it happened more often with Arthur’s assistance than without.
“I’ll leave now if I may. I work for Ar- the king’s son, but you already know that, obviously. Tomorrow he ...I should go home.” The previously confident man lost five years maturity as heated lust subsided into cool reason. It was the same for all starlings. Some members of the flock did not outgrow this awkward transition from fantasy to ordinary but it never stopped them returning for more.
“You need no permission to leave.” Uther turned his back and fetched a clean cloth for his personal use. “You attracted much interest tonight. If others requested your presence at subsequent events would you be willing to receive an invitation? As on this occasion there is no obligation to accept.”
Merlin took serious time to think about it before he left. The majority of starlings immediately gave a solid yes or no. Uther wondered what factors weighed against each other in his deceptively astute mind. Merlin’s verbal answer may have been firmly positive but Uther felt there was a percentage of ‘no’ that did not agree.
The apparent inconsistency restored Uther’s negative opinion of this servant. It seemed he was exploiting his association with Arthur after all. The sooner Uther made his son realise Merlin was not worthy of his truer affection the sooner Arthur could sever the anchor of his attachment and move forward.
Uther would prove Merlin’s duplicity and open his son’s eyes, however low he must sink in Arthur’s esteem to do it. Arthur deserved what he constantly strove to be - nothing short of the best.
4.3
Arthur waited in torment by the door, expecting but not wanting to hear more from the other side. After a handful of minutes he almost regretted the lack of noise. What if his father had simply strangled Merlin when he was at his most vulnerable? Many more ‘what if Merlin was dead’ scenarios taunted his conscience.
The portal to hell opened and Merlin emerged.
Oh god, he was still flushed and rumpled, hair tousled behind his mask with sweat and - please let it be only sweat. Arthur’s soulless cock rose at the sight of him as his shrivelling heart sank.
Merlin started to ask with whom Arthur had passed the time, only to stop when the wretchedness plain in Arthur’s face and stance declared he remained alone, by choice.
“How long...” Merlin could not voice the remaining ‘have you been out here?’ His face grew hotter and his throat tightened as he thought of what Arthur may have heard. Merlin had not kept his voice down once told there was no need for quiet. If anything, he made more noise than was necessary because it certainly seemed appropriate under those particular circumstances.
They stood facing each other in silent, gut-churning despair.
Merlin surged between heartfelt guilt and bitter anger. If Arthur felt that way he should have made his intentions clear. How hard would it have been to lean closer and whisper in his ear ‘I love you Merlin, don’t go with him’? Probably as impossible as it had been for Merlin to decline the Host’s intimate apology then sit in Arthur’s lap, whisper ‘I love you Arthur’ and instigate sex where they sat.
Arthur was divided between pleasure at Merlin’s noticeable discomfort and shame at making his friend feel guilty. Even had Arthur known Merlin shared an interest in men and Arthur had been brave enough to invite him, he couldn’t have assumed Merlin would spend the night with him.
“A night without regret,” Arthur offered in the friendliest manner he could manage. Merlin was his friend not his love interest- ‘keep repeating that Arthur, maybe one day you’ll be convinced’ -he didn’t belong to Arthur and could spend his nights with whomever he chose.
Merlin stepped toward Arthur, reaching out to touch him. Arthur resisted the reflexive impulse to flinch away from Merlin’s fingers, dreading to think where that hand may have been, what it may have done. Merlin’s tangible regret staid Arthur’s hand. Did he feel the same after all? Either way retreating would worsen their wounds, not heal them.
“I only chose him because I didn’t know what crossing that line with you would mean for us, to you. Regardless of how...where would it have left me Arthur? You’re not exactly faithful to Gwen are you?”
Arthur did not know how to begin responding to that nor did he get the chance as Tonight’s Host, ruler of Camelot, his father opened the door and effectively locked the younger men in place without a syllable. Arthur’s expression gave Uther cause to briefly hate what he had done and what he later intended to do, before improvising a plan that made use of current circumstances.
“It appears your servant is not as loyal as you believe,” Uther callously told his son. “His performance was adequate though I personally cannot justify the fuss you make of him. Perhaps others with less refined tastes understand your obsession.” He tossed a hefty pouch to Arthur who caught it without thinking. Uther then sauntered away with no further acknowledgement to the mute pair. For a fleeting moment he had considered throwing the coins at Merlin’s feet but Arthur’s response to that condescending action would be too predictable. This way Merlin was put through a greater test, his last chance to prove worthy of the prince’s affection.
The metallic clink from the red velvet pouch in his hand enraged Arthur. As if the earlier moves in this game hadn’t been cruel enough. Merlin could see Arthur approached boiling point by the blood pulsing through his neck, clench of his jaw and sharpened stare; yet Merlin’s irrational indignation burst forth first.
“Was this some sort of wager? A game of poke the Merlin with a nobleman?” he accused ludicrously. Arthur stared down the corridor and replied in a voice low and dangerous.
“Nothing as honourable as that, my father just paid me for the privilege of your services.”
“How much did he reckon I’m worth?” Merlin thought some levity was required before Arthur began breaking things and killing people. Then the true import of Arthur’s words registered. Paid him...“Your what?” he asked in a voice more suited to a child dared to eat dog poop than the greatest warlock since time began. Arthur didn’t say his father, as in King of Camelot die-wizards-die, the King of Camelot who is Arthur’s father, had just spent the past few hours naked showing Merlin the born wizard an incredibly orgasmic time, did he?
“Go home Merlin. Do as you normally would, put this night behind you.” Merlin began to argue and Arthur interrupted by placing an authoritative hand on Merlin’s collarbone with his fingers curled over a shoulder and looking him firmly in the eye. “I will come to you when I can. Go home.”
Merlin’s only possible reaction was complete inaction; he could not move, could not think, could not protest as Arthur strode after the king.
This night without regret had become the most regrettable night of Merlin’s life.
End Part 4 Part 5 Begins