Merlin fic: Sleeping with the Enemy/The Lies We Tell (M/A NC-17, PG-13)
Two short Merlin fics written for the Kink Meme:
Arthur/Merlin, angst. Arthur believes Merlin and him are desperately in love. Little does he know Merlin is straight and only got into a relationship with him out of obligation. Bonus points if Merlin is the bottom of the couple. (Sleeping with the Enemy, Arthur/Merlin. 350 words, NC-17)
Arthur/Merlin, dealing with leaked sex tape or other public scandal (The Lies We Tell, Arthur/Merlin, Lancelot/Gwen, 680 words, PG-13)
SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY
“And then my father said…” Arthur trails off with an exasperated sigh, lips quirking into an almost pout that could tip into either anger or amusement. Amusement wins. “But you don’t want to hear all that. C’mon here.”
Merlin could have said that he did want to hear, needed to hear, but Arthur has already pulled him onto his lap and is unlacing the ties on his breeches. Merlin turns his head into Arthur’s neck and squirms a little against the hardness pressing into his buttocks.
Three years. As a lover Arthur is skilled and enthusiastic - attending to Merlin’s needs with the same thoroughness with which he undertakes any task from training the knights to cataloguing the supplies of grain stacked high in the storerooms in preparation for winter. Merlin thinks ahead to hot breath on his back, oil-coated fingers stretching him wide, and that relentless burning push that even now he has to fight against resisting, and hopes that it will be over quickly and he can get back to questioning Arthur about the council meeting. He strips them both with quick efficiency and closes his eyes as the prince sucks warm, wet kisses against his skin.
“I love you.” Arthur gasps, the blue of his eyes a thin rim almost lost in black. “I would do anything for you.”
“I know,” says Merlin.
One day Arthur will be king. When that day comes Merlin will ask him to lift the ban on magic and the hints and whispers of power he feels around Camelot, in the handshake of a market trader or the brush of an arm in a crowd, will no longer have to be hidden. Then he will be free. He imagines touching, loving, merging with someone like himself and shivers with pleasure.
Arthur watches with uncomprehending satisfaction, arranges Merlin more comfortably on his chest and draws the blanket over them both against the winter chill.
“Anything you want, Merlin, just ask and it will be yours.”
**
THE LIES WE TELL
Arthur stood by Gwen at the gate of their country estate and forced himself not to squint against the barrage of flashes from the assembled press photographers. The lights were so bright and the crowd so dense he couldn’t pick out individual reporters but he thought he recognised the voices of the political correspondents of the The Times and the The Daily Telegraph in the sea of shouted questions. Odd words like ‘unfaithful’, ‘humiliating’ and ‘career’ came to him out of the general wall of sound.
“No comment,” Arthur said in his Westminster voice. “My wife and I have nothing more to add to the statement we made earlier.”
Under his hand he felt Gwen flinch but was obscurely proud of the way she stood straight and refused to drop her head or allow her expression to ask for sympathy.
Later, Merlin had booked him a series of one-on-one media interviews concentrating on the magazine programmes and lifestyle writers rather than the hard news desks as less likely to ask probing questions. Merlin was a gift, a godsend. Arthur did not know what he would do without Merlin. When this latest crisis had emerged Merlin was the phone within minutes drawing up quotes and planning a complete damage limitation campaign.
Merlin was here now, making his way though the press, and squeezing past Arthur and Gwen through the gate into the drive. Arthur allowed himself a single charged glance and the merest touch of an arm as Merlin went past. Gwen looked straight ahead and did not acknowledge his private secretary in any way.
At last the press were satisfied and consented to leave, bar a small group of freelance photographers hoping to catch Arthur, Gwen or - best of all - Lancelot in some sort in unscripted photo op. Preferably pornographic in content.
Arthur looked at Gwen’s hand clasped in his. She had taken her wedding ring off. He still wore his. “We can go in now.”
One final question, Mr Pendragon, shouted a slim, leather-clad figure leaning against a motorbike. She pulled off her helmet and shook out a mane of dark hair. Morgana LeFay, the scrouge of Fleet Street. Arthur pasted a false smile on his face and tried to look curious rather than apprehensive. “How does it feel to know that tapes of your wife having sex with another man are circulating all over the internet? You’re known for your emphasis on family values, does this mean you will ask for a divorce?”
Arthur breathed deep, consciously stopped himself clenching his fists, and kept both his look and his tone neutral. “As I said in my earlier statement, I very much regret that what should be a private matter has been made into a public spectacle. My wife and I have no plans to separate.”
He swung round, taking Gwen with him, and the two of them made an unhurried retreat into the porch.
“Satisfied?” asked Gwen when they were alone. Bitterness sat oddly on her face as if her features did not quite understand how it should look.
“Yes,” said Arthur. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I would not have had it come to this.”
“No,” she agreed sadly and walked away into the lonely quiet of her own rooms.
In the book-lined study Merlin was putting finishing touches on a speech Arthur was due to deliver next week on health service reforms. At Arthur’s appearance Merlin went straight into his arms.
“It’ll be alright,” Merlin whispered. “What did I tell you? Everything’s taken care of now.”
Arthur shuddered and relaxed. Merlin was right. Releasing the tapes showing Gwen with Lancelot had been a final resort but Gwen’s insistence on a divorce and threatening to cite Merlin could not be allowed. He was so close to getting his reforms pushed through. Reforms that would revolutionise patient care. The political fallout was unthinkable but Arthur knew that was secondary to the personal. What mattered was that he and Merlin were safe now. Safe together.
Sadface crack!fail, send chocolate.