Happy Merlin Holidays, ann7x! (2/2)

[merlin-hols.livejournal.com]

Part 2

Arthur was fifty when he met his nephew's new boyfriend, Merlin Emrys. Mordred hadn't been home from University for two years, and Morgana held a huge Christmas dinner in his honor. Arthur had no choice but to attend, even though he only knew two people there. Well, three. Despite the short amount of time he spent with Merlin four years earlier, he thought it was fair to say he knew the younger man quite well.

"Uncle Arthur, this is Merlin."

Arthur smiled his best smile and extended his hand politely. He didn't expect to feel anything at all, but as soon as their palms touched, something sharp and wicked stabbed at him. His body and mind were at instant odds, common sense telling him to release Merlin's hand and step away, his flesh begging him to pull Merlin closer, wrap his arms around Merlin's slighter frame, and never let him go.

"We've met before," Merlin said. "Through my mate, Will."

"How's that?" Morgana asked.

Merlin frowned. "He was married to Will's mum."

"Oh, yes, that Lena woman."

Merlin's frown deepened, but Arthur interceded before the younger man could do anything as foolish as challenge Morgana in her own home. "How is Will?"

"Last I heard, he was doing well."

"You don't talk to him?"

Something unreadable flickered across Merlin's face. It transformed him for just a moment, made him seem older and sadder. It was gone almost as soon as it happened, his easy smile returning as his fingers interlocked with Mordred's. "Not anymore."

Arthur wanted to ask just when and how that happened. Merlin and Will had been as close as brothers. Just watching the two boys together for a few minutes was enough to prove that. But their falling out must have been old news if Mordred didn't recognize Will's name, or realize just how his boyfriend and his uncle were acquainted.

"How did you two meet?" Arthur asked.

Mordred looked up at Merlin with adoring eyes. "In Literature of the English Renaissance. Nobody else could read Marlowe like him."


Merlin smiled at the compliment, and Arthur had to admit the two boys made quite a striking couple with their dark hair and blue eyes and pale skin. Superficially, they seemed to have quite a resemblance, but after only a few seconds, Arthur began noticing the very real differences. They both had blue eyes, but Mordred's was a darker shade, and his eyes were larger, more piercing. Merlin's light blue eyes always seemed to be smiling, while Mordred often had the appearance of trying to will somebody into a pillar of flames. He got that from his mother. Mordred's hair was darker and thicker, while Merlin's was cut short and spiked up around his head in delicous dishevelment. Arthur wanted to run his fingers through Merlin's hair--in fact, he'd had that desire from the first moment he met Merlin, four years earlier.


"Mordred asked me to read to him for our first date. Only, I didn't know it was a date," Merlin added.


"Actually, we were on our sixth date before Merlin clued in."


"I just thought we were really good friends."


Arthur laughed at that because Mordred did, but somehow he doubted it was a joke. Mordred was very much his mother's son, and Arthur had no trouble believing he steamrolled Merlin into a relationship that Merlin didn't even know he wanted.


Or maybe it was a joke. Maybe Merlin had been coy and wary, and Mordred had persisted until he won the prize.


"And how long have you been together?"


"Officially it'll be a year next week. That's why I thought it was a good time to bring him home to meet the family."


"And I'm so glad you finally did," Morgana cut in, her eyes lingering on Merlin with an appraising glance. "Honestly, Arthur, he talks about Merlin all of the time. I felt like we were close personal friends before we ever met."


Arthur forced his smile to return. It was difficult to look at Merlin. Memories slammed through him, triggering an array of emotions from guilt to acute regret to relief. He often replayed that day, went over it again and again, wondering if he could have done anything differently. His greatest regret was driving away that day. He was fifty years old, had cut a wide swath of destruction through England with his foolish and ill-advised relationships, he had a difficult to impossible relationship with his only sister, and he lied to himself more than any of the sycophants surrounding him ever could in a lifetime. But driving away from a sixteen year old boy, leaving him standing in the cold, shivering from grief and want, was easily the worst thing Arthur had ever done.


Arthur couldn't take it back now, but he wished he could apologize for it. Merlin dating Mordred had to be some great cosmic joke. Something like this couldn't just happen to him randomly. He was being punished for a past crime--maybe his treatment of Merlin. Maybe he was being punished for even wanting Merlin in the first place. For wanting him more after he broke down in tears, every weakness and vulnerability on full display. Arthur had seen that, and like a predator had begun salivating. At the time, he hadn't felt like some sort of predator. At the time, he'd only wanted to make Merlin feel better. Something about the sight of Merlin's tears tore him apart, and all he could think about it was stopping them. Whatever it took to make Merlin smile again, he would do.


"I wanted to bring him around sooner, but he was shy."


Merlin smiled. "More like nervous. When your boyfriend tells you that his mother just happens to be one of the most famous, wealthy people in the world, that's a lot of pressure."


Morgana laughed. "I'm not, but thank you for saying so."


Merlin's attention shot back to Arthur, and their eyes met. The din from the party fell away, and Arthur felt like he was trapped. There was something there. Arthur could sense it and maybe Merlin could, too.


"I didn't realize your sister was Morgana LeFey."


"I guess that never came up in conversation," Arthur said, like he couldn't believe it slipped his mind to mention that his nearly-estranged sister was about a thousand times more successful than him. "How long are the two you planning to stay?"


"Until the holiday is over," Mordred answered.


"Oh, won't Merlin be returning home to visit his family?"


"My mum passed away last year," Merlin muttered.


"Oh. Oh my god, Merlin, I'm so sorry. What happened?"


"She ignored her own health problems when she was taking care of Uncle Gaius. By the time she went to the doctor due to pain, the cancer was already pretty advanced."


"Oh, Merlin. I had no idea."


Merlin shrugged his shoulders back. "She's in a better place now. With Gaius and my dad."


"Do you want a drink?" Mordred asked, a trifle anxiously. "You look a little red."


"Actually, I am feeling a bit warm. Maybe I'll nip out for a bit of air."

"Air sounds good," Mordred said.

Merlin carefully extricated himself from Mordred's clutch. "Why don't you get some more egg nog and I'll meet you back here in five minutes."

"I'll come with you," Morgana said to her son. "I've got to check on the food."

If Mordred was annoyed at the brush off, he didn't give any indication. In fact, Arthur had never seen the young man smile so pleasantly. Arthur had been braced for a full tantrum, but Mordred was still smiling when he walked away. Merlin caught Arthur's eye, holding it for the space of a heartbeat before turning to make his escape. Arthur followed him without a second thought.

A rare, somewhat slushy, snowstorm was sweeping through London, but none of it was sticking to the ground. The flakes clung to Merlin's hair and his cheeks, wetting them like counterfeit tears. They were alone on the porch, everybody else more than happy to stay within the warm safety of Morgana's home. Merlin leaned on the far rail, partially turned away from Arthur, though he could still see his profile and the shine of Christmas lights reflecting off his damp skin.

"I didn't know," Merlin said. "He never mentioned his dear old uncle Arthur."

"I didn't know, either."

"It shouldn't matter. It's been a long time."

Maybe for Merlin. At that age, four years felt like an eternity. Why shouldn't it? It was a full fifth of Merlin's life. But for Arthur, four years was no more than a blink of an eye. Merlin walking away from the car was a fresh memory, and it still hurt in the same indefinable way.

"Right. And nothing really happened anyway."

"Right."

Arthur took a step closer even as he told himself he was not going to put himself within temptation's reach.

"I guess you divorced Lena?"

"Yes, two years ago. I wasn't being fair to her. She was just…good for my image."

"Did she know that?"

"She did after I needed to give her a reason to agree to the divorce. Has it been that long since you spoke to Will?"

Merlin nodded. "After I left for uni, I didn't keep in touch with him. I couldn't."

"Was it because of me?"

"In a way."

Arthur wasn't sure how it happened, but he found himself standing at Merlin's side, not quite touching his shoulder as he leaned over the same railing.

"If I'd called, would you have answered?"

Arthur took a deep breath, resisting the urge to look at Merlin by concentrating on the swirling snow. The wind blew it in a slow waltz, first to the right and then back the other way before gently depositing them to the garden where they quietly melted away.

"Yes. I wish you had. I could have helped you."

"I wanted to." Merlin's voice was thin, as chilled as the wind blowing over them. "But I thought you were still married. I couldn't see you and…I couldn't trust myself."

"Do you trust yourself now?"

Merlin huffed his breath and pushed away from the railing. Arthur stared out ahead, resolved to let him go, let him walk away. Again. If Merlin was going to be with his nephew, he'd better get used to seeing Merlin's back. Anything less than that would be the height of selfishness, and Arthur couldn't be so greedy with somebody as young as Merlin.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said.

Merlin stopped. "For what?"

"For kissing you and—"

Merlin shook his head. "That's not what I wanted an apology for."

"But that's the apology you deserve. It doesn't matter how much I want you, I should have never done that."

"Want?"

"I still want you, Merlin. As soon as I saw you, I knew nothing changed."

Merlin looked over his shoulder, body slowly turning to face Arthur fully. His arms jutted from his side at awkward angles, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"Mordred's going to be looking for me."

"Are you staying here?"

"Yeah. In one of the guest rooms. Mrs. LeFey was happy to have me stay, as long as I didn't move into Mordred's room."

"There's a place we could meet later. If you wanted to get caught up."

"I don't know, Arthur. I…Mordred…I care about him."

"We don't have to do anything."

"No, we don't have to do anything at all. That doesn't mean we won't."

"Anyway, there's a room in the cellar. If you go down through the kitchen, there's a door on the right. I think it used to be a bomb shelter. Nobody will bother us down there."

"Arthur…"

"If you change your mind," Arthur said crisply, "then I'll be waiting down there after everybody retires for the evening."

"If I change my mind," Merlin repeated before ducking back into the house.

When Merlin disappeared from sight, Arthur realized he was clenching his hands into tight fists and forced himself to take a deep breath and relax. Did Merlin still want him? Arthur didn't know the answer to that question. His desire for Merlin tainted every word and reaction, coloring Merlin's reactions with the brush of Arthur's lust. But if he failed to show that night, Arthur would have his answer.

#

Morgana served a sumptuous and elaborate dinner which resembled art more than a meal. She introduced each dish by detailing just how rare and wonderful the ingredients were, preening noticeably as her guests oohed and ahhed at the appropriate points in her canned speeches. Arthur barely heard any of it. He was too busy watching Merlin, studying the other man over the top of his glass every time he raised it to his lips. Merlin's skin glowed from the wine, which flowed so freely that nobody ever saw the bottom of their glass, and his laugh was as light as the snow wafting outside the window. Merlin listened more than he contributed, letting Mordred do most of the talking after Morgana had said her peace about the menu.

New guilt crashed over Arthur. It was different from the old guilt. The grain was finer so it reduced him all the quicker. Why didn't he just leave Merlin alone? He only saw Morgana once or twice a year, and Mordred even less than that, so the chances were very good that he'd not see Merlin again until the following Christmas. By then, it should be easier. He didn't expect the passing of a year to reduce his desire for Merlin—which seemed to be burning brighter and hotter with every passing second—but at least by then he'd have more time to get used to the situation.

Where was all of this coming from anyway? Was he having his midlife crises? Was he trying to recapture his youth by falling in lust with a boy young enough to be his son? That was the only explanation that made any sense, but for one thing. Merlin had so much more to offer than just his youth. He had a spark, something that made him glow from the inside out. Some form of magic Arthur never expected to see in this world. He felt jaded and exhausted, struggling under a mountain of regrets and bad decisions, and then there was Merlin. Young and exquisite, beautiful even when he was crying, perfect and Arthur wanted to clutch him close and never let anything touch him. It wasn't love, but Arthur could fool himself into believing it was, properly motivated.

By the time they all broke away from the table, Arthur was feeling overstuffed and sluggish. Merlin and Mordred filled their glasses with eggnog and ate fruitcake, leaning against each other, slipping tiny morsels of food between each other's lips and smiling. Arthur's heart twisted, and he cursed himself for being twelve kinds of fool. He was an old, blind idiot. A fatheaded sod for being so besotted with the boy. Late, after most of the guests departed, Merlin and Mordred leaned against each other as they ascended the stairs, drunk and laughing, stealing kisses between each stair. Arthur supposed that was his answer.

"Aren't you going to bed, Arthur?" Morgana asked when Arthur poured himself a fresh glass of sherry.

Arthur settled more comfortably in the chair. "No."

"Dinner was lovely, don't you think?"

"You've outdone yourself," Arthur said without looking up from the fire. He was settling in for a good, long brood. The topic of that night's session would be how spoiled little brats didn't deserve Merlin. He had an entire volume of crimes Mordred had committed against man, God, and country. What had he ever done to earn the right to kiss Merlin or hold him? What had he done that made him more worthy than Arthur, other than be born thirty years later?

"Yes, I believe I have." Morgana settled in the chair across from him, the golden light from the fire taking at least fifteen years off her face. "I'm glad you could make it, Arthur. I think it's time to put our petty squabbles behind us."

"Do you?"

"Yes. We're getting much too old for that sort of thing. Don't you think?"

Arthur nodded. "I do. I can't even remember why we started fighting to begin with."

"Because you've always been a spoiled bully," Morgana said promptly. "But then, I suppose I've always been a spoiled little bitch, so we never had the chance to be friends."

"I guess we're both getting too old for that sort of behavior."

"Or we're both old enough to learn to ignore it." She rested her chin on her hand and looked into the fire, sighing softly. "I hadn't realized how old I'm getting until Mordred announced he planned to bring Merlin home with him. Imagine it. My baby old enough to bring strange men home to meet his mother."

"Do you like him, then?"

Morgana lifted one shoulder. "He seems like a good kid. But…I can tell you like him."

"Yeah, I thought he was a good influence on Will when we met."

"That's not what I meant."

"Morgana."

She leaned towards him slightly, no more than an inch or two, but it felt like she was taking up all the space in the room. "I can see the way you look at him, Arthur. I'm willing to cease hostilities between us, but if you do anything to hurt my son, I'll destroy you."

"I'm surprised that you think so little of me, Morgana."

"I think deep down inside you're still that spoiled bully."

"And to the surprise of nobody, you're still the little bitch."

Morgana's laugh was as sharp and sparkling as broken glass. "Watch yourself, Arthur. You might confirm all my worst opinions of you."

"Your worst opinions have been confirmed for years. And I really don't care what you think of me."

"But you will care if you're cut off from the family money."

"And here I thought we'd get through the whole holiday without you threatening to cut me off. It is rather trite, Morgana."

"But it's so much fun. I can see why men get such a kick out of controlling the purse string."

"I'm sorry, but you won't have the chance to yank it closed this year. Besides, it's not as though I'd be destitute."

"No, but you wouldn't be able to keep yourself in the lifestyle to which you've become accustomed. Anyway, I know you won't be living on the street. That's not where the pleasure in the threat comes from."

"Uther's been dead for thirty-three years, Morgana."

"Knowing he loved me more still must sting just a bit." She rose, as graceful and willowy as a queen. Arthur looked at her from beneath his lashes, not bothering to hide how much he hated her in that moment. "Merry Christmas, Arthur."

She drifted out of the room, looking like a Victorian ghost in her long white dress, her black hair flowing behind her. Her threats had been stale and irritating, but they hadn't been idle. Every second he spent under that roof put him at risk for his own destruction. He had no doubt Morgana would be true to her word if he were the author of Mordred's heartbreak.

"Is she always so pleasant?"

Arthur jumped at the sound of Merlin's voice, spilling his mostly untouched sherry all over the back of his hand. "God. Don't scare me like that. I could have had a heart attack. I thought you were in bed."

"I was waiting in the other room. Mordred passed out as soon as we got upstairs."

Arthur paused from his attempt to clean up the liquid soaking into his shirt and pants. "You seem…sober."

Merlin grinned. "I didn't have as much to drink as the rest of you lot. I just pretended to keep up."

"Why?"

"So I'd still be in my right mind when I came downstairs to see you. I thought you'd be waiting for me in the cellar."

"I…I thought you wouldn't be meeting me."

"I couldn't think about anything else."

"Do you wanna get out of here?"

"Yeah."

They paused long enough to grab their coats before slipping to the car. Arthur expected Morgana around every corner, grinning her knowing grin, knowing she finally had Arthur dead to rights. But Morgana was safely sequestered in her bedroom, and everybody else was tucked in their bed with visions of sugar plums in their heads. Snow dusted Merlin's hair and the back of his neck, and Arthur wanted to bury his nose against his hair and inhale his scent mingling with winter. He wanted to lick the melting flakes from his jaw and pull him tight into the curve of his body.

The car vents puffed cold air in their faces as Arthur started the engine. Music burst from the speakers and Arthur turned the dial without thinking, plunging the car into silence. Which meant he was acutely aware of every subtle change in Merlin's breathing and every time he inhaled like he was going to say something. Arthur expected him to speak any second, to tell him to turn the car around and return him to Morgana's. Arthur didn't even know where they were going. He was just driving until he found a likely place to stop.

That turned out to be an abandoned Tesco lot. Arthur parked in the corner under a busted lamp and left the engine idling, welcoming the heat finally pouring from the vents. Now that they were alone, Arthur didn't know what he wanted to do. Well, he knew what he wanted to do. He'd fantasized about precisely this moment at least a thousand times since he last let Merlin walk away from him.

Merlin moved first, while Arthur was debating with himself whether he'd become a terrible cliché, leaning into Arthur's personal space. He caught the movement from the corner of his eye, turning his chin to find Merlin's mouth right there. Merlin reached over and turned the key.

"I promised myself if I ever got another chance, I wouldn't blow it."

Arthur barely had a chance to process that statement before Merlin caught his mouth in a slow, questioning kiss. It wasn't anything like the first kiss they shared—tasting of salt, feverish, clumsy. I'm older now, the kiss told him, and I know what I'm doing. Arthur believed him, eagerly answering Merlin's silent inquiry. His tongue was soft and slippery, smooth and sweet as the sherry. He tasted vaguely of alcohol, vaguely of snow, but mostly, he tasted like Merlin.

"God, Arthur," Merlin murmured, cupping Arthur's cheek with chilly fingers. Arthur caught his wrist and turned his head, catching the cool skin with the tip of his tongue. He licked and kissed each one in turn before letting Merlin guide his mouth into another long kiss. Arthur cupped the back of Merlin's neck and plunged his tongue past his lips, searching for more of his sweet taste, hungry for the tiny moans escaping Merlin's throat. He'd never touched anybody who left him so completely undone. Merlin stripped him down to his most basic desires, removing layer after layer of Arthur's life until his core was revealed. And at his core, he only wanted this inexplicable, beautiful, fascinating young man.

The windows fogged around them, the film over the glass growing thicker with every unheeded minute. They were both breathing hard but their gasps and pants were even louder in the tightly confined space, echoing off the cold panes of glass and warming their already flushed skin. Arthur felt tiny drops of sweat rolling over the back of his neck, catching at his collar and making the material stick to his skin. His cock ached, the throbbing only intensifying the more Arthur tried to ignore it. He shifted on his narrow seat, turning his body at a more awkward angle, his other hand clawing at Merlin's hip, trying to pull him closer. Right onto his lap, if at all possible.

"There's not enough room," Merlin muttered.

"Backseat?"

Merlin nodded his agreement, but he didn't pull his mouth from Arthur's neck, and Arthur didn't release his hold. He tilted his head back against the cool window and closed his eyes, swallowing under the scrape of Merlin's teeth. Sparks showered through his torso and settled in his stomach, falling together and merging into longer threads of heat that reached to his cock. He needed to feel Merlin's mouth everywhere, but there was one thing he wanted more. The same thing he wanted since almost the beginning—though a very large part of him would always be ashamed by that fact.

"I want to fuck you," Arthur choked out. Merlin responded with a soft growl and let his teeth catch on Arthur's Adam's apple. "Let me fuck you, Merlin."

"I have a condom in my pocket."

Arthur's cock jerked against his too-tight pants, and he caught Merlin by the back of his head, pulling him back to study his face. "Really?"

"Yes. I told you, Arthur."

"I know what you told me but…God help me, what about Mordred?"

"Why are you worried about Mordred?"

"Because he's…you're his boyfriend and I'm his uncle and…Christ. What a mess."

Merlin touched his forehead to Arthur's. "Do you want me?"

"More than anything."

"Have you thought about me at all in the past four years?"

"I've thought of little else."

"Then fuck me, Arthur. Like we both want."

"I just want you to be sure."

Merlin slammed their mouths together in a short, hard kiss. "Fuck me, please. Don't make me ask again."

Arthur nodded shakily and reached for the lever on the side of the chair, letting the back drop, putting Arthur in a fully reclined position. He unzipped his pants without looking away from Merlin, pulling down his zipper to reveal his stone-hard shaft. Merlin leaned back, unzipping his own pants and pushing them down off his ankles before pulling the condom from his jacket. Arthur found he had difficulty breathing while Merlin tore the foil and prepared to slide it down Arthur's shaft. The first touch of Merlin's fingers felt like ice against his flushed skin, but he barely noticed. Merlin's face was creased with concentration as he secured the condom and bent to guide the head to his lips.

"Oh…oh Merlin…" He might have preferred to feel Merlin's hot, silky mouth without the prophylactic in the way, but he was not going to complain about the way Merlin's lips stretched around his shaft. And he was definitely not going to complain about the way Merlin's tongue danced over his head, tracing maddening, wet patterns on the rubber. Arthur jerked his hips, pushing his cock deeper into Merlin's mouth. The other man groaned and sank lower, until his nose pressed against Arthur's zipper. "Fuck, I need you. I haven't thought about anybody but you in four years."

Merlin moaned and lifted his head, sucking hard on Arthur's tip before pulling away with a soft pop. He didn't say another word before repositioning himself, swinging his leg over Arthur's hips, arching his back so he wouldn't lean too heavily on the wheel. Arthur caught his breath at the first press of his cock to Merlin's tight pucker. The heat was already making him delirious, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from saying too much, from promising Merlin everything he owned in the world.

"Arthur…oh…fuck…oh fuck…that's it…" Merlin dropped his head back and hissed as Arthur's head burst past the tight muscle. His passage was tight, his inner walls already clenching at Arthur and making it almost impossible for him to gain another inch. He should have grabbed oil or something from the kitchen. He should have, but they'd left in such a hurry, and he hadn't been thinking. He'd certainly never thought something like this would happen.

"Am I hurting you?" Arthur choked out, fearing the answer, knowing he wouldn't be able to stop now even if Merlin answered in the affirmative.

"No."

"Oh thank god."

"Don't stop. I still want to feel you in the morning. So I know this is real."

What could Arthur do except give Merlin exactly what he wanted. He pulled Merlin down so they were chest to chest, clutched the back of his head, and pushed his tongue between Merlin's teeth. With his other hand, he guided Merlin back to meet his rising hips. One hard thrust and he was completely buried, burning, dying in the heat constricting around him. Merlin tried to shout—would have shouted if Arthur wasn't silencing him with his own mouth. His cock jerked against Merlin's walls, and Arthur had to ride out the sudden wave of pleasure until he was breathless, suffocating.

"Fuck…fuck Arthur…" Merlin bit at Arthur's jaw before burying his face against his damp neck. "So fucking good."

Arthur wanted to pound into Merlin's tight ass until they were both screaming, but he didn't exactly have that option. Instead, Merlin rocked in tiny, shallow strokes, clenching around Arthur in the most maddening way. It was so much slower than what Arthur's burning blood cried out for, but it was perfect, too. Within seconds, Arthur lost the ability to speak, reduced to half-moans and low, eager grunts. Merlin echoed him when their lips weren't sealed together, both hands braced against Arthur's flexing chest.

They were in a perfect cocoon, the brittle world far, far away, out of sight and out of mind. He forgot about Morgana and Mordred, forgot the Christmas party responsible for bringing him and Merlin together again. All he knew was the weight of Merlin's body and the flutter of his muscles as he tensed and relaxed with each slow stroke.

"You feel so good, Arthur. So fucking good. I can't…I can't take it…not for long…"

"Don't stop," Arthur forced out. "Don't stop, Merlin. This is perfect…perfect…don't stop. Waited too long for this."

Merlin nodded, but Arthur could see the strain on his face from holding himself back. His muscles popped beneath his thin skin, and Arthur couldn't resist kissing his beautiful throat. He would die from this if Merlin didn't stop, and Merlin had no intention of stopping. He touched the side of Merlin's face with trembling fingers, smoothing the damp hair away from his skin, tracing the curve of Merlin's ear with distinct wonderment as Merlin shifted back, fully sheathing Arthur's cock for the twelfth, twentieth, hundredth time.

He could feel Merlin struggling to keep himself under control. He could feel everything—his hunger, his desire, his need, all of it seeping into Arthur with the heat of his flesh. Arthur slid his hand from Merlin's hip to the curve of his ass, squeezing and massaging the flesh as Merlin rocked forward.

"Do what you need to do, Merlin. I want to feel you come." He didn't just want to feel Merlin's body quaking around his. He wanted to see Merlin's face with the last of his control wiped away, and wanted to be covered in the sticky liquid and his sweat, wanted to be marked of it, wanted to have Merlin imprinted on his skin.

"I wish you were my first," Merlin whispered, his hips rolling faster.

Arthur closed his eyes and swallowed, thinking back to the night he'd kissed Merlin. He had been ready to drag Merlin into his study, bend him over the couch, and fuck him all night. If he'd had his way, Merlin's first time wouldn't be slow and careful but hard and fast, a complete surrender to all of the darker impulses Arthur harbored when he looked at Merlin. He would have made sure that Merlin would never be able to fuck another soul without thinking of him.

"Me, too," Arthur breathed.

Merlin gasped, and then fresh warmth splashed over Arthur's stomach and shirt. Merlin tensed, clenching down tight and shuddering with each fresh wave of pleasure. Arthur didn't want this to end. If he could, he stave off his orgasm until dawn, letting Merlin bring him right to the peak without tumbling over the edge. But Arthur didn't have the luxury of time, and Merlin was squirming and flexing and biting his lip and making this sound. This high-pitched, keening, breathless sound that should have been coming from Arthur's throat. He clutched at Merlin, holding him as tightly as he could while the world stretched to the breaking point and snapped back all at once, pulling Arthur taut and then breaking him in two. He pumped his hips until the condom was full, moaning with each burst of come until he was finally spent.

"I think I ruined your shirt," Merlin murmured.

"I don't care."

"Do you think anybody noticed us here?"

"I don't care."

"What do you care about?"

"Fucking you again."

"That's fine, but I don't think we should do it here."

Arthur sighed and gently pushed Merlin's head to his shoulder, holding it there. "Where should we do it, then?"

"I don't know."

"Are you happy with Mordred?"

"I don't know. He…we get along and he loves me."

"I'll understand if this was just…if you were just trying to work me out of your system."

"Is that what this was to you?"

"No. I don't know. No."

"What if you took me home, and I crawled into Mordred's bed, and I let him fuck me now that I'm good at stretched? Would that bother you?"

"Yes," Arthur answered between clenched teeth, more than simply bothered by the thought. He could think about it logically and tell himself Mordred's bed was where Merlin belonged. He could even ignore his emotions, as confusing and incoherent as they were. But his reptile brain was having none of it, and it screamed at Arthur to hold onto what was his, to keep Merlin, to claim Merlin if possible.

"Then take me somewhere else."

"Are you sure?"

"No. Maybe we're just drunk and stupid. But I haven't stopped thinking about you, and you never stopped thinking about me, and I…if we're meant to be, I don't want to waste another four years. Or another four minutes, for that matter."

"I'll take you to my flat."

Merlin grinned like he'd been waiting to hear those words from Arthur all night. They carefully untangled themselves, and as Merlin settled back in the passenger seat, Arthur realized that his shirt was indeed ruined. They didn't speak while they sorted themselves out, wiping away what they could, zipping and adjusting their clothes. Arthur moved methodically, waiting for Merlin to speak up and say he's changed his mind.

He never did.

#

Merlin was just twenty-two when he became engaged, and though Arthur insisted they could wait until Merlin was older to set a date, they married on Christmas Eve.