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shippouzrus! (3/3)
Dec. 7th, 2010 06:18 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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merlin_holidaysArthur never sees Merlin without a camera.
It's dinner, for the first time on their own, when Arthur gives up on looking casual and comes to Merlin's terrifying flat to pick him up. It's bitter cold, even under all the layers of his suit and wool coat but Arthur finds himself smiling anyway as he takes the stairs two at a time to go collect Merlin.
Arthur knocks, hearing music from the inside. It's the sort of music that either makes you want to fall in love or find a way to be smart enough, or good enough to stay away. Basically, it's indie crap but Arthur finds it incredibly endearing that Merlin is such a lovely and predicable stereotype.
"Come in!"
He turns the knob, letting himself into a flat that is complete disaster. It looks as if Merlin has just had a party the night before, even though Arthur knows for a fact that Merlin was in Paris doing an interview. Arthur suspects that it might always look like this: a whirlwind of scarves, hoodies and v-necks draped over every available surface; there is assorted prints or books or books about prints everywhere; empty cans of PBR are tucked into corners; make-shift ashtrays appear at every single turn; and things like blenders and dildos, which do not belong in the living room, are obviously not in their rightful place.
It's disgusting and lived in and so very Merlin that Arthur can't bring himself to hate it beyond a vow that he's going to personally clean the sheets of Merlin's bed before he lets his bare skin anywhere near it.
Arthur blushes at the thought.
"Merlin?"
"Sorry," Merlin yells from the direction of the bathroom. "I'm running a bit behind."
Arthur rolls his eyes but turns to shrug off his jacket, finding a space on a barstool that looks relatively safe to put his coat on. He's unwinding his scarf when he looks up to see Merlin, standing in the hallway, taking pictures of him.
Arthur's face goes through a multitude of expressions, he can feel the way he shifts from surprise to embarrassment to curiosity and then back to embarrassment that leads to defense. "What are you doing?"
Merlin takes a few more snaps with his camera without answering Arthur. He's such a nerd, Arthur thinks as he takes in Merlin's half-nakedness (very distracting that), camera looped around his neck, black jeans cutting into his hips and exposing the waistband of his briefs (not white, thankfully).
"Hi," Merlin says when he finally drops the camera to hang on his neck, the black metal a very sharp contrast to his pale skin and the pinkness of his nipples. Arthur feels himself blush.
"More photos?" Arthur feels stupid just standing in Merlin's flat in his suit but Merlin is smiling goofily.
"You look good."
"Oh?"
"Yeah," Merlin says with a nod. "You look good in my flat."
Arthur doesn't know what to say to that so he goes to Merlin instead, ignoring the way he's stepping on a multitude of noisy things and just kisses him.
They miss their dinner reservations, jack each other off in the back of a taxi and eat chips from a dodgy Indian man instead.
Text from Morgana:
you're a twat.
Arthur shakes his head, glaring at his phone and answers a handful of emails before picking up his phone and texting her back.
Text to Morgana:
mind your own business. harpy.
Satisfied that he's put Morgana off for another day or so, he closes his eyes and thinks about calling it a day. It's only 3pm but it's Friday and his mind is more than checked out by this point. He wants to say his eagerness to get out of work has nothing to do with the fact that Merlin's been gone all week long, off to some obscure forest to shoot photos of naked people running about in nature and will be back sometime tonight but he knows perfectly well that all he wants is to see him.
How did this happen? Arthur's not sure. But there is something about Merlin that seems to have latched onto Arthur's life, like a fungus, and is growing steadily.
"The lighting in your office is shit," a very familiar and missed voice says. Arthur opens his eyes to find Merlin, camera in hand, leaning across his desk to take pictures of Arthur's hands that are gripping the edge of his desk.
"What are you doing here?"
Merlin tilts his head, still behind the camera and takes a few more photos, before lowering it and smiling. It's a tired smile and something tugs at Arthur's chest.
"Will drove on the last leg," Merlin says casually. "So we made it back in four hours instead of seven."
"That’s... terrifying."
Merlin laughs, so small and nostalgic that it makes Arthur just a tiny bit jealous of Will. "You weren't in the car. I'm pretty sure this batch of models will never agree to do another shoot with me."
"Because of Will?"
"A bit. Also, there was an incident with a badger."
Arthur frowns, taking in Merlin's dirty clothes and skin. There's a streak of dirt that runs up his neck that Arthur has an alarming urge to lick off. Merlin has obviously turned him into some sort of dirty hippie.
"Badgers exist?"
"Apparently," Merlin says and then he's smiling, climbing onto Arthur's desk with all this filth and grime and appallingly endearing elbows and knees to mount Arthur's lap.
"Merlin," Arthur says as a means to chastise but just sounds breathless.
Merlin shakes his head. "Lean back," he says with a few firm presses to Arthur's jaw that directs his neck back against the chair.
"Merlin, I'm at work."
"Shush, you're the boss," he says with a cluck of his tongue like Arthur's being the outrageous one. Arthur obeys, relaxing back into the chair and realizing just how tired he is. "Did you miss me?"
Arthur blinks. "Absolutely not."
Merlin smiles so widely, Arthur's afraid he's going to strain something in his face.
"I missed you," Merlin says with a roll of his hips. "Let me show you how much."
Arthur wants to protest but he can only watch with hooded eyes as Merlin rotates his hips in the most alarmingly seductive way. Although, he manages to ruin the moment by taking another blasted picture. Arthur lets him before putting his palm on the lens, he'll buy Merlin a new one if need be, and pushes it away.
"Show me," he says and Merlin flails his limbs, managing to drop the camera on Arthur's desk before attacking Arthur's mouth with an intensity that he's almost forgotten Merlin possesses. His mouth tastes like licorice and the sweet tang of oranges. There's a hint of gritty dirt when Arthur licks at his teeth but he ignores it in favor of letting himself be devoured.
The grind into each other, Merlin riding Arthur's lap in what is becoming a very familiar and frequent position for them. Arthur keeps meaning to ask him why he insists on climbing into Arthur's lap at every available moment but he keeps getting distracted. Their hands clutch and press, the friction of clothes and days of being without each other is intoxicating, their touches demanding until they both come like teenagers inside their trousers. Merlin makes an alarming amount of noise, breathy gasps and needy whimpers and moans that Arthur is sure can be heard all around the office.
Afterward, with Merlin's face tucked up underneath Arthur's chin, another familiar position for them, Arthur sees Leon re-entering the office with a nod and a smile so coy that Arthur can't decide if he wants to give him a raise or fire him.
On Arthur's birthday, he finds himself lying in a pool of thick red paint. There's a crown on his head that shines and flickers in the light of flash bulbs. He knows there is symbolism here for more than just his childish heart, scattered between shrapnel infant cries and frantically beeping machines. He knows this isn't just about his emotional void—his mummy issues. He knows that it's about queenship or some other profound and revolutionist, liberal nonsense but he does it anyway.
He lets Merlin lead him into the room, undress him and position him. He doesn't know why and for the first time in a long time, not knowing isn't a crime.
"A gift," Merlin says without a smile but with bared teeth.
The splash of red paint over his belly makes him want to cry but when he opens his eyes, Merlin is already there.
"A gift," he pleads with shining eyes. "She would have been proud of you."
Arthur doesn't know when he found out or how he's supposed to feel any one emotion about this but the tightness in his chest loosens, his shoulders relax and the second splash of paint doesn't hurt as much.
Arthur wakes up to the sound of a Polaroid machine rolling out a photo. It's mechanic and harsh sounding in the early morning light of his apartment but as he rubs the sleep from his eyes and pulls on his glasses, he can't help but smile.
"What are you doing here?"
Merlin smiles, spindle like fingers tapping over the archaic looking camera in one hand while his other shakes the Polaroid with quick flicks of his wrist. "I broke in."
Arthur blinks. "You broke into my home?"
"Sure," Merlin says with a shrug. "I wanted to see where you slept when you weren't with me."
There's something here. Arthur is sure of it but it's too early in the morning to be having some sort of relationship conversation and Merlin looks so good, boyfriend cardigan with no t-shirt underneath and just his briefs. He looks comfy and homey and Arthur shakes his head to keep the thoughts from clouding his mind.
"Where are your pants?"
"Took 'em off."
"Bit presumptuous, aren't you?"
"Maybe not," Merlin says with a nod to Arthur's crotch where his morning erection is tenting the linens and reacting to Merlin's mere presence.
Arthur grunts and makes a grab for the square photograph but Merlin just shakes his head and tosses the camera to the floor.
"Stay home today."
"Pardon?"
Merlin smiles, wide and so truthfully that Arthur gets distracted by the sheer luxury of it. But then Merlin is there, rubbing his nose alongside Arthur's and pushing him back until Merlin is stretched out on top of him.
"Don't go to work," Merlin whispers while nipping at Arthur's lips. "Stay here with me."
"Why?"
"So we can have sex all day and I can use the rest of my Polaroids to document everything about you," Merlin says with seriousness that quakes in Arthur's chest before he smiles and licks at Arthur's lips. The way Merlin shifts from each emotion is enough to make anyone motion sick but it makes Arthur's head spin in a way that frustrates him and delights him equally.
"I've been meaning to do a collage dedicated to stages of your boner," Merlin says, deadpan and they laugh, kissing and rolling around in Arthur's expensive bed sheets like they haven't a care in the world. And they don't, not really, not when they're together and Arthur can block out the massive amounts of work he hasn't taken home since getting together with Merlin. He can truly get lost in Merlin's smiles and all his tragically hipster ways.
Arthur doesn't go in to work that day and Merlin does indeed use up all his film.
Text from Boy Wizard:
party at gwaines.
Arthur scowls at the text message. He's tempted to text back and tell him that in no way is Merlin to step in a ten foot radius of Gwaine when Arthur's not around. But he doesn't because he's unsure if he's allowed. Arthur is fairly sure Merlin is his boyfriend. Fairly sure. Mostly sure. This uncertainty is something Morgana says is good for him—character building or something else equally as rotten.
It just makes Arthur want to build a dungeon to keep Merlin in.
"Sir?"
Leon is leaning in the doorway. "Percy is bringing the coffee and we're to meet your father in the conference room on the 27th floor in ten minutes."
"Right," Arthur says, silencing his phone and putting Merlin out of his mind for the rest of the evening.
Four hours later, Arthur caves in to Leon's protests and has Tristan drive him home. He dozes on the way, his mind going over the day purely out of habit. In all honesty, it was a good day for him. His father only grimaced once during Arthur's presentation and the representatives from Mercia Inc. ate up the ideas. All in all, it was a perfect sort of day.
"Then why do I feel so bloody rotten?" Arthur mumbles when his car arrives outside of his flat building. He thanks Tristan with a nod and drags himself out of the backseat and into the building. The lift is slow and tedious but Arthur takes some comfort in the bland music playing softly above him. He thinks about how much Merlin hates lift music and takes the stairs even if it makes his thin chest heave.
This makes Arthur frown. Stupid Merlin and his sweet mouth and his ridiculous ideas and... Arthur presses a hand to his eyes and thinks that he really needs to go to bed.
When Arthur walks into his bedroom, he almost runs into a camera set-up on a tripod. It's blinking, the red light in high contrast with half of the room that's very dark. The other half is bathed in moonlight because the window covers are pulled back to let the light stream in from the windows. On his bed, Merlin is curled up in a fetal position.
Arthur blinks. Merlin looks decidedly small in Arthur's large bed, his skin very pale in the moonlight and Arthur almost laughs because Merlin, naturally, isn't wearing anything on the lower half of his body except for two mix-matched socks. However, he's still managed to leave his shirt on, the white v-neck shirt looking dark against his skin.
If there is one thing that Arthur is certain about with Merlin, it's that the boy really hates wearing pants.
Arthur undresses silently, putting his suit in the dry-cleaning pile and contemplating slipping into some sort of pajamas but then Merlin makes a sniffling noise combined with a sleepy groan and Arthur abandons any idea that isn't crawling into bed the very moment.
Arthur settles into the left side of the bed, lying close enough to feel the heat from Merlin's body but not close enough to touch.
"Arthur?"
He looks over to where Merlin has straightened a bit from his position, his back still to Arthur although he's twisted to look over his shoulder.
"You're in my bed," Arthur says in response to the sleepy glaze of Merlin's eyes. Merlin smiles softly and whatever lingering irritation Arthur has about Gwaine leaves him.
"Wanted you," Merlin says before turning away again. Before Arthur can say anything else, Merlin's arm is reaching back to pull Arthur forward and the long, thinness of his body is pressing back against Arthur's front until they're spooning like kittens.
Arthur inhales smoke and stale beer when he nuzzles into the base of Merlin's skull. "You're in my bed and there's a camera set up. Are you making wank videos?"
Merlin makes a sleepy whine and pats at Arthur until he finds Arthur's naked arm and follows the line until he grabs Arthur's hand, intertwines their fingers and slips them underneath Merlin's t-shirt to rest on his belly.
"Missed you at Gwaine's and then I got an idea," Merlin says with a voice so husky with sleep that Arthur almost feels guilty for asking any questions.
"Hmm," Merlin hums. "You're naked."
Arthur huffs out a laugh against the downy hairs of Merlin's neck. "Yes, and you are, once again, not wearing any pants."
"You feel good," Merlin replies, not following any sort of linear conversation style. "It's nice."
Arthur can do nothing but tighten his grip on Merlin's body, entangling their legs together. He's half-hard but he always is around Merlin. He feels sleepy and comfortable in a way that makes his chest tight with something that feels like uncertainty but he's sure it something else entirely—something far more dangerous.
"It's on a timer."
"The camera?"
"Yeah," Merlin whispers, his fingers stroking Arthur's. "Takes a picture every hour."
The silence that coats them is soft and intimate. He's suddenly struck with an intense urge to stay in this moment for the rest of time. He presses lingering, light kisses to Merlin's bare neck and listens to his breathing.
"I just wanted to take our picture," Merlin says when Arthur is sinking into sleep. "We're real and I wanted you."
Weeks later, Arthur will be looking for a file in the small cluttered space of his kitchen table. He'll open a folder to see ten prints. The first three are of Merlin alone, asleep in Arthur's bed and looking divine. The other seven are of the two of them. They're like a sucker-punch to his belly because he feels sick to his stomach, churning and twisted on the inside as he flicks through the pictures. The light moves across them in a mesmerizing way, it makes them look as fit they're shifting in the pictures but Arthur is drawn to the last photo. The bottom of Merlin's shirt has ridden up, exposing their entwined hands and the position of the light floods across their bodies. They contrast in a shocking way and fit so perfectly together that Arthur has to sit down because he feels a bit light headed.
"I'm so fucked," he says to his empty apartment. He makes plans to see Morgana for the first time since starting this thing with Merlin and doesn't hesitate to tell her everything.
She has similar sentiments.
Arthur glares at his computer screen.
"It cannot be this difficult," he grinds out and scrolls down the page.
Apparently, it is.
"Leon!"
A half a beat passes and then Leon is strolling into Arthur's office with a small smile and very large cup of tea. "Here you go sir," he says smoothly. "Have you given up yet?"
Arthur takes three long sips of tea, enjoying the way it sort of scolds his mouth and he can practically feel his headache surrendering to the all healing power of a very good cuppa.
"Christmas is a horrid time of the year," Arthur says in response.
"Many would disagree with you," Leon chides lightly. "I take it you haven't yet found Merlin a suitable gift?"
Arthur glares.
"May I make a suggestion, sir?"
Arthur sighs. "Anything to avoid having to call Morgana."
"There is an auction this Saturday," Leon says carefully, placing the catalog in front of Arthur. "Page twelve has a very interesting item that will suit Merlin perfectly."
Page twelve is a very expensive notebook. A bloody fucking notebook.
"A million and a half pounds for a damn notebook?"
Across from him, Leon sighs as if Arthur is the dense one. "Merlin's tattoo."
"What about it?"
"I'm beginning to see the failures of public school now. Poetry is important to your education and it is certainly important to Merlin since he got it tattooed on his skin."
Arthur looks back down at the auction booklet. "Ginsberg?"
"Yes," Leon says with a roll of his eyes and a small smile. "He's an American poet, hugely influential, especially to the queer community."
"Oh," Arthur says softly. He reads the description and feels a small pang of guilt. He's not well versed in literature. He's fully aware of that and he knows he understands even less about queer politics. Not like Merlin, who goes to rallies and writes letters to UN officials and goes to protests. Not like Merlin who has stacks of books ranging from feminist theory to trans-politics and who makes art to reflect every moment of his queerness.
Queer, a word that only meant 'odd' to Arthur until he met Merlin.
"Leon," Arthur says when his assistant turns to go. "Thank you."
The smile he receives is genuine.
"Would you place the call to the auction house?"
Leon nods and disappears while Arthur mourns the loss of a couple of million pounds.
When Christmas Day rolls around, Arthur finds himself waking up in Merlin's bleak and very cold apartment. His father is in Moscow, not scheduled back until after the New Year and Merlin insisted on staying at his apartment because apparently, Arthur's is too sterile and quote "IKEA Nazi-fied". Arthur eventually relented in exchange for a promise that they only had to stay at Morgana's for three hours that evening.
They're piled on Merlin's saggy couch, having tea and making out like teenagers when Merlin pushes him away and walks to the tree. There are ten very badly wrapped packages underneath the tree, none of which are for Merlin.
"I just got you one," Arthur says, suddenly shy. "But it's very good. At least, I hope it is."
Merlin turned back, only one package in his hand. "Oh, mine are all the same."
Arthur nods, even thought that makes little sense, and goes to his briefcase where he pulls out the small glass case he purchased the notebook in. He didn't bother wrapping it but Leon did go as far as to tie a thick red ribbon across the front of it.
They settle back on the couch and Arthur slides his gift into Merlin's lap. He's nervous but Merlin's cheeks are flushed from the warmth of the tea and their legs are tangled together on the couch so he can't find it in himself to hate this moment as much as he really should if he's going to be humiliated.
Arthur takes the camera from around Merlin's neck, avoiding look at his face while he looks at the glass case.
"Arthur," Merlin breathes out and Arthur takes a picture of his face, which looks shocked and awed but not in a bad way and Arthur feels something like relief. "Arthur is this..."
"It's the original manuscript of 'Howl'," Arthur says softly. "Your tattoo and," Arthur pauses as he works over the sudden lump of honesty in his throat. "I know I'm not the most aware gay out there. I might be the most apathetic but I want you to know that I notice. I mean, I know that it means a lot to you and after reading 'Howl' for the first time, I get it. I understand."
When Merlin looks up, there are tears in his eyes and Arthur wonders if he's fucked it up again. "God, Arthur. You read 'Howl'? For me," he says before reaching across the couch and places frantic but precious and sweet kisses all over his face. "You brilliant man."
They kiss, slow and wonderful and Arthur doesn't want to let go.
"I had help from Leon," Arthur admits.
"Can I take it out and read it?"
Arthur nods. "But you should do it somewhere clean and wear gloves. I mean, you don't have to. Do whatever you want because it's yours but that's just... it's a recommendation."
Merlin presses his forehead against Arthur's, their breath mingling together.
"You must have spent a fortune on this," Merlin says. Arthur nods.
"A small one."
"God," Merlin breathes out. "You're so fucking brilliant."
They kiss, lazy and languid but it makes Arthur hard and aching anyway. He wants Merlin so bad and he has no doubt that they'll get off after this but Arthur's been dreaming about fucking Merlin for weeks. He knows they should talk about it but it just hasn't come up yet and Gwaine is still around, still calls Merlin and texts him and they hang out and Arthur just isn't ready to ruin everything yet. Not yet.
"You're such a fucking sugar daddy," Merlin jokes and Arthur resists the urge to stick his tongue out.
Merlin takes pictures of Arthur's hands when they open up his present, which is so very like Merlin. Most people would take a picture of the expression of joy or elation when opening presents but Merlin insists that Arthur's hands do the talking. When Arthur opens his present—a brand of expensive condoms—he stares at the box before looking back up at Merlin. There is a beat of silence, Merlin still taking pictures before he pulls down the camera and Arthur looks back at the box and then back at Merlin.
Merlin, who is blushing. "The rest of the ones underneath the tree are different types. You know, colors and flavors and such."
"Merlin, what-"
"Arthur," Merlin interrupts with fluttering hands and a few nervous licks at his mouth. "I've hardly waited longer than a couple of hours to get fucked by anyone willing. You've had me waiting for four months."
Arthur frowns, opens his mouth and then closes it.
"Please," Merlin says across from him. "Please."
"But," Arthur starts, "what about Gwaine?"
"What does Gwaine have anything to do with this?"
"Merlin," Arthur says with a shake of his head. "I'm not like the rest of your friends-"
"Obviously."
"No, what I mean is, I don't sleep around with my friends and I'm not... I'm not into open relationships and all that new-age, liberal rot."
Merlin blinks. "Arthur, we've been dating for four months. I know you're a Stepford-fag."
Arthur's mind stumbles on the word dating but he's getting frustrated with Merlin's confused expression and more than a little hurt. God, he feels so incredibly pathetic but he just doesn't care anymore, not when Merlin's eyes are glittering against the fairy lights and it's Christmas.
"I don't want to share you," Arthur says, his fingers tightening over the condoms. "I don't want to share you with anyone, but especially not Gwaine."
"Arthur," Merlin says in a voice so soft and full of pity that Arthur jerks away from the hand that reaches out to touch his arm.
"Just imagining-"
And then Merlin kisses him, chaste but forceful, their mouths knocking together violently and Merlin pressing their lips together so hard that it actually hurts a bit.
"You stupid man," Merlin says against him. "You stupid, stupid man."
"What-"
Merlin kisses him again, hands pulling on his hair in an achy sort of way. "I haven't, with anyone, let alone Gwaine, since you called me after the party."
It takes a few moments to process the information. Merlin's face working into a huge smile, wide and innocent and truthful that Arthur doesn't have the sense to ask 'really' or 'are you sure' before Merlin is kissing him again and Arthur is literally carrying Merlin back to his shitty bedroom.
"You're amazing," Merlin says against his mouth and Arthur's shaking.
The next time Merlin drags Arthur to one of his parties, Arthur gets spectacularly drunk and hangs out with Gwen most of the night because Gwaine is there, putting his hands all over Merlin.
When Arthur's fist finally collides with Gwaine's jaw, Merlin's there to take the picture, lecture Arthur on neanderthal behavior before going back to Arthur's and fucking their brains out against the wall.
It's totally worth it.
"So," comes Morgana's dreaded voice from the door of his office. "You and Merlin."
Arthur thinks that if he runs fast enough, he'll knock her down and be out of the building before she can get up. Instead, he stays put and spends the next thirty seconds wondering how she got past Leon.
"I'm fairly certain that we've had this conversation," Arthur says sarcastically.
"Oh we have."
"Remind me again how you got past security?"
"My breasts," Morgana says casually and closes the door behind her. Arthur doesn't hide his groan. "We need to talk again."
"Is there any chance that I can say no and you'll go away," Arthur snaps. "I've got work to do."
"Merlin's putting together a collection that is going to blow his career out of the water. He's going to be famous. He's going to be wanted by everyone and anyone. This collection, from what I've seen, is probably the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen."
Arthur keeps his face glued to the computer. "He's mentioned his excitement," Arthur says carefully.
"Arthur," Morgana says with a smack of her hand on his desk that makes him jump a bit and actually look at her. "You have to tell Uther."
"Excuse me? Have you actually lost your mind?"
"When Merlin's done, he's going to sign with galleries and it's going to be everywhere."
"I don't see how that has anything to do with ruining my father's dream of continuing the Pendragon legacy," Arthur says drily.
Morgana moves to sit on his desk, her hip cocked and her eyes dark. "Arthur, this collection is... well, to be frank, it's the most epic love letter ever written and it will out you."
"Morgana..."
"It's going to be called Kingdom and it's going to have you, plastered over twenty different walls in various states of undress. Merlin is composing a declaration of love that is going to span fifty photographs and it's going to be enormous," Morgana says harshly. "What makes you think that when everyone sits up and takes notice, that you won't be in the lime-light too?"
"No one is going to care about me, this is about Merlin."
"You're fucking stupid," Morgana says bluntly. Arthur twists his face and hates her, just a little bit.
"Please, insult me because that always takes our conversations in a positive direction."
"You're going to be known as Merlin Emrys' muse," Morgana says softly. "You're going to be the subject that makes him famous. Everyone is going to care and everyone is going to want to talk to you."
"Morgana, I really need to get back to work."
"I've already booked Kingdom for the end of June," Morgana plows on. "Merlin's got twenty different galleries fighting to have it next. You have until June to tell Uther but I won't keep a lid on Merlin's genius just because he's fallen in love with an idiot like you."
She's out the door before Arthur can process what she said. Hours later, he's gotten next to nothing done and he's still stuck on 'fallen in love'.
Arthur's exhausted when he gets home. His irritation with Morgana sort of exploded, he got in a proxy argument with his father that was pointless and completely his fault and yelled at an intern until she cried. Leon had to pack her in a cab and promise her a transfer to a different branch with a raise.
He is so happy to see the sight of his apartment.
All the lights are on when he walks in and it smells like vanilla and hazelnut. "Merlin?" he calls out as he unloads his briefcase onto the kitchen table, he hands up his coat and rolls his shoulders. God, he's sore.
"In here!"
Arthur loosens his tie, toeing off his shoes, as he makes his way toward the bathroom and Merlin's voice. The door is ajar and he can see a truly dangerous amount of candles littering every available surface of his bathroom. Merlin's bent over the tub, turning off the taps when Arthur pushes the door open.
"Hello," Arthur says, leaning against the door jamb.
Merlin looks over his shoulder and straightens up. "Hey, you!"
"What's all this?"
Merlin crosses the bathroom and hugs him. Just hugs him. Arthur's arms automatically circle Merlin's thin body, once again clad in boxer-briefs and a white v-neck. Merlin hugs him tight, his left hand rubbing rhythmically at the base of Arthur's neck.
"Leon called, said you had a crap day."
Arthur chuckles. "Something like that, yeah."
"I've drawn a bath with bubbles and the kettle’s on."
"Mmm," Arthur hums and turns his head to place a kiss to the line of Merlin's neck. "Very sweet of you."
"Get out of your clothes," Merlin says when he pulls back. "I'll bring you tea."
Arthur strips, doesn't bother to fold his clothes, and sinks into the deliciously scalding bath water with a hiss. He can feel the tension ease out of his shoulders with shocking quickness. His traitorous mind flickers back to his conversation with Morgana earlier.
"God," Arthur mumbles, slipping his head underneath the water and resurfacing to find Merlin with two mugs of tea and his Polaroid camera.
"Too hot still," Merlin says as he sets the mug on the side of the tub and slides down until he's opposite Arthur but outside the tub. His hand rests on the edge of the cool tub and Arthur doesn't hesitate to cover it with his own, bubbles squelching between their fingers.
"Hi," Arthur says and Merlin smiles, quiet and sedate.
"Can I take your picture?"
Arthur cocks his head. "You've never asked me before."
The blush on Merlin's cheeks is clear and Arthur takes in the way his eyes seem to dance, a shocking blue wreathed in gold by the candle light.
"Well," he says softly, like a confession. "I should have."
"You talked to Morgana," Arthur says flatly and Merlin nods. He looks so little, half naked in Arthur's bathroom.
For once in his life, he's aware of how important this moment is between them. He tries to imagine Merlin without a camera in his hands or without the smile that slides onto his face after he's taken a picture that he's particularly pleased with and it all feels wrong. It feels wrong for Merlin to ask Arthur for anything when Arthur knows that he should just take it because Arthur wants to give it to him. He thinks about his life before Merlin. He thinks about Merlin's fingers pressed against his and the way he gulps down cheap beer, drunk off the people around him. Arthur thinks about the way Merlin gasps his name when he's buried inside him, both of them on their sides in the early morning light and realizes that if there is anything to fight for, it might be everything Merlin stands for.
"Merlin," he says with equal softness. Merlin looks up from where he was staring at their fingers. "You never have to ask because the answer is always yes."
The water splashes all over the tile floor when Merlin climbs in, still half-clothed, to take Arthur's picture and to kiss him.
They don't talk about the gallery or the collection after that. Merlin takes pictures and Arthur kisses his smiles and they live.
Winter bleeds into Spring. Work is busy and demanding and Merlin goes to Paris with Morgana, Will and Gwaine. Arthur's doesn't have time to be jealous but when he mutters something about Gwaine, Merlin sucks his brains out of his cock and afterwards, he pushes come into Arthur's mouth with a filthy, slick tongue and dances out the door with a bag full of cameras and a promise to text him later.
It's perfect and wonderful and Arthur can't stop smiling like a loon.
It's May. It's raining buckets of drizzle that annoy Arthur to no end because he has trouble sleeping, his shoulder wound from university bothering him. He slips out of bed, where Merlin is drooling on his pillow and kicking like a puppy.
Arthur places a kiss on his shoulder and then leaves the bedroom.
There's a book on the table that Arthur's been avoiding for a couple of days. He knows what it is because Merlin told him, just in passing, knowing that Arthur would pay attention. It's the final submission for Kingdom. It's what he showed Morgana earlier in the week that made her cry and what will make Merlin famous.
Merlin hasn't stopped taking pictures and that's what intrigues him. The gallery book is final, it's what will be in the show and yet, Merlin is still taking pictures of Arthur whenever he feels the desire to. His smile hasn't faded and neither have his kisses.
It confuses him.
The rain pounds relentlessly outside and Arthur steps away from the window to open the gallery book. He knows that Morgana will choose the order and placement of the work but it opens with a picture of Arthur's face, eyes closed and peaceful.
Arthur's hands shake as he goes through the album.
There are so many pictures. He's actually in awe. Some of them he doesn't remember, others feel like a slap in the face they are so tangible in his memory. There are pages and pages of Arthur, sometimes he's with other people and sometimes it's just him or parts of him; the clip of his elbow, the whiteness of his knuckles or the straining tendons of his neck.
It's startlingly intimate and for the first time in his life, he's willing to admit that Morgana is right.
The first pictures, the ones that Merlin sent Arthur after he fled, are at the back. Arthur runs his fingers over Gwen's smiling face, tracing her curls spread out on the bed. The next one is of Arthur's come slick trousers and he smiles, remembering quite vividly that entire encounter. Surprisingly, or maybe not, Merlin has a knack for taking erotic photos and making them more than just porn. They're soft and loving and secret.
The last page is blank.
"Here's the last photograph," Merlin says from behind him, sleep gone from his voice. He places a photo down on top of the blank page. "It's not in here because it's going to be six feet tall, I had to take it to the printer today."
Arthur nods, but it's absent from intent. The photo is gorgeous, so divine that it doesn't even look like him. It's a photo taken not long ago: Arthur is facing away from the camera, framed by the cold steel of Merlin's balcony. He's wearing a pair of gray boxer-briefs, his arms stretched out to hold onto the frame of the door. The muscles in his back are flexed, his feet slightly apart and the light is flooding all around him in a golden haze that makes him seem like he's glowing.
He looks regal, awe-inspiring and the breath inside his chest stutters and stops because it's perfectly clear that this is how Merlin sees Arthur.
"Merlin," he gasps out.
There's a pause, a full beat before Merlin's hands, capable and strong and beautiful, they close the book and flutter until they land on Arthur's shoulder.
"Come to bed," he pleads and Arthur follows.
Merlin climbs onto the bed and Arthur trails after him, watching him settle on his stomach. Arthur hesitates before he pushes Merlin's v-neck up, baring his back, and pushes it over Merlin's bed-tousled hair. Merlin stretches out, cat-like underneath him and Arthur watches the thin muscles move over his bones.
"God, Merlin," Arthur breathes into his skin, pressing kisses to the top of his spine and trailing them down the long, lean line of his back. The kisses are not chaste, but open and wet because he's worshipping and gasping into Merlin's skin with every bow of his spine.
"Arthur," Merlin whimpers and Arthur presses his skin down the flanks of his body, pressing and pressing until the skin dances underneath his fingers.
"Let me."
He watches as Merlin nods, his head turning to the side as he moans loudly when he spreads his cheeks with his hands and places an open mouthed kiss here too.
"Fuck," Merlin groans out and Arthur nips at the curve of Merlin's arse, moving back to lave the flat of his tongue to Merlin's entrance. His frames press uncomfortably into his face and so he takes them off, flinging them over the side of the bed and hoping they survived the landing. He kisses and licks, running the flat of his teeth over the sensitive, puckered skin until Merlin sobs.
He blows air over the twitching hole when he's mouth gets tired and pushes a finger in, watching the mess of Merlin's hair trash against the pillows to the tune of Merlin's desperate whines and thick moans as Arthur curves his finger, twisting until he finds Merlin's prostate.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Merlin curses when Arthur presses down too hard. His upper body scrambles to search underneath the pillows as his lower half fucks itself onto Arthur's finger. "Here, oh god, please here," Merlin begs as he shoves the lube down to Arthur's level.
"So good," Arthur whispers, pushing a second finger, slick and cool up into the inferno of Merlin's body.
"Arthur," Merlin whispers and Arthur nods, mouth at the crease between Merlin's arse and thigh. "Please, more, pleaseplease."
Arthur slides a third finger in, the slowness of the fingering easing into the quick fuck of his fingers into Merlin's hole. He knows Merlin's arse must be burning from the stretch but he finds a condom anyway, letting Merlin's thrust himself down onto Arthur's fingers as he busies himself with fitting the condom over his leaking cock.
"Inside," Merlin says, pushing himself up to his knees for leverage. "Inside before I come."
Arthur wastes no time, pulling his fingers out that earns him a whine from Merlin, slicking up his cock and pushing in so slow that Merlin sobs out another nonsense of words that are more desperate sobs than they are English. Arthur groans, burying himself inside Merlin and stilling.
Arthur waits until Merlin's stopped trembling so badly before he pulls out until only the tip remains, thrusting back in with a grunt.
"Fuck, yesyesyes," Merlin cries out, loudly and Arthur latches his teeth into the soft skin of Merlin's neck.
Arthur keeps the slow pace until Merlin's pushing back, cursing him and demanding more. Arthur sucks a bruise on his neck that will last for a week and Merlin moans, "So close". Arthur drives into him so hard that Merlin's knees knock out from underneath him, laying him flat on the bed with a filthy groan and words that could be Arthur's name but aren't complete.
The angle puts Arthur's cock in line to hit Merlin's prostate with every stroke and it takes less than four strokes before Merlin is coming, hands twisted behind him to thread into Arthur's hair and tug, moaning into this orgasm as Arthur's fucks him into the mattress.
Arthur comes seconds later, hips frantic as they thrust without rhythm, milking the pleasure from them both until they're both gasping, sweat slick between them when Arthur collapses on top of Merlin's back.
When Arthur finally pulls out, Merlin winces and Arthur gets rid of the condom quickly, pressing a kiss to Merlin's temple with a soft, "stay". He leaves the bed and comes back with a wet flannel, wiping them both down with broad sweeps of his palm. When he's done, he tosses the cloth to the side and curls around Merlin, pulling the duvet over them and pulling Merlin's thin body close enough to him that he doesn't have to sleep in the wet spot.
It's quiet and brittle between them so Arthur clings too hard.
"I'll turn them down."
"What?" Arthur breathes into Merlin's damp hair.
"I'll turn them down. I won't do the show if you want me to," Merlin says quietly. "I love you and I won't do this without you."
"God," Arthur says, eyes squeezing shut as he pictures the photo of himself, golden and shining from Merlin's eyes. "God, Merlin."
"I do, love you that is."
"I know."
"You mean more than fame or glory or whatever Morgana said to you."
Arthur holds him tighter until Merlin turns in his arms, wrapping around him like an octopus and making cooing noises that remind Arthur of his old au pair. Merlin strokes his fingers through Arthur's hair, pressing his face into Merlin's damp neck until their hearts slow to match a pace and pattern that is familiar and warm.
"All right," Arthur says finally.
"Yeah?"
"Yes," Arthur kisses into Merlin's ear. "Let's do this."
The week the collection is supposed to open at Morgana's, Merlin says yes to three more galleries. New York, Paris and Berlin want him so badly that he almost chokes on the figures.
"I'm going to be rich," Merlin says in awe, looking at the contracts. Arthur scoffs from the kitchen.
"You're already rich," Arthur calls over the running sink. "You just don't act like it."
"This is going to be huge," Morgana says as she bursts into Arthur's flat.
"Where the fuck did you get a key?" Arthur glares over the breakfast bar. Morgana ignores him in favor of flocking to where Merlin is sitting at the table and showering his face with kisses and hugging him so hard that Arthur can see his eyes bulge a little.
She throws down three magazines. "All of them have articles about Kingdom."
"Really?" Merlin says and flicks through them, eating up the words and giggling over the picture of him and Will that is published in one of them. Arthur peers over his shoulder and laughs as one of the magazines has a picture of Merlin at the age of fourteen.
"Where did they get this picture?"
"Who cares!" Morgana says with a smile so wide and genuine that Arthur laughs, kissing Merlin's cheek and returning to the kitchen, letting them talk and generally be ridiculously excited.
Later, when Merlin has fallen asleep in Arthur's lap, Morgana slips her shoes back on and gives him a significant look.
"Your name’s in those articles too."
"I know," Arthur whispers. "I have a meeting with Father over my sabbatical tomorrow."
"Sabbatical?"
Arthur nods, his finger absently playing with Merlin's ear. "I'm taking a six month sabbatical so I can go with Merlin."
"You're going on the gallery tour with Merlin?"
Arthur is almost afraid that Morgana's eyebrow might fall off with how fast and hard she arches it.
"Will's coming too," Arthur says softly but Morgana is smiling like she's proud and sweeping out the door.
"Spain, too," Arthur whispers in the quiet of the room.
Arthur falls asleep like that, on the coach, hands tucked up against Merlin's skin.
"Imagine my surprise when I found out that not only is my only son dating a man but that he's going to be making a fool of himself all over the world," Uther says with a cold hardness that greets Arthur in the morning. His father is sitting in the chair across from Arthur's desk, the rigid line of his body matching the tone of his voice and tensing Arthur's jaw immediately.
He had planned to a have a bit more time before confronting his father. In hindsight, he should have known that Uther's PR department would be diligent. Especially since he hasn't exactly been discreet.
"Father," Arthur nods, setting his briefcase down and going to sit at his desk with a careful breath. "I was under the impression our meeting was set for ten."
"Do not be coy with me, Arthur."
Arthur feels the tick in his jaw but he turns on computer with faux casualness. It's easy to ignore everything around him when he's with Merlin because his dopey smile and skinny jeans block out reality. One of Merlin's talents is twisting reality into fantasy with a snap of his fingers or a press of his lips but sitting here with his father, it brings the severity of his situation into a harsh light. A six month sabbatical? Being out of the closet to real people, not just hipster rejects? Spending extensive time with Will? Taking a stand against his father?
"If you actually read the press releases, you would see that I'm not going to be making a fool of anyone," Arthur grinds out.
"Arthur," Uther forces out, his face severe. "Don't be rash, I know you've had your dalliances before but this is your life we're talking about. I will not stand idly by while you tarnish the Pendragon name for some fool of a boy because you can't control yourself."
Arthur looks away from his father's mouth, twisted and sour with what looks like hate and something shifts, shutters to stillness. He looks at the meticulous blankness of his desk; the carefully constructed piles, no trace of photos, the bland and impersonal wave of the area around him and he knows, quite plainly, that he won't miss any of it if he has to let it go. He hasn't thought about work outside of his workday since Merlin strolled into his life and as much as he enjoys making money, being successful and knowing that he is good at what he does, this isn't the entirety of his life anymore. This, being Uther Pendragon's son, isn't the sum of his life any longer.
He shifts and meets his father's gaze, hard and solid. "Kingdom is not foolish—just because it's not what you're used to or what you want doesn't mean it isn't right for me. Merlin is not foolish and neither is our life," Arthur says with a tone that sounds so like his father, he shocks himself. "You loved Mum, even though she was completely different from you—from the life you've raised me to lead."
"Excuse me?"
Arthur holds his father's gaze, even if the older man is reddening in his face and his left eye is twitching. God, he hopes mentioning his mother isn't a mistake but the first thing Merlin had said, eyes bright and hopeful, when he pulled out the photos of Arthur's mum from the back closet of his flat was: "She looks like she'd like me."
It's hard to argue with earnest truth.
"I'm taking a sabbatical to go with Merlin to the other three gallery openings after Morgana's show," Arthur says slowly.
"You will do no such thing."
"Then, after Berlin, Merlin will be taking his bi-annual road trip with five models, William Williams and me. He's picked Spain," Arthur says with more confidence, a smile gracing his face just thinking about it.
"This is madness!"
Arthur looks at his father's face, fury barely concealed and feels a pang of pity inside his chest. Yes, he supposes it is a bit insane but it's the kind of happy mania that comes from loving Merlin.
"Father, you can either accept the terms of my sabbatical or you can fire me," Arthur says, matter-of-factly. "But if you do fire me, you'll be hearing from my solicitor about wrongful termination."
"On what grounds?" Uther sneers out and this moment feels like coming out in the most official way because being with Merlin is something entirely different than announcing to the world that he's gay.
Then again, he's never one to do anything by halves. It's something his father taught him.
"Sexual orientation discrimination," Arthur says smoothly.
Uther slams the door so hard on the way out that all the pictures fall off the wall and Arthur breathes a sigh of relief, reaching for his phone just as Leon peeks in the wake of Uther's exit.
"That went well," he says with an arched eyebrow.
Arthur's smile is tight across his face. "It could have been much worse," he says, bringing the phone to his ear and listening to Merlin's comforting ringback: "...to the window! To the wall!"
Arthur gets back from his meeting in a temper.
"Sir," Leon says, looking a bit nervous. "In your office-"
Arthur flares, "I thought I said no more meetings for the rest of the goddamn day!" Arthur bursts into his office to find Merlin eating strawberries and holding a cactus.
"Hi," Merlin says with a red stained lips and a juicy tongue. "Come here often?"
"I've got work to do," Arthur says without heat. It's hard to be mad when Merlin's smiling his lopsided grin, like nothing in the world could bring him down.
The amazing thing is, Arthur knows he could. If he wanted to, he could ruin Merlin's day and watch the smile disappear.
"I brought you a pressie."
"Did you?"
"Yeah," Merlin says, reaching out and snagging Arthur by the loops of his trousers. "But you'll have to make out with me very inappropriately in your office before you can have it."
Merlin's mouth tastes like strawberries, tart and sweet with sticky juice. But it's nice and so Arthur kisses him a bit longer than necessary, especially if his father has spies around but he doesn't care because Merlin lets his mouth be plundered with a soft moan.
"Where's my present?"
"Take the rest of the day off," Merlin says with a coquettish smile.
"Why?"
"Because Will got a hold of peyote," Merlin whispers. "So I made some peyote tea."
Arthur blinks, his eyes following the stain of Merlin's mouth when he talks. Even when he's talking nonsense he's delightful. "You want me to cut work to take hallucinogens?"
"And go to the Tate Modern with me."
Arthur looks down at the basket of strawberries, the thermos of what he assumes is peyote tea and the cactus. "What's the cactus for?"
"I just liked it so I bought it at Tesco," Merlin says with a dopey smile. "Its name is Mordred and he's going to live in your office if you don't get fired."
Merlin kisses him on the cheek and puts his arms around Arthur like he's hugging him. Merlin and the hugging—it's strangely attractive and endearing. Not that Arthur would ever say anything.
"Please," Merlin says with another kiss to his cheek. "Will hates Tate Modern, he always tries to tag up the walls and last time he set fire to a chips stand."
Arthur laughs, because it's inappropriate and lovely and he really, really wants to hold Merlin's hand.
"Where are you?"
Arthur tries on another tie.
"Getting dressed," Arthur says curtly.
"Well, get your arse over here!"
Arthur rolls his eyes. "Morgana, I do understand the concept of time."
"If you don't get over here in ten minutes, I'm letting Will dose Merlin with ketamine," she says before hanging up.
Arthur grabs the paisley blue tie that Merlin loves (Arthur thinks it’s ghastly) and makes his way down to where Tristan is waiting for him.
When Arthur walks into the gallery, he's shocked at how beautiful the gallery is. Each of the photographs are outlined with a thick gold line and the lighting is almost blinding. It's beautiful and Arthur barely recognizes himself in all the photos but he certainly recognizes Merlin staring back at him in each picture.
Will is, predictably, tagging in the middle of the floor with blue and gold paint. He sneers cheerfully when Arthur passes him and Arthur flips him two fingers. Lance and Gwen are talking in the corner and when Arthur rounds the corner, and Gwaine is making a very crude gesture to Morgana who is laughing and not running for the door or calling the police.
"Where's Merlin?"
Gwaine looks up and says, "Trying to drown himself in the loo".
"Cheers," Arthur says sarcastically, wondering if he'll be picking Merlin off the floor in a ketamine haze or not. But when he gets to the bathroom, Merlin is just sitting by the sinks, hyperventilating.
"Merlin?"
Merlin doesn't look at him when he approaches, keeps staring at the stalls behind them. Arthur slides his hands up Merlin's thighs. He's wearing black trousers and a white button up that's actually Arthur's and so it fits him poorly. He's also wearing a skinny tie.
Ridiculous hipsters.
"All right, then?"
His hair is a mess and he tilts his head until he's meeting Arthur's gaze, unblinkingly. "It's just, I've never wanted to take pictures of someone like this before. Hell, I've never wanted to be in pictures with someone before. Not until you," he says almost sheepishly. "So, this is kind of important."
"You weren't this nervous last time," Arthur replies and Merlin shakes his head.
"This time it's different."
"Mr. Pendragon, thanks for sitting with me today."
Arthur smiles, tight across his face and nods to the woman across from him. She's clearly insane but very pretty and the first thing he thinks is that she and Morgana would be get along beautifully, which should make him run in the other direction but he promised Merlin he would do this. Obviously, he's regretting it now.
"Thank you for inviting me," Arthur says smoothly.
"How did you become Mr. Emrys' most famous subject?"
"Well, I guess I became his boyfriend first," Arthur says matter-of-factly. "Besides, Kingdom wasn't really about me. I mean, all of Merlin's work is about Merlin. He has the ability to channel this massive self into his photographs."
"Did you meet while he was finding a subject for Kingdom?"
Arthur shakes his head. "Not at all. We met at Merlin and Will Williams' show Ealdor, which my step sister Morgana put on."
Morgause nods, making some notes on her pad. "Do you feel connected to Will Williams' work?"
Arthur is, thankfully, saved from answering that question as Merlin bursts into the room. His hair is windswept, his face ruddy with flushed cheeks and his smile is just as loony and infectious as ever.
"Sorry I'm late," Merlin says in a whoosh, sitting down next to Arthur and turning to kiss him with too much teeth and a little bit more tongue that was strictly necessary. "What are we talking about?"
Morgause opens her mouth but Arthur beats her to it. "About the first night we met."
"Oh yeah?" Merlin says with a smile that was two parts filth and all parts joy. "Well, performance art was really what brought us together. See..."
Arthur leans his head back until it knocks against Merlin's, who is giggling, his shoulders convulsing against Arthur's.
"Morgana hates Paris," Merlin says sweetly, his hand reaches up to entangle with Arthur's and they're both a little cold.
"She's here all the time," Arthur says harshly. "She can't hate it that much."
"She thinks the Eiffel tower is a symbol of patriarchy and phallic domination," Merlin says with another burst of giggles, twisting and pulling their hands until he can bring them to his mouth. Arthur's shoulder whinges from the angle but he lets it happen because he’s laughing and stupid in love.
"Phallic domination, eh?"
"Mmmhmm," Merlin sings. "Sounds nice, doesn't it?"
They sit in silence for a while, watching the leaves swirl and people walk hand in hand around the park. It's autumn and it's very, very beautiful.
"Tell me this lasts forever," Merlin says, placing kisses all over their joined hands. "Tell me this feeling lasts forever."
Arthur smiles and it hurts. "It does," he says truthfully. "What time does the gallery open?"
"We don't need to be there for a few hours," Merlin mumbles back.
"Good. Let's go get a cupcake."
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