Chapter Text
Arthur stood by the door he’d been directed to by a student and waited for the members of the Edinburgh University Brass Ensemble to emerge. The week before, Merlin had mentioned the concert in passing, but Arthur had been scheduled to work at the pub. Afterwards, though, he’d spoken to Ravi and had gotten someone else to cover his shift. It was the day before Merlin’s birthday.
He shifted on his feet as the first few band members started filtering out, carrying large black cases full of shiny instruments, laughing and talking, some of them giving Arthur passing glances. Merlin didn’t know he was here, and suddenly Arthur wondered if he should’ve rung first. It was likely he had plans, after all, it being a Friday. He fingered the small box in his pocket.
Another swarm of students emerged, Merlin among them. He looked up, surprised when their eyes met, and Arthur gave a tentative wave. In the weeks since they’d gotten back in touch, things felt different; once he wouldn’t have given a second thought to dropping by and saying hey after a show, but now . . . now his heart beat faster as Merlin broke away from his friends.
“What are you doing here?” Merlin asked with a smile, seemingly glad to see him.
“Thought I’d come round to see if you still played like crap.”
“Har har,” Merlin said, shoving his arm. “You’re bloody hilarious. So, what’d you think?”
“Still crap, just as I suspected.”
Merlin rolled his eyes, about to retort something when another boy hit him on the shoulder. “Yours in a few, right, Merlin?”
“Yep. See you there, mate.”
The kid, a freckly blond about Arthur’s height, nodded and continued on his way, leaving them alone again. So Merlin did have plans tonight.
“Yeah, I just wanted to drop by.” Arthur flushed, clutching the present in his pocket. “But you’re busy, so I won’t hold you up.”
Merlin frowned and shook his head. “It’s just a little party for my birthday. Why don’t you come?”
Arthur had yet to visit Merlin’s campus flat, though he’d often been curious. No way would he pass up the opportunity to see the place where they could’ve been living together.
“Sure. I’d like that.”
Arthur followed Merlin’s lead as they wove their way through campus. Students milled about George Square, some of them sitting in groups, a few kicking around a football in the fading light. They passed in front of the library, and for a moment Arthur imagined what it would be like if he was a student here. He couldn’t say that he envied them their workload, but the social benefits were tempting. He missed going to parties, hanging out with kids his own age.
“What are you thinking about? You’re awfully quiet.”
“Just about this,” Arthur said, gesturing. “Everyone having a laugh. Sometimes I wonder if I should have gone to uni after all.”
“You can still change you mind.”
“I know.”
Merlin eyed him tentatively. “Have you heard from the scout?”
“Nothing official, but I guess he’s going to come back for another look tomorrow.” It’d been almost three weeks without a word, and Arthur had started losing hope until Coach had phoned him to say that his friend was interested but wanted to see a second game. “So I can’t stay late; we’re playing early in the morning. I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be. I have a good feeling about this.”
“You and Morgana both.”
“Oh really? How is she, anyway?”
“Doing well,” Arthur said as they reached Merlin’s hall and he fished out his keycard to swipe. “She’s going to York next year. Oh, and I told her about . . . us. Well, me really, but she’d already guessed,” he added carefully, watching as Merlin fumbled with the door. During his sister’s visit, he’d finally just come out with it. She’d given him an unsurprised look and asked why it had taken him so long to tell her.
“I guess it was pretty obvious. The amount of time we spent alone in your room and all.” Merlin’s voice was steady, neutral.
“You’re not mad?”
“Why would I be?”
“I didn’t know if her knowing was okay with you. I mean, because we’re not . . . anymore.” Arthur ran his hand through his hair, feeling uncomfortable.
“No. I mean, it’s fine. Yeah. I don’t mind.”
Arthur couldn’t decipher the look on Merlin’s face as they continued walking. Doors that described their occupants with pictures and posters were open, music of various kinds and loudness clashing together in the corridor.
“So, what did she say?” Merlin asked.
“Not too much. She was cool with it, happy if I’m happy and all that.” Morgana had also asked him when he was going to propose to Merlin, because God they were so meant for each other and why was he being such a complete wanker, but he didn’t feel the need to divulge that bit of information.
“Good. That’s really good.” They turned down another corridor, this one a bit quieter than the first. Arthur suddenly felt the urge to confess everything—he still wanted Merlin, they could be together now if Merlin wanted, when Merlin asked, “So have you talked to any of the others?”
“Percy rang me. He’s dating some anorexic model or something. Gwen and Lance seem to be completely missing in action, but I got an email from her a few months ago. “You?”
“I talked to Gwaine the other day,” Merlin said, and Arthur fought a wince that Merlin didn’t seem to notice.
“Oh?”
“He’s got a new girlfriend, Mithian something or other. Says we met her once. He seems to be doing well. I don’t think he’s going to stay at uni, though.”
Merlin continued on a bit, but Arthur was only half-listening. The memory of Merlin and Gwaine kissing still left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“He asked about you,” Merlin continued, casting a wary glance at Arthur. “It wasn’t Gwaine’s fault, you know. He’s just a horny bastard.”
“You can say that again,” Arthur muttered, realising he was being ridiculous.
“Arth, you don’t see me running down to your pub and telling your mate Mordred to get stuffed, do you?”
At the mention of that name, Arthur blushed. “It was only a one off.”
“What exactly happened during that one off? You shag him?” The question was asked casually, but Arthur thought—hoped—he detected jealousy under it all.
“No. But we—”
Merlin held his hand up and grimaced. “I don’t need to know the details!”
“You asked, mate!” Arthur laughed, satisfied that Merlin was sufficiently alarmed. “Fine, fine,” he relented. “I’ll give Gwaine a ring.”
“You should.”
They’d finally arrived at Merlin’s room, a two-bedroom corner unit with a shared living room. The walls were decorated with posters that declared Merlin and Will’s contrasting musical and movie interests, and there was campus-issue furniture covered with discarded wrappers and the odd sock. A small TV stood in the corner, half hidden by piles of DVDs, some of which Arthur recognised as Merlin’s favourite films from home. He smiled when he glimpsed Krull, the tension from the awkward conversation dissipating.
“So this is it,” Merlin said, setting his trumpet case down in the corner. “And that’s my room over there.” Arthur couldn’t tell in the dim light, but Merlin seemed to be blushing. “That door leads to Will’s. He’s either out or in there wanking.”
“Ha. Just remember to lock your door.” He levelled a look at Merlin, who responded with a nervous laugh.
“Yeah, don’t worry about that. I learned my lesson.”
They were alone for the first time in nearly a year, Arthur suddenly noticed, and Merlin was standing close enough to touch. Memories rushed back—kissing Merlin, the feel of his body. Things had been strictly friendly between them since they’d become mates again, but now the emotions he’d repressed threatened to boil over. He’d told Merlin about Morgana so he’d know Arthur was trying, but he wasn’t sure whether Merlin knew how he still felt, or even if Merlin was still interested in him that way. After all, Merlin was at uni now with a whole new pool of blokes to choose from; there was no guarantee he’d welcome Arthur’s feelings or return them. And there was also the possibility that if Arthur did confess he wanted more, their new, fragile friendship would be threatened, maybe even damaged beyond repair.
He didn’t think he could live through that again.
“Arthur?”
Merlin’s voice shook him out of his troubling thoughts. He turned and smiled, the expression fading when he noticed Merlin looked wary.
“What?”
Merlin swallowed. “It’s . . . strange. Here with you. When we’d planned . . .”
“Yeah.”
They stood silently, neither of them willing to say more, and then Arthur remembered the gift in his pocket. It was just a silly thing he’d seen in a shop window, but he’d thought Merlin might like it. He pulled it out and extended his hand.
“Happy Birthday, Merls.”
Merlin took the little box, smiling again. He shook it.
“What is it?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. Just open it.”
Merlin did, eyes widening as he lifted out the tiny gold dragon. It hadn’t been cheap, but somehow it had seemed perfect, even if it was a bit cheesy.
“I know when we were kids you used to like them, so . . . yeah. I can take it back if it’s crap.”
“Don’t be stupid. I love it,” Merlin said, staring at the figure in his palm. He poked at it, tracing the tiny scales with his finger. “It’s perfect.”
Arthur studied the space between them, merely two feet, an easily bridgeable gap. He was about to say fuck it and pull Merlin close when the door opened, letting in Will, Anton, and Max, and a hell of a lot of beer. “Hey,” Will said. “Oh, hello again, Arthur was it? What’re you lads up to?” The question was directed at Merlin.
“Oh,” Merlin replied, quickly pocketing his gift, “just waiting for you lot.”
“Well, we’re here now,” said Anton, popping open a can and handing it to Merlin. He had an open smile that Arthur immediately liked. “Let the party begin.”
After a couple hours, Merlin was pissed. His mates were a lot of fun, Arthur had decided, and they were welcoming—even Will, who it turned out didn’t fancy Merlin after all since he was snogging some curly-haired girl in the corner.
“What is this rubbish? We need some music we can dance to,” Merlin declared to the room just as Arthur was getting ready to leave. The match tomorrow was too important to bollocks up, no matter how much he wanted to stay. When Merlin stood unsteadily and retreated to his room muttering about Will’s crap eighties obsession, Arthur finished his drink before trailing after him. He had a feeling Merlin wasn’t going to be doing much of anything but passing out on his bed, and he wanted to say his goodbyes in private.
Merlin was seated at his computer fiddling with an iTunes mix when Arthur came in, not bothering to knock since the door was open.
“Hey, I’ve got to head out,” he said. Merlin looked up, his eyes heavy-lidded. His bed was unmade, and there were clothes littering the floor. It reminded Arthur so much of Merlin’s room at home that his heart ached.
“No. You should stay.”
Arthur bit his lip and took a step closer.
“I’m sorry . . . I don’t want to go, but you know, big game.” He reached out and touched Merlin’s shoulder. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
Merlin’s eyes closed, his head lolling to the side. The muscles were tense under Arthur’s hand, and he squeezed firmly to unknot them. Merlin let out a little sigh, his shoulders relaxing as Arthur massaged with both hands.
“No plans,” Merlin mumbled, chin dropping to his chest as Arthur let his hands travel down Merlin’s back. His own body responded being so close, and when Merlin leaned back into his touch, Arthur couldn’t resist. He leaned down and kissed the top of Merlin’s head, inhaling his scent and letting his lips linger, wondering if Merlin would remember in the morning.
“Arthur?” Merlin asked.
“Yeah?” His own voice was embarrassingly hoarse.
“Is the room spinning or is it just me?”
“Oh, mate, I think it’s just you.”
“Arthur? M’tired.”
“Okay,” Arthur said, giving his shoulders a final squeeze. Merlin stood, swaying a bit on his feet, and Arthur steadied him, a gesture that morphed into a hug as Merlin leaned into him. Their bodies pressed close, and Arthur could smell the beer on Merlin’s breath, feel the heat of his skin though his T-shirt. There were so many things weighing on his mind, but the most important was that Merlin was everything Arthur had ever wanted, and he was worth the risk.
“You’re strong,” Merlin whispered, breath puffing against Arthur’s skin. He leaned his head on Arthur’s shoulder. “Feels nice.”
It did, much too nice for how drunk Merlin was. If they stayed like this much longer, Merlin would undoubtedly have hard evidence of that fact prodding into his thigh, and it certainly wasn’t the time or place. But Arthur couldn’t find it in himself to disentangle from Merlin’s arms.
“Arth?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you like music from the eighties?”
“Not really—aside from Bowie.”
“Me neither.”
Arthur chuckled. “I figured that given your diatribe against it.”
“They had stupid hair.”
“What does that have to do with the music?”
Merlin let out an exasperated sigh, like Arthur was thick. “I wonder if the bad hair came first or the bad music.”
“Chicken or the egg.”
“Exactly.”
It was quiet for a moment, then Merlin said, “You really shouldn’t go. You can stay here.” His lips moved against Arthur’s neck as he spoke, his body pressing closer so that Arthur could feel all of him and God, how much self-control was a bloke supposed to have?
“You’re pissed, Merls.” Fuck, and there it was, his own hard-on had a mind of its own, obvious now against Merlin’s.
“Not that pissed.” Despite the assertion, Merlin’s words had begun to slur together. Smiling to himself, Arthur gently removed himself from Merlin’s octopus arms and helped him toward the bed, where Merlin went down easily, trying to pull him along.
“I can’t stay. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t want to.”
“You have no idea how much I want to.” Arthur said, but he wasn’t sure Merlin heard him. He was already half-asleep.
After tucking Merlin in, Arthur grabbed a rubbish bin and set it within easy reaching distance; he didn’t think Merlin would be sick, but better to be safe. Merlin murmured something about stupid footie games and not liking music from the seventies either, ‘cause stupid Will that’s when the bad hair started.
“Meet me at the Queen's Park tomorrow after my game,” Arthur said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He smoothed the sheet on Merlin’s chest. “We can have lunch or something.”
That seemed to get Merlin’s attention. “M’kay. Where?”
“Up at the top of Arthur’s Seat, off the path by that big rock that looks like a face. Do you remember?”
“Yeah, I ‘member.”
“Say three?”
“Mmm. Yeah.”
Arthur chuckled and jotted down the place and time, sticking the note to Merlin’s laptop because there was no way he was going to remember this conversation in the morning.
By the time he turned around, Merlin’s eyes were closed, his breathing deep and even.
“Happy birthday, baby,” he whispered, running his hand through Merlin’s hair.
********
Arthur regretted not picking another place. He’d chosen the romantic spot so Merlin would know his intentions were serious, but he hadn’t expected the day to turn cloudy. Most of the people he’d encountered had been on their way out of the park, but it seemed the rain would hold for a while. Long enough for them to eat the sandwiches Arthur had brought and perhaps for him to make fool of himself.
Arthur was starving as he laid down the blanket on the grassy cliff a ways off from the trail and sat, fatigued but happy. The game had been fast-paced, and he’d covered more than his share of the pitch since Mackearnan had decided to be a dick, caring less about the game than about making Arthur run himself ragged. Still, the Knights had won, and the scout had approached him about a future with Hearts. When Mackearnan had seen them talking and realised his stunt had the opposite effect as intended, he’d glared and stalked off, muttering something that on another day would have sent Arthur after him, fists clenched and team unity be damned. But not today.
His head buzzed with sudden possibilities stretched out before him like the city below the cliff. It had been a long time since he’d come here just to sit. From this vantage, the city was still as the grey water beyond. He breathed deep, letting his mind quiet as the clouds thickened over the horizon. It felt like home.
“Trust you to make a hung-over bloke hike for his lunch,” came a breathless voice from behind. It was Merlin, smiling though he seemed tired and a bit peaky.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like a horse’s arse.” Merlin laughed. “God, I’m such a wanker. I must have fallen asleep before ten.”
“You were a bit drunk, mate.” Arthur began unpacking the lunch he’d brought—marmite sandwiches and crisps, the only food he’d been able to collect in order to get here on time—as Merlin flopped down beside him. He splayed his long legs out and the air filled with his familiar scent.
“I don’t even remember anything. What time did you leave?”
“After I tucked you in.” He passed Merlin his food.
“I think I vaguely recall that.” The corner of Merlin’s mouth turned up, making a little crease that tempted Arthur to lean over and snog him. He wondered if Merlin remembered anything else that had passed between them, but instead of asking, he watched as Merlin took a bite of his sandwich and hummed in pleasure. "'s good.”
“I made them myself,” Arthur said with mock pride. Throwing together a sandwich wasn’t exactly the most challenging task.
“My favourite. Best birthday lunch ever.”
“Shit, I should have taken you someplace nice. Or at least brought some dessert.”
"I'll remember this on your birthday," Merlin threatened, giving him a playful shove. "And anyway, I'm allergic to most dessert-y things."
They sat in silence as they ate. So far the rain had held off, and though a thin mist had begun to creep over the ground, the breeze was warm. Aside from a young couple that’d passed just as Arthur arrived, they were alone. He could tell by the sideways glances Merlin was giving him that he wanted to ask about the game and was resisting, waiting for Arthur to bring it up in case it hadn’t gone well.
“So how was it?” Merlin finally asked, popping the last bit of sandwich into his mouth and brushing the crumbs from his lap.
“We won.”
Merlin looked at him expectantly. “Yeah, but you know . . . how did it go after?”
Arthur nodded, trying to keep the grin off his face and failing. “I’m meeting with the Hearts’ coach next week.”
“Fucking hell!” Merlin nearly tackled him in a hug. “That’s amazing!”
“It is, isn’t it?” Arthur agreed, though at the moment hugging Merlin was better. Even after they pulled away, Arthur kept close enough for their shoulders to touch.
“So what does this mean? Are you going to be on the team?” The wind began to pick up, lifting Merlin’s hair, which seemed almost black in the cloud-dimmed light. It looked fluffy, and Arthur fought the urge to tousle it.
“I don’t know yet. It means they’re interested, at least.”
“I can’t believe it. I mean, I can, of course I can, I’ve always thought you could, but it’s just . . . like a year ago you weren’t even considering it and now . . . Wow.”
Arthur couldn’t stop smiling, the enthusiasm catching. “I don’t want to get ahead of myself. But I’m excited,” he admitted.
“I know it, you’re going to be grand and get traded to some huge team and you won’t even remember me.” It was said in jest, but Arthur could tell the thought came from a sincere worry. He shook his head, probably more emphatically than he needed to.
“I could never forget you, you idiot.”
“Yeah. That’s what you say now, Mr. Famous. Just wait until you have a hundred fit blokes coming round for autographs.” He was still teasing, but Arthur wanted to be serious.
“I doubt that very much. And even if so, I’m not interested.” Arthur paused, hoping Merlin understood his meaning. “You’re the only one I want.”
Merlin’s expression sobered, and Arthur, not knowing if that was a good thing or not, let the words he’d been holding back for so long rush out, his heart thundering. “I still love you. I don’t know how you feel, but I just wanted you to know that.”
“Arth—”
“Wait, just . . . there’s more I want to say first. I know I wasn’t ready before, but I am now. I hated not seeing you, not talking to you. Fuck, I . . . you’re the most important thing to me and I don’t care who knows it or what they think.” He turned to face Merlin, who was staring at him with an indecipherable expression, eyes wide. He couldn’t bollox this up. “I know I wasn’t a very good boyfriend, but I can be better. I was selfish and scared and kind of a prick, really. But I don’t want it to be too late.” Merlin’s lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but nothing followed. The silence stretched out for a beat too long, and Arthur felt a strong wave of despair. This was the risk he’d taken by telling Merlin, and now the words were out there and couldn’t be recalled. He tried to muster a smile, looking away so Merlin wouldn’t see his disappointment.
“It’s not too late.”
His gaze snapped back to Merlin, chest thumping with renewed hope. Merlin was still looking at him with serious eyes that seemed more black than blue.
“It isn’t?”
“No. I was . . . God, I’ve been wanting to tell you but it didn’t seem like the right time but I’ve never . . . I was always . . . I think I made a mistake before. When I broke it off with you I thought I’d feel better, you know, not having to hide, but fuck it, I missed you so much—”
Arthur silenced Merlin by taking his face in his hands, running his thumbs over his soft, pale skin. Merlin’s eyes closed. When his lips parted to exhale, Arthur kissed him.
It was so sweet, the sigh Merlin let out, and Arthur and pressed forward, his mouth searching, tongue sliding inside to slip against Merlin’s. The relief and joy of Merlin kissing him back, his arms immediately wrapping around Arthur’s shoulders, moving nearer, nearly stunned Arthur into inaction, but then Merlin whispered his name.
The kiss became more frantic, and soon they had tangled together on the blanket, legs and arms entwined. Arthur broke away from Merlin’s mouth to kiss his neck, lick the hollow at the base of his throat, his body straining for more though somewhere in the back of his mind it occurred to him they were on the side of a mountain and it had begun to rain.
Underneath him, Merlin’s hips shifted restlessly, and Arthur felt the hard line of his erection and sought it out with his own, grinding down for friction. Merlin was pulling at the hem of his shirt and he lifted only far enough away to get the damned thing off, before returning to press his lips against Merlin’s skin and touch the soft hair below his navel, questing lower.
“It’s raining,” Merlin panted, looking up at Arthur through inky lashes.
“Don’t care,” Arthur said, heedless, and anyway the rain wasn’t so bad; it was a soft, spring shower, barely noticeable over the distraction of Merlin’s warm body. He kissed Merlin again, and again, knowing that there was more to say but it could wait, that it was this he needed, this desperate and tender coming together in a place he loved.
“Wish I could fuck you,” he whispered, almost unaware he’d said the words aloud until Merlin hissed, “Yes.”
The response shocked Arthur out of himself for a moment; he looked around, then back down to Merlin, who was already scrabbling with the fly of Arthur’s jeans. They were far enough down the slope they wouldn’t be immediately noticed, especially given the large rock that provided a barrier between them and the path.
“Please,” Merlin said.
“I don’t have anything,” Arthur said, grunting as Merlin reached inside and pulled his erection free, giving it a couple experimental strokes. He hissed as Merlin swiped his finger around the wet head, teasing around his foreskin.
“I haven’t slept with anyone else,” Merlin said. “Come on, Arthur. Fuck me.”
Groaning at Merlin’s words and the hand wrapped around his dick, Arthur pushed back with some effort, helping Merlin to wriggle out of his tight jeans. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he realized Merlin wasn’t wearing pants.
“Look at you,” he said. Merlin’s cock slapped against his belly as the jeans were discarded somewhere on the ground. “You do this often?” He ran his hand along Merlin’s bare hip, smiling as the skin broke out into gooseflesh from the touch and the cool rain.
“I didn’t have anything clean,” Merlin admitted with a lazy smile. “Mum’s not around to do my laundry and I can’t be arsed.”
“Fuck’s sake, Merls,” Arthur said, his voice nearly a growl. He took Merlin’s mouth again and stroked his long cock, before his fingers travelled lower, searching for the soft curl of skin between Merlin’s legs. Merlin sighed as Arthur rubbed small circles there, pressing the tip of his finger gently inside. Fuck, Merlin was tight.
When he started to broach the issue, Merlin gave him a seductive smile.
“Make me come. And then . . . ” He flushed and bit his lip, and Arthur’s cock leapt at the unvoiced suggestion.
“You’re going to kill me. I’m going to die here on this mountain,” he muttered, moving between Merlin’s legs. Merlin watched him as he leaned down and took Merlin’s cock into his mouth, giving it a long, slow suck before going to work in earnest, paying attention to the way Merlin’s breath picked up when Arthur squeezed his balls, lashed them with his tongue. He wanted to put his mouth there, and so he did, pulling Merlin’s hips up for access.
Merlin moaned, fisting the blanket as Arthur mouthed at his hole. It wasn’t unpleasant at all, Arthur realised, just musky and a bit sweaty, which Arthur soon discovered he loved because it was all so very Merlin. He lapped at the furled muscle, licking around the rim and then pressing inside with his finger, sucking the base of Merlin’s ruddy sack.
“Fuck, fuck,” Merlin chanted, jerking his dick while Arthur opened him, his face wrecked with pleasure. “Gonna come.”
Arthur took Merlin’s cock in his mouth to catch the spurts of salty-bitter fluid. The dirty intimacy of the act made Arthur’s prick even harder, and he had to hold him still while Merlin shuddered the final spasms of his orgasm into Arthur’s mouth. Using the come he’d gathered to ready Merlin’s hole, he drove his tongue inside along with it, getting him slick, feeling the tight muscle relax. Then Merlin was pulling on his shoulders, begging for Arthur to fuck him, to do it now. Arthur’s hands shook when he took himself in hand. He rubbed his cock around Merlin’s hole, using the head to push all of the come inside as Merlin shivered in the rain.
Arthur took it slowly, working himself inside inch by excruciating inch, eyes darting between Merlin’s face and the place they were joining. He wasn’t going to last, that much was certain—it had been far too long and they were bare, nothing between them, and God, Arthur was fucking Merlin with his own come. Every inch was squeezed by tight muscle, and Merlin whimpered as Arthur stroked his softened cock, still sensitive from his orgasm.
“Oh God, yes,” Arthur whispered once he was finally seated inside. He tilted his hips to get as deep as he could go before pulling back and thrusting, wanting to mingle his come with Merlin’s—together, like they belonged.
The rain had begun falling harder now; Merlin’s hair was wet, plastered to his face, his lips slack and pliant. Merlin ran his hands up Arthur’s arms, squeezing his biceps, raking his fingers over Arthur’s shoulders and then down his chest. Arthur covered Merlin with his body, bracing himself and fucking harder, grunting with the exertion of each plunge. He felt wild and alive and Merlin’s eyes were bright as they watched, cock thickening up again between them.
Maybe he whispered endearments or dirty promises or both, Arthur didn’t know, he was so consumed with the tight heat around his cock, the way Merlin clung to him. He rucked up Merlin’s T-shirt to get at more skin, reached down to help Merlin stroke himself off, couldn’t decide where to touch, was frustrated his mouth couldn’t reach the curve of Merlin’s jaw. He pressed tender kisses against his calf instead, and then sucked deep into the skin. His balls were drawn tight and ready to spill, but he wanted to stay like this forever, never stop, and so he bit his lip to distract himself, though the pain did little to overcome the pleasure. Merlin was arching beneath him, letting him thrust so deep, his hand a frantic blur over his erection.
Arthur’s climax, when it hit, forced him forward. He fell over Merlin, spilling inside, filling him up with rolling hips. He realized he was making obscene noises muffled against Merlin’s throat.
Merlin came again with Arthur still inside him, and they lay like that in the rain until they regained their senses, wrapped up in the blanket and each other.
********
“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell your dad,” Merlin said later, once they were clean and dry again and lounging in Merlin’s messy room. Arthur had noticed with some pleasure when they’d first come in that the little dragon he’d given Merlin was perched on his side table next to his bed, as if keeping watch. But now he was confused. He propped himself up on his arm, gazing down at Merlin who, shirtless, was even more gorgeous than he remembered.
“I mean, it’s not like an ultimatum, yeah? Like a condition for this,” Merlin continued, gesturing between them.
“Thanks,” Arthur said, sighing. “But I think I have to."
“Is it okay for me to tell my mum?”
The question was asked so sincerely, so hesitantly, Arthur kissed the worry off Merlin’s face. “I told you I’m serious about the no more hiding thing. You can tell the Pope if you want.”
Merlin wrinkled his nose.
“Maybe not the Pope,” Arthur agreed.
“I’m already going to hell, probably shouldn't press the issue.”
It was just a quip, but something inside Arthur recoiled at the thought. He frowned. “I don’t want any part of a God who’d send someone to hell for loving someone else. Do you really believe in all that?”
“No way,” Merlin said, smiling up at him. “But look at you: next thing I know you’ll be walking starkers in pride parades.”
“That really happens?”
Merlin shrugged. “I've seen it in films.”
They were quiet after that, Arthur tracing the lines of newly formed muscle on Merlin’s body, wondering how he’d gotten so lucky in the past month. For the first time since he could remember, he was sorted, headed where he wanted to be. It was a strange but pleasant feeling—happiness.
Merlin broke the silence. “Do you remember that time when we were kids and you got mad at me because you thought I stole your Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt?”
Arthur laughed at the random question. He hadn’t thought of it in years, but he’d had a shirt with Donatello on it that’d gone missing once after Merlin slept over. It had been his favourite, and he’d been beyond angry, accusing Merlin of the theft. “What made you think of that?”
“I have a confession to make.” Merlin grinned.
“You stole it? You swore ‘til you were blue in the face you didn’t!”
“I’m a good actor.”
“I can’t believe this. That’s it, we’re through.” He made as if to leave, but Merlin tackled him back to the bed—the bugger was strong—and soon they were a laughing heap, legs tangling, hurling insults at each other.
When their laughter had finally died down, giving way to arousal, Arthur kissed Merlin slow and deep, threading their hands together.
“Why did you lie?” he asked, curious.
“I wanted to keep it because . . .” Merlin flushed. “It reminded me of you.”
“What did you do, wear it when you went to sleep?”
Merlin bit his lip, his eyes bright and open.
It was hard to know what to do with the feelings in his heart. Arthur kissed Merlin again, wrapping his arms around his best friend, and thought, yes, this is who I was meant to love.
The End.