Chapter Text
The memories are a bit vague. Arthur doesn’t remember the first time he met Merlin very clearly. He does remember coming home early from a board meeting, over half a year ago, exhausted and grumpy. He remembers Michael introducing a young boy, explaining that he’s a class-mate and will be tutoring Michael for a few weeks until the finals. He remembers grunting something in acknowledgement, then excusing himself to his home-office to look over the stuff that had been brought up during the meeting.
He remembers the boy coming over regularly, a couple of times a week for an hour or two. He remembers exchanging general pleasantries and occasionally making an awkward small talk, both of them too closed off to dive into anything deeper.
He remembers Gwen being much more chatty and open with the boy, spending a few minutes every time to interrogate him on his family and school, asking if she could offer him a lemonade or something sweet to eat.
He remembers it took him a good few weeks before he bothered to learn Merlin’s name properly and actually keep it in long-term memory. It was when Merlin came over before Michael returned from his footie practice and Gwen was still at work, and instead of an uncomfortable silence Arthur was expecting, Merlin indulged him in a meaningful conversation, asking about his job and his hobbies. Arthur kept his answers short, unemotional but Merlin was so inquiring, so genuinely curious that Arthur found himself diving into vivid details of those topics and before he knew it, he had been talking for half an hour, long enough for Michael to arrive home. And he was dumbfounded by the weird feeling that resembled disappointment when Merlin’s company was stolen from him.
He doesn’t remember if that was the breaking point that changed everything, but he remembers the weird, nameless kid becoming Merlin, a boy who in the tutoring process managed to befriend his son and become a fixture in all their lives. And he remembers looking forward to those days that Merlin would come over, because they kinda, upon some silent agreement, made it a thing that Merlin would get there before Michael came home from the practice and they would spend the time talking.
Sometimes about serious things. Arthur learned that Merlin was the only child and lived with his mother, never met his father who had taken off before he was born. That his mother was the most amazing person on the planet because she had been supporting him through everything, even through his identity crisis when he had realized he was gay. He found out that Merlin wasn’t actually Michael’s class-mate, was one year bellow him but was smart enough that he covered the subjects from Michael’s year during his self-study.
Merlin told him he wanted to be a doctor and Arthur knew right away, with complete certainty, that he would become a brilliant one.
And sometimes, they would spend the time just cracking jokes and making terrible puns.
Every so often, Gwen would be there too and she would give them a soft but slightly confused smile before retreating to the kitchen or the back-yard.
And before long, the finals were up and over and Arthur was overwhelmed with a sense of longing but it was short-lived as Michael announced that Merlin had agreed to continue tutoring him even with no exams in sight, just because he only had one year left before applying for uni. The difference was they agreed to meet up once a week and in a desperate attempt to get Merlin to spend more time over at their house, Arthur introduced movie nights - or rather evenings - on Friday and the three of them would indulge in some evergreen science fiction.
Michael was ecstatic about the prospect of spending some more time with his dad, given it wasn’t like Arthur to do much else but work when he was home. And on the contrary, it was Gwen this time who barely spent any time with them, coming home later and later, but on a rare occasion joined them on the sofa.
Without even realizing it, Merlin had become a permanent fixture in his life and he couldn’t imagine it to be any other way.
Sometimes, he would catch himself thinking about the boy before he went to sleep or when he had a particularly dull day at work. He would hear himself ask his son about his friend and how he was doing, hoping it wasn’t too weird.
And sometimes, only very rarely, he would let his gaze track Merlin’s every move, raking his eyes over the boy's gangly frame, his smooth, pale skin and wild hair. His heart would break a little when Merlin smiled too wide and dimply, blue eyes crinkling up into half-moons, the smile lighting up his whole face.
He would always chastise himself for those moments, burying them deep inside him, filled with shame and confusion.
But sometimes, when Merlin caught him staring, he would give Arthur this dark, intense look of his own and all those suppressed feelings would break free, consuming him in shame and the forbidden desire.
He doesn’t remember all the details but he remembers being presented with divorce papers and how it changed everything.
“I don’t understand how she could have done this to you. Both of you,” Merlin shakes his head, his expression more remorseful than Arthur feels.
It’s not Friday today but Merlin has been spending more and more time with Michael lately and Arthur suspects it’s because he worries about him. He is grateful his son has a friend like that.
“She didn’t try to hurt either of us. It just is what it is,” Arthur shrugs. He knows Gwen would never do anything of sorts. Despite everything, they are good friends. Always have been, even before they got married.
“But it was all so... sudden,” Merlin says, sounding a bit lost. He looks so fragile where he’s leaning against the kitchen counter that Arthur wants to wrap him in his arms and comfort him, even though he’s the one who got divorced just two days ago.
“It really wasn’t,” he disagrees, wincing at the truth. “We stayed together more for convenience than anything else. There hasn’t been much between us since Michael turned twelve.”
Merlin’s eyes widen a fraction. “That’s... a really long time.”
“Yeah,” Arthur agrees. “But Michael is practically grown up, now. He’ll be ok.”
Merlin ponders the statement. “He seems rather unfazed by the whole thing,” he concludes, confusion evident in his face.
“He must have seen it coming. He’s a smart kid. It wouldn’t surprise me if he knew before either of us knew.”
“I’m just surprised that he’s not... you know... mad at Gwen.”
Arthur blinks at the boy, unsure what he’s trying to say but it becomes clear soon enough.
“She never cheated on me, if that’s what you mean,” he rushes to clarify. “Yes, it was her who asked for divorce but we talked about it and eventually, she admitted that although the two of us had been drifting apart for years, it was falling in love with Lance that finally spurred her to action.”
Merlin blinks at him, brows scrunching up. “And you just... accepted it?”
Arthur slumps against the island, sighing tiredly. “She told me she wasn’t in love with me anymore. What was I to do?”
Silence stretches between them and with a note of bitterness, Arthur thinks back on the first few days that followed Gwen’s confession and how the whole thing sent him into a spiral of self-doubt.
“It’s not like I can blame her anyway,” he shrugs, feigning indifference. “I’m barely ever home and when I am, I tend to work. And I’m no social butterfly either. Actually, I’m pretty boring. And Lance is... he’s the exact opposite of me.” The mental image of his ex-wife and his friend flashes before his eyes and try as he might, he can’t deny how well they fit with each other. “It’s no wonder they ended up together. There was nothing I could offer her.”
Merlin pushes away from the counter, stepping closer to Arthur and holding his gaze resolutely. “Arthur, that’s not true,” he shakes his head, the intensity of his words surprising. “Not true at all.”
Arthur scoffs self-deprecatingly.“Really?”
“Yes, really,” Merlin insists and as he stands in front of him, Arthur has a fleeting thought that in no time, they will be the same height. It makes his stomach flutter for no good reason. “You’re honest and incredibly warm-hearted. The only reason you worked so hard is because you wanted to make sure your family was well-taken care of. You’re loyal, kind and absolutely hilarious. I don’t think I ever laughed as much as I do with you,” he says with a conviction that makes Arthur feel warm all over. “You are amazing and anyone would be so damn lucky to have you.”
Somewhere deep in Arthur’s chest, he feels a whimper resound within. “You don’t even know me that well,” he objects weakly, looking down to avoid Merlin’s burning gaze.
“I don’t need to know your life-story to know this. I’ve experienced it first-hand.”
Arthur doesn’t remember doing anything special but he doesn’t want to argue with Merlin. “I don’t think that’s accurate but I... appreciate it.”
“I wasn’t flattering you, Arthur. I was just stating the obvious,” Merlin presses, stepping impossibly closer without touching. He licks his lips, apparently weighing his next words.“Just for the record, if I were in her shoes... if I had someone like you to call mine... I would never let him go.”
A shudder overtakes Arthur’s body and he’s grateful he’s leaning against something. He doesn’t know how Merlin’s words can hold such power over him and he refuses to investigate it.
He clears his throat, unable to look at the boy. “You still have plenty of time to find someone like that,” he mumbles.
Merlin lets out a small huff. “I’m not worried about that.”
Finally, Arthur dares look up and is met with Merlin’s intense stare. He feels his blood boil under his skin and ignores the suspicious buckling of his knees.
None of them moves but Arthur swears that Merlin is somehow closer than he was ten seconds ago. He opens his mouth, unknowing of what will come out but his son’s voice breaks the spell and suddenly, he can breathe again.
“Merls! It’s all ready for us, mate! Get your ass over here!”
Merlin jumps a little at the sound that carries from the first floor, shoulders slumping. He sighs softly and steps away from Arthur, almost regretfully.
“Talk to you later?” he asks hopefully.
“Sure.”
Merlin nods in acknowledgement and makes his way to the stairs to join Michael for a game, looking back at Arthur one more time before he disappears.
Things change even more since that day. Merlin comes over more and more often, sometimes even when Michael is not home, hanging out with his team-mates instead. But Merlin seems happy with only Arthur for a company and they spend those times watching Marvel movies and arguing about who the best avenger is.
Those days are fucking amazing and Arthur loves them but he also dreads them. Because somehow, at some point, Merlin starts being more touchy-feely and it drives Arthur nuts.
He knows he could always ask Merlin to stop touching him like that, to ask for more personal space - that would be the smart thing to do. But he relishes the closeness and physical contact too much to bring himself to put a stop to them.
Merlin tends to put his hand on Arthur’s arm or shoulder when they stand close, laughing at some joke one of them made. He brushes their fingers together when Arthur holds out a glass or a bottle to him, prompting him to take it. He loves to sit close to Arthur on the sofa even though the bloody thing is at least six feet long. And more often than not, he shuffles close enough during the movie for their thighs and arms to brush. Arthur loves and hates those the most because despite teetering on the verge of sanity, it makes something inside him come to life.
It’s Wednesday when Merlin comes over next. Arthur fetches a bottle of coke for him, as usual and a non-alcoholic beer for himself because the last thing he wants is for Merlin to learn some bad habits.
Last time, they watched Civil War so he puts on Spiderman:Homecoming and makes himself comfortable on the sofa, Merlin settling himself next to him a few seconds later.
Technically, there is nothing unusual about that day but for some unknown reason, Arthur feels tension in the air around them. Like there is a dam just waiting to break. He thinks he’s going crazy at first, paranoid even but then, the dam makes itself known.
Arthur’s breath catches in his throat as he feels Merlin’s thigh not brush, but press firmly to his. There’s no doubt that the action is very much deliberate and conscious. He swallows heavily and tightens his grip on the beer so much it’s in danger of breaking into pieces, his unoccupied hand balling up into a fist.
He knows he should move away, create some space between them but it’s as though Merlin has him under a spell, simply with the heat of his body and his boyish, intoxicating scent. So yeah, he knows he should move but God help him, he can’t. He can barely breathe.
Merlin either doesn’t take notice of his suddenly rigid posture or he plainly doesn’t care. His eyes are glued to the telly and occasionally, he takes a drink of his coke. Arthur watches from the corner of his eye, mesmerized by the way his fingers play over the bottle, creating trails through the perspiration.
Merlin has nice fingers, he muses, long and elegant. His hands are large and strong-looking, they suit his tall, lanky frame. Arthur has a fleeting, but intense urge to feel them on his skin.
He stares resolutely ahead and takes a sip of the beer, mouth suddenly like desert. He has no idea what’s going on in the movie, doesn’t know how long he’s been spaced out, all of his senses overtaken by the boy next to him..
He vaguely thinks he could make an excuse, get away from Merlin as far as possible. Yeah, he could. He could say he forgot he still had some paperwork to do, or a phone-call that needs to be taken care of. That could work. Merlin would take it in stride, like he does everything else. And Arthur could keep his sanity intact, well, mostly anyway.
He’s half-determined to do just that but suddenly, there is a hand on his thigh, a burning sensation just above his knee. Merlin’s large hand - that he just dreamed to have on his skin - on the same thigh he’s pressing his own to.
Arthur is frozen in place, unable to move an inch. He needs to do something, or at least say something! But his mind is unhelpfully blank and he’s lost all the control of his body.
He doesn’t know how much time passes with him paralyzed like that but Merlin must take his lack of objecting for a consent and slides his hand higher and up, up... until his pinky brushes ever so slightly against Arthur’s crotch.
Quickly regaining control of himself, Arthur’s hand shoots up to grasp Merlin’s wrist in a deadly grip.
“What are you-- what are you doing?” he asks lowly, not recognizing his voice. He’s not looking at the boy directly, doesn’t dare, but he knows that Merlin is staring at him.
“What do you think?” he retorts, amused, like Arthur’s question is the most ridiculous thing ever and there is something else in his voice that Arthur hasn’t heard before, can’t detect.
Instead of feeling discouraged and pulling away, Merlin presses his hand to Arthur’s thigh more firmly, nearly digging his fingers to the flesh on the inside. Arthur’s wearing his favorite pair of loose jeans but he might as well be naked, the heat of Merlin’s palm searing, branding him.
Hissing through his teeth, Arthur tightens his grip in return, trying to push him away but Merlin doesn’t budge.
“What am I supposed to think?” And why is he still talking like they are just having a regular conversation while his hand, a man’s hand - a boy’s hand - is a hair breadth’s away from cupping his rapidly swelling cock.
He can feel Merlin adjusting himself on the sofa, turning to face Arthur properly. He doesn’t seem deterred by Arthur’s apparent refusal to do the same at all.
“I thought it was obvious,” he whispers, his hot breath caressing over the side of Arthur’s neck and fuck, that is way too close.
“Well, it’s not!” Arthur snaps and he thinks he must be cutting off the blood supply to Merlin’s hand with the force he’s clutching at his fine, narrow wrist but Merlin doesn’t seem to notice. Instead he presses his whole body to Arthur’s and when he speaks next, it’s not just his breath but his full, soft, wet lips moving over the sensitive skin on the side of Arthur’s neck.
“How can you not see how much I want you?” he asks gravelly, the desire in his voice backing up the words.
A sound escapes Arthur against his will and he will deny to his dying day that it’s a whimper.
He can feel Merlin smile against his skin and with a sense of terror, he realizes he’s fully hard, the pressure against the denim almost painful.
“Arthur,” he breathes like a prayer. Arthur squeezes his eyes shut. “I’ve never wanted anything in my life as much as I want you.” His voice rolls over Arthur like a tidal wave. “Arthur.” And that is a bloody kiss pressed to his neck! “I want to suck you.”
That finally prompts Arthur into action. He tears Merlin’s hand away from his leg violently and holds it towards Merlin’s chest, not letting go just in case he tries again.
“Are you out of your mind?!” he asks in fury, turning red in the face from listening to Merlin’s words and... yeah, from his reaction to them.
Merlin looks at him patiently, as though Arthur is just a wild animal that needs some gentle taming. “Why? Are you going to say you don't want to?”
“Of course I don’t! What gave you the impression I might?!”
Merlin snorts and it only serves to fuel Arthur’s indignation. “You’re not exactly subtle, Arthur,” he says conversationally, not paying the awkward situation any mind.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come on, Arthur,” he prompts, reaching his other hand towards his leg again. “I see the way you look at me. You hardly ever take your eyes off me. You watch me with such intensity that I can physically feel it.”
Arthur jumps at the touch, mind reeling from Merlin’s accusation.
“That’s not-- I don’t--” No. No, he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t! He can’t! Because it’s ridiculous and wrong and why the hell would he do that?!
“It’s alright, Arthur,” Merlin interrupts soothingly, giving a gentle smile. “I like it when you do that. You have no idea how many times I’ve jerked myself off thinking of you, of what I’d do if I put my hands on you. Of what I’d have you do to me.”
Arthur feels like something terrible is about to happen if he doesn’t stop touching Merlin right this second and with a panicked yelp, he tears himself away and flies to the end of the sofa, as far as he can.
“Don’t touch me,” he spits out, hoping the quake of his voice doesn’t betray him.
“Your words don’t really match with... well, the rest of you,” Merlin replies calmly, nodding pointedly to Arthur’s obviously tented jeans.
Ignoring the jab, Arthur aims for reason instead. “This is wrong. On so many levels.”
“Why? Because I’m a man?”
Well, yes, because Arthur likes women, has only ever liked women. But that’s not the point right now.
“Because you’re a child!”
Merlin rolls his eyes, like he saw it coming from far away. “I’m sixteen, Arthur, almost an adult.” He shuffles closer to Arthur on his knees, leaving him no escape route. He gives him a slow, deliberate smirk. “Let me show you,” he says huskily, touching his ankle, the contact just as searing as before.
“And you’re a friend of my son for fucks sake!” Arthur justifies, wanting to extract himself from Merlin’s touch but unable to do so unless he wants to kick him in the face.
“None of this is Michael’s business.”
“Hell it isn’t! What do you think he would say if he knew that we--” Oh, no. Not we, “that you--” he corrects, face burning, “that you came onto his dad?!”
“Would probably call me a slag,” Merlin smirks, unbothered by the prospect, looking at Arthur knowingly. “But that’s not what’s bothering you, is it? No, you worry what he would say if he knew that his dad,” he presses even closer, placing his other hand on Arthur’s knee and leaning in, “is doing everything in his power to not just jump my bones and have his way with me on this very sofa.”
Arthur lets out a painful sound, the words piercing right through him. He opens his mouth to retort back, to deny Merlin’s statement, to yell at him to get the fuck away, but nothing comes out. He can just lay there, Merlin’s hands curled possessively around his ankle and his knee, and to his complete horror, he watches his own legs fall open slightly, out of their own accord, as Merlin slots in the place between them.
“Arthur,” he croaks, voice dark with desire and it nearly causes Arthur’s brain to short-circuit. “I’m telling you, you don’t need to hold back. I want you to let go,” he soothes, removing his hands from Arthur’s legs and bracing himself up on either side of Arthur’s torso, hovering over him. His scent is even more powerful now, even more intoxicating. It feels as though Arthur’s soaking it into his own skin.
Unable to respond, he rakes his gazes over Merlin’s slender frame, his impossibly long arms caging Arthur in, the disarray of his dark hair, curling at the temples, his full, pink, soft-looking lips, the hint of stubble because he is nearly an adult. He slides his eyes lower, watching Merlin’s chest heave with each breath, his own breath hitching when his gaze lands on the painfully visible outline of Merlin’s length where it grows bigger by the second.
He has a sudden and so very, very wrong thought that Merlin fits perfectly between his legs, as if he was made for it.
Arthur squeezes his eyes shut because the picture Merlin makes is driving him to the verge of sanity.
Warm breath caresses at his lips and he parts them on a sharp inhale.
“Arthur,” Merlin whispers against them. “Let me take care of you. I want to take care of you.”
Arthur shakes his head, eyes still closed. “W-why? Why would y-you want that?”
“Oh, Arthur.” And God, he sounds so sad. “You have no idea, do you?” No. No, he doesn’t. “I want to because you deserve it. Because you deserve everything. Someone to make you feel good, to take care of you because you take care of everyone else and never take anything for yourself.” He brushes his lips against Arthur’s, drawing a whimper from him. “You deserve someone who wants to give you everything.”
And God, Merlin’s kissing him next and it’s so, so wrong and so, so incredibly good. Instead of being off-putting, the rough skin of Merlin’s cheeks and chin has Arthur twitch in his pants. He moans wantonly, despite himself, but doesn’t open his eyes. If he opens them it’s all gonna be too real, he can’t deal with that.
Merlin hums appreciatively at his reaction and the tip of his tongue flicks against Arthur’s lips, asking permission. And Arthur knows he shouldn’t but he opens up to him regardless and hears Merlin keen in delight before he slips his tongue inside. He licks into Arthur’s mouth like he’s dying to get a taste of him, moaning when he gets plenty as their tongues tangle together.
Fuck, this is so much different than kissing a woman. Not just the absence of softness and delicate features but the force with which Merlin dominates the kiss, leaving Arthur unable to do anything but just take it. So different to what Arthur’s used to. Used to leading and initiating and who the hell knew that letting go could feel so incredibly freeing.
In the back of his mind, he thinks of Gwen and how she has never kissed him like this. So wanting and possessive and driven. Never kissed him like she wanted to devour him whole.
Thinking of Gwen spurs him into action and instead of being a passive participant, he decides to throw caution to the wind, just for this one moment, and slides his hands into Merlin’s dark locks, humming at the surprisingly silky feel of them.
“God, Arthur, you’re so fucking beautiful,” Merlin mumbles into the kiss, driving him even more crazy, making him deepen the kiss and suck all the breath from Merlin’s lungs.
They kiss like that for a little while, gasping for breath when they finally pull apart to get some much needed oxygen and Arthur is rendered speechless by the way Merlin’s eyes turned impossibly dark. “Arthur,” he licks his lips, Arthur tracking the movement in trance. “I really want to suck you. Will you let me?”
No. No, he can’t. That’s too much. Kissing is one thing and that’s already crossing a boundary but he can’t allow anything else.
Arthur nods his head in assent before he knows what he’s doing, flabbergasted by the involuntary action.
Merlin’s face lights up with a smile so wide it nearly blinds Arthur. He looks like a bloody kid on Christmas Day.
“I’m going to make you feel so good,” he promises and Arthur quakes with anticipation and nerves.
Then, Merlin’s sliding down his body, his eager hands making a short process with the button and zipper of his jeans, lifting his shirt up to reveal the soft skin of his lower belly which Arthur has always been so self-conscious about. He forgets all about his embarrassment when Merlin’s lips start sucking at the skin, making Arthur’s abdominal muscles jump in sensitivity.
Merlin laughs quietly, then follows the trail of light, coarse hair to where it disappears in Arthur’s underwear. A wave of shame rolls over him as he realizes there is a large, wet spot under the waistband, his desire for Merlin so painfully obvious despite his objections.
It comes as a shock when Merlin seals his lips around the head of his cock through the thin layer of fabric, moaning at the taste and it only causes Arthur to leak even more.
“M-Merlin...” he utters weakly. Merlin peers up at him, lips stretched in a smirk.
“Good?” he checks, hooking his fingers at the waistband. Arthur lets out nearly inaudible whine. “I’ve actually only done this once,” he admits suddenly, dread overtaking Arthur. “But I’m a quick learner,” he winks and swiftly pulls the briefs down to Arthur’s mid-thigh, his fully erect cock slapping against his stomach.
Arthur closes his eyes again, mortified at his reaction but they promptly shoot open as he feels hot breath against the sensitive skin. Glancing down to meet Merlin’s hungry look, he feels like a prey. It should scare him to death but instead, he just wants.
As though Merlin can sense this, he holds Arthur’s gaze as he opens his mouth and licks slowly at the head, drawing out even more liquid. Arthur whimpers at the first touch, clawing at the upholstery but God help him, he can’t look away. Merlin’s eyes are boring into his, setting his insides on fire with the single look more than his touch and Arthur has never felt so wanted in his life.
“Merlin.”
Taking that as a cue to get down to business, Merlin places a reverent kiss to the hot flesh before he engulfs Arthur in his mouth, taking him as deep as he can and only stopping when his throat protests at the intrusion. Arthur throws his head back, pressing it into the armrest, taking in a lungful of air.
Spurred by his response, Merlin wraps his long fingers around the part of Arthur he can’t take in and goes to town, bobbing his head enthusiastically. He drags his tongue at the underside, then swipes it through the slit when he gets to the top, wrapping his lips around the crown. Arthur’s hips snap up on reflex and he’s immediately apologetic.
“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he chokes, his voice so high it makes him blush. Merlin just smiles comfortingly.
“I’ll take it as a compliment,” he teases, Arthur’s blush deepening. “One day, Arthur, I’ll let you fuck my mouth when I know I’m not gonna choke to death.” The promise of one day, of more, sends Arthur’s mind reeling. “Until then... we should practice. Often. You know... just to be sure,” he says smugly and before Arthur can reply, Merlin starts sucking him again, ridding him of all coherent thought.
Merlin looks positively sinful as he takes Arthur apart and there is no way Arthur can deny Merlin’s previous words about how much he wants Arthur. Every touch of his hands and lips and tongue on any part of Arthur’s body has been nothing but ardent display of desire, an indisputable proof.
He has no idea why Merlin, who’s so terribly sweet and stupid-smart and incredibly funny and endearingly awkward would want just a boring old man like himself but somehow, he does, and Arthur doesn’t know how to express what the knowledge does to him.
He’s bewildered to find he’s nearing the edge rapidly, Merlin being too skillful despite his claims of inexperience. It probably has to do more with his enthusiasm and the fact that it’s, well, Merlin, than the technique itself.
“M-Merlin,” he gasps, hips stuttering. “I’m close.”
Merlin purrs in response, with no sign of stopping.
“Merlin!” Arthur warns, pulling at his hair. Merlin looks up at him and lets Arthur slide out of his mouth with an obscene sound. He tightens his grip on Arthur’s cock and starts stroking him languidly, thumb pressing just under the head.
“Want you to come on my face,” he says resolutely and Arthur wants to object, but Merlin increases the speed of his strokes and before he can get a word in edge-wise, Arthur’s hips buck up into Merlin’s firm grip and in the next second, he’s coming.
Merlin lets his mouth fall open and Arthur watches in trance as he paints his pretty face in thick, white ropes, coming over his sharp cheekbones and reddened, open lips.
Merlin moans shamelessly and swipes his tongue over his lips, chasing Arthur’s taste. He smiles at Arthur toothily, such a stark contrast to how he was just seconds ago. “That was amazing,” he says happily and Arthur laughs at the ridiculousness of the situation.
“Are you laughing at me?” Merlin demands, mock-offended and the glint in his eyes gives him away.
“No,” Arthur answers, then thinks. “Yes.” Merlin yelps indignantly, slapping Arthur’s arm. “You’re ridiculous.”
“That’s not a very nice thing to say to someone who just gave a spectacular blowjob,” Merlin admonishes, tucking Arthur back in his underwear and pulling his jeans up but leaving them open. He reaches over to the coffee table to pluck a few tissues from the box and gives his face a cursory clean up.
“It wasn’t that spectacular,” Arthur teases.
“Oi!” Merlin protests, climbing over Arthur. “Take that back!”
“Nope.”
Merlin pinches at the soft skin of his side, earning a squeal. “Take it back!”
“Or what?”
Merlin’s eyes sparkle and Arthur thinks he might be in trouble. “You don’t wanna know,” he says huskily and kisses over Arthur’s jaw. Arthur exhales shakily at the affectionate gesture and it finally occurs to him that he should... reciprocate. Right?
He freezes, mouth going dry. Merlin immediately takes notice of the way his body just locked up and he looks at him questioningly, worry evident in his face.
“Arthur? What’s wrong?”
“Are you-- Don’t you need... um... a hand?” he finishes lamely, flicking his gaze downwards. Merlin follows the direction with his eyes like it’s news to him, then smiles as he looks at Arthur again.
“Ah. You don’t have to worry about that,” he says. Arthur blinks in confusion, then dares a proper look and goes still as he finds that Merlin is soft and there is a faint, wet spot at the front of his pants.
“Oh,” he hiccups, eyes going wide. “Did you...?”
“Yeah,” he confirms, a bit sheepish and Arthur can actually see him blush too. “I told you it was amazing.”
Arthur gapes at him, speechless. “Uh-huh.”
Merlin gives him a gentle smile, brushing a hand through his hair and he lowers himself on top of him, their chests flush. “Can we do it again?” he asks and for the first time since the whole thing started, he sounds nervous.
Arthur wants to stress that this was a mistake, that it can never happen again. Ever. But it’s like his body belongs to someone else and he feels himself nod despite his better judgment.
“Yeah.”
He knows this is wrong. He knows this is a mistake. He knows they are both gonna regret it.
But the beaming smile Merlin gives him before he kisses him senseless makes him believe it’s all gonna be worth it.