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“Arthur, I’m home!”
No answer. Merlin sighed and started taking off his coat and boots.
Since Arthur got back from the dead, he’d been acting rather…strangely. Assuming there was a “normal way” of acting for the people who once lived their lives as mighty kings and then died, spent more than a thousand years on the bottom of a lake, and came back to “a ridiculous world filled with insane people who wear so little I can see their thighs, Merlin.”
Thus Arthur preferred to spend his days in the security of Merlin’s blessedly “normal chambers” (“Seems like even a dozen centuries is not enough for you to learn to put things in their place, Merlin, look at this mess on your table!”), cleaning, cooking (after an unfortunate incident with Thai, Arthur ordered about a million culinary books and, with time, his dishes even stopped giving Merlin stomach aches) and reading.
Apparently, he was also trying to tackle the “doing of sorcery” – Merlin once found his laptop filled with porn spam. After the initial awkwardness, it was pretty much dealt with, except that Arthur managed to attract the gay porn spam, and Merlin, blushing and stumbling over the words, had to explain to Arthur how things worked in 21st century.
Merlin had no idea what Arthur did on his laptop after that point, and frankly, he was glad not to, as long as no more obscene, filthy, hot pictures flooded his desktop.
“Arthur?” Merlin called again. Lights were on in the mini-library, which mostly consisted of shelves upon shelves of books in numerous languages, some a century old and others considerably new and some Merlin hadn’t even cracked open yet.
He crept over to the room and lightly tapped his fingers on the barely open door. The last thing he desired was to catch Arthur mid-wank, as if he needed any more sexual fantasies (as in frustration, as in torture) in his life.
The door burst open and Arthur stood in front of him, his cheeks flushed, his eyes gleaming. He looked feverish, or mad.
“Ar –“
“Merlin!” Arthur’s voice was way too loud and for a second, Merlin thought he might be actually coming down with cold. Or maybe he had found Merlin’s secret stash of alcohol and drank it. All of it.
Merlin just stood there, searching Arthur’s face silently, until Arthur huffed and grabbed him by the hand, pulling him impatiently into the room.
“ARTHUR, WHAT’S GO—“
Merlin's voice burst out in a surprised yell as he was suddenly manhandled through the doorway. When he looked up, Arthur stood before him, leaning on an enormous dark wooden table in the middle of the room.
Arthur was panting heavily, gripping both of Merlin’s arms, but as he stared into Merlin’s face, his breathing gradually slowed down; became more controlled.
“Merlin,” said Arthur, his voice painted with power and vulnerability and trust; a tone Merlin knew so much. Loved so much.
“Arthur,” echoed Merlin, softly, lost in Arthur’s azure eyes. He’d missed him so.
For a second, Arthur seemed to be gathering the courage to speak, and then he blurted out, “I need you to do something for me.”
Merlin just kept looking at him, indicating he was listening by raising his eyebrows, trying to maintain a casual façade, while every inch of his body and magic screamed everything, anything.
“Do you still think of me as your king?”
Arthur’s grip on Merlin’s arms tightened, and his eyes were so serious that Merlin didn’t dare joke this off.
Unblinking, he answered firmly, not taking his eyes off Arthur’s.
“Yes, Sire.”
Arthur’s cheeks darkened with crimson, and his next question was filled with intensly possessive undertones.
“Do you consider yourself my servant, then, Merlin?”
Merlin’s stomach suddenly felt too hot and he couldn’t breathe properly, as if there were not enough air.
His eyes fluttered close for a second, and he swallowed against a sudden lump in his throat.
But he made himself look directly at Arthur, grateful for his secure hold – Merlin didn’t trust himself to stand straight at the moment – and his initial reply came out no louder than a raspy whisper.
“Always.” And he added, because it felt so right (so good), “Sire.”
It seemed like that was what Arthur was aiming for, because he sighed quietly with relief. Merlin watched, fascinated, as Arthur’s features went from being fragilely hopeful and open – a look written on his face every time he and Merlin had an important talk – to that prattish one, the one Merlin knew would get him into trouble. The one Arthur wore when they were in public. The one Merlin was used to obeying.
“Kneel.”
Merlin dropped to his knees and promptly realized that, in this position, his eyes were directly level with Arthur’s crotch. He averted his eyes, the heat in his stomach growing stronger and stronger with every beat of his frantic heart, blood dancing in his veins, making his breath quicken.
Arthur grabbed Merlin’s hair, rough, but careful not to hurt him.
“You claim to serve me, Merlin?” he asked, his tone surprisingly curious, and tugged at Merlin’s dark strands a little.
Merlin just continued kneeling there, his hands limp at his sides, the silence only broken by his harsh, shallow breathing. Arthur tightened his hand in Merlin’s hair to get his attention, and Merlin shut his eyes against the sensation, shivers of arousal crawling down his spine. He bit at his lip in an attempt to catch a wayward moan before it was out and obvious, but -- ah. He realized, somewhat startled, that he was rock hard, an unmistakable bulge in his trousers, and it couldn’t really get any more obvious than that.
Arthur, apparently, took his reaction as a yes, because, after a final tug, he let go of Merlin’s hair and ordered, his voice hoarse,
“Bow down before the one you serve.”
A fierce sensation overcame Merlin for a moment. He couldn’t think of anything else other than ArthurArthurArthurArthurMyKing. His fingers twitched and he thought his hips bucked a little, but he could not be sure. His blood by this point was closer to the temperature of boiling lava, burning him with desire, flaring somewhere deep, deep beneath the skin. The same place where the need to obey Arthur’s orders lay. (And yes, Merlin would rather die than let Arthur know about this particular condition.)
Said lashing need to obey had Merlin hanging his head, as low as he could manage. He tried counting to a hundred as he stared at Arthur’s feet (in attempt to calm his heart) and strained himself to keep from letting out little whimpers.
After a time that felt like forever, Arthur reached down and gingerly put the tips of his fingers under Merlin’s chin, encouraging him to lift his face all the way up until he was looking up in Arthur’s eyes. God, he was astonishing. His eyes were so dark that he looked feral. His features looked sharper in the dim lighting, and his hair glowed golden.
Like a crown, Merlin thought.
“You’re going to get what you deserve.”
Arthur almost whispered the words, and Merlin noticed for the first time that Arthur’s hand where he held Merlin was slightly trembling.
He took his hand away and then, still locking gazes with Merlin, started unbuckling his jeans.
There was only so much Merlin could take, really.
All those days upon weeks upon months upon tens, hundreds, thousands, and what had felt like hundreds of thousands of years, he had desperately held on to the memory of Arthur’s face, his hands, his voice, his laughter and his luminescent, beautiful eyes. All those seconds, minutes, hours, ages – he only lived so that, one day, he could be with Arthur again. And throughout all that torturous time, he had never once stopped being his king’s servant.
Arthur knew that. Of course he knew that. They had known each other so well that there had never been any need for vows or proclamations.
“Yes,” breathed Merlin. He closed his eyes once again in attempt to stop the overwhelming sensations, willing himself to not black out; not now, not when he was finally about to get rewarded for the eternity he had spent waiting.
“What did you say?” Arthur frowned slightly, hands pausing in their movement.
Merlin, hearing Arthur linger, flung his eyes open, his pupils dilated, and started chanting “yes” like a madman, bringing his hands to Arthur’s hips, his voice getting louder and louder, his eyes begging, until Arthur put a hand to the side of Merlin’s face and stroked it gently, trying to calm him down.
Merlin, however, just pushed Arthur’s open jeans and boxers down, and hungrily put his mouth onto Arthur’s flushed cock.
“Fuck, Merlin,” Arthur moaned, leaning fully on the table and throwing his head back a little.
“You have really missed me, haven’t you? Did you…oh god…Back, in Camelot…did you fantasize about – fuck – about this? Sucking me off while I’m sitting on the throne? Kneeling before me in my – fuck, fuck, Merlin – ”
Arthur brought his other hand up and tangled his fingers in Merlin’s hair, twisting and tugging a little, while Merlin was moaning and bobbing his head, sometimes swallowing Arthur whole and then sucking hard just on the tip. He circled the crown with his tongue until Arthur’s hips started hitching, and then took Arthur’s cock fully in his mouth again, making little whining sounds and digging his blunt nails into the tender skin of Arthur’s thighs.
Arthur’s hips started bucking on their own, and when he met with no resistance from Merlin, Arthur took a firmer hold on Merlin’s hair and started fucking his mouth, at first gently and then in earnest, eyes wide and mouth open as he marvelled at Merlin.
Merlin’s eyes were closed, his eyelashes fluttering against reddened cheekbones. He kept shivering and shuddering, every time with a filthy sound that must be telling Arthur how much Merlin was enjoying this.
“Yes, Merlin, fuck, look at you, you’re loving this so much.”
Merlin only moaned loudly in response, another wave of pleasure crashing over him, making him dizzy; making him see stars, and Arthur’s voice was loud in his ears.
“Kneeling in front of your King like a proper servant, yes, oh, I’m going to give you everything, Merlin, I’m going to give you everything you deserve, that’s it, fuck, Merlin –“
Merlin tried to swallow every last drop of Arthur’s come, but halfway through he started sputtering and Arthur released him, spotting Merlin’s raw-bitten lips with shining white.
Merlin just breathed, not looking up, while Arthur sloppily petted his hair, not yet back from the brink of the bliss. Merlin’s hands fell to his sides again and he felt as if he might explode any second now, only Arthur had promised him, so he’d just have to wait. Like a proper servant.
Eventually, Arthur touched his fingertips tenderly to Merlin’s chin again, and he raised his eyes, mindlessly licking the come off his lips.
Arthur moaned and with a nod communicated to Merlin to get up.
When Merlin unsteadily stood in front of him again, Arthur sneaked a hand around Merlin’s waist, undid his trousers, and with one, two, three tugs on his cock, Merlin came undone, falling apart under and into Arthur’s arms, bringing his hands around Arthur’s torso and breathing open-mouthed on the side of his neck.
He mouthed, “I missed you so much,” against the soft skin, and felt a little like crying.
The next moment, Arthur was finally, finally kissing him on the lips, mumbling some nonsense about “forever” in between.
--
“Where did you get the idea anyway, Arthur?”
“You have that song bookmarked, I was curious as to why. Then I saw the text and knew it.”
“Why did you think it was because of you?”
“Everything you do is because of me, Merlin. You said it yourself.”
“Yes, Sire.”