Chapter Text
“This is a bloody terrible idea.”
“It’ll be fun.”
“For you. For the one of us who can’t actually dance, it’ll be torture.”
Merlin sighed and turned back to the mirror to check his hair one last time. It was getting too long, with curls starting to flop down into his eyes, but though he itched to get it cut, the last time he’d got lucky on a night out, the bloke who’d shagged him on the train ride home had used his hair like reins. The tingling pain it had elicited had shot straight to his balls, and he’d come within a couple strokes of jerking off. “Seriously, Perc, how do you expect to ever meet anyone if you never go out?”
On the bed behind him, Percival Chance flopped backward to sprawl across the narrow mattress. He consumed the bed, his feet firmly on the floor where his legs dangled over the edge, his arms akimbo as he stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t know how you expect me to pull anyone when I look like an idiot as soon as the music starts.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Says the guy who has never gone home alone after one of these nightmares.”
“Says the guy who promises not to leave you high and dry if there’s rubbish prospects, all right?” Satisfied that it was as good as it was going to get, he stepped away from the mirror and kicked Percival lightly in the shin. “Come on, you’re looking at this all wrong anyway. Odds are, you won’t even have to dance. Just find a spot on the wall where there’s some decent light, take your shirt off, and wait.” He grinned. “You’ll have ‘em lined up, on their knees in no time.”
Percival looked unconvinced, but he rose from the bed anyway. He glanced at their reflections and shook his head. “I’m an absolute nutter for going along with this.”
“Nah.” He jabbed him playfully in the stomach and then scuttled out of the way before Percival could return the gesture and his grand plan to get the both of them laid stalled out in the face of a wrestling match he’d inevitably lose. “You’re just horny.”
* * *
“Yes, you will.”
“No, I won’t. I mean it this time.”
Gwaine winked at Arthur at the same time he reached over to pat his knee. “You mean it every time, but that’s all right. I respect you anyway.”
With an annoyed scowl, Arthur shoved the hand away. “How many times have I asked you not to do that when I’m driving?”
“About as many as you’ve claimed to abandon me in my hour of need. And yet, here we are.”
“Here we are, indeed,” Arthur muttered. Gwaine had kept him waiting an extra half hour as he fussed with his hair and now they were hitting the worst of London’s evening traffic. He could’ve had them there and been parked already if his best mate wasn’t such a queen sometimes. It was probably a bit much not to take the tube or a taxi, but Arthur liked the freedom that came with knowing he could leave at any time and be on his way home without having to rely on somebody, or something, else.
“Know what you need?”
He sighed. “This oughta be good.”
“To get fucked tonight.”
“I thought that was the plan all along.” Why else would he ever agree to go dancing with Gwaine? He hated to dance, but he loved the attention and all the guys who flocked to them once Gwaine let loose.
“No, I mean you get fucked. Bent over the bathroom sink, balls to the wall, fucked.”
His ass clenched involuntarily. “You’re off your head. I don’t bottom.”
“Only because you’ve never met the right guy. You keep hooking up with these twinks and what else can you expect?”
“Some of them are hung quite nicely, thank you very much.”
“And yet, they never seem to get anywhere near the glorious Pendragon ass, now do they?” He laughed when Arthur blushed. “Oh, come on. If you didn’t want me or any other healthy gay man in London staring at it, you wouldn’t spend so much time on those squats.”
“I like to stay in shape.”
“You like making us drool.”
Rolling his eyes, Arthur flipped him off, ignoring the amused laughter that filled the Mercedes. Only Gwaine got away with talking such smack and only because he’d pulled Arthur’s so-called glorious ass out of the fire more than once. For as much as Gwaine might look like some fly-by-night party boy, he was as loyal as they came. Not even Arthur was daft enough to fuck up their friendship.
“We’re out to have some fun tonight,” he asserted. “That’s all.”
“And how do you know getting fucked isn’t fun since you’ve never tried it?”
He clamped his mouth shut at that. There was a line to be drawn in how much he’d open up to Gwaine about, and that was it.
“Why don’t we see how it goes?” he said instead. “As far as you know, Romp will be dead tonight.”
Gwaine shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve got a funny feeling tonight’s going to be different.”
“The last time you had a funny feeling, I ended up with a black eye and you got that restraining order put on you.”
“Yeah, but getting them was an absolute blast, wasn’t it?”
Inwardly, Arthur sighed. The problem with Gwaine’s funny feelings was that they inevitably turned out to be right. He could only hope that tonight’s so-called differences didn’t cost him more than the price of petrol and a few pints.
* * *
If he’d been alone, he would have gone home. Hell, he wouldn’t have been here in the first place. But complaining would only strengthen Merlin’s resolve, and Percival didn’t want to ruin his best friend’s night out. As much bravado as Merlin might display, he knew the man needed this. His breakup with Lance hadn’t been as pain-free as he professed. It might have been amicable, but Merlin had talked like Lance was the one. That had to hurt, no matter how soft the fall.
“Looks like a good crowd tonight,” Merlin enthused. They took their place at the end of the line, though it shifted forward, closer to the door, the moment they stopped. “I told you this was a good idea.”
“Yeah,” he muttered. A brisk wind cut through the narrow street, but enough bodies packed the walk to make the chill inconsequential. Still, Percival folded his arms over his chest to conserve what little heat he had. At Merlin’s insistence, he’d worn a black vest that showed off his biceps, and though he was hardly the only one dressed like that, he still felt like he stuck out.
A few more feet forward, and the queue ground to a halt, leaving him with nothing to do but look around. He carefully avoided making direct eye contact with those with the brass balls to check him out. If Merlin noticed, he didn’t say anything, for which Percival was grateful. It was one thing to go out in public in search of a quick fuck. It was something else entirely to go through with it. Merlin was the gregarious one, not him. This many people always left him tongue-tied, as if he wasn’t already self-conscious enough. He rarely got dates as a result. Bathroom stall wanks, sure, those were no problem. But an honest to goodness date? That required more than a few muscles and a big cock, and frankly, he just didn’t know what to say to most guys.
Two guys strolled down the length of the walk to join the queue behind them. The long-haired dark one grinned at Merlin, who in turn smiled back, but it was the blond standing next to him that Percival fixated on.
He was shorter than the rest of them, but far more powerfully built than Merlin or his friend. Broad shoulders strained against the navy T-shirt he wore, and when he passed by, Percival got a quick glimpse at an absolutely scrumptious ass, lovingly cupped in a pair of faded jeans. A strong jaw brought attention to his blowjob mouth, but it was the shrewd blue eyes zeroing in on him that sent a jolt through Percival’s body. Like they saw right through him and liked every inch of what he saw.
Slowly, those blue eyes swept downward, lingering for a moment on Percival’s partially covered chest, then settling for several seconds on his crotch. Under the curious appraisal, his cock thickened, trapped awkwardly against his thigh because he hadn’t taken a moment to situate himself properly before arriving. Fuck, he hadn’t really considered he’d get lucky after all. This was Merlin’s night. But now, with that hot, sexy mouth quirking into a small smile, he wondered if he might be able to get some after all.
The blond caught his eye again, then jerked his head toward the others behind Percival. When Percival frowned, the smile blossomed into a full-blown grin.
“Queue’s moving,” the blond said.
Percival whipped around, flushing in embarrassment that he’d been too wrapped up in the stranger to notice. He did a quick doublestep to catch up, but when Merlin turned back to start chatting up their neighbors, Percival remained facing forward. A clod, that’s what he was, always putting his foot in it or looking like an idiot. People assumed he wasn’t smart because of his size, and he wasn’t nearly quick enough with the words to counter that opinion, even though it wasn’t true. The blond was just another casualty of his social missteps and ill timing.
“And this is Percival.” Merlin’s hand clapped down on his shoulder, forcing him to turn back, albeit not quite all the way. “Perc, this is Gwaine…” He gestured toward the dark-haired man. “And—”
“Arthur.” The blond held his hand out in greeting, waiting for Percival to accept it.
Though his chest felt like an elephant had just sat on it, Percival unfolded his arms to extend a hand as well. Sparks leapt across his skin at the first contact of the strong, blunt fingers around his own, especially when Arthur seemed to give his hand an extra squeeze before letting go.
“See?” Gwaine jostled Arthur with a friendly elbow. “Looks like it was a good thing we were running late after all.”
“I hate it when I run late,” Percival blurted.
His horror at offering such an inane opinion that had absolutely nothing to do with anything was mitigated by Arthur’s smile and guffaw. “Thank you,” he said to Percival. “No matter how much I try and tell him otherwise, Gwaine here thinks the world runs on his own personal clock.”
Gwaine winked at Merlin. “The parts that matter do.”
“Yeah, well, being on time shows respect,” Arthur countered.
“How do you figure that?” Merlin said with a frown.
“It says I know your time is valuable and I appreciate that you’ll treat mine in the same manner.” He looked very pleased with his assessment, but when neither Merlin nor Gwaine seemed impressed with his declaration, he edged closer to Percival. “You know what I mean, don’t you?”
Percival nodded. Speech failed him. Though the smell of London traffic lay heavy in the air, the lesser distance between him and Arthur had brought the other man’s cologne to the foreground. The musky scent supplanted everything else, and he had the sudden urge to bury his face in the man’s balls to see if he smelled that good all over.
The line started moving again, and somehow, Merlin and Arthur traded places. The bright sounds of his friend’s laughter drifted from behind him, but now, Percival couldn’t get past the way Arthur’s forearm kept brushing against his. It wasn’t deliberate. That was obvious. But the crush of people on the narrow strip of concrete forced bodies into contact, even if they didn’t want to be.
Except Percival wanted it. Each graze of hot skin over his provoked another image, of Arthur grappling at his body, of Arthur on his knees, of Arthur, of Arthur, of Arthur.
He was fully erect by the time they reached the front door.
He didn’t recognize the bouncer, but the squat bald man didn’t even look in Percival’s direction. He nodded once at Arthur and waved them through, holding up his hand to stop those behind Gwaine and Merlin. Arthur caught the door and held it open for them, giving Percival a crooked grin as he passed.
Immediately, the dance music wrapped around him in its suffocating embrace. The temperature jumped by at least twenty degrees from outside to in, while the strobing disco lights gave Percival a headache before they reached the first table ringing the dance floor. He paused, trying to swallow the panic swelling in his throat. The prospect of finding a spot on the wall to hold up was sounding better and better.
He flinched when a hand touched the small of his back and nearly caught Arthur with his elbow when the man appeared at his side.
“Bar or table?” Arthur had to practically shout to be heard over the din.
“Table,” he replied without hesitation. The bar would see too much foot traffic.
With a brief nod, Arthur scanned the club, stopping on an empty table near the toilets. “Why don’t you go and grab that one? I’ll get us some drinks.”
“Whiskey.”
“What?”
Percival leaned down a little to be better heard, but it meant getting his mouth near Arthur’s ear and seeing the beginning of stubble along his jaw. His tongue prickled at the thought of how rough it would be if he licked the spot.
“Whiskey,” he repeated. “That’s what I drink.”
When Arthur turned a brilliant smile in his direction, their lips almost touched before Percival could pull back in time. “A man after my own heart.” He patted Percival on the shoulder. “Be right back.”
Gwaine went with him, leaving Merlin to follow Percival through the throng to the table. Percival took the chair against the wall. It both gave him room to stretch out his legs and afforded the best view of the room so he could keep an eye out for anybody who might approach. Old habits died hard.
“Arthur’s hot.” Merlin flopped down in the chair opposite, a devilish grin playing on his mouth. “You are so getting laid tonight.”
“I am not.”
But his gaze strayed to the bar anyway, to the way Arthur and Gwaine leaned across it to speak to the bartender. Arthur’s broad shoulders tapered down to those damn hips, and the way he posed put his ass on perfect display.
Merlin laughed. “Yeah, right. Wanna make a bet on it?”
Tearing his eyes away shouldn’t have been so hard. “No.”
“Because you’ll lose.”
“Because I’m not turning tonight into a wager.”
“It’s meant to be fun.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“So relax. Hang loose. Arthur’s into you, I can tell.”
When Percival glanced toward the bar again, he found Arthur watching him in turn. There might be a good thirty feet between them, but those blue eyes bored into Percival just like they had outside, a darkening promise of pleasures yet to come.
“That Gwaine seems to like you,” he said, trying to change the subject.
A definite glitter appeared in Merlin’s eyes. “Yeah. He looks like fun.”
After Lance’s seriousness, fun was exactly what Merlin needed. Someone to distract him from all of Lance’s rules and so-called honorable notions.
The lone problem to anything beyond this one night, however, was the possibility of traveling in the same circles as Gwaine. He was friends with Arthur. From the way Percival was reacting to him, that could get awkward very quickly.
Arthur and Gwaine appeared before they had the chance for much more idle chatter. Merlin took his beer, downed half of it in a single gulp, then rose and grabbed Gwaine’s empty hand.
“Let’s dance.”
Gwaine shrugged good-naturedly and set his beer next to Merlin’s. In less than the space of time it took to call Merlin even a single name, Percival was all alone with Arthur.
Setting down the tumbler he carried, Arthur grabbed the chair next to him and turned it around to straddle. “You look like you want this more than the dance floor,” he said, pushing Percival’s drink closer.
“Yeah.”
The alcohol burned going down, but the fire was welcome, the heat working to melt away some of the knots in his shoulders. It did nothing for the rest of him, but at least he had the table to hide his erection behind.
That was when he noticed Arthur sipped at a bottle of still water.
“You’re not drinking?” he asked.
Arthur shook his head. “Gotta be the responsible one. I’m Gwaine’s ride home.” He sighed melodramatically. “Provided he’s still vertical when he’s done here.”
“Maybe Merlin will keep him too busy to keep hitting the bar.”
“I should only be so lucky.”
And that was it. Percival was officially tapped out on what to talk about next. The music was too loud for a real conversation, and besides which, nobody came to Romp for talking.
Then why was Arthur still sitting here instead of dancing?
“If you want to go, you know…” Percival gestured feebly toward the mass of men glistening under the flickering lights. Just because Arthur was Gwaine’s designated driver, didn’t mean he had to be relegated to the sidelines. More than one guy had looked in his direction since he sat down. He could have his pick of any of them.
“Did you want to?” Arthur said.
“Oh, hell no. I suck.”
“So do most of the guys who are already out there.”
He laughed at the exaggeration and shook his head. “You only say that because you’ve never seen me.”
“Well, maybe I’ll get that chance later on, then.” Picking up his water, Arthur sipped at it slowly without moving an inch off his seat.
“Aren’t you going?” Percival asked.
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
That possibility hadn’t even occurred to him. “Oh, god no, I just thought—”
“Stop thinking.” Another sip. For a split second, Percival wondered if he kept drinking his water to force Percival to look at his mouth. It was working, if he did. “I’m right where I want to be. Though…” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “If they decide to switch tempo, I’m dragging you out for a slow one. You don’t have to know any fancy moves for that. Just make sure we’re touching in all right places.”
Percival sucked in a hard breath. There was no mistaking that invitation. Body to body, groin to groin, hands tucked into back pockets or maybe even inside the jeans…
He nodded in agreement. A slow dance. He could do that. With Arthur, most definitely.