Darkness crept over them and it was perfect.

Perfect, perfect! Alone with him by a fire in the woods with no one else to bother them. He'd have seen the irony of how romantic it seemed if he wasn't too busy watching that perfect pink mouth.

He'd decided he was sick of wanting and needing and missing. He'd spoil Merlin's innocence and it would be perfect. Without any words he lent forward, past the fire, hands sinking into mud and pressed his lips over Merlin's.

Oh, stupid! Stupid, perfect, ridiculous, beautiful Merlin moved away, eyes wide and mouth parted so he dived again, pressed his lips to Merlin's and forced him into a kiss. Balls of fire exploded inside him, around him and it felt so fantastically perfect.



Those long hands clamped his arms, those sharp teeth clacked against his own, that pale skin pressed to his. Wonderful. He moved away this time.

Clothes disappeared, perfect, perfect, perfect. The fire burned out and on his cloak they settled everything once and for all. Pressing into Merlin, watching those eyes glow and marvel, taking that innocence, touching that skin. Everything the past year had taunted him with was his. So easily his.

He released his lot, spilling inside Merlin with a strangled cry and the boy followed after, he curled around himself when Arthur moved away. Too busy gloating, he never heard those soft sobs. He never thought to tell Merlin…

I really do love you.