Just for Fun
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Merlin is a BBC program based upon the Arthurian Legends.
Author's N: No set timeline for this one. The muse was bugging me, and I caved in.
Warnings: This fic contains explicit sex scenes and male-male bonding. If this sort of thing affronts or disgusts you, please avert your eyes. Any criticism is welcomed wholeheartedly.
Their pulses are racing. This shouldn't be real, shouldn't be happening - but somehow, wonderfully, it is. Blonde and brunette messing together, their gasps are filling the air, low and urgent. Hips grind together and buttocks connect with long, hard parts of the body which cause tingles down the spine. A teasing kiss, a quick flip of the nipple; the boys are lost within themselves and each other as they writhe on the expensive bed linen.
For Merlin it's all about thought and expression. He watches the blonde's eyes as he teases him, sees them darken, conveying things the warlock had only dreamt about. He's helpless when, in the next second, he's flipped onto his back, staring up at the man who, to Merlin, resembles some sort of God. It might be ridiculous to think so, but he can't help himself. Fingers trail down sun-kissed skin, and he watches his partner shiver in response.
For Arthur, this is all about now. Not duty, not thought, not … Camelot… but here, and now. He doesn't care what the repercussions might be, doesn't even care that his father will go ballistic (because he will) when he realises his son might just like men in the same way he's supposed to (and sometimes does) like women. The Prince doesn't even care that Gwen might find out. All he cares about is the feel of his manservant sliding above him, teasing him, tricking him into a gentle, then deep kiss, and then pulling away all too quickly for the Prince's liking. They roll together, off the bed and onto the floor with a soft thump. Merlin gives a guttural groan as Arthur runs a hand down the pale chest, reaching in for yet another kiss. The warlock's lips are wet, sloppy, and eager for more, despite them having been at this for quite a while now. The brunette moans and reaches up into his Prince as Arthur's thigh happens to brush against the warlock's length. Arthur chuckles, and Merlin's eyes narrow a little. "Play fair," he whines, softly.
The blonde grins, eyes softening slightly, a wicked twinkle made more prominent. "I always play fair, Merlin," he teases softly. The warlock makes a soft noise in protest as his partner's hands wander down the pale body, inching nearer to Merlin's cock, which is demanding Arthur's attention. The Prince rolls his eyes, and ignores it, letting his hands explore the smooth body, taking full advantage of this moment of madness between them, not knowing if they might get to have another, whether Merlin will even want him.
"I beg to differ," his manservant gasps softly, as the Pendragon eventually takes hold of his cock - rigid and swollen - and begins jerking the brunette off. He watches Merlin's eyes as the warlock writhes in pleasure, moaning out Arthur's name as he bucks into the hand delivering the ministrations. Merlin comes seconds later, and shudders in the after mass of their fondling and exploring. They've not even properly … made love… but this, for now, is more than enough. The warlock turns his head to see Arthur gazing at him, and shifts, a little awkwardly. "What?" he asks, swallowing as his mind catches up with the rest of his body, and he truly takes in the force of what they've just done. He finds he can barely meet the Prince's eyes, and looks down at the bed sheets.
Arthur's expression shifts to one of knowing, and he sighs, quietly. "Nothing." he lays down on the soft pillows, plumped by Merlin that very morning, and automatically reaches out to grasp the warlock's hand. His hand brushes against skin though, as the warlock turns on his side, away from Arthur, hiding his expression. Arthur swallows, opens his mouth, then closes it again. Nothing he wants to say will sound right at the moment. His mind is filled with a strange… soppiness… he's never felt around any one else. The Prince stares quietly at Merlin's back, fear and trepidation pooling in his stomach. "Merlin…" he hesitates.
Merlin's eyes are still open, hidden from Arthur's view as he stares at the door. For something that felt so right just mere minutes ago, he's starting to think this was a very, very bad idea. He swallows at the level of emotion in the blonde's voice, and attempts to fool his lover - can he really call Arthur that? - into thinking he's asleep by giving a barely-realistic snore.
Arthur isn't fooled. As night draws in, he curls up, facing away from Merlin's back, holding himself stiffly and uncomfortable on his own bed, fear filling him as he clutches at the side of the bed, vomit uncomfortably building in his throat.
The next morning, when Arthur wakes, Merlin is gone. The Prince tries not to make too much of a deal of this, reasons to himself that the warlock has to at least appear as if nothing is going on between them. So he quietly washes and dresses by himself. The door opens, and another servant enters. Arthur's heart drops into his shoes. Not Merlin. He swallows, nodding at the servant as he begins to go about Merlin's chores, leaving Arthur in distinctive silence. He doesn't see Merlin until the evening. He manages to catch him as they pass on the stairs. Merlin is quiet and withdrawn, and busy carrying out errands, or so he tells the Prince. He doesn't say he's sorry for not being there this morning, doesn't even mention what has happened between them.
The Prince pulls Merlin into an abandoned room, and shuts the door. He exhales softly, watching as Merlin folds his arms, swallowing nervously. "What do you want, Arthur?" asks his manservant, peevishly. Arthur raises an eyebrow, wondering quite where to begin. He isn't good with this… emotions thing. He doesn't know how to express himself, at least not when its something he cares about as much as… this - whatever this is. Merlin's foot begins to tap softly on the wooden floor, and the Prince feels like screaming, but keeps himself carefully composed. After a few minutes, he speaks. "We're… " he hesitates, falters, then tries again. "Last night. What… happened-"
"Oh Christ," Merlin mutters, rolling his eyes. "I should've known. Look, Arthur, it was just… fun." The Prince blinks at Merlin, nonplussed. Just fun? Merlin sighs, and speaks again, as though talking to a particularly stupid child. "It was just something that… happened." he shakes his head. "It's not supposed to mean anything."
"It meant something to me," Arthur grinds out. Merlin sighs, rolls his eyes.
"Arthur…" he steps towards the Prince, and Arthur steps back, raising a hand to stop the warlock coming any closer. He's shell-shocked, and slowly the realisation of the truth of last night are dawning on him. He takes a breath, glaring at Merlin.
"You used me?" he asks. Merlin rolls his eyes again.
"Don't be so melodramatic. It was just a bit of fun, alright? It's not like we even had sex, Arthur." Arthur lets out a hiss of breath. He's trying not to get upset about this, but its difficult. He's pretty sure he felt something between them, last night. And when Merlin whispered out those three little words, he was fooled into thinking the warlock actually meant them. But Arthur's beginning to realise that Merlin doesn't quite feel the same. He swallows, squares his shoulders, and gives a clipped nod.
"Right then. Just wanted to make sure." he moves towards the door, but Merlin is still blocking it.
"Arthur, for the love of-"
"No, I get it," The Prince tries to assure, now desperate to get away from the man who was so… insatiable last night. He eventually pushes Merlin gently aside, and escapes, making the short journey down to his rooms, and checking that no one is there before closing and locking (something he rarely does) the door behind him, resting against it, letting out a soft breath. He spends a long time like that. Just thinking, not even really feeling. No tears escape his eyes - it takes a lot for Arthur to cry. And he will not cry over Merlin. Nearly three hours later, he straightens, back popping from standing so stiffly for so long. The Prince changes into riding clothes, and rings for a servant to ready his horse.
Half an hour later he is in the wilderness of Camelot, feeling better than he has done in what seems like such a very long time, but in all reality is only a day - less than a day. He returns back to the Castle in the late evening, to find a note from Merlin, explaining that the warlock has been reassigned in the Palace, and will no longer be working for him. Arthur nods once, tears up the note and throws it away.
When he dines with his father, and Merlin is the one to bring out the food, the Prince barely looks his way. If it weren't for the way he grips his fork just that little bit tighter, no one would ever guess that anything was wrong. Arthur escapes dinner after a few hours of talking politely to Morgana and his father, returning to his rooms.
That night, his bed is the coldest and emptiest he's ever felt it. Arthur turns his head into the pillow, and cries.