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After five days in the forest with no one but Arthur for company, Merlin was tired and dirty, and feeling very displeased. He glared at the back of Arthur's head as they rode along the overgrown path that curved along beneath the trees in the fading light of the early evening. At least back at the castle they had reprieves from one another when Arthur practised with the knights or Merlin attended his duties, but here in the woods they had been together non-stop, and their conversations had become increasingly edged with anger as the days passed.
"Just up ahead," Arthur called over his shoulder, and Merlin wondered how he managed to sound so haughty and smug with so few words.
He took a moment to consider the possibility that perhaps it was his frazzled nerves talking, but when he looked up at Arthur's irritating blond head bobbing along in front of him he decided that no, Arthur really was that annoying.
Arthur led them into a small clearing and dismounted from his horse, brushing his sweaty fringe from his forehead and stretching his arms high over his head.
"We'll camp here for the night," he said as he tied his horse to a nearby tree.
Merlin slid off his own horse and surveyed the area critically. He was the one who always set up camp, and he was already mapping out the best place for the fire.
"I'm going to find something for us to eat. I expect a fire when I return," Arthur said brusquely before stomping off into the woods.
Merlin rolled his eyes at Arthur's retreating form and then set off to ready the camp.
When Arthur returned with several small rabbits, the fire was roaring nicely and Arthur gave Merlin a small nod, which was as much thanks as he'd ever got on these trips. Merlin set about gathering more wood to keep the fire going while Arthur cleaned and cooked the meat.
Later, after they had finished eating and the sky had darkened above them, Merlin fussed with his bedroll, mentally assessing the temperature and trying to decide how close he wanted to be to the fire. When he was satisfied, he looked over at Arthur, who was sitting on a log and staring into space.
"How much further until we're home?" Merlin asked.
"Only a few hours. We could've made it today if we hadn't been moving so slowly," Arthur said, turning to face Merlin with a raised brow.
"Every time, Arthur," Merlin said with a sigh. "Every time you complain about how slow I am, and yet you continue to ask me to join you."
"You are my servant. You come along to serve me," Arthur said, like it was the most obvious answer in the world. "Now would you quit fiddling with that? You're making me nervous."
Merlin entertained a number of the creative insults that he kept stored up and ready for the moments when Arthur was at his most insufferable, but instead he smoothed the blankets one last time and joined Arthur on the log. He rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands as he gazed into the fire.
They sat together side by side, and as the last of the daylight faded and the fire glowed brightly in the darkness, the sharp, angry mood that had hung between them all day slowly dissolved until the air no longer prickled with tension.
After so many trips together, it was always the same. During the day, Arthur snapped insults at Merlin, complaining about his ineptitude at great length and in painfully explicit detail, but when the sun set, Arthur was different. He was softer, more agreeable in the dark, and Merlin tilted his head to the side and gazed at his profile in the glow of the firelight.
"Tell me a story," Merlin said, after a few moments of what was almost comfortable silence.
"Tell you a story?" Arthur repeated, and Merlin could hear the sarcasm in his voice, but there was no real bite behind it. "I'm not your nurse, here to offer you bedtime tales, Merlin."
Merlin nudged Arthur's side with his elbow. "Yeah, well I never had a nurse, so tell me a story."
"I've met your mum, and I'm fairly certain that whatever questionable conditions you grew up in, you never went without getting tucked in at night with a story and a kiss on the cheek."
Merlin only shrugged, unable to argue with that, but when he nudged Arthur again, Arthur sighed.
"Very well. What would you like to hear?" he asked, turning to face him, and raising his eyebrows expectantly.
"Tell me — tell me about when you were a boy. I want to know what it was like to grow up in Camelot."
The words flowed easily once Arthur started, and Merlin listened to stories about a childhood so very different from his own. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine Arthur as a boy, sneaking away from his lessons to explore the grounds beyond the castle, stealing sweets from the kitchens, and generally making life extremely difficult for his nurse and the assorted people assigned to take care of him.
The fire threw sparks up into the night air and the light from the flames danced on the trees that edged the clearing, burning brightly at the centre of a cosy bubble of warmth in the middle of the dark forest. Merlin's eyelids drooped as Arthur talked, his low voice mingling pleasantly with the sound of the crackling fire.
Merlin didn't know how much time had passed, but eventually he felt Arthur nudging him gently, and he realised he must've fallen asleep. He blinked blearily for a moment and noticed that he had slumped over until he was leaning against Arthur, his head resting on Arthur's shoulder. The log was hard under him, and his neck was stiff where it had lolled onto Arthur's shoulder, but Merlin was struck with the odd sensation that he wanted to stay right where he was.
"Sorry, I must've dozed off," he said, lifting his head and rolling his neck, trying to work out the kink.
"So much for my thrilling bedtime stories," Arthur said dryly, but he stayed still with Merlin leaning against him.
"Well, considering you put me right to sleep, I'd say you could have a very promising future as a nurse," Merlin replied, stifling a yawn.
Arthur huffed and Merlin braced himself for a witty retort, but when he turned his head, Arthur was watching him closely. Arthur's features were thrown into sharp relief in the light of the fire, and Merlin met his gaze for a moment, the teasing words forgotten.
Merlin was suddenly very aware of the way he was still leaning against Arthur, pressed along his side, their arms tangled together. They were close enough that Merlin could hear the sound of Arthur's breaths, soft and even with the rise and fall of his chest. His skin suddenly felt hot and he wondered if they were sitting too close to the fire. Merlin knew that he should probably get up since using the crown prince as a pillow was probably not something he was supposed to do, but he was just so inexplicably comfortable right where he was.
"Maybe…" Merlin started leaning closer to the warmth of Arthur's body, not entirely sure where he was going with the thought, but thinking he should probably say something, and that was when Arthur pulled away.
"Go to bed, Merlin," Arthur said, gently extricating himself and standing up.
Merlin nodded up at him and then rose and moved close to the fire, suddenly feeling cold from the lack of extra body heat. He shuffled over to where he had placed his bedroll, and settled under the blankets, shifting to find the best position on the hard ground.
After several unsuccessful tries, he rolled onto his side, gazing into the fire, just able to make out the form of Arthur in his own bedroll directly opposite him. Arthur must have had similar difficulties getting comfortable based on how he tossed and turned, his shape hazy and indistinct through the fire. When Merlin finally closed his eyes, he could still see the flames flickering brightly behind his eyelids.
The next morning, Merlin woke, blinking up at the early morning light that filtered through the branches of the trees above him. He rubbed his eyes and looked up to see Arthur bent over beside the remains of the fire, lacing up his boots.
"Are we leaving now?" Merlin asked, shifting stiffly under his blanket, his mind still fuzzy with sleep.
"Unless you'd rather laze around in the middle of the woods all day. But first I'm going to the lake to bathe." Arthur wrinkled his nose in disgust and glared at Merlin, the easy mood of the previous evening gone now that the sun was up. "It would be nice if you'd do the same."
Merlin glared back. "We'll be home later today, Arthur, you said so yourself. And I much prefer hot bath water to the freezing cold lake."
"Just be sure you ride downwind of me then," Arthur said with a nasty smirk.
"You do realise that I'm the one who has to pull your armour off after you've been sweating in it all day? It's not exactly the smell of flowers that you're giving off then."
"Must you complain about every aspect of your job? Ready the horses and pack our things. We'll ride for home as soon as I return."
"Yes, Arthur," Merlin said wearily, as Arthur headed off toward the lake.
Merlin breathed a sigh of relief when Arthur disappeared. As much as Arthur drove him mad when they were away from the castle, mornings were the absolute worst time. On trips like this, when it was just the two of them, there was virtually no privacy, and that made things a bit awkward. The previous day, he'd had to stay under his blanket for quite some time, thinking about getting pelted with rotten vegetables, or that horrid woman from the marketplace with no teeth, before he was able to stand up in front of Arthur without embarrassing himself.
Merlin had no idea what Arthur's personal habits were, and in fact he tried very hard not to think about it, but he himself never went more than a day or so without taking care of things so to speak, so five days was a long time — a very, very long time he thought as he brought his hand down between his legs to press lightly against his morning erection. As wonderful an idea as it was to have a wank, he pulled it away with a sigh, knowing that he'd have to listen to Arthur's complaints the whole way home if he came back from lake before Merlin was ready to go.
There wasn't much work to do and Merlin finished quickly, before settling at the base of a large tree to wait for Arthur's return. He tilted his head back and looked up at the trees above him. The branches were covered with buds that would give way to bright green leaves any day, and the air carried the scent of clean earth and new growth.
Merlin felt a wave of contentment wash over him for no reason at all really, and he pressed his hand between his legs for the second time that morning, palming himself through his breeches. After such a long time without, he responded quickly to his touch.
Soon rubbing himself through the fabric wasn't enough, so he slid his hand inside his breeches and wrapped his fist around his cock. It felt so good after so many days, and he leaned back against the tree, breathing in deep breaths, filling his mouth and nose with the taste of fresh air, and wondered why he didn't do this outdoors more often.
He was close, but not quite there when he heard a muffled sound in the woods behind him. There wasn't enough time to finish but he was too far gone to stop, and in a moment of panic, desperate to finish before Arthur stepped into the clearing at any second, he summoned magical words from the depths of his mind meant to speed things up. The words came out in a gasp as his breath caught in his throat, his head spinning with a mix of heady lust and the fear that Arthur might step into the clearing any second. He had only a moment to wonder if he got it right before his orgasm sneaked up on him with a surprise, his entire body stiffening sharply, and his head banged back against the tree with a painful thump.
Merlin scrambled to his feet unsteadily, swaying slightly and listening for approaching footsteps, but he heard nothing but birds chirping and the soft rustling of the branches in the breeze. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his knees felt weak and wobbly, so he sank back down on the ground and leaned on the tree, closing his eyes against his blurry vision. It was a relief all right, but as a wave of nausea swept over him, Merlin wondered if it was worth the price. Stupid magic, Merlin thought with a groan, wrapping his arms around his knees and waiting for the world to stop spinning.
When Arthur did return ten minutes later, Merlin was feeling much better, and rose to greet him, but immediately he could tell that something was wrong. Arthur's face was pale and agitated and his gaze darted around in all directions, as if looking for something.
"Is everything okay?" Merlin asked.
Arthur continued to scan the woods around them as he nodded absently.
"It's time to leave," Arthur said, his voice anxious.
Merlin watched Arthur closely as they rode back to the castle. The tension was evident in the way he held his body stiff and clenched the reins tightly, and his eyes never stopped roaming the forest around them. Arthur was well trained and always aware of his surroundings, constantly lecturing Merlin on the many dangers that could befall them in the woods, but this was different. Merlin was certain that something had scared Arthur, but he dared not ask what.
Upon retuning to the castle at midday, Arthur muttered something unintelligible under his breath and left Merlin in the stables to take care of the horses. That itself wasn't out of the ordinary, but later when Merlin stopped in Arthur's chambers in the mid afternoon to see what he needed for the rest of the day, Arthur sent him away without a single request. That was most decidedly unusual.
The next morning, Arthur's strange behaviour continued. His face was pale and drawn as Merlin helped him dress, and he jumped when Merlin leaned in to adjust the collar of his jacket.
"Arthur, are you feeling well?" Merlin finally asked, peering at him closely, taking in his wan complexion and furrowed brow.
Arthur just looked at him blankly and didn't answer.
"I could have Gaius come see you," he said softly.
"I'm fine," Arthur choked out, turning away with a slight stumble and heading out the door.
Merlin sighed and followed him. Arthur was definitely not fine.
When Arthur seemed no better after three days, Merlin started to worry in earnest.
In an attempt to snap Arthur out of his mood, Merlin spent most of the morning meticulously polishing his armour, knowing how very pleased Arthur was when it gleamed in the sun. He met him at midday in the armoury and presented it with a proud flourish, but Arthur only nodded half heartedly.
"I've decided to return to my chambers. I won't be needing you for the remainder of the day."
Merlin looked at him with surprise, dropping his helmet with a clunk on the floor. Arthur always needed something.
"Arthur," Merlin began, but stopped when he saw the look on his face.
"Just go, Merlin," he said tightly, rubbing a hand over his eyes.
Merlin wondered yet again what could possibly be going on as he walked through the courtyard, but when he got to Gaius' quarters, his thoughts turned toward his bed. Arthur's behaviour was certainly worrisome, but surely the prince wouldn't get any worse if he relaxed for just a bit. He closed the door to his room behind him out of habit, as Gaius was gone for the day, before toeing off his boots and collapsing heavily on top of the sheets. A full morning hunched over the armour left him exhausted, and he stretched back along the bed, relishing the novelty of a midday rest.
His bed felt exceptionally comfortable and his drifting thoughts soon folded back in on themselves until they were nothing more than a blur of nonsensical ideas, cut off before they could take shape. In a brief moment of clarity, he realised he was teetering right on the edge of unconsciousness, perilously close to sleep.
When he slid his hand down his chest and pressed it to his groin, it was more to keep himself awake than anything else, but when his cock hardened appreciatively under his fingers, he decided that yes, this was a really good idea after all.
He stroked lazily a few times, his mind still drowsy, but when he slid his thumb over the head and felt the tingle spread outward, all his sleepiness evaporated and he came fully awake. Soon he was rocking his hips into it, the delicious burn building into a blinding heat, and he was ready to just come already when the outer door to Gaius' quarters opened with a loud bang.
Merlin stilled his hand, frozen in surprise. He heard the sound of footsteps, and then a muffled thump followed by something crashing loudly to the floor. After awkwardly getting to his feet and pulling his breeches up with one hand bunching them around his hip, Merlin moved to the door and opened it slightly, peeking through the crack. He was surprised to see Arthur, standing beside the table, a broken bowl at his feet.
"What are you doing here?" Merlin asked in surprise.
Arthur spun around to look at him and Merlin saw his face was flushed and his eyes wild.
"Merlin," Arthur said, his voice hoarse as he stumbled unsteadily toward him. "I need to speak to Gaius immediately."
"He's not here," Merlin answered, trying to sound casual despite the circumstances.
Arthur looked at him then, his eyes moving down Merlin's body, taking in his dishevelled appearance and unlaced breeches, held up with one hand at his hip.
"What are you - ? Were you just - ?" he asked.
"I wasn't — I wasn't doing anything," Merlin said defensively.
Arthur glared at him, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Merlin, I order you to tell me the truth. What were you just doing before I came in?"
Merlin flinched slightly and took a step back, holding fast to his trousers. "You can't ask me that, Arthur. You sent me away. This is my — my personal time."
Arthur's face fell and suddenly he was looking at Merlin with uncharacteristic desperation in his eyes.
"Tell me," he said, and the arrogance was gone from his voice leaving behind something that sounded harsh and raw.
Merlin couldn't understand why this was so important to Arthur, but he was staring at him with a haunted look in his eyes, so he drew in a shaky breath and nodded, staring at the wall behind Arthur's head, unable to meet his gaze.
"Um," Merlin said. "Yeah, I was — I mean, yeah."
He hoped it was enough and that Arthur wouldn't make him say it out loud because this was already the most ridiculous conversation they had ever had without him actually describing just what he had been doing to himself.
It seemed to be enough for Arthur who widened his eyes and hissed in a breath.
"It's you."
"What's me?" Merlin asked, confused.
"Merlin, you will swear to me that you will never repeat this," Arthur said, his voice low and shaky, but still frightening.
"I swear, Arthur," Merlin said earnestly, still very confused as to where this was going.
"Ever since we got back from that trip I've had this… problem. I can feel — I can feel…" his voice trailed off as he looked away from Merlin.
"You can feel what?" Merlin asked encouragingly.
Arthur turned back to him, and Merlin was surprised to see he was blushing. "I can feel a hand on my — on me. Touching me. Only there's no hand there."
Merlin shook his head in confusion. "What?"
"It's your hand." Arthur said.
Merlin looked down at his hands automatically. "My hand?" he asked, uncomprehending.
"I think," Arthur started, looking away from Merlin again, "I think it happens when you — you know. I feel it too."
The pieces started coming together for Merlin and he swallowed thickly.
"Tell me something," Arthur said, meeting Merlin's gaze once again. "The last day we were in the woods, when I left to go to the lake, did you…?"
Merlin could feel the hot flush of humiliation that coloured his cheeks and that seemed to be answer enough for Arthur who nodded.
"That was the first time," Arthur said. "When I went to bathe and you stayed behind. That was the first time I felt it."
"Oh god," Merlin said faintly, covering his face with his hands as it all clicked into place in his head — the spell he had done must have gone horribly wrong leaving them in this rather bizarre predicament.
"It must be some kind of evil magic," Arthur continued.
A wave of terror coursed through Merlin, cold as ice in his veins. "No! I mean, I didn't do anything!"
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Well obviously not, Merlin. This is the work of a sorcerer, not an idiot."
Merlin chuckled weakly. Despite the absurdity of the situation, it was oddly comforting that Arthur remained as clueless as ever about his magic. It was most definitely for the best, as Merlin had no doubt Arthur would actually consider sending him to the chopping block given their current state.
"So, um. What do we do now?" Merlin asked.
Arthur sighed with frustration. "I have no idea."
They stared at each other for a few moments, and Merlin thought about how Arthur knew all the times he touched himself the past few days, and how Arthur must have been caught off guard in the mornings and then again before bed, and a fresh wave of embarrassment swept over him.
"I mean, obviously I'm not doing that ever again," Merlin said.
"Well that's good then," Arthur said and he must have stepped closer, because Merlin was suddenly very aware of the way the muscles in Arthur's shoulders looked tense under his skin, and something inside him lurched unexpectedly.
Merlin noticed then that he was still hard, his cock heavy and aching between his legs, and judging from Arthur's face and awkward stance, he was too. They stood in silence for a few moments, and Merlin felt a warm prickle on the back of his neck.
Arthur cleared his throat and when he spoke his voice was so low Merlin had to strain to hear. "Maybe you can finish just this one time then?"
Merlin didn't trust himself to speak so he simply nodded before slamming the door to his room in Arthur's face and throwing himself back on the bed. He wrapped his fist around his cock, stroking furiously, and when he came moments later, he heard Arthur's groan matching his own from outside the door.
Merlin threw one arm over his face and listened as Arthur left, his mind trying and failing to make sense of what the hell just happened.
The first few days were easy. Just the idea of Arthur knowing exactly when and how he touched himself was utterly horrifying, so he avoided it without much effort, but as time went on, it got increasingly difficult.
Each morning he needed longer and longer to compose himself enough to get out of bed and have breakfast with Gaius, and by the time he made it to Arthur's chambers, they were both miserable. Arthur snapped at him with increasing frequency and viciousness, and Merlin was so distracted that he was nearly unable to perform his duties. Being close to Arthur was the worst, thus dressing him had become a rather difficult task. After a near disastrous incident in which Merlin had almost impaled Arthur with his own sword when he slipped on some water that had sloshed over the edge of the tub, they came to an unspoken agreement that Arthur was on his own when it came to baths.
One morning Merlin woke with his hand already around his cock; he was about three strokes into it and two away from coming before he realised what he was doing and pulled his hand away with an agonised shudder.
It took him twice as long as usual to get to Arthur's chambers, and when he finally did, Arthur glared at him from across the room, flushed and angry and fumbling hopelessly with his own jacket and growled, "Get. Out."
Merlin turned on his heel and fled gratefully, lying on the ground behind the stables with his face in the cool grass for most of the morning.
A few days later, he woke slowly, eyes blinking lazily up at the ceiling. It was a few moments before he realised something was different — his limbs were pleasantly heavy and he felt more rested than he had in a long time. It was only when he moved to get up and the sheets stuck to his sticky thighs that he realised what had happened.
He and Arthur spent the next two days ignoring each other.
Merlin was miserable. Every day was a silent struggle as he thought up excuses of how he could pass his hand near his groin — just a little, he thought, just one little touch — and then talked himself down by remembering why that was a terrifically bad idea. Any touching on his part and Arthur would know it, he'd feel Merlin's fingers the same way on his own — and oh god, then Merlin was back to convincing himself that maybe it wasn't such a terrible idea after all — just one quick touch, he was so hard and wanted it so much. This inevitably led to Merlin holed up in an empty corridor with his face pressed against the cool stones, hands scratching haplessly at the wall, held above his waist with a concerted effort as he tried to clear his head.
Everywhere he looked, it seemed there was something ready to break his resolve — the pretty kitchen maid who smiled demurely through batted lashes when Merlin went to pick up Arthur's breakfast, the feel of the velvet of Arthur's coat as his fingers stroked along the soft material and he thought about how it would feel rubbed all over him, and Arthur — Arthur whom he couldn't escape, and half the time didn't really want to. Merlin fumbled and trembled and fought down his ever present desire as he helped him dress every morning, close enough to feel the heat from his body and see the hint of stubble along his jaw — close enough to touch if he just reached out to the blond hairs that curled at the nape of his neck just above his collar. His mind played out scenarios in his head, each one more ridiculous than the last, until he backed away wildly, thinking, it's Arthur, it's Arthur, it's Arthur.
When Arthur turned unsteadily to him, with flushed cheeks and uneven breath and tripped over his words before he managed a proper insult, Merlin just nodded mindlessly, agreeing to whatever names Arthur called him, if it meant he could just get away.
Merlin was quite certain that he'd go mad if he had to live like this much longer, but his attempts to find a spell to reverse whatever it was that he did in the woods weren't exactly easy when he could barely get through his chores in the space of the day. He'd tried to talk to Gaius about it, but it had ended with him trailing off into embarrassed silence just after, "so, say there was this spell…"
His research hadn't gone much better. He couldn't find anything in his book of magic that was even remotely related to the situation at hand, and when he had paged through one promising looking volume in Gaius' collection, all he had found were pictures of painful looking boils and sores on very sensitive body parts, and he'd slammed the book shut in horror.
At the end of a full week, Merlin was resigned to the fact that he might be hard forever. He had perfected the art of walking while aroused without looking like a fool, and as he made his way back to Gaius' quarters with his hands full of supplies from the market, he found himself wandering off his course, down behind the castle toward the training field. He told himself that it wasn't so much that he wanted to watch Arthur; he was just trying to get a glimpse of him to gauge his mood and see what was in store for the rest of the day.
When the field came in sight he noticed that there was a commotion with some of the knights. Merlin strained his eyes to get a better look, but from a distance all he could make out was a group of men clustered around someone. As he drew closer he realised that Arthur was at the centre of the knights, clutching one shoulder and using his other hand to wave off the small crowd around him. Merlin dropped the items he was carrying on the ground and made his way across the field toward the people.
"I tried to tell him he should see Gaius but he refused," Sir Gareth said to Merlin as he approached the group.
Merlin just nodded and elbowed his way closer to Arthur, whose back was to him and hadn't yet noticed his presence.
"Would you all just back off a little and give me some space? I am not some wounded girl. It's barely a scratch," Arthur said with annoyance, but Merlin could see the way he was cradling his arm carefully, and he knew he was in more pain that he was letting on.
"Of course you're fine, but you should probably call it quits since the king is expecting you later," Merlin said, approaching Arthur.
Arthur's head whipped around at the sound of Merlin's voice, and he pressed his lips together into a thin line.
"Oh, it's you," he said grimly, but he let Merlin pull him away from the field toward the shade of a large tree nearby.
"Could be a bit more grateful, yeah?"
Arthur huffed in a breath and Merlin braced himself for the verbal assault, but Arthur must've used up all his fight on the knights, because he just exhaled dejectedly and stood still while Merlin worked to free him of his armour.
"What happened?" Merlin asked after a moment.
"It was so stupid," Arthur said with obvious frustration, "I could've blocked that in my sleep. I just — I can't focus on anything anymore."
Merlin fumbled with the straps on his vambraces and looked up at Arthur, his chest tightening a little at the desperation in Arthur's voice.
"I know," he said, and their gazes locked for a moment before Arthur puffed out a breath and looked away.
When Merlin had Arthur down to just his shirt, it was clear that the injury wasn't severe.
"It doesn't look like you're bleeding," Merlin said, trying to keep his tone light, "but you'll probably end up with quite a bruise. I — I should take a closer look."
Arthur swallowed and nodded stiffly, so Merlin stepped closer and pulled at the laces on his shirt until they came undone, revealing a swath of bare skin at his chest. Arthur stood still, frozen in place while Merlin carefully tugged at the collar of his shirt, pulling it down so he could see his shoulder.
The skin was unbroken, but the area on his upper back just behind his left shoulder was red and already beginning to bruise. Merlin tentatively reached out and let his fingers hover for a moment before touching Arthur, ghosting over his reddened skin. Arthur tensed and sucked in a breath, only it didn't sound like he was in pain, so Merlin continued to trace lightly over the sweat-damp skin, outlining the injured area.
The air between them was silent except for the sound of their breathing, and as Merlin continued to move his fingers over Arthur's skin in what he kept telling himself was meant to be some sort of pain relieving gesture, Arthur's breaths came faster, hitching a little in his chest as Merlin's fingers dipped below his shoulder and started to explore his back.
After a few moments Merlin remembered that despite the fact that they had moved off the field they were still in full view of anyone who glanced in their direction, and that while he was Arthur's servant which brought all sorts of odd jobs upon himself, maybe it wasn't such a great idea to be seen rubbing his back in front of the knights. Still, he wasn't quite ready to stop, a thought that both excited and perplexed him.
"Merlin," Arthur said softly, then cleared his throat and spoke again, this time sharper. "Merlin, what are you trying to do exactly?"
Merlin snapped back to attention before straightening Arthur's shirt and stepping away. His head was spinning again — thoughts circling madly though the familiar cycle of more and stop and but just a little.
And up until now he'd managed to get away every time before it got too bad, but he must've reached the end of his limit because he found himself speaking before the thought had even fully formed in his mind:
"There's a new salve that Gaius has been working on to help with muscle injuries. I know where he keeps it and if we go back to your chambers, I could…"
"What?" Arthur asked, his voice hoarse. "What could you do?"
A few minutes later, Merlin stumbled into Gaius' workroom and deposited the supplies on the table. The room was empty, so Merlin opened the shelf where the common remedies were stored and poked around at the various vials and bottles that covered the shelves, lined up in tidy rows. When he found what he was looking for, checking the label marked with Gaius' loopy scrawl, he headed out the door toward Arthur's chambers. As he hurried through the castle corridors, a small voice in the back of his head wondered if maybe he shouldn't find Gaius or even Gwen to do this instead, but when he arrived and found Arthur standing in the middle of the room with his shirt off, every other thought slipped out of his head.
Merlin closed the door behind him and stepped toward Arthur, holding the jar up in offering.
"I found it."
"Good. That's — that's good."
"Do you want to sit down or something?"
Arthur nodded. "I think I probably should, yeah."
But instead of moving toward the chair at the table as Merlin expected, Arthur turned and headed to the bed, sitting down on the edge. Merlin took a deep steadying breath and crawled over the sheets, kneeling behind Arthur and facing the wide expanse of his back. He unscrewed the jar, dipped his fingers into the goop, and made a last futile attempt at clearing his head before bringing his hands to Arthur's back. Arthur let out a hiss of surprise at the first touch, and Merlin didn't know whether it was from the shock of the cold substance or the soreness in his muscles, but he went quiet after that so Merlin continued his ministrations, gently rubbing the salve into Arthur's skin.
It didn't take long to cover Arthur's bruised shoulder, but Merlin found he wasn't quite ready to move his hands away. Maybe it was the pleasant, earthy smell of the substance, or maybe it was the way Arthur had finally relaxed under his touch and was letting out the occasional soft sound, but Merlin found himself shuffling closer, stupid with the ever-present arousal that throbbed through his body during every waking moment.
His hands moved further and further beyond the injured area until there was no way he could convince even himself that he was just being thorough, but Arthur didn't say a word as Merlin continued to work his fingers into the muscles of his back. He trailed his hands down to the base of Arthur's spine, over to the other side, and then up again until the entire expanse of skin glistened from the ointment. Arthur's head lolled forward and he let out a noise that intensified the heat that ached between Merlin's legs, and he found himself sliding closer and closer, leaning in until his face was just inches from Arthur's neck, close enough to —
"Oh god," Arthur groaned, and that's when Merlin looked down over his shoulder and saw the bulge straining tightly under Arthur's trousers, his hands clenched in tight fists high on his thighs.
It shouldn't have come as a surprise. Merlin was hard, which meant that thanks to the botched spell Arthur would be too, but seeing it like that, right there where he could just wrap a hand around Arthur's hip, move it down between his legs — his pulse was pounding in his ears as his hand moved giddy and reckless, sliding down Arthur's side toward his waist. It was only when Arthur tipped his head back so his hair brushed softly against Merlin's cheek, that Merlin's head caught up to his hands and he wrenched them away with a strangled grunt and scrambled back awkwardly.
Arthur turned from where he sat on the edge of the bed, staring at him and blinking heavily before crawling up on the mattress on his knees. Merlin bit back a moan as Arthur's gaze dropped from his eyes and raked down his body, coming to rest at his groin. He knew Arthur could see — it must be obvious to the whole world that he was hard, straining tight against his breeches. That itself was nothing new — by this point it was so commonplace that he sometimes even managed to forget about the ever-present throb between his legs, but Arthur breathed heavily as he looked and looked until Merlin felt his cock swell, growing impossibly harder, and he thought he might come right there in his trousers, just from Arthur's eyes on him.
Merlin moved backward again, his feet tangling in the sheets — the sheets on Arthur's bed, he thought deliriously as he wrenched himself free and moved toward the opposite edge. He tripped and fumbled his way off the bed, anxious to get away before he did something really regrettable, no longer trusting himself in this moment. Arthur finally lifted his gaze and stared at Merlin with heavy lidded eyes, his cheeks flushed pink.
"I think — I think I should go," Merlin managed, his voice cracking on the words.
Arthur didn't answer; he just kneeled there on the bed with a dazed look on his face and Merlin forced himself to keep his gaze up, unwilling to let his eyes drop to the bulge between Arthur's legs. With great effort, Merlin turned and left the room.
He leaned against the wall across from Arthur's door, too afraid to even adjust his breeches, sure that his hand anywhere near his groin would be the end of it.
When he finally calmed down enough to walk with some semblance of normalcy, he headed back to his room with his head hanging low. Now that he was away from Arthur and the sickening, overwhelming feeling of desire was gone, he was left with shame and embarrassment at what he had almost done.
It was the middle of the afternoon, but Merlin crawled into bed anyway, trying and failing to find a position that didn't cause the blankets to rub on him in a manner he found suggestive. Eventually he gave up and curled miserably on his side, wondering how much more of this he could take.
There was a feast scheduled for the following day. Merlin met Arthur in the morning, and they had a very tense and uncomfortable conversation during which Arthur told him that his shoulder was feeling just fine and to please find something else to do until it was time to get ready.
Merlin spent the day helping Gaius sort herbs for drying. It was tedious work, stripping tiny leaves from the stems until his fingers were cramped, but it was nice to focus all of his attention on the task and hand.
He thought that perhaps things might be easier after spending most of the day apart, but when he arrived in Arthur's chambers and promptly knocked over a tray full of dishes leftover from lunch, Arthur glared at him and Merlin realised that it was just as bad as it had been. They were both on edge, Arthur barking orders at him angrily while Merlin fumbled with everything, his concentration absolutely shot. It took Merlin three tries to line up the sleeve of Arthur's jacket with his arm, Arthur huffing at him the entire time.
"You know the feast is today, Merlin," Arthur said with irritation. "Perhaps you might like to go a bit faster."
Merlin swung Arthur's cape over one shoulder and reached around his neck to grab the other end. He really did want to hurry, eager to put some space between their bodies and stop the hot rush that burned under his skin and clouded his head when they were this close, but the faster he tried to go, the more he struggled.
As he tried to make sense of the clasp, his fingers brushed Arthur's neck. Arthur stilled, yet another insult frozen on his lips, and Merlin saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. Heat flared low in Merlin's belly and so he did it again, moving just the tips of his fingers over Arthur's skin and hearing the hitch of breath in his throat.
Somehow, despite the fact that he had had his hands all over Arthur's back the previous day, this was different — hotter and more dangerous because his face was right there, right where Merlin could watch as his eyes went heavy and dark, see the way his mouth parted slightly on an intake of breath.
Merlin knew he was being incredibly reckless, but he was hard — he was always hard — and touching Arthur felt ridiculously good, so he slid his fingers across his neck and curled them around his nape, stroking softly. Arthur let out a soft gasp and brought his hand up and circled Merlin's wrist, holding it against his skin.
"What are you doing?" Arthur whispered, his face close enough that Merlin felt a soft puff of air when he spoke.
Merlin realised he had no idea what he was doing or what exactly he wanted; he only knew that he liked the way Arthur felt hot under his fingers, and the soft sounds that came out of his mouth. Arthur licked his lips and grazed his thumb over the sensitive skin on the inside of Merlin's wrist. His cock was so hard that he probably only needed a little pressure, and without even completing the thought he started to tilt his hips forward. With a look of panic, Arthur moved his free hand to Merlin's chest, holding him in place, his other hand still wrapped around his wrist.
"This is not — this is just because we're…" Arthur rasped.
Merlin wrenched his hand away from Arthur and backed up unsteadily. Arthur leaned forward, resting his hands on the table and breathing heavily.
Merlin's cock was straining uncomfortably against his breeches, but knew better than to even attempt to adjust himself when he was this hard. He stared at Arthur, watching his chest heave until a painful shiver ran up his spine and he thought he might actually be sick.
"This has to stop," Arthur said finally, still leaning on the table, a wild look in his eyes.
Merlin backed up further, until he was up against the wall, trying to put as much space between them as he could before he did something really stupid.
"But how do we fix it?" Merlin asked, shrugging his shudders helplessly and trying not to notice the way Arthur's cape was askew, revealing the flushed skin of his neck.
"You have to just — take care of this," Arthur said, with a wave of his hand at waist level. "This is not healthy. For either of us."
Merlin shook his head in confusion. "Why don't you just take care of it on your own?"
Arthur rubbed his hand over his eyes and looked away from Merlin. "Because," he said, his jaw clenched tightly, "it doesn't work."
Merlin closed his eyes briefly at the utter absurdity of the conversation and the situation as a whole. "It doesn't work," he repeated.
Arthur shook his head miserably. "Only when you — you know."
"Oh," Merlin answered, trying to process what Arthur just said. "Well, that's — that's just. Oh."
"It's not as if I enjoy being in this predicament," Arthur said shortly, standing up straight and glaring at him.
Merlin had to work to keep his eyes fixed on Arthur's face and not let them stray lower to the bulge between Arthur's thighs, and he tried not to think about how close he had been just moments before.
"So what do we do now?" Merlin asked, trying to ignore the painful ache between his own legs.
Arthur narrowed his eyes with steely determination. "This ends now. Go back to your room," he ordered, "and I will stay here, and you can — you know."
Merlin was so relieved at the prospect that he didn't even care that they were actually having this conversation. He nodded gratefully at Arthur and turned to leave, but at that very moment, there was a knock at the door.
"Enter," Arthur snapped.
Morgana appeared, wearing a long flowing dress made of rich blue silk, her hair arranged elegantly atop her head.
"What is it, Morgana?" Arthur asked impatiently.
Morgana raised an eyebrow. "The feast is about to begin. I suspect your father will be quite angry if the crown prince is late."
Arthur scowled. "If my father expects me to show up on time, he never should have given me such a bloody useless servant."
Merlin didn't even have the energy to bristle at the insult; he just slumped against the wall and turned his body slightly away from Morgana.
"Merlin?" Morgana asked. "Will you be coming as well?"
"No, I think I'll just…"
"Yes," Arthur hissed in interruption, turning to glare at him. "Of course Merlin will be there to attend to me."
Merlin felt panic rising in his chest. He couldn't possibly attend the feast in his current condition, but then again Arthur wasn't much better off.
Morgana stared questioningly at Arthur for a moment, before saying, "If it's all settled then you can escort me there now."
"Very well," Arthur said, his voice wavering slightly and he marched purposefully out of the room, Merlin shuffling along miserably behind him.
Merlin huddled near the wall in a small alcove at the edge of the Great Hall. The other servants laughed and talked around him, sneaking sips of wine and sharing stories as they got caught up in the festive mood that spilled out from the large room in front of them, occasionally hurrying back out into the hall to take attend to their duties.
Gwen appeared on Merlin's left, greeting him warmly, but Merlin could only manage a weak smile in reply.
"You all right?" Gwen asked, her brow furrowed in concern.
"Just not feeling well, is all," he answered truthfully.
Gwen started talking then, about Morgana and how she just absolutely could not decide what to wear tonight and Merlin leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, grateful for Gwen's presence, her soft voice chattering about mindless topics a welcome distraction to his own one track thoughts.
"… and then I told Morgana that she should probably go with the blue because — oh, Merlin? I think Arthur needs something."
Merlin opened his eyes and peered across the room to where Arthur sat at the head table. Indeed, he was scanning the room, undoubtedly looking for Merlin.
With a heavy sigh, Merlin straightened his tunic and turned to Gwen.
"I'll talk to you later, yeah?"
"Of course," Gwen said with a smile.
Merlin made his way across the hall to where Arthur was seated.
"What is it, sire?"
"My cup?" Arthur said, waving his empty goblet in the air in front of him. "Have you forgotten why it is you are here at the feast tonight?"
All of the frustration of the past two weeks hit him full force and a wave of anger swept through him, burning hot at the back of his head. "Of course, my lord," Merlin hissed, and yanked the cup forcefully from Arthur's hand before refilling it.
Arthur looked up from his seat in surprise, but before he could respond, Merlin turned and stomped away. The constant coil of heat that burned in his belly was churning up into something more sinister, and despite how he had felt just an hour earlier in Arthur's chambers, now he wanted nothing so much as to punch him in the face.
This time when the other servants passed the wine with a slap to his shoulder and a hearty laugh, he drank deeply. It didn't take long for the wine to have an effect, and he was soon laughing along with the others, his sharp anger softening until his entire body hummed with something warm and pleasant. It wasn't until he looked across the room and saw Arthur watching him that he realised what a mistake he had made. Arthur's expression was unreadable from the distance, but he tipped his goblet in an unmistakable gesture.
As soon as Merlin left the safety of the small alcove and headed across the hall, the smile left his face and he focused on breathing deeply to try to quiet the pounding in his chest. Arthur kept his eyes fixed on him the entire time as Merlin approached the head table.
Arthur's cup was empty, and Merlin tugged it from his hands and held it up for inspection. "Oops," he said.
"Are you drunk?" Arthur asked, narrowing his eyes.
Merlin thought for a moment. He didn't know how much exactly he had had, but he definitely remembered refilling Arthur's cup at least three times.
"No. No, I'm not," Merlin said, planting one hand on the table and leaning the other against the back of Arthur's chair. "Are you?"
Arthur stared into the bottom of his empty goblet for a moment and then placed it on the table, resting his arm on the armrest, just inches from where Merlin leaned over him.
"No," he said finally, looking up at Merlin, his eyes glazed over from the wine or something else.
Maybe it was the way the wine made his skin hot or maybe it was too many days of almost-contact or maybe it was the way Arthur stared at him, his gaze drifting from his eyes to his groin and then back again, but Merlin decided he'd had absolutely enough, and so he moved his hips forward just enough to lightly graze his clothed cock along Arthur's arm. It was hardly more than a whisper-light touch muffled beneath the fabric of his breeches, but it was enough to cause him to gasp in a breath. At the same time, Arthur moaned softly and slumped down in his chair, his eyes locked with Merlin's.
He had a blissful moment of relief when he thought yes, finally, but then he remembered where he was, and his head snapped up and he stepped back, looking around at the crowds of people around them, and the king sitting just a few seats away.
"No," Merlin said shaking his head.
Arthur looked at him uncomprehendingly for a moment before glancing around in realisation.
Merlin fled to the kitchens, needing to be far away from Arthur and the wine and the dangerous combination of those two things together. He sat with his head down on the table, resting his cheek on the rough wooden surface. The servants' voices around him grew loud and raucous as the feast drew to a close and their duties ended for the night. The kitchen staff switched into cleanup mode, and Merlin let the sounds around him lull him into relaxation — the clink of cutlery, the splash of dishwater, the steady stream of conversation.
When most of the effects of the wine had faded, and he was left feeling mildly buzzed as well as tired and frustrated, Merlin felt a sharp poke in his side and looked up, unsurprised to see Arthur standing there.
"What the hell was that?" Arthur said, his voice low so as not to attract the attention of the people around them.
Merlin didn't have the energy or willpower to argue anymore. "I can't do this," he said helplessly.
Arthur glanced around him quickly and then grabbed Merlin by the sleeve and dragged him into an empty passageway that led off the main kitchen. Merlin stumbled along behind him, his head spinning from the wine and the feel of Arthur's hand on him.
"We can't go on like this anymore," Arthur said, his eyes flashing darkly.
"No," Merlin whispered, leaning back on the wall, "we can't."
Arthur stepped closer, one hand against the wall beside Merlin's head and he leaned in until Merlin could feel the heat of him along the entire length of his body. There was almost no space left and Merlin was trapped — there was nowhere to go, no way to escape from Arthur, who was moving closer.
Just then, Merlin was startled by the high-pitched sound of a woman's laughter coming from the kitchen. Arthur jumped back away from Merlin in surprise, but the voices passed by the corridor a moment later. When Arthur turned back to Merlin, his face was tight and anxious.
"Go," he said, his voice breaking on the word. "End this."
"But…"
"Just go, Merlin."
Merlin turned and walked back through the kitchens, up the staircase, past the Great Hall, counting his steps as he went, wondering if Arthur would get back to his room first, if he'd lay in his bed and wait and if he'd be anxious or impatient. He wondered if he'd loosen his breeches, too urgent for anything else or if he'd strip off all of clothes so he could relish the feel of his naked skin against the sheets, and Merlin didn't count any steps after that as he ran the rest of the way to his room.
He was very grateful to discover that Gaius was fast asleep, and he hurried across the room, tripping over his breeches as he struggled to pull them off. He settled onto his bed, stretching out across the sheets, his hand shaky and restless at his hip. When he was sure that Arthur must be back in his chambers, Merlin trailed his fingers across his thigh and brushed them lightly along his cock, hissing at the contact. It had been so long that he was almost afraid to touch, worried that it would be too intense, but as soon as he wrapped his hand around himself and pulled, all of his hesitation disappeared.
He couldn't believe how good it felt — couldn't believe that he'd waited so long, nothing was worth holding out on this. Fuck embarrassment, he thought as he frantically worked his fist with short, brutal strokes. Fuck embarrassment and fuck Arthur. He didn't care about anything other than the way it felt as he slid his fist up and down on his cock.
He let out a breathless grunt as he remembered that Arthur was feeling this — feeling Merlin's hand — and he wondered if it was this good for him. The heat, the constant heat that lingered in his belly spread outward under his skin, building to a blinding fire that burned from the tips of his ears to the soles of his feet and he was unable to suppress a groan. Merlin thought about Arthur, tried to imagine the sounds he might make, tried to picture him in this moment with the feel of Merlin's hand around his cock.
With the image of Arthur stretched out naked on his bed, thighs open, head tipped back as his hips rocked up into nothing burning sharply in his mind, Merlin came hard with his back arched, his heels digging into the bed.
Merlin's hips kept moving, rolling up in short, shuddery jerks as he struggled to come down. When at last his movements stilled, he sucked in a shaky breath and stretched out, letting his heavy limbs sink down into the mattress. Everything tingled pleasantly, and he trailed his fingers through the sticky mess on his stomach and chest, unable to suppress a laugh that bubbled up out of his chest. Once he started he couldn't stop, and he rolled over and pressed his face in the pillow, muffling the sound of relieved, hysterical giggles. He wondered if Arthur was laughing too.
The next morning, Merlin approached Arthur's chambers apprehensively. He felt lighter and more relaxed than he had in weeks, but with the giddy haze of the afterglow gone, he felt embarrassed once again. Arthur greeted him at his door with a smile. Merlin tried to act as causal as possible, but in all honesty, he wasn't quite sure what sort of behaviour would best convey that he absolutely did not see Arthur's face in his mind while he got himself off.
Arthur, on the other hand, seemed positively delighted. "That went quite well, didn't it?" he asked cheerfully.
Merlin just stared at him in horror. The whole thing was humiliating enough as it was without actually having a discussion about it. Arthur seemed undeterred by Merlin's silence and waved a piece of parchment in his direction.
"I have come up with a plan," he said, gesturing to the parchment.
Merlin, still standing just inside the door, only nodded.
"While this is obviously the work of evil magic, we — well, you, really — cannot go on avoiding it. That was just…" he shuddered at the memory. "Well, it was not good for either of us."
Arthur looked at Merlin expectantly, so Merlin just nodded again.
"So, here's my plan," Arthur continued, oblivious to Merlin's discomfort. "We will have a schedule. I will inform you of my obligations ahead of time and you will…" Arthur paused, looking slightly ruffled for the first time during the conversation, but then he smiled confidently and continued. "You will attend to matters only when I have given my express permission ahead of time."
Merlin was frozen to the spot. He wasn't sure if he was more aghast at the idea of wanking to a schedule, or the fact that Arthur was so damn pleased about the whole thing. Arthur finally seemed to notice Merlin's silence and stared at him curiously.
"Merlin? Have you anything to say?"
"Um. That sounds good?"
Arthur nodded assuredly. "Very well then. I have nothing planned for the morning, so I think perhaps now would be a good time."
"Now?"
"Yes, now," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. "That is, unless you don't think you can after last night."
"No, no — it's fine. I mean yes, I can — yes."
"Then what are you waiting for?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow.
Merlin did not need to be told twice and he left Arthur's chambers without a word, forcing himself not to run.
When he flopped on his bed, one hand shoved down the front of his breeches, he tried very hard to think about anything other than Arthur's face, and how he might sound under Merlin's touch — his hands and his mouth all over his body.
That afternoon, Arthur didn't yell at him a single time.
Despite Merlin's apprehension, the schedule did seem to be a brilliant idea after all. There were still plenty of awkward moments in the late evening when they said goodnight both knowing full well that the day was not quite over for either of them, and Arthur had an annoying tendency to leer at him until he blushed the mornings after a particularly enjoyable wank, but Merlin could not deny that it was a lot easier to walk around without the constant fear of coming in his trousers.
Merlin was no further along in finding a reversal for the spell. While the current arrangement certainly made it much easier to get through the day, it was far from ideal. Arthur brought it up once, wondering aloud if Gaius might actually be able to help them somehow, but Merlin's thoughts on the matter — "are you gonna explain it to him then?" — brought an end to that idea.
Eventually, Arthur came up with a plan that involved them returning to the woods where the whole mess had started to look for clues, but he was sort of fuzzy about what he might do if he actually found anything. In the light of the early morning, they left for the woods on horseback, with Arthur easily leading the way toward the place where they had camped. As they rode, he explained that his plan was to first examine the campsite where Merlin had been, and then take a look at the lake. Merlin just nodded in silent agreement, feeling a wave of guilt in the face of Arthur's cheerfully determined enthusiasm.
The clearing looked largely as they had left it — a circle of scorched, black earth where they had made a fire, the log where they had sat still there on the ground.
"Where were you exactly?" Arthur asked, scanning the clearing.
Merlin gestured to the large tree.
"And what were you doing?"
Merlin felt himself flush, remembering the way he had stroked himself desperately that morning, gasping out that stupid spell. "You know what I was doing."
"I am just trying to be thorough," Arthur admonished. "Show me."
Merlin's flush intensified until he could feel it burning to the tips of his ears. "I'm not going to show you, Arthur," he said with a nervous chuckle.
"I'm not looking for a demonstration, I just want to know where you were."
Merlin moved against the tree and leaned his back to it. "Here. I was here."
"Standing just like that?"
"No, I was sitting," Merlin said, but Arthur didn't ask him to show him that as well.
Arthur stepped toward him, and examined the tree carefully, walking full circle around and trailing his fingers along the bark.
"What are you looking for?" Merlin asked as Arthur retuned to the side of the tree where he was standing.
Arthur sighed in frustration. "I have no idea," he admitted.
"We could still try the lake," Merlin said, knowing it unlikely to help anything, but feeling like they should be doing something.
"I just don't know how much more of this I can take," Arthur said, kicking a small rock across the dirt.
Despite the fact that Merlin agreed with him in theory, he bristled a little at the implication. "It's not that bad, yeah?"
"It's horrible," Arthur retorted, slumping his shoulders and looking miserable.
"Horrible? But you're the one who makes the schedule."
Arthur shrugged. "It would be nice to do it my way, is all."
"What's wrong with the way I do it?" Merlin said, a wave of anger coursing through him, his fists clenched at his sides.
Arthur crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Merlin. "It doesn't always have to be a race, you know."
"I want this over as much as you so I can stop following your ridiculous schedule."
"Do you have a problem with the schedule?" Arthur asked raising his voice and advancing toward Merlin.
Merlin stood his ground and shouted back. "I've no choice but to hurry if you expect me to get all of my chores done and have time for that twice a day."
The truth was that Merlin had no objections to the frequency, but he was positively furious by now, sick and tired of Arthur's perpetual arrogance. Their voices got increasingly louder, until they were yelling at each other at the top of their lungs, their complaints overlapping incomprehensibly.
Arthur must have paused to take a breath or collect his thoughts, because Merlin's final words rang out clearly in the otherwise silent clearing:
"You're nothing but a spoiled brat of a prince who thinks he knows how to do everything better than anybody else, including having a wank!"
A shocked silence hung in the air around them. Merlin immediately regretted his words, but Arthur just narrowed his eyes and closed the remaining distance between with long, purposeful strides.
"There is nothing wrong with being good at everything," Arthur growled as he grabbed Merlin.
"What are you doing?" Merlin gasped as Arthur's fingers grazed the skin above his waist.
"Giving you a lesson on how to do it right."
Panic flared high in Merlin's chest and he started to protest, but all of the air left his lungs in a whoosh when Arthur's fist closed around his cock over his breeches. Arthur's groan echoed Merlin's as he moved his hand, both of them feeling it together.
The fabric was rough against Merlin's skin, and he hissed at the burn, but a moment later Arthur's hands were at his waist, untying the laces and pushing his breeches down as far as they'd go. Merlin's head fell forward onto Arthur's shoulder the moment he felt warm fingers wrap around his cock. Arthur's own trousers proved to be more difficult, as he seemed unwilling to let go of Merlin long enough to let him loosen the strings.
"Arthur," Merlin said breathlessly into his neck, "let me."
"Just — just wait," Arthur hissed, moving his fist up the length of Merlin's cock, circling the soft skin just beneath the head with this thumb, then sliding back down to the base and squeezing gently.
Merlin shuddered as Arthur stroked him with agonising slowness, his fingers wrapped far too loosely. He set a slow, brutal pace, taking Merlin right to the edge and then backing off, until he was writhing and moaning, one hand braced on the tree for support, the other clutching desperately at Arthur's hip.
Eventually Arthur managed to wriggle free of his own breeches and Merlin wrapped both hands around his hips and pulled him closer, as close as he could with the fist between them. Arthur's erection pressed into Merlin's hip, leaving a damp, sticky trail where it slid along his skin, but Merlin knew it was Arthur's own hand that was making him moan — that he was getting himself off as he worked Merlin's cock.
The slow burn of arousal that settled between his legs spread outward, thrumming hot under his skin. Arthur felt it too — his breathing sped up against Merlin's neck, and just at the moment when it started to crest, the moment that signalled to Merlin that it was time work himself furiously until he pitched over the edge, Arthur slowed his hand and loosened his grip until his fingers were barely grazing Merlin's cock.
"Fuck, Arthur," Merlin groaned as he rocked his hips up into Arthur's fist, trying to get him to move faster.
"Not yet," Arthur replied, his breath catching on each stroke, and he brought a hand to Merlin's hip holding him still.
Merlin struggled for a moment and then stilled, giving into Arthur's rhythm. Arthur's neck was damp with sweat where Merlin pressed his face, and with slow, small movements, he tilted his head, sliding his lips up to Arthur's jaw, stopping to press his open mouth there. Arthur turned his face into it and Merlin felt the brush of stubble across his own cheek, and then it was easy — just a tilt of the head and a small twist of the neck and then their mouths found each other.
At first it was just a light touch of lips and shared breaths, and then Merlin pressed his mouth to Arthur's tentatively, sucking gently on his lower lip. When Arthur moaned softly he grew bolder, and opened his mouth, licking across Arthur's lips, groaning as they parted and Arthur's tongue slid slickly against his own. Merlin lost his rhythm when Arthur jerked his cock with a sudden tight stroke, sliding his thumb over the head, and then it was nothing but a messy wet slide of tongues and lips, licking and tasting and gasping together, matched in their urgency.
Merlin lost himself in Arthur's rhythm — he just held on and let him take him to the edge and back, hard and fast, slow and teasing, over and over until Merlin pulled his mouth away from Arthur's and begged, "please, Arthur, please."
"This, Arthur panted into Merlin's mouth. "This is how I like it."
"Yeah," Merlin groaned.
"Do it like this," Arthur whispered, breathless in his ear. "Do it just like this for me, yeah?"
Merlin tried to promise — tried to tell Arthur yes, yes, anything, but as he bucked into Arthur's fist, his spine arched and a rush of something that felt like magic burned under his skin and he came, biting down on Arthur's shoulder. He felt Arthur's hips jerk in time with his own as he gasped in Merlin's ear.
Merlin took in a series of deep breaths and leaned against the tree. He most definitely hadn't attempted any spells, but he could still feel the prickle of magic on his skin, mingling with the tingly effects of his orgasm, and his legs were shaky beneath him. As he started to slump down, the bark scraping roughly at the bare skin of his thighs, Arthur wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him up.
"I think I should probably sit down," Merlin said eventually, and he pulled his breeches back up, stepping away from the tree on wobbly feet, and walking carefully across the clearing to the log beside the fire pit.
There was a shift behind him and he looked up as Arthur moved into his line of vision. They studied each other for a moment, quiet and inquisitive, and then Arthur lowered himself to the log next to Merlin.
They sat side by side together, and at length, Arthur's hand came up underneath the hem of Merlin's shirt, and he rested his fingers there, pressing warm against Merlin's back. When Merlin turned, hopeful and questioning all at once, Arthur's face was already there, and they kissed, soft and unhurried.
When they broke free, Arthur's eyes were bright and he nudged Merlin with his shoulder, his mouth curling up into a smile. "C'mon, admit it. I'm pretty good at that, too."
Merlin laughed, delighted in the affection he felt under Arthur's gaze. And when he leaned over, pressing into the warm body at his side, Arthur pulled him closer.
"Merlin, are you awake?"
The voice was low in his ear, and Merlin jerked his eyes open, startled. He had one brief moment of confused panic, before he realised that the indistinct shape looming above him in the darkness was in fact Arthur.
"Arthur, what are you doing?" Merlin whispered, rubbing his eyes and trying to clear the sleep out of his head.
It had only been hours since they had parted ways after returning from the woods, saying good-bye with touches that were slow and lingering, filled with awe and wonder but still hesitant in their newness.
"I just — I just thought…"
"Oh," Merlin replied with understanding as Arthur straddled his hips on the bed. In the dim light, Merlin could just make out Arthur's eyes, heavy and dark.
Silently, Arthur placed his hand on Merlin's chest and dragged it down to his belly with a slow deliberate movement. They stayed like that for a minute, watching each other closely, until Merlin brought a tentative hand up to Arthur's shirt and tugged, pulling gently. Arthur went easily, pressing the length of his body down and burying his face in Merlin's neck. Growing bolder, Merlin slid his hands up under Arthur's shirt over the smooth skin of his back. He could feel Arthur's breaths speed up on his neck and he felt a shiver run up his spine in anticipation.
Arthur turned his head and tilted his face so that their mouths were aligned, just barely touching his lips to Merlin's. They stayed like that for a moment, breathing against each other's mouths until Merlin got impatient and twisted his fingers in Arthur's hair and pulled him down. The kiss started slow, just a gentle press of soft lips and inquisitive tongues, then built in intensity until Merlin was scrabbling at Arthur's back, breathless and needy beneath him.
Arthur nudged his knees apart so he could settle between them. Merlin groaned and rolled his hips up, and as Arthur rocked down to meet him Merlin could feel him hard through his breeches. They moved like that, legs tangled together, the stillness of the room broken only by their soft breathless noises at the friction between them.
"Wait, wait," Merlin said, pushing Arthur back, frantically grabbing at his breeches.
They scrambled free of their clothes, and when Arthur pressed back down again, it was hot and smooth, and Merlin gasped as Arthur's cock brushed against his own.
Their hips moved in and out of sync, Merlin arching up with increasing urgency, Arthur grinding down with purposeful languid thrusts, sliding against each other as they fought to maintain a single rhythm. Arthur's cock was hot and damp where it rubbed against him, and Merlin grabbed Arthur's waist to pull him closer, wanting to feel as much of his skin as he could get.
When Arthur bit lightly into Merlin's neck as he thrust down roughly Merlin came, his head thrown back on the pillows. It took a moment for him to realise that Arthur was still moving above him, still just as hard where he rubbed along his belly.
"What…" Merlin breathed, his head sill reeling from his orgasm.
Arthur looked down at him, his eyes wide with shock and managed a few more erratic thrusts before he came with a shuddering groan.
"What happened?" Merlin asked a moment later.
Arthur held himself up on his arms and struggled to catch his breath. "I think it's over."
"But how?" After the words were out of his mouth Merlin remembered the flash of what felt like magic out in the woods.
Arthur shook his head, the look of confusion plain on his face. "I don't know. Well, this is good, right?"
Merlin furrowed his brow uncertainly. "Yeah, of course it is. Now we don't have to — you know."
"Yeah," Arthur answered with a frown. "Well then I guess I'll go."
"Yeah. Right," Merlin said, pulling his hands away from where they were still wrapped around Arthur's back.
Arthur stood and pulled up his breeches, retying them and then crossing the room without a word. When he reached the door, he stopped and turned back. Merlin was unable to make out his expression from the distance in the dark.
"Good night, Merlin," Arthur said softly, and then walked out of the room.
Under the bright midday sun, Merlin sat at the edge of the training field, leaning back on his hands in the grass and watching the knights spar, moving with sharp, quick movements, swords clanging loudly. It was just practice, but Arthur was Arthur after all, and couldn't help showing off, especially when he had an audience. He swung his sword with practised ease, moving with surprising grace and obvious strength as he bested the men one by one.
Arthur pulled his helmet off and cast a quick glance in Merlin's direction before turning back to the knights with a stern expression. The day was warm with a gentle breeze and Merlin felt light-hearted and content on the grass as he watched Arthur push the knights hard, emerging victorious from every match up.
"I see you managed to spend the whole morning lying in the grass ignoring your duties." Arthur said when he met Merlin at the edge of the field an hour later, but the words were light and teasing, and the corners of his lips curled up in a small smile.
Arthur was flushed and sweaty, his damp hair curling at the nape of his neck, and Merlin's fingers skidded on his skin as he pulled the armour free. "I was right here, just in case you needed something. Isn't that the most important duty of them all?" he asked, matching Arthur's tone.
"That's true," Arthur said, his smile widening. "Perhaps you aren't the worst servant after all."
Merlin finished with the armour but Arthur didn't move away, and they stood close together for a moment with their eyes locked. A familiar heat coiled low in Merlin's belly and he felt himself blush.
"Merlin?" Arthur said, the smile gone from his face as he stared at Merlin with a contemplative expression.
His throat suddenly felt very dry. "What?"
Arthur blinked and stepped back. "I wish to see you in my chambers this evening to discuss something."
After Merlin promised to be there, Arthur left, walking slowly across the field and through the courtyard until he disappeared from sight.
Merlin flopped back onto the grass and threw an arm over his face, shielding his eyes from the sun. It was ridiculous, really, that even after all they had endured with the spell, the schedule and everything else, he should still feel this helpless whenever he was close to Arthur.
When Merlin arrived in Arthur's room that evening, Arthur was sitting at the table, reading through a stack of official-looking documents.
"You wished to see me?" Merlin asked timidly.
Arthur looked up. "Yes, we need to discuss the schedule. I think that given what we discovered last night you don't need to follow it anymore. I think I can — well. I think everything is back to normal now."
Merlin nodded. "That's good."
"Yes."
"Was there anything else you needed?"
Arthur shook his head. "No, that is all."
Merlin headed for the door.
"Wait."
Merlin turned back, hand still on the handle. "Yes, Arthur?"
Arthur hesitated for a moment before speaking softy. "It's better this way. I mean, you think it's better, right?"
"Well, yeah. Now you don't need me for that anymore."
"No, I don't — I don't need you."
Merlin's arm wavered on the door, and then he took a deep breath full of resolve and crossed the room to where Arthur sat. Arthur looked up at him from his chair, his eyes wide and unblinking and Merlin studied his face carefully, looking for any sign he should stop right now, and finding none, he lowered his face and kissed him.
Arthur's response was immediate, and he parted his lips, his hand coming up to twist in Merlin's hair. Merlin moaned a soft sound of relief into Arthur's mouth and deepened the kiss, and for the first time this wasn't a spell or a schedule, this was just them.
They never made it to the bed. Arthur pushed Merlin against the wall and with their breeches around their ankles, they slid together, hot and needy. Merlin wanted to touch — wanted to feel Arthur hard under his fingers, so he worked one hand down between their bodies and wrapped it around them both. With Arthur's mouth to his throat Merlin stroked them together until they were moving in time, gasping and breathless, holding on to each other through it all.
After that, they didn't dance awkwardly around each other anymore, hesitant and unsure, holding back in the face of uncertainty; instead there were secret glances across the room at court, stolen moments in abandon corridors, kisses and touches and whispered words that never quite managed to say enough. And when Arthur tugged him close at the end of the day and whispered stay, Merlin knew it wasn't because of anything Arthur needed, but because he wanted him there.
After weeks of filthy promises in his ear, Arthur finally pushed slick fingers into Merlin one at a time, stroking his other hand in soothing circles over his the small of his back when Merlin whimpered at the stretch.
Arthur fucked like he touched Merlin every other time — deep and slow, teasing and tortuous, taking them to the edge and back until Merlin was fisting the sheets while the sweat dripped from Arthur's forehead onto his back.
Merlin gasped at the feel of Arthur hot against his back, moving deep inside of him. He buried his face into the pillows and threaded his fingers with Arthur's against the bed as he tipped over the edge, letting himself go and taking everything Arthur had to give.
After, Arthur curled himself around Merlin's back, one hand wrapped tight against his chest. Merlin shifted slightly in his arms and sighed softly in the dark.
"Merlin," Arthur murmured in his ear.
"What?" he mumbled.
"Out with whatever it is that you're thinking about."
Merlin tried to find the words to explain the question he'd had in the back of his mind ever since Arthur had come to him in his room. "Did you ever wonder what would have happened if — if the spell hadn't… you know, reversed itself?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you were stuck with me, yeah? I could never have left Camelot while we were in that condition."
Arthur laughed softly against Merlin's neck. "Why would you leave Camelot?"
Merlin shrugged. "I don't know. I just mean that now I could. You don't need me to stay."
Arthur tugged on Merlin's shoulder and he rolled over in his arms so they were facing each other. It was dark, but Merlin could just make out the way Arthur was looking at him, careful and curious with sleepy eyes. One hand came up and cupped Merlin's cheek, lightly at first, and then stronger, Arthur's fingers warm and possessive against his cheekbone as his thumb grazed over his lower lip. And then he was pulling him in, pulling him tighter, and Arthur kissed away any lingering traces of doubt and uncertainty until he was limp and boneless in his arms.
"There is nowhere you could go that I wouldn't find you and bring you back," Arthur whispered, his breath soft on Merlin's face, one hand twisted gently in his hair.
It was all the promise Merlin needed.