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Arthur was bored, bored, bored. Morgana had gone to the house in the country for the weekend with Uther … to beg for a bigger allowance. She had not, as she claimed, gone because she loved to go hiking in the Dales in the spring. So Arthur was all alone.
He thought about calling one of the guys but he didn't feel like going out partying. Actually, what Arthur really wanted was a good old-fashioned blowjob. He considered porn, but Morgana always found out when he played it on the TV. He'd thought about downloading it onto his computer but he was awful with technology and was terrified he'd get some horrific virus, and wouldn't that be embarrassing having to go to some computer place to have it fixed? Not to mention, Uther would burst a blood vessel if he found out.
Arthur walked around the flat aimlessly. He closed the curtains, poured himself a gin and tonic and thought about flicking through his address book. Morgana thought he was hilarious, fingering through the pages of his little black book. Still, it was much quicker than going through that bloody iPhone Morgana had bought him … well it was for him, anyway.
Arthur sat down and licked the rim of his glass. Then he thought of him. Merlin.
Merlin was a dealer: an antiques dealer.
Arthur didn't like to admit he had a penchant for china. It had started when he inherited his mother's Royal Doulton. When Arthur and Morgana got the flat in London she had gifted him with a walnut china cabinet bought from an antique shop in Notting Hill. When it was delivered, one of the dealers from the shop, a quirky-looking young guy called Merlin, had turned up to install the glass shelves and give the new owner some tips on the care of the piece.
Most antiques dealers were at the very least 'old boys', although not usually old Etonians. Typically they were middle-aged and unattractive. Quite a few were gay, but absolutely not Arthur's type (not that he had a type: just that all the ones he'd come across weren't even worth a cocktail and a hand-job).
Merlin had not been at all as Arthur had expected. Merlin had gone to a comprehensive. He was chirpy, sweet and quietly confident, despite his lack of provenance and his youth. Arthur had liked him at once.
After the cabinet had been installed Arthur had offered to take Merlin out for dinner. They had ended up having dinner, watching a movie and having sex. It had all been great. The following weekend they'd gone out again, spent the night together and then shared breakfast.
Arthur wanted to keep seeing Merlin, but Merlin started making excuses not to see Arthur again. Then he stopped returning Arthur's calls: all two of them. Arthur was not a girl, so that was the end of that.
A few months later, they'd bumped into each other at an antiques fair in Camden. Merlin had been with another guy. That was last summer and Arthur hadn't seen him since.
Even with a black book full of numbers there was no one else Arthur felt like inviting over for a quick one. It was worth a shot. Merlin was great in bed.
Arthur finally decided to call him. Then he changed his mind and decided to send a text. Arthur never usually sent texts. Morgana sent texts and Arthur could barely even open them. If he needed to communicate Arthur called or emailed.
Arthur got out his iPhone and tried to compose a suitable text message. It wasn't easy. He didn't know any shortcuts, and he didn't know what to say.
He made several attempts:
Merlin! How are you? Fancy some sushi and a shag? Arthur
Hi M. Missed you. Want to come over? Arthur
Merlin, I have a condom with your name on it. Want to use it tonight? A
M. don't you think it's about time you came over to check out my wood? I want you to see if it needs a polish. I'm here all night. A
Merlin. Why did you never call me back? Arthur
Merlin. I've ordered sushi. Enough for both of us. I'm also really horny, if you're up for some sex, too. Arthur.
This was ridiculous. He had to come up with something better than that: he'd already wasted an hour. The sushi had been delivered twenty minutes ago.
Arthur's phone rang.
"Hi, Arthur. It's me, Merlin."
Arthur choked on his gin and tonic. "Hi. How are you?"
"Good. Are you going to let me in?"
"Where are you?"
"Outside. I got your texts. All six of them."
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Arthur checked his phone. There they were: Six sent texts: Not drafted, deleted or even saved.
Arthur was blushing fiercely. "It's open." He buzzed Merlin up.
By the time Arthur opened the door the flush in his cheeks had gone from scorching to tepid. One look at Merlin and he was right back up to a slow burn. He couldn't take his eyes off him.
The tuxedo fitted Merlin like only a Saville Row tailor-made suit would; smooth lines from shoulder to hip right down to his feet, in shiny brogues. The white dinner shirt was undone at the neck, like an invitation to touch the dark curl of hair that nestled there. His hair had grown since last year, and was tousled to look like it had got that way naturally. Actually, with Merlin it probably had. Still, it was perfection. The bottle of champagne was the icing on the cake.
"You didn't need to dress up. The champagne was inspired, though." Arthur was more nervous than he had expected to be.
Merlin leant seductively against the doorframe. Arthur had only ever seen him in jeans. He couldn't take his eyes of him. If he was attractive before, now he was hot.
"You saved me from the dinner party from hell. The least I could do was bring a bottle."
Arthur took the bubbly, as Merlin followed him in. He crossed the living room and placed the bottle on the breakfast bar. As he turned Merlin was right behind him. Merlin closed the gap, cupped Arthur's jaw, and kissed him softly.
Arthur was pushed back against the breakfast bar, the gentle press of Merlin's lips giving way to the tender swipe of his tongue. He tasted of wine and something rich and spicy and beneath that he tasted exactly as Arthur remembered him. Of its own volition his cock stirred, then his mouth opened and he let out a soft groan. Merlin tipped Arthur's jaw back and deepened the kiss. Arthur was only too content to be lead in this slow dance of tongues, slick with saliva.
It was familiar, fondly remembered, as Arthur leaned back and Merlin stepped in to straddle Arthur's thigh. He was close enough for Arthur to feel Merlin's hardness through his fine wool trousers and the heavy fabric of his own jeans. Merlin must have been able to feel Arthur's already-stiffened cock, too, as he ground his hips into the place where they fit together like two halves of a whole.
Like this, Merlin's slight advantage in height was accentuated, so that as Arthur pulled back he had to look up to see into his deep blue eyes, framed by ebony lashes against his milk-white skin.
"You look good." Arthur brushed his thumb over the rise of Merlin's cheekbone.
"You too."
"I didn't think dinner parties were your thing."
Merlin smiled and Arthur's heart skipped a beat. "They're not. But Victor likes them and mixing with the independently wealthy is what earns my bread and butter."
"Who's Victor?"
"This guy I'm seeing."
Arthur couldn't help his sharp intake of breath. "Does he know you're here?"
"Yes; he gave me a lift."
"And he doesn't mind?"
"He might, a bit."
"Then why did he agree to it?"
"Because … he can't keep up with me."
"How old is he?"
"Forty eight. Enough questions, Arthur. I thought this was a booty call, and so far I've barely seen any booty." Merlin tugged at the hem of Arthur's t-shirt and lifted it over his head. Throwing it on the floor, then standing back he laughed, "Ahh; I've missed some beefcake." His traced his hands up the lines of Arthur's abdominals to his pectorals then he ghosted his fingertips over the hardening nubs of Arthur's nipples.
Arthur shivered involuntarily. He'd missed this. All the one night stands he'd had since sleeping with Merlin were either too passive, or were too frantic and it had been over before it began. Merlin's hands were like ancient magic: with a slow touch, a caress or a brush of his knuckles he could bring Arthur to his knees. Arthur suspected Merlin could bring legions to their knees if he so wished.
"Do you want a drink?" Arthur cringed at the quaver in his voice.
"Open the champagne. I need to take these bloody awful shoes off." Merlin backed away and sat on the couch.
Arthur watched him slide his jacket off and sling it over the back of the seat, while he popped the cork, trying to steady his hands on the cold neck of the bottle.
By the time Arthur had poured them two glasses Merlin had taken off his shoes and socks, his shirt was undone and pulled out of his trousers and his bowtie lay discarded on the carpet. He was standing in front of the china cabinet.
"You've got some beautiful pieces in there."
Arthur handed him his glass. They stood side by side and Arthur could see Merlin's reflection in the glass. Even with the slip of the champagne over his tongue Arthur's mouth was dry. He'd forgotten quite how beautiful Merlin was: more beautiful than he remembered, anyway. Or maybe he'd just tried to forget.
"I had to fill it with something and Morgana insisted I wasn't allowed to put my fencing trophies in there."
"She's right. This cabinet is a work of art. How did it get that?" Merlin ran his finger along a scratch in the door.
"Morgana's shoe. It was a stiletto," Arthur said by way of clarification. He looked down guiltily. "I threw it at her."
"It can be fixed."
Arthur put his glass down and fingered the open front of Merlin's shirt. His soft, fragrant skin was so temptingly close, as it dawned on Arthur he didn't want his cock sucked as much as he wanted to be buried deep inside Merlin. The realisation took his breath away.
"Would you take my cufflinks off? I'm rubbish with them." Merlin put down his glass next to Arthur's then lifted his wrists. It looked like a submission, only Arthur knew better. Any illusion he had about having any control over what was happening here was as fleeting as the champagne bubbles on his tongue.
The cufflinks were silver dragons, backed with a red stone. "Nice. Did Victor buy you these?" Arthur regretted saying it the moment the words left his lips. It sounded petty and jealous.
However Arthur thought he had sounded, Merlin didn't seem to pick up on it. He said softly, "No. I inherited these. They belonged to my father."
Arthur laid them on the glass top of the coffee table next to the champagne glasses. Merlin let his shirt slip to the floor. He was still hard against the slim cut of his trousers and it reminded Arthur sharply of the aching throb of his own cock. He followed the trail of dark hair down Merlin's stomach with a brush of his fingertips, until he reached the clasp at Merlin's waist. He pushed inside the elastic of Merlin's boxers and felt along warm skin until he reached the moist tip of his cock.
It only took a flick of Arthur's thumb to undo his trousers and release Merlin from the confines of fabric. His cock sprang free and Arthur wasted no time pushing the skin back and gently fisting its leaking tip.
Merlin gasped then gripped Arthur around the back of the neck, pulling him in for a bruising kiss. Now it was a duel, a desperate delving into the wet heat of each other's mouths, like a pledge of the pleasure to come. Arthur undid his jeans, barely breaking contact with Merlin's mouth while he pushed them down with his boxers and kicked them off. No sooner was he completely naked, than Merlin had divested himself of the remainder of his clothes and was pulling Arthur towards the sofa.
"Lie down." As Arthur reclined Merlin knelt over him and said, "I remember how much you liked this." He took Arthur's cock between his thumb and forefinger and sucked him in deep and hard.
"Oh God!"
Merlin's mouth closed vice-like around Arthur's cock, while he used his tongue to press under the ridge. The sensation was intense: even focused on that one spot, the waves of pleasure rolled out like waves from Arthur's groin. Then Merlin pushed gently at his balls, kneading them with enough pressure, caressing the loose skin with just the right amount of friction, so that Arthur could feel the slow rise of the inevitable.
Panting, groaning, possibly whimpering his enjoyment and bucking his hips into the assault on his balls and cock, Merlin couldn't have failed to notice how aroused Arthur was. He let Arthur's cock free and crawled up his body, every graze of his skin against Arthur's like a shot of heat. His lips were swollen, his eyes blown wide and the grin on his face thoroughly wanton.
Arthur said softly, "Can I fuck you?" He pulled Merlin close and ran his hands down the soft plane of his back and over the gentle curve of his arse.
"That's why I'm here. I miss a hot cock inside me."
Arthur frowned, questioningly.
"Let's just say Victor has issues. He gives good head, and sometimes we use a dildo, but it's not the same."
"So that's why he doesn't mind you screwing around."
"I don't screw around."
"But you said …"
"This is the first time."
"Oh."
Merlin had pushed off and was standing gloriously naked, his cock jutting proud. He looked golden against the filtered amber street light from outside the window.
"Where's the lube?"
"Bedroom: bedside drawer." Arthur moved to get up.
"Stay there. I remember where."
Arthur looked up at the ceiling and heaved a sigh. Seeing Merlin stood there naked, without the tux, he looked just like he had almost a year ago. They'd gone out for pizza and beer then come back and watched some terrible horror vampire film then they'd had sex: really intense and intimate and mind-blowing sex. Arthur didn't remember it as fucking, banging, screwing or shagging. Nor had he, at the time, considered for a minute that after that night he might never get to do it with Merlin again.
"Are you all right?" Merlin sat down next to Arthur on the edge of the sofa. He brushed the hair that was plastered to Arthur's forehead then leant down and kissed him softly.
Arthur nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. He looked up at the radiant beauty that was Merlin and realised he had one chance, just this one chance to do it right. He pushed himself up.
"You lie down."
"I was going to bend over the arm of the sofa: a bit of hard and fast."
"I want to see your face."
Merlin said nothing to that. They swapped places.
Using his mouth, his tongue and his hands Arthur proceeded to swathe Merlin in kisses and caresses. He started at his neck then worked his way over his chest with lazy circles and swirls of fingers and tongue. Merlin responded to his touch with soft moans which languorously grew into gasps. When Arthur reached his cock, twitching and leaking, hard and red, stark against the pale, taut flesh of his belly, Merlin bucked his hips and begged.
"Please, Arthur, please."
"Shhh," he soothed. "Soon, soon." Arthur licked firmly with just the tip of his tongue: over the leaking slit, pushing back his foreskin, working circles under the ridge. Then, gently but with purpose, he lifted Merlin's legs: one over the back of the sofa, the other over his shoulder. Arthur pushed one knee into the space between Merlin's hip and the back of the sofa, knelt the other on the floor then slathered his fingers with lube.
Merlin flinched slightly as Arthur gently circled his hole. "That's cold," he huffed softly. But the laugh was tempered by the heaving, panting, desperate breaths of his arousal.
"Ready?"
Merlin nodded.
Arthur opened him slowly. Like the ebb and flow of a neap tide, he pushed in then withdrew, twisted and scissored until Merlin was pushing down onto his fingers and grappling to reach for Arthur's thigh. He was so undone, so utterly debauched and gorgeous. Arthur could barely look at him.
As Arthur rolled the condom onto his aching cock he was glad of the extra layer, however fine, between his skin and the friction of Merlin's, because he was worried he was barely going to make one thrust before he came.
Merlin was open, so open the only resistance was the initial breach. Then Arthur slid home. They groaned together. Buried to the balls Arthur took a moment to risk looking again at Merlin. He wanted to say something but Merlin slid his leg off Arthur's shoulder, wrapped it round his waist and pulled him down for a searing kiss.
The rest was a blur of frenzied kisses, grasping hands and thrusting hips. Arthur had planned to go slow, but Merlin was pushing back at a relentless pace, until Arthur was laughing into his mouth.
"Topping from the bottom?"
"Then get the fuck on with it, before my dick rots." Arthur could hear the laughter in his voice.
He knew when he should do as he was asked, so Arthur pummeled Merlin into the couch until the ebbing stopped and the arousal built up to the point where it crested and Arthur's orgasm was rolling in pulsing waves through his balls, his cock and into Merlin's tight heat.
No sooner had the final shudder been wracked from his groin as Merlin was clenching around Arthur's softening cock, fisting his way through his own climax, his come shooting in pearly ropes over his belly.
Arthur collapsed on top of Merlin and buried his face in the crook of his neck. Merlin lay boneless beneath him, gasping for breath as he slowly came down. They lay like that until Merlin shivered and kissed Arthur on the forehead.
"Any sushi left?"
"Yes. Stay there."
Arthur came back moments later with the tray of sushi and a flannel. He wiped Merlin's stomach. "I take it you don't want come on your California roll?"
"Don't I get a plate?"
"You can have the tray. I want mine off your stomach."
Arthur laid the sushi in two neat rows from Merlin's navel up to his chest. He knelt back and admired the sight before him. "There. You're a work of art. I should take a picture of this."
"So long as it doesn't go on your Facebook page."
Arthur couldn't help his impending melancholy. "I'd never … no." He said quietly, "I might not get to see you like this again."
They ate in silence from Merlin's belly until Merlin removed the last few pieces and put them back on the tray. He sat up and pulled Arthur close, carding his fingers through his hair.
Arthur knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help himself. "Why didn't you return my calls?"
"Don't do this, Arthur."
"What did I do?"
Merlin scrubbed his face and sighed. "It couldn't last. I thought I should nip it in the bud."
"What gave you the right to decide that?"
"You're a transient queer, Arthur. When daddy wants you to provide him with an heir you'll marry a nice girl from Roedean and maybe, just maybe, you'll sneak out to snag yourself a Twink once a month, like all the other closets."
"That is so unfair. You don't know that. How can you even think that?"
"The world is full of men like you. How could I not think it?"
"But you how do you know I'm one of those men?"
"Did you tell your father about me?"
"No. We only went out twice."
"About any guy then?"
"No."
Merlin paused before he said, "I bet he thinks Morgana buys the china. And you wouldn't dare tell him otherwise."
Arthur said nothing. He looked at the floor, the pain and rage stabbing and burning. How dare he? Arthur hadn't done anything to deserve this.
Merlin wouldn't leave it there. "Does he even know you like to go antique shopping, Arthur?"
"What has that got to do with anything?"
"I'd say it has a lot to do with a Kensington flat and a cushy job at the firm."
"You were only supposed to come over here for sex, not a fucking dig at my life. At least I'm not whoring myself out with impotent old men just to get a leg up."
Merlin gasped. "Fuck you." He got up and got dressed, and didn't say a word more.
Arthur pulled on his jeans. He'd utterly blown it and for a second he wasn't sure whether he cared. His fists shook with anger. He wanted to punch Merlin: hold him down and smash that sanctimonious little face of his into the carpet.
With quiet rage Arthur said, "Why did you even come here?"
Merlin spat back, in a vicious whisper, "Because I was horny and you're a good fuck." His eyes were filled with tears.
Arthur turned away. "Get. Out."
Merlin left quietly.
Arthur slumped down on the sofa. The tumbler with his gin and tonic was on the table, still half full. He drained it … then hurled it at the china cabinet. It crashed through the glass in the door and into his collection of Art Deco tea cups. The sound of glass and porcelain smashing into tiny pieces filled the room. Then it was quiet: deathly quiet.
Arthur put his head in his hands and cried: because he had suddenly realised he was in love with Merlin.
~*~
Arthur crawled into bed and stayed there. His whole body was shaking, his head throbbed and the skin on his face was too tight from all the tears. He hurt all over. If he burrowed under the duvet and curled into a tight ball and stayed really, really still it was just about bearable.
The hours stretched on and on until finally the darkness paled to an orange glow beyond his eyelids. He fell asleep.
~*~
Arthur was abruptly awoken by a scream: Morgana. He clamped his hands over his ears.
The door to his room flung open and she screeched, "What the hell happened, here? My god, Arthur, I'm away for two days and you've wrecked the place…"
And so she went on.
Once he started crying he couldn't hear her anymore. She hated any display of weakness; she was Uther's girl like that, so Arthur expected she would just leave him to it. Only she didn't. She pulled the covers back from over his head and gasped.
He felt the bed dip and her arms wrap around his shoulders. She kissed his head softly, and whispered, "What happened?"
Didn't that just make it worse? The light hurt Arthur's eyes, but he opened them all the same. His head was still throbbing. He wanted to tell her: wanted her to be able to tell him what to do, like she used to when they were children, even though he never listened to her. There was comfort to be had in the thought she cared enough to think she could help. But between then and now they had grown up and had had to find out the hard way, no matter what you did afterwards, mistakes always came with a price. Arthur's temper had cost him dear this time, and the cabinet was the least of it.
He took a deep breath. "Merlin," was all he managed to say.
As his sobs subsided and his breathing slowed, he felt like his body was no longer his and like his mind was adrift without him: a wreck of broken pieces and regret. Morgana was still there, holding him tight. If she let him go maybe his body would drift off, too.
Arthur could hear her, but it was like a different language. He knew all the words, but they were skating over the edges of his mind, unable to get in, unable to be processed.
She said, "I thought you were over him."
What the hell did that mean?
"I'm going to run you a bath. I love you Arthur, but I cannot comfort a man with dried come on his neck."
Morgana had learned her mothering skills from Nanny Vi. Only she never really learned how to distinguish what act of mothering accompanied what crisis. So after Arthur emerged from his bath and crawled onto the sofa in sweats she wrapped him in a blanket and gave him two ibuprofen tablets and a mug of hot honey and lemon.
"I haven't got a cold, Morgana."
"You sound like you've got a cold. Shall I call Gwen?"
Gwen always knew how to look after someone in crisis, despite the fact she had received almost no mothering herself. Her father was a formidable man and had successfully managed to fill both roles by himself. He seemed to have successfully accomplished single-handedly what a high-powered, wealthy father and several world-class nannies had only partially managed to do for Arthur and Morgana.
Arthur did not want Gwen giving him sound advice. He was still at the stage where he needed to wallow in the mire of his own self-pity. "She's coming over anyway, isn't she?"
"Yes. Don't worry, though. We're going out." Screwing her face up in disgust as she picked up the discarded condom wrapper from under the coffee table, she continued, "In case you're interested, Uther told me if I want more money I have to earn it. What does he think I do all day; go shopping and paint my nails?"
Arthur peeked over the edge of the blanket and raised his eyebrows. He might have even nudged the beginnings of a smile at the corners of his mouth. "Thanks for clearing up."
"You're welcome, even though you don't deserve it. By the way, he left his cufflinks here. I've put them in the box where you keep yours."
The dragon cufflinks that Arthur had removed from those slender wrists, that had wrapped around his neck and ... He had to stop thinking about it.
"How did you manage to get back so early?"
Morgana smirked. "Monty was up there, trying to get some extra flying hours in. He flew me down to City Airport."
No doubt Uther had got wind of her plans and had been itching to get rid of her. He probably bribed Monty to just take her away with a couple of bottles of something poisonous and very expensive. Morgana and the countryside did not mix; at least not without a great deal of bitterness and a terrific headache.
Arthur passed the day watching films and being fed soup and toast. Gwen came over and said, "You should talk about this Arthur. You need to learn to talk about your feelings."
"I feel shit. How's that?" What more did he need to say?
"That's a great start." She kissed him on the head and she and Gwen left. They were going to see some art house film in the West End. They had asked him to go with them, but being the third wheel at some artsy chick flick was worse than … anything Arthur could think of.
Arthur got through the first week by going into work early, and staying late. Uther had always maintained Arthur had gained his diplomacy skills from his mother and, as a result, he was proving invaluable when it came to contract negotiations.
Pendragon Inc. made a large share of its profits from acquisitions. Their Global Business Development Department had spear-headed the company onto the Global Fortune 2000, and they now had assets in excess of four billion and counting. Arthur was being primed to head Global Acquisitions, but was starting off closer to home. It meant he could mostly work out of the Head Office in the City, without having to deal with the grueling travel schedule of some of the more senior directors. Meetings and calls, though, could take place at any time of day. If Arthur was in the office at ten at night there would be someone talking to the Americans. If he was there at five in the morning someone might be talking to the Japanese. A lot of people worked from home, but with the commute sometimes being what it was, Uther had long since made sure there was provision for his staff around the clock.
By the time it got to the weekend Arthur had managed to only come home to sleep.
~*~
There was a knock at the door.
"Arthur, are you up?"
"Hmph." His head throbbed, but only slightly. His mouth felt like something had died in it.
Morgana cracked the door open. She was dressed up which meant it must be nearly lunchtime. "Merlin called me, since you haven't returned any of his texts or calls. He's is going to be here in ten minutes to pick up his cufflinks. I think it would be a good idea if you had a shower and brushed your teeth. I can smell you from here."
There was no time for questions.
~*~
Arthur was just pulling on jeans and a t-shirt when Morgana let Merlin in.
The first thing he said, from in the living room, was a loud, "What the fuck?"
Arthur cringed from inside his room: the cabinet. Merlin stormed in.
"That was you, wasn't it?"
"Not that it is any concern of yours, but yes it was. Now, I believe you came for your cufflinks." Arthur went over to the chest of drawers and pulled out a black leather box. He didn't get a chance to open it, as Merlin grabbed his arm and spun him round.
"That cabinet cost more than I earn in a year. Don't you have any respect for anything?"
"Apparently not." Arthur pushed past him, flopped down on the bed and fixed his stare on the ceiling. He didn't have the energy for another fight, especially over a piece of furniture … or whatever it was Merlin was referring to.
Merlin closed the door and sat down on the edge of the bed. He looked at Arthur and said more calmly, "Do you want me to arrange to get it repaired?"
"Does Victor know you're here?" It was like Arthur didn't have a stop-valve when it came to Merlin. He was always so much in control: of what he said, of what he did. Then Merlin turned up and turned all that upside down and it was terrifying and addicting and … liberating.
"No. Did you hear what I said?"
"Yes and yes. I don't care, but Morgana. Yes, send someone over. What do you see in him?"
Merlin took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "He's a good man. He's kind, charming. He … "
"You're struggling, Merlin."
Merlin kicked off his shoes and lay down next to Arthur. He sighed again then spoke steadily. "My Mum says I'm an old soul. I'm into art and antiques. But I grew up on a council estate in Warwick, so I can't even afford to buy any of the things I deal in, and even if I could my room in the house I share isn't big enough for anything bigger than a coin collection. I never fit in anywhere. I don't know anyone else my age who likes the same stuff I do."
Arthur was about to say something, but then he realised Merlin was still getting it all off his chest. Their hands were millimeters apart. If he stretched his fingers wide he'd make contact. Arthur clenched his fists and silently begged for resolve.
Merlin continued, "All the men I meet are older, unless … you know, I get the odd footballer who wants to show off. So I keep thinking, am I supposed to wait twenty years until I finally meet someone my own age who I can just be myself with? … Because that's a long time to be alone.
"And Victor … he doesn't treat me like some working class novelty. He makes me feel like a prince, and that might be an everyday thing for you, Arthur, but it's never happened to me before and I quite like it. He might not be my soul mate and God knows we both know it, but …" He sighed again.
Arthur stretched his fingers then he moved his hand, until it covered Merlin's and he gripped it tight. "Don't sell yourself short. You're not old; you like crappy horror films, and pizza and sex on tap …"
Merlin turned his head to Arthur. "Are you determined to make me a cheating whore, too?" There was a smile in his voice.
Arthur turned on his side and draped his arm over Merlin's chest. The flush was high on Merlin's cheeks and his lips were moist and parted, like a filthy promise. Arthur had had wet dreams about that mouth. His cock stirred. But he wasn't a complete arsehole: Merlin had just opened his heart to him. "I'm sorry. I just … I never meant it."
Merlin turned in, cupped Arthur's jaw and said, "Yes, you did. But it's okay. I suppose you're right."
"No, for once, I am not right." Arthur didn't even know at this point whether he was being selfish, or caring, or fucking with Merlin's mind, or what.
"That night I came over … I came in a taxi. I told Victor I was going to see a girl friend that'd just broken up with her boyfriend. He doesn't know anything about you."
"Then why did you tell me …?"
"It was my get out. I don't know. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I thought if you knew about him it would make things less … complicated." Merlin fiddled with the hem of Arthur's t-shirt nervously, and his eyelids fluttered as he spoke. Arthur found it enchanting; made him want to pull him closer and kiss him senseless.
There were so many things Arthur adored about Merlin: The way he had worn his shirt over a long-sleeved t-shirt, maybe to try to look bigger, even though Arthur thought he filled his skin absolutely perfectly: The 501's Merlin wore which were vintage and yet so Merlin, and his tousled hair, and the way he smiled and all the things Arthur didn't know about him yet, but wanted to know more than anything.
He could smell Merlin's aftershave: just a hint of musk and sandalwood. He could feel his chest, so warm beneath his arm, as it rose and fell as he breathed heavily. He looked so vulnerable and Arthur was so turned on he couldn't describe it, and all of these things were reason enough to kiss him, kiss him right now, because Merlin was there next to him, on his bed, looking like he just needed to …
So Arthur kissed him, tentatively at first, then like he meant it. He leant over Merlin, burrowed his arm under his body and held him close, and kissed him and kissed him. Merlin didn't resist, not for a heartbeat. He returned Arthur's kiss with ardour, he turned into the embrace and he pushed his thigh between Arthur's legs.
They grappled with clothes and flesh and rutted into one another. In moments, buttons were undone, layers were shed and naked skin grazed hotly against naked skin. Arthur pulled back and looked at Merlin, his mouth kissed raw from Arthur's stubble, his hair messed, his chest heaving. He was wanton and stunning and fucking irresistible.
Arthur whispered hoarsely, "Turn around." Then he reached back to his bedside cabinet and pulled out condoms and lube.
Arthur kicked his jeans off and pulled Merlin flush against his chest. Their skin touched chest to back, thigh to thigh, Merlin's foot hooked around Arthur's ankle, like spoons. Arthur's cock nestled between the cheeks of Merlin's arse, and he could barely resist the urge to simply rut against him and paint Merlin's back with his come.
"Can you open yourself for me?"
"Yes," Merlin gasped. He reached back and Arthur squeezed lube on his fingers. As he slid his fingers towards his hole he brushed against Arthur's cock with his knuckles. It was a delicate tease of pressure; not enough, but tantalising.
Using the arm pinned beneath Merlin's body Arthur held him close, sucked and bit at the back of his neck and whispered dirty nothings into the shell of his ear. "That's it, Merlin, open yourself for me. Keep going, that's it."
Merlin worked his hole fast as he gasped, "More lube."
Arthur pressed the top of the bottle into the space between them and squeezed. The cold slick coated them both until Arthur couldn't resist the urge to rut against the warm skin in front of him. He was achingly hard, burning with want. Arthur could feel the press of Merlin's wrist against his cock, the sound of slippery flesh on flesh and the musky smell of their arousal assaulting his senses, and he couldn't wait any longer.
Behind him, on the bed, was the condom. He reached back and felt the foil, picked it up and tore it open with his teeth. He barely had to pull his hips back to slide it on. No sooner as it was slid down over his cock Merlin pulled out his fingers and said, "Now. Hard and fast."
Arthur lined up his cock and pushed in slow, past the resistance of the first ring of muscle, then it was a steady slide all the way in. He gripped the sparse flesh of Merlin's hip and pulled out again, until he was almost all the way out, then he rammed in hard.
Merlin cried out, "Yes, like that, don't stop." He reached back and grabbed at Arthur's arse and turned his head, begging to be kissed. His eyes were wild. Arthur pumped his cock in and out as he thrust his tongue against Merlin's, wet and slick. Teeth clashed, hips slapped and Arthur's balls felt like they would explode.
Pulling back for air then burying his face in Merlin's hair he gasped, "I want to feel you come, while I'm still hard inside you." He reached down, slowed his thrusting just enough so as not to lose all control, and fisted Merlin's leaking cock.
"Yes, yes, yesss," Merlin hissed then lost all coherency as Arthur closed his grip and pumped, at the same time as he rammed Merlin's arse with the same unrelenting speed.
Arthur could feel the heat building low down in his groin. He was so close, so close. He closed his eyes and tried to hold on. "Come on, come on." He was virtually begging.
Merlin's groans had turned to pants, but then he took an abrupt intake of breath and cried out loud as Arthur felt Merlin's arse clamp around his cock and his fist felt wet heat as Merlin spilled over him in pulsing jerks. No sooner as it was over, Arthur came hard inside Merlin with a deep groan.
They stayed close. Arthur felt the echoing thump of his heart recede as his breaths slowed. Merlin reached for his hand and laced his fingers through Arthur's.
Finally he said, "I didn't plan on this happening."
"Neither did I."
"I should break up with Victor, shouldn't I?"
"That's up to you."
Merlin extracted himself and turned around to face Arthur. They were almost nose to nose, his breaths ghosting across Arthur's face. He kissed Arthur's nose. For some reason it made Arthur laugh, until Merlin's face dropped and he spoke.
"Everything I have I've worked for. I've never pretended to anyone about who I am or where I come from." He paused for a moment; his eyes searching Arthur's face. "I understand what's at stake for you, Arthur. And I'm not going to pressure you. But I can't be with someone who's in the closet."
"So you're telling me this was the last time?"
"Tell your father about me, and I'm all yours."
"No pressure then?" Arthur tried to sound light, but the weight of it was making it hard to breathe.
"I'm going to end it with Victor. Whatever happens, it's never going to be enough with him. Not after this."
"I need time, Merlin. I'm not sure. I mean, I have to do this when I'm ready, don't I?"
"You do what you need to do. All I'm saying is I feel like I'm already setting myself up for you to break my heart."
"Stay a bit longer? Just for now. Please."
"Alright."
Merlin curled back into Arthur. Arthur pulled the duvet over them and held Merlin as close as he could. Merlin made it all sound so easy, but he'd never met Uther. As he felt Merlin unwind and relax and finally doze off in his arms, Arthur wondered whether Merlin had been right all along to stop returning his calls.
Arthur didn't know if he had this in him: Arthur Pendragon the fearless fencer, the daring scrum half, the intrepid negotiator. Arthur Pendragon the terrified coward.
~*~
By the time Merlin awoke, Arthur had turned things over in his mind a million times and still felt uncertain and confused. Watching Merlin stretch out sleepily and rub the sleep from his eyes only made it worse.
"Want to get some lunch?" Arthur didn't want to let him leave.
"No. I have to go. I've got to be at work soon."
"I can drop you off: we'll get a sandwich on the way."
"No, Arthur. Please. You're not making this any easier for me."
"Okay. I'm sorry … Don't forget your cufflinks."
Merlin sat up and looked about the room, still swollen and ruffled from sleep. Then he got up and dressed while Arthur just looked and looked at him. He didn't take his eyes off him for a second. As Merlin tied his shoes, he glanced up at the black box on the dresser. He turned to Arthur and said, "I tell you what. You keep the cufflinks for now. When you make a decision, one way or another, you can give them back to me."
"Why?"
"Because if you decide you can't go through with it, I want you to tell me to my face."
Arthur nodded his assent. Merlin deserved that much, at least.
~*~
Every morning Arthur opened the black box containing all his cufflinks, and Merlin's. He turned the silver dragons in his fingers, held them to his lips, thought of Merlin. Funny that Merlin should have those dragon cufflinks and that Arthur's surname was Pendragon. If he was into that sort of thing, he'd say it was fate or destiny.
Then he'd think of his father and remember how cruel fate could be.
Arthur was nothing if not resourceful. His first plan of action was to see how the land lay. He decided to take Uther to lunch.
He booked a table at a quiet French restaurant near the office. It wasn't too expensive (Uther would assume he wanted something or that Arthur was in some kind of trouble if it appeared Arthur was courting him) and the clientele was a young crowd. This way they were unlikely to bump into anyone Uther knew. Arthur wanted privacy and an upbeat atmosphere.
He wasn't exactly sure where he was going to start. But jumping into the fray was not an option with Uther. If ever a man needed to be wined, dined and wooed it was him. Arthur decided his first plan of action was to see if he could determine his worth. If Arthur really was, in the eyes of his own father, just a spoiled brat who only had a job because it was his father's company, then he wanted to know it. If he might have to look for another job, he at least ought to know where he should be aiming his sights.
"So, to what do I owe this pleasure?" This was a shaky start. Uther seemed suspicious.
"I wanted to talk to you about my job."
"If this is about money, Arthur, I think I have made my position clear." Arthur was paid the same as the other junior executives. Really the point was moot, though, considering his flat and his car were already paid for and Arthur enjoyed membership of several private clubs and a gym, courtesy of his father.
"No father. It's not that at all. I wanted to discuss … well there's no easy way to say it. I'd like to know if I'm of the same calibre as the other account executives of my grade."
"You want an honest answer?"
"Yes." Arthur's heart was fluttering up to his throat, but Uther always did this, always held his cards close to his chest.
"What's brought this on? Middle class guilt?" He said this derisively. Then he took a long sip of his Chateauneuf.
"Maybe. A little. I'd just be reassured to know that I'd earned my position, like everyone else."
Uther laughed so loud people turned their heads. Arthur's heart sank.
"First of all, Arthur, you have not earned your position, like everyone else. You went to the most exclusive public school in England, which as much as guaranteed your position at Cambridge, regardless of your sterling A-level grades. I am your father and CEO of the company that pays your salary. If I didn't consider you worth employing then no one else would have."
"So what you're saying is, because of all the privilege I was born into I've been at an automatic advantage, but also at a disadvantage."
"You're an intelligent young man. I would have thought you could have worked that out for yourself."
"I can. I did. I just …" This wasn't going to plan. Arthur pushed his Dover Sole around his plate, as if he was trying to get it to swim. But that fish was long dead.
"Do you want me to tell you that even if you weren't my son you would still have your job? Do you want me to say you deserve your position?"
"Only if it's true."
"Are you thinking of looking for another job? I can see no other reason why this would bother you now, after three years. … Unless, has someone has said something?"
"No father, no one has said anything, and I'm not looking for another job."
"Arthur, if I thought for a moment you weren't pulling your weight you would be the first to know. If anything, I hold you to a higher standard than anyone else."
This was good to know. Even if in the real world, it meant just about … nothing.
~*~
The new glass for the cabinet was going to take a few weeks to arrive, since it had to be made to order. When it arrived the restorers would have someone come to the flat to install it and repair and re-polish the wood. The man Merlin had sent from the restoration company was confident that after the restoration the doors would look as good as new. This was a relief, not least because Morgana had been more devastated than she had let on. With Merlin on her side as well, Arthur was more inclined to admit to himself he had been pretty upset about the china cabinet, too.
The cups had been irreplaceable. They had looked out of time and place, but that had been their charm and their appeal: kind of like Merlin. Arthur liked that analogy. Mindful of the fact he had willfully damaged his china cabinet and thoughtlessly broken an entire tea set, he was determined he would prove Merlin wrong, and most absolutely not break his heart.
The thing was; there was this nagging doubt. Arthur really didn't know Merlin that well. He hadn't met any of his friends, or been to where he worked. He was trying hard not to let this cloud his judgment, but he couldn't help comparing Merlin to an investment. It was just the way his mind worked. And right now he wasn't sure whether he was taking a huge risk on an unreliable return. Merlin undoubtedly had feelings for him: the air had been charged with it every time they were together. But when it came to the long term, was he a steady prospect?
Arthur felt he needed to spend some time with Merlin, but he didn't want to make Merlin feel that he now had to earn the right to have Arthur as a boyfriend. After all, Merlin hadn't asked for anything more than anyone with an ounce of self-respect would rightly expect.
Arthur was over-thinking. The simple fact of the matter was, he missed Merlin. It was the end of the week and the weekend loomed again. Merlin worked at least part of most weekends and had a day off in the week, so Arthur hoped he could at least offer to buy him Saturday lunch.
He wasn't in a position to return the cufflinks … yet.
~*~
It turned out Merlin was only working Saturday morning and agreed lunch would be a good idea. Arthur arranged to pick him up from the shop. Arthur was thinking of driving them down to Richmond now the weather was getting warmer. They could sit outside, by the river, and just talk. He wanted to know Merlin better and he genuinely didn't have an ulterior motive beyond that.
Parking was inevitably a nightmare, but it was only as Arthur did park the car that he realised the antique shop was close enough for him to have walked there. The thought that Merlin could walk to work from Arthur's flat also slipped in uninvited into his mind and Arthur dismissed it quickly, knowing it had no business at all being there in his head.
C&B Antiques had a large shop front on Ledbury Road. They sold all manner of antiques, from furniture to books to scientific equipment. Arthur was familiar with it, but was more inclined to frequent the flea markets on Portobello Road. Morgana virtually had a share in the Antiques Clothing Store, and now he thought of it, Merlin looked like he had too. Then the thought of Merlin and Morgana going vintage clothes shopping together popped into Arthur's head and he was glad he hadn't had to park any further away or who knows where his mind would have taken him?
The shop wasn't too busy. As Arthur headed round the furniture, neatly arranged for maximum exposure, his eye was drawn to a nice piece of Jasper, but then he saw Merlin at the back of the shop. He was hunched over a big book talking to an old man (the owner, Arthur recalled, who had a name like Guy or something).
"Merlin!" Arthur spoke loudly enough for his voice to carry.
"Hi, Arthur! I'm almost done. Look around if you like, or you can come back here and grab a coke."
Arthur looked at him leaning over the counter, the vision of him coming into sharp focus as he got closer. It wasn't a coke he was thinking of grabbing. Merlin was wearing jeans, but with a crisp white shirt and a dark jumper. He looked good enough to take right there and then over the counter.
Then Arthur noticed what wasn't right, when he was maybe ten feet away. Merlin had a black eye.
The last few strides were made doubly fast and Arthur showed no awkwardness in pulling Merlin into a brief hug when he reached him. Merlin smiled apologetically, as if he knew the eye was going to be the first thing Arthur noticed.
"I just need to file a bit of paperwork then we can get out of here." Merlin turned to the old man, "Gaius, this is Arthur. Arthur, Gaius."
They shook hands and the old man gave Arthur a wink.
Merlin then added, "Is it alright if I take him into the office with me while I finish up?"
Gaius smiled fondly and said, "Be my guest."
Arthur was convinced the old man winked at him again, or maybe it was a tic.
No sooner had they gone through the door behind the counter and into the relative quiet of the corridor, that presumably lead to the offices, Arthur grabbed Merlin's arm and pulled him around to face him.
"What happened to your eye?" Arthur tried to sound calm, but he could feel the flush of anger heating his face. Merlin didn't have a violent bone in his body, and would never have started a physical fight, but he had a sneaking suspicion of who might.
"It was an accident. It's nothing." Merlin looked sheepish. He looked away. "Please let go of my arm; you're hurting me."
Arthur let go and lifted both hands up in surrender. "Shit; I'm sorry." He then closed the gap and put his arms around Merlin's neck and kissed him chastely on the lips.
"I'm alright, honestly." Merlin slid his arms around Arthur's waist and looked into his eyes, but he looked like he was looking for reassurance, not giving it.
Arthur gently cupped Merlin's jaw in his hand and brushed his thumb over the bruise. "Did Victor do this?"
"Not here, Arthur. Come on, the office will be empty." He took Arthur's hand and lead him to a room at the end of the corridor that was decidedly less glamorous than the front of the shop.
Merlin closed the door and showed Arthur a seat. "I've got a few sales to file the paperwork on before we go." He began to thumb at some papers on the desk, but Arthur was too angry and not in the mood to wait.
He stood back up and turned Merlin to face him. Then he started to pull up his jumper. "Lift up your shirt."
"Arthur? No! What are you doing?"
"Not what you think. I want to see your chest and your back."
A look of anger flashed across Merlin's face, or maybe it was fear. But Arthur wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer. The look on his face must have said it all because Merlin pulled out his shirt, then lifted the cotton and wool up as high as he could, to reveal his torso. Arthur looked and touched swiftly and gently, reassuring himself of every square inch of unblemished skin, then he turned Merlin around and did the same to his back.
"See. I'm fine."
"Then tell me how it happened." They stood close, foreheads touching, while Arthur ran his fingers through Merlin's hair. "I won't do anything stupid; I promise."
Merlin smiled. "I don't need a knight in shining armour. Just someone who won't be ashamed to call me his partner, boyfriend, you know?"
"I know." But the reaction to seeing the delicate skin around Merlin's eye a deep shade of purple, and the rage he felt towards whoever had done it, had been so visceral. "So was it Victor?"
"Yes, Arthur," he said wearily. "I went to his house to tell him it was over last Sunday. I think he probably had an idea when I didn't see him Saturday night, but I was in too much of a mess to do it then."
That was something Arthur hadn't really thought about. He'd been so wrapped up in how he was going to deal with his own problems. He held Merlin tighter and kissed his forehead.
Merlin continued, "I had a few things at his house: some clothes and books. He said I could come back for them any time, but I know how that goes. I told him I would take everything at once. He got really upset … I suppose he thought as long as he had some of my things there was a chance I'd go back to him. He said he didn't mind if I wanted to scratch this itch, get it out of my system, that he would wait for me …"
Arthur could hear his voice break.
"But I'd gone over there with a box, which made it all so final. It was all filled up, and when I turned to say goodbye and he was already throwing this book at me. I'm sure he meant for it to go in the box." He pulled back and through a tear-streaked attempt at a grin he said, "But you know us queers? Can't throw or catch, eh?"
The very thought that Merlin had had nothing to lose, nothing at stake here, vanished with his anger. Arthur held him and rubbed his back and promised himself never to throw anything again in temper. Look what damage it had done.
When they left, not ten minutes later, Arthur noticed in the sunny light of day that Merlin looked overwrought and exhausted. When Arthur suggested they drive down to Richmond he was happy to go, but they'd only been in the car ten minutes when he dozed off. Arthur had to wonder how much sleep this was costing Merlin. He hadn't really thought about that before either.
Arthur abruptly decided on a change of plan. It was barely a turn around to get onto the A40, and minutes later they were headed directly out of London. When Arthur pulled up to the lights somewhere just before Ealing, Merlin stirred. He looked up dizzily, so Arthur grabbed his jacket from the small back seat behind them and passed it to him. "Here, put that under your head. Go back to sleep; I'll wake you when we get there."
"Where are we going?"
"Just a place I used to frequent in my youth."
Merlin half smiled a lazy smile, bundled the soft leather into a ball and settled back down. Arthur turned the heater up a notch on Merlin's seat and decided there was no need to break any speed limits. They'd get there when they got there.
It was still too cold to have the top down, but looking over at Merlin totally flaked out on the seat next to him, it didn't take a leap to imagine them driving out here again in the summer, the wind in his hair and a wide smile on his face. The thought made Arthur beam. He couldn't remember looking forward to something so much; wanting it with all his heart.
Once they got past Hanger Lane towards Greenford the road got faster. Then it was pretty much seventy all the way to the M4. It was something of a waste going that speed in a car designed to go much faster, but Arthur, for once, was in no hurry at all. He had turned the radio off and was mentally composing his curriculum vitae. Tomorrow morning, he would get the Sunday Telegraph and start looking at the job market. It wouldn't hurt to prepare for the worst.
As they came off the motorway onto a smaller road, shafts of sunlight breaking through the canopy of fresh green, Merlin woke up. His hair stuck up on one side, his face was creased and pink and there was a fresh line of dribble across his cheek. Arthur glanced fondly across at him stretching and blinking the sleep from his eyes and thought about how much he would like to see that every morning.
"Where are we? How long have I been asleep?"
"You, sleeping beauty, have been dribbling over my jacket for the best part of an hour. We are just about heading into Ascot."
"You said lunch, not a day at the races." Merlin yawned and shook out Arthur's jacket.
"There are places to eat here." They turned off the High Street and drove another mile to a small pub call the Red Lion.
Arthur parked and looked at the disaster area on Merlin's head. "Come here," Arthur laughed, as he ran his fingers through Merlin's hair in an attempt to at least have it looking … symmetrical. Then he couldn't resist leaning in for a kiss; he was so close already.
"Starving …" Merlin mumbled into his mouth.
They ate pie and chips, had a pint and talked about everything and nothing. It was easy. There was, however, an undercurrent of things unspoken. Arthur hoped he could make things right before it pulled Merlin away from him.
"So did you grow up around here?"
"Sort of. I went to school near here."
"Oh … of course. Eton. They let you out at weekends, then?"
"Once we were old enough."
"What did you get up to? I can just imagine you and a load of arrogant prats annoying the locals."
"Come on, I'll show you." Arthur was uncharacteristically excited. He hadn't been back here in years and he'd never told anyone about this before.
They got back in the car and headed out in the opposite direction to the way they had come. It wasn't long before the road opened out to an expanse of green, dissected by the perfectly straight road they were on. Beyond that there were trees, a lake on one side and people walking, cycling and skating on foot paths over the grass.
"This is Windsor Great Park. The senior rugby team used to come down here to run on a Sunday morning; well mostly run."
"Must have been a sight," Merlin mused, licking his lips. "Did you wear shorts?"
Arthur laughed from deep in his belly. "You haven't seen the best bit yet."
He pulled into a small car park, beyond the green, at the edge of the woods. As they got out Arthur grabbed his jacket, then pulled out a blanket from the boot.
"Oh no, I know what you're up to," Merlin laughed. "I am not partaking in any lewdness in a public place."
"What?" Arthur made a partial attempt at chagrin, then conceded, "If I don't bring this and you change your mind later I am not coming back for it."
"You know you sound like my mother?"
Merlin headed off on the path which cut between the trees before Arthur could grab him. Arthur called after him, "You're going the wrong way."
Arthur lead Merlin along another narrow path through the trees. The bluebells were in full bloom and carpeted the exposed parts of the woodland floor. They continued walking for a few minutes, until Arthur came off the path and skidded down the bank. He beckoned Merlin, who followed with a look of indignation. They had come to in a small dip in the woods, next to the massive roots of a gnarly old tree. The ground had eroded away leaving a sheltered alcove. There was no one around, although the sound of children laughing and dogs barking was still audible in the distance. Arthur hung onto the root and swung himself into the alcove. He folded the blanket into a neat square and placed it on the ground.
"My friend Oliver and I used to come down here to smoke."
"Why? Weren't you allowed to smoke at school?" Arthur had left Merlin room on the blanket next to him, but Merlin nudged his knee and planted himself between Arthur's legs.
"Not tobacco, Merlin." Since Merlin had ensconced himself against his chest he was able to whisper against his ear. He felt Merlin shiver when he said, "I thought I was supposed to behave myself."
"I trust you. If you could smoke pot down here and not get caught, I'm willing to bet you a hand-job no-one's going catch us here, either."
Arthur didn't need any more encouragement. He handed Merlin his jacket. "Put this over your lap." Then he slid his hands under the jacket and undid Merlin's belt. He felt Merlin's chest heaving and his breaths deepen immediately as he said to him, "Lift," then pushed Merlin's jeans and boxers down over the soft warmth of his hips. He wasn't going to risk taking anything off altogether, but he had enough access to Merlin's already hard cock, and enough room to cup his hand under his balls.
With his right hand Arthur began a slow assault on Merlin's erection. He used his thumb to smooth the fluid from the tip around the head. Slack-fisted, he rubbed the length of Merlin's cock, down and up, just teasing the skin over his engorged flesh. Merlin was panting already, his feet planted firmly in the soft earth in front of them.
Arthur slid his other hand under Merlin's shirt and stroked his way up his belly to his nipples. He circled and pinched each one in turn, then rubbed over the raised nubs until Merlin whimpered softly.
There was a cool breeze as the sun started to disappear below the tops of the trees, but the heat from their bodies pressed together was pushing beads of sweat from Arthur's upper lip and prickling the skin on his back. His own cock was bulging urgently against the confines of his jeans and as Merlin gently rutted into Arthur's hand his cock was rubbed mercilessly by the rise and press of Merlin's hips.
Arthur licked Merlin's neck, and Merlin responded by tilting his head, baring a pale line of tendon that Arthur could suck and bite against. The sounds Merlin made were turning Arthur on so much he thought he might come in his pants. He wanted to make Merlin come: wanted for him to come all over his hand while he held him tight.
Removing his hand from around Merlin's cock, he said, "Lick my palm."
Merlin went one better and lathed Arthur's palm in filthy wet licks, then sucked his fingers one by one until they were dripping. Clearly impatient for more contact, Merlin then guided Arthur's hand back under the jacket.
Wasting no more time Arthur fisted Merlin with brutal speed. Merlin gasped out loud at the intensity then braced himself with his hands on the floor and his heels dug even harder into the ground. It wasn't long before Merlin's breaths got faster then degenerated into a series of stuttered moans.
Merlin gasped out, "I'm gonna come," as he jerked and spilled into Arthur's pumping fist.
No sooner had Merlin slumped limply back against Arthur's chest, as Arthur pushed him forward, frantically undid his jeans and stroked his aching cock barely a few times before he came with a groan.
Merlin twisted himself around and wrapped his arms about Arthur as he kissed him tenderly. "Did you do that with Oliver?" Merlin whispered, before he went back to kissing Arthur's neck and along the line of his jaw.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Arthur began cleaning them up with the edge of the blanket.
"I want to know everything." Merlin pulled back and stroked his fingers against Arthur's cheek. "Eventually."
His eye looked painful. There was a fine cut just below his eyelid, presumably where the edge of the book had caught the bone around his eye. It hurt Arthur just to look at it.
Arthur caressed the exposed flesh of Merlin's hip,still undressed beneath his jacket. It was warm and smooth, and Arthur could have stayed there like that all night, if it wasn't for the dropping temperature. He could feel Merlin start to shiver. "No, no wanking with Ollie. He's all about the boobs and the girl bits."
They dressed, laughed and headed back to the car.
~*~
As Merlin directed Arthur to his house in Shepherd's Bush, Arthur was filled with the dread of having to drop him off and say goodnight. He tried to be casual as he asked, "What are you up to tonight?"
"Going out with my friend, Will, and a few of his teacher mates."
"Will?"
"We grew up together, and now we live in the same house. He's just finishing up his teacher training. What about you?"
"I think Morgana's invited a few friends over. If you want to join us later, bring Will. You're both welcome."
"Maybe another time. I'll call you tomorrow, all right?" Merlin said it so sweetly it instantly made Arthur feel reassured.
"All right." Arthur smiled.
"Just stay like that." Merlin cupped Arthur's face in his hands. "Stunning. That's what you are."
Arthur felt the flush rise up over his whole face. He looked down, shy of the scrutiny and at the compliment.
Merlin kissed him on the cheek before he got out of the car. Arthur watched him go inside then drove home. He felt bereft.
When he got indoors he went straight to his room and got out the cufflinks. He held them to his lips and thought of Merlin. It was about time he seriously planned on how he was going to give them back.
Saturday he got a call from Ollie Morgan, an old college friend. "Some of the chaps and I are going to throw a ball around on the Heath. Want to come?"
Arthur didn't feel like going anywhere, but he went and played touch rugby with the boys, which rapidly descended into full contact. He came home battered and bruised, covered from head to foot in mud, and thoroughly exhilarated. The events of the weekend past were still there, like a scabbed wound, but the adrenaline of the exercise had covered it like a band-aid. Which meant it was only a temporary fix.
The next week went by much the same as the last. By the time it got to Friday Arthur decided a night out was in order. Inevitably, it involved too much to drink, loud music and very expensive cab fare home. Arthur considered that a success, and went to bed knowing he wasn't going to lie in bed awake for two hours before finally falling asleep.
~*~
Lance was coming over. So, Morgana and Gwen were dressed up in their finest and were flapping about like a couple of excited teenage groupies. Arthur had a pretty good idea of the dynamics of the friendship shared by the three of them. Morgana probably considered it Bohemian. Lance was probably thanking his lucky stars he got to come home from touring, to every straight man's fantasy, and Gwen, well Gwen simply had enough love for everyone. If, in some alternate universe, Arthur were to marry a woman, it would be her.
They ate at the flat. Gwen had cooked, although Morgana insisted she had helped.
"Adding the garnish and folding napkins do not constitute cooking, Morgana," Arthur said disparagingly.
"The food was delicious but it is all about the presentation." Lance threw his arms around Gwen's and Morgana's shoulders and kissed them each in turn on the cheek. The three of them were sat so close they were practically sharing the same chair.
Arthur rolled his eyes, finished his crème brulée and went to slouch on the sofa. Gwen came and sat next to him, while Lance and Morgana went to the kitchen.
"Do you want coffee, you two?" Morgana called over.
"No thanks." Arthur didn't want to be lying awake listening to the three of them, while he had to lay in bed alone.
"I'll have one, love." Gwen tucked her knees underneath herself, leaned into Arthur and put her arm around him tenderly. "What's going on?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, three weeks ago you were a train wreck, Arthur. Morgana told me Merlin came over." She raised her eyebrows to show she had been divulged every sordid detail. "Are you seeing him again? You never said what happened between you two last year. It seemed like it was all going great and then … nothing."
Morgana and Lance came over and placed coffees on the table. Lance wrapped himself around Morgana, who was sat on the floor at Arthur's feet. Arthur suddenly felt like their little ménage a trois was encroaching too far into his personal space, like a love-fest ambush.
"He told me I was a transient queer."
"Oh. Harsh." Lance shook his head sympathetically: like he would know.
"It's why he's keeping me at arm's length. He says he doesn't want to be with someone who won't tell his friends and family he's my boyfriend."
"He has a point." Gwen quickly added, "He hasn't met Uther then?"
Lance asked, "What are you going to do?"
"Tell my father, I suppose."
Gwen hugged him tighter. "You're really in love with him, aren't you?"
Morgana rested her head on his knees and squeezed his leg affectionately. "My poor darling: it only took you a year to realise."
Lance looked up at him with those puppy-dog brown eyes and said sincerely, "Arthur, if you love this guy, then you need to do the honourable thing. We're all behind you, man." From anyone else it would have sounded hackneyed, but Lance always spoke from the heart. No wonder women (and men) fell at his feet. Arthur wondered what Lance got up to when he was away on tour, with all those young groupies that would do simply anything for the attentions of anyone in a band, no matter how mediocre (Arthur kept all that strictly to himself). But he supposed it didn't matter. Morgana and Gwen seemed perfectly content with whatever arrangement they had.
Arthur forced a smile. "Do you think my father will disown me?"
Morgana shrieked, "What? No! Of course he won't. He's all smoke and no fire, Arthur. Don't you remember the debutante fiasco?"
How could he forget? It was hilarious in retrospect, but awful at the time. Morgana had been inducted to the debutante scene at the start of The Season, after her eighteenth birthday. It mostly consisted of charity functions and cocktail parties, but she hated it nonetheless. One evening, after she got hideously drunk and said to Lord Trombley's annoying son, "I'd rather remain single than get married off to one of these arrogant cocksuckers," she was kindly asked not to return. She had maintained throughout, she knew for a fact Horace Bentley was a homosexual; she had caught him with his hand down Percy Harrington-Smith's trousers at a fundraiser for the homeless not two weeks before. Arthur also knew (but kept out of it) that she was right.
The outrage those kinds of accusations fueled was enough to extinguish any hopes Uther might have had to marry Morgana off to anyone in Society of sound repute, which was entirely what she had been aiming for.
They all laughed about it now: because they had known all along what an epic disaster trying to marry off Morgana to a Sloane Ranger was going to be. By the time Morgana was eighteen, she had already spent several years exploring her sexual preferences. If it wasn't for her, Arthur might have taken years longer to yield to what had been inside him for as long as he could remember. He was sixteen when she snuck him off to the Gastonbury Festival and introduced him to pot and the joys of the blowjob, via a rather attractive young country boy called Adam. Morgana had point blank refused to camp, but had had no compunction leaving Arthur in Adam's capable hands.
Arthur reminded them, "My father never really liked that whole debutante scene, but he thought he was doing the right thing for you, Morgana. This is different. I just think, with me being his only son, he's going to expect the whole marriage and babies deal."
Morgana looked up at him and reached for his hand. "He loves you, Arthur. I'm not saying he won't be upset or that he's not going to handle this badly, but he'll come round. He will."
She said it with such conviction Arthur was tempted to believe it.
Lance pushed himself up to his feet and said, with his usual flair for the melodramatic, "Let's open a bottle of Bolly. It will fortify you for your quest in slaying the Pendragon."
Arthur didn't want to slay his father. He would be quite satisfied if he didn't leave him with apoplexy.
~*~
As Sunday dawned, Arthur decided he would get it over and done with and go over to his father's house after lunch. Morgana had offered to come with him, but that was such a bad idea, for so many reasons, he had adamantly refused. She reassured him she would have her mobile phone at the ready, for the moment the deed was done.
Shortly before lunch, Arthur's plans were scuppered by a call.
It was Uther. "Arthur, are you still coming over after lunch?"
"Yes father."
"Good. I have to discuss with you a board meeting I need for you to attend in my place on Tuesday morning. I have a funeral to attend."
"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. Was it anyone I knew?"
"No. Just an old friend. Actually, he was a very close friend of your mother's."
Arthur went to his father's house in Chelsea and they spoke business. In the evening, Merlin called. They chatted for a while, but Arthur didn't mention his aborted attempt to tell his father. Merlin told Arthur he was going up to Warwick to visit his mum for a few days and that he'd be back by the weekend. He was going to have a day off on Saturday. Arthur considered this some kind of hint, and felt the anxiety bubble up in his chest.
The start of the week dragged on and it was still only Thursday when Uther made an unexpected appearance at Arthur's office.
He stood in the doorway as he spoke. "Arthur, I was wondering whether you had any plans tomorrow morning."
"Only work, but no big meetings. I was going to go over some paperwork mostly. Why?"
"I'm going to an auction preview sale. The chap whose funeral I attended … he never married, and he's left everything to charity. However, in his will he requested some of his old friends be invited to attend the preview to allow us the opportunity to purchase at reserve. After that it all goes to open auction."
"And you'd like me to come with you?" Arthur could see it had taken some effort for Uther to ask this. It must have been incredibly hard to have lost someone who had been a connection to his wife. Arthur wondered why he had never met this now deceased friend.
"Yes, I would. You see, the thing is, he used to have some very collectible porcelain: Wedgwood and Coalport, I think it was. They were pieces that I know your mother adored. It was he who bought her the Royal Doulton, when we got married. I know perhaps it's Morgana I should be asking about this …"
"Actually, it's me."
"Oh?"
Arthur took a deep breath. He'd come this far. "Well, after you gave me mother's china Morgana bought me the cabinet, which was really too large for that one dinner service. It just seemed fitting I should get a few more pieces."
The expression on Uther's face lightened considerably as he replied, "Well then this is perfect. I'll pick you up from home at nine."
Arthur smiled to himself and shook his head. All this time and it had been that easy.
~*~
Friday morning Uther's chauffer drove them down to Hampton. Uther told Arthur how Miles Dempster had lived in a large house backing onto the Thames. It had been his parents' house before it became his and the house was filled to the rafters with all manner of things: many collectable. Uther explained that he had known Miles from his school days, and it was through him he had met Arthur's mother.
"She lived a few houses along from Miles." Uther pointed to a large Victorian house behind wrought iron gates as they drove past. It was much the same as all the other houses along this street: large, leafy and very expensive. "I first met Igraine when we were teenagers. Miles and I were back for Easter and she was trying to get us to come with her to a peace rally in London." He seemed to cheer at this memory.
Arthur had never heard his father talk about his mother so much all in one go. The death of this man he had never even met seemed to have hit his father hard. Though Uther spoke fondly, the weight of his sadness pressed out into the confines of the car. Arthur had to roll down the window a fraction so he could breathe.
~*~
There were several cars already parked at the front of the house. They were ushered inside and asked to sign in, then handed a brochure with the reserve prices listed next to the ticket number of each item. Arthur noticed everything had been rearranged so that the large sitting room could accommodate the administration of the sale. The things left in the house were ticketed with discreet white stickers.
As they left the sitting room and headed towards the back of the house to the dining room Uther slowly ran his hand along the white paneling on the wall. He was gazing distractedly towards a place which was probably from years ago. The wall above the paneling was windowed with dark rectangles: the wallpaper was preserved in the places that had been covered by pictures. Judging by the size, many of them must have been photographs.
Arthur realised this house must be stirring up some painful memories for him. "Father, would you like me to look? Maybe you'd prefer to sit outside and wait for me." Arthur never spoke to his father like that: a man so certain and forthright in all his decisions and actions. But for once, it seemed Arthur had said the right thing.
He put his hand on Arthur's shoulder. "No, I'm all right. It's hard, seeing all this … disruption. Two generations just reduced to an estate sale, with almost strangers thumbing through his possessions. I thought if I could rescue those pieces your mother had loved it would at least preserve something of his memory, as well as hers."
Arthur realised his father had needed him here. It was strange, to feel the dynamic shift slightly, between father and son. He had never before considered his father old or vulnerable. Quite the contrary: Arthur usually thought of his father as indestructible … and infallible. This was a responsibility he hadn't planned on having: not for a long time yet.
They pressed on to the dining room where temporary shelves had been erected for the ornaments, vases and various other items of porcelain and silver. Arthur immediately spotted several pieces of Coalport; in particular a set of red dessert plates edged with iridescent green fans that looked like stars. They were breath-taking: so decadent and yet so ... simple. There were no fancy or delicate patterns: No gilt, no fluted edges: Just vibrant, unadulterated colour. He ran his fingers over the glossy glaze and decided he would be buying those for himself, regardless of what his father picked out.
Arthur looked round at Uther, about to ask him if he'd seen anything he remembered. He didn't get the chance, though, to even open his mouth. No sooner had Arthur turned his head, as a tall man, about his father's age, elegantly sauntered into the room and who should be trailing in behind him but … Merlin.
"Uther Pendragon. Well I never!"
Uther glanced at Arthur then turned to the man in question, while Arthur stood dumbstruck looking at Merlin: the very same Merlin who had told him he was going to stay with his mother.
"Victor?" Uther's response was tentative but friendly and he reached to shake the man's hand.
Arthur felt his blood run cold. His heart skipped a beat.
"That's right: Victor Moran. You were in the same year as my older brother, Max."
"Oh, now I remember." Uther smiled warmly while Arthur felt a cold shiver creep down the length of his spine. Uther continued, "Victor, this is my son, Arthur."
This was too much to take in. Victor, Merlin's Victor, had gone to school with his father. For a man of forty eight he looked … well he didn't have a hair of grey. He was tall: several inches taller than Merlin, and was … for want of a better word … debonair. He looked something like Arthur imagined Lance would look when he was older. Arthur had somehow hoped, should he ever have had to meet him, Victor would have looked like a troll.
Arthur reached out and shook Victor's hand, very firmly. He looked him in the eye, and if a look could have said, hands off Merlin, he's mine, and I know what you did to his eye, you filthy scoundrel, then that was the look Arthur gave him. If Victor noticed at all he didn't let on. He simply replied smoothly, "How do you do?"
"Very well." Arthur was speechless. The blood had drained away from his cerebral cortex and the only neurons firing were those in his brain stem: the ones that said fight or flight. He was swaying precariously towards the former.
Uther seemed more animated as he said, "I don't see Max at the Richmond these days. Is he well?"
"Oh he's fine. He's permanently in Yorkshire, now. Doesn't get into town much."
"What about you?"
"Oh, I never go there." Victor laughed, completely unperturbed as he said, "Not my scene."
"No, I don't imagine it is."
Uther had said it without malice. Nonetheless, Arthur cringed, then looked at Merlin, and wondered how long they were going to ignore him. Merlin had stopped in his tracks, looking frozen somewhere between awkward and mortified.
"Oh, please excuse my manners. This is my young friend, Merlin. Merlin Emrys. He works in antiques," Victor said casually, as if that were explanation enough.
Arthur's mind was catching up with the rush of adrenaline that coursed through his veins. His palms were sweating, but he took a steadying breath as they all took turns in shaking hands. When Merlin took Arthur's he smiled, softly brushed his thumb over the top of Arthur's hand then gave it a gentle squeeze as he shook it. It stilled the butterflies, if only for a moment.
Uther said lightly to Merlin, "That's a nasty black eye. You don't look like a rugby man, and certainly not like a bar brawler."
"No, sir. I had a collision with a flying book." Then Merlin smiled and his face seemed to light up the room. Arthur was stunned. Merlin was taking all this in his stride, as if it were nothing. This was Uther Pendragon he was talking to! And Arthur could not help the fact he still had the bristling urge to kick Victor out on his suave behind and find out from Merlin exactly what he was playing at.
Uther simply smiled warmly back at Merlin, looking completely enchanted by him. He replied, "Ah. Who would have guessed the world of antiques could be so dangerous?"
Arthur bit back the urge to say, you have no idea.
Victor said, "Such a shame about Miles. This is terribly sad." He looked around the room stacked high with a lifetime of memories about to be scattered into the four winds, echoing the sentiment expressed by Uther not minutes before. Arthur refused to look at it that way. The past was a magical thing, brought to life by the preserved treasures of generations before. Even photographs of loved ones long gone (like the mother he had never really known) were something to be enjoyed, celebrated. Of course, one needed to mourn, but there was surely some joy to be had from this life that had gone?
"Yes, very sad," Uther said.
It looked as though Victor was about to move on, as Arthur realised he couldn't leave things as they were. He quickly said, "Father, actually Merlin and I are previously acquainted. The china cabinet in the flat came from his dealer's."
"Oh, is that right?"
Merlin replied, "Yes, sir. It's a beautiful piece. Actually, I'm here to help Victor with looking at the furniture."
"Well then, it seems, Victor, you are in good hands."
Arthur watched as the flush spread up Victor's face, and he couldn't help but feel smug satisfaction at his father's unwitting faux pas. Except, Merlin was blushing, too, and even though, against the dark blue shirt he was wearing it was quite becoming, Arthur couldn't help but be worried.
"Indeed. Nice to see you, Uther. Now, I think Merlin and I need to head upstairs."
They turned and Victor literally launched Merlin through the door.
Arthur was completely thrown. He was glad he hadn't taken off his suit jacket, lest it became apparent he was sweating like a pig. His shirt clung unforgivingly to his back and he was sure, if he were to look, his underarms looked drenched. He pulled at the collar of his shirt, desperate to loosen his tie, but reluctant to do so out of respect for the solemnity of the occasion. (Because, of course, Uther was none the wiser to the emotional rollercoaster Arthur had just been hurtled on.)
"Are you alright, Arthur?"
"Yes. I'm just a little hot. Have you seen anything you remember?" Arthur tried to slow his breathing as if it might in turn slow the racing of his heart.
"Yes, those plates you had your eye on. Your mother loved those. It's uncanny you should have picked them out first."
"Those were Coalport. I can't imagine ever eating anything off them: they're so vivid. But really quite stunning."
Uther looked suddenly weary again. "Perhaps you could choose a few other things. You seem to have a better eye." He shook his head, and Arthur wondered sadly if he was thinking that was yet another thing Arthur had inherited from his mother.
"Do you want to wait for me in the car? I can take care of everything."
"Actually, could you meet me in the garden? There's a patio just through those French doors." Uther pointed to the doors at the end of the room. "Take your time. Pick out anything you like."
As Uther exited the dining room, Arthur wasted no time staking his claim on the china, and next made his way to stake his claim on Merlin.
They weren't on the ground floor, so Arthur made his way quickly upstairs, not sure if it was fear, anger, jealousy or excitement that fueled his pounding heart. The second bedroom Arthur looked in he found them, stood in front of a dark wood bureau. Merlin was pulling out a small drawer, and explaining something to Victor, when Arthur interrupted with, "Oh, hello again! Merlin …" He was grabbing at straws as he exclaimed, "My father was wondering if you might be able to spare a moment to advise him on the purchase of a piece of art, maybe a painting for his office?"
"Well, that's not really my speciality." Merlin looked helplessly at Arthur, his eyebrows raised expectantly.
Arthur glared desperately. Victor looked at him suspiciously, Merlin shuffled on the spot nervously.
Think fast, Arthur, think fast. "There was also an armoire in one of the bedrooms …"
Merlin looked ready to bolt. "Would you like me to take a look now? Victor? I'll only be a couple of minutes."
"Go ahead." Victor did not look happy.
No sooner had they left the bedroom as Arthur dragged Merlin behind him, frantically looking in all the rooms until they came to a bathroom at the end of the hallway. He pushed Merlin inside and locked the door behind them.
Merlin barely had a chance to draw a breath as Arthur slammed him into the door and pressed his mouth against his. Arthur pinned Merlin with one of his forearms across Merlin's chest and the other behind his head, holding it in place. It was frantic, desperate, and Arthur couldn't even say why he had no control over what he was doing, except for the overwhelming need to have Merlin there, away from Victor, and to somehow try to tell him, explain to him, I was going to tell my father: I was, I was, I was …
Beneath the press of his mouth, Merlin struggled, pushed back, and tried to wriggle his face free. Through Arthur's hurried, clumsy kisses Merlin muttered incomprehensibly against his mouth. Arthur couldn't stop. Merlin pushed his hands upwards and grabbed Arthur's face, forcing him away and holding him steady at the same time. Arthur could feel the sting of tears trying to make their way out but he was holding that in, and instead, all the things he wanted to say, to blurt out all at once, wouldn't come out at all.
Merlin prised a gap between them big enough to say, "Breath, calm down, calm down. Look at me, I'm right here."
Arthur panted, urgently sucking down lungfuls that didn't seem to help at all. He thought he might faint.
"Jesus Christ, Arthur. What the fuck?" Merlin slid down the door until he was crouched on the bathroom floor.
Arthur fell back and ended up sitting with his back against the bath, dazed, his elbows on his knees. "Why are you here, with him? I thought you were …"
Merlin cut in, angrily, "I went home on Monday and came back last night. Victor only asked me to come to look at furniture, I swear, Arthur."
Arthur looked at the floor. "I thought I was too late."
Merlin reached out and grasped Arthur's hand. He sighed. After what seemed like ages he said, "So, your dad doesn't seem too bad. I expect that means he's really a tyrant, right?"
"Something like that." This situation was bordering on comical, or maybe hysteria was setting in because Arthur couldn't help but snort.
"We can't stay in here." Merlin grinned.
"Come on, just for a minute." Arthur pulled Merlin between his legs. Then he kissed him properly, and Merlin kissed him back.
Having Merlin back in his arms, Arthur calmed slightly. He ran his fingers through Merlin's hair, then up and down his back, as if to reassure himself Merlin was still there. Arthur hadn't lost him yet. He still had a chance. Merlin slid his arm inside Arthur's jacket. "Arthur, you are soaked." He pulled his arm back again and looked a bit disgusted.
"I am under stress: in case you hadn't noticed."
"Perhaps this will make you feel better." Merlin looked up at Arthur and said, "Did you know he was gay … the guy who died?"
"No! I'd never even heard of him before Sunday."
"Victor told me he was caught, in flagrante, when he was in the sixth form, with a teacher. Trouble was, the teacher was a nephew by marriage to some Earl or something. So even though, at the time, Miles was considered legally underage, and the teacher should have been prosecuted, it was all swept under the carpet. Old money trumps new, every time. Still, the papers got hold of the story, and it turned into a complete scandal."
"Fucking hell." Arthur didn't know what else to say.
Merlin pulled back and looked at Arthur so sincerely Arthur was again victim to those rising butterflies. He said to Arthur, "So … if you want to do it, you might find this whole coming out thing isn't going to be as bad as you thought."
"I was going to tell him last weekend, but then this Miles chap died and I had to take over a meeting, then there was the funeral and then when we got here he looked devastated. I think it stirred up all sorts of memories." The panic started rising.
Merlin soothed, "We don't need to talk about this now. Listen, there's a beautiful painting in the office; it's of a castle in Wales. Victor knows his art; he says the price is a steal. It's really lovely. Go to tell your dad to buy that for his office before Victor gets down there." Merlin gave him a wink and got up. "I should get going."
"Hang on; I need to take a leak." Arthur got up and opened his zip. He was just at the point of no return when … there was a knock at the door.
"Merlin, are you in there?" It was Victor.
"Shit," Arthur said under his breath.
"Um … yes."
"Is the Pendragon in there with you?"
"Yes. He's just having a piss." The sound was probably loud enough to be heard outside the door.
As if the situation couldn't have been made any worse, Arthur sniggered as he tucked himself back in and flushed. Then he made a big show of washing his hands, and by this time they were both sniggering like a couple of school girls, because if this wasn't something to go manic about, then Arthur didn't know what was. He was completely fucked now. Victor was either going to try to smash his face in, blab to his father or (and this would be over Arthur's dead body) he was going to try to take it out on Merlin. Yes, this was a monumental fucking disaster, which Arthur couldn't help feeling, (in the deepest recesses of his mind) he might have brought upon himself.
Merlin opened the door.
Victor's arm was raised above his head, leaning against the door frame. He was very tall. But Arthur could probably take him out if he had to. However, the man was almost as old as his father.
Arthur attempted to look sheepish but he was feeling slightly hysterical. He had a fleeting urge to charge him with a flailing battle cry, which was really completely inappropriate. Merlin was in front and said, "Sorry. Um, we were … we didn't do anything. Shit, I'm sorry."
Victor pushed off the door frame, and with a very poor attempt at haughty he said, "I am going downstairs to pay for the bureau. Then I am leaving. Since you were not invited to this preview I suggest you also leave now. I do believe the train station is about half a mile's walk from here. That is, unless the Pendragons will give you a lift."
Arthur could see the quiver of his bottom lip and the blotches of red at his neck. This had gone from embarrassing to tragic in a heartbeat. Merlin said softly, "Good-bye, Victor."
Victor turned to leave. Merlin breathed a huge sigh.
"I'm so sorry, Merlin." If ever Arthur had felt like a childish wanker, this moment was it.
Merlin shook his head. "I think I'd like to leave now."
Arthur pulled Merlin in for a hug. A couple of ladies in tweed suits looked over and hurried into one of the bedrooms. Arthur ignored them and said, "Merlin, my father is waiting for me in the garden. He and I need to have a conversation."
"Not here, not now, Arthur."
"Yes, here and now. Will you wait for me in the sitting room? I'll find you when I'm done."
Merlin tightened the embrace. "Of course I'll wait for you. But you really ought to think about this."
"Merlin, I've done nothing but think about this since the day I met you."
Arthur took Merlin's hand and lead him downstairs. They watched Victor leave then Arthur left Merlin in the sitting room. At least Victor hadn't made a scene. The relief at getting over that hurdle lightened the tightness in Arthur's chest, releasing him from having to heave out every breath. His shirt was completely stuck to his back now.
He looked at Merlin, sat forlornly in that room with the flowered wallpaper and the rows of upholstered chairs brought in for the auction. There were a few other people milling about, but by this time Arthur no longer cared. He sat next to Merlin and took his hand.
Merlin gingerly turned Arthur's face towards his, looked into Arthur's eyes and said, "I love you."
Arthur kissed him, just fleetingly, there in the sitting room, in front of everyone. Then he got up and headed for the patio.
~*~
Uther sat facing the river: it could just be made out glistening beyond the shrubbery that framed the garden. As Arthur approached, Uther turned, squinting from the morning sun. Arthur pulled up a chair.
"All done?"
"Yes. I got a vase and the plates. They'll have them wrapped and we can take them with us. There's also a painting, if you're interested."
Uther nodded. He looked older: tired.
"How come you've never told me about Miles? How come I never met him? It sounds like he was a good friend."
"I don't know. After your mother died, we just lost touch."
"Is it because he was gay?"
"What? No! How did you … did Victor tell you?"
"Sort of."
"But you knew, right?"
"Yes. Arthur what does that have to do with anything? He was a very private man."
"But you were still his friend, even though you knew?"
"Of course I was. What do you take me for?" Uther looked at him, angry and surprised, and Arthur hadn't meant to do that: upset him.
"Father, I have something to tell you." Arthur realised he just had to spit it out, loud and clear. "I'm gay."
Uther looked like he might choke, then he got up from where he sat, his face suddenly scarlet, the veins in his neck flickering, thumping, and the silence seemed to stretch on as he got redder and redder and Arthur didn't know whether he ought to say it again. Maybe Uther hadn't heard him, but it had been hard enough saying it the first time, so Arthur just stood up, shaking and his knees were shaking so much he had to sit back down. But he knew by now he had to keep looking at him, keep waiting for a response.
Uther steadied himself on the back of the chair. He looked down at Arthur and said calmly, "How long?"
Arthur was confused. "I … I assume I was born this way…"
"No. How long have you known?"
"Since I was sixteen. I mean … that's when I was really sure." Arthur was trying desperately not to cry.
"So you waited eight years to tell me?" Uther sat back down and said, with heart-breaking sorrow, "This wouldn't have happened if your mother had been alive."
Arthur's face crumpled. He couldn't hold it back much longer, and already a stray tear was rolling down his cheek. "You think I turned out this way because mother died?"
"No, I mean, she would have known. She wouldn't have let you … I've failed you." Uther pulled Arthur to his chest and held him close as Arthur wept.
~*~
In the distance church bells rang, a cox called out to his rowers and birds sang. The rest of the world went about its business like nothing had happened. In this microcosm of mayhem the air finally cleared.
When Arthur stilled he pulled back, and he and his father sat side by side, looking down to the river.
After a while, Uther spoke. "Miles was caught up in a scandal. We were in our last year at school. They let him come back to sit his exams, but he had to sit in a room by himself. He was a pariah.
"He had a sort of breakdown that summer. Your mother came and visited him every day. That's when I met her properly.
"Poor Miles was never the same after that. He became something of a recluse. I suppose I didn't tell you because it was so painful: that whole time. After your mother died … he had been so fond of her, it was …" Uther paused. "Do you have someone?"
"Yes."
"Can I meet him?"
Arthur almost laughed. "You already have. Merlin: the victim of the flying book. He's in the house waiting for me."
Uther smiled back and said, "Let's go have a look at that painting. Then I think you need to properly introduce me to this boyfriend of yours."
~*~
The grin was breaking Arthur's face. Uther had given him the rest of the day off, so Arthur had gone back to Merlin's house and told him to pack an overnight bag.
"Bring something nice to wear; we'll go out tonight."
Merlin paused. "You mean like a shirt and trousers?"
"Yes. Like a shirt and trousers."
"What about a tie?"
"Optional."
Merlin paused then quirked a small smile. "French cuffs?"
"Definitely."
Merlin disappeared off to the bathroom, when Arthur's phone bleeped. He ignored it. Then he heard Merlin call out from down the hall, "You need to open that. Remember, I showed you how … several times?"
Arthur opened the text message. It was from Merlin.
Do we have time for an interlude?
I have a condom with your name on it.
Merlin.
Merlin called out again, "You can call out your answer. I don't think I can wait for you to text me back."
"Yes." Arthur stripped out of his suit unceremoniously and laid himself out like a buffet on Merlin's bed, just as Merlin came back with toiletries, which he dropped unceremoniously on the floor.
He sat on the bed next to Arthur and ran his fingers down the length of Arthur's body. Arthur shivered, and said, "Undress for me? Slowly."
Merlin got up and undid the buttons on his shirt, one by one. Arthur watched, mesmerised. They said nothing, as Merlin stripped slow, without an act, without trying to be anything except Merlin, just like he always had.
When he lay down next to Arthur they stayed close, skin connecting with skin, breath with breath, heartbeat with heartbeat. Side by side, face to face, Arthur and Merlin kissed the slow, languorous kisses of the truly, madly, deeply in love.
With fingers dug in clenching flesh they pressed and rutted their hips together in counter-time, their leaking cocks rubbing against the other. Arthur was so hard, so hot, so perfectly in this moment his orgasm took him by surprise. He came in pearly pulses, gasping out each stutter into Merlin's mouth, kissed red raw and swollen. Merlin kept going, rocking into the solid warmth of Arthur, panting softly as he went faster and faster. His erection was slipping in the fluid from his cock and Arthur's come and Arthur could feel it: the inevitable and wondrous crash as Merlin jerked his head back, his hips forward, and his mouth opened in a silent and beautiful 'O'.
The silence lingered as they lay wrapped in a tangle of each other. But for the gentle move of fingers, minutely tracing a line of muscle, a dimple, a curl of hair, they were still and perfectly content.
At least, Arthur was content to be still. Merlin began to fidget just as their come seemed to have reached maximum viscosity, trapped as it was, between their bellies.
"We never used that condom," Arthur said, planting a few more kisses along Merlin's jaw.
"No, we didn't. But that's okay: we've got plenty more time."
And for the very first time Arthur truly believed that they did.
~*~
Three months later …
The July heat hadn't stopped the guys meeting up for a game of touch rugby in the park. Merlin was lying repose on a blanket under a golf umbrella with a book and the beers in a cool box, and every so often he looked up and waved. Mostly, Merlin was engrossed in his book. Mostly, Arthur was engrossed in his game.
They were coming up to the end of the first half when Ollie broke away with the ball. Arthur broke into a sprint, about ten feet out to his left. He felt the breeze rushing past as he ran full pelt. One of the other team was closing in on Ollie and it was automatic by now, after all these years, that Arthur shouted out to him, "Pass!"
Ollie looked over his shoulder and with a grin lobbed the ball into the air. It spun out, and Arthur watched it fly, in slow motion, as he ran to catch up with it. Ollie had passed high but Arthur could see it just in reach. As he drew level he leapt up, his left hand held high, and in perfect time curled his fingers round the ball and pulled it to his chest. He could hear the shouts of his team, but it was all background noise. The field was clear and Arthur sprinted over their makeshift try line and … scored.
Dripping with sweat and elated with his try, Arthur ran over to Merlin and flopped down beside him. He draped his arm over Merlin's chest and said breathlessly, "Did you see me? I scored a try."
"Arthur, you're dripping on me. Yes, I saw the try. Well done, you."
Arthur leaned down and planted a wet kiss on Merlin's reluctant mouth. Someone shouted, "Get a room," and Arthur laughed into Merlin's mouth as Merlin muttered something about that one wearing a bit thin.
Merlin pushed Arthur off and sat up. He got out two beers and passed Arthur one. "You really love that game, don't you?"
"Er, yes." Then he added, "Because some of us queers can throw and catch perfectly well, actually."
Merlin nodded and smiled. "You're the only decent catch I ever made. But one's enough for me."
They clinked their beer bottles together and Arthur took a swig. The others walked over to join them and once the beers were opened it was unlikely they'd play the second half. Which was fine by Arthur: absolutely, perfectly fine.
The End