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Arthur stood behind his father's right shoulder as the kings of Camelot and the Venedotians exchanged endless pleasantries. Malgo, King of the Venedotians, raised his staff to ceremonially tap the chests of Camelot's king and prince. This was a traditional Venedotian acknowledgement of strength and valour and, more importantly to Arthur, the end of this round of mutual admiration. With predictably irritating precision, before the staff reached Arthur's chest, Merlin imposed himself between Arthur and the Venedotian king.
Uther and Malgo stared at Merlin in apoplectic rage while Arthur demanded, "Merlin, what the devil do you think you are doing?"
"I recognize the staff from one of Gaius' books, sire. It's old and powerful binding magic." Quiet yet sure, Merlin spoke to Arthur, but his eyes never left the Venedotian king, and his body remained interposed between Arthur and the staff in the king's hand.
"I tolerate a great deal from you for the loyalty you've always shown my son," Uther snapped frigidly, "but accusing visiting monarchs with no more evidence than a picture in a book is several steps too far."
The finality of his father's tone sliced through the air with all the inevitability of the executioner's axe. Camelot needed this alliance too much for her king to be able to tolerate any appearance of weakness in front of Malgo. Arthur wrapped his hand around the back of Merlin's neck as much to protect it from the anticipated cut of that axe as to gain Merlin's attention.
Stepping close against Merlin's back, Arthur whispered urgently in his ear, "Not another word if you want to keep your head." Pressing down firmly with the hand around Merlin's neck, Arthur felt the obdurate stiffening of Merlin's spine with frustrated admiration. "Kneel, you little imbecile," Arthur hissed. "The only life at risk here is yours." Something of Uther's expression must have finally crept its way into Merlin's fool head because he went willingly, if awkwardly, to his knees.
His hand still firmly gripping Merlin's neck, Arthur barely glanced at the line of his father's profile before addressing Malgo directly, "I'm afraid the fault here is mine. Merlin has previously shown himself all too willing to throw his life down on my behalf. It was my responsibility to prevent this unpleasantness. I apologize for my failure to do so."
The lines of affronted rage eased from Malgo's face, and he looked down at Merlin with an expression of dawning interest. That was not, necessarily, an improvement. "Spontaneous self-sacrifice is a valuable trait in a loyal servant." Arthur's hand tightened to pull Merlin back towards him.
Malgo tilted his head and smiled silkily down at Merlin, who, finally showing the remotest semblance of self-preservation, pressed back into Arthur's hand, "One that I would be interested in acquiring for myself."
Constrained against the impulse to warn Malgo away by the palpable weight of his father's expectations, Arthur struggled to strictly maintain a mild, even tone. "He's already given himself to me, King Malgo."
Malgo laughed, "That's as may be, princeling, but you haven't claimed him in return."
Arthur stepped into Merlin and slid his hand around to spread across Merlin's collar bone.
Uther dropped a heavy hand on Arthur's shoulder and smiled coolly, "It seems we have a satisfactory resolution to this unpleasant little interruption."
The feel of Merlin pushing back against his legs made Arthur fight against the urge to bare his teeth in warning at both his father and King Malgo. Blood singing with the circling threat of battle, only will and determination kept his spine relaxed and his expression neutral.
Nevertheless, Malgo regarded him with amused indulgence before turning to Uther and declining, "Oh, not yet, I think. They're just boys yet, the both of them. Let them have the length of my visit." Arthur's lips tightened, knowing his father would happily take that double-edged gift as offered. "I'll take what I can claim of the boy as I leave."
Ensnared by whispers of rumour and innuendo slithering along the edges of his mind, Arthur nearly missed the grim implication of the statement that followed. "The clean break will best suit us all, I think."
Uther nodded, clapped Malgo on the shoulder and left Arthur standing in the hall with Merlin pressed against his legs and dread pooling in his gut.
•••***•••
Finally back in his rooms, Arthur settled slowly into his chair. Staring into the flames as Merlin built them up, Arthur weighed all the alternatives but kept coming back to the same place. There really wasn't anything else for it. Merlin needed claiming, whether or not the little fool really understood the extent of what he'd agreed to. Even as unsure as he was of his ability to hold the claim, given Malgo's unblemished history in these sorts of challenges, he had to make the attempt. Merlin wouldn't survive a week under Malgo's rule – certainly not as anyone recognizable.
Finally breaking the silence consuming them, Merlin demanded, "What was that? Did the king really just..." Merlin trailed off, swallowing.
Pulled back into the present by Merlin's inquiry, Arthur looked over at him and sighed, "What did you think would happen when you challenged the king of the Venedotians?"
Merlin grimaced, "I didn't really have time to think about it. I was just going to tell you when I had a chance… The staff is very powerful; it exerts a powerful influence over anyone in its vicinity, um… according to Gaius' book." Merlin shifted uncomfortably for a moment before recalling himself enough to glare at Arthur. "I certainly didn't expect to be offered off as some kind of…" stumbling over the descriptor, Merlin's face flushed a fiery red, "slave!"
Incredulous, Arthur turned to stare at Merlin admiringly. "After all this time, you still manage to achieve heights of ignorance previously unanticipated even by me."
Appearing genuinely perplexed, Merlin stuttered, "I… What?"
Concerned now that Merlin truly didn't understand, Arthur said, almost gently, "Of course my father would have given you over without hesitation. We need this alliance with the Venedotians. By interfering as you did…" Arthur sat forward in his chair, alarm curling around his spine. "I thought you understood when you leaned into me."
Merlin's eyes widened in some Merlinesque realization. "Arthur... I... Why don't you explain it to me?"
"When you leaned into me, everyone thought," Arthur shifted to meet Merlin's gaze, searching for some reaction, "everyone thought that you were… stating your preference for me as your master."
"You've been my master since your father gave me to you, haven't you?" Merlin asked cautiously.
"Well, yes," Arthur agreed, "but not to this extent." Arthur searched for some sign that Merlin understood. Failing to find one, he rose and paced away to the window. Merlin's ignorance didn't alter the case even slightly, but it did make things terribly awkward and uncomfortable.
"Merlin," Arthur crossed to Merlin and looked at him gravely, "the only way I know to keep Malgo from claiming you is to claim you for myself." Reaching out a hand to thread through and grab hold of short hair, Arthur pulled Merlin's head back. Neck exposed, rosy cheeked, pliant in Arthur's hand, Merlin was… not entirely unappealing – never really had been, come to think of it.
Arthur's lips twisted slightly. "This isn't a choice I would take from you, but the boys picked by Malgo so very rarely fair well."
Merlin lifted a hand to rest on Arthur's forearm where it stretched next to his cheek, his breath speeding into rapid little pants. Merlin swallowed twice and licked his lips but lifted his eyes to Arthur's and declared steadily enough, "Arthur, the entire purpose of my existence is wrapped up in you. There can be no one else. Whatever there is of me is yours to claim."
Arthur searched Merlin's face for something that disproved such a blanket statement. He found nothing but truth, though there was hesitation and some perversely pleasing flicker of fear. "You're nervous," Arthur noted quietly.
Merlin smiled tremulously, "Well, I'm not entirely certain exactly where this is going, for one thing."
Arthur smiled slightly – that, at least, was likely to be enjoyable... stringing Merlin along was always fun – but he arched a brow and stated, "'For one thing' implies there is at least one other."
With a slightly hysterical laugh, Merlin admitted softly, "I'm not entirely sure how you are going to feel about all of this after Malgo and his thrice-bedamned staff return to Venedotia."
Surprised, Arthur laughed, disbelievingly, "You think I'm being influenced somehow."
"Fairly sure of it, actually," Merlin confirmed.
Voice heavy with amused innuendo, Arthur asked, "Should I be worried that you are being influenced by Malgo's staff?" Delighted and somewhat relieved by Merlin's outraged denial, Arthur grinned slyly, "Are you certain? It is a very big staff."
Merlin snorted and rolled his eyes in his unabashedly impudent manner. "No." Merlin's lips twisted slightly, and he continued quite seriously, "No, this is all me."
Insensibly pleased with Merlin's refusal to hide behind mysterious magical effects, Arthur grabbed Merlin's arm with his other hand and hauled Merlin up and against his body, head still arched backwards. "Then let the future take care of itself," Arthur commanded. "You have to decide now for the present because there is no doing this half-way. You are either mine to do with as I please, or you are not."
Panting rapidly, Merlin searched Arthur's face questioningly. Whatever he found there must have answered his doubts because, after a deep breath, he answered simply, "I'm yours."
Arthur's hands tightened. Merlin, who hadn't the sense to give over when confronted with a prince and his knights, gave over because Arthur asked. For all the apparent impossibility of Merlin ever developing an inherent respect for status and position, once Merlin's loyalty was won, it was... worthy of better than the likes of Malgo. Arthur watched with satisfaction, and some hope for the success of the claim, as, even jittery and rigid with unfulfilled expectation that wound tighter and tighter, Merlin just hung there in his hands.
When the rising tension drove Merlin's breathing harsh and shallow, Arthur gently shook the hand still gripping Merlin's hair. "Match your breathing to mine," he commanded softly.
Merlin's eyes flew back to meet his. "Arthur…"
"Whose?" Arthur interrupted with an abrupt demand.
Merlin swallowed but lacked no conviction when reconfirming, "Yours."
The declaration settled Merlin enough that when Arthur repeated, "Match your breathing to mine," Merlin exerted himself to comply. Arthur waited, patiently tracking every twitch of muscle and flutter of breath. A technique that was successful at gaining the focus of nervous or overeager squires would hopefully have a similar effect on Merlin.
Merlin's focus on breathing left less of his mind free for useless and agitating speculation. While not entirely relaxed, Merlin became fully present, in that room, in Arthur's arms.
Sliding his hand up and over Merlin's shoulder, Arthur rested his fingers over the still-pounding pulse in Merlin's neck. "Good," he murmured. "Now, let your heartbeat drop to match."
Merlin, contrary being that he unmistakeably was, naturally reacted to this command not by relaxing further, as Arthur or indeed any sensible person would have expected, but by flushing violently and mutinously sulking up at him. Arthur's lips twitched, but how could he be expected to help it? The sight of that sulky expression was always entertaining, even when it hadn't been his aim. Giving Merlin's head a little shake, Arthur asked, "What ridiculous thing is going on in that head?"
Staring up at him, Merlin twitched slightly in his hands and grumbled, "You... I'm not..." Merlin snapped his jaw shut and huffed out a laugh. "There is no way for me to finish that sentence without immediately disproving my own statement."
Arthur quirked an eyebrow and remarked, "Now, I'm really curious."
A flash of Merlin's irrepressible grin was the only response.
About to bring Merlin's attention back to breath and heartbeat, Arthur realized that the pulse under his fingers had slowed and was slowing still further. Intrigued, Arthur peered into Merlin's face, hoping for some sort of clue or inspiration. Of course Merlin would be settled by a little rebellion, but to such an extent that his breathing and heart rate calmed? Thinking back to his own struggles with this level of self-control, Arthur had to wonder. Thoughtfully petting across that perplexingly obedient pulse, Arthur watched, fascinated, as Merlin mastered mind and body at Arthur's command.
Once Merlin settled himself into Arthur's rhythms and the restive nerviness was drained entirely from him, he started leaning into Arthur's hold rather than just allowing it. Rewarded by the surprisingly enjoyable slump of Merlin's body against his own and the trusting weight of Merlin's head in his hand, Arthur flicked his fingers against the material concealing Merlin's neck and murmured warmly, "Take this off, Merlin."
Merlin's gaze sharpened on Arthur's face, and he opened his mouth to speak. Arthur raised an expectant eyebrow and waited until Merlin closed his mouth and dropped his gaze. Wanting to see what he'd do, Arthur made no effort to accommodate Merlin's arms as they reached up to untangle and unwrap.
With the unfamiliar angle and the need to manoeuvre around Arthur's arms, Merlin's fingers plucked ineffectually. Watching Merlin bumble his way through one task or another had a certain comfortable familiarity, even with the marked lack of bellyaching. Unable to get enough purchase on just one layer, Merlin's hands began to tremble slightly with familiar frustration and impatience, and his breath began to speed. Bending his head, Arthur let each exhale wash across Merlin's mouth.
Merlin's breath raced even faster. Arthur's own pulse leapt when Merlin's mouth softened and tilted yearningly up to Arthur. Laughing affectionately, chidingly, into Merlin's mouth, Arthur murmured, "Mind your breath, Merlin."
Head dropping back, Merlin groaned with plaintive humour and struggled again to match breaths with Arthur.
Merlin's breathing settled once again, and, calmed, his fingers got the purchase needed to unwind the scarf. When all that remained was for him to pull the scarf free, Arthur's hand dropped from Merlin's collar to his thigh.
Arthur pulled Merlin's thigh up and back as he slid his leg forward to press lewdly up. An extremely satisfactory cry tore itself from Merlin's throat and left Merlin gasping. Using his leg and his hold on Merlin, Arthur rocked Merlin against his thigh, savagely enjoying the wild, helpless look Merlin was directing at the ceiling – almost to the exclusion of the milder pleasure pulsing through his own body. "Very pretty," Arthur commented smugly. "It would seem you have some natural talent after all."
The look Merlin shot him in response was probably supposed to be indignant, but it came across as shock – as if Merlin hadn't seen exactly where all this was heading all along.
Suddenly tender, Arthur tucked Merlin's face into his neck, but that was the only respite he gave. He neither stopped nor slowed the relentless rhythm of Merlin's ride because, really, where would be the fun in that? Laughing softly into Merlin's ear, Arthur declared, "Mine," in a tone that was equal parts demanding and reassuring.
Merlin shuddered and gasped into his neck, "Yours." Merlin's voice resonated with a richer understanding but still no hesitation. Suddenly, Merlin moved wilfully, eagerly into the rocking motion that Arthur had initiated. As he tensed his muscles and leaned in to prevent Merlin from overbalancing them, sparks singed along Arthur's spine and down to his fingers and toes. Merlin was such a natural agent of chaos that it really should have occurred to Arthur that that would hold equally true even here. Arthur ran his hand to press Merlin flush against his body, stilling all motion. At Merlin's wordless cry of protest, Arthur pressed more adamantly until Merlin sagged obediently against him. Rubbing gently against the small of Merlin's back, Arthur promised, "We're just getting started."
Merlin shivered."I want you naked," Arthur murmured a warm tease into Merlin's ear. Feeling Merlin's sudden flush against the sensitive skin of his neck, Arthur chuckled and raised a hand to pet Merlin's cheek. "Have you done this before?"
Merlin's voice vibrated against Arthur's chest and rasped against his throat. "Have I done what? Have I given myself completely into the sexual possession of my sovereign, who is a controlling, tormenting ass, to prevent being taken as a doomed catamite to some other king?" Merlin snorted and bitched dryly, "No, that's new, but really? It's working out just exactly like I would have expected."
Arthur bit Merlin's ear punitively, happily riding out the resulting arch into him. The sudden clutch of Merlin's hands in his shirt was absurdly pleasing in the face of everything else. "No, you daft plonker, I'm asking if you've had sex before."
Merlin tried to pull his head back to meet Arthur's gaze, but Arthur's hand was still fisted in his hair, firmly holding his head close, so Merlin just replied huffily, "I realize that this may come as something of a shock to you, sire, but there has been the occasional, discriminating individual who found some degree of appeal in interactions with me that didn't involve ordering me about."
Arthur snorted, "My concern is not for how much your previous partners have missed out, but for how much experience you gained." Arthur's tongue thrust into Merlin's ear, and his hand dropped to squeeze Merlin's ass. Merlin bucked into him, and he breathed, "I intend to bugger you, and I want to know how careful I should be," against Merlin's ear and rubbed his cheek against the resulting goose pimples.
Merlin swallowed and pressed his hot face farther into Arthur's neck. "I, yes, no, I mean… a finger."
"Very adventurous," Arthur approved. "You or someone else?"
Astonished by a sudden bite to his collarbone, Arthur arched up into Merlin's teeth. The unexpected rush of blood in his ears faded just in time to hear Merlin's most insubordinate voice. "Oh, do be getting on with it! I've said, several times, in fact, that I'm yours to do with as you please." Arthur was lost enough in the sparking sing of sensation that Merlin succeeded in pulling back enough to meet his gaze. "You're a royal ass, but I trust you - with your people and with me. If I didn't, I'd just head back to Ealdor and good luck to the both of you. I'm yours because I choose to be."
Flush with affection and want, Arthur tipped Merlin's face up and devoured his mouth in a kiss. Tongue flickering in corners and skimming along the delicate places, Arthur waited until Merlin was panting into his mouth before bussing Merlin once on the lips and forcing himself to let go entirely. "Clothes, now."
Merlin swayed blankly for a moment but, with an expression of great disgruntlement, got on with getting naked. Arthur settled himself gingerly in his chair by the fire, listening to Merlin's fractious muttering with contented gratification.
The view wasn't bad either.
When Merlin, flushed and flustered, finished undressing, Arthur leaned forward, grabbed a hand and reeled Merlin in. As Arthur drew his hands up Merlin's sides, Merlin grumbled, "The buggering seems likely to go better if you take your clothes off too."
Arthur grinned, "All in good time. I'm busy now." Arthur skimmed his hands down Merlin's legs and up again before hooking behind one knee, then the other, and pulling Merlin to straddle his lap. Merlin's chin tilted with slight defiance or, possibly, with the desire to avoid the view that Arthur was currently enjoying. Running his thumbs along the creases between legs and torso, Arthur's fascinated regard tracked the flutter and ripple of stomach muscles, visible evidence of the panted breaths pulsing warmly over his ear, and the twitching strain of Merlin's cock.
Though Arthur's pace never changed, Merlin's breathing raced faster and faster. "Merlin, control your breath."
Merlin raised dazed eyes to his. Tongue flicking out to moisten lips, Merlin gasped, "If you stop!"
Arthur smirked but repeated firmly, "Breathe."
Forehead dropping to rest against Arthur's cheek, Merlin moaned quietly but fought to time his breathing to Arthur's. Merlin eventually managed to match pace with the movement of Arthur's thumbs in the crease of his thighs.
About to push Merlin to focus on breath rather than caress, Arthur abruptly realized that Merlin actually had matched to his rhythm; Arthur's own breathing had sped to match the movement of his thumbs. Focusing to control his breathing, Arthur gradually began making small, occasional changes in the direction, rhythm and location of his caresses. Every slight change threw Merlin's breathing back out of synch. After a few changes, Merlin caught Arthur smiling and bit testily at his chin.
Profoundly enjoying this new game, Arthur would wait just until Merlin managed to wrangle some measure of control before making a small shift.
To Arthur's keen delight, Merlin somehow managed the trick of gaining better breath control even as his cock grew wetter and heavier and tighter. Finally, Arthur couldn't resist the temptation to drift in closer to the base. Merlin's thighs bunched and quivered with each drag and press of Arthur's teasingly close touches, but Merlin held still, striving in an unprecedented way for some semblance of obedience.
It did not, of course, take very long for that to come to an end. Arthur stopped an abortive attempt to rock, to find some sort of pressure, by pressing down firmly on Merlin's hips with his hands. Merlin shuddered and stilled at the demonstration of strength, forehead dropping to rest on Arthur's shoulder.
A very few panted breaths later, Merlin's hands began to trail delicately, almost airily along the contours of muscle in Arthur's forearms. The hair, the very skin of Arthur's arms strained toward those nearly nonexistent caresses; Arthur's breathing rose to match Merlin's, and a shiver raced through him, waking every nerve. Arthur strove to rein himself back in, to regain the control he needed for the claim, but Merlin pursued the opening in Arthur's faltering guard with the sort of alacrity and precision that was so severely lacking from Merlin's efforts on any actual field of battle.
Merlin turned to mouth directly into Arthur's ear, "I'm yours, sire... master." Pushy and insubordinate as ever, Merlin couldn't just leave it there. "If you ordered me to touch you, to take you in my mouth, my service to you would require me to see to your pleasure," that tempter's tongue dipped briefly into Arthur's ear before Merlin delivered the final, beguiling coup de grace, "and my willing service to you would ensure my ardent obedience."
Tempted beyond rationality by those teasing fingers and that seductive mouth, Arthur slid his hands up to grasp Merlin's waist and lift all that delightfully fire-warmed skin off his lap and onto the floor. Kneeling, hands resting demurely on Arthur's knees and eyes glinting with jubilant mischief, Merlin peered up at Arthur expectantly. Absolutely knowing that this wasn't the sort of behaviour he should be encouraging, Arthur nevertheless dragged Merlin's hands to the fastening of his trousers. The third or fourth time that Arthur's laces confounded those trembling fingers, Merlin gave a desperate sort of laugh and leaned in to suck Arthur directly through the fabric.
Nearly blind with want, Arthur slammed his hands down against the arms of his chair and arched up into that promise of heat and pressure. Sagging back into his seat, he thrust his hands through Merlin's hair and dragged that wicked mouth to his own. Minutes, eternities of shared breath and desperate need later, Arthur broke away to tip his forehead against Merlin's and growl, "Get them off."
Merlin's laugh tapered off into a high whine. Head dropping to rest against Arthur's shoulder, Merlin pressed in and took several steadying breaths before once again attempting to undo Arthur's laces. A triumphant exhalation sounded from one or both of them as Merlin finally succeeded in opening the trousers and plunging a hand eagerly inside. A long, firm pull of Merlin's hand later, and the head of Arthur's cock was sucked wetly into glorious heat. The faint tease of those teeth nearly wiped all thought from his mind, but as he settled in for the climb toward release, the thought that had been whispering at the edges of his mind finally made itself heard.
This wasn't the claiming that would protect Merlin from Malgo.
Reluctantly pushing Merlin's head away from his cock, Arthur surged to his feet before he could change his mind. As Merlin had never before accepted any change in plans without offering a contrary opinion, Arthur was not entirely surprised to find himself enveloped once again in that hot, wet mouth. Thrusting his hands into Merlin's hair, Arthur surged forward rather than pulling back when Merlin's nails raked a line of fire down the back of his trousers. Startled to find himself swallowed, encased entirely by Merlin's throat, Arthur pulled back gently. Sucked on and caressed for every agonizing inch of withdrawal, Arthur found himself pushing forward again without having consciously decided to do so.
Merlin stared up at him, relaxed and drifting - maybe lost somewhere in rhythm of it all - even during those times that Merlin's eyes watered because Arthur couldn't help but thrust in too far or too fast. Or, perhaps they were both lost somewhere, maybe even together. Drifting, caught up in the rhythm, Arthur's entire focus was caught in those bliss-filled eyes. However long, however many thrusts later, Arthur finally forced himself to pull back and out of Merlin's mouth. Insolent even now, Merlin's tongue swirled and caressed and enticed up until the moment when Arthur achieved a sufficient, safe, distance between them and some measure of the control he needed to complete the bond.
Arthur reached down and hauled Merlin up against his chest. Running his hands hungrily over that delectable expanse of skin, Arthur leaned down to bite at Merlin's swollen mouth. When Merlin began pressing and pushing and rubbing once again, Arthur twisted both of Merlin's wrists back and up, pulling Merlin tight against his body. Breaking his mouth away, Arthur asked fondly, "Is there any activity in which you engage where you are not a contrary menace?"
Merlin's head dropped against his shoulder. After a long, distracted pause Arthur felt Merlin's cheek crease into a smile to suggest thickly, "Sleeping?"
Arthur snorted, "Well, that remains to be seen, I suppose." After several moments of allowing their breathing to calm, Arthur said quietly, "You have to stop fighting me on this, Merlin. I will not see you in Malgo's hands."
Merlin laughed helplessly into his neck, "I don't know how to be more yours than I already am, sire."
Some undefined tension flickered through Merlin's body. Arthur hoped it signified an understanding of the gravity of the situation. Shifting Merlin's wrists to one hand, Arthur used his other to raise Merlin's eyes to his face. "Stop distracting me." Arthur searched Merlin's face. Shaking his head, amused, he offered, "Perhaps I should just tie you to my bed and beat you when you disobey."
Merlin flushed and squirmed but shrugged, "Yours."
Leaning down to swipe his tongue across Merlin's lips, Arthur caught a flicker of a new taste - his own - on Merlin. He gripped Merlin's jaw and tilted it to allow him access, searching out every hint of his own flavour while Merlin panted desperately into his mouth. He'd just ripped his mouth away when a knock sounded at the door. Though, he supposed, it wasn't necessarily the first attempt at a response.
Head dropping down to Arthur's chest, Merlin shuddered sharply and, hands pulling free from Arthur's suddenly lax grasp, scrambled to do up Arthur's trousers around his rigid and extremely reluctant cock. "I should make you answer the door naked," Arthur groused, half-serious.
Merlin glanced up at him in horror and protested, "What if it's Gwen?"
Arthur smirked wickedly just to enjoy the mortified expression on Merlin's face, but, truthfully, couldn't really conceive of doing that to either of Merlin or Gwen. Now if there were some way of knowing who stood on the other side of that door, it might be worth the flack he'd catch from his father for flaunting his affairs.
Merlin's harried efforts to do up his trousers were doing nothing whatsoever to settle Arthur's breathing. "For pity's sake," Arthur exclaimed as the knock sounded again, "let me." Arthur was bringing his hands around when Merlin muttered something incomprehensible and suddenly succeeded. Arthur resisted the urge to squirm against the abrupt constriction.
Grabbing Merlin's chin and tilting it up, Arthur narrowed his eyes and demanded, "Can I trust your word even if I compel you to give it to me?"
The flow of expressions from brain-scattered distraction to puzzlement to suspicion to petulant irritation was delightfully hysterical. Merlin's subsequent grave consideration and hesitation was far less pleasing. Finally Merlin said with quiet sincerity, "I'll keep my word to you so long as..." Merlin shrugged, "so long as doing so doesn't endanger you."
Arthur snorted and stole a quick kiss. His lips curving devilishly against Merlin's, he asked, "So when I command you to take no relief in my absence..."
"I won't, you insufferable prat."
"You know, you really can't speak to me like that," Arthur chided through a smug grin, "but if I can trust your word, you can grab your clothes and hide under the bed." Casting a jaded eye over Merlin, Arthur suggested facetiously, "Perhaps you will be inspired to clean while you are down there."
"Oh, don't let's get carried away," Merlin cautioned dryly as he scrambled for his clothing.
Arthur snorted, and, as he crossed to open the door, called over his shoulder, "Do try to stay out of trouble."
Finally opening the door, Arthur looked inquiringly at the servant on the other side. "Asa."
Asa bowed slightly, "I bring an invitation from King Malgo of the Venedotians for a personal meeting."
Arthur was curious about the unusual request but nodded.
Before the conversation could continue, however, Arthur's father came sweeping down the hall. Uther waved dismissal at Asa. Raising his brow at his son, he moved to enter Arthur's chambers.
Arthur yielded automatically, only barely restraining himself from glancing over at the bed. Closing the door behind them, Arthur turned to his father. "How can I help you, sire?"
Uther regarded his son with some irritation. "You must know that Malgo is going to take the boy with him when he goes. It's an unfortunate end for that young man but nothing when balanced against the well being of Camelot."
Tense with dread and discomfort, Arthur ran the likeliest scenarios through his head. There really was very little doubt that his father was correct. Very few bonds had proven sufficient to withstand Malgo. "I won't risk the security of Camelot, but I will hold the bond if I can," Arthur declared quietly.
"You haven't thought this through." Uther snapped. "Camelot will be weakened by the public proof that you can't hold a bond against Malgo. He will win, the boy will be lost anyway, and you will have humiliated the throne for no purpose."
"Merlin deserves better of me than that," when his father seemed likely to interrupt, Arthur stated firmly, "so does every citizen of Camelot. Where will we be if we repay loyalty and service with, at best, total disregard?"
Uther frowned forbiddingly, as he did every time Arthur suggested that the throne owed protection and justice to more than the lords of Camelot. His next words were not, however, the expected lecture on the duties and burdens of the crown. "It's naive to speak about this as though Malgo randomly developed an interest in one of the servants. The boy put himself in this situation by accusing royalty of malfeasance. It is not one of his more attractive habits."
Arthur found himself regretting the absence of the lecture he'd expected for what was likely the first time in his life.
"He wasn't without cause last time," Arthur protested quietly. "Although it didn't turn out that Bayard was the agitator, Merlin undoubtedly saved my life with his intervention."
"A debt you have already repaid in full," Uther pointed out dryly, "if, indeed, you must persist in considering his service to you a debt."
"Has it not occurred to you that he might not be entirely in the wrong this time?" Arthur asked, striving to keep the creeping desperation out of his voice.
"No," Uther snapped flatly. "Camelot cannot afford to lose this alliance with Venedotia. It must certainly not be endangered because of the resemblance of the king's staff to a picture in a book as observed by an idle servant."
"I agree that we cannot risk the alliance with Venedotia," Arthur concurred grimly, "but I trust Merlin not to be frivolous with the future of Camelot. That's, for me, more than enough to balance any possible embarrassment if Malgo does take over the bond."
Arthur fought to not squirm under his father's frustrated regard. Finally, after far too many moments of scrutiny, Uther decreed, "In the meantime, you may occupy yourself with concocting a plan to regain the status you are determined to throw after this boy."
Nodding stiffly in an effort to change the subject, at least a little, Arthur asked, "Do you know why Malgo is requesting a private audience?"
Suddenly speculative, Uther narrowed his eyes in contemplation. "He didn't mention anything of the kind to me." He paced away to look at the fire. "Is that why Asa was at your door?"
Nodding, Arthur confirmed, "Yes."
Uther abruptly turned to Arthur and declared, "He has been uncommonly interested in your prowess as a fighter and the fine figure you cut in your armour." Uther stepped forward to rest his hand on Arthur's shoulder and command quietly, "Let him have the boy, Arthur. We cannot risk having him go after you."
His restraint abruptly snapping, Arthur declared furiously, "I'm not sacrificing Merlin to protect myself. Camelot deserves better than a prince who rates himself above every other."
Uther roared, "Camelot deserves the security of a set succession!" Looming closer to his son, he ranted on, "Camelot deserves a prince who understands the value of his own role. What do you think will happen within Camelot if you are lost? There is no clear succession after you, and the jockeying for position might very well prove the end of all we've built!"
"You would not allow that to happen, my lord," Arthur stated sincerely. "If it came to that, you would declare an heir before the unrest had an opportunity to take root."
Austerely, Uther agreed, "I would hope that you are correct." Quieter, he added, "but I would have lost my only son."
"Father," Arthur said, suddenly calm, "I promise to be careful." Arthur met his father's eyes and fell into one of the rare companionable silences between them. Eventually, Arthur observed, "You assume that I would be lost if he made the intent."
"I'm basing that expectation on his long and consistent past performance, Arthur." Uther tilted his head grimly and continued, "You must protect yourself from him. The boy is a small price to pay to do so."
"Does your automatic assumption that Malgo will win not indicate to you that perhaps there is something in Merlin's tale about the staff?" Faintly disturbed to be nearly disinterested in his father's response, Arthur considered the possibility that as irritatingly inappropriate as Merlin absolutely was, he might be every bit as irritatingly correct.
"What else could it be but magic that would allow Malgo to take over another person's bond? What does it matter?" Uther demanded irritably. "We must have this alliance."
Arthur stared blankly at his father. There was something fundamentally wrong with Uther's casual acceptance of that fact.
"Be sure when you meet with Malgo that you are in full possession of your senses. Camelot cannot afford to lose its prince, and I cannot bear to lose my son."
Arthur bowed his head, "I will not take unnecessary risks, Father."
Uther frowned at Arthur worriedly. "I am concerned that his interest in Merlin is just a tactic to get at you."
Arthur gripped his father's shoulder. "You have been trusting me to manage my risks on the fields of valour and battle. You may likewise trust me here, Father."
Nodding reluctantly, Uther clapped Arthur on the shoulder and took his leave.
Troubled, Arthur stared into the fire for long moments before realizing that Merlin hadn't come out since the king had left. He allowed himself to look over to the bed for the first time since he entered the room. Seeing no hint of Merlin, Arthur stalked over, calling, "Merlin."
Merlin rolled slowly out from under the bed and stood, still clutching all but his trousers. Those were loosely, awkwardly pulled up to the vicinity of his hips. Even with his father's words ringing in his ears, it was... a particularly distracting arrangement.
Arthur moistened his lips and watched smugly as Merlin's cock leapt in interest. He followed the resulting flush up past Merlin's abdomen, chest and neck to find it flaring high and hot in Merlin's cheeks and ears. Arthur's lips twitched. "No one listening to your impertinent teasing from before would believe you so bashful."
Merlin's flush heated even farther as he clutched at his trousers. He protested indignantly, "I'm not bashful!"
Arthur just grinned and ran his hand down Merlin's chest to tug a warm 'hello' along Merlin's warm and gratifyingly firm cock.
Merlin immediately stepped into him and pressed right into his mouth. Merlin's hand came up to toy with the hair at the base of Arthur's neck with little, skin-prickling brushes of finger and scrapes of nail. Suddenly desperate again like there'd been no break, like the conversation with his father had never been, Arthur ran his hands down the back of Merlin's trousers and, squeezing, pulled in hard.
Merlin's hands were suddenly everywhere they could get at the least bit of skin – flicking up the cuffs of his sleeves, sweeping down along the back of his collar, and diving in through the opening at the front of his shirt. Arthur shivered and bit, needy, at Merlin's lips. Merlin's damned impertinent tongue slid past his own to tickle maddeningly at the corner of his mouth. Something about that provoking tickle completely slid past what few defences Arthur had left. He moaned openly into Merlin's mouth and began desperately pushing at Merlin's trousers.
Merlin wasn't helping. Even as Arthur was pushing the trousers down, Merlin wrapped a leg around Arthur's hip, bringing them flush with each other. By heaven, Arthur could no longer tell whose trousers he wanted rid of more. Giving up on any ambition that didn't involve grabbing Merlin's ass and rocking them together, Arthur broke away from Merlin's mouth, pressed his cheek to Merlin's ear and rocked and panted and, when he had enough of his brain to remember to tease back, breathed in Merlin's ear.
Gradually, a faint thought echoed up from the back of his mind. Arthur did his best to ignore it. He might not be fully capable of processing thought at the moment, but he recognized a cock blocker when he spotted it.
Sadly, acknowledging even that much seemed to be enough to bring the thought into focus. There was someplace he needed to be, and he was about to come in his pants. Dragging his reluctant hands off of Merlin's ass, he ran them down Merlin's thighs until he could get enough purchase to push Merlin down and away.
"Merlin!" Arthur panted in exasperation when Merlin's hands continued their tempting little forays to every available patch of flesh. Naturally, Merlin's response to this protest was to run a firm hand down Arthur's very interested cock. Bucking involuntarily into Merlin's wonderful, necessary hand, Arthur would have lost complete track of the plot if Merlin's fingers at his laces hadn't evoked a sense memory of the last time Merlin had been fighting to get his trousers undone.
Forcing himself to remember his combat techniques and actually apply them, Arthur twisted Merlin's terrible, tormenting, lovely hands up behind Merlin's back, ironically causing Merlin's trousers to finally drop. Spinning them both around, Arthur shoved Merlin face down onto the covers of Arthur's bed. Peeling himself back away to pant down at Merlin, Arthur realized that might have been something of a tactical error. Draped half-on, half-off the bed, ankles trapped by fallen trousers, nearly, but not quite, kneeling and squirming with great determination, the picture Merlin presented was... evocative.
Determined, Arthur closed his eyes and forced himself to wonder what had driven Merlin to quite this aggressive extreme. Suddenly reaching a conclusion that he found the exact opposite of pleasing, Arthur demanded incredulously, "Was the point of that little performance to protect me from Malgo?"
Panting into Arthur's bed and still wriggling like a hooked fish, Merlin gasped out, "Of course it's to protect you! He's been after you from the beginning! What did you think that little gaff of mine was about?" Merlin finally gave up his futile movement and glared at Arthur out of the corner of his eye. "I keep telling you and telling you that his staff is magic." Merlin suddenly narrowed his eyes suspiciously, and, before Arthur could say a word, snapped, "And I don't mean that one!"
Merlin sagged against the bed and asked quietly, "Don't you find it at all odd that quite suddenly life in Camelot strongly resembles the low stories told by the squires? Seriously, have you ever had to save anyone else from a short, violent life as someone's unwilling catamite by claiming him or her as your own? Do you remember this ever being something you even thought might happen?"
Arthur suddenly released Merlin and backed away from the bed. "I'm sorry if I've..."
"Oh, don't be any more ridiculous than you can help, would you?" Merlin interrupted impatiently. He rolled up to sitting, braced his hands on the bed and looked up at Arthur. "You asked, and I told you..." His lips twitched, and he peered up at Arthur slyly, "The only objection I have about any of this is what a bloody tease you are."
Profoundly relieved, Arthur suddenly straddled Merlin's lap, squeezing with his thighs to keep Merlin's troublesome hands immobile. Grabbing Merlin by the chin, Arthur said quite seriously, "I'm inclined to believe you are right, but I can only protect you using the tools I have."
Cheeky and smug, Merlin tugged at his hands but finally sighed, "As far as that goes," Merlin shrugged, "I'm mostly worried about what will happen after Malgo takes his staff and goes home. I'm trying to imagine either you or the king accepting this, and..." Merlin broke his gaze away from Arthur, troubled and a little sad.
"Merlin," Arthur forced Merlin to hold his gaze. "Whatever you think is influencing me, there is nothing light or casual about the claim I'm making on you." Frustrated, Arthur watched Merlin's face turn into his hand.
"I know," Merlin replied quietly, but none of the hesitation left his eyes. Shaking off his sudden melancholy, Merlin looked back at Arthur and shrugged, "None of that's important right now. Right now what I'm worried about is your refusal to protect yourself from Malgo."
Arthur frowned impatiently. "I've been protecting myself on the battlefield for more than years than I've known you, you little fool. Why would I suddenly be unable to protect myself inside my own castle?"
"Magic," Merlin answered concisely.
Exasperated, Arthur demanded, "What would you have me do? And before you suggest it," he growled out with great sincerity and no little possessiveness, "I will not have you anywhere near him until I've completed my claim on you."
"Then finish the claim!" exploded Merlin in exasperation.
"It's not that simp... I have duties as the crown prince, Merlin. I cannot just disregard a request for an audience to have sex with you." Arthur was mostly amused, but he wasn't going to be kept from his duty to his people – no matter how touching the argument.
Merlin pulled irascibly on his trapped hands. He finally settled only to commence biting his lip in a most distracting fashion. Actively resisting temptation, Arthur very nearly startled when Merlin burst out, "Arrange for your father to be at the meeting. Surely asking to meet with you privately borders on the improper? Would he really be able to object if the king were also at the meeting?" Merlin asked anxiously.
Arthur thought about this. It might even help to address his father's concerns about Malgo's intent. The fact that both his father and Merlin were suddenly worried about his virtue was irritating beyond belief, but Merlin would no doubt get up to something mind-bogglingly foolish if Arthur dismissed that concern. Sighing testily, Arthur reluctantly agreed, "Oh, very well. As it will also reassure my father, I will arrange for the meeting with Malgo to take place in the king's presence."
As the stress and worry eased from Merlin's neck and shoulders, Arthur watched in some amusement as Merlin's focus visibly shifted to the other tension riding them both. Simultaneously attempting to rock up into Arthur and free his trapped hands, Merlin muttered, disgruntled, "I suppose that whole prohibition against taking care of myself is going to hold while you go tripping off to meet with the instigator of this whole situation."
Grinning madly, Arthur leaned down to say directly into Merlin's ear, "If anything brings you off but my hands on you and my will, I will ensure, with absolute certainty, that you never reach fulfilment in my presence," Arthur bent in closer and lowered his voice still further, "whatever pleasure I take in your body."
Merlin arched up to stare, blind and breathless, at the canopy of Arthur's bed. Suddenly sucking in desperate breaths and yanking frantically at his hands, Merlin closed his eyes and struggled for control.
Arthur watched with curious amusement until, sweeping his eyes down the strain in Merlin's chest, he caught sight of Merlin's weeping, blood-dark cock jerking in time to the pounding of Merlin's pulse. Sucking in a breath to tame the sudden surge through his own body, Arthur raised his hands to cradle Merlin's head. Caressing his fingers along the line from cheekbones to the tender skin in front of Merlin's ears, Arthur rested against Merlin's forehead and whispered, breathless in his own right, "You really are mine, aren't you? All irreverence and impertinence aside, you really are just mine."
Merlin groaned and laughed, shaking slightly against Arthur. The tension easing but still running through every muscle, he managed, even so, to almost kindly say, "You really are frighteningly thick for the future king of Camelot, aren't you?"
Arthur just laughed and shoved Merlin flat against the bed as he jubilantly sprang up to head over to his wardrobe. Rifling rapidly through his clothing, Arthur tossed a couple of promising pieces to the table and let the rest fall where they would. He glanced over at the bed when he heard the rustle of movement.
Useless as ever, Merlin had only raised himself on his elbows to stare incredulously at his prince. "What the devil are you doing, exactly?" Merlin demanded.
"Keeping you out of trouble," Arthur answered blithely. Finally satisfied that he'd found everything that might turn up useful, he snatched up the clothing he'd thrown on the table and crossed to toss them in Merlin's lap. "Pull the laces from these," he ordered absently while inspecting Merlin's clothing.
Merlin stared down at the vests in his lap. His eyes opened wide with realization, and he muttered, "Oh, gods," as he reached with trembling fingers to pull the laces out.
Arthur grinned over at him, "I'd never really considered before how perfectly sized my bed is."
"You really are the most appalling tease of a prat," Merlin complained shakily.
Contentedly examining the length of Merlin's neckerchief, Arthur just grinned, tossed it to the side and grabbed the cuffs of Merlin's trousers to yank them right off of him. "Aren't you done with those laces yet?" he demanded impatiently.
Merlin pulled the laces all the way out of the first vest and looked down at them with a wonderfully perplexed look on his face. "Why am I helping you with this exactly?"
"Whose are you?" Arthur asked with a wild grin as he snatched the lacing from Merlin's hand.
"I'm really going to regret convincing you of that, aren't I?" Merlin asked, faintly amused.
"You still haven't answered the question," Arthur reprimanded mildly while he shoved Merlin around so he could pull the blankets down the bed.
As Arthur pulled his ankle to one of the posts, Merlin collapsed back on the bed and moaned, laughing, "Oh, gods, you tormenting ass, yours, yours, yours!"
Arthur grinned in an extremely self-satisfied sort of way, and moments later, Merlin was trussed to the bed with his legs splayed between the posts at the bottom and his hands bound together at the top. Arthur propped himself against one of the posts and rubbed his finger lightly along the top of the makeshift padding for the ties that he'd made of Merlin's shirt. Merlin's foot jerked reflexively from his gently drifting finger, and a shiver worked its way up along every inch of exposed skin; Arthur quite enjoyed the view – even the goose bumps that weren't entirely from an excess of sensation.
Leaning over the bed to bite lightly at Merlin's jaw, Arthur murmured, "Just consider it another one of your self-sacrificial attempts to protect me. How could I possibly fall under the sway of Malgo's great, big staff while I have this waiting for me?" Merlin's subsequent whimper filled Arthur with profound delight.
He tossed the bedcovers over Merlin. Just as he was about to pull them over Merlin's head, Arthur leaned over to murmur, "Perhaps, if you are very quiet and very still, whoever comes in with my dinner won't notice you." Grinning fiercely at Merlin's outraged squawk, Arthur dropped the covers over Merlin's head with a pleased flick. He paused for a moment to enjoy the muttered profanities coming from his bed.
Bursting with amused entertainment, Arthur used his laughter to cover the quiet snick as he locked his door behind him.
•••***•••
The better part of an hour later, Arthur slid quietly back into his room. Smirking toward the very quiet bed, he headed over to poke at the fire. Once he was sure that he'd established his presence in the room, he moved over to the bed and threw the covers back. Grinning wickedly down as the sleepy horror on Merlin's face rapidly morphed into disgruntled outrage, Arthur ran a hand down the line of Merlin's body then sat on the bed next to Merlin's hip and began toeing off his boots.
Merlin muttered incoherently at Arthur and tugged half-heartedly at his bindings. Amused, Arthur asked haughtily, "What was that, Merlin? Were you complimenting me on my patient and generous nature?" Somewhat more dryly, Arthur remarked, "I assure you, my father has had plenty to say on the subject already."
Merlin paused and blinked around the room under his hedgehogged hair. "You're back quickly?"
Arthur focused on setting his boots beside the bed. "The only time convenient for the meeting with Malgo turns out to be during my father's formal audience."
"But it is too timely a matter to simply wait for a more opportune time?" Merlin guessed. When Arthur merely smirked in response, Merlin urgently tried to roll closer and hissed in irritation at his bindings. "Arthur, please just finish it. I swear to you, I already know that I'm yours," he vowed fervently. "Even Malgo suggested that the problem was that you hadn't claimed me in return." Arthur finally turned to meet Merlin's eyes, and Merlin begged, "Please. Do whatever it is you need to do to believe that you have claimed me. You will then be free to take me with you to this meeting of his."
Amused, Arthur commented, "It might surprise you to learn that I existed for longer than you've been alive without your wise counsel."
"Well," Merlin snorted, "I can't help that."
Arthur grinned a little. "You are always so refreshingly modest and retiring." Merlin smirked unrepentantly, so Arthur flicked his ear and continued blandly, "It will no doubt please you to know that I returned with that very intention." When Merlin tugged pointedly at his bindings, Arthur leaned over and murmured against his mouth, "To that end, you are going to remain trussed in the hopes that you will be prevented from hindering me."
"I don't want to hinder you," Merlin objected indignantly, following Arthur's mouth up as far as his bindings would allow.
"And yet," Arthur smirked, "contrary creature that you are, that's exactly what you seem to manage."
Merlin collapsed huffily against the bed and demanded impatiently, "Well then, for pity's sake, get on with it!" while imperious little motions escaped the fingers of his fettered hands.
Not without his own streak of contrariness, Arthur raised slow, meticulous hands to the cuffs of his jacket. Merlin watched hungrily as Arthur flicked open each cuff and precisely, tidily, removed his coat and, setting something from its pocket on the floor by the bed, placed it carefully away. Merlin's heartfelt groan tickled Arthur enormously, and he glanced over to see Merlin collapse back onto the bed grumbling, "Yes, yes, fine. Yours to do with as you please."
Arthur found this entirely irresistible. Moving swiftly, Arthur braced one knee on the bed and swung the other over Merlin. Settling down carefully over Merlin's hips, Arthur stretched up, curled his fingers into Merlin's hair and pressed the lengths of his thumbs firmly under the sides of Merlin's jaw.
Tilting Merlin's head and exposing the long line of throat leading from shoulder to ear, Arthur scraped his teeth all the way the ridge of muscle ending with his tongue flicking teasingly into Merlin's ear. It was his long, slow exhale across the lingering moisture that shivered Merlin up against the line of Arthur's body, moaning.
"Match my breath, Merlin," Arthur demanded almost silently. Merlin's eyes widened, and his tongue flicked out to moisten suddenly dry lips, but after only a short hesitation, he complied. Merlin really did learn as quickly as he'd always claimed. He brought his breathing under control with a speed that Arthur would previously have credited only to a fully trained knight.
Arthur set about exploring every span of skin, every ridge and crevasse, methodically determining Merlin's reaction to every flickering finger, massaging caress, scraping nail, laving tongue and toothy bite. Each time Merlin shivered or arched or shuddered or jerked or moaned, a thrilling, vital tension wound itself through the very fibre of Arthur's muscles, lapped at every ridge of his spine and curled itself, low and warm, in Arthur's belly.
Merlin fought, every second, to match Arthur's breath. Only once in a while did Arthur look up from his meticulously complete inventory to remind Merlin in an increasingly husky voice to match breaths with him. Each reminder, each fresh struggle for restraint and discipline, left Merlin more dazed, more pliant and more and more desperately aroused.
Hours - years - later, Arthur roused himself from his contemplations of the most minute nuances of Merlin's body and took in the whole picture. Merlin lay splayed across his bed, each limb exactly as Arthur had arranged. The cock jutting from Merlin's flushed and panting body wept, heavy and so dark with blood. The constant flutter and contraction of Merlin's belly was visceral proof of the struggle that kept each soft whisper of Merlin's breath even and matched to Arthur's.
Through all this, Merlin's glazed eyes remained fixed on Arthur and his hands and legs remained lax in their restraints. Arthur took a steadying breath. Merlin was his, utterly, and it was time.
Leaning over the edge of the bed, Arthur retrieved the vial he had set there forever ago. Tipping some of the contents out onto his fingers, Arthur rubbed with his thumb until he had completely coated his first two fingers: the pads, the knuckles and the nails he'd closely pared before returning to the room.
Drawing his hands up Merlin's legs, Arthur pulled firmly at Merlin's cock while massaging his well-oiled fingers farther back. Circling and rubbing until the oil coated every dip and ridge, Arthur went back for more oil before finally pushing carefully in. Each tiny increment of new territory was thoroughly explored with a single finger and painstakingly coated with oil.
As he extended another finger to gently press its way in, a sudden flurry of movement drew Arthur's attention up to Merlin's belly. Every muscle clenched and shivered its own clear narration of Merlin's battle with his breath. Arthur abandoned Merlin's cock for the more personal pleasure of resting a hand against that heaving, desperate abdomen.
One of Arthur's fingers scraped something inside that arched Merlin's body like an overdrawn bow. By the time Merlin finally fell back to the bed, the battle for controlled breathing had been summarily lost. Panting and gasping and desperate, a faint litany of "Please, please, please.." rose from Merlin's lips.
"Merlin," Arthur called. It was meant to be a reminder, but something in his tone caught Merlin's attention in an unintended way. Instead of focusing again on his breathing, Merlin fought his way back to coherency and stared up at Arthur.
"Arthur?" Merlin asked hesitantly, eyes searching Arthur's face for something they didn't seem to find. Brow knitting, Merlin demanded, "Let me up."
Arthur tightened his lips and shook his head. "I can't, Merlin. You need to put your focus back on your breathing. You can trust me to be careful."
"Of course, I can," Merlin agreed absently and then suddenly flushed brutally. This wasn't the enticing flush from before. This was something uglier.
"Merlin," Arthur trailed off, not sure what to say. He couldn't stop. If he stopped now, Malgo would have Merlin for sure, and that, in the end, was far more unacceptable than any damage he was about to do. "Merlin," he commanded firmly, "match your breath to mine. You really don't want to be taken by Malgo."
"Well, no," Merlin agreed with some exasperation, "but that really isn't going to happen. You don't have to do this." Merlin pulled at the bindings and sighed. "It's enough that I'm yours. You don't have to claim me to make it true."
"I know this isn't what you'd prefer," Arthur said quietly, "but...
Merlin interrupted abruptly, "I'm not the one who came over squirrelly, Arthur." Merlin sighed, "I'll be fine. Better to leave me to arrange my own affairs than commit yourself to a bond you don't want."
Arthur surged up and bruisingly gripped Merlin's chin with his off-hand and declared flatly, "I am not leaving you for Malgo." Punctuating each word with a little shake, Arthur enunciated, "Match your breath to mine."
"Arthur," Merlin objected urgently, "Arthur, I choose this. I chose you. It has nothing to do with Malgo."
Lips twisting, Arthur kissed Merlin briefly before sitting back. On the verge of repeating the command yet again, Arthur was distracted as Merlin's eyes abruptly closed, and he seemed to gather himself. When Merlin opened his eyes to meet Arthur's gaze, his jaw set stubbornly, he took a deep, fortifying breath, muttered something incomprehensible, and his eyes flashed gold.
Suddenly free of all restraint, Merlin raised up on his elbows, flushing with the shift his body made around Arthur's fingers. Aborting a shaky reach for Arthur's face, Merlin's hand fisted, and he swallowed harshly. In a desperately level voice, Merlin declared quietly, "I've always had a choice. You are my king because you daily earn my fealty. Camelot already holds herself ready for you. Someday all of Albion will kneel before you because of choice, not force of arms.
"I choose you." Merlin's lips quirked wistfully, "I have since shortly after the first time I called you an ass."
Arthur stared at the boy before him – his whole being suddenly a revelation that cast light on much that had been obscured while simultaneously throwing much that had been sure into chaos and confusion. A thousand questions ricocheted around his head, but the one that finally made it through his lips and into the air was, "If I ordered you to stop using magic?"
With a rueful expression, Merlin shrugged, "It turns out protecting you is more important than pleasing you, my lord."
Not really letting himself think about any of it, Arthur pressed, "And if I changed the order to stop using magic outside of my direct protection?"
Merlin frowned and finally sighed, "I would, but please don't ask that of me."
Arthur was almost surprised when an absent twist of his fingers sent Merlin arching back to pant at the canopy of Arthur's bed. "Breathing, Merlin." Arthur murmured in nearly automatic response.
Merlin resumed his familiar struggle for control, broken open and vulnerable in a way he hadn't quite been before. He reclined there on Arthur's bed, hiding nothing and letting Arthur play. Suddenly furious, Arthur twisted his fingers savagely before pulling them out to lean forward and hiss in Merlin's ear, "Tell me. What indulgences should I allow? For what sort of spell should I betray my father?" Arthur shifted over to stare into Merlin's passion-glazed but increasingly concerned face.
Quietly, bitterly, he said, "I should let Malgo have you. He would be marginally kinder than the axe." Concern rapidly overtook passion in Merlin's face. It was what Arthur had wanted, but it still was... distasteful to watch. Gradually though, Arthur realized that Merlin was less afraid than worried for Arthur. Ridiculous, infuriating little fool. "Must you defy every rational expectation?"
"Arthur, shouldn't I have told you?" Merlin asked quietly.
"Are you so sure that I'll betray my father for you?"
"No," Merlin denied swiftly. "I'm sure of your sense of justice and proportion." Merlin raised his head from where it fallen back between his shoulders and pressed his forehead against Arthur's chin. "Did I make a mistake, my lord? Do I need to leave once Malgo is sorted?"
"Where would you go?" Though neither of them moved, Arthur heard Merlin swallow and could imagine the expression on that too open face.
"You're probably happier not knowing, sire," Merlin finally said quietly.
There was no rational reason for that not to be true -- not one. That truth sadly did not begin to explain how little Arthur actually liked the idea. Suddenly recalling the beginning of this horrendous conversation, Arthur reared back to stare down at the idiot beneath him.
The swiftly concealed regret in Merlin's face stopped the words in his throat. Going back over every word, every interaction with Merlin, Arthur finally said, "Well, I suppose that if there's no getting rid of you, I should keep you close where I can keep an eye on you."
Merlin's face split into a brilliant grin. His hands came up to clutch at Arthur for the first time since he'd loosed himself from the bindings, and he arched up hard against Arthur muttering, "Can we please, please get on with the buggering of me? Please?"
Arthur suddenly couldn't get inside fast enough. He grabbed Merlin's wrists and drew them high above Merlin's head. "Hold them there," Arthur commanded. Merlin groaned and, panting, arched his head back in a way that managed somehow to make Arthur wilder than before. Ready to fling his own clothes away, sudden speculation made him bring Merlin's face down to meet his. "Can you rebind yourself the same way?"
Merlin stared up, uncomprehending, until some measure of focus filtered back that was sufficient for Merlin to understand the question. Merlin's eyes widened in astonishment, and he searched Arthur's face. Whatever he saw there must have convinced him that Arthur was serious. His hands felt blindly about until one of his fingers hooked around the scarf Arthur had used to bind him. Nervous but determined, Merlin muttered something familiarly incomprehensible and was once again bound to the bed. Arthur felt something blaze through him at the sight, at knowing that Merlin bound himself and stayed bound at nothing but Arthur's will. Whatever Merlin saw flare to life in his face, it was enough to strip Merlin of any remaining semblance of control.
Merlin's breath stuttered and raced completely out of control. His hands grasped futilely at air, and a high whine sounded from his arched throat.
Arthur leapt off the bed and stripped out of his clothes with all the careless efficiency of a protracted campaign. Fishing around distractedly for the abandoned vial, Arthur eventually managed to both get his fingers once again coated and to dredge up enough patience to be sure Merlin was thoroughly prepared.
Finally, Arthur eased himself into Merlin's heat.
•••***•••
Arthur's focus on controlling his own breathing was interrupted by the muttered comment at his side, "If you expect me to keep this up after Malgo and his blasted staff take themselves back where they belong, you are going to have to acquire me a cushion or some padding."
Utterly diverted, Arthur glanced down out of the corner of his eyes to catch Merlin's openly disgruntled expression. "I can't imagine what of our previous acquaintance would lead you to believe I have any interest in spoiling you."
"Spoiling me?" Merlin demanded incredulously. "I'm kneeling on stone."
Carefully keeping his grin concealed from the rest of the court, Arthur murmured, "I've thought you needed to learn to walk on your knees from nearly the first moment that we met."
"Pervy," Merlin commented mildly.
Arthur was saved from having to respond to the ridiculous irony of that comment by the appearance of Kings Malgo and Uther. Dropping his hand down to toy with Merlin's hair, Arthur stood and waited for the approach of the two kings.
Uther assessed Arthur and Merlin dispassionately. "Are you still determined to try and hold your claim?"
"I am," Arthur replied firmly.
Allowing faint displeasure to cross his face, Uther looked challengingly at his son, but Arthur had no intention of being dissuaded – not from this, not even if Merlin hadn't turned out to be...
With a frown, Uther waived abruptly at Malgo to get on with it.
Malgo raised his staff and extended it. Just as it would have contacted Merlin's chest he swung it up and rested it instead against Arthur's. Malgo loomed large in Arthur's sight. He was strong and powerful. Arthur wasn't sure why that should appeal but nevertheless found fighting the compulsion to lean forward into the staff to be difficult.
Arthur would have leaned in and accepted what the staff offered except that the warmth surging up his leg distracted him and brought his attention down to the boy at his side. Foolish hair and ridiculous ears were all he could see, but they were somehow familiar and important.
There was a hand, Arthur realized suddenly, rubbing patterns into his ankle. That reminded him of... something. The conflicting sensations from the staff at his chest and the warmth along his leg were distracting him from finding whatever information he was suddenly sure that he needed.
Arthur separated himself neatly from the staff but Merlin, naturally, clung like a burr. Realization swept in, and Arthur carefully guarded his face against showing either his sudden fear or the rage creeping in to replace it before looking back at Malgo. "Interesting," Arthur said icily, "but ultimately unsuccessful."
Malgo stared, completely flummoxed, at Arthur. Arthur cynically raised an eyebrow, and Malgo collected himself and sketched a bow to both Arthur and Uther. "Well, King Uther, I believe that concludes our business," Malgo smiled guardedly and swept from the hall.
Uther turned to smile widely at Arthur. "Well done!" Pride rang in Uther's tone. "As indiscreet as Malgo has been, the fact that the crown prince of Camelot was able to hold a claim against him will soon be well known." Uther clapped Arthur on the shoulder. "I very nearly forbid you from the attempt, but I would have been in error. You do me proud."
Arthur bowed before his king, but shot a glance at Merlin who just looked insufferably pleased.