The Lifespan of a Man, Ch. 2
Title: The Lifespan of a Man
Rating: R
Warnings/Spoilers: Season 1
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur, some Merlin/Will and Arthur/Gwen
Summary: A series of vignettes that follows Arthur and Merlin's relationship from Season 1 to Season 4.
Preview: "Samhain feast was always a good time."
Read Chapter 1
Shortly thereafter
Samhain feast was always a good time. Uther always had a bit too much wine and told old war stories with large gestures that knocked over at least a few pitchers and ruined a dress or two. Morgana always left early, just when the knights started to get loud. And Arthur, for his part, always stumbled back to his rooms late-very late-and if he was lucky, there would be a willing servant girl waiting somewhere in the corridor.
But this year he had Merlin. During the feast he slipped Merlin wine under the table. It only felt right, getting rewarded on Samhain for having to attend to Arthur for hours at a feast he couldn't enjoy. So Arthur made sure that Merlin did enjoy this feast, even with that ridiculous hat.
At the end of the night, Merlin was as toasted as Arthur was. When Arthur left the feast, Merlin followed him and tried to wiggle his head under Arthur's armpit.
"What the hell are you doing?" Arthur said.
Merlin looked up from where he had managed to squeeze his head under Arthur's arm. The ceremonial hat was nowhere to be found. Merlin wiggled a little more and wound his arm around Arthur's waist.
"What does it look like I'm doing," Merlin said. "I'm making sure you get back to your rooms. And seeing as you're completely sloshed, I'm helping you walk." Merlin threw him a messy smile, and added, "Sire."
Arthur thought about protesting but Merlin's hand squeezed lightly on his waist so he yelped and let himself be supported.
Seeing as how they were both far gone, they stumbled more than they walked, but they finally made it back to Arthur's rooms.
Merlin guided Arthur through the door and toward the bed. Something in Arthur's belly felt hot, and his cock hardened a little.
-x-x-x-
Merlin knew he was drunk, but he also knew that Arthur was far drunker than he. He guided him toward the bed.
Arthur turned his head to breathe onto the side of Merlin's face, and Merlin felt his knees give a little.
"Merlin." Arthur's voice was low, rumbly, his breath hot against Merlin's ear.
Merlin pushed Arthur toward the bed.
Arthur nearly fell into it, and pulled Merlin along with him. They landed in a heap in the bed. Merlin, panicky now, tried to get up, but Arthur's hands had him pinned down.
"Arthur," Merlin said in what he hoped was a warning tone. He hoped Arthur couldn't feel his erection. Arthur's weight on top of him-Merlin bit his lips.
Arthur raised his head and stared down at Merlin. When had he gotten on top? Merlin was effectively pinned. Arthur knee pressed up between Merlin's legs and if Merlin arched up into the touch, well, he couldn't really be blamed for that.
Arthur's hands slithered up under Merlin's shirt, his fingers finding a nipple and scratching at it a little. Merlin arched up again, more violently this time. His breathing was ragged now, but Arthur continued to stare at him, not closing the distance, not pulling away.
After what felt like an hour, Arthur rolled off and wedged himself under the blankets.
"Arthur?"
Merlin couldn't see Arthur's face in the darkness.
"If you want this you can stay," Arthur said. His voice was a little harsh, stern. "If you don't, you can leave now." And then a little softer-"I won't remember."
This was tempting. Oh, gods it was tempting. Merlin was half hard and very drunk, his thoughts muddled and flowing into one another. He wanted this, but this was Arthur. A little part of his head that sounded like Gaius told him this was a bad idea. Merlin really wished he had drank a little more, so that even that voice would egg him on. But he hadn't, and so it was with effort that he made himself get up off the bed and walk to the door.
"Good night, Arthur," he said.
Arthur didn't answer.
-x-x-x-
Merlin woke in comfort-too much comfort. The bed linens around him were soft and the mattress definitely wasn't made of straw.
He tried to sit up but he was being held down by a heavy arm across his waist. He turned his head slowly, afraid of what he may see.
What he saw nearly made him pass out.
Arthur, his hair spilling across his face, his cheeks pushed into a pout by the pillow, his lips slightly parted as he breathed slowly, still asleep.
Merlin's head throbbed something nasty behind his eyeballs. He felt woozy. The fact that he couldn't for the life of him remember how he got there made it that much worse.
Just as Merlin was planning his escape, Arthur's eyelids fluttered open. Merlin's heart stopped, and his stomach-already like water-dropped entirely out of his body.
"Morning," Merlin said. He tried to smile, but his head protested so he settled for a weak grin.
Arthur's face changed rapidly from confusion to suspicion. His eyes narrowed, and he had the look of a man who was trying to figure out how exactly to skin his kill.
"How about some breakfast?" Merlin asked. He tried to get up again, but Arthur's arm was still slung across his body, holding him there.
"What," Arthur breathed slowly, dangerously. "What are you-you better have a good reason for being here."
"I-" Merlin's mouth went dry instantly, and his fingertips were suddenly frigid. "I don't know."
"You're in my bed," Arthur said, quite unnecessarily. His eyes were slits in his face. "I don't remember inviting you."
"I don't remember either, sire."
Merlin held his breath. Arthur was still staring at him with that expression like he was about to shoot some particularly juicy animal.
At length, Arthur sighed. "Go fetch me breakfast," he said. He removed his arm from Merlin's waist and turned over onto his back. "You will speak of this to no one."
Merlin scrambled out of Arthur's bed. At least he was dressed-fully dressed in fact. Even his kerchief was still tied securely around his neck. The only thing he was missing was his boots, which he pulled on in a hurry before sprinting out of the prince's chambers.
-x-x-x-
Arthur wracked his brain, but no matter how many times he went over the events of the night before, he couldn't remember how Merlin had gotten into his bed. He was pretty sure the boy had left after-after Arthur had asked him to stay. That had been as clear a no as anyone could get.
Then how?
No matter. Whatever had happened, it seemed neither of them remembered. And that's how Arthur liked it. He was good at pretending that things never happened. For those he had previously taken to his bed-visiting nobles, a few knights here for tourneys-these had been the terms, that they don't speak of it, or act any differently toward each other during the day.
It was for the best, or at least that's what Arthur told himself. Besides, Merlin was a servant and a man. It's not like Arthur had any real feelings for him.
Chapter 3
Rating: R
Warnings/Spoilers: Season 1
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur, some Merlin/Will and Arthur/Gwen
Summary: A series of vignettes that follows Arthur and Merlin's relationship from Season 1 to Season 4.
Preview: "Samhain feast was always a good time."
Read Chapter 1
Shortly thereafter
Samhain feast was always a good time. Uther always had a bit too much wine and told old war stories with large gestures that knocked over at least a few pitchers and ruined a dress or two. Morgana always left early, just when the knights started to get loud. And Arthur, for his part, always stumbled back to his rooms late-very late-and if he was lucky, there would be a willing servant girl waiting somewhere in the corridor.
But this year he had Merlin. During the feast he slipped Merlin wine under the table. It only felt right, getting rewarded on Samhain for having to attend to Arthur for hours at a feast he couldn't enjoy. So Arthur made sure that Merlin did enjoy this feast, even with that ridiculous hat.
At the end of the night, Merlin was as toasted as Arthur was. When Arthur left the feast, Merlin followed him and tried to wiggle his head under Arthur's armpit.
"What the hell are you doing?" Arthur said.
Merlin looked up from where he had managed to squeeze his head under Arthur's arm. The ceremonial hat was nowhere to be found. Merlin wiggled a little more and wound his arm around Arthur's waist.
"What does it look like I'm doing," Merlin said. "I'm making sure you get back to your rooms. And seeing as you're completely sloshed, I'm helping you walk." Merlin threw him a messy smile, and added, "Sire."
Arthur thought about protesting but Merlin's hand squeezed lightly on his waist so he yelped and let himself be supported.
Seeing as how they were both far gone, they stumbled more than they walked, but they finally made it back to Arthur's rooms.
Merlin guided Arthur through the door and toward the bed. Something in Arthur's belly felt hot, and his cock hardened a little.
-x-x-x-
Merlin knew he was drunk, but he also knew that Arthur was far drunker than he. He guided him toward the bed.
Arthur turned his head to breathe onto the side of Merlin's face, and Merlin felt his knees give a little.
"Merlin." Arthur's voice was low, rumbly, his breath hot against Merlin's ear.
Merlin pushed Arthur toward the bed.
Arthur nearly fell into it, and pulled Merlin along with him. They landed in a heap in the bed. Merlin, panicky now, tried to get up, but Arthur's hands had him pinned down.
"Arthur," Merlin said in what he hoped was a warning tone. He hoped Arthur couldn't feel his erection. Arthur's weight on top of him-Merlin bit his lips.
Arthur raised his head and stared down at Merlin. When had he gotten on top? Merlin was effectively pinned. Arthur knee pressed up between Merlin's legs and if Merlin arched up into the touch, well, he couldn't really be blamed for that.
Arthur's hands slithered up under Merlin's shirt, his fingers finding a nipple and scratching at it a little. Merlin arched up again, more violently this time. His breathing was ragged now, but Arthur continued to stare at him, not closing the distance, not pulling away.
After what felt like an hour, Arthur rolled off and wedged himself under the blankets.
"Arthur?"
Merlin couldn't see Arthur's face in the darkness.
"If you want this you can stay," Arthur said. His voice was a little harsh, stern. "If you don't, you can leave now." And then a little softer-"I won't remember."
This was tempting. Oh, gods it was tempting. Merlin was half hard and very drunk, his thoughts muddled and flowing into one another. He wanted this, but this was Arthur. A little part of his head that sounded like Gaius told him this was a bad idea. Merlin really wished he had drank a little more, so that even that voice would egg him on. But he hadn't, and so it was with effort that he made himself get up off the bed and walk to the door.
"Good night, Arthur," he said.
Arthur didn't answer.
-x-x-x-
Merlin woke in comfort-too much comfort. The bed linens around him were soft and the mattress definitely wasn't made of straw.
He tried to sit up but he was being held down by a heavy arm across his waist. He turned his head slowly, afraid of what he may see.
What he saw nearly made him pass out.
Arthur, his hair spilling across his face, his cheeks pushed into a pout by the pillow, his lips slightly parted as he breathed slowly, still asleep.
Merlin's head throbbed something nasty behind his eyeballs. He felt woozy. The fact that he couldn't for the life of him remember how he got there made it that much worse.
Just as Merlin was planning his escape, Arthur's eyelids fluttered open. Merlin's heart stopped, and his stomach-already like water-dropped entirely out of his body.
"Morning," Merlin said. He tried to smile, but his head protested so he settled for a weak grin.
Arthur's face changed rapidly from confusion to suspicion. His eyes narrowed, and he had the look of a man who was trying to figure out how exactly to skin his kill.
"How about some breakfast?" Merlin asked. He tried to get up again, but Arthur's arm was still slung across his body, holding him there.
"What," Arthur breathed slowly, dangerously. "What are you-you better have a good reason for being here."
"I-" Merlin's mouth went dry instantly, and his fingertips were suddenly frigid. "I don't know."
"You're in my bed," Arthur said, quite unnecessarily. His eyes were slits in his face. "I don't remember inviting you."
"I don't remember either, sire."
Merlin held his breath. Arthur was still staring at him with that expression like he was about to shoot some particularly juicy animal.
At length, Arthur sighed. "Go fetch me breakfast," he said. He removed his arm from Merlin's waist and turned over onto his back. "You will speak of this to no one."
Merlin scrambled out of Arthur's bed. At least he was dressed-fully dressed in fact. Even his kerchief was still tied securely around his neck. The only thing he was missing was his boots, which he pulled on in a hurry before sprinting out of the prince's chambers.
-x-x-x-
Arthur wracked his brain, but no matter how many times he went over the events of the night before, he couldn't remember how Merlin had gotten into his bed. He was pretty sure the boy had left after-after Arthur had asked him to stay. That had been as clear a no as anyone could get.
Then how?
No matter. Whatever had happened, it seemed neither of them remembered. And that's how Arthur liked it. He was good at pretending that things never happened. For those he had previously taken to his bed-visiting nobles, a few knights here for tourneys-these had been the terms, that they don't speak of it, or act any differently toward each other during the day.
It was for the best, or at least that's what Arthur told himself. Besides, Merlin was a servant and a man. It's not like Arthur had any real feelings for him.
Chapter 3