Settling Up

[etmuse]

Title: Settling Up
Fandom: Merlin
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me - they belong to legend and the BBC/Shine. They will not be harmed, and I'll give them back eventually.
Spoilers: Set after the end of S2, VERY mild spoilers for all episodes.
Summary: Merlin and Arthur are attacked on a trip across the countryside, and more is revealed than either could have expected.

Author's Note: Written for dreamdustmama in the camelots_closet fic exchange!

Thanks to: morbid_sparks, my always lovely beta who can now get the credit she deserves for helping me on this.

Settling Up

Merlin could tell that Arthur was bored. He was fidgety, and he could see him visibly shaking himself to keep paying attention to the proceedings on a frequent basis.

He couldn’t blame him - more often than not these sessions were boring, but Arthur knew as well as anyone else that they were necessary. Better they spend an afternoon arguing their cases to the king or to Arthur than they take matters into their own hands. Less bloodshed, at least.

But no one could say they were the most riveting aspect of Arthur’s duties as crown prince. Merlin hadn’t always attended, even when Arthur had been presiding over the proceedings, but more and more over the last few months, Arthur had been requesting his presence.

Much of the time, Merlin knew he wasn’t really required - he wasn’t the only one who could keep Arthur’s mug of water topped up - but there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for Arthur if asked, and this was hardly the greatest sacrifice he could make.

Plus it was a chance to just watch Arthur, and in light of the progress their personal relationship had made in the past weeks, that was compensation in and of itself. And rather more enjoyable than actually paying attention to what was going on.

There was a loud thump, startling Merlin out of his reverie. The heavy-set man who had just brought his fists down on the table did not look pleased - at all - and Merlin guessed that the decision had not gone in his favour.

He was clearly intelligent enough to realise, however, that arguing the decision further wouldn’t make any difference - Arthur and his father shared the quality that once they had made a decision, very little could be done to change their minds - as he promptly stood up and stormed out of the room, muttering unintelligibly.

As the other party in the dispute - much smaller but rather happier looking - left the room, Arthur turned to the court official who had been ushering in sets of disputers all afternoon. “How many more left today?” he said, a note of pleading just discernable in his voice.

“Just one more, Sire,” the man replied deferentially.

Arthur’s shoulders drooped, but he nodded. “All right. Send them in.”

Merlin stepped over to refill Arthur’s water goblet - it didn’t really need refilling, but the action gave him the opportunity to surreptitiously lay a hand on Arthur’s arm for a second, a gesture he hoped gave Arthur some small measure of relief from the tedium of the day.

By the time the hearings were finished, nearly an hour later, Arthur was quite visibly glad to leave. “I thought it would never end,” he grumbled to Merlin as they made their way back to Arthur’s quarters. “And I swear I’ve seen that last woman at one of these sessions before.”

Merlin didn’t feel it was necessary or wise to point out that they’d actually seen her four times before - and that was only in the sessions he’d attended. Arthur was intelligent and observant when he wanted to be - the faces of those subjects who attended conflict resolution sessions didn’t apparently come under that heading.

He halted as they reached Arthur’s door. “I’ll go down and see if the kitchens have your dinner ready,” he smiled. “A bit of food will make you feel better.”

He twisted to go and do as he’d said, only to almost fall on his face as Arthur caught his arm and swung him back around. “I’m not hungry, Merlin,” Arthur said, shaking his head as he tugged Merlin through the door. “Food isn’t going to make me feel better.”

“Oh!” Merlin rolled his shoulders, shrugging his tunic back into place as Arthur released him. “Okay, do you want me to…” The look on Arthur’s face registered and Merlin’s grin widened. “Oh…”

Glancing behind him quickly to make sure that the door was firmly closed, he stepped forward and rested his hands on Arthur’s waist. Arthur allowed himself to be pulled closer, his eyes flickering across Merlin’s face as he waited for Merlin to make a move.

Merlin leaned forward, relishing again the fact that he and Arthur were so close to being the same height; kissing was so much better when it wasn’t giving you a crick in the neck. Arthur sighed into it, his hands coming up to tangle themselves in Merlin’s hair. One thumb teased the lobe of Merlin’s ear, a habit Arthur seemed to be falling into - one Merlin was doing nothing to discourage - and Merlin barely resisted nuzzling into the touch like a cat.

Tightening his grip on Arthur’s sides, he pressed forwards, urging Arthur to step back. They shuffled across the floor until Arthur hit the edge of the bed.

The need for air was becoming pressing by the time Merlin pulled away, pushing Arthur gently until he fell back onto the bed. “What do you want?” he asked breathlessly, watching hungrily as Arthur settled comfortably on his back.

Arthur shook his head slightly, one shoulder lifting as he smiled heatedly. “You,” he said simply. “Whatever you want. I trust you.”

The sense of power that gave Merlin was heady, but he wasn’t at all tempted to abuse the tender trust he had been gifted. Kicking off his boots, he launched himself onto the bed, landing half on top of Arthur.

“Anything I want?” he asked playfully as he worked at the laces at the top of Arthur’s shirt. There was something he’d been thinking about in the last few days, something he hadn’t tried with Arthur yet; something he hoped Arthur would enjoy. He’d been holding back somewhat, because while Will had loved it, Lancelot had refused to even try it, on principle.

“Anything,” Arthur confirmed, his fingertips tickling the nape of Merlin’s neck as he untangled the knot of his neckerchief.

Merlin swooped down, burning a fast, hard kiss into Arthur’s lips before he drew back again. The next several minutes were filled with half-fumbled kisses and tracing fingers as they tugged at each other’s clothing, tossing it away to land somewhere off the bed - neither of them were much in the mood to care where.

By the time they were naked, thoroughly entwined in the middle of the bed, Merlin was having trouble keeping his mind on the new thing he wanted to try. “Arthur,” he moaned, trying to twist his neck away from Arthur’s tender assault. “Arthur… There’s something I…”

He lost his train of thought again as Arthur’s lips found a particularly sensitive spot just above his clavicle. “I…uh…” He wrapped a hand in Arthur’s hair and pulled him away gently. “There’s something I want to try,” he said choppily. “Can you… on your front?”

Arthur hesitated for just a fraction of a second before nodding and rolling over, nuzzling his head into the pillows. Merlin slid closer, pressing into Arthur's side and kissing him softly, hoping to quash any nerves Arthur might have.

Just a few weeks ago, Arthur might have been outwardly wary at the suggestion of something new, asking Merlin nervously if he would like it, but the more they had tried, the more he had relaxed.

And Merlin knew that Arthur knew that if he didn’t like it, all he had to say was stop and Merlin would. Immediately. He wanted this - whatever this was, he didn’t yet have a name for it - to work, and that meant paying attention to what Arthur liked.

Slipping further over so he blanketed Arthur’s back with his body, he transferred his kiss to the back of Arthur’s neck. Arthur groaned softly and reached a hand back to stroke across Merlin’s thigh. “S’good,” he mumbled.

Merlin smiled and nipped at Arthur’s shoulder before wriggling a little lower so he could explore the line of Arthur’s spine with his lips and tongue. Any noises Arthur was making were muffled by the pillows, but from the way he was arching into the touch, Merlin didn’t think he had any complaints so far. And Merlin knew that he didn’t have any.

Arthur squirmed as Merlin reached the small of his back. “Merlin,” he said in a rasping voice. “Are you about to…? There?”

He didn’t elaborate, but Merlin knew what he was asking. He lifted himself on his elbows, leaning just slightly to the side so he could meet Arthur’s gaze where he’d twisted his head. “Yeah,” he said, staring intently. “I am. You okay with that?”

He bit his bottom lip as he waited on Arthur’s reply. Slowly Arthur nodded. “If you want to do it, I’m okay with it.”

Merlin grinned. “Oh believe me, I want to do it.”

Arthur’s eyes softened and he nestled his cheek back into the pillows. Merlin kissed his way back across Arthur’s hip to reach the base of his spine. He wetted his lips and dipped lower still.

Arthur whimpered at the first touch of his tongue to the edge of his hole, his fingers clenching into the sheets. Merlin moaned himself at the musky taste. Guided by Arthur’s reactions, he experimented with different touches of his tongue - broad licks, teasing flickers, swirling jabs. He savoured the small keening moans that escaped Arthur when he dove in as far as he could.

“Merlin…” Arthur’s flailing arm hit him lightly on the back of his head before his fingers settled in his hair and tugged. “Please. You. Now, Merlin.” He broke off with a shuddery moan. “Please.”

His own arousal getting desperate, Merlin didn’t tease him any longer, crawling up and leaning over Arthur to grab a jar of salve from beside the bed. Already slick with saliva, it didn’t take much to get Arthur ready.

Arthur used the brief moment as Merlin secured the top back on the jar and made sure it was safely stowed to flip onto his back. Merlin tried - not very hard - to fend off his wandering hands as he settled himself back into the cradle of Arthur’s hips.

“Now, Merlin. Before I have to order you,” Arthur panted, pressing a series of quick kisses to Merlin’s lips and face.

Merlin didn’t waste any more time capitulating to the plea, sliding smoothly into Arthur with a mutual groan of pleasure. He bent down to rest his forehead on Arthur’s as he caught his breath, both of them smiling into each other’s faces.

When he couldn’t bear it anymore, Merlin started to move, slowly at first, barely more than gentle rocking. After a few thrusts, Arthur rolled his hips to meet him at every move, his heels digging into Merlin’s back. The pace and intensity increased as sensation took over Merlin’s brain, drowning out any remaining conscious thought.

“Merlin…” Arthur’s voice filtered through Merlin’s haze, a hand gripping hard on his arm. “I’m… I’m going to…”

Merlin nodded, barely holding back from the edge himself. “Go,” he whispered hoarsely. “Go.”

Moments later, he felt Arthur shudder beneath him, felt the heat blossoming between their bellies, and he gladly followed Arthur into oblivion.

All in all, the day wasn’t particularly extraordinary in any way - there had been bad parts, there had been very good parts, but none of it had been out of the ordinary, so by the time they were tramping across the countryside two weeks later, neither Merlin nor Arthur were thinking about that day at all.

They were doing their best to allow the two young knights accompanying them to outstrip them, although the knights in question weren’t making it easy. Every time Merlin and Arthur slowed down, Sir Breunor and Sir Fergus would notice within a few minutes and do the same, allowing them to catch up.

“I don’t know why they had to come along,” Arthur grumbled quietly in a moment of relative distance. “It’s not like we’re on any sort of quest or mission.” They were headed over to the next hill, where the people of Camelot would congregate that evening to celebrate Beltane.

In theory, Arthur was only going over to oversee how the preparations were coming along; in practise, Merlin knew he would end up throwing his hand in and helping out. “We can look after ourselves just fine; we always used to.”

Merlin smiled sympathetically. They’d had this discussion before. Over time, Arthur was getting less and less tolerant of the constant presence of several knights whenever he strayed more than a few feet from the castle gates. “You know your father is just overprotective since everything with the great dragon.”

And at least the contingent of knights was down to two - for a short while just after they had returned from facing Kilgarragh, King Uther had insisted on at least five knights accompanying Arthur almost everywhere outside his own chambers. Which wasn’t always an easy task considering the decimation of knights that had taken place during the dragon’s attack.

Merlin still fought with bursts of guilt over that, on occasion.

“It’s been months,” Arthur added.

“And you’re his only child,” Merlin rejoined with a grin. “He doesn’t want anything to happen to you. And you’re pretty recognisable. Now, if you’d agree to only go out in disguise…”

He trailed off with a half-laugh as Arthur poked him in the side. “What kind of message would it send if I was suddenly never seen around, among the people?” he exclaimed.

“I know, I know!” Merlin cried, squirming to escape Arthur’s onslaught. “But you can’t have it both ways.”

“Well why not?” Arthur asked with a hint of petulance. “I’m the prince. I should be able to have it whatever way I want to.”

Merlin raised his eyebrow at him, the thought of the day before springing to mind. “And here I thought you did,” he chuckled, smirking.

Whatever Arthur was about to reply was cut off as there was a shout of alarm from Sir Fergus ahead, on the other side of a small patch of undergrowth.

Merlin and Arthur shared a momentary glance before bursting into action. When they came out the other side of the brush, the found Sir Breunor and Sir Fergus struggling against a group of burly men. Breunor and Fergus were fairly new and rather inexperienced; the fight didn’t look to be going their way.

Arthur threw himself immediately into the fight. Merlin hung back a little, trying to gauge the situation before he did anything. It was far from a secret that he wasn’t the most proficient at hand to hand combat - his magic was the only thing he had going for him in a fight, and he was increasingly aware of how careful he had to be when using it.

He had no choice, however, but to be drawn into the fight when one of their attackers noticed him and charged. His opponent was rather larger than him, and what he lacked in technical combat proficiency, he more than made up for with sheer brute strength.

Merlin quickly decided his best option was to be faster - he could anticipate most of the blows coming his way and duck or roll out of the way rather better than he could attempt to hit back. He registered Arthur and the knights fighting only vaguely in the background as he kept one eye on the large man trying to beat him into the ground and the other scanning for something he could use magically to turn the tables.

He snatched his chance as they found themselves approaching a small copse of trees at the edge of the bushes. He reached inside, drew out just a hint of his magic and a touch of the powers he had inherited from his father, and pushed. His opponent’s eyebrows raised in surprise for just a moment before his back hit the side of a tree, followed by his head with a loud crack.

Unconscious, he slid to the ground, one shoulder still resting against the tree, and Merlin could turn his attentions back to his travelling companions.

Sir Breunor and Sir Fergus were both out cold, their inexperience clearly having shown, but two of their attackers were also slumped on the ground. Not dead; Merlin could still see the slight motion as they breathed in and out.

He couldn’t see Arthur immediately; his fight had taken him just out of view behind another tree and a small shrub, and it was a few steps before Merlin could place the sounds of that battle. Arthur was holding his own, but against three opponents he was clearly struggling to stay on an even keel.

Merlin reached out a hand, not stopping to think about it before he whispered a few words to send all three of them flying. A moment’s thought and he brought a conveniently positioned branch down from a tree to land on top of them, just to make sure they were knocked out.

Only once he was sure did he look back at Arthur. Only to find that, for the first time in a situation like this, Arthur was looking right back at him. With a somewhat stunned expression on his face.

Merlin froze. It had just never seemed like quite the right time to confess all to Arthur about his magic. And this… this didn’t particularly seem like the right time either, but it didn’t look like he was going to be given a choice.

“You just…” Arthur gestured between the space around him and where the three hefty men were lying unconscious several feet away.

“I can explain,” Merlin said hastily, trying desperately to come up with the explanation he was promising as he did so. “I…”

“You’re magic,” Arthur said unemotionally. “Yes, I know.” The taken aback look didn’t leave his face, but his words seemed to imply that it was not the discovery that Merlin was magically that had put it there.

“How did you know?” Merlin asked, knowing his voice was too high and cracking but unable to prevent it.

“I’m not stupid, Merlin,” Arthur retorted.

Merlin knew that he wasn’t, he’d seen occasional flashes of pure brilliance from Arthur’s mind, but on the subject of Merlin’s magic Arthur had always appeared to display a certain lack of perception. He hadn’t always been as careful with it around Arthur as he should have been, and there had been more than one moment in the past where he was sure Arthur must have figured it out.

And here Arthur was now, claiming that he had.

“All the odd things that happen around you,” Arthur continued. “How things just seem to change when you’re there. Things that just don’t occur when you’re not around. It’s the only explanation.”

Merlin nodded, still not entirely reassured. “So… you’re not going to tell anyone?”

Arthur fixed him with a withering look. “Of course not.” He swivelled on one foot and strode towards Merlin, stopping less than a pace away. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, Merlin. You being magic… doesn’t change that.”

Merlin took a deep breath and lifted his hands to rest them on Arthur’s chest. “Okay,” he sighed. “Okay.” He knew there was more to be told, that Arthur might have figured some of it out but that there was still much he should know, but at that moment, that wasn’t what was important.

Arthur knew. And he was apparently okay with it.

“I’d never actually seen you doing it, though,” Arthur said quietly, covering Merlin’s hands with his own, holding them against him. “That was…” He shook his head, staring at Merlin intensely, heatedly, his thumbs stroking across the back of Merlin’s hands.

Apparently Arthur was more than okay with Merlin being magic.

Taking initiative from the look in Arthur’s eyes, Merlin pushed forward and kissed him. Arthur’s lips melted immediately under his own, his hands dropping Merlin’s so he could wrap his arms around Merlin’s back.

Merlin could feel exactly how Arthur’s body had reacted to seeing his magic when they pressed together. He rocked slightly against him, feeling his own cock start to respond to such prominent evidence of his lover’s arousal.

“I want you,” Arthur whispered needlessly against Merlin’s cheek, pressing wet kisses there.

Merlin glanced around at the unconscious bodies around them. There was no telling how long they would stay out. “No time,” he murmured back, inclining his head slightly towards the others.

He caught Arthur’s pout in a kiss before it could fully develop. Arthur kissed back enthusiastically, sucking Merlin’s tongue into his mouth, scraping across it gently with his teeth. When he pulled Merlin even closer, hands roaming across his back and gripping his buttocks, Merlin forgot about his reservations, and their out-cold audience, and backed Arthur against the nearest tree.

Their kiss grew sloppier and more frantic as they pressed together. As wonderful as Arthur’s hands on him felt, Merlin could feel himself overheating with every caress and knew he’d never last if he kept it up.

Tugging Arthur’s arms away from his body and above their heads, Merlin pulled back long enough to whisper a few words, pinning Arthur’s wrists against the tree trunk. Arthur struggled for a few moments before his eyes came back to Merlin’s, dark and full of lust.

“Gods, Merlin,” he rasped. “Do you know how…?” He strained forward, licking at Merlin’s mouth.

Merlin shuddered and dropped his own hands, fumbling at the laces of first his own trousers and then Arthur’s. Underthings were pushed just as hastily down past their thighs so he could push back into Arthur, taking both of them into his hand.

Rubbing a thumb across both heads, he coated his palm in the sticky fluid leaking there, slicking it against the cocks in his hand as he tilted his hips up. The pressure of his own palm and Arthur’s cock against his own sent jolts of pleasure through him, and his hips moved faster into Arthur’s almost without volition.

Nothing existed for them outside the bubble of intimacy they’d created; a warm breeze blew past, birds sang in the sky, but they noticed neither, wrapped up in each other and the sticky friction between them.

Soon, too soon, perhaps, Merlin felt every muscle in his body begin to tense as he approached his release; he was too incoherent to do much more than hope that Arthur was there with him. Moments later, he groaned out his bliss as he spilt between them, Arthur echoing him just seconds later as another burst of heat gushed against Merlin’s hand.

Merlin was glad of the tree against Arthur’s back as he fell forward into him, his knees only just keeping him upright.

“We need to do something about these men,” was the first coherent sentence Merlin heard when he regained himself.

He nodded into Arthur’s shoulder. “And clean up,” he added.

Arthur started to move and then stopped. “Um… could you?” He tilted his head back at where his hands were still magically bound above him.

Merlin shook his shoulders, knocking the last of the dopiness away. “Oh, of course,” he said, waving at them with a mutter under his breath. “Actually, I can…”

He waved between them at the mess, and Arthur frowned for barely an instant before nodding. Merlin softly said the words he’d discovered some time ago; words he’d used more than once alone in his room before he and Arthur had truly discovered each other.

It wasn’t perfect, but it left them clean enough that they could re-dress without any uncomfortable stickiness.

“What are we going to do with them, then?” Merlin asked, looking around. None of the six men were yet showing any signs of regaining consciousness. Neither were Sir Breunor or Sir Fergus.

It wasn’t until then - without the distractions of fighting for his life or of, well… Arthur - that Merlin realised he recognised the man he assumed was the ringleader.

“I know him,” he blurted, pointing him out.

Arthur frowned. “You do?”

“Well, not know him, know him,” Merlin elucidated hurriedly. “But I’ve seen him before. At one of the arbitration sessions at court, a couple of weeks ago. If I remember correctly, he wasn’t too pleased with your decision.”

Arthur stared at the man in question for a long moment, clearly trying to match the face to a memory. He shook his head. “I remember the incident; I just don’t remember his face.”

Merlin shrugged and grinned. “Lucky you’ve got me, then, isn’t it?”

Arthur smiled back at him for a second before looking around and sighing. “We do need to do something. We can’t just leave them. Not when at least one of them clearly has some sort of axe to grind with me.”

“But what else can we do?” Merlin asked, wracking his brain. “It’s not like we can take them back to the castle with us.”

“Tie them up?” Arthur hazarded. “They’d get free eventually, but it might give them enough pause that they won’t try anything again.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow at him. “Just tie them up, that’s your solution?”

Arthur nodded.

“I don’t know if it’s escaped your notice,” Merlin said, throwing his arms out to the side, “but we don’t exactly have any rope. How are you planning on doing this tying?”

Arthur shrugged. “Okay, I don’t know! Can’t you… make rope appear, or something?”

Merlin mentally added another point onto the discussion he knew he was going to have to have with Arthur about his magic: what magic can and cannot do. “It’s not as simple as that!” he cried back at Arthur. “I can’t just conjure a rope out of thin air!” Not yet anyway. Maybe with several more years of practice, a few new spells…

His hands flopped back to his sides as one spell did come to mind. “I might be able to make you see rope, but it wouldn’t be an actual rope.”

He cast his mind through all the spells he could remember. “I might be able to do something,” he eventually said hesitantly. “But I’d need something solid and vaguely rope-like to begin with. And I’m not making any promises.”

Arthur disappeared into the undergrowth for a few moments. Merlin was just about to call out to him, wondering what he was doing, when he reappeared, dragging a straggly piece of plant root behind him. “Will this do?”

Merlin reached out, brushing a stray twig out of Arthur’s hair before taking the long root from him. “Should do,” he nodded, before concentrating hard, trying to remember the exact words he would need.

“Funicula converto,” he muttered half-under his breath, staring intently at the root, willing it to change. For a moment, it didn’t look like anything was going to happen, but then the root started twisting in his hand, spinning around itself and turning into something that at least resembled rope.

When it had stopped twisting of its own accord, Arthur put out a hand and tugged at it. It held fast, and Merlin let himself hope that the spell had actually worked - for once - entirely as intended.

It took both of them to drag the six men in turn until they were slumped around the sturdiest of the trees. The length of rope Merlin had fashioned from the plant root was only just long enough to loop around them twice with a knot at the ends, so it wasn’t likely to hold them for very long.

It was the best they could do, however.

Sir Breunor and Sir Fergus started to come around just as they were finishing tying the knots. They were both a little woozy, but thankfully both were able to stand and walk unaided, so Merlin and Arthur didn’t feel it was necessary to return immediately to the castle.

Instead, they continued on their original task and headed out to the hill where Beltane celebrations would take place that night.

Merlin tried not to make it obvious that he was cuddling against Arthur’s side as the celebrations started to wind down late that night - the flickering light from the bonfires helped, as nothing and no one could be seen entirely clearly in the dark.

If anyone did see them, Merlin hoped they would buy the excuse that he was simply cold and huddling for warmth, despite the heat from the fires burning around them.

“So come on, why wouldn’t you jump over the fire, then, Merlin?” Arthur teased, nudging against Merlin with a shoulder. “Good luck and fertility and all that.”

Merlin pushed back and gave Arthur an incredulous look. “It may be impossible, but I’m not taking any chances with that fertility bit. No way, not me.” He grinned, resting again slightly against Arthur’s arm. “And as for everything else, well, I reckon I’ve got all that I need already.”

“Oh, you do, do you, Merlin?” Arthur asked, responding with a grin of his own.

“Yeah, I do.” Merlin glanced around them, trying to gauge who was around, where people were looking - none of the six men that had ambushed them that afternoon had been spotted all night, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad.

Confident that no one was paying them any attention, he leaned over and pressed a swift, chaste kiss to the corner of Arthur’s lips. “I really, really do.”

The End
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