Now I Will Unsettle the Ground Beneath You (5/6)

[nu_breed]

Part Four

***

Arthur's flat in Mayfair is one of the most beautiful places Merlin has ever seen. If he'd thought Gwaine's place was impressive, well. Not that he wants to think about Gwaine right now of course-that way lies madness and guilt, and he and Arthur have plenty of time for that. Later.

They both stink of sex, and Merlin probably hasn't showered in a couple of days, but according to Arthur's instructions he brings a change of clothes and pyjamas. He did question why he couldn't shower at his own place, but Arthur just smiled knowingly and said "You'll see." He hasn't seen the outside of his own place in weeks, so it's probably time for a change of scenery anyway, and this place is so beautiful that Merlin feels like he's staying in the most expensive hotel in the world.

The entrance hall is huge and wood-panelled and he feels like he should be very quiet, like it's a library.

"Give me five minutes," Arthur says. "Take a look around if you want. No-one's here today, I sent the staff home."

"Posh wanker," Merlin teases. He flashes a grin at Arthur, who gives him the two-fingered salute as he wanders off down the hall.

The drawing room is massive too, and has an impressive collection of books and beautiful furniture, including a writing desk and a massive leather chair. Merlin loses track of time as he takes in the room: the portraits of Arthur's father and mother hanging on the wall along with a family one of Arthur with Uther and Morgana, and a few candid shots of Arthur on his desk.

He jumps when he hears a noise behind him and turns around to see Arthur leaning in the doorway, completely, gloriously naked, and his hair wet from the shower. He crooks a finger and beckons Merlin to follow him down the corridor.

Merlin can't help but stare at Arthur's arse for the entire length of the corridor: it is truly spectacular. Always was.

Arthur's bathroom is just as impressive as the rest of the house: large and pristine white with a huge shower and bath, both definitely big enough for two people. The bath is full, and Arthur had obviously been busy drawing it while Merlin was looking around.

"Oh," Merlin says, realising what Arthur has been planning this whole time. "I see. Well I suppose this is a little nicer than my mould-ridden shower."

"Let's get these clothes off," Arthur says, ignoring the quip and unbuttoning Merlin's jeans. He pulls them down past his hips, and Merlin's underwear along with them. Merlin just stands there, not even moving.

"Merlin? Is something wrong?"

Merlin shakes his head. "Just- can't believe I'm not dreaming, I guess. If I am, I don't want to wake up."

Arthur traces the line of Merlin's cheekbones with the pads of his thumbs, it's an incredibly tender gesture and it makes Merlin's chest feel tight.

"You're not dreaming, Merlin," Arthur says, kissing him once on each cheek, quick pecks of kisses, followed by a much longer one that he lavishes on Merlin's mouth.

"Good," Merlin says, trying to keep the waver out of his voice. "Good." He strips his t-shirt off and gets into the bath.

"Lean back and wet your hair," Arthur tells him.

Merlin mock-glares at him. "I can actually work out how to have a bath all by myself you know, your highness, I've managed for twenty-two years just fine without you telling me what to do."

"Stubborn bastard."

"Dollophead."

But he does as he's told and leans back, getting his hair thoroughly wet. Seconds later, he hears the water splashing and feels Arthur pressed up behind him. Merlin leans back against his shoulder as Arthur massages shampoo into Merlin's scalp. It smells like lime and coconut; it's probably very expensive. Merlin can feel the tension of the last few weeks uncoiling with every stroke of Arthur's hands.

"You have lovely hands." He concentrates on the way Arthur's fingers are pressing into his scalp, working the knots there and he whines when they stop.

"Rinse," Arthur whispers into his neck, and Merlin moves forward enough to be able to tip his head back and rinse the shampoo from his hair.

Arthur's hands are coated in bodywash now, and he drags them over every inch of Merlin's skin, starting with his throat.

"Mmmmm." Merlin just lies back on Arthur, closing his eyes. "You're pretty good at this for a spoiled brat who never had to do a thing for himself."

"Oi!" Arthur splashes water in Merlin's face. "If you're not nice to me, Merlin, I shan't finish."

He smiles and concentrates on the journey of Arthur's hands. His cock goes from half-hard to fully erect within seconds when Arthur's soapy hands brush over his nipples and the trail of hair leading down to his crotch.

"Oh," Merlin says, all breath. "Oh. Arthur."

"Are you going to be nice?" Arthur asks in that profoundly irritating, patronising tone, which he punctuates by dragging his finger down the length of Merlin's cock.

"Yes, you utter-"

Arthur pulls his hand away, and Merlin wants to cry.

"Yes, yes, okay? I'll be nice. Honest!"

Merlin groans as Arthur strokes him so light and gentle that it's absolute torture. Bastard.

"Please," Merlin begs.

Apparently that's all Arthur wanted to hear, because his hand encircles Merlin's cock and strips it with long, hard strokes of his hand as he whispers: "After this, Merlin, I'm going to lay you out over my sheets and fuck you all night . Make you scream for me, like I used to."

"Oh god," Merlin groans, pushing his hips forward, driving his cock into Arthur's fist. It doesn't take long: he's already so sensitised and after maybe half a dozen long, slow, strokes, Merlin is coming into Arthur's hand, biting his lip.

"I thought I'd lost you," Arthur whispers, his face pressed into Merlin's neck. "I couldn't bear it- not after finding you again."

Merlin sits up and turns around, so he's facing Arthur. He looks so broken, so wounded, and Merlin wishes he could just take it all away. He kisses him once, lips brushing gently, and Arthur whimpers, and holds Merlin, one hand on the back of his neck. Arthur deepens the kiss, and Merlin feels like every inch of his mouth is being explored, discovered again.

"I love you, Merlin," Arthur murmurs as he pulls back, and the look on his face is so open, so completely unguarded that Merlin feels like he's invading Arthur's privacy just by looking. "I didn't think-"

"Shhhh," Merlin says, touching Arthur's mouth with his fingers. "I know."

Merlin kisses him again. It's like he's come home.

***

When Merlin wakes up, it takes him a moment to register as to why he's in a bed that isn't his. A huge, extremely comfortable bed which has linen that has probably been washed more than once a week. Then everything comes flooding back: Arthur breaking down his door, the sex that followed, coming to Arthur's, bathing, a handjob in the bath, more sex which left him wrung-out and sore, and finally sleep in the most comfortable bed that Merlin has ever had the pleasure of waking up in.

Oh and the small matter of Arthur telling him he loved him. All in all, an eventful day and night

He knows he should feel guilty for doing exactly what he promised himself he wouldn't do, that is: seeing Arthur, sleeping with Arthur. Not just that, he's happy and no matter how happy Arthur makes him, he can't pretend this is a victimless crime. It isn't.

Merlin reaches out for Arthur, but he isn't there, and he sits up, rubbing his eyes, trying to focus. There's an almighty crash, and Arthur yelling "Oh for fuck's sake!" followed by more crashes, which Merlin registers as pots and pans. Arthur must be in the kitchen, then.

The kitchen. Oh. God no.

Merlin gets up as quickly as he can and throws on the robe Arthur left out for him.

He hears another five or so expletives before he makes it down the end of the corridor, following the clanging and Arthur's voice until he reaches the hugest kitchen he's ever seen.

"This house is too big," Merlin complains, "what if it had been an emergency? The place might've burned down by the time I got down the bloody corridor!"

"This is an emergency. Cook isn't here and I thought it would be easy enough to make breakfast, but- bloody hell, I really am not cut out for this, Merlin."

Arthur's a mess, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, flour in his hair and on his face, and he looks so pathetic that Merlin can't help walking over and kissing him.

"You don't belong in a kitchen," Merlin assures Arthur. "Just, I don't know, go and read the financial section or something and I'll try and make something out of this mess."

"Spoiled, arrogant brat with the brains of a donkey. That's what you called me once, didn't you?" Arthur is pouting now, and it shouldn't be funny, but Merlin can't help himself. He doubles over and laughs so much that it hurts.

"You should have seen yourself," Merlin manages, "you were so wounded. Oh stop pouting, you massive drama queen. You may be useless when it comes to the culinary arts, but you have other talents."

"That's very true, Merlin, thank you." Arthur grins as Merlin picks up the bowl containing some kind of flour, egg, milk concoction that now resembles lumpy paste and throws the whole thing in the rubbish.

"You're welcome." Merlin looks through Arthur's fridge to see what he has and pulls out spring onions, tomatoes, cheese, eggs, milk and butter.

"The newspaper, then," Arthur quickly says, looking very confused and frightened by the array of ingredients.

Merlin nods and shoos Arthur away as he sets to work, cracking eggs into a large glass bowl he finds in one of the ridiculous amount of cupboards in Arthur's kitchen. Cupboards, he'll bet a thousand pounds, that Arthur has never opened.

In the time it would probably take for Arthur to read the financial section, Merlin puts together a semi-decent omelette and serves it up in the breakfast room along with some juice. He refrains from commenting on the ridiculousness of even having a breakfast room, because there are many, many things about the upper class that Merlin will never understand.

Arthur looks at him like he's a genius for making an omelette and when they've finished eating, he drags Merlin back into the bedroom, stripping the robe off him as they go.

Merlin rides Arthur, sucking on the fingers Arthur shoves in his mouth, and watching his face the whole time.

He falls asleep with Arthur wrapped around him like he doesn't want to let go.

***

When Merlin wakes the next morning, he has to pinch himself to make sure this isn't all some wonderful dream that he's been having. It's been like this for two days now, and he's always scared to go to sleep at night just in case he wakes up on the floor of his studio, sick and alone and not to put too fine a point on it, wanting to die.

But this time, Arthur is there when he wakes up, his hair adorably messy. He is staring.

"You're a creeper," Merlin mumbles. "You're one of those creepy stalker types who watch their victims when they sleep."

"You should be so lucky," Arthur points out. "Not all stalkers are this devastatingly handsome, you know."

"Oh bugger off." Merlin hits him with the pillow. "Seriously. Your ego is bigger than your's, Leon's and Gwaine's houses put together."

Arthur clears his throat, "Speaking of Gwaine-"

"I think I need a shower."

Merlin doesn't wait to hear what Arthur says next, just strides down the corridor till he reaches the bathroom and turns on the shower. He knows this is a conversation that they have to have, but he isn't ready for it. Not yet. He isn't proud of himself either, he feels like a fucking coward.

When the water's warm enough, Merlin steps in and puts his face under the spray. Arthur's shower has the best pressure of any shower he's ever been in, of course, and he doesn't even register Arthur joining him until he feels his body pressing against Merlin's from behind.

"Sorry," Merlin says, turning to face him. Arthur soaking wet is something that Merlin has no defence against, and he bites his lower lip, hoping the hint of pain stops the erection that's threatening to distract him.

"I just- I know I have to face him, break it off. But not yet, yeah? I just want this time for us, Arthur. I'll deal with Gwaine when he gets back."

Arthur nods. "I understand. I do."

"Okay then."

Merlin runs a hand through his hair, and he can see Arthur's eyes follow the movement. Merlin leans back against the glass wall of the shower, and watches Arthur as he moves in, crowding Merlin with an arm on either side of him.

"Have you ensorcelled me, Merlin?" Arthur hisses in his ear, and runs his tongue along the line of Merlin's jaw.

"You know I haven't, you utter- oh-"

Arthur presses his groin against Merlin's and it feels divine, wet cocks sliding against each other, and Merlin loves this, but it isn't enough. Not nearly enough, and he wants something he doesn't even know how to ask for.

"I'm clean," Merlin breathes into Arthur's mouth, his tongue dipping inside. "I get myself tested all the time and Gwaine and I've never done it, not without-"

Arthur kisses him hard, sucking on his tongue with abandon.

"Really don't want to hear about you and Gwaine." He rests his hands on Merlin's hips, thumbs rubbing circles on his hipbones. "I've been tested too. After Leon's. Felt like I should, didn't know why. I do now."

"Please," Merlin begs, his hand on the back of Arthur's neck, pressing his forehead against Arthur's.

"Yes," Arthur moans, his kisses getting increasingly fast and desperate. "Turn around, Merlin, fuck."

Merlin turns around to face the glass and Arthur pushes him against it. He holds Merlin's wrists above his head, and whispers:

"Keep them there."

Merlin hooks his fingers over the top of the wall, and tries to stay upright, not let his knees buckle, when Arthur pushes two slick fingers inside him. Merlin rocks back against Arthur's fingers and god, he's still so sore from the non-stop shagging over the last couple of days, but he doesn't care that it hurts, not one bit, instead he's pushing himself back, trying to get Arthur's fingers deeper inside him.

"You ready?"

Merlin nods, and braces himself against the wall as Arthur pushes in. Christ, it's so good having nothing in the way, just Arthur's cock moving inside him, slow and deep, hitting his prostate on every thrust and his mouth on Merlin's neck, tongue chasing the droplets of water.

"You feel so amazing, Merlin," Arthur pants. "So fucking good." Arthur's hand clutches a handful of his hair and pulls Merlin's head back, his mouth fixed on Merlin's neck and sucking bruises into the soft, wet skin as he fists Merlin's cock.

It's too much, and Merlin feels like his body is being assailed; Arthur's mouth and cock and hands, and he can't help it, he comes hard and far too soon, spilling into Arthur's hand.

"Fuck," Arthur swears under his breath, and there's something about hearing words like 'fuck' in that cultured, cut-glass voice, it's a complete turn-on.

"You close?" Merlin asks, breath still ragged and erratic and he feels Arthur breathe his affirmations into Merlin's skin.

"Do it," Merlin groans. "I want to feel you come inside me, fill me up."

"Oh shut up," snaps Arthur, and Merlin laughs, grinds his hips forward and back in time with Arthur's thrusts, and when Arthur digs his fingers into Merlin's hip and pulls his head back to kiss him; dirty, wet and open-mouthed, Merlin knows it's all over.

Arthur sinks his teeth into the meat of Merlin's shoulder and comes, pulsing wet deep inside Merlin. He rides his orgasm out, pushing deeper inside Merlin, still fucking him, panting out filth and nonsense into Merlin's skin that he will probably try to pretend he didn't say, but they're branded into Merlin's flesh, and nothing, no-one can take that away from him.

Arthur pulls out and turns Merlin around, pressing him back into the wall, his hands everywhere.

They kiss until the water runs cold.

***

Merlin knows they can't stay like this forever, trapped in some bubble of sex and love and memories like the world outside doesn't exist. But it's still a shock when the bubble breaks and everything comes crashing down.

If Morgana is surprised to see him: brewing coffee in Arthur's kitchen when she bursts through the front door and down the corridor, she doesn't really show it. She always was very good at hiding things though: emotions, thoughts and plans were all kept secret and Merlin thinks that given she isn't in any way stupid, she can guess what is going on.

Particularly when Arthur comes in from the bathroom, white towel wrapped around his slim hips.

"Jesus Christ, Morgana!" he yells, "What are you doing sneaking into my house at arse-o-clock?"

"Lovely to see you, too, dear." She flashes him a fake-smile, and kisses him and then Merlin on the cheek.

"It's been far too long, Merlin," she says. "We really need to talk about those lovely paintings of yours."

Merlin bites his bottom lip. He's pretty sure that only about a third of his paintings right now are fit for public consumption.

But he finds himself saying, "Yes, of course. Just been really busy, y'know?"

She hugs him tightly. When she pulls back, he sees her eyes flick down to the base of his neck. Right where he has a very large, very dark lovebite, courtesy of Arthur Pendragon, future Duke of Westminster.

"Yes," she says, eyes darting from Merlin to Arthur and back again, "I imagine you have been. Well, I was going to take Arthur out for breakfast, but I suppose you'd better come along too, precious."

"Oh," Arthur says, tentatively like he's been thinking very carefully, "it's Saturday?"

Morgana laughs. "Must've been one hell of a bender for you to forget which day of the week it is, dear brother." She glances at Merlin, eyes narrowed like she's thinking, and Merlin feels like he's being weighed and measured.

"Morgana and I always have breakfast on Saturdays," he explains, "I'd just- forgotten."

He looks up at Merlin with apologies in his eyes. Merlin gives him a little wry smile, then glances at Morgana again.

"Well hurry up then, Arthur." She claps her hands and points him towards the bedroom, "whilst I'm sure The Mirror would love to catch a glimpse of you in your state of undress, I must say that I don't share their sentiment. Go and get decent, hmmm?"

"So bloody bossy," Arthur complains, casting a surreptitious glance at Merlin as he walks off down the corridor.

Merlin doesn't look at Morgana, just looks down at the cracks in the mug in front of him.

"Merlin-" her voice is soft and placating.

"Really hungry now," he says, trying to change the subject, not wanting to look at her or acknowledge anything that she may or may not know. "Think I'll have bacon and eggs. Yeah, bacon and eggs and maybe tomato and-"

"Oh Merlin. Darling."

She reaches a hand out to him across the breakfast bar. Merlin looks at her then; her eyes are fathomless and sad.

"You've remembered, haven't you?" she asks, her thumb rubbing calming circles on his wrist. "Both of you. I could feel it, you know. The weekend I met you."

"Yeah," Merlin whispers. "I thought you might have."

"When are you going to tell Gwaine? Merlin, you can't carry on like this behind his back, it isn't right."

Merlin feels his jaw clench and he turns away from her.

What do you know about what's right, he wants to say. Since when did you ever do the right thing? When you betrayed us? When you tortured me for days? When you stood back and watched your brother die?

But none of it matters now. Not really. This Morgana doesn't deserve his hate.

He turns to look at her. "I don't know. I was going to tell him before, but then the thing with his mum happened and fuck, Morgana, I tried to get Arthur to stay away, tried to stay away from him, but I-"

"I remember, you know," she says, soft and husky, like a secret. "How it wouldn't have mattered what I did to you, you would have refused to give him up. I could have flayed the skin from your body and you would have taken all of it, stupidly sacrificing yourself for him."

Merlin shuts his eyes, trying to will the image away of Morgana's hands on him, magic slicing into him, the most unimaginable pain that left him cut and bleeding, wrists rubbed raw and bruised from the shackles that held him up while Morgana tried to break him.

Arthur had come for him, of course. Stupidly sacrificing, as she called it. And that was the first time Merlin had seen Morgana hesitate, had seen the pain and confusion and the hesitation when she had her brother on his knees, her knife to his throat.

Morgana's hesitation had been long enough for Arthur to destroy the altar and the spell binding Merlin's magic to her, allowing Merlin to subdue Morgana. Arthur had released him from his shackles and Merlin had collapsed in his arms; hurt and exhausted and drained from the magic.

"Perhaps there are some memories that we shouldn't be dwelling on," Arthur says, leaning against the door frame.

"Perhaps," Morgana says, breathlessly. She stands there for a moment, composing herself, and forces a smile. It looks like the same fake-smile Arthur uses in the same sorts of situations.

Like brother, like sister.

***

His phone rings halfway through breakfast. It's Gwaine.

"Miss me?"

Gwaine sounds more cheerful than he has in quite some time. Merlin's relieved, even though just hearing his voice ties his stomach up in knots. He gets up from the table and wanders outside, not looking at Arthur or Morgana.

"Course I did." Merlin thinks he does a pretty good job of keeping the waver out of his voice, but his hand is shaking. "How's your mum doing?"

"She's wonderful," Gwaine says, and he sounds like sunshine. Merlin feels torn between smiling and throwing up.

"So, guess where I am?" Gwaine's tone is cheeky, and Merlin feels a wave of affection for him, making his chest tight with guilt.

"My psychic powers aren't switched on yet. Not enough coffee," Merlin teases. "Where are you, then?"

"Sitting in my car outside your place. Apparently you are not there, though." Merlin can hear Gwaine's grin down the phone, but it's doing nothing to calm the wave of dread that's building in the pit of Merlin's stomach.

"I'm- at breakfast with Morgana." Half the truth at least. Better than nothing. Merlin thinks that maybe if he tells himself that enough times, maybe he'll start to believe it, too.

***

Gwaine looks exhausted, but gorgeous. But then he always looks gorgeous, really, and Merlin hugs him, hard. He'd be lying if he tried to pretend he hasn't missed him. If Arthur didn't exist, Gwaine would be the perfect boyfriend: sexy, smart, funny. God, he was the perfect boyfriend, and it isn't his fault he's not Arthur.

"So, how have you been?" Gwaine asks. "I feel like I've been so wrapped up in everything that's been going on with me Ma, that I've barely given you a second thought. I'm sorry, Merlin."

Oh fuck you, Gwaine. Fuck you for making this so much harder.

Merlin hadn't been intending on doing this now. He thought he might wait until Gwaine was back and settled, but Morgana's right: it isn't fair to let Gwaine believe that Merlin is happy being with him. Not when the truth is that Merlin thinks of Arthur nearly every minute of every day. He can't keep stringing him along while he and Arthur are playing the infidelity game and making a fool of him.

"I've been- Gwaine, we need to talk."

Gwaine's face clouds over. "I don't know if I like the sound of that."

Merlin swallows and takes a deep breath.

"Well," Gwaine says, after Merlin has told him he really likes him, but just isn't in love with him, "I'm not completely stupid, I knew you weren't happy, Merlin. I guess I just thought that maybe it wasn't to do with me."

Merlin swallows, hard. "I wanted to say something sooner, I just- the thing with your mum happened, and the timing was atrocious and besides, I didn't know how you'd react, if you'd hate me, or what. I couldn't bear for you to hate me, Gwaine."

Which is why Merlin isn't breaking the news about Arthur yet. It's too much, and if Gwaine's going to hate him, then so be it, but he isn't going to let that happen before Lance's wedding. Lance and Gwen deserve at least a moment of happiness that has nothing to do with any of this.

"I'll be fine," Gwaine says. It isn't much, but it's a start. "It just wasn't meant to be. Not like we were soulmates or anything, was it? I'd rather be your friend than nothing, after all."

He wraps Merlin in a hug, and Merlin wants to just hang onto him forever like this, pretending everything is safe and simple.

***

"But Merlin, I don't understand," Gwen calls out from the changing rooms. "You were so happy. Gwaine is- he was, perfect for you. What happened?"

Where to even start. While he wishes he could tell Gwen, because she'd at least help him get his thoughts in order, he can't. No-one can know. Not yet. Merlin would have thought that breaking things off with Gwaine would have made things at least a little easier, but he's still no closer to feeling like his life is under control. Having the wedding to think about at least gives him a brief respite from thinking about Arthur and their situation every second of the day, but invariably thinking about Gwen and weddings leads back to Arthur anyway, so he's pretty much buggered no matter what.

"Are you ready yet?" Merlin asks, bouncing from one foot to the next. There were times when he really felt that perhaps he had missed some kind of gay gene, and that he should maybe return his toaster oven. Waiting for Gwen trying on the wedding dress she's had on layby is one of those times, he just doesn't enjoy waiting around for hours and cooing over pretty things. But it's Gwen, and he's hardly seen her lately she's been so busy, so he's doing his duty.

"I don't know," Gwen whines, sounding annoyed and pathetic at the same time.

"Gwen, get your arse out here now!" Merlin bellows, banging on the changing room door. "That woman with the blue hair will be back soon, and she already thinks I'm a bloody pervert as it is. Just show me the sodding dress so we can go."

She walks out of the changing room and Merlin feels like his heart stops beating.

"Merlin? What's wrong?"

""The circle is open but unbroken. May the peace of the Old Ones go in our hearts. Blessed be."

"Merlin?" Gwen rushes over to him as his knees buckle and he loses his balance, falling onto the carpet. "Are you okay?"

He looks up and takes a deep breath, tries to slow his heart rate back to normal.

"'m fine." He stands up, rubbing his knee. "You look-"

"Oh God." Gwen looks at herself in the full-length mirror. "You think I look pants, don't you? It looks just awful on me, doesn't it?"

"No," Merlin says, soft and a little bit sad, "you look-"

Like you did back then: happy and beautiful and in love.

"Lovely, Gwen. So very beautiful."

"Really?" She twirls a little, and she looks like she wants to believe him, but she doesn't know if she should.

"Really." Merlin hugs her, gently. "I think it's perfect."

She smiles, and kisses him on the cheek. "I have a favour to ask you, Merlin. You don't have to say yes, but I'll be absolutely over the moon if you do."

Merlin scowls, trying to think what it could possibly be. "What is it?"

"I was hoping," she blushes and looks at the floor, "well, you know Dad's dead and Elyan can't get back to England until the day before, which doesn't leave much time, so- Oh sod it. I was hoping that you might give me away?"

"Oh, Gwen." Merlin hugs her, tighter this time. "I'd love to. Thank you."

She looks ecstatic, and Merlin is filled with nothing but love for her. She's gotten her happy ending, and this time nobody had to be hurt in order for it to happen. It feels so right, like something is finally clicking into place and happening the way it was meant to.

If it can happen for Gwen and Lance, maybe, just maybe it can happen for him and Arthur too.

"I am so sorry about Gwaine, love," she says, kissing his cheek again. "I just want you to be happy."

"I am," Merlin says, "I will be."

***

The problem with having a clandestine affair with one of your boyfriend's best friends, well, one of the problems anyway, was that when said boyfriend and yourself called things off, it was next to impossible to see said man with whom you have been having the clandestine affair. Why? Because the boyfriend, now ex, usually wants to drown his sorrows with his best friends, one of whom of course is the clandestine sex partner (and also reincarnated body and soul of your former King and lover, but that's by the by) in question.

It's like a Shakespearean comedy in the flesh, only not at all funny.

There's also the matter of being so caught up in each other that getting discovered is a real possibility, case in point, Morgana popping in and finding them together. And given that neither of them are ready to spill the entire truth to Gwaine yet, they figured that some distance was necessary.

In other words, Merlin hasn't seen Arthur in weeks.

Luckily, this particular absence isn't like the soulcrushing separation that led to Merlin collapsing on his studio floor, feverish and ill. It's different now. Possibly because the memories have all come to the surface and Merlin isn't having hours-long blackouts where he wakes up shivering and covered in paint and sweat.

No. That's all been unlocked, and while he hasn't seen Arthur for longer than either of them are comfortable with, he can feel his presence, their connection, it's not like he's trying to deny it.

He feels uncomfortable in his skin though, and although he's been keeping in touch with Arthur by email and text, he knows he won't be completely right again until he's touching Arthur and Arthur's touching him. It's pathetic really, their co-dependence.

Lance's stag do is supposed to be a very civilised night. He's suggested a nice meal and maybe a few drinks with "No bloody strippers, Gwaine, you hear me?"

But everyone knows with Gwaine and Leon in charge, it isn't likely to go as planned.

They start off with dinner at Arthur's, which is a disaster from the start. As soon as he sees Arthur, Merlin feels like his heart stops, and apparently he isn't the only one freaking out, because even when the doorbell rings, Merlin and Arthur can't seem to stop staring at each other. Merlin wants to reach out to him, run his fingers along the line of Arthur's jaw. Being so near and unable to touch him seems wrong. But Gwaine and Lance and Leon arrive soon after, and Merlin has to look away.

It deteriorates from there. Everywhere Merlin turns, he's reminded of all the places Arthur's kissed him, all the surfaces he's been pushed up against, and Merlin's knees twinge when he looks at the rug in the dining room, the rug that Arthur had fucked him on in front of the fireplace. Merlin's knees had been horribly chafed for days.

He shivers, and Arthur catches him, the corner of his lips turning up into that insanely hot and completely irritating smirk that Merlin both loves and hates in equal measure. Gwaine comes over and hugs Merlin, his hand lingering on Merlin's lower back, and Arthur's face changes, not so much a smirk, more like he wants to strangle Gwaine with his bare hands.

Gwaine steps back out of the hug. "I was really looking forward to seeing you, I've missed you , Merlin."

"Missed you too," Merlin admits, because he has. "Is this going to be awkward?"

Gwaine grins, "Nah. I think we'll be just fine. Friends, right?"

"Yeah. Friends."

They sit down to a dinner of lobster, steak and champagne. It's ridiculously posh, and Merlin is a little out of his depth with the whole lobster thing. Arthur is sitting next to him with Leon on the other side and Gwaine and Lance opposite, along with a bunch of Lance's other friends that Merlin hasn't met, scattered around the large table. Merlin is sure Arthur planned it that way on purpose.

"Here." Arthur grabs Merlin's hand and puts it on the claw cracker, surrounding it with his own hand and whispers, "now squeeze."

He cracks the lobster claw and pulls out the meat with the tiny fork. Arthur grins, and pulls his hand away, letting his finger slide against the back of Merlin's hand.

They're halfway through the lobster course when Merlin feels Arthur's hand slide under the serviette in his lap and press against his cock. He jumps, bangs his knee under the table, and whips his head around to glare at Arthur, who is quite innocently sipping his champagne and engaged in conversation with Leon about the Premier League and how Arsenal were in good shape for the season and Chelsea and Man U'd better look out.

All this, while rubbing the heel of his hand up and down the length of Merlin's cock.

Merlin shifts his chair backwards suddenly. "Excuse me, please, I have to go to the loo."

He pulls his jumper down so it's mostly covering his crotch and leaves them all to it, heading for the bathroom. He stands there, staring at himself in the mirror, running a hand through his hair, whispering, "Fuck."

"I don't think we have enough time," Arthur says, closing the bathroom door behind him. Merlin hadn't even heard him open it.

"Oh, I bet you think you're bloody hilarious, don't you?" Merlin glares at him in the reflection, not bothering to turn around.

"Usually, yeah." Arthur puts an arm around Merlin's waist from behind and presses his lips into his neck. "You look so fucking good, I couldn't help it. Had to touch you. It's been weeks, Merlin."

"Well next time it might be better not in a room full of people," Merlin hisses.

Merlin can feel Arthur's cock pressing into him from behind and he tilts his arse back against it, hates himself for it, but he just can't help himself.

"Christ, I wish we could-" Arthur digs his nails into Merlin's waist and Merlin tries his hardest not to whimper. "But we'd better head back."

He spins Merlin around and kisses him once, wet and rough.

Merlin nods, waits for Arthur to leave and heads back to the table three minutes later.

***

The club that they end up at is one of those places that if Merlin wasn't with the boys, there's no way he'd be allowed in. The clientele is Arthur's It Crowd, all Sloanies and soap stars and pop singers and he feels completely out of place.

Gwaine gives him a smile and a squeeze. "It's okay, Merlin, we won't stay for too long."

"Hey," Merlin protests, "it isn't my night. Whatever Lance wants to do is fine with me."

"Lance is getting completely pissed if the display at the bar is anything to go by."

Gwaine puts his hands on Merlin's shoulders and turns him around to see Arthur, ordering a whole line of shots. Gwaine walks the two of them over to join the others, keeping his hands on Merlin's shoulders. Arthur looks up and Merlin can see him clench his jaw.

"Come here, Merlin," Arthur says, low and dangerous, and Merlin has no idea what he's going to do.

Arthur grabs a shot and says, "Tilt your head back and open your mouth." He tangles his hand in Merlin's hair and pulls it back, lifting the shotglass to his mouth. Arthur pours it down Merlin's throat in one go, while his fingers grip Merlin's hair. Merlin's trousers are too tight to be at all comfortable, and he kind of wants to kill Arthur.

When Arthur pulls Merlin's head back up, Merlin can't help but notice that he is staring at Merlin like he wants to eat him. They stare at each other for what seems like minutes before Arthur yells, "More shots, DuLac!" Arthur turns his back on him and it's like he can breathe again.

By the time they've all had four or five shots each, Merlin is well on his way to very pissed indeed. When Gwaine pulls him onto the dance floor, he goes willingly, letting Gwaine move him like he's a puppet, boneless and pliant.

After Gwaine gets carried away, dancing with a group of girls next to them, Merlin feels heat at his back, and he knows without looking who it is.

"Come with me," Arthur whispers, his tongue flicking out and wetting the shell of Merlin's ear.

Merlin just nods and lets Arthur drag him into the VIP toilets. There's an attendant there, and Arthur gives him a fifty pound note, tells him to take a break. Arthur probably doesn't need to pay him, it's clear the attendant knows who he is, and is probably used to catering to the whims of the filthy rich and famous. He just nods and says, "Leave the door unlocked when you leave, if you don't mind, Mr Pendragon." And with that he's gone.

Arthur locks the door behind him and walks into Merlin's space, crowding him against the wall, with a thumb on his mouth, pushing ever so slightly inside.

"Been dying to touch you all night," he purrs. "Having to watch fucking Gwaine with his hands all over you. Drove me absolutely insane."

He gets one hand in Merlin's hair and the other on his waist, fingers tugging on his beltloop and he pulls Merlin in, kissing him hard until Merlin pants for breath.

"Want to watch you," Arthur says, pushing Merlin towards the bench to face the mirror.

Merlin gasps as Arthur unbuttons his jeans with no preamble whatsoever and gets his hand on Merlin's cock, starting a teasing rhythm with long, slow strokes that leave Merlin desperate for faster and harder.

"Love watching you fall apart," Arthur whispers in his ear, resting his mouth there, scraping the shell with his teeth. "Did you like it? Having his hands all over you?"

"Of course not, you utter- Gwaine always flirts. It doesn't mean anything, Arthur."

Arthur's hand stills. "Did you moan when he fucked you, Merlin? Did you call his name? Tell me."

"Possessive wanker," Merlin grinds out.

"Do you want me to stop?" Arthur sounds positively evil when he's like this, and Merlin wishes it didn't turn him on so much, but it does.

Arthur takes his hand away, and Merlin wants to cry from the sheer frustration of it. Usually he'd put up a fight, try and show Arthur that he isn't just some toy to be played with, but right now all he cares about is getting Arthur's hands back on his body and he doesn't care about his pride.

"Please, Arthur," Merlin begs,"Just- touch me."

"Wouldn't you rather have Gwaine?" Arthur hisses, and Merlin knows what this is all about. He still isn't over it, the jealousy that reared its head when he thought Merlin had slept with Gwaine on his wedding night. It's still there, Merlin guesses, whenever Arthur sees the two of them together.

Merlin rolls his head back, whispers, "I only want you."

"And what am I to you, Merlin?"

"You are my lord."

"Fuck," Arthur swears under his breath.

He sounds so out of control, so desperate that Merlin repeats himself, "You are my lord. Always."

"I am, aren't I?" Arthur groans into the back of Merlin's neck. "God, you're unbelievable, Merlin." He pulls Merlin's jeans all the way down and shoves two fingers into his mouth. "Get them wet. Jesus. "

Merlin sucks Arthur's fingers like he would his cock, sliding all the way down to the base and pulling all the way up, scraping them with his teeth.

"That mouth," Arthur groans. "It should be illegal, Merlin. Christ."

He pulls his fingers free of Merlin's mouth and shoves them inside Merlin's hole, not gently at all, but Merlin loves it, loves that burn that always comes with not enough prep. Arthur bites the base of his neck, obviously not caring who sees the marks, and whispers, "Watch yourself."

Arthur pulls his fingers out, scrabbling to get his trousers undone and pushes Merlin down on the bench, kneeing his legs open wider and shoves into him with one. Smooth. Thrust.

Merlin watches the two of them in the mirror, and seeing himself like this: wanton and desperate, it should be shameful. It isn't though. He doesn't care, he just gives into it and thrusts his hips back and forth, fucking himself on Arthur's cock. They both come embarrassingly fast and Merlin watches it all in the glass, Arthur's hands gripping his hips hard enough to bruise as he comes inside Merlin, his face so incredibly beautiful and open that it takes Merlin's breath away.

Arthur drops to his knees and cleans him afterwards, licks him slow and thorough, and Merlin drives himself back onto Arthur's tongue, shamelessly. He's never been a prude by any stretch of the imagination, but Arthur has always brought this out in him: made him not care about being wild and frantic, whorish. Arthur licking and sucking his own come out of Merlin's arse is possibly the filthiest thing he's ever done to him, and Merlin loves it. Loves him.

When Arthur gets to his feet again, his mouth wet and used, it's all Merlin can do not to throw him against the bench and kiss and rub and suck and do it all over again.

He's addicted to this, to Arthur, and he doesn't ever want it to end.

Part Six
Masterpost