Fic: Struck From a Great Height
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 8369
Warnings: none; non-exotic pole dancing
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Summary: Arthur's secretary is hell bent on getting him a life. He never expected that life to involve her pole dancing friend, Merlin.
Read on AO3
Author's Note: Absolutely inspired by this video, and the videos embedded herein. Title taken from Florence + the Machines' "Dog Days Are Over". Many thanks to Marina for the beta! x
Maybe if he stared at his computer long enough, it would do his work for him. Arthur was about 99% sure it wouldn’t work, but he wasn’t really suited for anything else at the moment. He’d stayed up late last night catching up on reports, and gotten up early (about three hours later) to write his own. Which was, ostensibly, what he was doing now. If he could muster the energy to put his hands on the keyboard.
A brief knock announced the arrival of his secretary, who breezed in without waiting for a summons.
“Leon sent some papers up for you to sign,” Gwen said, plopping some files onto his desk, “and Mithian from Nemeth called with questions about your proposal. I took the liberty of answering them for you.”
“Thank you, Gwen, you’re a life-saver.”
Gwen gave him a sweet smile. “Yes, I know,” she replied, and placed the sandwich she’d been carrying in front of him.
“Remind me to give you a raise,” Arthur told her before attacking the food with a sudden surge of energy.
“Of course, sir,” Gwen replied. She set about tidying the office while Arthur ate, making noises of disapproval when she found yesterday’s crumpled suit next to the sofa (again).
“Alright, what is it?” Arthur asked once he’d finished his sandwich, watching Gwen warily. Aside from being the most dependable secretary he’d ever had (ignoring the fact that she was also the only secretary he’d ever had), Gwen was also one of Arthur’s closest friends. He knew she wouldn’t voluntarily clean his office unless she had an end goal in mind.
“You don’t have to look so cautious, it’s nothing serious,” Gwen told him, coming to sit in his visitor’s chair. “I was just wondering if you were free on Saturday.”
Arthur knew Gwen knew he was, but he appreciated her pretending he was at least partially independent. “I should be. What for?”
“A benefit recital. One of Lance’s friends is performing, and we thought you might like to join us.”
“What kind of recital?” Arthur asked warily. Gwen had a bad habit of coaxing him out of his flat on the weekends to attend various events around town, most of which made him want to gouge his eyes out within minutes. He still hadn’t gotten over the god-awful polka she’d dragged him to, or the poetry slam.
Especially the poetry slam.
“Dance, and before you ask, no, it’s not a ballet. Your masculinity will remain intact,” Gwen replied, rolling her eyes. “It’s for breast cancer awareness. Won’t you come?”
Shortly after Arthur’s birth, his mother had been diagnosed with, and then died from, breast cancer. Ever since the Pendragon family had been notable patrons of breast cancer research groups. Which was why Arthur found himself sighing and agreeing to go to the recital.
Gwen smiled. “Great. I’ll let Lance know,” she said, and went to answer the phone on her desk, leaving Arthur alone once more.
---
On Saturday, Arthur arrived at the student theatre, which had been outfitted with pink balloons and streamers for the event. Inside was much the same. Arthur eyed it all a bit warily. His week hadn’t exactly improved since Gwen had invited him here: he’d had an interview with Edwin, one of his least favourite journalists, about the Godwin partnership, and after that he’d spent hours staring at his computer screen, trying to make sense of the last-minute reports he’d been given. What he really wanted to do with his Saturday was sit in his flat and watch mindless television and possibly invade his alcohol supply.
He was half-tempted to turn around and do just that when Gwen looked up and saw him.
“Oh, good, Arthur, you made it,” she called, waving him closer. He tried to return her smile, but even he knew it was more of a grimace.
“Evening, Guinevere, Lance.”
“Arthur,” Lance greeted him with a handshake. “Glad you came. Honestly, I was surprised Gwen even got you to agree.”
“Why’s that?” Arthur asked, not protesting when Gwen took his arm to lead him into the theatre. Lance waved a hand.
“Oh, you know, it’s just different. Not your usual thing, I suppose.”
Arthur frowned. “What do you mean?”
His confusion was only increased when Lance’s eyes widened in understanding, and he stared at Gwen. “You didn’t tell him?”
“Tell me what?” Arthur asked, turning to look at Gwen for clarification. Which was when he noticed the poles which had been set up on stage, and stopped dead.
Oh.
Oh.
“Guinevere,” he began, not quite comprehending that his trusty secretary had tricked him, “are you taking me to a strip show?”
“Arthur, hush,” Gwen scolded when a few people nearby gave them disapproving glances. “They’re pole dancers, not strippers. There’s a difference.”
Arthur kept staring at her, completely thrown by this turn of events. He couldn’t quite reconcile his image of his sweet, innocent secretary (who was admittedly a bit terrifying when she wanted to be) with the woman in front of him now, standing unflinchingly in front of a poster of a scantily clad woman doing vertical splits against a pole. Lance clapped him on the shoulder apologetically.
“It’s really not what you’re thinking. Most of the dancers are former gymnasts. The things some of them can do are incredible. They’re athletes. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“I’m not embarrassed,” Arthur protested immediately. “I’m not. I’m just…surprised. You have to admit, one doesn’t automatically think pole dancing when they’re told ‘benefit recital’.”
Gwen had the decency to look apologetic. “No, you’re right. I know I wasn’t exactly…honest, but really, you’ll enjoy it, I promise. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I thought you wouldn’t.”
“No,” Arthur said slowly, remembering the polka, “I suppose you wouldn’t.”
He let the subject drop, mostly because the thought of Gwen conniving to get him to a pole dancing performance was too strange to ponder over without giving himself a headache. Gwen seemed to take his silence as permission to drag him further into the theatre. They had just barely slid into three available seats when the lights dimmed, and the charity event coordinator took the stage.
“’Evening, and welcome to Babes for Breasts, our first partnered event with the lovely people at Round Table Pole Dancing,” she said. Arthur clapped politely. He wasn’t yet completely sold on the idea, but he couldn’t help feeling a little curious as the woman rattled on about their charity. The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of university students, with a few twenty-somethings like Arthur thrown in. Everyone seemed relaxed, very unlike the boisterous crowds one usually found at a strip club.
The coordinator finally left the stage, and the first dancer, a pretty, blonde girl, stepped up to the pole. She was wearing a skin-tight halter top, and what looked to Arthur like a pair of underpants. Arthur rolled his eyes when she presented her back, revealing the name ‘Sofia’ written in jewels across her arse. She was clearly more of a beginner, even Arthur could see. But she was flexible, and Arthur was startled into joining the applause when she managed to hang in a perfect arch with just her legs on the pole. If nothing else, her balance was incredible.
The next dancer, Vivian, was a little more impressive, but Arthur wasn’t truly swayed until a girl named Freya literally came crawling onto the stage, wearing a leopard-patterned leotard. Arthur didn’t quite manage to hide his astonishment as she threw herself around the poles like a cat, perfectly in time with the slap of the drums playing through the speakers. He didn’t realize his mouth had opened until Gwen leaned over to whisper in his ear.
“She’s good, isn’t she?” she observed, watching Freya hang from the pole by one hand, legs raised in a split as she propelled herself around the pole. “She used to be a figure skater, until she took a bad fall. She’s been doing this since.”
Arthur could believe it. It was easy to imagine her gliding around the ice. On stage, Freya had finished her routine with a shy bow, completely at odds with her confident performance persona.
The announcer took the stage again after the next dancer (a rather terrifying woman named Morgause who’d looked like she was trying to strangle the pole rather than dance on it) had finished.
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, we’ve got a bit of a change of pace for you now. Hope you lads enjoyed yourselves, because now, it’s the ladies’ turn.”
She retreated to a chorus of cheers. Arthur looked at Gwen, eyebrows raised, and received an innocent smile in return.
“Your friend, I take it?”
“I said you’d enjoy it, didn’t I?” she said, and added with a smirk, “His name’s Merlin, by the way.”
“Remind me to fire you on Monday,” Arthur replied, completely ignoring Gwen’s laughter.
The first thing Arthur noticed was that the man was tall. Where the girls had tended to be stockier, he was all long, lean muscle, like a runner. Arthur caught sight of a tattoo peeking out from the waist of his tight trousers before Merlin turned, giving the audience a cheeky wink. Arthur had just enough time to register killer cheekbones and large, kissable lips before he faced the back again.
Arthur leaned forward in spite of himself. Merlin was exactly his type, as Gwen well knew, but before Arthur could worry about making her too smug, the music-some poppy song Arthur vaguely recognized from the radio-started, and Merlin began to move.
He stretched his arms out to the side, swaying as if he was on the dance floor, before turning suddenly into a fan kick around the pole. He caught himself easily, going straight into a sort of pirouette. Arthur raised his eyebrows. Even Vivian had managed more impressive tricks. Unaware of his skeptic audience, Merlin continued twirling lightly around the pole, until he stopped himself with a hand on the metal, one leg extended. Arthur watched, anticipating another pirouette, or possibly a leap.
What he didn’t expect was Merlin swinging his leg backward, gripping the pole with both hands as he lifted himself into a horizontal position.
Merlin smiled, as if it was nothing, and moved his feet like he was walking as he pulled himself upside-down. Arthur stared. Merlin made it look so easy, but Arthur could see his muscles bunching in his deceptively thin arms and shoulders. Gwen let out a squeak when Merlin’s body dropped forward suddenly, but then the dancer coiled his legs around the pole and spun. He was obviously in complete control of his body.
And what a gorgeous body it was. Arthur had ample time to stare as Merlin danced. He wasn’t as buff as Arthur was, but he was still very obviously in shape. He was flexible, too; Arthur couldn’t help shifting forward in his seat when Merlin curled one leg around the pole and dropped his head nearly to touch his ass. He grinned at the audience again before letting go with his legs completely to spin downwards with just his hands. He jumped away as soon as his feet hit the stage and swaggered over to the second pole.
The music changed slightly. Rather than leap straight into another trick, Merlin let himself fall backwards. He hooked his inner elbow around the pole, spun once, and then ducked under his arm. Without so much as pausing, he brought his feet up and reclined in the air using his hands for balance. He stayed that way until he had nearly reached the bottom of the pole, and then twisted, chest to the audience now, spinning even faster until he slid into a kneeling position on the stage.
Merlin smiled at his audience. Arthur thought (not without disappointment) that he had finished, but then the music swelled again and Merlin leapt to his feet. He turned back to the pole and just jumped, rocking his body around it like a swing dancer. His toes barely seemed to brush the stage before he was in the air again. He pulled his body up, spinning for a moment with his legs splayed wide, arse in the air, and then moved to place one foot flat against the pole. Arthur nearly choked on his tongue when Merlin’s other leg straightened, and he went into a perfect split in mid-air.
He was going to kill Gwen.
---
After the show, Arthur excused himself for the loo. He stood in front of the sink for a long while before he realized what he was doing and scowled.
“Stupid,” he grumbled to himself, “it’s one bloke, Pendragon. No need to act like a teenage girl.”
When he rejoined the crowd mingling in the lobby, he saw Gwen and Lance standing near the refreshment table. Merlin was already with them, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt which draped across his muscled shoulders, making him look even skinnier than he was. Gwen waved when she saw Arthur approach.
“Merlin, this is my boss, Arthur,” she said. “Arthur, this is Merlin.”
Arthur held his breath as Merlin turned to smile at him. “Pleasure to meet you, Arthur.”
“Likewise,” Arthur replied, extending his hand. Merlin’s grip was sure when he took it. “That was a very impressive performance. You’re very strong for someone your size.”
Gwen glared at him, but Merlin just laughed.
“Why do I get the feeling you don’t compliment people often?”
Arthur grinned ruefully. “Because I don’t. Consider yourself privileged.”
He was surprised by Merlin’s answering snort. “God, you think highly of yourself, don’t you?” he said. Arthur bristled, but Merlin was still grinning, obviously teasing, so he forced himself to relax. He thought he saw Merlin’s eyes flick down to give him a quick once-over, but Gwen stepped in between them before he could be sure.
“Well, now that’s settled, who’s for drinks? Merlin, know anywhere?”
It turned out, Merlin did. The place was already crawling with people when they arrived, but they managed to find a small table in the back to sit and relax. Arthur soon realized his fears of an awkward night had been unfounded, but that didn’t mean Arthur was completely in the clear. Merlin seemed to be testing him, trying to see if Arthur was actually a massive twat with strangely forgiving friends, but Arthur wasn’t the best up-and-coming businessman in London for nothing. He turned on the charm, smiling and chuckling in a way he knew for a fact was infallible.
Merlin, however, seemed determined to be the exception.
He had a wicked sense of humor, and wasn’t afraid to tease Arthur at any given opportunity. Arthur felt distinctly wrong-footed, not used to near-strangers being so familiar, until he finally snapped, “God, do you ever shut up?”, and Merlin smiled as if he’d been waiting for just that and said, “No.”
And somehow, everything was much easier after that. Arthur gave up trying to impress Merlin and gave as good as he got, trading insults while Gwen and Lance watched on with amusement.
Neither of them noticed the significant glance that passed between Gwen and Lance before Gwen got suddenly to her feet.
“Who’s ready for the next round?” she asked. “Lance, come help me carry-“
She pulled her fiancée over to the bar, leaving the other two alone. They barely acknowledged their departure.
“So, Merlin. How do you know Lance and Guinevere?” Arthur asked, settling back in his seat.
“I work with Lance at the Camelot Tribune.”
“You’re a journalist?” Arthur said, surprised. Merlin smiled and nodded.
“It’s how I got into pole dancing, actually,” he admitted. “My first year at uni I was writing a column for the school paper about personal health and new ways to keep fit. Someone told me about a pole fitness group at the gym, and when I went to interview them they taught me a few tricks.” His smile widened. “My article was a hit, I got addicted, and the rest is history.”
“I’ll say,” Arthur chuckled. “You’re surprisingly good at it.” He was delighted to see a faint blush return to Merlin’s cheeks in addition to the expected eye roll.
“Thank you, I suppose.” He looked up at Arthur from beneath his lashes. “This was your first show, yeah?”
“Yeah. It was…really not what I expected.”
Merlin smiled knowingly. “You wouldn’t be the first. I can’t tell you how many people show up thinking we’re going to be taking our clothes off.”
“Does that bother you?” Arthur asked, curious. “I mean, you’re clearly serious about what you do.” Merlin shrugged.
“Most days it doesn’t. I suppose it’s the same as when people try to tell figure skaters they’re not athletes, or gymnasts. You just have to roll your eyes and keep going.”
“That’s very wise, Merlin,” Arthur teased. “I’m impressed. Did Guinevere tell you to say that?”
He laughed when Merlin shoved his shoulder.
“God, Gwen was right, you are a prat, even when you’re being nice.” Merlin teased, which made Arthur lean forward, intrigued.
“Gwen said I’m a prat?” he asked. Merlin gave him a secretive smile.
“She might’ve done. Gwen says a lot of things.”
“What precisely does she say?” Arthur asked with raised eyebrows.
“Oh, this and that,” Merlin replied, waving his hand carelessly. Arthur could see him hiding his own smile.
“I see. And I don’t suppose you could tell me what ‘this and that’ entails?”
“Sworn to secrecy, I’m afraid,” Merlin sighed solemnly.
“And nothing will convince you otherwise?” Arthur wheedled. Merlin gave him a mock-scandalized look.
“I believe that’s employer harassment. “
“You don’t work for me.”
“No,” Merlin agreed with a wicked grin, “I don’t.”
“Then I suppose there’s no harm in asking for your number,” Arthur said without really thinking about it. Merlin blinked, but there was a pleased smile on his face when he answered.
“No, I don’t suppose there is.”
He accepted Arthur’s mobile. Arthur watched him program his number in before handing it back, still smiling.
“Thank you,” Arthur said, pocketing it. He might’ve said something else, but he never got the chance as Gwen and Lance returned with their drinks. Arthur was strangely glad to see the flash of disappointment in Merlin’s eyes, before it was covered up again with a smile. Under the table, he pointedly let his leg rest against Merlin’s from knee to ankle. Merlin’s gaze flicked towards him, and he smiled.
By the end of the night, Merlin and Arthur were practically sitting on top of each other. Merlin, who was a self-proclaimed lightweight, had long since switched to Coke when they decided to call it a night. So his steps were even as they wound their way out of the pub, parting ways with Gwen and Lance at the door. He smiled at Arthur.
“I’m glad you came to the show today.”
“I am, too,” Arthur assured him.
“And I’m glad you’re not as much of a clotpole as I thought you were.”
Arthur laughed, his breath misting in the chilly air. “That’s not a word.”
Merlin smiled again, then blurted, “We should do this again sometime.”
Arthur smirked. “We should,” he agreed, letting out a genuine smile when Merlin beamed in response. “I’ll call you.”
Merlin nodded again before turning to head for home. “Goodnight, Arthur.”
“Goodnight, Merlin,” Arthur replied, smiling even after Merlin had turned away.
---
Gwen was beyond thrilled with the new friendship between Merlin and Arthur. She took it upon herself to drag both of them along to various events over the next two weeks, seeming pleased when they spent more time talking to each other than watching whatever they were at. On one memorable occasion, Arthur had made Merlin laugh so hard at an art exhibit, that he had had to leave the room for fresh air when the artist started throwing him wounded looks. They’d expected Gwen to scold them, but instead she had just smirked.
A few days later, Arthur walked into his office building. He greeted his father’s revolting receptionist, hurrying past her into the elevator. He got a few more greetings on his way to his office and made a point in replying to every one of them. Gwen was already at her desk when he arrived, typing away at her computer.
“Hello, Arthur,” Gwen said, flashing a perfectly innocent smile that instantly put Arthur on alert.
“Good morning,” he replied cautiously. “Are there any messages?”
“A few,” Gwen said, reaching for a pad of paper to follow him into his office. “Your father wants to meet for lunch to discuss a new client. You’re to meet him at noon in his office, he’s catering Italian. Percy has a draft of the new website ready for approval. There’s a phone interview at 2 about the Godwin partnership.” Arthur nodded.
“Thank you. Anything else?”
Gwen shook her head, but Arthur didn’t miss the small grin as she scribbled on her paper. “That’s it. Unless you have something for me?”
Slowly, Arthur shook his head, feeling suspicious. The last time Gwen had looked like this, he’d wound up the dubious owner of a tankful of fish and a turtle (the fish hadn’t survived his first experimental week of pet ownership; the turtle, since christened Llamrei, was still swimming around in Arthur’s sitting room). Before he could ask what she was planning, though, Gwen was gone, leaving Arthur to his own devices. He didn’t have much opportunity to worry about it between reading reports, lunch with his father, and various phone calls, so it was mostly forgotten by the time Gwen poked her head into his office in the afternoon.
“I’m going to grab some copies for you from Leon. Do you need anything while I’m up?”
“Tea would be great, Guinevere,” Arthur replied absently, staring at Percy’s drafts. He was so caught up in trying to tell the difference between ‘burnt cherry red’ and ‘deep scarlet’ and deciding which complimented the Pendragon logo better, that he didn’t notice nearly twenty minutes pass before there was a knock on the door.
“Just leave it on the desk,” he said without looking up, rubbing his eyes to give them a break. Someone snorted.
“Sorry, didn’t realize you required visitors to bring offerings. I’ve got a used biro, if you’d like.”
“Merlin?” Arthur said, surprised into looking away from his screen. Sure enough, Merlin was standing in his doorway, wearing jeans and a button-down, and grinning at Arthur. “I thought you were Guinevere.”
“Sorry to disappoint. I was looking for her, too, actually. She asked me to drop this by.” Merlin held up the bag in his hand.
“She went to get copies for me.” He glanced at the clock. “Nearly half an hour ago.”
Merlin’s mouth twitched. “How strange. She very specifically said to be here at 4.”
“Strange indeed,” Arthur agreed. He and Merlin managed to hold their expressions for approximately five seconds before they burst out laughing.
“I think we’ve been set up,” Arthur confessed, leaning back in his seat. Merlin giggled again.
“She’s not even being sneaky.”
“I wonder where she’s been hiding. She should have known better than to expect you to be on time,” Arthur teased. Merlin flushed.
“A wizard is never late, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to,” he chirped, with the air of someone reciting something. His grin faltered when Arthur just frowned, and turned into an ‘o’ of shock. “Arthur, please tell me you’ve seen Lord of the Rings.”
“Can’t say that I have,” Arthur admitted. Merlin goggled at him.
“You-never? Not once?” When Arthur shook his head, Merlin clutched at his chest, as if he’d been wounded. “That’s just wrong. No, I’m sorry, I can’t have that. What are you doing tonight?”
“Er,” Arthur began, eyes sliding towards his computer. “Working, probably.”
“No, you’re not,” Merlin said stubbornly. “You can finish whatever you’re working on tomorrow. Tonight, you’re coming to mine and we are righting the grievous wrong of you never watching Lord of the Rings. You get off at 6, right?”
“What?” Arthur said, utterly thrown by this turn of events and more than a little distracted by Merlin’s voice saying ‘get off’. “I usually stay to finish-“
“Arthur. Whatever you think you need to do is nowhere near as important as this. Trust me, you’ll thank me for this.” Arthur couldn’t hold in an incredulous laugh at the interruption.
“Someone thinks highly of himself.”
Merlin shrugged, smirking at him. “Even I can stoop to helping a prat in need. Here.” He reached for Arthur’s pen, scribbling an address on a post-it. “I’ll be home all evening, just text when you leave here. Don’t think about not showing, or I’ll sic Gwen on you,” he warned when Arthur opened his mouth, but Arthur strangely felt no need to protest. He heaved a sigh anyway, for expectations’ sake.
“Fine,” he grumbled. Merlin immediately smiled at him.
Of course, that was the moment that Gwen decided to reappear.
“Oh, Merlin, there you are,” she said in a too-innocent voice that confirmed all of Arthur’s suspicions. He watched with raised eyebrows as she accepted the bag from Merlin, looking pleased with herself when Merlin made his excuses, calling, “See you tonight, Arthur,” over his shoulder, giving him a wicked grin when Gwen wasn’t looking. Arthur resisted making a face after him.
“So,” Gwen said once the door had closed, not even bothering to hide her glee. “Plans tonight?”
“Get out, harpy.”
“There’s no need to be rude, Arthur. It was a simple question.”
Arthur groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, alright, fine. We have plans tonight.” He took a deep breath before adding, “We’re watching Lord of the Rings.”
Gwen made a strangled sound that was clearly a snort. “Oh, Arthur. You must really like him.”
Arthur didn’t reply.
---
Merlin’s flat was a twenty minutes train ride from Arthur’s. The sitting room consisted of a telly, a coffee table, a squishy-looking sofa and matching armchair, and about four overstuffed bookshelves along the walls. The whole room smelled faintly of burnt popcorn, the remains of which were sitting in pride of place on the table.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Merlin said, breezing past Arthur to throw himself onto the sofa. “You’re in it for the long haul once the film’s started.”
Arthur followed him cautiously. The sofa was as soft as it looked, the kind that sucked you in and made you want to lounge for hours. Merlin flashed him a knowing smile from the other end.
“Since you’re the guest, I’ll let you choose. Theatrical version or director’s cut?”
“What’s the difference?” Arthur asked, starting to feel a bit dubious about the whole thing. Merlin’s grin didn’t make him feel any better.
“About an hour.” He laughed at Arthur’s surprised face. “Perhaps we should ease you into it. Theatrical cut it is.”
He scrambled up to put the DVD in, flopping back down while the machine whirred away so that his legs took up the space between him and Arthur, his toes just brushing Arthur’s thighs. Arthur kept his eyes on the screen, but a grin tugged at the corner of his lips all the same. He had a hard time following the movie at first-was everyone else very short or was the bearded man just very very tall?-but soon he found himself enraptured. He was vaguely aware of Merlin smirking at him from time to time, but he didn’t care.
By the time the camera panned in on Rivendell, Merlin’s feet had somehow made their way into Arthur’s lap. By Moria, Arthur was rubbing patterns in the skin of Merlin’s ankle. Merlin giggled at Arthur’s squawk of outrage when Gandalf fell, and then squealed when Arthur tickled his feet in retaliation. They settled down in time to watch the final confrontation, Arthur’s hand now settled on Merlin’s knee.
When the screen went black, Merlin shifted, but didn’t move to pull away.
“What’d you think?”
Arthur hummed thoughtfully. In truth, he’d loved it, probably more than he’d ever admit, but he knew by his grin that Merlin would never let him live it down if he said as much.
“Sam and Frodo are almost definitely shagging,” he said instead, and Merlin’s surprised laughter almost made him fall off the sofa.
“I’ve always been more of a Legolas and Gimli fan myself.”
“Really?” Arthur wrinkled his nose. “But they hate each other.”
“Nah, they don’t. It’s all that unresolved sexual tension that makes you think so.” Arthur stared at Merlin incredulously. Merlin grinned. “What? It’s true. Legolas’ dad would flip if he knew his son fancied a dwarf. It only makes sense that they have to hide it. Or maybe Legolas just has a thing for stubborn prats.” Now it was Arthur’s turn to laugh.
“You’ve thought about this, then.”
Merlin smiled again, stretching his long body out like a cat. “Possibly. I’ve always felt something of a connection with Legolas.”
“With ears like that I don’t doubt it.”
“Oi!”
Arthur caught Merlin’s half-hearted kick easily. A brief wrestling match followed, which consisted mostly of Merlin flailing his long limbs and Arthur laughing as he ducked them.
“Uncle, uncle!” Merlin laughed finally, batting Arthur’s hands away from where they were poking his ribs mercilessly.
“Alright,” Arthur relented. He released Merlin, but didn’t try to disentangle them. Merlin had moved to his knees during their fight, the squashy sofa dipped so severely under their weight that Arthur could feel his poky joints pressing against his thigh. He grinned at Merlin, who smiled back dopily.
“Do you want a drink?” he asked. Arthur let his gaze drop down to Merlin’s lips, and was so tempted to say yes, but he forced himself to shake his head.
“I shouldn’t,” he sighed regretfully. “It’s late, and I still have to drive home.”
“You could stay,” Merlin offered quietly, biting his lip. Arthur stared at it, watched the smooth skin dimple under the pressure and wondered what it would be like to replace it with his mouth.
“Fuck it,” he sighed, and leaned in to press their lips together. Merlin stiffened in surprise, but recovered in record time to kiss Arthur back. He let out a little sigh when Arthur deepened the kiss, demanding entry into Merlin’s willing mouth. They’d been dancing around this since their first night at the pub, and Arthur felt lazy anticipation settling in his belly as Merlin shifted to sit on his lap. He wriggled his hips when Arthur fit his hands around them. Arthur might’ve rolled his eyes at him, but then Merlin’s hands were palming him through his jeans, and he was too busy sticking his tongue down Merlin’s throat to do much else.
His hands had just moved down to cup Merlin’s ass when suddenly he was scrambling out of Arthur’s lap.
“I just realized,” Merlin said, tugging Arthur to his feet, “that I never-“ he kissed him, pressed firmly together again, “gave you a tour.” Arthur felt Merlin’s smirk as he murmured against his mouth. “Care to see the bedroom?”
Arthur chuckled, and even followed Merlin for a few steps before he realized what he was doing.
“Wait,” he said, “Merlin, are you sure? This isn’t…too fast for you?”
He hoped to God it wasn’t, because he was hard and Merlin was warm and close and he wanted, but he had to make sure. Merlin stared at him, until finally he moved forward and dragged Arthur into another kiss, pressing his erection against Arthur’s hip.
“I have a confession to make,” he murmured, hands on Arthur’s waist. “The first day we met? I came back here, and came all over myself thinking about you.” Arthur moaned as Merlin nipped at his jaw. “I don’t need to be wooed, Arthur. I know what I want.”
“Thank God,” Arthur groaned, and they said no more as they stumbled into the bedroom.
The room was as comfortably cluttered as the rest of the flat, centered around the unmade bed. Merlin pulled Arthur down onto it with him, tugging until Arthur’s t-shirt slipped over his head. Arthur tried to return the favor, but Merlin evaded him by kissing and licking his chest, and Arthur decided he could deal with a delay in nudity if this was the alternative. He laughed when Merlin gave one of his nipples a cheeky lick, his fingers skittering over his sides to tease out all of his ticklish spots. The laugh turned into a hum of approval when Merlin turned his attention to Arthur’s trousers, laving kisses against Arthur’s neck while he tugged them off. Arthur helped kick them off and Merlin sat up, straddling Arthur’s hips to stare down at him, tracing a line across Arthur’s chest with his palm. Arthur shivered.
“You, too,” he ordered, pushing the hem of Merlin’s shirt up until Merlin got the hint and took it off. Arthur stared greedily, letting himself reach out and feel the movement of Merlin’s muscles as he tossed his shirt to the floor. Merlin’s body was even better up close. Arthur traced a sharp hipbone over to where the very tip of Merlin’s tattoo peeked out from his trousers. Suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to see it, Arthur hooked his fingers into the waistband of Merlin’s trousers and dragged it out of the way. A dragon sat curled around Merlin’s hip, long neck curved over his lower belly. Rather than flames, there were four stars at its open jaws. Merlin let out a soft sigh when Arthur kissed it, yanking his trousers and pants down in one to free his cock.
After that it became imperative that they get naked, and quickly. They came back together with eager kisses, Merlin’s lanky body pressing Arthur against the bed.
“What do you want?” Merlin asked huskily, thumbing Arthur’s nipple. Arthur opened his mouth to answer, but Merlin kissed him before he could. “You can fuck me,” he offered. “I’d like that. You wanna?”
“Yeah,” Arthur grunted, and pulled Merlin in for another kiss. Merlin allowed it, even letting his hips thrust teasingly against Arthur’s thigh, before he pulled away to get the proper supplies. He came back in a flash and tried to hand Arthur the bottle of lube, but Arthur shook his head.
“You do it,” he said, and Merlin’s eyes darkened as he agreed. He shuffled into a better position, knees at Arthur’s thigh, as he opened the bottle and liberally coated his fingers. Arthur watched hungrily as Merlin reached back to finger himself. He couldn’t see each finger disappearing into Merlin’s body, but he could see the way Merlin’s eyes fluttered closed and he bit his lips. He knew when Merlin added a second finger, he because he brought his free hand up to stroke his cock with a soft moan. At three, Merlin’s eyes opened again, and he looked over at Arthur.
“Yeah,” he sighed at nothing in particular, and promptly leaned in to slide his mouth over Arthur’s cock.
“Ah,” Arthur gasped in surprise, hands automatically moving to Merlin’s hair. Merlin moaned in response and Arthur’s grip tightened. He fought the impulse to thrust as Merlin bobbed on his stiff cock, three fingers still buried in his arse. Merlin didn’t make it easy on him. He swirled his tongue around the head, took more in and swallowed again. Arthur groaned as Merlin sucked him cruelly slowly back to the head, tongue teasing the vein along the underside. It was pure torture, and Arthur was sure he would come before he got anywhere near Merlin’s arse if it continued.
As if he knew this, Merlin moaned suddenly and pulled off, releasing Arthur’s cock with an obscene lick at the tip.
“Jesus,” Arthur groaned as Merlin looked up at him. He surged forward to kiss him, ripping open the condom wrapper as Merlin licked eagerly at his mouth, letting him taste himself.
“How do you want me?” Merlin asked when the condom was in place. Arthur thought for a moment, then pushed Merlin to the edge of the bed until his legs dangled over the side.
“Legs up,” he ordered, getting up to stand in front of him. Merlin hooked his hands behind his knees and lifted, spreading himself wide for Arthur. Arthur moaned at the sight and hurried to move into position, sliding in between Merlin’s parted thighs. Merlin strained towards him, and Arthur obeyed the unspoken command to kiss him, guiding his cock blindly with one hand. The other he used to brace himself on the bed near Merlin’s shoulder, fisting the sheets as he pushed inside Merlin’s hole. Merlin encouraged him with a mantra of soft sighs and moans until he was fully seated and had begun to thrust in earnest. Arthur felt the mattress give with each thrust. He pressed his forehead against Merlin’s shoulder, Merlin’s quick pants ghosting across his ear. Merlin cried out when Arthur nipped his shoulder.
“C’mon,” he panted, digging his heels into the back of Arthur’s thighs now. His cock bounced against their bellies, but Arthur didn’t reach for it for fear of falling on Merlin. It wasn’t until he felt the beginning of his orgasm building in his belly that he gasped, “Fuck, touch yourself,” and Merlin moaned and released one of his legs to do as he was told. As Arthur’s thrusts became even more erratic, he watched Merlin’s fist fly over his cock, and came with a gasp, Merlin’s quiet moan pressed into his hair a moment later.
Merlin let his legs fall when Arthur kissed him and moved to get a tissue from the nightstand. He didn’t move again until Arthur had cleaned them up, disposed of the condom, and crawled around Merlin to spread out on the mattress.
“Hey, come back here,” Merlin grumbled, squirming until he was next to Arthur and promptly flopped back down again. Arthur made a point of rolling his eyes at being used as a human pillow, but quickly gave in and threaded his fingers through Merlin’s hair.
“You should ask me to dinner,” Merlin mumbled sleepily.
“That’s presumptuous of you,” Arthur said without even bothering to hide his smirk. Merlin looked up at him, one eyebrow quirked.
“I’m reasonably confident you don’t mind,” he replied cheerfully. Arthur grinned against his hair.
“Will you go to dinner with me?”
He felt Merlin’s answering smile against his chest. “I’d love to.”
“Good,” Arthur sighed contentedly, before he frowned. “Hang on, does this make me Gimli?”
Merlin hit him.
---
In the morning, Arthur awoke to the singular sensation of being kneed in the shin. He grunted and bolted upright, at the same time someone said “Shit, sorry!”
“Merlin?” he grumbled, still half stuck in sleep. He forced his eyes open to see Merlin kneeling at the foot of the bed, looking sheepish and holding what appeared to be a cloud. Arthur frowned.
“Sorry,” Merlin was still babbling, stroking the cloud in his arms as if it was a normal thing to be holding. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. I was just trying to catch Aithusa before she had a chance to pounce. Her claws aren’t fun, believe me.” He nodded at his arms, and a slightly more awake Arthur saw that the cloud was actually a fluffy white kitten, presumably Aithusa.
“You have a cat?” he asked. He blinked again, trying to wake himself fully. Merlin nodded again before his eyes popped wide open.
“You’re not allergic are you? Shit, I should’ve mentioned, except she hardly ever leaves the spare room when I have people over, but we must’ve left the door open-“
“Merlin. Merlin! Stop babbling, it’s fine. I’m fine.”
Merlin visibly relaxed. Arthur extended his hand to the kitten, which squirmed out of Merlin’s grip to sniff at him. With one moue of consent, he seemed to grant Arthur his approval and promptly began rubbing his fuzzy body against Arthur’s fingers. Arthur laughed.
“Someone’s easy to please,” he said, which earned him a soft chuckle. He glanced up at Merlin and was surprised to see him suddenly sitting much closer.
“Good morning,” he said, leaning in to steal a kiss. Arthur allowed it, morning breath and all, until Aithusa tired of his still hand, murted, and pounced to the floor. They both laughed. “Come on, I’ll make breakfast,” Merlin offered, and Arthur followed him out into the kitchen, neither of them bothering to put anything over their boxers.
Merlin pushed Arthur to sit at the table, where he had a perfect view of Merlin’s bum as he rummaged in the cupboards. He was pretty sure Merlin knew exactly what he was doing, but judging from his cheeky hip-wriggles, he didn’t mind.
“So I might’ve been too optimistic when I said I’d make breakfast,” Merlin announced, plopping a bowl in front of Arthur’s seat, followed by a variety of cereals, most of which Arthur hadn’t eaten since he was a child.
“It’s probably for the best. The thought of you in the kitchen is truly terrifying.”
“I’ll have you know, I can make a mean omelet,” Merlin protested. “And sometimes, if I’m very good, Gwen even lets me stir the pasta.”
Arthur let out a burst of surprised laughter. “You’re ridiculous,” he observed, but Merlin just smiled and poured his cereal.
“Noticed that, did you?”
By the time they’d both wolfed down a bowl of brightly coloured cereal, the sun was well on its way to its zenith. Neither of them had anywhere to be, so they crawled onto the sofa and put in Lord of the Rings: the Two Towers. They spent the rest of the morning snogging while the unfortunate Fellowship slogged across Middle Earth on the screen, which Arthur privately thought was probably the best Saturday morning he’d had in a long while. By the end of the film, Merlin’s belly was grumbling again, so Arthur laughed and nudged him off of the sofa.
“Come on, let’s get some clothes on and I’ll buy lunch,” he proposed. Merlin readily agreed. They hurried to get dressed, hindered a bit by the appreciative glances they kept throwing at each other. Eventually, Merlin managed to get dressed in fresh clothes while Arthur was left to hunt down his t-shirt.
“I could just lend you something,” Merlin offered, watching Arthur poke through the bedclothes.
“I don’t think I’d be able to fit into anything of yours,” Arthur snorted. “It’s got to be here somewhere. Unless you forgot to mention our flat was haunted by shirt-loving gremlins?”
Merlin laughed. “Nope, no gremlins.”
“Thought not. This is all part of your plan to force me to walk around shirtless, isn’t it.”
“You got me.” Merlin smiled and came around to kiss Arthur letting his hands trace across Arthur’s chest. “It was probably Aithusa, actually. She steals things sometimes to hoard in the spare room.” Arthur hummed.
“And where would this spare room be?”
Merlin led the way into the hall, down a short corridor to a room with a door propped partway open. He pushed it the rest of the way and Arthur saw the white kitten curled up on its prize in the corner of a futon, tail swishing.
“Bad Aithusa,” Merlin scolded, shooing the cat. “It’s going to be covered in hairs…I’ve got a lint roller somewhere, unless you want to wash-“
But Arthur was no longer listening. His eyes had fallen to the corner of the room, where a pole had been set up, right there between the futon and yet another bookshelf.
“Merlin,” he interrupted, still staring, “you have a pole in your spare room.”
He was a little taken aback by Merlin’s sudden spurt of laughter, and turned to see the other man giving him an amused, crinkle-eyed grin.
“I don’t know why you’re so surprised. You know I’m a pole dancer,” he chuckled. Arthur felt his cheeks heat.
“Of course I did, Merlin. I just didn’t expect…” He waved his hands to indicate the pole, and scowled when Merlin just continued to look amused. “Why do you have it, anyway? Isn’t that what a studio’s for?”
“Can’t always get to the studio with my schedule,” Merlin shrugged, and strode forward to wrap his hand around the metal. “It’s nothing fancy, but it keeps me in shape. Sometimes I come in here when I’m stuck on a piece for the journal.” Arthur’s eyes tracked his movement as Merlin swung himself slowly around the pole, coming around to grin at Arthur from beneath his fringe. “Want to try it out?”
Arthur laughed. “Yeah, right,” he chuckled. Merlin just raised an eyebrow, and Arthur’s smirk faltered when he realized he wasn’t joking. “Wait, I-you’re not serious.”
“Why not?” Merlin drawled, smiling in the innocent way that Arthur had come to associate as a prequel to him doing something ridiculous. Like bloody pole dancing.
“I’m not dressed properly.”
“Sure you are. Jeans are fine for basic moves,” Merlin protested, letting go of the pole to cross his arms over his chest. “Unless you’re not up to it.”
Arthur’s eyebrows shot up. He glanced at the pole, then back again. Merlin stared right back, raising one eyebrow in a clear challenge, as if he knew Arthur could never refuse one. And of course he did, because he was a bastard, and Arthur would make him pay for this later.
“Of course I’m up to it, Merlin.”
“Great,” Merlin said, grinning brightly and tugging Arthur forward. “We’ll just do something simple, obviously. Look, I’ll show you first-“
He dropped Arthur’s hand and promptly flung himself at the pole, reaching with one hand and hooking a knee on it before he swung himself around, knees spread wide so only his toes touched. He’d done the same move in his routine from the benefit, but it’d looked easy then. Now that Arthur was about to attempt it, it looked damned near impossible. Arthur watched silently, wondering how on earth he’d gotten himself into this. He wasn’t some drunk student trying to impress someone at a club; Merlin actually knew what he was doing, and Arthur had the distinct impression that he was about to make a fool of himself.
Merlin popped right back up as he slid to the ground, grin still firmly in place.
“Ready?”
“I-sure,” Arthur said, feeling doubtful. He’d be damned if he let his nerves show, though, so he just allowed Merlin to pull him into position, shoes kicked off and stretching one hand to grip the pole above his head. He nearly jumped when Merlin came up behind him, chest pressed warmly to his bare back, and wished he’d thought to put his shirt on first.
“Alright, keep your grip there, Arthur-good, now you need to bring your inner leg up and hook it-“ Merlin reached down to grip Arthur’s calf, maneuvering it until it was placed where he wanted it, “right there.”
Arthur couldn’t help feeling a bit ridiculous, standing one-footed on his toes with half of his body wrapped awkwardly on the pole. But Merlin was standing so close to him, he forced himself not to fidget and pay attention to what he was saying.
“Now this works mostly with momentum, so just extend your free arm.” He grabbed Arthur’s free wrist and moved it out to the side. A rush of cold air made Arthur shiver as Merlin stepped back. “Good, now just keep your knees apart, toes together, and swing forward.”
Holding his breath, Arthur did. For a second he thought he’d managed it, but then he felt himself falling more than he was spinning, and had to catch himself before he face-planted into the floor.
He heard a quick, choked-off giggle, and Arthur saw Merlin hurriedly stuffing his fist into his mouth, red-faced.
“Not bad. No, really, it wasn’t,” he said when Arthur scoffed. “You actually managed to catch yourself, and your form was alright. You just need to fix your grip.”
“Right,” Arthur said dubiously, trying to hide his embarrassment. Merlin frowned at him before gesturing at the pole.
“Come on, try it again.”
Arthur stifled a sigh, but turned back to the pole, anyway. He’d always been a horribly competitive person; he hated the feeling of not being able to do something. Gritting his teeth, he got back into position.
“Good,” Merlin’s voice said, close to Arthur’s ear, and Arthur jumped at how close he suddenly was. “Now don’t let your grip loosen, or you’ll fall again. Keep it tight, like this.” His fist closed over Arthur’s on the metal. Arthur focused on that to distract himself from the warmth of Merlin’s front on his back. “Extend your arm, and swing your whole body. Use your momentum.”
This time Arthur managed to keep his grip, but slid to a halt before he’d managed to reach the floor. He didn’t need Merlin’s encouragement to try again. Embarrassment forgotten, he got back into position, checking his grip before letting his body go. This time he succeeded, not nearly as gracefully as Merlin had, but well enough, and he grinned as he got back to his feet. Merlin was standing a few feet away, arms crossed and looking amused.
“Not bad for a rookie,” he remarked cheekily, holding his ground when Arthur swaggered towards him.
“I have a natural talent,” Arthur allowed and swallowed Merlin’s laugh with a kiss. After a moment, Merlin’s hands came up to grip Arthur’s still bare arms, giving him leverage to pull Arthur in closer. Arthur was more than happy to let this continue, but just as his fingers found Merlin’s belt loops Merlin’s belly rumbled, and the two of them laughed. Arthur pressed a quick kiss to Merlin’s forehead, suddenly overwhelmed by how happy he was right in that moment. He felt the sudden, too-soon urge to say all sorts of things but he contented himself with with taking Merlin’s hand.
“Come on, I distinctly remember promising you food,” he said, and pulled Merlin out of the room behind him.
Part 2
Word Count: 8369
Warnings: none; non-exotic pole dancing
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Summary: Arthur's secretary is hell bent on getting him a life. He never expected that life to involve her pole dancing friend, Merlin.
Read on AO3
Author's Note: Absolutely inspired by this video, and the videos embedded herein. Title taken from Florence + the Machines' "Dog Days Are Over". Many thanks to Marina for the beta! x
Maybe if he stared at his computer long enough, it would do his work for him. Arthur was about 99% sure it wouldn’t work, but he wasn’t really suited for anything else at the moment. He’d stayed up late last night catching up on reports, and gotten up early (about three hours later) to write his own. Which was, ostensibly, what he was doing now. If he could muster the energy to put his hands on the keyboard.
A brief knock announced the arrival of his secretary, who breezed in without waiting for a summons.
“Leon sent some papers up for you to sign,” Gwen said, plopping some files onto his desk, “and Mithian from Nemeth called with questions about your proposal. I took the liberty of answering them for you.”
“Thank you, Gwen, you’re a life-saver.”
Gwen gave him a sweet smile. “Yes, I know,” she replied, and placed the sandwich she’d been carrying in front of him.
“Remind me to give you a raise,” Arthur told her before attacking the food with a sudden surge of energy.
“Of course, sir,” Gwen replied. She set about tidying the office while Arthur ate, making noises of disapproval when she found yesterday’s crumpled suit next to the sofa (again).
“Alright, what is it?” Arthur asked once he’d finished his sandwich, watching Gwen warily. Aside from being the most dependable secretary he’d ever had (ignoring the fact that she was also the only secretary he’d ever had), Gwen was also one of Arthur’s closest friends. He knew she wouldn’t voluntarily clean his office unless she had an end goal in mind.
“You don’t have to look so cautious, it’s nothing serious,” Gwen told him, coming to sit in his visitor’s chair. “I was just wondering if you were free on Saturday.”
Arthur knew Gwen knew he was, but he appreciated her pretending he was at least partially independent. “I should be. What for?”
“A benefit recital. One of Lance’s friends is performing, and we thought you might like to join us.”
“What kind of recital?” Arthur asked warily. Gwen had a bad habit of coaxing him out of his flat on the weekends to attend various events around town, most of which made him want to gouge his eyes out within minutes. He still hadn’t gotten over the god-awful polka she’d dragged him to, or the poetry slam.
Especially the poetry slam.
“Dance, and before you ask, no, it’s not a ballet. Your masculinity will remain intact,” Gwen replied, rolling her eyes. “It’s for breast cancer awareness. Won’t you come?”
Shortly after Arthur’s birth, his mother had been diagnosed with, and then died from, breast cancer. Ever since the Pendragon family had been notable patrons of breast cancer research groups. Which was why Arthur found himself sighing and agreeing to go to the recital.
Gwen smiled. “Great. I’ll let Lance know,” she said, and went to answer the phone on her desk, leaving Arthur alone once more.
---
On Saturday, Arthur arrived at the student theatre, which had been outfitted with pink balloons and streamers for the event. Inside was much the same. Arthur eyed it all a bit warily. His week hadn’t exactly improved since Gwen had invited him here: he’d had an interview with Edwin, one of his least favourite journalists, about the Godwin partnership, and after that he’d spent hours staring at his computer screen, trying to make sense of the last-minute reports he’d been given. What he really wanted to do with his Saturday was sit in his flat and watch mindless television and possibly invade his alcohol supply.
He was half-tempted to turn around and do just that when Gwen looked up and saw him.
“Oh, good, Arthur, you made it,” she called, waving him closer. He tried to return her smile, but even he knew it was more of a grimace.
“Evening, Guinevere, Lance.”
“Arthur,” Lance greeted him with a handshake. “Glad you came. Honestly, I was surprised Gwen even got you to agree.”
“Why’s that?” Arthur asked, not protesting when Gwen took his arm to lead him into the theatre. Lance waved a hand.
“Oh, you know, it’s just different. Not your usual thing, I suppose.”
Arthur frowned. “What do you mean?”
His confusion was only increased when Lance’s eyes widened in understanding, and he stared at Gwen. “You didn’t tell him?”
“Tell me what?” Arthur asked, turning to look at Gwen for clarification. Which was when he noticed the poles which had been set up on stage, and stopped dead.
Oh.
Oh.
“Guinevere,” he began, not quite comprehending that his trusty secretary had tricked him, “are you taking me to a strip show?”
“Arthur, hush,” Gwen scolded when a few people nearby gave them disapproving glances. “They’re pole dancers, not strippers. There’s a difference.”
Arthur kept staring at her, completely thrown by this turn of events. He couldn’t quite reconcile his image of his sweet, innocent secretary (who was admittedly a bit terrifying when she wanted to be) with the woman in front of him now, standing unflinchingly in front of a poster of a scantily clad woman doing vertical splits against a pole. Lance clapped him on the shoulder apologetically.
“It’s really not what you’re thinking. Most of the dancers are former gymnasts. The things some of them can do are incredible. They’re athletes. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“I’m not embarrassed,” Arthur protested immediately. “I’m not. I’m just…surprised. You have to admit, one doesn’t automatically think pole dancing when they’re told ‘benefit recital’.”
Gwen had the decency to look apologetic. “No, you’re right. I know I wasn’t exactly…honest, but really, you’ll enjoy it, I promise. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I thought you wouldn’t.”
“No,” Arthur said slowly, remembering the polka, “I suppose you wouldn’t.”
He let the subject drop, mostly because the thought of Gwen conniving to get him to a pole dancing performance was too strange to ponder over without giving himself a headache. Gwen seemed to take his silence as permission to drag him further into the theatre. They had just barely slid into three available seats when the lights dimmed, and the charity event coordinator took the stage.
“’Evening, and welcome to Babes for Breasts, our first partnered event with the lovely people at Round Table Pole Dancing,” she said. Arthur clapped politely. He wasn’t yet completely sold on the idea, but he couldn’t help feeling a little curious as the woman rattled on about their charity. The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of university students, with a few twenty-somethings like Arthur thrown in. Everyone seemed relaxed, very unlike the boisterous crowds one usually found at a strip club.
The coordinator finally left the stage, and the first dancer, a pretty, blonde girl, stepped up to the pole. She was wearing a skin-tight halter top, and what looked to Arthur like a pair of underpants. Arthur rolled his eyes when she presented her back, revealing the name ‘Sofia’ written in jewels across her arse. She was clearly more of a beginner, even Arthur could see. But she was flexible, and Arthur was startled into joining the applause when she managed to hang in a perfect arch with just her legs on the pole. If nothing else, her balance was incredible.
The next dancer, Vivian, was a little more impressive, but Arthur wasn’t truly swayed until a girl named Freya literally came crawling onto the stage, wearing a leopard-patterned leotard. Arthur didn’t quite manage to hide his astonishment as she threw herself around the poles like a cat, perfectly in time with the slap of the drums playing through the speakers. He didn’t realize his mouth had opened until Gwen leaned over to whisper in his ear.
“She’s good, isn’t she?” she observed, watching Freya hang from the pole by one hand, legs raised in a split as she propelled herself around the pole. “She used to be a figure skater, until she took a bad fall. She’s been doing this since.”
Arthur could believe it. It was easy to imagine her gliding around the ice. On stage, Freya had finished her routine with a shy bow, completely at odds with her confident performance persona.
The announcer took the stage again after the next dancer (a rather terrifying woman named Morgause who’d looked like she was trying to strangle the pole rather than dance on it) had finished.
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, we’ve got a bit of a change of pace for you now. Hope you lads enjoyed yourselves, because now, it’s the ladies’ turn.”
She retreated to a chorus of cheers. Arthur looked at Gwen, eyebrows raised, and received an innocent smile in return.
“Your friend, I take it?”
“I said you’d enjoy it, didn’t I?” she said, and added with a smirk, “His name’s Merlin, by the way.”
“Remind me to fire you on Monday,” Arthur replied, completely ignoring Gwen’s laughter.
The first thing Arthur noticed was that the man was tall. Where the girls had tended to be stockier, he was all long, lean muscle, like a runner. Arthur caught sight of a tattoo peeking out from the waist of his tight trousers before Merlin turned, giving the audience a cheeky wink. Arthur had just enough time to register killer cheekbones and large, kissable lips before he faced the back again.
Arthur leaned forward in spite of himself. Merlin was exactly his type, as Gwen well knew, but before Arthur could worry about making her too smug, the music-some poppy song Arthur vaguely recognized from the radio-started, and Merlin began to move.
He stretched his arms out to the side, swaying as if he was on the dance floor, before turning suddenly into a fan kick around the pole. He caught himself easily, going straight into a sort of pirouette. Arthur raised his eyebrows. Even Vivian had managed more impressive tricks. Unaware of his skeptic audience, Merlin continued twirling lightly around the pole, until he stopped himself with a hand on the metal, one leg extended. Arthur watched, anticipating another pirouette, or possibly a leap.
What he didn’t expect was Merlin swinging his leg backward, gripping the pole with both hands as he lifted himself into a horizontal position.
Merlin smiled, as if it was nothing, and moved his feet like he was walking as he pulled himself upside-down. Arthur stared. Merlin made it look so easy, but Arthur could see his muscles bunching in his deceptively thin arms and shoulders. Gwen let out a squeak when Merlin’s body dropped forward suddenly, but then the dancer coiled his legs around the pole and spun. He was obviously in complete control of his body.
And what a gorgeous body it was. Arthur had ample time to stare as Merlin danced. He wasn’t as buff as Arthur was, but he was still very obviously in shape. He was flexible, too; Arthur couldn’t help shifting forward in his seat when Merlin curled one leg around the pole and dropped his head nearly to touch his ass. He grinned at the audience again before letting go with his legs completely to spin downwards with just his hands. He jumped away as soon as his feet hit the stage and swaggered over to the second pole.
The music changed slightly. Rather than leap straight into another trick, Merlin let himself fall backwards. He hooked his inner elbow around the pole, spun once, and then ducked under his arm. Without so much as pausing, he brought his feet up and reclined in the air using his hands for balance. He stayed that way until he had nearly reached the bottom of the pole, and then twisted, chest to the audience now, spinning even faster until he slid into a kneeling position on the stage.
Merlin smiled at his audience. Arthur thought (not without disappointment) that he had finished, but then the music swelled again and Merlin leapt to his feet. He turned back to the pole and just jumped, rocking his body around it like a swing dancer. His toes barely seemed to brush the stage before he was in the air again. He pulled his body up, spinning for a moment with his legs splayed wide, arse in the air, and then moved to place one foot flat against the pole. Arthur nearly choked on his tongue when Merlin’s other leg straightened, and he went into a perfect split in mid-air.
He was going to kill Gwen.
---
After the show, Arthur excused himself for the loo. He stood in front of the sink for a long while before he realized what he was doing and scowled.
“Stupid,” he grumbled to himself, “it’s one bloke, Pendragon. No need to act like a teenage girl.”
When he rejoined the crowd mingling in the lobby, he saw Gwen and Lance standing near the refreshment table. Merlin was already with them, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt which draped across his muscled shoulders, making him look even skinnier than he was. Gwen waved when she saw Arthur approach.
“Merlin, this is my boss, Arthur,” she said. “Arthur, this is Merlin.”
Arthur held his breath as Merlin turned to smile at him. “Pleasure to meet you, Arthur.”
“Likewise,” Arthur replied, extending his hand. Merlin’s grip was sure when he took it. “That was a very impressive performance. You’re very strong for someone your size.”
Gwen glared at him, but Merlin just laughed.
“Why do I get the feeling you don’t compliment people often?”
Arthur grinned ruefully. “Because I don’t. Consider yourself privileged.”
He was surprised by Merlin’s answering snort. “God, you think highly of yourself, don’t you?” he said. Arthur bristled, but Merlin was still grinning, obviously teasing, so he forced himself to relax. He thought he saw Merlin’s eyes flick down to give him a quick once-over, but Gwen stepped in between them before he could be sure.
“Well, now that’s settled, who’s for drinks? Merlin, know anywhere?”
It turned out, Merlin did. The place was already crawling with people when they arrived, but they managed to find a small table in the back to sit and relax. Arthur soon realized his fears of an awkward night had been unfounded, but that didn’t mean Arthur was completely in the clear. Merlin seemed to be testing him, trying to see if Arthur was actually a massive twat with strangely forgiving friends, but Arthur wasn’t the best up-and-coming businessman in London for nothing. He turned on the charm, smiling and chuckling in a way he knew for a fact was infallible.
Merlin, however, seemed determined to be the exception.
He had a wicked sense of humor, and wasn’t afraid to tease Arthur at any given opportunity. Arthur felt distinctly wrong-footed, not used to near-strangers being so familiar, until he finally snapped, “God, do you ever shut up?”, and Merlin smiled as if he’d been waiting for just that and said, “No.”
And somehow, everything was much easier after that. Arthur gave up trying to impress Merlin and gave as good as he got, trading insults while Gwen and Lance watched on with amusement.
Neither of them noticed the significant glance that passed between Gwen and Lance before Gwen got suddenly to her feet.
“Who’s ready for the next round?” she asked. “Lance, come help me carry-“
She pulled her fiancée over to the bar, leaving the other two alone. They barely acknowledged their departure.
“So, Merlin. How do you know Lance and Guinevere?” Arthur asked, settling back in his seat.
“I work with Lance at the Camelot Tribune.”
“You’re a journalist?” Arthur said, surprised. Merlin smiled and nodded.
“It’s how I got into pole dancing, actually,” he admitted. “My first year at uni I was writing a column for the school paper about personal health and new ways to keep fit. Someone told me about a pole fitness group at the gym, and when I went to interview them they taught me a few tricks.” His smile widened. “My article was a hit, I got addicted, and the rest is history.”
“I’ll say,” Arthur chuckled. “You’re surprisingly good at it.” He was delighted to see a faint blush return to Merlin’s cheeks in addition to the expected eye roll.
“Thank you, I suppose.” He looked up at Arthur from beneath his lashes. “This was your first show, yeah?”
“Yeah. It was…really not what I expected.”
Merlin smiled knowingly. “You wouldn’t be the first. I can’t tell you how many people show up thinking we’re going to be taking our clothes off.”
“Does that bother you?” Arthur asked, curious. “I mean, you’re clearly serious about what you do.” Merlin shrugged.
“Most days it doesn’t. I suppose it’s the same as when people try to tell figure skaters they’re not athletes, or gymnasts. You just have to roll your eyes and keep going.”
“That’s very wise, Merlin,” Arthur teased. “I’m impressed. Did Guinevere tell you to say that?”
He laughed when Merlin shoved his shoulder.
“God, Gwen was right, you are a prat, even when you’re being nice.” Merlin teased, which made Arthur lean forward, intrigued.
“Gwen said I’m a prat?” he asked. Merlin gave him a secretive smile.
“She might’ve done. Gwen says a lot of things.”
“What precisely does she say?” Arthur asked with raised eyebrows.
“Oh, this and that,” Merlin replied, waving his hand carelessly. Arthur could see him hiding his own smile.
“I see. And I don’t suppose you could tell me what ‘this and that’ entails?”
“Sworn to secrecy, I’m afraid,” Merlin sighed solemnly.
“And nothing will convince you otherwise?” Arthur wheedled. Merlin gave him a mock-scandalized look.
“I believe that’s employer harassment. “
“You don’t work for me.”
“No,” Merlin agreed with a wicked grin, “I don’t.”
“Then I suppose there’s no harm in asking for your number,” Arthur said without really thinking about it. Merlin blinked, but there was a pleased smile on his face when he answered.
“No, I don’t suppose there is.”
He accepted Arthur’s mobile. Arthur watched him program his number in before handing it back, still smiling.
“Thank you,” Arthur said, pocketing it. He might’ve said something else, but he never got the chance as Gwen and Lance returned with their drinks. Arthur was strangely glad to see the flash of disappointment in Merlin’s eyes, before it was covered up again with a smile. Under the table, he pointedly let his leg rest against Merlin’s from knee to ankle. Merlin’s gaze flicked towards him, and he smiled.
By the end of the night, Merlin and Arthur were practically sitting on top of each other. Merlin, who was a self-proclaimed lightweight, had long since switched to Coke when they decided to call it a night. So his steps were even as they wound their way out of the pub, parting ways with Gwen and Lance at the door. He smiled at Arthur.
“I’m glad you came to the show today.”
“I am, too,” Arthur assured him.
“And I’m glad you’re not as much of a clotpole as I thought you were.”
Arthur laughed, his breath misting in the chilly air. “That’s not a word.”
Merlin smiled again, then blurted, “We should do this again sometime.”
Arthur smirked. “We should,” he agreed, letting out a genuine smile when Merlin beamed in response. “I’ll call you.”
Merlin nodded again before turning to head for home. “Goodnight, Arthur.”
“Goodnight, Merlin,” Arthur replied, smiling even after Merlin had turned away.
---
Gwen was beyond thrilled with the new friendship between Merlin and Arthur. She took it upon herself to drag both of them along to various events over the next two weeks, seeming pleased when they spent more time talking to each other than watching whatever they were at. On one memorable occasion, Arthur had made Merlin laugh so hard at an art exhibit, that he had had to leave the room for fresh air when the artist started throwing him wounded looks. They’d expected Gwen to scold them, but instead she had just smirked.
A few days later, Arthur walked into his office building. He greeted his father’s revolting receptionist, hurrying past her into the elevator. He got a few more greetings on his way to his office and made a point in replying to every one of them. Gwen was already at her desk when he arrived, typing away at her computer.
“Hello, Arthur,” Gwen said, flashing a perfectly innocent smile that instantly put Arthur on alert.
“Good morning,” he replied cautiously. “Are there any messages?”
“A few,” Gwen said, reaching for a pad of paper to follow him into his office. “Your father wants to meet for lunch to discuss a new client. You’re to meet him at noon in his office, he’s catering Italian. Percy has a draft of the new website ready for approval. There’s a phone interview at 2 about the Godwin partnership.” Arthur nodded.
“Thank you. Anything else?”
Gwen shook her head, but Arthur didn’t miss the small grin as she scribbled on her paper. “That’s it. Unless you have something for me?”
Slowly, Arthur shook his head, feeling suspicious. The last time Gwen had looked like this, he’d wound up the dubious owner of a tankful of fish and a turtle (the fish hadn’t survived his first experimental week of pet ownership; the turtle, since christened Llamrei, was still swimming around in Arthur’s sitting room). Before he could ask what she was planning, though, Gwen was gone, leaving Arthur to his own devices. He didn’t have much opportunity to worry about it between reading reports, lunch with his father, and various phone calls, so it was mostly forgotten by the time Gwen poked her head into his office in the afternoon.
“I’m going to grab some copies for you from Leon. Do you need anything while I’m up?”
“Tea would be great, Guinevere,” Arthur replied absently, staring at Percy’s drafts. He was so caught up in trying to tell the difference between ‘burnt cherry red’ and ‘deep scarlet’ and deciding which complimented the Pendragon logo better, that he didn’t notice nearly twenty minutes pass before there was a knock on the door.
“Just leave it on the desk,” he said without looking up, rubbing his eyes to give them a break. Someone snorted.
“Sorry, didn’t realize you required visitors to bring offerings. I’ve got a used biro, if you’d like.”
“Merlin?” Arthur said, surprised into looking away from his screen. Sure enough, Merlin was standing in his doorway, wearing jeans and a button-down, and grinning at Arthur. “I thought you were Guinevere.”
“Sorry to disappoint. I was looking for her, too, actually. She asked me to drop this by.” Merlin held up the bag in his hand.
“She went to get copies for me.” He glanced at the clock. “Nearly half an hour ago.”
Merlin’s mouth twitched. “How strange. She very specifically said to be here at 4.”
“Strange indeed,” Arthur agreed. He and Merlin managed to hold their expressions for approximately five seconds before they burst out laughing.
“I think we’ve been set up,” Arthur confessed, leaning back in his seat. Merlin giggled again.
“She’s not even being sneaky.”
“I wonder where she’s been hiding. She should have known better than to expect you to be on time,” Arthur teased. Merlin flushed.
“A wizard is never late, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to,” he chirped, with the air of someone reciting something. His grin faltered when Arthur just frowned, and turned into an ‘o’ of shock. “Arthur, please tell me you’ve seen Lord of the Rings.”
“Can’t say that I have,” Arthur admitted. Merlin goggled at him.
“You-never? Not once?” When Arthur shook his head, Merlin clutched at his chest, as if he’d been wounded. “That’s just wrong. No, I’m sorry, I can’t have that. What are you doing tonight?”
“Er,” Arthur began, eyes sliding towards his computer. “Working, probably.”
“No, you’re not,” Merlin said stubbornly. “You can finish whatever you’re working on tomorrow. Tonight, you’re coming to mine and we are righting the grievous wrong of you never watching Lord of the Rings. You get off at 6, right?”
“What?” Arthur said, utterly thrown by this turn of events and more than a little distracted by Merlin’s voice saying ‘get off’. “I usually stay to finish-“
“Arthur. Whatever you think you need to do is nowhere near as important as this. Trust me, you’ll thank me for this.” Arthur couldn’t hold in an incredulous laugh at the interruption.
“Someone thinks highly of himself.”
Merlin shrugged, smirking at him. “Even I can stoop to helping a prat in need. Here.” He reached for Arthur’s pen, scribbling an address on a post-it. “I’ll be home all evening, just text when you leave here. Don’t think about not showing, or I’ll sic Gwen on you,” he warned when Arthur opened his mouth, but Arthur strangely felt no need to protest. He heaved a sigh anyway, for expectations’ sake.
“Fine,” he grumbled. Merlin immediately smiled at him.
Of course, that was the moment that Gwen decided to reappear.
“Oh, Merlin, there you are,” she said in a too-innocent voice that confirmed all of Arthur’s suspicions. He watched with raised eyebrows as she accepted the bag from Merlin, looking pleased with herself when Merlin made his excuses, calling, “See you tonight, Arthur,” over his shoulder, giving him a wicked grin when Gwen wasn’t looking. Arthur resisted making a face after him.
“So,” Gwen said once the door had closed, not even bothering to hide her glee. “Plans tonight?”
“Get out, harpy.”
“There’s no need to be rude, Arthur. It was a simple question.”
Arthur groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, alright, fine. We have plans tonight.” He took a deep breath before adding, “We’re watching Lord of the Rings.”
Gwen made a strangled sound that was clearly a snort. “Oh, Arthur. You must really like him.”
Arthur didn’t reply.
---
Merlin’s flat was a twenty minutes train ride from Arthur’s. The sitting room consisted of a telly, a coffee table, a squishy-looking sofa and matching armchair, and about four overstuffed bookshelves along the walls. The whole room smelled faintly of burnt popcorn, the remains of which were sitting in pride of place on the table.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Merlin said, breezing past Arthur to throw himself onto the sofa. “You’re in it for the long haul once the film’s started.”
Arthur followed him cautiously. The sofa was as soft as it looked, the kind that sucked you in and made you want to lounge for hours. Merlin flashed him a knowing smile from the other end.
“Since you’re the guest, I’ll let you choose. Theatrical version or director’s cut?”
“What’s the difference?” Arthur asked, starting to feel a bit dubious about the whole thing. Merlin’s grin didn’t make him feel any better.
“About an hour.” He laughed at Arthur’s surprised face. “Perhaps we should ease you into it. Theatrical cut it is.”
He scrambled up to put the DVD in, flopping back down while the machine whirred away so that his legs took up the space between him and Arthur, his toes just brushing Arthur’s thighs. Arthur kept his eyes on the screen, but a grin tugged at the corner of his lips all the same. He had a hard time following the movie at first-was everyone else very short or was the bearded man just very very tall?-but soon he found himself enraptured. He was vaguely aware of Merlin smirking at him from time to time, but he didn’t care.
By the time the camera panned in on Rivendell, Merlin’s feet had somehow made their way into Arthur’s lap. By Moria, Arthur was rubbing patterns in the skin of Merlin’s ankle. Merlin giggled at Arthur’s squawk of outrage when Gandalf fell, and then squealed when Arthur tickled his feet in retaliation. They settled down in time to watch the final confrontation, Arthur’s hand now settled on Merlin’s knee.
When the screen went black, Merlin shifted, but didn’t move to pull away.
“What’d you think?”
Arthur hummed thoughtfully. In truth, he’d loved it, probably more than he’d ever admit, but he knew by his grin that Merlin would never let him live it down if he said as much.
“Sam and Frodo are almost definitely shagging,” he said instead, and Merlin’s surprised laughter almost made him fall off the sofa.
“I’ve always been more of a Legolas and Gimli fan myself.”
“Really?” Arthur wrinkled his nose. “But they hate each other.”
“Nah, they don’t. It’s all that unresolved sexual tension that makes you think so.” Arthur stared at Merlin incredulously. Merlin grinned. “What? It’s true. Legolas’ dad would flip if he knew his son fancied a dwarf. It only makes sense that they have to hide it. Or maybe Legolas just has a thing for stubborn prats.” Now it was Arthur’s turn to laugh.
“You’ve thought about this, then.”
Merlin smiled again, stretching his long body out like a cat. “Possibly. I’ve always felt something of a connection with Legolas.”
“With ears like that I don’t doubt it.”
“Oi!”
Arthur caught Merlin’s half-hearted kick easily. A brief wrestling match followed, which consisted mostly of Merlin flailing his long limbs and Arthur laughing as he ducked them.
“Uncle, uncle!” Merlin laughed finally, batting Arthur’s hands away from where they were poking his ribs mercilessly.
“Alright,” Arthur relented. He released Merlin, but didn’t try to disentangle them. Merlin had moved to his knees during their fight, the squashy sofa dipped so severely under their weight that Arthur could feel his poky joints pressing against his thigh. He grinned at Merlin, who smiled back dopily.
“Do you want a drink?” he asked. Arthur let his gaze drop down to Merlin’s lips, and was so tempted to say yes, but he forced himself to shake his head.
“I shouldn’t,” he sighed regretfully. “It’s late, and I still have to drive home.”
“You could stay,” Merlin offered quietly, biting his lip. Arthur stared at it, watched the smooth skin dimple under the pressure and wondered what it would be like to replace it with his mouth.
“Fuck it,” he sighed, and leaned in to press their lips together. Merlin stiffened in surprise, but recovered in record time to kiss Arthur back. He let out a little sigh when Arthur deepened the kiss, demanding entry into Merlin’s willing mouth. They’d been dancing around this since their first night at the pub, and Arthur felt lazy anticipation settling in his belly as Merlin shifted to sit on his lap. He wriggled his hips when Arthur fit his hands around them. Arthur might’ve rolled his eyes at him, but then Merlin’s hands were palming him through his jeans, and he was too busy sticking his tongue down Merlin’s throat to do much else.
His hands had just moved down to cup Merlin’s ass when suddenly he was scrambling out of Arthur’s lap.
“I just realized,” Merlin said, tugging Arthur to his feet, “that I never-“ he kissed him, pressed firmly together again, “gave you a tour.” Arthur felt Merlin’s smirk as he murmured against his mouth. “Care to see the bedroom?”
Arthur chuckled, and even followed Merlin for a few steps before he realized what he was doing.
“Wait,” he said, “Merlin, are you sure? This isn’t…too fast for you?”
He hoped to God it wasn’t, because he was hard and Merlin was warm and close and he wanted, but he had to make sure. Merlin stared at him, until finally he moved forward and dragged Arthur into another kiss, pressing his erection against Arthur’s hip.
“I have a confession to make,” he murmured, hands on Arthur’s waist. “The first day we met? I came back here, and came all over myself thinking about you.” Arthur moaned as Merlin nipped at his jaw. “I don’t need to be wooed, Arthur. I know what I want.”
“Thank God,” Arthur groaned, and they said no more as they stumbled into the bedroom.
The room was as comfortably cluttered as the rest of the flat, centered around the unmade bed. Merlin pulled Arthur down onto it with him, tugging until Arthur’s t-shirt slipped over his head. Arthur tried to return the favor, but Merlin evaded him by kissing and licking his chest, and Arthur decided he could deal with a delay in nudity if this was the alternative. He laughed when Merlin gave one of his nipples a cheeky lick, his fingers skittering over his sides to tease out all of his ticklish spots. The laugh turned into a hum of approval when Merlin turned his attention to Arthur’s trousers, laving kisses against Arthur’s neck while he tugged them off. Arthur helped kick them off and Merlin sat up, straddling Arthur’s hips to stare down at him, tracing a line across Arthur’s chest with his palm. Arthur shivered.
“You, too,” he ordered, pushing the hem of Merlin’s shirt up until Merlin got the hint and took it off. Arthur stared greedily, letting himself reach out and feel the movement of Merlin’s muscles as he tossed his shirt to the floor. Merlin’s body was even better up close. Arthur traced a sharp hipbone over to where the very tip of Merlin’s tattoo peeked out from his trousers. Suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to see it, Arthur hooked his fingers into the waistband of Merlin’s trousers and dragged it out of the way. A dragon sat curled around Merlin’s hip, long neck curved over his lower belly. Rather than flames, there were four stars at its open jaws. Merlin let out a soft sigh when Arthur kissed it, yanking his trousers and pants down in one to free his cock.
After that it became imperative that they get naked, and quickly. They came back together with eager kisses, Merlin’s lanky body pressing Arthur against the bed.
“What do you want?” Merlin asked huskily, thumbing Arthur’s nipple. Arthur opened his mouth to answer, but Merlin kissed him before he could. “You can fuck me,” he offered. “I’d like that. You wanna?”
“Yeah,” Arthur grunted, and pulled Merlin in for another kiss. Merlin allowed it, even letting his hips thrust teasingly against Arthur’s thigh, before he pulled away to get the proper supplies. He came back in a flash and tried to hand Arthur the bottle of lube, but Arthur shook his head.
“You do it,” he said, and Merlin’s eyes darkened as he agreed. He shuffled into a better position, knees at Arthur’s thigh, as he opened the bottle and liberally coated his fingers. Arthur watched hungrily as Merlin reached back to finger himself. He couldn’t see each finger disappearing into Merlin’s body, but he could see the way Merlin’s eyes fluttered closed and he bit his lips. He knew when Merlin added a second finger, he because he brought his free hand up to stroke his cock with a soft moan. At three, Merlin’s eyes opened again, and he looked over at Arthur.
“Yeah,” he sighed at nothing in particular, and promptly leaned in to slide his mouth over Arthur’s cock.
“Ah,” Arthur gasped in surprise, hands automatically moving to Merlin’s hair. Merlin moaned in response and Arthur’s grip tightened. He fought the impulse to thrust as Merlin bobbed on his stiff cock, three fingers still buried in his arse. Merlin didn’t make it easy on him. He swirled his tongue around the head, took more in and swallowed again. Arthur groaned as Merlin sucked him cruelly slowly back to the head, tongue teasing the vein along the underside. It was pure torture, and Arthur was sure he would come before he got anywhere near Merlin’s arse if it continued.
As if he knew this, Merlin moaned suddenly and pulled off, releasing Arthur’s cock with an obscene lick at the tip.
“Jesus,” Arthur groaned as Merlin looked up at him. He surged forward to kiss him, ripping open the condom wrapper as Merlin licked eagerly at his mouth, letting him taste himself.
“How do you want me?” Merlin asked when the condom was in place. Arthur thought for a moment, then pushed Merlin to the edge of the bed until his legs dangled over the side.
“Legs up,” he ordered, getting up to stand in front of him. Merlin hooked his hands behind his knees and lifted, spreading himself wide for Arthur. Arthur moaned at the sight and hurried to move into position, sliding in between Merlin’s parted thighs. Merlin strained towards him, and Arthur obeyed the unspoken command to kiss him, guiding his cock blindly with one hand. The other he used to brace himself on the bed near Merlin’s shoulder, fisting the sheets as he pushed inside Merlin’s hole. Merlin encouraged him with a mantra of soft sighs and moans until he was fully seated and had begun to thrust in earnest. Arthur felt the mattress give with each thrust. He pressed his forehead against Merlin’s shoulder, Merlin’s quick pants ghosting across his ear. Merlin cried out when Arthur nipped his shoulder.
“C’mon,” he panted, digging his heels into the back of Arthur’s thighs now. His cock bounced against their bellies, but Arthur didn’t reach for it for fear of falling on Merlin. It wasn’t until he felt the beginning of his orgasm building in his belly that he gasped, “Fuck, touch yourself,” and Merlin moaned and released one of his legs to do as he was told. As Arthur’s thrusts became even more erratic, he watched Merlin’s fist fly over his cock, and came with a gasp, Merlin’s quiet moan pressed into his hair a moment later.
Merlin let his legs fall when Arthur kissed him and moved to get a tissue from the nightstand. He didn’t move again until Arthur had cleaned them up, disposed of the condom, and crawled around Merlin to spread out on the mattress.
“Hey, come back here,” Merlin grumbled, squirming until he was next to Arthur and promptly flopped back down again. Arthur made a point of rolling his eyes at being used as a human pillow, but quickly gave in and threaded his fingers through Merlin’s hair.
“You should ask me to dinner,” Merlin mumbled sleepily.
“That’s presumptuous of you,” Arthur said without even bothering to hide his smirk. Merlin looked up at him, one eyebrow quirked.
“I’m reasonably confident you don’t mind,” he replied cheerfully. Arthur grinned against his hair.
“Will you go to dinner with me?”
He felt Merlin’s answering smile against his chest. “I’d love to.”
“Good,” Arthur sighed contentedly, before he frowned. “Hang on, does this make me Gimli?”
Merlin hit him.
---
In the morning, Arthur awoke to the singular sensation of being kneed in the shin. He grunted and bolted upright, at the same time someone said “Shit, sorry!”
“Merlin?” he grumbled, still half stuck in sleep. He forced his eyes open to see Merlin kneeling at the foot of the bed, looking sheepish and holding what appeared to be a cloud. Arthur frowned.
“Sorry,” Merlin was still babbling, stroking the cloud in his arms as if it was a normal thing to be holding. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. I was just trying to catch Aithusa before she had a chance to pounce. Her claws aren’t fun, believe me.” He nodded at his arms, and a slightly more awake Arthur saw that the cloud was actually a fluffy white kitten, presumably Aithusa.
“You have a cat?” he asked. He blinked again, trying to wake himself fully. Merlin nodded again before his eyes popped wide open.
“You’re not allergic are you? Shit, I should’ve mentioned, except she hardly ever leaves the spare room when I have people over, but we must’ve left the door open-“
“Merlin. Merlin! Stop babbling, it’s fine. I’m fine.”
Merlin visibly relaxed. Arthur extended his hand to the kitten, which squirmed out of Merlin’s grip to sniff at him. With one moue of consent, he seemed to grant Arthur his approval and promptly began rubbing his fuzzy body against Arthur’s fingers. Arthur laughed.
“Someone’s easy to please,” he said, which earned him a soft chuckle. He glanced up at Merlin and was surprised to see him suddenly sitting much closer.
“Good morning,” he said, leaning in to steal a kiss. Arthur allowed it, morning breath and all, until Aithusa tired of his still hand, murted, and pounced to the floor. They both laughed. “Come on, I’ll make breakfast,” Merlin offered, and Arthur followed him out into the kitchen, neither of them bothering to put anything over their boxers.
Merlin pushed Arthur to sit at the table, where he had a perfect view of Merlin’s bum as he rummaged in the cupboards. He was pretty sure Merlin knew exactly what he was doing, but judging from his cheeky hip-wriggles, he didn’t mind.
“So I might’ve been too optimistic when I said I’d make breakfast,” Merlin announced, plopping a bowl in front of Arthur’s seat, followed by a variety of cereals, most of which Arthur hadn’t eaten since he was a child.
“It’s probably for the best. The thought of you in the kitchen is truly terrifying.”
“I’ll have you know, I can make a mean omelet,” Merlin protested. “And sometimes, if I’m very good, Gwen even lets me stir the pasta.”
Arthur let out a burst of surprised laughter. “You’re ridiculous,” he observed, but Merlin just smiled and poured his cereal.
“Noticed that, did you?”
By the time they’d both wolfed down a bowl of brightly coloured cereal, the sun was well on its way to its zenith. Neither of them had anywhere to be, so they crawled onto the sofa and put in Lord of the Rings: the Two Towers. They spent the rest of the morning snogging while the unfortunate Fellowship slogged across Middle Earth on the screen, which Arthur privately thought was probably the best Saturday morning he’d had in a long while. By the end of the film, Merlin’s belly was grumbling again, so Arthur laughed and nudged him off of the sofa.
“Come on, let’s get some clothes on and I’ll buy lunch,” he proposed. Merlin readily agreed. They hurried to get dressed, hindered a bit by the appreciative glances they kept throwing at each other. Eventually, Merlin managed to get dressed in fresh clothes while Arthur was left to hunt down his t-shirt.
“I could just lend you something,” Merlin offered, watching Arthur poke through the bedclothes.
“I don’t think I’d be able to fit into anything of yours,” Arthur snorted. “It’s got to be here somewhere. Unless you forgot to mention our flat was haunted by shirt-loving gremlins?”
Merlin laughed. “Nope, no gremlins.”
“Thought not. This is all part of your plan to force me to walk around shirtless, isn’t it.”
“You got me.” Merlin smiled and came around to kiss Arthur letting his hands trace across Arthur’s chest. “It was probably Aithusa, actually. She steals things sometimes to hoard in the spare room.” Arthur hummed.
“And where would this spare room be?”
Merlin led the way into the hall, down a short corridor to a room with a door propped partway open. He pushed it the rest of the way and Arthur saw the white kitten curled up on its prize in the corner of a futon, tail swishing.
“Bad Aithusa,” Merlin scolded, shooing the cat. “It’s going to be covered in hairs…I’ve got a lint roller somewhere, unless you want to wash-“
But Arthur was no longer listening. His eyes had fallen to the corner of the room, where a pole had been set up, right there between the futon and yet another bookshelf.
“Merlin,” he interrupted, still staring, “you have a pole in your spare room.”
He was a little taken aback by Merlin’s sudden spurt of laughter, and turned to see the other man giving him an amused, crinkle-eyed grin.
“I don’t know why you’re so surprised. You know I’m a pole dancer,” he chuckled. Arthur felt his cheeks heat.
“Of course I did, Merlin. I just didn’t expect…” He waved his hands to indicate the pole, and scowled when Merlin just continued to look amused. “Why do you have it, anyway? Isn’t that what a studio’s for?”
“Can’t always get to the studio with my schedule,” Merlin shrugged, and strode forward to wrap his hand around the metal. “It’s nothing fancy, but it keeps me in shape. Sometimes I come in here when I’m stuck on a piece for the journal.” Arthur’s eyes tracked his movement as Merlin swung himself slowly around the pole, coming around to grin at Arthur from beneath his fringe. “Want to try it out?”
Arthur laughed. “Yeah, right,” he chuckled. Merlin just raised an eyebrow, and Arthur’s smirk faltered when he realized he wasn’t joking. “Wait, I-you’re not serious.”
“Why not?” Merlin drawled, smiling in the innocent way that Arthur had come to associate as a prequel to him doing something ridiculous. Like bloody pole dancing.
“I’m not dressed properly.”
“Sure you are. Jeans are fine for basic moves,” Merlin protested, letting go of the pole to cross his arms over his chest. “Unless you’re not up to it.”
Arthur’s eyebrows shot up. He glanced at the pole, then back again. Merlin stared right back, raising one eyebrow in a clear challenge, as if he knew Arthur could never refuse one. And of course he did, because he was a bastard, and Arthur would make him pay for this later.
“Of course I’m up to it, Merlin.”
“Great,” Merlin said, grinning brightly and tugging Arthur forward. “We’ll just do something simple, obviously. Look, I’ll show you first-“
He dropped Arthur’s hand and promptly flung himself at the pole, reaching with one hand and hooking a knee on it before he swung himself around, knees spread wide so only his toes touched. He’d done the same move in his routine from the benefit, but it’d looked easy then. Now that Arthur was about to attempt it, it looked damned near impossible. Arthur watched silently, wondering how on earth he’d gotten himself into this. He wasn’t some drunk student trying to impress someone at a club; Merlin actually knew what he was doing, and Arthur had the distinct impression that he was about to make a fool of himself.
Merlin popped right back up as he slid to the ground, grin still firmly in place.
“Ready?”
“I-sure,” Arthur said, feeling doubtful. He’d be damned if he let his nerves show, though, so he just allowed Merlin to pull him into position, shoes kicked off and stretching one hand to grip the pole above his head. He nearly jumped when Merlin came up behind him, chest pressed warmly to his bare back, and wished he’d thought to put his shirt on first.
“Alright, keep your grip there, Arthur-good, now you need to bring your inner leg up and hook it-“ Merlin reached down to grip Arthur’s calf, maneuvering it until it was placed where he wanted it, “right there.”
Arthur couldn’t help feeling a bit ridiculous, standing one-footed on his toes with half of his body wrapped awkwardly on the pole. But Merlin was standing so close to him, he forced himself not to fidget and pay attention to what he was saying.
“Now this works mostly with momentum, so just extend your free arm.” He grabbed Arthur’s free wrist and moved it out to the side. A rush of cold air made Arthur shiver as Merlin stepped back. “Good, now just keep your knees apart, toes together, and swing forward.”
Holding his breath, Arthur did. For a second he thought he’d managed it, but then he felt himself falling more than he was spinning, and had to catch himself before he face-planted into the floor.
He heard a quick, choked-off giggle, and Arthur saw Merlin hurriedly stuffing his fist into his mouth, red-faced.
“Not bad. No, really, it wasn’t,” he said when Arthur scoffed. “You actually managed to catch yourself, and your form was alright. You just need to fix your grip.”
“Right,” Arthur said dubiously, trying to hide his embarrassment. Merlin frowned at him before gesturing at the pole.
“Come on, try it again.”
Arthur stifled a sigh, but turned back to the pole, anyway. He’d always been a horribly competitive person; he hated the feeling of not being able to do something. Gritting his teeth, he got back into position.
“Good,” Merlin’s voice said, close to Arthur’s ear, and Arthur jumped at how close he suddenly was. “Now don’t let your grip loosen, or you’ll fall again. Keep it tight, like this.” His fist closed over Arthur’s on the metal. Arthur focused on that to distract himself from the warmth of Merlin’s front on his back. “Extend your arm, and swing your whole body. Use your momentum.”
This time Arthur managed to keep his grip, but slid to a halt before he’d managed to reach the floor. He didn’t need Merlin’s encouragement to try again. Embarrassment forgotten, he got back into position, checking his grip before letting his body go. This time he succeeded, not nearly as gracefully as Merlin had, but well enough, and he grinned as he got back to his feet. Merlin was standing a few feet away, arms crossed and looking amused.
“Not bad for a rookie,” he remarked cheekily, holding his ground when Arthur swaggered towards him.
“I have a natural talent,” Arthur allowed and swallowed Merlin’s laugh with a kiss. After a moment, Merlin’s hands came up to grip Arthur’s still bare arms, giving him leverage to pull Arthur in closer. Arthur was more than happy to let this continue, but just as his fingers found Merlin’s belt loops Merlin’s belly rumbled, and the two of them laughed. Arthur pressed a quick kiss to Merlin’s forehead, suddenly overwhelmed by how happy he was right in that moment. He felt the sudden, too-soon urge to say all sorts of things but he contented himself with with taking Merlin’s hand.
“Come on, I distinctly remember promising you food,” he said, and pulled Merlin out of the room behind him.
Part 2