So this is basically an apology to everyone waiting for the next chapter of The Art of Seduction. I am trying, it's just proving tricky to get a handle on. Until that's ready, I hope this suffices to fill quotas of man-love. So yeah, low-ish M rating, oneshot-y goodness.

Arthur always held discretion in high regard. He practiced it himself, whenever he hid Merlin's magic from his father, when he let a girl slip from his bed before dawn with a coin and a kiss to by her silence, when he discredited Morgana's dreams and then silently altered the patrol route to avoid the lake where he was supposed to die (again) according to her. It was not lying, as such, merely tidying away the thousand natural shocks that would have made life in Camelot a little less pleasant.

Unfortunately, Arthur was beginning to have to work far harder, and it was all down to a certain manservant who would have remained nameless if he wasn't so bloody indiscreet. Merlin was possibly the antithesis of discreet. If he wasn't hiding his magic (badly), then he was mucking up his chores in front of Uther, cursing Arthur's name in front of his knights, or yelling at the Prince himself. The man was known to grin stupidly at Arthur in the middle of an important meeting and distract him entirely, and to storm out of rooms with his eyes glowing, for fuck's sake.

It was making Arthur's life very difficult, because when Merlin was so indiscreet, so unsubtle, he brought out the same thing in Arthur. Merlin's storm out would be followed by Arthur's yells and the crash of a table or a chair, while his smiles would be met by a similarly goofy reply. Worse though were the moments when Merlin would look at him over his shoulder, or bend over, or say something naive and yet slightly suggestive, when Arthur would have to cough slightly and try ever so hard to discreetly leave the room or cover his lap with something convenient but generally odd, like Morgana's cat, or Gwen's hanky.

Fortunately for him, Merlin was as observant as he was discreet, and Arthur managed to avoid detection an improbable number of times. It was a miracle it was not common gossip, but then Arthur's discretion was legendary (there were rumours he'd walked in on his father snogging Gaius once and still kept it a secret - however false the rumours, they were a testament to his self-control.) Indeed, only Morgana, who made a hobby of guessing Arthur's deepest, darkest secrets, knew anything of his attraction to the boy, and she kept the stories of Arthur's poorly timed reactions to herself for private amusement and showed no sympathy for his problems when they arose.

Being in lust with one's manservant though was a greater problem than his body's reactions, one not easily solved with cats and pieces of material. And it was a problem, because Arthur could not go about debauching Merlin properly – the boy was too indiscreet by far, and besides, Arthur didn't trust himself. With Merlin, lust could turn into something else far more dangerous very easily, he could sense it in the tips of his fingers and at the roots of his hair, and it was worrying.

Oh, and there was the small fact that Merlin wasn't remotely attracted to the Prince. It was the element of the predicament that Arthur didn't like to dwell on too long, but Merlin had made it abundantly clear simply by not being abundantly clear. To put it simply, Arthur knew that the boy was so obvious, so idiotic and uncompromising and so utterly indiscreet that if there was anything there, Merlin would have showed it by now. He had the subtlety of an elephant, and if Arthur had been considering laying low the boundaries of class, character and gender, than Merlin would have done so without thinking eons before. There was nothing there. Arthur had a problem, and taking Merlin roughly behind the stables (as Morgana had put it once, when drunk) was simply not an option.

No, instead Arthur needed a simple, discreet solution.

He found one in Mary. A chamber maid of a similar age, not too pretty and not too plain, definitely not a blushing virgin but equally not a lusty harlot, Mary was the perfect average. The fact that she was blonde with brown eyes and skin a nutty brown complicated the matter not a whit - he was just lusting, not after Merlin specifically, he told himself day after agonising day – and when people like Morgana (alright, just Morgana, but she did it a lot) made comments about beards, Arthur would simply rub his chin and remember his last shave.

Sometimes, when Morgana was feeling more heated and less teasing, he ended up getting hurt. It happened the same way every time, as Morgana pursued him across the courtyard, down the staircase or through the halls. She too was indiscreet, though her violent and loud breeches of normal behaviour seemed less charming to Arthur than Merlin's unintentional slip ups.

"Arthur, you're being an idiot. Everyone can see straight through you." Here she would employ what Arthur called the older/wiser/holier than thou tone, hoping to annoy him into submission. Twelve years of hearing it though had somewhat worn down its effectiveness.

"I have absolutely no idea what you are wittering about, Morgana. Then again, I never do." Arthur kept his voice airily light every time, and Morgana never wheel round and face him, eyes blazing. On the more violent occasions they had the talk, she poked him in the chest for emphasis.

"You can't do this to Merlin! Or the girl!"

"You are being ridiculous." An eye roll followed by a brush pass brought on the same line every time. Morgana may have followed the same pattern, but it was Arthur who failed to learn from past experience.

"You toy with people's feelings like they mean nothing to you, or them! You have no consideration at all! Just like your father!"

"Morgana, would you try to make sense-"

"What if she falls for you?"

Here Arthur would always pause, shake his head a little, and fix Morgana with a look that implied he was far older and wiser than he was, and that she was an innocent but silly little girl, before giving the exact same answer as he always did. "She won't. She's discreet."

And as always, Morgana would slap him. For a man trained in combat and defence, Arthur always got hit surprisingly hard, even though by now he should have been expecting it. Somehow she got past him every time, and the evidence of her anger would remain firmly on his face for an hour or so.

However, for once, according to her, Morgana was wrong.

Mary did not love him, she slept with him. It worked, for a while. Mary would join him in his rooms after Merlin had left (the one time she came too early she had made an excellent excuse that had made Arthur properly fond of her, for the first time) and after business was concluded she would leave before the dawn. Not that it was a business deal – Arthur never offered money, and Mary seemed quite satisfied with the arrangement, a fact Arthur modestly put down to his being a sex god and the best in bed, ever.

It was satisfyingly effective. Arthur could carry out his everyday business without smashing furniture, grabbing cats inappropriately or commandeering rags to hide inconvenient erections. He could even enjoy time spent with Merlin again, safe in the knowledge that he could take out his baser frustrations on Mary that night and keep his friendship and his friend simple and pure. Sure, occasionally by the end of the day Arthur would find himself dismissing Merlin early, desperate the boy could be out of his sight before he blew up, but it was less than before. More importantly, the whole arrangement was discreet.

If Arthur muttered promises meant for another person when he kissed Mary's collarbone, she said nothing.

If Arthur's strangled cry sounded more like Merlin than her own name, she said nothing.

If Arthur blinked at her owlishly as he recovered from his climax, wondering who she was, why she wasn't him, she said nothing.

Well, almost nothing.

While Arthur was enjoying a day hunting with Morgana, who in one of her many changes of mood had decided to forgive him momentarily for whatever heinous crime he had committed, Mary was succumbing to her one weakness, the cook's spun sugar cakes. No girl, even the perfectly average kind, is perfectly discreet. Cook, not content with the massive revelation that her favourite chambermaid was sleeping with the Prince, was pressing her for more details.

"So, you and the Prince, eh? Will I be hearing wedding bells? Imagine that, one of us lot, a princess. That'll be grand!"

"Cookie, don't be daft. It's nothing like that."

"Well, what is it like? Have another, dearie, I can whip 'em up easy as pie."

"I shouldn't say... Thanks..." Mary's eyes drifted to the morsel of cake left in her hands as she chewed, and Cook knew she was getting close.

"Go on dearie. Give me a crumb of hope to while away in my old age."

"Look, he doesn't even say my name. It's not like that at all."

Cook's eyes widened in delight. "Oh, ducky, whose name does he say?" Mary shook her head furiously, and Cook offered her another cake with an encouraging look. "I'll take it to the grave, dearie, and that's not too far away as it is."

"I can't. Oh, well- I really shouldn't– You can't tell anyone-"

"Yes, dearie." Cook leaned forwards, brushing grey hair out of her eyes with flour frosted fingers in her eagerness to hear such a deadly secret. Mary was about to speak when Merlin crashed through the door, looking furious. Mary gave him one look before blushing furiously and sealing her lips tightly. Cook, however, was no fool.

By the end of the day, the word was out. Well, out amongst the servants. No one was going to tell the nobility, just in case it got back to Uther, or someone equally menacing. But everyone else, from the elderly court physician to the six year old new page boy, knew that Arthur had said Merlin's name in bed (the page boy was not told the context of this though, and remained pleasantly confused.) Maids spoke in corners, pages traded stories as they passed one another and the stable lads laughed about it whenever their knights were out of earshot. The grapevine of Camelot passed the information of Arthur's desires quicker than it had the news of the Griffin, which said a lot about Camelot's priorities.

The only person who wasn't told was Merlin. Obviously.

Confused by the giggling whenever he entered a room, the strange new looks he was receiving and the fact no one could talk to him for more than two seconds without finding something else terribly important to rush off and do, Merlin quickly sought out the one person he could rely on in such a situation.

"Gwen, what's going on?" The young serving girl froze, her face already flushing red. She knew she had been unofficially appointed as the only one to tell Merlin, if such a thing were to be done, but she hadn't the slightest idea of how to begin. So she didn't.

"What do you mean? Nothing's going on. Nothing, nothing, nothing." Gwen might have been one of the more innocent of Camelot's inhabitants, but she was not good at feigning it, and Merlin picked up on it, raising a wry eyebrow.

"Tell me, Gwen. Did I do something?"

"No! It's not about you! Well, it is, but it's nothing you've done, it's what Arthur's done and- I shouldn't have said that."

"Arthur? What's Arthur done?"

"Nothing!"

"If I have to tickle it out of you, Gwen, I will..."

"No, don't, Merlin, no, NO, NOOO! STOP IT! NO! MERLIN! STOP THAT! Alright! Arthur said your name! I shouldn't have said that," Gwen added as the tickling subsided.

There was a pause, and Merlin stepped back from Gwen, looking at her as if she was a little bit simple. "Er, Gwen, Arthur says my name all the time. Usually followed by clean the stables or you idiot. Not really my idea of a secret." If anyone knew about secrets, it had to be Merlin.

"I know that!" Gwen snapped, her seemingly infinite patience wearing thin for once. "This was different! You weren't there, for a start, and, and – it was just different!"

"How? Who was there?" Merlin demanded, still a little confused and his own temper rising as Gwen's did. Observers were starting to gather, some anticipating what was coming now they knew the gossip while others were more interested in the sight of the two nicest people in Camelot having an argument. They did so casually, however, loitering some distance away, and neither Gwen nor Merlin noticed them.

"You know Mary? She was there."

"The quiet one? What was she doing there? Gwen, are you sure you're feeling alright, because you're beginning to sound-" Merlin's knowing grin was cut off when Gwen, embarrassed and annoyed, retorted sharply,

"She's been sleeping with Arthur." Normally she would have built up to that, her modesty preventing her from being so crude, but as it was the words left her mouth without thought. She was so mortified she didn't notice how Merlin gritted his jaw before replying. The observers edged closer.

"Oh, really? Hasn't she been... discreet." Merlin spat the word like he hated it. "Up until now, that is. So that's what everyone's been talking about? Not the nonsense about my name?" Gwen was really an appalling liar, Merlin thought absently as he failed to connect the large and looming dots.

By now Gwen wanted to give up the whole idea, but she was too far in. "No! Mary said that Arthur said your name. To her." Merlin's face was still blank. "In bed." Still no reaction. "During... you know." Nothing. "Sex." Gwen's face was crimson now, but Merlin's had yet to move. "ARTHUR SAID YOUR NAME DURING SEX!"

Finally, achingly slowly, Merlin opened his mouth to speak. His voice sounded parched, as if his entire body and not just his throat was suddenly bone dry. "Oh. Well. He could say anyone's name once. I mean. Well. It doesn't-"

Gwen was on the verge of tears. "ARTHUR HAS SAID YOUR NAME DURING SEX MANY TIMES, MERLIN!" The words bounced around the stone corridor, but miraculously everyone around them appeared not to have heard. Key word, appeared. The people of Camelot were good with secrets.

"Right. I'll be off then." Merlin backed away from Gwen a few steps, before turning and high tailing it at full speed down the corridor, pursued by what sounded like cheers.

Arthur had returned from his hunting trip in high spirits, despite the facts that Merlin was not ready to help him clean up when he arrived and that servants kept giving him strange looks before giggling. One he could have sworn congratulated him on his fine choice as he passed y, though of what Arthur had no clue. He merely took the comment as a praise on his excellent sense of taste in general and was quite satisfied with himself. Sitting with his feet up on the table, Arthur felt that the only thing he needed to make him truly content would be some supper.

The thought was shattered when Merlin ran in. Oh yes, dinner and Merlin on my lap, Arthur corrected himself. He barely had time to think the thought before half of it came true. Merlin, before Arthur could even think of moving away, had walked up to him, straddled him and started kissing the living daylights out of him. The thought didn't stay true for long though, as Arthur soon pushed the manservant back, stood up, and shoved Merlin onto the table to get control of the situation. It was hard to take stock. Merlin's hands were in his hair, his breath in his ear, his pale collarbone under Arthur's tongue, swiftly followed by his neck, his jaw bone, his mouth, and Arthur's brain couldn't keep track of where Arthur's own hands were and they wandered around Merlin's body.

This led Arthur's brain to reject the idea of taking stock and instead forced his to stop and pull back. Arthur's breathing was ragged as he looked down at Merlin. The boy looked beautiful, his lips swollen, his tunic riding up as his chest heaved to show a slither of skin and a hint of hair, his pupils wide and dark and rimmed with unmistakable gold. Arthur's voice was hoarse as he spoke. "Merlin, what are you doing?"

Merlin gave him a look that clearly said 'what are you doing?' before replying, his tone defensive, "You said my name. They said you said my name. Say my name."

Arthur's worst fears were realised – the boy had gone stark raving mad. That, or possession. Both meant the debauching had to stop. Bugger. "Merlin?" He asked tentatively, trying to peer into the eyes to check for possession.

"Not like that!"

"Merlin," Arthur began, his tone beginning to border on exasperation. here he was, all hot and bothered, with an idiot madman of a delectable manservant demanding to be addressed. Life in Camelot was hardly normal, but this was just not funny.

"No!" Merlin was sitting up on the table now, and Arthur had to step back to avoid what Uther would have termed 'inappropriate contact'. "Say it like you said it to her."

"What? Who?" Ok, so lunatics weren't meant to make sense, that was kind of the point, but Arthur was really lost now.

"To her! Oh, whats-her-name. Her! My name! You say it." Merlin's grin faltered. "You do say it?"

Still lost, Arthur replied helplessly, trying to comfort him and wondering when the mad man would leave and he'd get his manservant back, "Merlin..."

Merlin's face fell and he scrambled from the table, blinking furiously and rearranging clothing that hadn't been touched in the first place, all the while muttering to himself. "Oh my God. You don't say it. Of course you don't, why would you, you have, her, Mary, whatever. I am going to kill Gwen. 'He says your name' yeah, right, I believe you, right before he has me fucking executed for debauching the Crown Prince-"

At first the muttering served only to convince Arthur even more of his friend's madness. Then however, Merlin mentioned Mary's name, and the penny dropped. Arthur stopped Merlin as he headed to the door with an imperious throat-clearing and a 'we-are-not-an-amused-royal' "Merlin." The boy that turned around couldn't even meet his eyes, and as much as Arthur tried to believe that that only dented his libido a little, it also broke his heart. "I say your name."

No one had ever looked up that fast before, and Arthur could have sworn he heard Merlin's neck snap. He didn't move though, and the Prince became acutely aware of the six feet or so that separated them. "How?" Merlin took the time to swallow, Arthur watching his throat move, transfixed, and when he spoke again his voice sounded more his own. "How do you say it?"

Arthur growled the boy's name and heard a faintly squeaked 'ok then!' before he pounced. He crashed his own mouth to Merlin's fiercely, glad to feel the boy hold himself up instead of sagging aginst him like every woman had ever done. This felt different, stronger, bolder, indiscreet, and Arthur was loving it. Moments later, as his hand slid up Merlin's back underneath the tunic and his other gripped his shoulder for dear life, Arthur found himself shoved up against the side of the fireplace, his shirt half way up his chest and being pulled off him. A thought (they were rare at such times) hit him and Arthur took the momentary detachment from Merlin's mouth to speak.

"But I thought you didn't want this. Me." The words were muffled by the shirt over his head, but Merlin understood well enough and when the red fabric was burning in the fireplace (and Arthur would kill him for that later) Arthur was confronted by his quizzical, one eyebrow raised look.

Sarcasm dripped through his voice as Merlin replied, "Yes, Arthur, this is me not wanting you," before he fixed his attention on one of the Prince's nipples.

Arthur made a strangled 'ngharghn' sound before pulling Merlin up to kiss him again, and when he was sure he'd robbed the boy of enough breath to stop any smart remarks, he protested, "But you didn't show anything. I would have known."

"I was being discreet!" Merlin exclaimed, rocking back on his heels and standing a little bit further away from Arthur than the prince would have liked, aka ,about an inch.

"Discreet?" Arthur rolled his eyes. "You couldn't be discreet if you were invisible." Merlin was about to protest when Arthur added., "You're abut as discreet as your tornado." Merlin made a face like a fish for a few moments, opening and shutting his mouth, before Arthur decided that was a waste of lip movement and pulled him back to claim his mouth again.

"I am so discreet," Merlin mumbled childishly against Arthur's shoulder some time later as he lay in Arthur's bed, basking. Arthur opened one eyelid lazily.

"I'm more discreet. You didn't figure out I wanted you for ages. And you had help." Arthur was surprisingly petulant after sex.

"I wanted you longer, and you didn't guess, so I'm more discreet," Merlin retorted.

"I would say neither of you are particularly discreet, seeing as you left the door open." Both men sat bolt upright as Morgana laughed at them from where she leant against the doorframe.

"Get OUT, Morgana!" yelled two perturbed young men, though to his credit Merlin remembered to address her as Lady Morgana.

"Fuck discretion," Arthur said quietly to Merlin, pulling him closer.

"I think you've already done that. And half of Camelot can bear witness."

"GET OUT!"

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