TITLE: Pendragon Island

AUTHOR: Inukshuk

SPOILERS: None


RATING: Contains explicit sexual slash content. Rated M / NC17


DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations of the television program "Merlin" are the creations and property of Others, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.

FEEDBACK: yes please … writers need food. Suggestions, comments constructive criticism always welcome. As ever thank you to everyone who writes. You all are so generous I can never tell you how much it means.


Pendragon Island


Arthur had always known.

It was just something about Merlin that was there all the time – a permanent state of being. It was obvious. Undisguised. Unwavering. Merlin had a youthfulness about him – a softness and slimness of form that Arthur had never had; different and opposite from he who was - his father's son – broad, powerful, muscular. They were both the same age but Arthur had a maturity born of experience that Merlin still – distractingly – lacked. His skin was white – almost translucent if he stood at the right angle in the right light. His hair was dark and perpetually tousled – as if there might be some secret lover that habitually played his fingers through his hair. His wrists were flat and stuck out from sleeves that were always an inch too short. Merlin – was for all these eccentricities and flaws – striking. It might have been his eyes, how they could tease and glisten when he smiled and how they could hold an expression that revealed sincerity and conviction and character. The blue eyes had a depth to them … as if they held a secret that had not yet been revealed.

This attraction was made more intense for Arthur because Merlin was so unconscious of his allure. Arthur was certain Merlin himself was unaware of his inclinations. It meant that Arthur felt his presence like a buzzing in his head; Merlin's voice and touch so preoccupying that it periodically – during moments of idleness and boredom - led him to distraction. Wisely, he let Merlin be and refused to force a discovery upon him. Yet this unshared insight made Arthur protective and he insisted on Merlin's company when others might have been – in some fashion or another - deemed more suitable. The longer their association, the less noticeable it became to others but the more distracting it became for Arthur. Some days it was enough to simply have him near to disturb his equilibrium. Unfairly, Arthur perpetually disguised his reactions as annoyance and sarcasm. Merlin took the brunt of it but it was the only thing he could do. Their growing closeness achieved something more; it was a message to the Others that Merlin was not be touched.

For the longest time, Arthur simply let it be. The lack of understanding fascinated him and – because he knew Merlin was not aware of his sexuality – Arthur enjoyed his innocence in all its facets. It was the way Merlin brushed his shoulders in long, firm strokes to smooth the fabric when he dressed. It was the pure concentration on his face when he buckled Arthur into his armour; the way the light reflected off his metal chest plate and gave Merlin an angelic ethereal appearance. It was the intensity of his eyes when Merlin looked at him and paid attention; so riveted that Arthur could almost lose his train of thought. It was the way he averted his eyes from Arthur's morning arousal, devising a privacy that Arthur did not require.

If Merlin did not know or understand, Arthur saw no reason to ruin it. He had the liberty of a Prince and the convenience of an army. He had no shortage of adventure and satisfaction. He could wait for Merlin and he became protective of the innocence – he wanted to be his guide, to share in the discovery and act out what had become - for Arthur - a persistent fantasy.

There had been so many moments where it all could have changed. An unexpected show of affection. A moment of horseplay – a pillow fight or a friendly tussle. A moment of epic sacrifice – each would die to save the other. How could anyone resist such divine devotion? Every time, Arthur took care to study Merlin closely and, when he saw no change, no unspoken meaning in his eyes, he let the moment pass and allowed Merlin to slip away once again in ignorance.

When it happened for real, Arthur did not see its approach. It simply happened without warning and after that moment, it all changed.

Arthur had been angry. The joust had gone badly – a mistake on Arthur's part left him frustrated and annoyed at himself. He had thrown his metal gloves one by one and yanked to remove his breastplate by himself. The armour did not cooperate and the distraction of the buckle had gotten in the way of venting his spleen.

"Calm down." Merlin had said, willing to withstand the temper to assist him.

Arthur did not want to calm down. It was a silly thing to say and, alone in the tent, Arthur used Merlin as a new target of his verbal assault. He continued to yell and came forward, swiping away Merlin's helping hands. Boldly going forward, Arthur forced Merlin to back up until his was pinned against the rough table. It wasn't fear but Merlin's cheeks had become flushed and he stumbled trying to step aside. Arthur had moved forward to rescue him from an awkward fall and after a strange moment where Arthur steadied him, they simply looked at each other. Neither blinked but Arthur knew that the moment had come. He knew all at once he was being seen in a new light – knew he had become something more, something different to Merlin. For Arthur, his final test was a reflexive glance downward. Merlin had become aroused by the energy, the stimulating athleticism of their exchange. Discovered, Merlin's hand fell down to mask it and he turned to the side, trying to conceal this unexpected interest.

Arthur took another stride forward. He felt a frission as he stood with his feet slightly apart, his friend inches away. So much could happen now.

"It's alright, Merlin. You don't have to hide."

He looked up, slightly afraid and not trusting. It was as much the confusion of discovery as not understanding what had happened and uncertainty of how to navigate these sudden feelings.

"I didn't mean to …"

Arthur slid his hand down the inside of Merlin's arm and coaxed away the hand that was cupping his groin. Gentle interlinking his fingers, Arthur drew him closer until Merlin took an awkward step towards him. He waited patiently until Merlin could look at him. The long eye lashes blinked and the eyes darted here and there. The high cheek bones remained flushed. Arthur felt himself aroused and would have brushed the hand against himself to prove that he – too – had understood the moment in the same way. He cursed the armour he wore and squeezed the hand he held.

"Merlin." He leaned forward and whispered into his ear with gentleness. This ease and calmness seemed to settle Merlin. The blue eyes finally lifted to look at him. The sweet mouth and red lips beckoned. With intent, Arthur touched his chin with his finger and lifted. He kissed him once to break the spell and a second time with a teasing tongue that Merlin did not quite understand and pulled away from. The third time, Arthur became insistent and pushed open Merlin's mouth until he let out a moan.

"Arthur." He said when the kiss terminated. The fingers tightened, as if using this as a way to keep him close. It was an unconscious plea for more.

Outside the tent, trumpets blared and Arthur heard his name called for the next jousting round. "Merlin." He answered softly and let go of the hand. "I have to go. Later. If you want …"

That evening, everything was late and it was dark and settling into midnight by the time Arthur was ready for bed. Merlin had arrived with laundry and stacked fresh linen into the wardrobe. Arthur shed his boots and shirt and – as he did every night – crawled into the center of the bed. His bed was a dominant feature of the room – a massive four poster bed, canopied and laden with pillows and draped in deep red. He often considered this place Pendragon Island – a private oasis where he could be alone or with another. This night, he considered his choice for company.

"Merlin." He said, propping himself on his elbow and rolling to his side. He let his legs scissor and push forward the fullness of his groin. "Do you want to stay?"

"Here?"

"For the night." Arthur let him consider it and did not rush or argue it. It occurred to him that this invitation might never be accepted. He remembered how he had felt when it happened to him. He had needed time – first – to adjust. If Merlin wanted to leave, he would understand. It was still so fresh and new for him.

"Yes." Merlin said, closing the wardrobe and – not knowing what else to do – stood awkwardly in the middle of the room as if waiting for direction. Arthur gladly offered his left hand – his index finger with the pewter ring extended out like a painting. Merlin took his hand and as Arthur moved aside, he crawled into bed and settled beside him.

"Boots." Arthur said, and Merlin removed his boots. "Coat." He said next and that was also removed. "Tunic." Halfway off, Merlin became entangled in the clothing. Arthur smoothed his hand up the bare chest, over the downy hairs and watched as Merlin's muscles tightened and reacted to his touch. Continuing upwards, Arthur gave the fabric a tug that freed him.

"And this scarf." Arthur said finally, attempting to unknot the back.

"Like this." Merlin said, lifting it over his head easily. He smiled. "I do know something."

"Yes. You do." Arthur said, letting his hand float down, teasing and circling nipples that had hardened. He moved lower, lingering over an abdomen that was not used to his touch and then settled over Merlin's groin, softly, gently finding his outline and, having found it, started stroking with a light, unhurried hand.

"Does that feel good?"

Merlin answered with a gasp, letting his head fall back with a soft sigh and relaxed his knees until they fell apart a little. Arthur leaned down and kissed him and this time, Merlin's mouth was open, waiting, anxious to receive him. Merlin had lost no time in learning, in discovering how to receive Arthur's tongue and then tried to give the pleasure back but it was all too new and too hard to concentrate with all the sensations. Surrendering and leaving it all to Arthur, Merlin's soft moaning rose and fell with each kiss until finally Arthur settled him back into the pillows, his hand still working on his groin, slowing and pushing harder against the stiffness. Reflexively, Merlin pushed up his hips into his hand and grunted.

"Shhh." Arthur whispered, easing up and letting Merlin recover. He moved his hands upward, stroking the full of his chest, tracing his thumbs over nipples and watched his breathing ease. Then, when Merlin opened his eyes again, Arthur straddled him and brushed his hands over the edge of his trousers, tugging a little to communicate what he wanted.

"Can I touch you?" Arthur said, knowing what the answer would be.

"Yes." It was hushed approval, gasping and slightly nervous.

Leisurely, he untied the trousers and pulled them down in stages, exposing Merlin's shaft in deliberate slowness. All at once, Merlin interfered, not able to stand the wait. He pulled at himself to remove flesh from fabric and shuddered with the pleasure of touching his erection.

"Merlin." Arthur chastised, taking hold of his wrists and moving them aside. "Let me." Arthur immediately caressed him with his own open hand. Merlin shuddered, sinking back into the pillows and did not resist. In stages, one stroke after an other, Arthur closed his hand tighter and tighter until his fingers were wrapped completely around Merlin's hard penis, pulling and coaxing and massaging. Merlin moaned again and every third or fourth stroke, he pushed up his hips, trying to learn the timing. Then, just as Arthur went down, Merlin pushed up and it was right. Merlin gasped and immediately moved his hips again and tried hard not to call out.

Arthur released his hold with a final delaying pinch at the tip and let Merlin enjoy the sensation of hardness, of the swollen ache that had not yet been satisfied. Lightly, Arthur passed his palm over the very tip and at the apex, felt the first milky wetness.

He settled on all fours over Merlin and whispered tightly in his ear as he lowered himself letting his bare abdomen brush back and forth over the moist swollen head.

"You've nearly come, Merlin. You are so hard …" Arthur ignored his own aching desires to push himself down and enjoy the sensation but he resisted and retreated, sitting back on his heels to give himself only momentary attention. Then Arthur began again, stroking Merlin's groin anywhere but there, fondling his testicles and then, when Merlin began getting restless and began keening, Arthur licked his finger and used his ringed left index finger and traced it up and down the bottom of Merlin's shaft.

"Please …" Merlin said. "Do it."

"Do what?" Arthur smiled. It was a deliberate tease.

"I don't know." Merlin shifted from side to side, unable to break free of Arthur's deliberate pace and thrust his hips up again. "I … "

Arthur retreated once again and then took Merlin in his mouth. His taste was salty, sweet – and the sensation of his tongue and his suckling made Merlin gasp.

"No." He said … fingers flew into his hair and pulled at him trying to remove Arthur from him. "I'm going to …"

Arthur understood and retreated. He covered Merlin's erection with a silken square of fabric and gave him hard, rapid strokes until Merlin's raspy breathe ended in a groan and he came. Arthur kept going, milking him several times and each time, Merlin threw up his hips and cried out. The fabric was wet and Arthur used it to collect what had dripped to Merlin's thigh.

Then Arthur settled beside him and collected Merlin into his arms – his penis still exposed and his trousers at his hips. Once or twice, Arthur kissed him and then – as Merlin's breathing slowed – he found his mouth open and willing to take him. Gently, he eased his hands down Merlin's back and over his buttocks, stroking and teasing and inching towards his entry. Merlin shifted and moaned, not quite aware of the index finger pressing him open. Arthur ached to have him – to come down on him and to give him pleasure.

Next time, he thought as he pulled the covers over the both of them. Next time.