All the hidden spaces

by WinterStorrm

Just because Arthur had noticed that the new courier had a rather nice arse, gorgeous clear blue eyes and cheekbones of the like Arthur had never seen on another man before didn't mean he had a 'thing' for him.

Title: All the hidden spaces
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin
Word Count: 21,000
Summary: Just because Arthur had noticed that the new courier had a rather nice arse, gorgeous clear blue eyes and cheekbones of the like Arthur had never seen on another man before didn't mean he had a 'thing' for him.
Author's Notes: Written formerlinreversebb 2014 inspired by the gorgeous art of texasislandr. To see the art follow the link to my LJ on my profile page, it's gorgeous :-)
Thanks to singlemomsummer for the beta.
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to Shine and BBC. I make no profit from this endeavour.

Arthur first clapped eyes on the new courier when he was trying—half-heartedly, because, well, he was only human— to fend off an unplanned lunchtime visit from Sophia. She'd shown up with a coffee and one of those salted caramel things from Starbucks that Arthur had fallen for, and wound up under Arthur's desk with his cock in her mouth. How was a man supposed to say 'no' to that? It didn't mean he had changed his mind about ending things with her when they met for dinner that evening; that was already pre-determined. It had been three weeks and that was as long as Arthur's relationships endured—unless you counted Gwen back in school, but that had been Gwen and really, they'd been more good friends than anything else anyway.

The interior office blinds were closed and he hadn't heard any knocking so when the door opened and a tall skinny kid in the yellow and purple uniform of the couriers they used bounded in, Arthur was so taken by surprise he snapped, "You can't just walk in here!" Sophia hummed around his cock and Arthur gripped the edge of his chair with one hand and stayed Sophia's head with the other, just about managing to say, even though it should be perfectly obvious from the uniform, "What do you want?"

The courier stopped dead, regarding Arthur with the deepest blue eyes Arthur had ever seen from above sinfully sharp cheekbones. "I just need a signature for this," he said, frowning. He held an envelope aloft. "I can't leave until you've signed…assuming you are Mr Pendragon."

"Hand it over then, I haven't got all day," Arthur said, holding out his hand for the envelope, he'd been waiting for these papers all bloody morning, of course they would turn up now.

With a raised eyebrow the envelope was placed on the desk in front of him and Arthur was handed the electronic signature pad. The courier's fingers were long, thin and bitten cut to the quick.

Sophia pulled back with a slurp and began to tease Arthur's balls with a lone finger, feather light and ohfuckinggodhewassoclose. Arthur didn't want to think about how the arrival of the courier had added an extra dimension to what had been shaping up to a competent but unremarkable blow job.

"And the other one," Arthur managed, releasing his grip on the edge of his chair to impatiently gesture at the other envelope the courier was clutching to his chest.

"Um, this one's for Miss Pendragon," he said, curling his fingers possessively around it. He'd been staring at Arthur's desk, as if trying to see through it but when Arthur spoke he looked up and their eyes met. Those gorgeous cheekbones were stained red, the blue eyes wide and frozen like a rabbit in the headlights. There was no way he didn't know what was going on under the desk, not with the slurping and Arthur's own probable heavy breathing.

"Morgana's out of town," he said, voice strangled as Sophia slid her tongue along the underside of his cock. "I'll sign for it—give it here."

The courier grabbed the signature pad, scanned the second envelope and practically threw it at Arthur. Arthur squiggled on the screen and it was snatched out of his hand.

There was no 'thank you' as he turned and headed for the door, and how the hell did Arthur find the wherewithal to admire his arse in the tight lycra trousers he was wearing considering what was happening to him beneath his desk. Arthur imagined for a moment that it was those long fingers now wrapped around the base of his cock—and came, hard. Jesus fucking Christ.

::::

The second time Arthur saw him was during the board meeting that didn't want to end. A flash of colour in the corner of his eye, distracting him from whatever it was that Geoffrey was on about—something about available plots of land for the development in Birmingham—and Arthur was following the path the young man, who thanks to Freya he now knew to be called Merlin, as he made his way along the corridor that ran the length of the glass walled boardroom.

Merlin stopped at the end, just outside Arthur's office where Freya was tapping away on her keyboard. He said something to her and she replied with a beaming smile and nodded towards the boardroom. Merlin turned and stared right through the glass and right at Arthur.

Arthur immediately felt like he was a school boy with an inappropriate crush as a kick of excitement twisted in his belly. It had to be because his cock was remembering looking at Merlin's arse right before coming the other day. Skinny boys really weren't Arthur's usual type of bloke, even if this one did have a decent backside and lips made for kissing.

Arthur held his gaze, determined he wouldn't look away first. Half of him was still expecting to read about 'Arthur Pendragon's love in the afternoon' or some such bollocks in a tabloid at some point this week. People had sold stories about Arthur kissing them so tabloid gold like seeing him get sucked off under his desk would be worth a few quid. He almost wouldn't blame Merlin for doing it, couriers probably didn't earn much.

It was Merlin who looked away first, turning back to Freya and saying something that made her laugh before handing her an envelope. Arthur watched the whole exchange until Merlin slid the signature pad into his bag and walked back down the corridor, turning to look at Arthur again just before he moved out of sight, catching Arthur staring for the second time that day.

Arthur completely missed whether or not the plot of land in Birmingham was a goer and to his annoyance, his mind refused to zap back into business mode, his mind going off on a completely different tangent of how he'd like Merlin under his desk…on his desk, bed, floor, car backseat…

::::

Apparently spending a week doing nothing but shopping worked wonders because Morgana, who had spent the past week New York, was back in the office on Monday wearing something painfully fashionable and a smug smile. She hadn't even grumbled about getting stuck in the lift for an hour before she'd even made it to her desk when on a normal day she probably would have had someone fired for it.

She glided into his office a few minutes after her escape from the lift to allegedly talk about the marketing campaign for their latest Kensington apartment block—but Arthur knew it was her way of checking in on him, ever the big sister—when Freya buzzed through to say there was a delivery for him that he had to sign for and ten seconds later Merlin had walked in.

Their short exchange was loaded. "If you'd just sign there, please," and Arthur complied, meeting Merlin's gaze briefly as he handed back the signature pad to a quiet, "Thank you."

Arthur immediately wished Morgana on another planet so strong was his desire to bend Merlin over his desk and palm the round globes of his arse before burying his face in it. It was getting ridiculous, this thing for this skinny kid.

Keeping thinking he's a kid and it'll go away. He's a kid, he's a kid…he's old enough to hold down a job, he's old enough, he's old enough. Fuck.

Merlin nodded at Morgana, finally tearing his eyes away from Arthur as he left and as the door closed behind him Morgana said, "He's a pretty one," head turned toward the door where she'd watched Merlin leave. Arthur hadn't noticed her interest. He narrowed his eyes, 'keep your claws off him' on the tip of his tongue, and where the ever loving fuck had that come from?

"Morgana—"

"Don't worry, brother dearest," she said, turning back to face him, twirling a lock of hair between her thumb and forefinger, the perfect vision of fake innocence. "He's a little too late to catch my eye today—not after the gorgeous specimen I was stuck in the lift with earlier. Zane's taking me out for drinks after work."

Well, that explained the reason for the good mood then. "Oh?" Morgana burned through men faster than Arthur did men and women. Arthur usually had a break between ending something with someone and picking up with a new one, rarely indulging in one night stands in favour of one-two-three week 'flings' because when he found someone willing it was counter-productive to end it after one night when there were likely to be several repeats on the menu before he needed a change of cuisine. Morgana went from one to the other; Arthur privately thought that the term 'she'll eat you for breakfast' was coined in Morgana's honour.

"You know better than to ask for details."

"You wound me." Arthur really did know better than attempt to pry any further. He rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair, watching Merlin sitting on the edge of Freya's desk with a sodding cup of tea looking no more than about seventeen which he probably was. He was legal, but only barely. Destination: hell.

Morgana followed his gaze. "Shut your mouth, Arthur, you're drooling."

::::

Arthur was late for work. It felt like every other driver on the road was out there to get in his way, cut him up and make sure that he was late for the 9am conference call with the board. At this rate he'd have to dial in from the car and that never went well—he liked to have all the figures on paper in front of him when dealing with the ageing board members, men who had been loyal to his father but weren't sure about Arthur, not yet. Uther had died last year, quite unexpectedly, and Arthur was now the CEO of Camelot and some days, like today, he felt the burden of it much more than others.

It was now 8.53am and Arthur was nowhere near Camelot's offices.

The traffic had started to move again and Arthur put the car into first gear ready to move forward, cursing under his breath for the hundredth time that morning. The car in front indicated right after they'd moved about ten metres down the road, grinding Arthur to a halt again to wait for the other car to find a gap in the oncoming traffic so it could turn. When it pulled right, finally, Arthur moved forward, his focus on the now near empty road in front of him, catching sight of a yellow and purple blur in his periphery, wondering immediately if it was Merlin, watching him swerve in front of Arthur's car and letting his eyes move to the cyclist's arse and thinking, it's him, it has to be—and losing focus on the road just for a moment, fuck knows how, catching the back wheel of the bike and watching the cyclist tumbling head first onto the road.

Arthur had never made a more impressive emergency stop.

::::

"Can I see him yet?"

Arthur had been pacing the corridor outside of Merlin's hospital room for the best part of three hours but even though he was sodding well paying for the private room, he wasn't a relation—didn't even know Merlin's last name—and wasn't allowed in without Merlin's say so. All he'd been told was that Merlin had got off lightly with a broken wrist and a few cuts and scrapes but was in need of rest because he had been unconscious for a while and that was never a good thing.

Arthur had only gone to the loo and to get a cup of proper coffee from the Costa over the road because the shit in the machines dotted around was inedible and apparently in that ten minutes he was away some friend of Merlin's had arrived and been allowed into the room and now Arthur had to wait even longer. The friend had left five minutes ago and Arthur had been checking his emails on his phone and had only seen the back of someone's head as they left Merlin's room and disappeared down the corridor.

Nurse Evans peered at Arthur over the top of her glasses, reminding him of his old headmistress. "Mr Emrys is just making a couple of phone calls after which he said he would be willing to see you, Mr Pendragon. If you wouldn't mind taking a seat I'll be sure to let you know when he's ready."

Arthur sighed and started back towards the sofa that had the best view of Merlin's room. He just wanted to see him to see for himself that he hadn't done him any lasting harm. He could have killed him and all because he was in a hurry, although apparently not enough of a hurry not to give in to an opportune moment to check out Merlin's backside. What the hell was wrong with him lately? Merlin the sodding courier was all he'd been able to think about since he'd first seen him. Imagining pressing him back against the door of his office the next time he had a delivery for Arthur, of shutting the blinds and kissing that sinful mouth, letting Merlin wrap his legs around Arthur's waist and—

"Mr Pendragon?" Nurse Evans appeared in front of him, face softer than it had been moments before. "Mr Emrys will see you now."

Arthur blinked, momentarily blindsided by the interruption of his thoughts. "Thank you," he said, and stood.

::::

Arthur walked into that hospital room fully expecting Merlin to tear him a new one because, well, that'd probably be what Arthur would do if he'd been the one knocked off his bike by a guy perving at his arse. Not that Merlin knew that little detail, thankfully…hopefully?

His expectation hadn't been wrong. Arthur found himself fixed in the tractor beam of Merlin's fierce glare. "I should have known that you would drive a poncey car like that," he said like it was an accusation as well as an insult.

Arthur had been busy scanning Merlin for damage and his words took a moment to register. "That car is a Jaguar F-Type Roadster thank you very much and there is absolutely nothing 'poncey' about it." Merlin's eyes narrowed and Arthur continued his inspection of Merlin's person.

Merlin's right wrist was encased in pristine white plaster that just begged to be distressed a little and the only other damage seemed to be a few scrapes on his face, a cut lip and the fact that he had been knocked out which could have consequences that Arthur couldn't see.

"Is that all you have to say?" Merlin's voice had lost its edge now and he sounded tired and a little lost.

Arthur gravitated towards the bed, reaching out on instinct to run his thumb over the cut on Merlin's lower lip. "I'm sorry," he said, aware that Merlin was still glaring at him, eyes huge in his pale face. His thumb tingled at the contact so he pulled his hand back and stepping away reached into his jacket pocket for a pen, a distraction. He lifted Merlin's injured wrist and signed his name with a flourish.

Merlin snatched his hand away, glanced down at Arthur's moniker, and back up at Arthur, "Is this a joke to you? I know you're thinking that you're off the hook because I'm not dead or in a coma because it's not much of an injury in the grand scheme of things, but this isn't just a broken bone, this means I can't go to work which means I won't get paid and that means that I can't pay my way where I've been crashing and I'll have to leave. I'll have to go cap in hand back to— This fucking sucks."

Arthur watched Merlin as he talked and wanted to lean down and kiss those ruined lips, climb onto the bed and straddle him. Instead he walked around to the other side of the bed and all that did was distract him for about fifteen seconds but it was enough for now. He really needed to rein in his libido. He felt like he was fifteen again, and fifteen was a time he never wanted to go back to.

::::

"I'm sorry," he said, guilt curling through him twofold, for putting Merlin in the hospital bed in the first place and for wanting to jump him whilst he was there. The problem was Arthur couldn't remember a time when he'd wanted anyone more than he wanted Merlin Emrys, which probably explained why the vague idea he'd just formulated of paying for Merlin to stay in a hotel while he recovered came out as, "You can stay with me until you recover. My spare room is just there doing nothing." As soon as the words were out he thought, not that you'll be in that spare room for long and for a dreadful moment Arthur thought perhaps he'd said that out loud because Merlin was regarding him in surprise. Arthur had to clench his fists, digging his nails into his palms, trying to direct his thoughts in a more appropriate direction.

Merlin said, eventually, after a long silence that followed Arthur's edict, "Why? I'm not planning to sue you and—" he paused, his cheeks suffusing with colour as his eyes landed on Arthur's lips. "—we're not friends."

"I'm not looking for a friend, Merlin. I'm the reason you're injured. I want to make it right." A broken wrist would take maybe a month or so to heal? Arthur could share his home for a few weeks and, if he was lucky, his bed. So what if he was thinking with his prick and he knew it? Underneath it all he did feel guilty that Merlin was injured, but he'd always believed that things happened for a reason. Merlin's accident was an open door and Arthur was a pragmatist with an itch to scratch. He wanted that boy in his bed and with him under his roof the odds of that happening would increase a thousand percent.

Merlin continued to stare at him unwaveringly, as if assessing him, and Arthur felt a different kind of guilt melt through him. Merlin looked soyoung, making Arthur feel absolutely ancient at just twenty-eight, but Arthur knew that if Merlin said no Arthur would find another way to get what he wanted. He had to.

"I'm only saying yes because I don't really have anywhere else to go at the moment." Merlin chewed his lip. "Thank you."

"I'm all about the moment," Arthur said, victory coursing through him. He went to talk to Nurse Evans to find out when Merlin could be discharged.

::::

"You really don't have to do this you know. I'm not your responsibility." Merlin followed Arthur into the spare bedroom, spinning around in a circle taking in the huge bed in the centre, the wide screen TV on the wall opposite, sleek white furniture and built in wardrobes. "Not that I'm complaining. This beats the ratty sofa I was sleeping on where I was before that's for certain."

"I do have to do this," Arthur replied quickly, putting Merlin's bags on the bed and walking over to a door in the corner. Opening it, he said, "This is your bathroom. It's only got a shower so if you want a bath you'll have to use the one in my room."

"Um, thanks." Merlin walked over to the bathroom and peeked in, releasing a low whistle. "Nice."

Arthur watched him, trying to keep his expression blank. Before they'd left the hospital the doctor had said that Merlin needed at least seventy-two hours rest before doing anything strenuous which meant Arthur had to shelve any amorous plans for the time being. It was like placing a beer in front of an alcoholic and telling him he couldn't drink it for three days.

Arthur desperately wanted that drink.

Freya had seen right through him. "I know why you're really doing this you know," she said after he'd call to ask for a car to pick him and Merlin up from the hospital the following afternoon as Merlin had had to stay in overnight for observation.

"You don't know anything," Arthur had said, but he'd hung up pretty quickly because Freya had the uncanny ability of making him feel guilty even for things he hadn't done. Then he'd waited for Merlin to go to the loo and had picked up his chart off the end of the bed and scanned it quickly for a birth date, almost sagging with relief that he was twenty and long past legal. At least he wasn't being a dirty old man and that was one thing he didn't have to feel guilty about. He'd left shortly after that and only returned the following day in time for Merlin's discharge.

"Mary, my housekeeper, comes in twice a week—Tuesday and Friday—she has her own key so you don't need to worry."

Merlin's lips twitched. "You would have a cleaner." Amused eyes flicked to Arthur's. "You're far too busy and important to do it yourself."

"Not a just a cleaner; she does my shopping as well," Arthur admitted, lips quirking, liking that Merlin had let go of his initial animosity. "If it bothers you that much, I can give her a couple of weeks off and you can do it, earn your keep."

Merlin stepped closer, right into Arthur's space, eyes locked on his. "Let's not be hasty." He held up his broken wrist. "Injured, remember? And my right hand too…"

Arthur's amusement vanished, replaced by a weird combination of genuine guilt and arousal at the thought of what Merlin used his right hand for and the fact that that was clearly Merlin's intention. He scanned Merlin's face, stalling on the cut on Merlin's lower lip…and wasn't arousal and guilt a heady combination?

"Don't feel guilty," Merlin said, obviously reading Arthur's expression, stepping back again with a tired sigh. "I'm fine." He walked over to the bed and leant back onto his elbows, legs apart, still watching Arthur.

Arthur moved away and hovered by the door.

"I'll just unpack then," Merlin said into the awkward silence that had risen. He sat up, reached for one of his bags and pulled it towards himself with his good hand.

Arthur watched the movement before Merlin's words registered. "Right, yes—I'll leave you to get settled in then—I'll probably go to bed myself, it's been a long day and it's getting late. Please, make yourself at home." Arthur stilled his hand on the door handle for a moment before backing out and closing the door behind him.

Arthur leant back against the door, counted to five and went to take a shower. This arrangement was all kinds of wrong. He'd offered Merlin a roof over his head, pretending he was doing it because he accepted responsibility for Merlin whilst he was unable to work, because that was Arthur's fault—but it wasn't like Arthur couldn't afford to pay for him to live in a hotel for the rest of his natural life, he didn't need to provide the roof Merlin's here.

Except, he did, he really really did.

::::

"This place is like a show home," Merlin said, appearing in the kitchen doorway the following evening just as Arthur pulled open the fridge to peruse the contents, his mind on dinner after a long day at the office. "It's like nobody lives here."

Arthur grabbed the eggs, mushrooms and butter and closed the fridge door before glancing over at Merlin who was leaning against the door jamb with a casual ease that Arthur wished he mirrored. "I haven't had the time to do anything with the place since I moved in."

"I imagined you in one of those expensive high rise executive flats that have views as far as France and a price tag bigger that then national debt."

Merlin imagined him…had thoughts about him that involved picturing where he lived and God, Arthur was a bloody teenage girl all of a sudden and not the CEO of a multi-billion pound company. He held up the carton of eggs desperate for something to say, "Omelette?"

Merlin blinked in surprise. "You cook?"

"There's no need to look so shocked. I'll have you know I'm actually okay at it."

"I've heard you're very good," Merlin said, looking Arthur up and down before adding, as though he hadn't just said loaded his words with any innuendo, "Can we have toast with it?"

"Are you hoping I'll mess up and burn it?"

"Of course I am." Merlin smiled innocently at him and pushed away from the door. "Want some help?"

"Yes. You can make a pot of tea."

They sat at the breakfast bar to eat their meal. It was remarkably easy. Merlin asked about whether or not Arthur's company had converted this building into flats and Arthur had confessed that the flat wasn't actually his but the company's and that the other flats were let out but that now he was CEO he had plans for this building and several others they owned, including family sized homes to rent out to Camelot employees at an affordable rent. He hadn't run it by the board yet, but even if they didn't like the idea as the majority shareholder Arthur was going to find a way to do it anyway.

"We'd still own the building so we wouldn't lose the assets but it could really help some of our employees," he told Merlin. "Some of them have to commute over two hours a day to work in our offices. That's four hours a day away from their partner or family."

Merlin was staring at him agog. He gathered himself and said, "The man does have a heart."

Arthur flushed. "Don't tell anyone, it'd be bad for business." He flicked a glance at his watch and then back at Merlin who was still staring at him intently.

Only forty-eight hours left.

::::

Arthur loved Friday evenings. He loved that the following morning he would be waking up safe in the knowledge that he didn't have to go into the office that day, loved the freedom of having time to his self to do what he wanted when he wanted to do it. Like sitting around in his pants catching up on Game of Thrones and Suits or stealing Elena's dog, Barry, and walking him round the park…or letting Mithian persuade him to go for lunch somewhere falafel-ly.

This particular Friday night was also the one night a month that his friends came round for few beers to watch some telly or a movie. He saw them plenty in between of course, but that often involved wives and girlfriends too. The monthly Friday night meant there was no one to impress, old friends enjoying each other's company and reliving the good old days.

Arthur finished work early, just after 5pm, and stopped into Sainsbury's Local for some beers. He was looking forward to a long stretch under a hot shower before changing into his jeans and cracking open a much needed bottle of beer. When he arrived back at the flat he was relieved there was no sign of Merlin. The doctor's order of three days' rest was starting to feel like a target. Spending the previous evening eating dinner with Merlin before the two of them retired to the lounge to watch whatever was on the television had been torment, especially when Merlin would glance at Arthur from beneath his long lashes and when Arthur caught him he'd hold his gaze before looking away and repeating again five minutes later.

Unless Arthur was reading everything very wrongly his advances were going to be more than welcome. Just—not before Saturday night because—because —the things Arthur planned to do to Merlin did not involve taking it nice and slow. When he finally got his hands on him he didn't think he would be able to hold back.

Arthur kicked off his shoes in the hallway and padded into his bedroom, peeled off his socks and shrugging out of his shirt made his way into the bathroom…and froze, utterly mesmerised by what he found.

Merlin was in the bath. A very naked Merlin, eyes closed, his injured wrist draped over the side, long fingers gripping the edge. Arthur noticed a tattoo on his upper left arm but couldn't make out what it was as he was too distracted by the fact that the bubbles were sparse and didn't cover anything.

How was he supposed resist climbing in the tub and joining him? He was anything but a saint and Merlin was temptation personified.

::::

Arthur couldn't look away. Merlin wasn't as skinny naked as he appeared when clothed, although he was as pale. Arthur allowed his gaze to trail down Merlin's torso, dusky pink nipples peeking out above the water line, a blurry happy trail that led downwards… Fuck, fuck, fuck—Arthur's cock still hadn't received the memo that Merlin was out of bounds for another twenty-four hours.

He forced himself to turn away, planning on backing out of the room and hoping Merlin never realised he'd ever been in there—unable to resist glancing back at Merlin to find he was looking straight at Arthur, the blatant invitation in his eyes one that Arthur wasn't sure he wanted to say no to. If only someone would pass that message on to his dick.

Arthur chose the only viable option available before his arousal became more than apparent. He fled.

::::

Percy collapsed on the sofa, kicked off his shoes and put his size twelve feet up on Arthur's coffee table, a bottle of Corona gripped in one hand, a packet of peanuts in the other. "Mate, I can't believe you moved in that twinky messenger boy you've been eyeing up. What happened to whatshername..." He clicked his fingers. "…Stephanie?"

"Sophia, and that's over and done with," Arthur supplied, dropping his voice to a low hiss and adding, "I have no idea who you've been talking to but, I don't 'eye up' delivery boys. And will you shut up? Merlin's in his room, he might hear." Arthur glanced towards the door that led up to the bedrooms as though Merlin might appear at any moment.

"Right, so it wasn't Merlin you were watching through the conference room window during the meeting the other day?" Leon worked at Camelot, managing the finance department. He took a swig of his beer and turned to Lance. "It must've been another messenger boy, right, Lance?"

"Must've been," Lance, the traitorous wanker said, his lips twitching.

Arthur scowled. "Fuck off."

"Oh come on, Arthur, don't be like that. We think it's adorable that you've got a thing for him, don't we lads?"

Arthur had no come back, not when they were right. Just because he'd noticed that Merlin had a rather nice arse in the tight cycling trousers he wore despite his preoccupation at the time of their first meeting, and that he had gorgeous clear blue eyes and cheekbones of the like Arthur had never seen on another man before.

None of that meant he had a 'thing' for Merlin. It did mean that he'd very much like to fuck him and that was not the same as a 'thing'.

"He's not my type," Arthur said and that was the truth. He usually went for the type of guy who wouldn't look out of place on the cover of 'Men's Health' and not ones who looked Merlin, all ears and limbs.

"Bollocks, mate." Percy moved to sit next to Arthur and folded a long arm around his shoulders. "Everyone is your type."

"Perce, are you saying Arthur's a slag?" Leon grinned, like he hadn't shagged his way across the university campus for the three years of university and across London for four years afterwards until he'd been tamed by Mithian.

Percy affected an innocent face. "I'm saying he's had blonds, brunettes, red heads, black, white, green with purple spots, men, women, tall and short—and the only thing they have in common that might make them a 'type' is that they've all been supermodel gorgeous."

"He hasn't had me or Lance," Leon offered with a quirk of his lips.

"Aw, Leon thinks I'm a supermodel," Lance teased, walking over to Leon's armchair and draping himself over the arm, legs over Leon's lap. Leon shoved them off, laughing.

"Seems he also thinks of himself as one," Arthur said, sharing a look with Percy that nodded its head to the fact that Arthur had had him, back in the first week of university.

Arthur liked sex. So what? It didn't make him weird or a pervert, it just made him human. He didn't do relationships, had never wanted to. Gwen didn't count. They'd been very young and all they'd ever done was hold hands and kiss and then Lance had happened.

"I think Arthur like likes this Merlin," Lance observed with his typical calm.

Arthur caught Lance's eye and looked away hastily. He'd been friends with Lance since he was five; their friendship had even survived the whole Gwen thing back at school to the extent that he was God-father to both their twin boys. Lance knew him better than anyone.

He nearly jumped off the sofa when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Merlin came through the doorway, barefooted and soft in old denims and a well-worn blue jumper. His timing was appalling. "Is that offer of a beer still open?" he said, nodding at Leon, Lance and Percy in turn.

Arthur had made the invite the night before. Somehow though he'd assumed that after the bath incident earlier that Merlin would avoid it. "Guys, this is Merlin. Merlin this is Lance, Leon and Percy."

There was a chorus of hellos and Lance shifted along the sofa to make room whilst Percy handed Merlin one of the beers off the coffee table. Merlin sat down, folding his long legs beneath himself.

"I always said that Arthur was a terrible driver, and now we have visible proof," Leon said, winking at Merlin. "How fast were you going again, Arthur? What did you say…fifteen miles an hour?"

"He must've been distracted," Percy said, face innocent. "Right, Arthur?"

"Sod off," Arthur grumbled, avoiding looking at Merlin.

"How long have you all known one another?" Merlin asked hastily, taking a swig of his beer and drawing Arthur's attention to his lips. Again.

"Apparently too bloody long." Arthur picked up his beer and knocked back half of the bottle. "The pizzas will be here soon."

"Take no notice of Arthur, Merlin," Lance said. "He's always a grump when he's hungry."

Arthur closed his eyes and counted to ten. It was going to be a long night.

::::

When Saturday arrived Arthur got up late, had a quick shower and made himself some porridge for breakfast. He'd heard Merlin moving around and the sound of the front door closing over an hour ago. Arthur was glad for that, pleased to have the opportunity of a couple of guaranteed hours to himself so he could process what the heck was going on inside his own head. He'd tried to think it through last night after he'd gone to bed, his blood warm with alcohol, but that had just led to back to that recurring fantasy where that first time they'd met Merlin had taken over from Sophia—in fact Sophia's actual presence faded away and his brain didn't bother to care where she'd gone—but instead of sucking Arthur dry Merlin had bent over the desk for him and well, thinking it through was the last thing on his mind because my that point he was stripping his cock, thinking about how it would feel to be inside Merlin, what he'd look like naked and arched forwards…

Arthur had slept wonderfully after that delicious wank.

There had been a text from Lance waiting for him that morning; Merlin is a keeper, don't fuck this one up. That Lance had taken to Merlin had already been obvious from the previous night when after talking each other's ears off half of the night they'd arranged to meet to go running when Lance was on the late shift at the hospital.

Not trusting himself alone with his own thoughts, Arthur rang Elena and arranged to meet her for a walk in the park with Barry followed by lunch in the park café. He needed the company of someone who hadn't even heard of Merlin Emrys. Elena lived on her own planet most of the time anyway yet at the same time managed to run a successful florist business. Today was her one Saturday a month that she allowed herself off work.

When he got home in the late afternoon, relaxed by a couple of glasses of Anjou Blanc, Arthur had that happy buzz in his veins that came from wine and good company and a smile on his face that refused to fade.

He was flipping the kettle on to make a cup of coffee when Merlin wandered in, bare footed again, hair sticking up as though he'd just got out of bed. Breath taking, Arthur thought, watching him as walked closer, trying really valiantly not to think about how Merlin's seventy-two hours were more or less up; so of course that was all he could think of…and then some.

"Is there enough water for me?" Merlin asked, pushing himself up onto the kitchen counter, dangling his legs, watching as Arthur reached for a second mug out of the cupboard.

Arthur added two tea bags and said, running his eyes along the full length of Merlin's body and giving up, thinking, time's up because an hour here or there made no difference in the long run. "This is a state of the art kitchen and you're treating it like a youth centre."

Merlin shrugged and bounced his bare feet together. "You said to make myself at home. This is what I would do if this were my home." He licked his lips and grinned at Arthur.

Arthur couldn't help himself. Abandoning the mugs on the other counter he stepped closer, stopping when he was facing Merlin head on, bare centimetres between them. "You're too cheeky for your own good."

"I think you like it." Merlin hooked his foot around Arthur's thigh and Arthur let him pull him in. "I think you like me."

God, did he ever. Arthur enjoyed a long moment staring longingly at Merlin's lips before leaning in and taking them in an almost chaste kiss, groaning as Merlin curled a hand into Arthur's hair yanked him in, opening up for him, licking into his mouth, his other leg coming up to bracket Arthur.

Arthur couldn't remember a time when a kiss had been so much. It probably never had, always a short cut to the main event, never like this. Never desperate, sweet and so drawn out. Arthur never wanted to stop kissing Merlin, loving the needy noises he made in the back of his throat, the way his hand combed through Arthur's hair, the feel of Merlin's skin under Arthur's questing fingers as he traced just of his hipbones above his waistband.

The sudden blast of music, the intro to 'Livin' on a Prayer', surprised Arthur into pulling back. Merlin groaned and said, "Shit, sorry, that's my brother's ring tone, I have to take it," and slid out of Arthur's arms, pulling his phone from his jeans pocket and tapping the screen to answer. "Your timing stinks," he told the caller and vanished from the room leaving Arthur hard and frustrated.

"Timing fucking sucks," he grumbled and after taking a couple of deep breaths he went back to making a cuppa.

::::

Arthur didn't see Merlin again until Sunday. After his phone call he'd stuck his head into the lounge where Arthur was trying to distract himself with whatever was on the telly and told Arthur he was sorry but he had to go out and that had been it, the sound of the front door clicking closed and Arthur's frustration increasing tenfold. He'd ended up having an early night and a long wank but had lain awake listening for Merlin's return, wondering what it was that his brother had wanted that had called Merlin away so suddenly.

It was the first he'd heard of a brother but then, he hardly knew Merlin at all really did he? He didn't need to know a person well to sleep with them; in fact it was preferable not to get too close. The thing was, usually, he didn't want to know. What was different about Merlin that made Arthur want to throw out his rule book?

Arthur had eventually fallen asleep without hearing Merlin return, had woken that morning not even knowing if he had but had resisted taking a peek into his room and had instead, showered, dressed and gone down for breakfast.

Merlin had appeared from the direction of his bedroom just as Arthur's toast popped out of the toaster. "Morning," he said, scratching the back of his neck and sliding onto a stool. "Is that for me?" His grin was wide and Arthur rolled his eyes, put the toast onto a plate and slid it over to Merlin, putting the knife and butter in front of him before putting more bread in for more toast. "Thanks. Is there any coffee?"

"I didn't realise I'd been promoted to your manservant overnight."

Merlin laughed, reaching for the knife. "You'd be a terrible manservant. You don't even wash your own socks."

"I'm providing valuable employment with those socks." Arthur reached for a mug and poured Merlin some coffee. He wondered if Merlin would mention the kiss last night or if it was going to hang over their heads until Arthur cracked.

"I hope you pay Mary well. She'll need the danger money."

Arthur held up the coffee mug. "I can only assume that you don't want this coffee because if you did, you'd be nicer to me. I can always pour this coffee down the sink."

Merlin finished buttering his toast and focused on Arthur. "You wouldn't dare. Coffee helps heal broken bones."

Arthur snorted and put the mug down in front of Merlin before pouring himself another. "I must have missed that in biology class."

"S'true," Merlin said around a mouthful of toast. "It heals everything."

Arthur laughed, "You might have a point," because he did love his caffeine. He watched Merlin for a moment. "Is everything okay with your brother?"

Merlin's face fell. He took a sip of coffee and said, "He wants me come and work in the family business. I've…helped out a few times in the past and he thinks I ought to commit to it, but—it's not what I want." He fidgeted with the mug's handle. "I'd told him 'no' already. He was just having another go."

"What kind of business is it?" Arthur wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to find out more about Merlin when it presented itself.

Merlin shrugged. "It's kind of sales, too boring to go into." He took another bite of his toast and said, "Your sister's a bit fierce, do you get on?"

"Morgana's got a heart of gold underneath all the sharp edges. Just don't tell her I said so because I appreciate my balls exactly where they are."

Merlin snorted as Arthur's toast popped up and he busied himself buttering it, sitting down opposite Merlin. He could feel Merlin looking at him and felt the pull of disappointment when he stood and loaded his plate into the dishwasher.

When Merlin jumped up and sat on the counter again in the same spot he'd been in the night before Arthur wasn't sure what to think until Merlin said, "What was it we were talking about before we were rudely interrupted last night?"

Their eyes met and Arthur pushed his half eaten toast away, stood and rounded the breakfast bar to stand in front of Merlin. "You were saying how much you thought I liked you and then you kissed me."

"I kissed you? That's not how I remember it."

Arthur stepped closer, his heart going wild in his chest. Merlin's gaze flicked to his lips and before Arthur had chance to respond Merlin had wrapped his left hand around the back of his neck and pulled him in, kissing him firmly on the mouth, making space between his thighs for Arthur just as he had the previous night. "My phone's off," Merlin said into Arthur's mouth. It was as it had been last night, from almost chaste to desperate in seconds, fingers in hair, the feeling of never wanting it to end. Merlin somehow scooted forwards, legs tightening around Arthur's waist, hardness pressing into Arthur's stomach, constrained within his jeans.

Arthur wanted to see him, to take the heavy weight of his cock in his hand and coax him to come all over his hand. Without breaking the kiss he lowered Merlin's zip and put his hand inside but the angle was all wrong, so he cupped Merlin's arse and lifted, walking him over to the table. He lowered him to the floor and pulling his jeans down to his knees, seeing his cock bob free and proud, red at the tip and leaking. God, he was just so—fuck. "Off," he rasped, tugging at Merlin's jeans and Merlin complied, kicking them off before crossing his arms and pulling off his t-shirt, getting it stuck on his plaster cast for a moment before it joined the jeans on the floor. Arthur's mouth went dry at the sight. Merlin was pale and lean with dusting of light hair on his chest, his nipples pink and inviting, stomach flat and his cock utter perfection. Jesus.

Merlin hooked the forefinger of his left hand into one of Arthur's belt loops and pulled him closer, fumbling with the button until Arthur pushed his hand away and did it for him, stepping out of his jeans and boxers and socks all in one go, letting Merlin pull his t-shirt over his head.

"Get on the table," Arthur said, aligning his body with Merlin and backing him up, stalling when Merlin kissed him, their cocks pressed together between their bodies and Arthur's last coherent thought abandoned him. Somehow he lifted Merlin onto the table and settled himself between Merlin's thighs, licking his palm and wrapping his hand around both of their cocks, finding a slow rhythm as he leant in to kiss Merlin again before pulling back, staring down at his hand and the tips of their cocks as he moved his fist around them, staring at Merlin as he did the same, their eyes meeting and staying locked as Arthur picked up his pace, his breathing speeding up, heart pounding out of his chest. Merlin's legs curled around the back of Arthur's thighs and one of his fingers traced the top of his thigh, parting his cheeks and skating over his hole and, "Merlin, fuck."

"Faster, Arthur," Merlin said, eyes still on Arthur's, a bare rim of blue visible around his pupils. "Gonna come, can't—"

Merlin's eyes looked golden when he came.

Arthur could feel his own orgasm building, rising through him slowly, letting him chase it, almost, just out of reach until Merlin circled his hole again and that was all Arthur needed, spurting between them, milking both of them until Merlin groaned, "No more," his head dropping forward onto Arthur's shoulder. "Take me to bed."

Arthur thought that was an excellent idea.

::::

Arthur woke up an hour or so later with Merlin wrapped around him, long limbs entwined with his, nose against his chest. He took a moment to study Merlin's face, the painful youthfulness of him, his features an unlikely combination that shouldn't work but had defied nature and had come together to form a beauty like none other Arthur had ever seen.

Lance's text from that morning came back to poke him. Arthur didn't 'keep' people. The last time he had woken up with someone in his bed had been back in uni and that had been as a result of alcohol rather than a desperate desire to be with that person. He didn't do this. Ever. Yet—here he was.

Merlin stirred, wriggled closer and his renewed erection poked nicely into Arthur's thigh. Arthur's own cock twitched in definite interest. He'd make an exception for Merlin, not least because Merlin was staying in his flat, he could hardly ask him to go to his own bed now.

"Mmmmmng." Merlin lifted his head, eyes drafting open. He smiled. "Hello."

"Hello."

Merlin shifted upward, skin sliding against skin, pressing a kiss on Arthur's jaw. "Want you," he said between kisses. "Fuck me?"

"Seeing as you ask so nicely," Arthur said, reluctantly rolling away from Merlin to grab a condom and the lube from the bedside drawer. He tore open the lube with his teeth and coated his fingers, placing the condom on the pillow and ducked down, kissing a trail along Merlin's jaw, nuzzling into his neck before moving lower and lower until he was mouthing a sharp hipbone as Merlin threaded fingers through Arthur's hair, bucking up as Arthur tasted his cock, swiping a teasing tongue over the tip as he circled Merlin's hole and revelled in Merlin's gasp and how he tightened his fingers in his Arthur's hair.

Merlin's thighs fell apart and Arthur slowly prepared Merlin's pretty hole, one finger, two, drowning in Merlin's heady scent and his soft groans, tugging on Arthur's hair, revelling in this part as he never had before, three fingers, four, Merlin saying, "Arthur, come on, please, I'm ready," and Arthur crawling back upwards, kissing Merlin into silence before kneeling back between his legs, his breathing ragged and his cock so hard it was painful. He arranged Merlin's legs over his shoulders, amazed at his own patience as part of him was screaming to get on with it where the other said to take it slower, make it last.

"You're a needy thing aren't you?" Arthur lined his cock up and guided himself in, watching Merlin bite his lip at the intrusion. Arthur bent forwards, folding Merlin almost into two and kissed the discomfort off Merlin's face, stilling when he was fully inside, watching Merlin's reaction.

"Don't stop," Merlin whispered, eyes locked on Arthur's. His cock was flat against his stomach, trapped between the two of them, sticky against Arthur's belly. "Never stop."

It was all the invitation Arthur needed, pulling back out and slamming back in, shunting Merlin up the bed, causing him to reach out with his good hand and wrap it around one of the posts. That only left his injured hand free and Arthur knew Merlin couldn't bring himself off with it at the moment. He found he liked the idea that Merlin might come from Arthur's cock alone. He fucked up again, and again, kissing Merlin hard, loving the feel of his ankles on his shoulders, harder and faster, Merlin's breathing getting more laboured, his soft moans becoming louder and turning into pleas of more, and yes yes yes and Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. Again and again and with more force, his orgasm built slowing then exploded out of him when Merlin came without any real warning other than another, "Arthur!", clenching around him as he spilled his come over both of their bellies. Arthur buried his face in Merlin's neck, gasping his name as he succumbed.

They lay there, still joined, as they gathered their breath. Slowly Arthur eased himself out of Merlin and lowered his heavy limbs to the bed. He pulled off the condom and lobbed it towards the bin, collapsing next to Merlin, already feeling the pull of sleep clawing at him again despite it still being Sunday morning.

"I never knew it'd be like that," Merlin said, curling back into Arthur just as he had been when they'd woken up before. "'M glad it was you."

Arthur was drifting into slumber when the words registered, sending a sharp stab of possessiveness into his bones.

He was Merlin's first.

::::

"Someone looks pleased with themselves," Morgana said, gliding into the conference room and setting down a couple of folders on the table before helping herself to a coffee from the trolley and sitting down next to Arthur. "You fucked the courier then."

"Morgana!" Arthur glanced at the door to make sure there no one else was about to enter. He sighed, knowing better than to attempt to lie about it to Morgana, she had some kind of freaky sixth sense when it came to knowing Arthur's business. "Can you just accept that you're right, as usual, and never mention it again?"

"Good for you, Arthur." Morgana elbowed him in the ribs. "Though you realise don't you that broken bones taken about eight weeks to heal, so you'll be bored of him before you can move him out."

"I won't—" I won't get bored of him. They'd spent the rest of their waking time on Sunday making work for Arthur's cleaner by besmirching various surfaces in the flat for Merlin's second time, third… before collapsing exhausted into bed, by nine, too tired to do anything else. He'd learnt that while he was Merlin's first fuck he wasn't Merlin's first lover. That he was jealous of some faceless nameless blokes was not something he wanted to think about. "I'm not talking about this. If you insist on gossiping instead of helping me prepare for this meeting, let's talk about you and Zane. How was the date?"

Morgana flushed. Morgana. "You're not the only one with a house guest," she said, staring it out when Arthur's eyes went wide and he nearly choked on his coffee.

"You moved him in? Morgana—"

"No, he just hasn't gone home yet, not the same thing. He's between jobs at the moment—that's what he was doing in the building last week, he'd come for an interview—so—"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "My my, you are roughing it aren't you?"

"I assure you that there is nothing rough about him."

"I want to meet him." The man had already broken all records of longevity where Morgana was concerned. He had to have some kind of magic dick or something.

"No."

"Good morning!" Geoffrey rumbled into the room with his assistant Ethan on his heels. "Sorry I'm late, the report jammed the printer." That was when Arthur noticed what had to be at least two hundred A4 pages in Ethan's arms. Suddenly the rest of the day stretched out before him like he was a runner at the start line of a marathon.

"We'll talk about this later," he said to Morgana, pretending he didn't see her reply when she flipped him the bird under the table.

::::

Merlin met him at the door when he got in that night, long after seven o'clock, brain almost numb after several hours in the conference room with Geoffrey and that sodding report. A few minutes later Arthur's brain didn't matter because Merlin had sucked it out of his cock with Arthur back against his own front door.

Merlin could stay forever if he did that every time Arthur walked in through the front door.

After dinner Arthur fucked him long and slow on the sofa, pulling a throw over them afterwards, tracing his thumbs over Merlin's hipbones as he spooned him from behind in the aftermath.

"For someone who'd never done that before yesterday you've taken to it well," Arthur said, splaying his hands over Merlin's flat stomach. There was something empowering about knowing he'd been the first person to fuck Merlin even if his wasn't the first cock Merlin had had in his mouth.

"You're a good teacher," Merlin teased, long fingers closed around Arthur's. "And I'm told practice makes perfect."

"Well we can practice whenever you want."

They lay quietly for a while, until Merlin's phone buzzed the arrival of a text message on the coffee table and jarred Arthur out of his semi daze. Merlin didn't reach for his phone, just burrowed back against Arthur with a sigh.

"So how'd you end up working as a courier?" Arthur felt a twinge of guilt for going in with an inquisition when Merlin was all fucked out and more likely to talk.

"Jobs a job," Merlin said. "I left school at fifteen without any qualifications. I have to take what work I can."

"Fifteen? Why?" Arthur was shocked. Merlin was sharp and articulate and he'd seen him with his head in a book so he highly doubted Merlin had literacy problems.

He felt Merlin go rigid in his arms before he rolled off the sofa onto the floor and scrambled to his feet, standing before Arthur all long naked limbs and kissable skin. "I'd rather not talk about it." He picked up his clothes from the floor and held them in front of himself. "I'm going to bed. Alone, if you don't mind." He disappeared upstairs, almost as if he'd never been there, Arthur too surprised to try and stop him. Surprised at Merlin's reaction and surprised at himself at how much he wanted to know Merlin's story.

Sleeping apart tonight was probably for the best anyway. Arthur had gone from never sharing a bed with another person waking up with someone wrapped around him. Too much of that would make it difficult to sever his ties to Merlin when the time came. Morgana's warning about broken bones taking eight weeks to heal reverberated in his head and he sat up to reach for his jeans to get his phone out of his pocket to Google.

Six to eight weeks Google told him. Right. Well, when it all fizzled out between them Arthur would fund Merlin's stay in a hotel until he found another job. With Arthur's usual attention span being between two and four weeks the inevitable fizzle could come at any time anyway, it was pointless to worry about when that might be. He just needed to enjoy the moment. At least with Merlin sleeping alone in the spare room Arthur would get some sleep tonight.

Every cloud.

::::

The rest of the week passed in a haze of pleasant exhaustion. Merlin had acted as though Monday night hadn't happened and had been as responsive as before on Tuesday night when Arthur had arrived home to find Merlin sitting cross legged on the floor in front of the coffee table with his lap top in front of him looking at photographs. When Arthur had come in he'd snapped the lid closed and smiled brilliantly, saying, "You're home early."

"I don't always get back as late as I did last night," Arthur said, not admitting that wanting to get back to Merlin was something of an incentive. His gaze flicked to Merlin's lips briefly before he asked, "Dinner or a good fucking?"

Merlin stood up, pulling his t-shirt over his head as he stepped forward. "A good fucking please."

They didn't get anything to eat until nearly midnight, if half a Kit-Kat each in bed counted as eating.

On Wednesday Merlin wasn't home when Arthur got back from work and Arthur stemmed his disappointment by ordering a take-away, enough for two, and going to take a shower. Merlin had slipped in behind him, mid wank, and finished him off with his mouth. After that they'd eaten the Chinese take-away naked at the breakfast bar—Merlin had intercepted the delivery guy in the lobby on his way back in—and Merlin had spent that night in Arthur's bed too.

By the time Friday rolled around Arthur realised that he'd completely forgotten about this bloke who'd got his feet under Morgana's table, and was just thinking of going down to her office to investigate when Freya said when she stuck her head in to say goodnight, "What did you get Merlin for his birthday?"

"It's Merlin's birthday?"

The look Freya gave him was scathing. "Only his twenty-first."

"How the hell do you know this stuff?" Arthur had checked Merlin's birth year that time but he hadn't paid attention to the date.

"I'm the one who dealt with the invoice from the hospital, remember? It's all on there."

"Fuck." What was he supposed to do about the birthday of the bloke he who was living in his flat and sleeping in his bed? "What do I do?"

Freya's glare turned to sympathy. "You really are hopeless. Do you want me to book you a table at The Bay Tree?"

"Freya, you are a life saver."

::::

The Bay Tree was very busy and Arthur's booking had come in last minute, but his name was Pendragon and they'd still given him one of the best tables by the window with views over the park and the river beyond it.

Merlin slid into the booth and looked around him, scanning the room before relaxing into a smile and saying, "So what's the occasion?"

"Did you plan on telling me that today was your birthday?"

The smile fell off Merlin's face and he shifted uncomfortably. "I don't bother with it."

"It's your twenty-first."

Merlin shrugged. "It's just a day and twenty-one is just a number."

Arthur took Merlin's good hand where it was clenched next to his side plate. "This is just dinner."

Merlin gave him a tiny smile as the sommelier appeared. "Do you want wine, Merlin?"

Merlin shook his head. "I'm more of a Yuengling man."

Arthur nodded at the waiter, holding up two fingers. He didn't care that etiquette would be to order the damned beer from a different waiter.

"You're quite the mystery, Merlin Emrys," Arthur said, running his thumb over Merlin's inner wrist. He was a mystery that Arthur desperately wanted to crack. "We don't have to stay here, we can go somewhere else if you prefer, or back to the flat."

"This is fine. It's nice." He shifted his chair closer to the table and glanced nervously around them.

"Yes, well, I like it." Camelot used The Bay Tree for entertaining clients, so when Freya had suggested it Arthur hadn't thought that perhaps Merlin might prefer somewhere a little less formal, perhaps with less chance of being papped when they left. "I can recommend the chicken or—"

"I don't eat meat," Merlin said, surprising Arthur. He'd lived under the same roof as Arthur for a week and he hadn't even noticed that. Obviously his mind had been elsewhere. Merlin snapped the menu shut. "I like the look of the green risotto."

The waiter came over with the beer and Arthur ordered for them and ordering a vegetarian antipasti to start. He realised he was still holding Merlin's hand and pulled back, making a thing of shaking out his napkin and putting it on his lap.

"So, what would you do with your life if money was no object and you didn't have to take the first job on offer?"

Merlin's reply was instantaneous. "Photographer."

"Really? Like fashion?"

Merlin snorted. "No. Like an artist. Like Michael Kenna or Ansel Adams, someone like that."

Arthur tried not to look as though he didn't know who Merlin was talking about but his confusion must have shown on his face.

"You've never even heard of Ansel Adams? You're some kind of philistine."

"I like art I've just never taken the time to you know—"

"You've never been to an art exhibition? Not even the permanent collections? You live in London, there're hundreds to choose from."

"We went to the Tate when I was at school, before the Tate Modern opened though."

Merlin shook his head, laughing. "You're hopeless. Please tell me you're into music or film?"

"Does knowing all the lines to Star Wars count?"

"Utterly hopeless."

"I like American cop dramas and I'm partial to Game of Thrones and not even just for Jon Snow." He raised an eyebrow at Merlin and got the grin he was aiming for, ignoring the way his heart sped up at the sight.

The antipasti arrived and for a few minutes silence reigned as they ate, but the way that Merlin was looking at him…the way Merlin was licking his lips—Arthur just wanted to get him back home again—and fast.

Arthur's appetite faded. His appetite for Merlin on the other hand was unprecedented.

Their eyes locked over the table and Arthur was about to suggest they ditch their main courses and go home when 'Livin' on a Prayer' blared out and Merlin, face colouring, muttered, "Sorry, sorry," and pulled his iPhone out of his pocket and killed the call. "Shit. It rings that rarely I'd forgotten it was on." He stared down the screen, chewing his lip.

The waiter came over and cleared their plates away.

"Your brother again?"

Merlin switched the phone to silent and stuffed it back into his pocket. "Yes and it's nothing that can't wait." Blue eyes raised to Arthur's, a smile curving upwards. "Do you want to get out of here?"

"Let's go." Anticipation twisted through Arthur. He signalled the waiter, asking him to cancel their order and bring the bill. There was no argument even though the food would probably go to waste now. Arthur threw more some notes onto the table without waiting for the bill and they stood, Arthur's hand going to the small of Merlin's back without a thought, anticipation of what would happen when they returned home fuelling him.

"Arthur, what a surprise to see you here tonight."

Fuck fuck fuck fuck. They'd reached the waiting area by the bar where people were milling around and enjoying a drink whilst waiting to be seated. Of all the people to run into. "Hello, Uncle."

Beneath his hand Arthur felt Merlin stiffen. Agravaine was dressed in his favoured smart casual, which for him meant tailored trousers, a shirt in a colour that wasn't white—on this occasion pale blue—with a jumper tied loosely over his shoulders in a style that Arthur had genuinely never seen on anybody else outside of those catalogues Morgana used to get when she was a teenager.

Agravaine's companion was an old family friend, Rod Nemeth—who was also Leon's father-in-law now that he'd married Rod's daughter and old friend of Arthur's, Mithian. "Hello, Arthur," Rod said, holding out a hand for Arthur to shake. "How are you, son?"

Arthur had always liked Rod, but right now, when he and Merlin had cut short their meal to head home and—well, Arthur hoped he didn't sound too short when he said, "I'm very well, thanks, Rod. It's good to see you."

"Who's your friend?" Agravaine asked with his eyes narrowed on Merlin, obviously having seen the way Arthur was touching him. His uncle had long since got over Arthur being bisexual, in fact it had been surprising how unfazed he had been by it, unlike Uther, but there had never been a time when his uncle had met one of Arthur's flings and there hadn't been anyone Arthur had been with long enough to merit an introduction to his family.

"This is Merlin Emrys. He's staying with me while his wrist heals. We were just heading home now." Arthur deliberately neglected to mention his own role in causing Merlin's injury in the first place. "Merlin this is my uncle, Agravaine Dubois and Rod Nemeth, a family friend."

Arthur glanced at Merlin as he said, "Pleasure to meet you, sir," and held out his injured hand without a thought. Agravaine barely touched the tips of his fingers for his handshake. Rod was less delicate, grasping Merlin's plaster cast with a two handed grip and shaking firmly.

"So nice to see that you've finally met someone, Arthur," he boomed, eyes twinkling.

"I—" Arthur's automatic denial was cut off by his uncle.

"You look awfully familiar, Mr Emrys," Agravaine said, staring at Merlin intently. "You're not related to a Michael Delaney are you?"

"I don't know anyone of that name," Merlin replied, pale under Agravaine's scrutiny. "I don't have any living blood relatives that I know of."

"Hmmm," Agravaine said, still not taking his eyes off Merlin. "Well, seems you have a near doppelgänger out there somewhere."

"We really should get going," Arthur said, forcing a smile. "I'll see you on Sunday for lunch though, Uncle?" Arthur had dined with his uncle at Dubois Manor the last Sunday of alternate months since he'd left home at eighteen. He didn't enjoy it much but his uncle was his last connection to his mother and Arthur didn't want to lose that.

"Yes, of course—be sure to remind Morgana that I expect her there as well."

"I'll be sure to do that. Goodbye, Uncle Agravaine —Rod." Arthur steered Merlin towards the door and out into the warm summer evening outside.

"Your uncle is very—" Merlin began, seemingly searching for the right adjective. "Intense."

"Yes, he can be," Arthur said, pulling out his phone to call his driver—after the crash the other day Arthur didn't think Merlin would appreciate being a passenger in the very same car so had invoked the company limo for the evening. "Sorry about that."

"'S fine," Merlin said in a near whisper as the limo pulled up. Arthur opened the door and Merlin slid inside with him following directly behind. Arthur directed the driver to return to his flat and Merlin continued, chewing his barely healed lip, "Who is Michael Delaney?"

"I'm not sure. I've a vague recollection of Agravaine telling me about his friend Olaf's daughter, Vivian, getting caught in flagrante with her father's gardener by her husband of less than a week, I'm sure he said the gardener's name was Michael. He was apparently very young and pretty—notunlike you."

"Think I'm pretty do you?" Arthur found himself with a lapful of Merlin. "I don't think I can wait until we get home."

The drive home, at this time of night, would be less than ten minutes. "Neither can I." Arthur leant forwards—not easy with Merlin straddling him—and pressed the intercom. "Pelinor, drive around until further notice please."

Arthur undid Merlin's fly and pushed his trousers down as far as they would go before flipping him onto his back across the seat and pulling them down to his ankles, removing his shoes and socks as he threw the trousers into the foot well before undoing his own and pulling out his already erect cock, giving it a reverent stroke and reaching into his suit pocket for a condom and a packet of lube.

Merlin squirmed as Arthur stretched him, watching him silently until apparently he could take no more, reaching for Arthur and kissing him desperately, breathing into him, "Come on, I want it, please."

It was awkward, even in the back of a car as big as this one, probably would have been easier to have Merlin ride him but Arthur wanted him like this, spread out before him, panting his name, feeling an intense sense of possessive want when he bent Merlin in half, preparing him quickly as Merlin was still stretched from earlier and arranged his legs over his shoulders in a parody of their first time. Arthur was still wearing his suit, several thousands of pounds worth of it, Merlin's feet on his shoulders as Arthur pushed inside.

During the week since they'd first fucked Merlin had grown bolder and less shy about telling Arthur what he wanted, and what he wanted now was for Arthur to "Get the hell on with it, I want to feel it tomorrow," and Arthur was more than happy to comply.

When Arthur finally got his breath back to ask Pelinor to head home, Merlin wriggling back into his clothes next to him before slumping against him exhausted, Arthur knew with a disturbing certainty that for the first time in his life he was truly in trouble.

::::

One week blended into two.

Arthur went to lunch at Dubois Manor on Sunday. Morgana arrived late with a flush to her neck that told a whole different story than her excuse about being stuck in traffic. Agravaine asked Arthur about his intentions towards Merlin, which was possibly an even more awkward conversation than his coming out—"I don't have intentions, Uncle, he's just a house guest," and Morgana's low, "Of course he is," leading to Arthur saying, "I'm not the only one with a house guest," and the attention was satisfyingly deflected to Morgana.

Arthur didn't stay for after dinner coffee.

He was still no closer to working Merlin out. Merlin who ate dinner with him and slept in his bed every night, who would ask Arthur about his day and his life but give nothing away about his own in anything more than tiny snippets; jogging with Lance, attempting to cook dinner and burning it…who Arthur couldn't get enough of both in and out of bed.

Arthur knew Merlin didn't like celebrating his birthday, but not why; he was going crazy without being able to hold his any of his cameras properly but shrank into himself when Arthur asked to see his work. He'd let slip that his mother had died when he was very young, because Arthur had told him about his own mother and that his Merlin's father had never been in the picture.

Merlin liked questionable rock music and hated soaps. His tattoo was a Triskele dragon that Merlin said he'd seen a crude version of carved in a Neolithic monument in Northumbria. He loved America's Next Top Model, tarka dhal, cats and he carried a piece of granite in his pocket at all times; Arthur didn't know why. He hated being stuck indoors all day and would go out for hours at a time whilst Arthur was at work, exploring London and, as Merlin worded it, all the hidden spaces between the cracks. Arthur knew this because Merlin would send him pictures of things he'd see from his phone, like a fallen tree in the park, an empty playground, a gargoyle on the side of an old forgotten building; all of them a work of art.

He had no vanity, liked wearing Arthur's clothes around the flat if he had to wear any at all and he knew how to turn Arthur on like no one else ever had.

Arthur arrived home on the third Friday night since the accident to find that Merlin wasn't home. The flat echoed around Arthur, empty and cold and Arthur started to think that the few weeks it was going to take for Merlin's wrist to heal was going to be nowhere near long enough and the thought dropped like a stone into the base of his belly.

It was after nine when Merlin got back, Arthur was lounged on the sofa in his slob clothes, trying to concentrate on whatever was on the telly and he wanted to demand, where have you been, why didn't you leave me a note?

Merlin leant back against the door, the key to the flat dangling from his good hand and Arthur took one look at Merlin's face, pale with red rimmed eyes and all thoughts of himself faded and concern for Merlin took hold. "What's happened?" Arthur rolled to his feet, striding over to Merlin in two long steps, tipping his chin and forcing Merlin to meet his eyes.

"'M fine," Merlin said, trying to avert his gaze.

"You're a long way from 'fine', Merlin," Arthur said, taking the keys from Merlin and throwing them towards the coffee table. "Merlin?"

"Just distract me," Merlin said, voice hoarse, turning his head and nuzzling into Arthur's hand. "Please, Arthur."

Arthur nodded and took Merlin's hand, leading him into the bedroom and peeling off his clothes, kissing each newly exposed part of his body before pushing Merlin down on the bed and climbing between his legs, closing his hand around Merlin's cock as he watched Merlin's eyes flutter closed and his face relax. Arthur ran his thumb over the head of Merlin's cock, catching the sticky precome that already gathered there and lifting it to his mouth to taste, closing his eyes for a moment to savour it.

When he opened his eyes Merlin was watching him with heavy lids. Arthur smiled, leant forward to kiss him until Merlin was gasping into him and then he kissed a path down Merlin's stomach and took his cock in his mouth, barely coming up for breath until Merlin had come, somehow managing to release his own cock from the confines of his trackies and bring himself off at the same time, coming all over Merlin's stomach, his orgasm a slow burn born from watching Merlin's face as Arthur blew him. Jesus.

"Are you going to tell me what's bothering you now?" Arthur said after a while as they lay sated on his bed, both of them sticky and too hot to pull the covers over them, Merlin's long limbs entwined with his. He threaded his fingers through Merlin's and pressed a kiss to his jaw.

Merlin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again he looked resigned. "I went back to my home town to visit the graveyard. It's the seven year anniversary of my aunt and uncle's death and I haven't been able to go before."

"You were close?" Arthur squeezed Merlin's hand.

"Yes. Gaius and Alice raised me. Gaius was my mum's uncle really and he'd already retired by the time they took responsibility for me when my mum died of cancer. I was nearly four. They didn't have to take me in, but they did, put all their retirement plans to see more of the world on hold to move to Ealdor and take care of me." Merlin squeezed Arthur's hand back. "I'd been with them a couple of years when Alice's nephew came to live with us. He's almost three years older; since that first day he's been my brother and my best friend.

"Anyway, the four of us, we were happy. Gaius and Alice did their best for us, clothed us, fed us, took us on holidays—always in this country apart from one month long trip to Ireland in the summer holidays," Merlin laughed. "Gaius had an interest in standing stones and old Neolithic monuments, that kind of thing—I'm pretty sure there aren't any on this rock I haven't visited.

"Then it all went to shit. Gaius and Alice went out for their wedding anniversary and got a taxi home. The taxi driver had been drinking. The police said they died instantly but that's something they say to make the family feel better, right?"

"Or it could be the truth."

"I hope so."

"How old were you when they died?" Arthur asked, but he thought he knew the answer. Merlin had left school at fifteen, that couldn't be a coincidence.

"Fifteen. They put me in foster care but because my brother was nearly eighteen they put him in a home over a hundred miles away. We didn't see each other for nearly three months. My foster family wouldn't let me have a phone or use theirs, I couldn't even talk to him." Merlin burrowed closer to Arthur. "It was the worst time of my life."

Arthur's heart started to break for Merlin. "What happened?"

"I'd got it all planned, got my bag packed, I was gonna go and find him but he beat me to it, had finally managed to find out where I was. After that it was just the two of us. He took care of me, we…got by. Once he turned eighteen it was easier."

"Where is he now?"

"Here, in London. I— I told you he wants me to go and work with him and I don't want to. He's not happy with me and things are a bit tense at the moment. I haven't seen him since before I came to stay here. I was living with him but when we fell out I went to stay with a mate from work, Will, and he lives in a house share. His house mates wanted their sofa back…and here I am."

Arthur wanted to wrap Merlin in his arms and never let go and it was an intensely scary feeling. "I don't blame you for being upset after the day you've had," he said, tracing a finger over Merlin's tattoo.

"It wasn't the graveyard that upset me, not really, I took some flowers, spent an hour there talking to them—it was almost nice. No, when I was on my way back to the station I bumped into an old friend our next door neighbour, Matthew. He told me that Gaius' solicitor has been trying to find me since I left. Gaius has left me his house and all his worldly goods, basically. All this time we've—never mind. It just—it seems I have a house."

"In Ealdor?" Arthur didn't want to think about why he felt as though he'd been kicked in the gut at the thought of Merlin moving back to Ealdor to claim his inheritance.

"No. I don't know where—Matthew didn't know the details. The solicitor had been asking all the old neighbours if they knew what had happened to me and that's all Matthew knew. Gaius and Alice rented the house in Ealdor after they moved there from London to take care of me so it could be anywhere. I'll contact the solicitor tomorrow."

"I know about property, Merlin. If you need any help, please ask."

"Thanks, Arthur." Merlin kissed his jaw again, wriggling out of Arthur's arms. "Shower?"

Arthur's cock stirred at the invitation. "You bet."

::::

Two weeks turned into three, four…five.

Arthur clicked the door of Morgana's office closed and arranged himself in one of the chairs opposite the desk and said, "Do you still have a house guest?" He'd asked the same question once a week since Morgana had told him about Zane. Arthur couldn't bring himself to say Zane without putting air quotes around it so he avoided saying it at all. In his head a bloke named Zane was one of those blokes in a muscle vest that hung around the weights in the gym.

Morgana made a point of clicking her mouse a few times, staring at her computer screen pointedly, only deigning to look at Arthur after a long couple of minutes during which time Arthur turned to stare at the view of London outside the windows.

"Good morning, Arthur," Morgana said eventually. "Yes, I do have a house guest, thank you for asking. Do you?" She raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow and Arthur deflated.

"You know I do."

"And how is Merlin?"

Merlin had taken the train to Ealdor again today to meet with his uncle's solicitor. Arthur had offered to drive him there but Merlin had refused, saying it was something he needed to do for himself.

"He's healing well. I don't think he'll be with me much longer." In normal circumstances Arthur would be bored stupid after five weeks—in fact wouldn't have made it this far— and would have ended things with the person he was sleeping with and enjoying time to himself before the next lover walked into his life. Instead Merlin had slept in Arthur's bed every night apart from that one back at the start. They couldn't get enough of one another, and since Merlin had opened up about his childhood the other week he'd stopped hiding.

Arthur didn't want anyone else. At some point over the last few weeks Merlin had well and truly wormed his way under Arthur's skin—if and if he was truly honest with himself Arthur would admit that it had happened before that. He'd been pretty much obsessed with him from day one.

"Ask him to stay," Morgana said, her usual mocking tone completely serious.

"Ask him to stay, just like that?" Merlin may have shown more of himself to Arthur but he'd shown no sign of having any kind of actual feelings for him. He talked of their living arrangements like they were temporary and Arthur each time he mentioned the future, the one where he wasn't living under Arthur's roof, Arthur died a little bit inside.

"You love him don't you?"

And there it was. He was so so fucked. How did Morgana know?

"Are you talking about me or you?" If Arthur wasn't in the same boat as Morgana he'd be mocking her so hard right now.

"I'm talking about both of us, dear brother. Common ground at last."

Despite the emotions whirring around in his head Arthur couldn't help laughing. "Apart from having the same father and a shared upbringing you mean?"

"Apart from that, yes." Morgana's lips twitched. "Now, about the Tudor Hotel…"

::::

"You're not going to believe this. Gaius' house is in Wimbledon, somewhere called Arthur Road would you believe? It was rented out by Gaius when he moved to Ealdor so they just kept the same tenants and when they went the solicitor found someone else." Merlin climbed up onto a stool and leant his elbows on the breakfast bar, watching Arthur as he threw spices into the saucepan. He was making a veggie curry for dinner, needing something to keep himself busy whilst he waited for Merlin to come home, his conversation with Morgana running on a loop in his head. "It's apparently worth about three million. Three million! Gaius bought it back in the sixties apparently as it's not like he was rich. There's some money as well, but that's mostly just savings and from the rent of the house since he and Alice died. The solicitor is waiting to get an up to date statement."

"That's great, Merlin. You certainly won't have to go back to the couriers now." Arthur stared into the saucepan as though it might catch fire if he turned his attention elsewhere. His heart raced. Ask him to stay.

"You have no idea what this feels like. It's like freedom. Not having to worry about money means I don't have to— I can try to make a living with my photography and if I don't make any money it won't matter because I won't have to worry about rent and bills and all the boring stuff. Crikey, I'll be nearly as rich as you."

"I don't know, Merlin, I am very rich," Arthur joked feebly, grabbing the bag of microwave rice and setting it to cook. "There's a bottle of wine in the fridge. Let's crack it open with dinner and celebrate."

"I can think of other ways of celebrating."

"After we've eaten, Merlin," Arthur said. "You'll waste away if you keep seducing me before dinner." After I've asked you to stay. He was a bag of nerves and quite honestly he didn't think his cock was going to work until he'd told Merlin how he felt.

He could barely believe he was actually going to do it.

"You're no fun," Merlin pouted but he went to the fridge for the wine anyway, grabbing a couple of glasses and setting them on the breakfast bar before fetching cutlery.

Arthur served up the curry and Merlin chattered animatedly about going to see the house he'd inherited and he didn't seem to notice that Arthur was barely saying a word until they'd finished eating and Merlin had pushed his plate to one side and reached for his glass. "You're quiet," he said. "I'm sorry I'm banging on. It's just—"

"Don't worry, I understand. It's good to see you happy. Have you told your brother?"

Merlin's face clouded with guilt. "He's not in the will. Gaius made it before my mum died; everything to my mum and if she wasn't around, to me." He fiddled with the stem of his glass. "I'm splitting it with him though, no question. Just—we still aren't exactly speaking, I mean I haven't cos it's all me, I've been ignoring his calls. I want to tell him about this but not until we're good again. Does that make sense?"

"Nothing about you makes sense." He curled his fingers over Merlin's, tips brushing the plaster.

Merlin snorted. "You say the loveliest of things." He curled threaded his fingers with Arthurs and squeezed.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, sneaking glances at one another and grinning inanely. Arthur felt a surge of confidence.

"Merlin, I've been thinking and—"

They'd finished eating and Merlin pushed his curry to one side. His fork clattered to the floor and he slid off his stool, bent down to pick up it up and put it on the plate before climbing back up again and taking a gulp of his wine.

Arthur felt like screaming in frustration at how this was going, but if he didn't say something now he wasn't sure when he'd find the courage to do it again. He was Arthur Pendragon, dubbed a lothario and a playboy by the tabloids, he'd dated models, actors, pop stars and even a princess, and he shouldn't be losing his way over a courier for fuck's sake. And yet, here he was.

Taking a deep breath he reached for Merlin's hand again and said, "You've had me reeling from the first time we met." He stared right into Merlin's eyes, hoping that all he was feeling would beam directly into Merlin's brain or something so that he wouldn't have to say the actual words.

"God, yeah, me too—I wanted you the moment I saw you and when I realised what was going on under that desk, fuck, it was all I thought about. I knew you had a reputation for being a bit of a player before I even met you—but I never once expected..." Arthur let go of Merlin's hand, feeling suddenly sick but he couldn't look away as Merlin continued, because apparently he was a masochist. "So who was it under the desk anyway? Are you still—you know—with them?"

So that was how Merlin saw him, someone who fucked about with more than one person at a time, as someone who might be sleeping with others while he had Merlin waiting at home for him. Arthur really was a fucking fool because what did that say about Merlin's motivation? "It was Sophia. I broke it off with her that same night. I don't—"

"That model, Sophia Taylor? Okay, wow, yeah, I heard you usually dated model types." Merlin ducked his head. "I wanted it to be me under there. When Freya waylaid me on the way out I had to hide my erection behind my bag. I had to wank in your company loos."

Merlin looked back up at him, chewing his lip and despite the churning in his gut and Arthur's earlier assumption that his cock wasn't going to work under duress, Merlin's admission that he'd had to wank after seeing Arthur that first time proved him wrong.

Apparently Merlin was just in this for the sex, just like Arthur was supposed to be before he went and fell in love. The fucking universe hated him. "God, Merlin," he managed, almost losing himself in the mental image of Merlin rushing into one of the cubicles in the loos in Camelot's reception, leaning back against the door and taking his cock out of those sinfully tight trousers and beating himself off to thoughts of Arthur, wishing he was under Arthur's desk. "You can't say things like that without consequences."

"What sort of consequences?"

Arthur wished he had the willpower to walk away and take some time out to re-evaluate.

"Come here."

::::

"I have to see the doctor tomorrow," Merlin said later that night as they watched a recording of Top Gear, Merlin's head in Arthur's lap. "Hopefully he'll say I can get my cast off."

Arthur's gut twisted. He reached for the remote and turned off the telly. "What are your plans after that?"

Merlin looked up at him, his old poker face back, fiddling with the hem of his jeans. "I hadn't thought about it. I can see if the solicitor can get me access to some money so I can rent somewhere."

It was now or never, even if Merlin was just in this thing for sex, if Arthur never did anything he'd never know. "Did you really believe I'd still be seeing Sophia at the same time as you?"

Okay, so that hadn't been where he'd been planning to start. He felt so out of control and he hated it.

Merlin sat up, moved to the end of the sofa and hugged his knees to his chest. He began to pick at tiny hole in one of the knees of his jeans, staring down at it awkwardly. It felt like forever before he met Arthur's eyes and said, "I'd hoped not but you've never said that this thing—" He waved his hand between them. "—was anything more than sex. I know you're not up for anything long term."

"I'm not usually up for anything longer than a fortnight," Arthur said. "I never sleep in the same bed as the person I'm seeing either."

Merlin's eyes widened. "Oh." He hugged his knees closer. "That changes things."

"So if I said this was more than sex to me?"

"I'd say it is for me too and has been for a while."

Arthur's pulse leapt. Did Merlin really feel the same? "You don't need to find another place, you can stay here."

Merlin didn't reply straight away, the silence stretching between them awkwardly as they regarded one another through it. Finally Merlin said, "How long for, Arthur?"

"As long as you want." Fuck this was harder than it was in the movies.

"Are you asking me to stay as a guest, or are you asking me to move in with you?"

"The second one. There's no one else, Merlin, it's only been you since that first day. This really is more than sex."

"No one else," Merlin repeated, chewing his lip and staring at his hands. "Crikey. I didn't expect this."

The silence resumed until Arthur was about to withdraw the whole thing and laugh it all off somehow, he didn't think he could wait a moment longer for a response, his insides were all wound up in an alien knot of anxiety. He wasn't used to wanting something so much, of feeling like his whole future was balanced on the edge of a knife.

Merlin said eventually, almost a whisper, "Yeah. Alright then, I'll stay."

Something inside Arthur unwound. He laughed, letting it bubble out of him almost uncontrollably, saying, "'Alright then?' Is that all I get?"

Merlin grinned, eyes lighting up. "You wanted fireworks? I can do that." No sooner had he said it than there was a bang and a pop from outside. Merlin took Arthur's hand and led him out onto the balcony to watch a display worthy of New Year's Eve over Sydney Harbour.

Arthur gaped. "How the hell..?"

"If we're going to do this then there are some things about me that you need to know." Merlin waggled his fingers theatrically. "I'm a bit of an anomaly. You'd better sit down for this."

They went back into the lounge and Merlin told Arthur about how he could move things with his mind, then he showed him…that he could change his appearance and look like another person, could slow down time and had done so when he'd been hit by Arthur's car but not fast enough to escape injury. "It's not all that useful most of the time, mainly because I can't just use it in front of anyone," Merlin said, watching Arthur nervously. "You're the only person I've told. Everyone else just found out."

Arthur snapped his mouth shut, struggling to process everything he'd just heard. Logically he should be running screaming but instead he thought he fell a little bit more in love right then and there. He leant in to kiss Merlin and threaded his fingers into his. "You're bloody amazing."

::::

The following morning Merlin made Arthur breakfast and they sat at the kitchen table together, Arthur taking the piss that Merlin had burnt the toast and drowned the cereal.

Merlin's laughter stilled suddenly and he said, "Are you going to tell your sister about us?"

"She already knows, she's in a similar boat. I just hope she doesn't get her heart broken by this Zane bloke," Arthur said, thinking to himself that he hoped the same for himself with Merlin.

"His name's Zane? You never mentioned that before."

"I know, it's a terrible name, right?"

"It's awful," Merlin agreed. "Is she serious about him then? I thought you said she changed blokes like most other people change their socks."

"She usually does. It's funny really; she met him the same day we first met."

"Really? Where?"

"She got stuck in the lift with him at work. It sounds like a bad porno doesn't it?"

Merlin crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared down at the table. "Does he work at Camelot then?"

Arthur frowned, concerned about Merlin's change in demeanour. "No, he was there for a job interview."

Merlin stared at the table, "You could say how we met was a bit like a porno as well."

"It beats meeting in a bar or on the internet as stories go though doesn't it?" Arthur reached for Merlin's hand and ran his thumb over his wrist.

Merlin looked up and smiled at him. "You could say that."

::::

The following day Arthur took the afternoon off and went home early, his head full of plans for the weekend, a drive to the coast with Merlin in the convertible and a stay in Drakes Hotel on Brighton sea front. Today was a gorgeous day that was supposed to turn into a beautiful weekend and that should not be wasted at work when it could be spent by the sea.

As he neared to the flat he decided to pick up a coffee with enough shots in to keep him from falling asleep on the sofa if Merlin wasn't back when he got home. He was almost at the café door when he caught sight of something through the window—someone¬ —in the corner of his eye, a shock of dark hair and pale skin, and it could have been anyone because Merlin certainly wasn't the only person with that colouring, but once he'd glanced into the window he realised it actually was Merlin. Merlin who was smiling across the table at another man, a very attractive one who had his hand on Merlin's newly healed wrist, who was smiling right back at Merlin all shaggy haired and unshaven.

Arthur felt as though all of the joy was leeching out of him, a slow trickle of dread as he stood outside that window for one minute, three, five minutes, frozen to the spot, for the first time in his twenty-eight years feeling true jealousy.

All Arthur could think was that he had told Merlin there was no one else; Merlin hadn't made a similar declaration.

He hadn't really thought it through when he tugged the door open and walked in, bypassing the counter and heading straight to Merlin's table.

"Hello, I didn't expect to see you here." Arthur looked at Merlin as he spoke and hoped that all the years of living with Uther Pendragon had paid off on his poker face. "I took the afternoon off and was just on my way back to the flat to see if you felt like heading to Brighton for the weekend."

He didn't miss Merlin and his companion sharing an alarmed look before Merlin smiled and stood, kissing Arthur on the cheek and taking his hand. "Arthur, this is my brother, Gwaine." He pulled Arthur to his side and grinned down at the man still sitting. "Gwaine this is Arthur."

Wary brown eyes stared up at him, assessing him. "Pleasure," he said, offering his hand. Arthur accepted his hand, looking right back at him.

Merlin stood. "I'll get some more drinks. Same again, Gwaine?"

Gwaine nodded and Merlin headed off without asking Arthur for his order. Arthur always had the same, strong and black with no sugar, Merlin hardly needed to ask. Arthur watched him go and pulled over a chair from the adjacent table.

"This is the part where I threaten to chop of your balls if you hurt him."

"This is where I reply that I have no intention of hurting him so you don't need to worry."

Gwaine's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. "See that you don't."

::::

They arrived back from Brighton on Monday lunchtime and Arthur had to go into the office to tie up a couple of loose ends before he took the rest of the week off. It had been over two years since he'd taken any holiday and the weekend in Brighton had been almost perfect, with Merlin reunited with his cherished Bronica camera and Arthur fascinated by watching him get excited about sunlight glinting off the waves and silhouettes of derelict piers. Arthur wasn't ready for the holiday feeling to end.

When he got back to the flat it was quiet. He headed to the kitchen to finally get that coffee he'd been in dire need of all afternoon. He'd just switched on the machine when there was a noise behind him and Merlin's voice saying, "Arthur?" as he shuffled into the kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of Arthur's jogging bottoms looking all sleep fuzzy and so fucking gorgeous Arthur had to shove his hands in his pockets to stop himself from reaching out to touch him when Merlin leant into him and pressed a kiss to his lips. "What time is it?"

"About half six. Coffee?"

"Yes please."

The sound of Arthur's phone ringing trilled through the relative quiet of the kitchen and Arthur sighed, taking it from his pocket to see Morgana's face lighting up his screen. "I'd better take this," he said. She hadn't been at the office that afternoon and he'd been avoiding her calls and hadn't read any of her—or anyone's—texts or listened to the voicemails he knew he'd have from her.

"Morgana," he said when he'd swiped to answer. He watched Merlin as he pulled himself up onto the kitchen counter, waggling his eyebrows at Arthur suggestively. Arthur hoped whatever Morgana wanted was going to be quick.

"Arthur—for fuck's sake, where have you been?"

"Sorry, I was—"

"Look, never mind. I've got you now. Look, is Merlin there?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, typical Morgana, demanding to know where he'd been then not waiting for the answer. He walked over to Merlin and inserted himself between his thighs, sliding one hand around the curve of his arse, holding his gaze. "Merlin's here."

"Damn, Arthur, I hate to be the one to break this to you but— I don't know how best to put this, but I've reason to believe that Merlin's a con-man. He and Zane… Zane left his phone when he was in the shower this afternoon and I wasn't even looking but it rang and when I looked to see who was ringing it was Merlin." Arthur went cold all over, backing away from Merlin, turning his back on him as he concentrated on what Morgana was saying.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, his bloody picture came up. So when he rang off I checked the phone and it's full of pictures of the two of them, and there are text messages and I listened to the voicemail arranging to meet that afternoon. They're playing us, Arthur. I think they're lovers." Arthur could tell Morgana was trying to hold back her tears and Morgana never cried. She'd really fallen for this Zane—just like Arthur had really fallen for Merlin—or should that be Gwaine? It was on the tip of Arthur's tongue to correct Morgana but he didn't want to alert Merlin to the subject of the conversation.

"You're absolutely sure?"

"Yes. I don't know what the scam is yet but obviously they're after money." Morgana took a deep breath and said quietly, "I'm pregnant, Arthur and it's his, obviously."

"Jesus, Morgana, are you alright?" Arthur stiffened as long arms wound their way around his waist and Merlin pressed his cheek to his back. "Where is he now?"

"I'm alright, I promise. He's gone to the gym. I'm lulling him into a false sense of security."

Merlin's hands slid under Arthur's waistband. Merlin who was kissing his way down Arthur's neck like he wasn't a two faced fucking liar. "I have to go, but ring Leon, he'll—please don't deal with this by yourself."

"Be careful, Arthur."

"You too." Arthur ended the call and closed his hands over Merlin's, stilling their path to his cock. He turned around, freezing when Merlin leant in to kiss him. Everything hurt. His chest felt like it was being squeezed by a vice, his palms ached, his head span and throughout it all his traitorous cock had responded to Merlin's touch like it had been years since anyone had touched Arthur and not hours. The response Merlin could elicit from Arthur was unprecedented. He forced himself to think back to Gwaine's hand on Merlin's arm and closed his eyes.

Nothing was as it seemed.

Merlin dropped to his knees and undid Arthur's fly, yanking his jeans down just far enough to release his cock, nosing his pubic hair, staring up at Arthur without seeming to notice anything was wrong. "Want you all the time," Merlin said and swallowed Arthur down and Arthur just let him, a voice in his head saying nastily that he might as well fuck Merlin's mouth for one last time because as soon as he'd come he was kicking Merlin out on his arse.

He twisted his hands in Merlin's hair, wanting it to hurt. Merlin stared up at him, eyes full of fake adoration. Arthur wanted to hate him. It didn't take Arthur long to come. Instead of pulling Merlin up for a kiss and reciprocating in some way Arthur tucked himself away and said, "Pack your shit and get out."

Shock, hurt and confusion stared back at him from Merlin's wide eyes. "What—? Arthur."

Arthur forced himself to look away. "So you and Zane aren't pulling some kind of scam on Morgana and me?"

All of the blood seemed to drain from Merlin's face and guilty blue eyes stared back at Arthur. "Morgana found out?" Hearing that was like a bucket of icy water had been thrown over Arthur's head. "Of course… It was her on the phone." He shook his head, sounding defeated.

What was wrong with Arthur that he wanted to take Merlin in his arms and tell him everything would be okay, tell him he needn't look so sad? Everything about the man standing before him was a fucking lie. Arthur had no idea if the story of his childhood or his inheritance was real. Had Arthur even really been Merlin's first? In the circumstances it seemed unlikely that anything was real. "Is your name even Merlin?" Arthur's palms started to itch. He folded his arms across his chest. "No, don't tell me. Just go."

"Arthur. Please, let me explain. I swear I— This isn't what it seems."

"If you're still here in ten minutes I'm calling the police and you and your scumbag 'brother' won't be seeing daylight for a long long time."

"Arthur. I couldn't. Not to you."

"Nine minutes."

"Arthur—"

"Eight."

Arthur stood numbly in the same spot until he heard the front door close behind Merlin. Then he drank himself into oblivion.

::::

Eight months later

"Don't look now," Elena said, putting a staying hand on the crook of Arthur's arm, voice low. "But I'm certain that's your Merlin over there."

At the mention of Merlin's name Arthur's feet immediately turned to lead and the low buzz of the small crowd became a frantic roar in his ears. He probably couldn't turn his head if his life depended on it. He stared almost desperately at an ethereal landscape on the wall in front of him, blinking it into focus and realising it was Worm's Head rising out of the mist at high tide.

Elena had never met Merlin, but she had seen his photograph on Arthur's phone, and Arthur didn't even want to recall how that had happened because that would be admitting that he'd fallen even slightly apart after Merlin left and spent many an hour with his head on Elena's shoulder pretending everything was okay.

"Is he with anybody?" Arthur's heart was in his throat, thump, thump, thump, and he was really starting to regret that he'd skipped lunch and had yet to eat dinner.

"Yes, wait a minute— Oh." There was a pause as Elena tipped up in her toes, not an easy feat being nearly nine months pregnant, eyes flicking back to Arthur with concern before saying, "He's with Lance."

Arthur's heart sank. He knew that Lance and Merlin had formed an odd sort of a friendship when Merlin had been with Arthur, one that had started with morning runs. He'd known they were still in touch, Lance had made no secret of it, and now it would be impossible to avoid Merlin because Arthur could hardly ignore Lance.

He wasn't even sure he wanted to avoid Merlin. The masochist in him wanted to see him, to map the changes of the last few months, show him that he didn't care, hadn't missed him in the slightest.

"I'm surprised Lance prised himself away from Gwen and the twins for this." This being a photo exhibition; Arthur was only here because Elena had invited him. She'd expanded her floristry business to add a gift shop and had moved premises into the unit next door to the gallery. Camelot owned the complex, retail units and the gallery on the ground floor beneath twenty floors of premium office space.

Arthur hadn't wanted to come but the Merlin voice that resided in his head had reminded him, you're some kind of philistine and Arthur had agreed to go.

"Fuck—" Arthur grabbed the exhibition guide out of Elena's hand, flicking through and finding what he was looking for on page four; Merlin's photo and a short biography that just blurred on the page in front of him. Merlin was one of the artists. How had Arthur not known that?

Why had no one told him Merlin was back in the country?

"Sorry, Arthur, I've really got to pee," Elena said, squeezing Arthur's hand before backing off and moving faster than Arthur had ever seen a pregnant woman move. She wasn't even out of sight when Arthur turned and scanned the room for Merlin, stepping sideways so he didn't have to crane his neck staring over patrons of the gallery.

When he spotted Merlin he was facing away from him, talking animatedly to Lance who was leaning into him, their posture that of two people who were very comfortable with one another. Seeing him again after all the time apart shouldn't touch him. Arthur had moved on. It wasn't as though he'd been celibate since they'd parted; on the contrary, he'd been very busy indeed. The Sun, The Daily Mail and The Mirror loved him for providing them with a never ending supply of gossip and where Arthur had hated their interest in him before, he'd almost enjoyed their attention these last months, hoping Merlin was watching and getting the giant 'fuck you' he was sending him.

Arthur's legs moved of their own volition, taking long strides in the direction of Lance and Merlin, making it before they noticed he was there. "Good evening," he said, pasting on his best business smile, the one that had successfully closed deals worth several million this last month alone.

Lance and Merlin both turned in tandem, Lance with a pleased smile, saying, "Arthur, hello! How are you, mate?"

Merlin's reaction was the opposite. A million emotions flashing across his face too fast for Arthur to pin down before settling on neutral as he regarded Arthur carefully with those blue eyes that Arthur saw in his nightmares.

"I can't complain," Arthur said, leaning in and hugging Lance because he hadn't seen him for a fortnight. "How're my gorgeous God-sons?"

Lance replied, and Arthur nodded in the right places, the words must've registered somehow, but it wasn't Lance he was looking at. Merlin held his gaze, unwavering and Arthur couldn't look away. Many months apart, a broken heart and fuck knows how many others in his bed and all it took was one look from Merlin and Arthur's insides turned to custard. He heard Lance say something about going to talk to Elena, nodded in acknowledgement, but didn't take his eyes off him.

Finally, Merlin swallowed and said, "You look good, Arthur."

"Thank you," Arthur replied, "Congratulations on the show."

"It's not quite a solo exhibition," Merlin said, licking his lips and smiling tightly. "But it's a start."

Arthur followed the path of Merlin's tongue across his lips, want curling painfully in the pit of his stomach, his palms aching to reach for Merlin like there wasn't a gaping chasm between them. Merlin's eyes followed his, meeting his gaze again and this time the neutrality had gone and was replaced by something else, something Arthur recognised within himself.

"How have you been?" Arthur asked, wishing he didn't care, wishing he'd fallen out of love with Merlin. He supposed he was his father's son after all, destined to love one person forever. "I hear you've been overseas."

"I was in Scandinavia for a few months and I came back a couple of weeks ago to prepare for this exhibition." Merlin chewed his lip. "How are you, Arthur?"

It was like they were mere acquaintances making small talk. Like Arthur had imagined their whole 'thing'.

"Oh, you know, busy."

"How are you enjoying being an uncle?"

Despite himself Arthur's face broke into a grin at the thought of his three week old niece, Violet. "I'm utterly in love."

"So am I." Merlin looked right into Arthur's eyes and for a moment Arthur almost believed they were talking about something other than their mutual niece. "As soon as I found out that Morgana and Gwaine were making a go of it I always planned to come back once the baby was born."

Arthur stepped closer. He was itching to touch Merlin. These last few months had been hell and he'd tried not to miss Merlin and he'd failed.

"It looks like this baby thing is catching. Lance tells me your friend Elena's about to pop."

"Yes. Leon and Mithian are expecting as well." Everyone was happy and settled; Percy and Elena finally getting together and getting pregnant within weeks, Lance and Gwen, Morgana and sodding Gwaine.

Merlin broke the loaded silence that was forming between them and said, "I'm happy things worked out for Gwaine and Morgana."

Arthur was frankly amazed that it had worked out, but Gwaine really did seem to love his sister, had grovelled long and hard to win ten minutes of her time after she'd thrown him out, denying he and Merlin were anything other than brothers. "He's lucky to still have his balls and if it hadn't been for the baby I think things would be very different." Arthur held onto that belief but in the back of his mind something told him Morgana would have relented anyway. "Still, Morgana made him pay back every penny he ever took."

Merlin regarded him sadly. "I know you don't think much of Gwaine but he deserves to be happy. I'm glad she gave him another chance."

The subtext read, unlike you and I.

"Well," Merlin said with a forced smile. "I'd better go and mingle or something."

Arthur nodded, still looking at Merlin, palms itching. Merlin stared back at him silently.

Arthur wasn't sure what happened next, who moved first or who touched who first, but it seemed that one moment they were in the middle of the gallery taking part in a staring competition, the next they were next door in an empty retail unit, Arthur pressing Merlin back into the door and kissing him, rutting together, buttons popping, hands sliding under clothing, limbs folding around waists.

When he finally had his hands wrapped around Merlin's length Arthur lost all vestiges of his sanity.

"Fuck," Merlin said when it was over, sliding down the door and hitting the bare tiles on the floor with a thud. "Arthur—"

Arthur concentrated on getting his breathing back to normal. How was it that Merlin could still make him feel like that? Like he'd die if he didn't have him…like he'd die if he never saw him again? How had he survived the few months without him?

Why did it have to be him?

"I have to go," Arthur said, tucking his cock back into his boxers and pulling up his jeans, his breathing settling down to normal.

"I've seen the papers." Merlin's breathing was still laboured. "Is it like this with them?" he rasped.

Arthur glanced down at him, trying to guard his heart against how wrecked he looked, naked from the waist down, hair sticking up from where Arthur's hand had been pulling at it, lips kissed raw. He wanted to lie, twist the knife, but something about Merlin brought out the best in him, had from the start…and the worst. "No, it's never been like this," he said, watching Merlin closely as his eyes sparked with what Arthur was certain was hope. "But they don't lie to me and pretend to be someone they're not."

"Arthur, I never—"

Arthur looked away, reaching for the door handle. He couldn't deal with this. "Goodbye, Merlin," he said pointedly because Merlin was blocking the door. Merlin shifted sideways and Arthur yanked open the door and left.

::::

Lance stormed into Arthur's office the next morning, face almost purple with anger that was so unfamiliar on him that Arthur could do nothing but sit and listen to his ranting. When he finally seemed to have run out of steam Arthur said, "It's none of your business."

Lance sat down in front of Arthur's desk. "You're only punishing yourself."

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. His head was throbbing, there was an ache in chest that didn't seem to want to abate and so far today all he had managed to do was open his email and stare blankly at the screen. He pressed the intercom. "Freya, can you sort out some coffee please?" He sat back in his chair and looked at Lance. "Merlin lied to me, Lance, not just some little white lie either."

Arthur ignored the voice in his head—he was used to pretending it wasn't there these days—the one that reminded Arthur that Merlin hadn't exactly lied other than by omission.

Merlin and Gwaine had been conning people for years, since Merlin was sixteen, and Arthur knew this because Gwaine had told him everything when he'd found out Merlin had left. The story of their shared childhood was the truth and coming close on the heels of that came their shared life of crime. Gwaine's reasoning that the people they'd conned had been too rich to miss the money didn't wash, but that it had been a matter of survival that he'd wanted to keep a roof over Merlin's head at any cost did resonate with him. They'd used magic to disguise their faces slightly, donned false names and relied on their victim's inability to resist Merlin's pretty young face to secure the result they wanted, that of being caught in flagrante by their new spouse.

Merlin hadn't been targeting Arthur. He'd told Gwaine he didn't want to do it anymore.

Lance slammed his fist down on Arthur's desk, dragging Arthur's attention back from his private hell. "Arthur, try to put yourself in Merlin's shoes. He grew up with Gwaine and Gwaine had always looked out for him. Think how hard it must've been for Merlin to tell him 'no'."

"So Merlin refused to do one con with Gwaine and suddenly he's a saint? You want me to just put the fact that the two of them ripped off countless others before and pretend that he and that arse of a brother of his shouldn't be behind bars?"

"Is that what you want?"

Arthur sighed, heart heavy. "No."

Merlin had been fifteen and alone in the world apart from his brother, he hadn't been the driving force behind the whole thing.

"Besides, I think Morgana might have something to say about Gwaine going to prison," Lance pointed out unhelpfully.

The door opened and Freya appeared with a tray of coffee that she placed on the edge of Arthur's desk before leaving quietly. Arthur poured one for himself and another for Lance, using the distraction to clear his thoughts.

"I'm not Morgana," he said, sliding Lance's mug across the desk towards him.

Arthur still refused to have anything to do with Gwaine unless he had to but he adored his niece.

"You still love Merlin." Lance ignored his coffee in favour of folding his arms and regarding Arthur across the desk. "It shouldn't matter how you met. Or what he's done in the past."

Arthur could feel the residue of his encounter with Merlin in his veins, like an addict who could still taste his last fix and was running out of time before withdrawal really set in. Arthur had fucked up and last night he'd relapsed.

"What did Merlin say? About last night I mean."

"Not a word, but I'm not stupid Arthur. The two of you disappeared and then a long time later he's back looking like, well, I'm sure you know, telling me he needed to leave right away."

"Where's he living?" Arthur asked without thinking.

"He's staying with Gwaine and Morgana at the moment," Lance said. "Arthur, last night on the way home he said he's thinking of leaving the country again. He hadn't said anything like that until after you—"

Arthur shrugged. "Good luck to him."

Lance fixed him with a glare. "Your ability to lie hasn't improved since you were five."

::::

Arthur drove past Morgana's house five times that night. She and Gwaine had moved out of her city flat and into a four bedroom house in Primrose Hill. The light was on in the spare bedroom and on his third pass Arthur saw someone pacing the room behind the closed curtains. They were still there on the fourth turn but by the fifth the light was out and the house was in darkness.

Arthur went home and spent the night lying fully clothed on his bed staring at the shadows on his ceiling, his brain refusing to allow him any sleep.

In the morning he threw a few things into a bag and drove to the Cotswolds where he spent the weekend staring at rolling hills instead of the ceiling.

When he arrived back in London on Sunday night he was no further forwards and he still spent the night reacquainting himself with the shadows on the ceiling.

::::

Monday arrived and Arthur buried himself in his work. When Freya stuck her head in at half five to tell him she was leaving for the evening Arthur barely noticed.

The next time he surfaced he checked his watch and it was nearly seven. He rubbed his eyes and considered going to the kitchen to make a coffee, decided he didn't need one, stared blankly at the report he'd been trying to make sense of for the best part of the afternoon and let the unexpected wave of exhaustion wash over him. He hadn't slept properly since before seeing Merlin last week.

Rubbing his eyes again he barely noticed the office door opening, only really registering Merlin standing before him like it was another of Arthur's Merlin centric daydreams.

"You weren't at the flat," Merlin said, fiddling with his cuffs. Arthur thought he looked like he was dressed for a walk in the park, jeans and trainers and—fuck—his cheekbones really popped in under the bright office lights and the way he was chewing his lip… Arthur put down his pen and waited, chest tight. "I'd hoped you'd still be here."

"Well, here I am. What do you want?"

Merlin swallowed, taking a step forward and then seeming to check himself, his hands going behind his back. "I didn't tell the whole truth because I never expected us to last. You're Arthur Pendragon. You date models and actors and they blow you under your desk in the middle of the day for fuck's sake. You're not someone who falls for the courier. When it started to look as though you'd like me under that desk I wanted it too. I didn't expect to like you and I certainly didn't expect to fall for you even though I think I already had—"

Arthur stopped breathing.

"At what point was I supposed to say what I'd done in the past? I didn't know Gwaine had got stuck in the lift with Morgana that day—after he'd followed me into the building trying to persuade me to come back." Merlin pulled his sleeves over his hands. "I— So what I want, Arthur, is a second chance."

Arthur didn't know what he'd been expecting but it hadn't been that. They watched each other, seconds slipping into minutes, a heavy silence echoing around them, expectant.

Arthur's fatigue swam through him. His was so tired of pretending. Lance's words from the other day, you still love him, had been on a loop in his head all weekend.

He stood and walked around the desk, not taking his eyes off Merlin who was following his progress as he approached, looking more nervous than Arthur felt. When he reached him he stood with bare inches between them, feeling like he could see right into Merlin.

Wordlessly he cupped his cheek, running his thumb over Merlin's lower lip. He withdrew his hand and Merlin gasped, leaning forward, chasing the touch and Arthur reached for him, pulling him into a hug, arms wrapping around him, burying his face in Merlin's neck and greedily breathing in his scent.

They stayed like that for what could have been hours but was probably only minutes until Arthur pulled away; taking Merlin's hand and grabbing his jacket off the back of the door he led him to the lifts. He flagged down a taxi when they reached the street, sat holding Merlin's hand for the time it took to reach his flat, neither of them saying a word until they were inside, neither of them letting go of the other's hand.

Arthur pushed Merlin down on the sofa, immediately straddling him, boxing him in with his arms.

I missed you, I love you, I hate you, I want you, I need you, I love you, I love you, I love you. "You never lie to me again."

Merlin shook his head, "No, I couldn't."

"You never leave me again."

"I won't. I couldn't."

Arthur kissed him. Merlin's fingers dug into his hips sending needles of pure lust through Arthur, nobody else had come close to the way Merlin made him feel, never could. Merlin pulled back, chased a hand through Arthur's hair. Arthur stared down at him, heart in his mouth.

"Don't let me leave again," Merlin said.

"I won't."

"I love you," Merlin said and reached up to kiss him. It was several hours later before Arthur told Merlin the same because Merlin's hand moved to his cock and they both moved to the bedroom and Arthur didn't want to say it until his mind was clear and the post orgasm fuzz had abated. He wanted Merlin to know he meant it.