It was when Merlin's shirt "accidentally" slipped a little to reveal a pale shoulder or a delicate collarbone. It was when his fingers brushed against more skin than usual or lingered on Arthur's body longer than necessary while he dressed him. It was when their gazes, icy blue and sapphire cerulean, met across the room during a meal or a meeting and held for over five seconds.

It was when those little things occurred that Arthur knew, that night, Merlin would close the bedroom door coming in rather than going out. He would stand there with a satisfied smile on his angelic face, leaning against the huge wooden door. And Arthur would kiss him senseless against that door, not caring if the entire castle could hear the soft creaks and thuds it caused. He would finally have the luxury of Merlin's cool fingers all over his bare abdomen, chest, arms, and neck, caressing him like he was Merlin's and Merlin's alone. He would yank off Merlin's neckerchief and shirt and carry him bridal-style to his waiting bed. Trousers and socks would come off next. Merlin would wrap his long legs around Arthur as Arthur kissed and nipped and sucked at his skin desperately, marking his territory and reclaiming what was his Merlin by night and Prince Arthur's servant by morning. He would relish Merlin's touch, his hands sliding into the untouched crevices of Arthur's back; under his shoulder blades, along his spine, between his firm, well-worked muscles.

Then Merlin would flip them over and lean over Arthur's back, whispering into Arthur's ear and nipping at it for good measure. He would run his fingers along the expanse of Arthur's back again and let out a little sigh that never failed to leave Arthur begging him to fuck him. And fuck him he would; harder and harder, into the mattress, pillows doing nothing to suppress their escalating moans and words of ecstasy. Merlin would shift a little and thrust into Arthur at exactly the right angle that had him clawing at the bedsheets, uttering a string of profanity.

The next morning, Arthur would be the first to wake, with Merlin curled up against him. He would lift his eyes to see Merlin's clothes strewn all over his chamber floor as if they belonged there, and smile. When Merlin finally opened his eyes, he would turn around, give Arthur a peck on the lips, and hop out of bed to start getting dressed.

But not before Arthur caught his full, cleft lower lip between his own lips and teeth for a second and whispered to him that he loved him before letting him go.