Arthur did not take well to being an infant.
The first time didn't count – back in Camelot he'd been too busy learning to babble without drooling on himself to worry about the indignities of childhood – but when he awoke after taking a dragonsword to the gut and suffering a victorious death befitting a king, only to find that he could no longer control his own bowels, his shock and confusion very quickly gave way to relentless irritation.
Even in the very early days, when his baby brain was so fresh that basic self-awareness was beyond him, he still felt frustrated, lost and angry, with the imperative need to do something without having any idea what that was.
Months passed, and Arthur grew into his new body, slowly piecing together his fragmented memories.
There had been thunder, and an army, tumultuous noise and burning pain.
Magic… there had been magic.
He didn't have time to loll around uselessly in this cottage. He was a king. His people needed him.
They needed justice. They needed his leadership.
Didn't they?
The family cooing over him seemed content enough. Months and months in this tiny little village had brought not a single soldier, not a hint of war. He grew and he listened – to the men happily swearing at each other as they dragged in the Autumn harvest, to the straw-haired thatcher groaning his ire from atop the roof, to the traveling merchant with the too-wide grin – and the deafening tumult of a world teetering on the edge of collapse seemed like a distant dream. A little boy's nightmare in a world still too big for him.
It was real, he knew it had to be real, but the darkened fields of Camlann were many decades and miles away, and this Albion was new, and soft in a way he had never come to know as a Prince.
Was this not what he had worked for? With Gwen and Leon and Gaius? This new place was not free of conflict or famine, but it was peaceful in a way that the land had never known in his own time. This was what he wanted, why he fought. From what he could see, he had succeeded.
So why had he come back?
Once he had grown into adulthood, Arthur travelled abroad for a time. He searched for the reason for his return, seeking out snippets of his own legend, of the Camelot that had grown and prospered. He heard of Guinevere, mighty queen, brilliant strategist and liberator of magic. He heard of Lancelot, friend and betrayer of the king. And he heard of Arthur, the greatest king Albion had ever known, clever and kind, mighty beyond measure, with the heart of a horse and the wisdom of an ancient oak.
At this point Arthur's mind always flashed back to a pair of donkey ears and he bit back his squirming discomfort.
More than any other, he heard tell of Merlin, kind and clever and mighty beyond measure. A peasant boy who appeared from nowhere in Albion's darkest hour and became guide, teacher and carer to an entire nation. To hear the peasants tell it, Merlin could see into the future, grant the gift of life and slay entire armies with a flick of his finger.
Arthur felt himself beginning to scoff whenever some doe-eyed traveller began to wax poetic, but he caught himself each time. His scorn came from habit, and habit had kept him blind to the goings-on in his kingdom for over a decade.
He knew that Merlin was powerful. He had seen lightning rain down on Morgana's forces, watched as Merlin sculpted a dragon from flame and ember. Who was to say that he could not restore life to a corpse or level a mountain? There was so much to the peasant boy that Arthur had missed.
According to the stories, Merlin had returned to Camelot after Arthur's death, pledging his service to the new monarch and serving until his death many years later. The idiot never could do something just for himself. Camelot would likely have been fine without him, but he had given it his soul and helped it blossom into something incredible.
Of course he did.
The stories and songs cropped up all over the land, harkening back to an age just distant enough to be hailed as the glory days, and in time Arthur learned to see them for what they were: Memories. Simply memories. Once the centre of his life but now an abandoned story that had to be left behind. He had a new life now. New people to care for, and new path to forge. And if he often felt awkward, disjointed, unsure of what role he was meant to play? Well, then he was on the same footing as every other human on the planet.
Arthur settled, but never truly lost that sense of trepidation, that worrying lack of pressure that was a pressure all its own. There was forever a nagging voice in the back of his head that said he was meant for more, that he had responsibilities, that he was abandoning those who needed him like a coward. He ignored it, shook his head and trudged on, but there was a knot in the centre of his chest that refused to dissipate, seemingly ready to tug him away at a moment's notice and tear apart the peace that he could not fully understand.
And then one day he slipped into a tavern to take advantage of the warmth, and spotted a familiar pair of cheekbones. The knot in his chest dissolved, weight lifting from his bones and his throat.
For the first time in his new life, the etched line between Arthur's eyes faded into nothing.
The skin across Arthur's knuckles had dried out and cracked in thin, disapproving lines. Absently, he flexed his fingers and ignored the persistent itch that had set in where the skin was pinkest. A drop of sweat slid down his nose and hung there, quivering in place.
With a deep, modulated breath, he tensed and sent another volley of short punches at the heavy blue bag hanging from the ceiling. It scarcely moved, but Arthur hardly seemed to notice.
Deep, thudding bass reverberated through the musty space. Arthur wiped a hand across his brow, smearing away some of the sweat but not enough to prevent the salt slipping into his eyes. The sting made his vision cloud over and he blinked in irritation, throwing even more force into every punch as if that would bring back clarity.
He kept at this, deep music thundering through his head like an angry heartbeat, until he noticed a smear of darker colour on the bag. He screwed up his nose, leaning close to the stained surface and then glancing at his own knuckles where the skin had finally split. He took a long, disgruntled sniff.
"Fuck," he grunted, and trudged over to grab up a towel from the corner. Stone-faced, he swiped it across the synthetic surface of the bag and then pressed it to his knuckles, picking up as much blood as he could. With his elbow he nudged the off button on the speakers, cutting a deep silence into the room.
The sudden absence of noise sent a piercing whine right into Arthur's head, and with another annoyed sniff, he tramped out of the room, tossing the towel into a wicker laundry basket as he went. A pair of protective gloves lay untouched beside it.
The corridor was dimly lit, one of the bulbs having blown at some point, and there was a dusty smell that said the whole house was probably in need of a vacuum.
Arthur stripped as he made his way to the bathroom, tossing clothes on the floor as he went, and turned the shower on to scalding. As he stepped in, the water made his skin tingle on the edge of real pain and he grit his teeth in an angry grin, shoving his head under the spray. In this cocoon of heat and thick steam, he let himself drift.
It had been days, weeks, he wasn't sure. Sleep hadn't come easy and time seemed less important than it had. After all, he had an eternity to deal with the situation. Lifetimes, eons, what the fuck did it matter anyway? He was stuck in place while everything else shifted and mutated, but whatever it became it would just change again so was any of it even real? Who the fuck cares?
He'd tried to remember what it felt like to be mortal, to know there was an end you couldn't escape. He supposed he must have been afraid of it. Did living for millennia give you more perspective or less? Was he happier back then? He didn't think so, but he seriously doubted he was ever this confused.
Goddamn did he need some friggin' boundaries. His future and his memory stretched so far they started to dance right out of meaning.
Chuckling to himself, Arthur scrubbed his fingers through his hair and shut the water off, stalking over to the mirror. Shaving cream spurted out of the can with a clumsy squirch and he smeared it over his cheeks and chin. The mirror was fogged, but he didn't bother to clear it as he snatched up a razor and dragged it across his skin. After the fourth quick swipe he felt a stinging line down the side of his face and swore, snatching up some toilet paper and scrubbing a hand across the mirror so he could get a look.
The cut was shallow, but still managed to send a ridiculous amount of blood sliding down his chin. He growled in annoyance, pressing the toilet paper down until it stuck there on its own and then carefully finishing the rest of the shave.
A fucking hot mess, he was. Goddamn king of legend. Fuck this.
Arthur towelled off as he stalked to his room to find clean clothes. He felt more warm liquid drip down his face, and he scrubbed at it with his hand, careful not to dislodge the toilet paper, but when he looked down, the liquid was clear, not red.
Huh.
Arthur pulled on a pair of jeans and a worn singlet, delicately peeling the toilet paper from his face. No more blood dripped down, so he counted it as a success.
As he tossed the scrap of paper in a garbage bin, the sullen silence of the house was rent by a sharp knock at the door.
Arthur froze in place, and then closed his eyes for a long, exhausted moment.
"Fine," he whispered to himself. "Fucking fine."
Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Arthur picked his way out of the room and through the apartment to the front door. He pursed his lips, lifted his chin, and reached forward to turn the handle.
"What do you need?" he sighed as the door swung open.
There was a beat of silence.
A moment of confusion.
Arthur's heart tried to climb up his throat and throttle him.
"Um… well, I was kind of hoping to talk," said Merlin, shifting from foot to foot.
Arthur stared, unable to process for a good ten seconds, before he finally shook his head and stepped aside, opening his arm in welcome.
Merlin offered a small smile as he stepped past, picking his way over discarded laundry with no comment.
"I… ah… would've cleaned up…" began Arthur, but Merlin shrugged.
"Like I haven't seen you turn your house into a trash heap before."
Arthur watched the back of Merlin's head as he made his way through to the kitchen, but Merlin didn't look back. A muscle in Arthur's jaw twitched and he consciously forced himself to relax, eyes falling shut. Taking a long, slow breath, he let the door close.
"So… ah…" he began, and Merlin turned to look at him. "Did you… want… something?" he finished lamely.
Merlin frowned, head tilting to the side. Arthur fought the urge to book it out the door he had just closed, and firmly refused to let his gaze drift down to his toes.
"You look like shit," said Merlin, matter-of-factly, and Arthur flinched.
"Fucking aces…" he murmured to himself, looking away.
"Have you slept at all this last week?"
Arthur grit his teeth, shoulders suddenly locking in irrational fury.
"Of course I have," he said, lifting his chin and looking directly into Merlin's eyes. "If you're just here to judge and talk down to me like…"
"I'm sorry," cut in Merlin, and Arthur's diatribe ground to a halt. His jaw snapped shut and he scowled.
The two men gazed at each other, the silence only broken by the sounds of traffic wafting in through the window.
Arthur let go of a breath, and felt his shoulders slumping.
"Yeah, I know you didn't mean… It's fine."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it." Arthur turned away, stalking towards the kitchen. "It's not a big…"
"Arthur," said Merlin, and his voice came from right behind Arthur's shoulders, making him lock in place. Arthur slowly turned to look at him, and found that Merlin's eyebrows had drawn together.
"I'm sorry," Merlin whispered, and his eyes were filled with concern and remorse and a world of emotion that Arthur only now let himself see.
"I locked you out," continued Merlin. "I was scared and lost and I forced you to leave. I shouldn't have."
"Y-you… needed time," replied Arthur, his voice tiny.
"And you needed me," said Merlin. "Thousands of years I was there for you when you needed. It was the one thing I was good at. And this time, when it got bad, I left you alone."
"That's not… you're not… you don't have to be that anymore."
"What is 'that' exactly?"
"My servant? My… comp… I don't..."
"We never did have a word for it, did we? We were just… always there. Always together."
"Yeah, but… even now… with everything… you don't have to be…"
"I'm not," said Merlin, and Arthur felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. Merlin watched him, and shrugged a little helplessly. "I'd like to say I'm still that same man you were with all those years, but I've spent too long as someone else. The Camelot wizard will always be a part of me, but I'll never be him again."
Arthur nodded, jaw clenching and unclenching as he stood, unable to look away from Merlin's eyes.
"I know. It's not you," he forced out, trying not to choke on the words.
"I don't really know what 'me' is anymore," said Merlin, his voice flat. "I'll start a line of thought and get completely derailed because I have two different personalities squawking at me about how I should feel."
"Sounds exhausting."
"It's pretty fucked, yeah."
Merlin closed his eyes, and when he opened them his gaze was direct.
"I don't know who I am, or what I'm meant to be now. But I know you."
Arthur blinked, breath catching at the fervent look in Merlin's eye.
"Every bit of me knows you. When everything turns into a hurricane and I can't remember my own last name, I still know you. I lost my entire past, everything that made me who I am, and you still came back. You still became the only thing that matters."
Merlin stepped forward and before Arthur could react he pressed his palm to the skin over Arthur's collarbone, thumb drifting back and forth below his Adam's apple.
"I know you," he breathed.
Arthur swallowed, eyes drifting shut. His forehead screwed into a frown and he turned his head away.
"That's fine. That's good. I'll always be here for you," he choked out.
"Good," came Merlin's soft reply.
"But you're still all broken up," continued Arthur, feeling like the words were being dragged from him wrapped in barbwire. "You can't… you shouldn't make big decisions while you're…"
"Arthur."
"… still figuring out what you need…"
"Arthur."
"I won't take advantage."
"Arthur, look at me."
Arthur's eyes opened of their own accord, and Merlin turned his head back towards him with tender fingers.
"I'm not leaving."
Arthur's breath rushed out.
"I lost myself for a second, but I'm back now."
"It's… you needed space…"
"I don't mean at the hospital."
Arthur's mouth snapped shut. Merlin brought up his other hand and traced the skin under Arthur's eyes. When had he started crying?
"I lost a fight with a madman and left you all alone. I disappeared, and let you face the rest of eternity without me."
Arthur's whole body jerked, and a small sound tore itself from his throat. Merlin absorbed the movement with soft hands.
"I am so sorry, Arthur," whispered Merlin. He stepped deep into Arthur's space, their bodies not quite touching.
"I didn't mean to leave you."
Arthur was staring, his body was trembling. He could barely see Merlin through the tears in his eyes.
"I'm here now," said Merlin. He leaned forward, and let his nose gently brush the end of Arthur's. "Trust me."
Arthur wasn't breathing. His chest hurt, like a weight was pressing on his ribs.
"I'm here, and I will never leave you again."
The world broke.
Arthur collapsed forward, as though every joint in his body had snapped at once, and fell into Merlin, clutching at him. Merlin's hands came over Arthur's shoulders and threaded into his hair, dragging over his scalp as Arthur sobbed into Merlin's neck.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," chanted Merlin. "I have you. I'm sorry."
"You were gone," choked out Arthur. "And I knew you weren't coming back. You were never coming back."
"I'm back now."
"You arsehole."
"I'm here."
"You left me."
"I've got you." Merlin buried his nose in Arthur's hair. "I'm staying."
Arthur's fingers dug into the muscles on Merlin's back and he breathed him in, smelling the sweat and soap and underlying magic that made up Merlin Emerson. Weeks of tension bled from him as he held his best friend, bringing with it decades of loss and yearning.
"I missed you so much," he breathed, and Merlin nodded.
"I know," he said.
Arthur shuddered against Merlin, feeling Merlin's fingers carding through his hair in soothing sweeps. The skin of Merlin's neck was damp against his cheek.
Merlin held him, trying to soothe with his hands and his voice and his skin. Letting his fingers slide from Arthur's hair, he traced them down his back and then out to grip his shoulders. With a gentle push, he levered himself away from Arthur, who looked devastated at the loss of contact, but didn't fight him. Merlin took him in, looking at his flushed face and wet cheeks, and slowly dipped forward to press a kiss against the corner of Arthur's mouth.
Arthur blinked in shock, staring as Merlin pulled back.
"But… I thought… back before… we weren't…"
"Who cares?" interrupted Merlin. "Who gives a fuck what we were back then? I know what I want right now. It's the one thing I know with absolute certainty. With every part of me."
He cupped the side of Arthur's face with one hand, letting the other trace down to tangle with Arthur's fingers.
"It's up to you. I'll be here whatever you decide. I'm in bits and pieces right now, and I'm not who I used to be. I'll understand if this isn't something you can handle. But I'm here. However you want me."
Merlin lifted Arthur's hand to his own chest and held it there, against his heartbeat.
"I'm ready to do this properly. All of me for all of you. If you want me."
Fireworks erupted behind Arthur's eyes.
He surged forward, wrenching his hand from Merlin's grip and grasping both sides of Merlin's face to bring their lips together in a crushing kiss. Merlin grunted in surprise but quickly relaxed, letting Arthur tilt his head to the perfect angle. Arthur's tongue darted forward to taste Merlin's lips, but this wasn't about sex, not really. This was all about contact, a claiming, marking, needing brand upon someone who was loved, so very loved. Someone who had been gone for so long.
Merlin nipped at Arthur's bottom lip with his teeth and Arthur groaned, a deep, desperate sound that tore from him as he pressed forward. Needing to feel more, Merlin snaked his hands under Arthur's shirt and dragged his nails up the skin of his back, smiling as Arthur shivered against him.
Arthur's hands were still holding his face. It said a lot about how lost he was feeling that he hadn't so much as drifted from his first desperate leap forward. With soft fingers, Merlin took Arthur's hands in his own and gently pulled downward, letting them trace down his cheeks and fall into loose fists between them. Arthur's lips left his and he pulled back, blinking.
Merlin watched him intently. Arthur's face was flushed and he looked utterly wrecked, but there was a wild light in his eyes that set Merlin's heart racing. With one corner of his mouth curling upwards, Merlin walked Arthur backwards until he came up against a wall. Arthur took in a sharp breath at the impact, but didn't look away from Merlin's eyes. He was enraptured, and trusting, and utterly pliant in Merlin's grip.
Merlin shook his head in wonderment.
"You are perfect," he breathed, and Arthur pressed his lips together as if he might cry.
"No, don't," said Merlin in a hushed fervour. He let go of Arthur's hands and took hold of his face, tracing relaxing circles over his cheeks with his thumbs. "Don't hold back. Let everything out. All of it. I want to hear you." He pressed forward until their chests were flush against each other, and leant forward until his lips could just brush Arthur's ear. "You don't have to hold yourself together anymore."
Arthur's head dropped back against the wall and he let out what might have been a whimper.
"Good," whispered Merlin, and he touched a kiss to the shell of Arthur's ear. "So good, Arthur."
Arthur's hands had fallen back to press against the wall, and it seemed to Merlin that he was slowly losing the strength to stand on his own. Merlin pressed himself more firmly forward, supporting and dominating at the same time. He let one hand fall to Arthur's shoulder and snaked the other around the back of his neck, tilting to expose the long stretch of skin from jaw to collarbone. With possessive hunger in his heart, Merlin descended, taking the sensitive skin between his lips and sucking a harsh kiss. Arthur's hands jerked up to grasp at Merlin's shoulders and he keened. The skin under Merlin's lips tasted of salt and soap, and he nibbled at it urgently, soothing the area with soft kisses as it reddened.
Arthur was panting, and on every breath out he released a soft moan. Hearing the building desperation in Arthur's voice, Merlin ceased his ministrations and ran the tip of his nose over the abused skin. Smiling to himself, he pulled back.
Arthur looked dazed, but his eyes met Merlin's immediately. He stayed perfectly still, breathing deeply. Waiting.
"I'm not leaving you," said Merlin, and his voice was firm.
Arthur watched him for a long second, and then he nodded.
"I know," he whispered, but his voice caught on the second word.
Merlin leaned half an inch forward, and Arthur listed toward him, but the taller man held the separation between them, holding his gaze.
"I want you to say it," demanded Merlin.
Arthur frowned. "What?"
"Say it. I'm not going to leave you."
"I…"
"Arthur."
"Why?"
"Just say it, Arthur."
Merlin squeezed the hand holding the back of Arthur's neck.
"Say it."
Arthur took a long breath.
"You're not going to leave me."
His voice wavered, but Merlin smiled.
"I'm here."
"… You're here."
"I'm with you."
"You're with me."
Merlin let his breath ghost over Arthur's lips.
"I'm yours."
Arthur blinked, and a new steel seemed to come into his eyes.
"You're mine."
Lightning quick, Arthur's arms tightened around Merlin's back and he whipped around, slamming him back against the wall. Merlin's breath left him in a rush, but he had no time to recover before Arthur's lips were against his, biting, licking, sucking, claiming, and it was all he could do to keep up with the storm. Arthur's hands were everywhere, on his hips, then his shoulders, then his waist, then dragging up the soft cotton of Merlin's shirt. Their lips parted just long enough for Arthur to drag it over Merlin's arms and then they surged together again. Merlin's skin was warm and dimpled with goosebumps, still pocked with fading marks from the warehouse.
Merlin grasped at the hem of Arthur's shirt and tugged, trying to reveal that beautiful chest, but Arthur didn't stop, licking into Merlin's mouth with abandon. Merlin tugged again, then growled in annoyance and sent out a tendril of magic.
The shirt vanished. Arthur faltered, leaning back to look down at his newly bare chest in disbelief. He flicked his eyes back up and Merlin quirked a single eyebrow in challenge. The air was cold on Arthur's chest, and he swore he could feel a remnant of Merlin's magic caressing his skin.
Arthur's lips split into a wide, feral grin. He plunged forward, catching Merlin's mouth in a savage kiss, and Merlin met him halfway. They attacked each other as though the answer to life's questions were embedded in the other's lips, both panting for air. Merlin felt as though his skin were charged with electricity, zinging and burning, begging him to make as much contact with the other man as possible. Arthur caught Merlin's lower lip between his teeth and pulled back, letting his teeth drag over the pink flesh. Merlin let out a shaking breath and watched Arthur's face, helplessly waiting to see what he would do.
Arthur took him in, eyes narrowed in an intense expression. "You're sure?" he whispered.
Merlin blinked, a little thrown, but as Arthur held his gaze he could only nod unsteadily.
Arthur's dropped to his knees without another word. Merlin gasped, watching with wide eyes as Arthur deftly unfastened his jeans, dragging them swiftly to his knees. The black briefs he wore underneath were tented gloriously. Arthur touched a light finger to the tip, and heard Merlin choke above him as the muscles of his thighs tensed involuntarily.
Arthur looked up, caught Merlin's wrecked gaze for a taught moment, and gave a wickedly triumphant smirk.
"Well, then," he said, and pulled the underwear down, swallowing Merlin's cock in one swift motion.
Merlin wailed. His head fell back to hit the wall and his knees trembled, but his legs were locked in place by his own jeans and Arthur's kneeling body. Arthur let his head drift back and then plunged forward again, seeling his lips around the soft skin. It felt like silk. It felt like home.
With a long, enthusiastic suck he pulled back, holding Merlin's hips in place as he shook, and set to nuzzling the soft underskin. He licked and nipped, tonguing at the soft folds of his foreskin and tracing the veins standing out along Merlin's length. He could feel the muscles of Merlin's arse quivering, and he grinned. This was perfect. He was perfect. Arthur let his teeth brush along Merlin's dick and heard a harsh thump as Merlin slammed his hand back into the wall. Humming to himself, he bobbed back and forth, absorbing Merlin's twitches and using them to feed into the rolling, rising rhythm.
The body before him was quivering, a long stream of curses floating over his head. Arthur pulled back with a wet sound, feeling more powerful than he had in centuries, and leant up to gently kiss the very tip.
"Jesus… don't you… fuck," rasped Merlin, almost crying in frustration.
Arthur sighed, free and peaceful and content, and then drove himself forward to swallow Merlin down to the root.
The poor, frantic warlock burst apart. Merlin clawed at the wall and wailed, gulping in great lungfuls of air, his every muscle twitching and trembling. Arthur felt Merlin's completion hit the back of his throat and he swallowed, holding the other man in place as he coaxed him through his orgasm. Satisfaction warmed his belly and he delicately ran his tongue along the underside of Merlin's cock, savouring every gasp and curse.
The tension finally left Merlin's shoulders as though he were being slowly deflated, and the stunned warlock slumped back, breathing heavily. Arthur rocked back on his knees, admiring the utterly shattered man above him, and slowly got to his feet, letting his hands fall to Merlin's waist.
Merlin's eyes had fallen shut, but they fluttered open as he felt Arthur rise.
"That wasn't… what I'd planned," Merlin murmured through unsteady breaths.
"No?" asked Arthur, quirking a grin.
Merlin shook his head, face falling into a helpless smile. "I was going to take care of you."
Arthur pressed a long, lingering kiss to Merlin's lips. When they parted he let their noses touch.
"You did."
Merlin snorted, and Arthur couldn't help but chuckle.
"No, really," he insisted, carding his fingers through Merlin's hair. "I believe you. I understand."
Merlin grew very still, and looked at him softly. Arthur nodded, feeling a small lump in the back of his throat.
"You aren't leaving again," he whispered, and Merlin took his face in soft fingers.
"That's right, you gorgeous, insane, perfect prat," he said, and certainty glowed within every word like a lantern in the night. "I'm with you. To the end of everything."
Arthur pressed his forehead to Merlin's and they breathed each other in, eyes slipping shut in a moment of perfect sensation. Merlin twined their fingers together, and Arthur felt soft tears sliding from his eyes again. But this time they weren't painful. They were contentment and hope, marked across his face.
"Come on, dollophead," said Merlin softly. "Let's go to bed."
Arthur stepped back, holding onto Merlin's hands. Merlin looked down at his trousers and underwear, still tangled around his knees, and let out an annoyed huff. As Arthur watched, his eyes flashed gold and the rest of his clothes disappeared.
The sight made Arthur's cock twitch and he let out a strangled, "fuck."
Merlin glanced up at him in surprise. He took in Arthur's blown pupils, his deep breaths, the divots he was biting into his lip. He flicked a hand at the light and it brightened, allowing him to see Arthur's face better. At the flash of Merlin's eyes, Arthur took in a sharp breath and listed forward.
Merlin's mouth fell open.
"Oh," he breathed, a small grin breaking on his face. He took Arthur by the wrists, walking backwards towards the bedroom, not dropping his gaze the entire time. As he did, he extended his senses, making sure not to trip on any fallen laundry or furniture, and as they reached the door he cocked his head to the side sharply. It swung open of its own accord, and Arthur's hands twisted to grip at his forearms.
Merlin gave a wicked smirk, and pulled Arthur into the bedroom.
"Onto the bed, my lord," he said, and his voice was filled with reverence and sumptuous welcome.
Arthur swallowed, but made his way to sit on the bed, eyes fixed on Merlin. His fingers were trembling and his cock was so hard he could use it to hammer nails, but he waited.
Merlin watched him for a few moments, chewing on his lip. Slowly, he raised a hand.
"If this gets too much," he said, voice low and steady, "if you get frightened or overwhelmed, say the word and I'll stop."
Arthur swallowed again in anticipation, and could only nod.
Merlin smiled, then murmured a single word.
Arthur jolted as he felt himself lift into the air. He twisted to look below him, but there was nothing, just the bedsheets about a underneath. Heart beating in his throat, he drifted until he was positioned over the centre of the bed, and then touched down, pressing down into the soft doona as though his partner hadn't just broken physics. He looked back towards Merlin, saw him still standing at the door to the bedroom, arm extended.
"Still good?" asked Merlin.
"Get. Here. Now," bit out Arthur.
Merlin grinned and climbed onto the bed, prowling forward until he was looming over Arthur, one hand on either side of his head. He positioned one leg between Arthur's splayed ones and rand a hand down Arthur's chest, stopping at the waistband of his pants.
"Keep your eyes on me," he commanded. He let his hand drift to the bulge between Arthur's legs and the man hissed, hips pressing into Merlin's grip. Merlin smirked, rubbing up and down in a slow rhythm, and watched as the tendons in Arthur's neck stood out. Deftly, he increased the pressure, speeding up until Arthur's breath quickened and his eyes fell shut.
"I said, look at me," he chided, and Arthur met his gaze, jaw tight. Merlin made three more swift passes, pressing down hard, and then, without breaking his rhythm, murmured a word that made the last of Arthur's clothes disappear.
The sudden roughness of Merlin's palm against his cock, the cool air kissing his skin and the sharp stab of want that cut into him at the flash of Merlin's eyes sent Arthur into a paroxysm, hips jerking up as his heart rocketed into his throat, still not breaking eye contact with Merlin. His mouth fell open but he could not seem to find air, and Merlin watched this with gleeful satisfaction.
"Well, damn," said Merlin. He let go of Arthur's cock, hearing an answering grunt of protest, and dipped down to lick at a prominent nipple. The skin over Arthur's stomach was twitching and trembling, and Merlin let his fingernails trail over it, eliciting a breathy "fuck" in response.
He leant back, biting his lip as he looked down upon Arthur.
"Do you trust me?" he asked, and Arthur blinked at him in incredulity.
"Of course I do, you twat," he snapped.
Merlin grinned, and grasped both of Arthur's hands so that they were palm to palm. Leaning forward, he pressed them into the mattress, stretched to either side of Arthur.
"Good," he said, and his eyes flashed. At first Arthur didn't know what he had done, but as Merlin sat back and Arthur made to follow him he realised his arms were locked in place. He looked at them, pulling experimentally at his wrists. There was nothing there, nothing holding him down, but still they would not budge.
He was restrained, totally helpless.
Merlin was watching him and his heart was pounding and this wasn't what he had expected and if Merlin didn't touch his goddamn prick right now he was going to tear this bed apart with his legs.
Any blood left circulating in his body shot south the second he realised he was entirely at Merlin's mercy, wrapped and captured by magic he couldn't hope to understand. His hips canted up and down, desperate to find some friction, but Merlin moved his leg out of the way.
"Fucking HELL, Merlin," hissed Arthur, and Merlin laughed.
"Patience, your highness. We have all the time in the world."
He shuffled down the bed, settling between Arthur's legs where his cock jutted upwards like a demand. Merlin looked back to meet Arthur's eyes and lifted a finger, whispering a word that coated the digit with fragrant oil.
"Still okay?" he asked.
Arthur stared for a long moment, and then nodded frantically, parting his legs further. Merlin grinned. He reached forward and found the little star of flesh between Arthur's buttocks, circling it with his slick finger before pressing gently inside. Arthur's breath flew out of him and his head collapsed back, shoulders twitching where his bonds held them in place.
Merlin bit his lip, watching Arthur's body with fascination as it jolted and rolled. He let his finger slide in and out, in and out, feeling Arthur's muscles tighten and release as his body grew used to the intrusion. Once he felt Arthur fully relaxing he summoned more slick to his fingers and delicately added a second, then a third, hearing Arthur swear ferociously above him.
"If you don't get inside me right this instant I swear to fuck I will have you in the stocks for a week," snarled Arthur.
Merlin grinned, fingers sliding from Arthur's arse, and crawled up til his newly erect prick was in position.
"As my lord commands," he said, and pushed forward.
The feeling of Arthur around him was utter perfection. Arthur's legs hooked over his back and urged him onward, further into the tight heat, and he moaned. His senses were entirely filled with Arthur's skin and smell and arse and voice and Arthur Arthur Arthur, pounding in his ears, through his brain. Arthur seemed to have lost the ability to breathe, mouthing ineffectually at the air, and Merlin bent forward to kiss him until he finally remembered what air was.
"I love you," gasped out Merlin. "I love you so fucking much."
Arthur looked at him, and his smile was wild.
"Show me," he demanded.
So Merlin did.
He pulled out until only the tip of his prick was still inside Arthur, and then pushed forward. It was tight, and warm, and sent tingles down to his knees, up to his skull. Then he did it again. And again. With every thrust forward the body below him relaxed a little more, moved a little more to meet him.
It was stars in the sky, rain in the night time. It was the first kiss of a hot shower and the tug of gravity after jumping off a cliff.
It was a thousand years of love, compressed into a single moment.
Merlin kissed across Arthur's chest as he drove into him, hearing the string of curses spilling from above as adoration blossomed in his chest. Arthur squirmed and panted in his restraints, desperately trying to feel as much of Merlin as he could.
Reaching below him, Merlin managed to hook an arm under one of Arthur's legs, dragging it over his shoulder. The new angle made Arthur jerk and writhe in abandon, surging up to meet Merlin at every thrust.
Merlin felt energy collecting in his belly, building pressure and need for more more more, pulsing and condensing and sending tingles through his limbs, and with one last mighty thrust it burst forth, exploding through his lungs and his head and his cock and his throat. As it did so Merlin's magic exploded through the room, rattling the furniture and zinging over Arthur's skin, coating him and cloaking him and driving him over the edge.
Arthur came, clamping down on Merlin's prick and arching in a rigid lock of pleasure. He shuddered under Merlin, drawing out the last of his orgasm, and Merlin clutched at him while the lights flickered and danced.
As one, the two collapsed into a boneless heap, Merlin splayed over Arthur's gasping form, and the energy slowly faded from the room as though it had never been there. With weary, clumsy movements, Merlin drew himself out of Arthur, crawling up to collapse against his neck. He dismissed the magical restraints with a flick of his hand, and Arthur's arms came to wrap him in a loose hug.
They both lay silently, waiting for the stars of the orgasm to fade from their eyes. Merlin traced an idle finger over Arthur's collar, breathing deeply to steady himself.
"So," he began when he felt like his voice was back under control, "magic, huh?"
Arthur hummed, biting at his bottom lip.
"Apparently," he croaked out.
Merlin licked his lips, nodding seriously to himself, before he finally cracked into deep belly laughs, burying his face into Arthur's peck.
Arthur closed his eyes and snickered in response. His chest shook under Merlin, spurring him into further giggles until the two were stuck in a loop of post-coital mirth that even their exhaustion couldn't subdue.
Lost in their giggles, they tightened their arms around each other in ecstatic disbelief. They were here. They were together. This was real.
The bed was soft, the lights were dim, and Arthur simply could not stop laughing.