Author's Note

Hello again! I wrote some more! Yay! I really hope I haven't ruined it o_o

WARNING: This chapter is a bit smutty so I changed the rating of this story. There's a bit of alcohol fueled fumbling going on so if you don't want to read that, STOP HERE! I think. Or you could just skip over that bit. I don't know. Do as you please :)

Chapter III

'The alleged magic-user has escaped.' Is all he told his father. No matter how fiercely Uther denied his disease, his hollow cheeks and sunken eyes were clear proof of his diminishing health. Arthur didn't want to burden him with anything but the strictly necessary and — haven taken over more and more of his father duties — he was now in a position in which he could.

'The boy appeared to be rather harmless though,' He added.

'There's no such thing as a harmless sorcerer,' his father corrected bitterly. 'You should now that by now, son.'

'Yes, father,' Arthur automatically agreed, bowing his head. 'All the guards have been alerted, also the ones in the lower town. They have instructions to arrest him on sight, father.' He carefully didn't mention how the boy escaped on the back of a dragon and could be anywhere by now.

'Very well then.' Uther let out a disgruntled sigh. His sickness had made him even more resentful against sorcerers. More paranoid also. Arthur did all he could to keep his father's measures within the reasonable, but his attempts were mildly effective at best. Uther had the court physician, a poised old man by the name of Gaius, who was already busy enough attending to the health of the entire court on his own, also investigating the possibilities of developing a kind of concoction that would temporarily or even irreversibly take away a sorcerers magic. Uther's additional task had the poor man looking almost as exhausted as the king himself.

Besides all his duties and responsibilities weighing heavily on his shoulders, Arthur also had problems of an entirely different kind. The sweaty–forehead–tangled–sheets–soiled–bedclothes–kind. To be fair: he was an eighteen year old boy. Man. Almost-man. And unlike the other almost-men he knew, he never indulged in fondling with the maids, or worse: taking a trip down to the brothels of the lower town. He was the crown prince. He just couldn't — wouldn't do that.

But this was getting slightly out of hand. His erotic dreams were becoming more frequent and persistent and it was starting to interfere with his sleeping habits. He had now arrived at a point where he hadn't had a good night's sleep in over two months. To his great embarrassment he had started falling asleep during the day at the most inopportune of times; during important meetings; during banquets; he'd even fallen asleep during dinner with his father, landing face first in his roasted pheasant. Something had to change.

He didn't like to admit it to himself, but this "problem" was most likely the reason he suddenly found himself in the tavern that evening, a place he'd always persistently avoided. He'd halfheartedly attempted to go incognito by removing all the princely items from his person. Also — to the great enjoyment of them all — he'd asked the knights to call to him "Arty" for the night. This of course resulted in them using this temporary nick name as often as they possibly could, which in turn caused them to giggle in ways you wouldn't expect at all from Camelot's toughest fighters.

'Hey Arty, Arty, yeah. Can get you another, Arty?' Gwaine gave him his widest, cheekiest grin as he reached across the wooden table for Arthur's empty goblet. Percival was sitting next to him, unable to contain the laughter spluttering out from behind his hand.

'Yeah alright, but if you're doing it to make up for how I'm constantly being mocked, you better make it a whole bottle.' he answered.

'Coming right up, Arty!' Gwaine winked cheerfully, sending Percival into another fit of giggles.

Leon took pity on him. 'Alright alright, it's not that funny.'

'It! Is!' Hiccuped Percival between chuckles.

Arthur was regretting his decision to come here more every minute.

When Gwaine returned, it was not only with two bottles of wine but also with a whole host of girls in his wake. All round curves, red lips and blushing cheeks. Arthur was the only one who didn't perk up at the sight of them, but who even slumped further down on the wooden bench. That didn't deter the blond girl nearest to him though. She settled herself as close to him as she possibly could without actually crawling onto his lap and started twisting his blond locks around her fingers, whispering cheeky remarks into his ear. Gwaine had seated himself opposite of Arthur again and as their eyes met he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at him. Arthur tried for a grin but it turned in to more of a grimace.

He couldn't possibly have been more uncomfortable. His friends were all goofing around (especially Gwaine) and showing off (again especially Gwaine), but he simply couldn't get himself to join their frivolous and lighthearted interactions. After a couple moments of stammering politely to the overenthusiastic blond girl, he mutteringly excused himself and fled outside.

Suddenly enveloped by the crisp night air he realised that his brain was a lot more fuzzy that it usually was. On uncertain feet he wondered over to a secluded alleyway and leant against the cool bricks for support. The alcohol flowing freely through his bloodstream was doing very little to reduce the size of his inflated libido. Closing his eyes, he took a few deep breaths and relished the feeling of the fresh air filling up his longs, providing him with some clarity. He stood there peacefully for a while until a baritone voice pulled him from his reverie.

'Didn't find what you were looking for in there?'

Arthur quickly opened his eyes to find a tall, dark, slightly scruffy looking man standing a few paces away from him.

'Excuse me?' he was shocked to hear that his voice sounded slightly slurred.

'A handsome young boy like you would've gotten plenty of female attention,' the man grinned conspiringly at him, 'yet you're standing out here, by yourself,' and took a step towards him.

Arthur's alcohol drenched brain came to the unsettling conclusion that he really didn't know what was going on or how to deal with it.

'Err...' he uttered intelligently.

The man's eyes were fixed on his and Arthur felt almost like he was being hypnotised. He hadn't even noticed how close the man had gotten until he spoke again and Arthur could feel his breath on his face.

'Could this be what you're looking for?' The strangers voice rasped. The next moment his lips forcibly took possession of Arthur's, while a hand wrapped itself around his clothed cock. Arthur gasped in surprise, giving the other man the opportunity to plunge his tongue inside Arthur's mouth.

Just as Arthur was ready to act on how the brain bit of himself felt about all this (indignant, repulsed, angry even), a more primal, much longer denied part decided that it actually really liked the way the dark haired man was now leisurely, deliberately stroking Arthur's rapidly hardening cock. Instead of words of protest, a low moan sounded from deep within. And instead of shoving him away from him, he shamelessly pushed his crotch into the man's hand. The stranger smiled against his lips.

'I thought you might like that,' his low voice vibrated.

In this drunken, aroused state Arthur did something he had never done before: he let go completely. He didn't even attempt to control the increasingly louder moans and groans escaping from his lips. Any rational thought had long since abandoned him. His system was overwhelmed by a sensory overload and all he could think was 'YES!' and 'MORE!'.

When suddenly, they were struck by flash of bright golden light, blasting the two of them apart. Arthur lost his already unsteady footing and ended up sitting slumped against the wall, while the stranger flew backwards and landed flatly on the ground, seemingly unconscious.

While Arthur was trying to comprehend what on earth had just happened, he heard rushing footsteps and then a vaguely familiar voice.

'Arthur! Gods! Are you hurt? Is it bad? I heard you crying out and then I saw how this man had overpowered you! I thought I was too late. Are you a complete cabbage head, by the way? Everybody knows bad things happen with strangers in deserted alleyways. Did he rob you? What where you even doing out here? Gods, all that education and still so utterly foolish. I'm surprised they even let you out of the castle. Idiot.' During his little rant Merlin sat squatted over him, putting his hands all over Arthur's body, pulling at his clothes: checking for injuries. Arthur just sat there limply, squinting at him.

'Merlin!?' Arthur stared disbelievingly at the pale, concerned face hovering in front of him. Merlin's inquisitive touches didn't at all have the innocent effect on Arthur with which they were intended. In fact, Arthur came to the conclusion that he actually really didn't mind this change in who was touching him. Merlin was much nicer to look at, and he smelled better too. If only Merlin's hands would go a little lower...

'You know, this would go a lot faster if you would tell me where you are hurt.' Merlin huffed irritably. 'How much wine did you drink?' Arthur wholly ignored this remark in favour of studying Merlin's lips, currently set in a determined line, but still most beautifully formed and so incredibly soft looking. Arthur found himself struck by an overwhelming curiosity as to what they felt like, tasted like. Apparently this urge to feel immediately translated into action, because he found that he was now slowly and deliberately stroking Merlin's bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.

Merlins ministrations fell still upon Arthur's touch and his eyes sought his.

'Arthur, what —' his voice suddenly breathless.

Want was still pulsing heavily through Arthurs veins, like a drug, drowning out all that usually formed Arthur's behaviour. No more sense of propriety, or politeness, or courtliness. He simply really wanted Merlin to be closer to him. Now. What did that stranger do again? The crushing of the lips thing?

Arthur's hand had been cradled around Merlin's jaw and cheek, to support his thumb–stroking–lip–action, but now abandoned this position in favour of sliding further back and wrapping itself easily around the back of the boy's slender neck. While stroking the sensitive skin there, Arthur pulled Merlin closer, until their foreheads touched.

The effect of Arthur's touch was plain to see on Merlin's face. All the worry and determination had vanished from his features. His face was open, questioning and impossibly beautiful.

'Are you even hurt at all?' Merlin whispered into the small space between their mouths, in a last attempt to regain control over the situation.

Arthur decided that the best answer to this was to close the gap between their mouths. Their lips melted together in a perfect fit that surprised them both. It was pure and uncompromised bliss. But there was still way too much space between their bodies for Arthur's liking, luckily he knew a way to fix that. He brought his free hand up to Merlin's tunic and pulled it towards him, tipping Merlin off balance and making him fall into Arthur's lap with a knee on each side. All this without disconnecting their lips. Arthur was quite pleased with himself.

Merlin gasped in surprise and Arthur used this opportunity to boldly slide his tongue into Merlin's mouth. Merlin's gasp turned into a moan as their tongues slid together, sending swirls of fiery lust curling through their stomachs. Merlin's hands found their way to each side of Arthur face, his long, delicate fingers running through his hair, pulling him closer, caressing his cheeks. Their kiss became more and more heated and Arthur's lower parts arrived at the conclusion that the pressure of Merlin's body weight was perfect for creating delicious friction.

Arthur's shallow thrusts and the feel of his hard cock against him, quickly turned Merlin on to the point of despair. But just as Arthur's hand traveling down his body was about to reach the spot where Merlin wanted it the most, something clicked inside him. The bubble burst. His sensible side kicked in.

'Arthur, stop!' He said, leaning back and panting slightly. 'We can't — we should stop.' Merlin got up.

Arthur looked confused and all together very unhappy about the loss of Merlin's closeness. A pout had formed on his lips, very much like the look of a petulant child. They stared at each other.

Merlin didn't seem to have it easy either. He was obviously fighting against the lust clouding his brain. He swallowed heavily and grabbed his forehead in a clarity seeking gesture.

'I should get you back to the castle.' He said, willing his words to sound determined, but not quite succeeding.

Arthur didn't even make the smallest attempt to get up.

'Don't make me use my magic,' Merlin threatened lamely. Arthur just raised his eyebrows at him.

'Oh for heaven's sake!' Merlin offered his hand to Arthur. 'Come on!' He helped Arthur get up, which Arthur immediately took advantage of by crowding Merlin's personal space and putting his arm around the boy's slim shoulders. Merlin meekly protested to this, but then begrudgingly allowed it. Together they stood and then both noticed the forgotten stranger who was still lying there unconsciously.

'He'll be alright,' Merlin said.

Arthur made an agreeing, humming sound and left it at that. He didn't want to think about the stranger any more. Especially not when Merlin was being so delightfully close.

How exactly they got home, Arthur couldn't remember. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe Merlin had done something magical. All he knew was that one moment they were walking, Arthur leaning quite heavily on Merlin, not out of necessity, but because he liked how the boy's skinny form fit against him, and the next moment he was standing in his chambers with Merlin giving him a seemingly very serious speech. Arthur was only half listening because all those words were coming from Merlin's lips, and Merlin's lips were simply very distracting. He seemed to notice that Arthur wasn't paying attention, because he huffed in annoyance and then suddenly, he was gone.

And Arthur was alone. Still drunk. With a sexual frustration that had only gotten worse. He crashed onto his luxurious bed with a groan and quickly dropped into another fitful sleep.

Another Author's Note

I'm actually a little embarrassed and insecure about writing the smutty stuff so please let me know if I've ruined it or not. Any feedback will be greatly appreciated! And to the ones who already wrote a review: thank you so much! I'm not even exaggerating when I say that my heart does a little skippy dance when I get a [ New Review ] email :)

Also a lot of thanks to all the people who added this story or me to their alert boxes or favourites! There are so many! WOW! Really, I'm so glad! THANK YOU!