A Marriage that Started a Legend

by IJustShowedUp

Follows canon but with my own arranged marriage spin on it. What happens when Hunith makes a mistake and is forced on the run with her infant son? What happens when Camelot knights find her twenty years later? What happens when Arthur learns he's betrothed to a peasant boy? Will Merlin be able to stand among royalty? Will these two different boys survive each other? Review!

209. Chapter 211

Arthur Pendragon had not been fairing very well since everybody had left the dinner table in order to separate themselves into smaller groups to have their more personal and less serious conversations that hadn't been bad during the dinner they had just partaken in. He had been left sitting there all alone after Merlin had run off to join his uncle and loyal guard on the far side of the room. It put a great amount of distance between Arthur and the consort, and it was a distance that Arthur had desperately wanted to close. There had just been one single thing Arthur had wanted, and that was to get out of his chair and stride across the room, and be welcomed by his consort when he joined him right by his side. It would have been heavenly if he had managed to get even a hint of a on Merlin's lips, something that showed how happy Merlin was that Arthur was there. It would have felt like Arthur was being welcomed into the very gates of heaven if Merlin had spoke to him, even if it was more mocking comments over how Arthur couldn't stop watching him eat. It wasn't Arthur's fault that he was finding it so… fascinating every time a single morsel passed the consort's lips after he had gone on for so long without eating a decent meal. After his lovely consort had stopped eating because of him.

Arthur was so utterly fucked.

There Merlin was, being the absolute dark angel that he was, simply living his life and staking his claim over what was important to him over the rest of those in the room. Being this wicked and devious little thing that betrayed how much of an angel he was, which had only lured Arthur into his desire to be close. The wickedness that shown in Merlin through mocking insults had festered this hot heat in the pits of Arthur's belly, making him want to do anything he could just to show Merlin he could be good to him. That he could be good for Merlin. The prince wanted to roll over on the bloody floor and show Merlin his belly just so he could show how much of a threat he wasn't going to be. He DESIRED to be the pet for once, like he had thought of Merlin so long ago. It wouldn't be such a bad life, Arthur thought. If he was an unmanageable wild beast that stood at a whopping ten feet in height, casting shadows over Merlin's slight form, being willing to attack any who so much as tried taking the consort from him. Arthur was almost hot all over again, his skin feeling flushed as if he had been out in the sun for hours and suffering heatstroke, knowing that his little consort was the only thing stopping him from rampaging. He was the pet and his little dark angel held his leash.

It was strange how OK Arthur was with such a scenario.

Which was when the conundrum had hit him. His dark little angel didn't need to know that Arthur was over here nearly salivating at the thought of being the one Merlin went to for all his needs. Whether it be for his food, drink, shelter or whatever else that came up in the future. Merlin could control a room all by himself, and Arthur couldn't even control himself! He was already considered a freak of nature because of how obsessed he had allowed Merlin to see him be, and themselves waking up curled together certainly hadn't helped matters. He needed to be more discreet. He needed to be more put-together. He NEEDED to not have his thoughts written all over his face the next time he had a chance to be in the same breathing space of his consort. Arthur needed to not feel like this when he still had Lancelot's rape accusations hovering around in the back of his mind like a shroud. He needed to pretend that his blood wasn't trying to boil him alive right beneath his skin at just the mere thought of Merlin glancing in his direction.

Arthur had almost been grateful to be alone, on some level, while he took time to gather himself together. Which was why he had been so startled when that kick had landed on the back of his chair, and when that angelic voice came out of nowhere to address him. He had almost broken his back in order to turn just so he could see the consort for himself. And Merlin had stood there with all his righteous glory, doing far more than simply 'glancing' at Arthur. Merlin wanted to talk to him, he wanted to have an actual conversation with him, his consort wanted his attention! And Arthur wanted to give it. He wanted to give Merlin all his attention, whatever food he still had on his plate, his listening ear… he even wanted to give Merlin one of his bloody limbs if the consort requested it of him right now. Because his Merlin surely had a good reason for wanting it…

Fuck.

Arthur really was fucked.

Perhaps even more than he knew.

But Merlin was glaring at him, being his wickedly darkling self, and then all but demanding to know why Arthur had allowed his chosen knight to win the battle against him, and then it had felt like everything had came to a screeching halt in his mind mind. Arthur wanted to gap openly with dumb abandonment at his clever little consort who had managed to figure him out. Arthur was quite sure not even Lancelot had known what he had done, and the man had been on the battle field with him! He had been right there! And yet, it was Merlin's focused gaze that had riddled it out. And Arthur brought a hand up to his cheek, where he had a very small bandage taped along the spot where Lancelot's sword had nicked him just before everything had gone down with the statue nearly killing his angel. Arthur's stomach clenched up with nerves, feeling positively sick at the thought of disappointing Merlin.

"I… I don't know what you're talking about."

Arthur felt the immense shame swelling up inside his throat the second that he said those dreadful words. He had known they were wrong before he'd actually said them, and they hovered in the air now like a poisonous cloud waiting until it had the chance to swallow them both. The sourness of shame only filled his stomach as he saw how unimpressed Merlin was with him, the arch of his brow going up and the thinning of his lips. He had been so worried about causing so much disappointment, that Arthur had gone and done exactly that. He had his consort right in front of him and he was messing this up. This would probably be the last time Merlin ever approached him willingly, and the prince was only giving him every reason in the world not to bother with him again after this.

"Why don't you stop all the lies and cut that crap out, Arthur. Do you think I'm so blind that I cannot see what was happening out there on that field? Do you think I'm so stupid that I wouldn't be able to see something like that? Are you so sure that I can't tell the difference between you fighting at your skill level or you holding yourself back?" Merlin demanded, voice hushed so they wouldn't drag attention to themselves, but no less heatedly. On one hand, Arthur could have been thrilled at these words, because it meant Merlin had watched what he was doing intently enough in the past, that he knew when Arthur didn't try as hard as he should have. But on the other hand, Arthur could only shake his head as he looked up at Merlin with wounded eyes. Merlin was getting this all wrong. Arthur didn't think he was stupid or blind or any other derogatory term the consort could have used to describe himself. His Merlin was perfect, from the way his hair lay messy around his large ears and all the way down to those long toes of him that Arthur had only ever seen once or twice by accident. His Merlin was a divine creature who should never have such negative thoughts in his mind, thoughts that Arthur knew he had very well put there. "I've seen the way you fight, and I know without a sliver of a doubt that you would never go down that easily. You can't tell me Lancelot managed to cut your face during that fight. Especially since you've fought him before and know how Lancelot fights, so you were already prepared before you went out there! And yet, you are trying to tell me he managed to get the jump on you like he did?"

Nausea clung deep in Arthur's gut, churning and churning until he almost felt sick with Merlin's lecture drilling itself into his skull. He could've tried to keep up with his story, kept insisting that it wasn't a completely crazy concept. It's not as if Arthur was as invincible as he claimed to be as long as he had a blade in his hand. And it wasn't as if Lancelot hadn't beaten him before. Sure, Arthur could probably guess what moves he was going to use next since he'd gotten a taste of his fighting style already. But Lancelot was far more wickedly clever than most of the knights Arthur had trained, so it was completely possible that Lancelot had simply managed to trick him. Not Arthur's proudest moment as a prince, but one he could own. It wasn't as shameful as it was once, having that peasant beating him in the one thing Arthur had always excelled at. But Merlin didn't deserve to be lied to or deceived or tricked or anything of the such. The prince… he liked to think he respected Merlin far more than that. He was going to hell already for how he had treated his angel in the past. The least he could do was be honest with him while breath was still in Arthur's lungs.

"I did it for you."

The words were said earnestly, so much so that Arthur could barely believe he had just said them himself. And from the way Merlin's eyes had just gone wide and staring at him dumbstruck, Arthur could only figure that Merlin was hardly able to believe the same. Arthur's mouth felt incredibly dry, as if he had spent his entire afternoon trying to drink a desert worth of sand. But he pushed back his chair and stumbled up to his feet in order to address Merlin properly. There was respect in that, in looking Merlin in the eyes as he said that and speaking to him as if they were on equal footing. Even when Arthur knew Merlin already stood miles and miles above him, and he was only lucky to get to see the view he had of him now. Lucky to be able to talk to him, and smell slight scent that Arthur always had in his nose when in his proximity. Arthur had disappointed the consort once already during this conversation, and he was desolate not to do it again.

"I simply meant that he needed the win more than I did. Lancelot needed to be able to win in front of those other men in order to get the respect he deserves as a fellow knight. It didn't matter how well he fought, they would've dismissed him if he had ended up losing." Arthur tried to explain himself, feeling as if the words were clumsy and awkward as they came out, his excuse suddenly felt as if it was as flimsy as parchment paper when it was wet. He had felt it so deeply in his soul when he had been out on that field and staring Lancelot down while he accused Arthur of doing the most heinous thing he could have done to this boy in front of him. But looking at that same boy now, Arthur just knew he had made another mistake. "And those knights needed to see that you were who'd appointed Lancelot as a knight in the first place. After you spoke up while we were at the table just now, they hardly argued after you set a few things right. I think that's because on some level, they trusted your judgement because you found a strong knight. I mean, not that you couldn't have done it without that backing you up, but it's just… it's just good sense to have more than one hand in the pot when trying to impress people."

Arthur knew trying to explain everything wasn't making anything better, but it felt as if it was word vomit just spewing out of him. He wasn't the calm prince that didn't need to waste his time explaining things but was being generous by doing so anyway. He wasn't Arthur Pendragon, coming up with some strange strategy that everybody tilted their heads at but didn't dare argue because he never went into anything without having five or ten backup plans in case it was turned into a failure. He was simply a man, silently pleading with the angel that stood in front of him, holding the power that could very well end him with only a single word spoken, not to be too angry with him. Not to be angry despite all the trouble Arthur had clearly caused him by doing something that was as big as this fight had been for Lancelot's standing among the other knights without discussing it with him first. Arthur wasn't used to needing to discuss anything with somebody else before he acted. Five months he had been married to this man, this god, and in those five months, Arthur was still struggling on figuring out how to move forward as a 'we' instead of just a 'him.' Good god, he would give anything to be considered a 'we' unit with this man. Who had put up with much more than Arthur should have ever allowed himself to go.

"Why… why would you bother doing that? I thought you and Lancelot were still hating on each other? I thought the two of you had this weird hatred thing that you needed to beat the shit out of each other just so we could move on with all of our lives. I thought that was what half of this fight was about! So the two of you could act like Neanderthal's or something!" Merlin spoke in this harsh and equally clipped tone that had Arthur withering where he stood. Merlin thought he was a Neanderthal, some kind of caveman who acted with his fists instead of speaking through his issues like a proper man of their modern time. It would not be a fine character trait to be noted as, but Arthur also couldn't say that it wasn't adequate. "But now you are going to stand there and say that you were doing this for me? You never do anything for me! This is nothing more than you and your… obsessive need to suddenly get on my good side so I'll be easier for you to manage. You HATED it when I told you Lancelot was now my first knight and personal guard. And now you're suddenly losing fights to him just to make me look good? Do you honestly not realize how much crap that sounds like?"

Somebody who had an outsider perspective on the relationship between them probably would see how crappy the whole thing sounded. But it didn't feel as crappy to Arthur. It simply felt like the whims of a desperate man who was now truly scraping the bottom of the barrel to try and get anywhere with Merlin. He was standing here, feeling as if he was as open and bare and naked as the day he was born before his consort, and still trying as desperately to treat the boy with the same respect and care and treatment he should've gotten from Arthur the day they had met. And Merlin snubbed his nose at him still. And Merlin was so justified with every slight he made against Arthur, that Arthur was willing to take it and a thousand other welts if it made Merlin feel just a bit better about them and what they had. If they had anything at all. He knew they didn't have anything—not companionship, friendship, not even partnership—but he does want something now. Even if it was far too late for them.

"My… obsessive feelings for you are irrelevant with this. And even I have been forced to admit that Lancelot is not the worse knight that you could've chosen as your protector. He has already proven how far he'll go in order to keep your safety his top priority, and I suppose that is all I can really ask of a knight that is meant to protect you." Arthur spoke slowly, grimacing as he spoke about his feelings and possessive nature. He hated when it was referred to like this, as it made him sound like an unhinged lunatic. But… Arthur had been this unhinged lunatic who had once screamed at Merlin about each and every little thing that the consort did that drove him mad. This is just his penance for his moment of weakness back then. Hearing Merlin throwing in his face how sick and horribly deprived he was. "I did this because I didn't like the way those knights tried to speak to you or try questioning your choices when they didn't know anything about the situation leading up to them. I do have… conflicting feelings towards Lancelot but those have nothing to do with his skills as a knight. They are just …personal reasons for that. And… maybe my obsession has a little bit to do for that."

There was already a flush of humiliation growing on Arthur's face as the little consort in front of him blinked rapidly. It was true though, Arthur no longer had any doubt about Lancelot's skills as a knight, despite his heritage. It was hard to argue about one's skillset when they killed a griffin when nothing more than a lance. And it was true that Arthur didn't feel the same anger and hatred that he had felt when he had thought Lancelot was sleeping in his consort's bed so he had the free access to do whatever he liked to him. He had given that all up when he realized Merlin's purity was still in tact and Lancelot had an interest in Guinevere. But that didn't mean he liked how easy Lancelot had it, how he was clearly able to speak with Merlin without trouble, how he seemed to know all of the right things to say while Arthur struggled to get through a single sentence that wouldn't land him on the wrong side of Merlin. It was conflicting and none of them deserved this but Arthur couldn't help how he felt when he felt like he was walking on a tightrope that was only two seconds away from snapping and dropping him for dead on the cold, hard ground.

"Your obsession is going to ruin this trip for me, Arthur. You need to keep that obsession inside of you for all of five minutes, that is all I bloody well want you to do! Is that really going to be so hard to ask! You've already shaved off a few good hours I could've had to work on something more solid than just the trace ideas I have now. But that's going to have to wait till tomorrow because it's got to be so late that nothing can be done now to begin with!" Merlin exclaimed in a loud tone, and Arthur's gaze dropped down to where Merlin's fists looked as if they were nearly shaking because of how agitated he was. And Arthur let his head drop forward, lowering his head until he looked like a puppy who knew he was being scolded for chewing the slippers. "But I suppose you and I know for certain that this is an impossible task for you to do! Just like it's impossible for you to not behave here the same way you do in Camelot! Trying to 'protect my honor' or whatever the hell you do every time you decide to step in when one of YOUR knights do something out of line towards me. And you most definitely did not need to put on some kind of show with Lancelot to 'help me out.' Now I know you may not have noticed, but I like to believe I'm beginning to learn how to deal with royal things on my own. I don't need you pretending to be a savior to me when we both know you are the first one to throw me under the carriage the second you don't get your way."

By the time Merlin had finished hissing dangerous words beneath his breath to the prince, Arthur's skin had turned clammy and pale. He felt like a phony with Merlin's narrowed eyed gaze latched into him. Like every minute movement he made with his limbs was being watched by Merlin. He wanted to fall down onto his knees before his Merlin, but he couldn't get his legs to cooperate. His little consort believed Arthur had some kind of savior complex, where he only came in to save the day and then vanished when nobody was giving him attention for it. But that wasn't true! Yes, Arthur wanted nothing in the world more than for Merlin to turn to him during his times of doubt and crisis. Arthur wanted to be the one that could soothe away the nightmares when they bothered him, and he wanted to be the one that Merlin spoke to about all his worries, and Arthur simply wanted to HOLD Merlin if he needed someone to weep on. Arthur had never felt the desire to pull someone into his arms, being so close to another person for any length of time had always left him unsettled. But it didn't feel as if it would feel the same if it was Merlin. Because Merlin didn't NEED him. This boy in front of him could stand on his own whether or not Arthur was there by him. He could stand up against monsters and royals and abusers, so a trio of knights weren't anything. Merlin could have put them in their place with only a few simple words far earlier if Arthur had simply left it alone and allowed him to work his magic on them.

He simply hadn't wanted Merlin to be alone when he did need to be.

Just like he didn't want Merlin under the carriage.

Arthur wanted to be the one standing beneath the carriage and carrying it on his back while Merlin rode comfortably on top, as unpractical as that was.

"And honestly… the only thing you did when you threw your fight was dishonor all three of us."

Merlin's words had been brutal and cruel as he always was, but it still caused a gasp to be ripped out of Arthur's mouth. If Arthur had felt bad before, then the prince felt way worse now. He had turned as white as a ghost, nearly knocking over his chair when he tried to grasp onto the back of it to stop himself before he fell. Merlin had known exactly what he was doing, Arthur vaguely realized in the back of his mind, as he scrambled to get a better hold of the chair that had been the only reason he was still on his own two feet. Just like Arthur knew his consort did… his consort had been watching Arthur as much as Arthur's been watching him, albeit for two completely different reasons. Arthur continued to watch because he couldn't take his eyes off of Merlin, wanting to take each of his breaths as if they were causing the heavens to form with every exhale. But Merlin watched because it was a defense mechanism. Merlin felt he could only survive the life he had now if he understood Arthur, so he would know which of the buttons to push and which ones to avoid. And, well… his Merlin had thrown himself at the button he had just pushed. He had body slammed himself into it until the button jammed and Arthur felt as if he was being punched in his Royal private bits again and again and again.

Dishonored.

This was a word that held much importance to Arthur. He had spent every one of his waking moments, since he was old enough to understand what the word meant for them and their family, striving to bring honor to their family. It didn't matter what hardship his father asked him to do in his quest to prepare Arthur for the throne, it didn't matter how much blood had to be shed or how insane a mission sounded. Arthur needed to accomplish it with all the grace befitting of a man holding his station. He had poured his sweat, blood, and tears so he had honor when he ascended to the throne. And Arthur had thought he had carried his grace quite well considering the stresses he had been under, until his own wedding brought attention to every one of his faults. Until his consort brought attention to his faults and held Arthur accountable for everything he did. Now maybe Arthur had needed the swift kick to the behind from Merlin so he could open his eyes before he did something irreversible.

But Arthur had already done the irreversible.

And Merlin had paid the prince.

And what was a prince if he had no honor?

Arthur said nothing that would defend himself, and watching Merlin turn on his heel and storm away because it was time for them to go to bed so they would be well rested come morning. Arthur followed behind him at a far slower pace, meek like one would be when being thrown into a class of students where they had no room for new friends in the mix, his head hanging down since he would need directions to his own room from the steward. But the entire time, Arthur could only wallow in his much dishonor he had brought to Merlin. Arthur knew better than anybody that sword fighting was liable to bring out the truth of a man's character. He knew better than anybody that it could prove whether or not a man was a coward. But he had to ask… what did one's battle prove when they allowed somebody else to beat them? What did it mean when a man put down his blade and allowed another to take them out? Did it mean Arthur had no respect for Lancelot and his abilities? Did it mean Arthur had no respect for Merlin and the choices he made for who worked for him? Would Arthur ever be able to reclaim his honor in Merlin's eyes.

Probably never.

He hoped going to bed would be the best thing to happen today.

X

Going to bed was the worse thing that happened today.

Arthur Pendragon hadn't been interested in listening to the steward as he led his consort and him up the stairs, leaving behind the others who would have to find their own chambers for the night. He had been rambling on about how the room was the best in the entire manor, and how they were going to love how it felt to sleep in the bed and how the sun shone through the windows each and every morning as if trying to greet the occupants for the news day. It was truly amazing how the steward had been able to ramble on like he had and without needing to take an additional breath. But it was all superficial stuff that simply went in one or Arthur's ears and straight out the other, being forgotten before the prince could register what he was saying. Arthur hardly dared to look at his consort, but when the prince could tell that Merlin wasn't into want he's going on about. The steward didn't seem to care at all that neither Prince or consort was enthralled with his speech on the several generations that had bragged all about how wonderful these bed chambers were… as if they could possibly try and beat the royal chambers back at the castle. He seemed as happy as could be… far too happy to be normal, in fact. It was almost worryingly how happy he was when nobody else shared the same feeling.

Arthur was pretty sure he blanked out, entirely unsure how long it had taken before they reached the far end of the estate, which was much further away from where the wing of guest rooms were situated. He hardly noticed even as they reached a single door that seemed shoved into the corner of the hallway, all weak and cracked as if it would only take one good kick before it could get knocked down. It was definitely not the kind of door that one would expect to lead to somewhere a consort and his prince was expected to stay. But the man they were following seemed to know exactly what he was doing, because the steward didn't hesitate before pulling it open and stepping aside in order to let them go first. Merlin seemed to hesitate for a second, and Arthur waited while Merlin wobbled back and forth on his toes, as if trying to decide if it was okay for him to go through the incredibly creepy doorway. Arthur's hair fell limply in his eyes as he finally lifted his head in order to watch him… he wanted nothing more than to step forward and embrace Merlin from behind. He wanted Merlin to not scorn his touch as Arthur wrapped his arms around his shoulders to let him know that nothing was wrong. It wasn't as if Jacqui was going to have the chance to lock them up there or something, leaving them to starve as if it was impossible to break that door down. He wanted Merlin to be comfortable that he would seek shelter in Arthur's arms, but no such thing, of course, would be happening anytime soon.

Or ever.

Arthur almost felt despondent when Merlin finally strode inside, though when Arthur followed behind him, he couldn't blame Merlin for being as hesitant as he was. The doorway had led them into a really creepy hallway, so dark that it looked as if there were spiderwebs in the corners waiting to greet them. And it was at the foot of that hallway that they found a staircase leading up, towards the what looked like a shadowy abyss, considering how insanely dark it was in here, where there were no windows that would have allowed the moonlight to guide them. The stairs themselves didn't even look that steady. It appeared as if they hadn't been maintenance since the days the first family to ever own this estate lived there, a good several decades before. They were old, and seemed to be made out of wood that creaked ominously with each step they took up in the shadows. There was a spike of fear that struck Arthur dead in the chest as he saw Merlin stumble over one of the steps… it was very likely that somebody would die using these steps. And the odds of his consort being the one to fall down them was… insanely high. Arthur could almost imagine one of the steps cracking in the middle as Merlin stepped on it before he tumbled down into the shadows that had just came from.

Arthur could have kissed the door they reached at the top, though it looked as if it was in no better shape than the last. But the stairway was so spindly that it forced Arthur to press himself against the harsh stone walls when the steward needed to get past him, though he cursed beneath his breath. If Jacqui had to use a key to open the main doorway, then why hadn't he gone up first instead of allowing them to be? It was like he was TRYING to kill them, Arthur thought with an agitated frown as he watched Merlin doing the same as he was, falling against the stone walls in order to give Jacqui the room needed to get in front of them. Arthur supposed he should just thank his lucky stars though, that he was the one in the back of the line. If Merlin, clumsy as his consort could be at the worse moments, really had ended up taking a tumble down the stairs, then at least Arthur would be able to brace him with his body and take the damage so his consort's neck wouldn't be broken by the time they reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Well, here we are. Home sweet home!"

Jacqui was practically cooing as he flung the door open, stepping inside so he and Merlin could walk through the doorway and into a room that was already lit and waiting for them, a large fireplace on the far wall bursting with flames that kept the room toasty and warm for their arrival. The space itself was large and circular, leaving much room for them to move around in when compared to the steep staircase it had taken to get there. From what Arthur could tell, it looked as if they had been taken to the tower, which was the highest space inside the estate, but that was no surprise. Many people used towers to house bedrooms or something that was as equally as important, so it wasn't strange to find the room had been built as the master suite. And it had clearly been created with a comfortable mindset, considering the large bear-skin rug that was spread out in front of the fireplace. The large screen poised in the corner of the room for someone to have privacy as they changed, and an equally large wardrobe that already had their bags, fetched from their horses, unpacked and emptied into the drawers and cabinet space. But what seemed to overtake the space would have to be the extremely large four-poster bed, already changed into crisp red Camelot colored bedding. And of course, there was a beautiful mahogany case in the corner that was meant to house books and important papers and the like …

One bed.

One bed.

One bed.

Arthur was sure that he must have choked on his own spit as this thought hit him in the head with enough force to make him dizzy. His entire focus fell onto the bed in dismay, looking over the bed frame and the sheets and the large red curtains that hung open around the bed itself, as if he was expecting for a new bed to suddenly sprout out of thin air right beside it. Arthur wouldn't even care if it was a single cot that was far too small to house somebody his size. He just wanted, with every possible cell in his body, for another bed to suddenly show up and put an end to this heart attack he felt like he was having. Arthur was far too scared to even look at Merlin, for fear he might have noticed the thing that Arthur had noticed. He was too scared to see that frighteningly blank look that always plastered itself onto Merlin's face when he felt like he had gotten stuck with the short end of the stick. There was no chance in hell his consort would be willing to share this bed with him, the risk of them ending up curled against the other like the last time they had slept in the same area too high. Arthur did not even want to broach the topic… sleeping in the same bed was too intimate when one compared it to simply sleeping beside each other in the woods.

One bed…

One bed…

One bed…

It was hard to shake that thought out of his head, and the bed itself felt as if it was a chasm of unspoken pain just waiting to happen. Arthur had never could have thought a bed was scary, until he found himself standing in front of one with Merlin by his side. He wanted to ignore it altogether, perhaps it would be better just to stay up all night long and pretend the bed situation hadn't even occurred to him. He could just fiddle around with whatever stray item caught his attention in the room, pretend he found himself fascinated with the rug or something and that was why he spent a good portion of his night playing with it's fur. Pretending that he wasn't insanely aware of Merlin moving about in the bed, pretending he wasn't listening to every breath and every sleepy mumble as he twisted himself around the bedsheets as he slept peacefully. He figured at least one of them deserved a somewhat restful sleep and considering it was his consort that had a far rougher day than him, it was only right that Merlin be the one to get it.

"Well then, I suppose that is everything you need from me. But please, do not hesitate to ring the bell on the wall if you need something during the night. It's connected to the servants quarters so one of the maids will be up to retrieve it for you. I wish you both a good night, my consort and my prince, and I will see you once morning arrive."

After Jacqui waved a hand to show them where an ancient looking handle was hanging from the ceiling by the door—no doubt it was connected to a bell that was located in the servants quarters, which would alert the maids if they had to come attend to them—the steward bowed deeply before leaving backwards the way he had came. The door closed gently once he exited the room, but the prince still flinched as violently as he would have if it was an explosion. He was alone… he was alone in this big room with Merlin standing right beside him and he was now staring at the bed as well and Arthur just knew he was about to go kneeling over. He was sure he was having a heart attack. That was why Arthur felt as if his heart was trying to explode from his chest, pounding so harshly in his ribcage that it was physically hurting him. Arthur had never been as scared as he was now, holding his breath and waiting for Merlin to say something, just waiting for the scorn that would come out of his mouth. Merlin would probably start cursing him out any second now, his words vicious and ugly, accusing all of this as Arthur's duty. As if Arthur had KNOWN they were going to be led to a room with only one bed. As if Arthur had known there was only one master bed chamber in this entire estate. As if he'd known they would be expected to find rest in the same bed, which, in hindsight, should have been obvious. Marriage did usually involve the couple sharing a bed at least sometimes.

"There's only one bed."

Merlin's voice was so quiet, so solemn, as he stared ahead at the silky sheets that were waiting for them, that the prince had to strain his ears so that he was able to understand him. And Arthur's stomach clenched tightly enough that it was aching in all of the wrong places. He didn't know what he had expected to hear from him, but he had obviously been expecting a far louder reaction than that. He was expecting to have things flying at him, or have Merlin shoving on him for not warning him about something not even Arthur had realized until the two of them had been left alone together. But the quiet murmur was probably the worse reaction he could have gotten from Merlin. It meant that Arthur had no way of knowing what to expect next. No way to prepare himself for what his consort would do once he came back to himself. He was a man floating around in the middle of the ocean with no life preserver in sight, the blue coming from Merlin's eyes drowning him beneath stilled waves.

"Yeah."

Arthur's voice was as equally soft, no less of a murmur than Merlin's had been, neither of them prepared to approach the conundrum they were stuck with. He had been stupid to not foresee this issue before they had ended up where they were now. He was stupid for not remembering that not all places were like they had it at the castle. Back home, the rooms in the royal wing were pretty evenly split. The King, his father, had his own bed chambers, but he also had another chamber attached to it that had once belonged to Arthur's mother, though it's stood empty since her death. And then Arthur had his own chambers, and the room right next to it was meant for his consort, for Merlin, and the connecting door allowed them to travel from one space to the next, even if it's never been opened. Arthur had assumed it would be a similar setup here. Two completely different bed chambers connected by a single door that would allow for a bit of discretion if they wanted to see each other in the middle of the night, which was very unlikely knowing them. But it would have been there, all the same. He had forgotten that the smaller estates could only afford the one bed chamber for the master suite.

"So… I guess they slept together, huh?"

Merlin's voice was starting to strain around the edges, clearly speaking about the people that had once lived here before him. And Arthur darted his eyes to the bed once again, such a taboo spot that reeked of sins and temptation. He could almost picture the noble couple that had lived in this tower for years as they transformed this bedroom into their home. Had they laid down in this very bed every single night together? Had they curled up beneath the sheets while lying pressed against each other until their heart beats could be heard trying to sync up to the other? Had they touched each other in this bed, showing no shame over whatever carnal desires trying to overtake them? For a prince like Arthur, who had never shared an actual bed with somebody, the mere thought of Merlin being the one he woke up to every morning and went to sleep beside each and every night made him feel as if a blood vessel was going to pop. The idea of his relationship with Merlin having any common threads with a couple who had been married for real sounded… daunting.

"Yeah… I guess they did."

Arthur's voice cracked somewhere in the middle as he quickly averted his eyes away from the bed, trying to pretend as if he couldn't still feel the warmth that had been Merlin's body pressed so intimately against his own the last time the two of them had slept that closely. But it looked as if neither of them would be doing anything to break the tension that had filled up the room like this cloud of despair. It was like the steward had sealed them away in here and neither of them knew what to do next. Should they climb into the bed and pretend it was only one of them inside of it? Should they forget about the bed entirely before finding the softest spot of floor that they could find? Should they… Arthur was forced to stop his rapid thoughts when Merlin finally made the first move. The consort was stepping forward to the bed, and he watched with his mouth open a stupid amount as Merlin started yanking off the blankets, dragging the thick and heavy cloths down into one giant bundle at the foot of the bed until Merlin tried lifting it up. It was so much blanket that it looked to be overflowing from Merlin's grip, long lengths of it trailing down to the floor. Panic struck Arthur in the heart as he hurried forward before Merlin could do anything stupid.

"Wait, Merlin, you don't have to do that! This is your estate and this is going to be a home for you! I'm not going to kick you out of the bed! You deserve to be the one that has it! Please! I'll sleep on the floor if you want me to, but this bed is for you!" Arthur exclaimed loudly, wanting nothing more than to snatch all of those blankets out of Merlin's hands just so he could lay them back on the bed like they should be. Arthur had never made a bed up a day in his life, that's the kind of work that servants did, and Arthur was no servant. But if it made Merlin happy to see him behave like one, then Arthur would even sully himself to do it for the boy. He would probably destroy the bed in his attempt to fix it nice and somewhat comfortable for his consort, but he would damn well try with all the attentiveness that Arthur placed in his swords training. "You have so much you have to do tomorrow, right? How are you supposed to get this place running if you spend an entire night on the floor? In fact, you can keep the bed the entire weekend we're here, and you won't even notice I'm on the floor, alright?"

If this was any other circumstance, Arthur would have no problem tossing the companion he was traveling with onto the floor while he kept the entire bed to himself, since sleeping together was clearly out of the question. It never would have even occurred to Arthur to give up the bed for somebody else. Unless he was with his father, then Arthur would clearly outrank whoever he was with, so therefore the bed should've been his by default. But—Arthur almost started to whimper at the thought—this was Merlin. And Merlin had skin that was so soft it felt like rose petals beneath Arthur's fingertips, and it looked as if it bruised so easily, and it could probably tear just as quickly. He nearly vomited when he thought of himself, curled up in that huge bed all by himself, stretched out and sighing in comfort that could only come from having luxuries. While his Merlin laid out on the cold, hard stone beneath his feet. Sure, the blankets Merlin had been collecting looked like they would be warm enough, but he worried about them not keeping him warm the entire night. And they did look as if they would be thick enough so he wasn't directly on the floor, but it was nauseating to see Merlin taking shelter on the floor when he should be comfortable. It nauseated Arthur just thinking about how Merlin ASSUMED the prince would just kick him off to the floor with no discussion beforehand or anything. It's not as if he had some grievous injury that would make people think he needed the bed in order to heal more quickly. Arthur was a very healthy and well bodied adult man that could withstand a couple of nights on the floor. And his sweet Merlin was small and gangly, with limbs too long and too thin to offer him any real protection… it was entirely possible that Merlin could get sick sleeping down there! He would never forgive himself if their weekend was ruined because Merlin suffered with a runny nose or horrible cough or anything like that!

"Oh, don't worry. I don't plan on sleeping on the floor at all. But I thought I was going to be generous by giving you something to sleep on while you leave and find someplace else for you to rest. I cannot possibly sleep with you so closely to where I'm planning to sleep. And the floor is entirely too close for my liking, so you'll just have to go back downstairs and find someplace." Merlin said with a grin that was far too chipper and shark-like for it to be anything other than a threat. And Arthur blinked, his brain stopping short as he stared at him, trying and failing to comprehend what Merlin had just said. Was he… was Merlin not just pushing him out of the bed, but kicking him out of the room entirely? That was… Arthur's brain was running too slowly for him to know what that was. "It is for both of our safety, of course. I would hate to wake up during the middle of the night only to find out you decided to crawl into bed beside me when you think I'm sleeping and won't notice. And I can't be help responsible for any of the actions I might take if I find you trying to hold me against you again. I don't think even you would particularly care for waking up while you have one of the pillows covering your face."

Arthur's jaw dropped down in silent horror and embarrassment, the beginning sounds of protest being sharply cut off as Merlin shoved the blankets into his arms, forcing the prince to scramble to catch them before they fell down onto the floor. Arthur was almost suffocated when a piece of the blanket landed in his mouth, forcing him to cough and sputter as he tried to spit it back out. He was still sputtering even as he acutely felt Merlin pushing against the blankets until Arthur was forced to walk backwards or embarrass himself by falling over his own feet. His mind was swirling, unable to believe Merlin had just what he'd said. Did he really think Arthur was so insane, so crazy, so… depraved! That he would have climbed into Merlin's bed without his permission? Did he think that the prince would have laid down beside him before casually wrapping his arm around Merlin's petite little waist and tugging him close until the round cheeks of Merlin's bottom was perfectly snug against Arthur's hips? Did he think that the prince would have laid his head down until his face was buried in the crook of Merlin's neck, the softness of his skin tickling at his lips while he was forced to breathe in that electric scent until the shockwaves soothed him into a much needed restful sleep. Arthur's entire body was BURNING at the thought of that happening, that he was almost embarrassed when he realized where the other boy had led him.

The door slammed shut in his face.

Arthur blinked, and he blinked again just to make sure he wasn't dreaming this time. His arms went lax, the blankets drooping in his hold, as he stared with a dumbstruck expression on his face. He was half-expecting Merlin to open the door back up and ask him what he was doing outside when they were trying to sleep, as if Merlin hadn't been the one that put him there. But the door stayed firmly shut in his face, and Arthur was baffled as he finally realized… yes. The consort had actually kicked him out of the room. Now, Arthur had prepared for a long night of sleeping on the cold floor at the foot of Merlin's bed where the prince would be nearby in case another statue or something tried to fall on the consort during his sleep. But what he hadn't been prepared for was to be on a door-stoop with a pile of blankets that his consort probably needed a lot more than him to keep warm during the night. Arthur was almost self-conscious, as he awkwardly lifted a hand up to knock on the door. He felt almost ridiculous about it afterwards… he was Merlin's husband and had every right to enter the master suite at his leisure! He wasn't used to knocking on doors and asking for permission to enter someplace he should have been welcomed.

The solid click of a lock sliding into place was the answer to Arthur's knock.

And that was when the panic started sinking in. This was so bad, and clearly it wasn't Merlin's idea of a joke. Merlin fully intended for him to sleep someplace that wasn't by his side, someplace that wasn't at the foot of his bed, some odd place that would look strange if somebody else stumbled upon the prince. And how was Arthur supposed to explain to people if they found him sleeping right here at the top of the stairs, his limbs sprawled out as he struggled to find him a half-way comfortable position? How was Arthur going to explain to people as to why they found him downstairs, curled up in one of the many armchairs that looked as if they would be too small to house somebody his size for the whole night? How was Arthur going to explain why he wasn't sequestered away in the master suite with his consort, trying to create a little love nest out of the many sheets now that they were truly alone for the first time in… ever. How would he explain why he wasn't spending the night with his HUSBAND their first night in an entirely mew place. Most husband's probably wouldn't have left the side of their spouse when they were so far away from home… right?

"MERLIN! Come on! Don't do this! Just open the door and we can figure out an idea that works for both of us! What if I slept by the fireplace? I won't even be close to the bed! What if I promise I won't come within five feet of it, and then you don't have to be worried about anything! What if I promise not to climb on the bed with you while you sleep! Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed loudly, very much aware of how he was begging the consort to be let back into the room. People of his status did not 'beg' for anything. They demanded and then it was all but thrown at them in the hopes of winning their favor. Princes would never be the one on the outside of a room, nor would they be tugging on the door handle as if it would crack open if he just pulled hard enough. But amazingly enough, the door was holding strong despite its meager appearance. Arthur squeezed one of his hands around the door handle, leaning himself forward until his forehead was touching the cold wood of the door. He breathed in through his nose and then out through his mouth, trying to calm himself before he tried again with a far more calmer and soothing tone as he spoke through the door, "Merlin. I… I know that I've hurt you a lot during these last few months, probably more than I have ever hurt anybody in my entire life. And I know that there's no reason for you to trust me now. You probably feel… safer behind a closed door than you'd ever feel safe with me nearby. And that's completely fair! You… you deserve to feel safe, especially when you're sleeping and at your most vulnerable. Having me sleep elsewhere is certainly not the worse thing you've done to get back at me for how I treated you, and considering how we… woke up the last time that we were in close contact, I certainly can't fault you for not wanting to risk it. It is understandable as to why I can't be in the same room with you. But… this is me asking you now… if I can just have a chance? One chance to prove to you I can at least be trustworthy enough to not climb into your bed."

Arthur grew silent as he finished speaking, pressing his face against the door as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to listen for any hint of movement coming through the door. He strained his ears, trying to hear whether or not his pretty consort was on just the other side, plastering himself to the door as well, as he tried determining whether or not he could risk Arthur wasn't telling the truth of the matter. Arthur couldn't remember the last time he had spoken the way he's just done. He could practically feel how vulnerable he had been, lying out all of his cards on the table, so to speak, while leaving Merlin to make a choice that could define what happened between them from now on. It was just a sleeping arrangement, but Arthur suddenly felt as if it was so much more than that. The consort could decide whether or not to give Arthur hope for them creating this new and shining future, where they weren't scared of each other or what each other would do to the other. Or he could shred Arthur into pieces, ripping him apart as if he was used parchment and then spit him out until the wind picked up his pieces and scattered him to the four corners of the universe. It felt like it all hinged on this moment. And Arthur's insides were quivering as he waited for one sign of life from somewhere within. One sign of life that showed Arthur he wasn't wrong to keep trying with Merlin. One sign of life that would let him breathe easily again, since Merlin held their future in his delicate hands.

There were no signs.

There was nothing.

Arthur was alone.

Arthur had never felt colder in his life.

X

Arthur Pendragon blinked himself awake, looking around the room that he had found himself in at some point during the night. He felt as if he was quite sleep deprived, his eyes beady and small as he tried to figure out where he was. The prince couldn't remember how he had gotten into the bed he was in, could not remember how he had come to be in this room, couldn't even remember when he had left his place in front of Merlin's bedroom door. In fact, everything felt as if it was a fog. Even the room itself looked a little hazy, as if the bed was not in a room at all, but instead, floating on a cloud in the middle of nowhere so far off from civilization that he could never be found. His limbs were too heavy for him to move, which made them feel plastered to the bedsheets beneath him as if somebody had painstakingly taken a needle and pinned his skin to the cover. If he didn't know any better, he would have said he had been drugged, but he had been so focused on Merlin during dinner, that he had hardly drunk the wine he had been provided with during his meal. But despite the odd circumstances he found himself in… Arthur wasn't scared.

There was no reason to be scared.

He was completely at peace with where he was and what he was doing.

He was… burning.

Arthur's entire body felt as if it was burning from the inside out, as if there was a fire burning just beneath his skin. Something that licked hotly at his veins as it taunted him. The kind of fire that didn't make a man shy away from it for fear of being burned. No… this fire was something different. Something that rolled its way through his body, causing the hair on his arms to stand at attention as his toes curled beneath the blankets covering him to his waistline. It was a fire that made Arthur want to throw his head back and groan loudly to the gods for allowing him to feel such… freedom. It was temptation and sin and something he was unable to explain but made him want to embrace it all the same. Arthur would bathe in this fire if he could, the scent of a thunderstorm brushing in his nostrils until it nearly smothered him with it, making his eyes roll into the back of his head as his body shook.

But not before he recognized the bed hangings pulled around the bed, as they shielded him from the cold brush of the air contrasting sharply with the heat of his skin.

They were the bed hangings in his room… but not his room at the same time.

They were similar, but slightly different as well.

Cut in a different way?

Or with a slight pattern on the hangings than the one's on his bed had none?

Or…

Oh…

These were not his curtains at all.

They were Merlin's.

Arthur blinked slowly, looking up through half-slitted and dazed eyes—it felt as if the room was spinning but not spinning at the same time—as he looked. The curtains surrounding him were the same red that hung around the prince's own bed back in Camelot City. But the subtle differences that were there only made it clear that these were the curtains hanging in Merlin's bed chambers. He had only seen them the once before Merlin had kicked him out, yes, but Arthur had been staring at that bed hard enough as he imagined Merlin sleeping in it, that he could have recognized them anywhere. Arthur just didn't know why the red curtains would be around him in the first place. Was he in Merlin's bed? But he couldn't have been. Merlin had kicked him out hours earlier, and he would have never allowed Arthur to suddenly come in so late at night. Had he slept walk to this room, and then kicked down the door, and climbed into the bed just as the consort had feared he would? That seemed a little excessive for someone who had to have been sleepwalking.

Was he still sleepwalking?

His head felt so heavy, he couldn't hope to lift it up.

But… where was Merlin?

Arthur was here, but Merlin seemed to be gone.

That wasn't right.

Merlin should be here with him.

They should share in this heat and doze together as the fire burned the both of them alive.

Something beneath the covers brushed against his ankle.

Arthur groaned deeply, his eyes fluttering closed once again as he dropped his head back onto the pillows, giving up on trying to move. He couldn't have said what had just touched his ankle, but it felt as if it had ignited him, fire blowing from the light touch all the way up to his head until he felt as if he was ruined to his deepest foundations. It could have been a snake beneath the covers for all Arthur knew, and yet, it would have been the most sensual snake of all, the prince decided, as he felt a slight tugging on the bottom of his sleeping pants. It was a playful touch that emulated curiosity and contentment, but it left this scorching imprint that made Arthur feel as if he was sweating enough to bathe in it. He wore nothing but his sleeping pants, his top-half bare for the world to see, but he wanted to take his pants off, feeling too captive and hot by what it was that was happening. He was terribly vulnerable, but he somehow knew the curtains would not open and allow anybody to see the sight that he made. Not until the person tugging on the cuffs of his pants decided they were done with him.

The person…

Was there a person in this bed with him?

Somewhere beneath the covers?

Somewhere between his feet?

Arthur's head was sluggish, but he knew it was somehow true.

He could feel them now, three long fingers that he imagined were paler than the moonlight itself, starting to creep their way up the bottom of his sleeping pants, sliding beneath the cloth and sending shockwaves of fire and heat up his leg as it gathered somewhere beneath his belly button. Perhaps he should have been scared of this mystery person who had somehow gotten him in this room while doing away with his consort at the same time, but Arthur could not will up the strength to bother with such pointless facts. What did it matter who was doing this to him? What did it matter if some strange woman had decided she must have him and couldn't resist once she had him situated right where she wanted him? What did it matter when her blunt nails were scratching at his leg hair, tugging at the strands so gently that it only arouse him more. Each of the little tugs she made generated a small burst of pain, and each scratch that she made with her nails made him want to whine, imagining the white lines she must have left against his skin.

Was it a woman?

It had to be, but those nails were far blunter than any woman Arthur had ever met.

Women liked their nails long and curved delicately at the tips.

Arthur thought he quite liked how blunt the nails were instead.

The woman… the man… the PERSON… removed their fingers from his leg, and Arthur groaned loudly in disappointment. His disgruntlement at being left high and dry seemed to reverberate all around them, bouncing off the curtains and echoing back at him. His sorrow at being abandoned was all but forgotten the second he heard something… his ears strained to hear more. It was a deep and rumbly kind of sound coming from beneath the blankets. Perhaps he was only imagining it, but Arthur could have sworn his guest was laughing at him. Arthur found there to be nothing funny about being teased like he was, but the sound of the carefree laughter made the prince think he would happily suffer through all these innocent touches if it made his person laugh like that again. As if they had nothing else to do other than devoting their time to making the prince be a frustrated mess of desperation and nerve endings that were far too sensitive.

There was a shifting beneath the blankets, his person making sure that Arthur knew they were there as a firm hand was placed on his knee, which was much higher than his ankle had been. It caused Arthur's leg to jolt with surprise, but his legs were held down and captive as a sudden weight settled itself down on him. As if somebody—his person—was now sitting on his lower legs, having no qualms about making themself comfortable and using his body for it. Arthur's eyes fluttered as that hand—larger than he had thought but still delicate in all the best ways—squeezed his knee for balance. He struggled to look down, so he could see this person in all their glory, knowing that he would give each and every part of his body if his person asked him to if it would give them comfort, but the blanket was in the way. Oh, Arthur could see the slight lump under the covers, the little wiggles his person made as they found a better position to sit on while being basically in his lap, but the blanket hid them from him. But even as Arthur wiggled his fingers, he could do no more than grab the sheets under him for dear life, bracing himself for what was to come, helpless because there was pressure on his arms that refused to let up, stopping him from tugging the blanket off so he could see the one giving him such marvelous attention.

The hand slid up, just above his knee, and Arthur hissed now that this was new territory for the exploring fingers. The fingers paused though, squeezing softly at the fabric of his pants, their fingernails lightly scratching at him through the thickness, and it made Arthur wonder if they were thinking. If they were toying with the idea of continuing upwards and seeing what lay ahead of them, or if it was too much and they needed to retreat somewhere safer and lower down. It was a curse that escaped Arthur's lips, murmured lowly beneath his breath as a second hand grazed against his other knee. Arthur had almost forgotten that his person would obviously have two hands and that this second hand needed to obviously make an appearance at some point. Why did this person having a second hand—something people were usually expected to have—make Arthur want to buck his hips forward? He didn't know, but he did know his curse must have somehow been mistaken for encouragement, because the hand was now moving. Both of them, actually, in sync with the other as they pressed fully on his legs now. The palms of those hands pressed tightly against his skin till the prince could feel them burning through the cloth, going higher and higher and higher until they reached his outer thighs.

Arthur's cock pulsed violently.

Arthur's eyes flew open, staring up at the ceiling with startled abandonment on his features, his breath caught somewhere in his throat as his body was left shuddering, shaking from the spike of arousal. He could feel the blood rushing to his face when he realized the hands on his outer thighs had paused, feeling as if they weren't moving another inch forward and didn't plan on it. He knew it was probably terribly dark beneath his blanket and it was probably hard to see under the heavy cloths, but there was no way his person had missed what had just happened. There was no way his person had missed the way his cock had jerked under his pants, no way they had missed the giant tent trying to outline his cock. Arthur could feel the rush of humiliation drowning him, even when he tried to muffle his pathetic whimpering when he realized his humiliation made his cock twitch harshly. Arthur didn't think he had ever been turned on before by being humiliated, but there was something… horrifying about knowing that his person was watching this. Was probably laughing at how pathetic he was to be positively ACHING when he hadn't even been touched there yet. Arthur had not known it was even possible to be as hard as he was without touch on his cock.

His person probably thought him disgusting and depraved for all but shoving his cock into his face and demanding to be shown attention. His person would probably leave him for good this time, repulsed over how needy Arthur was for his attention. Arthur had known he was being aroused by his person and their mysterious little exploratory touches, there was very little room to mistake the heat that had been rolling through his belly as anything else. He had known he must have been getting hard beneath his pants, but nothing could've prepared him for what this person had been doing to him. Nothing could have prepared him the violence in which his cock had begged to be touched, for the waves of want crashing over his body until he felt like weeping, for the NEED that came with a touch to his thigh. How could one person make somebody feel so good? How could Arthur had ruined this just because he could not control his body or how it behaved when being touched so carefully? How could Arthur allow that depravity of his to scare off something truly… magnificent.

The touch returned.

Arthur's mouth dropped open in a startled cry of relief when those fingers had returned to touch him, their fingers brushing against his thighs once again, as if they thought he was made out of glass and might break if they touched him too hard. Arthur thought he might weep as those fingers grew more confident as they pressed firmly on his thighs… his entire body shook as his eyes closed in gratitude. He had been so bloody terrified that his person had been terrified of him and his reaction to such gentle touches, so terrified that his desperate need for those touches had made his person skittish. And perhaps his person was still skittish, because their touch lightened up before sliding lower, fingers moving almost cautiously on his inner thighs. They weren't hurried or rushed and they weren't trying to finish him off anytime soon, but the way they traced up his inseam while completely avoiding where Arthur needed him most… it made this feel as if his person was exploring him. Not teasing him, but trying to learn the curves of Arthur's body without going somewhere that took them past the point of no return. Dipping into the curves that separated Arthur's leg from his groin area before disappearing just as fast, as if unsure whether or not Arthur would want his hands there.

"Please."

Arthur's voice sounded hoarse and wrecked even to his own ears, with an odd and almost echo-like quality to it that contemplated the fog and weird feeling of floating in mid-space perfectly. He wanted so desperately to open his legs up further and allow his person to make a home between them, he wanted so desperately for his person to sink into him like Arthur was sinking into the bed, but his limbs were still refusing to cooperate, leaving him helpless to whatever exploration his lovely little person wanted to do to him. It seemed though, as if Arthur begging for their attention—a momentous occasion since princes didn't beg and Arthur had only allowed himself to beg when standing before one man who made him weak even when he wanted to be strong—before those fingers pressed harder into his inseam, giving him what he wanted while not giving the prince anything substantial at the same time. Arthur could have cried, gasping out in shock as those fingers dug deeper, almost massaging his inseam. It felt like his person was more determined now to give Arthur some form of what he wanted, as if he was taking the time most people wouldn't to memorize those curves Arthur had never thought twice about. Being encouraged by how it was causing Arthur to react.

If Arthur didn't know any better, he would have said those fingers had touched no other man before him.

He would have thought this wasn't about Arthur getting off at all.

But about his little angel learning what made a man like Arthur tick.

Apparently just touching his inseam was enough to get him going, something not even Arthur had known before now.

"Please…"

Arthur sounded as if he had a frog shoved down his throat as his person made little nonsensical shapes, tracing patterns the prince had no way of discerning, into his legs, so close to a certain part of him that he felt as if the touch could burn him from here to high heaven. Perhaps if Arthur was just a bit more aware of the magical world his father wanted to destroy, Arthur would have realized it was not nonsensical shapes being drawn into his legs again and again. Maybe he would have recognized the shapes as protection runes, magical shapes one might use in order to protect somebody else from harm. Somebody they might consider to be too precious to risk having them going anywhere without a tiny mark of their claim and protection on them. Perhaps Arthur would've realized he had been claimed by something—despite the small physical age difference between him and his person—that was far more ancient than he was. But all of these little facts and such flew straight over the prince's head, lost in the way that could only be done when lust was overclouding the mind. With fingers so close to him, so close and still not daring to touch what was throbbing right in front of where Arthur was sure his mystery person's face must've been-could one really blame him for not seeing underneath the underneath? Could anyone really blame him for allowing his mystery person to get their fill of him, even if it drove him to near insanity?

"PLEASE!"

Arthur threw his head back as the scream wretched from his throat, with hair plastered to his forehead from the overwhelming heat, and feeling as if he may have been screaming at the heavens themselves to allow him something from his little angelic person. It felt wrong, almost, as if Arthur was begging the very gods themselves to not punish his angel if Arthur tempted it into sin, but there was only so much Arthur could take before he was reduced to the mess he felt like he was. He was aching so much down there that it physically hurt, and the pain sharpened acutely every time his pants brushed against his straining and throbbing member. Every time his lovely angel touched him, it had sent a large surge of want through him, made him feel as if he was soaking in his own lust the longer it went ignored, felt as if his angel was doing this on purpose by this point. There was no chance somebody could have found his inseam to be way more interesting than the heat shaking beneath his trousers, no way even this angel of his would have been ignorant to how Arthur's entire body shook with a vulnerability that took his breath away the longer his most private parts went ignored. His angel was a devil indeed, hiding behind what Arthur was sure was only a very pink lipped grin that lied about his innocence. For no creature was truly innocent considering the indecent behavior the lovely thing was forcing him to endure.

The unmistakable but gentle feel of lips giving him a quick peck on the tip of his tented pants was felt.

It had been over before Arthur had known it was even there, over so quickly it could have just been his imagination. But Arthur screamed as if he had gotten struck with a lightning bolt, his entire body seizing up at the first touch of his beloved to a part of him that was so intimate, no other would touch it. Almost as soon as Arthur's body seized, was he collapsing back onto the bed, with his head falling back into his pillows. He felt like a limp noodle, only able to stare at his ceiling with dazed eyes… how was it possible for something so simple to feel as if it was trying to kill him? Arthur has had others touch him down there before when he was able to hide away with some daughter of a noble, but he'd never had a reaction quite like that before. He had even had lips down there as these daughters tried desperately to impress him with skills they were way too young to know how to use properly, and yet… the gentlest brush of shy lips on him made him feel as if he had died and gone to heaven itself. And the prince knew, as his eyes rolled into the back of his head as another kiss brushed the throbbing member through his pants, that he would never have another again.

Anybody else would have paled in comparison to the shy person testing their luck beneath his bed covers.

The kisses were longer and slower now, more lingering against his member as it left the prince choked up, body arching desperately off the bed while he felt his toes curling as those kisses slowly traveled from his base to his tip. It was vulnerability in its finest, his person clearly in no hurry as they stripped Arthur of his sense of self, taking their time to note how violently Arthur's cock would jump the closer he got to the tip. Arthur wanted desperately to kick until these pants released him from their confines, allowing his cock to bounce free so his person could continue to lave their attention onto his bare skin. But it also felt so wrong to hurry this up, to force his lovely angel to do something that it may not be ready for. His lovely little thing wanted to explore Arthur in all his glory, that much was certain as this slightly deeper and more firmer kiss was placed just beneath the head of his cock and having him hissing deliriously, and it was the least Arthur could do.

Allow his sweet little thing to take their time with him.

For allowing Arthur to partake in such sin with him.

His angel…

His sweetheart…

His…everything.

Arthur's groan reverberated throughout the curtained area as his person gave into whatever dark and sinful urges it must have. He could feel them mouthing away at the tip of his cock through his pants, a warm and heated mouth trying to swallow him through the fabric as his person moved their lips in time with all of the violent twitches his cock jerked to. His eyes rolled right into the back of his head as jolts of pleasure roiled up his spine, making his body burn brighter beneath his skin, like a volcano combusting inside of him. He didn't move even as if felt like his sweet little thing was starting to lose control, perhaps his little thing was becoming as desperate as he was. Because Arthur was able to feel it when those lips started trying to circle around his head, this impossible feat when one considered the pants covering him, his mouthing at him growing in a way that felt like desperation. The front of his pants were starting to grow wet, his lovely thing's salvia soaking the fabric, and Arthur was sure his sweetheart was starting to taste the pre-cum Arthur was leaking like a waterfall. In fact, it was probably what caused his little sweetheart to groan as deeply as they did, their voice deeper than Arthur would have expected, but their voice only made vibrations that caused Arthur's cock to spasm in response.

They both wanted the other.

There was no denying that.

Arthur wanted to sob when he finally felt his sweetheart moving away without helping to ease him over the crest he had been making his way towards. Arthur wanted to sob because he hadn't been allowed to give his person the attention that they had been kind enough to bestow upon him, as short as that time had been. He wanted to sob, because he feared his little thing would be gone and out of his reach the next time he opened his eyes, never allowing them to see what the two of them could have been like together, if only given a chance to properly see where this went. He wanted to SOB because his sweetheart had not left him wanting and waiting, as fingers that were much longer than Arthur remembered but felt perfect against his heated flesh, scraped his nails against the head of his cock. Perhaps his sweetheart was seeing what else could make the prince scream, perhaps his sweetheart had only wanted to test how far the prince would allow him to push their boundaries. But it felt as if nobody could have accounted for the purely RAW scream that escaped from the back of the prince's throat, his body arching until it felt like his back would break, and the curtains shaking from how loud he had been.

Arthur didn't come.

Despite the mind-blowing pleasure that had scorched Arthur's brain as if the sun had moved into his skull, he still didn't fucking come.

Unbelievable!

Arthur had felt as if he had just had an orgasm of a lifetime, far stronger and sharper and more potent than he had ever had in his life. But he also had not ejuculated, which was definitely something he would've noticed. But no… his cock felt as hard as it ever was. Harder than stone and aching just as fiercely as it had been before. And Arthur's eyes widened, his face twisting into what could only resemble sheer horror at the implications of that. Was this how he was going to be from now on? Was Arthur going to be forced to submit to the sweetest of torture that came from his sweetheart's hands and mouth? Was he going to suffer with them touching him, making him feel as if he was wrung out and couldn't possibly take any more of what they had to give him? Was Arthur going to be spread out on this bed for all eternity as his sweetheart grew more bolder and more precise in their technique on how to pleasure him? It felt as if his sweetheart was trying to kill him now, even as inexperienced as they really were. How would Arthur fare once his lovely knew what he was doing? How is he going to live when his body shakes and shakes and shakes until he's been turned into a dumb and drooling mess of nerves after his fifth orgasm? Or his tenth? Twentieth? Fiftieth? HIS HUNDREDTH! How many orgasms was going to be wrung out of his body before he died from the sheer shock of pleasure? Or how many would Arthur be able to handle without reaching true completion so his cock could soften and rest until the next time his lovely wanted to play with him? How could Arthur even DARE think about resting his body when his lovely was still perched between his legs, and still clearly wanting to play around with him, far too innocent to realize there was something seriously wrong if he was unable to come properly.

But Arthur didn't dare try to mention it.

His sweetheart's nails, blunt as they were, trailed a blaze of fire through him as they scraped his cock from base to tip. He was over sensitive from the clearly failed orgasm he had just had, and the wetness soaking his fabric and clinging to him only made it worse. It was hurting. But his cock throbbed wickedly, and Arthur could only clench his hands tightly in the sheets covering him, his teeth grinding down as he held on for dear life while pleasure wrecked his body. The prince wanted to die just as much as he wanted to live, and tears were starting to well up in the corners of his eyes from how overwhelming it was. Arthur had never before cried during sex, but how could he not cry when it felt like he was being betrayed by his body as it felt like it was starting to gear up for a second orgasm so soon after the first. He didn't know how he would survive should he fall over that mountain ledge once again, didn't know how he would make it or how his heart would continue beating if he allowed himself to tip over. But the sound of something beneath the blankets became his undoing… his lovely little thing giggling at Arthur's struggle flung him over that edge.

And Arthur SCREAMED as his body shook as a second orgasm thundered right through him as quickly and as harshly as the first one had, his hard cock doing nothing more than twitching violently without softening to grant him relief.

He had only been leaking tears before, but now Arthur was full on sobbing like he never had before, his legs stretching in desperation against the bed but not doing anything to kick his lovely off of him. He twisted and twisted the covers until he felt as if he was tearing them in his grasps, the second orgasm enough to drive him into mindless obedience and pleasure. It was just too much far too fast for him to handle, but his lovely was still giggling as if they were thrilled at the power they held over him, as if they were excited by the way his hips were going up and down without any control from Arthur. Humping the air with what had to be violent desperation to come properly, no matter how many of these failed orgasms it would take to get him there. Arthur wanted his lovely, and he was not going to deny himself when he had that giggling ringing in his ears as a bell would. He would not deny himself what should be an everyday treat… his lovely should live every day of their life in this bed with Arthur, as they slowly killed each other as they reached what could only be bliss at the end.

But pleasure erased Arthur's mind of anything else as he felt the fingers of his lovely little thing tracing his cock through his pants this time, their slim fingers trying in vain to wrap around him properly. But it was impossible and the blond prince continued to hump wildly into those searching fingers as he continued to try seeking out that third orgasm. Third times the charm, correct? All Arthur had to do was push himself against those fingers with wild abandonment, seek out the pleasure that had been denied to him all his life as they tried in vain to squeeze around his cock the same way one would a plaything. Uncoordinated and awkward, unsure of how to hold it but still trying to, squeezing him on the wrong side of too harsh. But the squeezing was unbearable and rough and he felt chafed but unable to stop himself from pumping his hips harder and faster into his lovely sweetheart's beautiful grip. Arthur just needed a little bit more to get what he wanted.

He would come this time…

He would come this time…

He would come PROPERLY this time…

With his sweetheart to aid him in his release.

His beauty let go.