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Arthur scowls as he takes a seat and gets his art materials from his bag, regretting that Morgana managed to talk him into this. He knows that he’ll end up enjoying himself—it’s been far too long since he painted. But honestly, a life drawing class? He glances around at the other people setting up their easels realising with horror, he’s the only man and the youngest by miles.
He starts setting up; always meticulous with his paints. Morgana says he’s too straight-laced, but she just doesn’t understand him. He’s so busy getting ready, he misses the model entering the room. A tall, lean man walks up to the chaise longue in the middle of the room and starts to disrobe, his back to Arthur. Arthur glances up and swallows as he notices the unmistakable sight of a butt plug nestled between his cheeks.
Oh Christ.
And then he turns around and Arthur goes from interested to fully aroused as he notices the man’s cock is hard, red, fully erect with a shiny metal ring at the base.
Fuck
He shifts on his stool trying to subtly adjust himself. His movement catches the man’s attention and he gives Arthur a sly grin, before laying down on the chaise longue.
Arthur looks away, his face hot with embarrassment.
Fuck. He is fucked.
He glances over at the poster on the door as the last few women come in: “Erotic Life Drawing”. For fucks sake. He’s gonna murder Morgana.
The class’s chatter ceases as the teacher announces they’re about to start. Arthur does his best to listen but all he can focus on is the man in front of him. Completely starkers. Worse even, because quite honestly he’d been expecting nudity, he just hadn’t been expecting a gorgeous trim man with amazing, perfect musculature, and a beautiful stiff cock. He risks a glance over at him and the man meets his eyes with a small, confident smile.
When the teacher finishes talking Arthur grasps his pencil and with a rather shaky hand as he starts to sketch this Adonis. Everytime he looks up, he finds the man watching him. The people around them seemed oblivious, busy with their work. Arthur knows without looking that his is rubbish, because everytime he attempts anything all he can see is the man’s face and cock imprinted in his mind. He takes a deep breath, pulling himself together. It’s not like him to get flustered. He’s just in a room with a very good-looking man, that’s all. A man who is there to model. He shouldn’t be so disrespectful.
He glances over again and the man shifts a little, his lips parting with a gentle sigh. He tips his head back and closes his eyes, a look of rapture on his face.
He wraps his hand around his cock, strong fingers and tendons pulled tight as he gives it a stroke. Arthur almost drops his pencil, his cock jerking in his jeans as he hurries to try and capture the image on canvas with a few basic lines.
When he peeks at him again the man’s eyes are open, gone from blue to almost black, and there’s a delightful flush spread across his cheekbones. He stares at Arthur, slowly stroking. Arthur shivers. He wants to sketch him, but his mouth is dry and he can’t seem to peel his eyes away.
The teacher announces the end of class, and the corner of the man’s lips quirk into a smile, his hand falling to his side as finally he looks away.
Arthur throws his materials into his bag with none of his usual finesse, heading straight to the nearest toilets. He rushes into the cubicle and goes to close the door when a hand stops it and he’s shoved him inside.
A man—the model—presses him against the wall, palming his cock through his jeans before tugging down the zip. He kisses Arthur roughly, groans into the kiss. He shoves his hand in Arthur’s boxers, pulling him out as he starts jerking Arthur off with sharp, intense strokes, his tongue invading Arthur’s mouth.
“I—Where did you—”
“Saw you looking. Followed you in,” gasps the man, as he takes them both in hand.
Arthur’s head thunks against the wall, too dazed to even think.
“Couldn’t keep my eyes off you,” the man continues. “Usually wear the ring and the— to help keep it up. Didn’t need it tonight. But glad I did. I think I would’ve come otherwise.”
He shudders as his hand keeps working their cocks.
“I’m Merlin, by the way. The model.”
“Arthur,” Arthur moans. “Almost didn’t recognise you. You know, with your clothes on.”
The man laughs and then groans as he twists his hand on his upstroke.
“I get that a lot,” Merlin says, his breath hitching, his hand pumping faster. “Normally it's an—ah! An old lady from the class.”
“Oh God,” says Arthur. “Are you really talking about old ladies when we’re—”
“Sorry.”
Arthur’s hips buck, thrusting into Merlin’s hand, and Merlin presses him into the wall again, kissing him. As he rapidly strips them both, Arthur crests; gasping, hot and wet over Merlin’s hand.
“Nngh, yeah, I’m— fuck,” Merlin cries, stiffening for a moment as his cock pulses against Arthur’s, before continuing to stroke them both through it.
Merlin presses his forehead against Arthur’s and giggles as they catch their breath.
“So, um, I don’t want to be too forward. But d’you want to go for coffee or something? Maybe come back to mine?”
Arthur opens his eyes and glares at him. “You just ravished me in a cubicle and you don’t want to be too forward?”
“Look, d’you want to or not?”
“How do I know you don’t just have it off with every guy that attends your class?”
“How do I know you don’t just let strangers grope you in public toilets?”
“Fair point. Coffee at yours then?” says Arthur.
Maybe he won’t kill Morgana after all.