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~x~
It's been pouring for two solid weeks now. Arthur could see Merlin, miserable and looking like a drowned stoat, trudging through the war camp, carrying a bundle of… Something. He did his best to not look it, but Arthur could tell he was worried. This rain was decimating their stores. Few more days like this and the battle would be as good as done without their enemies needing to so much as lift another finger against them.
While Merlin looked it, Arthur felt it. The drowned part, that was. It felt like the rain had drenched not only through the clothing, the protective layers of the camp, but skin and bone too, making permanent camp in his very marrow.
Arthur repressed a shiver - it would not do his men to see… He shook his head.
"Sire," a harried looking Leon stopped in front of him, wiping a strand of soaking hair from his eyes.
"What news, Leon?" he asked with not small amounts of trepidation. His First Knight huffed.
"Lower trenches have been flooded, men are doing their best, but the securing of supply tents and the physician's tent takes priority and…" He shrugged helplessly. "Sire, if these rains don't abide, I fear…"
Arthur swallowed a sigh and nodded. "I know, Leon." And he did know - it wasn’t like the enemies weren’t suffering as well, but they were more prepared, after all, they had had the time to get prepared. Not to mention, they had far larger numbers. Yes, Arthur did know. And the knowledge weighed down heavily on him.
~x~
It was nightfall by the time he saw Merlin next. Not that there was much difference by way of lighting, the dark, heavy rain clouds were not letting up and did not seem to be planning on it any time soon either.
Merlin burst into the tent as was his wont, no deference, no respect. Arthur barely even noticed, sitting where he was at the table, leaning his head on his closed fist.
"You're dripping on the rug." Was all he managed as Merlin shook his head, raining even more water into Arthur's already soaking tent.
Merlin grumbled, tore off his tunic and wrung it out right where he stood.
"Pwah." Was Merlin's brilliant answer. "It's a flood out there."
"You don't say." Arthur's tone was dry. And unbelievably exhausted.
Merlin paused in his efforts of wringing his tunic to at least a dry-ish degree and frowned at his King.
"Arthur?"
"M?"
Merlin's frown deepened. "Hey." He walked over and placed a comforting hand on his King's shoulder. "What is it?"
Arthur snorted. "Really, Merlin? You have to ask?" He snapped, sounding bitter and knowing it far too well. Merlin's flinch and consequent drop of his hand from Arthur's shoulder only reinforced it. And now Arthur was freezing on top of everything, Merlin's hand having been the only warm thing he had felt in what - at that moment - felt like forever.
He sighed. "This rain is decimating our stores, the trenches are as good as swimming holes at this point, unsalvageable as they are. Digging new ones is impossible and even if it does miraculously stop raining anytime soon, the ground is soaked. It'll take weeks for it to dry properly and by then, if I don't lose half my men to sickness, I'll have lost them to starvation. Either way, I've no way of defending our position properly and if I don't…" He took a shuddering breath. "Merlin, we're the last line of defense. If we fall…" He swallowed and looked straight into his manserv— no, his friend's eyes. "If we fall, Camelot will be no longer."
There was sadness in Merlin's eyes that Arthur knew was echoed in his. But there was also… determination there. And… Not a small amount of fear? That confused Arthur. He had no idea as to what or why— but his thoughts came to a screeching halt when Merlin's expression steeled and then Merlin was nodding to himself and taking a deep breath and… And Merlin was kneeling? Why was Merlin kneeling?
"Arthur. Sire. I—" Merlin took a shuddering breath and raised his eyes to Arthur’s, his gaze determined and unflinching. “This is not how I planned on doing this.” A shaky little thing of a smile graced his lips. “And I did have a plan, you know? I was going to wait until we were done here and were home, safe and victorious. Last battle won. You’d be on a high from victory, fueled by relief that your land, your people were safe once more. Safe at long last. I was going to do it then. Was going to lay myself open and bare before you and accept whatever judgment you deemed necessary.”
Arthur blinked. “Judgment?” he breathed out quietly, suddenly dreading what Merlin was about to say beyond words. “Judgment for what?”
Later, he’d say he probably suspected. Suspected for a long time, just didn’t want to admit it. To give voice to his suspicions. Because voiced suspicions are so damn much harder to turn a blind eye—
“I’m magic, Your Majesty.”
For the first time in weeks, all Arthur could hear instead of that infernal rain was quiet. In fact, it stayed quiet for so long, Merlin’s gaze had time to turn from apprehensive to properly worried.
“Your Majesty?” he tried again when it seemed like Arthur wasn’t about to speak any time soon.
“The… fallen tree branches,” was what he said, finally, with a soft hum. “And clumsy bandits, tripping over air. And baths, always at the perfect temperature…” He looked pensive. Not scared, not furious. Just. Tired. Really, really tired. “That was all you, wasn’t it.”
Merlin swallowed. Nodded. Hesitated a moment. “Y-yes. But, Arth-Sire, I—”
Arthur snorted. “Really, Merlin, there’s no need for all that now. I’m too damn weary, too damn tired and too damn wet to care about protocols. So don’t start now. Especially when we’re both more than aware you’re only using them as…” He waved a hand around tiredly. “I don’t even know. You never stuck to titles. Why start now.”
“Yes, all right, fine, you prat, but that—”
“Speaking of though, why did you decide to come out about this now, of all times? Look, I know I said the situation was dire, but don’t despair quite yet. I’ve no intention in letting you die, so if this is—”
“Arthur!” Merlin sounded exasperated. “If you’d allow me a moment, clotpole, I’d explain that that is nowhere near all that I’ve done for you and Camelot.”
Arthur blinked, cold not only numbing him all over but making his thoughts well and truly sluggish. “Well, if it’s recognition you’re after, I’m afraid I’m a tad busy, what with the war going on and what not. Just a smidge, mind. Might’ve waited till we were home, after all.”
Merlin looked like he was doing his level best holding in a scream.
“Arthur, Sire, I swear to all the gods…” He took a deep breath. “Look, I didn’t just tell you to burden you further when you’re stretched this thin as is just for kicks, no matter what you think.”
Arthur hummed, half-intrigued, half-absentminded. And he really should have cared more, he acknowledged distantly. But he was weary, and tired, and wet. And Merlin wasn’t wrong - he was stretched thin. He had been for quite some time. Somehow, on top of distrusting allies and intrigue-causing council members and threats from all.fucking.sides and the war on two fronts and — yeah, Arthur had exactly no strength left in him to… to feel much of anything, about this latest kick in the balls Destiny or Fate or Powers that Be decided to toss on him in the form of his best friend, his only friend, having magic. He heaved a sigh.
“Why then?”
“Because I can help.”
And that, combined with the genuine desperation in Merlin’s voice, snapped Arthur from his stupor. “Oh? And how exactly can you help, Merlin?” And he was honestly curious about the answer.
Merlin swallowed. “What do you need?” When his King snorted, Merlin rolled his eyes. “What do you need, right now?”
Arthur frowned. “To not be cold. To not be wet. To —” before he could finish, Merlin’s eyes bled sunlight and warmth surrounded Arthur, wrapping him up in the most lovely, most comforting embrace. He couldn’t have contained the sigh of utter relief if he’d tried.
Merlin’s hand was on his knee then, Merlin still crouched before him. “Arthur. Sire. What do you need?”
Arthur gaped a little and felt his cheeks warming. At first, he thought it was him, reacting to Merlin, but… No. It was the tent - it was warmer inside the tent. The dripping had stopped as well. And there were no drafts—
“Merlin?” he asked, not quite ready, not quite willing to believe…
Merlin swallowed. “What do you need?” he asked again, soft and patient. “What’s the biggest problem you’re facing in the upcoming battle?” “The weather,” Arthur whispered. He had no idea why he was whispering. “The rains and the ground - it’s soaked, it’ll be impossible to maneuver, especially with horses, they’ll get stuck and break their legs and—”
Merlin nodded and rose to his feet. “Come.” It was the first time since he’d been crowned that Arthur had received an order. And he was the King. He was not supposed to receive orders. Arthur went.
Merlin stopped right at the threshold of the tent, waited for Arthur to join him and then pulled the flap open. Arthur braced for the freezing wind and the rain and… Nothing touched his skin. He was still warm and dry and… He looked over to the man at his side. Merlin nodded outside. Arthur turned.
Softly whispered words rushed over his skin and the weather outside seemed to shudder. Then, drop by drop, the rain slowed, slowed, stopped. Arthur swallowed against a dry throat. But the whispers weren’t finished. The continued caress of the words over his skin almost managed to distract Arthur from what was happening outside. Almost. Startled gasps filled the air, and the King couldn’t help himself, he stepped into the cold, but dry autumn’s air. Stepped out onto solid ground.
“Sire!” Leon was rushing towards him, his eyes wide and frantic.
Arthur saw the exact moment Leon clocked Merlin behind him. Clocked the no doubt still glowing eyes and heard the still rumbling whispers. And the King of Camelot smoothly stepped to the side, shielding his warlock with his body, his hand falling to the pommel of Excalibur in a move that was very obvious. To Leon’s credit, he did slow. But his hand stayed firmly on the pommel of his own sword anyway.
“At ease, Leon,” Arthur spoke, and it was the voice of Command that finally got his First Knight to return his gaze to Arthur.
Leon visibly swallowed. “I… I came to report the rather sudden changes, but I see you're already…” He swallowed again. “Aware.”
Arthur nodded. “Indeed. Leon, I need you to gather men to finish securing the supply and physician’s tents and get hands on redigging those trenches and—”
“It’s done.” Came the quiet words from behind him.
Arthur stiffened. “What?” He felt Merlin shifting behind him, coming to stand at his side.
“Supply tents, physician’s tents, all the provisions are secured. They’re dry and ready to be used. Horses’ shoes are firm and in place. They’re eating now. The trenches are dug and reinforced with pikes. That was… the next step, wasn’t it?” He asked as an afterthought.
Arthur was rendered speechless. And judging by the look on Leon’s face, he wasn’t the only one.
Merlin huffed. Put a gentle hand on Arthur’s forearm and took half a step so he could look his King in the eye when he spoke. “If this was chess, then I’d be your queen.” Merlin’s lips twitched up in a smirk, and Arthur couldn’t take his eyes away. “Now tell me, what do you need, Sire.”
Arthur swallowed. Then he told him. Merlin smiled. His eyes bled sunlight.
~x~
“It was… beyond what words could describe, Guinevere.”
Gwen hummed her assent, pulling out another roll of fabric for Arthur’s perusal and only listening to the retelling with half an ear. The King had told her of Merlin’s feats quite a few times already - in explicit detail - in the last couple of days following their return. In fact, between drafting the repeal on the ban of magic and tweaking little details of his request for her, that was pretty much all he did. So, Gwen found she could be forgiven for not listening quite as keenly as the first…few…dozen…times. “What about this one? I know you’d prefer Camelot red, but I do think this would do wonders for his complexion.”
Arthur ran a gentle finger over the silky fabric. “Yeah…” It came out a bit hoarse, and the King found himself immensely grateful Gwen was… well, Gwen. “I think this… but, I was also thinking… Um.” He willed himself not to blush, but judging from the expression on her face, failed.
“Arthur.” Her lips twitched up into a smile and she waved her arms around. “Safe space over here. You thought what?”
Ridiculously grateful to have her in his corner, the King of Camelot took a few steps to the side and pulled out another roll of fabric. The coloring matched the one Gwen had shown him to perfection.
“Oh,” she gasped softly when she saw. “Oh, Arthur.” The grin that split her face then was beaming. “It’s perfect. I’ll have it done for you in two days.”
“You are the absolute best, Guinevere. Are you quite sure I can’t offer you another title to show my gratitude?”
Gwen snorted. “I think I’m good for now, thank you, Sire.”
Arthur shrugged, sheepish. “Can’t blame a man for trying.”
She laughed again, shook her head and pointed to her forehead instead.
Returning her grin, Arthur kissed her forehead in thanks and left with quick, light steps, his grin not receding for the rest of the day and making more than one noble in his way do a double take.
~x~
Arthur was… anxious. He was twitchy all throughout their dinner and his eyes kept dashing to and fro and Merlin was…Suspicious.
“Everything all right?” he asked hesitantly when Arthur’s attention drifted for the fifth time that evening.
Arthur hummed something under his breath. It sounded like agreement to whatever Merlin had said. Merlin’s eyes narrowed.
“Sire?”
Arthur jumped. “What, Merlin?”
Merlin raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms demonstratively. “You tell me.”
The King swallowed visibly, and Merlin felt himself tensing up. Something was Up.
“Arthur?” he tried again, softer this time. Something had his King nervous and fidgety and Merlin was having none of that noise. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”
Arthur shot him a ‘really, Merlin’ look, and Merlin flushed.
“Hey now, there’s no need for that, is there. I’ve told you everything on our way home.” And he had. It had not been an easy ride. For either of them. But it had been needed and they were all the closer for it.
Arthur heaved a sigh and shook his head wryly. “You’re quite right. I apologize.”
Merlin gaped.
Arthur, in turn, snorted. “Close your mouth, Merlin, you’ll catch a fly.” He ran a hand over his hair then, only proving to Merlin further that he was, in fact, stressed and anxious about something.
“Arthur.” He bit his lip, swallowed and reached for his King’s hand. “You’re kinda scaring me here.”
That earned him a Look. Not one Merlin could discern, per se, but a Look it was.
“Do you remember how you helped us win the battle?” Arthur asked, completely throwing Merlin for a loop.
Merlin blinked. “Well, yeah? It was just last week, I do hope my memory holds a bit more than that.
Arthur scowled. “Do you remember…” He cleared his throat. “Do you remember what you said?”
Merlin’s eyebrows rose. “I… said quite a few things, Sire, I’m afraid you’ll have to—”
“If this was chess, then I’d be your queen,” Arthur breathed, and Merlin felt heat curl over his cheeks.
“Arthur, I—”
“It was so unbelievably…Devine.” Merlin’s jaw dropped. “And the way your eyes… gods, Merlin the way your eyes bleed literal sunlight.” Merlin swallowed against a dry throat, watching as a shiver ran over his King. “Sinful.” Arthur’s eyes were on Merlin’s again and Merlin… Well.
“I…” he wheezed, still completely wrongfooted. Still completely unsure where this was going and— all right, so not completely unsure. After he’d finished telling Arthur everything, he noticed the slight… change in his King’s behavior. A shift. Arthur seemed… freer, more open, in Merlin’s presence. Like there was nothing anymore to stop him from… oh. Merlin swallowed. Oh.
“I’ve been speaking with Guinevere,” Arthur soldiered on, yet again throwing Merlin for a loop and leaving him scrambling to catch up to his own damn conversation.
“...” He motioned for his King to continue, hoping to catch up as he went.
“I… wanted her to make something for me. Well, you, to be more exact. I mean, just. That comment, Merlin, I couldn’t get it out of my head and—”
He was rambling. Merlin’s lips twitched up. He watched his King gesticulate all over as he got more and more flustered and he tried to explain and… Failed.
"Arthur. Arthur," Merlin interrupted finally, grabbing one of the flailing hands again. "Did you have Gwen make something for me?"
The King swallowed. Nodded.
Merlin took a breath. "Show me?"
Arthur rose to his feet slowly; his fingers, still entwined with Merlin's, making him stand as well. Arthur took him over to the King’s desk. Sat on the chair and leaned over to unlock the only drawer that he kept locked. Pulled out a beautifully wrapped parcel. Merlin bit his lip, feeling the fingers between his own twitch.
Arthur offered up the parcel to Merlin, finally letting go of his hand. Merlin immediately felt cold.
“So what’s this then? A gift?” he asked quietly, fingering the silky bow keeping the parcel wrapped.
“It was one comment, Merlin, but by the gods, I can’t get it out of my head.” Was all his King gave him in reply.
Merlin’s eyebrow rose.
“Just open the damned thing, will you?”
Merlin chuckled, his hands shaking just a little bit. It wasn’t like Arthur never gave him anything, he did, but also… this didn’t feel like just a gift. Merlin swallowed. And pulled the ribbon away.
The rooms were silent as Merlin finished unwrapping the parcel and took in what was inside. Arthur could hear the fire crackling in the fireplace. Could swear he could hear his own heart beating out of his chest in nerves too. Nothing else, however. Not a sound.
“Merlin?” he asked when he couldn’t stand the silence for even a moment longer.
Merlin swallowed visibly. Raised the gown out of the parcel so he could take a proper look and oh. Arthur hadn’t seen it once it was done and wow. It was all silk and lace and it was deep, dark purple and gold that would look absolutely stunning against Merlin’s moon-like skin.
Merlin, who was taking the dress in with a thoughtful look in his eye. Arthur was opening his mouth again, to say… he had no idea what, but Merlin was moving already, carrying the dress in reverent hands. Arthur was this close to panicking, thinking Merlin was leaving, going to Guinevere or— but no, Merlin simply went to the dressing screen and paused before stepping behind it.
“No peeking now, Sire.” And he sounded cheeky enough for the knotted feeling in Arthur’s stomach to untwist.
Waiting for him to come back out, however… Now that took some seriously insane amounts of patience. “What is taking you so long, Merlin? It’s just a dress, not a set of armor…”
He could hear Merlin huffing behind the screen. “Yeah and the armor would be easier, how the hell do women get into these on their own? I swear, Arthur, it’s like they’re all sorceresses. I’d be, ugh! Lost in here without some magical, uuuuugh, assistance.”
Arthur felt he was displaying truly incredible amounts of benevolence by not tearing the dressing screen to shreds as it was. “Any time this year, Mer—” he started, but the rest of his sorcerer’s name got stuck in his throat because that was when Merlin did finally step out from behind the screen and back into the chambers proper.
“Well?” he asked, something hesitant, almost shy in his voice.
Arthur, however, found himself speechless. Merlin was… Merlin looked… “A vision,” mumbled the King, his eyes roaming over skin and fabric alike.
Merlin was barefoot - Gwen had had no time not to mention she wasn’t exactly a shoe maker either. But the dress was long enough to hide his feet unless he moved. It fell in riveting waves around him, see-through lace running down most of his front, teasing Arthur’s gaze with peeks of Merlin’s ankles and calves and those far too bony, still too bony, but so fucking precious nonetheless, knees and his mid-thighs, speckled with fine, dark hair. Beneath the lace there was silk, Arthur knew - solf and cool to the touch. Smooth as anything one would wish for against the skin. Silk, that hugged Merlin’s form, his hips, his waist, rising up to cover his chest and stop right.beneath.his.collarbones. Kings do not wheeze, but good gods. There was more lace tumbling down Merlin’s arms, framing his dainty wrists and— then Merlin turned around, slowly, as if feeling Arthur was done with taking in his front (he hadn’t been, not by a long shot) and showing off his back. His naked. Back. Lace framed his sides, barely covering the very tops of his shoulder blades, leaving his whole entire back bare.
Kings do not wheeze. Merlin turned his head to look over his shoulder at Arthur, and that was when the King noticed his kohl rimmed eyes. His blood red lips. Arthur wheezed.
Merlin’s lips twitched. “Well?” Merlin turned back around, going even slower than before. “How do I look?” He ran reverent hands over his sides. “This dress sure is fit for a Queen, though I’m not quite sure if I measure up.”
Arthur chuckled. Blinked, not quite sure himself when exactly he’d moved, for he was standing right in front of Merlin now. There must have been something in his expression though, that had managed to soothe Merlin’s nerves at least a little.
“I’m not actually a woman, you know.” There was amusement in his voice.
Arthur had to swallow hard, twice before he could reply. “Oh trust me, Merlin, I am very much aware of that fact.” He ran the pad of his finger gently, softly underneath Merlin’s kohl rimmed eye. Traced around his blood red lips. “Why’d you do this? Don’t you…mind?”
It was Merlin’s turn to swallow. He shook his head slowly, careful not to dislodge Arthur’s fingers. “No,” he breathed, shrugging. “I don’t. I really, really don’t.” His gaze flittered over Arthur’s face then, anxious once more. “Do you?”
Arthur’s grin was sharp. “No.”
Merlin’s answering smile lost its hesitancy as it stretched across his lips. Lips that he ran his tongue over in the next moment, making the red glisten, even more pronounced, even harder to tear eyes from. “Now what?”
Arthur moved again, stepping in even closer, his hands landing on Merlin’s waist, fingers caressing his hip bones through the thin dress gently. “Well I guess it depends, doesn’t it.”
“On what?” Merlin asked, his own hands running almost absentmindedly over his King’s chest.
“On whether or not we’re done dancing around each other.”
“Ah.” Merlin nodded sagely. “That.”
Arthur’s lips twitched into another smile and he tugged his sorcerer closer, wrapping his arms around his waist. “Yes, Merlin, that. So. Are we?”
“I’m wearing the damned dress, aren’t I?”
That got him a bark of laughter from his King, and at that Merlin beamed, nerves good and forgotten now. It was only them, after all. Merlin and Arthur. And, granted, an unorthodox way of getting where they were at this point in time, but it was also very much them.
And so when instead of more words his King leaned in and claimed his lips, well. What else would Merlin have done but claimed his in return.
Any and all humor still lingering between their lips quickly faded to passion, need and urgency. Merlin moaned, his lips licked open by Arthur’s insistent tongue, wrapped his arms around his King’s neck and just… Enjoyed the moment. He didn’t even notice they were moving before a gasp tore out of him as his back hit the wall, making Arthur pull back just a smidge.
“What?” his King mumbled, his eyes tracing Merlin’s flushed cheeks and his wet, already swollen a bit, lips. Tracing also, the rouge that had smudged and— Arthur raised a hand and drew his thumb across Merlin's lips. Slowly, intently, smudging it even more.
Merlin swallowed. "Cold," he breathed, and Arthur blinked, looking perturbed. He, apparently, hadn't noticed they were moving either.
He ran his free hand over Merlin's naked back, burning hot and making him arch, pressing his front more firmly to Arthur's.
Arthur smirked. “You’re hard,” he muttered into Merlin’s ear and watched in fascination as his ears blushed.
With a simply sinful roll of his hips, Merlin got Arthur’s attention back to where he wanted it and a side of a choked off gasp on top of it too.
Merlin’s lips, stretched into an answering smirk while all red and kiss-slick and smudged, were doing things to Arthur. And then he spoke, “So are you, Sire.” And Arthur was gone.
He groaned, one hand still running up and down Merlin’s spine to keep him warm and kissed him again. Nice and hard and sloppy. His other hand slid down Merlin’s side and when he reached his hip, Arthur detached their mouths, gave Merlin a truly filthy smirk and slid to his knees.
“Art—!” Merlin tried, but Arthur’s hands on his ankles took his breath away. The King’s eyes never left his as his hands slowly, so so slowly slid up and up and up, dragging the silk and the lace alongside them, lifting the dress higher and higher and—
Arthur’s eyes widened, and Merlin’s skin burned crimson all the way down his neck and towards his clavicles. Arthur couldn’t wait to see just how far down the blush could be coaxed. But first…
“You’ve nothing…”
Merlin’s hands flittered uselessly, half-trying to reach for Arthur’s hands, half-trying to cover himself. “It’s not like I could have put my underthings back on under this. It’s silk, Arthur!”
The King groaned, his forehead falling against Merlin’s naked hip. He mouthed at the soft skin there, half-out of his mind with sheer need.
“Arthu— guh!” Merlin whimpered when Arthur bit down, leaving a nice dark bruise on his hip. He soothed it with tongue and lips after he was done, then moved on to give Merlin’s other hip the same exact treatment.
“M-marking, Sire? How very barbaric of you…” he chuckled, but then gasped - Arthur’s mouth on his cock now. Mouthing up the side, giving the head teasing, little kittenish licks.
“Can you,” Arthur started, got distracted by the cock in front of his face and gave it a nice, long suck because it was there and it had to be done before continuing. “Magic me up some slick? I’d get the oil, but…”
Merlin whimpered and was handing him a bottle with shaky fingers almost before Arthur had been done speaking. The King chuckled, poured out viscous oil all over his fingers and went right back to the worshiping of Merlin’s cock. His fingers trailed a slick path up Merlin’s inner thigh, lingered for a moment just behind his balls and, after making sure he was nice and slicked up, pushed inside.
Merlin let out a moan. It was loud and uninhibited, and Arthur swallowed around his cock to stop himself from moaning right back. Good gods, but the noises Merlin let out… Arthur’s head swam.
He was up to three fingers, happily drooling all over Merlin’s cock, his balls, Arthur’s saliva dripping down his thighs… His twitching, shuddering thighs when Merlin carded his fingers through Arthur’s hair and straight up pulled his King off of himself.
“That’s…” he heaved, “quite enough. Up you go.”
And Arthur went.
He stood up, grinned as Merlin pulled him into a searing kiss, ran his dry hand over Merlin’s back, warming him up again. Merlin groaned his appreciation and rubbed himself against his King’s front, his nimble fingers working on Arthur’s laces.
When his breeches were open and pushed down to his knees, Arthur pulled away from the kiss, just far enough so he could speak - his breath tickling over Merlin’s lips.
“Wrap,” was all he said before sliding both his hands down Merlin’s hips, under his ass and lifting.
Merlin let out an adorable little squeak that Arthur would definitely mention later, but for now… for now he had those mile-long legs wrapped tight around his waist, lace and silk rucked up and mashed between them and Merlin’s hands, wrapping around his shoulders —
He held Merlin up with one arm, used his other hand to slick up his cock and position himself before reading the answer to his unasked question in Merlin’s eyes and pushing in.
Merlin sobbed. Arthur couldn’t drag his eyes away for a second.
He ran a hand over Merlin’s spine again, making sure he wasn’t getting cold before shifting his stance a little, giving Merlin a smile and starting to move.
“Art—” Merlin tried, gasped on an inhale, moaned out ‘Sire’ when Arthur bottomed out, his eyes glazed and unfocused.
There was sunlight, swirling in his pupils and Arthur had never seen anything more beautiful or mesmerizing and had to bite his lip in order to prevent himself from…well.
He shifted a little again, searching and — there, Merlin let out a broken sob, his fingers digging into Arthur’s shoulderblades, his thighs squeezing around Arthur’s hips.
“Faster,” he breathed right into Arthur’s ear before leaning over just a bit to start mouthing at Arthur’s neck.
The King grit his teeth and increased his speed. Merlin whined, writhed in Arthur’s arms; screamed when Arthur went harder, hit the exact spot he needed with precision and strength. Shattered when Arthur raised his head, his own eyes glazed and bright and shining with so much feeling Merlin couldn’t breathe and kissed him. Kissed him like he was precious and deserving of everything good in the world.
~x~
“Guinevere made you a crown too, you know,” Arthur said when they finally managed to regain their breaths, clean themselves off at least marginally and tumble into bed, happy, sated and very much together.
Merlin gasped, his head shooting up from where he had been nuzzling at Arthur’s naked chest.. “A… a crown?!?”
Arthur nodded, nonplussed. “She does prefer working with metals as you should well know, Merlin. What with being her best friend and what not.”
Merlin snorted. “That’s what you think I should have gotten from that, is it?”
Arthur shrugged, completely at ease as he ran his fingers slowly and soothingly through Merlin’s hair. “What else could it be?”
It took Merlin a minute to formulate a reply. “... going a bit far with the whole ‘Merlin is a girl’ thing, aren’t you, Sire?”
“Just far enough to make you into my Consort, actually,” Arthur stated, nonchalant as you please. Then, while Merlin still gaped, his eyes as wide as dinner plates, Arthur quirked his head to the side, a smile teasing on his lips. “Not that I’d mind you taking the title of Queen…” Merlin choked on air. Arthur laughed. And placed a soft kiss on the tip of his nose.
“Sweet dreams, my Queen.”
Merlin hid his flaming face on his King’s chest and smiled.
~x~