Chapter Text
Merlin utterly and completely despised Mondays. That Monday in particular seemed to be going down in history as the most stupendously rotten Monday ever to grace the calendar. His calendar, anyway. He began to list all that had gone wrong so far (and it was only eight o’clock in the morning, for God’s sake!) in a kind of monotonous mumble as he re-entered Freya’s password to the computer after she’d locked herself out for the fourth time—“Sorry, but these are new fingernails!”—he soon stopped, however, when he found he was depressing himself even further.
“Thank you, Mr. Emrys!” Freya said with a bright smile, and Merlin tried hard to make his answering smile at least half as genuine.
“You’re welcome. Please do it slowly this time, okay?” Merlin rolled his eyes as soon as his back was to the girl.
Maybe if he wasn’t just so damn sick of his job. He’d been managing the same office for five years straight, and it didn’t look as though he’d be moving up in the corporation any time soon. Even Will had been promoted to accounting…of course, Will had applied for the new position. Merlin hadn’t exactly made any attempts to better his situation. He’d known about the opening in advertising for a month before it was filled, but he hadn’t been able to get up the courage to apply for it.
With a sigh, he rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses (ripping his contact lens that morning had been the second thing to go wrong after his alarm failing to go off) and headed for the elevators. “I’ll be right back,” he told Cenred, who barely nodded before continuing to play Angry Birds on his iPhone.
On the third floor, Merlin headed for the coffee lounge. He normally drank his coffee downstairs in their lounge, but the coffee maker had broken that morning. (That was bad thing number six—after cutting himself shaving, running out of hot water in the shower, and taking fifteen minutes to catch a cab.)
Mentally cursing to find the room fairly full of executive-types from the top floor, Merlin tried to make himself as unobtrusive as possible as he squeezed around a woman with long dark hair talking to a blond man that Merlin had noticed a few times before. He would’ve noticed him regardless, because the man was fucking gorgeous, but the first time he’d been so kind as to hold the door open for Merlin when he’d been carrying a heavy box, even though Merlin had been at least twelve steps behind the blond and had to accelerate his pace to get to the door before the man could develop a cramp from holding it. The second time Merlin had encountered him, the man had paid for Merlin’s pastry from the cart in the lobby when Merlin found himself embarrassingly short of cash. He’d simply smiled and told Merlin to have a nice day and gotten on the elevator.
Merlin found himself wondering if the guy was perpetually happy as he watched him throw his head back and laugh—a fairly delightful sound, Merlin had to admit—before kissing the woman on the cheek and moving toward the counter to doctor his coffee.
Merlin filled his own disposable cup with the aromatic brew and turned to get some cream only to find the blond man studying him. The room had emptied out somewhat.
“Cheer up, mate,” the man told Merlin with a smile.
“Huh?” Merlin said, a little distracted by a bloke reaching around him for a coffee stirrer.
“You’re frowning,” the blond told him. “It’s a beautiful day today, and only a quarter past eight. What’s to be so down about?”
“Plenty,” Merlin grumbled, pouring cream into his cup and stirring a little too vigorously, for hot coffee spilled onto his hand. “Shit!”
The blond grabbed some napkins with one hand and Merlin’s arm with the other, mopping up the coffee. Merlin found the man’s touch a little disconcerting, especially when his handsome face looked all concerned and solicitous. Merlin tugged his arm away with a hurried “thanks” and wiped the table clean with another napkin.
“I’m Arthur,” the man introduced himself.
“Merlin,” Merlin said a bit shortly, inwardly wincing. When had he become such a rude bastard? He suspected he knew precisely when, but he didn’t want to go there.
Arthur smiled, making his attractive face even more appealing. I do not need this, Merlin thought.
Arthur leaned his fit body dressed in an impeccably tailored suit against the counter, cocked his gorgeous head, and said, “I know today is Monday and you assume it’s going to suck, but according to statistics, there will be over 5,000 weddings, 10,000 childbirths, and 42 million hugs occurring today throughout the United States. Also today, there will be at least 4 people that will win the multimillion dollar lotteries, 600 people will get promotions at work, and 3,000 people will lose their virginity. There will also be 600 dogs adopted, 35,000 balloons sold, and 800,000 skittles eaten. Plus, the words 'I love you' will be said over 9 million times. So again, I know today is Monday and you assume it’s going to suck, but just smile, because according to statistics, it should actually be a really nice day.”
Merlin could only stand wide-eyed and open-mouthed after this unexpected speech, watching as Arthur picked up his coffee, gave him a rather constipated smile, and left the room. What the hell?
He contemplated this weird event as he made his way back down to his floor, dodging Cenred, who chose that moment to abandon his game and get up from his desk. If Arthur hadn’t kindly placed a lid on Merlin’s cup, he would have found the entire contents spilled down the front of his dress shirt as Cenred nearly plowed into him.
What the hell kind of person memorizes something like that in order to quote it to people? Merlin wondered with a shake of his head. A totally barmy person, he decided, and headed for his desk.
By lunch time, Merlin’s day hadn’t gotten any better; in fact, an atrocious headache had been added to his list of reasons he just wanted to go home and crawl back into bed. With a sigh, he put down the charts he’d been looking at for the past hour and stared at the sunny streets outside the window populated with people who seemed to be glad to be alive, even if it was Monday. Perhaps a walk down to the delicatessen would do him some good, rather than ordering in, as he’d at first thought he’d do. He pulled his mobile out of his pocket and speed-dialed Will, listening to the elevator music Will insisted on using for a ring as he shuffled through his desk drawer for some pain reliever.
“Fancy lunch out?” he asked him.
“Can’t, sorry,” Will answered, his mouth sounding full. “Ordered in so I could finish things up. I want to leave half an hour early today. Have a date.”
“Who with?” Merlin asked, curious. Will hadn’t dated anyone in a rat’s age.
“Bird up in management. Name’s Morgause something-er-other. It took a right long time to get her to agree to go out with me, and I have a magnificent evening planned. I’ve been saving up for months.”
“Well, ring me when it’s over and let me know how it went.”
Merlin hung up, swallowed his pills dry, and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, sliding it over his shoulders.
The day was brisk and clean-smelling, with a slight scent of wood-smoke in the air that made Merlin think of winters in his home town of Ealdor. He purposely slowed his brisk walk in order to enjoy the day, thinking he really didn’t have to be in such an awful hurry. He found himself almost smiling when he pushed open the door to the deli and walked in.
The tables were all full, so Merlin ordered his lunch to go and returned to the plaza outside, taking a seat on a bench and hungrily digging into his food.
“Didn’t skip breakfast, did you?” a familiar voice asked over his shoulder. Startling, Merlin almost choked on his sandwich. He looked up to see Arthur standing a foot away, a carry-out bag from a chip shop in his hand. “Mind if I sit with you?” Arthur smiled.
Merlin had rather eat alone, but what could he say? He scooted over a bit on the bench and caught a delicious aroma of spicey cologne as Arthur took a seat. Merlin found himself breathing in again just to detect the scent of clean skin under the cologne and maybe a hint of shampoo, too. He was a sucker for nice-smelling men. He quickly returned his attention to his sandwich, reminding himself that he was on the rebound.
“You look a bit happier,” Arthur commented, taking a sip of whatever was in his styrofoam cup. “I’m glad.”
Merlin didn’t know what to say to that. He took a drink from his water bottle and considered. “Don’t think it was that incredibly trite baloney you quoted to me this morning that did it,” he found himself answering. Arthur only grinned. Did the man not get affronted at anything?
“Do you find yourself memorizing Hallmark cards, too?” Merlin pushed, a little chagrined at his apparent determination to be the biggest ass possible to the nicest man he’d ever met.
Arthur flicked him a look. “Only if they’re particularly witty or inspiring,” he replied, leaning back and stretching his long legs out before him. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and let the sun fall on his flawless face. Merlin found himself desperately wanting to lick along the expanse of Arthur’s neck, and bit his lip hard.
“I suppose things just improved, and getting out of the building helped,” Merlin admitted after a moment, looking down at the remains of his food.
“That’s why I try to get out for a bit every day,” Arthur told him, not moving. Merlin ventured a look at him again, focusing this time on the intricate shape of Arthur’s left ear and finding he wanted to lick that, too. He cleared his throat.
“I guess I’d better get back.” He wadded up his trash and threw it into the receptacle beside him.
Arthur turned his head slightly and opened one eye. “What’s the rush?”
“No rush,” Merlin frowned.
“There it is again.” Arthur sat up. “A frown is a damn shame on a mouth like yours.”
Merlin’s heart sped up. He wondered exactly what Arthur meant by that comment—it seemed an obvious come-on, but surely it wasn’t. Whoever this man was, he was certainly out of Merlin’s league. With that suit, he had to be an executive. Plus, the fact that Merlin rarely laid eyes on him spoke of the upper offices where the head of the corporation was housed. He began to wonder if he was some company psychiatrist hired to boost employee morale and prevent imminent suicide.
“You’re still doing it. Frowning,” Arthur said, his deep blue eyes fixed on Merlin’s mouth in a way that made Merlin want very much to kiss him. He stood abruptly.
“Er, well, I have an awful lot of work to catch up on. See you around, yeah?” Merlin took off down the street at a speed walk. It had been rather rude, but the feelings he’d experienced under Arthur’s unwavering gaze had confused him.
He spent the rest of the day huddled over his desk immersed in work.
When Merlin entered his flat that evening, he greeted his cat, Lolly, and filled her bowl. Then he began systematically undressing until he was in his undershorts and there was a trail of clothing from the kitchen to his bedroom. He wondered how Will’s date was going. Flopping down on the bed, he noticed the light flashing on his answering machine. Leaning over, he pressed the button.
“Merlin, I was hoping you’d be home by now. I’d really like to meet with you tonight. Talk. Maybe drinks at The Griffin?”
Merlin sat up straight in bed when he heard the voice. What on earth would Mordred want to have drinks for? He’d thought they’d said everything they’d needed to say to one another two weeks ago during the epic break-up fight. The message had been left two hours ago—Merlin had worked later than usual to finish a project so he wouldn’t have to get up at the ass crack of dawn the next morning. He blew air out his lips. Mordred had surely realized Merlin wasn’t going to call back by now—but a moment later the doorbell dispelled the notion that his ex had given up on the idea of talking.
Pulling himself up off the bed, Merlin padded down the hall and opened the door a crack. Mordred stood there looking typically boyish and unsure. This, Merlin knew from experience, was a total façade, yet still it worked on his carefully constructed defenses.
“I only just got home and got your message,” Merlin told him, opening the door a bit wider. He felt Mordred’s gaze rake over his body and cursed himself for not having at least pulled on a robe.
“You’re not going to invite me in?” Mordred asked, his eyes all puppy-dog big.
Merlin sighed and stepped back, allowing him entrance. “What exactly do you think we need to talk about?” he asked him.
Mordred walked in and turned around, leaving very little space between them. Merlin found himself backed up against the door. “I think we made a mistake ending things.”
Merlin placed a hand on Mordred’s chest and pushed a little, forcing him to take a step back. “I think we did the right thing.”
Mordred pouted. “Merlin…I love you.”
“No, you don’t,” Merlin laughed. “You love manipulating me. You were always cheating on me, then doing your best to convince me you weren’t.” He reminded himself that Mordred only ever used those words when he wanted something.
“That isn’t true! I tried to tell you, you have it all wrong.”
“For Christ’s sake, I saw you with Gwaine at that party! Your tongue was half-way down his throat!” Merlin snapped, annoyed that the recollection still hurt.
“I was trying to make you jealous,” Mordred said, running a finger down Merlin’s arm and pausing at the waist-band of Merlin’s boxers.
Merlin felt his traitorous dick snap to attention. It had been a while, and after lunch with Arthur that afternoon, Merlin was horny as hell. He could probably get turned on by just about anyone at that point. Not that Mordred wasn’t sexy; he was. But that ship had sailed, and the things Mordred had put him through had effectively cancelled all of Merlin’s feelings for him. Well, most of his feelings. He was working on it.
Merlin pushed off the wall and brushed past Mordred, heading for the living room.
“I don’t want to re-hash the past,” Merlin said resolutely.
“God, Merlin, you are so hot,” Mordred surprised him by saying in a gravelly voice that sent a shiver down Merlin’s spine. This would be a very bad idea, Merlin told himself, feeling his cock growing harder.
He stopped in the middle of the room and felt Mordred come up behind him. “Maybe we can be friends?” Mordred suggested, breath hot on Merlin’s ear. “With benefits?” A bad, bad idea. So bad. Merlin’s cock throbbed, trying to poke its way out of the slit in his boxers. Mordred’s hands came up to rest on Merlin’s waist. Shit.
Merlin knew Mordred could hear how his breathing had picked up. Could sense how he wanted this. Mordred had always been the aggressor in their relationship. Had always topped. And Merlin liked that, he did. Although sometimes he’d found himself wanting to reverse the roles, and the fact that Mordred wouldn’t allow it had been part of their problem. Merlin had only fucked a man once in his life, and that had been a one night stand eons ago.
At that moment, though, none of that particularly mattered as Merlin was so hot he was willing to do just about anything to get off. Mordred prodded him toward the couch, managing to inch Merlin’s shorts down in the process. The next thing Merlin knew, the shorts were off, and he was draped over the arm of the couch. He sensed Mordred lowering himself to his knees, and Merlin’s breath accelerated even more at finding himself in this exposed position—completely nude, bent over the couch with a fully clothed man kneeling behind him. Hands parted his cheeks and Merlin sucked in a breath at the feel of a wet tongue flicking at his hole. “Oh---yeah,” he moaned against his will. The tongue lapped over him, teasing and prodding. Merlin felt himself being opened up and warm spit running into his rectum. He shivered, pumping his cock against the coarse material of the couch.
“I’ve missed you, Merlin,” Mordred said silkily, inserting a wet finger into Merlin’s ass. Missed this, you mean, Merlin thought even as he groaned loudly. “You want it, don’t you? Want me to fuck you here and now? Ask me to. Beg me.”
And they were back to this. Mordred couldn’t have sex without making Merlin submit in some way. Another part of their problem. Merlin’s body stiffened at the words, but Mordred accelerated the slide of his finger, and Merlin found himself lost again. “Say it, Merlin.”
Merlin’s cock had taken over his thinking. “Y-yes. Please.”
“Please what?”
“Please. Oh! Please f-fuck me, Mordred. Fuck me!”
Mordred got to his feet, none too hurriedly. Merlin suspected he purposely took his time unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, Merlin’s dick throbbing out the long seconds along with the clock on the mantel.
“You’re such a little slut, Merlin,” Mordred said, as Merlin knew he would. He inevitably did. Merlin heard the condom wrapper opened, sweated through another long pause as Mordred sheathed himself. “A little, fucking slut.” Mordred emphasized the last word by slamming his dick into Merlin. Merlin let out a yelp of surprise and pain. He hadn’t been prepared properly, and fuck, it hurt! Tears sprang to his eyes, even as Mordred poked his prostate, sending a shiver of desire through Merlin’s body. His dick throbbed again. He couldn’t believe he was subjecting himself to this after he’d promised himself he wouldn’t, but God! It felt so damned good. Merlin cried out as Mordred fucked him relentlessly, muttering obscenities as he was prone to do during sex. Merlin couldn’t ever remember having made love with Mordred in the way he’d always assumed two people in a relationship would do. Mordred liked it hard, fast, and dirty. Merlin’s cries grew louder as Mordred rutted him against the sofa, slamming into him so hard, Merlin knew he’d be sore for days. And then he was finished, withdrawing abruptly, leaving Merlin gasping over the couch, high and dry. As he always did unless Merlin came on his own.
Mordred staggered to the couch and sat down as Merlin straightened, his dick thick and long, as angry and red as Merlin was certain his face was at that moment. Mordred’s lips quirked at the corners. “I guess you’d like a little relief, yeah?”
Merlin bit down hard on his lip. He knew what Mordred wanted. He wanted to be begged again. He wanted Merlin to beg him to blow him. Well, Merlin wasn’t going to do it. He bent down, retrieving his shorts, and slipped them on, shame coursing through him.
“Come on, Merlin. All you have to do is ask, and you know I’ll wrap my tongue around you.”
“Get out.” Merlin said, his voice raspy.
“What?” Mordred frowned. “Come on. It’s late. I’ll stay over tonight.”
“Get OUT!” Merlin shouted. “GET OUT! OUT! OUT!” Merlin stalked over to the door and opened it, the heat of shame suffusing his face. Mordred looked about a little uncertainly before standing.
“Well, thanks for the ride,” Mordred told him, and actually leaned in to kiss Merlin. Merlin stepped away, unable to meet his eyes. He pointed out the door, and Mordred chuckled as he walked through. Merlin closed it and slid down in a heap on the floor.