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There have been a lot of changes in Merlin's life of late. Camelot is so different to Ealdor and he's never served anyone before.
However, after a few months, Merlin finally feels like he might be getting the hang of things.
He and Arthur have fallen into an easy routine that they both enjoy. There hasn't been much trouble in the kingdom for a while.
Merlin's favourite is their evening routine (though getting to wake up Arthur in a variety of ways is a very close second).
Every evening after a long day of princely-princing, Arthur finally gets to relax in the privacy of his own chambers.
Merlin is acutely aware of this, trying his best to be ready and waiting with everything prepared. Every other night, Arthur has a bath. When it's chilly Merlin makes sure there's a roaring fire in the fireplace, with a few bricks warning by the hearth for later.
He has clean clothes ready and waiting on Arthur's changing screen, and makes sure that he has any remedies, ointments or medicines Gaius has prescribed at hand.
Sunday nights are his absolute favourite.
Sunday is when he gets to wash and care for Arthur's feet.
You wouldn’t think it for a man who spends most of his time on his feet; walking, hunting, fighting, training—but Arthur has gorgeous feet. If feet are a part of the body which can be considered beautiful.
Even if they aren’t. Merlin thinks Arthur’s are perfect.
And tonight he’s vibrating with excitement that he'll gets to touch them again.
He has everything set out. Bowl of warm water that’s just the right temperature, a drying sheet, a bar of rose-scented soap, a small nail brush, a piece of pumice for scrubbing, and a delicate pair of scissors for trimming.
All that remains is for Arthur to arrive. Merlin glances over at the nearby candle—which should be just about… now.
He paces as he waits. Trying not to think too much about it. Thinking about it makes him excited in a special way. It’s not normal. Merlin knows that. He tried to talk about it with Will once and he laughed at him, so Merlin had pretended it was a joke. Not to mention, Arthur would probably have him thrown in the dungeons if he knew about it.
But he could be calm. He’d done this plenty of times now and Arthur didn’t suspect a thing.
The door opened with a click and groan, making Merlin jump out of his skin, and then, when he came to his senses; jump into action.
"You’re back!"
"Yes, Merlin. Your observational skills are exceptional," Arthur drawls sarcastically.
Ah, so he's going to be in one of those kinds of moods, huh?
"I’ve got everything ready for you," he says, politely, gesturing around the room. "Why don’t you let me remove your armour, then you can change and I’ll tend to you. You’ll feel better once you’ve had a rest."
"I’m not tired, Merlin. I’m the Crown Prince. I don’t get tired."
Merlin hurries over to undo all the straps of his armour, removing it all methodically, piece-by-piece.
Once it's off, Arthur rolls his shoulders, then storms over to his changing screen.
"Bad day?" Merlin asks lightly.
"Ugh, the worst," Arthur groans. "My father made me take the young knights training today, and you know what they’re like. Then I had to sit in on a council meeting that was duller than dishwater. Then we heard about a disagreement between two neighbours about the ownership of a cow!"
"It wasn’t a-moo-sing then?"
"Well done, Merlin," says Arthur, throwing his breeches and smallclothes up on the screen before taking clean ones. Merlin grabs them and gave them a deep sniff before throwing them towards the door. "I think that just might be one of the worst jokes I’ve heard. Ever."
Merlin rolls his eyes at him and then almost swallows his tongue when Arthur walks out from behind his screen in only his sleeping breeches.
Not today. He can handle shirtless Arthur—just about—on a regular night. But not when he's going to be touching his feet.
He clears his throat hastily.
"Is there anything I can get for you, sire?"
"Yes, wash my feet will you. I could do with a good foot rub. I’ve been on them all day."
Merlin swallows hard.
"Of course, sire. Let’s get you sat down then," he ushers Arthur over to the chair by the water bowl. "And I’ll get started."
Better to get it over and done with. Then when he's done and dismissed for the night he can retreat to his room for the wank of a lifetime.
Arthur groans deeply as he sits down and puts his feet into the warm water.
It's so sexy that Merlin has to turn away, feigning taking care of the fire for a few moments as he takes a few deep breaths and returns.
He can do this.
"Right," he says, rubbing his hands and getting down on his knees. "I’ll start then."
Merlin picks up the soap with a not-entirely steady hand, slipping it into the water to get it wet before working it into a lather.
He takes his time with it, hoping the break will give him time to control himself. Then when there's no more delaying the inevitable, he lifts one of Arthur’s feet and starts to soap it.
His skin feels heavenly… so soft and silky smooth. Perfect feet.
Just when Merlin thinks that he might be able to handle this, it happens.
Arthur closes his eyes and lets out a groan that sends Merlin’s already half-hard cock to full mast in record time.
He continues to massage Arthur’s foot, praying that he'll keep his eyes close so that he won’t see the effect he's having on him.
Gently he replaces Arthur’s right foot back in the water and picks up his left, repeating the motions of soaping and massaging.
Arthur continues to moan. Deeply. Filthily. And Merlin’s cock gives a throb.
He bites his lip hard to stifle an undignified noise that threatens to escape his mouth.
Arthur’s voice cuts through his internal panic.
"Don’t think, I haven’t noticed, Merlin," he says. Merlin lets out a squeak, which Arthur kindly ignores. "This turns you on, doesn’t it? It's okay, you can admit it."
"Yes?"
"What else turns you on?" he asks, lifting his foot from the water and pressing it against Merlin’s crotch. "Would you like it, if I did this?"
He starts rubbing his foot up and down Merlin’s bulge. Merlin thinks he might expire on the spot.
"Look at me, Merlin,"
Merlin slowly raises his eyes, meeting Arthur’s nervously until he recognises the heat and desire in them.
"I’ve been watching you react for a while. I wanted to say something before, but… I wasn’t sure if I’d be taking advantage of you."
Merlin is shaking with want by this point.
"You wouldn’t," he reassures him.
"Open your breeches," Arthur commands.
Merlin fumbles with the knot and laces until they're undone and pulled open.
He isn't wearing any smallclothes because, well, it was time to do his laundry. He’d often gone without in Ealdor, so it didn’t bother him. Now he's especially glad as his aching cock springs up, jutting out proudly.
"What else would you like me to do?" Arthur asks, huskily.
"Anything."
Arthur grins smugly, tracing a toe along the length of Merlin’s cock, causing it to jerk and pulse.
"You like that?"
Merlin nods mutely.
Lifting his other foot, still wet and a little soapy, Arthur grips Merlin’s cock with both his feet.
"Get yourself off then," he says, his voice catching a little as he tugs at the laces of his own tented breeches.
It takes Merlin a few moments to realise what Arthur means—that he's given permission—then he slowly starts to thrust his hips, his cock slipping between Arthur’s heavenly feet.
They both know as they watch each other, Arthur rapidly stripping his cock with his hand—thumb-ring catching in the firelight—that this won’t last long.
It's a miracle Merlin hadn’t exploded at the first touch of Arthur’s foot against his cock.
He wants to make the most of it. Who knows if Arthur'll ever allow this to happen again?
But it's impossible.
Merlin starts to whimper, painfully close.
"That’s right," says Arthur encouragingly. "Go ahead. You can come."
The combination of Arthur’s feet and voice are deadly. Merlin tips over the edge with a cry, his muscles drawing tight as his hips stutter a staccato rhythm as he comes, pumping long white ropes over Arthur’s feet and the edge of the bowl.
He hears Arthur grunting, and then feels his hot come falling on his cock as Arthur comes too.
The both slump where they are as they catch their breath.
"I think," Arthur says. "We should consider making washing my feet a more regular occurrence."
"Absolutely," Merlin agrees.