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Merlin says it late into the night, when all of Camelot is asleep but for the guards on duty and perhaps a few girls still working their trade in the lower town. He says it into Arthur’s ear, turning his head so his wet mouth catches on the lobe, warm breath over Arthur’s cooling sweat sending shivers over his shoulder. Says it with a hand gliding down Arthur’s spine. Down to the swell of his ass, his body spread under Arthur’s and his skin all aglow with candlelight, glistening with his own sweat and come and spit over his chin. Says it with curious but daring fingers, slipping in between Arthur’s asscheeks while the moon—
—hangs low and fat over the bay. Arthur watches it from the glass-walled elevator with the kid close beside him. The kid who isn’t as much a kid as Arthur thought back down on the beach in the low lighting of the hotel’s outdoor patio and the undulating turquoise lights of the pool, but really more a guy, only a few years younger than Arthur. Merlin, is what he said his name was, with that hungry look in his eyes which told Arthur plenty.
Up, up, up to Arthur’s room.
Merlin’s pretty. The kind of pretty Arthur likes to fuck—tall and lanky, with high sharp cheekbones, wide hands, black hair, and plush lips. Skinny if you’re not looking close. But Arthur is looking and there are muscles there, wiry ones that’ll be able to take what Arthur’s giving.
He doesn’t bother with the lights except for the one beside the sofa, just kicks off his shoes and takes off his shirt, grabbing a bottle from the bar before going out on the balcony. He leaves the door open behind him for Merlin.
The night’s a mess of bruised purples and blues, dark green shadows of palm trees below them and the water in the distance, glimmering with the light of the moon. The air is thick and warm and tastes like sugar cane and rum. Like salt. He wants to feel it on his skin, over his dick and balls.
Merlin follows and leans onto the railing beside Arthur, shirt off as well, tight pink nipples just asking to be sucked on. He glances at Arthur and gives a small smile. Not a coy one, the kind often tried on him and for which Arthur doesn't care, but one that’s partly mocking, unimpressed, like he knows what Arthur’s thinking and if they knew each other better he’d be rolling his eyes and calling him a dick. Instead, Merlin reaches out for the bottle and brings it to his lips, very deliberately wrapping them around it to take a long swallow. He tilts his head back and pops his ass out in those tight blue shorts of his.
Arthur watches him do it. Watches the way his throat bobs as he swallows and the little bit of booze that slips out the corner of his mouth and down his chin. He could just fuck him from behind, keep that lean back all arched like it is now. Arthur bets Merlin’s ass would be tight and warm. He would let him drink the whole thing and keep him on his cock until he was done.
But that’s not what he wants.
He watches Merlin and waits to see if he’s gonna say it. If he’s gonna say—
—“Ever been fucked, Sire?” while pushing a fingertip in, screwing it in a little with Arthur suddenly clenching around it.
Arthur gasps and jerks, mouth skittering over Merlin’s jaw. His skin’s tight like he’s about to come again even though it hasn’t been five minutes yet. Even though Merlin still has Arthur’s come slipping out of his own fucked-out hole.
“Fuck,” he says, and even to his own ears it’s too heartfelt, too eager. “Fuck, Merlin, would you—
—take your kit off and get over here.”
Merlin smiles around the bottle, poking his tongue inside so Arthur can see him do it, see the tip darkened by the deep brown of the glass.
Back down—before—floors and floors below when Arthur had white sand between his toes and a little bit less rum inside of him, they’d done a less explicit version of what they’re doing now, Arthur mostly glad that Merlin spoke English and hoping he knew how to use his cock, not interested in a quickie in a back-alley or a grimy club bathroom.
He likes them all night and into the morning.
When he’d asked, Merlin had shrugged, said, “I’m just looking for someone,” and that’s all Arthur had needed to know. He’d left the “me too” unspoken.
Now, Merlin sizes him up with a look that says he’s maybe found what he was looking for, up and down Arthur’s body as he keeps on sipping wetly at the bottle in his hand. He has long, long fingers. Arthur’s gonna sit on them before long. He lets Merlin look, makes himself look good in a casual way, nonchalant about it, knowing he looks good. It’s—
—a lot. The way Merlin says it. The way he screws in his fingertip deeper, heel of his hand bumping on Arthur’s ass as he moves it. The way his voice breaks when he says, “Have you, Arthur? Have—Have you—
—got anything?” Merlin says. He lowers the bottle from his mouth and holds it between lax fingers. His lips are dark in the low light, a sheen of spit and liquor on them and Arthur will kiss him later, he thinks, looking at Merlin’s tongue poking out at the corner to lick at a stray drop of rum.
“Get your kit off,” he repeats and gives a little jerk of his chin towards the lounger, has no idea if it’ll take both their weights but Arthur’ll make it work. He’s ridden bigger guys on smaller chairs.
He has half a mind to just stiffen up Merlin’s cock, spit on it, and call it good enough. He could take him that way. He still walks back inside—leaving Merlin with his hands on his own zipper—to get the lube from his suitcase.
He takes off his light trousers in the bedroom, goes back out naked, already squeezing out lube on his hand and reaching out behind him to spread it while he walks.
Merlin is stretched out with an arm—
—behind his head. Arthur’s eyes catch on the shadows around his muscles, not as obvious during the day, but there now, in the soft light of the candles. He thinks, quite suddenly, of those arms pulling his hips back, so Merlin can bury his cock deep inside Arthur, fuck him hard. Or holding him around the waist as he bobs on Merlin’s cock, rides him like that, sitting in his lap. Sees all the ways they have fucked before, but it’s Arthur with a cock inside him. Arthur with his face in the pillows. Arthur getting filled up with Merlin’s come. Arthur dirtying the sheets when it, ultimately, slips out of him.
“I wanna sit on it,” he blurts out, gaze shifting to Merlin’s face quickly to see his mouth part on a gasp, as surprised by what Arthur’s just said as Arthur feels at having said it. But now that he has, he really wants it, clenches again around Merlin’s finger, the tip of it still snug in his ass. He leans forward, drags his nose along Merlin’s and slips his mouth over his, not properly kissing, just breathing there and says, softer, “wanna ride your cock, Merlin.”
He’s never done this before, but Merlin would make it good for him. Merlin’s fingers are so—
—long, they slip easily inside Arthur, two from the start like Arthur’s told him to do. Arthur holds on to the top of the lounger, one knee on the it right along Merlin’s thigh and the other off, keeping himself up like that, so Merlin can reach between his legs and open him up, his other hand travelling between Arthur’s hole, over his taint, to his balls.
He’s making Arthur messy without being asked to. Arthur’s cock is so close to his face, Merlin tips forward, mouths at it, drags his lips over the shaft with a hint of tongue. Arthur is real appreciative, shows him by pushing back on Merlin’s fingers and sliding their dicks together on the way back up.
Merlin’s face splits with a delightful grin even as he throws his head back a little, either very obviously liking it, or putting on a little show—Arthur doesn’t care. It makes him want to kiss him. It’s gonna be the first thing he does once he’s got at least the tip of Merlin’s cock in his ass.
That’s when he kisses them, not really before unless he thinks it’s gonna get him laid, if they need that kind of romancing. Merlin didn’t. Merlin took one look at Arthur and was agreeing to come back here with him without needing much convincing.
Merlin had been effortlessly easy.
“Enough,” Arthur says. He swats lightly at Merlin’s arm. Merlin crooks his fingers on the way out, catching Arthur’s prostate, and it sends a zing through his legs, makes him jolt. He gives a little shrug when Arthur looks at him, probably not as casual as he’d liketo appear, what with the dark flush already over his cheeks and throat, visible even in the low light, skin so white anywhere else it would be impossible to miss it. That, and his erection.
Merlin’s already stiff, dark head slipped out of the foreskin and leaking onto his stomach, a thread stretching between the slit and the soft skin of his belly. He’s breathing harder now, little fast breaths through his mouth when Arthur takes his cock with his free hand, gives it a couple of pumps just to see if he can get any harder, just to make him moan. Which he does, beautifully.
Merlin reaches up and behind with both hands to hold onto the top of the lounger, to give Arthur space to take what he wants.
Arthur moves forward, lines up, and then sits on Merlin’s cock. He takes only the head at first. He could take more, take the whole thing in one smooth glide—has done it before, has done it without even half the lube he’s using now—but he wants it like this, cockhead pushing past the muscles and sticking there.
“Come on, Arthur,” Merlin says with a low cracky voice and his lips quirking up. “Just the tip, come on.” Said like he’s trying to convince Arthur to let him stick it in, both of them in the dirty patch of dead grass behind the school shed with their kit around the knees and only spit for lube.
Arthur laughs, breathy, and clenches around the head, feels it there, makes sure Merlin can feel it too, how tight Arthur is. Merlin moans and bites his lips and that’s when Arthur leans in to kiss him.
He slides his mouth over Merlin’s, presses until Merlin releases his lip and Arthur can suck on it. He makes it soft and wet, almost gentle, doesn’t even get his tongue involved, not yet. Merlin’s responding under him, body shaking a little with how much he’s trying not to fuck up into Arthur, how much he’s trying to let Arthur have it the way he wants it. Which is why Arthur says,
“Go on then,” slurred and low against Merlin’s mouth. Merlin lets out another sound, a sweet little thing somewhere between a groan and a whimper, and then he’s getting his feet onto the floor and pushing up, fucking fast into Arthur as deep as he can.
“Oh, fuck,” he gasps. “Oh holy—Jesus. I… I’m gonna—
—make it so good for you, Arthur.” Arthur’s getting hard again, stiffening in the tight space between their body. Merlin’s voice is both loud and muffled and feels very secret like this, in the deep of the night where it’s just them.
Arthur can’t even see the moon out the window anymore, has no idea how long they’ve been like this, talking with their mouths brushing together and Merlin’s finger in Arthur’s ass. Just waiting for their cocks to fill again.
“Gonna make you love it,” Merlin says—keeps saying. He’s getting thick too, moving under Arthur, rubbing against him. He gets his free hand between their bodies and Arthur wonders what he’s doing until he feels Merlin remove his finger from his hole just to replace it with a wet one from his other hand.
“Did you just—” Arthur’s whole body seizes, heat sparking fast, almost painfully.
“You’re gonna love it. Beg for more, you’ll see.” Merlin pushes back in and fucks Arthur like that, fucks him with his own come, taken from Merlin’s ass.
He pushes more, gets in—
—deep. Deeper still. Arthur pushes down with his hips until he’s quite literally sitting on Merlin’s cock. He stays there for a heartbeat or two, grinding down.
Merlin still holds onto the top of the lounger, eyes wide and watching. He’s beautiful and Arthur’s loving the feel of his cock as he fucks himself on it, with his hands on Merlin’s chest, using his body to take it the way he wants. He finds the angle that makes it good and then stays there, wet slides in and out. Showing Merlin that all the muscles he’s been eyeing all night aren’t just there to be pretty.
The lounger scrapes across the floor as they move, and Arthur closes his eyes, feverish and wet with how good this feels, that thick cock in his ass. He takes big lungfuls of the syrupy tropical air, sweat running down his cheeks and back as he moves, feels how stretched he is, how full. Merlin’s skin is hot under his hands, his moans sweet to Arthur’s ears, so sweet he has to lean forward again to taste them, suck them out of his mouth.
“Gonna fuck you now,” Merlin says, letting go of the lounger above him and wrapping his arms around Arthur as he gives Arthur’s mouth a little lick. “Gonna make it good, yeah?”
And Arthur lets him, the angle right and his cock trapped under him and rubbed nicely on his stomach on each thrust.
Arthur was right. Those wiry muscles were there and Merlin knows how to put them to good use, setting the kind of harsh rhythm that leaves no space to think. Each thrust send Arthur’s thoughts skittering out of him. The lube has dried a little and the slide is rougher and he cries out into Merlin’s neck with how perfect that feels.
He shoots between them, with a punched-out moan, barely having felt the building up, eyes wet and too hot and his cock still trapped between their bodies, still being rubbed.
“Keep going,” he says.
He’ll take Merlin to bed after this, will suck at his cock until he’s hard again and Arthur can have him a second time until—
—morning. Light comes in and blinds Arthur. They’ve forgotten to close the curtains around the bed after collapsing spent and exhausted and emptied.
Merlin stirs beside him and Arthur turns into him, buries his face in his neck, smiles when Merlin mumbles something, patting at Arthur’s head with a sleep-heavy hand like he’s saying ‘there, there, Sire’.
“S’too bright,” Arthur says into his skin, and Merlin laughs. One moment later they’re plunged back into warm semi-darkness with only a soft whoosh of fabric and a little flick of Merlin’s fingers. “Thanks.”
“Anytime,” Merlin says, and it’s soft and fond, said with his mouth on Arthur’s hair, and Arthur turns his face into his neck even more, full of something that’s too big for his chest, too big for words.
He could—
—wake up like this often. Comfortable with a pretty boy beside him. Arthur takes Merlin in like this, naked and body loose, sleeping on his front with an arm over his head and his mouth parted. There’s dry come in his messy hair.
The bed is soft, and Arthur is loose as well, muscles heavy and well used, which is the only reason he says, “I think I dreamt of you,” when Merlin’s eyes flutter open, bright blue in the morning light spilling through the tall windows. Arthur forgot to close the curtains when they were done fucking last night.
Merlin doesn’t move, face smushed into the pillow. He smiles, a lazy smile that turns into a yawn. “Was it a good dream?”
Arthur shifts to face him, feeling like indulging this mood, this soft thing between them right now. The move sends a small spark of discomfort through him, and he slides a hand behind him to prod at his hole. He slips a finger in, but still looks at Merlin. “Yeah,” he says.
Merlin gives a delighted laugh that makes Arthur smile too. The sun over his skin makes it look whiter, smooth like something precious, like something Arthur wants to run his hand over, then mark with his nails and his mouth.
Silence falls between them but it’s an easy one, Merlin is still smiling. “I dreamt too,” he says.
“Yeah?”
Merlin hums. “I was trying to make the longest paperclip chain in the world.”
Arthur throws his head back and guffaws, loud and unrestrained, laughter kicked out of him. He’s feeling good, so in the next moment, he turns on his stomach and pops his ass up, says, “you should—
—fuck me again.”
Merlin groans loud in his ear, his whole body curving up against Arthur’s, already thinking about putting his cock back in there, Arthur can tell.
He slips a hand down Arthur’s back, between his cheeks. “Aren’t you—
—too…” He trails off, fingernail skimming Arthur’s rim and making him shiver and hiss between his teeth. “Maybe we should have—
—breakfast first, Sire.”
But Arthur doesn’t want to. It’s going to be breakfast, then training, then meetings, then a whole day of duties. Camelot is already waking up, has been awake for a while now, actually. They’re gonna come for him, asking for his time, and Arthur will give it to them, give them all that they ask.
“No,” he says, turning on his other side and hitching a knee up so Merlin can slip back in. “I want—
—this. Come on.” He sticks out his ass more. Arthur knows it looks good. Knows that from where Merlin is now that he’s moved on his knees beside Arthur and lower on the bed despite his protestations, hard cock in his hand, he can see Arthur’s hole, wet and still puffy and Arthur clenches it in a show, silently saying there’s something missing there and that something is Merlin’s cock. “We can have breakfast—
—after. Just fuck me—
“—then you can do whatever you want. Shower. Food. Whatever.”
Merlin mock salutes and bows, grinning as he shuffles forward and presses the head of his cock to the top of Arthur’s crack. “As His Majesty orders,” he says, fake deferential, and then he’s back in, and Arthur’s pushing back into the burn of it, the fullness.
Merlin’s got a good cock on him. Arthur could get used to it.