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Merlin had been gone for sixteen days, and Arthur felt each one with a kind of desperate helplessness he didn’t know he was capable of. He wasn’t sure exactly how to begin and end his days, even with George efficiently guiding him through each task as though it had been Arthur’s own idea. He dressed and ate and bathed and made it to meetings and training sessions, but something was unquestionably missing. Things were too tidy, the fire was never warm enough, and Arthur felt terribly lonely.
Arthur often found himself standing in front of the window with the best view of the courtyard. It didn’t occur to him until day seven that he was watching for Merlin. By day eleven, he had taken to sneaking out of his chambers at night to go stand there, focussing on the black outside, straining his ears for the sound of a horse clopping its way into the citadel. On day fourteen, Arthur decided he’d had quite enough of missing Merlin, and he’d certainly put him in the stocks or at least give him a good scolding when he did finally return. Arthur steadied himself on the windowsill when the words if he comes back came into his mind.
But on day sixteen, when Merlin finally ambled across the courtyard, Arthur felt nothing but relief. He looked small and tired slumped over his horse, and he nearly fell off of it when the stable hand took the reins to guide the horse into the stables. Merlin didn’t even sling his bag over his shoulder, just dragged it along on the ground behind him as he hesitated in front of the stairs as though too exhausted to climb them.
Arthur flagged down the first servant he could find and ordered a hot bath in his chambers immediately. Sneaky and incredibly fast, George intercepted the request and had the bath ready before Arthur even returned to his rooms. Arthur suspected sorcery but decided to let it go just this once. He sat down at his desk and tried to look busy. The door opened, and Merlin all but fell inside, his feet slow and his head hunching far in front of his body.
He looked around the room slowly, and Arthur watched as his eyes settled on the bath. He thought he saw a look of envy there. Merlin moved one foot in front of the other as though it took a kind of concentration he wasn’t sure he had to move forward. “Shall I prepare you for your bath, Sire?” he said, his voice cracking in a way that made it sound unused.
“Come,” Arthur said, walking toward the bath. Merlin stumbled across the room, and Arthur had to restrain himself from rushing over to keep him from falling on his face. Merlin moved his fingers to the hem of Arthur’s shirt, but Arthur pushed his hands back down to his sides, shaking his head. Merlin had done this for him enough times that he thought he could figure it out. He pushed Merlin’s jacket off his shoulders, and it fell to the floor with a satisfying thump. Exhaustion battled with confusion on Merlin’s face as Arthur reached behind his neck to untie his kerchief.
“What are you doing?” Merlin said as Arthur unlaced his tunic. Arthur felt himself flush as his fingers brushed against Merlin’s chest. Being the one doing the undressing was different.
“You’re disgusting,” Arthur said, which wasn’t true. Despite how tired he looked, Merlin smelled clean, and his skin was soft and dry where Arthur’s fingers brushed his sides as he slid Merlin’s tunic over his head. “You need a bath more than I do.”
“I washed in a stream this morning,” Merlin moaned, apparently not too tired to feel affronted.
“Are you telling me you’d rather I take a hot bath?” Arthur said, fingers hesitating in front of Merlin’s breeches. “Come to think of it, my neck was sore when I woke up today. I think I may have slept wrong. Tell you what. Let’s get your clothes back on, and I’ll go instead.”
“Now that you mention it, I do smell bad.”
Merlin closed his eyes and dropped his head back, and Arthur’s flush spread as he took in Merlin’s bare chest and his own shaking hands. He cleared his throat and moved to the laces of Merlin’s breeches. Merlin was never embarrassed about undressing Arthur, but as Arthur pulled back the fabric of Merlin’s trousers, he wished he’d never started this. He wished Merlin would take over, would become shy and push Arthur’s hands away and ask him to leave the room, but Merlin just stood there, sighing appreciatively as Arthur pushed the trousers down Merlin’s legs, taking his underclothes with them. They got caught on his boots, and Arthur was horrified when he realised he’d have to crouch down with his face inches from Merlin’s cock—which he still hadn’t looked at for fear of dying of shame—and take off his boots before he could get the rest off. And still, Merlin didn’t offer any assistance.
Arthur wasn’t sure why, exactly, he didn’t just order Merlin to undress himself the rest of the way except that he had started this and he was damn well going to finish it. He got down on his knees before Merlin and tugged on one boot. Merlin’s hands flew to Arthur’s shoulder for stability as he lifted his leg to let Arthur pull it off, and Arthur looked up with surprise. Directly at eyeline was Merlin’s cock, which looked heavy and warm with blood Arthur didn’t think had any right being there. But maybe Merlin really liked baths.
He removed the other boot without struggle and finally got Merlin’s trousers off. He tried to stand, but a sharp pain struck his knee, and, unthinking, he put his hands on Merlin’s hips for support as he stood. Merlin groaned, and Arthur’s eyes rested on his cock just long enough to see it jump. He had the rather alarming idea of leaning forward and pressing his mouth to it before he realised what was happening and stood up, backing away from Merlin and pretending he hadn’t noticed Merlin’s strange bath fetish.
He tried to figure out what he should do instead of watch Merlin climb into the tub, but he ended up just watching anyway, caught in the stretch of Merlin’s long limbs, the dark hair on his chest and abdomen. Merlin relaxed into the tub and draped his head over the edge, his Adam’s apple standing sharp against his long neck, his nipples tight and hard peeking over the top of the water.
“Arthur,” Merlin said, his voice bathed in deep contentment. “Will you scrub my back?”
“Scrub it yourself,” Arthur snapped even as he was dragging a chair over to rest behind Merlin. He didn’t really think about it as he peeled the wash rag off the side of the tub and got it wet.
“I wasn’t serious,” Merlin said.
“Yes, well, next time, you’ll think twice before requesting something of your king. Now, lean forward.”
Merlin complied, and Arthur pressed the cloth to Merlin’s back. He’d never done this for another person before, and he wasn’t sure if he was doing a proper job, but there was something oddly pleasing about running his hand over Merlin’s skin, even through the fabric.
The skin of Merlin’s back was smooth and clear, and when Arthur brushed the flannel over the edge of Merlin’s waist, Merlin let out a long, appreciative-sounding hiss. Arthur scrubbed every inch of Merlin’s back, every so often dipping around Merlin’s waist to see if he’d make a sound, and he always did.
Arthur curved over Merlin’s shoulder and began scrubbing over one arm, then the other. Merlin laid back in the tub, resting his head back over the edge, and Arthur looked down at him. His eyes were closed and he looked utterly at peace. Arthur pulled Merlin’s arms over his head and let his hands rest against Arthur’s thighs. He ran the rag over Merlin’s wrists and forearms and couldn’t help but notice the way Merlin’s chest began rising more quickly. He leaned forward and dipped the rag in the water and then lifted it again to Merlin’s underarms, running the cloth over the dark hair there, and Merlin let out a gasp.
Arthur wasn’t conscious of when his second hand joined the first on Merlin’s chest, running over his skin and feeling the texture of his hair, the curve of his muscle and bone. He didn’t realise he’d been stroking his thumbs over Merlin’s nipples until Merlin’s fingers bunched into his shirt and he groaned. Arthur looked down at his face, and his eyes were wide open, staring, his cheeks pink. He couldn’t help but watch Merlin’s mouth as his hands ran down his front, sweeping along the ridges of his abdomen, dipping to brush along his hip bones. Merlin’s lips parted and his jaw fell open, his tongue curling in his mouth as he voiced every breath he let out.
Arthur looked from Merlin’s face to his own hands in the water against Merlin’s skin, desperately close to Merlin’s groin. And it was only upon seeing Merlin’s cock, hard and near, that Arthur realised at some point he’d started fucking Merlin without noticing. He nearly pulled away, was fully ready to stand and make some excuse about checking Merlin for parasites, when Merlin’s fingers brushed against the front of his breeches. It could almost have been accidental, but then Merlin was pushing away Arthur’s tunic and tugging at his laces.
Merlin had obviously unlaced Arthur’s breeches a thousand times. It took him almost no time at all to get Arthur out of them, even upside down and without looking. Arthur wriggled his hips until Merlin got his cock out. He looked down and saw Merlin’s fingers encircle him and was hit with a sudden panic. He didn’t know how they’d got here, how Arthur was suddenly breathless and aching with desire, his cock hard and his hands still clutching at Merlin’s body. For the second time, he moved to back away, but then Merlin moaned and twisted his hips while he jerked Arthur’s cock in his hand, and Arthur lost every thought that wasn’t Merlin and yes.
Merlin’s hand on him was unlike anything, confident like Merlin had no doubts, so Arthur didn’t either. He watched Merlin wriggle in his grasp, wanting, his abdomen taut and his cock just barely grazing Arthur’s knuckles.
“Touch me,” Merlin groaned, and Arthur didn’t hesitate. He ran one hand up Merlin’s chest to brush fingers along his clavicle and wrapped the other firmly around Merlin’s cock. Arthur slid forward in his chair to free his movement, and when he looked back down at Merlin’s face, he saw his own legs spread wide on either side of Merlin’s head, his prick suspended in Merlin’s sure fist just over his face. It was fucking obscene.
He experimented with long strokes and short jerks at the head of Merlin’s cock, different pressures and different speeds, trying to see what Merlin liked, but as far as he could tell, Merlin liked everything. No matter what Arthur did, Merlin moaned and thrust into Arthur’s touch, his movement made slow by the water.
Merlin’s damp hand on him was more than Arthur could wrap his mind around. He lost track of himself as he stared down at Merlin’s face, his open lips, his slutty tongue running over his teeth like he just needed something to lick, and fuck, Arthur wanted to give it to him, to brush the tip of his cock over Merlin’s lips and then slip inside, fuck into the warmth of his mouth and come all over his chin.
He tried to focus on his hand on Merlin’s cock, but he couldn’t concentrate. Merlin looked too good and felt too good, and Arthur just held on and watched his cock in Merlin’s hand.
“Come on,” Merlin said, his breaths coming in short pants. “Arthur, come for me.”
Arthur moved the hand on Merlin’s neck to Merlin’s cheek, stroking, and then Merlin turned his head and pulled Arthur’s thumb into his mouth, licking and sucking and moaning around it, and Arthur could not handle it. His own groans echoed in his ears, and he felt his orgasm building, low and hot. He was wound so tight he couldn’t even breathe, and he tried to slide back in his chair, away from Merlin, but Merlin moved the hand not on Arthur’s cock to Arthur’s hip, digging his fingers in.
“Come on, Arthur,” Merlin groaned around Arthur’s thumb. “I want it.”
Arthur realised, sudden in his slow-moving brain, that he was about to come all over Merlin’s face, and he hardly got out a gasp before his orgasm came over him. He refused to close his eyes, to miss a single moment of his come falling on Merlin’s face, Merlin’s open lips and his tongue poking out to lap it up, to taste Arthur’s release. Arthur’s moans sounded distant and hollow. He felt somehow outside of himself, as though this could not possibly be him pulling his thumb out of Merlin’s mouth and smearing semen across his beautiful skin. Merlin was moaning like he loved it, like being covered in Arthur was divine, and Arthur wondered how many ways he could possibly fuck Merlin and make him writhe like this.
When his body calmed, he plucked the flannel out of the water and carefully rubbed it over Merlin’s face, clearing off the delicious mess he’d made. All the while, Merlin hummed happily as though he was the one who’d just had a revelation, and maybe he had.
Arthur stood abruptly and the chair skidded backwards across the floor. He didn’t bother stuffing himself back into his breeches, just grabbed Merlin under the arms and pulled until he was standing. He hauled Merlin out of the tub and pushed him down into the chair, spreading his legs as wide as they would go and crouching between them. Merlin’s hands fisted in the shoulders of Arthur’s tunic, and Arthur looked up to see the look of stunned arousal on Merlin’s face before leaning forward and sucking the water from the crease of Merlin’s thigh.
Merlin’s skin was hot and clean, and Arthur loved running his tongue over it, tasting Merlin underneath the faint soapy flavour. Merlin’s legs were tense and quivering slightly, his body charged with anticipation. Arthur dragged his tongue across the tip of Merlin’s cock, and Merlin made a low noise that Arthur wanted more of. He pulled Merlin’s cock between his lips and was surprised by how much he liked the texture of it, the feel of Merlin pushing steadily into his mouth, the way he moaned for it.
Arthur ran his fingers through the wet, coarse hair of Merlin’s legs and sucked at his cock, greedily lapping up every twitch of Merlin’s muscles and every time he said, “Arthur,” like the taste of his name was making him come undone. And it was Arthur—only he had the power to do this, to make Merlin fall apart and wrap his legs around Arthur’s back and sink fingers into Arthur’s hair and writhe against his face.
Arthur wanted to make Merlin come, to swallow his release and lay claim to Merlin’s pleasure. He’d never wanted this before and couldn’t imagine ever wanting anything else again. Every innocuous line and angle of Merlin’s body had become something Arthur wanted to possess. He wanted Merlin’s chest and his ribs and his knees and ankles and everything that put him together, and Arthur wanted to be the thing that made him whole, completed him, filled in all the spaces worn down from loneliness and hard work. He wanted to wash Merlin clean and then leave him smelling of Arthur so that everyone would know the way Arthur would fight for him, the damage Arthur would do to anyone who harmed this exquisite creature thrusting into his mouth.
Arthur didn’t think he’d ever wanted anything in his life, not now that he had Merlin’s hands on him and Merlin’s eyes on him and the smell of him so close and warm. And if Merlin were to leave again, Arthur would go with him, because he could not go a single day without this, without Merlin’s voice breaking over the word Arthur as though only he knew how to pronounce it.
Arthur ran his hands up Merlin’s sides and sucked, dragging his tongue hard along the bottom of Merlin’s cock. Merlin shouted, “Arthur!” and Arthur’s mouth was suddenly wetter and warmer than before, and he swallowed as Merlin pulsed into his mouth, fingers gripping his hair. He watched Merlin’s face and his wildly rising chest, heard the way Merlin filled every groan with promises.
He let Merlin’s cock slide out of his mouth and rested his head on Merlin’s thigh. Merlin relaxed his legs and dropped them back to the floor, running fingers through Arthur’s hair. Arthur would gladly have stayed like that for hours, face pressed against Merlin’s skin, Merlin’s soft, pleased hums filling the space around them with peace.
When Merlin’s breathing had slowed and Arthur’s knees began to ache, Arthur slowly stood and approached his wardrobe. He grabbed a pair of sleeping hose and carefully pulled them up Merlin’s legs. He helped Merlin stand and guided him to the bed, Merlin’s limbs clumsy with exhaustion. Arthur pulled back the duvets and helped Merlin into his bed. The sight of Merlin’s dark hair against his pillow filled Arthur with a hot flare of possessiveness, and he never wanted Merlin to sleep anywhere else again.
Arthur plucked a book from his desk and sat beside Merlin in bed, fingering the soft hair on Merlin’s chest until he was asleep. Hours later, Arthur wrapped himself snugly around Merlin and sought rest himself, exhausted from Merlin's long voyage.