Chapter Text
“Merlin, would you be willing to kiss me?” Arthur asks nonchalantly, sounding perfectly monotone as if that was an acceptable thing to ask Merlin first thing in the morning, or at any time really.
“I’m sorry sire, I appear to have misheard you, could you repeat that?” Merlin replies, folding the last of Arthur’s clean clothes with quivering hands, very carefully not turning around to look at Arthur where he sits eating breakfast.
“You heard what I said, Merlin,” Arthur drawls and Merlin wheels around to stare at him. He catches Arthur frowning with uncertainty into his bread, before he notices Merlin looking at him and schools his expression to be carefully neutral.
“You want me to-” Merlin can’t bring himself to even say the word kiss, lest his voice waver and let on to Arthur the deep yearning in his chest for that sort of intimacy with him, “Why?”
“Well, because,” Arthur pouts into his plate for a second, as if the notion of Merlin not flinging himself at him just because he’d asked offends him, “Look, Merlin, my father expects me to marry a noblewoman, but I’ve, I’ve never-”
“You’ve never kissed anyone?” Merlin exclaims.
Arthur levels him with a glare, Merlin squirms, Arthur’s icy eyes feeling almost tangible on his skin. “Yes, Merlin, I’ve never kissed anyone, if you’d like to shout a bit louder so the whole of Camelot hears you and not just the citadel.”
Merlin feels an ashamed blush heat his cheeks, “Sorry, I was just… surprised.”
“I’m flattered that you think that, but I’m not that much of a ladies-man,” Arthur smirks at him like he always does when they begin to snark at each other, Merlin has the odd feeling every time that this is a look just for him.
They fall into an awkward silence, Merlin fidgets on the spot while Arthur picks at his bread, suredly making a mess of crumbs on the table that Merlin will have to clean.
“So why do you...” Merlin breaks the silence hesitantly, trailing off before beginning again but more sure, “Why does that mean you want to kiss me then?”
“Because, Merlin,” Arthur gestures vaguely at Merlin with his fork, “I need to kiss someone before I kiss the woman I’m meant to marry, and I mean, I trust you, you know?
Merlin secretly thinks that ‘I trust you’ sounds a hell of a lot like, ‘I love you’ but he quashes that thought down into the recesses of his mind. “I- yeah, I suppose? Uhm- I trust you too, you know? If this is- if this is something you need- or rather, want, then yeah, it’s- I’ve never kissed anyone either Arthur.”
“Really? No country bumpkin wife with child waiting for you back home? Honestly, Merlin I expected as much,” Arthur teases, standing up from the table.
“Shut up you- you clotpole!” Merlin says.
“You know, no matter how much you say it, it doesn’t become a better insult.” Arthur’s stalking towards him now, the intent in his eyes raises the hairs on Merlin’s arms and the back of his neck.
“Yeah? Well- I-” Merlin starts and then loses his train of thought as Arthur comes to a stop in front of him, close enough that he can feel Arthur’s breath whisper across his lips. “Arthur,” he gasps, the word wrenched from deep within his chest.
“Yeah? Merlin?” Arthur replies, his voice gutturally low that it vibrates in Merlin’s stomach, lighting a fire that Merlin only wants to stoke. He takes another tiny step forward so that their noses brush slightly and more than ever Merlin feels himself surrounded so wholly by just Arthur, it feels like drowning but Merlin doesn't want to be saved.
“You- are you still sure that you want this?” Merlin asks because while wrenching himself away from Arthur now would feel like pulling his beating heart out of his chest, he needs to make sure that Arthur at least wants this, even if not in the same way Merlin yearns to know the feeling of his lips against his own, to learn the flats and planes of Arthur’s body with his hands. And maybe he feels slightly guilty that he’s taking advantage of Arthur like this, but he’s being given a chance and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t jump at it.
“Yes, yes, Merlin, I want- I need, please?” Arthur’s eyes are flitting over his face and Arthur’s hand is coming up to cup his jaw, (it’s too tender, it’s too intimate for what they’re both pretending it is,) and - fuck - Arthur’s begging for it, and who is Merlin to deny him anything.
He sways into Arthur, catching his lips between his own. Their teeth clack together awkwardly before Arthur uses the hand on Merlin’s face to guide him to a more comfortable angle and then oh it’s too deep and Arthur’s lips are sliding against his, hot and wet and just right, and how is Merlin ever meant to move on now that he knows what this is like.
They pull apart for a second with a wet sound and Arthur’s eyes rove over Merlin’s face desperately before they fall into each other again, it’s more sure this time, without the hesitation and bad angles of the first time, and Merlin thinks he could get addicted to this, thinks that he could wake up every day and kiss Arthur and never get tired of it. He hauls Arthur closer to him by the back of his neck but he’s fairly sure that no amount of closeness could ever be enough.
For the second time they pull apart and they pant wetly into each other’s mouths, Merlin actively working to not drag Arthur back in. His whole body sings with energy, he likens it to the adrenaline rush after a fight, but this was sweeter, god so much sweeter. Arthur tips their foreheads together and he just looks at Merlin and it’s somehow more overwhelming than their kiss.
He looks at Merlin like he’s the only person he’s ever seen. And Merlin thinks that if he looks at Arthur with a single fraction of the feeling that Arthur looks at him with now, then it must be obvious to anyone who looks at him that he’s in love with his king.
He’s about to voice his thoughts when the door to Arthur’s chambers is creaked open and then he’s being shoved unceremoniously to the ground by the same hands that had held him so preciously just moments before. Both Merlin and Arthur swivel to look at the person who had interrupted and god, how Merlin would love to just send them away and get back what they were doing, but Arthur was the Crown Prince of Camelot.
“What is it?” Arthur asks harshly, his ice-tipped words cutting through the heavy silence.
“Your uhm- your father requests your presence, Your Highness,” the servant squeaks out, looking like they’d rather be anywhere but here and Merlin agrees with them.
Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a deep breath, “Fine, I’ll be right there, you’re dismissed.” The servant hightails it out of there as Arthur sweeps towards the table to pick up his cloak that Merlin had abandoned half-folded earlier.
Arthur makes his way to the door and pauses with his hand on the handle when he whirls round to address Merlin, who is still sitting prone on the floor, “You’re not to speak a word of this to anyone, you hear, or I’ll- I’ll throw you to the dogs.” They both pretend that Arthur’s threats hold any weight to them after he’s shown time after time that he values Merlin’s life above his own.
“Yes, sire, no, of course not, I wouldn’t- I would never,” Merlin says and then attempts what he hopes is a reassuring smile that doesn’t betray the way his heart is currently shattering into tiny little pieces and really, did he think that Arthur would realise that he’s desperately in love with Merlin after one kiss, no of course not, he is but Arthur’s servant and he would do well to remember that and not get his hopes up.
Arthur gives one curt little nod and then steps out the door before hesitating again and turning back, “Oh and Merlin, remember to muck out the stables and polish my armour today, and I want those green apples if Cook has them and if not then some grapes would be perfect and check for any holes in my tunics, would you?” When he’s done, Arthur flashes Merlin his most prattish smile and finally leaves.
Merlin sinks fully onto the stone floor with a groan, why was he in love with this insufferable idiot again? (For his handsome good looks and his true heart and his broad shoulders and oh yes he’s an amazing kisser, Merlin’s mind unhelpfully supplies.)
Merlin allows himself another few seconds of moping before pushing himself up off the floor and starting on the list of chores that Arthur had oh-so-kindly supplied him.