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Arthur’s breathing seems too loud in the silence of the night, so he tries to even it out and leans back on his hands nonchalantly. The dark canvas of the sky opens itself before any observer, and the stars are flirting with him, shimmering and playing in the beckoning abyss. Young Pendragon watches the play the cosmos has set up and finds it quite pleasing. But, he thinks, it cannot even begin to compare to Merlin’s eyes and how they light up when he leans forward, studying the sky. The thought scares him a little bit, and he decides not to think, watching his friend instead.
Arthur feels like he could watch Merlin forever and can never get enough of him, and he doesn’t like this feeling. But in the moment he can’t quite bring himself to look away from the warlock’s raven-black hair, the wind playing with them. It’s as if the nature itself is madly in love with the boy and tries to touch him in any way possible. Drops of water are falling from the trees only to soak into Merlin’s sweatshirt. The leaves are reaching down to Merlin as though they can get sunlight from him alone. But Merlin doesn’t seem to notice and smiles without a care in the world, making the night and Arthur fall in love with him more and more. He shoots a mischievous glance at Arthur and opens his hand in the air, whispering some nonsense words. Young Pendragon forgets all of his thoughts then, looking at the tiny flame dancing on Merlin’s palm. The golden webs in the warlock’s eyes reflect the flame and turn it into a fiery dragon with the wish of the caster. Merlin knows that Arthur can’t help looking and sends the spell off into the sky, where it bursts into dozens of fireflies.
“Someone might notice, Merlin,” Arthur tries to reason with his friend, makes a weak attempt at banter, but the phrase comes out quiet and almost chocked. And he realises he has already lost when Merlin scoots closer to him and looks him in the eyes, sincere and inexplicably gorgeous. He resembles an ethereal spirit with powers over life and death, and the Universe themselves, and Arthur realises that he has already died, drowning in these oceans the warlock has for eyes. He can count all of Merlin’s eyelashes, so close they are to each other. He holds his breath, not daring to look down from his friend’s eyes, and nearly feels the soul leave his body when Emrys whispers, “There isn’t anyone but us.”
Arthur honestly cannot tell whether these feelings are a damnation or a blessing. Maybe it’s solely the matter of perspective. He doesn’t know whether it can be classified as morally wrong or right, whether it can exist in or outside of any faith. What he does know, though, is that the chaste touch of Merlin’s lips, without any taste, movement, or anything, to his is a near-religious experience and that he is ready to give up all of his beliefs so that the moment never ended. As any wonderful thing, though, it leaves Arthur too soon with only a fleeting memory, warmth on his lips and a bittersweet feeling in his chest. Merlin laughs awkwardly and looks away. He seems a bit confused and maybe even embarrassed, so Arthur tries to save the situation.
“I, uh... have always wondered how it would feel. To kiss a boy, that is,” he bites his lip inside, but promises himself not to reveal anything or open up. Merlin gets this funny wrinkle between his eyebrows, and Arthur laughs stiffly and quietly.
“Oh. Right, okay, so... it was just the moment?” the question is rhetorical, but Merlin’s attentive gaze into Arthur’s eyes is not.
“Yeah. Just the moment,” swallows Arthur, feeling uncomfortable and out of place, but keeping the smile up. He playfully shoves Merlin in the shoulder and the boy smiles back at him, but something in his eyes dies. Or maybe Arthur is imagining things, lost to those infinite blue eyes once again.
They watch the stars in silence as Arthur sees a falling star. He watches it intently and makes a desperate wish, closing his eyes afterwards. He wishes to always be with Merlin, because he is his heaven and without him Arthur feels he could not breathe.
***
After their in-the-moment kiss on their very own Year 13 graduation party, they don’t mention relationships, love or desire to each other for months. They spend parts of the summer together, talking and laughing, and watching movies till late in the nights, and just doing the general ‘friends’ things they used to do anyway.
They both get the grades they need to get into Cambridge, as it turns out in August. Arthur can’t help but feel a surge of happiness at the thought that they, indeed, are going to be in the same university, which he tries to express by shoving Merlin in the shoulder. It doesn’t really get a positive reaction, never does, but it helps him not to hug Merlin, hold him close and smell his hair, so that’s probably something.
At university they find other friends, but somehow still end up hanging out together, Merlin introducing Arthur to Lance and Gwaine, Morgana bringing Gwen and Morgause into their group and Arthur finding Leon, his friend from primary school. It all works out so well that they start having pizza nights at least every Saturday, because who in this world needs to study.
Arthur and Merlin, though, try to meet up much more than just on pizza nights and sometimes even spend Friday nights together. Eventually they, of course, end up going to a couple of bars. Dazed by the drinks, Arthur sometimes thinks that they even get the “will they won’t they” chemistry, but soon enough rejects the idea, putting all the hope of it being true in the very back of his mind. The topics of kisses and chemistry is never breached again until one night in a bar Merlin somehow spills his drink on a stranger, which leads him to making out with the boy who introduces himself as Mordred not even ten minutes after the drink disaster.
When Mordred breaks the pattern of Merlin's relationship with Arthur, the latter only feels numb. He doesn't do much except walk around in apathy, indifferent to anything he used to like. Morgause fixes her glasses while looking at him with both compassion and academic interest and says that those could be symptoms of depression. Or, possibly, cyclothymia, further research is required. Morgana lets him stay at her place and always brings some sushi home when she knows Arthur has an evening off. Leon and Lance help him look fine during classes and always try to make him laugh, while Gwaine tries to get him drunk, but that's just what Gwaine does. He also, showing care in his own way, makes Arthur laugh and party whenever he can; sometimes Pendragon even manages to hook up with someone. Nothing ever works, though, even when Gwen finds him drunk at her door afterwards and hugs him for about an hour, listening to him complain about futility of existence and unfairness of buying one’s own tea.
Merlin either doesn't see anything or pretends that he doesn't and Arthur honestly cannot tell which option he prefers.
When he sees Mordred kissing Merlin's lips sweetly before going to class and crumples his end-of-term Politics paper before hitting the nearest wall with his fist, Lance and Gwaine find enough common sense not to comment on that. His knuckles bleed a bit for a couple of hours and it's almost a consolation that during lunch Merlin is fussing around him with an antiseptic instead of necking with Mordred. Arthur feels very nearly satisfied when Merlin doesn't even dignify the younger boy with a peck on the cheek, too consumed by tending to Pendragon's hand. It seems, Mordred doesn't take that to heart, though (how is the boy so damn likeable?), and when Merlin goes to the library during his free period, Arthur's imagination masochistically brings up a very possible scenario involving those two, the back of the library and a very steady bookcase. He flattens his paper the best he can and cannot focus on the lecture at all.
It takes several weeks for Arthur to regain focus on his studies and stop getting embarrassingly (wonderfully as Gwaine would say but no one is asking Gwaine) drunk. It takes eight dates turned one-night stands for Arthur to stop his search for someone else and accept that he is not over Merlin. It takes all of his self-control and a little bit more to act nonchalant in front of him.
He still doesn't feel things, though. It's as if all of his emotions and feelings have been frozen in ice and are waiting for him to change somehow. He thinks it's for the best and dives into his studies, only allowing for the sweet tingling to timidly show itself on his skin when Merlin touches his hand or even hugs him during their TV-show marathons.
One day when neither is too busy with classes and Mordred is out of town, they go to the park and Merlin doesn’t even talk about his boyfriend. They stop at the fountain and Arthur throws a penny while Merlin is watching the fish. He wishes for Merlin to always be comfortable around him and vice versa, because he feels like he cannot repeat the last couple of months, full of intangible tension and lacking any type of communication.
***
Merlin and Mordred are an item for about five months and then the younger boy disappears from all of their lives just as suddenly as he appeared.
It’s Tuesday night, and Arthur has lately established a tradition of watching “Brooklyn Nine-Nine” only two episodes at a time and exclusively on Tuesday nights so as not to ruin his study pattern. He makes himself some ‘healthy’ salad with some weird protein stuff that is supposed to be healthy, something that he might have been doing since Mordred appeared in their life, but surely not just because of it, just how pathetic could he honestly be.
Just as he has set his mind to watch “Cheddar,” comfortably snuggled on the couch, he hears knocking at the door of his cosy little apartment. It isn’t a surprise to anybody who knows anybody that he doesn’t live on campus, since Uther Pendragon is so rich he could probably afford to buy the whole university. At least he settled for an apartment and not a townhouse. The ridiculously expensive stuff in the apartment was another matter altogether.
Arthur opens the door, thinking it might be Gwaine again, trying to get anyone drunk, or possibly Leon to try and cheer him up as he has been doing increasingly often as of late. He unlocks the elegant lock and as he opens the door, the wind is knocked out of him. It’s neither.
Arthur quickly regains rational balance and hugs the raven-haired boy who seems a bit sad, his eyes a bit red, but not puffy as if he’s been crying. He holds him, even though Merlin is drenched in rain, little puddles flowing to the warm floor of Pendragon’s apartment (don’t even get him started on the heating floors, even if they are convenient). Merlin isn’t wearing his windbreaker, he’s just sad and soaked, like a kitten that got lost in the rain, and Arthur cannot but hold him closer, wishing to warm him in his arms and in his soul.
“Hey,” he says simply, because he can’t seem to think of words. Finally letting go of his best friend, he assesses the situation and settles on an option. “First, take a warm shower and change, then talk.” When Merlin tries to protest, he adds, “I don’t want you to catch a cold on my watch,” mockingly serious, and that is what gets a small smile out of the boy, making Arthur beam at him happily.
He lets Merlin take off his sneakers, immediately turning them upside-down to dry faster, and follows him to the bathroom. Before sending his friend to the shower, Arthur gives him his spare T-shirt and sweatpants, knowing he is damning himself to sit next to Merlin in his clothes all night, which will lead to him wondering what it would be like to be his boyfriend, to kiss him lazily on the couch and take those clothes off of him. It wouldn’t be the first time, though, so he doesn’t feel too flustered, just maybe a little bit guilty to be getting off on Merlin’s misery.
He stands outside the bathroom until he hears water running and understands that the only thing he can think of is how lucky the water is and how he would love nothing more than to be there with Merlin, running his hands all over his body, kissing any point of skin he has access to. Then Arthur shakes his head at himself and walks to the kitchen to make some tea and calm himself down.
When Merlin walks out of the shower, Arthur stares at him like he’s the greatest wonder in the world, the boy dressed in his clothes, with an occasional drop of water falling from his hair onto his neck that the young Pendragon wants to lick and kiss, possibly mark with some hickeys. He has already made tea and he hands Merlin the cup that has two sugars in it – he still doesn’t understand how anyone drinks tea with sugar, but it’s Merlin, so his pondering is futile – and makes his way to the table where his salad lonely stands. He shoves it aside and Merlin pretends not to notice, but Arthur suddenly just isn’t hungry anymore.
“So tell me. What made you this upset?” to tell the truth, Arthur wants to fight whatever it is, even if it’s just rain, but he desperately wants to make Merlin feel better. Merlin sighs, gazes at the cup in his hands, sits down and finally starts to speak.
“Mordred and I broke up,” Arthur seriously has no way of helping the rollercoaster in his chest, but tries to keep it down when Merlin looks up at him. “It just happened, and… To be honest, I don’t really want to talk about it,” he looks searchingly into Arthur’s eyes and for a second there he thinks he knows what Merlin is searching for, but the moment passes, he is left with no clue and no plan of action. He is ready to give Merlin anything the boy is looking for, yet has no way of knowing for sure without asking. And he knows that asking this is dangerous, feels the danger and the anxiety at the thought in his gut and settles for an innocent move instead.
“Do you want to watch something light, then?” Merlin nods and Arthur stands up and stretches his hand towards him. Merlin takes it and it’s one of the rare feelings in Arthur’s life where he feels like he might explode from the warmth generated by his heart. They go into the living room, where the TV is (Arthur managed to talk his dad out of having TVs in the kitchen and bathroom as well), and Pendragon loads “Brooklyn Nine-Nine,” while Merlin shuffles under all the blankets that Morgana insisted Arthur’s flat desperately needed. Merlin seems to like them, though, so Arthur has learned to accept them, even if every time he curls up under one he can hear Morgana’s “I told you so” in his head.
After what should have been a couple of episodes turns into a couple of hours worth of quality comedy, the night has Merlin falling asleep in Arthur’s arms in silence save for Arthur's uneven breathing. Young Pendragon can't bring himself to move, so the only thing he does is pull a blanket over both of them and turn off the show. He falls into the sweetest abyss of dreams while watching Merlin sleep, and wishes that on nights like this he could kiss Merlin and it were okay as his last thought.
***
Arthur gets his lucky star’s blessing on a winter night during their second year, one that he would have never guessed a lucky one. It is freezing cold outside, and he buys a whole thermos of mulled wine in one of very cosy-looking booths that somehow get the smell of cinnamon and spices all over the city so that it’s impossible not to buy some hot drink. Arthur barely manages to close the door when there’s Merlin all over him; he lives in his apartment during the coldest weeks of the year – and do not tell Arthur it’s a bad idea, he knows – as the heating on campus, shall we say, could stand a little improvement. Young Pendragon is only left to gaze at the slim fingers that untie his scarf for some reason – his brain is trying to come up with a non-“I have been pining for you for the last two years” one and has nothing – and at the wide, happy eyes he always loses himself in.
“...but today, today has been especially cold, don’t you agree, and you know I dislike using magic to keep myself warm, you’re a different question, but, hey, not myself,” he stops abruptly, Arthur’s gaze following the slender fingers as they turn the lid slightly to get to the aroma of hot winter nectar. Merlin’s eyes widen at the smell. “You brought mulled wine? Oh, I love you,” and he stops again, visibly slightly horrified and wishing to take his words back.
The usually eloquent Politics and International Relations student is rendered speechless.
“Eh, so, which movie would you like to watch tonight?” the warlock’s words are even more rushed than usual.
“Can you say it again?”
“I was thinking, ‘Nightmare before Christmas,’ since we have plenty of time before our singing will annoy the Browns, but if you want there’s also ‘Elf’ or...”
“Please, say it again, Merlin,” something in Arthur’s pleading tone and his hand on Merlin’s arm has the raven-haired boy shrink with embarrassment and yet open up.
“I love you. Okay? Can we forget it now and wa–“
Neither of them gets to hear the end of the phrase, as Arthur, still wearing his gloves, in an only partially taken off coat, lips still cold, kisses Merlin so tenderly both want to weep. It is a kiss that is filled with promise of something new, something good and amazing, a kiss that makes the sky shine and the waters be still and the universe hum.
“I love you too, you won’t believe how much.”
The words are a soft wave of thunder in the room, but their importance is soon matched by that of soft kisses, caresses of skin and removal of offending clothing. As soon as the T-shirt and the hoodie are gone from their bodies, they move to the bedroom and then to the bed, not able to think of anything but the necessity of the moment.
"Say it again," asks Arthur in between kisses that grow deeper and longer. He can't really let go of Merlin's lips, feels like if he does the world will end, so he catches his lips before they can form an answer. Torn between the desire to talk, to hear reassurance of mutuality of the one love that has haunted him for years, and the need to drink desire and passion itself from Merlin's lips, Arthur appears caught in the best trap he could ever imagine. He feels Merlin’s hands everywhere, he’s touching Merlin everywhere and it is reciprocated. Now that he knows Merlin loves him too, every point of contact burns in a good way. It is not the flame that consumes, but one that builds them both up. Arthur feels like he can’t breathe.
As if sensing it, Merlin breaks the kiss and leans back for a moment. He looks down at Arthur, flushed and gorgeous, and young Pendragon can see his world immediately narrow down to Merlin and him alone. His hair is a mess, his lips glistening with all the kisses Arthur has left on them. Merlin traces the outline of Arthur’s bottom lip with his thumb, admiring all of him. Arthur, himself, is mesmerised by the soft glow of the light, reflected in Merlin’s features, and the way his eyes seem to shine with tender emotion and lust all the same. He feels a bit self-conscious under his love’s relentless gaze, but nothing can make him cover himself when Merlin’s eyes are gliding over his body with such adoration he can physically feel it. So he strokes Merlin’s cheek with the back of his hand, still not believing that this is actually happening. The warlock looks up into Arthur’s eyes with such sincerity it takes his breath away.
“I love you,” he finally obliges, breathily. Pendragon can’t help the hitch in his breath every time he hears it. He reaches into Merlin’s hair to pull him down into another kiss, syrupy and sweet, with more lips than tongue or teeth. When Merlin leans back only to start sucking on Arthur’s neck, the latter throws his head back to free more space for the boy’s attentions, and breathlessly begs, “Again.”
“I love you,” Merlin whispers nearly without a sound, sucking a hickey possessively into Arthur’s skin after. The latter hardly finds it in himself to moan and not faint at the overwhelming emotions, combined with sensation. Merlin’s hand crawls over his body, stopping at his abdominal muscles, caressing every inch of skin it can find, the other one finding itself on Arthur’s hip.
“Again,” Arthur pleads, arching towards every point of contact they have, almost desperate. His voice is so vulnerable that Merlin can’t help but answer, “I love you,” over and over, repeating it about a thousand time into Arthur’s skin until it becomes futile to even say it, so he just moves to mouth at the guy’s pecks.
“You know, you’re so gorgeous like this,” Merlin breaths hot air onto Arthur’s nipple, so, everything together, he can only arch his back into the touch, into everything. “So wonderful, so amazing under my hands, my mouth,” Merlin doesn’t stop, continues to torture Arthur’s self-control, making him want to either consume his lover whole or come right here right now. “If only you knew just how much I wanted to do this all along,” Merlin licks at Arthur’s nipple, slightly biting it afterwards, and he is rewarded with a wanton moan. “You’re so marvelous,” he goes on down. “Astonishing,” he licks a stripe up Arthur’s abs and then traces it back down with his finger, while Arthur is trying to catch his breath. “Dazzling,” there’s a hint of laughter in his voice, and an overflowing tone of happiness. Arthur finds that he is absolutely okay with the laughter there if Merlin’s eyes light up in the way they do.
Merlin finally stops right before he reaches the button on Arthur’s jeans and carefully and attentively covers the bulge with his hand. He watches Arthur for any sign of discontentment, for any sign that he might not want this, but all he gets is a handful of Pendragon arching into the touch and his name, moaned quietly so as not to disturb the neighbours.
“Arthur,” he says, breathily, bringing him back to the moment they are in. “Do you... May I...”
The blond boy sees that he has trouble coming up with words and holds out a hand to brush against Merlin’s and presses it harder on his own crotch.
“You may do anything as long as I get to come later on in the night,” he grins happily at Merlin as the boy beams at him and makes quick work of the button and fly of the jeans that seem to be unintentionally keeping him from his goal for the day. He frees Arthur’s erection from the confines of rough cloth and tugs the piece of attire to his knees, effectively locking the boy’s legs with it, but too eager to stop and take it off properly. The blond manages to kick off his jeans by himself, while Merlin traces the outline of his cock through the red boxers, fascinated with the situation and with being granted the right to touch the body he has been dreaming about. Reading part of all that raw emotion in his stare, Arthur almost hiccups with feelings and can’t hold the whisper that escapes past his lips as sand escapes from grasp, “I love you.”
Merlin slowly looks up and instead of an answer licks a stripe through the soft crimson cotton that follows touch easily, making Arthur arch into the touch and almost off the bed. Young Pendragon falls back on the bed with a quiet moan as Merlin continues his ministrations, first in kitten licks over the soft fabric and then pulling the boxers off in one fluid motion. He strokes Arthur’s thighs, watching him nearly squirm with arousal. Merlin’s hair, soft and almost silky to the touch, tickle Arthur’s skin as the boy leans down to engulf the head of Arthur’s cock into the tight heat of his mouth and tongues at the slit to collect the pre-come. Arthur grips at the sheets to stay inside his body and mind, because Merlin’s blowjobs, apparently, have to be made illegal (though, if by chance they were, he wouldn’t care and would still want them more than anything in the entire world other than Merlin by his side, always). Or, perhaps, it’s just the climax of his obsession with Merlin and everything about him, resolving itself in the maddeningly slow pace of Merlin’s tongue on him. He feels his lover’s hands stroking every part of him they can get to, his skin singing in anticipation.
“Merlin,” Arthur manages, out of breath already. His eyes are lidded, he casts a quick glance at the boy between his thighs and can swear that he nearly shudders at how hot Merlin is with Arthur’s dick between his lips. He swears incoherently, brushing his hand through the softest black hair he has ever seen on a human being. It doesn’t matter that they are probably actually a bit rough; it never mattered. If hair be wires, delicate satin threads are on Merlin’s head, notices Arthur before losing his train of thought at being enveloped in silky-soft heat of Merlin’s mouth.
The raven-haired boy lets himself be gone in the process, too, enjoying the access to his love’s pleasure and body, feeling the weight and slight saltiness on his tongue. With one hand he reaches to fondle Arthur’s sack, and with the other he holds onto the boy’s thigh, attempting to swallow around his prick and take it further down his throat. He sees the blond boy arch his back and hears him hiss at the pleasure of it, his hair slightly pulled on, which Merlin ignores. He feels himself getting painfully aroused just at being able to reduce Arthur to a nearly incoherent state and rubs himself through Arthur’s sweatpants he has on now. Somehow the fact that he’s wearing his lover’s clothes makes everything much hotter, and it’s no doubt that Arthur is going to notice that, too.
At the moment, though, he is completely gone, lost in the ministrations of Merlin’s skilled tongue and he continues whispering and moaning sounds that all come down to the other boy’s name. Undone by the way Merlin runs the muscle up the underside of his cock as he is bobbing his head slowly and sucks on the head, collecting the precome. He tries to run his fingers through Merlin’s hair, but realizes he is tugging at them too hard and, meeting no objection from his lover, still places his hands on the sheets, grabbing onto them. He rolls his hips slightly, trying to get even more, even though he would be fine with anything Merlin is ready to give to him. And Merlin allows it, taking him further down his throat.
It is all too soon that Arthur comes with a quiet whimper, expecting Merlin to pull away, but he does no such thing. He swallows the softly salt white liquid and gently licks Arthur until he has collected every last drop. Young Pendragon looks up and smiles at him in such a way that makes Merlin feel like his body is too small for his heart. He smiles back and licks at the corner of his mouth, where a little bit is still pooled on his tired jaw.
“Come here,” Arthur whispers, bright as the sun at noon, and Merlin indulges him with a kiss with a taste of him on his tongue. Distracted by the lazy movement of two tongues against each other, he doesn’t notice the hand that snakes past the hem of the sweatpants and boxers he is wearing and is almost startled with arousal as Arthur strokes him to full hardness.
He places both hands on the bed, just around Arthur’s head and starts fucking into the confident hand, all too well aware that this moment is pure perfection. Merlin leans to mouth at Arthur’s earlobe and nips at it, then moves on to the neck, and then he’s just lying on his lover’s pliant body, Arthur bringing him to completion.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice that you’re wearing my sweatpants,” whispers Arthur into Merlin’s ear. “I think, I like it. What about we wear each other’s boxers to class tomorrow?” and that does it, and Merlin is undone with Arthur’s name on his lips that the boy kisses away.
Later, when they’ve both showered and put the ruined sweatpants into laundry, they are lying on the couch, snuggled against each other and watch “The Nightmare before Christmas” while exchanging occasional kisses, both on cloud nine with happiness and content. And as Arthur thinks, he finds that in the moment he wishes for nothing else, as the moment is ideal in its imperfection and there is nothing more to be worried about. They fall asleep by the end of “Home Alone” they put on after, calmly happy, and nothing in the world could ruin what they have built.