Secrets Kept
a BBC Merlin story
by Nermal
So, here's how it happens, the first time. Not their first time, because that happened way sooner than anyone could ever guess.
("But you've been made my manservant."
"Right, but I'm pretty sure my duties don't include buggery."
"... you're complaining, Merlin?"
"Um. No, I'm just saying, I don't think this is part of my duties.")
Anyway. Right. They finished that conversation a few hours later after that first time.
Here's how it happens the first time it's ... different.
Gaius is out, serving on the king's council since Uther is on his weekly rampage against enchanted fruits or similar dangers to Camelot, and Arthur's been excused from the same meeting because he's got a summer cold or sniffles or something. Merlin's pretty sure he's malingering and just trying to get out of having to hear why strawberries are the fruit of evil, but whatever, it's not like Merlin really cares. Instead of being in the meeting, Arthur's sitting on Merlin's bed, his boots, socks, and belt taken off, so he's lounging in his breeches and open tunic. Which is usually pretty much the best thing ever. The open tunic and the bare feet, his hair mussed and all that skin showing.
Except today, he's lounging, and, okay, not really malingering, because he's sniffling like crazy, and keeps rubbing at his face, and sniffling some more and making a general nuisance of himself. Arthur's taken up most of Merlin's bed, has complained both about being ill and about people thinking he's ill, and has decided he's both annoyed with Merlin and can't seem to spend any time away from him this afternoon.
"I think sniff I m-might be sniffle be dying... sniffle!" Arthur rubs at his face again, scrubbing his nose into the heel of his hand, and gives a pathetic little cough. "Dying."
"I seriously doubt it. You have a cold, Arthur." Instead of indulging Arthur, Merlin tosses him a clean handkerchief and goes back to paging through the book on herbs and plants Gaius lent him. He'd planned on reading through more of the magic book, but Arthur still gets sort of weird about that. Not like Merlin would enchant fruit or anything.
(Unless Arthur asked. Nicely. Because. Well. Merlin has his weaknesses.)
"Feels sniffle like it... Is it h-hot or... h'uhh... huh! uhussschhshhh! Oh. sniff. Maybe I'm dying of fever." He glares at the handkerchief, then at Merlin, then relents when Merlin just glares back at him.
"No, it's hot. Bless you. D'you want more cider?" Merlin asks as patiently as he can manage; besides, if he gets up to get cider for Arthur he can get some for himself, and the cool drink would be welcome.
Arthur shakes his head and rubs at his nose again with a look on his face that's a combination of annoyed and miserable that only Arthur could pull off. All right, yeah, not malingering, but not dying either. He looks pretty well alive.
Actually, he looks... not bad. He does look ill, with his watery eyes and pink nose, his features blurred a little from fatigue. But he looks good. Or, no, Merlin thinks, he probably doesn't look good, but Merlin can't help but somehow want to move closer to him on the bed. "You could have more of the syrup Gaius made for you."
"sniff. SNIFF! It's not helping," Arthur mumbles, side of his hand pressed beneath his nose, and snuffles hard. "I'm still so full of cold..."
"How about I distract you from it?" He touches the side of Arthur's face, traces his jaw, and smiles a little when Arthur sniffles again. Touches his hair, already lightened by the summer sun, and brushes it off Arthur's forehead. "C'mon..."
"You're not going sniff-sniff to read to me again a-about... h'Usshhhussh! Mm... sniffle. A-about sniff the million kinds of sage?" Arthur's nose quivers around the edges, where it's really pink, and he turns away from Merlin and squeezes his eyes shut against another sneeze. "huhh.... Tchoooshuuhh!" Unsuccessfully, like every other attempt he's made to do so today.
"Bless you. I don't know... that did put you to sleep for a while." Merlin strokes the side of Arthur's face again, just lightly, using the side of his finger. "At least it was quiet then..."
Arthur shifts to snag his hanky and stills at Merlin's words. A slight flush creeps up his neck and he turns away from Merlin's touch.
Hm. Yeah. That. It's not really a secret, not to Merlin anyway, how much Arthur hates it when people notice he's ill. How very obvious it is that he's ill, with his numerous, loud sneezes that ring through the courtyard and corridors of the castle, and with his almost constant snuffling and rubbing his nose against his gloves or his handkerchief. Only he'd seen how tired and bleary Arthur was that morning while Gaius examined him, how he'd blinked at the herbal infusions and tonics Gaius tried to press on him, and how he'd given Merlin an almost plaintive look before settling himself in Merlin's room instead going back up to his own chambers in the royal household's section of the castle.
"Oh, sorry. Sorry sniff if my cold's snfff bothering you. Merlin. So sorry if sniff you're the one sniffSNIFFF suffering here." The flush is still on Arthur's skin, but there's a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes when he looks over his shoulder at Merlin. He unfolds the handkerchief carefully, sniffling really softly while he does so, and just sort of dabs at his nose with the cloth.
Merlin reaches over to touch his finger to the back of Arthur's neck, finding and petting the fine hair at the nape, petting him until he sees and feels Arthur shiver a bit at the touch. "What ... what if I said it wasn't?"
"Wasn't wh-hah-at?" Arthur mumbles into his hanky and his breath hitches.
"Bothering me..." The answer makes Merlin's heart beat a little faster in his chest, especially when Arthur gasps again into the cloth and his body tenses. "Your cold..."
Arthur's shoulders tense a degree further, not the sort of tension that builds there when he's upset or angry, or the sort that knots them when he's spent days training or fighting, but a different sort. Like he's trying so hard to resist the urge to let the illness overcome him, but, really, he's just too full of cold.
Merlin thinks, possibly, he might be going crazy. Crazier. A year in Arthur's service must've addled his brain because he's the one who gives the shiver of anticipation, not Arthur. He might as well be the one responsible for Uther's berries of doom, because what's warming his stomach and fingertips feels like magic and arousal tangled together and god knew what power he could exert with that.
"H'huhhh... h'h'huhh! huptCHUSShhoooshh!" Arthur gives this little shiver after he sneezes, and it's... delicious. Utterly. He buries his face in the handkerchief for a set of softer, but forceful, uhhhUsschhh t'Chusshhhh! sneezes and a brief cough.
"Bless you," Merlin says with feeling, and strokes the hair at the nape of Arthur's neck again. So, he's a prat, and a needy, annoying one when he's ill, but only about half of the time. The other half of the time he's just needy and quietly so, never asking Merlin to pet him or hold him , but never moving away from Merlin's touch, either. "Come on... you're not bothering me. Not terribly, anyway."
Arthur coughs again, then leans forward to let out this seriously noisy blow to clear his nose, messy and loud, and even lets out another little utchussh! about halfway through the process. When he finally finishes and finally turns back to Merlin, blinking and sniffling, Merlin moves in closer again and touches his lips to Arthur's parted ones.
"Come on...Let me distract you." He nuzzles against Arthur's nose when Arthur sniffles in reply and kisses him again. "... or you could go to that meeting you're missing?"
"Ngh... sniffSNIFFsnfff... God, no, please..." When he shakes his head, Arthur ends up sniffling against Merlin's cheek, the touch light and ticklish, and he laughs when Merlin shivers again. "Much too ill for that..."
"Possibly dying, even."
"Possibly."
Merlin slides one hand up stroke Arthur's chest where his tunic's open, stroking and petting as gently as he can, kissing Arthur's lips, then the side of his neck. He's warm, really warm, like he might be a little feverish and like he might be more than a little aroused, and Merlin's not going to stop kissing him if he keeps making those sniffly, pleased noises. Not going to stop kissing him, or moving his hands up under Arthur's tunic to stroke his chest, or resting his hand against Arthur and pressing himself in closer when Arthur has to stop and cough or sneeze.
He's got them both stripped down to just their breeches, kissing his way down Arthur's neck to his shoulder, his body stretched out atop Arthur's on his bed, when Arthur gives Merlin a nudge and mumbles something into Merlin's hair.
"What?"
"Door, sniffle, p-pillock. If Gaius..."
Merlin, his face still buried in Arthur's neck, raises one hand to snap his fingers. The door slams shut, locks itself, and Merlin slips his hand down to unlace Arthur's breeches. "All right?"
"Brilliant," Arthur says, and then, "oh," at the touch of Merlin's fingers on his hardening cock, and then "oh-ho..."at the little catch of his breath. He sniffles yet again, the sound ticklish and wet, and his breath catches once more at the back of his throat.
Merlin raises his head in time to see the desperate expression on Arthur's face. He's got one arm around Merlin, and holds Merlin more tightly when his breath catches a third time; the other hand he brings to his face to scrub ineffectively at his twitchy nose.The first sneeze Arthur lets out this time is a half-held-in hrrssschh! that he muffles into his hand, that makes him cough briefly and makes Merlin unable to stop touching him.
"Bless you," he murmurs, even though Arthur can't answer, not with the way his nose is twitching again.
"huh, h'uhhuh... hutChsshhshh! hutchye sshhuhhh!"Arthur doesn't quite manage to catch that last sneeze and his body trembles against Merlin's so that it feels like the sneeze goes right through him. Then he's snuffling again, heavy and damp, against his hand, against the side of Merlin's neck, and, at last, into his handkerchief when it's too much for him to try and keep under control.
"I'm going to take care of you, all right?" Merlin slides his hand from between Arthur's thighs to rest against his side. His lips touch to Arthur's shoulder again and Merlin nuzzles lightly, then slowly, firmly, rubs himself against Arthur. "You'll let me look after you, Arthur?"
Arthur nods. He's not even hesitant about it - he's probably too needy - and he doesn't do anything but arch into Merlin's touch and nod again. His hands move down Merlin's back, one settling at his hip and the other at the small of his back, to keep Merlin close and moving against him.
Usually Merlin's patient with Arthur. Okay. Most of the time. Sometimes. Often enough not to use magic to get him and Arthur naked, but today he's practically shaking with how badly he wants Arthur. He's not sure how, but he gathers enough control, thinks about them naked on his bed, naked and aroused, and flash of magic makes it so.
(Thankfully, their breeches just end up in a heap by the bed, because Merlin's pretty sure there's no orgasm good enough to make up for Arthur having to walk back to his chambers either half-naked or wearing Merlin's clothes.)
Merlin reaches for the jar of oil and just sets it on the bed, next to Arthur's thigh. He strokes Arthur's stomach, his hip, the length of his erection, and smiles. Here, Arthur's not the prince or champion of Camelot, not Albion's future king, he's not even Merlin's great destiny.
He's just a man, and he's definitely still Merlin's. He's strong, desperate, needy, and still Merlin's. Only Merlin sees him like this, stretched out and whimpering, or like this, down with a cold, his eyes bleary and his nose quivering, stomach tightening before he turns and aims a great, forceful hrrrussschhh! of a sneeze at his shoulder.
So, yeah, he's Merlin's. All of Arthur. Merlin's heart aches with the force of loving him for all that, for all his pratliness and his neediness and his strength. He'll make Arthur king someday, but for right now, he just wants to make Arthur his.
Merlin leans forward to press his cheek to Arthur's stomach, turns to kiss the hollow of his hipbone, smiles when Arthur laughs and then snuffles and coughs. He really has a cold, probably worse than he's letting on, worse than anyone at the court can tell.
Only Merlin can, really, he's told Merlin that secret. He's whined and complained and let Merlin see him overcome with the way he just has to sneeze and sneeze when he's ill with a cold.
It's not like Arthur hasn't taken on Merlin's secrets, too. And maybe he's a little weird about the magic, but he's never said no, and he's never turned Merlin away, and he's never not had Merlin sleep in his chambers, his arm around Merlin's waist, tight and warm, the night after an execution.
Another second with his lips pressed to Arthur's hip, and then Merlin draws back to slip his fingers into the lightly scented oil, slips them down Arthur's cock, strokes his fingers inside Arthur. He waits until he has Arthur whimpering again, and sniffling, oh god, he's still making those little, sniffling noises that set Merlin on edge.
Once he's inside Arthur, filling him, pushing inside him, Arthur spread out helpless beneath him for the first time, that's when Merlin realizes that it's different. Not that things have changed or shifted between him and Arthur, but there's this little look on Arthur's face, like he's finally realizing Merlin could take him apart or save him as easily as he could do the same to Merlin.
That's enough for Merlin. He brings Arthur off with his oil-slicked fingers, and before Arthur's done coming, angles his hips to drive himself further inside Arthur. Though he'd like to, he doesn't last long inside Arthur, and his own climax comes with that same rush of desire and magic he felt earlier.
Arthur nudges him off after they've both stopped with the panting, sloppy, open-mouth kisses, makes Merlin clean them up and bring him the cider he didn't want before, but then pulls Merlin back into his arms. He snuffles into Merlin's neck a nd tangles their legs together, and when Arthur talks, he sounds tired and stuffy, and like Merlin won't have any trouble getting him to sleep quietly for a couple hours. "That was distracting... Sometimes wonder what else you'd do for me."
"Mmn...I'd enchant fruit for you?" Merlin offers, half asleep, his body draped over Arthur's and the late afternoon sun spilling over his back. Warm like the magic at his fingertips and the desire all through his body.
"What? What good is that?"
Merlin just shakes his head against Arthur's chest. "Do anything... don't tell."
Arthur's lips press to his hair and he sniffles quietly against Merlin. "I know," he murmurs, "and I won't."
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin. Not at all! This version of the myth is property of the BBC & Shine.