Compromising Positions | Into the Black | Contact

Unseemly Attachment

Notes: Great big thanks to llaras for a) telling me what I needed to hear and b) reading it twice

Arthur doesn’t normally mind the formal audiences that his father holds with his liege men each year to confirm their fealty, but today’s meeting is going to be horrible – he despises Lord Cormer. The lord in question, a big, burly lout of a man, one of his father’s first allies, is striding up the meeting hall like he owns the castle, not one ounce of respect in his voice as he calls out, “Uther! It’s good to see you. And you, Little Princeling.”

He turns towards Morgana and grins. “Always a pleasure, Morgana.” He leers at her, and she gives him a tight smile. Arthur can see her tighten her hands together in her lap and he’s a little disappointed that Morgana is no longer allowed to carry her sword in the castle.

“Lord Cormer,” Uther states in his coldest voice, “You…”

“Oh, right, right,” Cormer replies. He bows deeply, with an edge of mockery, and says, “Greetings, my King.” He straightens and his eyes shift to a point over Arthur’s shoulder, and he says in a lascivious voice, “Oh, my, who is this? Is he yours, Princeling? He must be, only the best for you, right?”

Arthur can feel Merlin freeze behind him.

“What a mouth on him,” Cormer continues. “I bet it feels fantastic wrapped…” The men that Cormer has brought with him start to snicker rudely.

“Cormer!” Uther exclaims angrily. “There are ladies present. You will keep a civil tongue in your head!” The snickering stops immediately and the men come to attention.

Cormer tears his eyes away from Merlin briefly and glances at Morgana. “My lady, forgive me.” Arthur would swear he hears Morgana growl.

“Honestly, Uther, you have to lend him to me for the visit. He’s just perfect. My wife is heavy with child again and couldn’t make the journey. My bed will be awfully cold.” Cormer says in a wheedling tone.

Behind him, Merlin makes an anxious sound. At this point, the only thing keeping Arthur in his chair is Uther’s hand wrapped firmly around his wrist.

“I will take your request under advisement, Lord Cormer. But perhaps we can stop discussing the servants and get on to business?” Uther replies.

“Of course, of course,” Cormer replies. “Whatever my king wishes.

The rest of the ceremony seems interminable, but as soon as it’s over, Arthur grabs Merlin by the arm and says quietly to him, “Go straight back to my rooms and stay there, Merlin. For once in your life, do as you’re told.” Remarkably, Merlin does not talk back to him, he just nods and scurries out of the room.

Arthur follows his father out of the audience chamber and into the small anteroom behind it.

“Father, you can’t give Merlin to that vile pig,” Arthur states firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. “I won’t allow it.” He understands that he’s being completely ridiculous – trying to protect a servant – but he can’t stop himself. Just the thought of Comer touching Merlin makes Arthur feel ill.

Uther looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “Excuse me? You? You won’t allow it? The last time I looked, I was still the King, Arthur. And as for that vile pig, he’s one of my strongest allies, and he brings over 200 loyal men-at-arms with him. If he wants to take your servant for a tumble then I’m in a mind to let him.”

Realizing that he’s taken the wrong tack with his father, Arthur thinks quickly and says, “But how would that look, father? You giving him my servant? He barely shows you any respect and has none at all for me. What kind of message does it send to others – that they need merely ask, and you will give them something that belongs to the Crown Prince?”

Uther frowns at Arthur, thinking. He sighs. “You have a point. Fine, I’ll send him some other bed-warmer. But your attachment to this servant is quite unseemly, Arthur. You really ought to remedy yourself of it.”

“Thank you, father,” Arthur replies. He bows his head slightly before leaving the room.

Merlin hurries towards Arthur’s rooms, trying really hard not to think about Lord Cormer and his predatory gaze. He shudders and starts past an alcove, but Lord Cormer steps out of it and blocks Merlin’s way.

“Hello, again,” Lord Cormer says, grinning.

“H-h-hello,” Merlin replies, coming to an abrupt halt, trying not to bump into Cormer. Of course, his feet pick this moment to get tangled with each other and he stumbles. Cormer grabs Merlin by the arms to steady him. Merlin looks up briefly – way up. From his spot behind the audience chamber table and Arthur’s chair, Merlin hadn’t really appreciated Cormer’s true size. The man looms head and shoulders above Merlin, who is by no means short, and outweighs him by at least 10 stone, possibly more.

“Steady there,” Cormer says and then uses his grip to steer Merlin against the wall. “What’s your name, servant boy?”

“Merlin,” Merlin replies, remembering at the last minute to keep his head bowed deferentially.

“Hmmm,” comes the reply. Big, calloused fingers tilt his chin upward. The hand turns his head one way and then the next, while Cormer examines his profile. “It suits you.” A rough thumb runs over Merlin’s lips. Merlin tries to pull his arm free, but Cormer just tightens his grip and draws him closer. “So, tell me, Little Hawk, have you used this pretty mouth on the Little Princling’s cock? I bet you have. The look on his face when I asked for you!”

Merlin’s trying to figure out how he can use his magic to get away without being caught when he hears Arthur’s voice.

“Ah, Merlin, there you are. I thought I told you to go to my rooms? You need to lay out my clothes for the feast,” Arthur says in his most imperious tone.

“Oh, no need to be so stroppy, Princeling,” Cormer says. “I delayed him from his duties. The little hawk and I were just getting acquainted. Weren’t we?” He says to Merlin.

“Yes, I can see that,” Arthur replies coldly. “But you can let him go, now. My father has made other arrangements.”

A frown briefly crosses Cormer’s face. “Oh, Princeling, how can you be so selfish! Something as sweet as this must be shared.” At this point, Cormer does finally let go of Merlin’s arm, only to reach down and grab his crotch.

“Hey!” Merlin exclaims, backpedalling, absolutely horrified and disgusted, followed quickly by amazement as Arthur’s fist goes flying into Cormer’s grinning face. The blow is a glancing one, and Cormer is none the worse for wear, but stands shocked and silent, staring at Arthur.

“You will pay for your insult to me and my servant,” Arthur declares coldly, in a voice Merlin has never heard before. “I will see you on the practice lawn in half an hour.” Arthur grabs Merlin by the arm and stomps away.

“Arthur, are you insane?” Merlin whispers at him. “He’s twice your size!”

Arthur stops and turns to face Merlin. “And he’s three times yours! If he had a mind to force you, what could you have done?” he hisses angrily.

Of course, Merlin can’t say, ‘turn him into a toad’, so he remains silent.

“Exactly. Now, come on, you have to help me into my armour,” Arthur says and pushes Merlin towards the armoury. They travel in silence, but Merlin can feel the rage pouring off of Arthur – he’s practically vibrating with it. Merlin’s never seen Arthur like this and it doesn’t make any sense to him. When they enter the armoury, Merlin turns to him.

“Arthur, this is ridiculous,” Merlin says. “We’ll go to your father and tell him it was all a misunderstanding…”

“Merlin, would you just shut up and do your job, for once?” Arthur replies curtly.

“No, Arthur, I won’t. You just punched a lord in the face and challenged him to a duel. One you’re probably going to lose.”

“Your lack of faith in my abilities is just astounding,” Arthur says. Merlin hears the hurt in his voice.

“You know that’s not true!” Merlin exclaims. “But he’s got decades of experience, not to mention size, on his side, and you’re so angry right now you’re going to do something stupid!”

Arthur scowls at him, but stays silent.

“Why are you so angry, Arthur?” Merlin asks.

Arthur doesn’t reply for a few moments and then he looks away, and says quietly, “I don’t know, but just seeing him touching you…I couldn’t stand it, Merlin. I just couldn’t! You’re…” Arthur stops, looking confused and almost a bit frightened and Merlin would swear he could almost hear the unspoken word – ‘mine.’

Merlin stops arguing. His stomach full of butterflies, he starts dressing Arthur for battle.

Arthur meets Cormer on the field in full armour, including his shield. He hates having to use it, but he knows that he’s going to need any advantage he can find during the battle – Cormer is known for his ability to bash his opponents down.

“First blood,” Arthur states.

“First blood and your little servant boy,” Cormer counters. “Unless you’d rather I tell your father that you goaded me into battle over a mere servant?”

Arthur barely nods his head in consent.

They begin to circle each other, assessing. Arthur is vaguely aware of the crowd gathering on the sidelines, but keeps his attention focused on Cormer. He still almost misses the swing that seemingly comes out of nowhere towards his knees. Arthur had no idea a man as large as Cormer could move that fast. He barely dodges out of the way and slams his shield down to block the sword. Cormer laughs and skips back a step.

“Oh, this is going to be fun. Are you still the apple of your daddy’s eye? Strutting around here thinking you’re the best fighter in Albion? I can’t wait to knock you on your ass in front of your precious knights,” he says. “I wonder if your little hawk will still want to suck your cock after I’ve humiliated you?”

Arthur knows that Cormer’s just trying to rattle him, so he grits his teeth and swallows the insult and takes a perfectly controlled jab at Cormer’s middle. Cormer knocks it away easily then he swings hard at Arthur’s shield. Arthur’s arm vibrates with the strength of the hit, but he manages to hold on.

Within a heartbeat, Cormer is on him, hammering at his shield, trying to use his greater strength and reach to break through Arthur’s defense. Arthur’s arm is going numb and he knows he’s got to get away soon or he’s going to drop the shield, so he does the only thing he can think of – he goes down, and rolls away from Cormer. Arthur pops back up onto his feet, dances out of Cormer’s reach and tries to catch his breath – he might very well lose this fight and the thought is unbearable. He can’t let this man anywhere near Merlin.

“What’s the matter Little Princling, getting tired? Tut, tut. No stamina at all. I bet the Little Hawk is gagging for a good, hard shag,” Cormer sneers. “I was just going to take that lovely mouth of his, but I think, perhaps I may just have to bend him over the table and show him what a real man can do.”

Something snaps in Arthur and with a loud yell, he throws his shield at Cormer’s head. Cormer is obviously not expecting it and it hits him right in the face, making him stagger back, a cut opening across his nose. Arthur doesn’t notice – he launches himself at Cormer’s midsection, dropping his sword in the process – and knocks the dazed man down to the ground. A red haze blocks out Arthur’s vision as he kneels on Cormer’s chest and starts to punch him in his vile, disgusting mouth over and over again. The crowd has gone strangely silent and long minutes pass before Arthur becomes vaguely aware of someone calling his name. Two hands wrap around his arm and pull it back. Arthur turns viciously and tries to pull his arm away. He meets Merlin’s eyes, wide with distress and something else he can’t name.

“Arthur, stop, he yields,” Merlin says quietly.

Arthur glances down at the ruin of Cormer’s face and then back at Merlin. Without a word he stands and Merlin takes a step back. Arthur wraps his hand around Merlin’s arm and drags him to the small tent set up on the edge of the tourney field. He shoves him through and follows him, making sure the flaps are closed behind him. Arthur peels off his bloody leather gloves and throws them to the ground and steps towards Merlin, his whole body shaking with emotion.

“Arthur…” Merlin starts to say, but Arthur just grabs the front of Merlin’s shirt and pulls him into a ferocious kiss. He’s expecting Merlin to put up a fight, so he’s completely stunned when Merlin curls his hands around his arms and pulls him closer, and kisses him back just as vehemently.

Arthur twines his fingers through Merlin’s hair and pulls his head back. Merlin gasps softly when Arthur presses fluttering kisses along his neck. The gasp turns into a long-drawn out moan when Arthur bites down and then sucks long and hard at the skin, leaving a very large mark.

“No one else,” Arthur growls into Merlin’s ear as his hands slide down Merlin’s body to his breeches. He pulls and tugs at the strings until they loosen and Merlin’s pants fall to the ground.

“No one. Only you, always, you,” Merlin rasps in reply as Arthur’s hand curls around his cock and starts to stroke. He fumbles briefly at Arthur’s layers of clothes, but he finally manages to get Arthur’s cock out and he starts to reciprocate. Arthur pushes Merlin’s hand out of the way and takes both of them into one of his and jerks them viciously.

Merlin moans and grabs him by the head and kisses him hard. Their tongues war back and forth, their breath coming in stolen gasps in between kisses, and Arthur’s hand moves frantically between them. Arthur’s hips jerk, and with a sharp cry, he comes in short, hard bursts all over Merlin’s cock. Merlin whimpers, “Arthur,” and then comes, too.

They stand there, leaning on each other for support. With a quiet, shuddering breath, Merlin steps back far enough to pull up his breeches and retie them. Arthur has not let go of him the whole time. His hands move restlessly over Merlin’s body until Merlin stops them with his own. Merlin holds Arthur’s hands firmly down where they lay against his chest and hip.

“Only and always you, Arthur, I swear it,” Merlin says roughly.

Arthur looks into Merlin’s eyes and leans in and kisses him. Softly, gently, this time. He loses himself in the soft bliss of Merlin’s mouth and the quiet sounds of contentment Merlin is making as he kisses Arthur back.

Merlin wakes slowly and stretches as best he can with Arthur sprawled half on top of him, feeling the delicious ache of the well-fucked throughout entire his body. After Arthur had faced his father’s wrath, he had come back to his rooms and spent hours making Merlin fall apart under his hands and lips, leaving marks of possession up and down Merlin’s neck and chest, and one particularly spectacular one on his inner thigh. He knows he has finger prints on his hips from the first time Arthur fucked him – hard and deep from behind, pulling Merlin back into every thrust. He’d come and collapsed onto Merlin, leaving him hard and wanting and trapped under Arthur’s weight. The second time had been face-to-face, slow and tender, Arthur taking the time to make Merlin come twice, to make up for his previous selfishness.

He runs a hand gently through Arthur’s golden hair. He never expected this – never expected to end up in Arthur’s bed, never expected that Arthur felt a tenth of what he felt for Arthur. But here he is, lying in Arthur’s arms, his head and heart still full of the quiet endearments that Arthur had whispered into his ear. Merlin shifts, and Arthur’s arm tightens around him.

“Where are you going?” he asks, his voice muffled against Merlin’s chest. Merlin starts – he hadn’t noticed that Arthur was awake.

“No where,” Merlin replies honestly, with a smile.

Arthur turns his head to look at Merlin. “Good.”

Merlin smiles and Arthur leans up and kisses him before settling back down. They fall back to sleep, curled together tightly.