Archive of Our Own

Title: The Accidental Seduction (or, De Nile Ain't Just a River In Egypt, And Arthur's Drowning In It)
Author: Ras Elased
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~9000
Summary: Arthur's a bit dim and a prank goes horribly awry, but in the end this works out to the benefit of all involved.
A/N: So, I have absolutely no excuse for this, and neither does Arthur. He is a bit of an oblivious, arrogant dick, but Merlin and I still love him anyway. Contains absurd situations, potential historical inaccuracies involving fruit, and possibly rampant OOCness, because this is blatant self indulgence. And OMG, my porn fu may be damaged. I got a little carried away, even though the porn writing gave me fits. This was supposed to be short. Like, around 3000 words. It turned out to be roughly 9000, and 4000 of that is the sex scene. That is 44.4% porn content. IDEK, OK? Beta'd by the lovely mklutz.

~*~

In retrospect, Arthur really should have known. How could he have been so oblivious? It wasn't as if Merlin was being even the least bit subtle about it. Arthur knew Merlin was born with less than a thimble's worth of tact, but this was just ridiculous. Arthur was ashamed of how long it had taken him to work it out. The only good news was that it seemed the rest of the castle had yet to work it out themselves. Arthur could hardly blame them for their ignorance, however, considering it had taken Arthur this long to work it out himself, and he was possessed of a vastly superior intellect inherent in his status at birth.

And, after all, if everyone else in the castle had a mad crush on Arthur, it was no wonder they'd missed the fact that Merlin did, too.

Arthur was really rather relieved that he'd managed to finally figure it out. He'd always felt there was something a bit off about his manservant. He'd noticed the guilty looks, the sideways glances, the way Merlin sometimes got a little edgy when he walked into a room unannounced. He just hadn't been able to put his finger on it, until now.

The only question was what to do about it. Arthur was no stranger to unwanted affections, and he usually dealt with them according to station. With simpering young noblewomen, he was politely charming yet aloof, so as to not interfere with his father's carefully constructed network of alliances. (Well, except for that one time, with Lady Ranelle and her extremely grabby hands. No matter what Morgana said, Arthur was not hiding in that broom closet. He considered it a strategic retreat.) With his knights, he let them know in no uncertain terms that they hadn't the faintest hope unless they could best him in battle, which proved to be a rather useful motivational tool. (Not that Arthur would ever actually consider it if one of them did win, but the only time anyone had come close was Lancelot, and that time Arthur may have been willing to make an exception.) With the servants and peasants, Arthur tended to ignore it, because after all, they were peasants, and Arthur had standards. (The only exception, of course, was the kitchen staff, all of whom Arthur flirted with profusely, from lowly serving girls to the wizened old chefs. Arthur had learned the hard way not to piss off the kitchen staff, and it was surprisingly hard to win them over.)

Still, there was the occasional lapse, but for the most part, Arthur's rules seemed to work well for him. But Merlin was something of an anomaly, not fitting into any of Arthur's defined categories. He was too annoyingly outspoken to be a typical servant, and not nearly disciplined enough to be anything close to a knight. He was just…Merlin, and Arthur had to admit that he was somewhat baffled about how to deal with the situation.

The answer, oddly enough, came to him on the training field. The day was hot and Arthur had been training for hours under the bright sun. He could feel the sweat clinging to his face and neck as he called Merlin over to fetch him a drink of water. Arthur tipped his head back and drank greedily, droplets escaping in his haste and trickling down his chin and throat. When he had drained the glass, he started to hand it back to his manservant, only to find Merlin's eyes had turned a little glassy, and he was gaping like a fish. Arthur raised an eyebrow, then licked his lips experimentally. Merlin's eyes tracked the movement with avid interest.

Arthur resisted the urge to smirk. "Merlin," he said, letting his amusement show through in his voice. "I'm finished, whenever your brain catches up with your duties."

Merlin visibly snapped back to reality, and he hastily snatched the cup out of Arthur's hand, glaring for show as Arthur watched a flush creep up Merlin's cheeks and all the way to his ears. Arthur smiled. This was possibly the most entertainment he'd had all day.

Grinning in a way that he knew would make even his bravest knights shake in their boots, Arthur's plan started to take form.

~*~

For breakfast the next morning, Arthur made sure Merlin brought him plenty of fruit, an entire platter full of strawberries, grapes, apples, bowls of sugar and whipped cream. Arthur was seated at the small table in his chambers, still not dressed for the day, wearing only his sleep shirt and his softest pair of britches. Merlin set the tray down on the table in front of Arthur, then began puttering around the room, making his usual pathetic attempt to tidy up. Arthur waited until Merlin's cleaning brought him close and then Arthur put his plan into action. He chose the largest strawberry on his plate, dipped it into the whipped cream and took a bite, making a pleased sound of satisfaction in his throat.

Merlin's reaction was immediate. He paused, Arthur's red shirt in his hands, and Arthur licked a bit of whipped cream from his lips, slowly. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Merlin's eyes widen, his own tongue flicking out to lick his lips in a distracted imitation of Arthur's, and it was all Arthur could do to fight back the smug grin he could feel threatening to break free. Merlin's reaction was better than Arthur had hoped for. Apparently, Merlin was just as fascinated by Arthur's mouth now as he had been yesterday.

Arthur easily could have called Merlin on his blatant staring right then, but if there was one thing he'd learned from the traditional hazing of his knights, it was that the payoff was always better if it was drawn out. So Arthur took another bite of the strawberry, letting a drop of juice run down his palm, then sucked it off the inside of his wrist with a wet smack. A few feet away, Merlin swallowed audibly.

Without looking at Merlin, Arthur dipped another strawberry in the sugar and said, "If you damage my favorite shirt, I'm taking it out of your pay."

Startled, Merlin looked down to discover what Arthur already knew, that he had the cloth in a white-knuckled grip. "Er, sorry, sire," he said, standing there a little uselessly until he apparently remembered he did, in fact, have duties he was supposed to be attending to, and got back to cleaning.

Arthur allowed himself a triumphant smile while Merlin's back was turned, then set about eating in the most obscenely sexual way possible, without being too terribly obvious about it. Arthur acted as if he spent every morning sucking juice from his fingers and licking sugar from his lips with pleased little moans, all the while laughing inside as Merlin repeatedly dropped things and tripped over non-existent cracks in the floor and once even ran into an open cupboard door because instead of watching where he was going, he was too busy watching Arthur. When Arthur ran out of strawberries, he dipped two fingers into the pot of whipped cream and sucked them deep into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and groaning in pleasure. There was a loud clatter as Merlin dropped the armor he'd been collecting. Arthur looked down to find Merlin crouched next to the table, attempting to gather the fallen armor with clumsy fingers, and he was kneeling right in front of Arthur's chair and really, he couldn't have planned it better than this.

Slouching lower in his chair, Arthur spread his knees a little wider and said in a low voice that was a mixture of casual and suggestive, "See something you like?"

Merlin's eyes snapped up to Arthur's and then took in their respective positions, blushing furiously. Arthur held his gaze as he licked a bit of sugar from the tip of his thumb, waiting for an answer. He didn't bother to clarify if he was talking about the food. By the time Merlin replied, the flush had spread to the tips of his ears and his voice sounded strained as he said, "I'm…not hungry."

Arthur shrugged, then moved on to the grapes. "Suit yourself," he said, and Merlin quickly gathered up the last of the armor and raced from the room like he had a gryphon hot on his heels. And although Arthur allowed himself a good, long laugh at Merlin's expense, he couldn't help wondering why he felt just a touch disappointed at Merlin's hasty retreat.

~*~

Arthur stopped by the palace seamstress's workshop to drop off a few things, but was displeased to find only the beakish apprentice there. Still, the girl was better than nothing, and Arthur was in a bit of a rush.

"Aida," he called, and the girl started like a frightened mouse. Arthur valiantly refrained from rolling his eyes and held out the red shirt and brown leggings in his hands. "I have some work for you. My shirt needs mending, and it could stand to be hemmed a few inches. And these trousers need taking in."

The girl stopped her frantic nodding and gave him a shocked look just as Arthur tossed the clothes onto her work bench. "Taking in, sire? Are you sure?" she asked, wide-eyed.

Arthur gave her a glare normally reserved for Merlin's more pronounced bouts of idiocy. "That is what I said," he replied dryly. "Is there a problem?"

"Well, no. It's just that, well, your majesty's leggings are already so…" Her cheeks turned bright pink and she waved a hand, vaguely encompassing the entire lower portion of Arthur's person. Arthur raised an eyebrow, and Aida quickly looked away. "I mean, um…When did you need these, sire?"

Arthur stifled a smirk. Merlin was coming to his chambers tonight to help him pack for the hunting trip tomorrow, and he needed his clothes altered if the night was going to be as entertaining as he hoped. "By tonight, preferably."

Aida's eyes widened again. "Sire, I won't be able—Not without a proper fitting!"

This time Arthur did roll his eyes and stepped into the workshop with a bereaved sigh. Aida's face was tomato red as she took his measurements, and even though she was still just an apprentice, Arthur thought she took an inordinate amount of time measuring his inseam. It might have had something to do with the fact that she kept dropping the measuring tape.

Still, it was worth it. Arthur's clothes were ready just before Merlin was due to meet him, and the leggings fit like a second skin. Arthur inspected the fit in the mirror and was pleased to note the shirt didn't hang down quite as far in the back. The smile on his face was practically gleeful.

Arthur timed it perfectly. When Merlin stepped through the door (without knocking, it might be added), Arthur was bent over with his back to the door, presumably adjusting his boots. Merlin started to call out a greeting but the noise that came out sounded more like he was swallowing his tongue. Arthur grinned evilly down at his boots before schooling his features and standing to face Merlin. Placing his hands on his hips, Arthur said in a deceptively light tone, "Tell me, Merlin, do you see anything here that could use a good rubbing down?"

Predictably, Merlin's eyes widened and immediately flicked to Arthur's crotch, the bulge clearly visible in the tightened pants. He stared, looking a little distraught. "Um…" he squeaked.

Inside, Arthur was giggling in a way not at all befitting a prince. On the outside, he made sure to glare and announced angrily, "The boots, Merlin! They're filthy!" he took them off and tossed them at Merlin's head. The first one thumped against Merlin's chest and fell uselessly to the floor, but Arthur was reluctantly impressed when Merlin recovered enough to catch the second in a fumbling grip. "You're to sit right here until I can see my face shining in them."

Merlin complained under his breath and got to work while Arthur stalked around the room, filling his pack for the hunting trip tomorrow. He made sure to grab items in locations that meant he'd be forced to bend over in front of Merlin, fabric stretching so tight across his ass he was afraid the seams might rip. By the third time he swore he heard Merlin actually whimper, and Arthur had to bite his lip to keep from outright laughing.

Later, Arthur made sure to tease Merlin incessantly about the fact that it took him a good two hours to shine his boots properly.

~*~

One morning, Morgana was lurking outside Arthur's chambers, wearing a blue dress and a truly terrifying expression.

Arthur, still not fully awake and possibly more than a little hung over, blinked at her for several long moments of confused silence. Finally, he managed, "What do you want now, Morgana?"

Her expression didn't change. "I know what you're doing," she said, rather cryptically.

Arthur blinked at her some more. It was far too early for this sort of thing. "Um, good? At least that makes one of us."

Morgana jutted her chin out defiantly and took a step forward. "You hurt him, and I will make you wish you'd never been born."

Not for the first time, Arthur realized that Morgana was a very, very scary woman. (This still did not help him to realize what he was supposed to be frightened about.) But Arthur was the crowned prince, and he would not stand to be ordered about, especially when he hadn't the faintest clue what he was being ordered to do. "Right. Well, this has certainly been a fun little chat, but now why don't you run along and go…count your shoes, or brush your hair, or something. Some of us do have actual work to do today."

Morgana's resultant scowl was more than a little unsettling. "I'm watching you, Arthur Pendragon," she warned, and with one last scathing look, Morgana turned on her heel and stalked off, leaving a very perplexed Arthur in her wake.

~*~

A few days later, Arthur walked into the armory to find it empty, save for Merlin polishing a sword. He was straddling a bench and running the cloth over the blade with short, sharp movements, and Arthur grinned. This hadn't actually been part of the plan, but Arthur knew a golden opportunity when he saw one, and he was not about to pass this up.

"No wonder my sword never shines properly, if that's how you go about polishing it."

Merlin shot him a mild glare before returning to work. "You never complained about it before, sire," he replied in that mocking tone that never failed to grate on Arthur's last nerve.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. He was going to enjoy this. "Well, clearly, I overlooked your inherent ability to screw up even the simplest of tasks." He strode imperiously to the bench and took a seat behind Merlin, close enough for his chest to be pressed flush against Merlin's back, and he felt Merlin's spine stiffen.

"What are you doing?" Merlin asked, an edge of startled panic to his voice that had Arthur deeply amused.

"If I'm going to be stuck with you as my manservant, you might as well learn to do the job properly. Now hold still," he chided, grasping Merlin's shoulders in an effort to halt his fidgeting. Merlin, for once, obeyed and fell still. Arthur settled his hands over Merlin's, twining their fingers together where they rested on the sword hilt and the soft polishing cloth.

"Arthur?" he asked uncertainly.

"Shut up and pay attention," Arthur grumbled derisively, trying to defuse some of the tension in Merlin's shoulders. This would be no fun if Merlin bolted like a frightened hare. Putting on his most authoritative instructor voice, he said, "You've got to grip it firmly, like this." He tightened his hand over Merlin's where they held the sword hilt against Merlin's thigh. He felt rather than heard the hitch in Merlin's breathing, but Merlin tightened his own hand in kind. "Good," Arthur praised, letting Merlin feel the breath of his words against the back of his neck. "Now, you should rub it down with long, slow strokes." Merlin made a funny noise in his throat, somewhere between a laugh and a groan, but Arthur ignored him in favor of directing his hand smoothly over the blade in a relaxing rhythm, up and down, until Arthur could feel that the rise and fall of Merlin's breathing had deepened to match the strokes. Merlin settled back further against Arthur's chest, and for a split second, Arthur considered wrapping his arms tight around Merlin's waist and pressing his mouth hotly to the nape of Merlin's neck, just to see what he would do. He chuckled to himself at the thought, feeling the rumbling vibration against Merlin's back, then settled for whispering low in Merlin's ear, "There, that's much better. You just needed someone to show you how to use your hands." He let his lips ghost over the shell of Merlin's ear as he spoke, and he couldn't hold back the victorious grin when he felt Merlin shudder against him. Releasing his grip on Merlin's hands, Arthur peeled himself from Merlin's warmth and stood.

Merlin's eyes were glassy and a little unfocused as they looked up at him. "Wha—Arthur? You're leaving?"

Arthur raised a condescending eyebrow and said, "You've got the hang of it now, Merlin. Carry on."

The murderous glare Merlin shot him as he left the armory had him chuckling for the rest of the day.

~*~

Arthur heard the clatter of his manservant arriving with breakfast and emerged from his bath wearing a rakish grin and little else. "Leave it on the table," he called around the corner into the main room. He smirked and ran a towel through his wet hair. It wouldn't be the first time Merlin had seen him in all his glory, but it would be the first time Arthur had a chance to appreciate the reason behind Merlin's ability to turn a truly spectacular shade of crimson at the sight.

As he turned the corner, the prince of Camelot absolutely did not utter an undignified squawk and hastily wrap the ridiculously small towel around his waist. "GWEN?" he sputtered.

Gwen, for her part, looked just as shocked as Arthur. "Oh! Oh my god! Uh, I…Um…Merlin sent me. He said…He said it would be…um, safer." She seemed to be trying to look away, but as she spoke her gaze kept returning to the place where Arthur's towel barely concealed his modesty, each time catching herself with increasingly frantic bouts of flailing. "Not—not that he thinks you're not safe, or—I mean, he really didn't—And I'm not—Oh, bugger it," she finally muttered and made a hasty retreat. Arthur was about to breathe a sigh of relief when she stopped at the door, her hand on the latch. She very carefully didn't turn around as she said, "Really, sire, isn't this getting to be a bit much? I mean, if you feel…shouldn't you just tell him?"

Arthur's incoherent sputtering reached epic levels before he managed an outraged, "Guinivere!"

"Right, sorry. It wasn't my place, I shouldn't have—I'll just be—Sorry!" By the time Gwen had finished her babbling apology she was already in the hall, calling out one final, "Sorry!" for good measure and rushing off just as the door clicked shut, leaving Arthur and his mortification in peace.

~*~

And alright, so maybe Arthur had let the whole thing go on a bit too long. He probably should have let Merlin down easy as soon as he realized his manservant's attraction, but it wasn't as if Arthur was leading him on, really. Merlin, for all his abysmal failures as a manservant, surely recognized that with their respective stations, this was nothing more than a hopeless crush. And he was sure Merlin was no stranger to hopeless crushes, seeing as how he seemed to have gotten over Guinevere's rejection rather well. (And Arthur was sure it had been a rejection, because he hadn't caught Merlin throwing any sappy doe eyes her way, and he'd been watching. Not that he cared, one way or the other, he just had to watch out that his manservant wasn't making a fool of himself.)

Arthur considered the possibility of ending it, the decision weighing heavily on his shoulders, sure that to any of the banquet guests, it looked like he was studiously pondering the meal in front of him. He shot a surreptitious glance at Merlin, absently dragging his silver ring across his bottom lip in thought. He watched Merlin's eyes go a little wider and a slight flush bloom over his cheeks, and a small thrill went through Arthur, sharp and hot, because that time he hadn't even been trying.

Arthur grinned. Really, he decided, he was having far too much fun to stop now.

~*~

Arthur eyed himself critically in the mirror. After several long seconds, he frowned and said, "No, I don't think so. Let's try another one."

Merlin let out a groan that threatened out-and-out rebellion. "Arthur, you've tried on every single article of clothing that you own. How can one person own so many clothes and not like any of them?"

Arthur gave Merlin a glare of inherent superiority and said, "This is a very important banquet, Merlin. It's not every day that Lady Ranelle comes to court."

Merlin eyed him dubiously. "Didn't you hide in a broom closet the last time she came to visit?"

"Shut up," Arthur replied, deadpan, and raised his arms. Merlin sighed and efficiently stripped Arthur of his belt and shirt, tossing them into the ever growing pile of rejects. Arthur frowned. He was certain that the act of repeatedly dressing and undressing him would have gotten some sort of reaction from Merlin, but they'd practically run through every outfit in Arthur's wardrobe and the only affect it seemed to have on Merlin was to try his patience. Arthur was beginning to think that the daily routine of dressing and undressing him had made Merlin impervious to any effects it might have once had.

Sighing and willing to admit defeat—just this once—Arthur pointed to one of the few remaining shirts in his cupboard, a crisp white one he didn't actually remember owning. Merlin retrieved it with a minimal amount of grumbling, then helped pull the tunic over Arthur's head. Arthur remembered how nervous and standoffish Merlin had been when he'd first started dressing Arthur as part of his duties, but now there was something almost proprietary in the way Merlin dressed him, confidently maneuvering Arthur's limbs into and out of difficult garments as if he had the same right to the prince's body as he did his own. Merlin set about fastening Arthur's belt with skillful movements, all business, and really, Arthur didn't know why fingers as cold and, quite frankly, clammy as Merlin's would leave hot trails where they brushed against his hips. Merlin reached up and pulled Arthur's pendant from beneath the collar of his shirt, then rested his hand over the charm and tilted his head to examine its placement with a critical eye. He looked so focused, lips pursed slightly in concentration, and Arthur was suddenly aware of how close Merlin was standing. After a moment, Merlin had apparently decided the pendant met with his satisfaction and authoritatively tapped one finger of his open palm against Arthur's chest in approval. The light touch seemed to reverberate through Arthur's ribcage. Merlin moved on to the laces of Arthur's sleeves. The intricate laces threaded from elbow to wrist, and Merlin's skilled fingers made short work of them, drawing them tight around Arthur's wrist while Arthur's gaze stayed trained on Merlin's face. He was a little mesmerized by the strange concentration he saw there, and he began to wonder if Merlin was truly as unaffected as he'd thought.

When Merlin had finished tying the laces he began to let go, but Arthur's hand moved of its own volition, twisting up to lightly clasp Merlin's wrist so that the heels of their palms met, fitting together like a lock and key. Merlin frowned and snapped his head up to meet Arthur's gaze, and Arthur imagined he looked just as surprised and confused as Merlin. He was violently aware of Merlin's proximity, close enough that Arthur had to look up a little to meet the taller boy's eyes, and the thought that Merlin had a good inch on him was suddenly not nearly as irritating as he normally considered. He could feel the heat from Merlin's soft breath on his face, and his mouth abruptly went dry. He wasn't even aware that his tongue had flicked out to wet his lips until Merlin's gaze locked on Arthur's mouth with a frightening intensity. Arthur felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. Time seemed to slow, and Merlin's lax fingers slowly curled around Arthur's wrist. The burn of the touch shot up Arthur's arm like fire, and he jerked away in shock. The air abruptly flooded back into his lungs as time rushed to catch up once again, and Arthur was left floundering in the face of Merlin's clearly baffled expression.

Arthur was suddenly very confused and more than a little off balance, like someone had picked him up and shaken him and then set him back down wrong side up. He smoothed his hands down the front of his shirt, mostly to have something to do that didn't involve pulling Merlin's body flush with his and mashing their lips together with a desperation that was as shocking as it was intense. "Yes, well…I suppose this'll have to do," he stuttered out, not sounding nearly as haughty as he would have liked. He didn't meet Merlin's eyes. He made a hasty exit, feeling Merlin's gaze on him, but not daring to look back.

He made it all the way to the dining hall before he realized he only had one cuff laced.

~*~

Arthur wouldn't say he was avoiding Merlin, exactly. He just wasn't making an effort to seek him out.

He was willing to admit that his ever escalating attempts to embarrass Merlin may have gotten a little out of hand and backfired spectacularly. The few times he'd been forced into Merlin's company at formal events had been somewhat disconcerting. He was sure that he'd never paid quite this much attention to how Merlin's long fingers wrapped around the neck of the wine flask or the firm set of Merlin's mouth when he glared at Arthur across the banquet hall. It was all just some lingering after-effect of Arthur's botched prank, and if Arthur could figure out a way to prove that then it would be out of his system and he could go back to being around Merlin without wanting to kiss the frown off his face.

Clearly, the only logical thing to do was take the prank to the next level. Once Arthur had proved it was all just a ridiculous joke then they would have a good laugh and things would go back to normal.

However, if Gaius didn't stop scowling at him in a way that made the Gryphon look like a cuddly puppy, Arthur doubted his plan would have a chance to get off the ground.

"Look, Gaius, it's nothing, really. Just some muscle pain from last week's hunt. And no offence, but the salve you gave me smells like mustard and peppermint."

Gaius looked severe. "That's because it is mustard and peppermint."

"Oh," Arthur said flatly. "Interesting combination." At Gaius' continued silence, Arthur sighed and said, "Don't you have anything that doesn't smell like the kitchen staff's rejects?"

"I'd watch what I say about the kitchen staff, if I were you, sire. I've heard you're not in their best graces."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Believe me, I know." Arthur had no idea what he'd done to anger them, but if there was one lesson Arthur really didn't need to relearn in this lifetime, it was that an unhappy kitchen staff was a scary kitchen staff. And really, why did everyone in the castle suddenly seem to have it in for him? "Gaius, I need something that smells, well…attractive."

Gaius' eyebrow shot even farther upwards. Arthur was amazed that was even possible.

Arthur was fed up and frustrated and damn it, he was the future king of Albion. It should not be this hard to make a simple request. "Gaius," he said in a low voice. "Don't make me issue an order."

Gaius' frown intensified, but Arthur could see he'd won. The physician took a small bottle off the shelf and handed it to Arthur, who received it with a grateful nod. "Thank you, Gaius."

But the moment Arthur laid his hand on the bottle, Gaius didn't immediately relinquish it. He stared hard at Arthur and said, "That boy is the closest thing I have to a son. Don't disappoint him."

Arthur frowned and gave Gaius a sidelong glance. Arthur doubted Gaius could know what Arthur had planned for tonight, and it wasn't like Arthur was going to actually debauch his manservant, but the knowing frown Gaius wore was very unsettling. Still, Gaius didn't release his grip until Arthur gave a tentative nod, wondering what he'd just agreed to.

Really, Arthur was beginning to feel like there was something the rest of the castle knew, and he was a bit out of the loop.

~*~

When Merlin walked into Arthur's chambers (still without knocking), Arthur had already turned down the bedclothes and stripped to the waist. Merlin took in the sight of the room and fixed his gaze on Arthur, looking like he was trying to decide whether to bolt or to strangle Arthur with his scarf, and Arthur suddenly had a bad feeling about this. Still, he wasn't about to back down now.

"You sent for me, sire?" Merlin said, and Arthur manfully resisted the urge to roll his eyes, because really, did Merlin have to use that tone every bloody time he addressed Arthur?

"Yes, I did. An hour ago," Arthur pointed out, leveling a glare at Merlin, who at least had the good grace to look chagrinned.

"Sorry, I was…busy," he hedged, still slightly defiant. Arthur wondered if Merlin had been avoiding him on purpose just to annoy him.

Arthur sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Nevermind. You're here now, I might as well put you to use." He held up the bottle of oil Gaius had given him that afternoon. "I need you to apply this ointment to my back. It's still aching from last week's injury."

Merlin frowned at the bottle, at Arthur's bare chest, at the bed, and then the bottle again. He took a step backwards, towards the door. "Um, if you're in pain, shouldn't we get Gaius? He'd be better for—"

"I've already spoken to Gaius. Where do you think I got the salve in the first place?" Arthur said in an exasperated huff, grabbing Merlin's wrist and dragging him towards the bed, thwarting his attempted escape. "This won't take long, and then you can get back to doing whatever it is you were doing that is so important it kept me waiting. For an hour." Arthur punctuated his statement by slapping the bottle into Merlin's open palm and raising an eyebrow expectantly. They just stared at each other for a long moment before Merlin apparently came to a decision, setting his jaw and pulling off his jacket in exactly the same manner as he had that day in the market, taking up a challenge and spoiling for a fight. Arthur just rolled his eyes at the theatrics and climbed onto the bed, face down into his pillow.

"Honestly, Merlin, I don't know why you're being so difficult. Any other servant would be dying to look after the health of the heir to the throne. You should consider yourself lucky to be entrusted with such duties."

Merlin snorted softly. "Believe it or not, Arthur, not everyone is dying to get their hands on you."

Arthur raised his eyebrow and allowed himself a small grin, seeing as how he was safely turned away from his manservant. If Merlin wanted to play it that way, then Arthur was more than happy to prove him wrong. "Hmm, we'll see," he muttered smugly.

"What?" Merlin asked, kneeling on the bed next to Arthur's hips. Arthur turned to check and saw Merlin had one knee on the bed and the other foot on the floor, as if ready to make a break for it if necessary, but Arthur was pleased to note that Merlin at least had the sense to remove his boots before he started crawling all over Arthur's bed. And oh god, Arthur needed to clamp down on those kinds of thoughts before he got carried away.

"Nevermind. Just get on with it!" he snapped with the most imperious wave he could muster while lying prostrate on his bed.

Merlin muttered something under his breath that Arthur was quite sure contained the word "prat," but then Arthur heard the cork being popped from the bottle and the slick sound of Merlin rubbing the oil between his palms to warm it. The scent of the oil, like sandalwood and cloves, filled Arthur's chambers, and he breathed deep. The earthy, spicy scent did half of Arthur's work for him. By setting the mood with its warm fragrance, all Arthur really needed to do was sit back and enjoy the spectacle of Merlin's escalating awkwardness. (And, yes, probably some mortification as well, but that was still just as entertaining.)

Arthur exhaled in a relaxed sigh, and that's when Merlin's fingers came to rest on Arthur's shoulders. His touch was surprisingly warm, if a little too tentative for Arthur's liking. "God, could you possibly be any worse at this?" Arthur griped. "You'll never get the job done if you're acting like a skittish maid. Don't you know how to give a proper massage?"

Merlin's hands stuttered to a halt, and Arthur wondered if he'd possibly pushed his luck a little too far too fast. But the biting retort he expected never came. Instead, Merlin silently pressed the entire flat of his hands against Arthur's back, rubbing the oil into his skin with smooth, even motions. Oddly enough, Merlin's abrupt strive to do Arthur's bidding spoke more clearly of his insubordination than a sudden bout of obedience, as he was clearly trying to prove Arthur wrong. Arthur could practically feel Merlin's frustration seeping into his skin along with the oil. Arthur decided to put Merlin's foul mood out of his mind and just enjoy himself. It was time to move forward with his plan for the evening.

Pitching his voice low, Arthur groaned into his pillow. "Mmm, much better."

Merlin seemed bolstered by the praise and his hands moved over Arthur's skin with a little more confidence. Arthur frowned. He'd expected the gravelly tone to induce Merlin's characteristic fumbling, but he supposed he was just being too subtle. He would have to try harder. When Merlin's hands found a knotted muscle low on Arthur's back, it was surprisingly easy to turn his harsh grunt into a long, rumbling moan.

This time Merlin's hands did pause, but it was only for a brief moment before he once again returned to his ministrations with renewed vigor. Arthur wondered how Merlin could possibly be so daft. This wasn't the way he was supposed to be behaving at all. Still, Arthur couldn't really find it in himself to be terribly put out. He was reluctantly willing to admit that Merlin was actually quite good at this, once he set his mind to it. His movements were strong and sure over Arthur's back, finding the tension in his muscles and working it out with expert fingers. His touch was slick and warm as his hands glided over Arthur's skin, a sharp contrast to the chill of the room, and alright, maybe Arthur was beginning to enjoy it a little too much. It felt too good, and he could feel his breaths becoming a little shorter, a slight flush coming to his skin, and he really needed to put a stop to this. And he was going to stop it, any minute, but then Merlin's thumbs found a knot at the base of his spine and Arthur groaned deep in his chest and pushed up a little into Merlin's hands, not entirely intentionally, and damn it, why the hell wasn't Merlin blushing and stammering and running away by now? He was actually pressing down more firmly as he let out what could only be described as a smug, humorless chuckle, and that was clearly something Arthur wouldn't stand for. No servant was going to best him at his own game.

"Harder," Arthur growled, surprised at the sound of his own voice. He had meant to sound ambiguously aroused, not like he was begging for it like a common bar wench. Still, it seemed to have done the trick, because Merlin's hands were gone, and the weight on the bed was shifting, rising.

And the next thing Arthur knew, he could feel Merlin's bony knees on either side of his hips and Merlin's hands had gone from a gentle caress to something more resembling a heated battle of wills. His fingers dug harsh and deep into the muscles of Arthur's back, the deliberate, measured strokes pushing groans from his chest. Each drag of Merlin's fingers down his side felt like a sucker punch to the gut, Merlin calling his bluff and daring him not to enjoy it. Each noise Arthur uttered without conscious will felt like a victory for Merlin's side, each gasp and moan a point that Merlin seemed hell-bent on proving to Arthur over and over again. Arthur wondered idly when exactly he had lost control of the situation.

Merlin's hand ran up the length of his spine and had him arching up off the bed with a sharp gasp, suddenly intensely turned on, wondering what Merlin's slick hands would feel like on his cock, inside his ass. Merlin groaned, sounding frustrated and exasperated and desperate, which really didn't help Arthur's situation, and in the next second Merlin's hands had him pinned to the bed, one knee digging into the middle of Arthur's back and holding him down with his weight. Arthur could have easily thrown him off, but shock and a deeper thrum of want kept him still. Merlin's voice was angry and sharp as he asked, "What game are you playing at, Arthur?"

"I don't know," Arthur moaned gravely into his pillow, because this started out as a joke and now he was achingly hard and pinned to the bed and fairly certain he didn't want Merlin to let him go until they'd had lots and lots of sex, and it was all a bit confusing.

"You don't know?" Merlin scoffed. "Arthur, just tell me what's going on! If I didn't know better, I'd say you'd spent the last fortnight trying to seduce me!"

"Seduce you?!" Arthur sputtered, indignant. Merlin dug his knee harder into Arthur's back to stop his infuriated squirming, and that was just insulting, so Arthur growled, "Of all the ridiculous, idiotic, preposterous—" Arthur paused, the last several days playing back through his mind, now in a completely different light. The touches, the looks, the way each small thrill of victory only made Arthur hungry for more. "Oh my god," he breathed. Realization struck him like a blow to the head. He promptly took advantage of his training and easily twisted out of Merlin's grasp, flipping them both over and pinning his very stunned manservant beneath him. With an expression somewhere between a smug leer and an elated grin, Arthur looked down and announced gleefully, "I was trying to seduce you."

Merlin blinked up at him. "You didn't seriously believe…Did you just now figure that out? What did you think you were doing all this time?"

"I have no idea," Arthur replied, his manic grin undeterred by Merlin's outrage. "Or, well, I do, obviously, but that's not important, because it wasn't what I thought and I was being a prat. Apparently."

Merlin rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth quirked upwards and his expression softened. "What did I tell you about that?" he asked quietly, a thread of something wistful in his tone.

Arthur felt his own grin settle into something gentler as he mapped the crest of Merlin's cheekbone with his fingertips, just because he could. "You know me, Merlin," he murmured. "I never listen to you."

And just like that, a second epiphany landed hot on the heels of the first, because Arthur realized they'd been telling each other how they felt all this time, and Merlin was right. He really needed to learn to listen.

But that could wait, because right now Merlin was looking at him as if he held the sun and the moon and the fate of the world in the palm of his hand. And maybe he did, because when he leaned down to press his lips to Merlin's, it felt like the motion of the heavens itself stood still. Merlin's lips were soft and warm against Arthur's, the kiss almost chaste as their mouths fit together like matching puzzle pieces. Merlin's hands were still slick with oil as they skimmed over Arthur's back, the light catch of fingernails making Arthur's breath stutter in his chest. Merlin's fingertips slid just under Arthur's waistband and Arthur's cock throbbed, hard and heavy inside his britches. "Merlin," Arthur whispered, the name tumbling from his lips in a breathless flash of desire.

"Arthur," Merlin mimicked, just as breathless but with a teasing quirk to his lips, and Arthur felt himself dangerously close to a pout. It wasn't fair that Merlin wasn't acting as mindlessly consumed by lust as Arthur felt. He would have to remedy that immediately.

Their second kiss was decidedly less chaste than the first. Merlin's lips parted easily under Arthur's insistence, hot breath and slick tongues meeting in the space between. Arthur moaned as the kiss turned harder, Merlin meeting his demand with enthusiasm. Merlin's mouth was like a scorching brand against his. They pressed together with a bruising intensity, sucking and biting at each others' lips and panting for breath. Arthur's hands roamed restlessly over Merlin's chest, his neck, cupping his jaw to deepen the kiss. One hand trailed low over Merlin's hip and back up towards Merlin's stomach, under his tunic, wanting to feel Merlin's heat searing his palm. In Arthur's quest for more skin, his fingers got caught up in the hem of Merlin's shirt as he tried to push it up, and he really wanted to suck on Merlin's throat but the damned scarf was in the way, and Arthur got very frustrated and decided that Merlin's clothes were just as unruly and disobedient as their owner. "This. Off. Clothes. Off now," he commanded, tugging blindly at whatever he could reach.

Merlin made absolutely no move to help him and uttered a noise that sounded suspiciously like he was stifling a laugh. "Eloquent as ever, sire."

Arthur growled and palmed Merlin's cock through his britches. The resulting noise that Merlin made was definitely not a laugh. Arthur sucked the lobe of Merlin's ear between his teeth and ordered, "Off. Now."

Merlin's hands immediately began pulling at his own clothing as he replied in a gasping rush, "Right. Yes. Best idea you've ever had, sire."

Arthur pressed one more hot kiss to Merlin's parted lips, then rolled to the side in order to shuck his own britches. By the time he had them three-fourths of the way off Merlin had somehow managed to miraculously remove every stitch of his own clothing and pounced on Arthur, knocking him breathless with his weight and a searing kiss and so much naked skin that Arthur decided to ignore the un-princely way his britches were still tangled around one ankle. It didn't matter, anyway, because his royal dignity was all but forgotten the moment Merlin started thrusting against Arthur's bare thigh and Arthur's eyes rolled back into his head.

Merlin sucked a line of messy kisses down the line of Arthur's throat, grazing his teeth over Arthur's collarbone and continuing on to his nipples. He pulled the nub into his mouth and did something absolutely wicked with his tongue that had Arthur arching sharply off the bed, head thrown back in a gasp, and god, where did Merlin learn to do things like that with his mouth? Arthur grabbed Merlin's arms and pulled him back up because he wanted that mouth on his, right now. He sucked Merlin's tongue into his mouth and dug his fingers into the hair at the back of Merlin's head with a groan. His hands roamed greedily over every inch of Merlin's skin they could reach, finally landing on Merlin's ass and pulling him in while Arthur thrust up. Arthur's cock was rock hard as it dragged against Merlin's, and Merlin let out a moan that was positively obscene.

Merlin pulled back to breathe, which was clearly unforgivable because Arthur hadn't given him permission to stop the kissing. Merlin looked down at Arthur with what might have been described as a saucy smile if his hair hadn't had spiky tufts wildly sticking up every which way. Combined with the blissful brightness of his eyes, it just made him look a bit crazed. "Do you want to fuck me?" he offered cheerfully.

"Nnghnn," Arthur replied, because he suddenly didn't have enough blood left in his head to manage even simple, one word answers.

Thankfully, Merlin said, "I'll take that as a 'yes,'" and produced the bottle of oil from wherever he'd dropped it before. He poured a little over his fingers, reached back behind himself and, oh god, it took every ounce of Arthur's strength to keep from coming immediately and spectacularly, because Merlin was fucking himself with his own fingers. Arthur couldn't move; he couldn't speak. All he could do was wrap his hands around Merlin's hips and watch by firelight as the waves of pleasure rolled over Merlin's features. And as if that wasn't bad enough, Merlin had to start speaking, his words punctuated by little breathy gasps. "I've been doing this all week, pretending it was you inside me. You've been driving me insane."

Arthur groaned desperately and felt his entire body shudder with want. "God, Merlin, you can't—Don't say things like that. Fuck," he said, gasping around the sudden need to fill his lungs. "I want—Are you ready yet?"

One corner of Merlin's mouth turned up smugly. "Never were much for patience, were you?" The last words dissolved into a whimper and his eyes fluttered shut as Merlin did something to himself that Arthur couldn't see, and Arthur was absolutely, painfully hard.

"Merlin," he warned, because in about two seconds Merlin would be directly responsible for leaving Camelot without an heir, since not being inside Merlin right the fuck now was killing him.

"Okay, yes, I'm ready," Merlin gasped, finally, and he barely had time to withdraw his fingers before Arthur was shoving his way inside. Merlin thrust down to meet him, spine bowed in pleasure, his red, kiss-swollen mouth open in a silent gasp. The feeling of Merlin around him was something beyond euphoria. Arthur's skin felt too tight, his blood too hot. When Merlin braced himself with his hands against Arthur's chest and began moving, just gentle rocks of his hips, it got impossibly better. Merlin let out a high-pitched noise somewhere between a whine and a sigh, and Arthur moaned at the sound and began thrusting up to meet him.

Arthur's muscles wound tighter than a bowstring, and he gripped Merlin's hips hard enough to leave bruises that would last for days. He was suddenly overcome with the desire to mark every inch of Merlin's skin, inexplicably wanting to lay claim to what was already his. He pulled Merlin down to meet him in a scorching kiss, hot mouths melding together. Arthur broke the kiss and Merlin made a soft sound of protest, but Arthur continued to kiss his way down the long line of Merlin's throat, sloppy and uncoordinated, to latch onto the patch of skin just below Merlin's collarbone. With an almost feral growl, Arthur started sucking hard enough to leave a livid purple bruise as Merlin gasped above him. Arthur soothed the hot mark with his tongue before he buried his face in the side of Merlin's neck and wrapped his arms around Merlin's ribs, holding him close.

The change in position made Merlin's cock drag a hot, slick trail over Arthur's stomach. Arthur managed to hit that spot inside Merlin that made him whimper deliciously into Arthur's ear, and Arthur tried to hit it again on every undulating thrust. Merlin went nearly boneless and a bit wild above him, throwing his head back and muttering half-formed words that seemed to be equal parts English and nonsense. Arthur planted his feet flat on the bed and began thrusting up with wild abandon, hard enough to shift Merlin's weight with each rock of his hips. Merlin's hands fisted in Arthur's hair and his words dissolved into helplessly endearing whimpers every time their bodies crashed together. Arthur knew Merlin had to be close. With surprising coordination, Arthur gripped Merlin's cock and it only took a few pulls before Merlin came apart in Arthur's hand, digging his teeth into the flesh of Arthur's shoulder and spilling wet and messy between their stomachs.

Merlin's body clamped down hard around Arthur's cock, making every fiber of Arthur's being sing with the need for release. He had one brief moment of warning, could feel himself spiraling in every direction, pulled apart like the end of a fraying rope, and then pleasure crashed into him in a surge of bliss, washing over him like wave after wave upon the rocks. When he came back to himself, Merlin was sagging against his chest, face curled into Arthur's neck and breathing hot, moist air against his overheated skin, causing the spot that Merlin had bitten him to sting. Merlin's weight was surprisingly heavy for having such a lean body, making it difficult for Arthur to catch his breath, but he made no move to dislodge his manservant. Instead, he smoothed his hands lightly over Merlin's back and rested his cheek against Merlin's sweaty forehead. (Some might even call it cuddling, but they would be wrong, because the crown prince of Camelot did not cuddle with his manservant.)

"I think," Merlin said weakly, still panting into Arthur's neck, "that I forgive you for being a prat. Just this once." Arthur snorted derisively into Merlin's hair. Or, well, as derisively as he could manage in the wake of what may have been the best orgasm of his life. "Though really," Merlin continued, smiling against Arthur's throat, "I think I deserve fair warning the next time you decide to seduce me accidentally-on-purpose."

"Right," Arthur replied at length, his voice dour. "Consider yourself warned," he said, then tackled Merlin back onto the bed and kissed the smug laughter from his manservant's mouth as he quickly set about repeating everything they'd done all over again, this time with their positions reversed. This go around, however, he managed to kick his britches off from where they were still tangled around his ankle.

~*~

Much later, when even Arthur had to grudgingly admit he wouldn't be able to get it up again that night, his thoughts began to drift towards the idea of making it a royal decree that all back massages should end in spectacular sex, when he felt Merlin take a break from sucking on Arthur's bottom lip to say, "So, you're not particularly observant."

Arthur manfully resisted the urge to either cuff the back of Merlin's head or kiss him silent. He settled for a mock glare as he asked, "Well, besides the fact that you're apparently madly in love with me and have desperately longed for me to perform wanton acts of deviancy upon your person, is there anything else I should know about you that I've somehow managed to overlook?"

Merlin's body stiffened in his arms, and Arthur felt the beginnings of his smirk vanish. Merlin was suddenly deathly serious, staring at Arthur with such intensity it made his heart pound uncomfortably against his ribs. "Merlin?" he whispered.

Merlin swallowed, but there was a very long silence before he answered. "Well, there is one thing," he said, then lifted his hand from where it was resting against Arthur's hip. His eyes briefly flashed gold, and the darkened room was flooded with light from the swirling blue orb nestled in Merlin's palm.

There was a pause as Arthur took in Merlin's earnest, brave (but also clearly frightened) face, and he couldn't help himself. He burst out laughing. Merlin's subsequent look of gaping shock only made Arthur laugh even harder and give in to the need to kiss Merlin's gawking mouth. "That's it?" Arthur asked, still smiling like a loon. "Merlin, I figured that out ages ago!"

***
Additional notes: I am looking for a beta reader for my reel_merlin fic, which is a Merlin/Arthur version of Two Weeks Notice. Ideally, what I'm looking for is someone who will kick my ass on plot, characterization, and grammar, and will also play cheerleader and be willing to put up with me sending them random snippets to peruse and critique as I write this monster. There may also be a liberal smattering of panicked freakouts as we draw nearer to the deadline (Feb 22) though I am hoping to get the bulk of this written by the end of January (ha!). Also, if this works out, there's a possibility of becoming my regular Merlin/Arthur beta. So, are there any takers?

The Accidental Seduction