Work Text:
Arthur glares at the man perched on the large sun-warmed rock by the river, whittling a stick to a point.
“You moved that!” Arthur accuses.
The man looks up innocently. “Moved what?” his lips say.
Arthur concentrates on glaring at the right part of the man’s face. “The rock, you imbecile!” He shakes his fistful of moss at him.
“Preposterous,” the man says. “It is so enormous, how could a single man move this?” The man gestures to the rock below him, his muscles bunching under his tunic obscenely.
Arthur approaches the rock and examines the ground around it. “It was on the other side of the river last week, when Cobb and I were here to negotiate the borders,” he says. “We specifically got this part of the water. I made sure of it.”
The man ponders. “I remember your enchanting face, of course, but the rock was certainly right here.” He taps the stick against it.
“Why are you even here? You can whittle a stick in your own hut. I need to wash myself,” Arthur complains.
The man tilts his head to the side. “You can bathe in my river, love, I won’t mind.” He grins sharkishly.
“This is ridiculous,” Arthur snaps.
“Why? Are you hiding something?”
“I just prefer privacy,” Arthur fumes. “Is that so much to ask for?”
“You are so sensitive,” the man says, voice low.
“Shut up!” Arthur says. “Fine!”
He pulls his tunic over his head before he can change his mind, but as he’s about to dive into the water, the man catches him around the waist and pulls him close.
“Do you know what happens when two members of different clans make love to each other?” he says. Murmurs.
“I--I--” Arthur splutters, gripping the man’s arms to avoid losing his footing.
The man smiles. “Let’s find out.”