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Merlin wouldn’t say he was hopelessly in love, by any means—only that he had spent the better part of the last year and a half a little bit infatuated with Arthur, and perhaps jumped with a bit too much enthusiasm when Arthur had asked, a couple of months earlier, if Merlin wanted to come along with him and his friends to the cinema after school.
Despite Merlin’s embarrassing initial instincts (which followed somewhere along the lines of Oh God Arthur is talking to me and Don’t throw up and At least breathe enough to say yes, you idiot), he had apparently made a decent enough impression to be invited along again after that—and again, and again, until eventually their time spent together had narrowed to just the two of them.
They were sitting on the floor of Arthur’s bedroom now, listening to music at a low volume while Arthur chatted away mindlessly. Merlin listened—or, at least, he was aware of Arthur’s voice, but he was much more focused on trying not to let his gaze remain fixed on Arthur’s mouth for long periods of time.
“D’you wanna kiss me?”
Merlin’s eyes snapped back up to Arthur’s at the words. He had no idea what Arthur had been talking about a second earlier, but he was sure he had imagined that last sentence. Arthur, however, was watching Merlin with innocently raised eyebrows, as if waiting for a response.
“I—What?” Merlin asked, flustered.
“I said, do you want to kiss me?” and no, Merlin had not imagined it, because there it was again, voiced so casually that Arthur could have been asking him if he was hungry. Suddenly Merlin’s face was feeling much hotter, and any words that he could have possibly mustered at that moment were caught in his throat anyway, leaving him staring in open-mouthed shock before finally stammering,
“Why would—O-Of course not, what makes you think—”
“It’s okay,” Arthur said reassuringly, and in a much gentler voice than Merlin would have thought him capable of. What was left of his heart dissolved quickly into a useless, quivering puddle as Arthur reached out to tug gently on his arm, urging him closer and speaking softly. “I wanna kiss you too. C’mere.”
Merlin went, because the little butterflies dancing in his stomach made him powerless to resist Arthur even if he wanted to—though as it happened, he really, really, really didn’t want to.
Arthur’s grip loosened as Merlin settled beside him on the floor. His lips—his lips, his perfect, pretty lips which he had just voluntarily offered to press against Merlin’s—quirked into a smile, easy and genuine as he slid a hand behind Merlin’s neck and pulled him forward. Merlin managed a shaky exhale and felt the heat of his own breath come back to him as it hit Arthur’s lips, and before he could form another coherent thought, Arthur’s eyes fell shut and he closed the remaining distance between them.
There was too much nose in the way and not enough air in between their mouths and never in Merlin’s life had teeth seemed so inconvenient, but even those embarrassments paled in comparison to the way Merlin found himself utterly frozen as Arthur’s lips met his own. He only barely remembered to close his eyes, and as Arthur’s lips moved over his, Merlin’s mind seemed to short-circuit completely. Long moments passed, and still he found himself quite unable to process what was happening quickly enough to do anything but sit there, shocked into useless stillness as Arthur’s mouth tried in vain to nudge some life back into Merlin’s lips.
It was awkward.
Eventually Arthur seemed to realise just how completely hopeless his efforts were, and he drew back, peering at Merlin with a questioning (and, Merlin thought, very slightly nervous) expression.
“What’s…” Arthur tried tentatively. “Um. Do you—want—”
“No!” Merlin exclaimed quickly to stop that train of thought in its tracks, and then blushed furiously. “I mean—yes, no, yes, I do, I really, really do,” he stammered, because oh, God, yes, he wanted, despite the way his own instincts had cruelly betrayed him by grinding to a halt when Merlin needed them the most.
Arthur only continued to eye him curiously, and fuck, what if Merlin had ruined his chances now? What if he had been caught in the opportunity he’d been longing for all these months, and had completely cocked it up? What if Arthur was never going to kiss him again after that? What if—
Then suddenly Arthur was grinning at him, eyes bright as if he’d been struck with a new realisation. “What—haven’t you kissed anyone before?”
More color rose to Merlin’s face. “Of course I have!” he shot back defensively, but even as he said it, he shifted back, putting a few more inches of space between them and looking away.
“Right, when you were twelve and standing behind a tree with the girl you liked,” Arthur said with a teasing smirk, and Merlin’s confidence crumpled a little because, yes, that was almost exactly the extent of his experience with this. His ears burned bright red, and Arthur laughed at him like he was hopeless.
“C’mere,” he said again, reaching out to wrap a coaxing hand around Merlin’s waist. “I’ll show you.”
If Merlin was reeling a bit from the warmth of Arthur’s mouth against his own a minute earlier, it was nothing compared to the twist in his stomach as Arthur pulled Merlin against him, bringing him close enough to fan a hot breath against his skin as he leaned in.
“Part your lips a bit,” he instructed quietly, glancing down at Merlin’s mouth. “Just—yeah, good.”
Arthur cupped his jaw, sliding a thumb slowly over his cheek, before leaning the rest of the way in and slotting his mouth against Merlin’s. It was softer this time, slow and careful and deliberate, and although Merlin’s heart still seemed to be trying to run a marathon within the confines of his ribcage, he kissed back tentatively, with light pressure against Arthur’s lips. Arthur’s fingers briefly pressed into Merlin’s jaw at that; it felt like reassurance, and then it was easy to relax, easy for Merlin to lose himself just a little in the warmth of Arthur’s body against his own, of Arthur’s hand resting steady on his waist, of Arthur’s mouth lifting off just slightly before pressing back again.
Arthur breathed out slowly through his nose, retreating for only a moment to angle his head, before fitting their mouths together again with the same relaxed ease. Well, that—that was even better, if possible, and Merlin had to rest his hands lightly on Arthur’s shoulders just to make absolutely sure this was real, make sure he stayed sitting upright through the spinning of his head and the pounding of his heart.
In response, Arthur slid his hand around to the back of Merlin’s neck, fingers teasing at the ends of Merlin’s hair where it curled at his nape, and Merlin couldn’t help but push forward eagerly at that—which Arthur clearly wasn’t expecting, judging by the way Merlin’s nose suddenly seemed to be pressed into the wrong place again—and Arthur made a surprised noise as he bent backwards to keep his balance.
He pulled back a moment later with a chuckle, chest rumbling lightly with the vibrations of it as he held Merlin in place. Merlin glanced away, but Arthur simply darted in and pressed another short, soft kiss to his lips.
“Sorry,” Merlin mumbled breathlessly into the kiss, failing to suppress the heat once again creeping up his neck. His heart was practically in his throat, his palms were sweating where they rested on Arthur’s shirt, and God, why was he so hopeless?
“S’all right,” Arthur whispered. His kisses were light presses now, alternating between Merlin’s upper and lower lip in tiny mentions that Merlin could hardly keep up with, and finally Arthur pulled back a few inches, stroking a hand slowly down Merlin’s back to press his body closer.
“You’re doing well,” he assured with a smile, voice soft and eyes encouraging, and the knot in Merlin’s chest loosened just a little. “Just relax for now, yeah? Just—just let me.”
Merlin took a breath and nodded, and Arthur’s smile widened before he pulled Merlin forward again to place a light, lingering kiss over his mouth. Then, his hot breath was ghosting across Merlin’s chin again, and Merlin caught a soft murmur of help you get the hang of it from Arthur’s lips.
It didn’t seem to Merlin like there was really all that much to get the hang of—but then again, maybe he was wrong, because when Arthur’s mouth returned to his own a moment later, and Arthur coaxed his lips apart again with a few gentle strokes of his tongue, the hitch in Merlin’s breath had him thinking that maybe Arthur knew what he was talking about, after all.
Before Merlin could fully wrap his mind around that thought, Arthur’s tongue was suddenly pushing between his lips. Merlin started a little at the heat, the added wetness, and he might have even been inclined to pull back for a split second—but then Arthur was dragging his tongue along the back of Merlin’s teeth, and something about that drew a whine from Merlin’s throat, and any thoughts of putting an end to this were promptly banished.
Instead, he pressed closer to Arthur’s body, marveling at how the slow little flicks of Arthur’s tongue against the roof of his mouth could make Merlin shiver the way they did. His fingers curled into Arthur’s shirt of their own accord, and as Arthur’s hand came back to his jaw and his thumb began massaging slow circles into the skin below Merlin’s ear, he quickly found himself wondering if there was some possible way to never stop doing this ever.
Merlin let another soft noise slip as Arthur’s tongue slid hotly against his own; Arthur’s lips curved into something like a grin at that, and he retreated just enough to press words into the kiss.
“S’good?” he whispered. Merlin didn’t open his eyes, but he could still hear the smug smirk in Arthur’s voice.
“Um—mm,” Merlin hummed in response, and if it came out sounding crossed between desperate and dazed, it was only because Merlin wasn’t quite sure how to think past the heat suddenly coursing through his body. Arthur was nipping absently at his bottom lip, then licking soothingly over the bite—and then biting again, and then licking again, tongue hot and shameless as it darted out from between his parted lips.
Merlin couldn’t help himself; he had to chase that heat, already missed the taste and the warmth of their mouths pressed together. He tentatively let his own tongue skate out along Arthur’s, traced over Arthur’s lip with a slow lick, just the way Arthur had done to him.
Arthur drew in a quick breath before pushing forward into it, hand sliding into Merlin’s hair as Arthur opened willingly for him. The reaction caught Merlin off-guard, and he very nearly pulled back, but Arthur’s hand held him in place; Arthur, however, didn’t miss the way Merlin jerked slightly beneath his touch, and he eased off a bit, carding his fingers through Merlin’s hair.
“That was good,” he murmured encouragingly, a little breathless as he rubbed his lips lightly over Merlin’s. They tilted up into a tiny smile. “Getting more confident.” His fingers stroked over Merlin’s scalp again; the touch felt intimate, affectionate in a way Merlin wasn’t expecting. “Go on,” he whispered. “Do that again.”
Merlin hesitated before pressing close, placing a light kiss to Arthur’s mouth before sweeping his tongue along the seam of Arthur’s lips. They parted easily for him, and this time, Arthur met him halfway, fingers pressing lightly against Merlin’s neck as he coaxed Merlin further inside his mouth.
The kiss was hot and wet, something Merlin still wasn’t quite used to, but Arthur was guiding him now, hand at the back of Merlin’s head to tilt it and urge him on. Only now did Merlin notice the way Arthur tasted faintly of mint, and he brushed his tongue along Arthur’s to chase the taste, curious and dizzy, before pressing his tongue gently to the roof of Arthur’s mouth.
Arthur hummed in approval at that, fit his tongue beneath Merlin’s to suck at it lightly—and Merlin wasn’t sure what exactly about that made him lose all his breath, made his heart thud with a new rhythm; all he knew was that it made him moan into Arthur’s mouth quite without meaning to, and immediately he half-expected Arthur to pull back just to laugh at him for it.
Instead, Arthur only responded with a noise low in his throat that sent shivers coursing through Merlin’s body. His fingers curled to clutch at Merlin’s hair as he sucked again at Merlin’s tongue, a little less careful and a little more demanding, drawing another moan from somewhere deep in Merlin’s chest. It had Merlin shifting closer, restless, fingers digging into Arthur’s shoulders as he panted softly into Arthur’s mouth. He was barely a movement away from sliding right into Arthur’s lap, suddenly having to work to keep from getting swept away in the swirling build of sensations; though if Arthur kept doing that—that thing with his tongue, if he kept making those breathy little noises, if he kept loosening and tightening his grip on Merlin’s hair as if torn between giving and taking, then Merlin wasn’t quite sure what it was all going to do to his already-overwhelmed mind.
He skimmed his tongue again over the roof of Arthur’s mouth, slightly mad with the rush of it all, and the repeated gesture seemed to push Arthur right over some line he’d been dancing around, because the result was a pronounced shudder from Arthur as he pushed forward into Merlin’s chest. Their mouths slid hot and slick against each other as he thrust his tongue past Merlin’s lips again, tugged unapologetically at Merlin’s hair and thoroughly mapped out the inside of his mouth, possessive and insistent. His hand came up to palm at the dip below Merlin’s ribs, holding him steady, and as another whine escaped Merlin’s throat, Arthur finally broke away with a soft gasp.
He pressed his forehead to Merlin’s, breathing out harshly against his lips. “Christ,” he whispered, and, “Merlin,” before darting in to press a kiss to the corner of Merlin’s mouth, trail his lips down to Merlin’s jaw and—God, drag his teeth over the skin there, and that, that was something Merlin thought he could get used to, the rough scrape of Arthur’s stubble against his cheek as Arthur marked his skin. He tilted his head back as he let out a shaky breath, begging, in the best way he knew how, for Arthur to please, God, please do that again.
Arthur’s hands were both planted firmly against Merlin’s back, holding him steady as Arthur mouthed along his jaw and pressed closer, closer—forced Merlin further and further backwards, and finally Arthur huffed an impatient breath against Merlin’s cheek.
“Christ,” he murmured again, “can I—” and then his hands were moving, one settling against Merlin’s hip while the other nudged at his shoulder, but he didn’t seem to be able to tear his lips away from Merlin’s skin for long enough to finish the thought.
“Yeah,” Merlin said immediately, a little high and strangled, hardly even registering Arthur’s words through the pleasant buzz in his ears, but yes, anything, fuck, of course, yes.
Arthur nipped at his jaw and then pushed again at Merlin’s shoulder. “Lie back,” he mumbled. “Easier that way. Better,” he assured, offering a small smile.
Merlin let Arthur shift him, let Arthur drag his hips forward until he was lying on his back and watching Arthur lean up to hover over him.
“Here, just—” Arthur said, gently nudging at Merlin’s legs until they parted. He slid between them, settled in the space and peered down at Merlin with a warm smile. Merlin’s heart gave a flutter (or a full-out flip) at the sight, and while Arthur’s breathing seemed to have evened out, Merlin was finding it a little hard to breathe at all when Arthur was looking at him like that, open and affectionate and maybe even wanting—wanting, in the same way that Merlin had been wanting for so long.
Arthur stroked a hand over Merlin’s side down to his hip, curling his fingers into the waistband of Merlin’s jeans as he leaned down to bring his face close, and—and suddenly it was even harder yet for Merlin to drag air into his lungs, because Arthur was over him, against him, pressing him into the floor and sliding a hand around to cradle Merlin’s head as his mouth returned to Merlin’s, still new and already familiar all at once.
Arthur’s lips were gentle, as if trying to ease him back into the rhythm they’d found moments earlier—and then they weren’t gentle anymore, because Arthur was kissing every last breath out of Merlin’s lungs, catching Merlin’s lip between his teeth to suck at it until Merlin whimpered, dragging his lips over the arch of Merlin’s mouth, pushing at Merlin’s tongue with his own.
Merlin kept up with his movements as best he could, mimicking Arthur’s lips and tongue and teeth where he found the boldness for it, heart stuttering wildly every time he caught a hitch in Arthur’s breath or drew a soft noise from Arthur’s throat. He reveled in the knowledge that it was him, it was all him doing that to Arthur; it sent thrills through him, the way Arthur’s hands would slide and press and clutch, the satisfied little hum that Merlin could feel all through his body with Arthur pressed along him from head to toe.
When Arthur’s lips finally broke away from his, Merlin actually had a moment or two of worrying he’d done something wrong—but then, oh, God, then Arthur’s lips were dragging along his jaw, pressing open-mouthed to the skin and sucking at it. Merlin bit his lip as Arthur pulled off, his breath huffing warm over the damp patch of skin he’d left at Merlin’s jawline.
“You can—” Arthur murmured into his skin, then paused to press his lips beneath Merlin’s jaw, “—touch me, y’know.”
Merlin swallowed, blinking dizzily. “I-I—Huh?”
Arthur snorted softly. “Hands,” he clarified, at the same moment closing his fingers over Merlin’s wrists where Merlin’s hands rested, balled into fists, on the floor at his sides. “Your hands, you can—” He pulled them up, wrapped Merlin’s arms around him so his hands were against Arthur’s back. “There.”
Merlin let out a soft Oh, earning something suspiciously close to a fond grin from Arthur before he was dipping down again to nose along Merlin’s jaw.
“Just touch,” Arthur murmured into his skin before pressing a kiss to his throat. “Don’t think too much about it.”
Merlin meant to nod, but instead his chin only pressed lightly to the top of Arthur’s head before Arthur was peppering kisses down his neck again, and Merlin’s head dropped back against the floor altogether at that sensation. His hands slid tentatively along Arthur’s back, skating over the wings of his shoulder blades through his shirt before running back down and settling just above his hips. He found it rather hard to think at all, really, what with Arthur’s mouth pressing to the hollow of his throat like that, taking ages simply exploring the contours of his neck; in fact, Merlin soon began to wonder if Arthur was more focused on trying to show him what felt good, or if he was simply enjoying himself.
He decided he didn’t mind either way when Arthur’s teeth scraped lightly over his pulse point, only to be followed by a gentle lick that drew a soft keening noise from Merlin’s throat.
Arthur grinned against his neck. “Like that?” he murmured, nosing along Merlin’s throat again.
“Y—Yeah,” Merlin whispered breathlessly. Arthur repeated the action and Merlin’s fingers twisted into the fabric of his shirt as he let another soft noise slip, because—God, he really liked that.
“Good.” Arthur’s words came now between the warm kisses he’d begun sucking into the side of Merlin’s neck. “Good to know what you like.”
The words took a few seconds too long to register with Merlin, and he was just about to ask whether Arthur meant it was ‘good’ for Merlin's own knowledge, or for Arthur’s knowledge, when Arthur’s mouth descended hot on his again, capturing any of Merlin’s potential words right along with any further thoughts on the matter.
They kissed for long minutes, the give-and-take growing more and more natural to Merlin already as his mouth moved with Arthur’s. They seemed to fit together endlessly, again and again, tongues finding their ways into one another’s mouths easily as if they’d been learning each other forever. Soon Arthur was trailing his lips away from Merlin’s again, kissing up the side of Merlin’s face to his temple, and Merlin found his lips grazing the side of Arthur’s neck.
He realized, after a moment, that this was likely the part where he was supposed to imitate everything Arthur had just done to him minutes earlier, and quite abruptly managed to forget entirely what it was that Arthur had done.
He slid a hand up to the back of Arthur’s neck and leaned up to press a hesitant kiss to Arthur’s warm skin. When Arthur didn’t pull away, he repeated it, moving his lips a bit before kissing again, and was this really anything like what Arthur had done at all? Maybe Arthur knew something about what felt particularly good that Merlin wasn’t clued in on. Maybe he should stop, because maybe Arthur was leaning over him right now wondering what on earth Merlin was trying to do, and—
Then Arthur’s puzzled gaze was drawing level with his, but one glance at Merlin’s face seemed to be enough to recognize his thought process, and Arthur broke into a small, encouraging smile. “Hey, relax. Just—just kiss me, yeah?” His fingers pressed lightly where they rested against Merlin’s waist, reassuring. “Go on, keep kissing my neck, that was—that was good, I liked it.”
And it was almost funny how much confidence that seemed to restore in Merlin’s chest, because a few minutes later, Merlin was sucking at the dip above Arthur’s collarbone, letting his tongue flick out against it and then trailing a line of hot kisses up his neck. Arthur was responding even more encouragingly to his actions now, breath coming a little heavier in Merlin’s ear as his hands roamed against the dips and curves of Merlin’s torso, rucking up Merlin’s shirt as they went.
When Merlin dragged his lips up along a tendon in Arthur’s neck only to catch his earlobe and suck lightly, he was met with a soft moan in his ear, and Jesus, that had to be one of Merlin’s favorite sounds in the world as of this moment, if the shivers flying down his spine were anything to go off. Arthur’s hand was pushing up under his shirt now, warm palm pressing to the skin of Merlin’s belly as he kissed Merlin’s hair, and if Merlin pressed up just a little into his touch, Arthur only responded by pressing back.
It wasn’t much later that Arthur’s hands were sliding down to grip Merlin’s hips, and suddenly their bodies were rubbing a little closer together, and Merlin couldn’t help but push his hips up into it, arching away from the floor as his breath came in light pants, earning a groan from both of them.
“Christ’s sake, Merlin,” Arthur muttered above him, and it was only now that Merlin got another look at him: face flushed, hair mussed—how long had Merlin’s fingers been carding through it?—and eyes bright, gaze locked with Merlin’s until he dipped down to press a kiss beneath Merlin’s jaw. “Think you’re a natural,” he remarked, and Merlin didn’t need to see him anymore to hear the smirk in his voice.
Regardless, he huffed a breathless laugh at that, positive that the heat in his face had to be from their activities and not just from the compliment. Arthur grinned in response, tipping his face up again and catching Merlin’s lips in a kiss.
Barely a minute later, Merlin was pressing a palm to Arthur’s chest, easing away from him again with a, “Wait—wait.” as he tried to catch his breath. Arthur gazed down at him curiously, and Merlin was struck with the thought that perhaps his head would never stop spinning from the heady rush of that gaze on him, of Arthur’s body pressed along his, of Arthur’s lips and tongue and teeth having spent the better part of the last God-knows-how-long exploring Merlin’s.
Merlin swallowed, feeling hyper-aware of the fact that he might be about to ruin all of this entirely. “Are we—you know, is this really…?” When Arthur only tilted his head in confusion, Merlin sighed and tried again. “I mean—do you actually… like me?”
Arthur blinked down at him in surprise, brows drawn together in confusion.
“Are you… you’re—joking, aren’t you?” Arthur said slowly, as if suddenly things were much less sure between them. “I thought—I mean, hell, I thought that would have been a bit obvious by now.”
“You—” Merlin squeaked out, shocked—which, given their current state, struck him as rather backwards, but he couldn’t help it if he’d been bracing himself for the worst. “But—really?”
Arthur was flat-out staring at him now in disbelief. “Bloody hell, Merlin, do you really think I spend this much time with anyone else? Much less—fuck’s sake, much less do all of this with just… anyone?”
Merlin blinked a few times himself, trying to process the information. It was true, now that Arthur mentioned it; Merlin had been so caught up in the enjoyment of getting to know Arthur, coupled with being constantly nervous over his feelings for his new friend, he’d hardly stopped to think about the sheer amount of time they’d spent together. Certainly more than he ever saw Arthur spending with anyone else.
There was also, Merlin supposed, the fact of Arthur’s hand pressed to Merlin’s chest underneath his shirt, Merlin’s hand tangled in Arthur’s hair, the sight of Arthur’s lips kissed red and slick before him, and the niggling suspicion Merlin had that his own lips looked much the same.
Merlin’s eyes lit up. “So, wait, does that mean—do we get to keep doing this, then? I mean, are you going to keep doing this? With me? Or, I mean, letting me do this? Or—”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Merlin,” he muttered, but his brilliant grin as he pulled Merlin in for another kiss was, in Merlin’s opinion, a little bit too beautiful for him to have really meant the words.