Heartquake

Heartquake 6

Arthur walks past the people until they come to clearing, a row of shops that have been deserted of their regular customers for the festival. There are hardly any souls left so the silence is as deafening as ever.

“So, how did you meet her?” Arthur asks.

“What?”

“Emeline’s mother. How did you meet her?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Merlin, this is me starting to ask you about yourself. Go with it.”

“Oh, well,” Merlin says awkwardly. “Ellyn and I were childhood friends. Then, one day, we weren’t just friends anymore.”

“You have the most interesting stories, Merlin, honestly,” Arthur says sarcastically.

“I’m nothing interesting, Arthur. You’ve known me for two years, you should know that already,” Merlin refrains from biting his tongue from the lie.

“Are you two still together?”

“No. Ellyn was the sweetest soul and there was a moment in time where I thought I’d marry her and just stay in Ealdor. A happy ending. But, then, things got complicated and we couldn’t deal with the complications anymore. We didn’t fit together anymore. But I care for her, deeply, and now she’s…”

Arthur looks at him expectantly but doesn’t say anything and Merlin knows he wouldn’t ask about it if Merlin doesn’t want to talk about it.

“She’s dying and there’s nothing more I can do.”

“I’m sorry, for you, and for Emeline,” he says softly and Merlin feels this need to have Arthur’s hand around his in a comforting gesture.

“She’s taken a liking to you, I can see that,” Merlin changes the subject. The topic of Ellyn is something he doesn’t want to discuss until he has to.

“I’m glad. I’ve taken quite a liking to her, too. She’s lovely, charming, a bit odd,”

Arthur locks his eyes with Merlin. The blue eyes melt into him and Merlin begins to feel a shiver go up his spine like lightning, completely catching him off-guard. There’s no one around but this time, the silence is welcomed, like the air is hiding secrets that he’s never known before.

“Like you.”

“Arthur…”

But before he can say anything else there’s a strong hand on the nape of his neck, pulling him closer until he can feel the heat of Arthur’s breath colliding with his, until there’s no space between them anymore, until their lips are touching in the softest of kisses, until Merlin almost thinks he’s imagining it.

But no, this part is not imagination, where Merlin’s own hand snakes up into Arthur’s beautifully tangled hair and the kiss deepens. There’s no art in it anymore, there’s just a want and a need around them until they can’t even differentiate the two things anymore and it’s delicious.

Arthur’s arm wrap around his waist and they’re closer (if there’s even a closer) together. As Arthur’s tongue does lewd things inside his mouth, Merlin moans in happiness.

For once, he’s not protecting anything, not Em, not his friends, not Arthur, and he feels as if there are no secrets at all. There’s nothing at all, except for the heat of Arthur’s body pressing against his, the insistence of his lips…

“Ow,” Merlin says as Arthur accidentally bites down on Merlin’s bottom lip.

“Umph, sorry,” Arthur swipes his finger on the bloody flesh.

“’s okay,” Merlin traces his finger along Arthur’s cheekbones. “That was nice.”

“Months, Merlin. I’ve been wanting to do that for months,” he rests his head on his companion’s shoulder. “I am the crown prince of Camelot, I have a reputation to uphold and all I get is nice?” Both of them laugh slowly.

“Arthur,” Merlin says, reality snapping back into his mind.

“Merlin?”

“As much as I enjoyed that, and I did, I really did. I can’t get into this right now. I’ve got a daughter to think about and…a lot of other things. Not now. Just give me time to think. That’s all I’m asking for. Time,” Merlin’s thumb caresses Arthur’s brow gently.

He lets go of Merlin, releases him from the grip of his arm and the loss is greater than Merlin thought.

“Arthur,” he says as he starts to walk away.

“No, it’s fine,” Arthur gives a weak smile. His hand finds its way to Merlin’s face again, stroking his cheek. He looks torn then gives him a small kiss on the corner of his mouth, so close to where it ought to be, but too far to be real.