Character/s: Arthur Pendragon, Merlin
Summary: Arthur has a surprise visitor.
Word Count: 450
Prompt: 316: Overindulge
Author's Notes: first time posting to this community! please correct me if I make any tagging/formatting mistakes, etc. I'm not very happy with this drabble at all... but it'll have to do.
“You look so pretty,” Arthur whispers into the boy’s ear, hands fast on his slender hips.
The boy sighs softly. His eyes are wide and blue, made up. Flawless mascara and a line of kohl at the corners under the waterline. Arthur’s mouth goes dry as he notes the red tint to the boy’s lips, the touch of rouge on his cheeks, the—the dark pink nipples hard and clear through the transparent white blouse, the outline of a small cock stark under a short crimson skirt.
Arthur breathes faster, stepping back. The boy raises his knees up one after the other to push his black ballet pumps off. He smiles shyly at Arthur, fisting his skirt. Its hem rides up to reveal more pale, shaven skin.
“Merlin,” Arthur says, the word wrenched out of him by the sight.
The last time he’d talked to his childhood friend had been a wretched farewell on the phone a year ago as Merlin left for a faraway university (as Merlin left Arthur behind).
“I’ll be your girl,” Merlin says. Arthur’s apartment is a mess but Merlin doesn’t seem to notice, brushing past Arthur to sit on the sofa daintily. Arthur stares. Merlin came all the way to his flat looking like this.
“Why,” he manages to say.
At this, Merlin’s face falls, but only a tiny bit. He gulps. Arthur watches his milk-white throat move.
“Don’t you like me like this?”
And Arthur flashes back to the winters they spent holed up in his fancy, warm bedroom, lounging on the bed, playing pretend until they couldn’t pretend anymore. He approaches Merlin, kneeling between his parted knees. “You’re exquisite,” he says.
“I’ll be your slut,” Merlin replies, spreading his legs so Arthur can crawl closer. “I’ll be your favourite whore.” His eyes flutter closed as Arthur suckles kisses into the tender skin of his thigh.
“You needn’t be anyone but Merlin to me,” Arthur murmurs.
“I couldn’t let another day go by without seeing you,” he says. “I had to come. Please tell me you still—”
“I still love you,” Arthur says instantly. “As if there could be anyone for me but you.”
“You like my makeup?” Merlin says raggedly, pulling Arthur up to kiss him slow and deep as if they hadn’t spent a year trying to forget each other. “You like the clothes?”
“You always knew how to spoil me best,” Arthur whispers against Merlin’s sinfully-red lips.
“Happy birthday,” Merlin says, crying, smearing his kohl and looking more beautiful by the minute. “I love you.”
“Don’t leave me behind again,” Arthur says into Merlin’s shirt. “I couldn’t bear it a second time.”
“Neither could I,” Merlin promises.