Title: What Happens In Vegas...
Character/s: Arthur, Merlin
Summary: Arthur wakes up after a night out to find something a little unexpected
Word Count: 603
Author's Notes: It's not really a misunderstanding... but I got the idea and had to go with it! Yes, I know it's been done before...
“There’s been a misunderstanding.”
Arthur looks down at the ring on his finger and can’t quite believe he’s not still dreaming. Beside him, the man in his bed rolls over and groans.
“Let me go back to sleep, Arthur, I can’t deal with this now.”
Merlin, Arthur thinks, his name’s Merlin. Because he had to say it. I take you, Merlin Emrys, as my lawful wedded husband. That was last night, when they’d barely met and thought it was such a good idea to get married. So it’s not really so much of a misunderstanding as a bit of drunken stupidity, but Arthur isn’t about to admit that.
Arthur had known Vegas would be a bad idea.
Merlin groans again, dark hair mussing up even more on the pillow. Arthur likes the way it curls a little, likes the play of shadows and slanting morning light on his cheekbones even though he knows he shouldn’t even be contemplating Merlin in that way. Because he was a one night stand that went so very badly.
“Your worrying is keeping me awake,” Merlin moans and, without warning, he rolls over to take Arthur’s cock in his mouth. And that right there is why drunken Arthur thought marrying him a good idea; his lips fit perfectly and he takes Arthur deep. It’s not perfect, far from it, but it’s all the better because it’s not slick and practiced. Merlin’s tongue works eagerly, wearing out easily in his morning lethargy. And when it does, he just sucks until Arthur sees stars, coming down his throat. Merlin smiles at that, rolls back next to Arthur and falls straight asleep.
When Arthur wakes next it’s to a just-showered Merlin straddling him, wearing just a towel. Which, frighteningly enough, is more than Arthur is wearing under the sheets.
“I really knocked you out, didn’t I? Didn’t realise worrying tired you out so much.”
“Shut up, Merlin.”
Merlin just grins, shifting his hips against Arthur’s.
“I’m really hard, and you’re my husband now. Want to do something about it?”
He’s teasing, but the words only serve to worsen Arthur’s hangover, drowning in his nausea.
“Hey, Arthur, don’t look like that. It’s easy to get a divorce.”
Merlin’s hand cups Arthur’s cheek, and he somehow feels better for it.
“That’s it,” Merlin says, coaxing, “Not the end of the world. I was going to ask you out anyway, just think of this as an accelerant.”
It makes Arthur smile for a moment, though to him it really is the end of the world. He knows that his father will most likely disinherit him for this, or at the very least demand that he marry some eligible heiress or other as soon as the divorce comes through.
In a way, though, that doesn’t seem to matter with Merlin kneeling over him, bright smile on his face and his in a way no one else has been, a way that boyfriends of much longer never got to the stage where they wanted to be. It’s just possibility, and bright blue eyes and lips that Arthur can’t seem to stop looking at.
So he rolls them over, pins Merlin to the mattress by his wrists, takes off the towel and grabs the lube. And when he’s fucking his new husband into the mattress, rings catching on each other’s, he can forget the disapproval and shock that awaits him and just live in the world where he can fall in love with Merlin if he wants. He holds him close and kisses him in white sheets, the sound of the city traffic soft beneath it all.