Portrait (2/2)

weepingwillow9

“What can I say? I live under a rock.”

He gets up, then, goes over to Arthur, going into his personal space. He takes away Arthur’s tie, unbuttons his jacket and takes it off, undoes the top two buttons of his shirt so you can almost see his collarbones.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asks, tensing up.

“Trust me. Relax. You want them to like you? You’re not talking about your policies, you’re talking about you. You need to look like you, not a faceless politico.”

He stands back and snaps away again.

“No, you still look too tense. Smile for me?”

Arthur tries another smile, but it’s strained. Better than before, though. Merlin’s getting somewhere.

And then he makes the mistake of looking up from his camera. Arthur’s standing there, rocking on the balls of his feet, hands balled up in his trouser pockets. His eyes are sharp and nervous, fidgeting constantly. He reminds Merlin of a squirrel, or something vulnerable like that, being stared down by a line of eagles, just waiting for them to decide which will take the first bite. And he realises how brave it is for Arthur to come out to the world, even if it is just for votes, though Merlin suspects it’s not – he’d lose more votes from the homophobes than he’d gain from the LGBT community. Arthur will have the whole of the country’s media turning on him, and every little fault, related to his sexuality, or perceived, or otherwise, will be picked into tiny pieces. His whole world will be on display. And he’ll face that, more likely than not, alone. Relationships don’t work when one of the pair is in the closet.

Merlin sets his camera down, and he walks over to Arthur. He runs a hand through Arthur’s hair, messing it up. Arthur, to his credit, stays perfectly still. Until Merlin leans in and kisses him on the lips, lightly at first, then harder when Arthur trembles. When he bites on Arthur’s lip his self control goes and he clings on to Merlin, mouth opening on a groan.

They fall back to the sofa, hands roaming everywhere. Merlin sucks on Arthur’s tongue and he groans, cupping Merlin’s arse in the palms of his hands and pulling him in close. Merlin finishes off what he started with Arthur’s shirt, only breaking free from the kiss when it’s off. Instead of starting the exploration of Arthur’s impressive chest as he’d like, he gets up, crossing to the end of the room. Arthur sits up and watches him, frowning, as he pulls out a fold-down bed from the wall.

“I live here,” Merlin explains, “No way I can afford two sets of rent.”

Arthur follows him over, presses him down into the mattress with kisses over his lips, his cheekbones, jaw, neck. Merlin just holds on tight, trying to wriggle out of his clothes.

“If you’ve only just come out, is this a new thing? Have you ever…?”

Arthur stops kissing him when Merlin says that, propping himself up and looking at Merlin, reproving.

“Do you think I’ve never done this before?”

“Could be naturally talented.”

Arthur rolls his hips in punishment.

Merlin arches and when he falls back to the bed he screws his eyes up tight.

“Right, you, naked, now,” he demands.

“And you?”

“And me, you prat, shut up and take your clothes off!”

“Bossy,” Arthur tells him, but he starts stripping regardless, then helps Merlin with his jeans and t-shirt. Merlin rolls over, finds a condom and some lube, and shoves it into Arthur’s hands.

“I don’t care how we do it, I just need to.”

Arthur opens him up, slow and careful, watching Merlin squirm. When he’s satisfied, Arthur rolls onto his back and beckons to Merlin. There’s a little smile on his face, and Merlin almost wishes he had his camera. But then he’d have to share this Arthur with the world, and right now he just wants to be selfish. He grins at Arthur, swinging a leg over him, and when their eyes meet he’s inexplicably, overwhelmingly happy, like a soap bubble ready to burst of it.

He sinks down onto Arthur instead, barely pausing before starting up a rhythm. Arthur pulls him down, and they kiss, deep and more with their tongues than anything else, their lips barely touching, and only in places. When Merlin comes it’s with Arthur’s hand on him, and he breaks from the kiss to sit upright, chest arching into a bow, crying out. He moves again, trembling a little as Arthur’s cock slips over sensitised patches. Arthur holds his hips in support, until he comes, too, falling back onto the bed, exhausted but grinning.

Merlin takes one look at him and runs to get the camera.

And that’s the shot that makes it into the magazine; Arthur, sprawled over the bed, a rumpled sheet covering his bare chest, smiling and completely satisfied.