cheerfulSummary: Arthur watches Merlin dance.
Arthur sat back and clutched his tumbler of scotch tighter, so tight that the skin on hands turned white.
He was thankful that he had claimed the booth at the back of the dark, seedy club. In this dim light he wouldn’t be noticed.
His eyes were riveted on the man, no boy, on the stage. Waltzing about the stage, dancing around the pole with no shame. His skin so pale it was almost translucent and the blue of veins looked like smatterings of bruises littered about his skin. Arthur wondered if it was as smooth as it looked, if he ran his tongue along the boy’s neck would his skin taste of salt and tell a tale.
The boy moved, shamelessly shaking his skinny little hips, and Arthur felt all his blood move south. The skin of his cock tightening and pulling.
Yes, he was very thankful for the dim light.
The boy turn, looking back over his shoulder – dark hair falling about his face, and winked. He removed his shirt and Arthur gasped, adorning his back was a large tattoo. Black with red highlights, it appeared to be clutching at his skin. A dragon, beautiful and captivating, curling around the boy’s torso.
The contrast of the tattoo on the boys pale skin made it stand out and appear alive, as if it was part of the boy’s skin, not ink traced on.
Arthur couldn’t take his eyes off him. He wanted to run his tongue and fingers along every contour of the boy’s skin, taste him, feel him, claim him.
The music ended and the boy walked off the stage, picking up his discarded clothes as he went.
Arthur finished his scotch and made his exit.
Outside the cold bit at his skin, and he pulled his coat snugly around himself, the soft wool tickling the skin on his neck.
“Hey,” a voice said.
Arthur turned, there leaning against the wall of the club was the boy, pulling on a rollie and letting the smoke dance along his lips.
He looked ethereal and beautiful.
“Hey,” Arthur said, swallowing.
“Saw you watching.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, like what you saw?”
“Yeah.”
Later as they lay in Arthur’s bed, the boy’s, Merlin’s, head resting on his chest, Arthur smiled at the ceiling.
His skin was as soft, and tasted, just as Arthur had imagined.