Arthur plops down on his desk chair after he’s done locking the door like he’s been doing every Saturday night for about two and a half months. He strips down to his boxers, checks the clock on his computer to make sure he’s got the timing right, and quickly types in the usual address after sticking his earphones in his ears. The window of the website page pops up and Arthur immediately writes the name he wants on the search bar. It’s the tenth time he’s done this, but Arthur’s still got tingles in his stomach and he can already feel the front of his bottoms getting tight in anticipation.
wizardboy3’s name comes up in a small window chat on the top of the page and Arthur verifies the guy’s on line. He is, like they agreed. His cam showing his plain-grey shirt and the side of his right arm in a moderated lighting, not too much for everything to perfectly clear but enough to show. Arthur’s feet bounce against the floor on their own will, exhilaration seeping through his every pore. His fingertips rattle against the keyboard and before he can help it he finds himself writing.
wizardboy3: wanna do it now?
excalibur-long: yeah, what do u think i’m here for?
excalibur-long: yeah, show it to me
Arthur hears the guy huff through the microphone, but he lowers his camera so it focuses on his groin area now, then pulls his joggers down to his balls so his cock bobs free, already half hard. Arthur wonders if it could be because of him, because he’s as eager to see Arthur as Arthur is to see him. He hopes so; wanking has never felt so good as it does when Arthur’s on the cam with him.
wizardboy3: aren’t u gonna lower ur cam and pants too?
Arthur does swiftly, wanting to get on with it.
“That’s better,” Arthur hears the bloke whisper. And Arthur likes that, likes it when the guy talks to him and not types. Sometimes they do that, speak, but only short sentences or single words, they mostly just pant for each other.
When they are both exposed Arthur lowers his cam so it displays the part the bloke is interested in, and when Arthur looks at his laptop screen he catches the bloke already jerking himself off slowly. It turns on Arthur so fucking much the way he does himself and he doesn't even understand why. It’s just a wank, and it’s someone else. Maybe it’s the bloke’s hand, the contrast between his pale soft-looking skin and long delicate fingers curling around his dick, all red and ruddy with blood, thick but long too. Or maybe it’s the way he strips himself, the way he does that wrist-thing move that makes a gust of breath break past his lips and through Arthur’s earphones and go straight to Arthur’s dick.
The bloke grabs at his shirt with his other hand, holding it up above his navel so Arthur sees more of his body like he’s seeing all of Arthur’s chest. It only makes Arthur more hot and bothered, because he can see the bloke’s tensed flat chest, his forearm and his other hand, the way it fists his shirt tighter when he does something on himself he especially likes.
Arthur feels the side of his index finger wet with precome more and more as it slides over the head of his dick. God, Arthur wants the bloke’s cock, wants to touch it, wants to suck it in his mouth. He can feel it watering just at the idea and Arthur has to quicken his rhythm to accommodate it to the state of his arousal that’s so quickly building up, leading him to completion.
The guy follows Arthur’s lead and begins pumping his dick more roughly, but his other hand falters, though, disappearing from view and making his shirt fall over his crotch. Arthur lets out a gush of breath and licks his chapped lips, blinks his dry eyes when his vision starts getting slightly blurry. He doesn’t want to miss even a second.
“Hey,” the bloke says, and Arthur jumps a bit on his chair. “Touch yourself somewhere else?”
Arthur swallows, a pulse starting in his temple. God, that’s so hot, the bloke interacting with him. His scratchy voice feels like a caress to Arthur’s libido, like the brush of his lips whispering right in Arthur’s ear.
“Yeah,” Arthur replies, breathy, excited. “Where?”
The guy slows his pace for a second as he seems to think about it, but then resumes his tempo as he says, “Your nipple.”
Completely ignoring the scratchy noise it makes against the floor, Arthur immediately pushes his chair backwards so more of his body is visible, and then tilts the screen of his laptop slightly upwards, making sure the cam only displays until up his clavicle. Then he passes his thumb over his nipple unhurriedly, trying to tease the bloke even though he’s actually only teasing himself.
“Yeah, like that,” the guy mutters and Arthur all but closes his eyes in ecstasy. He’s almost there, he can already feel his orgasm pooling warmly in the bottom of his spine, that tingle from before spreading across his legs and feet, his heart beating faster. He hopes the bloke is feeling as good as he is. But he might as well, because Arthur listens to him breathing a long breath and a curse.
Arthur keeps on putting on a show with his nipple for a beat, but he’s not being very throughout because all his focus is on his cock. “Shit,” he says and then, “Gonna come.” His body locks and Arthur forces himself to keep his eyes on the way the bloke’s hand moves frantically over himself.
“Do it, yeah, c’mon, me too,” the guy breathes, and he must have done something to his computer, maybe learnt against it or something, because his image shakes and the hand that’s not on his dick comes up to adjust the cam. As soon as it’s there it isn’t, but something has already caught Arthur’s eye. On the underside of the guy’s wrist there’s an inked tattoo that looks like an infinity symbol.
Arthur wants to dwell on it but he can’t. He feels himself coming undone, and next thing he knows, a warm wave of dampness is splattering onto his skin, and the bloke is following suit, but for all his previous roughness he now jerks himself slow as he coats his own stomach in stripes of white.
The next thursday Arthur arrives into literature class alone because Lancelot has found that curly-haired girl he’s got a crush on on the corridor and has stopped to chat her up for a minute. He rolls his eyes inwardly at his friend because he’s like Prince Charming. Arthur could never be like him; the closest he’s to having a relationship is jacking off with some pervert on a website, and the nicest thing he’s ever said to him is a insult. But whatever.
He crosses the door of the classroom and goes for his seat on the back row, but on his way he trips over someone’s rucksack. He frowns, glowering at the object before he lifts his gaze up to its owner. It’s the boy from his class that’s always quiet but answers the teacher’s questions that no one else knows, not even Arthur, and always replies sarcastic witty comments to the people that mess with him. Arthur thinks he’s clever but he’s also extremely odd, and that’s why he has zero friends and spends all day drawing superheroes and robots on his notebook.
“Weirdo,” Arthur mumbles under his breath, looking down at Merlin.
“Dick,” Merlin shoots back, equally annoyed by Arthur’s presence. His blue eyes are defiant and displeased, and Arthur readies himself to move away. He doesn’t know why, but something makes him shift his gaze to Merlin’s drawings for a second to see what he’s doodling about today, and something strikes Arthur. Merlin’s twirling his pencil between the fingers of his left hand, but that’s not it. It’s the tattoo on his wrist. It’s the same tattoo from the guy on the website.
Arthur immediately reaches down and grabs at Merlin’s forearm in a fit, wanting to inspect the tattoo closer, because it can’t be him.
“What the fuck—” Merlin protests gripping Arthur’s own wrist, but Arthur doesn’t hear him, can’t feel the tight hold Merlin’s got on him, all he sees is the infinity symbol on Merlin's wrist, Merlin’s long pale fingers, the shape of his hand— and then flashes of that same hand the previous Saturday. Arthur blinks to Merlin’s eyes to see them open wide, staring at Arthur with something of a frown on his face.
“You,” Arthur breathes, and it clicks for both of them at the same time. Merlin sucks in a breath, eyes locked on Arthur’s before he takes his hand away forcefully, snapping his parted lips shut.
Arthur lets his hand go and draws his gaze away from Merlin, almost tripping over himself in his haste to get away. It can’t be, he tells himself as he sits on his chair, heart wild.It’s not possible, he thinks as he looks at Merlin again, needing to make sure he’s imagined it, and Merlin turns his head backwards to meet his gaze, massaging the skin on his wrist, before with a scowl he glances back to the front and avoids Arthur’s eyes for the rest of the lesson.
The next time Arthur goes on the chat page, it’s been two weeks. Arthur isn’t just sexually frustrated, he’s also tired sick of the situation; the awkward glances in class, the avoidance, the unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. So he decides to put an end to this nonsense by opening a chat window with wizardboy3 and lifting his cam up so it shows his face this time around.
“I know it’s you Merlin, I wanna do this face to face for once,” he says, and Merlin appears online so he must have received it. “Look, I like this as little as you do, but there’s no point in hiding any longer.”
Merlin’s cam is disconnected but the chat window says he’s writing something.
wizardboy3: we don’t have to do this anymore
wizardboy3: we can just pretend nothing ever happened
wizardboy3: i won’t tell, honest
Arthur frowns, types:
excalibur-long: just turn your cam on, yeah?
excalibur-long: don’t be daft
A moment later Merlin appears on screen, wearing a blue hoodie over his head, twirling the cord between his fingers.
“So?” Merlin asks, not going around the bushes.
“So, I still wanna get off,” Arthur tells him, and he surprises them both, really. Merlin’s eyebrows go high on his forehead and he drops the lace of his hoodie to instead learn his chin against his hand as he stares at Arthur through the screen for a beat.
“Why?” He drags the word out, frowning slightly.
“I just do, alright? Just don’t be impertinent,” Arthur replies defensively.
Merlin’s lips quirk up in a funny, mischievous smirk. “Do you admit the weirdo of the class gets you off?” he asks again and Arthur is thrown. A wave of shame curses through him and he has to look away. He almost disconnects and closes the lid of his laptop in rage, but then he changes his mind. He hesitates; he doesn’t have to admit anything. But fuck, Merlin does. And Arthur really wants to keep doing this.
He throws Merlin an annoyed look, left foot bouncing beneath his desk. He hopes Merlin isn’t recording this or anything. “Fucker,” he mutters through gritted teeth as he stares at his keyboard, and then louder so Merlin hears, lifting his gaze. “Yeah, you get me off like no one. I wanna do this, okay?”
“Okay,” Merlin says quickly with a smirk, shrugging in a smug manner before he takes his hoodie off his head to reveal his messed up hair. “You horny now?” Merlin raises both eyebrows, pulling his hand away from his mouth and tilting his head to the side.
Arthur sighs, seeping a hand through his hair. He is, but he’s got other plans, better plans. It’s time to move things forward between them. All those times he’s imagined those hands on him, he’s going to have them touching him for real now. “Meet me at the locker room tomorrow after class, yeah?”
Merlin looks stunned for a second but then he recovers and that smirk of his comes back in full force. He chuckles, sitting back on his chair. “Yeah,” he replies, simple as that, cheeky. Arthur breathes out a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding, and before he can leave the chat, having nothing else to say, Merlin says, “And really, Arthur, ‘excalibur-long’?”
“Shut up,” Arthur bites out, feeling heat rise up to his neck as he scowls. When Merlin bursts out laughing Arthur does shut the lid of the laptop now, but this time his lips are smiling too with the promise of more to come.