The Kiss

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Arthur's POV


 His jacket-or at least the back of it- was made from rough, itchy fabric. I had only felt material like this in the lower towns. Gwen's dresses had always felt silky, and my own casual clothing was always light on my skin. It seemed a miracle that the raw fabric left no red marks on Merlin's pale neck and wrists.

No, the clothing was coarse, but the short hairs on the back of Merlin's head were soft and fuzzy. However, I decided it was not nearly as soft as Merlin's lips. No. I had known Merlin for years, and I had imagined this moment in a million different ways a million different times. The lips were grooved and slightly chapped, but they were easy to sink into.

How easy it was, to forget about everything else, holding that smaller, beautiful man in my arms. If only nothing else in the world existed, this would be perfect. But a single kiss could only last so long, especially considering the fact that ambitious, coincidentally evil women always seemed to be following my pleasurable moments with spells or shouts of frustration.

The girl screamed and raged. Merlin broke away from the kiss, and by the time I looked up, she was silent. Merlin's eyes burned a gold that I found myself, surprisingly, comfortable with. It felt safe, even. Protective. I had never taken guards well from the knights. It seemed unnecessary, it made me feel weak and fragile. This was different. Merlin's behavior was warm, satisfying. Always so brave, but never stupid enough to run into danger defenseless.

Behind me, there was a thump. Granville was sliding down the wall behind me, unconscious. Merlin had never said a single word. Maybe this magic was not such a terrible thing after all. The raw power in the man before me was actually quite a bit attractive. Not that I would mention that to him. Or anyone else. Ever.

I had thought, after the girl had collapsed, that Merlin would relax into his trademark grin and explain to me exactly how he had become the mind controlled slave of a girl who would be better kept locked up somewhere.

However, he remained taut and poised, moving only to face the door, eyes narrowed. I had forgotten the second name in this conspiracy, but there definitely was one. There was a strange smugness in the realization that this sick person was about to face the two most powerful people in Camelot.

My sword hilt always fit comfortably in my palm, and my fingers curled around it now, prepared to attack, or threaten at the least, whoever came through that door. They deserved more than I was willing to give them with Merlin besides me. Merlin, my beloved, would not want to see me torture and behead anybody, whatever they had done to deserve it.

"Eric," Merlin's voice commanded the air around him. I hoped this man was somebody I had never met. If it were my knight, I was doubtful that I could hold back from killing the slim, light-haired man. "I know you're there. Arthur knows you're here. It might be a good idea for you to just come out before we have to get you."

Well this was different. I had never before seen Merlin like this, eyes narrowed ever so slightly, lips pressed into a firm line, red hot and angry. I almost felt sorry, for whoever was behind the door, until a man wearing the chainmail and red cloth of a Camelot knight barreled through with foreign words and shattering glass.

The spell had been aimed poorly, in the span of a second, and all but destroyed a window behind me. My hands flew over my ducked head automatically, as glass shards erupted about the room, but Merlin remained straight, and he acted immediately. A single hand outstretched towards the offensive knight, practically shaking with power.

The man's voice went silent, and his body was lifted into the air, following the replying words from Merlin. For a couple moments his mouth worked uselessly, and his arms and legs waved, attempting to find some surface that was no longer in reaching distance.

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