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“He's a very clever boy, Arthur. He'll go far, no doubt.”
Arthur's fingers tighten on his silverware. “I'm sure, Father. He won Mother's scholarship, after all. I'm sorry I couldn't make the dinner.” He'd thought his father would be pleased Arthur was invited to a business dinner on his own merit, but all he's heard about through Sunday dinner is how admirable this Merlin is. None of the other scholarship recipients Arthur has met have received this much praise.
“You'll have to keep an eye out for him in the upcoming term.”
None of the other scholarship recipients have gone to Arthur's university, either. “Of course.”
“Take him out to lunch. We should show our support of him, when you're both in the same place, and as I said, he's a fine young man.”
Morgana must know how much this bothers him, because she's smirking across the table, taking measured sips of her wine. “He's gorgeous, too,” she whispers in Arthur's ear when they're putting their coats on at the end of dinner. “Really do look him up.”
*
“Ah, Arthur,” says Dr. Gaius two weeks into term. “I'd like to introduce you to my newest prodigy—he's a maths wizard, he's in your course this term even though it's his first year.”
The kid he's gesturing over is one Arthur recognizes vaguely, from around campus and from sitting in the lecture hall. He's lanky and dark-haired and doe-eyed, and he's as tall as Arthur but manages to look at him from under his lashes anyway. “I'm mostly in Physics,” he explains. “You're economics, right? Gaius has mentioned you. I'm Merlin.”
“I believe your family knows him,” Dr. Gaius says, so pleased to be introducing them, and Arthur tries not to freeze up the way he wants to. His father has texted three times asking if he's taken Merlin for lunch yet, saying that his tutors are thus far very pleased with his progress.
“Merlin. A pleasure. Yes, Father and Morgana have mentioned you. They seem quite fond.” As much as his father is capable of being fond of anyone.
Gaius keeps smiling, and Merlin smiles too, but it's not the wide-eyed excited look he was wearing when he was just being introduced to one of Gaius's other favored students. There's something sly about the smile, and Arthur excuses himself as quickly as he can.
*
“You know, I don't like being your family's charity case any more than you like me being a leech.”
Arthur, drinking beer on the front steps outside a party he doesn't feel patient enough to attend, puts his bottle slowly down and turns to face Merlin, who seems to have appeared out of nowhere and is just standing their watching him. Assessing. “I don't think you're a leech. You won the scholarship, fair and square. My family admires you.”
“I got a call from your dad, you know. Asking if you'd taken me out for lunch.”
Arthur stands up. “I can't imagine you'd want a stranger inviting you for lunch.”
“Maybe not.” Merlin shrugs. He's a bit of a shit, which Arthur didn't expect and resents all the more because it makes him want to like Merlin. It would have been easier to hate him if he were as sweet as Father and Morgana and Dr. Gaius all seem to think. “Doesn't matter. Want me to tell Uther to get off your back?”
Arthur can only imagine his father's reaction to his prized scholarship student's misguided attempt to defend Arthur's honor. “Leave it. Maybe I will pay for your lunch, sometime.”
Merlin laughs. “Why would I want a stranger inviting me for lunch?” he asks, and then he's gone, leaving Arthur standing outside the party with his half-finished beer, unsettled and upset.
*
“Arthur, you've got to meet Merlin,” says Gwen, bubbly and a little tipsy, at another party. “He's just a first-year, but don't hold it against him, he's a bit of a genius.”
“We've met,” says Merlin, and Gwen looks between them like she gets it, somehow. “Thanks, though.”
“Okay, I'll … you'll be okay?” She's troubled, now, and it's her party. Gwen likes to be a good hostess, to make sure her guests are all happy and chatting.
“We're fine,” says Merlin, fuck him, just exactly the right amount of soothing, and she nods, brightening again, and disappears back into the crowd, caroling something about them loving each other over her shoulder.
“I'll go.” Arthur is too abrupt, but he can't bear another conversation of Merlin casually mentioning his father, his sister, his mentor, and now his best friend.
Merlin grabs his arm, unexpectedly firm, and there's a rush of—something. Something Arthur doesn't usually bother examining too closely. “No,” says Merlin, jarred into something slow. “No, I don't think you will.”
*
Arthur's bed is closer.
Merlin is pliant, belly-up on the bed, but Arthur fights him anyway, close to tearing his shirt, biting him more than he's kissing him, and Merlin fights back with a roll of his eyes like he's indulging Arthur and that's something white-hot in the pit of his stomach, shame or happiness or hatred.
“You're going to fuck me, right?” says Merlin, and there's a measure of that spine-straightening challenge in his voice.
Arthur can imagine the way Morgana is going to laugh, if she finds out. He can imagine his father's annoyance. He looks at Merlin, nearly six feet of skinny boy who really shouldn't be anything special to either of them, and gets the lube. “If you think you can take it.”
Merlin scoffs. “Of course I can.”
*
Arthur pins Merlin to the bed and fingers him open. He uses too much lube just to feel the way Merlin shivers, just to hear the slick noises it makes, and he presses his face against Merlin's skin while he does, inhales over and over as he smells less like body wash and deodorant and more like sweat. Merlin makes sharp hitching noises when Arthur opens him up, presses up against him, and he's not playing anymore.
Arthur is hard, but that's almost secondary, because every noise he gets out of Merlin, every time he moves without being to help it, feels like a victory. He goes on longer than he needs to just because it's a pure win, getting these reactions from Merlin without having to tip his own hand. Making him come on his cock will be satisfying, but getting him so close without breaking himself matters just as much.
He doesn't tell Merlin to beg, because he doesn't want Merlin to. Instead, he relishes Merlin's look when Arthur pulls his fingers out (four, and Merlin took them and might have taken more, if Arthur cared to try) and reaches for the condom. “You aren't going to make me wait for it?”
“What's the point?” Arthur doesn't hurry putting the condom on, and doesn't hurry getting Merlin's legs into a useful position—he's all limbs all of a sudden, all gangly and eighteen and Arthur has just enough chivalry enough to hope he's not Merlin's first and just little enough that he wouldn't stop if Merlin said he is. “I'm not here to tease you.”
“Aren't you?” Merlin says, muscles all coiled like he's getting ready to fight again, but Arthur slaps his thigh lightly to gentle him and presses inside, and all the tension goes out of him at once, his head falling back on the pillow.
“I don't really think I need to tease,” says Arthur, and starts fucking him.
Merlin smiles when he comes, like he's the one coming out on top even if Arthur hasn't touched his cock since he put his fingers in Merlin's ass, and Arthur bites down on his shoulder when he follows a minute later, leaving a mark and licking the taste of sweat from his teeth when he pulls away.
*
“Your father will be happy,” Merlin says into the dark twenty minutes later, when he hasn't made a move to go and Arthur hasn't told him to leave. There's a bite in his voice, like he already knows what buttons to press. “You can pay for lunch tomorrow.”
Arthur slides a finger back inside Merlin. The lube has gone tacky, but he sighs against Arthur's hair like he likes it. “Planning to stay the night, then?”
The bed is too small for them not to be all over each other. He can feel Merlin's sharp inhale. “Of course I am,” he finally says. “How else am I supposed to get that lunch?”