@aemelia is standing over me cracking a bullwhip and forcing me to write about two morons having sex on a luxury train, so here's another little preview of that. The other two previews posted earlier can be found here and here.
But Merlin ruined it for him, by anticipating what had been a brilliant plan, and therefore one which ought to have been safely out of the reach of his brain. All morning Arthur avoided him by moving swiftly along to another car when he saw the dark head entering his, and answering Morgana’s Where the hell are you texts with, Sorry, you must have just missed me till she gave up even sending them.
Then when everyone disembarked at the village, he hurried back to their room, and found Merlin sat on the scene of the crime. He froze. Merlin was fiddling the phone in his hand all round, but looking up steadily at him, with unrelenting eye contact. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Arthur stuck his hands in his pockets. “I just came back for a shower.”
“Yeah, I figured. That’s why I’m here. Thought you might not get off the train with everyone else, considering the fact that I haven’t seen you all morning even though we share a room and we’re on a train with very limited hiding places.”
Arthur shifted from foot to foot. “I wasn’t hiding, I was having a chat with that couple from California.”
“Oh yeah?” Merlin raised an eyebrow. “So you were stationary, in one spot, chatting to this couple, and I missed you every time I went through every car looking for you? That’s interesting.”
Arthur looked away.
Merlin sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look. I can ask Gwaine if he’ll switch rooms. I could stay with him, and you with Morgana.”
“And how are you going to explain why we’re switching rooms?”
“I’ll just say you snore and I forgot my earplugs. Morgana has those earbuds that play white noise or whatever. She’ll be fine.”
“Well, I won’t; I can’t stay with Morgana. We’ll kill one another.”
“Fine, then I’ll stay with Morgana.”
“You’re going to share a bed with Morgana?”
“We’re both adults. We can platonically share a bed.”
“Yes, you certainly have a stellar track record of that,” Arthur pointed out, waspishly.
“Well, Morgana’s dating Gwaine, and she’s a lot smarter than you, so I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Merlin snapped.
“What do you mean ‘smarter than me’, like it’s my fault, when it was your idea!” Arthur cried.
“Well, you could have said, ‘No, Merlin, don’t suck my dick’ like a reasonable person. I’d been drinking and I hadn’t been laid in a while, so you had our brain cell, and you should have used it.”
Arthur frowned down at him. “So you did it because you were drunk?”
Merlin rubbed his face with both hands. “I wasn’t drunk drunk, but do you think I would have done that sober? When you said you’d never come from a blowjob, the alcohol took over my mouth, and I just blurted that out, and then when you didn’t tell me to fuck off like a sane person, my dick took over from there.”
“So you’re saying that you, an entire, whole, adult man, are not in charge of your own actions?”
“When I haven’t had sex in over six months and someone offers to blow me, no, I am not in charge, my penis is.” He was striving for a light tone, but must have seen on Arthur’s face that it was not landing as he had meant it to; that he was doing more harm than good: all of which was being done to Arthur’s throat, which felt suddenly as hot, and tight, and tremulous as it had in the dining car. He rubbed his face again. “Look, you have to stop avoiding me. We’ve been mates over a decade, and we’ve never let being dumbarses fuck it up before. So either we switch rooms, or one of us kips on the sofa, but we don’t tiptoe round one another, or duck into another car all week every time we see the other one coming, because we were horny.” He clasped his hands between his knees. “It’s just getting off. Stimulation is stimulation and all that. I mean, it was a bit gay for you to blow me, but other than that, you’re fine.”
Arthur scowled at him.
“You kept your socks on, and that’s the first rule of ‘no homo.’”
“Oh, is it?” Arthur snapped. “Well, you had yours off, so what does that mean?”
“That I’m comfortably bisexual and I don’t have to have a crisis about getting a blowjob from a man.”
“I rather think the problem is specifically which man gave you the blowjob.”
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