Chapter Text
It was the most awkward lunch of Merlin’s life.
They were sitting in a small bistro not far from The Castle that was home to Pendragon Investment, waiting for their orders of soup and sandwiches, with Gwaine Greene from Public Affairs talking about something Merlin had zero mental capacity to pay attention to. Possibly, the topic was football, but Merlin probably wouldn’t have cared to keep up even if Gwaine had just revealed he was Merlin’s long-lost father.
Because right across from him, studiously avoiding Merlin’s gaze and looking about three seconds away from bolting from the bistro, sat Arthur.
Arthur Pendragon.
Merlin wondered what he had ever done to the gods of fate to deserve this.
He had always known, of course, that this day might come; that the two worlds he inhabited, and that he had been so very careful to keep separate, would collide. He had never thought they would collide quite so spectacularly though.
The worst-case scenario had come to pass: Merlin had met a client outside Avalon.
And not just anywhere, but at his respectable job.
And not just any client, but the client that he – and he was only just coming to terms with this fact – might be harbouring a bit of a crush on.
Yes, Merlin Ambrose, fool that he was, had broken one of the most important rules of sex work and developed feelings for a suitor.
In Merlin’s defence, Arthur was the most attractive client he had ever had the fortune to dom for, with the face of a fairy-tale prince and an arse that belonged on a pedestal. What self-respecting gay man would not crush on an Adonis such as him, especially if said Adonis spent Friday nights on his knees, begging for your cock and tearfully thanking you for fucking him one hundred miles into subspace?
Suddenly feeling choked, Merlin grabbed the glass of water in front of him and took a big gulp, nearly inhaling the drink in the process and only just suppressing an undignified wheezing sound.
He really should not be thinking about Arthur on his knees right now. In fact, he should be focusing on what Gwaine Greene was telling him and not keep staring at Arthur like an absolute lunatic, unless Merlin wanted Arthur’s colleague to catch on that something wasn’t right here.
It was a miracle, really, that Gwaine had remained oblivious to the moment of mindless panic Merlin and Arthur had shared when coming eye to eye at Pendragon Investment. If Gwaine had thought it strange that their handshake had been nothing more than a brush of fingers and their greeting a bunch of incomprehensible, high-pitched syllables, he certainly hadn’t let on.
Even now, Gwaine was ignorantly chatting on and on, though neither Arthur nor Merlin were contributing anything substantial to the conversation, both relying on nods, hums and the occasional Oh? to keep the man talking.
It was with considerable effort that Merlin finally tore his eyes away from Arthur’s tense form to look at Gwaine, only to realise that the man had got up from his chair.
“Excuse me for a second,” he said and left for the bathroom.
As soon as Gwaine’s back had disappeared from view, Merlin’s eyes snapped back to Arthur, who chose that very moment to finally abandon his intense study of the decorative tea candle before him and looked up.
Their eyes met.
“Arthur, I’m so sorry, I—” Merlin said, in the same moment Arthur hissed, “Don’t say a word!”
Merlin’s mouth snapped shut, his heart clenching painfully at Arthur’s hostile tone. His face was closed off in a way Merlin had a hard time stomaching.
Merlin was used to seeing that same face torn wide open, soft and vulnerable, cheeks covered in tears and eyes shining with the sort of trust that made Merlin want to wrap Arthur into a fuzzy blanket and protect him from the big, bad world.
This Arthur here was cold and distant. He reminded Merlin of the Arthur that had called him an idiot during their first meeting, back when Merlin had thought him nothing but a very kinky, very arrogant prat. (Arthur had cured him of that superficial first impression in the matter of one session.)
After a beat of strained silence, Arthur abruptly looked away, shoulders sagging.
“Please, Emrys,” he added, much more quietly, and his voice broke half-way through Merlin’s alias. “Not here.”
And there he was – the Arthur that choked out Sorry, sir like a sinner begging for forgiveness and cried tears of reverence for a simple well done, as if a word of praise from Merlin’s mouth was the most precious of gifts. He sounded vulnerable, fragile even, and more than a bit scared.
It took every last bit of Merlin’s willpower not to reach out in that moment and cup Arthur’s cheek, like Merlin had done so many times in the past weeks. Taking care of a distraught Arthur felt only natural at this point.
But Arthur had just set a very clear boundary and it wouldn’t do to push it.
“Okay,” Merlin replied quietly, and nothing more.
When Gwaine returned and started talking again, Merlin did his very best to pay attention to what he was saying and engaging him in conversation, giving Arthur the room he had asked for. In the end, Arthur ate three spoonfuls of tomato soup, took one bite of his cheese sandwich, then sprung up from his chair, muttering something about an urgent video call.
“Don’t mind him,” said Gwaine, once Arthur had thrown fifty quid on the table and left the bistro. “He’s a workaholic who’s working for an even bigger workaholic, who also happens to be his chronically disapproving father. I’m surprised he stayed for as long as he did.”
“Sounds like he's got a stressful job,” Merlin murmured. He had already known this, of course. But now that he had first-hand knowledge of what exactly was happening at Arthur’s workplace, he had an entire new understanding for the man’s recent moods.
“His father makes it hell,” Gwaine sighed, and it was said with such feeling that Merlin started to get an inkling Gwaine might be more than just a regular colleague.
“He’s a friend of yours?” he ventured.
“Arthur? One of my best,” Gwaine readily admitted. “Not that I see much of him these days. We used to meet up for pub night and footie matches each week, but these days, seeing him for ten minutes at lunch is already a miracle. If I didn’t work at PI, I doubt I’d see him more than twice a year.”
“I see,” Merlin replied, maybe a little too sadly, because Gwaine grimaced. Perhaps realising he was oversharing, he promptly changed the topic to something lighter.
It was probably a good thing. If Gwaine really was a good friend of Arthur’s, they shouldn’t be talking about him behind his back. Honestly, Merlin shouldn’t be talking about Arthur at all. Most likely, Arthur was just now fretting about what Merlin might reveal during this lunch.
Merlin was of course no stranger to the fear of having his activities at Avalon revealed. Sex work might be legal in Albion, but it certainly wasn’t a trade readily accepted by society. Other than his best friend Will, nobody knew Merlin was working as an escort on the side, and if his place of work ever got wind of what he was doing, he might very well be fired, if only because he hadn’t disclosed outside employment.
But Merlin understood it had to be even worse for someone like Arthur, who moved in influential but highly conservative circles. Merlin had lived in Camelot long enough now to have heard the name Pendragon, even before the recent scandals. Arthur was of old Camelot stock. Merlin was almost completely sure there was a wing at Camelot Royal Hospital named after one of Arthur’s relatives and Merlin’s boss Gaius had given them all a great speech about how Crystal Cave Communications had just landed one of the most prestigious clients in Camelot.
Not that Merlin thought Pendragon Investment was a particularly great firm. Undoubtedly, Cara Nimueh from the ABC was unfairly singling them out for business practices that were common in the private equity sector, but the shitstorm was nonetheless based in facts. For the past decades, Uther Pendragon and his investors had made a perverse amount of money through morally questionable means. Merlin doubted Uther had had an active hand in any environmental disasters or illegal weapons trading, but from what Merlin had heard and seen, Uther was definitely the type to turn a blind eye if it meant making a profit.
Somehow, it pained Merlin to know that Arthur was a part of this. Arthur didn’t strike him as the type to exploit others for financial gain, but as the Chief Investment Officer, he was undoubtedly involved.
But then, Merlin had to remind himself that he didn’t actually know Arthur. In fact, Arthur had been one of the most private clients he had ever had, sharing very little about his personal life. Merlin had had a few regulars in the past and eventually, they all talked, spilling the beans about their terrible marriages, unruly children or boring jobs. Arthur had only ever spoken in vague terms about what was bothering him.
It all made sense now, of course. A Pendragon wouldn’t want a loose-mouthed escort to walk about Camelot and sully the family name by announcing to the world that Arthur enjoyed choking on cock and getting his arse spanked.
Not that Merlin would ever do such a thing.
“I’m sorry, am I boring you?” asked Gwaine, though he was flashing him a charming smile as he did. If Merlin hadn’t been so occupied with Arthur, he might have marvelled at the fact that a man like Gwaine Greene, who looked like a model straight out of a magazine, had been continuously flirting with him since they had met on Monday.
Merlin knew he wasn’t shabby-looking, but Gwaine was way out of his league.
“Of course not, I’m sorry,” said Merlin, forcing down any further thoughts on the Arthur-situation. “I just have a lot on my mind.” He grasped for a different topic. “It sure was scary running the gauntlet at The Castle. I can’t say I’m looking forward to fighting our way back in.”
“Aye,” Gwaine said, smile waning. “It’s crazy. I don’t understand why the police are letting them get away with so much.” His face brightened. “But we’ve got Lance and his men protecting us now, so don’t you worry.” He winked fetchingly. “You’re quite safe with us.”
Merlin couldn’t help but smile at Gwaine’s flirtatious ways, even as he asked, “Who’s Lance?”
“Lancelot DuLac, another good friend. His firm is doing security for PI.”
“Oh! Was he the one that was…” Merlin made a gesture up above his head, indicating the height of the massive man he had seen watching the entrance.
“No, that’s Percival,” Gwaine said. “Big guy, I know.”
His jovial tone had Merlin tilt his head. “Another mate?”
“Yes, in fact, as was the other man on duty, Elyan. And his sister is a good friend, too. She works as Uther’s assistant.”
Merlin couldn’t help but snort. “Do all your friends work at The Castle?”
Gwaine barked out a good-natured guffaw. “If that was a subtle way of telling me I have to get out more, don’t your worry.” He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. “I don’t mind a wild night out.” Still grinning, he leaned all the way in and lowered his voice attractively, “You’re free to join me any time, Merlin.”
Gods, but this man was a shameless flirt! Merlin should probably seize the opportunity. He couldn’t even remember if he had gone on a normal date in the past couple of years. His sex life was pretty much exclusive to Avalon.
When was the last time someone had taken him out to dinner before sucking his dick? Merlin sure would have liked to give up the lead for a change, to simply lie back and enjoy the ride instead of constantly making sure his clients weren’t overdoing it, especially ones like Arthur, who had a hard time recognising their own limits.
Lords, and here he was thinking about Arthur again!
“Ah. Your silence is answer enough,” Gwaine said and his grin dimmed a little as he leaned back.
Merlin smiled at him, opting for friendly instead of flirty. “Look, Gwaine, I’d be lying if I said you aren’t one of the most attractive men that has ever hit on me. Believe me, I’m beyond flattered and swooning. But we’re working together for the foreseeable future and I like to keep things… separate.”
And wasn’t that ironic!
Gwaine brightened on the spot. “Fantastic! That means I can try again after the shitstorm has blown over.” He chuckled at Merlin’s good-natured eyeroll, then glanced at his watch. “Speaking of which, we should probably head back to deal with that now.”
Merlin agreed and crammed the last of his sandwich into his mouth, which seemed to have settled heavily in his stomach when they approached the entrance of The Castle. The protestors had been moved away from the door by wary-eyed police, but they were still screaming whenever anyone came walking in and out of the high-rise, which was happening a lot, given the fact that it was lunchtime and the skyscraper housed more than one business.
Luckily, the big security guy – Percival, if Merlin remembered correctly – ushered them in while the other – Elyan, possibly? – held the door. Apart from ringing ears, they stayed unharmed.
“It’s a right madhouse out there!” Gwaine sighed as they walked towards the lift.
Merlin agreed, only to belatedly catch on that Gwaine had actually been talking to the security checking badges at the lift – another ridiculously attractive man with dreamy eyes. Seriously, was everyone at The Castle a model?
“I know,” said the security and pushed the button for them. “Have you any idea how often I’ve approached the police at this point? They keep telling me it’s all covered by Albion’s freedom of assembly laws.”
“Well, luckily, we’ve got our knights in shining armour to protect us,” Gwaine joked and flicked a finger at a gleaming metal buckle attached to the man’s security vest. Then he turned towards Merlin. “This is Lancelot DuLac, by the way.”
Merlin shook the man’s hand, taking an instant liking to his warm aura. “Nice to meet you. Merlin Ambrose, Crystal Cave Communications.”
“Our other protector,” Gwaine introduced him. “One of the PR wizards we hired to deal with this mess. Merlin here is handling it.”
Merlin chuckled awkwardly, feeling Gwaine was massively overselling his part in all this. “Please, I’m just the liaison. A dogsbody, really. Most of the work is done by my colleagues out in the Valley, I just pass on information and summarise their strategies.”
“No reason to sell yourself short,” Gwaine said and encouragingly clapped his shoulder, hand lingering.
Lancelot saw and promptly raised an eyebrow as he turned on Merlin, “Has Gwaine here been blatantly flirting with you, then?”
Merlin let out another awkward chuckle and glanced at Gwaine. “Um…”
“Don’t mind him,” Lancelot went on. “He’s like that with everyone. But he’s the good sort, too, so just tell him to sod off and he will be a perfect gentleman.”
Gwaine pouted at Lancelot. “Oi! Way to ruin my game, DuLac!”
“Happy to help,” Lancelot shot back with a mischievous grin, though their friendly banter was cut short by the arrival of the lift.
They made it up to the fifty-third and settled down in Gwaine’s office in Public Affairs, going over social media strategies and press releases Merlin’s colleagues had sent over. They were putting together a presentation for Uther Pendragon himself for this very afternoon and Merlin was keen on making it as water-tight as he could.
He had met Uther only once, at the initial crisis meeting on Monday morning, and that had been enough to intimidate him. It had also been enough to instil an immediate dislike for the man, and Merlin’s thoughts involuntarily strayed back to Arthur again, who he now knew was Uther’s son. Merlin had never known his own father, but could imagine that the pressure at work had to be so much worse when you were the boss’s son.
And here he was again, wondering about Arthur.
They should probably talk, sooner rather than later. If Merlin was going crazy over things being unresolved, he didn’t want to know what Arthur was going through. Merlin had shown up at his work, after all.
Arthur had sounded so upset, whispering those four words at the bistro: Please, Emrys. Not here.
Suddenly, it struck him that Arthur might have written to him, texted him to meet up somewhere else and talk.
Making his excuses to Gwaine, Merlin went to the bathroom, entered a stall and pulled out his phone, switching from the company SIM to the private one with a brush of his thumb.
There was no new message.
Biting his lip, Merlin started typing out a text for Arthur, then thought better of it. Perhaps Arthur wouldn’t appreciate Merlin writing to him at work. He realised they had already done that, but that had been before.
Before everything had gone to the hells.
Merlin muffled a groan with one hand as he leaned against the door of the bathroom stall, knees going weak as the reality of their situation hit him with full force: Arthur and Merlin had met at work. Their paths had crossed outside Avalon.
There was no going back from this, was there?
Lords, they really needed to talk.
Actually, Merlin had been keen on talking to Arthur even before meeting him at work. Their last mobile session had been intense, to say the least, and some of the things Arthur had said… well. Merlin had already known they were walking a fine line with Arthur’s emotional state on the best of days, given his extreme humiliation kink, but now that Arthur had outright told him he was having a hard time keeping scene and reality separate, they were overdue for a talk.
At Avalon, Merlin was a professional dom, first and foremost, no matter what secret affections he might be hiding for his client. He took his clients’ limits seriously and making it a pleasurable and safe experience for them was his highest priority. Arthur had always shown an astounding ability to slip deep into headspace during a scene and Merlin would lie if he said he didn’t worry about the man sometimes. Far be it from Merlin, of all people, to judge a man for his sexual proclivities, but Arthur got off on humiliation like nobody Merlin had ever seen before and seemed to crave praise like a parched man craved water. With Arthur, Merlin sometimes wasn’t so sure he could trust his check-ins.
What was worse, Merlin found himself growing protective (and just a little possessive, too).
He couldn’t help it. Arthur had got under his skin and he was so very clearly in need of reassurance and affection, something Merlin was only too willing to provide. Ever since they had started texting, Merlin kept reaching out to him, wanting to make sure he was all right, all the while knowing he was going way past normal escort-suitor interaction.
Well, Merlin’s mother had always said Merlin had a bad case of helper syndrome. And besides, Arthur probably took Merlin’s eagerness for a want to make an extra quid or two – not that the sexting paid terribly well.
Sighing, Merlin slipped his phone into his pocket, exited the stall, washed his hands and went back to finish the presentation with Gwaine.
Two hours later, they made their way up to the fifty-fifth floor, where they were greeted by one of Uther’s assistants. Gwaine blew her a kiss as she waved them through the glass door and towards the CEO’s office. Merlin was a little shocked at Gwaine’s brazenness until he remembered that Gwaine was friends with her, too.
In no time, they were in front of Uther’s door and Merlin braced himself, taking a fortifying breath before entering after Gwaine – only to nearly stumble over his own two feet when he spotted Arthur sitting at the conference table set up in one corner of the massive office.
He didn’t know why he was surprised. Arthur was the Chief Investment Officer as well as the boss’s son. Of course, there was a chance he would sit in on this meeting, even if he hadn’t been there on Monday.
Arthur, at least, must have been prepared for Merlin’s appearance this time. He sent them a bland look, then turned away to type something into the laptop he had brought, seemingly unfazed by the prospect of listening to his escort’s presentation on how to best navigate a PR crisis.
Gods, but this was all kinds of messed up!
What must Arthur be thinking of him? Had he ever even assumed that Merlin might be leading a double-life? That he wasn’t just a sex worker, but a man who was trying to make a respectable career? Would he even take Merlin’s presentation seriously? It had to feel absurd to him, Merlin walking into his father’s office and speaking of work like they hadn’t spent Friday after Friday with Merlin’s cock in Arthur’s mouth or arse.
Merlin gulped as a series of rather enticing memories flashed past his inner eye: Arthur’s delectable arse covered in red welts, Arthur’s lips wrapped tightly around his cock, Arthur whimpering as Merlin stretched his hole with the widest plug yet…
Bloody hells, get a grip, Ambrose!
Forcing himself not to stare at Arthur for a moment longer, Merlin looked around the table instead. There were a few other people there, one of them Uther Pendragon himself, a slight sneer about his lips as he impatiently gestured at the massive whiteboard that was part of his office.
“Let’s hear it, gentlemen,” he drawled, as if they were wasting his time already.
Trying not to bristle at the man’s attitude, Merlin nodded, quickly connected the tablet via WIFI and started the presentation. He made a point not to look at Arthur even once as he spoke of social media posts, press releases and investor communication, then answered some questions from Elena Godwyn, Investor Relations. When they had finished thirty minutes later, Merlin thought that Gwaine and he had done a decent job summarising the path ahead, but Uther didn’t seem satisfied.
“I don’t see anything in here about dealing with the ABC,” he said with a dismissive wave at the final slide of their presentation, which was showing the roadmap.
Merlin frowned. “There is nothing much we can do about their reporting, sir.”
“Nonsense,” Uther exclaimed, sending Merlin a disapproving look. “I want to know how we can take down that horrible Nimueh woman, once and for all.”
Merlin’s frown deepened as Gwaine spoke up next to him, “Take her down, sir?”
Uther made a derisive noise, as if he thought Gwaine was particularly daft. “That is what I said, Mr Greene. Do try and keep up.”
Rubbed the wrong way by the man’s demeanour, Merlin only just suppressed an incredulous noise of his own. “What would you have us do with her, Mr Pendragon? Tie her up and gag her?”
There was a choked sound from Arthur’s side of the table and belatedly, Merlin flushed, realising that a) he was being flippant with the CEO of Pendragon Investment and b) he had just described something Arthur and he had done in their fourth or fifth session.
Uther scowled. “Watch your tone, young man!” He took a moment to glare at Merlin, which gave Merlin enough time to fight the rising indignation of being talked to like a wayward child and remind himself that he was a professional. “What am I even paying you for if not to make this all go away for good? I want her to lose her job! She is slandering us! This kind of reporting has no place in respectable journalism!” He made a little beckoning motion. “There must be some dirt we can find on this woman, something to show the public she is little more than a tabloid scandalmonger.”
“Sir,” Merlin said, trying to dial down the attitude. “With respect, but going out of our way to attack Cara Nimueh would send exactly the wrong message.”
“A message of strength,” Uther insisted.
Merlin met his steely gaze with an even look. “A message that Cara Nimueh is right and that Pendragon Investment is the kind of firm willing to use any means necessary, no matter how distasteful or immoral, to make a scandal disappear and walk away with a profit.”
There was a moment of tense silence in which everyone seemed to hold their breath, then Uther let out a huff. “Fine,” he spat. “But I don’t like the idea of hiding away and posting pretty pictures and flowery words on the internet, like you are suggesting. I want a more hands-on approach to this.”
“What do you mean by hands-on, sir?” Gwaine asked carefully.
“An interview with the ABC. Not with this Nimueh person, but someone respectable, someone willing to hear our side of the story.”
Merlin fought a groan. “You want someone from PI to go directly to the ABC and take their questions?” Why not hand them more ammunition on a silver platter? he thought.
Uther leaned back in his chair and smirked. “Let’s show them we’ve got nothing to hide.”
“But we do have something to hide!”
Merlin jumped at hearing Arthur’s voice. Arthur hadn’t said a single word so far and Merlin had rarely heard him sound like this: openly confrontational.
Uther swivelled his chair to glower at his son. “We are doing nothing other firms aren’t doing, Arthur.”
“It doesn’t matter. Our portfolio alone is a minefield,” Arthur shot back. “Have you looked at it in recent years? Oil, gas, coal, minerals, chemicals—”
“So?” Uther interrupted. “Reliable industries. The backbone of Albion’s economy, and a very profitable field.”
“A field prone to massive scandal!” Arthur had drawn himself up tall in his chair now, and Merlin felt a strange sense of pride seeing him face down his father with such blazing heat in his eyes. In spite of knowing a rather different side of him, Merlin found that taking charge suited Arthur. “People care about global warming and social justice! They don’t let things like river pollution and broken union agreements slide. Surely you’re not naïve enough to believe the recent scandals Nimueh dug up will be the last?”
“May I remind you,” Uther spat, “that it was your lack of risk assessment that made her dig at all? If you hadn’t missed the signs on Cenred&Lot—”
Arthur flung up his hands, interrupting, “You insisted on that investment!”
“Enough!” Uther barked, sharp enough to make Merlin flinch. “I won’t have you talk to me this way! Instead of trying to shift the blame for this disaster onto me, you would do well to accept responsibility and take an active step in cleaning up the mess you have created!”
For a moment, Merlin was completely convinced Arthur was ready to jump at his father’s throat. But then, all fight seemed to leave him and he sagged in his chair. “I apologise, sir,” he said, and lowered his gaze.
Merlin’s skin crawled at the words and it had nothing to do with the fact that he was used to Arthur calling Merlin sir in the same, deferring fashion. It was the defeat in Arthur’s demeanour, the tiredness in his expression, that made him want to walk over and strangle Uther himself.
What a despicable man! Placing the blame for this mess solely on Arthur’s shoulders, when it was clear that only one man was calling the shots here, and it was not the CEO’s son. Uther was in charge of this firm and Merlin was getting an inkling he might be the kind of boss that ruled with an iron fist, acting a tyrant rather than a leader, micromanaging every department and unable to trust his employees enough to delegate even minor decisions.
“Contact the ABC at once!” Uther commanded at that moment, and he sounded every bit the haughty king ordering about a lowly subject. “Set up the interview!”
“Mr Pendragon—” Merlin started, trying to tone down on his frustration.
“This is non-negotiable,” Uther interrupted him. “And I want Arthur to be the one to do it.”
“Me?” Arthur exclaimed.
“You got us into this, you will get us out of it,” Uther said dismissively and got up from his chair. “Sit down with one of their reporters, tell the ABC they've got it wrong and this will all blow over.” He flicked an impatient hand at Merlin. “Have PR brief you on how to handle it. I’m sure you can comport yourself with grace and dignity in the face of any offensive questions.”
“Mr Pendragon, really—” Merlin tried again, more firmly this time.
“Dismissed!” Uther snapped, and people around the table promptly scattered.
Merlin caught Gwaine’s eye, who shrugged, sending him a What can you do? sort of look before disconnecting the tablet from Uther’s whiteboard and getting ready to leave. Merlin made to follow, only to find his eyes straying back to Arthur. He was still sitting at the conference table, his left hand curled into a fist next to his laptop, lips pressed so tightly together they had gone white.
He knew Arthur had asked him to back off, but Merlin simply couldn’t bear to see Arthur in this kind of distress. Every last one of his instincts told him to go over there and check in with him. He was by Arthur’s side a moment later, one hand on the back of Arthur’s chair, leaning close, speaking in a tone he hoped conveyed professionalism, “Would you like to be briefed right now, Mr Pendragon?”
Arthur’s head snapped up and he stared at Merlin, looking like he was seeing a ghost – which, in a way, he was. He leaned in and for one moment, it seemed like he might even reach out for Merlin, take his hand, seek some sort of contact. But no – he only stood abruptly, forcing Merlin to take a hurried step away, and stated curtly, “Yes, I dare say that might be best. My office, I should think. Follow me.”
They stayed quiet all the way to the lift, nodding their goodbyes to Gwaine before leaving the car one storey down and making their way along the corridor. By the time Arthur was striding past his PA’s desk, telling the man they did not wish to be disturbed, Merlin’s heart was thumping wildly in his chest.
Taking a deep breath, Merlin entered Arthur’s office, closed the door behind himself and, on a whim, engaged the door lock. He took a moment to look about the room. It was a fancy corner office with floor-to-ceiling windows, but with solid walls to the other sides, shielding them from curious gazes from the rest of the PI employees – private enough.
When his eyes settled back on Arthur, the man had slumped into the chair behind his desk and had his face hidden in his hands.
“Arthur,” Merlin ventured after a long moment of silence and Arthur looked up.
Merlin had seen Arthur distressed plenty of times, but nothing prepared him for the sight of him looking quietly devastated. The pallor of Arthur’s face was striking, and the faint sheen in his eyes was enough to make Merlin’s throat grow so tight it hurt.
“Emrys,” Arthur breathed. “What are we going to do?”
Though Merlin dearly would have liked to run over and hug Arthur close, he knew he had to be reasonable here. He pulled out one of the chairs on the other side of the desk, sat down and gave Arthur a tight smile.
“First of all, you should probably stop calling me Emrys. It’s Merlin.”
“Merlin,” Arthur repeated faintly, like the idea that Merlin had another name was completely absurd to him.
“Yes, like the bird,” Merlin said, aiming to lighten the mood. “I swear, my mother isn’t usually a cruel woman.”
Arthur’s lips didn’t even twitch. “Why are you here?”
Merlin faltered. “Why, to work, of course. You just sat through an entire presentation, listening to me go on about what it is I do at my job.”
Arthur shook his head in disbelief, but at last, he shifted on the chair, sitting up, eyes roaming over Merlin’s frame as he straightened his shoulders.
Merlin sighed. “Look, I know this is a bit awkward—” Arthur let out a startled snort, which had Merlin amend, “—more than a bit awkward. But there’s no reason to panic. All we have to do is keep things professional.”
“Professional,” Arthur repeated and he sounded so incredulous, Merlin couldn’t help but feel strangely hurt.
“Yes, professional,” he said, as calmly as he could. “I do take my job seriously, you know?”
“Which one?” Arthur asked, and there was an unpleasant edge to his voice now that had Merlin bristle.
“Both,” he replied, trying not to let annoyance bleed into his voice, which was difficult when he was faced with Arthur’s attitude.
“You shouldn’t be working this kind of day job,” Arthur said and his face was slowly slipping into an unpleasant sneer. “It’s completely irresponsible.”
Merlin took a deep breath through his nose. “I’m sorry, what exactly is that supposed to mean?”
“Well, this was bound to happen eventually, wasn’t it? You running into someone you know?” Arthur gestured at Merlin as if he were a particularly grotesque exhibit in a freak show. “You cannot have a perfectly normal job in Public Relations and work as a—as a—”
Merlin narrowed his eyes. “Go on.”
“Prostitute!” Arthur hissed, and Merlin saw red.
“I’m not a prostitute!” he snapped, cheeks flushing with anger as much as with indignation. “I’m an escort. A specialised sex worker, providing erotic stimulation and release of an unusual variety.”
Arthur actually had the audacity to roll his eyes at him. “I see your experience in PR is paying off,” he drawled, every bit the posh, arrogant businessman. “Describing the profession with pretty words doesn’t make it any less distasteful.”
Merlin abruptly stood from the chair, almost toppling it over, only to lean all the way in, placing two hands on the desk. “Distasteful?” he exclaimed, curling his fingers into the wood. “Oh, that’s just rich, coming from you! If I recall the past weeks correctly, it wasn’t me on my knees desperately sucking a punter’s prick, it was the other way around!”
Arthur paled, his eyes growing wide as he threw a panicked look past Merlin and towards the door. “Lords, keep it down, will you?”
Merlin dearly would have liked to shout louder just to be petty, but realised Arthur was right – they needed to be discreet about this. Merlin didn’t want to be found out any more than Arthur.
He sat back down and crossed his arms. “Well?” he prompted, voice harsh, at least expecting some sort of apology from Arthur.
But Arthur didn’t look the least bit remorseful. He was scowling now, glowering at Merlin not unlike Uther had done just a few moments earlier. The comparison spooked Merlin enough to back down and say, “I don’t want to fight.”
Arthur’s scowl softened to an unhappy twist of the mouth and he averted his eyes, though he still sounded infuriatingly overbearing when he said, “No. Not if we want to keep this professional.”
Merlin decided he needed to be the better man here. “There is no reason for what we do at Avalon to have any impact on what we do here,” he said quietly.
Arthur chuckled drily. “Sure. Let’s just pretend I haven’t been paying you a small fortune to fuck, beat and degrade me, and it’ll all be fine.”
“If I recall correctly, extreme degradation is one of your hard limits. No licking my boots clean or playing the footstool. Unless that’s something you’d like to explore?” Okay, so maybe Merlin wasn’t the better man, baiting him like that, but he felt like Arthur deserved it.
Sure enough, Arthur flushed bright red, a deliciously familiar sight that made Merlin want to kiss the frown right off his face – even after he had just told Merlin that a sex worker had no business working a PR job.
Feeling like he had got his due, Merlin went on, “Look, the way I see it, it’s not even that big an issue. Most of the time, I’ll be all the way out in Fallen Kings Valley at Crystal Cave. When I’m here, I’m primarily working with Gwaine. Our paths need hardly cross and in a few weeks, this scandal will have blown over and I won’t show up at The Castle again.”
“And the interview?” Arthur sighed. He had gone back to slumping in the chair and ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it in a way that made him look endearingly unkempt. Merlin kind of wished it had been him carding his fingers through those golden strands.
Gods, Merlin had it bad, hadn’t he? Even now, with everything going to shit and Arthur being the worst sort of prat, he still wanted this man.
“The interview is a terrible idea,” he stated plainly. “We’ll just have to convince Uther of the fact.”
Arthur let out a bitter laugh. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve never met my father. Uther Pendragon doesn’t back down when he’s got his mind set on something. He’s a stubborn, old man.”
“Well, my boss is just that as well. I’ll have Gaius phone him as soon as I’m back at Crystal Cave. He’ll talk him out of it.”
Arthur blinked at him, then looked away. “This is absurd,” he muttered.
“What is?”
Arthur waved at him without meeting his eyes. “You, here. In my office. Speaking about my father and work.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “It’s my worst nightmare.”
Merlin tried to ignore the strange pang of hurt in his chest. “It doesn’t have to be that.”
And just like that, Arthur was back to scowling. “Easy for you to say!”
Merlin immediately bristled. “Oh, is it? Why is that, Arthur? Come on, enlighten me!”
“Well, I’ve got a lot to lose here,” Arthur returned heatedly.
“And I don’t?” Merlin snapped back.
“Not as much as I do!” Arthur snarled. “I’m a Pendragon, the CIO of this firm and you are—you are—” He stopped.
Merlin knew he should leave it at that. He should get up and head back to Crystal Cave before Arthur could hurt him again. But contrary to what his night job might imply, Merlin Ambrose was nothing if not a masochist. “Just a whore?”
Arthur grimaced, a hint of regret in his face, but what he said was, “I wouldn’t have put it quite like that.”
Merlin swallowed against the sudden, bitter taste in his mouth. “I see. Not quite like that.”
Arthur glared at him. “Well, you do let yourself get paid for sex, so really—”
This time, the chair did topple over when Merlin jumped up. “You’re a hypocritical arsehole!” A short, bitter laugh escaped him and before he could help it, he lashed out, adding viciously, “Ironic, I might add, from someone who gets off on getting called a whore himself!”
Arthur’s face drained of all colour. “Emrys—”
“It’s Merlin when we’re out here,” Merlin hissed. “Mr Ambrose, really, if we want to keep it professional.” He turned on the spot, strode to the door and unlocked it with an angry flick of the wrist. “Have a good day, Mr Pendragon.”
Without looking back, he stormed out, ignoring the bewildered look of Arthur’s assistant. He grabbed his things from Public Affairs, offering Gwaine the curtest of goodbyes, and was still fuming when he was walking to the tube, elbowing his way through the beginnings of rush hour as he entered the train.
But by the time they were making their way towards the outskirts of Camelot, Merlin had calmed enough to regret his last remark. He had slumped into a single seat, clutching his messenger bag to his chest, chewing his lips as he thought the conversation over.
Undoubtedly, Arthur had been acting like a hypocritical piece of shit, but Merlin had used his humiliation kink against him. That was something intimate, something that made Arthur vulnerable, a secret he had entrusted to Merlin. It had been the cheapest of shots, a blow way below the belt.
Merlin sighed and slumped deeper into his seat.
Yes, Arthur might have been an arsehole, but Merlin definitely was one, too.
He pulled out his mobile and checked for messages, but again, Arthur hadn’t written to him. Merlin typed out about a dozen different I’m sorry, let’s talk texts, deciding against sending all of them, knowing Arthur was still at work and would probably not appreciate getting a message there.
When Merlin got off at Fallen Kings Valley, it was almost five and he felt drained. He really needed to get this hot mess of a day over with.
Fortunately, Gaius was still in his office when Merlin had made it back to Crystal Cave.
“Gaius?” Merlin spoke up, knocking at the door frame.
Gaius sent him a quick glance over his gold-rim glasses, already looking back at his computer when he said, “Ah, Merlin, my boy. Do come in. Back from the palace?”
“The Castle,” Merlin murmured and slipped into a chair.
“Quite right, quite right.” Gaius sounded distracted. He double-clicked on his mouse, typed something with a frown, but eventually turned to give Merlin his full attention. “What news from the front?”
“Uther Pendragon wants his son and CIO to give an interview to the ABC to prove to the world that Pendragon Investment keeps a clean sheet.”
Gaius arched an eyebrow. “But they don’t.”
“I know.”
Gaius huffed out a small laugh. “Seems like we’ve got our hands full with this one.”
“You seemed rather excited to have landed such a big fish,” Merlin pointed out.
“And I still am. I’m only saying that it’ll be hard to keep this particular fish in the pond, to stay with the metaphor.”
Merlin didn’t think it was working, but Gaius had always struck him as a little eccentric, a hippie even, what with the chin-length hair and handstitched linen shirts. He could be harsh on occasions, and a fair bit stubborn, but always had a kind word for Merlin. Gaius was also an old friend of Merlin’s mother. Merlin probably wouldn’t have got the job at Crystal Cave Communications otherwise, given his half-finished Bachelor’s degree.
“Will you try and get Mr Pendragon to see reason about the interview?” Merlin asked. “Because he sure isn’t listening to me. I feel he’s the kind of person who wants to speak to the boss.”
“I can certainly try,” Gaius mused. “Speaking of which, I want you on the Pendragon Investment account full-time, for the foreseeable future. I already spoke to Mr Greene and he will provide you with an appropriate workspace. No need to go back and forth between the Valley and downtown. If we must talk, let’s use the many wonders of modern technology.”
“Full-time?” Merlin repeated. So much for keeping out of Arthur’s hair, then.
Gaius presented him with another arched eyebrow. “You don’t sound very enthusiastic.”
Merlin plucked a piece of lint off his trousers. “No, no, it’s just – wouldn’t you rather have someone more experienced on the ground?” Someone with an actual degree in PR, he thought just a little bitterly.
“This is how you get experience, my boy,” Gaius replied. He looked Merlin over, then his face softened. “You are a talented young man, Merlin. Capable as well as charming, exactly what one needs from a liaison. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“Thank you, Gaius,” Merlin replied thickly, mortified to suddenly find himself blinking away tears. Perhaps Arthur’s careless comments about his work at Avalon had struck more of a chord with him than he would have thought.
“It’s decided, then,” Gaius stated, appearing oblivious to Merlin’s emotional state. “Starting tomorrow, you’ll spend your days at the citadel, calming the waters, holding hands and relaying what needs to be relayed.”
“The Castle,” Merlin repeated with a strained smile.
“Quite right, quite right.” Gaius waved at him. “Well, time to clock out, I should think. Have a good evening.”
Merlin gathered up any things he might need at his desk, ruefully looking it over and suddenly wishing he would come back here tomorrow.
He had been so excited to get to work on the Pendragon account, had been over the moon when Gaius had announced that Merlin would be the liaison for this client. After a year of doing grunt work and trying to convince everyone at Crystal Cave that one didn’t necessarily need a Uni degree to succeed, Merlin had been given an opportunity to actually prove himself – and while working on one of the prestigious accounts, too!
Contrary to what Arthur believed, Merlin had a lot to lose here as well. Gaius might be a bit of a hippie, but he had already risked a lot by giving a Uni drop-out a chance. He didn’t know how the man might feel about finding out that Merlin was also working as an escort.
With a sigh, he made his way back to the tube, stood in the cramped car, then walked home, mouth twisting as he took the stairs to the sixth floor, suddenly acutely aware of the shabby state of the building. After the sleek elegance that was downtown Camelot, especially the area near The Castle, it looked a lot gloomier to him. It wasn’t like Merlin was in dire straits, but his flat sure as hells wasn’t luxurious.
When he unlocked the door and entered the hallway, he immediately wrinkled his nose. It smelled of smoke.
“Will!” he shouted. “Whatever it is you’ve got in the oven, it’s burning!”
There was a loud bang, some cursing and then, Will emerged from his room half-dressed. Merlin’s eyes widened when he realised it was the top half that was covered by fabric.
“Lords, Will, your bloody dick is out!” Merlin exclaimed and made to cover his face.
“Nothing you haven’t seen before, mate. Don’t play the blushing maiden with me!” Will groused as he ran past him and straight into the kitchen, where he promptly let out a wail of, “Nooo! And it was stuffed crust, too…”
Merlin bravely stuck his head into the kitchen, only to be presented with the sight of his best mate’s hairy arse and dangling bits as Will bent over at the oven, uselessly waving his hands at the scorched remains of what had once been a frozen pizza. Merlin might have done without a glimpse of Will’s privates, but this was peak comedy.
It was just what Merlin had needed after this fucked-up day and he laughed tears as Will dumped the smoking pizza into the sink, waving his slightly burnt fingers as he pouted at Merlin’s shameless amusement.
“Take-out?” Merlin offered, still chuckling.
Will brightened up. “Indian?”
“On it.”
An hour later, they were sitting on their couch, munching on chicken tikka masala and chapatti while watching re-runs of Will’s favourite sci-fi show.
“What’s got you moping then, eh?” Will finally spoke up.
“I’m not moping,” Merlin sniffed.
“Sure you aren’t.”
Merlin sighed, but resigned himself to the fact that Will would find out one way or the other, and that he was the only person with whom he could talk about this anyway. “You’re going to tell me I told you so.”
“Sounds about right.” When Merlin didn’t say anything else, Will poked Merlin’s left calf with his foot. “Come on, Ambrose, spit it out.”
Merlin swallowed, bracing himself before blurting, “I met a client at work today.”
Will’s face scrunched up. “Isn’t that the point of the whole liaison thing?”
Merlin groaned. “No, Will, I meant a client.”
Will whistled as realisation dawned on him. “Oh!” He stilled. “Well, shite.”
“Shite indeed,” Merlin grumbled and listlessly plucked at his flatbread as he told Will all about coming face to face with Arthur and their subsequent fight at his office.
Will listened silently to his tale, then said, “Arthur, huh? Is he the bloke with the lacey underwear?”
“No.”
“The one with the ear fetish?”
“No.”
“Oh, oh, is he the one that does this weird thing with his dick where he—”
“Will! Stop it!” Seriously, leave it to Will to keep bringing up all the little things Merlin had let slip about what he did at Avalon. He usually tried to be as vague as possible when talking to Will about his clients, even though he trusted his friend to be discreet when it counted.
“Fine, fine,” Will gave in, waving his fork. “Either way, he definitely sounds like a complete arsehole. You should strike him off your client list.”
“He’s really not, though,” Merlin sighed. At Will’s sceptical gaze, he amended, “Not at Avalon, anyway. He’s actually quite sweet, if you get to know him. Lovable.”
“Lovable,” Will repeated suspiciously.
Merlin hurriedly stuffed another forkful of tikka in his mouth, but Will wasn’t his best mate for nothing.
“Merlin.”
Still chewing, Merlin reached for some more chapatti, avoiding Will’s widening eyes as he stuffed that in, too.
“Merlin, no!”
Merlin kept right on chewing.
“Ambrose, you complete idiot!” Will exclaimed. “You’ve got feelings for this bloke!”
Merlin bowed low over the take-out container and it took him a moment to swallow, giving Will ample time to start a proper lecture while dramatically waving his fork as he spoke.
“I honestly can’t believe you! I told you, you get way too attached to these people. They come to you to get a spanking and you act like you’re their therapist or something. Just strike them with the paddle, fuck them in the arse and send them on their way! Stop caring so much about these bloody wankers!”
“They’re not wankers,” Merlin finally croaked, thumping a fist against his chest when it felt like he might choke on his latest bite.
“Yeah, because they’re paying you so they don’t have to be!”
Merlin spluttered, which ended up helping with the choking. “Will!”
“Sorry,” Will said, not sounding sorry at all. “But this Arthur bloke sure sounds like a right tosser! Forget about him, he’s not worth it.”
Merlin shook his head and insisted, “He’s not a tosser, though! He’s just… upset. And under a lot of stress at work. He probably didn’t mean any of what he said.”
Will groaned. “Lords! You’re head over heels for this arsehole.”
Merlin opened his mouth to deny it – it was a crush, he could admit that, but hardly more than that – but before he could say anything else, Merlin’s phone rang. He looked at the number and frowned when he saw it was Sophia Tirmor from Avalon.
Merlin put down his food, got up from the couch, gestured at Will to keep eating and left for his own room for some privacy.
“This is Merlin.”
“Merlin, good evening. It’s Sophia.”
“What can I do for you?” He was certain he hadn’t been booked on a Thursday. Merlin only did weekends ever since starting at Crystal Cave.
“I am calling to tell you that your Friday appointment just fell through.”
“Oh.” Merlin’s stomach squeezed painfully, though he supposed he should have expected that tomorrow’s session was off after the fight Arthur and he had just had.
“All of your Friday appointments,” Sophia added.
Merlin swallowed. That bad, then. He didn’t know why he was so surprised, but somehow, he had thought Arthur and he would work it out and keep meeting up at Avalon to give Arthur what he needed.
Foolish.
“Thank you for informing me,” he managed, throat tight.
“Has something happened between the client and you, if I may ask?” Sophia’s voice was sweet, but Merlin found her tone grating.
He started pacing about the room, thinking quickly. He was probably contractually obligated to reveal what had happened, but he sure as hells wasn’t going to open that can of worms. “No, I don’t think so,” he lied. “Maybe he can no longer do Fridays.”
“He also cancelled the mobile connection.”
“Oh.” So much for the texting, then. Again, Merlin shouldn’t have been surprised. And yet, he was starting to feel nauseous as he tightened the grip on his phone. He should have written to Arthur on the tube, while he still could.
“Again, I was just wondering if something had happened,” Sophia went on. “He lost a hefty advance fee, cancelling those Friday appointments. He had you booked well into the year.”
Merlin squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t know, Sophia. Maybe he just got bored of me?”
“I see.” She didn’t sound like she believed it, but was clearly ready to let it go. “Are you willing to take on someone new, then? He did block most of your available slots and you’ve only green-lit a couple of others.”
Merlin should probably say yes. Not working Fridays meant losing a lot of money and it took some time to screen the profiles Sophia presented to him and decide if he liked what he read. But after what had happened today, he found he would rather take a bit of a breather. “Maybe not right now, Sophia.”
“All right. Remember, you’ve still got Saturday booked.”
Saturday, right. It looked like Mordred had finally scrunched together enough money and courage to book another appointment. He was a sweet client, though barely past twenty and could hardly afford his Avalon membership, let alone regular, weekly sessions with Merlin.
Not like Arthur.
“I’ll be there,” Merlin promised, trying to keep his voice neutral.
“Take care.” Sophia hung up.
With a sigh, Merlin sat down on his bed and put down the phone to scrub a hand over his face.
Arthur had cancelled all of their future appointments. Arthur was finished with seeing Merlin at Avalon.
Somehow, the thought made his stomach churn. Merlin had got so used to looking forward to Fridays and now, it had all gone to the hells.
Of course, Arthur had done the reasonable thing, cancelling their appointments. They were working at the same place now and they couldn’t risk anyone catching on. It had ruined the illusion, too, the anonymity. Arthur could no longer pretend to be some random business man in bespoke suits and Merlin couldn’t claim he was the mysterious Emrys.
Besides, Merlin had mocked him with his kink earlier. Perhaps Arthur didn’t trust Merlin with that part of him anymore, simple as that.
Groaning, Merlin let himself fall on the mattress until he was sprawled onto his back and could stare at the crack in the ceiling. It looked like it had widened since the last time he had checked. There was probably another metaphor there.
It was only when Will knocked on the door that Merlin realised they had never finished their conversation, nor their tikka. He looked up to see Will hovering awkwardly.
“Work?” he asked.
“One of them, yeah,” Merlin muttered and looked back at the ceiling.
“Not Crystal Cave, I take it.”
“No.” He paused. “Arthur just cancelled all of our upcoming sessions.”
“Well, good riddance, then.”
Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and didn’t reply, though he let out a sigh when the mattress dipped and Will came to sit by his side.
“This Avalon business really isn’t doing you any good, mate,” he muttered and Merlin braced himself, knowing what he would say next. “Why don’t you just quit? Your probation time at Crystal Cave is long over. Your rent and food are covered—”
“You know how much debt I’m in,” Merlin interrupted him. “I want to be rid of it, sooner rather than later.”
“Still, don’t you think that—”
“Will. Please.” They had had this argument too many times. “I don’t mind working at Avalon. It’s great money and the sex isn’t so bad, either.”
“Yes, so you keep telling me.” He sounded openly sceptical now.
Merlin sat up and glared at him. Frankly, he was getting tired of having to explain himself for his line of work. “For the gods’ sakes, Will! I’m not sucking dicks for a fiver at the street corner! I’m the one in control. I’m the one calling the shots. I choose what sort of clients I take on and what kinks I’m willing to work with. I don’t need rescuing!”
Will raised both of his hands. “Woah, mate. It’s all fine. You do you, you know I don’t care about the sex stuff.”
It was true, too. Will was many things, but he was not a bad friend and had never once let on that he thought Merlin was debasing himself by playing dom at Avalon.
“Sorry, it’s just—long day,” Merlin said and slumped back onto the bed.
There was a lengthy pause, then Will muttered, “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
Too late for that, Merlin thought and closed his eyes.