Archive of Our Own ^beta

Arthur smoothed his hands across his stomach, over his hips, and down his thighs. The silk was like a cool whisper against his skin, especially since it was so much more sensitive after he’d waxed and plucked for this very event. The dress was cherry red, and such a daring cut that he had brought a back-up in case he lost his nerve. But looking at himself in the mirror now, he knew he wouldn’t. He was flawless.

The material clung to every dip and curve of his body, leaving nothing to the imagination, emphasizing his strong build and yet rendering it… smooth, somehow. The dress had a Grecian neckline almost like a collar, leaving his shoulders and arms bare. His back was completely bare too, revealing muscle he worked hard to maintain. The front of the dress covered his chest and stomach, falling from there all the way to the floor in a skirt which wrapped back to barely cover the top of his arse. The skirt had a slit up each side nearly to his hips, and revealed the length of his smooth, tanned legs with each step. And the scarlet, four-inch stilettos were the finishing touch on an outfit so striking Arthur nearly took his own breath away.

But that was only what was visible. Because crossdressing without stigma was only the first of many pleasures offered to guests by Miss Guinevere at her Discreet and Delightful Evenings. And on this Discreet and Delightful Evening, for the first time, Arthur was availing himself of another pleasure, one that was not even available to guests until they had attended several events, or until Guinevere decided they could be trusted to play responsibly. Arthur had had the option for over a year, and only now felt brave enough to partake. So when he registered to attend tonight, he had filled in a new set of permissions, declaring that he would be bringing a toy. A toy to share.

He had it in now. Black silicone, slim, not very heavy. He used it often at home, and had quickly gotten used to it as he focused on putting on the shoes and dress. He had turned over the remote to an attendant when he arrived, and trusted Guinevere to match him with someone compatible from there. His only request was that it go to a man.

The game, now, would be finding one another as the night progressed. It could be easy or difficult, depending on how they both behaved. Most people used toys with discreet remotes so they could be hidden in a pocket or purse, so the guests entrusted with them could be very subtle if they wished. Guests wearing the toys had to work harder to hide their involvement, if that was their goal. Arthur had seen partners on both sides of the arrangement make utter spectacles of themselves—someone holding the remote in the air and cranking it to the highest setting at random, or someone wearing the toy going into paroxysms of screaming ecstasy even when (as had transpired in one memorable case) it had not even been switched on yet. Arthur did not intend to be a spectacle, and he hoped his partner would be of a like mind. He still wanted this to be a game, even if he knew how he wanted it to end.

Giving himself one last approving once-over in the mirror, Arthur strode towards the door and the corridor beyond, which led out to Guinevere’s ‘salon’. The floors of the passage were darkly stained hardwood, and the walls were of deep red velvet, crushed in geometric patterns that seemed to guide the guest along by subliminal pull. The corridor was lined with numbered doors, which he knew all led to other changing rooms, where guests could transform from their staid, respectable, ‘outside’ selves into their glamorous, crossdressed, Discreet and Delightful selves. Arthur’s dull three-piece suit and wingtips were currently in the garment bag hanging on the back of his changing room door, waiting for the proverbial clock to strike midnight.

But in the mean time, he had a cherry-red dress, and four-inch stilettoes, and a black silicone vibrator and the whole night to see where they could get him.

He stepped out onto the balcony above the salon, blinking to let his eyes adjust. It wasn’t dark, but the lighting was more diffuse and took some getting used to. Guinevere’s salon filled two entire floors of the office block, with a large central area dominating the space. A mezzanine balcony wrapped around three sides, but the fourth was one enormous window, offering a glittering view of the city’s downtown and the river winding through it. Guests were assured the glass was treated to prevent anyone from seeing in, but it still heightened the thrill for Arthur, the sensation of visibility.

On the main level was the bar, the circular platform where exhibitions were staged, a small dance floor to one side of it, and a multitude of sofas and low tables where guests could relax and talk on the other side. There were sofas at the edges of the room as well, but in shadowed nooks partially curtained off from view, where pairs or polys could become more intimately acquainted. Completely private rooms required keys, which were kept at the bar.

This evening, two lengths of silky fabric hung from the ceiling to the stage, and a man and woman in full-body leotards were swinging languidly from cradles about halfway up, watching the guests below.

Guinevere herself was idling by the staircase down to the main level, greeting her guests as they emerged.

“Arthur, darling,” she said warmly, reaching her hands for his. She was impeccable in her black tuxedo, diamonds winking from her cufflinks and her wedding ring. He had to bend slightly to accept her peck on the cheek. “You look even more ravishing than usual.  Spin for me?” He did, feeling all over again the whisper of the silk, and the warmth of her appreciative gaze. Her eyes were sparkling when he faced her again. “If I weren’t a married woman…”

“And if you weren’t a woman,” he replied, smiling as he completed the familiar joke.

She laughed. But then her expression turned more serious. “You’re wearing it?”

He swallowed, and nodded.

She nodded back. “I’m very glad you trust me with this, Arthur,” she said, and he knew she meant it. “I really think you’ll be pleased with the man I’ve chosen.” Arthur shot a nervous look over her shoulder, down to where the rest of the guests who had arrived already were mingling. “And as you know, but as I must repeat, you may change your mind at any time, for any reason. You wouldn’t be ‘chickening out’ or ruining his night or anything of that sort. You are here to enjoy yourself. Yes?”

Feeling both exposed and reassured, Arthur agreed.

“Good. The exhibition starts in twenty minutes. I’ll see you later.” She kissed his hand gallantly and turned to the next guest as he came out of the corridor, a black-haired man in a plum-purple cowl-necked ballroom gown with elbow-length white gloves and a small velvet clutch purse. Stunning, was all Arthur had time to think before he had to focus on not breaking his neck on the stairs.

Learning to walk in heels had taken some serious effort, but he’d found that the dresses were what made the real difference in how he moved, and how he felt. The shoes ensured he couldn’t sink his weight back on his heels the way he was wont to do in flat shoes, but the dresses were what made him strut. They made him love his body, his strength, his masculinity, because they made him beautiful.

“Arthur!” The call came as soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs, and Mithian emerged from the loose crowd and strode over to him. She was in a tailored four-piece of lightweight dove-grey wool, the waistcoat hugging her midsection without emphasizing her curves. Her hair was back in a simple ponytail and her black patent leather shoes were lifted, but that still meant they had half a foot of height difference. “My god, what a dress!” she exclaimed, going up on her tiptoes and holding his biceps to keep steady as she kissed his cheeks. She didn’t like it when he tried to accommodate for his height, he had long-since learned. “I think that colour was made for you.”

“Thank you. I’m pretty sure that entire suit was made for you,” he replied.

“Ever the wit,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Come on, let’s get a good spot for the exhibition. Have you seen aerial silks performed before? It’s incredible, really…” Arthur let himself be led into the crowd, relaxing into Mithian’s company. They were good friends, having met in the early days of Arthur attending Guinevere’s Evenings, when she had already been attending for a year or so. They’d tried playing together a bit, until Arthur finally accepted that his tastes really only swung one way after all, and Mithian decided to try some of the games like the one Arthur had finally decided to take part in. It would be uncouth to ask if she had a toy now, but Arthur would bet she did, considering her tastes. It made him a bit embarrassed, but a bit more gleeful, to have this secret in common.

He couldn’t help but survey the crowd as they moved through it. Someone here, one of these men, had control of the toy Arthur was wearing. The game wouldn’t start until the aerial silk exhibition began—that was the rule—but he looked anyway, curiosity getting the better of him.

He recognized many people in attendance, but not all of them, and he scarcely knew any of them well. There was Gwaine, in a frock that really had more v than neck, exuberant chest hair on full display. Helios wore a metallic grey gown with daring asymmetrical cutouts that showed off his tattoos. Timid Gilli stood by the stage in a flouncy pink and gold babydoll dress, the look not exactly helped by the many garish rings and bracelets and necklaces he had added.

There were a more or less equal number of women, of course. Morgause stood nearby, her tailcoat almost aggressively sharp and her top hat rakishly tilted. Freya, who looked like she’d weigh about forty-five kilos soaking wet, had opted for a simple button down and trousers with suspenders, her hands buried in her pockets. Meanwhile, Isolde wore a dinner jacket of shimmering gold paired with black trousers and gleaming black and white saddle shoes.

And intermixed with all of them were far more people Arthur didn’t know, or knew by face but not name, or had heard spoken of but not spoken to himself. People who, like Arthur, needed an outlet of some kind, who needed a place like this to play with their gender expression. Who needed to play with other likeminded people. A warm flush of awareness filled Arthur’s body. He felt hyperaware of his body, his skin, the dress, the plug still quiescent in his arse. It felt like everyone was looking at him. It felt like everyone knew somehow, and his breath hitched in badly-stifled excitement.

Maybe they would know, by the end of the night.

Maybe, despite all his best intentions, whoever held the remote would reduce him to a shaking, whimpering puddle by the end of the night, in full view of all the rest of the guests. The thought made his throat go dry.

“Drink?” he said to Mithian, who nodded. They broke from their meandering people-watching circuit and headed for the bar, helmed by Guinevere’s husband, Lance. He was in a classic little black dress, his wedding band the only bit of decoration he wore, except for the slim leather collar around his neck.

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” Lance called as they drew near. “Thou are like a tall drink of water when I am most parched.”

“Lance, you know I studied Shakespeare,” Mithian complained. “I don’t want him spinning in his grave. He’s been through enough already.”

“Did you know there’s an adaptation of Romeo and Juliet where they’re seals? Like, the sea creature? It’s animated,” Lance asked mildly, cavalierly ruining Mithian’s night. “It might have a happy ending, but I was too drunk by then to remember. If dear old Bill the Bard isn’t doing barrel rolls already, I’m not going to be the cause.”

Since Mithian looked a bit ill at the desecration Lance had just described, Arthur took matters into his own hands. “Two Fancy Frees, if you would. And that neckline suits you. Shows off your collarbones."

Lance beamed as he filled two glasses with ice. "Thank you! Gwen said the same thing. And jokes aside, you both look lovely." He poured ginger ales over the ice and added a lime twist to each before handing them over, and Arthur and Mithian made their ways back towards the stage. The crowd had grown to full capacity while they were at the bar, and Guinevere was coming down the stairs, which meant that all the guests had arrived.

Which meant that Arthur’s play partner was definitely in the room somewhere.

His blood rushed at the thought, and he pulled his shoulders back so that he stood straighter. The man might be looking at him right now, sizing him up, wondering if Arthur was the one wearing the toy the remote controlled.

“I’m going to make the rounds,” Mithian said, patting his arm. “See you later?”

“Yes,” he agreed. “Have fun.”

She strode off around the side of the stage, greeting people and kissing cheeks as she went. Arthur took a more careful look around too, noting new arrivals, particularly the men. He knew Leon moderately well; he had once played with Cenred but hadn’t gotten much out of it; he had heard Percy was an alright bloke…

And then there were those he didn’t know: a stocky man with a rather square head, wearing a yellow and green empire waist dress and bracelets that twined up his arms like snakes; a young man with dark, curly hair and a sulky mouth in a turquoise green mermaid dress, though he was probably out because he was blatantly staring at a young woman Arthur thought might be named Kara; a fellow with wavy blond hair and some sort of birthmark or scar on his cheek wore a black caped dress; and the black-haired man in the plum ballgown and white gloves whom Guinevere had greeted directly after Arthur.

Arthur didn’t know any of these people, but Guinevere made a point to get to know all of her guests, so she might have chosen someone Arthur didn’t know but thought he would get along with. There was no way of knowing.

He only realized he was staring at the black-haired man because the man in question looked up and met Arthur’s eye directly. Startled, but well aware it would be worse to pretend he hadn’t been looking, Arthur raised his drink in a little toast and nodded. A casual enough greeting between people who shared a preference, surely. And half the point of these Evenings was to be seen, to be admired. No one here should be upset to be appreciated. Arthur never had been, certainly.

But rather than simply nodding in return, the man gave Arthur a very blatant once-over, gaze lingering approvingly, and then made his way over.

….gaze lingering approvingly…

“I don’t think we’ve met.” His voice was quite deep, and a bit rough, with some kind of accent hinting around the edges. It sent a wholly unexpected shiver up Arthur’s spine. “I’m Merlin.” He held out his hand, and Arthur, well-trained by business lunches, was able to shake it at once since he was holding his Fancy Free in his left hand. Merlin’s white glove was soft and smooth, but the fingers and palm within were firm and warm. They were exactly the same height.

“Arthur,” he replied. And then, just to be careful, “I’m sorry for staring at you.”

Merlin quirked a smile. He was pale and his cheeks smooth-shaven, but there was a dusting of dark hair on what was visible of his chest. Arthur wondered if his legs were hairy too, and if it would be coarse or soft against Arthur’s skin. His back prickled.

“Are you sorry for staring, or sorry I caught you?”

Arthur couldn’t really see what color Merlin’s eyes were, but they were dancing. They made him bold. “Neither, since now I get to talk to you.”

Merlin’s smile turned delighted, then assessing. “Are you a free agent this evening, Arthur?” It was how to ask if someone was there with a partner, or was in a game that required monogamy for the duration of the night. Arthur’s game did not have such a rule explicitly, but he didn’t want to split his attention, no matter how tempting Merlin was. He had already flirted too blatantly.

“I have plans,” he said regretfully. That was vague enough that he wasn’t admitting to being in a game, but still—he hoped—true. And did Merlin asking that question mean he wasn’t in a game?

“Tragic,” Merlin pouted. His lip gloss shimmered in the light. “Perhaps a night we’re both free, then.” Well, that answered that. Arthur was a bit gutted that Merlin wasn’t the one entrusted with the remote. He became, again, acutely aware of the vibrator still snug in his arse. If he had known to expect Merlin, he never would have signed up to play a game in the first place.

“I look forward to it,” he replied, shifting his weight a bit so that it wasn’t as obvious that he was tensing his pecs and shoulders, making the red silk pull taut over his chest. He wanted Merlin to know what he should look forward to. And just as he’d intended, Merlin’s gaze dipped lower, and his teeth caught the side of his lower lip, dimpling it.

Merlin was smirking when he looked back up, as though he knew exactly what Arthur had done, and why. “As do I.” With a positively lascivious grin, Merlin turned away, waving his little clutch purse in farewell as he melted back into the crowd.

Arthur pulled in a deep breath. God. It was considered inappropriate to ask another guest when they would next attend an Evening unless you knew each other well—he and Mithian had been keeping up with one another’s schedules for some time now, for instance—but he might have to break that convention for Merlin. That, or attend every Evening until they met again. Though next Tuesday was the board meeting, and he had that work trip to New York coming up…

Guinevere pulled him out of his thoughts by stepping up on the edge of the stage and clapping her hands smartly. The crowd drew in around her, pulled by her bright smile and the knowledge that she was about to formally start the entertainment for the night. And the games.

“Dear friends,” she called, spreading her arms to encompass them all. “You all look your most gorgeous selves tonight. To old hands and new additions alike, welcome to tonight’s Discreet and Delightful Evening. Tonight’s exhibition, as you see, is a performance of aerial silks, which I am sure everyone shall enjoy. And, of course, as soon as I leave this stage…” She smirked around, and Arthur saw how careful she was not to let her eyes linger anywhere. His neck flushed hot anyway. “…the games may begin.” She let her words hang for a moment, and then, with deliberate theatricality, stepped back down to the floor.

Arthur tensed.

Nothing happened. The toy didn’t so much as stir.

He was a bit disappointed, particularly since he thought he heard a couple other people in the crowd catch their breath—one sounded distinctly Mithian-ish—but he staved the feeling off. They had the whole evening to play, he and his mystery partner. Perhaps this was just an indication that his partner didn’t want to rush things, wanted to take it slow. Arthur could do slow.

But as soon as he had that thought, the lights changed to spotlight the two performers still hanging halfway up their silks, now beginning to gracefully climb towards the ceiling, twining the material around their limbs and bodies as they went, and the crowd made a noise that was part interested, and part appreciative. And right then, the vibrator turned on.

Arthur’s faint gasp of surprise was buried in the general noise of the crowd around him. It was only on the lowest setting, as he knew from his private use of it, but it could get intense fast if his partner went through the settings quickly. He took a breath to settle himself, not taking his eyes off the silk performers.

And that was a smart move, because his play partner seemed to have decided to tease him by raising the setting every time the aerialists did anything surprising or dramatic, like a sudden drop, so that Arthur’s involuntary reactions were swallowed in the swell of noise from the rest of the spectators. Then he’d lower the setting again, until the next stunt. It made it easier for Arthur to disguise his responses, but he also knew this was a message: his partner was starting him off easy by warming him up in a situation where he could build his self-control without drawing attention.

But it was a signal of confidence at the same time: his partner was telling him he would be able to find Arthur even without pushing him to do anything overt. He wanted to play a subtle game, a long game. Was it the hunt that thrilled him? Was it simply the knowledge that he was giving Arthur pleasure? Whatever his reasons, one thing was clear: it was a challenge as much as anything. Would Arthur be able to hold on long enough to make it worth their while? Better, would Arthur use the time he was given to try and find his partner first?

He would find out that Arthur lived for a challenge.

So he watched the exhibition, tailoring his reactions to the vibrator to match the crowd’s reactions to the performance, feeling the heat of arousal seep into him. He wasn’t getting hard yet, but he was acutely aware of every cubic millimeter of his body, of how he was standing, of how he would appear to anyone who looked at him. He thought forward to how he would have to adjust when the silks show was over and how he would have to move around and socialize with people, and what signs he would have to look for to identify his partner.

The exhibition lasted not quite ten minutes, by which time his partner had taken the toy up to around half its full strength and then brought it back down, and Arthur was pleasantly breathless, his skin prickling as the performers took elaborate bows and the vibrator switched off entirely. Arthur clapped along with the rest of the crowd, half of his attention focused inward, waiting for the next move his partner would make, half trying to get a wide-angle view of every man he could see. Cenred was blatantly scanning around, and Arthur quickly turned away, hoping again that Guinevere hadn’t made them partners for the night’s game. The blond man Arthur didn’t know was looking around rather shiftily, and his hands were hidden in the caped part of his dress, so he could well be hiding the remote. And Merlin was about a quarter turn around the stage, speaking to Freya with obvious excitement, gesturing up at the silks with the hand that wasn’t holding his clutch. Arthur fought a smile. It made him glad to know that Merlin had a childishly delightable side, as well as a sultry, delectable one. And Freya, normally so shy, was smiling, and even giggled. Arthur smiled too.

“That was something, eh?” Arthur turned and found Gwaine at his side, grin on full blast, hair resplendent, drink half-empty.

“Yes,” Arthur agreed, caught a bit off guard. He and Gwaine had only spoken in passing before. The man was undeniably handsome, though Arthur’s impression of his personality was that he didn’t seem to take many things seriously. Why would he approach Arthur now? Unless…? His heart sped up. “That last twirling drop thing they did.” He mentioned the grand finale trick of the exhibition, when the vibrator had reached the highest setting of the night so far. “I was sure the woman was going to break her neck.”

Gwaine laughed. “That would have been a shame: it’s a nice-looking neck. It’s already a shame we can’t invite performers to play, but I’m going to see if I can get both of their numbers by the end of the night. They’re both bloody flexible, did you see?”

Amused in spite of himself, Arthur smiled, but tempered it by rolling his eyes. “And until the end of the night?” he prompted.

Gwaine darted him a sharp glance, teeth pearlescent in his wicked smile. “That dress of yours is giving me a few ideas.”

But just as Gwaine reached up to adjust a wayward strand of his hair, both hands clearly visible and devoid of any kind of remote, the vibrator reactivated. It was on the lowest setting again, but Arthur had stopped minding his body for a moment as he got Gwaine’s measure, and his hips hitched involuntarily. Heat tingled over his skin, and his breath stuttered.

Gwaine raised an eyebrow. “Alright?”

“Ah, yes,” Arthur said hastily. “Just, um, not used to these shoes yet.”

“New, are they? They’re working for you.”

Despite the vibrator’s distraction, a little bubble of pride rose in Arthur’s chest. “Thank you. I had them custom made.”

“Big spender,” Gwaine commented dryly. Before Arthur could decide what to do with that tone of voice, Gwaine reverted to the previous topic. “What were you saying about plans for tonight?”

Arthur found himself a little disappointed that Gwaine didn’t have the remote after all. He was playful and snarky and attractive and transparently interested in Arthur, all of which Arthur considered positive qualities. But if he was going to go for anyone besides his play partner that night, it would be Merlin, hands down. So he gave Gwaine an apologetic smile and told him, “I’m looking for someone specific.”

“Aah, that sort of night.” Gwaine nodded sagely, clearly familiar with how the game worked. “I wish you luck on the hunt, then. And if you don’t find them…”

“You’ll have moved on to someone else already,” Arthur said, feeling confident that the joke would land. 

Gwaine laughed gratifyingly. “Touché! Actually, do you happen to know Mister Seven Feet Tall over there?”

Already knowing who Gwaine meant, Arthur followed the direction of his nod. “That’s Percy. I don’t know him myself, but people I trust say he’s a good person.”

“Good enough for me! Cheers!” And he went off in a grand sweep of skirts and hair and insouciance. Arthur smiled after him for a moment, then had to focus back on himself. The vibrator was still on the lowest setting, and wasn’t enough to disrupt his behavior, but the sensation made walking around something of a trial. Still, his partner had issued a challenge, and Arthur never backed down from a challenge.

So he moved slowly through the crowd, greeting people he knew, nodding to familiar faces, putting together first impressions of new guests. He saw Guinevere over a few peoples’ heads, and she lifted her eyebrows to ask how he was doing, in answer to which he dipped his chin in a nod and sipped his Fancy Free.

Some guests were already dancing, and Arthur paused by the edge of the dancefloor. Most people were doing a vague sort of waltz, except for Isolde, who was leading a sandy-haired man wearing a forest green bubble dress in a very competent tango even though it didn’t match the music. As he watched, Merlin led Leon out onto the floor and took the lead position, facing away from Arthur. Leon, in a lovely burgundy blouson, took the follower’s position, curling his hand around Merlin’s shoulder. But before Arthur could appreciate the way Merlin’s bare shoulders and straight back and shifting skirt all combined to make a mouthwatering visual feast, the vibrator went up by another notch.

Well distracted, Arthur couldn’t withhold a small gasp, and all the muscles in his back and arse and thighs went tense. He forced himself to relax immediately before he drew any attention to himself, and looked around, trying for casual rather than surreptitious. No one seemed to be looking at him, though a few people noticed him looking at them and made curious or lustful expressions in response. He grimaced, turning away. His skin was prickling all over, and the vibrations weren’t just a low hum he could brush off anymore. He took an experimental step, and found that the heels, in changing his posture, also changed the plug’s angle from how it usually sat, and the different stimulation made him falter for a moment.

But it was only the second setting, so it wasn’t insurmountable, and very shortly, he was walking normally. Well, maybe not very shortly. And maybe not quite normally either. But he could chalk that up to the shoes. Anyway, who here knew him well enough to notice that his gait was slightly off? Mithian, Guinevere, Lance, maybe a handful of others. He was fine.

He was better than fine: he felt amazing. The vibrator was bringing all of his nerves sharply awake now, and the silk of his dress swishing around his smooth legs and pulling taut across his hairless chest and stomach made him feel sleek and indominable. Male. Irresistible.

The only point of constriction—aside from his feet—was the lace thong he wore to make sure the plug stayed in place, and to keep his cock from swinging around and ruining the fall of his skirt. The problem was that his cock was starting to take an interest in what was happening, and the thin material couldn’t hope to restrain a full erection. It would hardly be uncommon, to walk around the salon while visibly aroused—exhibitionism was fairly well baked into the club’s ethos, after all—and he wouldn’t have a problem with it per se, but if he just walked around with a raging hard-on without seeming to look for any relief, it would be conspicuous enough that his partner might take notice and consider the game over. Worse, he might be disappointed.

He’d just have to find the man sooner rather than later.

Fifteen minutes later, the plan was in shambles. He was no closer to identifying his partner, and the vibrator had started alternating between what felt like settings 2 and 3. No amount of deep breathing could soothe the thrum of arousal that was building in his core, and no lacy thong on Earth would be able to restrain his erection. He had had to adjust it, so now his dick hung down, thick and heavy and very evident against the thin silk of his skirt, which stroked him like a caress as he walked, heightening his arousal even further.

He was still determinedly looking for his partner, but hope was fading fast. The crowd was thinning because people were starting to pair or group off, taking up couches both out in the open and tucked back in darker alcoves along the edges of the room. Freya and Gilli sat together with earnest, nervous expressions, their knees occasionally coming very close to touching; Gwaine’s opening statement to Percy must have involved a suggestion of mutual tonsil exploration, and Percy must have taken him up on it, based on the snogging they were engaged in not too far from the stage; Kara and the young man in the turquoise mermaid dress had taken one of the more secluded spots, where she sat with her legs spread wide and her arms out along the back of the sofa, letting her partner do all the work with his hand deep in her trousers and his mouth on her neck. Arthur supposed he wished them both the best, but didn’t linger.

Discouraged, he went to take shelter at the bar.

“Alright?” Lance asked genially.

Arthur glared. “Never better, thanks.”

“Yeah, that’s the impression I got.”

Before Arthur could come up with a retort through the fog of stimulation clouding his mind, he felt a warmth at his side and looked around sharply. Cenred stood all-to-close at Arthur’s shoulder, leering. His halter-cross dress was pulled too tight over his pecs, trying and very much failing to make them into cleavage, and his hair just looked greasy instead of the dashingly disheveled look he was probably going for.

“You’re not subtle, pet,” he purred, and held up a small object: a remote. Arthur’s eyes widened and he choked on his protest as Cenred switched it to the very highest setting. He went tense against the anticipated onslaught.

Nothing changed. Arthur’s toy stayed at exactly the same level (although the clench of his muscles did intensify the feeling). Out on the dancefloor, however, a woman let out a startled cry.

Arthur exhaled shakily and grinned at Cenred’s look of disappointed surprise. “Guess again,” he told him.

Cenred drew himself up straight—Arthur was still taller—and sneered. “You wish it was me.” And he turned and stalked away in a swirl of skirts, presumably to find his actual partner.

“As if,” Arthur scoffed, but he didn’t bother yelling after the other man. They weren’t partners, so Cenred wasn’t his problem. “And thank God,” he muttered.

“Give Gwen a little more credit than that, would you?” Lancelot said reprovingly.

“Sorry.” Arthur grimaced. “But he and I did play that once, so I was worried she might think….”

“No.”

“Right.”

They shared a bit of quiet, and Arthur was glad of the chance to settle back down after the false alarm. He should have known it couldn’t be Cenred really, because whoever had Arthur’s remote had patience and playfulness and consideration, all qualities Cenred lacked.

But just as Arthur thought that, the vibrator jumped up another setting. He gasped and gripped the edge of the bar, trying to grapple back his equanimity. It didn’t work at all. Sweat broke out all across his shoulders and back, prickling chill in the air even while everything in him roared with heat. He clenched his teeth, but a low groan escaped anyway.

Lance, knowing what must have happened, shot him a grin and went down to the other end of the bar to give him a little privacy.

Arthur let his head hang forward, breathing deeply and trying to find a way to stand in a way that lessened the pressure somehow. All he succeeded in doing was spreading the warmth around even further, filling his groin and stomach and chest with fluttering heat. He huffed out a breath, frustrated with himself for letting his partner get the better of him.

“It seems your plans are late to materialize.”

Arthur’s head jerked up, surprise tightening his already-taut muscles even further. Merlin stood at the bar just by his elbow, smiling, eyes crinkled, tousled hair falling across his forehead, leaning his white-gloved elbows on the bartop so that his collarbones jutted all the more noticeably.

“Yes,” Arthur rasped. “Very late.”

“Not too late I hope.” Arthur wasn’t sure what to make of that, but Merlin didn’t seem to expect a response. He turned his attention to his little clutch purse, opening the clasp and fishing within until he pulled out a tube of lip gloss. He uncapped it, squeezed a bit out, and spread it over his plump lower lip so that it gleamed wetly. His mouth was slightly open, showing a glimpse of teeth and tongue, and he didn’t take his eyes off of Arthur. A fresh rush of lust poured through him, sending him lightheaded and weak-kneed. Merlin smirked, capped the tube again, and stuck it back in the little purse. Arthur caught sight of the corner of a condom wrapper and tried—and failed—to swallow past his dry throat. His cock throbbed its interest, demanding and hot and beginning to stand up against the silk of the skirt.

Merlin held one hand out towards Arthur. “Dance with me? Until your plans find you?”

Arthur didn’t hesitate. Even if Merlin didn’t have the remote, this was too much temptation for any sane man to resist. “Gladly,” he managed, and took Merlin’s hand. Merlin’s answering smile was sly and delighted and he led Arthur to the dancefloor.

He gathered Arthur close, putting the hand holding his clutch at the small of Arthur’s back, and taking Arthur’s hand and holding it at shoulder height, close to their bodies. The gloves were smooth and warm against Arthur’s skin, and made something twist and shiver deep inside him. Merlin’s heavy-lidded gaze, so close and focused, didn’t help at all either.

“I can’t believe I haven’t seen you here before,” Merlin said, leading them in a simple waltz step that Arthur was having to focus much too hard on to follow. Moving around at all at this point was causing an incredibly intense sensation, radiating out from his core to tremble in his joints.

He did his best to brace himself before replying, and was glad when his voice hardly shook at all. “I travel quite a lot for work.” This was true, but there was also the fact that the Board met the first Tuesday evening of each month and Morgana for some reason thought that Tuesday was the best evening to invite him round for family (well, sibling) dinners, and all the times he worked late, and… Well, everything Merlin didn’t need to hear about. “I would come more often if I could.” He only heard the double entendre after he’d said it, and grimaced.

Merlin only grinned, broad and knowing. “Perhaps if you were here more often, we could make you come more often,” he suggested lightly.

Arthur was really in no state to cross wits at this point, but he took an optimistic breath anyway, only for it to whoosh out with a strangled little groan at the end as the vibrator went up another notch.

“Alright?” Merlin asked, blinking concernedly.

“Yeah,” Arthur choked. “Just—just fine.”

“Are you sure? If you’d like to sit down—”

“No!” He was barely holding it together while standing. Sitting would disrupt the last vestiges of his self-control and the game would reach a most unsatisfying conclusion. “No, I’m fine.”

Merlin eyed him, but nodded his acquiescence. They continued to dance, Merlin making occasional comments and observations, Arthur doing his level best to reply. His level best was extremely bad, but there wasn’t much he could do. His cock was achingly hard and sticking straight out, like a bright red torpedo trying to bury itself in the purple chiffon of Merlin’s skirts. Completely absurd. There was no way Merlin didn’t feel it, but he hadn’t looked or said anything about it, and Arthur wasn’t sure if that made the whole situation better or worse.

They were only revolving vaguely in place now, hardly even dancing anymore, but it was all Arthur was capable of. He felt incredibly delicate, like being touched the wrong way would shatter him apart. The image of being reduced to a helpless puddle of lust in full view of the club returned, but rather than titillating, it seemed dangerously possible now. And if that’s what his partner wanted, it could very well happen. He tried to breathe through the hard clench of his lungs and only mostly succeeded.

Then the vibration increased again.

It tore a ragged cry out of him, and his knees very nearly buckled. If he hadn’t had Merlin to grab onto, he might well have collapsed after all. It was sensation beyond endurance. It pulled his awareness entirely into his own body to control it, to comprehend it, to even feel it properly, so it took him several moments to calm down enough realize that the vibrator had gone down to the lowest setting again, and Merlin had his arms around him, supporting his weight and whispering, “Sorry darling, sorry, too high, my mistake, but you did so well, good God, you were brilliant with all that, there, better now, sorry…”

Panting and still unsure of his muscles’ ability to hold him upright, Arthur managed to look at Merlin to see that his face was shining, radiating joy far warmer than anything the toy had made him feel. “You’re…?” he breathed, trying to process the aftershocks of the vibrator and the fact that Merlin—could it really be true?—was his partner after all. “After you said…?”

Merlin eased him to stand up straight, so they were the same height again. He kept his arms around Arthur though, so that their hips and chests pressed close. Even with the layers of skirts between them, it was obvious Merlin was hard too, and Arthur was relieved that their game had been good for both of them after all. Even if Arthur hadn’t been the one to find Merlin, he’d played well.

“I didn’t know we were matched at first either,” he reminded Arthur. “And pretending not to be in a game is part of the game, as you know.” He smirked, then leaned in til his mouth was just next to Arthur’s ear. “I’m so pleased it’s you, Arthur,” he murmured. The faint tickle of air in the shell of his ear and the vibrator safely back at the lowest setting combined to make Arthur shiver deliciously hard. If he hadn’t gotten rid of his body hair, it would all have been standing up. “I hoped, from the moment I saw you talking to Guinevere there at the top of the stairs, but I didn’t believe it would really…” He exhaled unsteadily, and Arthur shivered again. “May I touch it?”

It was Arthur’s turn to lose his breath a bit. “Yeah,” he said roughly.

Merlin eagerly pulled him closer, hand slipping down Arthur’s hip to where the slit started on the side of his skirt. The slide of his glove on Arthur’s bare leg, then back across his arse, made Arthur bite his lip. It was just as smooth as the silk of his skirt, but actual contact, not just the brush of thin fabric. And then Merlin’s fingers found the base of the vibrator, barely covered by the lace thong, and they both moaned. It was still on the lowest setting, a steady simmer of sensation in Arthur’s arse, but the way Merlin pressed it, as though feeling out all the different ways he could use it, made Arthur tremble in anticipation. His nerves were still a bit frayed from before, but he still wanted to see what Merlin could do with it now that they were playing together.

Merlin slid one finger under the thong string and pulled it down enough that he could rub all around Arthur’s rim. It was so sensitized from the vibrator that even such a light touch, just a finger skimming the circumference of the plug, made him gasp.

“God, Arthur,” Merlin mumbled, pressing his face into the side of Arthur’s neck. His tongue was a sudden heat along the tendon there, licking up until he came to Arthur’s ear. “Let me play with it,” he whispered, lipping at the lobe. Arthur felt some of the shiny gloss stay on his skin and catch in his hair. “Let me make you feel good.”

“Yes,” Arthur said, weak with expectation, already adjusting his stance so that Merlin could get at the plug more easily. “Yes, yeah, go on.”

Arthur felt Merlin’s approving hum through his chest, and then how he grasped the base of the plug and twisted it slowly. Arthur moaned, long and low. It was mostly in pleasure, though there was a bit of friction too, as the lube he’d used to insert it was long gone. Seeking to make more room, Arthur tried to raise his knee, but between the lingering weakness of his legs, the heels, and their not-especially-well-balanced postures, he just ended up making both of them wobble precariously. Merlin had to let go of the vibrator and steady Arthur’s hips, and he pulled away from Arthur’s neck too, laughing a little.

“Maybe not in the middle of the dance floor?” he suggested.

Arthur blinked around, remembering where they were. There weren’t many other couples still dancing, but the ones who were were mostly the hard-core voyeurs, and there were some disappointed sighs as he pulled Merlin towards the nearest empty alcove. He couldn’t tell who was in the alcove on one side, but the one on the other side held Mithian—he recognized her trousers—kneeling between Leon’s spread knees, her head bobbing demonstratively under his skirt while he clicked her toy’s remote between settings in time with her movements. Arthur had just enough space in his brain to be glad she was having a good night too.

But then he and Merlin were in their own dim alcove and Merlin’s hands were under Arthur’s skirt again and Arthur had no space to think about anything that didn’t involve the two of them. Merlin crowded Arthur against the back wall, pulling one of Arthur’s legs up around his own hip so he could get hold of the plug again, twisting it more determinedly. Arthur’s head fell back against the wall, awash in shivering arousal, cock throbbing so hard it felt like his heart had migrated south. 

And then Merlin’s mouth found his, and all coherent thought fled. Merlin kissed like he was hungry for something rare and knew he had finally found it. Arthur did his best to reciprocate, despite the distraction of Merlin’s attention to the plug. This was all he had hoped for since he’d first decided to try this game: someone fun, and intuitive, and yeah, he’d hoped his partner would be hot as hell, that was only natural.

But Merlin was surpassing his hopes like a rocket launch surpassed a paper airplane. He could hardly breathe through his desire and arousal. He couldn’t remember the last time he'd been so excited by a partner.

He moaned his appreciation into the kiss, sliding his tongue against Merlin’s and tightening his leg around Merlin’s waist. Their groins pressed together, all misaligned and urgent, and Arthur’s cock jerked dangerously at the pressure. Merlin was boney in inconvenient places, but it did nothing to detract from the pleasure of how he rolled his hips against Arthur’s. And he was still twisting the vibrator in slow, torturous circles, sending hot tremors out through Arthur’s body like waves washing in and out over a beach. His hand was spread broadly across the side of Arthur’s ribs, holding him steady, but Arthur was too keyed up for steadiness now, and he reached down and grabbed fistfuls of Merlin’s skirt, trying to drag it up without losing any of the contact they had already established.

Merlin pulled back just far enough to laugh, breathless and thrilled, and helped Arthur hoist the frothy layers of the ballgown up to expose his legs and cock. He had foregone pants or lingerie, and Arthur’s head spun at the sight of bare flesh, flushed and hard. Shameless with want, he took hold of it—hot silky skin, solid and weighty in his palm, he adored it already—and guided it to the juncture of his thighs, the thin material of his own skirt not enough of a barrier to muffle the feeling of it rubbing over his taint. They both moaned as Merlin rocked his hips experimentally, sliding his length back and forth in short little thrusts that still felt phenomenal. But there wasn’t much pressure, and the almost-there-ness of it drove Arthur mad after only a few passes.

“Wait,” he gasped, hands going to Merlin’s hips. “Wait, where’s the—the remote, you have it?”

Merlin’s eyes were dazed at first, but sharpened quickly. “Yeah.” He leaned sideways to grab his clutch off the sofa beside them and felt around through the velvet. The lean had brought Arthur’s leg back down and pulled them apart enough for Merlin’s skirt to fall again. The loss of contact was the worst thing that had ever happened to him, but Merlin immediately pressed back into his space, laying wet kisses up along his throat to his ear.

“What do you want to do?” he murmured, breath hot and heady.

“I—” He wanted to keep clumsily frotting in this alcove and maybe never leave ever again. He wanted to get on his knees and do what Mithian and Leon were doing for each other. He wanted Merlin to turn the vibrator up so high he couldn’t walk straight, see straight, think straight. He wanted Merlin to fuck him better than he’d ever been fucked before. “I—” The word ended in a whimper when he couldn’t make all of his mutually exclusive desires coalesce into one singular request.

Merlin’s teeth grazed the spot below Arthur’s ear, and he shuddered helplessly. “Maybe we should get a room?” he suggested.

“Yes,” Arthur gasped out. “Please, yes, a room.”

Merlin grinned, broad and conspiratorial, and didn’t break eye contact as he asked, “Am I going to get to fuck you? Hm?”

Arthur lost his breath again. “Yeah,” he wheezed, all his pride demolished. He was a being of pure desire now. He’d follow Merlin off the ends of the Earth if Merlin kept talking like that as they fell.

Merlin kissed him, bruisingly hard. Not hard enough. “Come one then,” he said, and took Arthur’s hand.

Lance was already holding a key up when they got to the bar. “Play safe,” he told them, smirking.

“Ta,” Merlin said, and grabbed the key before he and Arthur mutually hustled each other towards the corridor of private rooms. Lance laughed, but Arthur ignored him.

He got glimpses of other couples and groups as they hurried by: Freya and Gilli had graduated from talking shyly all the way up to kissing shyly; Cenred had Morgause bent over the back of a sofa, spanking her still-trousered backside, the remote in his other hand; Percy and Gwaine had been joined by another man and they all seemed to be enjoying one another thoroughly.

But they were just glimpses, gone from his mind as soon as he registered them, and all his attention was laser-focused on Merlin getting the key in the keyhole and the bloody door open.

When it finally swung in, Arthur crowded Merlin inside, using his larger bulk to his advantage. The door hadn’t even shut behind them before they were kissing again, deep and demanding and oh so good. Merlin’s hands were all over Arthur’s back, the cloth of his gloves almost hot on his skin. The vibrator, still set low, was almost a mere distraction at this point, and his erection had faded a bit during the trip from the alcove. He didn’t doubt they could remedy that easily. “Please,” he mumbled between kisses. “The remote—Merlin—please—”

With a groan born low in his chest, Merlin pushed Arthur back. His lips were kiss-swollen and red, his hair a fluffy mess, his chest heaving. He jerked his chin at something over Arthur’s shoulder. “Hold onto that, with your hands above your head,” he said. “Facing me.”

Arthur looked around hazily, and decided Merlin must mean one of the posts of the large bed, which was the dominant piece of furniture in the room, besides a chaise sofa and a massive standing mirror off to the sides. His steps were unsteady as he crossed the small distance, but he made it, and wrapped his hands gratefully around the wood. Then he turned himself around and saw Merlin still standing in the middle of the room. He’d fetched the vibrator remote out of his clutch, and his gaze was assessing, as though deciding exactly what he was going to do with it. Arthur bit his lip, stuck between the desire to arch his back and grind the end of the vibrator against the post, or roll his hips forward to emphasize how hard he still was, how eagerly he would take whatever Merlin gave him.

Merlin smirked, reached under his armpit for his dress’ hidden zipper, and smoothly pulled it down. Then he undid the little hook clasp at the top, allowing the bodice to sag away from his chest a bit. With a sinuous shimmy of his shoulders, the whole dress fell to the floor in a small lake of purple chiffon.

Arthur choked on his tongue. He’d learned, in the alcove, that Merlin had eschewed undergarments. But knowing that and suddenly seeing that all at once were very different things, and he was pretty sure his eyes were pointing in different directions as he tried to take everything in at once. White thigh-high stockings with a band of lace at the tops—the fine chest hair that had shown above the dress’ neckline extended in a flat diamond shape down between his nipples, and then trailing lower, eventually joining to his pubic hair—the white gloves echoed the stockings—his cock was surprisingly girthy, now that he could see it rather than just feel it, and a more-than-respectable length—his heels were three-inch peep-toed pumps with a thin strap around the ankle, the same purple as the dress—jutting bones and noticeable musculature, though far leaner than Arthur’s bulk—his nipples were pierced and the tiny silver barbells glinted hypnotically—

“God,” he moaned, the pitch wandering at least an octave from where it started. He was gripping the post so hard that his arms and shoulders were shaking a little, but he couldn’t have relaxed for the world. His abs and thighs were strung tight, his cock so hard it was standing nearly straight up, spotting his skirt with precome.

Merlin’s smirk widened. “Like what you see?” he asked, stepping out of the puddle of dress. Arthur’s throat clicked when he tried to speak. “No need to answer, love.” The way Merlin’s lips formed that word made Arthur go momentarily lightheaded. “I already have some ideas.” He held the remote up between his thumb and forefinger and clicked it up to the second setting. Arthur’s hips jerked, making his cock bob up and down. Merlin looked at it and licked his lips slowly. He clicked the remote again.

“Mer-lin!” Arthur cried as the vibrations coursed through him, up his spine, along his arms, and down his legs to gather weirdly in his ankles and his knees. The post was a grounding point at his back, something to lean on as his legs slowly turned to jelly. Merlin, smug, confident, picture-perfect in the stockings and heels and gloves and nothing else, strode forward until he was so close that their dicks nearly touched, nothing but a single layer of red silk and a centimeter of air between them.

Arthur’s heart was hammering. He didn’t usually let his sexual partners take so much control. He usually liked showing off a little bit, exerting his strength and being admired for it. But Merlin wasn’t trying to cow or belittle Arthur: he just knew what sort of good time he wanted Arthur to have. And Arthur was more than happy to follow his lead.

They’d been examining one another in silence for several seconds when Merlin clicked the remote a third time. Arthur let his head fall back, moaning, and Merlin closed the last of the distance between them, pressing his chest to Arthur’s, setting his feet on either side of Arthur’s, and pressing his dick into the space between Arthur’s thighs.

They both stopped and panted for a moment when Merlin had pushed all the way in. The silk was a frail barrier between Arthur’s skin and Merlin’s, letting all but the last bit of sensation through. Arthur’s cock was trapped between their stomachs, the pressure nearly unbearable. Merlin’s hands came to rest low on Arthur’s hips, thumbs tracing the divots of muscle and bone he found there.

“Can,” Arthur rasped. “Can you feel it? Inside me?”

Merlin grinned, and leaned in to kiss Arthur, wet and thorough and lazy. Then he pulled a millimeter back, growled, “Yeah,” and clicked the vibrator up another level.

“Ahh!” Arthur’s inelegant, reactive jerking was the start, but Merlin quickly took over, gripping Arthur’s hips and rolling his own just right to slide his dick in and out of the intercrural gap. His mouth fell open as they moved together, eyes going hazy even as the vibrator drew Arthur to heights of pleasure he’d rarely visited before. He’d never played with himself for so long before, never brought the vibrations down so low again after raising them as high as Merlin had, and the combination of that, along with the grip of Merlin’s long fingers, the hot, hard cock so close to where he really wanted it, the torturous vibrator, and the simple sight of Merlin losing himself in his enjoyment of Arthur’s body—he wasn’t going to last.

And he had to last. That was the challenge now.

“Merlin,” he gasped, trying to think of the most boring spreadsheets from work. “Merlin, wait—”

With a strangled sound, Merlin went still and switched the vibrator completely off. The abrupt stillness was almost shocking, but Arthur was glad of the respite. Merlin’s eyes took a second to focus, and he was breathing hard as he asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Arthur chuckled breathlessly, amazed and a bit confused that Merlin could really think something was wrong. “But I don’t want to come like this.” He took a few quick, deep breaths. “You said you’d fuck me.”

The wickedness of Merlin’s grin shot lightning up Arthur’s spine, and he bit his lip, hard.

“I did say that, didn’t I? Are you saying I should keep my word, Arthur?” He dipped close and grazed his teeth up along Arthur’s jaw, wringing a desperate whine from Arthur’s throat. “Want me to fuck you?” he rumbled when he got to his ear. “Fuck you so good you’ll come without help? Fuck you so hard you can’t walk out of here? I won’t be gentle, darling. Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” Arthur gasped, head spinning.

Merlin drew back and looked at him with shining eyes. Blue. Such blue they would make the summer sky seem dull. “Yeah?” he asked in a softer voice.

Arthur took a steadying breath. “Yeah,” he agreed.

Eyes crinkling in a broad, sincere smile, Merlin stepped away. “No-goes and preferences?” he asked. “Allergic to latex or anything?”

“N-no allergies,” he said, struggling to think through the anticipation. “Um… I want to keep my dress on. But… don’t call me a girl or anything. I’m still a man.” It cost more than it should have to ask for that. He got by without talking about it most of the time: inside the club, a certain degree of genderqueerness was assumed, and therefore was not actually discussed very often. Outside the club, he wore suits and generic men’s clothes and no one knew he had any other kind, so it was not discussed at all. Asking for such a simple thing from Merlin now felt acutely intimate. He ducked his head to hide the heat rising in his cheeks.

Merlin’s peep-toed feet walked into his field of view, and his fingers touched the bottom of Arthur’s chin, guiding his head up until Arthur had to look at him. Merlin was full-on beaming. “I know that a dress doesn’t make you any less of a man,” he said warmly. “And this one… I mean, God, just look at you. You’re perfect. I can’t wait to take a powerful man like you apart with my dick alone. …Still yeah?”

Arthur’s smile was a bit tremulous, but it was real. “Yes.”

“Wonderful.” Merlin leaned in and kissed him yet again, but pulled back before long, biting Arthur’s lower lip as he did. “Come here and let’s see about that arse of yours, then.”

Arthur, more than eager to oblige, took the two unsteady steps necessary to reach the center of the foot of the bed and started to bend forward over it, only to stop short. “Oh, but—your no-goes? And preferences?”

Merlin blinked at the question, but then his expression went all soft and warm, and Arthur really hoped he wasn’t about to start crying because he seriously did not know how to deal that—

“My hard limits mostly apply to other sorts of play,” he said, almost shyly. “But I’m still glad that you asked.” Arthur winced a bit at how close he’d come to forgetting. “Preferences? Well…” He tweaked one of the barbells in his nipples, the silver bead glinting between white-gloved fingers, and hissed softly. “These feel pretty damn good.” Arthur’s mouth went slack. He couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to hear the sound Merlin had made again. And again, and again, and again.

But Merlin instead grinned and nudged Arthur’s hip. “Well?” He’d pulled a condom out of his clutch and now tore the wrapping open with his teeth. “Up on your knees,” he said.

…“Up on your knees,” he said…

Breathless again, Arthur obeyed, getting on his hands and knees on the bed, facing the headboard, making sure he wasn’t kneeling on his skirt. He’d never had sex while wearing a dress before, and he was torn between the desire to keep it as pristine as possible—the few small stains they’d already left on the front notwithstanding—and to desecrate it, rend it, destroy it. Both options made his cock throb.

Merlin pushed the back of the skirt up and to the side, baring Arthur’s thighs and arse, and his soft gasp made Arthur shiver. “Good God…” Soft points of contact—fingertips in gloves—met Arthur’s skin, just on the line between the back of his thigh and the bottom of his arsecheek. When Merlin drew them upwards, they glided since there was no hair to cause resistance. It was everything Arthur had hoped it would be. He let his eyes fall closed so he could focus on the sensation more clearly.

Merlin’s fingers traced around Arthur’s arse and thighs and lower back as though he expected to have to sculpt it from memory, and the feather-light touches were bliss past endurance because he wanted so much more. He dragged Arthur’s thong down, but not very far, just enough to leave his arse totally bare.

When the fingers—finally—came to the vibrator, they stroked around its circumference in lazy circles that made Arthur shudder from the crown of his head to the tip of his aching-hard cock right through his toes. But they were gone all too soon, and the next sensation was of the cold wetness of lube around his rim. He yelped and jolted a bit, but Merlin’s hand came back to his hip, steadying him.

“Sorry,” Merlin murmured. “You need this though, it’s too dry otherwise…” He squeezed more lube around the vibrator, then started twisting the toy around like he had done before, working the slick deeper in. The movement of it got easier by the second, until it was sliding in and out almost eagerly, and Arthur had to brace his elbows to keep from collapsing forward. “There you are, well done, getting all wet and ready for me,” Merlin praised, even though Arthur wasn’t doing anything, as he angled the toy different ways and slid it in and out, massaging Arthur’s hole, softening it and helping the muscle relax. Not that Arthur needed the help, really: he felt like he’d been ready for this for ages.

Then Merlin pulled the vibrator out and it went thudding to the floor. The emptiness, after so long wearing it, verged on painful, but Arthur knew that what was coming next would be a thousand times better. There was a bit more rustling from the lube sachet as Merlin applied more to Arthur’s hole and his own cock. Arthur focused on breathing.

But then, “Bit farther apart,” Merlin said, tapping the insides of Arthur’s knees. “Your legs are so long, and I want to get the angle exactly right for you.”

Arthur obliged, spreading his knees farther and bending his elbows so that his pecs were almost flush to the bed, pillowing his cheek on one forearm. With the other hand, he reached back and palmed one of his arsecheeks, pulling it so that his hole would be more exposed, more open for Merlin. He was rewarded by a choked whimper, and grinned into the crook of his elbow.

One of Merlin’s hands took the corresponding position on his other cheek, massaging a little around Arthur’s hole with his thumb. Arthur tried to imagine what he looked like, with his arse up, hole relaxed from wearing the vibrator all evening and dripping lube, his own hand pulling himself open… and the cherry-red silk pooling between his legs, and his feet still in heels, and his cock so hard he could hardly think… He didn’t know Merlin well enough yet, really, to imagine what he would make of this lewd display, but Arthur hoped he liked it. He had to, didn’t he? With a reaction like that?

The snub head of Merlin’s cock touched Arthur’s hole, and all the worried noise in Arthur’s head gave up. The point of contact was cool with lube, but scintillating all the same, sending broad, warm shivers up Arthur’s back.

“Still want what I said?” Fuck you so good you’ll come without help? Merlin had said. Fuck you so hard you can’t walk out of here? he had said. I won’t be gentle, darling.

Arthur made a ragged, desperate sound and fisted his hand in the blankets to keep himself from reaching for his dick. The challenge was to last.

“I don’t speak that language,” Merlin said dryly, and didn’t move. He was really waiting for an answer.

“Yes,” Arthur gasped, half frustrated, half awed, half grateful. “Want it, yes, fuck, Merlin, come on.”

Chuckling deep in his chest, Merlin pressed in, needing to push rather hard to get the head of his cock in. Arthur gritted his teeth at the stretch, the pressure, pulling his cheek harder still to keep himself open. But then it eased, and he simply felt full, tight, complete, good. They were both panting a little, sharp little gusts of air, and Merlin was mixing in a broken litany of “oh fuck, oh yes, oh my god”.

But as flattering as that was, Merlin had made a promise.

“Come on,” Arthur demanded, authoritativeness somewhat hampered by his clear desperation.

Merlin laughed roughly and his hands came up to grip Arthur’s hips. Then, all in a smooth, strong thrust, he drove his cock all the way in. Arthur cried out, overwhelmed at the feeling of being well and truly stuffed. His thighs were already trembling. His heart was battering at the inside of his ribs as though demanding release, and his cock…. Well, at this rate, Merlin was going to be absolutely right. Arthur wasn’t even embarrassed at the thought. Quite the contrary, he was looking forward to it.

They both remained still for a minute, becoming adjusted to each other. The burn of being stretched soon became the glow of being full, and Arthur couldn’t restrain a low, appreciative moan.

“Alright?” Merlin asked, rubbing a small circle on Arthur’s hip with his thumb.

Thinking of Merlin’s request for actual words before, Arthur scrounged up, “Very alright,” and Merlin’s bark of startled laughter made up for sounding so utterly ridiculous.

“That’s going on my CV: a ‘very alright’ fuck.”

That made Arthur laugh harder than it should have, but the shaking of his body only made him hyperaware of Merlin’s cock still buried in his arse. “Come on,” he said again, grinding back shamelessly, not even trying to conceal his desperation this time.

Arthur felt Merlin shudder as he obediently pulled part-way out and slid back in. His hips made a loud slapping noise against Arthur’s backside, and Arthur pressed down the immature urge to giggle. Besides, that thrust seemed to have been Merlin’s trial run, because now he got a firmer grip on Arthur’s hips, seemed to recenter his own weight, and started to fuck him in earnest, with sharp, fast motions that left Arthur completely unable to do anything but kneel there and take it. He even had to take his hand away from his arse to get a grip on the blankets above his head.

“Ahh—” he gasped, “ahh—ahh—fuck—Merlin—Merlin—ah! Yes! Oh, fuck, yes, Merlin!”

Merlin didn’t slacken his pace even a little, though his breathing grew harsh and loud, pounding into Arthur with an urgency that set him ablaze. He felt wanted and gorgeous and perfect, and Merlin’s helplessness against his desire only made him crave more.

Unbearable pleasure started to swirl behind his balls as Merlin kept the rhythm up, and Arthur gripped the rumpled covers even tighter. His entire body trembled as he started to push back in time with Merlin’s thrusts, wanting to take him even more deeply than he already was.

But that planted an image in his head that not even his coalescing orgasm could banish, and he used the last of his fading self-possession to still his own body and grope for Merlin’s waist or thigh, whatever he could reach.

“W-wait,” he croaked, all while his cock swung, pendulous and impatient, between his legs. “Wait, let me— Wait—”

“Is— Are you— What’s—” Merlin was completely breathless, and Arthur could feel him shaking in the sudden stillness. Had he been close? Had he been as close to coming as Arthur had?

Arthur unsteadily pushed himself up and slowly crawled forward. They both whimpered as Merlin’s cock was withdrawn and he felt Merlin grab to keep the condom from slipping off, but Arthur didn’t let himself think about how empty he felt without it. Clumsy with arousal, he twisted around and found Merlin looking wounded and confused, flushed and sweaty, stunningly gorgeous and all Arthur’s.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, plaintive and concerned. “Did I hurt—?”

“No!” Arthur interrupted at once. He took Merlin’s gloved hand in his own and pulled it until Merlin leaned down close enough for a kiss. “Want to ride you,” Arthur murmured against his lips. “Let me ride your cock until I come, Merlin, please?”

Merlin’s breath was a weak, wheezing exhale, and Arthur swallowed it in another kiss, full of desperation and heat.

“Please?” he repeated when he pulled away.

“Is that—even a ques—question?” Merlin panted, pupils so huge that Arthur felt in danger of falling into them. “Yes, God above, yes—”

Laughing triumphantly, Arthur looped an arm around Merlin’s waist, lifted him, and twisted back around, pulling Merlin bodily across the bed so that he sprawled messily on his back, all his limbs akimbo, slicked, wrapped-up dick pointing at the ceiling. Arthur nearly drooled.

But then Merlin was the one pulling him down for a kiss, and, uncoordinated and sloppy though it was, Arthur returned it wholeheartedly. He slid his fingers into Merlin’s hair and held him in place, licking into his mouth, desperate to get every last sense and sensation of him that he could. Merlin skimmed a hand up Arthur’s bare back, tracing the outlines of his lats and traps and stoking his vanity most pleasantly. He slung his leg over Merlin’s middle so that he straddled him, and deepened the kiss.

Merlin pulled him down so that their chests were pressed flush, cocks trapped between them in the tangle of Arthur’s skirt, but even that was bliss, straining them closer to the edge they’d barely stepped back from. But Merlin’s chest…

The beads of the barbells were bright points of cold, even through Arthur’s dress, and he remembered Merlin saying that they felt especially good when they were played with.

Dazed with lust and ready to do just about anything to make Merlin feel good, Arthur broke the kiss and shuffled down, ignoring Merlin’s confused and disappointed little sound. His chest was rising and falling quickly, and a warm flush made his skin glow pink. The silver jewelry gleamed, bracketing his hard nipples, and Arthur wasted no time in dragging the flat of his tongue over one, and then the other, in quick succession.

Merlin shouted and his whole body jerked under Arthur’s. His hand came to the back of Arthur’s head and gripped the hair there, just short of uncomfortably hard. Arthur grinned, and licked again, slowly, luxuriously, applying pressure to just the nipple.

“Fuck,” Merlin rasped. “Oh, fuck, Arthur—”

Arthur caught one of the ends of the barbell under the tip of his tongue and wiggled it slowly, carefully, back and forth, wringing a strangled little moan out of Merlin. The fingers in Arthur’s hair gripped tighter, pressing his head down, and Arthur was only too happy to oblige. He covered the nipple, jewelry, areola, and surrounding skin with his mouth and sucked, quite hard.

“Ngh!” Merlin jerked under him, but Arthur kept on, sucking and licking and massaging and ever-so-carefully biting until Merlin was panting and writhing. “Ar-Arthur,” he gasped, pulling weakly at Arthur’s hair, other hand rather haphazardly gripping his bicep. Arthur, dazed, peered up at him. Merlin was flushed and sweaty and looked deliciously flustered, but his gaze was intent.  “I thought you said you wanted to fuck yourself on my cock until you came.”

In the blink of an eye, the dynamic reverted to Arthur gasping and desperate and Merlin firmly in command, even though Arthur was still physically on top of him. With every breath Merlin took, he visibly regained composure, all while the thought of being full again, fucked again, sent Arthur’s heart racing at likely dangerous speeds. He realized that Merlin’s cock was rock hard and pressing against his stomach, and that his own erection hadn’t flagged a whit during the intermission of enjoying Merlin’s nipples. He shivered in hot anticipation.

“I do want to,” he said, voice rough.

“Well then,” Merlin said, raising his eyebrows and sliding his hands down Arthur’s sides encouragingly.

Suddenly buzzing with eagerness, Arthur scrambled up, positioning himself above Merlin’s cock. His head swam a bit from sitting up so quickly, but Merlin’s hands were steady on him, and his admiring eyes helped him find his center of balance again. He felt… warm under Merlin’s gaze, appreciated in a way he couldn’t remember ever feeling with a partner before, let alone such a new one. It should have scared him, he thought, to feel so compatible with someone so quickly, but it didn’t. Not at all.

Once he was steady, Merlin took one hand and reached under Arthur’s skirt, tossing it so it spread out over the bed beside them in a spill of red almost too vibrant. He took hold of his own dick and held it so that the head was against Arthur’s hole again, the strange, combined feeling of cool slick and hot flesh sending Arthur trembling with anticipation.

He barely had to focus on relaxing as he lowered himself back down on Merlin’s cock, he was still so open from the first time, but the satisfaction of it was no less for that. And as he let his head fall back to bask in the enjoyment, movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. Turning to look, his momentary alarm vanished when he saw it was only the mirror he’d noticed when they first came in. And it was angled so that he could see himself perfectly. He could watch the muscles in his lower back and his thigh and glute, exposed by the dress, contract and relax as he began to rise up and sink down, the glorious feeling of Merlin’s cock sliding in and out of him all the provocation he needed to continue.

The dress was like a second skin of silk, sliding over his own hard nipples and taut abdominals, his straining cock tenting the skirt obscenely. Merlin, still in stockings, heels, and gloves, was a feast for the eye and Arthur watched his reflection shamelessly. The iridescent white of his gloves against the blazing red of Arthur’s dress where he was gripping his thigh was visual poetry, and the slow, slick slide of their bodies together was a song of movement and sensation. There was no painting more beautiful, no dance so perfect, and Arthur was becoming sure that this was the best sex he was ever going to have again.

Then Merlin pinched the side of his knee, and the sharp zing of pain jolted him out of the transcendental headspace he’d stumbled into. “Ouch!” he said, looking down with a frown. He was fully seated on Merlin’s dick, and last he’d looked, Merlin had had his head thrown back in abject pleasure. Now, he was looking at Arthur with something close to annoyance. “What was that for?”

“I’m down here, Narcissus.”

Arthur gaped at him, then burst out laughing.

“Sorry,” he managed to gasp a minute later. He’d had to lean forward to brace his hands on the bed in support, the laughter leaving his core too weak to keep him upright. “Sorry,” he repeated, raising his head to nose at the underside of Merlin’s jaw. “I was looking at both of us, I swear.” He laid nibbling little kisses across the thudding pulse in Merlin’s neck, then up towards his mouth. “Forgive me,” he entreated against Merlin’s lips.

Merlin kissed him back, but then chuckled, “Brat,” and thrust his hips up, driving his cock deep into Arthur. Unprepared, Arthur almost pitched forward and mashed his nose against Merlin’s cheek—it would have served Merlin right—but he caught himself in time. He stared down at Merlin, heat flaring all through his groin and the small of his back from the new angle they’d found.

“Again?” he whispered breathlessly.

Merlin grinned wickedly and nipped Arthur’s chin. “Lazy brat,” he said affectionately, and obliged him. Arthur gasped wordlessly, heat sizzling now, igniting his blood and gripping his bones. He ground down, seeking deeper contact, and Merlin groaned, hips bucking again and again.

Arthur buried his face in Merlin’s neck, sucking sloppy lovebites along his throat. His cock was aching, and his balls were hard and tender. He was definitely getting precome all over his skirt. The pleasure of Merlin—of his fat cock in Arthur’s arse, of his lithe hands on Arthur’s back, of his moaning breaths in Arthur’s ear—was climbing to an unbearable degree. How was it possible that they were this compatible, that it was this good? This didn’t just happen, this was something incredible, something rare. He needed to cherish it.

His uncharacteristically sentimental train of thought was interrupted, yet again, by Merlin, as he started pushing at Arthur’s chest until he had to sit up. “What?” Arthur asked dazedly.

Merlin’s expression melted from exasperation into pure amusement. “I was going to complain that you’re not doing your part around here, but I think I actually kind of like you cock-drunk,” he said, smiling broadly.

“My ‘part’?” Arthur said, extremely cleverly. His dick was sticking straight up between them, and he glanced at it conspicuously.

Merlin laughed through a groan. “Terrible,” he declared, sliding his hands down from Arthur’s chest to his stomach. “I think I’ll k—dear God, you’re strong!”

Arthur smiled a slow smile and tensed his abs. Merlin bit his lip, but his mad grin showed through anyway.

“Lord, there is no end to what I want to do with you, Arthur,” he said in a low voice, and that sentence joined all the other stimulation buzzing through Arthur, weaving the intoxication of the evening just that much deeper, between his organs and his bones.

“Like what?” he asked, feeling like he’d take Merlin up on anything he said. ‘Tie you up and not let you come all night.’ ‘Get married.’ ‘Wear our dresses in public.’ Brilliant, absolutely, tomorrow.

Merlin’s expression was sly and playful. “Well… I think next time, you’ll wear the vibrator again, and I’ll still have the controller… but you’ll be the one to fuck me, and I won’t tell you how I like it. I’ll just set it higher or lower depending on if I like what you do.”

Arthur’s jaw fell slack. The idea, the challenge, was an obvious escalation from tonight’s game, and he found he’d do anything to take it. “Yeah,” he said faintly. “Yes.”

“Good.” Merlin smiled like the sun rising. “But for now…” The leanly defined muscles of his chest and core shifted, and his hips jerked up again. Arthur whimpered and gingerly reciprocated, getting used to the position again. But it was like a fire licking up his insides, to have Merlin so deep inside him, and in no time he was riding Merlin’s cock just as fluidly and eagerly as before, breathing shakily, hands braced on Merlin’s chest, rolling his fingers over the nipple rings with a mix of gentleness and desperation. He screwed his eyes shut, welcoming the fluttering feeling that boded of oncoming climax.

“God, Arthur.” The words were choked and broken as Merlin fucked up into him, body arching with each thrust. His head was thrown back again, his chest and forehead sweaty, his muscles hard, his movements urgent and perfect. Their rhythms weren’t synced anymore, but it hardly mattered because Merlin was saying the most ridiculous, most wonderful things, like “wanted to lick your shoulders as soon as I saw them” and “never seen such a beautiful man” and “Arthur—Arthur, I’m gonna—I’m—Arthur—”

Merlin seized Arthur’s hip in one hand and his cock in the other, a fistful of red silk around it, and pumped it roughly, messy and desperate. Arthur shouted as the fluttering sharpened into a hot clench behind his balls and, with a feeling like being flung off a cliff, crashed hard into an orgasm, a body-shaking, toe-curling, mind-wiping orgasm.

Beneath him, Merlin was coming too, his mouth stretched wide open, his eyes scrunched, his whole body trembling as he tried, and failed, to breathe. His grip on Arthur’s jerking cock was nearly painful, and his hips hitched through his aftershocks, minute movements that still sent shivery thunder up Arthur’s back and through his skull.

It took some time for Arthur to settle back into his body, to feel anything besides the reverberations of pleasure echoing in every square inch of him. He was panting and his heart was pounding and he felt more perfectly at peace than he ever had before. He had ended up hunched forward with his hands on Merlin’s shoulder and the mattress, and Merlin was wriggling a little, hands petting Arthur’s sides and back.

“Up a bit, love, here, let me—”

Groaning, Arthur followed the pressure of the hands and rolled clumsily onto his side, hissing as Merlin’s softening cock slid out of him.

“Sorry, darling,” Merlin murmured, leaving a kiss on the apple of Arthur’s cheek as he got up.

“’S fine,” Arthur mumbled, wondering muzzily what would happen if he asked if they could do that over and over again and never stop. Nothing bad, surely. There was nothing in Arthur’s life outside the club he wouldn’t give up if it meant he got more of that.

He focused on his breathing, letting feeling slowly seep back into his extremities. He was limp and wrung-out, floating happily in the post-orgasm high, not even caring that his dress was ruined, stained with semen and lube and sweat and who knew what all.

Merlin returned quickly, to clean Arthur up with cool wet towelettes. He’d disposed of the condom in the meantime, and removed his heels. He moved around with a different sort of assurance without them, a sort that had a bit more gangle, but Arthur still liked it.

God help him, but he was really gone on Merlin. He knew he didn’t know him in the least, but it already seemed inevitable, incontrovertible, that they would meet again. They weren’t done with each other.

Merlin pulled the sticky silk of the skirt out of the way and cleaned Arthur up in deft, gentle swipes. “There you are, love,” he crooned, that hint of accent curling ‘love’ into something delicious and warm. “That’s alright now, dearheart.”

Arthur turned his face into the mattress to try and hide his smile. “You don’t need to coddle me,” he said grumpily, even though he was enjoying it an unseemly amount.

“Even if I like it?” Merlin asked lightly, sliding a couple fingertips down Arthur’s hip and thigh.

Arthur shivered and winced. It felt good, but now that the massive rush of endorphins and adrenaline was fading, he was realizing how sore he was. Not that he minded: Merlin had asked him if he wanted to be fucked hard, and he’d agreed eagerly. A little achy tenderness now was more than worth it.

“Well, I suppose if you like it,” he sighed in answer to Merlin’s question, making a great show of the concession. “And I suppose you’re an intemperate snuggler as well as using pet names. Just my bad luck.”

He didn’t open his eyes in the ensuing pause, eternal though it seemed. And then Merlin’s laugh, loud and surprised and happy, just made him grin all the more.

“Intemperate is just the sort of snuggler I am,” Merlin confirmed, and Arthur felt the mattress dip and wobble as Merlin crawled over to him and settled alongside him, the quality of his voice telling him he was facing him. “And you’d better get used to it, because unless you’re going to really serious lengths to fake it, you liked that just as much as I did, so we’re definitely doing this again.”

“Pretty sure I liked it more,” Arthur replied drowsily, sliding an arm around Merlin’s waist and pulling him close. Merlin was boney and smelt of almond shampoo and sweat, and Arthur was never letting him go.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Merlin somehow insinuated his arms around Arthur’s head and shoulders and pulled him closer, until Arthur’s forehead was resting against Merlin’s collarbone. The warmth, and the feeling of being embraced, were lovely, although Merlin had no padding whatsoever between bone and skin, and it was going to hurt Arthur’s head after long enough. But he didn’t care.

“We’re going to have to give Guinevere like, a million fruit baskets or something, for pairing us tonight,” he mumbled, and then winced when Merlin’s chest juddered with laughter.

“A million fruit baskets, an all-expenses-paid Italian vacation, and a pony,” he confirmed, pressing a kiss to the top of Arthur’s head.

Arthur smiled, and settled deeper into Merlin’s arms.