Needless to say, bartending isn't the most glamorous job in the world. It's a hell of a lot better than busing tables, which is Merlin's previous job, but he has to deal with his fair share of drunken idiots trying to score free drinks to impress the shabbily dressed women huddled along the wall. The music is always too loud, and the air always reeks of sweat. They sell more cheap liquor than expensive wine to primarily uni students looking to get laid on any day of the week.

However, tonight is a Wednesday. Nobody goes to bars on weeknights unless he or she is looking to examine the bottom of a bottle to soothe the grind from work. As a result, the amount of hormonal college kids wandering around is at a low. The bar is empty save for a blond thirty-something-year-old with a barely touched glass of scotch and a handful of older women with fancy fruit cocktails across the room. It's a luxury to have such older customers who tip well and don't pester him.

Merlin thumbs through a textbook underneath the counter as he attempts to study with little result. His mind races through a million thoughts at once, each of varying importance. His mum alone in Ireland. The exam next week in organic chemistry. Will, who probably is still freeloading in Merlin's small studio apartment. He gives up after five minutes with a slam of his textbook that punctuates the room with a quick, sharp sound.

"You okay, mate?"

Merlin quickly glances towards the voice and is surprised to find it belonged to the sulking man down the bar. He shoves his book back under the counter before picking up the scotch bottle from the rack. "I'm fine. Would you like me to top you off?" He motions towards the bottle in his hand.

The man examines his glass for a second (just long enough for Merlin to catch glimpse of the man's dark circles rimming his eyes). He places the glass back onto the table before shaking his head. "Thanks, but I probably shouldn't. I have to drive home soon."

Part of Merlin's job is to milk extra drinks out of customers, so there's no way he'd be able to just take that answer. "You look like you could use another one. Hard day at work?" He casually leans on the counter just beside the man.

The man laughs quietly to himself, as if at a joke that Merlin isn't privy to, while shaking his head.

"Isn't every day a hard one?"

Merlin can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not. "I suppose it depends on the job," he safely replies.

"Not mine."

Merlin gestures again towards the bottle an arm's length away. "Then I suppose you'll need another drink then to get you through it."

Once again, the blonde laughs. "Trying to get me drunk, are you?" This time he graciously accepts when Merlin refills the small glass to the fill line, even going as far as to down most of it in one solid gulp.

"Only trying to get the best tip out of you," Merlin jokes as he returns the bottle to the shelves behind. This playful banter is something he's well versed in; however, there's something about the sad way the man looks at his drink that makes Merlin's heart sink just a little.

For the next hour or so, Merlin tends to the bar in silence. The man seems to have lost interest in conversation with Merlin and has gone back to looking pitifully at his phone and nearly empty glass. When the clock strikes eleven, the women pay and leave, thus leaving the two men alone in the bar. The clock quickly approaches twelve, closing time and when Merlin can finally leave to head back to his flat and ex-boyfriend.

"Sir," Merlin says at around 11:30, leaning again on the bar down from the man. "You do know we close in half an hour, yeah?"

It takes a second before the man snaps out of the daze he'd fallen into (Merlin can't tell if it's from his drinks or if it's from sleepiness) and looks down at him. For the first time all evening, Merlin can see how handsome the man is head-on. Not really his type, but handsome nonetheless.

Merlin gently places a hand on the man's arm, as if to somehow bring him back to reality. "Sir – "

"I heard you," he sighs. "I just didn't particularly feel like answering."

"Oh, well that's lovely manners."

The man shrugs. "I'm not the one relying on tips to pay my bills."

Merlin swipes away the man's glass before he could take another sip. "Touché." He briefly retreats to the back of the bar to put away the used glass. When he returns the man has made no move towards paying or leaving.

As if reading Merlin's mind, the man says, "I'm not quite ready to go just yet. Fetch another scotch, will you?"

Resuming his earlier posture along the bar, Merlin shakes his head. "We don't serve past 11:30 on weeknights."

The man pulls a ridiculous attempt at a sad puppy dog face. "Can't make an exception for me?"

Merlin is unfazed; this is a stunt he'd often had to work his way through. One would be surprised at the things he's been offered in exchange for extra, past-curfew drinks. "I don't even know your name, so my guess is probably not."

"Arthur," the man pleads. "My name is Arthur, and I'd love another scotch, thanks." If he wasn't so goddamn beautiful then Merlin might have been able to put up more of a fight.

So with a loud, dramatic huff, Merlin grabs a clean glass from the shelf and fills it with just a dab of what Arthur had been previously drinking. It's not enough to really affect his blood-alcohol content, but hopefully enough to get that sad look off his face. He slides the glass down to Arthur's waiting hand then pretends to be hopelessly interested in wiping an invisible smudge from the countertop.

Arthur is silent for another minute or two as he sips at his new drink. "And your name, then?"

Merlin casts a glance down at Arthur, clearly taken aback. He'd been asked his name by patrons only a number of times before, and he certainly hadn't expected it tonight. "Merlin," he apprehensively replies. "And on the off chance you're looking to get laid, I'm not interested."

Mostly.

The smallest of smiles stretch across Arthur's lips. "Who ever mentioned that? I certainly didn't; although, you never know with you bartender types. You could be just trying to get a bigger tip out of me tonight."

Merlin can't help but laugh just a little at that. It's a tried and true method that some of his coworkers had been testing out – not Merlin, of course – and had good results. "Damn. You caught me," he sarcastically says as he continues to wipe down the bar. "But just wondering – was it working?" He means for the last bit to come off as mysterious and allusive, like what Merlin would like to imagine himself like and fails miserably.

Arthur leans back on his stool, eyeing Merlin suspiciously. "I do like this whole starving college student look you've got, but I don't go for blokes with glasses."

Merlin touches the frame of what he thought to be stylishly thick glasses apprehensively. "You do know that glasses can easily be removed." He slides them off his nose with one hand and stows them into his pocket. "Easy. Painless."

For a fraction of a second, Arthur twists the skin around his left ring finger, as for reassurance. He drops his hand in favor of leaning farther up the bar, closer to where Merlin was working. "How about I'll pay you an extra tenner for that last drink and fuck you in the back of my car for free?"

Merlin nearly chokes. He'd had proposals like that before from drunk students, but never from an adult man as attractive as Arthur is. He takes a moment to compose himself before shaking his head. "What about you pay the full bill and then I'll suck you off in the washroom for free?"

It goes without saying that three minutes later Merlin is pressed up against the washroom door with his hands fisting Arthur's soft blonde hair and his mouth moving wildly along with his partner's. In the back of his mind he knows this is wrong – he shouldn't be screwing around with customers – but it feels so immensely good after going months without being touched by another human being. His lack of intimacy is probably what led to how easily he'd been convinced to follow Arthur's perfectly broad shoulders back here without any sort of fight whatsoever.

He's brought back to reality when Arthur slips his hand between their pressed bodies and firmly rests on Merlin's crotch with a squeeze. As a result, Merlin bites down on Arthur's lip so hard he can faintly taste blood. Arthur hisses and bucks his hips against Merlin's, thus forcing him to practically wither from the need to be properly touched.

"Needy, aren't we?" Arthur whispers, breaking away from Merlin for the briefest of seconds. He moves his mouth to ravish the other's neck. Merlin moans when Arthur sucks on a sweet spot below his jaw while rhythmically rolling their hips against each other's.

Merlin's arms are desperately grasping at the nape of Arthur's neck, his broad shoulders, the collar of his shirt, anything that his fingers can get a catch of. However, it's not long before Arthur gets sick of Merlin's fidgeting and wraps his free hand around Merlin's wrists to pin them above his head.

"You're driving me insane," Arthur breathlessly says, mouth an inch from Merlin's. "Could you stay still for two minutes so I can at least get my bearings?"

Merlin, who's still in disbelief that he's actually in this situation, makes a sloppy attempt at leaning forward to recapture Arthur's mouth in another heated kiss only to come up short with a mouthful of Arthur's chin. He's glad that his skin is already flushed so his blush isn't as detectable."I'm sorry for being impatient about getting into your pants, your highness." Merlin jerks his wrists in an attempt to free them.

Arthur tightens his hand around Merlin's constrained cock, which is beginning to dampen the front of his trousers much to his own embarrassment, and blocks all coherent thoughts from Merlin's head. His back arches into the other man's touch as his erection grows harder still. If he wasn't so immensely turned on by this incredibly hot stranger, it might even be ashamed at the small, desperate sounds leaking from his mouth.

Suddenly, Arthur's mouth is back on Merlin's. Their swollen, wet lips slide messily across each other's while their tongues tie 's hands are abruptly released just a second later as Arthur grabs Merlin's face between both of his large hands. This, Merlin decides, is his opportunity.

So he musters all the strength left inside him and pushes Arthur off of him and to where the man is pinned against the row of sinks on the adjacent wall. Before the other man could even offer a word of protest, Merlin drops down to his knees and practically shoves his face onto the front of Arthur's slacks. Through the thin fabric, Merlin traces the line of the other's very hard, very thick cock with his tongue, mouthing at it every so often. When Merlin looks up through his eyelashes, he is pleasantly surprised to see that Arthur's pupils have blown so wide barely any of the blue shows around the edges and his skin is pink to match his partner's.

While keeping his eyes locked on Arthur's, Merlin slowly undoes his belt. Even though Merlin isn't pawing at Arthur's cock, the other makes an inhuman sound in the back of his throat. Somehow, that makes Merlin movements even more sloppy and embarrassingly awkward, whether that be because of his desperate need to get off or not. His fingers slip when he tries to tug down Arthur's trousers and he ends up fumbling with the button and fly for about two minutes before he finally, finally, is face to face with Arthur's seemingly impossibly thick erection.

He hesistantly wraps a hand around the base, almost testing the waters, and he's immediately feeling Arthur's fingers roughly fisting his hair. One pump to the tip, and Arthur's breath hitches in his throat. A second flick of his wrist results in Arthur thrusting his hips so that the tip of his cock is jammed into Merlin's cupid's bow.

"Now who's the impatient one?" Merlin teases, letting his breath ghost along the swollen erection before him. He touches the tip of his tongue to Arthur's cock for a split second, just to drive him insane, and before he knows it, Arthur's pressing his member forcefully between his lips.

At the first thrust, Merlin nearly chokes.

By the tenth or eleventh, he's taking Arthur in whole.

The other man's hand keeps Merlin's head firmly planted in place as he fucks his mouth, the tip of his nose coming into contact with Arthur's hips with every movement. Merlin's own cock hangs out of the front of his own trousers, dripping in precome which is aiding in his own sloppy efforts at giving himself a handjob. The air is punctuated by Arthur's deep moans, the disgusting sound of Merlin's hand moving across his own enormous erection, and the occasional pathetic sound from Merlin's lips. The washroom is hot and stuffy, not to mention pretty unkept, but that only seems to add to the overall sexiness of the encounter.

"I'm going to - " Arthur begins to say, yet never finishes. Merlin feels a hot liquid start to fill his mouth and he knows exactly what Arthur had tried to say. He pops of Arthur's cock, without much resistance from the man himself, and tries to duck out of the way of the stream of white. Just hearing Arthur's even deeper, guttural groans drives Merlin to the edge. Sooner rather than later, he's shooting ribbons upon the washroom floor.

The two of them remain where they are for a long, loaded moment. Finally, Merlin stands up to gauge the damage. In the mirror, he sees drying come on his cheek, a bit on his neck and shirt collar too. As he looks down to tuck himself back in, he can see his own mess across the tile and on the toe of Arthur's shoe. He swallows, knowing that this isn't something he

Arthur, meanwhile, seems to be in drunken disbelief. He continues to lean against the counter with his cock still out and filthy while his eyes are closed and mouth slightly slack.

Merlin tries to wash the evidence from his being with little result. When he notices that Arthur has snapped out of whatever trance he was in and has done up his trousers again from the reflection of the mirror, he speaks. "So you should probably go. I have to clean all this up."

Arthur doesn't answer for a moment, too absorbed in texting someone named 'Gwen'. Friend, maybe? Sister? Certainly not a girlfriend. Not after what the two of them just did. God forbid wife, but Merlin hadn't seen a ring on Arthur's finger. "I want to see you again," Arthur finally says as he hands Merlin his phone, open up to 'add contact'.

"Why?" Merlin says as he walks back over to the door, having horribly dirty images of what had just gone down against it. "I'm not looking for a relationship."

"Neither am I."

"So what? A hook up, is that what you're asking me?" Merlin stops and raises an eyebrow at Arthur, who's remaining strangely stoic throughout the exchange.

The man nods. "That was too good to just give up. Besides, I doubt you get off very often without the help of your right hand."

Damn. Cut throat. Merlin gives Arthur a long look before snatching the man's phone and programming in his number. It was hot, what had just happened between them, and Merlin would be dammed if he wasn't willing to go through it again. "No strings attached?" he asks. There really is no time in his life for a boyfriend of any sort. Not with work and school and his mum.

"No strings attached," Arthur repeats as he stuffs his phone back into his pocket and pushes past Merlin back into the bar and out of sight.