Disclaimer: Don't own Merlin.

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Wyborn welcomed Arthur to his kingdom with opened arms, and there'd been a feast held in the visiting Prince's honor. The people were reserved, but they hadn't been hostile to the prince, which was good because Merlin loved his people, but he wouldn't tolerate a slight against either of the newcomers. The feast was long and merry, and everything was enjoyable. The wine was bountiful and enjoyed, and by the end of the night everyone was too happily intoxicated to be tense and weird. That was good. The entertainment was jolly, and Merlin had to admit that Arthur looked entranced at some of the magic displays put on for the Prince of Camelot now that they knew he knew of their magic and so they didn't have a reason to hold back. Merlin thought they might have been a little in your face with their magic tricks, but Arthur had seemed to truly enjoy the show.

Others had noticed the same thing too, and that had left a couple of people curious, as if they couldn't understand the Crown Prince of Camelot at all.

Eldric had been absent from the feast and Merlin had only been able to feel relief.

That kiss had been a mistake, and he was still feeling bad about it.

El-things weren't like that between them.

Sure, Eldric teased, but Merlin stopped him every time.

It was only because of his conflicting emotions, his jealousy and anger, that Merlin had done that.

And he was still regretting it.

"Bloody good twine." Arthur slurred as Merlin tried to help him up to his room, like he used to when he was Arthur's manservant and Arthur partook too much of the 'twine'.

"Bloody good wine or bloody good time?" Merlin chuckled, using his magic to keep the heavier male up as they continued to make their way towards their rooms.

"Both." Arthur leaned heavier against Merlin, his face burying itself into Merlin's hair. "You smell different."

Merlin paused, feeling a rush of heat race down his spine at the touch of Arthur's nose against his ear. Arthur's breath, warm, caressed the sensitive skin and Merlin closed his eyes, trying to suppress the shiver his body gave and yet knowing his efforts were in vain.

This was ridiculous.

All the times Merlin had had to do this before as Arthur's manservant had been done with teasing servitude, never had he felt as self conscious as he was now. It was as if everywhere Arthur's body touched his was on fire, and every breath the blonde prince shook through him.

Merlin took in another breath, trying to calm himself. "C'mon Arthur, lets get you to your bed."

"Hmmmm." Arthur murmured his agreement, the two princes staggering their way down the hallway.

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"You really don't have to accompany me, you know." Morgana announced as she walked steadily, side by side with Valador's Head Knight. The merrymaking had gone one for hours on end, and mostly everyone was more than a little drunk, but Morgana had preferred not to partake of the wine and spirits. Instead she chose to remain sober, as Merlin and Lancelot had.

"What sort of gentleman would I be to allow you to walk the dark halls unaccompanied, My Lady?" Lancelot asked, a smile tilting his lips slightly as he cast a sideways glance in her direction before returning his gaze to the hallways before them. "Perhaps when Miss Guinevere is able to join you I shall only follow at a distance to make sure that you arrive at your quarters safe."

"Do you think there might still be a threat to me in Merlin's kingdom?" Morgana asked curiously, knowing better than to argue with this man about her being able to take care of herself.

She remembered very little of Lancelot's visit to Camelot, but she did remember him being chivalrous to a fault, and knew that there would be no arguing with him on this point. He obviously felt it his duty to protect her, and while Merlin and Arthur were trying to mend their broken bridges Morgana had to admit that it was in her best interest to keep the Knight by her side. Valador was still a new a strange place, and Lancelot would help fill her in on people, places and customs she needed to know.

And to be truthful, he was a handsome man.

No woman would truly protest his company.

"No," Lancelot answered her previous question with a shake of his head. "Prince Merlin made it clear that you weren't to be touched or mistreated in any way or he would deal with those who did such, and the people, they love their prince dearly. For him, they will accept you. But there will always be a few troublemakers in every kingdom, and its because of them that, if only for the moment, I would prefer for you not to be unaccompanied."

Morgana had to admit he was being reasonable.

So she let him get the last word.

For now.

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"Your manservant...looked pretty...putout." Arthur informed Merlin in his slurred tone as the sorcerer found himself falling into a routine he hadn't been able to partake of in three months.

He undressed his prince.

What had once been so ordinary for him now seemed like a completely new experience for him.

And it was.

Because before he hadn't thought about running his fingertips over the muscles of Arthur's stomach, or following the trail of light blonde hair down his stomach and under his breeches.

Merlin gulped.

"Can't wrap my head around the thought of you with a manservant." Arthur went on to say as Merlin undid his boots, the prince leaning on against the warlock to try and keep balance, although he swayed violently more than once. "Kinda scrawny. Like you but worse."

Merlin snorted, relieved to have some distraction from what he was currently doing. "He's younger than I was when your father gifted me the reward of servitude in your name."

"Ah, yes." Arthur grinned foolishly. "Good times those."

Merlin looked up, unable to keep the amused smile from his face.

Arthur was always so entertaining when he'd had a couple of goblets of wine too many.

"Do you remember the time my father married an ogre?"

How could Merlin forget?

Magicking a nightshirt for the visiting prince to wear, Merlin motioned for Arthur to raise his hands.

"'Not a child." Arthur protested drunkenly with a pout, refusing to do so.

Gods.

Those lips were made for pouting.

Merlin gulped.

He also cursed himself for noticing now of all times just how plump those lips were.

He wanted to nibble on the bottom as it poked out in the pout, wanted to run his tongue...

Merlin cleared his throat and looked away, instead directing his gaze towards the fireplace and feeling the shift in his eyes as they went gold. Suddenly bright flames burst into life in the fireplace, bathing them in dancing shadows.

Merlin had thought getting them out of the darkness might lighten things up, but somehow, with the orange light and the shadows chasing each other over Arthur's face, it seemed so much more intimate.

Merlin needed to get out of there.

He needed to get out of there now if he wanted to keep from doing something that would so-!

A squeak of surprise escaped Merlin, and he had to admit that there was some unmanly flailing in the air as suddenly Arthur grabbed him and they both collapsed on the bed. The warlock found himself being straddled by the visiting prince, and his mouth opened in a silent, desperate whimper as he felt himself hardening.

Arthur had always been a little more...playful...while drunk.

But never had he done something like this.

"You'd think I'd hate it. It's magic." The blonde prince murmured, looking down at Merlin intensely for a drunken man. "But I find I rather like seeing your eyes flash gold.

He must have been a lot drunker than Merlin had given him credit for!

"A-Arthur I t-think that-." And then his eyes widened as he felt a corresponding hardness above him.

Dear gods.

Arthur was hard.

Merlin's throat was dry.

Arthur was drunk.

He was abominably drunk.

He-he couldn't be held accountable for-.

Merlin opened his mouth to protest...

Arthur would have none of it.

So he silenced him.

With his mouth.

A jolt of wet hot want coursed through Merlin's body as he arched instinctively into the kiss. His hands fisted in the sheets around him, the sorcerer having enough control of himself to not grab at the prince and pull him in closer. Arthur wasn't in control of himself or his actions. He wasn't seeing things through. He was drunk and acting on impulse and-.

Arthur reached between them and cupped Merlin.

A whimper of pleasure was ripped from him in a guttural tone he couldn't even recognize as his own.

This was wrong.

This was so horribly wrong.

And yet Merlin couldn't keep himself from finally letting go of his grip on the sheets and wrapping his arms around Arthur's neck, pulling him in closer, deepening the kiss.

"Merlin." Arthur groaned hoarsely. "Oh gods Merlin. Merlin!"

In the morning the sorcerer would hate himself for taking advantage of his drunk friend.

Yet right now, as he lost himself to the intense, white pleasure, Merlin could only whisper Arthur's name back to him with the same need and desire.

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