DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of Merlin, or indeed, Cruel Intentions
WARNINGS: Explicit sex from the outset, SLASH, language, and douchebags everywhere
SUMMARY: Arthur and Morgana rule the school of St David's, taking what they want through seduction & manipulation. But things don't go quite to plan when a bet sets Merlin Emrys into Arthur's sights. Modern AU, SLASH
A/N Based loosely on the plot of Cruel Intentions. It's very obvious in the first chapter, but will follow less closely as the story goes on.
Like the naked leads the blind.
I know I'm selfish, I'm unkind.
Sucker love I always find,
Someone to bruise and leave behind.
Chapter 1 - Want to bet?
Arthur flung back his head and clutched at the edge of the desk with white-knuckled fists, his throat contracting with a shaky moan as the man thrust faster, rattling the surface Arthur was clinging to, and causing pens, papers, and a mobile phone to go shooting onto the floor. They clattered loudly, echoing in the otherwise empty classroom, but neither person noticed nor cared.
They merely rutted against each other harder, Arthur arching his back all the way up off the desk, grinding wantonly against the other man's hips, his naked erection leaving a sticky trail between them. His bottoms had been discarded - as well as his boxers - and he wore nothing but a white shirt, unbuttoned and pooled deliciously around his shoulders. His lover lowered his dark head to Arthur's chest, licking and nipping at his collarbones, his breath panting erratically against his sweat and spit-slick skin.
"More, more," Arthur panted, his grip on the desk loosening as the other man pounded harder, almost causing him to shoot over the edge of the desk and onto the ground. He was kept only in place by his lover's bruising grip on his spread thighs, that were holding Arthur open and allowing the other man to grind his dick teasingly between his ass cheeks.
"You want more?" the man breathed, and Arthur almost rolled his eyes, because hadn't he just said exactly that? His assent was cut off however, by a long, slick finger, pushing against his ass - firm and eager - and circling his exposed hole.
He gripped the man's cock in firm fist and shook his head, closing his thighs and informing him, matter-of-factly, "No intercourse."
His lover looked surprised, dark hair damp with moisture and lips bruised red from kissing.
"You have rules?" he asked, disbelieving, smoothing his hands up and down Arthur's naked thighs, looking as though he was trying to coax them back open.
The blond laughed, sharp and amused, wriggling back towards the other man and pressing himself back against him - less exposed than before, but purposely more wanton.
"Not rules," he explained, giving the man's cock a languish stroke, precum smearing across his fingertips, "Preferences."
The man nodded shakily, his own fingers leaving red indentations in Arthur's skin.
"Do you know what I do have a preference for, though?" the blond continued, his voice low and breathy, just suggestive enough to be effortlessly sexy. He slid off the desk, looking up at the other man through wide, mischievous eyes, and sunk to his knees. He flicked out his tongue, teasing, and licked the head of his lover's purpling cock, before answering, "Blow-jobs."
The man groaned, loud and unrestrained, hands fisting at Arthur's golden hair as his mouth engulfed his cock - hot, fast, and slick - until Arthur's nose was pressed against his pubic hair. He let out a cry, legs shaking, as Arthur's throat contracted around his cock, ripping an orgasm from deep inside him - over in only seconds. He poured into Arthur's mouth, and the blond swallowed eagerly - lapping with his tongue until he had finished.
Arthur shuddered, his breath catching in his chest - but scrabbled backwards, until he was actually sat upright on the desk, chest heaving and shining with the air of someone who was confident, controlled, and experienced - bringing himself off in quick, sure strokes.
By the time the other man had recovered from his climax, breathing slowly returning to it's regular rate, Arthur had finished himself off and clambered back to his feet, wriggling into his bottoms and buttoning his stain-covered shirt. He perched himself back on the edge of the desk, face shining with sweat and hair curling slightly behind his ears, looking gorgeously tousled, strangely smug, and thoroughly well-fucked. The other man merely stood where he was, pants around his ankles and heart thumping erratically in his chest.
"Well, sir," Arthur began after a pause, in a low throaty voice, pulling a cigarette and lighter from his pocket, and flicking it alight, "That certainly wasn't something that was on the curriculum."
The teacher chuckled slightly, although it seemed a little forced now his wits were returning to him, and struggled back into his clothes - graceless when compared to Arthur's effortless sprawl.
"You can't smoke in here," he said in his most authoritative voice, for a lack of anything better to say. He tried for an unimpressed face, but he was still slack-jawed, slightly breathless - and so hoped raising his eyebrows as high as they could physically go would illustrate his point. "What happened between us doesn't mean you can do whatever you want."
Arthur laughed, and it was a brittle sound, almost mocking - his lips stretching wide across sharp, white teeth. It made Mr Brent feel uneasy, even more so after the blond ignored him and took a long, pointed drag, but as Arthur didn't contest his words, he chose not to press anything further. He merely reattached his belt and ran a hand through his messy hair, watching out the corner of his eye as the blond wandered over to the edge of the classroom, studying the posters on the walls, cigarette dangling from a casual hand.
"Now, about the latest essay on The Great Gatsby," Arthur began, after a moments pause, attention thoroughly engrossed in the wall decorations. He tapped a hand, and ash sprinkled over the floor; he was looking away however, and so missed his teacher's pointed scowl.
Mr Brent frowned, curious, as he picked up his tie from where it had been strewn across the floor. "What about it?"
Arthur turned his head slightly to look at him - just a mere tilt that made him look deceptively innocent - eyes bright and wide against his blond hair and flushed cheekbones. "I noticed you gave me a E," he said, giving his wrist another sharp flick.
"Arthur, you barely wrote anything," Mr Brent explained, eyebrows raised as he recalled Arthur's less than half-assed attempt at a two-thousand word essay, "It was only a paragraph long."
The blond nodded absently, making no move to deny it. "Yeah, see, that's where we've got a problem," he murmured, lifting a hand and stroking one of the posters with a curious finger, brow furrowing, "Because I have straight A's in everything else."
Mr Brent blinked. "Why didn't you do the work then?!"
After giving a tinkling laugh, Arthur spun on a heel to face him, cigarette dangling from wet, red lips as he shrugged. "I don't know," he replied, in a tone that was thick with bafflement - too thick. He grinned then, sharp and malicious, while adding, "Maybe I was too busy giving my teacher a blow-job."
Something in Mr Brent's stomach dropped through the floor, and he froze in redoing his tie, staring at the blond in wide-eyed surprise. "What are you saying?" he asked, although he already had a fairly good idea as to where the conversation was heading.
Arthur shrugged again, innocent, and tapped ash from his cigarette again, onto the floor. "You're a clever man, Mr Brent, I'm sure you can figure it out." He smiled. "Because if I don't get an A, I might have to appeal to the headmaster - and you know what, I think he'll be very interested to know what I've been doing in my free time, instead of my homework." He turned back to the wall then, ignoring his teacher s open-mouthed gaping, and ripped down a poster, before adding casually, "You might want to think about that."
And with that he moved to the door, blowing out a stream of smoke as he went, while calling, "Good day, sir," over his shoulder.
Mr Brent watched him go, heart lurching in his chest, hair in disarray and shoes still untied.
It was days like this, that Morgana almost thought her life was too easy. Where was the challenge? The excitement? Where was the adrenaline that made her heart thump erratically in her chest, loud and uncontrolled, and sweat shine across her forehead?
It almost made her wonder if her objective was even worth it - worth the sheer effort of gritting her teeth and smiling angelically, every inch the pure, sweet, and harmless virgin. But then she remembered Lance - his sad and sympathetic eyes, his watery voice, tinged with pity of all things, when he said, "I'm sorry, Morgana," all nauseatingly sincere - and she knew, just knew, that yes, it was worth it, worth every damn second of this sickeningly sweet charade.
He shouldn't pity her, of all people. It was almost laughable! She had everything that she wanted; he should save his pity for himself.
"I can assure you," she said, in her sweetest voice, tucking a dark curl behind her ear, "That Guinevere will be more than taken of. I'll see to it myself." She smiled softly, her pink lips curving only slightly, showing just a glimpse of straight white teeth - just wide enough that it seemed genuine, but gentle enough that it didn't seem harsh, predatory, or any of the things Arthur said made her look just a little bit evil. She had to be careful - to play things just right. Everything depended on it.
"That would be greatly appreciated," said the girl's father, nodding along eagerly to Morgana's encouraging words. He clasped his daughter's knee, tight and reassuring, while informing Morgana, "Gwen's not really had much experience at a private school before."
Morgana nodded politely, but her eyes were flinted, pinched, as she inwardly suppressed the urge to shudder. Not only was the girl average to look at - and really, that was Morgana being generous - but she was commoner, as well - plain, simple, and only excepted at the prestigious St. David's because of a scholarship. It made Morgana sick. How could Lance have preferred this plain slip of a girl to her? It was beyond insulting.
"I'll do my very best to take care of her," Morgana muttered, turning her gaze to Gwen - intense and unblinking - while throwing the girl a smile. Gwen smiled back hesitantly, dark curls bouncing, and fiddled with her fingers resting in her lap, so sweet and bashful it almost made Morgana physically sick.
"What about the boys there?" the girl's father questioned, which seemed to gain Gwen's attention; she titled her head slightly, interested.
"This school is the best in all of London," Morgana replied, dusting imaginary lint off her black pencil skirt, smoothing her hands slowly down her thighs. She met the man's eyes, her gaze direct and faux sincere. "All of men that go there are fine, upstanding gentlemen."
The father nodded, but there was something uneasy about his gaze, and he hesitated for a moment, unsure. "It's just -" he began, looking uncomfortable. Morgana waited, politely questioning, but made no move to rescue him from his distress, almost smiling in glee as he floundered. Eventually he powered on, but his tone was apologetic as he said, "I've heard rumours." He raised an eyebrow. "Your brother?"
At his words Morgana couldn't help but straighten, her expression frozen in something almost rigidly polite as she thought of what to say. Of course it would be about Arthur. Everyone had heard of him.
"My step-brother," she corrected, letting out a loud and exasperated sigh. "Arthur is one of the exceptions at St David's. He's a troubled young man, and sometimes takes things too far."
That was the understatement of the century, but she wasn't going to let Gwen's father know that.
The father blinked. "I heard he -" he looked nervously at his daughter and coughed "- slept with one of his teachers. On the teacher's desk. And then posted pictures of her naked on the internet!"
Morgana choked slightly and smiled, but it was genuine this time, tinted with amusement; she tried to keep it reassuring and apologetic, ever the picture of kindness and sophistication, but she was unable to suppress her glee. Arthur was inventive, she had to give him that.
"He's very troubled," is the only explanation she gave them in reply.
And as if by magic, the door swung open and Arthur himself swept into the room.
He was tall and imposing, broad-shouldered, and confident in a way that instantly commanded the attention of a room. He wasn't smiling, his jaw only grinding in regular intervals, in that way he did when he was thinking. He was wearing a smart blue shirt, casually unbuttoned, revealing glimpsed of smooth golden skin, and tight dark jeans, his hair effortlessly tousled and casually windswept.
The father blanched, but Gwen sat up straighter, biting her lip, anxious and so very interested.
"Sister," he greeted, sweeping towards Morgana's chair and giving her swift kisses on either cheek.
"Brother," she replied, through gritted teeth, hoping he would pick up on her telepathic waves telling him to get lost. She was close to securing Gwen (and her father's) trust, and Arthur was not going to ruin it for her. "I thought you were working on an extra-curricular activity at school."
"Finished," Arthur announced, with a pleased smile, "You'll be happy to know I'm going to get an A!"
Morgana didn't doubt it.
"Sorry for being so rude, but this is my brother, Arthur Pendragon," Morgana explained, with a sweep of her hand, "Gwen's hoping to join St David's."
Arthur nodded, faux sincere. "Nice to meet you," he said, with a flash of grin that caused Gwen to blush and her father to tense. He moved closer, looking predatory now, and continued in his most flirtatious voice, "I so look forward to getting very well acquainted with you."
Gwen squeaked, her face colouring, as her father jumped to his feet. "We're leaving now!" he announced, in a brittal tone. He ushered Gwen to her feet. "It was nice to meet you, Morgana."
Attempting to stop herself from smacking Arthur about the head, Morgana smiled, shook the father's hand, and gave Gwen a farewell wave. "I look forward to you starting at St David's," she preened, as they moved towards the door at a hurried pace, "Bye Gwen!"
"Bye Gwen!" Arthur added, in an amused tone, as her father threw a glare over his shoulder and snapped the door shut behind him.
"Do you have to ruin everything?" Morgana cried, as soon as she was sure they were gone.
Arthur collapsed back on the sofa, legs propped upwards, and raised an eyebrow, relaxed and unconcerned. "I didn't do anything," he replied, leaning his head back and revealing a long sliver of golden neck, pulling up his sunglasses and resting them on top of his head.
Morgana blew out a stream of breath, feeling aggravated.
"Your reputation is enough to scare people off!" she cried, shaking her head and pulling out her conservative pony-tail, allowing her long, curly hair to cascade down her back, just how she liked it. Sometimes she hated the facade she had to put on for people, full of proper dark pant-suits, slicked back hair and a long fine cross necklace - it was suffocating, confining, and absolutely exhausting. She just didn't know how people could be so nice all the time.
"Excuse me," Arthur replied, sounding calm, lazy and just a little bit amused, "My reputation is something I took a long time building."
Morgana glared at him with slanted eyes, hoping he could feel her rolling waves of contempt, before unbuttoning her suit jacket with a relieved sigh, and revealing a tight, gold top - it dipped into her cleavage, tantalising, and shimmered as she moved, the small insewn gems glinting in the lamp light.
"You almost ruined my plans!" she continued, tossing back her hair and sucking in a breath, chest heaving with the momentum. Arthur was watching closely, and see was pleased to see desire in his eyes - hooded, intense, and longing. "No father wants his sweet little daughter to go to a school with you attending."
Arthur blinked out of his stupor and laughed, a merry bell-like sound, throwing back his head and shoulders shaking with mirth. As usual, he looked sickeningly pleased with himself. "I try," he said, teeth glinting through his ferocious grin.
"It's not funny!" Morgana snapped, in no mood for her brother's games. She led back on her sofa and stretched out her legs, skirt riding up her smooth skin and revealing her soft, pale thighs. She let out a troubled sigh.
Arthur gave her a side-long glance, eyebrow raised, and lit a cigarette, letting it dangle casually in his fingers. He blew on the end, slow and almost sensual, red lips glistening as it glowed. "Why are you so worked up?" he asked, with the air of the person who didn't really care but felt obliged to ask anyway.
Morgana huffed, and rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the way her voice rose an octave - sharp and bitter - as she explained, "That girl, it was Gwen."
"Gwen?" Arthur repeated, taking a long drag of his cigarette, until, "Oh! Gwen! The girl that Lance dumped you for? I see." He nodded, and his lips quirked slightly, mischievous, as he connected the dots of Morgana's plan. "Is that was this is all about then? Revenge?"
"Well, can you honestly blame me?!" Morgana snapped, something in her composure breaking, her eyes blazing and chest heaving in outrage. Arthur blinked at her for a moment, surprised, as she fought to regain her poise. "Did you see her? How could Lance have dumped me? For that!"
Arthur grinned, and it was malicious, revelling in her misery. "Oh, I thought she was cute!" he exclaimed, voice thick with faux innocence, almost crowing in victory as his sister went rigid with anger.
Morgana's jaw snapped, but she suppressed the urge to react, to let him win, merely rearranging her face into her most sickeningly sweet smile, disbelieving that anyone could think that slip of a girl cute. Arthur was just trying to mess with her, but she sure as hell wasn't going to let him; she was better than his childish games.
"Good," she murmured, through gritted teeth, "I'm glad you think she's cute, because I am going to need you to seduce her."
Arthur sighed and tossed his head, like he was expecting Morgana to say exactly that - and he probably was, because who knew her better than him? "I'm sorry - can't," he replied, blowing out a long stream of smoke and watching it curl in front of him, fanning out into the air, not sounding sorry at all, "I have more important things to be focusing on."
That was not what Morgana wanted to hear. "Like what?!" she cried, disbelieving, her voice almost cracking as she fought to keep it controlled. He was her brother, for all intents and purposes, and he was not going to refuse her.
The blond grinned and sat back upright, placing his fag between his lips and pulling a folded up piece of paper out the pocket of his jeans. He straightened it out quickly, eyes alight with glee - crinkled at the corners. He got to his feet and approached Morgana, leaning over the back of her sofa, his breath puffing gentle and warm down her neck, dangling the paper in front of her.
"Lookie, lookie, what I found!" he crowed.
Morgana sighed (her boredom and exasperation loud and pointed), but snatched the sheet from his grasp regardless, silently curious as to what had gotten her brother so irritatingly excited. She looked down on it, eyebrows raised, as she realised it was a poster, probably snatched from the school campus, and titled, 'Want to wait?' It had a picture of two people having sex, with a bright red cross over it, looking as though it had been created by someone who had got slightly overexcited with rainbow felt-tips.
She frowned. "What is this? A celibacy club?"
"That's right," Arthur replied, breathing smoke down her cleavage, his voice tinted with amusement, "Who knew there were any virgins still left at St David's?"
"Yeah," Morgana agreed, bored now, slapping the poster back into his chest, "Amazing that you haven't yet deflowered them all." Her tone was suitably sarcastic.
Arthur ignored her, as he often did when somebody said something he didn't like. He obviously wasn't finished. "I looked up the name at the bottom in the school records: Merlin Emrys."
That got Morgana's attention. She craned her neck back to look at him, suspicious, because none of the students - not even ones of Arthur and Morgana's calibre - were allowed access to the school records. They were supposed to be private and confidential. What had Arthur done now?
"How?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice cool and nonchalant, because god forbid she show actual interest.
"I gave Holly Davies sexual favours," Arthur explained, casual, but there was something proud in his voice as well.
Morgana sighed. Holly Davies was the school receptionist, and one of the administration department. Of course. She wasn't even surprised - it was just like Arthur to use his sexuality as a weapon. It was perhaps the one of the only similarities between the two siblings - the other being their complete disregard for everything and everyone that crossed them.
There was a quick pause, a rustle, before Arthur passed her another piece of paper. It appeared to be a print-out of Merlin Emrys essential information, with a small passport photo on the left. Arthur pointed at it, explaining somewhat unnecessarily, as Morgana was neither blind nor stupid, "This is him."
Morgana squinted down at the picture, taking in the scruffy black hair, sharp cheekbones, and bright blue eyes. And what appeared to be a ratty red scarf, hanging round his neck like some sort of dead animal - only a lot less expensive. She crinkled her nose in disgust. "Ew," she exclaimed, "What is he wearing?"
She felt Arthur shrug behind her, a small jerk of his shoulder.
"He's got virgin written all over him, hasn't he?" he asked, in a way that seemed to be rhetorical. He grinned against the side of Morgana's hair, his lips ghosting her temple, a ran a gentle finger along her jaw - it was sensual, and teasing, and so very them. They were playing, just as they always did. "Think of what seducing him will do for my reputation - he's the fucking president of the Celibacy Club!"
Morgana rolled her eyes, because it was just like Arthur to try something like this - with anyone, rich or poor, male or female, because unlike her, he didn't seem to have actual standards. As far as her brother was concerned, anyone with a pulse was fair game. He said it made things exciting, and interesting to mix things up, and that really, sex is sex at the end of the day, so who even cares who it's with? It was one philosophy they'd never really agreed on; he said she was too picky.
"You'll never do it," she informed him snottily, like talking to a small child, giving him a mocking pat on the cheek, "He's taken a vow of celibacy, Arthur."
The blond laughed, nipped her sharply on the jaw - purposely painful - before strolling back to his own sofa, lying back and drifting an absent hand down his chest, parting the shirt and revealing smooth, hard skin. He grinned, and it was challenging, and seductive, and if Morgana didn't have so much self control, she might have even moaned a little bit - because as much as she liked to play with him, and as much as she sometimes despised him, he was a very attractive man. He knew that.
"Want to bet?" he dared, stretching his legs.
"No," she said pointedly, unwilling to rise to his bait, "What I want is for you to seduce Gwen."
Arthur rolled his eyes and dropped his hand, but although his posture had deflated somewhat, his eyes were still glinting, not yet defeated. "Could you be more boring?" he asked, loud and mocking, because he knew it would rile her.
Morgana inhaled a lungful of air but managed to maintain her nonchalant demeanour, rigid in her posture, because she refused to be baited by the likes of him. She knew what he was trying to do, and she sure as hell wasn't going to let him. Sometimes she hated that he knew her so well, that he almost understood her, because he knew how to get to her - just like she did for him - and he wielded it like a weapon. He was like her: nasty, spiteful, and unrelenting, until he finally got what he wanted.
"Maybe that's why Lance dumped you," he continued, pressing, his lips turned up into a malicious smile - just like he always did when he knew he was winning. "Because you're boring."
Morgana surged to her feet, manicured fingers curling into fists, the urge to reach for him, to claw at his perfect face, almost too much to resist. "Enough!" she snapped, voice full of venom, the desire to take revenge thrumming through her veins, "I'll do your stupid bet."
Arthur's face broke out into a victorious grin, full of sharp white teeth, and Morgana hissed, because if he thought he was going to get away with baiting her like that, he had another thing coming. She was going to get the conversation back under her control, just how she liked it.
"I already know the terms," she told him, moving forwards, her steps slow and predatory - victory her only thought now. "If I win, you do whatever I wish, including seducing dear Guinevere."
The blond blinked for a moment, licking his lips, and watching his step-sister with thinly veiled suspicion. She bent towards him, long curls cascading over her shoulders and brushing his chest, her glossy mouth parting ever so slightly. He stared, bright eyes sweeping down her exposed cleavage, cigarette dangling from a loose hand.
"And if I win?" he asked, his voice a rough sort of croak.
"If you win," Morgana began, shimmying up her skirt and reclining herself onto her step-brother lap, hip to hip and face to face, "You get what you've always wanted."
She puffed her warm breath against his lips and wriggled her hips, pressing down onto his crotch with suggestive intent, her eyes glinting with victory.
Arthur let out a long breath, stuttering slightly from his chest, but his face was purposely indifferent, his fingers digging tight on her hip.
"And what is that?" he questioned, something cheeky and amused colouring his tone, as he arched upwards, pressing her into his growing arousal.
She ground herself down on him - something tight curling in her belly - and tilted her head, brushing her lips over the smooth skin of his temple, his cheek, and finally his mouth. Her fingers fluttered around his neck, a painted red nail skimming his thrumming pulse, and digging mercilessly into his skin. "You get me," she breathed.
She pressed a pointed hand against his cock, palming the bulge in his jeans, and met his eyes unblinkingly.
"The only person you could never have," she explained, brow cocked.
Arthur groaned, and his eyes fluttered, a breathy, "Jesus!" escaping his parted mouth.
"Then you'll take the bet?" Morgana pressed, rocking against him slowly, his arousal pressing into her parted legs. "Yes?"
After a few more moments of slow grinding and heavy breathing, Arthur jerked his head slightly in something that resembled agreement. "Yes," he croaked, in a rough voice, grasping at her hips. "Yes."
Morgana grinned. "Good," she said, stilling her movements and climbing to her feet. Arthur groaned in disappointment, looking at her through fogging eyes, as she clasped his face in a tight and sharp-nailed grip. "May the best person win."
With that, she turned on a heel, smoothed her skirts and swept in the direction of the door without looking back.
"Morgana!" Arthur exclaimed, sounding horrified. "You can't just leave me like this, you harpy!
"I suggest you get Merlin to give you a hand with it, if you want to win this bet," she replied, smirking, and closing the door with a snap behind her.
TBC...
A/N I'm well aware that Arthur is a douche - he's intended to be. He will get better, I swear!
Please R&R if you want me to continue...