A/N: I've never written Uther/Merlin before, not really, nor modern-day AU so any OOC'ness is my fault. I've also got this HUGE kink right now with younger men calling their older lovers, "Daddy". Please read and review - I hope you enjoy it!

"Another Version of the Truth"

There was an order to the world, a caste system that centuries of growing conscience and supposed civil society had sought to abolish. It couldn't and it wouldn't ever really go away; Uther Pendragon knew that.

He counted on it, to be honest.

He rubbed his hand over the stubble on his face, calloused fingers smoothing over the wrinkles in his skin like a man reading Brail. He knew the spread of creases that surrounded his mouth, years of working murder scenes for N.Y. Homicide turning his mouth into a grim, near perpetual frown. He knew that there would be a series of lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes, age whittling away his youth with a wood smith's arthritic hands.

It was inevitable; he'd lived too many lifetimes to let it bother him anymore. He'd continue to live them too, centuries upon centuries of memories crowding his brain until he'd been forced to give up his bitterness of past lives and hold onto what little joy he could find in each new one.

He'd continue to live them until they all got it 'right', whatever that meant. Uther hadn't stopped caring because it was in his nature to be adamant and zealous. It was why he chased criminals with the same single-mindedness as he used to persecute magic-users. It made him a good cop; it made him an awful father.

He hadn't quite gotten that part right, even after all this time.

Uther had often asked himself why he was born to this life; why he was born into a family of underpaid, under appreciated cops when in other lives he'd been king, viscount, even a marquee once, though that had been short lived. In one life he'd been a High Inquisitor for the Spanish Inquisition; in another, humorously enough, he'd been a witch hunter in Salem.

In this life, however, he'd remained relatively bereft of power past what a badge and a gun brought, though halfway through a midlife crisis Uther had been surprised to discover he didn't mind. He'd be a beat cop over a desk jockey, anyway - he liked the fear in criminal's eyes when he pulled up with his partner, red and blues blazing. He liked the way their eyes would drop to the gun at his hip, hard steel and lead bullets like the final punctuation mark in a book.

Part of him still felt the heaviness of a crown on his brow. Part of him called to have these degenerates burned at the stake. Part of him just wanted it all to be over so he could finally sleep, uninterrupted.

They only had to get it right, just once.

***

Uther pulled up in front of Cafe Remy's and slid out of the seat with a creak of his knees. The glow of the neon sign washed out the wrinkles from his skin but Uther could appreciate that it was at least inconspicuous and not tacky like many strip club signs were. He flashed his badge at the bouncer, a freight train of a man who would bowl over anyone who tried to cause trouble. The bouncer - "Bas", his nametag read - smiled at him, his teeth white against his dusky skin.

"Good to see you, officer," Bas drawled as he waved him through, "comin' to see Warlock tonight?"

Uther shrugged noncommittally, though he could feel a tingle low in his belly at the thought. "Is he on?" he asked in a precise, clipped tone. Bas nodded and gestured towards the center stage with a meaty hand.

"Workin' his magic right now," he replied.

Uther moved through the crowd of bodies pressed close to the stage and saw him, his body twining around a pole as if he were fucking it in front of everyone.

Merlin.

Merlin, who was working a kind of magic over the crowd as he undulated and teased with long, pale limbs and a sensuality that Uther had missed for too many lifetimes.

Not this one, however.

In this one Uther had made his peace with Merlin, whom he remembered hating for too long; long enough that he'd had to fight the visceral aversion he'd felt towards him the first time he met him in his current incarnation. He'd moved past it.

He knew that this was a step towards breaking his own cycle of death and rebirth. This was a step towards getting it right.

Merlin saw him standing near the stage and smiled seductively, then crawled on hands and knees to take the dollar that Uther grudgingly dug out of his pocket.

"Hi Daddy," Merlin whispered, his cheek pressed against Uther's. His tongue flicked out to dip into Uther's ear, eliciting an involuntary shudder from him. "You want to punish me for being naughty on that pole, tonight?"

Uther felt a conflict of lust and the need to lash out against the debauched things Merlin was saying rise, as surely as his cock perked up a bit with interest. "Yeah kid," he hissed back, his voice soft yet full of authority as he turned and pressed his mouth against Merlin's ear, "I want that."

Merlin winked at him and rose smoothly, his body long and lean and catlike with grace. He returned to the pole and Uther turned away, ignoring the jealous looks he'd received and catcalls asking him if he wanted to be some twink's sugar daddy too.

He knew making peace with Merlin, accepting him and embracing him was right. What was wrong, however, was the fact Merlin didn't have any clue who he was or who he had once been.

***

The back room of Cafe Remy was reserved for private dances, but for an extra 75 bucks some strippers offered a little extra whip to the topping. Uther didn't pay and Merlin didn't mind because this was about something else: something more the dark-haired boy didn't understand but was drawn to, nonetheless.

Uther understood. Usually Merlin was drawn into Arthur's orbit in each life he lived, the two finding each other like two magnets that would always be pulled inexorably towards one another. Except this time Merlin didn't remember. This time things were different. This time Arthur wasn't even his son, but some young rookie who had been transferred to his precinct and bore a resentment towards him for some unknown reason. Same old, same old.

This time things were different and Uther didn't know if what he was doing was helping or hindering the situation, or even how it had first come to happen, but there he was in some seedy strip joint with Merlin giving him a lap dance that would send a lesser man into cardiac arrest.

At that moment, however, he was having a hard time caring or even keeping a thought in his head as Merlin carded his long fingers through his dark hair, those beautiful, deep blue eyes laced with something downright sinful as he licked his lips and smoldered at Uther in a way Uther was certain he hadn't been smoldered at before.

He also couldn't remember ever being this turned on, his cock filled and almost painfully hard as Merlin turned and rubbed it between the cleft of his ass. Sweat cut trails down the narrow frame of his back, his skin smelling pungent and dirty from rubbing against other clients. Uther caught whiff of someone's expensive cologne on Merlin's skin and felt an odd pang of jealousy and possessiveness rip through him. How many times had they done this? How many times, and just now Uther was getting possessive?

Merlin was a stripper for crissake, and Uther, Uther should be arresting himself for what he was about to do. But he couldn't; the rules had changed. Things were different.

Merlin was undulating like a snake on his lap, naked except for a pair of red, knee-high pleather boots that Uther had told him to keep on.

The older man groaned as Merlin teased him relentlessly, glancing over his thin shoulder to fix him with a little, devious grin. In other lives Merlin had been clumsy, almost ridicuously so. Not in this one, though, on no; in this one Merlin was slinky as a little vixen. He wondered what changed. He wondered why Merlin didn't remember.

At that moment Merlin rolled his hips against his lap and Uther's cock was dragged between the cheeks of the kid's ass. Uther groaned, certain he was going to have a heart attack, his dick wanting to be buried in Merlin's body so badly that his hips twitched helplessly upwards every time Merlin rubbed against him.

It was ridiculous for a man of nearly 50 (still wearing his dress socks, even) to be THIS turned on.

"Kid," he commanded, curling his fingers around those bony hips, snapping them down towards his straining cock, "stop teasing and fuck me already, or else," he growled, full of demand, knowing that Merlin enjoyed it when he took control. There was something there, something from another life that told him Merlin needed the command, needed to be handled with a rough hand.

It came easily to him, after all. Being a cop demanded a certain amount of respect. Uther was used to telling people what to do on a daily basis.

"Or else what Daddy?" Merlin panted, his prepped lubed asshole hovering just above the blunt head of Uther's rigid cock.

Uther grabbed Merlin's hips and in one motion, slammed him down onto his lap, impaling him on this thick length in one motion. "Or else I'll arrest you, kid. Now ride your Daddy," he ground out, nearly exploding as Merlin's body sheathed his cock in tight warmth.

As Merlin began to bounce on his lap, using those long legs to life himself up and let gravity slam him back down, Uther wondered if this was truly, "getting it right". Merlin let his head fall back onto Uther's shoulder as he rode Uther's dick for all he was worth.

"Oh Daddy," Merlin moaned, "your big, fat cock feels so good inside me."

"I'm going to fuck you until you remember, kid," Uther said clearly, fisting Merlin's dick in his hand as he continued to thrust up into him, "you're going to remember."

Maybe this was the wrong way of going about things, but as Uther suddenly grabbed Merlin's hips and slammed him down hard on his dick - once, twice - before spilling himself inside of him, ('Keep it in you, kid, I want the next guy who fucks you to know your mine.), he thought he might be able to endure having to live another lifetime if it meant he had Merlin in this one.

(The End.)