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[personal profile] blamethewizard
Title: Pas De Deux (Or, Arthur and Merlin do the Olympics)
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: Hard R
Warnings/Spoilers: Here be porn, un-beta'd
Disclaimer: They do not belong to me and this has no effect whatsoever on my cash-money flow
Summary: written for the [livejournal.com profile] kinkme_merlin prompt: Arthur/Merlin, they are both athletes who meet at the Olympics. Arthur teases Merlin that his sport isn't really a sport. Merlin wins gold, Arthur doesn't. Merlin decides instead of gloating, he'll let Arthur take out his frustrations on him instead. Points for Arthur fucking Merlin while Merlin wears his gold medal. De-anon with more porn, a.k.a. this is The Late-Night Pay Per View Remix.

It was lunchtime at the restaurant in the Olympic Village. Arthur had been to many competitions, all over the world, but nothing compared to this. The sheer number of people, ethnicities and languages abuzz all around him was something else entirely. He passed a group of well-muscled, lean men speaking in some kind of Slavic language. Gymnasts maybe? Whatever they were, he let his gaze linger a bit too long and ended up crashing into the person in front of him. After years of tennis, Arthur’s reflexes and timing were pretty good, so he recovered himself before actually falling to the floor. The other (guy, it turned out) was not so lucky. He fell face-first in a tangle of limbs onto the floor, landing with an “Ooph!”.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Arthur asked, rushing forward to help them man. He fervently hoped he wasn’t injured, because the last thing he needed was to end someone else’s Olympic dreams before the Opening Ceremonies.

“Oh, I’m fine” the man replied, rolling over on to his back. Arthur was met with bright blue eyes, high cheekbones and ears that stuck out a little too much. It should have been ridiculous, but on this guy it somehow...worked.

“Here. He held out his hand and helped the man to his feet. He was taller than Arthur by a small bit, but where he was broad and well defined this guy was, well, pretty damn skinny. This guy was an athlete?

“Gymnasts?”

“What?” Arthur replied, snapping back to the moment.

“The gymnasts.” He gestured toward the group of men Arthur had been staring at “They’re rather distracting aren’t they?”.

“Are you suggesting I was ogling my fellow Olympians?”

“No, no, of course not. But either way, we should move. We’re holding up the line”. The man gestured behind Arthur again, where there was indeed a line forming behind them. He followed as the man turned to go inside.

The restaurant was set up cafeteria-style, rather like the university dining hall Arthur had eaten at when he’d visited Morgana at her college a few years back. There were different sections for various types of food. The number of options was a little staggering. This would have led to the second collision with the strange man had Arthur not turned his head just in time.

“Damn” whispered the man, apparently also struck by the number of food options before them.

“Look, er....” a name would have been useful here “I don’t know you, but I almost just ran in to you again, so if we’re going to keep this up I’m going to need a name”. Arthur flashed his most charming smile. Nobody contested the power of the Pendragon Smile.

Except that the man smiled back, and damn if that grin didn’t do this for this guy’s eyes that should be illegal. “Oh” he replied, holding out his hand “I’m Merlin. Merlin Emrys”.

“Arthur Pendragon”

He saw what looked like half-recognition in the man-Merlin’s-face. Most people didn’t follow tennis obsessively, but Arthur was good at his sport, such that his name and face were mentioned in the media often enough.

“Hey, you’re...you play, what-tennis or something right?” Merlin asked.

“That’s me. What about you?”

“What?”

“You-your sport, why you’re here”. Arthur waited for a response with interest. Mentally, he went over a few possibilities. Swimming? Diving? No...not enough muscle. Maybe something obscure like archery or-

“Dressage”

“What?” Arthur asked, in all seriousness. He’d never heard the word before.

“Dressage. And we’re holding up the line again.”

“Oh, right. Err...sandwich?” Arthur gestured toward what looked like a station where safe, bread-and-meat concoctions were being offered.

“Sounds good”.

As they joined the sandwich line, Arthur picked up the conversation again.

“So, your sport, err...dress, dress-”

“Dressage”

“Yes, dressage. What is it exactly?”

“An equestrian sport.”

“Oh, like jumping over fences and that kind of thing?” Arthur asked, hopeful. He’d seen that on t.v. a few times during other Olympic years. Horses jumping over big fences ridden by people dressed in funny outfits.

“Um, no. Well, that is an equestrian sport, but its not my sport. There are three, you see. Show jumping, which is what you probably mean, eventing and dressage.”

“Okay, so what does dressage,” he paused, the word still sounding strange “involve, exactly?”.

Merlin smiled, his eyes becoming (if possible) an even brighter blue. I guess he really liked his sport. That, Arthur could relate to.

“It has its origins in the military. Dressage means ‘traning’ in French. Basically, I train horses to maximize their athletic ability and response to cues. In competition, we perform routines to show that off. Its kind of like...ballet. With horses”.

“You teach horses ballet?” Arthur asked, incredulous. What kind of weird sport was that? It sounded more like a circus act, less like something that belonged in the Olympics.

Merlin didn’t seem to appreciate his incredulity.

“Well it’s a little...actually a good deal more complicated than that, but I wouldn’t expect a tennis player to understand” was his reply.

“What?!”

It was not a good idea to insult tennis around Arthur Pendragon.

“Well, you run around and hit a ball with a...” Merlin started making some swinging motions “...thing and-”

“You mean a racket?”

“Right, a racket. You hit a ball with a racket and try not to miss it when it comes back your way. Its not exactly a complicated sport.” Merlin huffed.

Arthur stared at his sandwich-line companion, not amused, and put on his best we-are-not-happy face. “Okay, first of all” he began “That is the stupidest explanation of tennis I have ever heard. Second, at least its a real sport. You know, one that requires athleticism and skill.”

Judging from the look on Merlin’s face, that had been an insult of the highest degree. It was a good thing the man was next in line to order, because there was no way whatever was going to come out of his mouth next wouldn’t make a scene.

“What would you like, sir?” asked the station attendant.

 Merlin turned to the worker, blue eyes wide and struggling for composure.

“Um, right. Turkey club, no mayonnaise. Rye bread.”

A man after his own heart. Mayonnaise did not belong on a sandwich unless it involved tuna. If they he hadn’t been acting so disagreeable, Arthur would have smiled. As the situation was, he had to push some buttons.

“Got a problem with mayo?” he asked.

“I have a problem with you” was the reply.

“No really...I mean, doesn’t bacon on a sandwich practically require the presence of mayonnaise?” Arthur asked. “I thought-”

“You thought dressage was not a real sport. You have no idea.”

Really, Arthur had no reply to that. In truth, he was right...he had no idea what dressage entailed. However, it wasn’t he who described the sport as ‘ballet with horses’, so could who was really at fault here?

“What would you like, sir?” asked the station attendant

“Er....Tuna salad, please..on wheat?”

They waited for their sandwiches in silence, having taken trays from the entrance and laid them on the cold steel in front of them. Clear glass was the only barricade between them and the sandwich-makers, and Arthur watched the attendant put together his tuna-salad sandwich in silence, wondering what Merlin was thinking. He didn’t often find the compulsion to apologize for a social gaffe, but somehow, some way, he felt that this man, “Turkey-Club-Merlin-Person”, deserved such a thing.

“Look” Arthur started, eyes not wandering from the hand preparing his sandwich “I didn’t mean to insult your sport. Its just that...well, I’ve never heard of it before and horse-ballet does sound kind of strange”.

Merlin let out a breath that sounded like a half-laugh. Arthur let out a lung full of air he didn’t know was being held in.

“Okay” Merlin replied “It’s fine. Just...this conversation happens way too often. If you’re interested, there are all sorts of things on the web about it”.

Merlin grabbed his sandwich plate as the station attendant passed it to him. He fixed Arthur with what looked like an apologetic face.

“I have to go” he said  “Team meeting. Good luck?”

An apology it was. Arthur smiled.

“Thanks” he said “You too”.

And, well..that was the end of lunchtime interactions with Merlin Emrys. Arthur accepted his sandwich when it was finished and moved to the dining area. He ate quickly thinking about his first-round match and not at all about pale strangers with ridiculously blue eyes.

TEN DAYS LATER

Arthur fought the urge to throw his laptop across the room. The screen currently displayed three smiling men, standing on a podium at the separate heights with equally dazzling smiles. None of those smiling men were him.

VALIANT CLINCHES GOLD IN MEN’S TENNIS FINAL read the headline.

Arthur’s frown deepened. Valiant was an asshole, terrorizer of ball boys and line judges alike. People looked up to Olympic medal winners, but as a role model the only thing Valiant inspired was “you can get away with all kinds of shit as long as you’re good”.

Then there was the man on the second highest step of the platform, Lancelot DuLac, whom apparently the entire world was in love with and who’d beaten Arthur in his quarterfinals match. Okay, so it wasn’t Lance’s fault that Arthur hadn’t won a medal, but could he at least have had the decency to win the whole thing after routing Arthur on international television?

 Arthur wasn’t usually so depressed after losing a competition, but this was the Olympics and he’d practically choked. He’d had enough. Moving to close the web page, the mouse cursor ran over a smaller headline. HISTORIC WIN FOR MELIN EMRYS IN DRESSAGE FINAL.

Oh, no way.

 He clicked on the link. Sure enough, there was Merlin grinning like a fool at the top of a podium. What with preparing and competing the last ten days, Arthur hadn’t really thought about the man after their strange encounter over sandwiches. Now, though, looking at Merlin clutching a funny had and waving flowers to an unseen crowd, Arthur couldn’t help but think the camera did a poor job of capturing just how blue the man’s eyes really were.

He looked happy, though, which made sense seeing as Merlin had just won an Olympic gold medal. Arthur sighed, wondering what it had been like to stand on a podium, unfamiliar weight of a medal around your neck with a more familiar anthem being played for all to hear.

Ugh..that’s enough he thought, promptly closing his laptop and getting his things together for a walk. Arthur was moving from moping to maudlin lines of thinking, which didn’t strike him as very appropriate for a world-class athlete. Perhaps it was time for a tuna sandwich.

If Arthur had thought his destination upon leaving his room was the restaurant at the center of the Olympic Village, he would have been wrong. The present moment found him, once again, face to face with a very cowed looking Merlin Emrys after another near-collision in the residence hallway. Okay, so it hadn’t been as much a near collision as Merlin had opened the door to the stairwell as Arthur leaned on it to open. He hadn’t fallen on his face, but it had been a close thing.

“Oh no, I’m sorry!!” Merlin exclaimed “Are you-”

He cut off upon realizing whom had almost just come crashing down to the floor. The pair had a moment in which they just sort of stared at one another, because honestly, there were thousands of people in the Olympic Village and the odds of them running into one another twice in ten days was ridiculously low, and did shit like this happen in real life?

Apparently so.

The door closed with a snap, leaving Merlin and Arthur on the stairwell platform. Arthur recovered first.

“At least it wasn’t my fault this time” he began. It was an awkward opening at best, but it broke the silence well enough.

“So I saw the headline” he continued “Congratulations”.

Merlin looked confused.

“Your historic win and all” Arthur offered as explanation, hoping the thought you idiot wasn’t conveyed in his tone of voice.

“Oh” Merlin’s face lit up “Thanks! Sorry, yeah, it just hasn’t really sunk in yet”.

There it was again, that smile, the one that made Merlin look stupidly happy. Arthur couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. It must have shown on his face because the smile turned to one of happiness to that of the sympathetic.

“Sorry about your match.” he offered.

The last thing Arthur needed was pity from anyone, even if they were somewhat attractive and probably just trying to be nice. He was angry now, and Arthur knew it carried over in his reply.
“Yeah, well, me too. Not my day”.

“I’ve been there, and it sucks. There’s no getting around it” Merlin offered “Still, I know I’m no expert or anything, but I thought you did really well”.

Well, okay, maybe this guy did know a thing or two about being an athlete. Arthur’s anger began to subside, his brain catching on Merlin’s last statement.

“Don’t tell me you watched my matches?”he asked. If he recalled correctly, this guy was a bit of a flirt and hell, so was Arthur.

“I might have caught a bit, yeah,” Merlin replied “I’ve been told that my education in tennis was lacking. Plus, I heard that one of the guys you played...DuLac something, was kind of hot”.

Yep, they were definitely on the same page here. Arthur fixed him with a sneer that probably lacked all sincerity if Merlin’s returning grin was any indication.

“Personally, I thought his hair was a bit silly”.

“Lancelot’s hair is silly” Arthur huffed. He would prefer not to be thinking about Lance’s hair at the moment. “Did you learn anything other than the relative ridiculousness of French tennis players?”

“Well” Merlin began, taking a tone of serious consideration “I think so. There was something about deuces, another thing about aces, but it was difficult because I kept getting distracted”.

At some point Merlin had moved into what would definitely be described as Arthur’s personal space, or maybe it had been the other way around. They were standing with Merlin’s back to the wall next to the doorway. Arthur knew this was a bit crazy. He barely knew this person and they were in a stairwell in an Olympic residence hall, but this didn’t really seem to matter. Arthur chose that moment to throw all caution out the window.

“Oh” he replied, with a smile that was probably half-seductive, half mocking “Care to elaborate?”.

Merlin flushed, looking down. He seemed to have no clue what to say next, any previous boldness having evaporated. It was kind of adorable, and when Merlin’s gaze finally flicked up to meet Arthur’s again he was biting his bottom lip as if to say “Um..”.
There was only one thing left to do. Arthur leaned in and kissed him, softly, at first, still a little unsure of his invitation, then much harder and the mouth beneath his opened, clearly wanting.

They started out slowly, tongues sliding past one another in a languid dance. It wasn’t long, however, before Arthur had his arms wrapped firmly around Merlin’s waist and pale fingers were running through blonde hair.

It was when Arthur moved to suck at the juncture between Merlin’s neck and the corresponding moan of approval that he became rather hyperaware of his rapidly growing hardness. He moved his hand from Merlin’s back to palm the front of his jeans.

“Fuck, Arthur”

Nope, definitely not alone in his situation. However, there was the fact that they were in a very public stairwell and Arthur wasn’t really sure that anyone who might walk in wouldn’t be as highly approving of the situation as he was.

He stopped to look at Merlin, who was pouting with flushed skin and perfectly swollen lips and a why did you stop? look on his face.

“Um, we should probably...”Arthur trailed off, again unsure of how far this could go.

“Well, uh, my room’s just-”

“Yes” Arthur responded, before he had any more time to think.

They burst through the door and somehow made it to Merlin’s room. As soon as the door closed Arthur had Merlin’s backed up on it, eager to pick things back up where they’d left them. However, in the short time between the stairwell and entering Merlin’s room Arthur had sobered slightly. He’d had his chest pressed to Merlin’s less than a minute before, yet had failed to notice that there was something around the area of the other man’s sternum, underneath his shirt, that didn’t feel like skin. His hand went from the back of Merlin’s neck to just below the center of his chest. Merlin froze.

“Merlin”

Arthur thought he heard a whimper of response.

“Merlin are you wearing it?!” Which was really no kind of question, because it was obvious that yes, Merlin was indeed wearing his medal. Merlin looked at him, his flush somehow deepening. Arthur had backed up slightly but his hand was still covering the medal that lay underneath Merlin’s button down shirt.

“Um....I didn’t want to leave it here?” Merlin offered, his eyes wandering to the floor. “I’m sorry, I didn’t...can we still...I mean, I’ll take it off”

“No” Arthur said, to his own shock.

Merlin’s head snapped up at that. Their eyes met for a few long seconds. Arthur moved his hands to the top button of the other man’s shirt.

“Can I?”

Swallowing thickly, Merlin nodded. Button by button, Arthur undid the shirt, revealing an expanse of pale skin and, sure enough, a shining gold medal hanging in the middle of it all. Staring at it, Arthur’s hand went to caress the gleaming surface of the trophy. It was beautiful. He pressed it to Merlin’s skin.

“You won this”.

“Yes.”

Merlin was looking at him now, inquisitive. Arthur raised his eyes from the medal to meet that gaze, steadfast. 

“It stays here” he said, cutting off any replies with a kiss.

And it did, even when both athlete’s shirts, belts and pants had disappeared and Merlin had one long, pale, excellently rein-calloused hand around them both.

Arthur had given up on any kind of coherence at this point, his head buried in the crook of Merlin’s neck. Bracing his hands against the wall Arthur thrust up a little into Merlin’s hand, rubbing his cock against the other man’s just so, eliciting groans from them both. Apparently a verbal cue was all Merlin needed because he went suddenly tense, his grip on them increasing slightly and Arthur felt something warm and slick slide down the length of his cock. He thrust up one more time into that slickness and Arthur’s orgasm hit him, hard, white dots forming in his vision, yelling something-possibly Merlin’s name-into Merlin’s shoulder.

After a few moments Arthur had slowed his breathing enough and he thought his legs would probably hold him if he moved away from the wall. He moved back from Merlin, just slightly, to meet Merlin’s gaze. That grin was back and Arthur’s first impulse was to scowl a little but, frankly, he was still a little too fuzzy to do anything but return the smile.

“So, are you feeling better?” Merlin asked.

Arthur’s wanted to reply in a million ways; to declare he had never been out of sorts to begin with as he was a consummate athlete who lost with grace, that he didn’t need a man who had a strange sport and talented hands to make him feel better, and so on, but a glint of gold got his attention instead. His eyes zoomed to the medal on Merlin’s chest, which, Arthur was amused to note, was now accessorized with a bit of sticky substance. He laughed, rather hysterically, because that had to be one of the most hilarious things he’d ever seen, really. Merlin, confused, followed his gaze downward to the medal, his eyes widening in shock and possibly horror, but then he too started to laugh.

“Right” said Merlin, breathless “I don’t think I’ll be mentioning that in any interviews. God you’d better hope this comes off!”

“What” Arthur huffed, wiping tears from his eyes “What would you do? Send your horse to bite me? Do dancing horses bite?”

“Ha” said Merlin, moving away from the wall. He leaned into Arthur’s space “I suppose I’d have to show you just how serious us dressage riders really are”

And with that, Merlin moved away, stepping toward the en-suite bathroom, possibly to clean the medal but also, possibly, with other things in mind. Arthur smiled, and made to follow. He needed to learn more about dressage, anyway.

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