Chapter Text
“There is no way Merlin Emrys is part of The Elite,” Arthur says reading over the list again. “Not the Merlin Emrys I remember, anyway.”
“Not Elite material, I take it?” Mordred asks, perched on the edge of Arthur’s desk, eyes skimming over his boyfriend and lingering hungrily in the crotch area.
“Not at all,” Arthur shakes his head, remembering the time Merlin cried when a kitten could not be rescued from a sink hole on the playground. He’d been inconsolable, and had to be taken home from school by his mother and given a sedative.
“Well, perhaps this is another Merlin Emrys,” Mordred says, moving off the desk to sit on Arthur’s lap, his arse pressed to Arthur’s groin.
“Mordred, my father could walk in at any minute,” Arthur protests, hands coming up to clutch Mordred’s waist and still his movements.
“That meeting is sure to last the entire afternoon,” Mordred assures Arthur, wiggling provocatively. “Ah, God, your cock feels so good.”
“Mordred,” Arthur breathes. “Not here.”
“Why not?” Mordred whines. “Come on, Arthur. Take me. Over the desk.” Mordred pushes down, and Arthur can’t help himself; he reaches around and unbuckles Mordred’s trousers.
***
“The Elite are offering the city protection we can’t give it,” Uther Pendragon tells the group of men sitting before him, which includes his son, the junior CEO of the company. Uther’s meeting ended abruptly, causing Arthur to have to scramble to get presentable enough to join Uther and the other top executives of Pendragon Industries in the board room. Damn Mordred and his insatiable bottom.
“Is the threat justified, Father?” Arthur asks.
“It is.” Uther’s face is grim, lines creasing it that Arthur is certain weren’t there a month ago.
There are concerned murmurs around the table.
“So the aliens have really threatened the world?” Agravaine asks.
“They have,” Uther confirms, rubbing his hand over his face. “Factions of The Elite are gathering worldwide in target colonies, and Camelot is top of the list, of course.”
“But how can they help us?” Morgause asks, glancing at Morgana, whose lips have thinned to a narrow line. Arthur notices she isn’t meeting their father’s gaze, and that under the table the two women clasp hands.
“It is said they have…magic,” Uther manages to squeeze out, and there’s a collective gasp around the room.
“Are you certain that’s how they do it? They are highly trained in combat and special weapons…” Alistair looks at all the faces around the table before landing on Uther’s.
“These are aliens unlike we've ever seen before,” Uther snaps. “To be effective, they have to be able to do more than shoot a laser gun!” He sighs, adjusting his features. “We really have no choice in this matter. We’ve seen what this peculiar breed of alien can do when provoked—they totally wiped out Essetir-- and from their last communication, we know that they are determined to take over all the colonies. Either we rely on The Elite, or we surrender.”
Arthur never thought he’d hear his father say those words, and profound relief envelopes him on many levels. He swallows, hard.
“Arthur, I want you to be our liaison with The Elite. Give them everything they need, and keep me apprised of what goes on.”
“Yes, Father,” Arthur answers. Uther goes on with the meeting, but Arthur only half-listens. When Arthur leaves the room, he immediately pulls his cell from his pocket and calls the number at the top of the paper Uther handed him on his way out.
“Gwaine Rivers,” the voice on the other end answers.
“This is Arthur Pendragon. I’ve been instructed to set up a meeting.”
“Yes. My team will arrive at the helipad this evening at seven.”
“I’ll be meeting you,” Arthur informs him. “and escort you to your lodgings.”
“Looking forward to meeting you, Mr. Pendragon.”
“Call me Arthur. I’ll see you tonight.”
He ends the call and turns to find Morgana waiting for him. She takes his arm, guiding him down the hall, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, “So, now it’s evidently all right to use magic.” Her voice is a hiss in Arthur’s ear.
“Calm down,” Arthur says.
“Calm down!” Morgana’s fingers dig into his arm. “Easy for you to say; you haven’t been hiding your magic from our tyrannical father your whole life.”
Arthur stops walking and turns to her, concern welling up in his chest. “You aren’t thinking of telling him now, are you?”
Morgana bites her lip, anger turning to uncertainty. “I don’t know. Morgause thinks I should…”
“Just because she sleeps with you doesn’t put her in charge of your life!” Arthur takes his sister by the shoulder and shakes her firmly.
“I know that!” Morgana’s green eyes flash. “But you don’t understand how much I want to tell him!”
Arthur takes a breath. “I probably don’t, no. But he isn’t doing this because he’s suddenly okay with magic, Morgana. He can’t even face The Elite; he’s making me deal with them.”
“I should be a part of The Elite,” Morgana says, teeth clenched.
“Are you that powerful?” Arthur asks her, surprised. “Because if it’s magic they’re using against the aliens, it’s got to be powerful.”
“I could be. If I had the training I deserve.” She looks away, and Arthur sighs.
“I’m sorry, Morgana.”
“Let me go with you to meet them.”
Arthur nods. “Okay.”
***
“There are only twelve of you?” Arthur asks the bearded man standing before him, incredulous. “Twelve? To protect all of Camelot?”
“More than enough, I assure you,” Gwaine Rivers replies, motioning his team forward. As they form a line, he begins introducing them one by one. All are dressed in black T-shirts, fatigue-style trousers, and boots. All appear fit and healthy. Arthur’s eyes land on Merlin Emrys, and he looks him over as Morgana asks Gwaine questions.
He feels sure it’s the same Merlin Emrys he remembers from childhood—jet black hair, clear blue eyes, and ears a bit too large for his head. Arthur notes that he’s retained the soft, pouty mouth he had in childhood—a sexy thing on a man. If Merlin recognizes Arthur, he doesn’t show it.
Arthur prides himself on learning names the first time he hears them, and repeats them back as he shakes each person’s hand, Morgana moving behind him to do the same. Gwaine, Merlin, Mithian, Will, Lance, Gilly, Daegal, Sefa, Vivian, Percy, Gwen, and Elyan.
When Arthur takes Merlin’s hand in his, something like a spark passes between them that almost causes Arthur to draw back; not static electricity, but a jolt that passes from Merlin’s body into Arthur’s and back again. Arthur meets Merlin’s gaze, and the other man looks momentarily confused before his expression goes blank again. Arthur gives Merlin’s palm an extra squeeze before letting go.
Once the introductions are over, Arthur leads The Elite off the roof of Pendragon Industries and down to one of the meeting rooms where a meal has been set up for them. The team lets out appreciative murmurs as they settle down at the banquet table to be served. Arthur seats himself beside Gwaine, Morgana taking a seat on Gwaine’s other side.
“You’ve just come from Essetir?” Arthur inquires, taking a bite of salad. Elyan sits across from him, Mithian to Elyan’s right and Will to his left. Merlin is a little farther down the table, and Arthur is aware of him more than he should be.
“Yes,” Gwaine replies, chewing. “There were few survivors. They’ve been sent to hospital in Avalon.”
Arthur nods. “How many?”
“Less than ten,” Elyan answers, and Arthur meets his dark, piercing gaze.
“Elyan is our medic,” Gwaine tells Arthur, and Arthur nods.
“Less than ten. Unbelievable.”
“It was a massacre,” Elyan says. “No way for any to escape. They likely won’t survive. Gwen accompanied them there. She’s my sister and a nurse.” Elyan gestures down the table at Gwen, a dark-skinned girl with long, curly hair and a nice smile. “She told me they were comatose when she left.”
“Do all of you have magic?” Morgana asks after a moment of silent eating.
Gwaine looks at her, surprised. “No. Not all of us.”
Morgana opens her mouth to say something else, but it’s lost when the waiters begin delivering the main course. Mithian tells a story about the sort of food they eat in her home colony that soon has everyone in stitches.
When the meal’s over, Arthur tells Morgana he’ll take the team to the mansion.
“No need for you to come along. Go home—Morgause will be waiting up for you, eager to hear all about them.”
Morgana nods. “I wonder how many of them have magic?” she says softly, watching the team don their jackets and prepare to climb into the limousines.
“I’m sure we’ll find out presently.” Arthur kisses his sister’s cheek and catches the attention of one of the company drivers, motioning for him to bring a car around for her.
“See you in the morning, Morgana.”
Morgana takes Arthur’s cold hands in hers; he’s forgotten his gloves again. Looking down at them, her eyes flash gold a moment, and Arthur feels warmth spread throughout his fingers and up his palms into his wrists. He smiles at her.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” she smiles before turning to leave.
***
“My rooms are on the next floor,” Arthur tells Gwaine, watching as the members of The Elite drop their bags in random rooms along the corridor of the Pendragon mansion. As it soon as it was decided that The Elite would stay at the mansion, Uther moved into his high rise flat, while Arthur left his own flat to stay at the family house to be close to the team.
“Let Gaius or Alice know if there’s anything you need-there’s a direct line to their room if you pick up that phone there,” Arthur indicates the phone on the hall table, “and you have my mobile number.”
“I’m sure we have everything that we need,” Gwaine smiles.
“There are bathrooms on each end of this hall, but if you need another, feel free to come upstairs.” Arthur nods to Gwaine and turns to the winding staircase.
Once on the upper level, Arthur traverses the corridor and opens the double doors leading to his suite of rooms.
“There you are!” Mordred comes out of the bedroom wearing a light blue robe loosely tied at the waist. “You’ve been gone for hours.”
“Mordred,” Arthur says, surprised, “I thought we agreed you’d stay at the flat.”
Mordred pouts. “What fun is that? I knew you’d be terribly stressed after greeting the team.” He begins undoing Arthur’s tie. “Besides, I’m so hungry for you, I can’t stand it.”
Arthur’s tired, but Mordred’s rubbing against him, and it only takes moments for Mordred to get Arthur out of his clothing and Arthur’s cock into his talented mouth. Arthur groans, watching Mordred with hooded eyes as he licks and sucks at him, kneeling before him like some kind of a love slave. He isn’t exactly sure when Mordred crossed the line between PA and boyfriend. It seemed to happen overnight, and now is as much a part of Arthur’s day-to-day existence as paperwork and late-night meetings.
Arthur takes Mordred’s hair in his fingers and yanks on it, watching how Mordred hardens at the rough treatment, dick rising from between his thighs.
“You really are a little slut, aren’t you?” Arthur says, because he knows Mordred likes it when he talks this way.
Mordred nods, grinning, and lets Arthur’s now erect cock slip out from between his wet lips.
“How do you want me tonight, Arthur?” he asks, standing and peeling off the robe, letting it drop to the floor in a silken pool of blue.
Arthur growls and leads Mordred across the room, where Arthur sits on a chair. Turning Mordred around, he pushes a finger inside Mordred to find him already lubed and ready to go. Slowly, Arthur lowers Mordred onto his cock, and Mordred arches his back as he takes Arthur in.
“Oh…oh, yeah. That’s good. So good,” Mordred sighs, wiggling about until Arthur gasps and thrusts upward. Mordred whimpers. “Give it to me, Arthur.”
Arthur begins pumping, closing his eyes and concentrating on the sensations running through him. “Ahhh, fuck yeah, Arthur. Yeah. Harder. Harder!”
Arthur doesn’t know how Mordred takes it, especially since they’ve already done it once that day. By all rights, he should be sore as hell. Arthur looks down between them and, watching his thick cock disappearing into Mordred, flattens his feet on the floor and accelerates his pace until Mordred is cursing him and tugging himself to completion.
When they’re finished, Mordred slaps Arthur’s thigh with a grin and heads for the bathroom with a swing of his hips. Arthur pulls himself up and, grabbing the silk robe off the floor, slips it on, heading for the hallway. Arthur stumbles a bit in his post-orgasm state, looking forward to taking a quick shower without the distraction of Mordred in it with him, and going to bed.
Arthur pushes open the door to the outer powder room. The bathroom is spacious, with both a large shower and a round sauna-tub combination. Arthur starts around the corner and is arrested mid-step at the sight of Merlin in profile, leaning against the far wall and stepping out of his jockstrap. Arthur is mesmerized by Merlin’s lithe limbs, tight, white arse, and long cock, pierced through the head by a bar with two silver balls on the ends.
Arthur’s groin twitches and he quickly retreats around the corner, backing into the hall before Merlin can see him.
Merlin’s body is certainly fit, Arthur muses, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. Long, lean muscles and legs that go on forever. And that cock…the man’s hung like a horse. But most titillating is the piercing; Arthur can’t get it out of his mind as he walks back to his suite and waits for Mordred to finish in the bathroom. He’s never seen a man with a pierced cock, and he can’t help but wonder what it would feel like in Arthur’s mouth, steel against his tongue.
He shakes himself out of his reverie and stares out the window at the city below, wondering what the coming days will bring, feeling as though he’s standing on the precipice of something horrific.