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Yes, Arthur
There were many things that Arthur loved about Merlin; from the man’s stupidly adorable dimples to his pithy one-liners, there was any number of things to pick from. There was one thing, though, that stood out above the man’s many endearing qualities and it was something that Arthur kept to himself. He wasn’t sure if Merlin was aware that Arthur enjoyed this particular facet of his personality and he had decided long ago not to tell him, just in case Merlin, in his contradictory fashion, decided to stop doing it.
It was fairly innocuous as things went. Indeed, Arthur was sure that no one else would have registered either the action or Arthur’s fondness for it. He catalogued the moments it happened and kept each one locked away in his mind to be studied and enjoyed anytime he felt the need for something to make him smile. Of all the things Merlin did, all the quirks and habits he possessed, Arthur’s favourite, by far, was the way his lover would say, “Yes, Arthur.”
It sounded so daft, so inconsequential when compared to the other things Merlin did, the other things that made Arthur’s toes curl and his cheeks heat with the memory of them. No doubt Arthur wouldn’t have even noticed it were it not for the fact that Merlin said it in so many different ways and each one with a different meaning intended to provoke its own reaction.
(1) Contrite
This was the first “Yes, Arthur” that Arthur could remember clearly. Whether Merlin’s contrition was ever genuine, Arthur wasn’t sure, but the man had perfected the art of turning those big blue eyes on him, looking up from under his lashes (which was a feat, as Merlin was several inches taller than him), and responding to whatever tongue-lashing Arthur had given him with a softly-spoken, “Yes, Arthur.”
Once he had done that, Arthur soon forgot what he had been cross about and found himself instead focusing on how sinfully innocent Merlin managed to appear while looking at him that way. Before they had become lovers, all he had been able to do was look, tracing the soft pout of Merlin’s lips with his eyes and feeling his blood pound when he imagined what else they might be capable of.
After they had become lovers…well…Arthur knew by then that, while Merlin might be able to feign innocence, he possessed very little. His contrition, whether genuine or not, (Arthur always suspected not) would soon turn to something else the second Arthur noticed the glint in Merlin’s eye as he offered his penitent, “Yes, Arthur,” and whatever they had been fighting about soon became nothing more than a distant memory.
(2) Irritated
Merlin spent most of life irritated with Arthur over one thing or another and, unlike most other servants, he did nothing to hide it. From their earliest days together, the man had always made it perfectly clear whenever he thought Arthur was being a pillock, and Arthur had secretly revelled in it.
He had learnt, very early on, that expecting deference from Merlin was like expecting temperance from his father. Merlin was capable of being the most sullen bastard on the face of the earth when the mood took him, and when he was particularly irritated by something Arthur had said or done, he wasted no time in conveying it.
Arthur took great delight in needling him further. Perhaps it was because, when Merlin was annoyed, a little flush crept across the bridge of his nose and highlighted his freckles, or perhaps it was because his eyes turned a slightly darker shade of blue. Whatever the reason, needle him Arthur did, especially when they were in public and Merlin’s insolence could only stretch so far.
At that point, knowing that Merlin was in a snit with him, and knowing that he would likely pay for it later, Arthur would give him an order. He would do so very imperiously and normally it would be something far beneath Merlin’s station as the king’s personal servant, causing Merlin to turn to Arthur and say, through clenched teeth and with a low, dangerous voice, “Yes, Arthur.”
Oh, he would always pay for it later and he would enjoy every second of it.
(3) Smug
This was Arthur’s least favourite, usually because it meant that he had been proved wrong and Merlin had been proved right. It usually followed an argument that had lasted a day (sometimes even a week), an argument that would culminate in Arthur very grumpily conceding his own error before barking an arbitrary order at Merlin.
The infuriating man would look at him, one corner of his mouth quirking upwards into a smirk and a self-satisfied expression on his face as he said smoothly, “Yes, Arthur.” Arthur’s blood would boil and he would sulk for the remainder of the evening, glaring at Merlin whenever he was in his vicinity and receiving a self-righteous smile in response.
The only thing that made the whole thing bearable and stopped Arthur from kicking the bloody man up the backside with his sturdiest boot was that, eventually, as the evening would draw on, Merlin’s irritatingly smug looks would change into something with a little more fire behind them. All things considered, Arthur could forgive a little smugness when Merlin was on his knees and attempting to suck his soul out through his cock.
(4) Loving
Arthur hadn’t always recognised this particular version as loving. Affectionate, perhaps, or maybe even indulgent, but, as time had gone on and their relationship had deepened, ‘loving’ was the only way to describe it. This particular variant would be used when Arthur was going through an especially bad phase of doubting himself or when a decision he had made had negatively impacted his people. He would turn it over in his mind, driving himself crazy with it until eventually he would take Merlin’s hand in his own and ask quietly, “Am I a good king, Merlin?”
Merlin would run his fingers gently through Arthur’s hair and let them trail down over his cheekbone in a tender caress before leaning in to press a soft kiss to his forehead, murmuring sweetly, “Yes, Arthur.” Those two, quietly-spoken words would soothe Arthur’s raw nerves and act as a balm for the turmoil he had been in.
Merlin had always had that power. He had always been able to say or do something that would pull Arthur out of his sadness and self-doubt. Arthur had come to rely on it, to depend upon the fact that, no matter what foes he faced or challenges that were thrown at him, Merlin would be there to steady him, to support him through the worst of it. He wouldn’t be the king or the man he was without Merlin by his side and there were days when he wondered how he had ever coped before they had met.
(5) Breathless
This was the one that Arthur pictured most. He called to mind the many memories he had of this particular version at least ten times a day, often when he was stuck in council meetings and listening to Leon drone on endlessly. He imagined Merlin spread out across their bed, his pale skin a striking contrast to the deep red of the sheets.
He pictured long limbs, an arched back, a plump bottom lip caught between straight teeth and blue eyes that looked up him with an intoxicating mix of mischief and passion. He imagined a body warm and strong beneath his own and how it felt to press deep inside it.
He indulged in the memory of exactly how it felt to be as close to Merlin as physically possible, his blood turning to fire in his veins as he pictured Merlin looking up at him and saying with a heady gasp, “Yes, Arthur!” as he finally found his release. The sound was one of the most intensely erotic things Arthur had ever heard in his life and he felt truly privileged that he was the one who got to hear it.
This was a memory that he would never share with anyone. This “Yes, Arthur” was his to guard and keep privately locked away in his own mind. This was a “Yes, Arthur” that he savoured and relished and one he would have given up his entire kingdom to keep.
(6) The Newest One
All of these were variations that Arthur loved and treasured, all were so entrenched in who Merlin was as a person and were all things that reminded Arthur just how much he loved him. There was, however, one version that he had yet to hear and he had been dreaming of it for months. He could only hope that Merlin would grant his wish and he would have one more “Yes, Arthur” to add to his list.
The day came and it was a beautifully sunny day. The air was warm and the woodland they walked in was carpeted with spring flowers. Arthur’s heart was thundering in his chest but outwardly he was trying to appear calm. He walked hand-in-hand with Merlin and listened to the man’s chatter, trying to pick his moment and hoping he didn’t mess it up.
“Um…Merlin,” he said eventually, giving the man’s hand a tug and bringing him to a stop.
“Mm?” Merlin said with a smile, turning to look at him, a gentle shaft of light falling across his face and making him look so perfect Arthur could barely breathe.
“I…Um…There’s something that I wanted to ask you,” Arthur said, trying to keep his voice even and hoping he didn’t look quite as frenzied as he felt.
“Oh? If it’s to get you out of that bet you made with Gwaine you can think again, because – ”
“No, no it isn’t that,” Arthur said, shaking his head. He took a deep breath and looked at Merlin’s hands in his own before he cleared his throat and looked up to meet Merlin’s eyes. “Merlin,” he began, hoping that any deity that might exist would be on his side, “we’ve been together for…some time now and…there’s no one I could wish for to have at my side. You’ve made me happier than I could ever have hoped to be and I love you more than anything in this world.”
He paused and swallowed around the lump in his throat, the look on Merlin’s face so adorably expectant Arthur wanted to kiss every inch of it. “I can’t envision a future without you in it and so…so would you please do me the great honour of consenting to be my husband?”
Merlin’s eyes sparkled in the beam of light that shone through the trees and the smile on his face was so breath-taking Arthur knew he would remember it until the end of his days. He moved closer and placed a tender hand on Arthur’s cheek, saying in a voice full of love and affection, “Yes, Arthur. I believe I will.”