This was... this was not something he was well-equipped to handle. The closeness, the eye contact, slow, intentional conversation—and Merlin, not the hand on his knee. He felt the urge to cover his lap with his free hand, but the way the mattress was he knew unsteadying himself by lifting it off the sheet would send him leaning even closer to Arthur, and that would do nothing much make his problem much, much more visible.
The goblins, the losing his house, the sleeping with women—all of that was definitely adventurous, but it was the last thing he'd said, and some men, too, that caused his heartbeat to pick up again, caused a little shiver through his legs that focused right in on where Arthur's hand was, leaving behind little goosebumps. His mouth went dry, and he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, then his top lip into his mouth, trying to figure out what to say—or what to do.
He didn't just want to - to act, to do something that he shouldn't that might earn him a punch or a laugh or something else embarrassing, but he kept getting caught on the hand on his knee, which felt as much an invitation. He instinctively leaned forward, feeling his knee press further into Arthur's. His glass of brandy was still in his hand, but it was long forgotten; his eyes were still fixated on Arthur's.
Finally, after a long pause of weighing the risks, he muttered words he'd never been in a position to be able to: "Show me."
The goblins, the losing his house, the sleeping with women—all of that was definitely adventurous, but it was the last thing he'd said, and some men, too, that caused his heartbeat to pick up again, caused a little shiver through his legs that focused right in on where Arthur's hand was, leaving behind little goosebumps. His mouth went dry, and he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, then his top lip into his mouth, trying to figure out what to say—or what to do.
He didn't just want to - to act, to do something that he shouldn't that might earn him a punch or a laugh or something else embarrassing, but he kept getting caught on the hand on his knee, which felt as much an invitation. He instinctively leaned forward, feeling his knee press further into Arthur's. His glass of brandy was still in his hand, but it was long forgotten; his eyes were still fixated on Arthur's.
Finally, after a long pause of weighing the risks, he muttered words he'd never been in a position to be able to: "Show me."
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Angelica Selwyn, Arthur Pettigrew, Reuben Crouch
Angelica Selwyn, Arthur Pettigrew, Reuben Crouch