"You look good like this."
Startled, Arthur bumped his head hard on the table under which he'd been kneeling, tightening screws. He cursed and rubbed his head, flopping down on his arse and turning to face the man in the doorway.
William - for who else could be the owner of that drawling perpetually sarcastic voice - was looking at him with a dark smile.
"Bill," Arthur acknowledged and scrambled to his feet. He'd been working on his pet project late at night, building the Round Table, working with his hands helped him relax and think.
William took a step inside the future council chamber, then slowly and deliberately shut the door behind him. The sound of the bolt falling into place rang loudly in Arthur's ears. Without meaning to, he took a step back, feeling the tabletop dig into his back, cutting off ways of retreat.
"You don't have to be doing this yourself," William said conversationally, nodding at the unfinished table, "you're king now, you've enough carpenters on your payroll."
"Labour of love," Arthur patted the polished wood absently, eyes fixed on the slowly approaching man. Like a cat lazily strolling towards its prey. Arthur swallowed.
"Love indeed," William drawled grinning. He was close enough now, if he took another step... But he didn't. He came to a stop two feet away. Arthur had to look down to meet his eyes, he'd always been taller, even... before.
The 'before' that neither of them had spoken about, or even hinted at this whole time. Honestly, Arthur had thought William didn't remember. It was ten years ago, why should he? A gangly skinny kid in the bed of a bold elegant lord. On his back on the soft sheets, looking up at the face of God...
Arthur blinked and the flash of the past gave way to the thrill of the present: laughing steel-grey eyes and a lithe predator's body. Still as handsome, as alluring, splashes of gray in his black curls the only visible change.
"You have grown up into quite a man," William said, "my king."
Involuntarily Arthur shivered at the praise, at the way the title rolled off William's tongue. The way it did when William knighted him, when Arthur kneeled before him in front of a room full of his men, wanting them all gone.
"You never said anything," Arthur cringed inwardly at the feeble note of complaint in his voice. He'd been brash and cocky around William, because it was better than admitting that just the sight of him made Arthur's knees weak. And that slap had left him hard, cheeks flushing more from shameful arousal than the palm connecting painfully with his face.
"There was work to do," William explained reasonably, always unshakable, confident, "and now we're finished." He took those last two steps, his breath against Arthur's lips. Arthur's head was spinning, he leaned forward... and then a strong hand landed on his shoulder and pushed. Arthur's eyes flew up, confused, questioning, but he felt himself falling obediently to his knees.
"Said it was a good look for you."
"Bill..." Arthur managed, his heart hammering wildly in his chest.
"No no, you called me Sir William before, let's stick to that," William admonished, his left hand coming up to cup Arthur's cheek.
Arthur let out a shuddering breath and his eyes slid shut. "Sir... William," he whispered, pushing into the hand caressing his face.
"Good boy," William's pleased drawling voice was the same as it had been ten years ago. When a scared but determined fifteen-year old met him outside the brothel doors and followed him to the luxury of his room in a discreet high-end inn in the city.
"Don't hide your face, beautiful," Arthur's chin was pushed up, he complied, dazed. He was king now, had been a leader most of his adult life. What was he doing?
"Shh," warm bowstring-calloused fingers pushed on his bottom lip, and Arthur realized the pitiful whimpers William was shushing came from him. Arthur jerked his head, but those hard pads were stroking his lips, one nudge and they were in his mouth. Arthur sucked on the two digits readily, heaven and earth, he was lost!
"I thought I might need to ease you into it, but you're so pliable." William praised, and Arthur moaned. Gods and devils know why, but he needed it. Had been on edge around this man, since he waltzed back into his life, ten years after shattering him into a thousand pieces and reassembling them into this shivering mess.
Something thicker than fingers breached Arthur's lips and he groaned, accepting, swallowing rapidly against the exquisite intrusion. His hair was pulled and he grabbed William's legs, because his own knees turned to liquid and could no longer support him. Ten years, and Arthur's had enough sex in this time, more than enough, but no one had ever been like this, no one could ever measure up, and he had looked, had tried...
William pulled away with a wet pop, freeing Arthur's mouth, apparently so that he could start babbling all of this aloud, "No one," he groaned, "no one could ever compare..."
"Oh my boy," William crooned, pulling Arthur to his feet, propping him up against the table. "Have I not promised you it would be like this?"
Deft fingers opened Arthur's trousers and tugged until they pooled around his ankles. Arthur pushed forward - gods he was so hard, he needed... but William's hands landed on his arse and squeezed and he forgot what he was trying to do. He just swayed as he stood and whined in desperate disorientation. "Please.."
William took pity on him and drew him forward, sharply, hands squeezing both arse cheeks, and then Arthur cried out as their erections pressed against each other, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful.
"Do you remember what I promised?" William breathed into his mouth. Arthur jerked forward but was held back firmly. It's like his own strength was forgotten in the face of William's control. "What did I promise you, Ar-thur?" Arthur keened. No one, no one had ever said his name like this, he wanted, he needed that mouth on his. He thrashed helplessly, but was still held back, William's firm voice demanding, "Tell me."
"No matter," Arthur gasped, "no matter - you said - who I'm ever with," William's hands tightened on his buttocks and he was pulled closer, a blessed quarter of an inch closer, "nnng... you'll always be there."
William crushed their mouths together and as rewards went it was the sweetest he'd ever had.
William pulled away and looked Arthur directly in the eye. "Did I lie?"
Their first encounter had been a revelation, and everyone since a pale shadow.
Arthur yelped as he was turned around, manhandled to lean against the Table - his noble pursuit in the name of chivalry, equality and justice. He would never be able to sit at the finished Table and forget what had happened here. It's embarrassing how turned on he was by that thought. But really after what he'd just admitted, nothing could ever be embarrassing again.
William opened him up slowly and efficiently, the bastard had come prepared with a vial of oil he fished out of his pocket. He pushed up Arthur's shirt and licked a wet line from the crack of his arse up his spine, eliciting incoherent pleas.
"You beg so lovely, my boy," William said, reassuringly breathless himself, "I see you haven't forgotten how. If only I'd known back then I was deflowering the born king..."
"Sir William, please, I'm ready," Arthur interrupted him fervently, enjoying the words coming out of his own mouth as much as the fingers moving inside him.
"I believe you are," William slapped his arse and lined up.
It was beautiful. Arthur was flying. He didn't know if he was a 15-year-old virgin boy or the King of England, and it really didn't matter. William filled him and surrounded him and directed him and told him how good he felt, how sweetly he begged.
Arthur flailed as William bit his neck, and then William's hand snaked around to encircle his cock.
Everything went white, like the first time he held the Sword, he thrashed and yelled, the man behind him the only steady point in the world. A hot slickness pulsed inside him and William grunted and grabbed his hips bruisingly. Arthur pushed back, whimpering, spent, and still craving more contact, but woefully unable to support his own weight, even holding on to the edge of the Table as he was. William pulled out and they both collapsed in a rather undignified heap against the wooden legs. Arthur pressed his face into William's neck and just breathed.
An indeterminate amount of time later William nudged him and Arthur pushed off of him, just a little. They were lying in a heap of their half removed clothing and a thick cloak William must have pulled up while Arthur was blissed out. William looked at Arthur with a smug grin, which to be honest was basically a default for him anyway.
"You're not going to run the kingdom just because I like being on my knees for you," Arthur muttered.
William burst out laughing. "Don't worry, your majesty, I don't want your kingdom." He pinched a nipple and Arthur yelped, "Just your body."
"And being on your knees for me is clearly not the only thing you like," William added.
"Oh come on, Sir Wi-" Arthur broke off, and William laughed again, pulling Arthur more comfortably against him.
"People will be truly shocked by your sudden courteousness if you start addressing me so formally. Your reputation as a rude tosser will suffer horribly."
Arthur groaned. "I'm staying under this table forever."
"Fine by me, baby," William smiled and kissed him.