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Red Dress

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Their flatmates are watching the football in the common area, cheers going up against groans whenever the action peaks then ebbing into quiet murmurs. The door is closed but not locked and the late afternoon sunshine comes in through the windows. Merlin is on the bed in just his boxers and a t-shirt, and Arthur, Arthur is naked in the middle of the room, hands in front of his cock and balls, flushing already.

"Go on," Merlin says in what he thinks is seductive but is probably just porn-logue.

He watches Arthur hesitate, then step up to Merlin's wardrobe. Merlin's known about this since before they started shagging, had caught Arthur once when he came back early from the Ealdor after a weekend at home. Arthur, mortified, had held so still when Merlin traced along his lids and cheeks before he ran off to his room.

The dresses and skirts and all the pretty shit is in Merlin's room because Merlin's the queer one in the flat. Even though everyone knows they're fucking, Arthur's still recognized as one of the lads with the beer and the football, and the others would shit a brick if they knew Arthur was doing this.

But they don't know, and they can't see Arthur step into the dress and pull it up over his hips to his shoulders. It's pretty on him, a summery bright red that strains a little over his chest, makes up for the lack of breasts there and falls straight down to his legs.

"Shoes?" Arthur is quiet as he asks, almost shy, waiting.

Merlin leans across to his nightstand, rummages through the drawer, then tosses the bottle of nailpolish at Arthur. "Do those first."

Arthur nods and sits at Merlin's desks, the make-up already laid out, the mirrors set up because Merlin's planned this a good two weeks in advance, timing it just for the Champions League game even though he knows Arthur is itching to go out there to see it when another round of cheers rips through the air. He stays though. If the bulge in the dress is anything to go by it's because he gets off on this more than on the football.

He's meticulous as he paints his toenails, concentrating, hair falling into his face and he tosses it back with a flick of his head. Merlin gets up and walked around behind him, carding his fingers through Arthur's hair.

"Maybe you should grow it out," Merlin says, tugging at the strands of hair.

Arthur shoots him a deathglare in the mirror despite the boner he sports and Merlin crouches behind him, watches in the mirror as Arthur puts on eyeshadow followed by mascara, hands shaking with it but his eyes popping immediately. The lipstick matches the dress.

Merlin takes two of the hairclips and pins Arthur's hair back, making him look even more shy, prettier, like someone Pendragon senior would marry off to someone else rich and famous to merge their business or whatever it is they do with their children.

"Just the shoes," Merlin says and fetches them for Arthur, sets them out so Arthur can slip into them. Heels, high, high heels. Arthur fastens them and wobbles as he first stands and walks a few steps.

"To the door and back." Merlin sits down on the bed again, his voice barely carrying over the roar from the common room. Arthur's arse sways with every step and he tries to balance it out, blush spreading to the nape of his neck, where his hair doesn't tickle the neckline of a shirt but leaves his back bare almost to the top of his arse.

"I want to shag you from behind in that," Merlin says. Arthur is at the door, forehead pressed to the wood. "Just flip your dress up and shag you blind. Turn?"

Deep breath, dress pulling tight, but Arthur turns slowly, the outline of his cock clearly visible under the dress, a wet spot where his tip is leaking slick against it.

Merlin moves back on the bed, leaning on his hands, his own cock tenting his boxers and fuck he wants Arthur to rub off against that. "Come here," Merlin says and, "Look at me."

Arthur lifts his gaze to Merlin and one step in front of the other slowly crosses the room, cringing, hesitating when steps pound past their door, fists knocking against the wall, but he doesn't stop moving, as wobbly as it is. The dress rubs across his nipples with every step, across his cock, the wet stain growing larger by every movement.

Merlin pushes his boxers down when Arthur is close enough and takes his hand, pulls him onto the bed and gently, but firmly wraps first Arthur's hand around his dick, then pulls Arthur's head down until his mouth, red with lipstick, "Such a slut for me, hm, Arthur?", presses along its side, leaving marks.

Merlin falls back on the bed, head hitting the pillow and he glances up at the ceiling and down at Arthur working his cock. He kneels between Merlin's spread legs, dress-covered arse in the air as he screws his mouth down on Merlin's cock. Merlin lets him work a while, only then motions him to scoot around until Merlin can tug his head under Arthur's dress and get the tip of Arthur's cock into his mouth. Fondling his balls he sucks him slow and leisurely, warm where the sun hits his body and lost in the scent and sounds of sex, the game outside only background murmur as they get each other off.

Arthur comes first, cock pushing deep as he thrusts a few last times, and then continues to work Merlin until Merlin holds him down and makes him swallow it, watches Arthur's throat bob with it.

When Arthur pulls off Merlin's cock and balls are wet and red, lipstick smeared over his inner thighs and Arthur's cheeks as well.

"You're all messed up, doll," Merlin says, smudging his thumb around Arthur's mouth. He pulls Arthur down with him, shifting his feet over Arthur's heels and the small straps going around the span of his foot, up his calves to the hem of his dress.

Arthur's cheek is on Merlin's chest, eyes open but not look at anything in particular, only breathing deep, relaxing into Merlin's side. They'll mess up the dress and Gwen and Morgana and Freya and all the other girls he gets to donate to the cause will cry bloody murder when they see the state of them (they've torn some, entirely accidentally of course).

"Good for you?" Merlin asks, fingertips tracing down Arthur's bare back to the hem of the dress and up again.

Arthur curls in tighter, nods.

"Better than football?"

Merlin only gets a look of 'as bloody if' in return and he laughs. Guess all is as normal then. He can't ask for much more else. The common room cheers.