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Merlin smiles, letting the evening sun warm his face. It’s been a wonderful first day. The island is perfect, just as Arthur promised.
It’s honestly the least they deserve after the ordeal they’ve been through in the past forty-eight hours. It’s hard to believe, not that long ago they were getting married in Westminster Abbey in front of the entire world.
This place seems so far away from all that. So peaceful.
Everything went as planned. The press pursued a decoy Royal jet to another far-flung location. It won’t be long before they find out they’ve been duped, following instead Princess Morgana and Gwaine, Duke of Orkney who'll be more than happy to keep all eyes on them.
He turns when he hears Arthur's footsteps behind him and leans against the edge of the veranda.
Merlin drinks his husband in. He's dressed in a cream short-sleeved shirt and linen shorts, his favourite aviator sunglasses hooked on the neck. The sun has already caught his face and arms, turning his skin a delicate gold and bringing out the freckles on his nose.
He's so different here. He's not a prince, nor a future king; he’s just Arthur. Merlin’s Arthur that he doesn’t have to share with anyone else. Just his.
Arthur smiles warmly at him.
"The dishes are done," he tells him. "Come with me."
He offers his hand to Merlin who happily accepts, knowing they'll never have a chance like this again. They both intend to enjoy it to their fullest.
They go down to the water, practically a stone’s throw away, as they walk hand in hand along the beach.
“You’re perfect,” Arthur says, kissing the back of his hand.
Merlin scoffs. “I have plenty of faults.”
“True. I guess it’s good that I’m perfect enough for the both of us.”
Merlin rolls his eyes. “You’re even worse!”
“Excuse you, Merlin. But I’ll have you know I am the perfect prince. I saw a reporter say it on TV yesterday.”
Merlin gives him a shove, almost knocking him over into the waves.
Arthur laughs and kicks water at him.
“Come on!” he says, pulling his shirt over his head. “Last one in’s a rotten egg!”
Arthur’s shorts follow as he throws them both on the sand whilst Merlin’s still struggling getting his t-shirt over his head.
When he finally rids himself of it, Arthur’s standing thigh-deep, naked, gleaming in the moonlight.
He takes Merlin’s breath away. How did Arthur get to be his husband? He shoves his swim trunks down, kicking them off before running into the sea. Arthur wades in deeper to escape his reach.
Soon they're both wrestling and chasing each other, Arthur diving beneath to duck Merlin by yanking on his ankle. When Merlin splutters to the surface he gets his own back by jumping on Arthur, sending them both crashing into the waves.
They tumble into their bed that night, still naked; kissing, stroking, to their heart's content.
***
The next morning Merlin awakes in their tropical paradise to see his husband, still naked, on the veranda enjoying the view. Merlin is too.
The temptation to join him is too great. Merlin throws back the sheets and heads out, giving him a kiss.
"Morning," he says, running his hands over sun-warmed skin. "Aren't you going to get dressed?"
"Nope," says Arthur with a grin. "I intend on spending as much time as possible naked. Preferably with my husband. But first…"
He nods over at the table, already set with fruit, cereal, coffee and toast, and Merlin humours him as they enjoy a rather surreal breakfast together.
***
True to his word, Arthur doesn’t put clothes on. It’s a private island. They have this side of it all to themselves.
Within a day or two Merlin gets used to it.
One afternoon, as they lay on the beach in the late afternoon sun—even Merlin’s pasty skin is starting to tan—he glances over at Arthur who is half-dozing beside him. Merlin doesn’t think he’s been this relaxed, well… ever. Nor has he ever been this horny.
They’ve never had this much sex. Not even when they first got together. Though of course, that was rather hampered by the fact that Arthur’s the Prince of fucking Wales.
Here, there’s no expectations. They just are.
Merlin smiles as he watches his husband and reaches out, tracing a line over his abs and down towards his groin. Arthur’s eyes crack open and he gives Merlin a lazy smile, content to let him do whatever he wishes. Merlin rolls over, shifting down until he’s laying on Arthur’s towel, between his legs.
He grins up at him wickedly as he licks a stripe along Arthur’s cock, enjoying the way it starts to stiffen at his touch. Then he mouths at Arthur’s balls, drawing one, then the other into his mouth, sucking gently as Arthur groans.
Lifting his head, Merlin grasps Arthur cock whilst he swallows him, sucking firmly up and down. He could do this forever… sucking Arthur’s cock, worshipping it just like it deserves. His own little slice of heaven as he bobs his head, taking Arthur all the way down, so his nose meets golden curls. He closes his throat around him, Arthur’s choked off moans like music to his ears as Arthur grips his hair.
When his jaw starts to ache and Arthur’s hips start to hitch, his breath going ragged, Merlin pulls off with a wet pop.
He crawls up Arthur’s body, hands smoothing over taut muscle and smooth skin, following with his lips over warm salty skin, before giving Arthur a filthy kiss. Merlin swears he’ll remember every single moment of their honeymoon until the day he dies, as he sits back, scraping his hands through the hair on Arthur’s chest.
Arthur smiles up at him. There's nothing that needs to be said, nothing that their hearts don't already know. His eyes widen when Merlin sticks two fingers in his mouth, sucking them, making them wet, before he reaches behind himself and pushes them inside. He doesn't need much prep, he's still loose and slick from when they'd fucked just hours before on the veranda with the crash of surf from the beach just below.
Merlin steadies himself with a palm on Arthur's chest as he lines up Arthur's cock with the other and then slowly sinks all the way down.
They both groan together.
"How are you still so tight?" Arthur murmurs, disbelieving; his fingers gripping Merlin's hips.
"Must be my special exercise regime," says Merlin, his breath hitching slightly as he wriggles to adjust.
Arthur huffs out a laugh. They both know Merlin's idea of exercise is a walk from one end of their residence to the other, with an occasional jog once a month or so, before he swears off running forever.
That and this of course.
Once fully seated, Merlin starts to lift himself up and down, closing his eyes and reveling in the sensation as he rides Arthur's cock. The warm sun beats down on his face with the sound of the sea lapping at the shore, sand between his toes—but fortunately not anywhere else—his magic humming with contentment. The whole world narrows down to this moment, these sensations as Arthur's hands caress him and he murmurs sweet, dirty words to him.
"Look at you," he marvels. "Taking my cock, easy as, like you were born for it. I just want to fill you, then lick you, then fill you again. Such a slut for it."
He slides his hands up Merlin's chest, tweaking a nipple, making Merlin hiss and redouble his efforts, clenching around Arthur. Arthur tips back his head with a groan.
It would be so easy to stay like this. To be joined this way forever; no responsibilities, no pressure… The perfect fantasy of what it could be like if they ran away.
But Merlin can feel his orgasm building, magic and molten heat spreading through him as Arthur starts to fuck into him from below and wraps his fingers around his cock.
"Fuck, Merlin. Fuck."
There's no immediate urgency to it, just a gradual building, building, building until everything reaches a crescendo, with Arthur thrusting up and Merlin meeting him as he slides down.
Later they'll be more desperate, more frantic as they think of their honeymoon coming to an end. Arthur will make good on his words to fuck him, rim him and fuck him again.
But for now, they have this. They have so many moments like this.
And as Merlin comes on the upstroke of Arthur's hand, it takes him by surprise. He gasps out Arthur's name, his magic pulsing through the sand beneath them as he shudders out his release. Arthur pushes into him a few more times before his fingernails dig into Merlin's thighs and he comes with a shout.
Then, as they lay together hopelessly entwined, they let the sound of the surf lull them into a peaceful sleep.