as far as first kisses go, arthur's could be worse.
"i won't tell anyone," says the girl, wide eyed and pushing her thumb to where her bottom lip is slightly cut from where arthur had accidentally knocked his teeth into it.
but he's young, barely fourteen, and while he's been training to kill since birth, this is... definitely something he shouldn't be asking his father's men about.
so he practices in what relative secret he can muster. serving girls, visiting nobles' daughters. it's all very chaste-- it'll be years before he dares anything more-- but as time passes, arthur becomes known, at least amongst those that matter, as a fairly damn good kisser.
he prides himself on it. arthur has never done anything without his full weight behind it, and this is no exception. if the girl isn't left swooning, hand over heart and wide eyed, he's not done his job.
and kissing men-- well, that might be just the same, he figures. he doesn't get the luxury of practicing that until much later, and those moments have to be kept much, much more private. arthur dares not wear his camelot red in those moments, and if the boys from the neighboring kingdoms here to see the tournament recognize him, they never say a thing.
"your queen will be very lucky one day," says the breathless girl whose name he cannot remember when he pulls away.
so it goes. arthur is the best kisser in the kingdom. it only makes sense.
with merlin, nothing ever makes sense. swords that should have run him through slip from arthur's fingers when they're running drills. situations that should have been more dire become trivial in minutes when merlin's around.
it also doesn't make sense, in any form of the word, that arthur wants, so badly, to kiss merlin.
all the other girls-- and boys-- have been a means to an end. a reminder of who he is, someone who can bring someone to their knees with one point of his sword or one kiss. arthur can't remember the last person he wanted to kiss in this way-- in the way that means he's hoping for more than one.
so one night, because arthur has never been one to deny himself anything, he corners merlin. brushes his knuckles over his cheekbone, in a way that makes very clear what he's about to do next.
yet somehow-- it makes no sense-- arthur forgets he's ever kissed another person. as soon as their lips brush, he freezes. he sees that first girl, with blood beading on her bottom lip, and imagines pulling back to merlin laughing at him, face contorted in cruel amusement.
merlin does pull back, eyebrow quirked. there's an unspoken joke there, something along the lines of that's all you got? but instead of saying it, merlin loops his arms around arthur's neck, tilts his head invitingly.
"i won't tell anyone that was our first if you won't," he teases, the words unspoken. it won't be their last.
and arthur, suddenly more sure than ever that he's about to sweep merlin off his feet, sees to that.
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