This is a gift for the lovely hils, who asked for "comfort sex after Uther dies".
Title: The King
Word Count: 500
A crow shrieked outside, the rain pounded into the ground turning it to dark slush, and Arthur could not cry. More than grief it was fear that overwhelmed him, that had plagued him since he watched those eyes become suddenly, horribly lifeless. He wasn't ready. How could any man be ready for this? His bedroom felt like a prison but there was nowhere else to go. He'd be locked away wherever he went, trapped by his destiny, and by his loneliness. Without Uther he was without a guide.
Breathing was impossible. Curtains, floor, ceiling, bed, the boots on his feet, it all swam before his eyes. Anxiety punched him in the gut, sending him flying backwards to slam against the wall. He slumped down onto the floor, gasping for air, blind with terror. He couldn't tell if he was still upright. He felt like he might die.
There were hands on him and a familiar voice in his ear.
"It's going to be okay, Arthur. It's going to be okay."
The paper bag helped him remember how to breathe. The hand on his back moved up and down, the pressure hopelessly soothing.
On the bed, on his back, the fear was gone, leaving only emptiness behind. No one talked about what a man must go through to be king. No one cared that Arthur was now an orphan.
He didn't intend to cry.
But Merlin had his arms around him, hands on his back again, stroking him tenderly, and Arthur was powerless to prevent the dam from bursting. All the power in Camelot and he was nothing but a boy without a father.
He clung to Merlin, wetting his shirt at the shoulder. He pulled him down into a lying position and slipped his leg over Merlin's thighs, inhaling the scent at Merlin's throat. He cried and hugged Merlin close, closer, as close as he could get until he found himself half on top of Merlin and sucking on his chin urgently.
Arousal filled the void inside him and Merlin's protests seemed absurd.
"Arthur, you don't want this."
"Please," he begged desperately, his voice unrecognisable, high pitched and echoing around the cold, dark bedroom.
"Okay. Anything you want."
Merlin rolled them over and dropped gentle kisses all over Arthur's face, warming him with the heat of his body and the sincerity of his affection.
They crawled under the covers and Merlin undressed Arthur, undressed himself, thumbed the tears from Arthur's eyes and kissed the sobs from Arthur's mouth.
He stroked Arthur's cock, and talked in Arthur's ear. "I'll take care of you," he said in a voice strained with desire. His fingers worked Arthur open, greasing him only with spit, so that when Merlin penetrated him the perfect, searing agony ebbed away both too slowly and too quickly. Then it was gone completely and Arthur was not alone and not afraid.
He was finally the King.