Seducing a Supposedly Straight Magician Is Easier Than You Think

He scowled, chewing on his salad.

"I am only into women exclusively--the word 'rugged' is not in my sexual vocabulary. My sex partners are feminine and soft, preferably with generous bosoms. Men are crude and unworthy of my highly desired time and attention. I can only assume it would break the hearts of my fans if they thought for even a second that my attention could be stolen from them.

"Though through this conversation, I cannot help but doubt your own sexuality. Could it be you too have fallen under the spell of my charm?"

"Oh, my bosom is certainly generous," Hesekiel laughed. "As for me, I swing every way. I'm not picky." He shrugged. "Life's too short, and I'm too horny."

He wrinkled his nose with disgust.

"I can't...I am eating, you foul, libertine oaf. Why would I possibly want to hear..." He put his fork down on the table and wiped at the sides of his mouth with a napkin. "As though I'd ever want to envision such a repulsive thing."

He finally turned away from Hesekiel, sipping his wine as though it would somehow erase the taste of the conversation.

Hesekiel grinned despite himself. "Sorry, it's been some time since my last dinner party, it appears my manners have detiorated."

He cleared his throat.

"Let us discuss more desirable topics," Hesekiel spoke with a candor to his voice that he had last used to attempt to bargain his way out of his curse. It hadn't worked. "Such as, how is your source? And the wine?"

It felt ridiculous to speak in this manner but, then again, it wasn't as if he hadn't gotten laid a couple of times using it. Might as well crank the charm up to eleven.

"My wine is not nearly strong enough to numb my current dining experience," he responded, taking a larger gulp. "I can't even imagine...have you no romance about you? How terribly drab and boring your existence must be. How much pleasure can be gained, wandering about and drinking, never pausing to enjoy food or a proper date or wax poetic about the night sky? Your lack of stage presence and popularity is a given."

He sighed deeply.

"A gentle soul such as mine truly is an oddity in this age."

Hesekiel felt a twinge of something unidentifiable deep in his chest. That had been his life for hundreds of years and he'd enjoyed every second of it. The decadence, the frivolousness. He'd lost it all in a moment and now he was clawing his way back to it, fighting tooth and nail to have it back, to go back to how he used to be.

If he and Merlin had met back then, how would things have been different?

Hesekiel leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh as he pulled his hair from its usual bun. He set about retying it to calm himself.

"One day," Hesekiel said, "I'll be able to enjoy all of those again. But I need you to help me." It wasn't a lie.

He set down his empty wine glass, running his fingertip along the rim. Surely the wine was the reason his face was warm, but he found himself unable to ignore Hesekiel all the same.

"My help? What could I possibly do for you, my strange assistant? You'll excuse my bluntness, but I've always regarded you as far beyond help, for the most part."

"I thought you wanted to take me under your wing," Hesekiel teased but it didn't feel quite as light-hearted as he intended. He fiddled with the sleeve of his shirt again.

"I've never wanted any such thing.  I only asked for a beautiful assistant, and my eternally cruel boss saw you as fit to fill the position.  I'll be damned if I understand this kind of luck.

"I'm not even sure I understand...what kind of help you want?  All you ever seem interested in is my spotlight, and I can't well give you that."

He grabbed a passing waitress and requested a refill on his wine; a minute later he was sipping again, fueling that warm feeling in his cheeks and stomach.

"Why don't you teach me some manners," Hesekiel suggested, leaning over the table a bit more. "Turn me into your perfect assistant."

He snickered, shaking his head.  "I doubt you'd even listen.  You've never shown much interest before...where would I even start?"  He continued to drink his wine, obviously taken with the idea despite his protests.

"You seem so adverse to the idea of getting to tell me what to do," Hesekiel said and he snatched Merlin's glass of wine from his hands and proceeded to drink the rest of it. "If you don't like it, tell me to stop."

"How dare you!" he exclaimed, furrowing his brow.  "I was--fine!  We'll do it your way.  When does this obedience start, I wonder?  I've certainly never seen any indication of such a thing before."  He crossed his arms, glaring at Hesekiel.

"Whenever you want it to, Princess," Hesekiel replied with a grin. "Just say the word."

He frowned, considering the proposition for a minute.  Then he nodded.

"Yes, yes, fine, if you insist.  From this moment onward, you have to do as I say.  Or else...I don't know, what's a fitting punishment?  I'm a little too...tipsy...to think of a properly cruel one."

"Oh, I can think of more than a few things," Hesekiel said, clicking his tongue in amusement. He adjusted his shirt, yanking it down so that it revealed more of his rather large and hairy chest, and then he leaned onto his palm. "But honestly, you could do whatever you wanted to punish me and I'd just take it. After all, I did agree to this, didn't I? I'm sure you can come up with something suitable, can't you?"

He eyed Hesekiel up and down, his gaze lingering a little too much. Those long, slim fingers pressed against his face, cooling his warm cheeks as he casually raised his hand to order another refill.

"In a new glass, please," he said to the waitress, not even looking at her. He chewed on his tongue for another minute, his foggy brain still formulating an answer.

"...I give up. I can hardly spank you, can I? A philistine brute such as yourself might even gain some enjoyment from such proceedings.

"You've no reason to be honest, but I've had almost enough wine to entertain truly foolish ideas. What scares you the most? What do you hate?"

"I hate many things," Hesekiel began, clicking his tongue in idle thought. "Beautiful men and women who reject my advances, cheap liquor, badly written books, ugly clothing.

"What I'm scared of, on the other hand is...a secret," he said and then he winked.

He pouted, crossing his arms and almost spilling wine on his jacket. He took a long drink, hoping to steady himself. It helped that the third glass tasted much better than the first.

"Hmph. All that ridiculous buildup for nothing. Perhaps I overestimated you. You are nothing but an...an uncultured dullard. A...why, a complete idiot! A dumb man! You...bore me." He gazed into his wine glass, pursing his lips at his red reflection. "What a complete waste of my time. As though a...a man like you could become something worthy of my attention."

Merlin was...very cute when he pouted, Hesekiel mused, unable to hide that small, amused smirk that crept onto his lips as he watched Merlin whine.

"...fine, do you want the truth, Merlin?" he asked, leaning back in his chair and taking a steadying breath, as if what he was about to say was in any way an arduous task and not a well-thought out half-truth. "The truth is, I fear death at the end of an unfulfilling life, one where I did not get to have my way with all of the beautiful men and women I want, of never getting to indulge in expensive and grand liquors, of never getting to read the most finely written books, of having to wear boorish, bland clothes everyday. I fear a boring, dull life, more than anything."

He paused, looking to Merlin for a response.

"...is that what you wanted to hear?"

He considered Hesekiel for a moment, then snickered into his wine, slicking his hair back with his sparkling, heavy hands.

"Perhaps I'll be of little use to you after all.  What fear could I strike into a man who already marches toward his worst nightmare on the daily?  Why I'd be...forget it.  Too much, I suppose.  Unneeded.  You can make yourself ten kinds of miserable just by getting up, can't you?"

Merlin tried to raise himself from the chair to make a gesture, but he swayed to the side; he gripped the armrest firmly, hoping to make it look like an intentional adjustment.

"I do believe I'm in a good enough mood for dessert."

"Is that so?" Hesekiel smiled despite himself, rubbing his beard with a hand adorned with a few rings (but nothing on Merlin's level). "And what does the princess desire for dessert?"

Hesekiel knew what he wanted for dessert, but Merlin was probably not that drunk yet. He tilted his head to the side, swallowing. Best not to think too hard on that one.

"That's the magician to you," he retorted, chuckling again. "And I'd love that." He pointed to a yellow, creamy looking dessert being carried by on a tray.

"Please bring me one of those!" he called after the server. He loosened his collar; it was so comfortably warm in here. His manners, his guard; plenty of things were slipping without his notice. He placed his half-empty glass on the table, eager to enjoy it with dessert.

It shouldn't so readily occur to Hesekiel just how easy it would be to take advantage of this situation. The right words, the right subtle touches could get him everything he wanted right now.

...but despite this, Hesekiel knows he won't take advantage of him, at least not in this way, at least not yet. He can get the process started, but he can't bring himself to take things too far when Merlin is too inebriated to even recognize gelato when he sees it.

He can, at least, enjoy the bit of skin Merlin's exposed by adjusting his collar.

"Good wine?" he asked, averting his gaze slightly. "I'm sure it will pair well with your dessert."

He nodded. "Absolutely. I might have to buy a bottle for home...I'm not much of a drinker, but on occasion, it's preferable to headache."

He chuckled as an awkward looking waitress set down his dessert. She glanced at Hesekiel and then back to Merlin before leaving, begging him with her eyes to keep the drunken man under control.

He dug into his dessert, holding his spoon delicately so he could grip it even with all his jewelry. Unfortunately, his drunken hands shook more than he was accustomed too, and some of the gelato evaded his mouth, smearing against his cheek and chin instead. He wiped ineffectually with his napkin, missing all of it.