Seducing a Supposedly Straight Magician Is Easier Than You Think

This couldn't really be happening, could it? It was far too good to be true. Hesekiel leaned over the table, wiping his face with his thumb.

"What, do you need me to feed you, too, your majesty?" He teased him, licking his thumb rather unsubtly.

"'Your majesty' is an incorrect title for a magician," he replied, his eyes following Hesekiel's thumb. He forgot about his gelato for a few conspicuous minutes.

"I'm just...taking my time. Walking back home sounds...dull." The lie was obvious; Merlin could barely sit up all the way in his chair. He picked away at his gelato and sucked on the spoon.

"I could carry you, if that pleases you," He was teasing and not, as he liked to do often. It was becoming more and more obvious that Merlin was going to have to be carried home, regardless of what he wanted, but Hesekiel couldn't bring himself to mind that much. "I'm supposed to do whatever you say, remember? So just say the word, anything you like."

He wasn't even trying go pretend he "accidentally" brushed his leg against Merlin's; it was pretty obviously on purpose. But then again, Merlin was pretty obviously drunk.

"Then carry me like royalty, if you'll address me as such." He fumbled through his wallet, selecting several bills that absolutely were not enough to cover the tab. He slammed them on the table and gingerly stood, leaning heavily on the chair.

"They're probably missing us, yes? We should...return."

Hesekiel quietly added a few more bills to cover, plus a great tip. That poor girl deserved it.

"Don't strain yourself," He teased, wrapping an arm around Merlin's waist to support him. "And somehow, I doubt that anyone is missing us all that much."

"And what reason would we have to return if we weren't missed?" he mused, tapping Hesekiel's nose with his long finger. He leaned into Hesekiel's shoulder and chest, accepting the support.

The crescent moon was high in the sky as they left the restaurant. A cool wind caressed their faces.

"It's a shame. A gorgeous night, and I'm with you instead of some pretty young thing blessed with more bosom than brains. My luck is tragic."

Merlin was way too attractive for his own good, and in this state no less...Probably not the best situation, considering how horribly tempted he was to push his luck.

"Is my company really so horrible?" He asked, smirking ever so slightly. He looked up at the sky, silently taking note of how long he had before the next forced transformation.

He leaned far too close, holding Hesekiel's jaw in his hand like an aunt appraising a child. His breath smelled of vanilla and especially wine. His collar was still unfastened, and he had yet to notice; the moonlight reflected off of the pale patch of exposed flesh.

"Of course it is. You're boorish, and absolutely not my type. You're like a mistake from college!" He laughed, shaking his head.

"Oh, so I was your type in college, hm?" He asked, but he felt far less confident than normal; Merlin was far, far too close for his comfort. "What were your college experiences like, anyway, I wonder?"

He pouted, pushing out his lower lip. "Like anyone else's. I learned, I partied, I...tried new things! I mean, haven't you ever seen a mirror? I won't be blamed for my curiosities, it's absolutely normal."

That pout was nearly too much. How he managed to control himself at this point was beyond him.

"And you aren't at all curious anymore? Got it all out of your system, no unanswered questions left whatsoever...?" He managed to make eye contact with him despite his restraint beginning to falter.

"...I have my preferences," he said evasively. "Aren't you supposed to carry me, or something?" He let go of his face, elbowing his side instead. There wasn't much strength behind it.

"You wouldn't understand, but I have an image to upkeep."

Hesekiel chuckled softly as Merlin elbowed him.

"You're right, sorry," He said gently.

In one swift motion he picked up Merlin, carrying him bridal style. It was so easy; Merlin weighed basically nothing to him.

"Better?" He asked as he began their slow trek back to camp.

He nodded, leaning his head against Hesekiel's neck.

"Why are you so interested in my college days, anyway? Don't tell me you're struggling with such curiosities yourself? I can tell you my secret."

Struggling with something, yes, but he was definitely way beyond those kinds of curiosities. Way, way beyond.

"And what, exactly, is your secret?" He asked, unable to resist the urge.

He patted Hesekiel's chest pityingly. "It's simple. Keep it to yourself, drown it all in the varied flowers of many ladies, profit. Thoughts of the mirror are for lonely Sundays, and nothing more. We all grow up and fit into our roles someday, and mine is too lucrative to jeopardize."

Sad. It was really all Hesekiel could think of. He had given up such thoughts many years ago, many many years ago. But he was also much older than Merlin, and no longer cared about what others thought of him, only that he enjoyed himself. Although that had been what got him into trouble in the first place.

"So, since college you've never..." He knew Merlin would object to anything overly crass, so he cleared his through very "subtly" instead. "...with another man? Not even once?"

He shook his head. "Not even once. It doesn't suit my image. Like carbs. Even if on occasion I have thought...never mind." He laughed to himself.

"If I went for just anyone, we'd have something in common, yes?"

Hesekiel laughed despite himself.

"You're certainly not wrong about that one, I'll admit," He said, finding it hard to look anywhere but at Merlin. "But I haven't done that sort of thing with anyone in some years anyway, so I suppose it's a moot point."

They moved in silence for a few minutes, until the familiar forest of tents and caravans loomed ahead of them. Merlin wrapped his arms around Hesekiel's neck, hoisting himself up so he could see better.

"Yes, finally--civilization! Well, no...close enough. I could use a hot bath, but not as much as I could use, well..." He glanced at Hesekiel, snickering. "I'm sure you can guess, from your place in my shadow."

Hesekiel hummed a soft reply as he opened their caravan door and set Merlin on his bed, steadying him as best he could with how very tipsy he was.

"You should drink a glass of water, and sleep this off so we can practice tomorrow," He tells him, firmly but not as firmly as he should. He also hasn't let go of Merlin just yet.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Fetch me some water." He gave Hesekiel a sloppy kiss on the cheek, still chuckling to himself.

He leaned back against his pillows and fumbled with unfastening his jacket; he wasn't drunk enough to forget how much he loved his clothes.

Hesekiel forced himself to pull away from Merlin, but it was difficult. On one hand, taking advantage of him in this state might benefit him, it could also backfire. Though he wanted nothing more than to push him onto the bed and have his way with him, it would get messy in the morning.

Hesekiel poured him a glass of water from the corked pitcher on one of the shelves in their caravan. He held out the glass for Merlin, more than a bit worried he was too tipsy to actually drink it without spilling it all over himself.

"Here, drink," he said.

He sat up as far as he could and took a few clumsy sips from the glass, dribbling water down his chin and onto his shirt.

"Well, I--damn." He thrust the glass back into Hesekiel's hands and worked to free himself from his now wet clothes, finally unfastening his jacket and working on the buttons of his white cotton dress shirt.

God this was severely testing his limits. A horrible trial for his self-control.

"Don't--, just--...just let me do this," he mumbled, sighing slightly.

Hesekiel put the glass aside on a random shelf and then turned his attention to the mess that was Merlin trying to take off his wet shirt. And as he did so, pushing Merlin's clumsy hands away, he felt his resolve melt with every button.