Chapter 1: Prologue
Notes:
I figured Emrys being so gifted so young was realistic, since the 2 youngest human kids to go to college were 6, and the 2 youngest that learned to read were age one! Plus, Emrys isn't human...😌👽
Chapter Text
Merlin, also known as Emrys, was born into the Zenith—a race of powerful, technologically advanced human-looking aliens who believed they were destined to rule the universe. From a young age, Merlin displayed extraordinary abilities that set him apart from his peers. By age four, he’d already mastered complex technologies and arcane knowledge, earning the title of a prodigy among his people.
But it was the ancient prophecy that truly marked him—whispered across the galaxies, foretelling that Emrys would one day grow to be the most powerful being in existence, capable of bending reality to his will through the power of innate and ancient powerful magick.
At fifteen, Merlin’s insatiable curiosity and ambition led him to discover a distant planet called Earth. It was rich with life, brimming with potential, and ripe for conquest. The planet’s inhabitants were not advanced, merely a type one civilization, though they were brilliantly arrogant just because they had learned to harness the power of nuclear energy and whatnot.
They were haughty and it was plain they were destroying their planet due to greed. So, Emrys decided to "save" them.
By the time he was sixteen, Emrys had already solidified his influence among the Zenith, rallying their formidable troops for an invasion of Earth. He approached the conquest with a chilling efficiency, and within a matter of hours, the planet fell under the might of the Zenith. Earth’s people didn’t stand a chance.
Emrys's role in the invasion was more than just strategic. He was vicious and cruel, relishing the opportunity to break the spirit of the Earthlings. His intellect, once admired for its brilliance, now revealed a darker side—an eagerness to perform cruel experiments on the captured aliens.
He saw them not as sentient beings but as subjects for his twisted curiosity. Emrys took perverse pleasure in pushing the boundaries of pain and suffering, testing the limits of their endurance and exploring the darkest corners of his mind.
The Zenith saw in Emrys the embodiment of their superiority—a being who would lead them to unparalleled dominance. Merlin, the teenage prodigy, was already on his way to becoming the most feared being in the universe.
. . . . .
Earth, merely two days ago dominated by Homo sapiens, was now ruled by the powerful and calculating Zenith, who were far superior to Homo sapiens not only in their intellect and knowledge, but also their magic. The magic they possessed made them akin to gods.
These beings, standing around 7 to 8 feet, possessed a form that was unmistakably human-like, but dramatically enhanced. They had perfectly proportioned physiques. Their bodies were defined and symmetrical, but not bulky—instead suggesting coiled power and explosive strength, built for both incredible feats of force and lightning-fast reflexes. Their movements were fluid and graceful.
The texture of their skins was smooth and flawless, but with intricate, faintly glowing patterns that became more pronounced when they exerted their powers. When they used their abilities, they were surrounded by visible energy distortions.
Their human-like eyes were striking—bright, intense, sometimes glowing softly with power or emotion. They could be any color you could think of.
The Zenith, upon enacting their takeover, discreetly imposed a colossal force field over Earth, a shimmering barrier that encased the planet in a sphere of impenetrable energy. Within this confined space, they wielded their formidable magic to enforce their stringent standards. The Zenith were relentless in their quest for the strongest and most resilient humans, both in body and mind.
Employing advanced magical techniques for precise and unerring assessment, they conducted a ruthless and unforgiving selection process. The force field's enchantments allowed the Zenith to simultaneously monitor every individual’s physical and mental fortitude with chilling accuracy. In a display of unparalleled brutality and efficiency, they eradicated almost all of humanity within a matter of seconds.
The devastation was swift and absolute, leaving only a sparse remnant of survivors.
Other more advanced civilizations would have withstood the force field set on their planet and fought back, but not these lumbering great apes. They’d been so taken by surprise they hadn’t even realized what was happening by the time they were instantaneously eradicated. Zenith goal of complete domination with minimal resistance was thereby achieved.
From the wreckage, the Zenith spared only a hundred humans who were 25 or younger. These fortunate (or not-so-fortunate) few were meticulously chosen for their exceptional strength, endurance, intelligence, and adaptability—qualities regarded as the absolute minimum Zenith were willing to tolerate, considering they believed humans, like all other Earthly creatures, to be exceptionally weak and unintelligent by default. Homo sapiens were merely another species of Earthly animals, so only those who met their stringent standards were deemed worthy of survival.
But it wasn't just about current abilities. As with all Earthly species, the Zenith also took potential into account.
They only kept 100 of the top individuals of every species on Earth. Non-surprisingly they found that many species had not even 100 members left, so high was the Homo sapiens’ destruction of non-Homo sapien species. Indeed, as many as 150 species were dying out per day on this gods-forsaken planet. Emrys knew he’d arrived just in time.
The streets were now quiet, only echoing with the hum of force fields. Homo sapiens were to be reduced to exhibits for the amusement of their conquerors.
Zenith language was universal to every living organism—Homo sapiens, even plants, or otherwise. Even Earth herself, like their own planet, was sentient (a fact few Homo sapiens had been aware of) and Mother Nature thanked them for cleaning her up. Once again, natural lands covered most of the planet. The Zenith ensured it.
The remaining Homo sapiens were to become residents of xenofauna preserves around the globe. Xenofauna preserves lined the cities, filled with the once-proud great apes, along with elephants, tigers, and the rest of Earthly creatures. Oceans were cleaned up and given back to the few animals that remained.
Zenith with their magick ensured no organism could reproduce without their say-so. The more docile organisms of the preserve fauna were allowed to be adopted out as pets. Zenith had no problem controlling leopards or Harpy eagles, but it was expected that Homo sapiens would prove to be the most stubborn due to misplaced arrogance.
A select few of the Homo sapiens—the best and the brightest—were to become test subjects, studied merely due to being the dominant species of their tiny puddle in the vast oceans of the multiverse. So pretentious they were, for mere bacteria.
Laboratories buzzed with the cold efficiency of cruel experiments, where Homo sapiens were dissected but could not die due to Zenith power. They would be healed just to be dissected again in different ways all over again. The cycle was endless.
Chapter 2: The Claiming of Arthur Pendragon
Notes:
Just a reminder that only the first few chapters are hardcore torture. It gets muchhh less gorey for Arthur after he gets out of the lab. 😮💨
I'm sooo glad tbh. I didn't mean for this fic to get as dark as it did, but I wanted to fully explore alien human experimentation.
The original inspo for this fic was actually Netflix's comedy "Resident Alien" and at first I had an idea for a fic where Merlin was a little kid alien who befriended Arthur who was also little after the alien takeover, but I decided I wanted to write a dark fic so here we are.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
TWO DAYS AGO:
14-year-old Arthur Pendragon leaned back in his seat, smirking as he bantered with Leon and Percival during their Honors Algebra II class.
"Come on, Percy, even I can’t solve for X when X is clearly your GPA," Arthur laughed, earning a snort from Leon.
Percival shot back, grinning, "Hey, at least I’m not showing off my math skills to impress Coach every day like some teacher's pet!"
Arthur shrugged. "Sorry, but when you’re the star flyhalf and a genius, it just comes naturally."
Leon rolled his eyes. "Save it for the field, Pendragon. The rest of us mortals are struggling here."
Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but then a deafening roar cut through the air, ripping everything away in an instant. The scene unfolded in a nightmarish blur—blood and gore erupted violently, his friends and teacher splattering the walls and ceiling in a grotesque display. The bodies of his friends and classmates had been consumed by a brutal, unthinkable explosion.
The next moment, he was abruptly materialized into the sterile confines of a padded, all-white cell. The shift was so jarring it felt unreal. Arthur’s skin was streaked with blood and grime from the explosion that took his classmates.
He wept as chunks of his friends’ remains clung to him, and could only stand there, naked and disoriented, amidst the clinical, white environment of the cell.
Arthur was terrified, overwhelmed by a storm of emotions. Questions raced through his mind—why had I been spared? Why had I not exploded like the others? And also, where the fuck are my clothes?
The room was furnished with a large bed covered in fluffy blankets and a bench that eerily resembled an examination table. A dispenser on the wall offered a suspicious-looking drink labeled: "SUSTAINIUM."
As Arthur slowly began exploring the room, which looked more like a furnished padded cell or seclusion room, tucked away was a second room that opened up to what appeared to be the bathroom. His eyes fell upon a shower and a large bathtub.
Despite his lack of clothing, he didn’t feel cold. The place was comfortably warm.
He could find no way out of the cell. As expected, the large metal door remained obstinately shut, refusing to budge. The sense of isolation and helplessness was suffocating, intensifying his anger and fear.
Arthur eventually decided to take a quick shower, just to rinse off the blood and bodily particles of his friends from his body. As he washed with trembling hands, he broke out into sobs.
“Leon.. Percy..”
Why had that explosion happened? Had someone planted all his classmates and teacher with a bomb? Was this a terrorist attack? No school shooter, just school bomber?
Had his parents been notified? Surely they must be worried sick. Surely someone must be coming to save him. To explain everything.
But how had he suddenly been teleported here into this strange room? Teleportation wasn’t real. It was something out of a sci-fi movie. Perhaps this was all a crazily realistic dream.
It couldn’t be happening. It was too strange to be real life.
After his quick shower, he dried off with a white bath towel that was hanging in the bathroom. Then he padded over to the white bed and sat down to wait. The shower had calmed his nerves a tad, and also tampered down his panic.
This was only a dream, after all. So he lay down and took a nap, sure he’d wake up to yet another day at school with his friends. He could just imagine Gwaine’s face when he told him about this crazy ass dream.
Later…
Balinor’s role as Homo Sapiens Warden was to oversee the remaining Homo sapiens—the mighty hundred, including Arthur, a youngling of fourteen. The Zenith approached Arthur's isolation chamber, eyes black as night. Unlike some other Zenith, his eyes had no pigmentation but black, as if the pupil just took over completely.
Peering inside, he noted Arthur was resting in his immaculate cell. The boy was under his blankets, which must have made him quite warm. As he glanced into the dimly lit room where the boy slept, his breath caught in his throat.
Arthur lay still, asleep, but his red aura burned bright, pulsing like flames, too strong to be contained. Balinor couldn't look away. The power in it was undeniable—Arthur wasn’t just ordinary, even among the mighty hundred.
The red wasn’t anger; it was pure vitality, burning with fire and strength, freezing Balinor in place. Arthur was a force waiting to rise. He’d be a problem, a spark defying a world that demanded submission.
But instead of squashing it, Balinor was intrigued. A challenge, perhaps. A game.
Balinor slid the heavy door open, movements deliberate and unhurried. As he stepped inside, he purposely coughed—a sharp, controlled sound that jolted Arthur from his slumber.
Arthur scrambled to his feet, relief flickering across his face as he took in the exceptionally tall, extremely handsome young guy with shoulder-length black hair, who looked to be the age of a recent college grad. Finally, another person! Although Arthur found his eyes unnerving. Dude must wear contacts—he looked like a demon with those eyes.
“What am I doing here?” Arthur demanded, shaky voice rising. “What happened to my classmates? Was it a bomb? Are my parents on the way?”
Balinor didn’t answer immediately. He didn’t smile. He simply stepped further into the room, dark gaze cold, unfeeling. His presence alone was enough to silence the questions that hung in the air.
“Hello, Arthur,” he said, voice devoid of warmth. "You will come to know me as the one named Balinor."
Arthur's frustration boiled over. How did this Balinor know his name? He took a step forward, fists clenched.
"I need answers! What happened out there?" Arthur’s voice cracked, desperation clawing its way to the surface. "Was it an attack? Are the rest of my friends okay?"
Is Gwaine okay? Is Lancelot? Morgana? Mum and Father?
Balinor’s expression remained stony, eyes betraying no hint of concern. He stood motionless, indifferent to Arthur’s rising anger.
"It wasn’t a bomb," he said at last, flat voice beginning to irritate Arthur further.
The blonde boy's heart pounded in his chest, confusion mixing with fury. He shouted, "Then what? What the fuck happened?!"
Balinor met Arthur’s gaze, eyes hard as steel. "Your classmates are dead," Balinor stated coldly. “Your parents and sister too.”
Arthur recoiled, breath catching in his throat. "No... that can’t be true."
Balinor’s silence pressed down like a weight. He made no move to comfort, no attempt to soften the blow.
His next words were as measured and ruthless as the Zenith himself. "Earth is no longer yours. Zenith have taken it. And you, along with the rest of the Homo sapiens, belong to us now."
Arthur stared at him in disbelief, rage simmering beneath his shock. "What are you talking about?" His voice trembled. "What the fuck are Zenith?"
The pieces began clicking into place now. The sudden explosion that was supposedly not the work of bombs… Normally he wouldn’t believe this stranger, but was it truly as bizarre as the magical teleportation? His clothes vanishing?
Arthur had always been a critical thinker, but he was also an open-minded kid. “Are you evil aliens?” he spat venomously.
Balinor’s expression didn’t change. "It doesn’t matter what we are. Your world is ours now." Before turning to leave, Balinor cast a cold glance back at Arthur, his emotionless voice clipped.
“The drink in the corner,” he gestured to a sleek metal container on the far wall, “is called Sustainium. It’s the only source of nourishment you’ll need. Don’t bother asking for anything else.”
Arthur stared at the container, his heart sinking, helpless. “What do you mean… ‘only’?”
Balinor's expression remained stony, indifferent to Arthur’s fear. “You won’t be needing food. That’s what the drink is for.”
Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but Balinor cut him off, already stepping toward the door. “Books will be dropped through the chute in your suite. Take them or leave them—I do not care. You’ve already utilized the shower, and you will find a toothbrush and tooth gel in the lavatory. Everything in your suite self-cleans. From now on, you will not leave this containment chamber.”
Arthur stood frozen, anger simmering, disbelief twisting inside him. "That's it? You expect me to just… accept this?"
Balinor didn't even look back as he pulled the door open. "You’ll learn soon enough, Arthur. Whether you like it or not."
With that, he left, the door shutting behind him with a cold, metallic clang, leaving Arthur alone.
Shortly after Balinor's departure, Arthur’s stomach began to grumble. He had just a sandwich for lunch that afternoon. It must’ve been quite late now. Arthur hesitated as he approached the sleek metal container of Sustainium, his stomach rumbling.
Sighing, he reached for the steel bottle even as dread filled him at the alien’s words. This would be all he had to ingest from now on. It wouldn’t surprise him if it was some disgusting alien slop, like something you fed to pigs on a farm. That was all humans were now, wasn’t it?
Uncapping it, he nervously gave it a sniff. It smelled… quite frankly, it smelled delicious. There was a richness to the scent, like something hearty and full of life, far from the sterile, metallic smell he had expected. His hand wavered for only a moment before he brought the drink to his lips.
The first tentative sip exploded on his tongue, sending a wave of pure flavor through him. It tasted even better than it smelled—smooth, savory, with a hint of sweetness that made him crave more. Arthur began to guzzle it.
Each gulp was satisfying, filling, as if it were everything his body needed in that moment. It was unlike anything he’d ever had before, somehow better than the best meal he could imagine. He drank faster, the hunger in him turning ravenous, but no matter how much he consumed, it never felt heavy or overwhelming. The more he drank, the more alive he felt, like his body had always craved this.
When he stopped, panting, he stared at the empty container in disbelief. He felt comfortably full—not too full, just right. And it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. With horror, he realized it tasted out of this world good—because it likely was, made on some alien planet far from Earth, to appease the Zenith’s human captives.
He cried himself to sleep that first night, curled up in blankets that smelled too sterile and unfamiliar for his liking, but he felt that he needed anything soft. The traumatic images of Leon and Percy exploding before his eyes would not leave him. Even his dreams replayed the memory on a horrific loop.
Early the next morning, Balinor materialized into the room, making Arthur jump and almost spill his drink. “Hey! Watch it!” he shouted. Fucking aliens.
Another being, this one thinner with a shock of short black hair, materialized behind the first alien. The new alien looked slightly younger, perhaps just a year or two older than Arthur.
This one possessed eyes a brilliant blue this time, but ones that were equally cold. Like Balinor, he was handsome with devastatingly good looks. Even better-looking than Balinor.
The first Zenith turned to him, pleased. “Ah, Merlin. This here is Arthur, who I was just telling you about yesterday. He is my test subject that I will impart to you. I trust you more than competent to carry out your own tests for the ISRS. Although I will warn you, Arthur here will be no walk in the stars.”
The alien boy studied Arthur, stunned at the vast energy rolling off this Homo sapien. His father had not been exaggerating. Merlin was deeply intrigued.
Merlin noticed he also had blue eyes, although not nearly as bright and eye-catching as his own. Homo sapien eyes were all so dull.
Balinor grabbed Arthur, who instantly began snarling and twisting, fighting, as if he had a chance. Balinor flipped the boy and crushed him to the metallic table.
“Get your disgusting hands off me!” Arthur gnashed, teeth clenched in fury.
The Zenith could tell this boy needed a lesson. Arthur’s energy was fierce, unyielding—a blazing fire, not a spark. Taming him wouldn’t be easy.
Yesterday, he'd conducted a talk with his son. “But if anyone could tame him, it would be you, Merlin. After all, you are Emrys.”
Merlin bowed respectfully, eyes glowing with pride. “Thank you, Father. Arthur won't be an issue at all.”
Balinor now bent Arthur over the examination table, but Merlin sprang up, growling fiercely, “Father!”
The alien looked up immediately, snapping his belt back. Arthur’s eyes were wide with shock, looking around wildly. He was unsure of what had been about to happen. Balinor seemed stunned at his son’s outburst, but then sudden understanding dawned on him.
He yanked the boy up by his chest and produced a dagger from the air and began to cut into the Homo sapien’s chest. Arthur, writhing, let out a high-pitched scream and sobbed from the excruciating agony. Arthur’s vision went white with iron-hot pain.
He laid Arthur down on the metal table, which Arthur knew looked an awful lot like an examination table. Balinor's eyes gleamed with a cold, clinical detachment as he directed a harsh beam of light down onto Arthur's exposed abdomen. The sharp glint of the dagger caught Arthur's eye, but he could do nothing to stop it.
With chilling precision, the Zenith pressed the blade into Arthur’s flesh, the steel slicing through skin and muscle like paper. Arthur gasped sharply, his body frozen, unable to flinch or resist.
The pain was instant, a fiery agony radiating from the wound and consuming him. Balinor’s hand pushed into the cut, fingers probing through the slick warmth of Arthur’s insides, searching for something only he understood. Arthur’s eyes widened in terror, his mouth open in a silent scream, the agony too overwhelming for sound.
Every nerve in his body begged for it to stop, but Arthur could only watch, paralyzed, as Balinor worked with a calm, methodical focus. Tears blurred Arthur’s vision. Balinor cut out certain parts of Arthur’s, then looked up at his son, a serene smile on his face.
“I’m aware Arthur will be your first live subject, so I wanted to give you a bit of a challenge. Wouldn’t want you getting bored on day one.”
He then waved a hand over Arthur, and suddenly Arthur’s body was whole again. His cuts were sealed back like new. Arthur sat up immediately, face more pale than ever before as he clutched his stomach, marveling at how physically he was.. fine.
“You know what to do, son.” Balinor handed Merlin what looked to be a large beige collar and Merlin nodded, eyes gleaming.
Merlin stepped over to the dimwitted Homo sapien alien boy. Arthur’s golden blonde hair was a mess from the session with his father. The Homo looked at Merlin and for a second terror flashed in his eyes before being instantly replaced with a seething red-hot rage.
Arthur was breathing hard, remembering the pain he’d felt from this alien’s father, but he was not going to go down without fighting, not now when he knew he’d be so quickly healed. Pain he could deal with. Pain was just a test of will.
They needed him alive, it seemed. For whatever sick purposes, the cruel aliens didn’t seem to want to kill him, at least.
Still, young Arthur sat nervously on the exam table, waiting to see what this adolescent alien would do next. Merlin strode over, eyes now dark with the pupils blown wide, but looking as blank and expressionless as ever. Arthur’s palms were beginning to sweat as he felt the hairs on his neck and arms raised in anticipation.
Merlin grabbed a flailing Arthur by the neck and shoved his chest up against a padded white wall. Arthur grunted in anger as he tried to twist free, but Zenith strength was no laughing matter. Merlin didn’t even seem to need to try as he thrust his cock in one fluid motion up Arthur’s virgin ass. Arthur screamed.
Blood began to drip down his legs, which were shaking as he tried to continue standing, but soon Merlin let them both fall to become a hot mess on the floor of his hard cell, containment suite, whatever the fuck it was he was being kept in.
Merlin grabbed a fistful of Arthur’s hair and yanked his head back, before clasping the thick collar around it. The collar instantly clamped shut. It fit snugly around Arthur’s tanned neck.
“Mine,” Merlin growled.
Never, you disgusting creature, Arthur thought, though he knew better than to voice it.
Merlin then yanked Arthur up and tossed him onto the examination table, and Arthur’s heart rate skyrocketed as terror nearly crippled him. “No, no no, please, anything but this again!”
But unlike his father, Merlin was climbing on top of him. The alien was still expressionless as he rammed himself in and out of Arthur, pleased that Arthur’s body was producing blood to ease his cock’s entrance upon each thrust. Merlin moved with an efficient urgency.
The alien boy’s eyes darkened with a twisted hunger as Arthur’s anguished cries filled the room, reverberating off the cold, sterile walls. The sound of Arthur’s pain seemed to fuel something deep and primal within the Zenith. Expressionlessly, Merlin pulled out his own dagger, the blade gleaming ominously in the dim light. Without hesitation, Merlin pressed the blade to Arthur’s side, slicing through flesh and muscle with brutal precision.
Arthur’s body convulsed, a raw, guttural scream tearing from his throat as the searing pain consumed him. His vision blurred with tears, his thoughts unraveling as the blade carved deeper. Each cut sent unbearable agony surging through him, his trembling body unable to process the brutality.
Merlin’s breathing quickened, his movements over Arthur growing more desperate, as if Arthur’s torment ignited something primal within him. With one final, brutal thrust, Merlin spilled his warm seed inside Arthur, the act a grotesque mockery of intimacy. Arthur’s cries turned to pitiful sobs, his body wracked with pain and humiliation as Merlin continued his sadistic work.
But Merlin wasn’t finished. As Arthur lay there, a broken, blubbering mess, Merlin’s attention shifted back to the wound he had created. His hands, slick with blood, moved with chilling precision as he reached into Arthur’s warm body, his fingers wrapping around a kidney.
Arthur's eyes widened in horror, his breath catching as the organ was wrenched loose, still partially connected. The pain was beyond words, a burning torment that stole his breath and pushed him toward unconsciousness.
Merlin, though, remained unmoved. With an unsettling calm, he severed the final tissue, freeing the kidney and tucking it into his pocket like a casual keepsake. His gaze fell back on Arthur—reduced to a frail shadow of his former self.
There was no trace of pity in Merlin’s expression, only a twisted satisfaction as he surveyed the broken boy before him.
Merlin took the blood-soaked dagger and with a whisper, he heated it so it was as hot as a poker. It was now glowing an angry red. He pointed it at Arthur’s face. Arthur was in so much pain he could barely keep his eyes open, but he did—just to glare defiantly at his captor.
Arthur was heaving for breath as his guts were spilling out. Merlin brought the dagger close to Arthur’s face and then began to slice into him. Arthur screamed as the heat of the knife opened his face up like butter. But Merlin kept going.
Merlin seemed to be carving something into Arthur’s face rather than just cutting into him at random.
Merlin sat back, admiring his work. Arthur was lying on the table, blood gushing from his wrecked side, intestines spilling out, and cum and blood leaking from his rectum. Merlin leaned over, and with one astonishingly pink tongue, lapped at his bleeding cheek, instantly healing it.
With a wave of his hand, Merlin healed the rest of Arthur.
Arthur gasped, shuddering. But he still saw from the corner of his eye what looked to be raised flesh. With a quick hand to his cheek, Arthur realized that the cuts Merlin had left were still there.
After the two aliens left, Arthur rushed to the bathroom, heart pounding with a mix of anger and fear. As he stood before the full-body mirror, he could see the collar clasped tightly around his neck.
But what was most horrid were the raised marks on his cheek. The brand was unmistakable, a permanent reminder of Merlin’s control over him, a simple word: ‘EMRYS.’
Arthur’s eyes filled with newfound tears, his hands trembling as he touched the mark. The anger he felt towards Merlin surged anew. He could hardly believe that this was his reality, that he was forever marked by someone he now hated so intensely.
The brand, a stark and invasive symbol of Merlin’s dominance, was a constant, painful reminder of the power Merlin held over him. Arthur’s reflection in the mirror showed a broken boy, his anger and sadness merging into a deep, raw despair.
Notes:
Gahhhh~!! Tell me what yall are thinking. I was not kidding about the gore. 🫣 Subscribe to not miss weekly updates! Thanks so much for reading. 🖤
Each experiment down the line is absolutely "necessary." 🫥 (This Homo sapien author just wanted to find fresh ways to torture Arthur, but Merlin as an all-knowing Zenith scientist has a valid reason behind them, I just dk what that reason could be. 🧬👀)
Chapter 3: The Prodigy's Test Subject
Notes:
I am not a medical doctor, so the following (and this fic) may not be entirely medically accurate. ^^;
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Merlin woke up early in the morning and checked his chronometric oscillator. It was time to go see his test subject. He’d had Arthur now for half a year.
With the usual pep in his step, Merlin prepared for his visit. As always, he dressed in his impeccably tailored suit.
As he left his sleek, glass-paneled home, the city, now Zenith-run, was a marvel of advanced engineering, reminding him more of Aethoria, his home planet. Speedy hovercars zipped silently between towering skyscrapers, their surfaces glinting in the morning sun. The streets were uncontaminated, with every surface polished to a mirror-like sheen, and the air was filtered to perfection, carrying the faint scent of floral notes.
Merlin walked through the high-tech corridors of the Interstellar Species Research Station (ISRS), the floor beneath him subtly shifting to accommodate his movements. The walls were lined with interactive displays showing real-time data and information about various projects and experiments. The hum of advanced machinery and the soft whir of automated systems provided a steady, rhythmic backdrop as he made his way to the secure holding area.
Entering the lab, sixteen-year-old Merlin greeted his workers with a nod. As always, he was right on time—never a second late. The space was sterile and orderly, with every piece of equipment meticulously arranged and maintained. The advanced technology that filled the room facilitated the most precise and controlled experiments.
Mordred, his brother and colleague ten years his senior, glanced up from his console. "Never late, are you, Commander?" he remarked.
Merlin gave a small smile. "Never. You know that."
Mordred chuckled, leaning back slightly. "A prodigy’s perk, I suppose. But you don’t just get by on being early. You’ve been going over the anomaly data again, haven’t you?"
Merlin nodded, walking over to his station. "It’s not adding up. The readings are off, and I think there’s a variable we’re not accounting for."
Mordred raised an eyebrow. "You're saying the projections are wrong?"
"Not exactly wrong," Merlin replied, pulling up the data. "But incomplete. There's something we're missing, and I think it's significant."
Mordred’s expression grew thoughtful as he listened. "You’ve got an eye for things others don’t, Emrys. But remember, even a prodigy’s gotta play by the rules."
Merlin smirked. "I always do, don't I? Father would have my head otherwise."
Mordred’s lips curved into a faint smile. "True enough. Just don’t let that head get too far in the clouds. Discipline is what keeps you at the top."
Merlin shot him a confident look, smirking. "I know. But it’s what you do with the rules that matter."
Mordred chuckled softly, though his tone turned serious as he turned back to his work. "And that’s why you’ll stay ahead."
Merlin shot him a grin before walking away with a flourish. “You know me far too well, brother.”
He at last approached the holding cell where Arthur was kept. The cell, like the rest of the facility, was minimalist, yet designed with a certain level of comfort. Technology in the cell was focused on monitoring and maintaining the subject’s health and safety during their stay. With all their power, the one thing Zenith had not yet mastered was bringing back the dead.
As Merlin peered through the transparent viewing panel, he observed Arthur with anticipation. The alien Homo sapien boy was a formidable presence, even within the confines of the cell. Merlin knew that managing such a subject required a delicate balance of observation and intervention.
As with each day, Merlin wore a determined expression as he prepared himself for the task ahead, ready to engage with Arthur and further his understanding of this intriguing test subject.
When Merlin opened the cell door, Arthur leapt to his feet, growling like the feral animal he was. But Merlin was relentless. He grabbed the great ape boy by the hair, yanking him forward with a force that made the boy's neck nearly snap painfully (it had happened many times before).
He threw Arthur’s naked body onto the cold, hard metal examination table. The ape boy's screams filled the air, raw and desperate, but they did nothing to deter Merlin.
Without hesitation, Merlin drove his blade into the boy's flesh, the cold metal slicing through skin and muscle with sickening ease. Blood welled up around the wound, dark and viscous, as Merlin began cutting into him with a cold, detached precision. The boy's cries echoed off the walls, mingling with the sound of tearing flesh, but Merlin's expression remained stoic, his focus unwavering. He had a job to do, and no amount of Homo sapien suffering would stop him.
“Don’t you ever learn?” Merlin tutted, feigning annoyance to hide how impressed he was. Most Homo sapiens by now, even adults, were cowering at the arrival of Zenith, but not this young ape. Most definitely towards the very tiptop of his species to possess such courage at such a young age.
“Fuck off!” Arthur gurgled as he started choking on his own blood.
Merlin’s fist smashed into Arthur’s face, a loud crunch splitting the air as Arthur’s nose broke, blood spraying everywhere. Arthur’s vision went hazy, pain exploding in his head. He nearly slipped off the table, but Merlin’s grip yanked him back before he could hit the floor.
There was no pause, no moment of reprieve. As soon as Arthur's head lolled forward, his blood dripping onto the floor, Merlin brought out the knife again. The blade glinted ominously in the bright light as Merlin pressed it against Arthur’s skin, slicing through flesh with the same ruthless efficiency as before. Arthur's body jerked violently with each cut, his nerves aflame with agony.
Merlin worked methodically, expression unreadable, as if the screams of pain that tore from Arthur's throat were nothing more than background noise.
Time lost all meaning for Arthur. Each time he passed out, his body mercifully trying to escape the unbearable torment, Merlin would inadvertently wake him with a sharp cut, pulling him back into the nightmare. Arthur would awaken to the same horror—the knife digging into his flesh, the blood pooling around him, his body betraying him with violent shudders.
Vomit rose in his throat, his stomach twisting as he wretched, emptying what little was left inside him onto the floor. Then the darkness would claim him again, only for Merlin to drag him back once more.
For half the day the cycle continued—pain, unconsciousness, and brief moments of disoriented awareness. By the time Merlin was finally done, Arthur’s body was a broken, bloodied mess. Arthur convulsed, aftershocks of pain wracking his body. Merlin's magic erased the wounds but couldn't touch the terror beneath.
Arthur curled inward, avoiding Merlin's gaze, his shallow breaths coming too fast. The memory of knife and blood had shattered his defiance, leaving only a violently shaking shell drowning in horror.
Merlin walked smoothly over by Arthur’s bed and pulled him up toward him with his magic. When the younger boy was close enough, Merlin crooned in his ear, “Mine,” before lifting Arthur in his arms like some damsel and carrying him onto his plush, unsullied self-cleaning bed.
Merlin shoved Arthur down to it and forced his legs open. “No no no stop!” Arthur was still stubbornly attempting to resist. Merlin found it amusing.
“Be still, Pet,” he hummed, eyes downcast, taking in his test subject’s muscular frame and limp dick. Arthur bristled at the name, but Merlin merely pushed Arthur’s bent legs up so that he could slot himself in between. Merlin’s wet cock slid in between Arthur’s plump cheeks, teasing at his hole.
“You are irresistible,” the Zenith murmured into Arthur’s ear, giving it a lick.
Arthur shuddered.
Merlin snapped his penis inside Arthur, tearing his anus again, and once again, after a few hard bruising thrusts, warm red blood was splashing onto the previously spotless white sheets. Arthur bit his tongue and didn’t yell out. He knew these freaks liked to hear evidence of pain.
Quickly Merlin finished, once again coating the boy's insides with his cum, reclaiming him in the most intimate way. When he pulled out, he waved a hand and Arthur’s anus was healed, but this time, as Arthur sat up, he felt cum leaking down to his sheets.
“Clean up your mess!” Arthur snarled. He didn't want to go all day with that disgusting liquid in his ass.
Merlin’s eyes narrowed, before choking Arthur onto his bed, roaring, “DO NOT THINK YOU CAN TELL ME WHAT TO DO, YOU SNIVELING HOMO SAPIEN! YOU BELONG TO ME!” Merlin gave Arthur a hard slap across the cheek, breaking his cheekbone with a sickening crack.
The crack reverberated in his skull, the ache pulsing with every heartbeat. His face structure went slack, barely holding together as he clutched at it, broken. Arthur’s trembling fingers were stained with blood as pieces of bone jutted out every which way. The pain was overwhelming, a searing fire that burned through his nerves, but still, he managed to sneer at Merlin, defiant even in the face of such brutality.
But Merlin had not stopped there. His eyes filled with a cold, detached fury, and he grabbed Arthur again, hauling him up only to slam him back down with brutal force. The impact sent a shockwave of pain through Arthur's body, his ribs protesting with sharp, stabbing sensations as they strained under the pressure.
Each new kick on the naked boy cracked bones and tore flesh, pain resonating through his entire being, amplifying his agony tenfold. When Merlin's boot connected with his nose, the familiar crunch of breaking cartilage sent a jolt of white-hot pain through Arthur's head, the blood pouring freely down his face and into his mouth, where it mixed with the taste of iron and bile. Breathing became a struggle, every inhale a sharp, stabbing pain that shot through his shattered nasal passages.
The final stomp to his face was a blow that Arthur wasn’t sure he could recover from. The impact shattered his cheekbone, sending fractures through his skull into his brain. Each fragment dug deeper, violating soft brain tissue.
Arthur's thoughts scattered like the broken skull fragments, memories and pain swirling chaotically. His vision narrowed to a pinpoint of agony.
A bone fragment pierced deeper, igniting every nerve. His silent scream went unvoiced as colors blurred into darkness. His body spasmed, hands twitching uselessly as consciousness slipped away.
He drifted in and out of sleep as the night went on, unaware that it was Merlin’s magic even now keeping him alive throughout the night as Arthur lay paralyzed, shallow breaths sending fresh waves of pain through broken ribs. Even beneath the haze of agony, a spark of defiance still burned. He lay on the hard, wet floor, gasping for air, each breath sharp and painful.
His chest felt crushed, and his head throbbed painfully. Each heave of breath seemed to ground broken bones together, igniting fresh torrents of pain. Yet even as agony consumed him, his spirit remained unbroken. He would endure, survive, and rise again.
The next morning, Merlin, looking sharp as ever, walked in to find his subject half dead, lying on the floor in piss, blood, and bile. The Zenith wrinkled his nose in disgust. Arthur was unconscious, so Merlin kicked him.
Arthur snapped awake with a gasp, panic etched on his face. His chest heaved as darkness receded. The skull fracture pulsed around a dangerously swelled brain, clouding his thoughts.
Every beat of his heart sent fresh waves of torment coursing through him, the sensation of his brain being bruised and battered within his skull making it almost impossible to focus if not for the sheer terror. He could feel the warm, sticky wetness of blood trickling from his ears, a macabre sign of the damage that had been done.
His thoughts were disjointed, fragmented by the trauma and brain injury, but one thing was clear: the searing hatred in Merlin’s eyes as he stood over him, ready to deliver yet another punishing blow. Arthur’s vision blurred again, his consciousness teetering on the edge of oblivion as he fought to stay awake, to stay alive. He was sure the aliens couldn't resurrect the dead and hell if he was going to die covered in his own piss and sick.
His hands twitched weakly, unable to shield his face from phantom threats. The brain injury pulsed, sending waves of agony through his system. Still, Arthur clung to consciousness with raw determination.
His body was on the brink of collapse again, but his spirit refused to break. Even as his world narrowed to the intense pain and the looming figure of Merlin above him, Arthur’s resolve hardened. He would endure this—no matter how brutal, how merciless the assault—because surrender was not an option. Even in this moment of weakness and suffering, he would not give this alien the satisfaction of seeing his spirit broken.
Merlin knelt down and reached out a slender hand to grab at him. Despite himself, Arthur couldn’t stop the small whimper of fear that spilled from his lips.
“Disgusting,” Merlin muttered into Arthur’s bloodied ear. Then he smashed their lips together, tasting Arthur’s unwilling tongue. Arthur’s mouth tasted foul, like rotten bile.
Merlin wiped his own lips, and with a wave of his hand, Arthur was whole again. But Arthur lay unmoving, now too afraid to set Merlin off.
“You forgot to eat yesterday,” Merlin noted sourly. It was obvious he was irritated.
Arthur didn’t reply.
Merlin kicked him in the face. Arthur's body skidded across the hard tiles, blood gushing from his cheek and nose.
“I was speaking to you.”
Arthur cleared his throat, and mumbled, “Kinda hard to eat when I couldn’t move.”
“And who’s fault was that?” Merlin glowered down at him.
Arthur bit back an angry retort when he looked up at Merlin, who was red-faced with anger. He swallowed his pride and stammered, “M-mine.”
“Yes, it was your fault, my little pet. I hope we can do better from now on, yes? For your sake.” Merlin was looking at Arthur with a severe expression.
“Okay.”
“Okay, Master,” Merlin corrected.
Another swift kick to the face.
Arthur recoiled, spraying blood from his nose again. “Okay. Master,” he growled.
Merlin kicked him again, earning a yelp of pain. “Can the attitude. I don’t need it.” Merlin strode toward the bed. “C’mere.”
Arthur felt a sickening churning in his belly. No. No. No. NO.
But his legs seemed to move of their own volition as he dragged himself over to Merlin. Merlin caressed his collar, and then licked his cheek brand again, which was now bloodied from the kicks before whispering, “Mine.”
. . . . .
That year blurred into a never-ending nightmare for Arthur, marked by a relentless cycle of rapes and grotesque scientific experiments. Every sexual violation was meticulously paired with an excruciating procedure, designed to push Arthur past the boundaries of both physical and mental endurance.
To the Zenith race, Emrys may have been a youngling prodigy whose scientific genius held the promise of revolution, but to Arthur, Merlin was nothing but the embodiment of evil—a holy terror who made Satan look like a Saint. Each night, as Arthur’s battered mind attempted to rest, his dreams were twisted into nightmarish echoes of the horrors Merlin inflicted during the day. Even in slumber, Merlin’s presence was inescapable, whispering of fresh torments to come.
Arthur’s hatred for Merlin festered, growing into something monstrous within him. He had never believed he could harbor such deep loathing for anyone, but Merlin had proven him wrong time and time again. The cruelty, the violation of every boundary Arthur had once held sacred—it all coalesced into a burning rage that gnawed at him constantly.
Yet that rage was laced with helplessness, as each day, Merlin returned with an unsettling calm, his actions marked by a cold, detached precision that made Arthur’s skin crawl. The experiments were methodical, stripping away pieces of Arthur’s humanity while forcing him to endure pain no one would be capable of surviving if not for Zenith magick.
Arthur’s days bled into nights, each hour an agonizing replay of the previous one. In the rare moments where Merlin wasn’t actively tormenting him, Arthur’s mind would race, unable to escape the horrors etched into his memory. He could feel the touch of Merlin’s cold hands, the sharp sting of instruments slicing into flesh, or the electricity frying his young body on days Merlin decided to electroshock him instead.
The growing despair from Merlin's increasingly twisted experiments hung over Arthur every day. He had hoped he could get used to the pain, but it was never-ending. He never got used to it, his nerves never settled enough.
Instead, Arthur’s soul grew darker, a festering wound where only hatred for Merlin took root. That hatred was the only thing keeping him alive, a desperate need to cling to some semblance of self even as everything else was torn away.
1 year later
It had been just a little over a year since Arthur had become Merlin’s captive, though it felt like a lifetime. In that time, everything he once knew had been stripped away—the sense of self he clung to, the certainty of who he was, even the clarity of his hatred. A year in captivity had warped his understanding of everything, especially when it came to Merlin.
There had been a change, subtle at first, creeping into the perverse normalcy of their dynamic. Although Merlin had not grown softer over this year, his cruelty was now laced with an unsettling tenderness that left Arthur reeling.
What unnerved Arthur were the intimate kisses. They came often now, unbidden and unrelenting—pressed against his lips, his neck, his forehead.
A year had worn Arthur down, leaving him raw and desperate. He hadn’t been touched gently in so long that even Merlin’s twisted affection felt like relief.
“You’re so easy to break, aren’t you?” Merlin murmured, long fingers tracing along Arthur’s jaw, the touch hovering between cruel and tender.
Arthur flinched but knew he wasn't allowed to pull away. “Is this what you want, then? To remind me I’m nothing?”
Merlin’s lips ghosted over his, the kiss softer than Arthur expected. “No,” he whispered. “I just want you to let me in.”
Arthur’s breath hitched. “You’ve already shattered me. What more is there?”
Merlin’s arms tightened around him, voice low, almost gentle. “Everything, Arthur. That’s what’s left. Everything.”
Immediately after such a tender moment, Merlin would get to slicing Arthur's flesh with a compassionate smile on his face. Merlin had informed Arthur that Homo sapien pain was being studied as part of the experiment, thus why Arthur had to be awake and aware during these procedures.
"Oh, but you are so strong, aren't you? You can endure this, I know it," Merlin had patted a tearful Arthur on the cheek as he sliced off an ear.
A year ago, Arthur would have fought tooth and nail, would have spat in Merlin’s face rather than accept even a hint of kindness from him. But now, after months of isolation, fear, and confusion, that resistance had worn thin. The bitterness still simmered, the hatred still burned, but beneath it all was a yearning he despised—one that craved the tender moments Merlin offered, no matter how twisted they were.
Arthur could feel the sick contradiction of it all—the way Merlin’s mouth claimed his even as he violated every part of who Arthur used to be. The kisses were soft, lingering, almost tender, and it only deepened the disgust churning in Arthur’s gut. He hated the way his body sometimes betrayed him, leaning into that warmth even when his mind screamed in protest.
After the first few times of Arthur going slack during the kisses, Merlin commanded in a tone that brooked no refusal, “Kiss me back.”
Arthur’s jaw clenched, defiance flaring in his eyes even as his pulse quickened. But Merlin’s hand tightened slightly, a subtle warning, and Arthur knew—knew there was no room for resistance here.
Not if he wanted to avoid whatever twisted punishment Merlin would come up with next. He could almost hear the threat in the silence that hung between them, in the way Merlin’s thumb brushed across his bottom lip, sending a shiver of dread down his spine.
With a bitter resignation, Arthur let his eyes flutter shut, his breath hitching as Merlin’s lips descended upon his. He kept his mouth tight at first, refusing to give Merlin what he wanted, but Merlin was nothing if not patient. The pressure on his mouth was relentless but gentle, teasing, coaxing him to respond, until the tension in Arthur’s resolve began to crack.
“Kiss me back, Arthur,” Merlin whispered again, the words a dark caress against his lips. “You know how this ends if you don’t.”
Notes:
Poor baby Arthur. So strong!! So brave!!
Thanks so much for reading. 🖤
Chapter Text
Something broke inside Arthur then, a small piece of his resistance crumbling under the weight of a year of this torment. Against every fiber of his being, he parted his lips, allowing Merlin to deepen the kiss. The shameful surrender was bitter on his tongue, but Merlin rewarded him with a soft hum of approval, the sound vibrating through Arthur’s chest.
Merlin pulled him closer, the kiss growing more demanding, more possessive. And as Arthur moved his lips in reluctant mimicry, returning the kiss just enough to satisfy his captor, the revulsion inside him twisted into something more unbearable. He felt bile creep up, afraid of the punishment should he vomit mid-kiss.
As Merlin continued, he hated himself for yielding, for giving Merlin what he wanted, but even more, he hated the spark of warmth that fluttered in his chest at the smallest hint of tenderness in Merlin’s touch. The loneliness gnawed at him, a hollow ache that never really went away. So when Merlin’s touch softened, when those hands that had brought him nothing but pain and humiliation slid gently across his skin, it was impossible for Arthur not to lean into it—no matter how much he loathed himself for craving it.
The desperation for tenderness, for even a fleeting moment of warmth, was overwhelming. He’d been starved of it for so long that now, even the smallest tender brush of Merlin’s fingers against his cheek sent shivers down his spine. It was twisted, wrong, and it disgusted him—but it didn’t stop the longing that clawed at him every time Merlin’s lips pressed softly to his. He knew he shouldn’t want it, shouldn’t need it, but after so long without a kind human touch, even the faintest echo of affection from this decidedly not-human alien felt like a lifeline.
He clung to those brief moments, ashamed of how he melted into them, how his body responded despite everything. It didn’t matter that the tenderness came from the same boy who had destroyed him piece by piece—what mattered was that it was there at all, and in the void Arthur had been living in, it was enough to make him forget, just for a moment, who it was coming from.
When Merlin finally pulled back, his eyes glinted with a dark satisfaction, and Arthur’s heart sank. The victory in Merlin’s gaze was unmistakable, a reminder that no matter how much he fought, Merlin would always find a way to break him. Arthur’s breath came in shaky gasps, his lips tingling with the phantom sensation of Merlin’s kiss—a kiss he’d never be able to scrub away, no matter how hard he tried.
"See?" Merlin murmured. His voice was deceptively soft as he stroked Arthur's cheek. “Was that so hard, love?”
Arthur’s response was a glare, laced with silent fury and disgust, but Merlin only chuckled, leaning in to press one last lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. It was gentle, almost affectionate, and it made Arthur’s skin crawl all the more. This was the twisted affection Merlin thrived on—the kind that blurred the lines between cruelty and care, until Arthur couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
He knew it wasn’t mercy or affection. It was control, laced with a warped sense of care that made Arthur’s skin crawl. The softness made it worse somehow, made the horror of it all more intimate, more personal. And every time Merlin’s tongue was in his mouth, Arthur was reminded that even tenderness could be a weapon.
Today, Merlin showed up again, and his eyes, originally cold and blank, now looked upon Arthur with what could effectively be called lust. It had come as a surprise to the Zenith to find that this morning, Arthur’s vital signs had shown activity in his penile area, and Merlin was eager to take full advantage.
Merlin walked smoothly to Arthur’s bed and crawled on top of him over the sheets. Arthur felt his insides twist in repugnance at the heated look in his eyes. Get off me. The blonde boy whined his protest instead.
Like all other Earthly creatures, he’d never been given clothes. Arthur had morning wood for the first time in ever, and Merlin knowingly straddled it. Merlin was looking up under his lashes at Arthur, his erection tenting his work pants, and grinning.
Merlin pulled the sheets away from Arthur, revealing his hard naked cock. Light pink blush coloring his cheeks, Merlin shifted his body down, before lowering his head and suckling lightly on Arthur’s cockhead, making the blonde buck in surprise.
Merlin lay down on his back, feet up. “C’mere, Pet, and fuck me.” With a wave of a magical hand, Merlin was naked.
Merlin had come onto him at an inopportune time. Usually he did not have morning wood due to the constant rape and imprisonment, which caused significant stress and anxiety and led to severe hormonal imbalances. But tonight, he’d been having some rather erotic dreams that he’d rather not recall.
Aghast at the request, Arthur drank in Merlin’s pale lean body as he suppressed a shiver of disgust at Merlin’s request. He was going to be sick. However, his body seemed to have different ideas as his eyes trailed down Merlin’s chest, where little dark hairs had begun to grow. Merlin had the body of a marathon racer, but Arthur knew firsthand that his strength was more akin to that of Evil Superman.
The worst part was that biologically, he was a gay hormonal teenage boy and here was a warm, naked body resembling that of a fit boy around his age. To his shame, taking the time to actually look at Merlin’s body did nothing to stop his erection. If anything, it only made it all the worse.
“Are you going to stare all day, or fuck me?” Merlin asked, clearly annoyed and impatient. That made Arthur jump.
Arthur crawled slowly towards Merlin and slotted his erect penis by Merlin’s hole. Merlin was looking at him expectantly, almost bored now. With a jolt of magic, Arthur yelped as he felt himself thrust balls-deep inside the Zenith.
Merlin yanked Arthur down with a hand and hissed, “Now move.”
Arthur felt his heart beating erratically with fear. Merlin might decide he was done with trying to get Arthur to fuck him and move on to… other activities.
Arthur decided that, fine, if Merlin wanted him to fuck him, he’d fuck him! Merlin felt a wave of fury pour out of Arthur as suddenly Arthur was slamming his cock inside him, so hard Merlin’s head cracked up against the metal headboard. Merlin grinned. This is more like it, the Zenith thought.
Arthur kept fucking him with pure rage, biting into his unblemished skin, hard enough to draw blood. Merlin’s blood was a deep, shimmering crimson that pulsed and shimmered with an unnatural energy. Arthur chewed off a chunk of Merlin’s inner bicep with his teeth. Then he chewed up Merlin’s lips and tongue as he kissed him roughly, as if he couldn’t get enough. And Arthur couldn’t get enough.
He wanted more and more, more of hurting Merlin. He wanted to use sex as his free pass to inflict as much damage on Merlin’s steel-like body as he possibly could, knowing deep down that he was only tickling Merlin. But he pushed that thought to the back of his mind. No, he had to feel like he was in control of the situation, at least he could pretend.
Merlin was moaning and whining so prettily, his long, lean legs locked around Arthur’s waist. “Yeah, just like that Arthur, harder.. more…!”
Arthur growled and then began choking Merlin. Merlin moaned, his erection harder against Arthur’s stomach. Fuck! Why does he have to be into that?
Arthur immediately stopped with the choking and Merlin grinned, pulling Arthur into another bloodied kiss. Arthur broke it to bite viciously at Merlin’s skin, tearing it up with his teeth as Merlin just moaned in pleasure.
Arthur almost began regretting his plan as he saw how badly it was backfiring. But he ignored Merlin’s responses.
No, he would not admit that his roughness was driving Merlin into fits of ecstasy.
No, he was definitely hurting Merlin, just a little bit at least.
Hopefully his feelings?
(A tiny voice whispered that Merlin didn’t have feelings.)
For now, this was all he could do. As he kept going, he felt a familiar heat coil down in his belly. He had not felt this heat since before his capture.
The closer his release came, the harder and faster he fucked Merlin, fucking Merlin now with unrestrained abandon. He could not stop now.
“Come in me,” Merlin was moaning. “Coat my insides with your sperm, Arthur. Make us one. Complete the bond.”
NO! I will not, you monster!
With a loud shuddering groan, Arthur emptied himself completely inside Merlin, gasping as waves of euphoria cascaded over and inside his entire being, from the tips of his toes to his reddened ears. He’d meant to pull out, he really had.
Fuck.
Exhausted, he fell on top of Merlin, letting his whole weight drop on the alien who was his Master. Arthur’s chest was heaving and he was panting hard. It was only then that he realized his belly was wet too. Merlin had climaxed already.
The Zenith boy kissed Arthur gently. “Good little pet,” he said, smiling a bright genuine sickeningly sated smile. Merlin’s eyes had turned a bright shimmering pink with adoration.
Arthur had never hated him more.
Arthur had grown used to being raped, having his body cut into and torn up, just to have it be all put back together again. But he’d never felt more violated than what had just transpired. To be forced to give pleasure to Merlin, and have himself feel sexual pleasure for the first time in over a year inside Merlin. It was unthinkable.
But it seemed that day awoke something in Merlin.
Early the next morning, as Arthur was finishing drinking his breakfast, Merlin came into work with the biggest dopiest smile on his stupid face. “Wanna have fun?”
Arthur stayed quiet, heart hammering.
“No?” Merlin came up and sat in Arthur’s lap. Merlin could feel his subject’s irritation and fear spark off in his aura, and Merlin giggled. Merlin wrapped an arm around Arthur, relishing in the bipedal primate’s warmth.
Arthur resisted the urge to shove him off or lean away, but his palms were sweating. Gods help me. Please not today. No cutting up today. I can’t—
Merlin pushed Arthur onto his back on his bed, and Arthur kept his eye trained on the ceiling, resisting the urge to bite his lip or show any other signs of fear. But he couldn’t prevent the fear stench that clung to him. Merlin smelt it.
Merlin began kissing Arthur’s mouth, gently, lovingly, even. Arthur begrudgingly kissed back because he knew he had to. They kissed as if they were secondary school boyfriends.
Merlin started sucking hickeys down Arthur’s pale chest. It used to be tanned with how often he was always outside playing sports with the guys, but Arthur hadn’t seen the sun since he’d been cooped up with the Zenith. Now he was as pale as Merlin himself.
Merlin sucked at Arthur’s right nipple, and Arthur gasped. Merlin, taking note, continued on the nipple, until Arthur was a squirming mess. Merlin got started on the left nipple, receiving the same pleasant response.
Arthur hated him. Merlin worked his way down to suck on Arthur’s toned abs, licking and nibbling at them.
Arthur hated how hard he was by the time Merlin finished with sucking on his naval area, following down his happy trail. Merlin looked down at his leaking pink cock reverently. His cockhead and first upper half of his penis was a dark angry red, and then the rest was bright pink. Merlin began to lick around his cock, sucking gently on his balls, and then Merlin easily flipped him onto his belly, whispered a cleaning spell, and began to eat him out.
Merlin ate him fully and completely, sucking at his entrance, really getting his tongue probing into the blonde's anus. After a long while of this, Arthur couldn’t stifle the moans that came out of him. He couldn’t stop his traitorous hips from grounding into the mattress for some relief.
Merlin flipped him back onto his back, and then took Arthur’s cock in fully into those lush full lips. Arthur had been soaking the sheets with his precum, and at the feel of a hot wet mouth around his length, Arthur moaned loudly, thrusting up into the velvety heat of Merlin’s delicious mouth. He couldn’t help it.
Merlin was sucking with an expertise that a seventeen-year-old teen shouldn’t have. But then, he was an alien teen. Maybe that made a difference.
His tongue was powerful and it knew exactly where to go and what to do. When Merlin deep-throated, he did it with ease. Arthur hated it. He hated Merlin with all his heart.
In no time at all, Arthur was shouting out his release into Merlin’s mouth, which the alien swallowed, wiping his mouth with a self-satisfied smirk. Arthur was spent, heaving on the bed.
Merlin grinned, suggestively rubbing his leaking dick on Arthur’s belly. “Ready?”
“No, please,” Arthur begged, beginning to tear up. He hated this, he hated Merlin.
Merlin just grinned wider, his too-large ears making him look ridiculous as always. “Awe, don’t be like that. Gotta repay me.”
Merlin began scissoring two fingers in Arthur’s anus, feeling around. Gods no... Merlin was searching for his prostate. After a while of this, Arthur felt himself steadily growing harder again.
Suddenly, at a jolt of blinding pleasure, Arthur couldn't stop his half-hard cock from jumping up at full attention. Merlin giggled. “Found it.”
The Zenith gleefully nipped the inside of Arthur’s thighs. Merlin entered Arthur slowly with three fingers, stretching him with lube, which was a first. This was the first time ever that Merlin took his time stretching Arthur, in fact. He stretched him for a few minutes, until Arthur’s cock was leaking with impatience.
“Please stop, don’t do this,” Arthur gasped. He didn’t want it. Any of it.
Merlin only smiled at him. “You’ll love it, I promise.”
Arthur’s response was a growl, which earned him a hard face slap that had him spitting out blood. Arthur hated Merlin so much. He just wished he could punch his stupid face in, hard enough to cave in. Even that wouldn't be nearly enough.
Eventually, Merlin removed his fingers and positioned his cock at Arthur’s anal opening. He began to push in, slowly. Arthur bit back moans. Fuck.
Merlin wasn't even properly inside and he was already reacting like this. His entire body was thrumming with need now. Why did Merlin have to be so thorough in his goddamn foreplay? Arthur was nothing more than a test subject to this sick bastard.
When Merlin breached the rim and began to fuck him in earnest, Arthur closed his eyes and tried to imagine he was somewhere else. Anywhere else but here and pretending to be intimate lovers with some twisted alien.
But he couldn’t block out Merlin’s satisfied moans and little, soft whines. Or when Merlin nipped his jawline and licked his neck with a tongue he knew was way too pink to be normal. (Merlin’s tongue was a vibrant bright pink for the gods’ sake!)
And then Merlin was fucking Arthur harder and Arthur couldn’t stop a low whine of pleasure escape. Fuck fuck fuck fuck… Why did Merlin have to do this?
Suddenly he bit into Arthur’s neck, hard enough to have Arthur snapping his eyes open and screaming in pain and anger.
“Keep your eyes open,” Merlin murmured, smiling sweetly. The alien leaned in, speaking softly into Arthur’s ear, “The fun part’s about to start,” before licking the shell.
Oh no, nooo, please no.
Merlin canted his hips differently and brushed up against that spot from earlier. Arthur choked. Why did this have to feel so good?
He hated Merlin so much. So so much. Merlin knew what he was doing, and now his eyes were lit triumphantly as he continued to fuck into Arthur at a punishing pace.
As the onslaught of pleasure rained down unceasingly, Arthur’s entire body felt like it was on fire. He couldn't stop his legs automatically hooking around Merlin’s waist, holding on as he gripped Merlin’s neck and hid his face in the crook of Merlin’s neck, biting down on Merlin to hold back his screams of pleasure.
He'd never felt aroused with Merlin inside him before. This was a whole new territory of psychological torture.
Merlin only grinned and relished in his little primate needing him in such a way. “You’re so fucking adorable,” he muttered, moaning as he thrust into Arthur’s velvety heat.
Arthur’s entire body was holding onto Merlin for dear life as Merlin continued fucking the life out of him. It was so damn good, Arthur was crying and sobbing into his Master’s neck like some child. Arthur had never felt so humiliated in his life. But he never knew sex could feel that good.
He screamed his orgasm, but Merlin just kept fucking him into a second orgasm. And then a third. By the third, he was delirious, and Merlin had already come five times, so Merlin just kissed him sloppily.
“Let's get you showered, buddy,” he said, still panting.
“Buddy? You don’t look much older than me,” Arthur croaked, but he was still in a post-coital haze, not protesting when Merlin kissed him again.
“That’s right. I’m only two years your elder,” smiled Merlin. “But so much wiser.” Annoyance prickled at Arthur's skin at this arrogance.
Merlin dragged Arthur to the large self-regulating bathtub that came with his containment suite, passing the shower. The water was always at the perfect temperature, sensing exactly what Arthur needed. It automatically expanded in size to fit two teenage boys.
Arthur cursed his life. As if struggling with being a gay athlete before the Zenith invasion wasn’t enough, now he was forced to endure living with a fucking serial rapist alien who also happened to be a sadistic torturer with magical powers. He wished the damn creatures would just go back to whatever planet they came from and leave Earth the hell alone.
Merlin stepped into the tub with Arthur and soaped him up, lathering his hair and scrubbing his entire body. Each touch from Merlin sent electric pulses through Arthur’s entire body, especially his stupid teenage cock. Merlin was soaping Arthur up so gently, humming a sweet melody that made Arthur's eyelids droop.
Before he knew it, Arthur was lying back against Merlin’s hard chest. He fell asleep and didn’t notice how Merlin sighed and kissed the top of his head.
“My sweet dimwitted little Homo sapien..”
Notes:
Umm thoughts? xD This was a 'nice' chapter. Gods Merlin is sadistic. lol
Chapter Text
After that morning bath, Arthur awoke warm in his bed. Merlin was quick to come in, wielding a large pair of scissors.
“Ah! Finally awake! The experiment of the day is to observe how Homo sapiens react to different weapons such as this used to cut into them,” Merlin explained matter-of-factly. “You’re a brave boy, so I volunteered us for this one.” Merlin looked so proud, patting Arthur’s head as Arthur felt tears begin to spill.
Merlin pulled Arthur unwillingly towards him.
“Come now, Arthur, we won’t have you acting a fool.” Arthur’s lips trembled. “You know it’s pointless to resist,” Merlin said threateningly.
“It’s obvious we don’t want to be cut up with any weapon!” Arthur yelled, furious. “How is this something you need to perform live experiments on to figure out?”
But Merlin only looked amused. “Tsk tsk Arthur. Minds such as yours lack the capacity to grasp the delicate intricacies of the smallest individual reactions of genomes," Merlin said, tone laced with cold arrogance.
He went on, "You focus on the obvious, the grand displays of behavior, but it's the nearly imperceptible details that truly matter—the twitch of a muscle, the flicker of a neuron, the infinitesimal chemical shifts in your biology. Each microscopic reaction is a key, a critical puzzle piece that, when combined, reveals the larger picture of your species. These tiny, subtle movements reveal the deepest truths about you.
But you don’t understand, do you? You only see what’s obvious, blind to the importance of the small and unnoticed. You wouldn’t even know where to start."
His voice dripped with condescension as he continued. "It’s like trying to explain the complexities of the cosmos to an insect. You’ll never understand the significance of what I’m doing, how each minute variable contributes to a greater understanding of who and what you are.
And in that ignorance, you remain blind to your own weaknesses, to the very things that could be your undoing. But that’s where I thrive—where I dissect your kind down to the very atoms of your being and understand what makes you tick in ways you can’t even fathom."
Merlin was already grabbing Arthur and strapping his naked body down to the cold metal table. Once again, the Zenith worked with a detached precision, doing the routine task of slicing through Arthur’s flesh as the boy screamed.
Blood pooled beneath the table, soaking into the sterile white surface. Starting with Arthur's fingers, one by one, each digit was neatly and excruciatingly excised with the scissors until both of the boy's hands were left as bloody stumps.
Then came the toes, methodically removed while Arthur’s sobs echoed in the cold, metallic room. He had passed out several times, only to be jolted back to consciousness by the sharp, searing pain of another amputation.
With his voice dripping with a chilling sense of pride, Merlin leaned in close, murmuring softly as he began sawing through Arthur’s nose, “This is good work we’re doing, Arthur. You should feel proud. You’re contributing to something far greater than yourself. With your help, we can determine the most efficient ways to cultivate Homo sapiens, to improve their quality of life under Zenith control.
We’ll find the ideal methods to ensure that Homo sapiens not only survive but flourish on my planet in what you Earthlings call zoos, or even as pets.” His tone was almost reverent, as if he truly believed in the twisted purpose behind his experiments.
Arthur’s breaths came in ragged gasps, his remaining eye wide with terror as Merlin’s blade traced along the delicate tissue of his ear. Tears streamed down his cheek, mingling with the blood as he sobbed quietly. But even that eye was soon forfeit, Merlin’s hand steady as he dug the blade into the socket, wrenching the eyeball free with a sickening squelch.
Merlin was taking note and recording all of Arthur's reactions with high-tech recording eye drops that he usually administered to himself prior to each experiment.
Arthur’s mind fractured under the torment, caught between consciousness and blissful blackness. The room felt like it was spinning even in his blindness, his thoughts blurred by pain and the sensation of being slowly disassembled.
All he could hear was Merlin’s voice, soothing and clinical as he continued his lecture on Homo sapien cultivation, as if this was nothing more than an intellectual exercise. For Merlin, it likely was.
Merlin rambled on, eyes lighting up with every word, about how excited he was as a child when he first learned about scientists. His voice was full of excitement as he remembered the wonder of people dedicating their lives to uncovering the universe's secrets, exploring nature's mysteries, and experimenting with the unknown.
He vividly recalled how his young mind was captivated by the idea of exploring, observing, and understanding how everything worked. He proudly told Arthur how his father was one of the ISRS’s top scientists, and that he, Emrys, was the Commander.
As Merlin talked about his childhood, Arthur could only continue screaming in pain as he was torn into and cut up like a butcher’s meat. Arthur’s body, now reduced to a mutilated, quivering shell, shuddered with each shallow breath. All he could do was weep without tears, deprived of all sight, no ears but his eardrums ringing with the fading echoes of Merlin’s words.
Even in his agony, there was no reprieve, no escape from the hellish reality Merlin had crafted for him—a reality where the Zenith prodigy viewed this butchery as benevolence, as a favor done to humanity in the name of progress.
After that session, Merlin healed Arthur completely, but Arthur was mute. He was badly shaken when Merlin ordered him over to the bed. I hate you, I hate you, I will find a way to end you, you fucking alien piece of shit.
Merlin peppered Arthur with soft kisses and touched him reverently. Merlin whispered, “You’re my favorite. I’m glad my father picked you for me,” and Arthur felt a new wave of hatred unlike anything he’d ever known settle in the pit of his stomach. He felt his hatred keep growing impossibly stronger, and he knew there was no limit.
“Undress me,” Merlin commanded. With shaky hands, Arthur removed Merlin’s blood-soaked white lab coat, and deftly unbuttoned his undershirt, revealing an expanse of toned pecs and abs. He swallowed before unbuttoning Merlin’s work pants, shuffling them down, along with Merlin’s tights.
Once naked, Merlin pushed him down onto his back on the bed and crawled on top of him, running slender fingers through Arthur’s messy hair. Merlin kissed him fully on the mouth, moaning into it. “You’re my favorite, Arthur. There will never be another like you.”
Arthur felt his eyes reddening. No. But he didn’t say anything as Merlin ground their hard dicks together. Merlin’s soft touches were unwelcome but it felt so nice as opposed to what he’d just done that Arthur couldn’t help yearning for more of it.
“Kiss me,” Merlin whispered, irritation in his tone at Arthur's tongue continuing to remain so still.
So Arthur kissed him, grasping Merlin’s jaw in his hands, and as Merlin ground into his penis with a roll of his hips, Arthur couldn’t help moaning into the kiss. Fuck. Merlin kept thrusting into his penis, frotting him, and Arthur groaned loudly, embarrassed by how vocal he was. But he couldn’t stop it.
“You like this, huh?” Merlin asked, looking all too amused.
Arthur only flushed, humiliated.
“I like it too,” admitted Merlin, a shadow of sadness passing in his blue gaze. But he quickly blinked it away, rubbing their cheeks together, smiling widely. “It’s okay to like it. To love it, even,” Merlin was saying.
Arthur kept his expression neutral. He knew enough now that even one wrong look could earn him another broken nose.
Merlin continued rubbing his body sensually on him, heating up Arthur’s body and getting him wired for sexual touch. Arthur had to muster all his self-control to not thrust up at Merlin, or throw him down and fuck him himself. Fucking Merlin and being allowed to tear into his flesh was always fun.
Merlin at last took his leaking cock in his expert mouth and soon had Arthur screaming and climaxing five times in a row by the time he was done. Arthur was heaving from over-exertion. It felt like his penis would never work again.
But then Merlin grinned and shoved his leaking cock inside Arthur’s anus. Arthur screamed from the pain of his hole tearing again.
But as Merlin kept moving and Arthur’s anus bled, mixed with Merlin’s precum, the physical pain of the sex began to slowly diminish. And with that, his cock grew hard once more, especially when Merlin angled himself and consistently hit against Arthur’s prostate.
“FUCKKK! FUCK FUCK FUCK, MERLIN!" he was screaming.
Arthur hooked his legs around Merlin’s waist, sobbing incoherently into Merlin’s chest. So good, why must it feel so good? More more more. Arthur was sure Merlin must be some expert sex alien sent to torment him.
Merlin leaned down to kiss him, and Arthur kissed back, fervently, biting at his lips and tongue, consuming more of the alien's strange-tasting blood, and wanting more.
. . . . .
“Do you want me to start out with the sex, or the experimentation?” Merlin had asked one morning.
Arthur’s face reddened. “Can I say neither?”
Merlin chuckled. “Oh Arthur.. Or would you prefer I decide by coin toss each morning?”
“The sex!” Arthur cried out. “The sex. Do that.. first.”
Merlin beamed, flattered. “Oh, you. I told you you'd like it.”
Arthur was fuming. He had to escape. But where would he go? Was it even possible?
Did animals in testing facilities ever escape? With a sinking feeling, he thought he knew the answer to that one…
Five years later
23-year-old Merlin hit a rapid growth spurt and was now a good foot taller than Arthur. Today, he excitedly revealed to Arthur long thin needles, each pin 5 inches in length. They'd been enclosed in a polished silvery case.
“We’ll have so much fun, Arthur,” he’d said, grinning from ear to ear and admiring the needles worshipfully.
The procedure began again with the usual clinical coldness that always sent shivers down Arthur’s spine. Tied to the table, he was helpless, his muscles trembling. His breath was shallow, heart racing as he watched through terrified eyes.
Merlin, standing just beyond his reach, was meticulously preparing the steel-strength needles. The precision in his movements made Arthur sick.
What bothered him most was Merlin’s expression—it wasn’t cruelty, but intense curiosity. It reminded Arthur of the kids from his old neighborhood, the ones who’d gather in the summer and burn ants alive by shining a magnifying glass just right, catching the sun’s rays. They would laugh as the helpless creatures writhed under the focused heat.
It was a game to them, nothing more, but they claimed it was teaching them the art of starting fires. Even as a boy, watching those ants struggle had bothered him, left an imprint deep in his mind. It was the cruelty of it—the pointless, detached amusement.
To the kids, it was just another scorching afternoon. To the ants, it was their lives.
Now, strapped down and staring at Merlin, Arthur couldn’t help but feel like one of those ants. Helpless. Trapped under an uncaring gaze.
Merlin might claim it was all for the greater good, that it was necessary, but Arthur wasn’t convinced. It didn’t have to be like this. There had to be another way. But these aliens—no, Arthur thought bitterly, correcting himself—Merlin was just cruel, plain and simple.
With a detached fascination, Merlin slid the first pin into Arthur’s eye, the sensation sending an electric jolt of pain straight into his skull. Merlin didn’t stop pushing until it went through his skull and pricked his brain's frontal lobe. Arthur’s scream was raw, his body straining against the restraints, but Merlin merely hummed in satisfaction, a glimmer of something almost like joy lighting his gaze.
“Fascinating,” Merlin murmured as he eased the second pin into place in the same eyeball. This second thin metal pierced through layers of flesh and nerve until it, too, brushed against the delicate tissues of Arthur’s brain. The pain was unbearable, a sharp spike that made Arthur's mind spin.
His vision blurred, distorted by the objects in his eye, turning everything into a nightmare of shadows and flickering lights. But Merlin wasn’t finished. No, the experiment had just begun.
He leaned closer, watching intently as Arthur’s muscles spasmed uncontrollably, his face twisted in a grotesque mix of pain and terror. “Beautiful,” Merlin whispered, voice dripping with something dark and twisted. “Your reactions are always so exquisite, Arthur.” With that, he climbed onto the table, pressing his body against Arthur’s trembling form.
Ignoring the pins still lodged in Arthur’s eyes, Merlin shucked down his pants and roughly entered Arthur with his cock, the motion sending fresh waves of torment rippling through Arthur’s body. The pins in his eye shifted with every thrust, digging deeper into sensitive nerves, causing Arthur to sob and scream in time with Merlin’s relentless rhythm.
But amid the excruciating pain, something even more horrifying took hold—a sickening mix of arousal and despair built despite Arthur’s ongoing bone-deep harrowing pain. His body betrayed him, responding to Merlin’s touches, his pummeled, exhausted mind unable to separate the twisted pleasure from the overwhelming agony.
Merlin’s hands roamed across Arthur’s battered skin, fingers tracing the contours of his muscles as he cooed softly, “You’re irresistible when you’re in pain. I just want to make you feel better, Arthur.” He bent down and licked Arthur’s bloody tears away from the eye that was pricked.
“It’s just a little sting, Arthur, darling. No need to be such an infant.” There was a cruel tenderness that only deepened the torment.
Each thrust was deliberate as Merlin simultaneously fucked and poked pins, calculated to push Arthur closer to the edge, both physically and mentally. Arthur’s cries turned to choked sobs as he reached his climax, just as Merlin finished poking the tenth pin in Arthur’s second eye. Arthur’s body was shuddering uncontrollably while tears streamed down his cheeks.
The moment of orgasm brought no solace, only a profound sense of disgrace and despair as Merlin continued to move inside him, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure and pain. It was as though Merlin fed off his suffering, deriving a twisted satisfaction from watching Arthur break again and again.
When it was finally over, Arthur lay there, body a bruised and broken mess, the pins still protruding grotesquely from his eyes. Now there were ten pins in each eye. Merlin withdrew with a sigh of contentment, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Arthur’s blood and tear-streaked cheek.
“See?” Merlin clicked a button and a ceiling-view reflection of Arthur appeared before him. Arthur squinted against the haze, struggling to make out the shapes in front of him. The world was a blur, fragmented by the dull ache radiating from his eyes. The ten long pins lodged in each eye made blinking impossible.
His vision swam in broken patches, dark spots clouding what little light he could still detect. Colors bled together in smudged streaks, and the details of the room were lost in a fog.
Each movement was a test of endurance, his eyes straining to focus on even the simplest outlines. He could barely see and the world had become an unrecognizable swirl of shadows and distorted shapes. Merlin frowned.
He snapped a photo with his OptiRecord drops, then carefully pulled out the pins and healed Arthur’s eyes. Arthur blinked as his vision returned, the world sharpening back into crisp detail. The pain was gone, replaced by the cool relief of Merlin’s magic. But before he could fully register the change, Merlin leaned in closer, eyes glinting with something dark and teasing.
With a flick of his wrist, Merlin projected a captured image—Arthur’s face twisted in that brutal mix of agony and release, eyes bloodshot, a trail of red down his cheek where twenty pins in total were lodged in his eyes.
Arthur’s stomach twisted at the sight, but before he could speak, Merlin’s soft whisper cut through the air, charged with intensity, “You’re so beautiful when you're all bloody and post-orgasm.”
The words sent a shiver of disgust rushing down Arthur’s spine. He could feel Merlin’s gaze, both admiring and possessive, lingering on him as if savoring every raw, unguarded moment of that memory. He felt trapped in a nightmare of his own making—one where pain and pleasure had become indistinguishably entwined, and escape was an impossibility.
Merlin removed the straps on Arthur’s arms and legs. “Do you want more?” he asked, still straddling Arthur. He impishly dragged his dick up Arthur’s abdomen.
Arthur shook his head. “No more, please,” he rasped.
Merlin grinned. “Oh, but you lie.” To his own surprise, Arthur saw in horror that his previously limp cock was already standing at the ready.
Merlin closed his wet, plump lips over it and expertly sucked. The Zenith always knew exactly how Arthur liked it, and Arthur couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting up, from chasing that pleasure that only Merlin could provide so well. His hands shot down with urgent desperation, fingers tangling in Merlin’s hair as he tried to yank him off.
Arthur sat up on the operation table, prepared to do something dumb, like shove Merlin off and run. To his bed? The bathroom? Anywhere else but here.
The alien’s response was swift and calculated; he released Arthur’s cock and deftly shifted upward, settling into Arthur’s lap with a fluid, practiced motion. Without missing a beat, Merlin captured Arthur’s mouth with his own, kissing him deeply and possessively.
Arthur’s furious protest was a breathy whine, a mix of loathing but also shameful need. His hips continued to buck upward of their own accord, seeking the contact he was so desperately craving but despised, even as Merlin’s body now claimed a different part of him. Merlin didn’t hesitate or falter. With a deliberate and sensuous movement, he lowered himself onto Arthur’s cock, the sensation of their bodies connecting causing both of them to gasp.
Arthur’s entire world narrowed down to the feeling of Merlin’s warmth and tightness enveloping him, and he couldn’t help but thrust up into Merlin shamelessly, moaning loudly. Each thrust sent waves of intense pleasure ricocheting throughout his entire body. His mind raced with fervent thoughts, barely coherent in the face of such overwhelming sensation.
Oh gods, oh gods. The pleasure was so intense that it bordered on excruciating. So good. Arthur was getting delirious. Every thrust, every movement, seemed to heighten the sensation. Fuck Merlin, fuck Zenith, he thought, the names blending into a single, desperate cry. More, more…
Arthur was consumed by an unrelenting need for more of this exquisite carnal connection, surrendering entirely to the intense, unabashed pleasure that enveloped him. His every instinct was driven by the desperate craving for deeper satisfaction, pushing him to lose himself completely in the moment, in Merlin. His everything in that moment was only the pulsating rhythm of their bodies, each movement into Merlin heightening the experience beyond reason.
His every instinct drove him to push further, delving deeper into the Zenith with a force born of desperation and frustration. He moved to crawl on top of Merlin, his movements relentless, as he pounded Merlin into the cold, hard surface of the operation table. Merlin was keening and moaning so sweetly, appreciatively.
Arthur's actions were intense, the sound of their bodies scraping the table with each thrust. His eyes squeezed shut as he fought the overwhelming sensations, tears mixing with frustration and release. Shame and anger surged within him, realizing how far he'd fallen. He cursed quietly, his mind a storm of self-loathing.
Breathing hard, his face wet with tears, he struggled with the flood of emotions. “You bastard,” he growled, voice broken by both anger and pleasure. “Look what you’ve turned me into.”
Merlin’s eyes, filled with a strange mixture of satisfaction and something else Arthur couldn’t quite place, met his with a steady gaze. “I haven’t turned you into anything, Arthur. This is all you. Am I really so attractive to you?” he teased, smirking darkly.
Arthur’s anger flared at Merlin’s taunting words, the smirk on the alien’s face only adding fuel to the fire. His body was still consumed by pleasure and frustration, but now it was dominated by a burning rage.
“You think this is a game?!” he roared. “You think you could make me a monster like you? This isn’t about attraction—it’s about what you’ve done to me!” His words were sharp, each thrust fueled by mixed emotions.
Arthur’s eyes burned with defiance as he glared at Merlin, trying to process the sensations and the alien’s cold, mocking expression. “I didn’t ask for this! I was just a normal kid before you fucked everything up. Don’t try to turn this into some twisted validation of your own desires.” The rawness of his voice, combined with the tears still streaking his face, conveyed the depth of his anguish and anger.
Merlin’s smirk didn’t waver, but the dark amusement in his eyes seemed to falter for a brief moment. The alien’s oversized ears twitched slightly, reflecting a flicker of something closer to genuine emotion as he continued to meet Arthur’s intense gaze as he was fucked so violently.
Arthur hated it—he was now a male nymphomaniac driven by an insatiable lust he hadn’t known existed within him. Could even exist in him.
Before his capture, Arthur had been just a confused gay kid, experiencing occasional crushes and simple attractions. He’d never been a chronic masturbator or driven by such desperate, consuming desire. The current transformation was jarring, a stark contrast to the person he’d been.
After Arthur’s body betrayed him, coming twice inside Merlin, and Merlin reached his own peak three times, the alien brought his face up and pressed a kiss to Arthur’s lips—a gesture that should’ve been tender, but only felt twisted with Merlin’s satisfied smirk. Merlin’s eyes gleamed with dark contentment as he pulled away, his breath still ragged from his orgasms, before casually slipping off the bed, where they had inadvertently moved to.
He straightened his clothes, a satisfied grin spreading across his face as he departed to the lab to process his findings. It was clear this entire encounter was just another routine task for him.
For Arthur, it was another soul-crushing reminder of the relentless control Merlin held over him—both physically and emotionally.
Notes:
Genuine thanks to all the nice comments I've received so far. It truly thrills me every time to see all the support! :'D Y'all make me very happy. ^0^ I know this fic is QUITE heavy!
Chapter Text
The next morning, Merlin slid the heavy door open and came in with excited eyes alight with a bright yellow, ethereal glow, the kind Zenith had when their emotions were particularly strong.
“I did it, Arthur!” he gushed excitedly.
“What..?” Arthur’s pulse was quickening. Merlin was again looking at Arthur with even more unrestrained excitement than yesterday. This could only mean whatever it was would be even more painful. Another sick torture device he’d ordered to use on Arthur today.
“The official adoption papers went through!” Merlin was actually jumping up and down like some idiot now.
“What? You got a new dog or something?” Arthur was confused. What did this have to do with him?
“No, YOU! You are officially my pet Homo sapien.” Merlin was beaming.
Arthur’s feelings were a tangled mess of insult and dread. “What does that mean for me?” he asked, voice tight with anxiety. His throat felt suddenly parched.
Without the protection of being a sanctioned test subject, his survival was no longer guaranteed, and Merlin’s power over him would be absolute. In the lab, at least there was some semblance of order, of security. Out there in the real world, in Merlin’s private home, with no higher-ups overseeing Merlin’s actions, Merlin had free rein.
The fear of becoming a mere plaything rather than part of Merlin's professional lifework was overwhelming. It was not lost on Arthur that Merlin could easily turn this situation fatal, which sent a shiver down his spine. This was an entirely different beast—a much darker, more terrifying turn of events.
“It means you’re outta here, of course. I have a new Homo test subject,” Merlin said with a casual shrug, as if discussing something as trivial as changing the batteries in a remote.
So Arthur had been bumped down to a spare. That didn’t ease his terror. But now his mind shifted to the unfortunate soul who would be taking his place.
“Do you have to do this line of work?” he asked bitterly. “Aren’t there like, other jobs for Zenith?”
Merlin shook his head, smirking with amusement as if Arthur had asked the most absurd question. “I’m Emrys. I could do anything,” he replied, the arrogance in his tone not lost on Arthur. “But nothing is quite as satisfying as this. It’s more than a job; it’s a calling. Besides, there’s always another test subject. You’re just a stepping stone in a much bigger picture.”
The casual dismissal of Arthur’s suffering only deepened the hollow feeling in his chest. He couldn’t shake the image of the next test subject—another victim of Merlin’s cruel “calling.” He was reminded once again how much he hated Merlin. How much he would always hate Merlin.
Merlin strolled into his sleek, high-rise xeno-flat, the automatic lights of the flat flickering on as the door opened. He cast a glance over his shoulder, where Arthur hesitated at the threshold, his posture rigid, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and loathing. It was a struggle to keep the burning hatred from his gaze, but the terror of what Merlin might do if he saw it kept him silent and obedient.
“Come in, Arthur,” Merlin said with a smug smile, giving a light tug on the harness. His voice was deceptively soft, the kind of tone one might use to coax a stray cat inside.
Arthur hesitated before stepping into the xeno-flat, the plush carpet soft under his bare feet—a sharp contrast to the cold, hard floors of the sterile lab he was used to.
His eyes flitted across the luxurious room, but his focus stayed on the alien before him. He hated Merlin with a fiery passion, yet fear overshadowed that hatred completely. Arthur was terrified.
He knew what Merlin was capable of, had felt it firsthand, and that knowledge kept him in check. Now, no longer restrained by his colleagues, Merlin could kill him anytime he felt like it, or worse, torture him for no reason at all but to see him scream and puke his guts out. Would Merlin heal him, or leave him to suffer for days at a time?
Merlin watched Arthur with an unsettling intensity, his smile widening as he took in the sight of the Homo sapien who was now, in every sense, his possession. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said. “This is your home now.”
Arthur clenched his fists at his sides, the urge to lash out nearly overwhelming. But fear kept him rooted to the spot, forcing him to nod stiffly in response. He couldn’t afford to show the depth of his rage; not when he knew how easily Merlin could crush him.
“Unless one is a Zenith or have my express permission, all entrances are sealed. So don’t try to run away, my little Pet,” Merlin smiled at Arthur with mock kindness.
Merlin sauntered over to the flawless white couch, patting his lap and motioning for Arthur with the ‘come hither’ gesture. Arthur rolled his eyes and walked over.
Anger flashed in Merlin’s eyes and he was on Arthur in an instant. “DO NOT ROLL YOUR EYES AT ME,” he snarled, spittle in Arthur’s terrified face, a hand clasped around his neck.
“S-sorry, Master,” Arthur whispered, looking at the ground.
Merlin considered him for a moment, grip tightening on Arthur, his fingers digging into the soft flesh with a bruising force. He studied Arthur's bowed head, the way the young Homo sapien trembled beneath his gaze, and a twisted satisfaction curled in his chest.
"Don't forget your place again." He released Arthur with a shove, causing Arthur to stumble back a step.
Arthur swallowed thickly, fighting the urge to rub at the throbbing on his neck. He kept his eyes trained on the floor, heart pounding. The fire of anger and hatred still burned, but it was buried deep beneath the fear that ruled his every movement.
Merlin settled back onto the couch, leaning back with a satisfied smirk as he watched Arthur carefully. "Now, come here," he commanded menacingly, patting his lap once more. "And be a good boy this time."
Arthur hesitated only for a fraction of a second before stepping forward. Every instinct told him to bolt, fight, anything but surrender to this monster. But he knew better. He knew the consequences of defiance. With a shaky breath, he lowered himself onto Merlin's lap, forcing his body to remain still even as his muscles tensed in disgust.
Merlin's arms wrapped around Arthur, holding him in place, one hand drifting up to cup his chin and tilt his face towards him. "That's better," Merlin purred, his thumb brushing across Arthur's lower lip in a possessive gesture. "You see, Arthur, things are much easier when you don't resist. When you do as you're told."
Arthur nodded stiffly, the gesture almost mechanical. He could feel Merlin's breath on his skin, could hear the slight hum of satisfaction in his captor's throat. It took every ounce of self-control not to flinch away, not to let the revulsion show on his face. He couldn't afford to show weakness—not when he was trapped in this hell with a Zenith who could so easily break his fragile human body.
Merlin's smirk widened, clearly pleased with Arthur's submission. "Good boy," he said softly. "I think you'll find that life here won't be so bad if you remember that."
Arthur said nothing, his gaze still fixed on the floor. Inside, his hatred raged hotter than ever, but he buried it beneath a facade of obedience. It was the only way to survive.
For dinner, Merlin poured him the same Sustainium that he was being fed at the lab. Although Arthur still couldn't get enough of the heavenly taste, after the first few years, he did miss the variety of his previous meals. Unfortunately, the only appropriate drinks for humans other than Sustainium, according to Zenith, was water.
It’s not like Arthur needed his coffee anymore. Gone were his late nights having to cram for an exam. God he missed those days.
Like all Zenith, Merlin consumed dark matter energy. Merlin stood in the center of his high-tech kitchen, a sleek and spotless space that glowed with soft blue light. The air was filled with a faint hum as the advanced equipment around him prepared for his usual evening’s meal. Arthur watched from a corner, curiosity mingled with apprehension.
On a pedestal in the center of the kitchen, a containment field hovered, its edges crackling with a faint violet light. Within it, dark energy swirled in a dense, almost liquid form, shifting and pulsing like an inky nebula. The sight was both mesmerizing and unsettling, a stark contrast to the simple meals Arthur was used to.
Merlin approached the pedestal, his movements deliberate and confident. With a gesture of his hand, he manipulated the containment field, causing the dark energy to coalesce into a more defined shape. He then held an ancient-looking chalice beneath the swirling mass, and the dark energy flowed into it, turning the chalice into a vessel of shimmering, shadowy liquid.
Arthur shifted uncomfortably, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene. The dark energy seemed to absorb the light around it, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Merlin, with a practiced ease, lifted the chalice to his lips.
The moment the dark energy touched his tongue, his eyes closed, and a shiver ran through his body. He swallowed slowly, the dark energy merging with his being in a way that was both profound and disconcerting.
The effect was immediate. Merlin’s eyes blazed with a fierce, unsettling indigo light, and his entire being pulsed with a newfound, potent energy. He exhaled, and the room seemed to vibrate with the residual power of the dark energy.
Arthur watched, a mix of awe and fear in his eyes. The transformation was stunning but also deeply unnerving. Merlin, now brimming with an almost palpable energy, set the chalice aside and turned to Arthur with a faint, satisfied smile.
“There’s something so invigorating about dark energy,” he said, his voice carrying an almost otherworldly resonance. “It’s like drawing power from the very fabric of the cosmos.”
Arthur nodded, though he remained silent, still trying to process the strange and alien ritual he had just witnessed. The contrast between Merlin’s sustenance of chaotic, swirling dark energy to Arthur’s simple, savory shakes was a poignant reminder of the vast differences between their worlds.
After they finished their meals, Arthur brushed his teeth using the usual iridescent gel that Merlin provided. Like the gel in the lab, it foamed and sparkled in Arthur’s mouth while tiny magical particles scrubbed away residue. The gel had a faintly sweet taste, almost like mint mixed with something floral, and left his teeth feeling smooth and breath smelling fresh all throughout the following day.
Merlin’s method was even more alien. Instead of brushing, he closed his eyes and let a gentle hum emanate from deep within his throat. Just like that, his teeth were instantaneously cleaned and refreshed.
As it was for Arthur, the minty smell lasted all throughout the following day. This was an efficient method and yet another reminder of how different Merlin’s world was from his own.
Merlin led Arthur to his room. The space was exquisite and elegantly designed with sleek furnishings. The soft, ambient lighting cast a deceptively warm, inviting glow. Merlin's tone was casual, almost too casual, as he said, "Here we have our bedroom."
Arthur’s heart sank. The idea of sharing a bed with Merlin filled him with dread. At least before, Merlin had to clock out for the night, leaving Arthur reeling from their encounter, but allowing him time to collect himself—to try to distance himself as much as possible from the nightmare that was Merlin.
Now he would be forced to deal with his intolerable alien ass 24/7. Or at least whenever he wasn't at work. Arthur couldn’t shake the feeling that it was more than just uncomfortable—it was a constant reminder of his powerlessness.
Merlin must've sensed his apprehension because the Zenith gave Arthur a reassuring smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world, Arthur.” Grinning, he went on, “It’s just a bed.”
Arthur felt instantly sick. He tried to ignore the uneasiness in his stomach as he followed Merlin into the room, where the bed loomed large and pristine, covered in crisp, white linens. The sight made his skin crawl, stirring memories of rape and torture in a haunting blur of terror.
Merlin was slow and deliberate as he sat on the edge of the bed, patting the space beside him. “Come, sit. There’s no need to be so tense.”
Stiffly, Arthur sat down, fear and anger a tight knot in his chest. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Merlin’s gaze. Memories of pins in his eyes only just yesterday were still fresh in his mind. He was not ready for more.
Merlin leaned closer, voice soft but commanding. “You’ve been through this before, Arthur. There’s no reason to be so anxious now.” He scooted further into the bed and reached out, smooth hand brushing against Arthur’s shoulder with an almost tender touch.
Arthur flinched at the contact, his resentment bubbling just beneath the surface. Despite trying to hide it, his anger and fear showed. "Why can’t you just leave me alone?" he half-growled.
Merlin’s expression hardened, though to his credit, he remained calm. “Because you’re mine, Arthur. And I don’t do well with defiance. You know that.”
Merlin sat with his back to the headboard and motioned for Arthur. Arthur’s jaw clenched as he fought to suppress a shiver. He sat gingerly beside Merlin, trying to ignore the unsettling feeling of the alien's presence.
Both of them on the bed felt too close, the room too intimate. Even though they had shared moments before, each encounter left him feeling more like a prisoner and sicker every time he climaxed in fits of frenzied lust.
Merlin’s touch was both familiar and unwelcome, his hands exploring Arthur’s naked body wantonly. Arthur tried to stay still despite his mind being a whirl of conflicting emotions. The fear and hatred he felt for Merlin were constant companions, overshadowed only by the resigned acceptance that there was little he could do to change his circumstances.
As Merlin’s fingers traced familiar paths along Arthur’s skin, the fear of their previous encounters mixed with a deep, ingrained anxiety. Arthur’s body betrayed him, responding despite his mind’s fierce resistance.
Each touch, while intimate, was a reminder of his captivity and Merlin’s dominance over him.
Merlin began straddling Arthur and grinding his naked cock atop Arthur’s rigid length. Arthur groaned into Merlin’s chest, hating every second of it, yet his stupid cock was loving it.
Merlin lifted Arthur’s head from his chest and began kissing him on the mouth, moaning breathily into it. Merlin continued grinding on him and soon enough, Arthur was moaning back into the kiss, unable to hide his moans any other way. Fuck Merlin felt so good. Why did he always feel so good?
When Merlin moved to kiss and nibble at Arthur’s chest, Arthur tried to hide his moans by giving Merlin a hickey but Merlin knowingly disallowed that.
“I like to hear you,” he said. His low voice was simultaneously gentle, yet commanding. “Don’t hide it from me.” Merlin’s fingers tightened their hold, asserting control as he shifted his body closer, his suffocating warmth seeping into Arthur’s skin.
Arthur’s cheeks flushed with shame as he bit back a whimper. But Merlin was relentless in his pursuit of Arthur’s surrender, his lips and teeth teasing sensitive spots with an almost playful cruelty. Each soft gasp that slipped from Arthur’s mouth only spurred Merlin on, a smile on his stunningly handsome Zenith face as he drank in every sound.
“I want every bit of you,” Merlin whispered against Arthur’s ear, his breath hot and tingling against flushed skin. “No holding back.”
Unable to hide his noises any other way, cheeks bitten bloody from trying to hold it in, Arthur began unintentionally letting out little moans, each louder than the next at Merlin’s unrelenting rubbing against his rock-hard groin. Merlin was looking at him with hazy eyes, biting his lip as he watched the reactions of his little Homo.
“Come on, Arthur,” he murmured softly, low and coaxing, “let me hear you. I want to know how much you’re enjoying this.”
Arthur’s breath hitched, and despite his best efforts, another stifled moan escaped him. “Merlin,” he gasped, struggling to maintain some semblance of control, “please…” Why can you never just let me be?
Merlin's fingers, warm and skilled, seemed to know exactly how to elicit the maximum response from Arthur, and his satisfaction grew with each involuntary sound, his own desire evident in the way he touched Arthur with deliberate, unrelenting pressure. Arthur’s traitorous hips thrust up into Merlin. He was breathing hard, mind going delirious. Arthur’s moans grew louder, betraying his complete loss of control.
“Merlin, stop,” he pleaded weakly, but his voice was overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through him. He felt like he must've been drugged somehow to feel this hot and heavy for Merlin all the fucking time. He knew this feeling wasn't natural.
Merlin’s voice was low and almost soothing as he murmured, “You know how this goes, Arthur. You may hate it, but you cannot deny the connection between us. And you cannot escape it.” Merlin gently peppered Arthur’s face with kisses.
Merlin went on, “Because you did so terribly the first time, we’ll redo this. Fuck me deep into this mattress.” He quirked an eyebrow, smiling playfully.
Arthur felt his heart drop. “What did you do to me?” he snarled, shaking with barely contained want. “Have you been dosing my smoothies with lust potions?”
Merlin’s smile widened. “I didn’t need to,” he said softly. “Like I told you before, love. This is all you. What you’re feeling now, it’s not something I’ve imposed on you. It’s your own desires coming to the forefront. Our connection is deeper than you realize, and it’s awakening something within you that’s always been there.”
Arthur’s mind raced to process the alien’s words, the impossibility of them. “You’re lying.”
Merlin’s eyes softened with a mix of empathy and something else—an ancient, knowing sadness. “Sometimes, we’re drawn to things beyond our understanding,” he said quietly. “In another time, another place, we were something extraordinary together. But for now, in this lifetime, this is all we have.”
Arthur’s breath hitched, caught between the confusion of Merlin’s cryptic words and the unrelenting storm of emotions inside him. “What are you saying?” he hissed.
Merlin sighed and let out a small secret smile. “That this isn't our first rodeo, mate.”
“How do you know all this?” Arthur demanded, voice trembling. His frustration and desperation were clear in his tone.
Merlin’s gaze remained steady. “Because I’m Emrys and so it’s all been shown to me,” he said. “The bond we share is ancient, a thread that weaves through time. I’ve witnessed it in other lives, in other forms. It’s why I understand what’s happening to you now, even if you don’t.”
The realization that his confusing feelings could be genuine, born from something as profound as a soul connection, left him in a turbulent state of both awe and despair. Arthur looked anguished and bewildered, but Merlin said impatiently, “Now, enough talk, my sweet.” Merlin lay back down on the large mattress, legs folded up, hard cock dribbling.
Suddenly, Arthur wanted more than anything to fuck Merlin hard and rough, to take and make Merlin his as much as he was Merlin’s.
He wanted to tear into Merlin’s obnoxiously fit body with bloodied kisses. To suck and bite Merlin everywhere. To claw and scar his lovely body and handsome face with the too-high cheekbones and too-large ears.
And he wouldn’t forget.
He wouldn’t forget what Merlin had done to him for the last six years.
Merlin was addicted to torturing humans. Merlin was pure evil.
Arthur’s dick was hard and dripping and his breath came in ragged gasps as he crawled over the Zenith’s form, driven by an intense, almost primal need. His hands gripped Merlin's hips with a desperate fervor, fingers digging into the hard, smooth flesh. Electricity crackled between them—their movements, their touches, were all a storm waiting to break.
With a surge of raw energy, Arthur thrust in with one rough shove, feeling the immediate, intense pressure of their bodies colliding. The sudden, forceful penetration elicited a sharp gasp from both, a visceral sound that filled the bedroom. He was once again disappointed that Zenith were basically immune to physical pain.
Merlin moaned so prettily though, and Arthur’s arousal was ramped up to the max when he bent down to capture the alien in a furious, biting kiss.
The blonde’s hips moved in erratic strokes, driven by a potent mix of raw lust and frustration. Each thrust was made with the tumultuous emotions swirling within him. As Arthur continued to move, his grip on Merlin's hips tightened, anchoring him as he plunged deeper.
Arthur’s eyes were locked on Merlin’s, their gazes melding into a shared, unspoken understanding of the overwhelming, consuming moment they were experiencing. The sensation of their bodies coming together, of the friction and heat, was both grounding and exhilarating. For Arthur, in that moment, all that mattered was the primal connection they were forging, no less powerful despite being clearly forced.
He leant down and kissed Merlin tenderly on the mouth, panting, before realizing what he was doing, and then he turned the kiss violent. A flash of hurt crossed Merlin’s features, but Arthur told himself that even if Merlin was telling the truth about their past lives, in this lifetime Merlin did not care about him, not truly. Merlin just saw him as another test subject, and now a live-in sex doll.
It didn't matter how many lifetimes they might have spent as lovers, it didn't erase all the pain in this one.
Arthur continued kissing Merlin with rough biting kisses and angry bites all over Merlin’s body. But the smell of Merlin got to him. Merlin’s scent was so intoxicating and Arthur couldn’t get enough.
Soon his bites turned into suckles and kisses and licks as he continued to fuck a mewling Merlin into the mattress. Arthur’s breath came in ragged gasps as Merlin’s legs wrapped tightly around his waist.
Merlin touched Arthur’s collar, then traced the raised ‘EMRYS’ brand on his cheek and smiled. “Mine.”
Despite himself, Arthur couldn’t resist leaning into the soft touch, relishing it even as his heart rebelled against it. As his hips snapped into Merlin, he breathed against Merlin’s ear, voice barely a whisper, “In this lifetime, I will never love you .”
Merlin’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening with a mix of possessiveness and resolve. He pulled Arthur closer, thrusting deliciously up at him, his grip firm but not harsh, voice a low, almost tender murmur. “You will. Even if it takes multiple lifetimes, you will. I can make sure you survive until you do. And that’s a promise.”
Arthur felt a shiver run down his spine, a cold dread mingling with the warmth of Merlin’s embrace. Fuck Merlin. Fuck Zenith. Fuck Merlin.
His body tensed and convulsed, unable to hold back the release that had been building. With a tortured shout, Arthur spilled his warm seed inside Merlin, his moan mingling with Merlin’s strained breaths and soft cries.
Notes:
How're yall liking this turn of events? <3 lol
Chapter 7: Velvet Chains
Notes:
Sorry for the micro-chapter! This will be the shortest chapter!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It had been a few months, and living with Merlin wasn’t quite as bad as Arthur had anticipated. Arthur no longer had to endure intolerable physical pain daily. Merlin was sweet to him, touching him with kind caresses.
The sex was excruciating, and Arthur still cried most of the time during them. But Merlin held Arthur’s face, forcing their gazes to lock, forbidding Arthur from closing his eyes as he broke—climaxing even as tears slipped down his cheeks, caught in a storm of pleasure and despair. Gods, he wished Merlin was dead.
Merlin was like the Lord of Darkness that had taken over Arthur’s life. He couldn’t escape him. Early before Merlin went to work, he’d roll Arthur over and fuck him, deep and slow.
“Mhmm.. Y’know, I don’t fuck Gwaine, my new test subject. I never claimed him as mine.”
Arthur felt an odd fluttering sensation in his stomach at these words as he let out a breathy moan. Merlin, mouth pressed against Arthur’s, mumbled, “I fucked you because I wanted you.” He gave another long drag of his cock inside Arthur’s anal cavity, sweetly massaging his prostate again in one slow push of his velvet-soft dick.
Arthur tried turning his face away as Merlin came in for another kiss, but Merlin moved his face back with his hands, smiling. “Kiss me, sweetly.”
Arthur’s eyes welled up again. But he obliged, pushing his tongue into Merlin’s mouth and gently tasting the Zenith. Merlin’s mouth always tasted unnaturally sweet, like candy. Arthur remembered how he used to love candies.
Arthur deepened the kiss, and felt himself letting out a whimper of arousal as Merlin continued to slowly fuck him. Faster.. Harder, go faster.. Too slow.
“As you wish, Pet,” Merlin murmured, eyes shadowed over with an emotion Arthur couldn’t name.
It was only then that Arthur realized in a panic that he’d said his thoughts aloud. Merlin began fucking him harder, and Arthur broke the kiss to moan, hooking his legs around Merlin and eventually he was screaming in ecstasy. Oh god, this was the best feeling in the world, yes yes, how could he ever say he hated this? More, more, he wanted more. He never wanted Merlin to stop fucking him. So good, this felt so, so good. OH gods, yes!
Merlin fucked him until they were both boneless and fully satiated, Arthur a trembling mess under the Zenith. “So much for slow morning sex,” Merlin chuckled. Arthur blushed, furious at himself, and said nothing. They had a sensual shower, where Merlin couldn’t keep his nasty paws and dick out of him, nibbling at his ear and swallowing his cock whole.
For breakfast, Merlin poured Arthur his Sustainium. Recently Merlin had decided to switch up the flavors. “Just because you’re the best pet one could ever have,” Merlin had said, with a kiss on his cheek and a pat on the head. Arthur grimaced but guzzled it, appreciating the change. The drink was nice, smoother than usual.
Then Merlin handed Arthur the Fun Box. “Have fun. Be good, Pet. I’ll be back same time as always. Then we’ll have more fun.” With a kiss and a wink, Merlin was gone.
The Fun Box was an interactive device where Arthur could step in and interact with other computer players. It was virtual reality. Even though Arthur knew he wasn’t really talking to anyone, the games were still fun, because he’d step into the games for real, with his real body. Merlin gave it to him to have fun and to allow an outlet for his energy.
“I have it down in your files that prior to being rescued, you were a rising school athlete,” Merlin had said. “My wish is for you to find a game that could give you that same rush as sports had.”
The Fun Box could also function as a mega high-tech computer, but Merlin had pet-proofed it so Arthur was blocked off from certain sites that Merlin deemed unsafe or threatening to their “bond.”
When Merlin arrived back home, Arthur was notified by a ring in his ears. He popped out of the VR game and greeted Merlin at the door, feeling an odd elated sensation at being back with someone, anyone, real. He looked at Merlin expectantly, often wide-eyed and out of breath from his game box.
“What was it this time, my little Prince?” Merlin asked, eyes shining with genuine joy at his pet’s happiness.
“It was dragons! And I was King Arthur with.. with my wizard.” He didn’t want to say his wizard Merlin, because really, what are the odds of that?
Merlin just smiled knowingly. “How fun.”
The alien leaned in, his musky scent—familiar and distinctly Merlin—surrounding Arthur. Arthur stood on tiptoes and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, the automatic gesture Merlin had instructed him to give in moments like this. Even so, heat rose in his chest from the closeness.
Merlin eyed his collar, tracing a wandering hand over it. “How would you like a new collar, Arthur?”
Arthur’s eyes widened. “Oh. Sure, why not?”
“What color would you like?”
Arthur thought for a minute. “Red.”
Merlin’s eyes lit up. “Yes, of course. Red like the fire that burns brightly in your aura.”
The next day, Merlin arrived with a bright red collar in hand, an excited smile on his handsome face. Without a word, he moved to unfasten the worn beige collar that had clung to Arthur’s neck for so long. The moment it was gone, Arthur’s hand instinctively reached up to touch the bare skin beneath his throat.
It felt foreign, exposed, as if an essential part of him had been stripped away. He looked in the bedroom mirror and marveled at the sight—his neck, free of any restraint. He hadn’t seen himself like this in what felt like a lifetime.
But that brief taste of freedom only served to heighten the odd sense of vulnerability. Without the collar, he felt more naked than ever, a stark reminder of just how deeply he’d been conditioned to associate his worth, his very existence, with that simple band around his neck. It was ironic, really; he hadn’t worn clothes since his capture, and yet this felt like being stripped bare.
His eyes flicked back to Merlin, who was watching him intently, holding the new collar like a precious gift.
“Would you like to put the collar on?” Merlin asked, in a sugar-sweet tone, smiling down at him.
Arthur’s eyes widened. “O-okay.” He took the collar from Merlin.
It was smooth and thick, yet lightweight, with a faint glow radiating from the red material. A small gold tag hung from the collar. Arthur's heart raced as he lifted it with trembling fingers to read the inscription. His eyes widened, taking in the elegantly etched words: “ARTHUR: BELONGS TO EMRYS.”
Each letter was deeply engraved, catching the light—a constant reminder of his “place.” Arthur traced the ridges with his fingertip, a strange heat twisting in his stomach as his breath hitched. The implications of those words gnawed at him—the possessiveness, the absolute claim Merlin had staked over him.
Yet despite the rising conflict within him, that coil of heat refused to dissipate, leaving him deeply unsettled.
Merlin’s hand moved gently to Arthur’s cheek, his thumb brushing over his skin with a tenderness that only made the situation more agonizing. Arthur’s eyes snapped to Merlin’s face, meeting now neon blue eyes that radiated pure adoration. There was no malice there, no cold detachment—only warmth, devotion, and a disturbingly genuine affection that made it hard for Arthur to breathe.
He felt the sting of tears welling in his eyes as he blinked furiously, trying to fight them back. He wasn’t supposed to be moved by this, wasn’t supposed to be affected by the way Merlin looked at him like he was something precious. But the conflicting emotions churned within him—rage, shame, and the unbearable ache of being seen, truly seen, by the very being who had taken everything from him.
Merlin leaned in closer, his fingers trailing from Arthur’s cheek to his jaw, lifting his chin slightly. “You’re mine, Arthur,” he whispered, low and soothingly, as if he were comforting a lover instead of asserting ownership. “And I’ll take care of you… always.”
Merlin easily lifted Arthur up and set him atop a short shelf, Arthur still holding his red collar in trembling hands.
“I can help you with that,” Merlin murmured.
Arthur looked at Merlin, startled, when Merlin suddenly had his mouth on Arthur’s cock, which unbeknownst to him, had grown startlingly erect as he was examining the collar and its implications. Arthur hissed in unwanted pleasure and grabbed Merlin by his black hair, holding on as he was assaulted by Merlin's soft, wet mouth.
“S-stop.. Mhnnhghh..! Merlin, oh gods!” Arthur’s hips bucked as he threw back his head so hard he almost toppled off the cabinet if not for Merlin’s lightning-fast reflexes that steadied him. Merlin had Arthur coming in his mouth in under ten seconds flat.
After Arthur had recovered from it, chest heaving, Arthur put the collar swiftly on his neck, trying to not think about what this collar meant. As the collar clasped shut, his dick did not twitch. Or at least, he blocked that out from his memory.
. . . . .
Arthur felt the Zenith's absence strongly when he was at work even while he was in the middle of one of his play-pretend quests in the Fun Box. Even during quests, he couldn’t stop thinking about Merlin, about what he was doing to his poor test subject Gwaine.
There was some part of Arthur, niggling at the edges of his brain, that thought the name sounded so, so familiar, but he no longer had memories of his life pre-Zenith—before Merlin. All he could remember now was pain.
Pain and Merlin.
He couldn’t remember any people from his past. He couldn’t remember what his parents looked like, whether or not he had siblings. How any of his friends looked like, what anyone’s names were.
He couldn’t even remember what his last name was. Did he even have a last name? But surely, he must’ve. He should probably ask Merlin. Surely Merlin would know.
One day, on Merlin's day off, Arthur crawled onto his lap, sipping his Sustainium from a bottle like a child. “Merlin,” he began hesitantly, voice soft, “did I... have a last name?”
Merlin paused, his glowing eyes now turned dark purple and locking onto Arthur’s with an intensity that sent a shiver through him. Merlin's lips curled into a small, almost tender smile, though his eyes gleamed with something far less innocent. He cupped Arthur’s cheek, thumb brushing over the faint flush there.
“Names are such trivial things, my sweet,” Merlin purred. Tracing a feather-light thumb over his cheek brand, Merlin went on, “What does it matter who you were before? You’re mine now. That’s all that matters, isn’t it?”
“I don’t remember anyone from my past. But surely... I must’ve—”
“They weren’t important, Arthur,” Merlin interrupted smoothly. “If they mattered, don’t you think you would’ve remembered them? No matter what?” His glowing eyes locked onto Arthur’s, a hint of steel beneath the gentleness.
“Trust me,” Merlin continued, his hand brushing lightly over Arthur’s hair as if soothing a restless pet. “I’m the only person you need to know. The only one you will ever need again.”
Arthur felt a sinking in his stomach. So that was that then. Merlin would not enlighten him about his past. Arthur's history had been effectively erased by the relentless trauma he’d endured at such a young age. Each day, he'd been subjected to the horrors of being cut open and torn apart for hours on end, his body a canvas of suffering.
The pain was so overwhelming it shattered his past, leaving his memories broken. The pain never stopped, no matter how much he wished for it. Each endless day erased who he used to be, leaving only emptiness and torment.
That sort of trauma stayed with you, and blocked out all else.
Or at least, it did for Arthur.
He was ashamed to think that he was not of strong enough mind to endure it without losing himself, all his memories, so thoroughly.
The one thing he always had going for him was that he never gave in, not fully. Some part of him, and he knew this was the part that must still remember, told him that his father would be proud.
"Enough inconsequential talk," Merlin said, effectively changing the subject.
Arthur was once again raped after finishing his breakfast, which left him a hollow shell on the couch, feeling wholly dead inside. As he attempted to catch his breath, Merlin licked his tears away, chuckling, "It's not so bad, Arthur, sweetie. Don't be such a tot. One day you'll get used to it."
Notes:
Thoughts about Arthur's change in setting? And Gwaine, ooh, what's that all about? 😦😭
Chapter Text
Merlin’s eyes were shining as he popped back from work. “Hello, my Prince,” he greeted Arthur.
‘Prince’ was an upgrade from ‘Pet’ and so Arthur didn’t complain when Merlin leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Arthur’s cheek, the touch fleeting but enough to send a shiver down his spine. As if the kiss hadn’t already set Arthur’s nerves on edge, Merlin leaned closer, his breath warm against Arthur’s ear as he whispered, “I love you.”
Arthur froze. WHAT? He wanted to scream ‘Not in this life you don't!’ If he truly believed what he'd just said, Merlin’s understanding of love was warped beyond help.
Arthur wanted more than anything to run. To push this monster away from him and run.
But run where? There was nowhere to go but Merlin. Merlin kissed him tenderly and Arthur gasped.
“My pet,” he murmured, smiling softly.
Kissing him slowly on the mouth, the Zenith pushed Arthur up against the couch and Arthur could only whine into the kiss, breathless with arousal. When it came to Merlin, it was clear to him that his body had been conditioned.
Even while he was being cut up and his spleen was being cut out, he was still climaxing on Merlin’s cock. The bastard.
Now, Arthur’s hands flew up to grip Merlin. He just needed to touch him, that was all.
Merlin smiled. “Suck me,” the Zenith said breathily.
Arthur pulled away reluctantly from Merlin’s wet mouth and undid Merlin’s work pants, pulling out his cock. At this, he immediately caught a whiff of the delicious musky scent that was his Master. His own arousal leaked now, getting on his thighs and the couch. He licked Merlin’s pulsing cockhead and relished the soft gasps and moans Merlin was making.
“So good, just like that Arthur, good Pet.” Merlin was thrusting up into Arthur’s mouth, but Arthur was well-practiced and did not choke. He loved the taste of Merlin’s precum. Like the rest of him, it tasted sweet, like honeysuckle, with a hint of tanginess.
Arthur grew so impossibly hard. He wanted to relieve his raging cock and began unknowingly palming himself but Merlin quickly stopped him. “Come here.”
Merlin lay back and watched Arthur, who was watching him wide-eyed. “Arthur, puppy, do you want to go inside?” Merlin bent his legs up, his hole tantalizingly there. “Let me soothe you.”
Arthur watched, slack-jawed. Merlin looked so fucking hot, naked and ass open in front of him like that. And he was so fucking horny.
Merlin reached out and pulled him by the hand closer, until his stiff penis was inches from Merlin’s hole. Arthur was holding his breath. Fuck he wanted this. But he didn’t want this—sex with this dark creature who was so twisted and vile.
Merlin was watching him with hazy eyes, and when Merlin’s mouth parted slightly and he licked his lips, Arthur’s resolve began to crumble. Just a little. He’s just going to soothe his ache a little bit. God, fuck Merlin, he inwardly cursed him.
He stepped closer and Merlin’s eyes gleamed hungrily. Arthur’s wet cockhead brushed Merlin’s anus and both of them cried out. He then began to rub his penis against Merlin’s anus, panting harshly at the feel of his precum painting Merlin’s puckered hole.
Yes, just doing this was soothing him. This would be enough.
He began sliding his wet cock up and down Merlin’s crack, teasing at the entrance, as Merlin cried, whining in need. A bit of Arthur’s cockhead accidentally slipped in, but just a tiny bit, before he collected himself and quickly moved it to begin circling Merlin’s anus opening again, even though all he wanted was to sink deep inside and bottom out.
Merlin’s anus looked and smelled so enticingly musky, so wholly mouth-watering, that Arthur couldn’t help dipping his head and giving it a taste. He didn’t know why he’d never done this before.
The sweetness didn’t surprise him—Merlin tasted sweet, just like the rest of him, like his pretty mouth—but Merlin started, giving an undignified yelp. Clutching Arthur's hair, the alien cried, “Ohhh! Gods, yes, Arthur!” He threw his head back, his erratically flashing purple and pink eyes lidded.
Arthur moaned at the taste, at the eroticism of the act, pushing his tongue as far in as possible while Merlin’s toes curled and the Zenith cursed expletives, moaning. Arthur was a mess. Merlin’s scent was making him delirious with want, and when he moved his mouth from Merlin’s now wet anus, Arthur pushed his cock in slowly, watching as his cock disappeared inside his Master in awe.
“So beautiful,” Arthur mumbled. Merlin was so fucking beautiful. It wasn’t fair.
When Arthur looked up, he looked up into the brightest, most brilliant shade of turquoise eyes he’d ever seen. The seafoam color had taken over Merlin’s entire eyes, no pupil in sight. Merlin was practically levitating.
Arthur felt his cock get even harder somehow, and yet he felt something unbidden stir inside. He wanted Merlin dead.
When Arthur finally bottomed out, he groaned at the shock of pleasure that exploded from the point of contact. He grabbed Merlin’s hips and rammed his dick repeatedly inside, crying out at how euphoric it was to finally, finally, give in.
The heat of Merlin’s insides wrapping—squeezing—all around him felt so amazing on his pulsing too-warm cock, and his sole thought was on how fucking amazing, downright heavenly this sinful act felt.
In that fleeting moment, it didn’t matter what Merlin had done to him, or what Merlin could do in future. None of it would change the fact that, by gods, Merlin had a nice anus, and a magical dick that could make Arthur feel like all his problems were utterly meaningless. When he was fucking Merlin, or getting fucked by Merlin, those were the happiest moments of his life that he could remember.
Merlin was his universe. His entire universe. Whether good or bad, it was Merlin.
He couldn’t remember a time before him.
Every touch, every caress—his skin crawled, yet, at the same time, he wanted to crawl inside him.
Arthur could get whiplash.
And he hated Merlin for that.
Merlin held his happiest memories, and simultaneously his most painful. He hated that he felt hollow and a deep ache when Merlin went to work and that he couldn’t resist following him like a lost puppy when he was home.
And the sex, by gods, the sex was the best. It was absolutely mindblowing, so motherfucking good. Literally out of this world good.
Was crying because sex was so good normal? He wouldn’t know. It was normal for him.
Even when his chest was being cut open and his breastbone sawed into, the sex was still amazing. Merlin was a Zenith god. A god of Darkness, or of Sex, of Hell. Merlin was Emrys.
And fuck, Emrys was smoking hot. Downright sexy.
Arthur’s lips met Merlin’s in a heated kiss, bodies pressed tightly together as they moved in sync, lost in the intensity of the moment.
“I love you,” Merlin murmured breathlessly against his lips.
Repeating the sentiment never even occurred to Arthur. He knew it would never be true in this lifetime. Hell, he didn’t even like Merlin, how could he ever love him? It was laughable. Unthinkable.
The truth was, he despised everything Merlin had done, every violation, every twisted form of affection. He loathed the position he was in—trapped, powerless, and yet somehow drawn to this creature who had turned his life into a living nightmare.
No, love was out of the question.
He might admire Merlin—admire the alien’s obvious academic intellect, his undeniable attractiveness (there was no denying Merlin was objectively hot)—but admiration was a far cry from love.
Arthur hated that he felt any attachment at all.
That, somewhere in the tangled mess of resentment and hatred, a not-so-small part of him craved Merlin’s touch.
He hated Merlin. He would hate Merlin for the rest of his godsforsaken life. So Arthur held his tongue, not giving Merlin what he so desperately craved.
Instead, he sank his teeth into Merlin's lips and then his cheeks, tearing off large, bloody slabs of soft flesh and swallowing them with a primal hunger that bordered on madness as Merlin made a high-pitched noise of surprise.
His desperation reached a fever pitch as he gnawed and tore into the rest of Merlin's flesh with a wild, frenzied intensity. Every bite fueled something dark and twisted inside him, driving him closer to the edge.
He wanted to be as close to Merlin as possible, to take him in entirely—what better way than to devour him?
Between ragged breaths, Merlin grinned, blood reddening his teeth, whispering, “You’re mine now, Arthur… Keep going, love.”
The words sent a jolt through Arthur, pushing him into an even more frenzied state. The closer he got to climax, the more viciously he bit down, blood mingling with sweat as he chewed, desperate to feel connected in the most twisted way possible.
When his release finally came, it ripped through him like a storm, his body convulsing violently, trembling uncontrollably as he collapsed against Merlin’s bloodied, half-eaten body.
Even as he lay there, still panting, Arthur’s hunger for Merlin didn’t subside. He began to move again, large hands gripping Merlin.
“More…” he gasped between clenched teeth, voice rough with need. “I need more.”
Merlin’s eyes darkened with pleasure as he held Arthur close, encouraging him to continue. “Take what you need, Pet. You can have all of me.”
Arthur clung to Merlin desperately, like a man starved. Yes, he would take all of Merlin, just as Merlin had taken all of him. He frantically covered Merlin’s bloodied body with kisses, his lips pressing into the torn skin as he whined and moaned needily.
Each bite was followed by a muffled sob, tears mingling with the blood as he tried to push himself even closer, as if merging their bodies could somehow ease the torment clawing at his insides.
“Closer,” Arthur rasped between frantic kisses, his voice hoarse and trembling. “I need to be closer… Need.. all of you.” His teeth sank into Merlin’s shoulder with renewed intensity, body shaking as another wave of pleasure and despair rippled through him.
He was covered in Merlin’s blood, the blood glittering almost as if it were alive, charged with magic. It clung to Arthur’s skin, and as Arthur swallowed chunks of the alien, he felt it, warm and electric, humming with a raw, untamed power through his entire body.
Merlin, bright red now beneath Arthur’s relentless attention, could only watch in awe and twisted satisfaction as his pet broke down entirely. “Shh,” he whispered, though his voice was rough from his own labored breathing. He wrapped his arms, torn to shreds with chunks of flesh dangling and blood spurting in erratic pulses, tightly around Arthur, feeling the frantic pulse of Arthur’s heart beneath his skin.
“It’s alright, Pet. I’m here. Take what you need.”
Arthur’s cries grew louder, his need taking on a frantic edge as he buried his face in Merlin’s chest, trying to lose himself completely in the other being. His sobs grew more desperate as his nails raked over Merlin’s skin, his teeth gnashing as he bit into Merlin’s flesh again and again, hoping that somehow, if he bit hard enough, if he clung tightly enough, he could finally crawl inside, become one with him in the most twisted way imaginable.
“I can’t… it’s not enough,” Arthur choked out, his words almost unintelligible through his sobs. “I need more of you. I need… I need you inside me, all around me..” Everywhere!
Merlin tightened his hold, brushing blood-matted hair from Arthur’s face as he shushed him gently. “You have me, Arthur. You’ve always had me.” His affectionate voice was soft as he allowed Arthur’s desperation to run its course.
Arthur could only moan in response, his cries a broken mix of pleasure and agony as he pressed himself as close to Merlin as physically possible. His nails dug into Merlin’s back as he continued to kiss, bite, and sob, his body quivering with the intensity of his emotions. Every shudder, every teardrop that fell from Arthur’s eyes, only fueled Merlin’s pleasure, knowing that Arthur’s very soul was in turmoil over needing him.
After a time, as they lay there, tangled together in a mess of blood, sweat, and tears, Arthur’s frenzied desperation began to at last wane. His sobs quieted into broken whimpers, his grip loosening as exhaustion crept in, leaving him limp in Merlin’s arms.
But even in his fatigue, he couldn’t stop pressing soft kisses to every inch of skin he could reach, as though he feared losing that contact would mean losing everything.
Merlin let him, holding him close and murmuring soothing words in his ear, relishing the shattered mess Arthur had become under his touch. “You’re mine, Arthur,” he whispered, his voice laced with both possessiveness and something almost tender. “And I’ll never let you go.”
This was a grotesque blend of pain and pleasure, a macabre communion that left both of them trembling. It was the first time Arthur had truly eaten him—ripping into his flesh with savage hunger, consuming Merlin in a way that was primal and raw.
And oddly, Merlin felt touched by it, a twisted sense of intimacy that only they could share.
The sight of Arthur so desperately devouring him, driven by something beyond mere lust, struck a chord deep within Merlin’s dark heart.
He could have healed himself with a thought, easily reversing the damage and knitting the torn muscle and flesh back together in an instant. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t. This time, he would let his Zenith body heal on its own, allowing the process to drag out.
His colleagues would witness how deeply entwined his pet and he were, how much he was loved—an ongoing reminder of this moment. The wounds would close much too soon, scabbing over before the chunks of missing meat regrew, gradually filling in the gaps until he was whole again.
Before his naturally self-repairing body could piece him back together, Merlin savored the thought of carrying those wounds for a few days—marks left by Arthur’s need, physical proof of how deeply they were connected in this twisted dance.
He found satisfaction in the slight sting of his injuries. The slow, deliberate healing process would serve as a constant reminder of Arthur’s desperation, of the dark and unbreakable bond they shared.
"I love you, Arthur." Merlin's voice was low and intense, dark eyes fixed on Arthur's face. He saw a flicker of disbelief in those blue eyes, the slight tightening of Arthur's jaw.
Merlin knew Arthur didn't believe him. Not yet. Well, he would make him believe one day.
Zenith were immortal, their power beyond human comprehension. And yet, Arthur was the only reason living for eternity would be worth it.
“I will wait for you to love me, Arthur. We are destined.”
Arthur only burrowed himself deeper in Merlin’s fuzzy chest. The Homo sapien was still heaving and catching his breath, and Merlin's heart melted as he drank in every detail of his chiseled body. His golden hair, the strong line of his jaw.
Merlin’s gaze softened as he imagined the centuries stretching before them, countless lifetimes spent together. Arthur would be his. A thousand years? So be it.
He would use every moment to show Arthur the depth of his devotion. One day, Arthur would be his—body, mind, and soul. It was inevitable.
With gentle fingers, Merlin reached out to touch Arthur's cheek. "You'll love me," he whispered, eyes as hard and cold as dry ice. "We have all the time in the world, and I'll spend every second of it making sure you do.”
Bare bodies still pressed together, Merlin could hear Arthur’s breath hitch and feel his shiver. He felt the goose pimples on Arthur’s skin, and the unmistakable twitch of Arthur’s fine cock at this insinuation.
From Arthur’s aura, Merlin could see a conflicted overpowering wave that was the color of deep purple, so deep it was nearly black. Zenith knew that shade represented sadness and frustration, connecting to trauma and shame.
Well. It was a start. Trauma could be overcome and healed over time. And shame, well, the same can be said.
And for an immortal being like Merlin, it was more than enough.
“Come, Arthur, time to go to the Homo sapien park.” Merlin fashioned on a red-and-gold harness to Arthur attached to a leash.
“Do you really have to leash me?” his pet grumbled. “It’s embarrassing.”
Merlin looked amused. “You won’t be the only one. Come on now.”
Merlin boarded Arthur onto his hovercraft and Arthur looked out the window, marveling again at how changed everything was. It looked so cleaned up, and just leaving Merlin’s xeno-flat to get to his craft Arthur could smell the freshness of the air.
Merlin guided Arthur through the winding paths of the Homo sapien park, his pet tethered to his side by a leash that glowed faintly with the colors of the Zenith's homeworld. Arthur's eyes, once so fierce and defiant, now gleamed with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension as he took in the other humans around him.
This was the first time Merlin had brought Arthur to mingle with others—a rare kindness bestowed upon him. Arthur knew this outing was a treat. Merlin unclipped his harness and yet it never occurred to Arthur to make a break for it. He wouldn't get far anyway. It wasn’t worth it.
Arthur's steps faltered as they approached a gathering of humans in the distance. Among them was a short-haired brunette man with familiar, dark eyes and an athletic build. The way he moved stirred something in Arthur's memory, but it was faint, lost in time and the pain of his capture.
"Arthur?" The man's warm voice was stunned. Arthur snapped his head towards him, equally shocked at being recognized. His heart skipped a beat as the man hurriedly approached.
"Arthur, is that really you?"
Arthur blinked, staring at the man that now stood before him. There was something about those dark brown eyes, that voice… “Do I know you?” he asked. He would love to reconnect with anyone from his past.. pre-Zenith.
“Do you really not remember me? It’s me, Lancelot.”
Notes:
Who would've guessed the pseudo-cannibal would've been Arthur, eh? At least he's found a way to cope. But omg my bb Lancelot!! <33
Chapter Text
The name hit Arthur like lightning, unlocking long-buried memories. His breath caught—Lancelot, his childhood best friend, brother in all but blood. They'd shared everything—losses and wins, moments of grief and joy... pulling each other up by their bootstraps through it all. They’d been best friends!
“Lancelot… I remember now.” Arthur’s eyes were wide and beginning to water.
Lancelot smiled, though there was a sadness in his eyes. He hugged Arthur, and Arthur hugged right back, tightly. The cold distance of their Zenith-controlled world seemed to evaporate for a moment, warmth flooding them.
“I assumed you were killed off,” Lancelot admitted, glancing at Merlin, who watched the reunion with an unsettling interest.
“I thought you were gone too,” Arthur replied hoarsely, his head resting against Lancelot’s shoulder. “I thought I was alone. My captor Merlin told me that only a hundred humans were spared.”
“Now we're less alone,” Lancelot rasped, gripping him tighter. “Not as long as we have each other.”
Arthur’s gaze drifted to Merlin, his heart heavy. But do we really have each other? He knew Merlin would never allow this.
Lancelot, ever the observant one, followed his line of sight, noting the way Arthur's gaze changed. "You care for him, don't you?" he asked quietly. Arthur’s reaction was immediate, his cheeks flushing as he shook his head vehemently.
“No!” he snapped, body heating up. “I hate him. I’m just… He’s… he’s my owner, my captor, nothing more.”
Lancelot raised an eyebrow. “Okay,” he replied. “But I’ve seen that look on your face before.”
Arthur scoffed, trying to mask his discomfort with a sneer. “No, I’m sure you’ve never seen pure, unadulterated hatred on my face before,” he shot back bitingly.
But even as the words left his mouth, they felt hollow, as though he was trying to convince himself more than Lancelot. Lancelot might be partly right, but his friend would be completely off if he thought Arthur felt anything other than arousal for Merlin. He hated Merlin.
Taken aback by Arthur’s reaction, his friend dropped it. “Um, well.. Gwen’s my owner,” he said, glancing over at the beautiful alien who had bought him. "I'm in love with her. I tried to deny it, but it's true."
Arthur looked up, surprised at the admission. No wonder Lancelot had thought Arthur could be in love with Merlin. Talk about projecting. “She must be very good to you.”
A joyous smile nearly broke Lancelot’s face. “She is. She’s the best.”
Arthur felt genuine happiness for his friend. Lancelot’s fate was much better than his own. “Does she know?” he asked.
Lancelot shook his head. “No. And she never will. I know it’s not something that can happen. But that doesn’t change how I feel. Anyway, Arthur, I was so worried about you and all the others. Like Gwaine—”
“Gwaine?” Arthur's voice shook, nearly choking on the word. His heart pounded, panic flooding him. Fuck! His mind raced, struggling to process what he’d just realized. Please don’t let Gwaine—my Gwaine—be the same 'Gwaine' Merlin’s been experimenting on!
“Yeah,” Lancelot said, with a sad smile, oblivious to Arthur's sudden inner distress. He continued talking but Arthur was no longer listening. A cold sweat broke out across his skin as his thoughts spiraled. Surely there had to be more than one person named Gwaine out there. There had to be.
But the sinking feeling in his stomach told him what he already knew. Hearing the name again from Lancelot felt like a dam breaking, flooding him with forgotten memories. And with them came the image of Gwaine—his best friend, his closest friend.
Gwaine had always been there for him, and they were the absolute best of friends who did everything together. They never departed from one another. Anywhere Arthur went, Gwaine was sure to follow, and vice versa. He was special to Arthur—he could always make Arthur feel better and understood him completely and was the kind of friend who never gave up, no matter how dire the situation. He was truly the best of the best—top-of-the-line.
But also, Gwaine wouldn't have backed down from Merlin. That SOB was way mouthier than Arthur could ever be.
Arthur was brave, sure, but Gwaine was reckless, often charging into situations without thinking. Arthur knew that under Merlin, Gwaine would’ve ended up far more tortured and battered than he'd ever been—Gwaine just didn’t know when to shut up. He was likely to be laughing hysterically as he was cut up.. Gwaine was a crazy-ass mofo. That was what Arthur loved about him. That was what their friend group loved about him.
And now, the thought that Gwaine might be Merlin’s test subject—the one enduring unimaginable pain and suffering, cut into, reduced to nothing more than a living stain on the hard laboratory floors—sent Arthur’s world spinning. Oh gods, oh gods. He could barely breathe, his chest tightening. His mind raced, desperate to deny it, but the harder he tried, the more everything seemed to fit together.
Merlin had spoken of his experiments with a cold detachment that had always unsettled Arthur, but he had never imagined that one of those experiments could involve someone he knew—someone he loved.
And gods, he loved Gwaine.
So much.
Gwaine was the one person he loved above all else.
How did I forget about Gwaine? Struggling to blink back tears, his thoughts raced. No, he told himself. It can’t be the same Gwaine. There’s just no way.
But the fear gnawed at him, relentless and unyielding. If Lancelot was spared, meaning he had all the right qualities the Zenith were looking for—unparalleled physical fitness, mental and emotional fortitude, he knew Gwaine had to be.
Gwaine was every bit as competent as Lance and himself. If he were truly honest, he didn’t know how any of them could have been spared at all. They'd just been secondary school kids, although Merlin had informed him one day that the magick for the selection took into account potential as well, which explained a lot.
Arthur swallowed hard, throat dry as he struggled to find his voice. What do I do? If it was really Gwaine—his Gwaine—being tortured by Merlin, he couldn’t just stand by. Helplessness weighed him down, suffocating. He had to know the truth.
And if it was Gwaine… Arthur would stop at nothing to save him. No matter the cost.
His mind made up, he took a shaky breath, steeling himself. He had to confront Merlin, had to find a way to learn the truth. And if it pissed Merlin off, earned him another beating, another slicing of his skin, of his organs, then so be it. Gwaine had always had his back—now it was Arthur’s turn to return the favor.
“I have to go,” Arthur interrupted Lancelot. "There's something urgent I must do."
Lancelot looked alarmed. “Oh.. okay, Arthur. Well, it was great catching up with you, old friend. Take care of yourself, yeah?”
Arthur nodded. “You too, Lancelot. Let’s try to not let it be another six years before meeting again.” Arthur gave Lancelot another warm, full-body hug as a tear slipped down his cheek. "I have missed you.. all of you guys. I just forgot how much."
“Yeah,” Lancelot agreed. “And I will let Gwen know! I think she’s friends with Merlin. I’ve heard his name on her lips a few times over the years. Perhaps she can arrange another meeting soon.”
"I'd love that," Arthur agreed, brightening at the idea of these meetups becoming regular. Then, with a final wave, he was off.
Once Merlin was spotted, Arthur could barely hold back the torrent of emotions bubbling up inside as he made his way hurriedly to the Zenith, voice tight with barely controlled panic.
“Master,” he said politely, trying to keep his tone steady but failing as the urgency bled through. “I need to talk to you. Now.”
Merlin, who'd been watching the other Homos at the park with mild interest, looked at Arthur now with a raised brow. “Is something the matter?” he asked calmly, almost too calm for the storm brewing inside Arthur. Merlin knew something was off. Arthur rarely called him ‘Master' anymore.
Arthur’s heart hammered in his chest. He couldn’t wait. He couldn’t let this fear gnaw at him a second longer. “It’s about your test subject—the one you mentioned before.” Arthur’s voice wavered as he fought to keep it steady. “The one you’re experimenting on.”
Merlin's eyes narrowed slightly, the pale blue of curiosity deepening into a steely grey, guarded and unreadable. “What about him?” he asked, tone measured, though a hint of suspicion crept into his tone.
Arthur’s breath hitched, hands trembling as he spoke. “You told me before his name was Gwaine.”
Merlin paused, studying Arthur with a mix of concern and confusion. “Yes,” he said slowly. “Why do you suddenly care?”
“Take me to him,” Arthur demanded, voice a tad too sharp. At Merlin’s frown, Arthur quickly added, “Please? I need to see him. I need to know if it’s really him—if it’s really my Gwaine.”
Merlin was taken aback by Arthur’s intensity. “Arthur, that’s not a good idea,” he started, but Arthur cut him off, shaking his head.
“I don’t care,” Arthur ground out, eyes blazing. “If it’s Gwaine—my Gwaine—I have to see him. I have to know.”
"You know the chances of this being your Gwaine is minuscule at best. I wouldn't get my hopes up, Pet."
But Arthur wasn't backing down and continued pestering Merlin about it nonstop all the rest of that day.
At last, Merlin sighed, tossing Arthur a dark look. “Alright!” the alien exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “Gods, you imbecilic clotpole, you are going to talk my ears off! I’ll take you to him. But you need to understand—if he's your Gwaine, which my calculations put at only a 0.248% chance, he’s not the Gwaine you remember from your youth. Not anymore. Don't go in it expecting to see him. Your Gwaine most likely splattered along with the rest of your people.”
Arthur’s stomach twisted at Merlin’s vile words, and he had to hold back vomit from remembering once again the fates of Percival and Leon. “Take me to him,” Arthur said, voice breaking. “Please.”
Merlin nodded, expression unreadable as he turned, once again hooking Arthur up to his harness and stepping into the craft. Arthur trailed behind, heart racing as they left the xeno-flat. He wished upon all wishes that it would not be Gwaine who had been tortured this whole time under Merlin's cold hands.
The sterile lab walls closed in, machinery humming as Arthur’s stomach churned and sweat dripped from his brow. Each step triggered memories of being torn apart and rebuilt over and over in agony—blinding lights, sharp tools, searing pain. The walls seemed to crush him, reigniting a terror he had never truly escaped.
The air itself felt heavy, thick with the memories, and as they neared the chamber where possibly his Gwaine was held, Arthur’s heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst.
Merlin walked ahead, tugging his harness along, expression again blank, but Arthur could sense the shift in the air between them. The unease. The tension.
Arthur could barely look at Merlin, his focus consumed by the fear of what he was about to find.
Please, he begged silently, let it not be my Gwaine. Let it be someone else. Anyone else.
As they reached the observation window and Merlin paused to let Arthur peer inside, Arthur nearly buckled when he saw him.
His Gwaine!
Gwaine looked so different, yet unmistakably the same. The once smooth-talking, witty fourteen-year-old charmer now looked like a hardened warrior, eyes more sharp and alert than ever, his naked body strong, due to having fought countless battles in the lab, no doubt. Yet, even with the hardened exterior, there was something unmistakably Gwaine beneath it all—a spark of a defiance in those hazel eyes that had never wavered.
Arthur’s breath caught in his throat as Gwaine turned his head, those sharp eyes landing on him. As their eyes locked, the world seemed to stop for both men. Arthur could see the flash of recognition in Gwaine’s gaze, followed by something softer, something that made the edges of Gwaine's hardened expression crumble.
“Arthur?” His voice, though hoarse and weary, carried the same warmth Arthur remembered. The same unbreakable bond they’d shared.
Merlin opened the chamber door, and Arthur didn’t hesitate. In a heartbeat, his arms were around Gwaine’s, and the two clung to one another, so tight it hurt, but neither cared. They had each other again.
“Gwaine,” Arthur choked out, voice breaking as tears spilled over. He buried his face in Gwaine’s shoulder, sobbing as all his fear and pain poured out. “I thought I’d lost you.”
Gwaine's grip tightened. “You could never lose me, Arthur. Never.” His words were raw, vulnerable—something Arthur hadn’t heard in so long. The brother who had always been his rock was breaking too, and Arthur held him even tighter, afraid to let go.
They clung to each other for what felt like forever, tears falling as memories and their bond flooded back. They wept for the lost years, the pain, and the miracle of finding each other again.
Merlin stood outside the chamber, watching with an unfamiliar tightness in his chest. The jealousy beast would not be shaken, yet he could not tear his eyes away. It cut him deeply to see just how attached Arthur seemed to be to Gwaine, watching as the two men clung to one another so desperately.
Arthur had always been his—that’s what Merlin believed. But seeing him now, in Gwaine’s arms, laughing and crying as they reconnected in a way Merlin had never seen, made him question their bond. Doubt crept in, and for the first time, Merlin wondered if there was a part of Arthur he could never truly have.
Merlin knew the strength of Gwaine’s aura was on the same level as Arthur’s, pound for pound the same. It was this fire that had made Merlin select him in the first place. It carried a different essence, however. Merlin could see it now, the mingling and mixing of their auras.
Where Arthur’s aura burned fiery red like an intense, seething flame, Gwaine’s was electric blue like the relentless surge of a mighty electrical storm, wild and untamed. It crackled with energy, a powerful force that seemed to pulse through the air with a high-voltage charge, even all throughout as Gwaine was being experimented upon. Gwaine's energy never wavered at all, always furious, always fighting, even half-dead and cut completely in half one time, save for the Homo's brain.
Gwaine’s defiance was wild, like an out-of-control electrical storm that struck without warning, constantly grating on Merlin’s nerves with his endless prattling and nonsensical jokes. Gwaine had clearly gone mad under him, and Gwaine was so much fun as a test subject. Merlin was learning so much about the human brain under extreme stress.
Gwaine reacted completely differently than Arthur had. Arthur hadn't shut down either, but he'd been.. quieter. More obedient almost. Though it was probably due to the fact that Merlin never fucked Gwaine. They had never romantically bonded with one another. Yet a stark difference to note for the books.
Overall, they were so dang alike, almost like mirrors of one another. How had he missed it?
Merlin stepped into the lab, still watching the friends. After they’d stopped crying, Arthur wiped his tears and looked at Merlin with large, rounded eyes. “Please, you have to let Gwaine free. Sell him off as another pet." The thought of Gwaine remaining a prisoner in the lab, subjected to the same horrors Arthur had endured, was unbearable.
Merlin frowned. "Arthur, you know I can't--"
Arthur felt his anguish crippling. "Or can you adopt him too? Please Merlin,” he practically sobbed. His eyes were so wide and desperate, filled with a mixture of fear and hope that Merlin found impossible to ignore. But oh no, no no no. The two together would be the end of him. But there was a pleading intensity in those blue eyes, as if Arthur’s entire world hinged on Merlin’s next words.
Arthur’s usually composed demeanor had crumbled, leaving him raw and vulnerable in a way Merlin had never seen before. “Please, Master, he’s my brother. We grew up together. Please. I can't.. can't go on knowing he's being tortured.” Arthur touched Merlin’s shirt sleeve and was tugging it. Gwaine looked up at that, surprised that Merlin was tolerating such treatment. “I’ll do anything,” the blonde added, voice cracking. “Just… don’t let him suffer anymore. Please, Master.”
Merlin hesitated, feeling the tug of jealousy and possessiveness that had been simmering inside him. But as he looked at Arthur, at the way he trembled, his everything at the mercy of Merlin, the Zenith sighed, pinching his nose. Growling, he replied, “Fine. Because you are special to me, Pet, I will sell Gwaine to a good home.”
“Can’t he stay with us?” Arthur pressed. He knew he was pushing his luck, but it would make him so much happier to wake up and not be all alone with Merlin all the time—to have another person to talk to, eat with, play with. Arthur was looking at Merlin with big wide, pleading puppy dog eyes again.
Merlin considered this for a moment, warring between whether or not he could stand to see his beloved all cuddly and whatnot with his childhood best friend. After a beat, Merlin snapped, “Fine!”
He was annoyed and slightly concerned at how much power Arthur had over him. Oh what would Father think? That his son, the great Emrys, released a test subject on account of his soppy-eyed pet who had been his previous test subject…
“I suppose you’ll want to vet my next test subject then,” Merlin said dryly.
But Arthur was already jumping up and down, hugging Gwaine, unable to contain his glee as he glomped Merlin, nearly knocking the Zenith over, and kissed Merlin enthusiastically. They must be a couple, Gwaine thought, watching wide-eyed. Merlin blushed scarlet and cleared his throat, pleased that his pet was so happy.
But Gwaine's head was spinning. Arthur had just saved him! Had just rescued him from the clutches of this deranged Zenith.
“Don’t get so excited yet. I still need to get the paperwork sorted in order to officially adopt Gwaine, which would take a few days, and also locate my new test subject in the meantime..." Sighing and shaking his head, Merlin muttered, "Gwaine had been a very good one.”
Gwaine smirked, though the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ve been tortured for years. What’s another few days?” he quipped, trying to keep his tone light, but there was an edge to his voice, a hint of apprehension that slipped through. He glanced at Arthur, seeing the concern etched on his friend’s face, and Gwaine's smile softened reassuringly. "I'll be alright, Princess," Gwaine said, clapping Arthur good-naturedly on the back.
Grinning wryling at Merlin, he added, “And as for your new test subject… Well. Let's hope they’re a bit less charming than me. Wouldn’t want to make you miss me too much.”
Notes:
Yayyy! Gwaine is back! =D <3
Chapter 10: The Taste of Control
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Those next few days felt like an eternity to Arthur, now that he knew his best friend was the one suffering. At least Merlin had assured him Gwaine wasn’t being raped too, though he would of course need to confirm this with his friend.
Merlin asked Arthur, “My possible test subject is someone called Aredian. Is this person acceptable, or another of your buddies?”
Arthur shook his head. “No, I don’t know him.” But I’m sure like Gwaine, he had loved ones who wouldn’t want him tortured either.
“Good.” Merlin smiled sagely, ignoring the displeasure in his beloved’s eyes. “Chin up, would you? Your friend is coming home with us.”
Merlin entered Gwaine’s suite on the day of Gwaine’s release, face stony as ever. Gwaine jumped up, bristling.
“Tsk tsk, there will be no experimentation today. I’ve already signed the papers. You will be mine. But before that can occur, I will have to empty myself inside you to truly mark you as my own,” Merlin stated matter-of-factly.
Gwaine sprang away from him, eyes wide in alarm. “No, you stay the hell away from me!”
Merlin rolled his eyes with a sigh. “I have no intention of raping you, Gwaine. But I will have to use this syringe to pump my semen in you.”
Gwaine blinked, then quickly offered, “Let me do it myself, then!”
Merlin snickered, shaking his head. “I have to be the one to do it, or it won’t work, you daft fool. This alternative method is rarely used. You should consider yourself very lucky.”
Gwaine narrowed his eyes, suspicion dripping from his voice. “Then why are you doing it this way?” A voice in Gwaine’s head screamed at him to shut up, to just let it happen and be grateful Merlin wasn’t going for the more traditional—and infinitely worse—approach. But keeping quiet had never been Gwaine’s strong suit.
Merlin’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “Thank Arthur, my Mate.”
Gwaine’s eyebrow shot up, astonished. "I knew it!"
Merlin only grinned, pleased by Gwaine’s reaction. "Consider this a favor. Arthur’s quite fond of you, after all.”
Arthur looked up from staring at the clock all evening. Today was the day Merlin would bring home his best friend. He’d been more excited than a kid on Christmas morning. He could hardly contain himself. He almost felt like a kid waiting for the arrival of their new baby brother from the hospital. Because wasn't that what this was? Gwaine was his brother.
The time was 9:05 pm now, usually around when Merlin would return.
The door clicked open and Arthur sprang to his feet. Merlin was in the doorway first, and shuffling behind him was Gwaine, attached with a harness. Gwaine had a simple brown collar around his neck with a gold tag dangling off it.
Gwaine’s face lit up when he saw Arthur, the broad grin that spread across his features brighter than the sun. Arthur immediately noticed the raised brand, ‘EMRYS’ now on Gwaine’s chest. It hadn’t been there before. Which meant Merlin must’ve... Arthur felt an odd sick feeling twist in his belly.
He tore his eyes from Gwaine, noticing Merlin’s disheveled state. Obediently, Arthur walked over, pressing a familiar kiss to Merlin’s cheek as a shiver ran through him.
The alien's eyes warmed, and he ruffled Arthur’s hair fondly. “Good Pet.” He patted Arthur's head, adding, “I’ve missed you.” Arthur nodded. He’d missed Gwaine.
But as he was preparing to greet Gwaine, Merlin tugged him closer, whispering and looking him in the eyes, “I want you to know, I didn't mate your friend.”
“Then how–?” Impossible!
Merlin grinned. “Syringe.”
Arthur was flooded with abject relief and sudden realization—Merlin had bent tradition for him. For the very first time, his heart warmed affectionately for the alien. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, unable to help the blush as he hugged Merlin.
Arthur immediately regretted it. As always, the feel of Merlin against his chest felt euphoric. He was flooded with Merlin’s pheromones and he felt like he was going dizzy with arousal. He didn't want to let go. Arthur could feel Merlin’s erection through his pants and Arthur bit his lip. Oh gods help me. There was a reason he avoided hugs.
He spared a look over at Gwaine, who was giving him a ‘thumbs up.’ Arthur grimaced. He wasn't looking forward to walking back to Gwaine with a major erection. Merlin raised an eyebrow at him, then smirked when he looked at Gwaine.
As Merlin removed his shoes, Arthur silently moved toward his friend.
“Someone's got a stiffy!” Gwaine chortled. But his eyes shone with a rare joy Arthur hadn’t seen in ages. It was the happiest Arthur could remember him being, and it made Arthur’s chest ache.
“Shut up, Gwaine.”
“Must be nice being Mates with Emrys.”
Arthur spluttered. “We're not Mates!”
Gwaine chuckled. “Not the way it looked from where I'm standing, mate.”
Arthur shoved Gwaine, looking serious. “He rapes me. If that's your idea of Mates..”
Gwaine blinked, suddenly understanding the dark dynamic. “Good grief..”
Arthur felt Merlin’s gaze, heavy and warning. One wrong move, and their fragile truce would break. He wanted to joke, to embrace his friend, but the weight of their situation held him still.
Gwaine, ever the defuser, smirked. “Missed me, did you?” he murmured, like they were back in freshman year, not trapped in a captor’s lair.
Arthur forced a small smile, keeping his tone equally light. "I guess it's my job to keep you out of trouble," he said, but there was a hint of genuine warning in his voice.
Gwaine's grin widened slightly, mischief flickering in his eyes. He stayed relaxed, almost casual. "Some things never change then. Don’t worry, I’ve got a few tricks," he murmured, just for Arthur. His tone held a quiet promise—he wouldn’t break, not even here, but Arthur’s heart was heavy with terror.
“No, Gwaine.. "Don't try anything," he muttered, glancing at Merlin as the tall being vanished into the kitchen.
Gwaine’s smile stayed, but his eyes sharpened. A silent understanding passed between them. “Okay,” he said lightly, as if they were just talking about the weather.
But Arthur knew better. They both did.
Having another human being around had its pros and cons, and Arthur would quickly find out a con that night. Merlin sat on the couch and turned on Time-Stream Surfer. He patted his knee and Arthur turned scarlet as his limp penis began to respond automatically. He turned away from Gwaine, hoping his friend hadn’t noticed, but Gwaine was too busy glaring daggers at Merlin.
Please go away Gwaine, don’t stick around for this.
The second Arthur sat on Merlin’s lap, he practically melted. Merlin’s lap was so warm and Merlin always smelled so good. Fuck Merlin. It wasn’t even a cologne, it was just his natural musky scent, the scent of an alpha male—a supreme prime specimen of his species.
Arthur’s eyes were hooded. Not for the first time, he wished he was straight. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel this way towards this wicked thing.
Yet a quiet, traitorous voice whispered that it would be impossible for him not to feel attracted to Merlin.. no matter his orientation. That dumb voice needed to shut the fuck up because it was a vile lie.
Merlin leaned down and tilted Arthur’s head up and kissed him gently on the mouth. Arthur squirmed, and instantly regretted it when Merlin groaned and pushed Arthur onto his back on the sofa. “You really have been missing me, haven’t you?” Merlin huffed, smiling, amused. Arthur didn’t answer, only flushed bright pink.
Merlin set to work preparing Arthur. With a wave of his hand, he produced a clear container full of lube and scooped up a dollop. He began to finger Arthur expertly, scissoring him open as Arthur let out a gasp and then a low groan.
Arthur tried to ignore Gwaine in his peripheral view. Gwaine was watching, fury emanating from him, but he didn’t dare interfere.
Arthur let out a small whine. He needed this. So much. He needed Merlin to open him up. He resisted thrusting up into Merlin’s fingers. Merlin’s fingers brushed against the tiny bundle in Arthur’s ass and Arthur moaned loudly, slapping a hand over his mouth, tears in his eyes. It was so much worse knowing that Gwaine was watching.
“Don’t look, Gwaine…” he gasped, in tears. Gwaine stood there a moment more, before turning and swiftly exiting the room.
Arthur exhaled a sigh of relief. Merlin was looking down at him, also with hooded eyes, and positioned his large penis at his opening. He leaned down and kissed Arthur, and Arthur knew he had to kiss back, but he soon lost himself in the kiss. He needed this, he needed Merlin, he knew that now. He still hated Merlin, always would, but Merlin was so amazing now whenever they fucked.
Merlin thrust deeply into him with an intensity that left Arthur gasping and screaming in pleasure. Each movement sent intense waves through him, drowning him in his Master's presence. The pleasure was overwhelming, flooding him with bliss.
Arthur only wanted more, his body eagerly drawn to Merlin. "Merlin, fuck... Just hurry and finish it, fuck, damn it, just keep going. Merlin, please,” Arthur moaned.
Merlin, breathless and relentless, leaned closer, his own pleasure evident in the ragged quality of his voice. "Oh, Arthur... You're so polite, even when you're begging." Merlin laved Arthur's neck with sloppy kisses. "I'll finish it, but not because you're telling me to. I'll finish it because I want to see you lose control," he said, each punishing thrust matching his words. “You feel incredible, Arthur. You’re mine. So perfect for me.”
Arthur’s grip tightened around Merlin as Merlin’s movements became more urgent. The blonde cried out, voice trembling with need. “Yours.." he gasped, over and over again.
Merlin’s response was a low, almost primal growl. “Yes, you're all mine, Arthur, mine, mine… Fuck..!”
Merlin gave him four orgasms before carrying his sated and fucked out body to the dining room table. Usually he’d be leaking down his legs since Merlin liked to keep his cum inside Arthur and Arthur didn't mind it as much anymore, but today with Gwaine moved in, he'd begged for Merlin to clean him up. Merlin offered to plug him up with a shiny buttplug that said “PUPPY” instead, and Arthur reluctantly agreed to that.
Later Merlin would unplug him and they'd snowball. After Merlin cleaned it up, naturally. Neither were too keen on snowballing feces.
Gwaine was already there, face pale as a sheet. Arthur was ashamed. He refused to look Gwaine in the eye. He couldn’t. He knew he'd been loud. Vocal. Arthur kept his eyes fixed on the floor instead as Merlin moved with cold precision, retrieving the Sustainium bottle from a nearby shelf.
The sleek, metallic container gleamed under the bright light. It was supposed to be a marvel of technology and biological advancement, a smoothie that provided everything they needed to survive. But here, in this twisted reality, it was just another tool of control.
Merlin looked at Arthur. “Which flavor do you want tonight, my Pet?”
Arthur stammered, “Um, s-salted caramel,” as Gwaine looked up in shock, mouth falling open. Gwaine mouthed Flavors? In the labs it was always just one default flavor.
Merlin smiled indulgently. His movements were mechanical as he poured out the perfectly measured portions into two identical glasses, expression unreadable. Arthur could feel the weight of Merlin’s presence behind him, a silent threat that kept him rooted in place, unable to protest or refuse.
He glanced at the liquid—thick, pale brown, and smelling delicious—sloshing thickly in the glass. It was nothing like the vibrant, natural foods they would have relished, back when they had the freedom to choose what they ate. Back when they had freedom at all, but Arthur had admitted long ago that it was much better tasting than their old foods.
He swallowed hard, throat tightening as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be though. They had been schoolboys, teammates on the school rugby team, studying side by side with their friends. Now, they were reduced to this—captives, forced to drink this pre-selected nourishment while their captor watched with calculating eyes.
Merlin handed Gwaine his glass first, the movement as deliberate as it was dismissive. Gwaine took it with a small nod, hand steady despite the pallor face. Even now, Gwaine held onto a sliver of his unshakable spirit, the same strength that made him a fierce teammate. But Arthur saw the exhaustion in his eyes, the toll of captivity.
When Merlin handed Arthur his portion, he took it without a word, gripping the glass just shy of too tight. The silence was heavy, suffocating. Shame settled deep in Arthur’s chest. He felt Gwaine’s gaze but couldn’t look up, not wanting to see the judgment in his friend’s eyes.
He raised the glass and forced himself to sip the Sustainium. It was delicious as he’d expected. Merlin rotated flavors on a regular basis for his sake. He swallowed it down, the liquid sitting heavy in his stomach, like a weight pressing on his very soul.
Arthur finally dared a glance at Gwaine. He saw the flicker of sympathy—not pity—that still lingered in his friend’s expression.
As Merlin moved to consume his own dark matter energy, Gwaine, seeing this for the first time, tensed as he watched Merlin lift the chalice to his lips. The moment the dark energy touched Merlin’s tongue, his eyes closed, and a shiver ran through his body. The transformation was immediate.
His eyes were glowing with the same intense inner dark indigo light, his presence resonating with a new, unsettling power. The room vibrated with the residual energy, and then Merlin finally turned to Arthur with a faint, satisfied smile, and gave a tiny cute burp. Wait, cute? What the fuck. Arthur blushed. Merlin was not cute.
That night, after they’d all brushed their teeth, Merlin showed Gwaine the tub. “Wash yourself. Arthur and I will be in after.”
Gwaine soaped himself up, relaxing in the warm bubbles. This was nice. He’d been tortured for so long..
As Gwaine bathed, Merlin and Arthur were left alone. Gwaine could hear the loud noises Arthur soon began making. His face burned. His best friend was being raped and there was nothing he could do about it. His fists clenched as he hurried up with his bath, getting out and barely drying himself off.
He followed Arthur’s noises and stopped right before entering. He remembered how Arthur had not wanted him to witness the rape. Instead, he knocked.
Clearly his knock had gone unheard. “I’M DONE WITH MY BATH!” Gwaine shouted.
Arthur’s sobs stopped abruptly. Then began again, as Merlin decided they weren’t done.
Gwaine, ears red, marched into the room. He was wholly unprepared for the sight that greeted him.
Arthur was on top of Merlin, thrusting inside and biting Merlin’s neck and chest, where Gwaine could see the white of the chest bone jutting out. Blood was spraying from Merlin's jugular where Arthur had bitten into, and Arthur’s mouth and chest were red with shimmering blood as he was eating Merlin hungrily. The Zenith's blood shimmered in crimson and gold, glowing like embers against his pale skin, each drop pulsing with apparent magic.
Merlin, propped on his elbows, gazed up at Arthur with a blissed-out, twisted smile, his face flushed with desire. The Zenith was thoroughly enjoying this as he bucked up into Arthur. Arthur moaned and tore out an artery, eating that as well. Arthur’s hands were red with Zenith blood. Part of Merlin’s cheek was already torn apart and eaten.
Arthur shoved Merlin all the way back down on the bed, and fell over on top of him, exhausted, and let Merlin fuck himself up into him, hugging Merlin to himself. Merlin flipped them over and rode Arthur as Arthur cried out, clearly needy for more.
The intimacy between them was obvious, but it was twisted, feral, and nothing like Gwaine had ever expected.
He stood frozen, heart racing, trying to understand what he was seeing. Slowly, he stepped back, breathing fast and uneven, quietly backing out of the room, hoping to remain unnoticed.
What the fuck.
What the actual fucking fuck fuck was that?!
The realization hit Gwaine like a punch to the gut: captivity had changed Arthur far more than he had initially assumed. But maybe it wasn’t just the captivity—it was being held captive with the monster Emrys. The Arthur Gwaine once knew—the kind, dependable schoolboy—was gone, replaced by someone unrecognizable, someone able to carry out such a terrifying act with eagerness.
A more terrifying thought then crept into his mind, sending a chill down his spine. Was Arthur still human? Or had he become some kind of flesh-eating monster under Merlin’s influence? The thought that his friend might no longer be human, that he had turned into something dark and twisted, filled Gwaine with an overwhelming dread.
He didn’t stop until he reached the living room, collapsing onto the couch, his head in his hands. Gwaine had seen a lot, but this… this was almost more than he could handle. The image of Arthur, driven by some primal urge, was burned into his mind, and the hopelessness of it all hit him hard. He’d never felt more helpless, more lost. How could he even begin to understand what had happened to his friend? How could he save Arthur from something like this?
Merlin, fully healed, had just kissed Arthur goodbye. Arthur could see Gwaine watching from his side eye. Leaving for work and with a fond smile on his stupidly pretty face, Merlin said, “Be good. Both of you.” And he was gone, leaving Arthur feeling a sort of sick, confusing emptiness in his stomach.
Now it was just Arthur and Gwaine, alone for the first time since Gwaine had witnessed that disturbing flesh-eating fucking session. Gwaine hadn't been able to shake the image from his mind—Arthur, once a proud and kind kid, now reduced to something animalistic, feasting on the flesh of the alien Merlin with a hunger that was both physical and, somehow, disturbingly intimate. It sickened Gwaine as he tried to block out the images.
Gwaine hesitated, unsure of how to start. The words he used to easily share with Arthur were stuck in his throat, weighed down by the horror. He had always been able to talk to Arthur, laugh with him, share everything. But now... now he didn’t recognize the man sitting across from him.
Finally, he forced himself to speak, voice low and unsteady. “Arthur… what the hell happened to you?”
Arthur’s eyes snapped to Gwaine’s immediately, and his face reddened with shame. “What are you talking about?” His voice trembled slightly. What had Gwaine seen? How much?
“The eating!” Gwaine exploded. “Since when are you okay with cannabilism?”
Arthur’s eyes flashed, while at the same time, his humiliation grew exponentially. “It's not cannibalism. Merlin isn't human,” he reasoned.
Gwaine’s flush did not falter. “He’s close enough. A human look-alike then! Gods, Arthur, you were just.. just.. feasting on him, like you were a lion and he was some antelope! It was a bloodbath, and I wish that was a metaphor!”
Arthur was shaking as Gwaine confronted him and now he was in tears. “I’m just trying to hurt him the best I can,” Arthur sobbed, trembling.
“Gods, Gwaine, I just want to tear him limb from bloody limb. I want to eat all of him, until he is no more, until he is nothing. So that when I shit, I can shit with the satisfaction that I'm shitting him out, that he has become nothing but a smear on my ass to be flushed away like he is nothing.
Nothing but something despicable and temporary and unwanted and gross. Nothing but a part of my unholy bodily excrement, smelly and vile just like him."
OH. Gwaine’s horror at the situation was immediately rectified. Now this Gwaine could understand. This was normal, to try to hurt Merlin in any way he could.
Gwaine didn’t think he had to tell Arthur that Merlin was enjoying it. He felt that Arthur already knew. But he’d let Arthur pretend. Just pretend.
That was all anyone in their situation could do. Whatever coping mechanisms Arthur needed were fine by Gwaine.
Gwaine’s eyes were wet as he hugged Arthur. As he clutched Arthur tightly against his chest and Arthur weeped into the crook of his neck.
Arthur told himself that by eating Merlin, he was demonstrating the ultimate act of dominance, albeit subtly. In consuming him, Arthur was proving that even someone as terrible and powerful as Merlin could be reduced to nothing, broken down into tiny pieces, stripped of his identity and power, just as he himself had been.
He imagined how every part of Merlin would merge with his own body, forced into submission by his digestive system.
The thought of Merlin's essence being unraveled by the relentless churn of his digestive juices and dissolved by the acid in his stomach gave Arthur a twisted sense of satisfaction. It was as if he was stripping away Merlin's very existence, digesting the Zenith's strength and magic until nothing was left but waste.
Eventually, Merlin would be expelled, quite literally becoming feces, his essence reduced to something so insignificant, so powerless, that it could be flushed away and forgotten.
Yet when Merlin was gone, he felt a horrible aching hollowness that even Gwaine could not fill. What had broken within him?
Notes:
To anyone who's stuck with this fic, many thanks to you! As always, all thoughts appreciated!!
Chapter 11: Consuming Love
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Arthur and Gwaine sat close, shoulders touching. Gwaine was grinning, “Remember when we ditched gym to play video games? Your parents almost caught us ‘cause you left the TV on.”
Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, and you nearly gave us away with your epic level of trash talk. I swear, they must have heard you all the way from the kitchen.”
Gwaine nudged Arthur with a grin. “Hey, I couldn’t help it if I’m a master gamer. Besides, it made the win even sweeter.”
Arthur laughed. “True."
Those had been the best days—just them, two secondary students going through it together, when the most pressing issue was winning the championship tourney or acing that math exam. These quiet moments together when Merlin was gone kept them grounded, reminding them they were still human, still capable of feeling more than fear and rage. For a while, the outside world disappeared. The pain, the loss—all of it faded as they found comfort in each other.
Arthur had been stalling for so long, but at last, he took a deep breath and turned to Gwaine. “So I have two things to tell you… Do you want to hear the good or bad news first?”
Gwaine gave Arthur a deadpan look. “Well, you know me. Rip the bandaid off, mate.”
With a shaky breath, Arthur finally found the strength to say it. “Gwaine… Leon and Percival… they didn’t make it.” The words felt foreign on his tongue, feeling like another blow to the chest. His vision blurred as hot tears welled up and spilled over, trailing down his cheeks unchecked. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it was useless. The grief was, after all this time, still too raw. Too real.
Gwaine's breath hitched, and his eyes turned red as he processed the words. He'd assumed as much, but having it confirmed was another thing altogether. Without hesitation, he pulled Arthur into a fierce, almost desperate embrace. No words were needed—only the shared sorrow that pressed heavily on their shoulders. Together, they wept. For Leon. For Percival. For the family members left behind. For all the others who hadn't made it.
Minutes passed, or maybe hours. Time felt irrelevant in the weight of their mourning. Finally, Arthur reached into his pocket and pulled out a small packet of regenerative tissues. He handed one to Gwaine, taking one for himself. Both men blew their noses, the mundane action grounding them, if only slightly, in the present.
After they were all cried out, Arthur told Gwaine the good--no, great, news: Lancelot was alive and he had spoken to him. Gwaine grinned ear to ear. "I knew aliens couldn't keep my boy Lance down!" he cheered, fist-pumping the air, if still hiccupping.
In these moments, they were more than captives—they were friends, brothers-in-arms. As long as they had each other, they could endure anything.
But as soon as the door clicked open, Arthur's head snapped toward the sound, his heart skipping a beat, and his cock became instantly half-hard.
Merlin. Always fucking Merlin.
Arthur was up in an instant, going to greet his master, which consisted of Arthur standing awkwardly and staring at the floor. Arthur simply enjoyed the proximity, though he'd never admit it. Merlin had a happy smile on his face, the light reaching his eyes. Arthur never dared ask about work. He didn't want to know.
“Arthur, pet, what have you and your little friend been up to all day?” Merlin asked casually, ruffling Arthur’s hair. There was no note of suspicion in his voice, only pure affection.
Arthur couldn’t help the blush that crept up, and he hated it. “Nothing, Master, just talking.”
Merlin’s eyes drifted towards Arthur’s cock, which was now completely erect, and he licked his lips as he shucked off his lab coat and hung it up. Gwaine was looking at him with pure hatred in his gaze, but Merlin continued smiling.
Merlin strode over to Gwaine, whose look of unrestrained fury went unmoved, and he punched Gwaine hard across the face, spilling blood everywhere on his white couch. Gwaine yelled out in pain, and Arthur cried out. “Gwaine!” Arthur rushed to Gwaine’s side, holding his face. It was cracked and Arthur could feel the bones of his cheekbone gone slack and shifting.
With a wave of his hand, Merlin cleaned up all the blood from his furniture and walls. He picked up Gwaine’s struggling body by the neck and hissed, “I let you out of the lab. I can just as quickly throw you back in. You will respect me.” And he threw Gwaine harshly against the wall. Gwaine landed with a loud thud and groaned.
Arthur ran in front of Gwaine when Merlin approached him. “Please, Master, no, stop, he’s my friend.” Arthur’s eyes were red-rimmed. He began to blubber, sobbing, as he gripped Merlin’s shirt, “Please, he’s my brother. Please don’t hurt him anymore.” I love him.
Merlin was breathing hard, fury emanating from him like a fiery red cloud. “Gwaine will decide his own fate from now on,” Merlin replied stonily.
Merlin left, leaving Gwaine with a shattered face, gasping on the floor. Arthur sat by his side. “Are you okay?” he whispered.
“I’ve had far worse than this,” Gwaine half-chuckled. “I’ll live.”
“What did you do?” Arthur asked.
“Merlin there is an oversensitive fella,” Gwaine huffed.
“He is. You can’t look at him funny. It’s why I prefer to look at the ground.”
“Duly noted,” Gwaine grunted.
Merlin walked past and the two fell silent. Merlin went to the kitchen, rummaging about. “Arthur, what will it be tonight?” he called out.
Arthur had gone over all the flavors with Gwaine earlier today, and now Arthur subtly motioned for Gwaine to make the choice.
"Vanilla," Gwaine whispered with a small smile. Its simple, familiar flavor felt like a much-needed reminder of the ordinary pleasures they once took for granted.
"Vanilla!" Arthur called back.
Merlin hummed a light tune as he prepared the smoothies, the cheerful sound almost mocking. Exchanging a quick glance, Arthur and Gwaine trudged into the kitchen, their footsteps heavy. At the counter, Merlin carefully poured the Sustainium into their cups. The beige liquid shone under the bright light, a stark contrast to their bleak lives within the walls of their confinement.
Arthur attempted to lift the mood, saying to Gwaine with forced enthusiasm, “This is so good, can’t wait for you to try it!”
Gwaine chuckled. “I’m sure,” as he accepted the cup from Merlin.
When they finally took their first sips, the richness and smooth taste overwhelmed their senses. Gwaine had never before tasted such delectable vanilla in his life, and he moaned obnoxiously loud in a way that had both Merlin and Arthur chuckling.
“So dramatic,” Merlin grumbled, but there was a shadow of a smile on his face. Just as in his first lifetime.
“He's not lying,” Arthur gushed. “Vanilla is amazing.”
Merlin sighed, shaking his head and muttering as he strolled to Gwaine’s side. He brought out his hand and Gwaine recoiled but Merlin was faster.
“Merlin—!” Arthur shouted, standing up.
Merlin gripped Gwaine by the back of his head as Gwaine continued his attempts to resist. Merlin moved his other hand to Gwaine’s face and there was a burst of light. Gwaine cried out.
Merlin pulled away and Gwaine’s broken cheekbone was healed.
"As I said.. dramatic," Merlin muttered, but there was a thin, nearly imperceptible, smile on his face.
A few months later….
At night, as always, Arthur retired to Merlin’s bed while Gwaine slept in the second bedroom. Arthur was always wired for touch by the time he stepped into their bedroom. Merlin had teased him relentlessly in the bath yet refused to fuck him, so as he stood by the bed, he was leaking down his legs, pupils were blown wide.
Once under the covers, a naked Merlin pulled him close, so that their leaking cocks were rubbing against each other, getting each other sticky. Arthur shivered even though he felt warm all over from the heat of his cravings. Everywhere Merlin touched, the skin was left ablaze.
Merlin's gaze was fixed on Arthur, eyes filled with a mixture of reverence and barely contained desire. With deliberate slowness, he raised his hand, letting it hover just above Arthur's chest for a moment. The air between them seemed to crackle.
Finally, Merlin allowed his long, slender finger to make contact, eliciting a gasp from Arthur. He traced a path down Arthur's chest, the touch feather-light yet electrifying. The warmth of Arthur's naked skin felt good, perfect, and Merlin could feel the steady, strong beat of Arthur's heart beneath his fingertip.
He remembered how he had pulled it out and showed Arthur while fucking him into another mind-blowing orgasm on the examination table. That had been hot.
Merlin traced Arthur's muscles slowly, memorizing each curve. His cheeks were flushed but his breathing stayed steady, his dark eyes fixed on Arthur's body. Arthur lay still, breath quickening as Merlin's fingers explored.
The air felt heavy between them, charged with unspoken feelings.
As Merlin's hand moved down his stomach, Arthur tensed, fighting the urge to press into the touch. His heart raced while Merlin's fingers continued their gentle path. Arthur watched Merlin's flushed face, wondering why he wouldn't close the distance between them. Why was he holding back?
A war raged within him. He didn’t want this. He hated Merlin. But his body screamed for more, aching for Merlin's touch to become bolder, more possessive. He parted his lips, letting a small, almost inaudible gasp escape him as Merlin's finger ghosted the skin right over his erection.
Still, Merlin didn't push further. His touch remained maddeningly gentle, exploratory but restrained. Arthur felt a surge of frustration mingled with his desire. Was Merlin purposely drawing this out—teasing him?
Arthur's nails dug into his palms, caught between want and shame. He craved more.
Merlin's finger traced his jaw and Arthur's endurance wavered. When Merlin straddled him, the blonde moaned, eyes wet with tears. “Please,” he found himself whimpering.
Merlin stilled, leaning his face in close, so close that Arthur could feel the warmth of his peppermint breath. “Please what, my Pet?” Merlin was looking at Arthur with the most wide, innocent blue eyes. So sweet, not at all like the monster he was. That Arthur knew him to be.
Merlin began dragging his cock lazily against Arthur’s belly, leaving a trail of sticky precum in its wake. Merlin leaned in, nuzzling Arthur’s neck and breathing him in.
Arthur shuddered as Merlin’s tongue traced up his neck, then, with a breathy whisper against his skin, Merlin murmured, “I love you.”
Arthur’s arms went up involuntarily as he pulled Merlin down towards him onto his chest. Merlin let him, landing with an audible thump. This is all I need. No sex necessary, Arthur thought fiercely as he hugged Merlin tightly against him.
Arthur’s eyes were wet. He just needed Merlin here in his arms, in their bed. As long as he had Merlin close, he was alright. And then he cried when he realized that. He was so messed up. He was glad Gwaine wasn’t here to witness this puke-worthy moment.
Merlin slipped from Arthur’s arms, moving slowly as he murmured a spell. Arthur's heart pounded rapidly, for he knew what was coming and also that he couldn't stop it. Before he could react, Merlin shifted and slid into him. Instantaneously, a dark heat flooded him where Merlin’s cock violated him.
Arthur bit down on a cry, a soft whimper escaping despite himself. No, no, no… he’d been doing so well, holding on to the fragments of resistance he had left. This couldn’t be happening again. “Please.. Stop..” Arthur’s voice trembled, barely audible, but Merlin just smirked.
The Zenith leaned over, his warm breath ghosting over Arthur’s skin. “We both know that’s not what you truly desire.”
The pleasure in Merlin’s silk voice sent shivers down Arthur’s spine as he fought to not give in to his bodily desires, but the pervasiveness of Merlin was seeped deep within his core. Arthur hated himself for the way his body responded, his thoughts growing hazy as Merlin’s always-magical touch took over.
Merlin fucked him slow and sensually, making sure he felt every ridge of Merlin’s penis, every curve, every contour. And god, it felt so good. So good that Arthur began to cry again, hugging Merlin’s powerful body to him and weeping. “Fuck fuck fuck.. So good.. So good Merlin…” he was mumbling. Over and over. Don’t stop…
Merlin was hitting all the right spots again. Moving his hips just so. Kissing Arthur fully on the mouth, and this time Arthur didn’t have the strength to resist, to try to bite back. He lost himself in this quiet intimate moment of their sexual act. It was more intimate than most. Arthur was moaning into it, allowing Merlin to lead, to guide them. Arthur thrust up into Merlin, desperate for more. Merlin grinned.
“I was right, wasn't I? You didn't really want me to stop,” Merlin huffed, licking his ear.
“I did,” Arthur growled. He was furious. This was all Merlin’s fault. Arthur flipped them and he was back on top of Merlin. He rode Merlin, eyes rolling back as he savored the feeling of Merlin’s large dick massaging his prostate just so.
“You like Zenith dick?” Merlin teased darkly, goading him.
“Shut up!” Arthur tore into Merlin’s flesh as he rode him furiously, chasing his own pleasure. Merlin moaned, locking his legs around Arthur’s waist.
“Yes, yes, harder Arthur,” Merlin was crying, and Arthur went harder, sobbing into Merlin’s bloodied neck.
He was weak. He knew it.
So weak.
As he swallowed another chunk of Merlin’s chest, each piece of bloodied raw meat only fueled his arousal.
More, more. He needed more.
After he came the sixth time, spilling his seed all inside Merlin, Arthur fell atop of the bloody mess that was the Zenith Emrys, his Zenith. Merlin was heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Merlin’s body was half-eaten, yet he still wouldn’t die.
Now, Arthur lay, exhausted and full, on top of his Master, who was patting his back with bloodied half-eaten hands. “Good boy,” Merlin said, smiling. “I love you.”
Arthur shuddered. That again. Arthur rolled off Merlin and scooted to the edge of the blood-soaked bed, trying to create as much distance as possible from his Master. But then he felt Merlin pull him close and wrap half-eaten arms around his waist, pulling him snugly around himself. Merlin nuzzled his ear and neck with a bloodied face, licking him. Arthur hated how his dick pricked up at this.
“You love me,” Merlin managed to proclaim sweetly, licking Arthur’s jaw with a half-chewed-off tongue.
Arthur groaned. He turned around so that they were properly facing each other. In the low light, he could see that Merlin was looking at him with his one eye, an empty socket in his other. Merlin’s hair was dark with his blood. Merlin’s lips were chewed off, as were his cheeks. His ears were gone. And Arthur thought he’d never looked more beautiful.
“Maybe,” Arthur admitted, reaching up to pull Merlin into a delicate kiss. “Maybe like this, I could love you.” The kiss was good. His tongue explored Merlin’s and he tasted the gushing of Merlin’s magical blood. Like the rest of him, it tasted like sweet iron. He sucked at the inside of Merlin’s chewed-up cheeks, eyes shut, savoring the life force that he knew blood to be. Merlin kissed eagerly back.
Merlin’s guts and intestines were strewn on the mattress as Arthur pulled him in, hugging him, relishing in Merlin’s scent once again. This time the scent of fresh bloodied meat. So good.
He pretended that Merlin was dying.
The next morning, he awoke to Merlin, snuggling sleepily in his arms, completely whole once again, with all the sheets an unadulterated white. When Merlin looked up at him, slowly opening those sweet, wide blue eyes, and mewled a tiny yawn, smiling contentedly, Arthur most definitely did not melt at how fucking cute he was.
At least I’ll have a nice time shitting Merlin out was his last thought before Merlin teased his morning wood, and they were at it again.
At breakfast, Gwaine looked like he hadn’t slept a wink. He had bags under his eyes and was simmering with a low-key scowl at Arthur.
Merlin went cheerily about the morning routine, humming some exotic tune, a pep in his step and pretending to be none the wiser to Gwaine’s irritation, despite being blasted with the glowing aura of stormy blues and grays swirling around Gwaine from the get-go. His feisty pet's aura was crackling with agitation.
Arthur, despite not being able to see auras, saw the dirty looks he was getting from his friend and he sensed that he was in trouble somehow.
The second Merlin was gone, Gwaine rounded on Arthur.
“You two were SO LOUD ALL FUCKING NIGHT!” Gwaine shouted. “I couldn’t get a wink of sleep! Someone else lives here too! Not just you and Merlin. Try for some fucking consideration next time, yeah?”
Arthur turned red as Gwaine went on his lengthy tirade. He was overwhelmed with a whirlwind of emotions and his mind raced as Gwaine continued, his cheeks burned with humiliation, but most of all, shame. Shame because he had enjoyed it, had always enjoyed it. He couldn’t meet Gwaine’s eyes. But by the time Gwaine was finished, Arthur forced a chuckle. “I ate him. Like, half of his entire body.”
All color drained from Gwaine’s livid face. “What?” he whispered.
“Yeah..” Arthur admitted sheepishly. “I’m still like, super full.”
Gwaine stared at Arthur a moment longer, then for the first time, his exhausted mind noticed Arthur’s engorged belly. Definitely no amount of Sustainium could’ve produced that. He whistled.
“WOW. You went black widow on him. That’s.. That’s.. No wonder Merlin didn’t make you finish your breakfast. So, how’d he taste?” Gwaine’s eyes were lit with eagerness to know.
Arthur’s nose wrinkled. “Disgusting. But in the moment, I loved it. The taste of his meat and organs and the sound of sinews tearing as I tore into them, and—”
“Okay, I didn’t need all those details,” Gwaine stopped him, face turning green. Then, muttering sourly, “Bet he just loved it, too, didn’t he?”
Arthur paused, his heart beating harder. “Yeah… Yeah he did. He’s twisted like that. He thinks I love him.”
Gwaine barked a laugh. “Oh gods, aliens don’t know what love is. Merlin is off his tits if he honest to the gods think you love him.”
"Yeah, he really is," laughed Arthur, his voice light, but his mind was a storm of conflicting emotions.
He could never love Merlin. He hated him. He really, truly hated him. He hated everything about Merlin. He hated his stupidly long fingers, that stupidly goofy smile, those stupidly too-large ears. He hated his too-warm hugs, the way Merlin would whisper in his ear and tell him what a good pet he was. He hated how Merlin knew exactly how to touch him, playing him like an instrument, reaching all his most erogenous zones and bringing him to a writhing, messy, sobbing state—melted on the mattress, in the tub, against the wall, and even on the cold examination table as he was being cut open. He hated how Merlin seemed to be able to manipulate his feelings, making him want Merlin despite himself.
Arthur could never love Merlin. He wouldn't. He refused to.
“Fuck Merlin,” Arthur said.
Notes:
Thanks for sticking with this story! All thoughts appreciated! :D
Chapter 12: No Key and No Escape
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Two decades went by and Arthur and Gwaine were now 40 years old. However, Arthur remained unchanged physically from his age twenty years prior.
After the bulk of his experimentation was done, Merlin prepared to move them all back to his home planet, Aethoria. Aethoria was a breathtaking planet in a distant galaxy, lit by twin suns. Merlin described its emerald forests, crystal lakes, and towering mountains that shimmered under two-star light. The entire planet was made of gleaming crystalline structures.
Gwaine had been forced to endure the two of them fucking the entire ride there. The soundproof walls of the ship were apparently no match for the passionate cries and rhythmic pounding that filled every godsdamn corridor.
To get there, they had to travel through a wormhole—a swirling vortex that warped space-time, flinging them across millions of light-years in an instant. The journey to reach the wormhole had taken three agonizingly long days as their warp drive churned through space. For Gwaine, trapped with them in a tighter space than he was used to—having to hear every gasp, moan, and thud—felt like torture.
Thankfully, he’d packed noise-canceling headphones—his only lifeline. But even at full blast, they couldn’t completely block out the constant reminder of what was going on only a few rooms away. Desperate, he locked himself in his quarters, piling whatever he could against the door as if somehow that might help.
It didn’t.
By the time they neared the wormhole, he was vibrating with frustration. Three days had felt like three years, and his patience was gone.
The actual wormhole journey was something else. It was a chaotic blur of light and color, both beautiful and terrifying. One moment, they floated; the next, they were hurled forward as time twisted around them.
They were spit out only a few thousand miles from the planet, which was half a million times the diameter of Jupiter with iridescent layers of charged particles. The entire planet was all shimmering beauty.
Cities were built from thought and energy, reshaping as needed. Structures could exist in multiple dimensions simultaneously. There was no weather, only shifting energy that painted the sky in brilliant colors.
Arthur was mesmerized as the spacecraft soared over the glowing planet. He watched the horizon, where the glowing atmosphere met the world's edge.
“Time itself is a fickle thing on my planet. In some areas, it flows like a rushing river, days passing in what feels like minutes. In others, it moves at a snail's pace, stretching moments into eternity,” Merlin said reverently.
“It’s beautiful,” Arthur breathed. He looked at Merlin, whose eyes were shining with pride and longing as he gazed out at his planet. To Arthur, the planet was almost as stunning as Merlin was when he was smiling, like he was now.
A tiny smile quirked on Merlin’s lips, and Arthur wanted to taste it again. He licked his lips and Merlin’s eyes were on him in an instant as he crushed Arthur up against the craft, licking hungrily at Arthur, who moaned into the kiss.
Arthur growled, feeling his erection dig into Merlin’s front. Gods, Merlin. Arthur’s head was swimming in a haze like it always did around the infuriating alien.
“You two are so gross,” muttered Gwaine dryly. “Now you’ve got ass sweat all over the windows.”
Arthur shoved at Merlin, who was laughing at what Gwaine had said. With a wave of his hand, Merlin cleaned the glass. “There you are, Gwaine,” he said, ruffling Gwaine’s hair.
Gwaine glared sulkily at him, resisting the urge to bat his hand away. The last time he did that a decade ago, he’d lost his hand. Arthur had to beg and grovel for an entire week to get Merlin to heal Gwaine.
“Twenty-five years since I've stepped foot on this planet,” Merlin mused as the spacecraft landed.
“You've spent more of your life on earth,” Arthur realized.
“Merlin is practically an Earthling,” Gwaine jabbed. Finally home, Merlin couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed at this.
They materialized on a crystalline platform, the air shimmering with light. Arthur stumbled, eyes wide at Aethoria’s floating, glowing islands—more breathtaking than he'd imagined despite all of Merlin's kaleidoscopic descriptions. Words simply couldn't describe its beauty.
“Welcome to my home planet,” Merlin said, his voice carrying an otherworldly resonance. “Now your new home as well. I hope you both can learn to appreciate this planet as I do.”
He gestured to a shifting structure, its walls flickering between transparent and solid.
Gwaine whistled. “Bloody hell, Merlin. And I thought our quarters in Camelot City were fancy.”
As they neared the dwelling, a strange tingle ran through Arthur. He shot Merlin a wary glance, but Merlin just smiled, placing a steadying hand on his back as he guided him inside.
The interior defied logic. Rooms shifted, corridors twisted endlessly. Arthur, curious, touched a wall—it rippled like water. "It's... alive?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Merlin nodded, moving closer to Arthur. "In a way. It's an extension of my thoughts. This planet is built on thoughts."
Gwaine, meanwhile, had discovered a floating orb that changed color at his touch. "Oi, Merlin! Is this your idea of a fancy goblet? I could get used to this."
Merlin chuckled, but he didn't look away from Arthur. His hand slid from Arthur's back to his waist as he pulled him closer. Arthur tensed but didn't resist.
"Arthur," Merlin whispered, "you're safe. With me."
Arthur turned to face him, their faces inches apart. His eyes held a guarded sort of longing. “This is… it’s a lot, Merlin. You're a lot."
Sensing the moment, Gwaine cleared his throat. "Right, I'll just head this way. Try not to break reality while I'm gone." He wandered off, marveling at new sights.
Now alone, Merlin gently cupped Arthur's face. "I know it's overwhelming, but I want to share more of my life with you.. I want to share everything. My world, my power, my love. I love you."
Arthur couldn’t help leaning into the touch, just a little bit. Even so, he knew deep down that Merlin didn’t truly love him—not in this lifetime, the only time that still mattered. Merlin was a scientist first and foremost, and Arthur had always been nothing more than one of his test subjects, a specimen to be prodded, experimented on, and ultimately discarded.
For the past 26 years, Merlin had dedicated his life to tormenting Aredian. Arthur knew he had perfected his craft, coming up with twisted, inventive methods to push Aredian to his limits, breaking him down piece by piece. And Merlin had relished every second of it.
No matter how gentle Merlin was now, Arthur couldn’t forget the cruelty he had endured. The same alien sweetly stroking his cheek had once probed his guts with detached scientific curiosity, inventing fresh ways to break him. Merlin had never hidden his disdain for humans. To him, they were lesser beings—stupid, weak, and utterly beneath him.
It hadn’t just been a job—it was his passion, his art. Humanity was a canvas for his darkest impulses and the satisfaction it brought him was undeniable. Merlin had been so proud of his accomplishments, always eager to showcase the results of his latest sadistic experiment to Arthur while Arthur had still been his test subject. And Arthur had been his favorite project.
Arthur could still remember the gleam in Merlin’s eyes, that dark, almost manic pride he took in his work. Every scream, every plea was music to Merlin’s ears. He never held any sympathy for his subjects, this Arthur knew. That maniac assumed they all wanted to contribute deep down. There was no fixing psychopathic madmen.
Seeing Merlin’s gentle expression and kind words, Arthur felt a bitter irony. How could he trust warmth from someone who once enjoyed his suffering? The kindness in Merlin’s eyes was just a mask, and Arthur knew better—this was just another game, another test to see how quickly he could be fooled into letting his guard down.
No matter how much time had passed or how different Merlin seemed now, Arthur would never forget the truth. This was a creature who had spent decades perfecting the art of human suffering. Any affection Merlin claimed to have was tainted by the blood on his hands, by the screams that still echoed in Arthur’s nightmares.
Merlin, being supposedly immortal, was of course playing the long game, trying to break him emotionally piece by piece. What else would an evil immortal being do to pass the time? Well, Arthur would have none of it. So Merlin could take his fake love and shove it.
"Okay," Arthur sighed, a mix of resignation and, despite knowing better, his unmistakable and insatiable desire. It burned in him like a forest fire gone awry.
Or more like one of those underground coal fires he’d heard about that burned for thousands of years and the people just had to… live with it. No one tried to put it out because it was relentless and too wild and overwhelming for anyone to even try. That was how he felt about Merlin. Fucking Emrys was his underground coal fire.
As their lips met, the room glowed, as if Aethoria itself rejoiced in the Zenith King's homecoming and union.
Arthur stood before the mirror, Gwaine beside him, laughing at an old memory. As the laughter faded, Arthur’s gaze lingered on their reflections.
His own face was unchanged—smooth, youthful, still the face of an athletic and built 25-year-old. But Gwaine looked different—wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, gray streaks in his hair, and a newfound heaviness in his features. Gwaine looked like he could be his father despite Arthur being the older of the two.
A cold, horrifying realization crept over Arthur. How had it taken him so long to realize? Perhaps because aging was so gradual and they were together all the time, but now, he could see that Gwaine had been aging, and he… hadn’t. He turned to Gwaine, who was still chuckling, unaware of his turmoil.
How had he not seen it before? The realization hit like a gut punch—this was that bastard Merlin’s doing. Heart pounding, Arthur stormed down the hall, finding Merlin reading in his study, completely oblivious.
Barely holding back his fury, he demanded, “What the fuck have you done to me?” His voice was trembling with dread at what this could mean. “Why am I not aging like Gwaine? What the fuck, Merlin?”
Merlin looked up, calm as if he’d expected this. “Arthur, you’re special,” he said gently, standing. “I made you a promise, remember? You won’t die until you love me. I can’t have you aging on me.”
Arthur recoiled, horror twisting his features. “So you’ve cursed me to stay like this? To watch Gwaine and Lancelot grow old and die while I’m stuck like this forever?”
Merlin’s eyes softened, as if he truly believed he had done Arthur a favor. “You won’t be alone, Arthur. Not once you love me. Then, we’ll be together—forever.”
Arthur’s blood ran cold as he realized the full extent of what Merlin had done. He hadn’t just kept Arthur young—he’d trapped him in a timeless prison, with love as the only key to his release. Only that in this case, the key was a figment of his captor’s imagination.
There was no key.
There would be no escape.
“But.. I’ll never love you,” Arthur whispered in dismay. “You’re crazy! A madman!”
He was staring blankly at Merlin, eyes unseeing, filled only with dismay and the horror of his situation. “I don’t want to live with you after Gwaine is gone. I want to grow old and die along with Gwaine. Along with my people. Living forever—it’s not natural!”
"You say that now, Arthur," Merlin said with unsettling conviction, "but time will change you. One day, you’ll understand. One day, you’ll love me."
Arthur backed away, horrified at the thought of eternal imprisonment with Merlin. His heart raced as he realized there was no deliverance from this unwanted fate.
He then suddenly realized he was hard again. Godsdammit. Why?
HE WASN’T AROUSED! There was nothing arousing about this situation!
"I won’t let you do this to me," Arthur hissed, already retreating. "I’ll find a way to break this curse and live life on my own terms."
Merlin watched him go, smiling sadly. "You can try, Arthur, but time is on my side. Eventually, you’ll see that I’m the only one who can give you what you truly need."
Arthur fled, Merlin’s words haunting him. He didn't need to be reminded that he was now eternally trapped with the one being he hated most.
That evening, Merlin returned home, yawning sleepily. Arthur, fuming all day, continued talking to Gwaine and ignored him. Merlin reclined on the floating cloud. “Arthur, Pet, where are you?” Merlin called out sweetly, beckoning him.
Arthur’s heart raced, but to Gwaine's surprise, he ignored Merlin and kept talking. Not to be shunned, within just moments, Merlin was behind him, glowering.
“Arthur!” he snapped, eyes burning molten steel. He grabbed Arthur by his arm and dragged him from Gwaine.
“Let me go!” Arthur shouted, trying to yank his arm back. This here was proof that Merlin didn't truly love him. So quick to resort to manhandling when the big alien baby didn't receive instant gratification.
Once in the bedroom, Merlin yanked Arthur to his chest and leered down at him with wanton desire. “Don’t you understand by now, Arthur? Never. I will never let you go,” he huffed at Arthur’s lips. And then Merlin pressed their lips together as Arthur snarled and bit at Merlin’s, shaking his head as if he were trying valiantly to shake off Merlin, forever.
“Fuck off!” Arthur spat.
“You don’t mean that,” Merlin murmured lowly, pulling Arthur in closer. Arthur’s traitorous cock twitched at the proximity.
Merlin slowly undid his buttons, slipping off his coat and shirt. He unbuckled his belt, letting his trousers fall, his movements unhurried and deliberate. By the time the alien was naked, Arthur was fully hard, his cock at full mast.
Merlin got on the bed. “Fuck me, Arthur.”
At the sudden eager frenzied light in Arthur’s eyes, Merlin said, “Gently. Or Gwaine gets hurt.”
Arthur saw red. Now Merlin was threatening Gwaine? How dare he? Growling, Arthur gingerly stepped over to Merlin. “Soft kisses, too,” Merlin said with a sigh. He looked tired and exhausted.
Boo-hoo, torturing others must be so tiresome. He can fuck right off. There was something almost like sadness in Merlin’s eyes, but Arthur ignored it.
Merlin lay back, watching him with a serene expression. Arthur noticed Merlin’s erect penis was leaking too. He wondered how it would taste when he wasn’t trying to chew it off. Arthur glided a wet tongue over his lips and crawled up Merlin’s long slender legs.
He just had to see how it would taste, just a little bit. He hadn’t tasted Merlin there for a full week now. Mouth watering, Arthur bent his head and lapped at the tip. Merlin groaned, eyes hooded. “Yes, Arthur, gods yes.”
Arthur kept lapping at it. More precum kept coming. He began suckling at the head, swirling it with the tip of his tongue. Merlin was thrusting up. Arthur knew Merlin wanted him to take his whole cock in his mouth, but he was in control here. He moved along, leaving Merlin gasping and disappointed.
He got to Merlin’s nipples and began to suck, with his aching penis wedged in between their bodies. Merlin let out a tiny whine of pleasure. Arthur kept sucking until both nipples were hard and puffy.
Then he moved onto Merlin’s pretty mouth. It was bright pink and baby-soft. Merlin moaned into the kiss, as did Arthur. Arthur was consumed by Merlin—his scent, his touch, his everything. He gripped Merlin’s head, tilting him for a better angle, and Merlin groaned, thrusting up against him.
Merlin looked at Arthur, eyes glassy. With a shuddering breath, Merlin bent his legs back, offering himself to Arthur in a way that had become sickeningly familiar, and yet still addictively necessary. “Fuck me, Arthur, please.”
Arthur knew that feeling—a desperate, consuming need to be inside Merlin, to lose himself in their twisted connection. The raw, primal urge gnawed at him, the only relief being the warm, tight embrace of Merlin’s body, but first, Arthur bent his head to taste Merlin's hole, loving the taste of honey with a bit of Merlin’s musk. Merlin moaned and writhed, egging him on.
Arthur licked and sucked hungrily, his own cock dribbling and angry at him for taking this detour, but he couldn't help it. Merlin’s ass was something else.
When he was done, Arthur didn’t hesitate. He pushed deep into Merlin’s warmth, a guttural moan escaping as he was consumed by the sensation.
Every inch of Merlin felt like a drug—the alien he was bound to, the one who had broken and rebuilt him.
The alien who looked like a walking wet dream.
Who never aged, forever frozen in time in his sinful beauty, dooming Arthur to forever be lusting after him, never getting enough, despite being force-fed everything.
Each thrust was laced with need, resentment, and an agonizing dependency Arthur couldn’t shake. It was twisted and wrong, yet nothing else in the universe made sense anymore.
The more he pounded into Merlin, the more he craved that feeling—the friction, the heat, the sick satisfaction of controlling and being controlled by the very being who had wrecked him. Arthur’s mind blurred as he sank deeper into that familiar rhythm, each moan from Merlin feeding the dark hunger gnawing at him. He hated how much he needed this, how he could never get enough of Merlin's tight grip around his cock or the way Merlin’s own dick would twitch in response, betraying a shared addiction.
Arthur instinctively wanted to tear into Merlin’s soft flesh with his teeth, but for Gwaine's sake, he settled for giving Merlin soft hickeys as he thrust deep inside him. Merlin let out soft little mewls and other noises of pure bliss. Arthur knew Merlin’s eyes were rolled to the back of his head. He knew the exact expressions Merlin was making—and hated the warmth it stirred within him.
He kissed Merlin hungrily, and Merlin matched him, sucking on his neck and pulling him closer with his legs and delicate hands. Arthur hated that some small part of him thought this was nice. To finally fuck normally, and not fuck like he was trying to murder someone, which he usually was.
It could be nice.. or at least not terrible. He could get used to this. Probably.
As Arthur kept kissing Merlin, the urgency faded. They kissed tenderly, each kiss lingering. Arthur surrendered to Merlin's warm lips and their bodies pressed together. Merlin's scent—sweet with darker notes—overwhelmed Arthur's senses.
Arthur made a soft sound as Merlin deepened the kiss, sending pleasant shivers through him. Unlike the chaotic heat he knew before, this was a gentle, all-encompassing warmth. He held Merlin closer, wanting to preserve the feeling.
"I want us like this," Arthur confessed brokenly, his voice unsteady. “Just us, no deceit or wrath. Just… this.”
Merlin’s eyes softened, the usual darkness flickering into something almost tender. “Always, Arthur. Don’t fight it,” Merlin murmured softly, voice low and coaxing. “Just let go, Arthur.”
Arthur whimpered as Merlin shifted beneath him, a jolt of pleasure racing through his body. He clung to Merlin, eyes squeezed shut. “Merlin,” he gasped, voice cracking. Merlin was the devil, dragging him into temptation. “I can’t. I hate.. hate how you make me feel,” he breathed between kisses, frustration and need tangled in his voice.
Merlin smirked against his lips. "I know," he murmured. “But you’re mine, Arthur. You always have been,” he whispered in Arthur's ear with golden eyes gleaming with smug satisfaction.
Arthur shuddered at Merlin's possessiveness. "Shut up," he said before deepening their kiss.
Merlin touched Arthur's back. "You want this as much as I do."
"You're infuriating," Arthur replied breathlessly, nibbling Merlin's bottom lip before kissing him again more slowly, traitorous body craving even more closeness.
Merlin pulled his face back, leaning in and entwining their fingers, "It'll be okay. I promise.”
They melted back into the kiss, lost in each other as the world faded away. Arthur moved slowly, kissing Merlin sweetly, his rhythm unhurried. Every deep thrust sent a slow-burning heat through him, building like liquid fire. His breathing stopped momentarily, every touch making him tingle.
He kissed Merlin's jaw softly while pulling him closer. He made a small sound as he pressed Merlin against himself, wanting more contact with no space between them. Like if he held on tight enough, they could become one and never be apart again.
Arthur buried his cock to the hilt inside Merlin, but that wasn’t close enough. He kissed Merlin’s lips, chest, shoulders—he needed him.
This time, when Arthur climaxed, it felt different.
Instead of raw desperation, a softer yet more intense feeling enveloped him like warm electricity. The pleasure transcended the physical, tightening his chest and stealing his breath. When Merlin pulled him closer, Arthur experienced not a sharp release but a trembling warmth that lingered like a sweet hum as he emptied himself into the Zenith.
Arthur held onto Merlin for stability, his blurred vision and pounding heart revealing something gentle he couldn't identify.
Afterward, he collapsed breathlessly against Merlin, aftershocks flew around him like drifting clouds. A terrifying yet addictive contentment settled in his chest. For the first time, the experience wasn't merely physical—it awoke new, tender feelings within him that left him feeling vulnerable, and yet.. wanting more.
Merlin, blissed out, pulled him close and kissed him tenderly. “See, my sweet? Now wasn’t that better?”
Arthur was still gasping for breath and hated how Merlin's sad eyes made his heart ache even though he didn’t want to be affected by Merlin’s troubles. Merlin kissed his forehead gently.
"I have a dangerous mission tomorrow and don't know when I'll return. I'm leaving you and Gwaine with my friend Edwin. He will take good care of you both.”
Arthur stared, shocked. "You're leaving?" he asked accusingly, unable to hide his dismay. The thought of Merlin abandoning him triggered a sudden influx of fear.
Merlin smiled tightly, pulling Arthur close and rubbing circles into his back. "You'll be okay, my sweet primate," he said. "You won't even notice I'm gone." He kissed Arthur's head gently.
Arthur grunted, panic rising. He feared being forgotten, yet part of him hoped Merlin would never return. Maybe, just maybe, this mission would be the one that finally did him in, freeing Arthur from this twisted bond.
Notes:
All thoughts appreciated, thanks so much for sticking with this story! 💕
Chapter 13: The Indomitable Spirit
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The next morning, after another round of morning sex even sweeter and more tender than the night before, with Merlin slowly moving in Arthur and savoring his little primate—lying atop Arthur, kissing him and memorizing every soft sound he made—Merlin finally said his goodbyes to both Arthur and Gwaine.
It was clear Arthur was unhappy with the situation. He clung to Merlin a little longer than usual, his hands reluctant to let go, even though his mind screamed for freedom. Meanwhile, Gwaine, having just been informed of his captor's impending leave, could not stop grinning. He watched Merlin leave with barely concealed glee, clearly eager for his captor’s departure.
Arthur shot him a glance, half-resentful, half-envious. How could Gwaine be so nonchalant about this when all Arthur felt was a chaotic swirl of fear? A small, bitter hope lingered that Merlin might not return. Yet deep down, an aching pull remained—a longing to follow him anywhere.
With Merlin gone, their new caretaker, Edwin, made his presence known quickly. The alien, like all Zenith, was tall and imposing, his demeanor far colder than Merlin's ever had been. He reminded Arthur of Merlin’s father, Balinor. The first time Edwin stepped into the room, his eyes flicked over Arthur and Gwaine with a blend of disdain and indifference, as though they were nothing more than annoying pet fish.
“I know you’re pets and not experiments,” he said flatly, voice devoid of emotion. “But don’t expect any special treatment from me. Homo sapiens have always been a nuisance. You know where your Sustainium is. Feed yourselves only twice a day. Any more than that and the cabinet will lock you out. When you run out, the cabinet will alert me and I will order more.”
Edwin’s routine was as mechanical as the rest of him. After they went through all the different flavors, Edwin went ahead and ordered only the default flavors of Sustainium that most other humans were fed in the lab.
“Merlin usually orders us all the different varieties,” Gwaine had said, looking disapprovingly at the newly delivered boxes all marked “Original.”
This earned Gwaine a sharp punch across the face from an irritated Edwin. “The disrespect he lets you both get away with. How dare you lowly Homo sapien refer to him by his given name.” Edwin continued to mutter.
“Spoiled rotten. Should’ve expected no less from Emrys,” Edwin grumbled, although he quickly healed Gwaine. Emrys hadn’t hired him to break his pets, after all.
Arthur missed Merlin’s presence, as much as he hated to admit it. Gwaine preferred Edwin. “At least he’s only here as the delivery man. Refreshing, I call it,” Gwaine had smirked, lying back without a care in the world on the floating cloud, his head resting back on his folded arms. Gwaine looked as carefree as Arthur had ever remembered him looking.
“Yeah,” muttered Arthur. Yet, he found himself missing Merlin far more than he cared to admit. When Arthur lay in bed curled up next to Gwaine, he sometimes closed his eyes and the image of Merlin being there instead made his heart flutter. He was fucked up in the head.
As the months stretched into years, Arthur felt more empty and annoyingly concerned with each passing day. Every day seemed to be gray. Gray and drab.
Gwaine kept things entertaining and they both jumped into the Fun Box and passed the time away like that. But Arthur was always wanting something… more.
“Maybe Merlin is dead,” Gwaine said excitedly, after the third year of no Merlin.
“Maybe,” Arthur said.
After the fourth year, “Hopefully he never comes back!”
“Yeah, hopefully.”
By the fifth year, “He’s for sure a goner now.”
“Why do you hate him so much?”
Gwaine looked at him like he had grown a second head. “Why don’t you?” he exclaimed.
Arthur shrugged. “He treated us okay.”
“Speak for yourself. He hated me!”
“He didn’t hate you,” Arthur rolled his eyes. “He just.. didn’t like to be disrespected.”
Gwaine’s eyes were huge. “You miss him!” he accused. “It's been five years and you STILL miss him!”
Arthur couldn’t stop the flush blooming across his cheeks. “No, I do not! I hope he IS dead!”
And really, if he thought of Merlin every day, it was only to hope that the alien was dead. He ignored the odd ache and longing in his chest whenever he thought of him.
Just then, the lock on the door clicked. Stepping through the doorway was not the mousy-brown hair of Edwin, but the shaggy black locks of one so familiar.
“Merlin!” Arthur choked. Gwaine nearly fell back in his seat in shock. Arthur was up in an instant. “You’re alive!”
Arthur tripped over himself to get to the door in his haste to get to Merlin, to get to his Master. His eyes were wide. The moment Merlin entered, his heart stuttered, and the world faded.
He could scarcely breathe, heart thundering as he took in the sight of Merlin standing before him, the same radiant being he’d come to know and loathe—and yet, something about Merlin’s presence always seemed to string him apart in every possible way, until his very soul was fragmented into the ethers of space.
Merlin's sparkling blue eyes held a depth of emotion Arthur hadn't seen in ages. His brain supplied that it had been ages. Merlin’s eyes held so much love it made Arthur’s chest ache. How had he ever let him go?
Merlin pulled Arthur into a tight hug. "My darling, I've missed you so," he whispered, crying.
Arthur melted against him, breathing in Merlin's haunting scent. The warmth and steady breathing meant everything.
Merlin pulled back only to kiss him deeply. Arthur held his face, his fears vanishing as he touched Merlin's warm skin and felt his lips. Nothing else mattered—Merlin was here, alive.
"...so long," Arthur was babbling. "Why were you gone so long?"
Merlin smiled softly. "I had to go to another world, Arthur. One with aliens more advanced than your kind. I was conquering them, bending them to my will," he said casually, his eyes revealing how much he'd enjoyed it.
Arthur's breath caught. Merlin speaking so nonchalantly about conquering an entire race was terrifying and indeed the power radiating from his Master was undeniable. But as Merlin's fingers gently touched his cheek, Arthur felt only relief that Merlin had returned safely.
Don’t miss him my ass, thought Gwaine sourly as he watched the reunion. Gwaine could puke at the sappiness. He slipped quietly out of the room, wondering briefly what it would be like for him to fall in love with an alien. Then he blocked that disturbing notion out.
. . . . .
Merlin was annoyed when he opened the cabinets and found only default ‘Original’ flavors of Sustainium. Edwin had ordered them the same default meal for nearly five years. “I’ll know for next time to find a better sitter. I paid good money, and for what, amirite?” he said lightly to Arthur, who was dogging his heels again. Arthur was standing so close they were practically touching. Merlin was overwhelmingly magnetic and pulled Arthur along with his bright energy.
Merlin swiftly ordered a new batch of each variety, his fingers gliding over the Zenith tech’s holographic controls. The glowing interface shimmered against the crystalline walls, while the room pulsed with the planet’s energy, where reality bent to thought.
He glanced out of the translucent walls of the center, which overlooked the alien landscape of the planet. This very planet was a marvel of Zenith creation, a place where the laws of physics bowed to the collective will of its inhabitants.
“It's good to be back,” Merlin sighed, pulling Arthur in close.
The fresh batch Merlin ordered would be ready soon.
That evening, Merlin sat with Arthur’s head in his lap as Arthur drank his Sustainium from a sippy cup. Merlin threaded his fingers through Arthur’s soft, silky hair and grinned down at him. Arthur was looking up at him with stars in his eyes. Arthur had tried blinking them away, but the star-struck look lingered. He couldn’t help it. He’d really missed Merlin so much. But only because Edwin was such a fucking sniveling creep.
Merlin touched their noses. “I thought of you every single day, Arthur.”
And gods help him, Arthur believed him. Arthur blushed and broke eye contact, taking another long sip of his rich, velvety Cinnamon Swirl drink. He shivered.
“I love you,” Merlin crooned, holding Arthur closer and kissing his head.
“And I still hate you,” Arthur muttered. Then he sat bolt upright. Shit, did I just say that aloud? But Merlin was only looking at him, slightly amused.
“Indomitable spirit indeed,” Merlin said, chuckling. “It just makes me love you more.” Then Merlin paused, thinking. "After all these years, Arthur, why do you still hate me?"
Arthur gaped at him. "Are you serious?" His voice shook with fury. “Do you expect me to just forgive and forget? Forget how you cut me up, set me on fire, stuck pins in my eyes, cut off every single appendage one at a time, skinned me alive…” His voice broke, the agony of those memories crashing over him.
Fucking me during and forcing relentless orgasms from me every time… As you showed me my kidney, I was climaxing onto your fucking stomach, you sick bastard. I hate you so goddamn much. Choking on my own blood as you rode me to another orgasm. You have no idea how much I fucking hate you.
"I will never forgive you." His voice broke as tears streamed down his face. Years of pain crashed over him, his body shaking with sobs, each breath ragged and painful.
For once, Merlin had nothing to say. He shushed Arthur softly, wrapping strong arms around him, rocking Arthur gently as if he could somehow soothe the storm raging inside. “Arthur, if I could, I would take it all back,” Merlin murmured regretfully. “I would have had my father take you as an infant instead, raise us together. And I would have loved you.”
Arthur tensed in Merlin’s arms, the words slicing through him. “That doesn’t help,” he said, manic laughter suddenly breaking through—sharp, hollow, almost unhinged. The sheer absurdity of it all hit him like a blow. What even was Merlin? Who the fuck did he think he was, to imagine he had the right to just pluck a baby from their mother’s arms and play god?
His laughter turned maniacal, tears of a different kind mingling with the hysterics. Arthur shook with the force of his emotions, barely able to contain the torrent within. As the high faded, Arthur slumped, exhausted and trembling, anger seeping into his bones.
Merlin watched him, unreadable, but his eyes brimmed with pain. “And you would have loved me,” he whispered.
Arthur’s glare was ice. “No, Merlin," he spat. “You’re mad. I would not have loved you, because I can’t love you. I will always hate you. My soul will always hate you.”
A dark, malevolent aura began to emanate from Arthur, visible only to the Zenith, black as night and thick with pure, unadulterated hatred. It blasted at Merlin, who choked on the heaviness of it, his lungs burning as if filled with smoke.
Merlin’s eyes were red, his usual composure shattered. Something inside him broke. “But why?” he whispered, desperate.
Arthur’s fists clenched. “Does there have to be a damn reason?” he snapped, voice sharp, tears spilling over. Then, barely above a whisper, “If I didn’t hate you, I’d love you.”
The words lingered between them, a truth Arthur couldn’t outrun. As Arthur turned and hurried away, his face felt hot as can be. He didn't know why he’d just said that. He’d never thought that before. It just came out.
Merlin crumpled to the floor, weeping. It was all his fault. Every tear Arthur shed, every scar on his psyche and soul, was a direct result of Merlin’s actions. But he had a moral obligation to do it. He was a scientist, after all. And Arthur was a Homo sapien. Of course he wouldn't understand the full scope of what was needed. He may never understand. That was to be expected.
Arthur stumbled into Gwaine’s room, his vision blurred by tears. Gwaine immediately sat up, alarmed by the state Arthur was in. “What did he do?” Gwaine growled, ready to fight, even knowing he stood no chance against Merlin.
Arthur just shook his head. He couldn’t say it—didn’t want to. He just needed space, time away from Merlin’s suffocating presence. Yet he hated himself for knowing that, soon enough, he’d be right back to following Merlin around like a lost puppy. What the hell did Merlin do to him?
Arthur sat on the bed and cried quietly into his hands, humiliated at breaking down in front of his best friend, but Gwaine only rubbed circles into his back and remained silently supportive until Arthur's tears subsided, though he continued trembling.
“Arthur,” Gwaine finally whispered, “what did Merlin do?”
Arthur swallowed, his voice raw. “It’s not just this time. It’s everything. I can’t escape it, Gwaine. I can’t even hate him properly because… because…” He trailed off, lost in the mess of emotions.
Gwaine’s frown deepened. “Because what?”
“Because if I didn’t absolutely hate him,” Arthur continued, voice breaking, “I’d c-care for him. And that scares me more than anything he’s ever done.”
Gwaine’s eyes widened. Only now did Gwaine see the truth—Arthur hadn't yet admitted to himself the love he so obviously felt for their captor.
"Arthur," Gwaine said carefully, "you don't have to face this alone. We'll work through it together. Give yourself time. After what you've endured, it's fine not to have everything figured out."
Arthur nodded, his gaze distant, like a man lost in an emotional maze with no exit in sight. He wanted to believe Gwaine's words, but the darkness inside him was too vast, too suffocating. All he craved now was sleep—perhaps for a few millennia.
. . . . .
Merlin, now collapsed on the crystalline floor, forced himself to stand. He couldn’t stay like this, paralyzed by sadness and regret. He needed to do something, anything, to fix what he’d broken so long ago. But where to start?
He only wished his father really had abducted Arthur as a baby, or toddler, perhaps. But he tried not to think about these what-ifs. He knew he had the power to turn back the clock and make sure it happened. Maybe he would, one day. If he ever got desperate enough.
Erasing Arthur’s mind and restarting their relationship from scratch crossed his thoughts, but that made Merlin uneasy, since obliviating Arthur of all their sweetest memories didn’t sit right with him either. No, he would just have to keep trying harder. Arthur would love him one day—maybe in a thousand years when the memories had faded like myths in his very Homo sapien mind.
Merlin knew Homo sapiens did not possess the best memories. Their recollections were malleable, prone to suggestion and change. They even had a phenomenon known as ‘false memories,’ where external influences could alter their perceptions, distorting their sense of reality.
Yes, one day, Arthur would no longer be able to recall exactly what had happened to him. The pain of those necessary experiments would blur, the vividness dimming over time.
Merlin clung to that hope, believing that with time, Arthur’s anger and hatred would fade, leaving space for something new to grow. For now, he would just have to keep trying to prove to Arthur how much he loved him.
Arthur fell asleep hugging Gwaine’s pillow, dried tear streaks on his face when Merlin entered Gwaine’s bedroom and quietly brought his male primate back to bed with him. A scorching red aura of fury wafted at him from Gwaine. It burned him just a bit hotter than usual, but even that was normal, so he almost didn’t notice it.
Merlin tucked Arthur in next to him and smiled when Arthur shifted and clung onto him instead, mistaking him for the pillow he’d just had. Arthur would likely be upset to awake in Merlin’s bed come morning, but Merlin should never have allowed him to fall asleep at Gwaine’s in the first place, so it was fine. He was just taking what was his, and he'd never allowed Arthur to spend the night elsewhere. Arthur should have remembered that. A simple spat didn't change their routine.
He kissed Arthur's lips, amazed by this beautiful man. Arthur's lips were slightly parted in sleep, his eyelids moving. He was dreaming. Merlin closed his eyes and entered Arthur's dream.
He found himself on a sunny beach with warm sand and gentle waves. The air smelled of salt and seagulls called in the distance. Merlin's heart tightened when he saw Arthur smiling, holding chocolate ice cream in a waffle cone, laughing with joy Merlin had never seen before. Arthur looked fit like in real life, but better in the dream—his face smoother, without the marks of suffering.
This Arthur took Merlin’s breath away. Arthur’s hair was tousled by the sea breeze, shining eyes crinkling at the corners as he watched Dream Merlin struggle with his own rapidly melting strawberry ice cream. “You’re making a mess,” Arthur teased playfully, voice light.
Dream Merlin grinned, struggling to catch the melting ice cream before it dripped onto his fingers. “Not my fault they gave me four scoops!” he laughed, licking at the cone—only to get pink ice cream on his nose.
Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re hopeless, Merlin.” He reached out and wiped the ice cream from Merlin’s nose with his thumb, then playfully dabbed it on Merlin’s cheek. “There you are, now you’re a right proper mess.”
Dream Merlin tried to look offended but ended up laughing instead. In this dream, Arthur’s pain was gone, leaving only happiness. The sun cast everything in gold as they walked the beach, sharing ice cream and arguing over flavors—Arthur swore chocolate was best, while Merlin defended strawberry.
The debate ended when Arthur, eyes gleaming with mischief, kissed Merlin’s sticky lips. It was soft, sweet.
When they pulled away, Arthur grinned like a fool. “See? Chocolate is clearly better,” he declared, as if the kiss had proven his point.
Dream Merlin blushed but smiled. "Highly illogical there, no correlation between kissing and flavor superiority," he teased. "If anything, this experiment proves that strawberry is just as enjoyable—possibly more."
Arthur huffed. "Biased scientist."
Merlin smirked. "Hopeless romantic."
Arthur stole another kiss. "Chocolate still wins."
Merlin laughed, shaking his head. "Debatable. More data is required."
As they walked with hands occasionally touching, Arthur stopped and faced him seriously. "I love you, Merlin. More than anything. I think I'll always love you."
The real Merlin, observing the dream, felt his breath catch. Here was Arthur's love—pure and unafraid—a painful reminder of what could have been.
Dream Merlin didn't hesitate. He cupped Arthur's face and kissed him deeply. Their surroundings brightened—sunlight shining upon them, waves singing softly nearby. No pain existed here, only joy.
As they separated, Arthur rested his forehead against Merlin's. "I love you too," Merlin whispered, voice full of emotion.
Arthur smiled warmly, breaking the real Merlin's heart. They embraced as the sunset painted the sky pink and gold. Everything was perfect.
Yet Merlin knew that once Arthur woke, this joy would vanish beneath pain and resentment. The thought filled him with unbearable sorrow.
Still, for this moment in the dream, they were happy together—as they'd been in many lifetimes before. Merlin held onto that, savoring every second, even as he felt the dream begin to fade, slipping through his fingers like sand.
When Arthur began stirring, he was still awash in his happy feelings from his dream. He tugged the warm body next to him closer, and the scent stirred his cock. Gods, it was fucking Merlin again. The only person in the world his cock reacted to like that by scent.
But he couldn’t find it in himself to let go. He was too emotionally exhausted for this.
So instead he snuggled in closer, wishing more than anything to slip back into his dream. He didn’t want to start the day just yet. So he pulled the covers over himself and slept.
Notes:
Awee ;'( No one wins here.
Chapter 14: All We Have Left
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Arthur was groaning and moaning. Merlin was assaulting him with his tongue, kissing him everywhere and thrusting deep inside him. Arthur had tears in his eyes. It wasn’t fair, how bloody good Merlin felt. Every touch electric. It wasn’t fair how his mere presence could reduce Arthur to jelly, even after all these years.
Arthur wanted to hate him, he really truly did.
And he did hate him.
He hated how Merlin had let Gwaine age and pass away 2 years ago. Gwaine had lived to the ripe age of one hundred, with no illnesses to speak of. He’d been healthy, his body showing no signs of slowing down.
Then, on his 100th birthday, his body suddenly gave out, as if someone had abruptly pulled out all his batteries.
All Homo sapiens’ bodies did this upon reaching that age on this new Zenith planet. Just, neither Gwaine nor Arthur had been made aware of that fact.
He passed with a smile on his face, telling Arthur, "Don’t mourn me, my dear brother. I’ve had a good run, and I wouldn’t trade a moment of it." His eyes sparkled with remnants of his old mischief, even in those final moments. "You’ll be alright, Arthur. You always are."
Arthur had been inconsolable. That month of Gwaine’s death, Merlin didn’t dare touch him, too afraid to break him further.
Arthur hated Merlin for that. For allowing the closest thing he had to a brother fade and slip away. He hated how Merlin was now his only company again. He hated even more how he didn’t mind Merlin’s company as much anymore.
After 88 years of being around the wicked alien, Merlin was becoming tolerable. And he hated that. Arthur was terrified of Merlin’s prediction coming true. He refused to love Merlin, the being who had taken away everything from him.
Everyone he knew had passed on. Now it was just him and Merlin.
Merlin still took his frequent trips to “divide and conquer.” Emrys, as he was called, was the Commander-in-Chief of all the Zenith and all the many planets he’d conquered thus far. His trips were becoming shorter each time, evidence of his growing power.
He always came back with a quiet, satisfied look in his cold eyes, like he knew some deep, dark secrets. His small, almost hidden smiles sent chills down Arthur’s spine—a quiet reminder that whatever Merlin had been doing was far from innocent. That calm, controlled smile felt like proof of the twisted things he enjoyed, things Arthur didn’t even want to imagine.
He did not want to know what Merlin had done in war. He never asked. To his great shame, he found that he didn’t care what Merlin had done. No matter how dark the deeds, Arthur couldn’t deny the overwhelming relief that filled him each time Merlin returned safe and sound.
Despite everything, he was just glad whenever it was just the two of them again—the twisted dark overlord and his so-called knight of justice. Arthur would have wanted to be a knight. In a different life, he thought he would have been a noble one.
One day, Merlin approached Arthur with a gentle smile, taking out his harness. “Someone wants to see you.”
Arthur’s nerves were immediately on edge and he wondered who could possibly want to see him. The thought of Balinor sent a chill down his spine. Even after a hundred years, he wasn’t ready to face Merlin's terrifying sire.
Merlin led him through a shimmering corridor of the crystal palace, colorful light scattering off the walls. Merlin seemed excited, but that did little to ease Arthur's anxiety.
Once they reached a grand doorway, Merlin opened it, leading Arthur inside. The patio, rich with vibrant plant life and flowers, was lit with warmth from the two suns.
What Arthur saw sent a flood of shock and yearning shooting through him. A dark-skinned female Zenith, looking as radiant and vibrant as ever, stood beside none other than Lancelot, who looked exactly as Arthur remembered him.
“Lancelot!” he shouted, barely believing it. He’d thought Lancelot was dead, lost to time. But here he was, alive and standing right in front of him.
Lancelot turned, eyes lighting up with joy. “Arthur!” he called back, leaping toward him.
Arthur stumbled forward, tears in his eyes. “Lancelot… is it really you?” His voice broke. “I thought you were gone.”
Lancelot nodded, embracing Arthur tightly. “I’m here, Arthur. Gwen stopped my aging, just as Emrys did for you.” He stepped back, eyes twinkling with the same kindness Arthur remembered. “Gwen and I are an official Mated couple now.”
Gwen approached, her smile tender and full of compassion. “Arthur, Lancelot and I were very sorry to hear about Gwaine, but now Merlin and I have committed ourselves to giving you both more regular playdates from now on.”
Arthur’s chest tightened. “I don’t know how to feel,” he said, voice shaking. “I thought I’d lost everyone.”
Merlin stepped forward from the doorway. “I wanted to give you this chance,” he said softly. “To reconnect again with someone you lost. Our last play date with Lancelot has been much too long."
Arthur looked between Merlin and Lancelot, the shock of seeing his old friend starting to sink in. “Thank you,” he said softly to Merlin, voice filled with gratitude. “I never thought I’d see Lancelot again.”
Lancelot clapped Arthur on the shoulder, his expression full of camaraderie. “I’m here now, Arthur. Let’s make the most of the time we have together.”
As Lancelot and Arthur talked, Arthur felt a flicker of hope reignite in his heart. The bonds of friendship, though tested by time and suffering, were still there, unbroken. Just as with Gwaine, it felt like he and Lance’s bond of friendship went untouched by time.
Lancelot thankfully, had never had to endure any science experiments. He’d been immediately adopted by Gwen’s father as a pet at the age of fourteen, and during his stay with her and her father, they’d gradually fallen in love. Very gradually. He said it took her a full decade to confess her love, for he was sure an alien as beautiful as herself could not possibly love him.
“I see you and Emrys have moved your relationship along as well,” Lancelot said, eyes shining.
Arthur turned red. “No,” he scoffed. “Me and Merlin are not a thing. He claims to love me, but I know him. He could never love me or anyone. Not in this lifetime.”
Lancelot looked stunned, eyes widening as he flicked his gaze quickly to Merlin and back again. The disbelief on his face was evident, as if he couldn't reconcile the image of the gentle, caring alien Gwen had always spoken so highly of with the person Arthur was describing. With a lowered voice, Lance whispered, “You truly believe that?”
Flashing through Arthur’s mind was all the horrible things Merlin did to him while he was a test subject—how Merlin ran his legs through a meat shredder, or sprayed rat poison and chili pepper in his eyes, how Merlin sawed his body in half one time with a dull rusty saw.
“I do,” he said.
Lancelot swallowed, before finally, he reached out and placed a hand on Arthur’s. “Arthur... I... I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through.”
Arthur shrugged, expression distant. “I got used to it,” he replied, though the words felt hollow even as he spoke them. “He’s my captor, my owner, nothing else. I learned a long time ago that hating him wasn’t going to change anything. It just made things worse.”
Lancelot's hand tightened slightly around Arthur’s. His expression softened, conflicted. “You don’t have to suffer alone anymore. I’ll always be here.”
Arthur’s gaze dropped to their joined hands. His walls didn’t drop, but his grip tightened slightly. “Thanks, Lance,” he murmured.
Lancelot smiled faintly. “Always.”
Arthur’s smile was thin and bitter. “Having you here means a lot, Lance. But Merlin... I’ll never understand him. Or trust him. It’s hard, Lancelot. Being the last ones left. Sometimes it feels like all we have are memories.”
Lancelot sighed heavily, words thick with the wisdom of his old age. “Memories may be all we have now, but they’re also a gift. We keep them alive by remembering, by honoring the lives they led. And they’d want us to keep fighting, to find meaning even in a world that seems lost.”
“Yes, we’ll keep going, for them. We’ll make sure their sacrifices weren’t in vain,” Arthur replied resolutely.
Lancelot nodded. “For them,” he echoed softly. And as the two men looked into each other’s eyes, holding hands, the bond between them felt stronger than ever.
At last, as it was getting late, Merlin called Arthur back to him. “Time to get going now, Arthur pet.”
When they got home, with a carefully composed face, Merlin said, “I heard what you were telling Lancelot. You won’t be seeing him unsupervised again.”
“What?” Arthur nearly shouted. “Why? I’m not allowed to disclose to my friends the atrocities you’ve inflicted on me?”
“That was not the purpose of this little reunion,” Merlin only replied stiffly. Arthur was fuming. “Stop acting so childish, you are much too old,” Merlin sniffed.
But Arthur was in tears. He hurried to the bathroom, where he shut the door and cried. He missed Gwaine, he missed Lancelot, he missed everyone he’d known before the capture even if the trauma caused him to no longer remember who they were or their faces. He no longer recalled his parents’ faces. Or his siblings’—if he had any, he couldn’t remember. He only knew he missed his old life, he missed who he used to be, before Merlin.
Many thousands of years passed since Merlin had bound Arthur to eternal youth. Civilizations rose and fell, but Merlin and Arthur remained constants, the immortal alien and his unwilling companion wandering through the ages.
Merlin had grown less aggravating throughout the centuries as Arthur’s memories of his old life blurred. Merlin purposely forbade journals of any kind so that Arthur could not record memories to read back on and remind him of his past. With Lancelot, they were strictly forbidden to speak of the past, their interactions annoyingly supervised.
After a couple of centuries, Arthur no longer needed supervision. He barely recalled what had happened, his youth but a faint echo.
Each night, Merlin retired warm in bed with Arthur, pleasuring him and making Arthur feel the most ecstatic full-body orgasms repeatedly until he nearly blacked out from overstimulation.
Despite his grumbling, Arthur secretly enjoyed reciprocating. He knew exactly how to pleasure his Master. He liked the little sounds Merlin would make when he touched him just right or hit the right spot, and when he drove Merlin over the edge.
He hadn’t tried to eat Merlin for thousands of years now. He licked and sucked him, but without drawing blood (most of the time).
"You know you don’t have to do this every night," Merlin murmured softly, a mixture of contentment and affection on his lips as he lay back against the pillows, catching his breath after another epic round that had both panting harshly.
Arthur, trailing his lips over Merlin’s collarbone, scoffed. "Who said I was doing it for you?"
Merlin chuckled, the sound rich and genuine. "You always say that, but I know better. I can feel it, Arthur."
Arthur paused, lifting his gaze to meet Merlin’s eyes. "Feel what?" he asked, though he knew the answer, his heart pounding a little faster.
"That you care," Merlin whispered, brushing a hand through Arthur’s hair. "That you want to make me feel good. You might not say it, but I know.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Arthur sneered. “I’m just really good at what I do.”
Merlin smiled, gently cradling the back of Arthur’s head. "That you are. But it’s more than that, Arthur. It always has been."
Arthur stayed silent, focusing on Merlin’s body, letting his actions speak for him. As he continued, an unspoken, uneasy understanding passed once again between them—whispering in the soft caresses and the gentle way Arthur held him, the lingering kisses, every touch still managing to be electric even after all these years.
. . . . .
When Merlin said he loved him, Arthur usually scoffed or stayed silent. But in moments of stillness, when the world outside seemed far away, their relationship felt different. Merlin would gently play with Arthur’s hair, and the tenderness made Arthur’s heart flutter.
"You know," Merlin whispered, "I mean it every time I say it."
Arthur stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore how Merlin’s touch made his heart ache. "You just want more control over me," he muttered. He wasn't sure if he believed what he was saying, but that tiny voice in the back of his head told him that Merlin could never love anyone, least of all his pet.
Merlin sighed, fingers still moving gently through his hair. "I don’t expect you to believe me, Arthur. But I do love you. I’ve always known you were my Mate, the moment I first caught a whiff of your aura, I knew.”
Arthur’s breath hitched, his heart pounding in his chest. The words were tumbling around in his mind like poison.
“Of course I fought it at first, so sure my Mate could not be my test subject, but it just became overwhelmingly clear. So I bought you.”
Arthur’s chest tightened, the familiar hatred rising like bile, warring with the sickening warmth that spread through him at Merlin’s touch. Even after all these years—countless lifetimes of horrors—his body still betrayed him, responding to Merlin’s presence with that maddening mix of longing and resentment. He hated himself for it.
“You bought me,” Arthur whispered, voice strained. “And you call this love? You’ve kept me as your prisoner, stripped me of everything that made me who I was—my freedom, my dignity—just so you could keep me as some twisted pet. And you dare say you love me?”
Merlin’s fingers paused briefly, then continued their gentle motion, as if Arthur’s words didn’t affect him. “I know it’s hard for you to understand, but in my culture, adopting a test subject as a pet is the highest form of devotion.”
Arthur’s lip curled in disgust, but his heart pounded painfully, torn between wanting affection, even if twisted, and losing sight of who he had been before Merlin. Many thousands of years had passed—time enough to erode memories, blur the edges of his once-ironclad resolve. And perhaps that was the most twisted part of it all—how much his hatred had become entangled with dependency, how even his rebellion felt hollow without Merlin to fight against.
He closed his eyes, trying to block out the familiar way Merlin’s words made something deep inside him twist in confusion. The worst part was the flicker of warmth, the betrayal of his own emotions at the thought of being loved, however twisted that love might be.
For a brief moment, Arthur allowed himself to imagine it—Merlin’s words being true, that this was more than just a justification for his cruelty. But the image crumbled as quickly as it formed, replaced by the bitter reality of his imprisonment.
“You’re a monster,” Arthur finally said, but the words lacked the venom they once held, tinged instead with exhaustion and a deep, hollow sadness. “Whatever love you think you feel is just another form of control.”
The words sounded mechanical and almost scripted to his ears. No feeling or conviction behind them, as if this was what he knew he was supposed to say. What the much younger him would have said. At this point, Arthur was going based off of what he knew he should do, almost like muscle mind memory.
He had enough sense to understand he was functioning at half mast. His old memories had faded away, leaving now nothing but echoes. Almost like the past was just a dream. A terrible nightmare that he couldn’t recall, except to remember that it had a been a truly horrific nightmare.
Merlin leaned in closer, breath ghosting over Arthur’s cheek as he murmured, “Perhaps. But you’re mine, Arthur. You always will be.”
Arthur shuddered, a tear slipping down his cheek as he fought against the conflicting emotions tearing him apart. Hate, fear, yearning—they all swirled together in a mess that left him choking on the helplessness of it all.
Arthur’s voice trembled. “Why do you keep me here against my will then? Why do you… do all of this?” His eyes searched Merlin’s, desperate and angry, yet laced with a deeper fear that gnawed at him. “You don’t trust me to stay with you? Where would I even go?” The last question came out in a shaky whisper, his gaze dropping as the weight of the truth settled on him.
The question terrified him more than Merlin’s answer ever could. Where would he go without Merlin? The thought gnawed at him, bringing up feelings he couldn’t shake.
The years, the centuries, had worn him down, taking away the defiance he once had. For countless lifetimes, he had hated Merlin with everything he had, but now the idea of being without him sent a cold chill through his heart.
He hated the truth he couldn’t ignore—despite all the pain, the imprisonment, and the twisted bond between them, he had grown dependent on Merlin. The thought of freedom felt empty, like staring into a void where he no longer knew who he was or what to do.
Merlin’s eyes softened with pity as he watched Arthur’s inner struggle. He saw the fear in Arthur’s eyes, the battle between pride and the quiet need that had formed over time. “You wonder where you’d go, but we both know, don’t we?” Merlin’s voice was gentle, coaxing. “You belong here, with me. I am all you have left. All you’ve ever had, really.”
Arthur flinched, and Merlin’s words, as much as he wanted to reject them, rang with a painful truth. There was no world he remembered outside of this. His old life and dreams felt like fading shadows, empty and distant. What could he want now, except to fill the void left by centuries of pain and twisted affection?
“You could never leave me, Arthur,” Merlin said softly, pulling him closer. “Not because you're my prisoner, but because there’s nothing left for you out there. This”—Merlin gestured between them, a faint smile on his lips—“is all you have. And you know it.”
Arthur’s breath hitched, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. The truth hurt more than any physical pain Merlin had ever inflicted on him. The realization that, after thousands of years, he might be too broken to even want freedom cut deep. The Arthur who would’ve fought to escape was gone, replaced by someone hollow, craving the very thing he once hated.
Tears filled his eyes, shame and hopelessness overwhelming him. “You made sure of that, didn’t you?” His voice cracked, bitter. “You twisted everything until you were all I had left.”
Merlin’s smile deepened, satisfaction in his eyes as he gently cupped Arthur’s chin. “I didn’t twist anything, Arthur. I just let time do its work,” he murmured, voice soft but triumphant. “In the end, all we have is each other. No matter how much you hate me—or pretend to—you’ll always come back to me. Because you need me. Because you love me, even if you can’t admit it.”
Arthur flinched, fury and despair mixing in his chest. Merlin’s words felt like an undeniable truth, a terrifying promise. He bit back a bitter laugh, unable to stop the tremor in his voice. “You’ve taken everything from me,” he whispered. “My freedom, my will, my very sense of self. But you still think this is love?”
Merlin’s thumb gently stroked Arthur’s lip, possessive yet tender. “You’ll understand eventually,” he said, eyes locked on Arthur with unwavering confidence. “We have eternity together. One day, you’ll stop resisting and realize you belong with me—not by force, but by choice.”
Arthur’s breath hitched at the word “choice,” the irony cutting deep. The room felt suffocating as Merlin’s twisted words sunk in, creeping into his mind like poison. But a small, treacherous part of him wondered—what if Merlin was right about him? About everything?
“Give it a few more millennia—or a hundred, even a thousand more. You’ll see,” Merlin said. He wrapped Arthur closer into his suffocating embrace, pulling him deeper into the cocoon of his heat. Arthur’s perpetually naked body responded involuntarily, a shiver racing down his spine as a wave of unwanted arousal surged through him.
Merlin’s warmth seeped into Arthur, making it hard to ignore his body’s response. Merlin’s fingers brushed his back, sending waves of sensation through him. “You may resist now,” the alien whispered, “but time will break even the strongest wills. Eventually, you’ll realize those walls were never as solid as you thought.”
Arthur clenched his jaw. “I’ve resisted for thousands of years. My walls are solid.”
Merlin chuckled darkly. “Resisting isn’t the same as winning. Time may not have broken your will, but it’s already claimed your heart.”
Confusion and anger raged in Arthur, mixed with a reluctant craving for Merlin’s closeness. Despite his mind’s protests, his body reacted to the heat between them.
“You’re mine, Arthur,” Merlin whispered, his voice smooth and possessive. “No matter how much you struggle, the truth remains. We are bound together for eternity, and in the end, you’ll see what I’ve always known.”
Arthur shivered, the conflict inside him growing stronger as Merlin’s embrace tightened. He clung to his resistance, even as it slipped away.
Merlin grinned cheekily, crawling on top of him. “Want some help with that?”
Arthur only let out a sob of despair as he covered his eyes with an arm and once again had unwanted pleasure forced upon him. He wept the whole time as he clung tightly onto Merlin, just like a baby primate, Merlin thought, smiling.
Notes:
All thoughts appreciated!!
Chapter 15: Isolde
Chapter Text
500 years later…
At night, after they "made love," as Merlin put it, Merlin would whisper soothingly to Arthur sweet nothings, and Arthur would squeeze his eyes shut, willing his brain to block it out. They were simply lies, all lies.
"Shut up!" Arthur yelled. "SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"
Merlin looked away, hurt in his features. "But I care about you."
"No, you don't." Arthur was shaking.
Merlin moved to rub gentle circles in Arthur's back. "Why would I keep you all this time if I didn't mean it?" he asked, bewildered. "If I didn't truly love you?"
Arthur's jaw clenched. "You say you're immortal. What's a few thousand years to you? What, like, a week? A day? You're simply bored and I'm entertainment."
Merlin sighed. "You're wrong, Arthur." Moving Arthur's chin to make him look at him, Merlin said solemnly, "Hear this. Arthur, you are the only reason being immortal would be worth it. I don't care for many things in this universe. After all this time, I've seen my share of what it has to offer. I've seen into the past, and yes, even been foretold the future. Even with all that, I only care about you."
Arthur swallowed. He saw the way Merlin was baring his soul, and he couldn't deny the ache in his chest that wanted to believe him. "Then why does it have to be like this?"
Merlin leaned closer, kissing Arthur's temple. "It could be good, better, if you would just let me in, Arthur. Just.. let go of the past. That was so long ago. Start anew."
But Arthur leaned back, his usual walls rising once again. "I can't." He looked away briefly at Merlin's disappointed eyes. "Truthfully, I don't much remember why I should hate you, just that.. that I should. That you did some truly unforgivable things to me in the past."
There was always an echo in the back of Arthur’s mind—a deep-seated fear, ancient and irrational, like humanity’s instinctive terror of spiders. It was something ingrained, passed down from hunter-gatherers who had to fear the venomous ones to survive. But this wasn’t just some primal relic. Whatever had happened with Merlin so long ago had carved itself into Arthur’s mind, lingering there persistently, even if he couldn’t quite remember why.
"I understand," Merlin whispered, threading his fingers through Arthur's absentmindedly. "I just hope one day you can find it in yourself to forgive me."
Arthur remained silent. He wasn't sure if that would ever happen. For one, he didn't trust a single word that came out of this alien's mouth.
At nights, he wondered what it would be like if those words were true, if Merlin was somehow really, truly in love with him. Could he return those feelings? Bitterly, he knew what that answer was. He dreamt of it each night, of them together, happy and carefree. But how was he to know Merlin didn't implant those dreams into his head?
Arthur refused to waste time dwelling on the possibility of a bond forming between him and his captor. Let Merlin continue to try to lock them into this parody of love for eternity. He didn't want any part of it.
. . . . .
Emrys stood as a terrifying force of cosmic might, reshaping reality to his whims. Yet for all his power, he remained bound by his own curse—unable to make Arthur, the object of his twisted affection—love him back.
The universe had to give, had to find a way to fight back.
Isolde was conceived. Isolde was a brilliant warrior from a distant galaxy. She spent her life studying the legends of Emrys, the god who had destroyed countless worlds. Centuries ago, Emrys's cruelty had claimed her planet and her husband, Tristan. Since then, Isolde had sworn to end his reign.
Through hundreds of years of research and dangerous expeditions to worlds touched by Emrys, Isolde pieced together the truth. She discovered the bond between Emrys and Arthur, seeing that the alien's lifelong obsession with that male Homo Sapien was both his strength and weakness.
She set out to create a weapon strong enough to kill the great alien sorcerer. Since regular materials wouldn’t work, she traveled across galaxies to gather rare, powerful components.
Isolde spent centuries crafting a siphon to drain Emrys's vast energy.
She forged its core from the heart of a dying star in Alpha Centauri, ensuring unmatched power.
To stabilize it, she obtained vortex crystals from Andromeda, allowing precise energy channeling.
In Fornax, she harvested Aetherium, making the shell nearly indestructible.
From Pegasus, she wove celestial threads into a containment lattice to hold the energy in check.
From Sagittarius Dwarf, she took Voidstone, capable of absorbing and neutralizing magic.
Finally, in Triangulum, she secured a Temporal Matrix, enabling the siphon to function outside normal time, granting her absolute control.
She carefully assembled the siphon, knowing it would work only once before destroying itself in the process. This meant she had only one shot to end Emrys's reign, one shot to get it right. It would be her most perilous mission, yet she felt called to by the gods to do so.
It was now or never.
Using technology reverse-engineered from Emrys's own machinations, Isolde created a device to track the alien's unique energy signature. She followed Emrys and Arthur across galaxies, watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
. . . . .
That moment came on a desolate moon orbiting a dying star. As Emrys stood at the edge of a cliff, gazing out at the cosmic devastation he had wrought, Isolde made her move. She approached Arthur, who was millions of miles away on a different star, sheltered in a little habitation pod Emrys had built for him that was bigger on the inside.
She knocked hesitantly, and Arthur opened the door, looking surprised. He clearly wasn’t used to unannounced visitors. After coaxing him outside, she introduced herself, explaining what Merlin had done to her planet and her husband, how Merlin had taken everything from her.
Arthur listened, eyes wide and sad. When she was done with her story, he replied, "I'm very sorry that happened to you. Truly, I am. He has taken everything from me as well. But, I am merely Mer–Emrys's prisoner. I have no say in what he does. He wouldn't listen to me."
Isolde lay a calming hand on his arm. "No, I am not asking you to intervene in that way, Arthur. I am well aware of Emrys's wicked heart. It cannot be talked out of him, not even by you. But.. what I am proposing is a plan. One that may rid the universe of Emrys for good."
Arthur's eyes widened. "No.. that's impossible. He said he's immortal, Isolde. This can't be done. You are on a suicide mission then."
She went on explaining the machine she had spent centuries meticulously crafting. "I've studied with all the greatest minds and even tapped into the forgotten knowledge of civilizations long lost to time. I have gained so much knowledge that you could say I am myself an expert now in my field. I know what I am doing. This machine will work. Emrys may be harder to kill, but no one is truly immortal. He can die, just like anyone. But.. I'll need your help to do it."
"Why me?" Arthur asked roughly. "Why should I be the one to kill him?"
Arthur hated Merlin, sure. But he’d always hoped Merlin would meet his end out on the battlefield. He never thought he'd be the one to do it, to betray his Master so fully.
"Because you're the only one he lets his guard down around," she explained. "You know that is true. He trusts you wholeheartedly and is never wary around you. After all, to him you are a simpleton Homo Sapien. What does he have to fear? But you'll show him.
And as for where you would go after, well.. you can travel with me. I've been traveling alone now for centuries since my home planet was destroyed. We can be traveling companions together, but unlike Emrys, I won't force you to stay with me.
I will help integrate you into another alien planet. There are many that are extremely accepting of those of differing abilities. I can help you carve out a new life away from Emrys. He probably tells you that without him, you'd have nowhere to go, unable to live independently, but he is lying to you. I can see your aura, still bright even after all these centuries. You can survive anywhere you put your mind to."
Arthur thought of leaving everything he'd ever known—a life twisted by Emrys. It somehow felt such a simple yet impossible choice.
"And what if you’re wrong? What if I can’t survive without him?"
Isolde's gaze softened. "You’ll survive, Arthur. I’ve seen it happen. You don’t need him. You need to believe that you’re more than what he’s made you think you are. You’re stronger than he’s ever let you believe."
Arthur looked away again. "I truly hate him, I would know more than anyone. But.. I don't know if I can do this.. be his murderer."
Isolde put another hand on his shoulder. "Think of it as ridding the world of a villain, Arthur. That's what Emrys is. If left unchecked, he will only continue to destroy and plunder the universe. He's killed many trillions at this point. You would be doing the universe a great service."
As Arthur thought back on Merlin, the good—like how Merlin was otherwise infuriatingly sweet to him, blurring the lines between love and hate—left Arthur a confused puddle.
And as for the downright horrific, at this point, it was only the memory of the knowledge that Merlin had done something really bad to him thousands of years ago. Now he couldn't quite recall what, exactly. Just that whatever it was, it was horrific enough that he should hate the Zenith forever.
But mostly when he thought of Merlin now, moments that blurred the line between love and hate dominated. Despite how much he wanted to squash them, he knew he had grown feelings over the past thousands of years that he should not have. He had always known those feelings were dangerous, yet he’d always been helpless to do anything about them.
Until now.
As he pondered his feelings for Merlin and the assassination plan, he finally nodded, resolve hardening.
"Alright, I’ll do it," he said bitterly.
As they moved forward with details of the plan, Arthur wondered if he was about to destroy the only thing he had left—his twisted bond with Merlin. This confrontation seemed the result of all his sacrifices, tears, and suffering—of the terrible life he’d lived at the hands of Merlin. What he was about to do felt both overwhelming and freeing.
As the final moment approached, Arthur's mind was a mix of anger and another feeling he didn’t think to name. His hatred for Merlin ran deep, and so did the sense that this death at his hands was both ironic and inevitable. It was the end of their story, the closing of a painful chapter. Arthur felt a strange calm, as if the universe was pushing this long-awaited ending into motion.
With a heart steeled by centuries of suffering and a mind focused on the end that had to come, Arthur prepared to confront the being who had been both his greatest adversary and, in a twisted sense, his greatest love. The final act was at hand, and with it, the hope that, at long last, their dark and convoluted saga would find its end.
After thousands of years, Arthur would finally be the one to end him. Arthur knew this was the only way their twisted story could end. The way it had to end. Arthur hated the Zenith with all his heart. He always had.
As Arthur stood before Merlin that evening in their kitchen, his gaze locked onto the alien with a mixture of hatred and anguish. His voice possessed a steely edge to it as he declared, “This ends now, Merlin. Your reign of terror is over.” Around Arthur, Merlin could see his aura was a murky, stormy gray, laced with flashes of electric blue that darted erratically like lightning flashes.
Confusion and alarm colored Merlin’s gaze. “What are you talking about, my beloved?”
Pain flashed across Arthur’s face. He swallowed, forcing himself to speak, barely audible and voice shaky, “It’s over, Merlin.”
Before Merlin had time to react, Arthur activated the Cosmic Siphon with his tongue, the machine that had been magically shrunken and hidden in his mouth, its essence made magically undetectable by Isolde.
The machine materialized in the living room and roared to life, its tendrils of energy reaching out, a brilliant, harsh light pulsing as it began to rapidly drain Merlin’s power. The glowing streams wrapped around the Zenith, tightening with brutal force. Merlin staggered, eyes wide in shock and horror as he felt all his power and life force being stripped away, helpless to do anything against the undeniable and unimaginable force that now gripped him.
Notes:
Did yall think he'd actually go through with it? 😩
Chapter 16: A Dark Fate
Notes:
An AO3 glitch that's been happening to my fics are that there's sometimes a long space after the fic's end, so if that happens, please let me know so I can quick fix it. Thanks in advance!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Merlin’s gaze snapped toward Arthur, horror creeping into his chest as he saw Arthur’s face contort in pain, his body trembling. It wasn’t just he that was being affected. Arthur’s immortality was unraveling as well, his strength faltering.
“NO!” Merlin screamed, voice raw with shock and rage. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”
The roar shook the very foundations of reality itself, but the damage was already done—Arthur was caught in the same grip, the same unrelenting drain.
The machine, designed to drain Emrys's power, couldn't distinguish between the two beings bound by millennia of such intense connection. The glowing streams wrapped around them both, pulsing with a harsh, unyielding light.
At that moment, faced with the choice between his power and Arthur's safety, Merlin made the decision that would seal his fate. He turned the full force of his remaining power inward, painfully severing the mate-bond that had held strong for thousands of years, that would have been eternal.
The effect was catastrophic. Parts of Merlin’s form began to disintegrate, his very essence scattering across time and space. Merlin’s agonized cries filled the air, a haunting sound, the sound like that of an ancient dragon being slain at long last. With it was a loud rushing noise, louder than ten jet engines all at once. The sound was deafening.
But Arthur was spared, the tendrils of the Cosmic Siphon releasing Arthur as Merlin took the full brunt of its power. “NO!” Arthur cried out, realizing at once what Merlin was doing.
Arthur spun back toward the Cosmic Siphon, the weight of his own actions crashing down upon him. The realization that he had nearly destroyed the being he loved most in all the multiverses—the being who loved him back even more—threatened to overwhelm him.
But he pushed through, channeling all his grief and regret into a singular focus: saving Merlin, no matter the cost.
Arthur quickly located the main power coupling and, with a surge of desperate, adrenaline-filled strength that he didn’t know he was capable of, he ripped it free in one massive wrench of strongly muscled arms. The Cosmic Siphon shuddered and went dark, its tendrils of energy dissipating into nothingness.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Isolde screamed, having materialized into the habitation pod earlier. With the loud roar of Emrys’s great power being sucked from him, she was only now realizing what Arthur was up to.
But it was too late.
For a moment, space was eerily silent.
Then, like a tide returning to shore, indigo light began to form around Emrys's broken body. His scattered essence snapped back into place with violent force. The air crackled with raw power as Emrys reclaimed every bit of energy taken from him.
Emrys's eyes blazed red as he rose, fully restored but radiating fury. The air twisted around him as his fury made reality itself cower. He glared at Isolde, who backed away fearfully.
"You," Emrys growled with a voice like countless storms. "You meddled with forces you couldn't understand."
Arthur reached out. "Merlin, wait, Isolde was just—"
But Emrys ignored him, freezing Arthur in place with a gesture. "Isolde, is it? You tried to destroy me," he snarled. "Such a crime does not go unpunished. Now you must face the consequences of your foolery."
Isolde looked desperately between them for mercy, raising her hands defensively. "Please, I was just trying to—"
Her plea was cut short as Emrys's power lifted her. The air rippled with his wrath.
Arthur watched helplessly as Merlin tore off Isolde's left leg, blood spurting scarlet everywhere, bones jutting out from where it'd been severed. Her piercing screams made Arthur vomit, but he couldn't move to block the sound or close his eyes. He could only sob and scream at Merlin, begging, "Stop! Merlin, gods, stop! Don't hurt her!"
But Merlin didn't stop. After her left leg was severed, the raw gaping wound left where it had been spewing blood wildly, he started on her right one. Grinning maniacally, he laughed, high-pitched and terrifying as he stalked closer to her, a feral light in his eyes.
Sneering, he said, "Let's see you try to make another siphon without your arms." And he got to work tearing off both her arms, this time without his magic. He gripped an arm and tugged it off slowly, each sinew tearing music to his ears.
He was deaf to Arthur's continued sobs in the background. Isolde was now spitting at him. "If not I, someone else will rise against you, Emrys. Your days are numbered."
Grinning, he scalped her with his bare fingers, yanking her hair back hard enough to reveal the white of her skull. "Monster.." she spat, now merely a chest and torso with a head.
"You know, you like to talk a lot. Let's see you try now."
Emrys grabbed her face, pressing into it with brute force. The force that he pressed in had her screaming in pain. He had torn her cheeks. Then, his fingers readjusted and gripped her jaw, and then with one wet, tearing sound, Emrys tore her jaw clear off her face, as if it'd been nothing more than a sheet of paper.
Isolde's scream of pain sounded inhuman, freezing Arthur's blood. He wanted to die along with her. This was all his fault, his stupid, stupid fault. Arthur knew he would never forgive himself for Isolde's death, never.
If he hadn't agreed to this diabolical plan, then perhaps she would still be whole. No, he knew she would still be whole. Not being picked part by bloody part.
"Stop.. stop... Merlin, please.." Arthur rasped.
With a final, wet gurgle, she spat out the remainder of her shredded jaw, eyes glazing over as she fought to stay conscious. Merlin, with eyes cold as ice, crouched down, and stated, "I want you to know, before your spirit passes, that you, young child, have failed in your fool's mission to defeat me, Emrys the Commander, the God of all the universes in the great multiverse. You have weaponized my heart, but seems our love was stronger than you could have imagined."
Merlin's eyes flicked to Arthur, who was weeping.
He went on, "Meanwhile, I will live on, for an eternity more, and I will continue to wreak havoc with planets and their inhabitants. Why? Because it amuses me. But you will not be able to stop me, nor anyone else. Rather, I will use you, the great Isolde, as an example for others, to show them what happens when someone tries to rise against me. So thank you, for helping the cause."
Isolde cried, weeping at this knowledge. She had indeed failed.
And then her head was stomped repeatedly to a mush.
Arthur, still immobilized, continued to sob and vomit. The guilt he felt at betraying Isolde, the realization of the destruction wrought by both their hands, became almost unbearable.
As the echoes of the obliteration faded, the deserted star was left in an oppressive silence, filled only by the raw energy and the remnants of Emrys’s unbridled fury. The pod was no more, now utterly destroyed by the chaos that was Emrys’s magic.
Only after did Merlin free Arthur to move again.
Arthur fell into Merlin’s arms, tears streaming down his face. “You didn’t have to kill her,” he rasped. “She was a good person, I could tell.” Unlike you. You are a villain.
“I did. I’ve seen warriors like her. They will never stop. She must’ve spent centuries of her life planning this. She was dangerous, Arthur.” Merlin's hand patted the back of Arthur’s head gently.
Arthur nodded, still shaken. He pulled away from Merlin, looking him straight in the eyes. "Why?" Arthur whispered, voice choked. "After everything, after I betrayed you… Why did you save me? I’ve always hated you."
Merlin looked at him, a bittersweet smile on his face. His eyes, usually so full of energy, were now dimmed with sadness and heartache.
"Because some loves are worth dying for, my beloved," Merlin murmured. His words held a deep truth, carrying the weight of years spent with Arthur, their lives eternally connected. Merlin's eyes shifted from a deep pink of pure love to a bright gold, the color of conviction.
"I've always told you I loved you, haven’t I?" The Zenith’s voice trembled.
These very words, which Arthur had mistook for lies, repeated so often over the centuries that they'd become essentially white noise, now sounded different after the sacrifice that almost was.
As he spoke, the starry light had softened around them, illuminating Merlin's face. The faint smile remained, a symbol of the love that had endured through heartbreak and pain, persisting across many eras. It had been a love worth every sacrifice to Merlin.
Arthur leaned closer, his breath catching as his heart raced with a swirl of emotions he couldn't quite name. He gripped Merlin, the Zenith who was his captor, yes, but also shamefully his deepest and most painful desire.
In that moment, Arthur saw Merlin clearly—unmasked and monstrously real. Merlin was a fiend, a dark lord who ruled with terror and destruction. He started wars for power and sport, crushing civilizations under his fist. Thousands of planets were conquered, with countless more yet to fall, their people either enslaved or destroyed without mercy.
Amid Merlin's chaos and cruelty, one truth remained: his love for Arthur was the one thing he held most dear. It was a love that went beyond logic, defying right and wrong.
Arthur saw it clearly now—Merlin’s love was unconditional, permanent, and deep, both terrifying and intoxicating. It was twisted, yes, but it was absolute, woven into the core of who Merlin was. It was the force that kept him grounded, even as he destroyed worlds and built an empire of fear.
Arthur had once doubted whether someone as monstrous as Merlin could truly love. But he realized: Merlin’s love wasn’t a human love—because he wasn’t human. No, it was dark, consuming, and absolute.
Every touch, every glance, every affection spoken, proved that nothing in the universe mattered more to Merlin than Arthur. His love was twisted, obsessive, but also the most genuine thing Arthur had ever known.
Despite the war in his mind, Arthur couldn’t deny it any longer. Merlin’s love had seeped into him, filling the hollow spaces he never knew existed. As much as he hated it, he also craved it.
In Merlin’s arms, Arthur found the one thing he had always longed for—someone who would love him unconditionally, someone willing to throw their very life away so that he may live, even if it was without him.
"I don't hate you," Arthur mumbled softly. He knew Merlin was remembering the time, so long ago.. If I didn’t hate you, I’d love you.
The ancient battle between the resentment he had clung to and the undeniable truth he’d fought against for so long had finally come to an end.
Tears rolled freely down his cheeks, leaving wet trails in their wake as he trembled, clinging to Merlin as if holding on for dear life.
His body shook with the weight of the admission.
It was all too much—too raw, made him feel too exposed. But it was real, the most real thing Arthur had ever known.
Merlin's steady heartbeat against his ear was a sound that both disturbed him immensely, yet comforted him more than anything else could. Arthur would always cling to Merlin, in every lifetime. Merlin was his as much as he was Merlin’s.
When Merlin wrapped bloodied arms around him, he couldn't help melting into the embrace, hating how much he needed it. Merlin held Arthur as he wept, offering a sort of maternal comfort as he cooed to him despite being the source of Arthur's pain.
Centuries of grief weighed on Merlin as he whispered tenderly, "I know, love." His voice revealed both affection and deep sorrow. "I've always known."
Arthur tightened his grip on Merlin, knuckles white. This was the being that had shaped and twisted him into something unrecognizable. Yet he was caught between desperation, fury, hate, and gods, love. He wanted to tear Merlin apart, yet his very soul needed him more than anything.
Not need in a practical sense, but need, in a sense that he was irrevocably bonded to the Zenith, the Zenith was irreplaceable, and no one else would do.
Arthur's sobs slowed as he hiccupped, but tears continued falling unchecked. Red-rimmed eyes met the alien's equally tortured gaze. With a trembling voice, Arthur choked, "You took everything from me, my whole life, my future. But.. how is it possible that I still love you?"
Merlin offered a small, weary smile, heavy with centuries of pain and unrequited longing. "Because love is random and out of our individual control, Arthur," he murmured. "It doesn't let go, even when it should."
Arthur's chest tightened. Love was meant to be beautiful, but had become torture. Still, he couldn't destroy this bond with this person who had been his ruin.
Merlin's fingers caressed Arthur's face. "I've hurt you in unforgivable ways. I've stolen your planet, your family, your friends... I took our relationship and twisted it from the start. I've remade us into a curse more than a bond. For that, I am deeply regretful."
Arthur’s lip trembled. “Yes, you should be. You ruined what we could have been.” His tearful voice was tight. “I will never stop hating what you’ve done to me—what you’ve made us… And I can never forgive you. But.. I can’t hate you.”
Merlin’s breath caught. He was silent for a long moment.
“I know,” Merlin finally murmured, a hint of guilt coloring his tone. “You don’t have to forgive me. But if it meant keeping you close, even like this—I’m selfish enough to want it.”
“But why?” Arthur's voice broke. "Why did it have to be like this? You didn't have to take over my planet. You didn't have to experiment on us. So why? And why did you force me to choose—to become this… this monster alongside you?”
Because that’s what Arthur had become, wasn’t it? Each time he was relieved that Merlin got home safe, knowing full well it meant Merlin could now go kill some more. He’d even caused the death of the universe’s heroine Isolde, who had worked tirelessly for centuries to take down Emrys. She was destroyed within an hour due to Arthur’s betrayal. And all for Merlin…
Merlin’s eyes closed briefly, as if he could block out the hurt in Arthur’s voice, but it was impossible to ignore. When he opened his eyes again, an age-old regret lingered there. He cupped Arthur’s cheek, thumb brushing away the tears.
“Because I couldn’t bear to lose you,” Merlin whispered. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted. Letting you go would’ve left me alone. Empty. I’m not strong enough for that, Arthur. In this lifetime, I’m not the hero.”
Merlin lifted Arthur’s face, their eyes meeting. “So yes, I am selfish,” he said, voice shaking. “I made you into what I am because I couldn’t stand the thought of you leaving me. But I know I took everything from you. I dragged you down with me because I couldn't face it alone. I didn't want to. There was no one else for me but you, and I never gave you a choice."
As Arthur listened, a sob caught in his throat. He knew there was no easy answer here. No way to reconcile the love he would always feel for this being that completely ruined him in every way one could be ruined.
The sorrow, the twisted affection, the codependency—all left him completely raw.
"You made me into something I always despised. When you took me, I was.. I was just a kid, a teenager. I had a normal life, I could've—" His voice broke.
It didn't matter now.
None of it mattered, for a long time now, yet he was still clinging stubbornly to his past. Those first 14 years of life had seemed so important.
He couldn’t remember anything at all from that time except his brother Gwaine and Lancelot.
So why was he clinging to 14 years? Fourteen years now was a blink of an eye.
And that had always been the problem, hadn’t it? His refusal to let go of what no longer served him. Lancelot, the wiser one than he, had tried to tell him…
"I know," Merlin agreed. “And I can never make it right. But I love you, Arthur. I love you so much that I’d rather have you hate me than be without you. Even if it means we’re both trapped in this nightmare. Having you hate me so completely was my nightmare, but I know I deserved far worse.”
Arthur’s tears fell as silent sobs shook his chest. “You’ve cursed us both,” he whispered brokenly. “But I can’t let you go, can I? Even after everything, I still—” His voice cracked as he buried his face in Merlin’s chest, the truth too painful to speak.
Merlin held him tighter, knowing their love had both destroyed and bound them. Their love was so all-encompassing there was no escape for either. Perhaps this was their fate—to be simultaneously each other's ruin and salvation, two sides of the same wicked coin.
They stayed like that, silence filled only by their uneven breathing. Arthur’s eyes were shut tightly, as if he could shut out all the love and pain.
When Arthur opened his eyes again, they were filled with weary resignation. Years of fighting had hollowed him out. He was too tired—too tired to resist, too tired to fight the feelings gnawing at him. The hatred was gone now, rotted away by time and that would-be sacrifice only expedited its release.
Arthur’s voice cracked. “I’ll never stop loving you,” he admitted, the words sour on his tongue. "Even though I wish I did."
Merlin’s eyes softened, but his relief was mixed with sorrow. He knew Arthur's love was broken, irreparably so, but it was undeniably real. “Then let’s hold onto it,” Merlin said quietly. “Even if it’s messy, at least it’s ours.”
The words hung between them, a harsh truth. This love wasn’t a fairytale; it was twisted, born of pain and obsession. But it was all they had left, a lifeline in the dark.
Arthur’s breath shook, the weight of everything pressing on him. A tear fell, and with no fight left, he leaned into Merlin’s touch, letting himself feel the warmth of the one who had taken everything, yet stayed constant in his broken world.
Arthur closed his eyes, accepting that this broken bond was all he had left. He sank into the embrace of his captor, lover, and tormentor—because in the dark, it was all there was.
It wasn’t peace. It wasn’t healing. It was simply survival in the only way he knew how, clinging to whatever scraps of human-like connection he could still grasp.
And as he let the exhaustion pull him under, there was no more fight left—only a quiet, hollow acceptance of the darkness that had swallowed them both.
Notes:
First, IM SO SORRY FOR WHAT HAPPENED TO ISOLDE. She def deserved better (shouldn't have messed with merthur amirite. 😅 jk)
In the original draft, Arthur did kill Merlin but then the immortality granted him by Merlin unravelled and he aged very quickly to make up for the time he should've been aging. He was dead within a year and lived the rest of his short life feeling empty and lost, like the other half of his coin was missing... So I made him follow his heart and choose love. ^^;
To all my supporters, thank you so much for giving this story a chance, even if it was hard to read at times. You all are so, so amazing! <3
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