Chapter Text
How NOT to Seduce Your Husband
Hello, Readers!
Sorry it's been awhile, it’s been a shit couple of weeks. Why? Well, let's talk about my failures to seduce the Bloke.
I got this idea in me head that I should spice up our romance. It's not that the Bloke and I have terrible sex—quite the opposite, really—when we do have sex, it's bloody fantastic. It's just that, with him being who he is, we don't have it very often. Once a week, maybe.
I do try very hard to be understanding, but we'd been creeping into our second week without shagging and I got desperate. So I took the very ill-advised recommendation from an article called "How to Spice Up Your Sex Life."
This was the advice:
"If you've been having a dry spell, or if your man just doesn't seem that into it, you should add in the element of surprise. Do something unexpected for him."
So, being young and full of stars in my eyes, I thought, why not?
Oh, I will tell you "why not."
The first "why not" is because the Bloke does not actually appreciate being leaped on at the end of a very long work day.
The second "why not" is because while the Bloke was very surprised when I opened the door starkers, I'm sure his sister and mates were equally (and likely less pleasantly) surprised.
The third "why not" is that while I did succeed in surprising the Bloke with all of my foolish attempts, none actually resulted in sex.
So, if any of you young hopefuls out there are reading this, let me tell you right now to never, ever take the advice from an article called "How to Spice Up Your Sex Life." It can only end in tears.
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Fuck.
Arthur leaned back into his seat, linking his fingers together. Although Merlin hadn't specifically named him, it was pretty bloody clear to Arthur who "the Bloke" really was. And he was posting, for the world to see, about their sex life. Or rather, lack there of. Well, more about Merlin's failed attempts at seduction, and Arthur remembered that day, how Merlin had tried so hard to keep his trembling upper lip stiff before giving it up as a bad job and scrambling into their room.
It had ended on a far simpler note from Arthur's perspective:
"What were you doing?"
"Let's not talk about it, yeah?"
And that was that.
Arthur should have known better, really. Of course Merlin would have a fit about answering the door starkers and ready for a shag, only to come face to face with his sister-in-law and Arthur's mates.
But, if Merlin felt that way for an entire week, why didn't he tell Arthur?
Arthur found out about Merlin's blog from Sophia the Homewrecker (damnit, Merlin) from Affiliate Marketing before a Head of Department meeting with his father. He, Sophia, Morgana and Gwaine were waiting on his father to start the meeting, when Sophia suddenly said, "Merlin's post was just so droll today."
Arthur did not miss the way Morgana and Gwaine glanced at each other, nor their entire conversation with just their eyebrows.
"Sorry?" said Arthur, wondering why Merlin would send out a funny letter. "He sent something through the post?"
"Oh, don't be cute Arthur. His blog, obviously."
"I'm sure we don't know what you're talking about, darling," Morgana said, in the posh, cutting way she sometimes spoke when she meant the exact opposite.
Arthur raised his eyebrows at Gwaine, who was silent in a way that spoke volumes.
"His blog," Arthur repeated, slowly. Merlin had a blog.
"Yes, yes, of course. You haven't read today's post? It was quite funny, though a bit vulgar for my tastes.
Merlin had a blog where he posted vulgar stories.
"You don't know that it's by Merlin," said Morgana, still posh.
"I do so," Sophia sniffed. "Vivian told me."
"Because Vivian is such a reliable source."
Arthur left Morgana and Sophia to their cat fight, which was getting more and more condescending by the second. He turned to Gwaine.
"What blog?"
"Well, er, you know." Gwaine cleared his throat. Tugged at his tie. He looked far more nervous than Arthur had ever seen him. "It's just a thing. That he sometimes writes—um, in."
"And where can I find this thing?" asked Arthur, politely.
That was how Arthur had found out that Merlin felt sexually deprived. Because of course, Merlin couldn't just tell him. No, he had to write it on a public forum where over six hundred people could comment about it.
With all of the rage of the justifiably self-righteous, Arthur scrolled to the earlier entries.
I Met a Git Today
Today I met a Git. An extraordinarily handsome, posher than posh Git, but still a Git. How did I meet this Git? I spilled coffee all over his trousers.
Why, yes, this is my life.
I may or may not have tried to wipe the coffee off with a stack of napkins. Can I just tell you guys what an incredibly bad idea that was? The Git kindly informed me about my poor decision-making skills while simultaneously vastly improving my vocabulary of four-letter words.
Right about then I realised that the Git was going to punch me so I—threw the napkins at his face and ran away. I know. I know. Not my best moment.
Then the Git chased me.
So if a lanky bloke running for his life from a blond Git bumped you or—shoved you out of the way—let me apologise right now. I thought the Git was going to kill me, honestly, so I tripped him,
Arthur scoffed. Trip him. "Tripping" was a very loose explanation as to how Merlin had magicked his shoelaces together.
but then he sort of landed on his face?
This is how I ended up taking the Git back to my flat. God, no matter how many times I reread that sentence, it still looks utterly ridiculous. Why yes, strange man who wants to murder me, please come to my home. But he was just sitting there, glaring up at me with his collar popped like a prat and blood trickling out of his nose and I just felt like such an arse leaving him there. I’m surprised he even agreed to go with me, but he did and then bled all over my kitchen and called me every name he could think of. And then he left.
Is it sad that this is the most action I’ve had in months?
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Arthur snorted at the last line, sliding one hand down his face. How was it that Merlin could make him feel so desperately fond, while simultaneously fill him with the need to strangle him?
Well, there was only one thing left to do. Arthur would simply need to give his side of the story.
On being the bloke
This blog is now the Property of the Bloke. I have repurposed it for my own means, RE: to tell my side of the story.
This is not a joke.
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Merlin was going to pass out. Or maybe he was going to die. There was an equal chance for one or the other.
"Merlin?"
"Arthur found my blog," said Merlin, and his voice sounded as if it was coming from a distance.
"Shit." He felt Gwen grab the back of his chair, but couldn't pull his eyes away from his screen.
"He's—he's kidnapped it!"
"Oh, now you're just being silly. He probably just wanted to—I don't know, let you know that he knew about it?"
Merlin clicked the Log In link at the top of his blog. He typed "m4gic" as the password field (and the crap he got for that password).
Your username or password is incorrect. Please try again.
Merlin did try again. And again. And then he gave Gwen a dreadful look.
"Oh. Hm."
"Shitshitshit."
"Well, probably you should've changed your password. You use 'magic' for everything, and it's a pretty shit password."
"Gwen! I would have told him about it. I just—needed a place to vent, yeah? I didn't think it would get as big as it has!" He covered his face with his hands, feeling wretched. "Oh God, I just posted about how we never have sex. I think I might need to move in with you. Forever, probably. I am so dead."
"I don't think it will be that bad," said Gwen, a little dubiously. "Here, let's have a look at the comments."
le.Fay says,
M?
M says,
Afraid not. And really, le.Fay? "I'm sure we don't know what you're talking about." Really? Really?
le.Fay says,
oh god.
"Oh, God," said Merlin.
arthur? i'm so so so sorry. can we talk about this?
Arthur considered his phone. Then, with a vindictive little smile, he responded with:
it is ON, m
Maybe he would rename the blog. Something like, "The Authoritative Guide on Being the Bloke." Yes, that had a nice ring to it.
How to introduce your boyfriend to your family
Please note that the below documentation is an accurate depiction of the events that occurred the night M met my (the Bloke’s) family. Any differences in details between "How to introduce your boyfriend to your family" and "How I met my in-laws" are at the fault of M.
Names have been changed to protect the identity of the individuals described.
1. Ply your family with as much of your best alcohol as possible.
"What makes you think you're good enough for my son?"
ADDENDUM: Limit the alcohol if your father is a hereto unknown belligerent drunk.
2. Stick to safe topics.
"So, Father. How is the merger going?"
"Very well. M, what is it that you do for a living?"
"I'm a Physician's Assistant for a nonprofit."
"I see." Note here that my father can say a lot with just two words.
"It's a very rewarding job."
"But not monetarily, I assume."
"Oh, King, don't be like that. I think that it's a very admirable that M works for a nonprofit organization."
3. If the situation is getting out of hand (RE: your half-sister and father use your boyfriend as a catalyst for their ongoing feud), divert the conversation.
"More wine?"
"Please."
(NOTE: It is also recommended to monitor how much wine your boyfriend has consumed).
"So, M. What is it you see in my son?"
At this point, it is important to note that M did not speak until my father had taken a sip of his wine.
"Well, because he's a fantastic shag, obviously."
Assume that my father has had much more wine than normal. Although even in his drunkest state, he would never actually spit out his drink, it was the nearest he had come to doing so in my memory.
4. If the situation has become irreparable, disengage.
"Excuse me?!"
"Well, look at the time! It's been a wonderful dinner, thank you for having us over, Father, but we really need to be off now. Right now. Father, Harpy, good evening."
5. If it so happens that wine does not actually improve upon the introduction, never, ever use it in future conferences.
"That went well."
"I can't believe you just told my father you're with me because I'm a good shag."
"You know, this actually explains a lot about you, really. Come on, let's go back to mine."
I would like to end here by saying that, M isn't the humble, bumbling clod he makes himself out to be. Well, he is, just a bit more than that, too.
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It was already nearing 8 p.m. and Merlin had yet to come home, probably still hiding at Gaius’ office. Arthur made himself a cup of coffee (bad habit picked up from business travels) and opened his laptop, navigating to the window with Merlin’s blog.
He wasn’t about to admit it out loud, not even to himself, but he was sort of—obsessively going through every single blog post. It was simultaneously amusing and painful. Amusing, because Arthur had no idea Merlin could write, and painful because—well, Arthur had no idea Merlin could write. In the four years he and Merlin had been together, Merlin never so much hinted that he had a blog.
Well, at least not to Arthur. Everyone and their dog knew about it, except Arthur.
And okay, maybe Arthur was a little pissed off about that. He always maintained that people should have their own secrets, since that was what made someone an individual, he just didn’t relish the idea of being someone’s secret. Especially when that someone was his husband.
He sighed and clicked Previous 10 Entries. It was a little like reading a biography about all of the things you would never, ever want to share with anyone.
On Shagging the Bloke
Sort of like that.
Arthur choked on his coffee.
I learned today that shagging a bloke is almost entirely unlike shagging a girl. If you are a bloke planning on shagging another bloke, PAY ATTENTION. This is what you’ll need:
+ 1MM Bottles of Lube - Contrary to popular belief, the spit method DOES NOT WORK.
- 1 Dignity.
+ 1 Hanky - For all the weeping in agony and despair you’ll do when you don’t listen to me about the first.
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Arthur snatched up his mobile. It informed him, in an accusing red alert, that he had seventeen unread text messages and would he please read them? Instead, he opened a new text and quickly typed: you are SO dead
i love you? was Merlin’s almost instantaneous reply, quickly followed by, oh god which one did you read
one million bottles of lube.
Merlin’s response, five minutes later, was a simple: oh my god