This conversation was bound to happen. Merlin knew that it was just as well as he knew that sleeping with Eggsy, while perhaps not the best idea, was something he fully wanted after the year they had. A year was a long time to be living together without fucking, all things considered, but he was rarely home for more than a handful of hours to get some shuteye, and Eggsy had proven himself an excellent spy by moving himself into Merlin's home without permission or suspicion until he became a bit of a fixture. A younger Merlin had balked at the idea of blurring the lines between professional and personal with any sort of intimacy, but an older man knows better. He knows that sometimes, in their line of work, physical connection with the only people in the world who can know you fully is a necessary release; For the two of them, who had lost the same person so suddenly from their lives, perhaps even more so. The thing about sex though, particularly when an age disparity was involved, was that communication was simultaneously essential and incredibly difficult to initiate. And communication when your interests broached on the side of scandalous? Even more essential, and even more difficult.
Merlin may have never brought it up, if he were honest. He was fine not taking advantage of that side of his life if it didn't suit whomever his partner was at the time. He didn't keep partners for long after all, not with his work; none other than Harry, a complicated situation to say the very least. He couldn't say how long they would keep at it, just as he couldn't say when Eggsy would decide that his wounds had finally healed properly and he could once again live with his mother or on his own. Perhaps he's grown fond of having Eggsy around, fond enough to want to keep this going, but he knows better. He's fifty-one years old, and the younger his partners got, the easier it was to rationalize that everything done was temporary. A temporary, potentially fleeting intimacy or not, Merlin was still glad that Eggsy had observed as keenly as he had. He found the whole thing rather endearing.
Less glad, though, and less endearing just how he had broached the topic.
When Eggsy asked Merlin if he wanted him to crawl, he'd asked if Eggsy wanted to crawl. A fair start, with a less than satisfying answer. A curiosity turned into a subtitled display of Eggsy's misconceptions, and Merlin sighed and excused himself to put on the kettle. He returned with two hot mugs of tea, and sat opposite the young man.
Yes, a proper talk would be necessary.
"What is it exactly that you think I want, Eggsy?"
for prettywoman
This conversation was bound to happen. Merlin knew that it was just as well as he knew that sleeping with Eggsy, while perhaps not the best idea, was something he fully wanted after the year they had. A year was a long time to be living together without fucking, all things considered, but he was rarely home for more than a handful of hours to get some shuteye, and Eggsy had proven himself an excellent spy by moving himself into Merlin's home without permission or suspicion until he became a bit of a fixture. A younger Merlin had balked at the idea of blurring the lines between professional and personal with any sort of intimacy, but an older man knows better. He knows that sometimes, in their line of work, physical connection with the only people in the world who can know you fully is a necessary release; For the two of them, who had lost the same person so suddenly from their lives, perhaps even more so. The thing about sex though, particularly when an age disparity was involved, was that communication was simultaneously essential and incredibly difficult to initiate. And communication when your interests broached on the side of scandalous? Even more essential, and even more difficult.
Merlin may have never brought it up, if he were honest. He was fine not taking advantage of that side of his life if it didn't suit whomever his partner was at the time. He didn't keep partners for long after all, not with his work; none other than Harry, a complicated situation to say the very least. He couldn't say how long they would keep at it, just as he couldn't say when Eggsy would decide that his wounds had finally healed properly and he could once again live with his mother or on his own. Perhaps he's grown fond of having Eggsy around, fond enough to want to keep this going, but he knows better. He's fifty-one years old, and the younger his partners got, the easier it was to rationalize that everything done was temporary. A temporary, potentially fleeting intimacy or not, Merlin was still glad that Eggsy had observed as keenly as he had. He found the whole thing rather endearing.
Less glad, though, and less endearing just how he had broached the topic.
When Eggsy asked Merlin if he wanted him to crawl, he'd asked if Eggsy wanted to crawl. A fair start, with a less than satisfying answer. A curiosity turned into a subtitled display of Eggsy's misconceptions, and Merlin sighed and excused himself to put on the kettle. He returned with two hot mugs of tea, and sat opposite the young man.
Yes, a proper talk would be necessary.
"What is it exactly that you think I want, Eggsy?"