The following is the first part of a series that will never be written, entitled “How to Win the Love of an Irish Bastard, by Bradley James, Once and Future King” which, yes, is probably for the best.
Oh! And for the love of all that's green and atmospheric carbon-reducing, if you feel inclined to beta this or Brit-pick it, anything, please do.
Title: I Never Asked You for a Bloody Rose Garden
Rated: There's sex. It's gay.
Fandom: Merlin RPS
Pairing: Bradley/Colin, at least.
This was inspired by watching the cast video diaries from the first series of BBC's Merlin, and really bears no resemblance to truth of any kind. Except of course the truth that the writer is inclined to strange obsessions and hyperbole. Also, I know absolutely nothing whatsoever about the true parentage of Colin Morgan, so. Fiction. Ahem.
I Never Asked You for a Bloody Rose Garden
“...I've now attuned to his sense of humor, which actually, is quite dark...”
Bradley James, DVD extras
“I want you too much,” says Bradley, like the wanker he is. “So there's no point in us trying to date.”
Colin can't really be bothered to respond to this, because Bradley's naked and slick-tight around his cock when he says it. He's heard it before now, in similar circumstances. This is Bradley's favorite lecture. Sometimes Colin tries to mentally translate it into French, to better suit the environment: Colin's room in a French hotel, with Old World French décor, in the French countryside.
The sheets are white linen and show the stains of their sweat and splotches from lube already, though they were changed this morning. They hide the bed's sagging mattress and the springs that squeak desperately underneath them. He'll have to talk to the hotel staff about a different room for tomorrow night. It'll be the two of them again, he can feel it in the familiarity of Bradley's skin.
Bradley has a theory that love and sex aren't meant to be compatible. It's better to keep them wholly separate if you can, he says. When he achieves his epic romance, he will not have sex, but make perfect love forever. So currently he's wooing Angel with obnoxious teasing and attention during the days.
Colin's cock is meanwhile spending a lot of quality time with Bradley's ass of an evening. Ultimately Colin thinks it'll all be moot, but he's up for the experiment as long as he's getting his end away. What Angel thinks he doesn't really know, as he never asks her.
Colin dislikes drama for which isn't being paid.
Colin likes to make Bradley beg. When they're deep in it (like now), and sweat is trickling off Colin's chest onto that long spine bent beneath him, he slows his thrusting to a crawl and waits. Inevitably, the blather rolls off that mobile tongue.
First cursing, demands, bitching, insults, then sweet moaning and flirtatious wiggling, and then follows the payoff; Bradley starts up with his theories on the meaning of their relationship. It's wickedly funny, while being hot as hell, Bradley's psyche streaming out between gasps. He even uses phrases from self-improvement books. Colin is fairly sure he isn't *really* commitment-phobic, but he doesn't mind if Bradley accuses him of it.
Bradley thinks he should be looking for a girlfriend, instead of being a vile seducer. Colin is absolutely certain that would not be nearly as fun.
If Colin were inclined to make a commitment to anyone right now, it would be to Bradley for the amusement he provides alone, even without the excellent orgasms. He thinks that love can't be as good as pleasure spiked with the sheer joy of hearing Bradley's latest mad analysis of what they are doing in bed together.
According to Bradley, he is working out his sexual frustration so as to be a better boyfriend to Angel; if she ever agrees to take him seriously, which of course she will. Bradley says that Colin “takes the pressure off his real relationship”. He also seems to harbor the fantasy that Colin must be clearly informed about his temporary status or he will fall madly in love with Bradley and become the crazed stalker all the best celebrities have these days.
“Obviously,” *moan*, “Angel doesn't fill me with all the,” *sob*, “ hormones so we have a,” *gasp* “meaningful emotional connection,” says Bradley. He means it too, and it's possibly the cutest thing Colin has ever heard. He gives Bradley's prostate some direct effort for a bit in reward.
Wanting to make it better, he leans over and whispers close to one perfect ear all of the filthy things he wants to do later, when Bradley is loose and sore and still hungry. Breathlessly, Bradley twists his cheek to rub against Colin's like a cat. A throb of possessiveness in response surprises him, and Colin loses the plot for a few minutes, mindlessly rutting into the yielding, still talking man under him until he comes, shaking. He reaches for Bradley's cock but it's soft and sticky with spend already.
They both go silent and boneless when they're done, always. If things go to form, they'll wriggle under a blanket and Colin will wake up disorientated by the hotel room, with Bradley wrapped around him and half smothering him. Colin will perform unspeakable acts on Bradley's person until Bradley wakes up mid-coitus, quivering and happy and inclined to smile. Then Colin will torment him into another lecture on transience and homosexuality while Colin laughs and eventually gets off spectacularly.
It all changes when they leave the hotel. Colin fades into his usual round of quiet studying and observations between takes, while Bradley joins up with Angel and the guest stars for play and hilarity interspersed by actual acting. They'll be mates all day, distantly, like they still can't tell if they like each other.
It's a good system. It may not mean anything, it's obviously not love, but it works for now.
“...at least the French people won't clean her room..”
Colin Morgan, DVD extras
Colin is a bastard.
Bradley tells him so definitively, and if he says other things as well... then that is all down to the bastardy of Colin Morgan. No man can be expected to remain perfectly coherent whilst being shagged straight through the hotel mattress and into the room below. (Metaphorically speaking, of course. Bradley has never actually been driven straight through the mattress, although they have seriously damaged the springs of several in various parts of England and abroad.)
The bastard has a lovely prick, thick and firm and pleasurable to feel thrusting about within one. This Bradley *doesn't* tell him, but it is a near thing. He does tell Angel about it, though. They have a connection.
“Colin Morgan is a fine-pricked Irish bastard,” he says to her. “And not irreplaceable.”
Angel tells him not to be racist and goes back to reading her book. *She* thinks that Bradley is in love with Colin, and in denial. Preposterous, when Bradley has spoken to her time and again about how he longs for her surrender to their destined romance.
“And then you go and shag Colin again,” she tells him, peering over the top of her book with a rather evil sort of look. This, unfortunately, is true, but clearly beside the point.
“What Colin and I have is purely physical, and in any event he only keeps coming round because he finds me amusing. That is part of the way in which he proves his dubious origins to mankind in general. You, Angel Coulby, Queen of my heart,” and here Bradley inserts one of his infamous pleading looks, “ are the woman to make me forget him and his rapacious demands.”
She grins at him. “I could take him off your hands. He is rather gorgeous, you know.”
Did Bradley say that they had a connection? Perhaps he meant that they had a mutual doom.
“Fate is a cruel mistress, and so are you, my only love. Keep your unfaithful hands off that filthy man's finer parts.” He can't resist smiling at her, though, when she looks so playful. She really is the one woman he must have.
Some day soon she shall succumb. In the meanwhile, there is Colin, that wily seducer of innocents in love. He tries to dread the evening and its punishments, but then they do have a new room with a fresh mattress. Like the noble soul he is, Bradley shall bear his trials with honor.
Only the bravest heart may win fairest maiden, after all.
“...and who is your third favorite?”
Angel Coulby, DVD Extras
The costume people are hounding Katie again, and while she and Angel aren't precisely friends, they can on occasion become allies. So Angel manages to get Colin out into the forbidden sun, as a distraction tactic, and then tells Bradley that Colin is about to get into trouble and he must find his camera. The ensuing drama should give Katie enough of a chance to walk about for a brief time, despite the danger to her ridiculous trailing gown.
It is a terrible shame that Bradley is so very absorbed by not being in love with Colin. Angel quite fancied him at first, and Colin as well for that matter. But as long as Bradley insists on his ridiculous chivalric display towards herself, she can't really pursue them singly or together.
She suspects Colin would have been endearingly easy; he has slutty eyes. But Bradley obviously takes up enough of his energy that his suggestive glances have become merely friendly in the last few weeks, and the two of them beam at each other in the morning in a quite stupid way.
Lately, Angel has begun to think about whether older men are perhaps a good choice. Anthony certainly has no silly ideas about only shagging people with whom one does not get along.
“The very fact that you don't crave me madly is what makes us perfect for each other,” says Bradley that evening in the deserted crew tent, where they are hiding with a small bottle of brandy. He generally talks less about Colin's evils and more about their perfect future together when he's a few drinks along. He outlines a rather detailed plan; disturbingly specific, actually.
Fortunately Katie has come along this time, and points out the flaw in Bradley's scheme. “You can't raise your six children in America if you're still under contract to the BBC. And if you are to have six, you'd need to start straight away, so plainly at least some of your children will not be American citizens, including your firstborn. So I hardly think you and Angel are going to produce a future President of the United States this year, James.”
“Obama has a white mother,” says Bradley, who clearly needs the bottle taken away. He whines a bit when Angel does the necessary, but settles back to have his hair petted like the big puppy that he is. Things go rather better for a time, and Angel is just enjoying cuddling with Bradley and chatting with Katie when Colin comes looking.
“Here to collect Himself,” he says, accent thick with exhaustion. It's been a very long day. Bradley is unhelpful, though, and points at Colin with a look that they all recognize.
“You, you are an Irish bastard,” says Bradley.
Katie sighs and extends her hand to Angel, who accepts it and drops Bradley's head from her lap without a qualm when she stands up. He squawks indignantly, but she really can't be arsed to care at the moment. Besides, Katie is giving her a very sweet sort of smile and making slightly too much eye contact. It gives her a warm feeling in her belly. Though it may just be the brandy as she takes a drink and holds the bottle out to Colin.
“Sorry we didn't save you much brandy. We didn't think you would make it,” she tells him. “And don't mind Bradley, he's just bitter because he can't do any magic.”
He waves the brandy off with a gentle smile and a flirtatious flutter of those lovely eyelashes. “It's fine, I understand. Who wouldn't want my special powers?”
“Leave off your seducing of my lady love, you filthy peasant. Why do all the women coddle you when what you clearly need is less time amidst their skirts,” slurs Bradley from Colin's lap, where he has just managed to insinuate his head.
“Yes, yes, Bradley,” says Katie. “We all coddle Colin shamefully. It's because we like him best. Don't we, Colin?”
Colin quirks his mouth at her in wry amusement, but knows better than to engage the argument.
“Men are such teases,” says Katie. “Angel Coulby, come home with me and make Arthur jealous.”
Angel can feel her cheeks getting hot, and doesn't mind. Katie McGrath is asking her back to her hotel, with a heat in her eyes that says she means it. Bradley splutters something peeved and accusing, Colin laughingly patting his head, and Katie politely tells Colin goodnight.
It's shaping up to be a grand evening.