Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me.
Notes: So apparently I couldn't leave Pianist!Merlin and his lonely Arthur alone. :) This is a sequel to Loneliness, and thank you to everyone who commented on that and asked for more.
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So Merlin stays, surrounded by Arthur's body, lulled by the rise and fall of his chest and the beating of his heart. He knows nothing, really, about Arthur—not his last name, his age, what he does for a living. He doesn't know whether this will last more than one night; except that's a lie. The desperation in Arthur's movements, the way they fit together, the slow burn under Merlin's skin that won't leave, even after he lies back on the bed, gasping for breath, sated and a little sore—all these spell out clearly that there will be more, that neither of them will be satisfied with one night. That maybe those things that Merlin doesn't know about Arthur are less important than what he does know.
Because he knows that Arthur is as lonely as he is, the reasons why don't matter, and that that loneliness eases when they come together. He knows that Arthur is private, holding back his noises, but that he touches Merlin with strong hands to hear the sounds he makes. He knows the shuddering of Arthur's body as he comes, the taste of his mouth when he trembles with want. The way his voice wavers when he asks Merlin to stay; Merlin wants, in a rush of hot anger, to find whoever put that waver there by leaving instead of remaining. He doesn't know how anyone could leave Arthur, hurting and beautiful, no less strong for his vulnerabilities. He couldn't do it, not with marks from Arthur's clenching grip covering his hips, not with the scent of Arthur's body still lingering over him.
What truly keeps Merlin tucked into Arthur's side, curled in his bed and drowsy with something that feels closer to contentment than he has known in a while, is that Merlin knows—the world is not something meant to be faced alone, and he thinks it will be brighter with Arthur by his side.
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