Just a quick (and slightly dirty) little something.
Harry rolls off Merlin, dropping onto his back beside the younger man, chest heaving. For a moment, he simply catches his breath; eyes shut, skin slick with sweat, feeling deliciously sated. He can hear Merlin breathing heavily beside him and turns his head to glance at his partner.
Merlin has a hand pressed over his eyes, still clutching loosely at the bedsheets with the other, looking every bit as worn out as Harry feels. Harry allows his eyes to roam freely, taking in every inch of bare skin laid before him as though he hadn't just become intimately acquainted with it. He finds he simply can't get enough of Merlin's lean physique, his nimble fingers, and legs so long that they give Harry's a run for their money.
He rolls onto his side for a better view, molding himself to the wizard's side in the process. He can hardly believe that they've just done this. It's not as though he hasn't slept with people on missions outside of honeypots, but… this is different. This is something else altogether. Sleeping with Merlin hadn't just been sex; for him or for Merlin.
It's their first time since Barcelona, the first time they'd been able to admit to each other that it hadn't been as much of a mistake as they told themselves it was. It's been years since they've had this and it's every bit as good as he remembers. Better, even. Better now that they can admit whatever it is between them won't be going away any time soon. It won't be easy and perhaps they've made more trouble for themselves with this, but Harry can't go back to how it was before. Thinking back to the way Merlin's eyes had borne into his as he'd pressed Harry to the wall, he doubts Merlin could imagine going back either.
But thoughts of later are not for now. Not when he has a Merlin, a bed and plenty of moonlight left. His eyes dip down—drawn to the sight of the come smeared on Merlin's stomach, his legs still slightly parted, his prick lying limp against his thigh—and take in each detail hungrily.
"It's rude to stare," Merlin says, peeking between his fingers.
Harry's drawn in by those eyes, that green hazel which should be unremarkable but which instead remind him of fresh earth and green shoots bursting forth from beneath, like a constant springtime. And surely it must be spring, for what else could explain this feeling which blossoms in his chest whenever their eyes meet?
"Is it now?" Harry purrs.
"Yes, it is," Merlin responds, amused. "So are you going to stare all night or say what's on your mind?"
"What's on my mind? I'm simply wondering: How is it," Harry says, still somewhat breathless as he lightly traces a finger up the underside of Merlin's cock, "that I've only just had you and yet I'm desperate to have you again?"
Merlin moans faintly, hips lifting off the bed just a fraction, back bent in a beautiful arch.
"Oh, fuck me," he breathes.
Harry chuckles, leaning in to kiss him. "That's the idea, darling."
