Sometimes Harry just needs to touch him. (EXCPLICIT)
They sit side-by-side on the edge of their bed, listening to the soft patter of rain against the windowpanes. Harry knows Merlin is beyond tired, exhausted from days spent awake and manning his console, but even then he's unwilling to let a few minutes alone with Harry slip through his fingers. Harry lifts a hand, pressing it to his partner's cheek and staring into weary green-hazel eyes. His thumb slowly traces Merlin's jawline, feeling the prickle of stubble against the pad of his finger and knowing the first thing he'll do after some sleep is give himself a clean shave.
He really ought to put Merlin to bed, ought to let him sleep, but instead he leans in and claims the wizard's mouth with his own. Merlin meets him eagerly, lips parting without hesitation. Harry can taste coffee on his tongue and wonders briefly how many mugs he's had in the past few days before licking deeper into his mouth, the thought flying far, far from his mind. They shift closer to one another, hands roaming freely in the safety of their bedroom. The hand that Merlin isn't leaning upon on the bed comes to rest on Harry's thigh, massaging gently, but Harry has plans for his own hands.
Harry reaches for Merlin's belt, long fingers making quick work of the clasp. The clatter of the buckle and sound of the zipper being pulled down feel overly loud in the quiet surrounding them and yet only serve to spur him on. Merlin bites at his lower lip when Harry's hand wraps around his prick, clearly onboard with his plans. Stroking him until he's hard doesn't take long, as even in dire need of sleep, Merlin remains responsive to his touch.
The moment Merlin's hands move to reciprocate, however, he stops. Free hand coming to wrap around Merlin's wrist, he draws back from their kiss, watching confusion make its way to the wizard's sleepy eyes.
"Let me have this," Harry says, just above a whisper. He kisses the corner of his partner's mouth, places another at his jaw, nibbles carefully when Merlin bares his throat to him. He nuzzles at the other man like a great cat, resuming his fondling. "Let me take care of you."
After a brief pause, Merlin's hands draw away, falling back to their previous positions. Harry kisses him deeply, pre-cum slicking his hand as he makes slow, deliberate strokes from base to tip. Merlin is itching to touch him; he can tell by the way the hand massaging his thigh has begun to do so in what can only be described as a desperate manner. But Harry wants this. He wants to touch Merlin uninterrupted, wants to have him, to taste him, to undo him, without bringing his own needs into the matter.
Control is Merlin's strong suit. Having him give it up to Harry so willingly, trusting Harry enough to do that, is a truly heady feeling. Knowing that Merlin can relax here with him and put the worries and responsibilities of their work aside in favor of being here in this moment with Harry makes his heart swell.
They don't speak. Oftentimes they do, when they're together like this—whispering quiet, loving things under the cover of darkness—but on this occasion, Harry finds he prefers the silence. Merlin rests his head against Harry's shoulder, something between a sigh and breathy moan escaping him. All Harry can hear is the sound of Merlin's heavy breathing and the soft clang of the wizard's belt buckle, the beating of his own heart so loud that the rainfall is barely noticeable.
Merlin's hips twitch and he moans again, burying his face in the crook between Harry's neck and shoulder, his hand leaving Harry's thigh to cup the back of his neck. He's panting, his thighs trembling as Harry works him over. Harry slows his ministrations, tracing the vein up the underside of his cock until he reaches the head. He thumbs the slit, smearing pre-cum in a tight, circular motion as it dribbles from the tip. Merlin whines quietly into his shoulder, pulling his other hand from the duvet in favor of clutching at the lapel of Harry's bespoke.
One would think that having Merlin in his ear as often as he does, Harry would be immune to his voice by now. But that's far from the case. He closes his eyes, drinking in every sound that escapes his partner, the knowledge that he had been the one to draw them out of him bringing a possessive sense of satisfaction to curl up in his chest like a dragon upon its horde.
Merlin's breaths come quicker and sharper as Harry strokes him intently, the clink of his belt buckle signifying Harry's determination to bring his partner to completion. Merlin lifts his head to seal his lips with Harry's once again, moving back and forth between kissing him and gasping for air. He kisses Harry like it's preferable to breathing, clutching at him with trembling fingers.
All of a sudden, Merlin stills against him, drawing in a great shuddering gasp. There are a few, breathless moments before it leaves him in a rush as he spills over Harry's fist, fair to clinging to him as Harry works his climax out of him. Harry's eyes are open, watching as Merlin pants and shivers, eyes clamped shut while Harry deliberately pumps his pulsing cock, kissing him slow and wet and loving.
Harry takes his time bringing Merlin down, leading him through a slow decline rather than a sudden crash. Merlin eventually opens his eyes, blinking lazily at his partner with a look of sleepy satisfaction that Harry wants to kiss right off of his face. Instead he brings his hand up between them, licking his partner's cum from his fingers and earning him a moan from Merlin.
The tech wizard pushes forward, pressing his lips to Harry's and tasting himself on his partner's tongue. It takes a great deal of willpower, but Harry gently pushes him back, patting his cheek fondly at the confused expression on his face.
"Sleep," he announces.
"Harry, I'm not going to just sleep after you—"
"Sleep," Harry repeats. "You were fair to dead on your feet before I brought you home and I was selfish enough to keep you awake."
"If that's your definition of selfish," Merlin says with a soft chuckle, "I can't imagine what you would consider selfless."
Harry clucks his tongue, shooting Merlin a look even as he begins to unfasten his tie. "Tomorrow, after you've slept. There will be plenty of time for us after you're rested. And believe me when I say you'll be glad you rested beforehand."
Merlin offers him a fond smile as Harry pulls his jumper off over his head. The second it's gone, Merlin's hands are on him, framing his face between them. He may not be long for the waking world, but the look of complete and utter adoration upon Merlin's face never ceases to move Harry, to stir something deep and sacred within him.
"I love you," he says quietly. "I've always loved you."
Harry smiles back, gentle as anything as he reaches for one of Merlin's hands, turning his head so he might place a kiss on the man's palm. "And I you."
He allows himself to indulge in a few more moments of gazing into Merlin's loving eyes before rallying himself. It doesn't take him long to get Merlin out of his clothes and takes even less time for him to fall asleep. Harry changes out of his bespoke, trading it for his pajamas before he slides into bed. Even asleep, Merlin seems to sense his presence as he shifts closer to Harry.
The rain continues to fall outside as Harry rests his head on Merlin's chest, the cadence of his partner's heartbeat and the weather against his window quickly spiriting him off to join Merlin in quiet slumber.