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Summary
Arthur’s hands didn’t wait for his own permission once they had Merlin’s, and they began instantly the essential work of memorizing the feel of Merlin’s body changed. He didn’t fight the magnetism that drew him first to trace the long line that drew all the way across Merlin’s ribcage before running flattened palms up over the straight lines and hard muscle of his chest.
“Sorry you didn’t get to say goodbye,” Merlin quipped, and though his voice was still quiet and shaky, it almost sounded like he had managed a joke.
Arthur shook his head as his hands traveled across Merlin’s broad shoulders and trailed through the coarse, dark hair on his chest and down his arms. His voice was distracted. “Don’t be, you’re perfect.”