an enormous need for affection

hisreindeerjumper:

@deadsdemona‘s post here inspired this fic. i love me some old, grumpy spy boyfriends.

Merlin had spent five days straight in his tech cave. It wasn’t his longest stint among the calming whir of his machines and the jarring footage of the agents he was handling, but he was getting older, and the endless monotony of little sleep and rushed meals wore on him much more quickly than it used to.

He barely remembered Harry breezing into his office, gently grabbing both wrists, and lifting him off of his rolly chair. “Alastair, you really need some rest,” Harry had murmured, brushing off his rumpled sweater and readjusting the glasses that sat on his face. “Come now. We’re going home.”

Once back inside their Stanhope Mews residence, Merlin had taken a quick and efficient shower before pulling on a pair of well worn pajamas bottoms and a jumper that had a hole in the armpit. He shuffled down the stairs and collapsed onto the couch, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table and dropping his head back onto the cushions.

Although he wouldn’t admit it out loud, it really did feel wonderful to be home. He could smell the stupid berry crumble scented candle Harry had burning, and without even giving it thought, he had somehow managed to pull the tartan throw that was on the back of the couch over his legs and had tucked it under his thighs. Marilyn, in all of her Persian glory, was curled up on his lap and purring luxuriously.

He must’ve drifted off at some point, because he hadn’t even heard Harry enter the room. It wasn’t until he felt the press of Harry’s lips against the bald curve of his head that he even knew Harry was standing behind him.

“What’s all this then?” he asked gruffly, lifting a hand to rub it against the moisture that lingered on his skin from Harry’s kiss.

“Affection,” Harry murmured, his fingertips gently running along the top of Merlin’s shoulder.

Screwing up his face in distaste, Merlin replied, “Well, it’s disgusting.” Somewhere above him, he heard Harry huff out an exasperated laugh. Merlin’s hand was still lingering on the curve of his skull, the wetness of Harry’s kiss still under his fingers. He could feel the buttons of Harry’s jumper occasionally brushing against his knuckles, and he started to feel Harry move away. In one deft motion, Merlin twisted his hand around and gripped Harry’s forearm. “Do it again?” he murmured, feeling the tip of his ears turning pink.

He didn’t have to see Harry’s face to know he was smiling. Gently removing his forearm from Merlin’s grip, Harry placed both hands on the tops of Merlin’s shoulders. As if by second nature, Merlin brought his own hands up to cover Harry’s and gave them an affectionate squeeze. He felt Harry lean down above him, and then press his lips once again to the crown of his head. Merlin couldn’t stop the smile from crossing his lips as Harry continued to kiss him, trailing his lips down the curve of his ear, onto the soft skin where his jaw met his neck, on the pulse point that peeked out just above Merlin’s jumper…

Soon, Harry had twined his arms around Merlin’s neck, his lips pressed against his jawline and his nose buried in Merlin’s cheek. A warm, satiated feeling had settled in Merlin’s stomach as he linked his fingers with Harry’s. He let out a contented hum, allowing the slightest nuzzle against the smoothness of Harry’s cheek.

“You’re like a giant house cat,” Harry murmured against his skin, punctuating his sentence with soft kisses. “All, ‘Don’t you dare look at me, you plebeian,’ but the second someone gives you any type of attention, you melt and purr and ask for more.”

“Wanker,” Merlin whispered, closing his eyes.

“Your wanker,” Harry whispered back, pressing one more kiss to his jawline.

Merlin couldn’t argue with that.