The early morning light, filtered through the clouds, softened the otherwise harsh lines of the stark-white walls and solid black furniture, and the blue-grey down comforter was a rumpled mass on top of four large pillows and something he hoped was a breathing body.
Merlin shifted under the blankets, flopping over onto his belly.
A long bare leg, moon-milky against the blue-grey comforter, stretched out and curled slightly. The fine black hairs on his calf and thigh only served to enhance the lines of muscles, lean and lined even at rest. Arthur’s eyes traced the length of his leg, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of Merlin’s boxers, the fabric pushed up all the way to the crook and curve of his arse.