.

.

There's an abundance of silks and lavishing satins rubbing against Gwen's naked skin, and Morgana's perfectly upturned nose between her thighs.

It feels as she is lingering in a state of dream and nightmare.

"We shouldn't be doing this," Gwen murmurs. She arches her hips, craning her neck back when Morgana's villainous mouth suckles gently on her mound.

The fluffed, white pillow cascaded with dark brown ringlets has the odor of the training field— wild grass and dust, steel and perspiration. It smells like Arthur. Gwen's heart stutters its pace, her face red-flaming.

We absolutely shouldn't be doing this, Morgana," Gwen tries again, more adamant, and yelps when Morgana's reaching fingers pinch her calf.

The day is nearly over, and Uther has retired to his quarters. Arthur, as well as Merlin (because Camelot's prince seemingly can do nothing without ordering his favorite manservant about—even if Arthur denied the painfully obvious affection he carried for Merlin) gone over a week.

Morgana had snatched onto her hand as soon as dinner guests rose from their chairs, giggling and tugging Gwen along, rushing through corridors right to Arthur's chamber-door.

She constantly worries for Morgana's improper and quite dangerous streak of "I'll do as I please WHEN I please, have a lovely day"—but at the same moment, Gwen knows she herself revels. Lets it heat her core. Exploring each other's bodies on Arthur's bed is what Gwen calls an incredibly dangerous practice.

Even when knowing it borders on utter lunacy and that deep, irresistible sensuality Morgana craves.

A quiet, serene hum.

Gwen's buttocks clench involuntarily when Morgana nuzzles her, inhaling Gwen's scent. "Would you like to stop?" she asks.

"Of course not," Gwen replies, lifting her head to grin softly at her mistress. "But if any of the servants find us, I'm pleading mercy."

Morgana's lips, bare of color and slick with fluids, curl up. Oh, what Gwen wouldn't do to be able to summon the courage to kiss her then.

"Suppose they might enjoy that… watching you beg while the King's beloved ward takes her pleasure in her greatly admired maidservant… such rumors…"

Gwen swallows down a helpless, frustrated groan.

"And then, what follows is informing the King of the rumors…"

"Don't spoil the mood, Gwen," Morgana chides her, those cheeks a healthy shade of pink, eyes glaring, faking a pout. "It isn't very nice."

"Forgive me. I'm a bit preoccupied," Gwen says, laughing, breaking the sullen mood.

Morgana's tongue continues weaving against the folds of sensitive skin, dabbing at the tiny bump at the upper midpoint of Gwen's privates. The stimulation and euphoria warms Gwen's belly, tenses her muscles when nails graze her hips.

It hurt the first time Morgana attempted to pleasure her with just her fingers, Morgana's hands too eager and her fingernails sharp. Gwen had welcomed the comforting embrace after, surrounded by Morgana's rich perfume and waves of black hair, hearing murmured, loving apologies in her ear. She would have forgiven Morgana regardless.

Stretched to her completion, rhythmically pulsing and consuming, Gwen slammed a hand over her opening mouth, stifling any cry forcing out.

"Lovely," Morgana says, almost growling, crawling back up Gwen's body.

Gwen's thumb slides over Morgana's bottom lip offered. She pops the wet, brown digit into her mouth, tasting her own sex and heated musk.

"Very," Gwen murmurs to her, eyeing Morgana's pleasantly smirking face with affection.

More of a fantastical, satisying dream than nightmare, she imagines.

Worth the risk.

.

.


TWO FICS IN TWO DAYS. OH BOY. Well, I gotta meet deadlines. This one for The Merlin Ship Fest, and my pairing is Morgwen! Prompt is free choice. So, naturally, porny choice. If you liked what you read, or didn't and have some things to constructive criticism, I'm all ears. Throw me a review. Have a BRILLIANT day!~