Sequel to Revenge is Bittersweet, written on request by someone on my LJ Human Trash.

While Arthur had despised the restrictiveness of the dungeon binds while making love to his wife that morning, Gwen seemed to relish in them. She rose to the challenge of being bound (at length but still closely) to the bedposts so Arthur could enact his 'revenge' on her for leaving him to sleep off his hangover and post-coital bliss with her on a cold, stone floor.

She listened to the way the chains rattled with the movement of the bed as he plunged desperately into her, longing to live out every dear and dirty thought he had had since she had left him to "think about what might have been."

The knowledge of what he had missed last night through his drunkenness was enough to keep him sober for an eternity. Now, all he wanted was to be right here. Inside her.

Each time Gwen heard her own chains ring was proof of how much Arthur desired to appease her. He looked to her for ultimate satisfaction as well as love, and in return he sought always - even when he was restrained himself - to please her, and make her want him as much as he ialways/i wanted her.

And he succeeded.

And she let him know with soft, luscious sighs of delight.

He could have made her iscream/i if he wanted to. He had the ability. He had the power. Many times in the past he had induced deep, throbbing cries of mercy from his wife.

Yet Arthur remained gentle for the sake of the still-new life growing between them. He made sure not to press against her too hard for fear he would hurt it. For fear that he might hurt her.

Had he really wanted revenge, he would have pounded into her fast and furiously... before slowing down again just as Gwen was about to reach her high point, let it ebb away from her with shallow, rolling thrusts until it was all but gone. Then he would start all over again, repeating it as many times and as long as his manhood could take the pressure.

Then he would finally let her come.

Gwen described it as a form of torture, once. The climax was much harder and prolonged after a full hour of his painfully long 'game'. It was just as crushing for him as it was for her. He was denying himself just as much as her. It took great concentration to hold off, not least because he had learned to relish every second he spent with her. A lesson that had not worn off since their marriage.

But Arthur would not enact his 'torture' nor would he push her so hard and furiously that her only reaction was to scream. He was too weary of her condition and of her temper. To deny her an easy climax might provoke another night in the dungeons without her sweet company, and little chance of another needy quickie once her temper had cooled. He would no nothing to incur her anger or hurt their child, for that type of lovemaking could be rough on both their bodies.

So he was careful and attentive, responding to her suggestions and needs rather than simply following his own instinct.

In many ways, it was Arthur who was still in the chains while Gwen controlled him. The only free part of her body was her legs, and these had long since encircled his hips, driving every move he made. He went where she wanted him to. He was like the slave, and she the mistress. He was like the mortal man, trying to keep favour from his goddess of choice. He was the king who lived to lie in the lap of his queen.

She slowly pushes her head back against the pillows, clinches her eyes closed, clenches her fists tight, and groans with satisfaction as her body starts to relax. That was how Arthur knew that she had all she needed.

He came too spilling deeply and finally into her already occupied body. His breath is caught in his throat, which is dry from the heat. Two, three, four, five, six seconds pass before the climax starts to settle down and he finally collapses beside her.

Gwen rattles her chain, "Aren't you going to let me out?"

He reaches over again to release the wrist nearest to him, allowing her to free the other one herself.

She sighs with satisfaction and pulls herself over to rest her head against his bare-chest. This is reassuring. This lets Arthur know that she is no longer angry about before. "My arms are aching," she sighed, curling one across his body.

"I'm sorry," Arthur quickly said, wishing he hadn't used the chains now. He hadn't cared too much about revenge in the end. He had wronged her more than she had him.

"Don't worry," Gwen giggled. She pulled herself up to lean over him and kiss his lips lovingly. "You have more than made up for it."