such_heights: amy and rory looking at a pile of post (m: gwen/morgana [comfort])
Amy ([personal profile] such_heights) wrote2009-10-20 12:33 am

merlin ficbits

Here's the stuff I managed from this week's [community profile] camelot_fleet party - all under 500 words, all adult-rated.

Whispers | Gwen/Morgana | for [personal profile] briar_pipe

Morgana loses all sense of time when she's like this, the fragments of her dream still lingering as Gwen's fingers curl inside her. Gwen dips to kiss her, and Morgana feels the memory of a thousand other kisses both real and imagined, ghostly whispers all over her skin. She reaches up to grasp Gwen's arm and squeeze the firm curve of her bicep, desperate for as much touch as she can have, as much as Gwen will give her.

Moonlight trails in through the window and Gwen's skin gleams. Morgana wraps her arm around Gwen's neck and brings her in close, kissing the soft spot at the corner of her mouth. Gwen gasps and presses deeper in, sending pleasure rippling all through Morgana's body.

Morgana shuts her eyes, visions flooding through her waking mind. She sees the past, Gwen's flowers and her beaming smiles and their first, fluttering kisses. She sees the present as if quite outside herself, able to see the way Gwen's shoulders flex and her back arches. She sees the future, her power unbound and a crown atop Gwen's head. Every time and everywhere is Gwen, her smell and her voice and the press of her body against Morgana's. White hot sensation shoots through Morgana, both her body and her mind, and she holds onto Gwen as tight as she can.

The visions fade, and then there's nothing left but the two of them, their foreheads resting together, here and now in the moonlight.

.

Christening | Gwen/Morgana | for [livejournal.com profile] miakun

Morgana picks Gwen up and deposits her on the table, sending this morning's Guardian flying. She pulls Gwen's skirt down as Gwen lifts her hips obligingly.

"I didn't realise we were trying to christen every room in the flat in a day."

"Well, if you can't hack the pace..." Morgana says.

"Shut up and get on with it, would you?" Gwen replies, laughing.

Morgana grins and drops to her knees, running her hands down Gwen's legs and kissing her thighs. Gwen makes a happy noise above her and Morgana reaches up to slip her hand underneath Gwen's shirt, circling her navel.

She starts to lick at Gwen teasingly, biting at the place where her underwear covers her hips. Gwen yelps and Morgana hums in satisfaction, proving to herself that she still knows how to make Gwen crazy. She pushes her tongue flat against the damp cotton and sweeps across Gwen's sex in one swift motion, making Gwen's calves tremble against her back.

She could do this forever, she thinks, draw out Gwen's pleasure for hours, and she know that she will in this new place that's all their own. Now, though, she's impatient, greedy, she wants to taste Gwen in her mouth, make Gwen come apart around her. She shoves Gwen's knickers aside and licks her way in, firm and slow the way she knows Gwen likes.

"God, you're so--" Gwen says, choked, and tangles her fingers in Morgana's hair. "Wait, stop, I want -- come here."

Morgana goes easily, because she knows better than to refuse any of Gwen's ideas.

Gwen drags her up on to the table, and Morgana's knees knock against the table legs but it doesn't matter because Gwen is kissing her and kissing her, hot and wet and lush.

"Like this," Gwen says, bringing Morgana in close between her parted thighs, thrusting upwards, seeking friction. Morgana dips to nip at her collarbone, Gwen gasping in her ear, and it's good, it's good, it's good.

.

let's get you out of these wet clothes | OT5 | for [personal profile] glass_icarus

It's chucking it down with rain, Arthur is soaked through, and they're hurtling back towards camp. They collapse back into the tent, which for all its royal trappings still isn't built to take five grown adults thudding into it at the same time, and the wooden poles keeping it upright shudder. Gwen throws her head back as she laughs, water running off her curls onto the ground. She reaches out for Arthur's hand, drawing him into the warmth. Arthur feels himself heating rapidly, Lancelot's broad back resting against him while Morgana fastens the tent opening, keeping them enclosed.

"For heaven's sake, Arthur," Morgana says when she turns back to face him. "You're completely sodden, get those clothes off!"

"I -- what?" Arthur blinks.

Then Merlin's at his shoulder, reaching around to the front of Arthur's jacket, peeling it off. "Can't let my king catch cold," he says, his hands lingering on Arthur's chest.

Arthur's breath catches. "Guinevere," he starts, and Gwen smiles.

"We love you," she says.

Lancelot murmurs assent and leans over to kiss Arthur, slow and sweet.

"Well, most of the time," Morgana says darkly, but her eyes are glinting. She curls one hand over Gwen's and rests the other on Arthur's shoulder.

"We want this, if you'll have us," says Merlin, trailing circles over Arthur's hips.

The words send a sudden jolt through Arthur, almost like magic. "You -- you've planned this?"

"It was Guinevere's idea," says Lancelot.

Gwen bites her lip and kneels up to kiss Arthur deeply, pushing him down until he's falling into Merlin's lap. Arthur notes, slightly bemused, that Merlin's smile is even more ridiculous upside down.

There are hands tugging at Arthur's clothes; there are hands trailing over Arthur's skin. Suddenly he's desperate, aching for something he hadn't known he needed. Merlin cradles Arthur's head, and Arthur watches in astonishment as Lancelot looks at Arthur with completely guileless desire before swallowing him down, his mouth hot and wet and tight against Arthur.

Morgana starts to undo the trappings of Gwen's dress, kissing each part of newly-revealed skin. Arthur lets out a low moan, because he knows exactly how that feels. His fingers dig into the thick wool of the blankets under him, fighting the urge to thrust up into Lancelot's mouth, to give himself over to mindless pleasure.

Merlin strokes his face then, steadying. He leans in to kiss Arthur, a hot, searching kiss that lets Arthur settle, lets him breathe in the staggering, improbable luck of the moment, with water rising off them in trails of steam and the rain pouring down on the canvas above them.

.

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