rivers_bend

Title: Petal
Fandom/Pairing: Merlin Gwen/Morgana
Words: 475
Rating: Adult
Written for heather11483 over at Vag Fest 09.



Gwen can never resist stopping to pick flowers once spring comes, not only for the scent as she walks up to the castle, but because she loves the smile that always lights Morgana's face when she sees them.

"These are my favourite," she always says, no matter what flowers Gwen brings.

Today she has a tangle of honeysuckle she intends to braid into Morgana's hair. While she brushes out the tangles put there by Morgana's pillow, Gwen watches her lady bury her nose in the blooms, sniffing deeply, seeming not to care that she's moaning softly as she exhales.

"Are you alright, Lady?" Gwen asks, stopping her brushing and putting a hand on Morgana's shoulder.

She doesn't expect Morgana to turn, dropping the flowers, and dip forwards until she's breathing against Gwen's lips. "Oh yes," Morgana says, and then kisses her.

Gwen sits stiff and stunned, wondering if she's picked some cursed or magical flowers somehow, or if Morgana's nightmares have finally driven her insane, because while Gwen might have dreamed of kissing Morgana, she has never for a moment imagined that the King's ward has thought of kissing her.

"Your lips are soft," Morgana whispers. "Just like I imagined them. And you taste of honeysuckle."

"You imagined?"

But Morgana only stands, pulling Gwen by her wrist towards the bed.

"Yes. I imagined," she says as she unlaces the neck of her nightdress. "And please don't tell me you haven't."

Gwen cannot lie, nor even speak, and only shakes her head.

"Good then. Come here."

It is both everything and nothing like Gwen imagined. For she had only thought to kiss Morgana on the lips, perhaps on her pale throat. The swell of breasts in her palms, the feel of Morgana's fingers at her waist tugging at her clothes until they fall to the floor, are sensations Gwen tries desperately to imprint on her memory.

"Don't look so scared," Morgana whispers as she lies Gwen down on the sheets, looking at her fondly. "No one will disturb us."

Then she takes Gwen's hand and guides it to the jet-black curls between her thighs, sighing as Gwen gently strokes her there. It's slick and wet and soft, and when Morgana spreads her legs wider and bucks against her, Gwen moves her fingers more deliberately, finding the harder nub that she knows makes her own knees weak, pinching and circling it when that makes Morgana moan.

Things get rather hazy when Morgana's hand moves between Gwen's legs, echoing her movements. She pulls Gwen down and kisses her and they both thrust and stroke, writhe and moan until they shiver and cry out, dropping limply apart, heads tilted so they can smile into each others' faces.

"Honeysuckle," Morgana says when they've got their breath back, "is absolutely my favourite."

"I shall remember that, my lady," Gwen answers.