Tuesday Morning is for Porn!
I WROTE FIC FOR kinkme_merlin! And it's Gwen/Morgana with implied Morgana/Uther. Fuck yeah, I WROTE THAT SHIT RIGHT THERE!
Gwen/Morgana, Morgana/Uther - au or serious anachronisms :P, Gwen discovers that Uther fixes Morgana with a vibrating egg and a chastity belt every morning. Can follow with Gwen/Morgana or Morgana/Uther sex.
Okay, so maybe I didn't write any actual 'sex'. Uther doesn't even show up in person, but you know what? IT STILL HAS CHASTITY BELTS AND VIBRATORS AND OTHER THINGS THAT MAKE ME GO WHAT DID I JUST WRITE?!?!
Another Thursday Afternoon
GUYS, I FINISHED FIC!
At first, Gwen thinks Morgana must be coming down with a fever. She sets a warm cup of tea on the far corner of Morgana's desk and inches out of the office when she's waved off.
She closes the door to the gentle rhythm of Morgana's hiccuping breaths.
The next time Morgana summons her into the office with glassy eyes and a high flush on her cheeks Gwen doesn't hold back. She crosses the room with a sure step, leans over the desk, laying the back of her hand against Morgana's forehead and frowns.
"Really, Gwen, I'm not ill." Morgana laughs but her eyes never reach Gwen's face, and Gwen believes nothing she says. "The tea was lovely though, thank you."
Gwen's hand drops slowly to the empty cup and she lifts it with a small bob of her head. "I--you're welcome, of course."
Morgana rolls her eyes and shifts forward on her chair, sucking her lower lip between her teeth. "Has anyone called?"
"No, not since this morning." Gwen cradles the cup and gazes at the dregs swimming at the bottom while saying, "Mr. Pendragon's in a meeting and Arthur's come by once or twice asking after you. I told him you were busy like you said."
"Good. I have nothing to say to him until he apologizes."
"I'm sure he--"
"He's been spoiled." Morgana shivers. "Even Merlin's been bending over backward for him recently, someone needs to keep him on his toes."
"If that's what you, I mean, yes, of course. But shouldn't we be giving him the benefit of the doubt. He is, well, it is sort of his job to tell all of us what to do. It's not--I'm sorry I shouldn't have said any--"
"It's all right, Gwen." Morgana settles a hand over Gwen's wrist and squeezes. "If he comes by again tell him I won't be home until late tonight."
Gwen nods and wonders what will keep Morgana out. Certainly nothing here could tether Morgana to her desk for longer than the required hours. She fumbles for something further to say and ends up bobbing her head up and down longer than necessary before turning for the door, but Morgana does not release her hand so she stays, silent and waiting. Long lacquered nails bite her skin suddenly, and Morgana's whole body goes taut. Her eyes are wild as she searches the room for something and seems to find it on Gwen's face.
"Morgana?" Gwen questions to give voice to the sudden upwelling of concern that has caught her heart and tugged it up into her throat. Morgana's worrying her lower lip bloody and her hips are twitching and jerking, no, rolling in an inconsistent pattern up and down almost as if.
As if...
Heat creeps into Gwen's face and somewhere lower, more focused, more desperate. She drops like a stone onto the desk. Something is so very, very wrong with all of this, beyond wrong really, it's nearing the realm of frightening and she isn't sure how to broach this with Morgana. If Morgana could even hear rational thought.
Something in the room buzzes loudly and Morgana nearly slams her knees into the desk.
"Oh," Gwen breathes. She thought, well, she had thought that perhaps, but clearly there was a...a...The noise cuts off with a ringing silence.
"Dammit, Uther," Morgana curses suddenly, viciously, and she, slowly and apologetically, pries her fingers from Gwen's wrist. She soothes over the small indents in Gwen's wrist with the pads of her fingers and makes a soft noise of frustration. Gwen can't quite turn away from her, and she shifts on the desk uncomfortably flushed all the way through. "I'm sorry, Gwen," continues Morgana. Her voice cuts through the tense quiet. "You should leave."
"No!" It's Gwen's turn to bite her lip and she looks away. "I mean-If that's what you want, then yes, of course I'll leave."
She moves to stand, flustered, when Morgana grabs onto her upper arm, keeping her still. "You want to stay."
Gwen can't help the pained "yes" she says anymore than she can keep Morgana from nearly falling off her chair when the vibrator goes off again. And yes, now Gwen can name it for what it is. What else could it be? But it was so loud and sounded a bit like it was touching a metal pole.
"Mercia is folding."
"What?"
"Uther has the r-remote for this bloody thing. He said he'd only turn it on if things were going well. They're going too--too." Morgana tips her head backward with a sharp gasp that Gwen mirrors helplessly. "God. God. God," she chants, gripping Gwen's arms as she arches and arches and shatters with a sob and Guinevere's name on her lips. Her hips twitch in small aftershocks for long seconds and her head bows forward to Gwen's neck. Sweat and hair tickles Gwen's throat and they only serve a small distraction from the way her knickers bunch and press just so with every little shift.
"Are you...?"
Morgana softens her hold enough for Gwen to reach out and stroke Morgana's wavy black hair back into place to hide what had happened. The office reeks of sweat and sex and Morgana's perfume, something too expensive that Gwen has only heard of in magazines and never seen in person. She whimpers when Morgana pulls away and only then realizes how she's spread her legs like a wanton hussy and snaps them closed, hiding the sodden knickers that would give her away.
"Gwen." Morgana chuckles and drags her chair closer, the wheels squeaking over the high-polished wood floor. She circles a finger around Gwen's thigh, raising goosebumps and white lines. "Gwen, Gwen, Gwen," she chides. The urge to cross her legs for just the barest pressure is enough to drive Gwen mad. "Go ahead. Ask."
"Please?"
Morgana's answering grin makes Gwen shiver.
Gwen/Morgana, Morgana/Uther - au or serious anachronisms :P, Gwen discovers that Uther fixes Morgana with a vibrating egg and a chastity belt every morning. Can follow with Gwen/Morgana or Morgana/Uther sex.
Okay, so maybe I didn't write any actual 'sex'. Uther doesn't even show up in person, but you know what? IT STILL HAS CHASTITY BELTS AND VIBRATORS AND OTHER THINGS THAT MAKE ME GO WHAT DID I JUST WRITE?!?!
Another Thursday Afternoon
GUYS, I FINISHED FIC!
At first, Gwen thinks Morgana must be coming down with a fever. She sets a warm cup of tea on the far corner of Morgana's desk and inches out of the office when she's waved off.
She closes the door to the gentle rhythm of Morgana's hiccuping breaths.
The next time Morgana summons her into the office with glassy eyes and a high flush on her cheeks Gwen doesn't hold back. She crosses the room with a sure step, leans over the desk, laying the back of her hand against Morgana's forehead and frowns.
"Really, Gwen, I'm not ill." Morgana laughs but her eyes never reach Gwen's face, and Gwen believes nothing she says. "The tea was lovely though, thank you."
Gwen's hand drops slowly to the empty cup and she lifts it with a small bob of her head. "I--you're welcome, of course."
Morgana rolls her eyes and shifts forward on her chair, sucking her lower lip between her teeth. "Has anyone called?"
"No, not since this morning." Gwen cradles the cup and gazes at the dregs swimming at the bottom while saying, "Mr. Pendragon's in a meeting and Arthur's come by once or twice asking after you. I told him you were busy like you said."
"Good. I have nothing to say to him until he apologizes."
"I'm sure he--"
"He's been spoiled." Morgana shivers. "Even Merlin's been bending over backward for him recently, someone needs to keep him on his toes."
"If that's what you, I mean, yes, of course. But shouldn't we be giving him the benefit of the doubt. He is, well, it is sort of his job to tell all of us what to do. It's not--I'm sorry I shouldn't have said any--"
"It's all right, Gwen." Morgana settles a hand over Gwen's wrist and squeezes. "If he comes by again tell him I won't be home until late tonight."
Gwen nods and wonders what will keep Morgana out. Certainly nothing here could tether Morgana to her desk for longer than the required hours. She fumbles for something further to say and ends up bobbing her head up and down longer than necessary before turning for the door, but Morgana does not release her hand so she stays, silent and waiting. Long lacquered nails bite her skin suddenly, and Morgana's whole body goes taut. Her eyes are wild as she searches the room for something and seems to find it on Gwen's face.
"Morgana?" Gwen questions to give voice to the sudden upwelling of concern that has caught her heart and tugged it up into her throat. Morgana's worrying her lower lip bloody and her hips are twitching and jerking, no, rolling in an inconsistent pattern up and down almost as if.
As if...
Heat creeps into Gwen's face and somewhere lower, more focused, more desperate. She drops like a stone onto the desk. Something is so very, very wrong with all of this, beyond wrong really, it's nearing the realm of frightening and she isn't sure how to broach this with Morgana. If Morgana could even hear rational thought.
Something in the room buzzes loudly and Morgana nearly slams her knees into the desk.
"Oh," Gwen breathes. She thought, well, she had thought that perhaps, but clearly there was a...a...The noise cuts off with a ringing silence.
"Dammit, Uther," Morgana curses suddenly, viciously, and she, slowly and apologetically, pries her fingers from Gwen's wrist. She soothes over the small indents in Gwen's wrist with the pads of her fingers and makes a soft noise of frustration. Gwen can't quite turn away from her, and she shifts on the desk uncomfortably flushed all the way through. "I'm sorry, Gwen," continues Morgana. Her voice cuts through the tense quiet. "You should leave."
"No!" It's Gwen's turn to bite her lip and she looks away. "I mean-If that's what you want, then yes, of course I'll leave."
She moves to stand, flustered, when Morgana grabs onto her upper arm, keeping her still. "You want to stay."
Gwen can't help the pained "yes" she says anymore than she can keep Morgana from nearly falling off her chair when the vibrator goes off again. And yes, now Gwen can name it for what it is. What else could it be? But it was so loud and sounded a bit like it was touching a metal pole.
"Mercia is folding."
"What?"
"Uther has the r-remote for this bloody thing. He said he'd only turn it on if things were going well. They're going too--too." Morgana tips her head backward with a sharp gasp that Gwen mirrors helplessly. "God. God. God," she chants, gripping Gwen's arms as she arches and arches and shatters with a sob and Guinevere's name on her lips. Her hips twitch in small aftershocks for long seconds and her head bows forward to Gwen's neck. Sweat and hair tickles Gwen's throat and they only serve a small distraction from the way her knickers bunch and press just so with every little shift.
"Are you...?"
Morgana softens her hold enough for Gwen to reach out and stroke Morgana's wavy black hair back into place to hide what had happened. The office reeks of sweat and sex and Morgana's perfume, something too expensive that Gwen has only heard of in magazines and never seen in person. She whimpers when Morgana pulls away and only then realizes how she's spread her legs like a wanton hussy and snaps them closed, hiding the sodden knickers that would give her away.
"Gwen." Morgana chuckles and drags her chair closer, the wheels squeaking over the high-polished wood floor. She circles a finger around Gwen's thigh, raising goosebumps and white lines. "Gwen, Gwen, Gwen," she chides. The urge to cross her legs for just the barest pressure is enough to drive Gwen mad. "Go ahead. Ask."
"Please?"
Morgana's answering grin makes Gwen shiver.