You May Be A Sinner By Your Innocence Is Mine
Title: You May Be A Sinner By Your Innocence Is Mine
Characters/Pairings: Merlin/Morgana
Rating/Warnings: NC-17
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Summary: She comes at night, when the shadows reign and darkness fills the air, drifting in deadly silent. A ghost haunting.
Word Count: 4,459
Author’s notes: Done for the merlin_muses fest ages ago, thought it was about time I post it here. Huge thank you to djkiwi2576 for betaing she really helped me out. The story is much better because of her *huggles*
I would also like to take this opportunity to point out that I’m taking part in the help_japan auction’s. Yes I am shameless, but it’s for a good cause. Anyway I’m offering a 300 word drabble for one help_japan lj-gift so if you’re interested please drop on by =D
She comes at night, when the shadows reign and darkness fills the air, drifting in deadly silent. A ghost haunting. He knows she’s there before his eyes open, feels her presence itching at the corners of his mind, worming her way in once more. Merlin makes no movement, watching her in the gloom from the comfort of his bed, waiting patiently for what is sure to come. He’s been here before, done it all despite the continual strain upon his beating heart. He’s a masochist with baby blues and goofy ears. Freely offering his life to the woman with the twisted smile and her blade pressing into the tender flesh on his heart.
Morgana stands there for a few moments, swaying on the spot. Her nightgown is covered by a purple cloak hanging loosely from her shoulders. Murky orbs set in a pale face, stare through the obscurity into Merlin’s awaiting blue eyes, penetrating and hard. They study one another, communicating through glances and tilts of the head. Without a sound she shrugs off the cloak, letting it fall to the floor with a quiet thud revealing her nightgown in its full glory. Deep red lace skims her curves accentuating the splendour of her figure.
He studies her, allowing his eyes to travel up and down her frame as he licks his lips. The corners of her mouth curve upwards in a crimson smirk that’s become increasingly familiar to him. With his chin tilted upwards he allows the inaudible melody in her footsteps to hypnotize him as she moves forward with deadly grace. Smoothly, she crawls up onto the bed, like a panther, claiming its prey she hovers above him, black hair cascading down trapping his face in a cage made of fragrant bliss. She brushes her lips over his face, rubs her nose against his, soft and gentle making his eyes flutter as he enjoys the subtle nature of her touch. The tenderness is in complete contrast to the hardness she’d displayed, since her return.
Morgana’s year away had changed her entirely. At one time, they had stood side by side, now they were kapéla (divided). Separated by a turbulent river; raging, thrashing, threatening to splash over the water’s edge, soaking the earth below their feet till it was a bog forcing them under. Merlin fought to wade across, throw a rope, but it always fell short, just missing her opened hands. It seemed as though never again would they be able to walk the same path, the barrier between them too strong, consisting of night and day, sun and moon, evil and good.
Since her return she’d engaged only in devious deeds; reeking havoc, summoning the dead, aiding Morgause in her plot to dethrone Uther and overturn Camelot. She’d dirtied her hands with the blood of decent, innocent people. No thought was spared for them, no guilt was held, just vengeance and wrath. A smile that he remembered being bright and warm was now cold, a leer always present underneath the soft cushions of her lips even when a smile was in place. No one knew of her treachery, Uther was blinded, Arthur oblivious and the court? They went with whatever Uther decided, too fond of their heads. Only Merlin and Gauis knew what sinister conduct had come from her silky fingers. Many plots and schemes he’d thwarted over the months including one earlier that day.
“Nice save today, tell me Merlin how do you do it?” Her tone is mocking as her breath tickles lightly upon his skin. She’s still hovering above him, straddling his physique with her arms and legs; her face inches from his own.
Merlin stares at Morgana, her eyes are shimmering in the moonlight, glinting with an extra dose of something ominous. She enjoys the game they play; sometimes he thinks she leaves clues for him so he gets there in time to watch her commit some heinous crime against all he stands for; finding a sick pleasure in the behaviour and his disgusted reaction. Like today. Today he arrived seconds before she slit the throat of a knight, the memory of the blood gushing from the wound, the awful gurgling noise he made still plagued his thoughts. As did her harrowing eyes, full of lustful hatred, smiling as he’d gagged.
“Did you hear the sound he made? Delicious!”
She responds to his inner monologue and he wonders if she genuinely does have the power to pry open up the hinges of his mind, or if it’s his eyes that give him away. He suspects the latter.
“Stop it.” He’s tired, exhausted from running around once again saving Camelot from the brink of doom. More than that, he’s emotionally drained; sick from the continual moral struggles. Kill her, don’t kill her, tell her about his magic, don’t tell her, love her, hate her. Every moment his mind ticks over. He wants to see all his options play out, glimpse the future. He resists, he’s tampered with that before, it never gets him anywhere, only leading to more heartbreak.
“Want me to go?” The question is pointless they both know the answer. Once again she takes sweet satisfaction in placing him on the spot. It’s part of their twisted game.
“No.”
Merlin sighs and reaches up lightly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. With the tips of his fingers he traces the angles of her perfectly formed face. Her beauty is exquisite, fiery, bold, but also delicate. She hides behind it, conceals the danger, the pain that lurks with pretty smiles and fluttering eyelashes. It’s not just a mask; he’s seen the beauty beyond the pretty face, held it in the palm of his hands.
No words are spoken as his fingers roam; Merlin notices how Morgana twists into the touch ever so slightly, his lips tug upwards.
“You’re so beautiful.”
Lifting his head, Merlin presses his lips against hers briefly. Morgana is the first to pull back, quietness has hazed over her eyes, making him smile. It doesn’t last long.
“It’s amazing what looks can do isn’t it? How they can manipulate people. Uther’s such a fool for it. I would have searched the entire world the seas, the skies, the stars for that smile. UGH!” She mimics him with disdain, eyes rolling.
Merlin holds no love for Uther, still it pains him to hear her talk about the king in this way. Say what you want about Uther, you couldn’t deny he truly loved both Arthur and Morgana. Besides it was the harshness in her voice that upset him, the sense of ruthlessness.
“I can’t wait to see him wiggle like a worm on a hook!” she’s in his face again, smirking. Her breath is sweetly fragranced. It seems odd to him that such a pleasant fragrance taints words full of toxin.
“It’ll be just like today, only better!”
Merlin’s mind hardens.
“Don’t talk like that, today was not a good day!”
Morgana laughs.
“What are you talking about; it was a great day, the fear on Uther’s face when he thought his beloved kingdom was going to fall! The walls shaking, crumbling, screams, shouts and cries resonating,”
She breathes in deeply, closing her eyes as if reliving the moment.
“Heaven!”
Merlin heaves a heavy sigh. There so much violence in her mind, pulsing in her blood, poison tainting all that once was good.
“So many died today, over a dozen children, children!” his voice is quiet, sad, he sees their faces flashing before his eyes, young and vibrant, their flames extinguished way too early.
Morgana’s lips twitch, lowering down so they caress the bed on his ear she whispers on a hot warm breath sending shivers down his spine.
“SO?”
Merlin flinches, his body repulsed by her careless disregard for life. He pushes her off removing himself from the bed whilst she scoffs. Facing the wall he runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the ends, frustrated, searching his head for the right words, the ones that will bring her back.
“How can you do it? Morgana it’s wrong!” He turns to look at her, she’s spread out on her side, legs tucked behind her, head cupped in her hand fingers playing with a strand of hair. Boredom is written across her features. He knows where this is heading, they’ve been here many a time but still he continues desperately. Clawing at stone walls with bloodied fingernails.
“You shouldn’t use your powers this way, there are so….”
Morgana rolls her eyes, flipping her head back onto the pillow with an exasperated sigh.
“Save the speech Merlin, I’ve heard it all before and I’m tired of it!”
“Why? Why do you have to spill so much blood! It’s not fair!”
Moragna bolts upright and glares at him, eyes vividly bright in their anger.
“Not fair?” there’s venom in her voice, sharp and piercing, he braces himself.
“I’ll tell you what’s not fair Merlin being persecuted for something you have no control over! What about all the blood Uther’s spilt; I don’t see you crying over them!”
Rising from the bed she fumes over to him continuing her rant, all the while Merlin stands still. He’s not afraid of her.
“What about them? Burning on stakes, flesh peeling from their bodies, screaming. Heads rolling, children drowning. You think they deserved that? Think I deserve that? That’s what’s awaiting me if Uther does not fall.”
“I un….”
Her hand comes flying out of nowhere. He hears the almighty smack, before he feels it but when the pain finally comes, it’s razor-sharp, red hot and his cheekbone aches.
“You understand nothing! You’re just a bloody servant!”
They stare at each other for a long while, as the air sparks between them.
“The mighty Uther will fall along with this precious Camelot and I shall dance upon their graves! Your attempts to stop me will fail. The war is raging and I intend to fight it by whatever means necessary!”
The tense, hostile, threatening tone of her voice throws the words in his face like a spitting cobra, their venom resonating within his ears. With his shoulders square, he stands tall, meeting her gaze full on.
“And I will always be there!”
Merlin watches as she slowly sneers, her tongue darting out, wetting lips that move dangerously. Unconsciously he matches her movements, wetting his own, desire and annoyance coursing through his veins. Without warning she closes the small gap between them, her lips crush down on his intensely. Pushing him hard at the shoulders she slams him into the wall, he grunts into her now open mouth, first from pain then in pleasure as she presses her body against him, gaining as much contact so as possible. Her sickeningly sweet tongue grazes his lips, prodding with slight force. He can tell she’s asking permission, waiting for him to open rather than forcing her way in; it makes his lips turn upwards and a puff of giddy air leave his lungs. She bites down hard on his lip, punishment for his act of amusement. Groaning at the pain Merlin lets in her awaiting tongue but flips them round so now its Morgana’s slender back that’s pressing hard against stone walls.
Their tongues connect immediately, dancing and entangling till he’s not sure where his ends and hers begins. Her fingers thread themselves into his black hair, pulling and tugging causing him to groan and grind against her groin harder making her moan in turn. His hands, travel across her body, up her navel, to her chest, round her throat, into her hair, down her arms before gripping at her hips firmly. The crimson material of her nightgown wrinkles beneath his fingers.
“I should kill you, you know.” she moans her breath hot, blazing as she glides her teeth against the sensitise skin of his neck, procuring a low growl deep from within him. The sound reverberates in the back of his throat as his Adman’s apple bobs up and down.
“Go on then.” He challenges, pushing her at her hips, removing her lips from his pulse point.
Sneering Morgana untangles a hand from his hair raising it in motion Merlin’s used many a time. She looks upon him eyes sparkling, lips twitching.
“I could you know; I’ve been practising. You’ve seen what I’m capable of now!”
A cloud sweeps across Merlin’s face, features hardening; o yes he’s seen. Morgana eyes him up, thinking she’s won; waiting for him to back down. Maybe he would have, a few years ago, but he doubts they would even play this game back then. It’s not just the changes in Morgana; his soul’s becomes tangled within hers. A deal has been struck; he will either be her saviour or damnation. He’s not naive, he is all too aware of the part he’s played. She may have been changing before he took her breath away, but it was him and him alone that killed the old Morgana. He wishes he could go back, re-write history. If only he’d told her, trusted her more, mentored her then perhaps none of this would have occurred. They’d be joined for entirely different reasons. But what’s done is done; he can only live in the present though the past haunts his every moment.
Thrusting his chest forward so the flat of her palm is over his heart he tests her wordlessly. Merlin sees the flash in her eyes, the slight frown that flickers across her face and he basks in it. She thinks she holds all the cards, possess the power, she’s wrong. He holds her just as tightly, their twisted together, battered skin, bruised muscles and broken bones fastened with pins and chains.
“Do it!” he whispers harshly, lips brushing against hers, nipping her bottom lip. Morgan hesitates. Her chest is heaving, heart racing. It’s his turn to smirk now, he does. Once again the gap parting them is closed and their lips meet in feverish longing. Frantic, hurried, pulses beating fast they move. His arousal is growing with each passing beat of their hearts, every kiss, building in intensity. The evidence of his desires presses against her; knocking his knee against hers, in an unspoken request for consent. Morgana grins into the embrace opening her legs so he can manoeuvre his body into the space. She lets out a groan as he presses at her entrance through the material of her nightgown. Although the action causes her to grow wetter her frustration at the lack of skin to skin contact intensifies.
Morgana yanks Merlin’s cotton shirt up and over his head, forcing their lips to part for a split second, the reunion is brutal, as their mouths attack in a twisted kiss of passion. Her hands wander all over his back, feeling the muscles as they twitch and flex. Merlin’s was not built like Arthur, big and broad. On sight one would think him absent of muscles, how wrong they’d be. Underneath his neckerchief and goofy grin, they’d find a slender but firm body, a perfectly sculpted form. She trails wet kisses down his abdomen as far possible before she would have to kneel. She will never knell to him, never. Merlin grunts his approval as her hands and eyes explore his body. Her lips will not reach the area that needs most attention, without breaking her longstanding rule. Instead she winds her hand lower, nails scrapping his flesh in an agonisingly slow manner.
When she finally cups him, Merlin kisses, before jerking forward into her touch. She stokes his erection through the material of his britches. Long, tortuous, motions, Morgana employs as she kisses, sucks and nips at his skin. She’s prolonging the experience for both of them, using her knowledge of the spots that make him delirious. Despite the fact he is currently swimming in a sea of hazed pleasure; unable to form a coherent thought, Merlin’s hands instinctively caress Morgana’s own spots of pleasure. His hands grope at her breasts. With squeezes and strokes he obtains profound moans from Morgana. His thumb brushes across her already hardening nipple through the silk material, the hand wrapped around his erection contracts. The gasp she makes in his ear is almost enough to make him loose control.
Eventually Merlin can take no more of her teasing and grabs her wrist, curling his hand roughly over hers he pulls it back, pinning it to the wall above her head. He repeats the motion the other. Merlin notices the bangle as his hand connects with Morgana’s skin. Images of the blonde haired woman bubble to the surface of his mind, the things she’d taught Morgana, how she’d bent Morgana’s mind, he was seething. He rips the bracelet from her flesh, with great, throwing it on the floor; watching as it lands with a loud klang, skidding across the floor and bumping into the wood of the door.
“Careful you’ll wake Gauis!” Morgana’s sing song voice danced into his ears as she licked along his jaw.
In that moment Merlin remembers his mentor; his head turns towards the door. Morgana grins and pulls his face back to her.
“Don’t worry he won’t wake up for a long, long time!”
A slight twang of panic courses through him.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing serious, a simple sleeping draft, you look so cute when you’re worried!”
Merlin growls in irritation plunging his mouth on top of hers, silencing her. She’ll pay for that he thinks. Teasingly he draws in her bottom lip sucking leisurely, rubbing himself between her legs, the material of her nightgown is damp now, he can almost taste the sweetness of what lies beneath. Morgana whines, pushing herself into him, desperate for more contact. Scrunching the material of her dress into his fist Merlin pulls upwards, revealing the skin of her thighs. Catching sight of the crimson material covering his hands, he falters. In a strange hallucinogenic moment the silk turns to blood, he sees droplets falling from her flesh, sees the violence she’s covered in. Fury gurgles inside his stomach; once more he questions how one so kind had become so cruel. He aches for her in so many ways, longs for ‘old’ Morgana, the one who’d been his friend, for the dress to change back to white. In an outburst of fiery mixed emotion he allows the dress to fall back down. Morgana looks at him in confusion, unsure of the events that pass between them. Merlin’s eyes burn into her, glowing with a fierce spark, he looks wild, dangerous, Morgana feels herself smoulder under his animalistic gaze.
Suddenly his hands were at the neckline of her dress, she gasps in shock and excitement as Merlin rips the dress apart, the material giving way to his hidden strength. The ivory skin of her body was revealed; glowing in the moonlight, the ferocity in Merlin’s mind settles as he drunk in the sight. Her skin still mirrors his in paleness. She wasn’t too far gone. Without hesitation his lips press themselves against her exposed breast, right over her heart. Morgana bit her lip, letting her head fall back against the wall; hands snaking themselves into his hair rubbing circles into the skin.
She was soaking, yearning for his touch.
Wet lips left tracks along her collarbone, hot air curling down it, she shuddered in pleasure. Moving her head down, she nuzzles herself into the side of Merlin’s ducked head, lips attaching themselves to his ear. Drawing the lobe into her mouth she sucks hungrily before pulling her teeth across it and releasing it back to its owner. The air around them is foggy heated by their passions. Sounds of combined moans, mewls, groans, and grunts echo throughout the small room.
Winding his hand lower past dampened curls Merlin enters a lone, slim finger into her, pumping in and out, thumb rubbing against the soft flesh of her clitoris. She gasps into his mouth, bucks forwards meeting his strokes. Slipping another finger inside of her, he enjoys the delightful sounds she makes. He knows the places to hit, how to make her glow.
His britches are becoming unbearably tight now. Sensing his discomfort Morgana reaches between them drawing his hand out of her, before bringing it to her lips and suckling his slick fingers. Merlin watches, the sight alone is enough to bring him to his knees but when she kisses him so that he too can taste her, his mind goes blank. She’s honey sweet, it makes his mouth water. He can’t wait any longer; he needs to be inside of her, she shares his sentiments. She makes quick work of his pants, exposing him fully and it’s not long before he is poised ready to enter, one of Morgana’s milky skinned legs wrapped around his waist for leverage.
“Turning shy on me?” she inquires lips smirking when he hesitates for a second. Merlin kisses her roughly in response grabbing the leg that’s still on the floor yanking it upwards he sweeps her off the floor, using the wall to prop her up. Instinctively she wraps herself tightly around his waist, clenching hard. Her hands come to rest around his neck. Merlin bends his knees, waiting for her to slide down to meet him, she does so. Both groan and gasp at the long awaited contact, standing upright again Merlin beings to draw out of her, then in again, over and over.
He’s not gentle with her, they’ve long past the stage of timidnes, lost somewhere between poison and swords. She meets each hard thrust full on, circling her hips, increasing the intensity of pleasure. Nails scrape along his back, hard enough to leave marks; she arches backwards pressing her nails further into his skin. Her fingers tug at hair, hands grip biceps, shoulders. Merlin grunts at all her attention, moans as her inner walls contract around his erection, bringing him closer to the edge. He sucks hard at her neck, knowing full well he will leave marks their, wanting too, like his claming her back with each love bite. She tilts her neck giving him more access as she writhes under his touch.
At one point Morgana takes hold of his face, forcing him to look at her straight on, and Merlin is once more struck by her beauty. So beautiful, so very stunning. Her face is flushed; eyes clouded over with intense, meaningful desire, hair ruffled, lips swollen. Their both close to falling off the edge now, he can feel, hear and smell it. Moving faster he keeps his gaze locked on hers, with one last long, deep movement he watches as Morgana’s eyes flash and her vision becomes hazy. She quivers and mewls, shaking as she comes undone. He’s about to draw himself out to come on his hand when Morgana arches her back grabbing him by the neck and pulling his face close to her breast with a rough “No”. The action sends him over the edge and he spills his seed inside of her.
They stay like that for a while, chests heaving, completely connected and recovering from their actions. Merlin doesn’t know where he gets the strength to keep her uplifted the way he does, but he’s thankful for it. He can see her mask fading now, the beauty she uses for camouflage disappearing, the true beauty underneath shining through. Her lips are rid of their deep dark tones, smudged away by his kisses. Her eyes once clouded with vengeful thoughts are clearing, hazed with afterglow. The only red on her skin; are the flushed patches and hickies but this does not repulse him but rather attracts. She’s exhausted, eyes half closed.
“Merlin!”
Merlin smiles softly, even her voice has changed, although it is rough caused by their actions, its no longer harsh and cold but warm, reminding him of a time when she said ‘you’re a true friend’. He removes himself from her gradually, eliciting a slow murmur from her throat. Carrying her to the bed he sets her down tenderly. Her black hair sprawls out on his pillow like a halo. He makes to draw back and retrieve his scattered clothes but slender fingers wrap themselves around his wrist.
“Merlin!?” She says again, voice low, gentle. She says it with uncertainty, like she’s asking a question. It’s not just one question though, it’s many. Her eyes are watching him from hooded lids. He can see the doubt, the hidden fear she keeps secretly locked away, the hurt and pain caged in bars of blood. He knows what she’s asking, she asked before in hidden words. Do you love me? Even though I have magic? Despite the fact I’ve killed? Do you still have hope?
Lowering himself he brushes his lips all over her face delicately, mimicking the gesture she’d first performed early in the evening.
“Yes.” He whispers into her open mouth.
“Yes, yes, yes!”
Morgana breathes them in, sighing deeply, profoundly as if the very air the words occupy gives her lungs the oxygen they’ve been deprived of for weeks, years.
Tilting her head upwards she meets his lips. This kiss is nothing like the ones they previously shared earlier; it’s tender, slow; delicate. They make love then. Savouring each movement, moving leisurely; each movement deliberate and meaningful. It’s not just sex, not a race to reach a climax of passion. This is a soul thing, an attempt to heal wounds and exorcise demons that rage, to get back to the start before everything turned to chaos and confusion. It’s why Merlin keeps doing all of this, the madness. Why he can’t bring himself to kill her. In these moments after the storm and the fucking she turns, reverts back to the one he knows, loves. Her smile grows wide, true, eyes sparkle, touch affectionate. There is still the will, the spirit but she has always had that, long before darkness took over.
He kisses her with everything he has as she hums at the contact; climaxes with more passion than before. Climaxes because of the way she purrs his name, holds him tightly in her arms, head burrowed in his neck, kissing every piece of skin she can reach. The way she loves him. They shake and quiver at the same time, falling into bliss. Tucking her in his arms, she snuggles closer, kissing him lazily on the jaw, already half asleep.
Tonight they will sleep deeply, peacefully and Merlin’s heart will fly with angels feeling that he’s finally brought her back. The morning will come, she will leave and once again he will be left with the sinking doubt that maybe it’s just all part of her twisted and cruel game.
Characters/Pairings: Merlin/Morgana
Rating/Warnings: NC-17
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Summary: She comes at night, when the shadows reign and darkness fills the air, drifting in deadly silent. A ghost haunting.
Word Count: 4,459
Author’s notes: Done for the merlin_muses fest ages ago, thought it was about time I post it here. Huge thank you to djkiwi2576 for betaing she really helped me out. The story is much better because of her *huggles*
I would also like to take this opportunity to point out that I’m taking part in the help_japan auction’s. Yes I am shameless, but it’s for a good cause. Anyway I’m offering a 300 word drabble for one help_japan lj-gift so if you’re interested please drop on by =D
She comes at night, when the shadows reign and darkness fills the air, drifting in deadly silent. A ghost haunting. He knows she’s there before his eyes open, feels her presence itching at the corners of his mind, worming her way in once more. Merlin makes no movement, watching her in the gloom from the comfort of his bed, waiting patiently for what is sure to come. He’s been here before, done it all despite the continual strain upon his beating heart. He’s a masochist with baby blues and goofy ears. Freely offering his life to the woman with the twisted smile and her blade pressing into the tender flesh on his heart.
Morgana stands there for a few moments, swaying on the spot. Her nightgown is covered by a purple cloak hanging loosely from her shoulders. Murky orbs set in a pale face, stare through the obscurity into Merlin’s awaiting blue eyes, penetrating and hard. They study one another, communicating through glances and tilts of the head. Without a sound she shrugs off the cloak, letting it fall to the floor with a quiet thud revealing her nightgown in its full glory. Deep red lace skims her curves accentuating the splendour of her figure.
He studies her, allowing his eyes to travel up and down her frame as he licks his lips. The corners of her mouth curve upwards in a crimson smirk that’s become increasingly familiar to him. With his chin tilted upwards he allows the inaudible melody in her footsteps to hypnotize him as she moves forward with deadly grace. Smoothly, she crawls up onto the bed, like a panther, claiming its prey she hovers above him, black hair cascading down trapping his face in a cage made of fragrant bliss. She brushes her lips over his face, rubs her nose against his, soft and gentle making his eyes flutter as he enjoys the subtle nature of her touch. The tenderness is in complete contrast to the hardness she’d displayed, since her return.
Morgana’s year away had changed her entirely. At one time, they had stood side by side, now they were kapéla (divided). Separated by a turbulent river; raging, thrashing, threatening to splash over the water’s edge, soaking the earth below their feet till it was a bog forcing them under. Merlin fought to wade across, throw a rope, but it always fell short, just missing her opened hands. It seemed as though never again would they be able to walk the same path, the barrier between them too strong, consisting of night and day, sun and moon, evil and good.
Since her return she’d engaged only in devious deeds; reeking havoc, summoning the dead, aiding Morgause in her plot to dethrone Uther and overturn Camelot. She’d dirtied her hands with the blood of decent, innocent people. No thought was spared for them, no guilt was held, just vengeance and wrath. A smile that he remembered being bright and warm was now cold, a leer always present underneath the soft cushions of her lips even when a smile was in place. No one knew of her treachery, Uther was blinded, Arthur oblivious and the court? They went with whatever Uther decided, too fond of their heads. Only Merlin and Gauis knew what sinister conduct had come from her silky fingers. Many plots and schemes he’d thwarted over the months including one earlier that day.
“Nice save today, tell me Merlin how do you do it?” Her tone is mocking as her breath tickles lightly upon his skin. She’s still hovering above him, straddling his physique with her arms and legs; her face inches from his own.
Merlin stares at Morgana, her eyes are shimmering in the moonlight, glinting with an extra dose of something ominous. She enjoys the game they play; sometimes he thinks she leaves clues for him so he gets there in time to watch her commit some heinous crime against all he stands for; finding a sick pleasure in the behaviour and his disgusted reaction. Like today. Today he arrived seconds before she slit the throat of a knight, the memory of the blood gushing from the wound, the awful gurgling noise he made still plagued his thoughts. As did her harrowing eyes, full of lustful hatred, smiling as he’d gagged.
“Did you hear the sound he made? Delicious!”
She responds to his inner monologue and he wonders if she genuinely does have the power to pry open up the hinges of his mind, or if it’s his eyes that give him away. He suspects the latter.
“Stop it.” He’s tired, exhausted from running around once again saving Camelot from the brink of doom. More than that, he’s emotionally drained; sick from the continual moral struggles. Kill her, don’t kill her, tell her about his magic, don’t tell her, love her, hate her. Every moment his mind ticks over. He wants to see all his options play out, glimpse the future. He resists, he’s tampered with that before, it never gets him anywhere, only leading to more heartbreak.
“Want me to go?” The question is pointless they both know the answer. Once again she takes sweet satisfaction in placing him on the spot. It’s part of their twisted game.
“No.”
Merlin sighs and reaches up lightly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. With the tips of his fingers he traces the angles of her perfectly formed face. Her beauty is exquisite, fiery, bold, but also delicate. She hides behind it, conceals the danger, the pain that lurks with pretty smiles and fluttering eyelashes. It’s not just a mask; he’s seen the beauty beyond the pretty face, held it in the palm of his hands.
No words are spoken as his fingers roam; Merlin notices how Morgana twists into the touch ever so slightly, his lips tug upwards.
“You’re so beautiful.”
Lifting his head, Merlin presses his lips against hers briefly. Morgana is the first to pull back, quietness has hazed over her eyes, making him smile. It doesn’t last long.
“It’s amazing what looks can do isn’t it? How they can manipulate people. Uther’s such a fool for it. I would have searched the entire world the seas, the skies, the stars for that smile. UGH!” She mimics him with disdain, eyes rolling.
Merlin holds no love for Uther, still it pains him to hear her talk about the king in this way. Say what you want about Uther, you couldn’t deny he truly loved both Arthur and Morgana. Besides it was the harshness in her voice that upset him, the sense of ruthlessness.
“I can’t wait to see him wiggle like a worm on a hook!” she’s in his face again, smirking. Her breath is sweetly fragranced. It seems odd to him that such a pleasant fragrance taints words full of toxin.
“It’ll be just like today, only better!”
Merlin’s mind hardens.
“Don’t talk like that, today was not a good day!”
Morgana laughs.
“What are you talking about; it was a great day, the fear on Uther’s face when he thought his beloved kingdom was going to fall! The walls shaking, crumbling, screams, shouts and cries resonating,”
She breathes in deeply, closing her eyes as if reliving the moment.
“Heaven!”
Merlin heaves a heavy sigh. There so much violence in her mind, pulsing in her blood, poison tainting all that once was good.
“So many died today, over a dozen children, children!” his voice is quiet, sad, he sees their faces flashing before his eyes, young and vibrant, their flames extinguished way too early.
Morgana’s lips twitch, lowering down so they caress the bed on his ear she whispers on a hot warm breath sending shivers down his spine.
“SO?”
Merlin flinches, his body repulsed by her careless disregard for life. He pushes her off removing himself from the bed whilst she scoffs. Facing the wall he runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the ends, frustrated, searching his head for the right words, the ones that will bring her back.
“How can you do it? Morgana it’s wrong!” He turns to look at her, she’s spread out on her side, legs tucked behind her, head cupped in her hand fingers playing with a strand of hair. Boredom is written across her features. He knows where this is heading, they’ve been here many a time but still he continues desperately. Clawing at stone walls with bloodied fingernails.
“You shouldn’t use your powers this way, there are so….”
Morgana rolls her eyes, flipping her head back onto the pillow with an exasperated sigh.
“Save the speech Merlin, I’ve heard it all before and I’m tired of it!”
“Why? Why do you have to spill so much blood! It’s not fair!”
Moragna bolts upright and glares at him, eyes vividly bright in their anger.
“Not fair?” there’s venom in her voice, sharp and piercing, he braces himself.
“I’ll tell you what’s not fair Merlin being persecuted for something you have no control over! What about all the blood Uther’s spilt; I don’t see you crying over them!”
Rising from the bed she fumes over to him continuing her rant, all the while Merlin stands still. He’s not afraid of her.
“What about them? Burning on stakes, flesh peeling from their bodies, screaming. Heads rolling, children drowning. You think they deserved that? Think I deserve that? That’s what’s awaiting me if Uther does not fall.”
“I un….”
Her hand comes flying out of nowhere. He hears the almighty smack, before he feels it but when the pain finally comes, it’s razor-sharp, red hot and his cheekbone aches.
“You understand nothing! You’re just a bloody servant!”
They stare at each other for a long while, as the air sparks between them.
“The mighty Uther will fall along with this precious Camelot and I shall dance upon their graves! Your attempts to stop me will fail. The war is raging and I intend to fight it by whatever means necessary!”
The tense, hostile, threatening tone of her voice throws the words in his face like a spitting cobra, their venom resonating within his ears. With his shoulders square, he stands tall, meeting her gaze full on.
“And I will always be there!”
Merlin watches as she slowly sneers, her tongue darting out, wetting lips that move dangerously. Unconsciously he matches her movements, wetting his own, desire and annoyance coursing through his veins. Without warning she closes the small gap between them, her lips crush down on his intensely. Pushing him hard at the shoulders she slams him into the wall, he grunts into her now open mouth, first from pain then in pleasure as she presses her body against him, gaining as much contact so as possible. Her sickeningly sweet tongue grazes his lips, prodding with slight force. He can tell she’s asking permission, waiting for him to open rather than forcing her way in; it makes his lips turn upwards and a puff of giddy air leave his lungs. She bites down hard on his lip, punishment for his act of amusement. Groaning at the pain Merlin lets in her awaiting tongue but flips them round so now its Morgana’s slender back that’s pressing hard against stone walls.
Their tongues connect immediately, dancing and entangling till he’s not sure where his ends and hers begins. Her fingers thread themselves into his black hair, pulling and tugging causing him to groan and grind against her groin harder making her moan in turn. His hands, travel across her body, up her navel, to her chest, round her throat, into her hair, down her arms before gripping at her hips firmly. The crimson material of her nightgown wrinkles beneath his fingers.
“I should kill you, you know.” she moans her breath hot, blazing as she glides her teeth against the sensitise skin of his neck, procuring a low growl deep from within him. The sound reverberates in the back of his throat as his Adman’s apple bobs up and down.
“Go on then.” He challenges, pushing her at her hips, removing her lips from his pulse point.
Sneering Morgana untangles a hand from his hair raising it in motion Merlin’s used many a time. She looks upon him eyes sparkling, lips twitching.
“I could you know; I’ve been practising. You’ve seen what I’m capable of now!”
A cloud sweeps across Merlin’s face, features hardening; o yes he’s seen. Morgana eyes him up, thinking she’s won; waiting for him to back down. Maybe he would have, a few years ago, but he doubts they would even play this game back then. It’s not just the changes in Morgana; his soul’s becomes tangled within hers. A deal has been struck; he will either be her saviour or damnation. He’s not naive, he is all too aware of the part he’s played. She may have been changing before he took her breath away, but it was him and him alone that killed the old Morgana. He wishes he could go back, re-write history. If only he’d told her, trusted her more, mentored her then perhaps none of this would have occurred. They’d be joined for entirely different reasons. But what’s done is done; he can only live in the present though the past haunts his every moment.
Thrusting his chest forward so the flat of her palm is over his heart he tests her wordlessly. Merlin sees the flash in her eyes, the slight frown that flickers across her face and he basks in it. She thinks she holds all the cards, possess the power, she’s wrong. He holds her just as tightly, their twisted together, battered skin, bruised muscles and broken bones fastened with pins and chains.
“Do it!” he whispers harshly, lips brushing against hers, nipping her bottom lip. Morgan hesitates. Her chest is heaving, heart racing. It’s his turn to smirk now, he does. Once again the gap parting them is closed and their lips meet in feverish longing. Frantic, hurried, pulses beating fast they move. His arousal is growing with each passing beat of their hearts, every kiss, building in intensity. The evidence of his desires presses against her; knocking his knee against hers, in an unspoken request for consent. Morgana grins into the embrace opening her legs so he can manoeuvre his body into the space. She lets out a groan as he presses at her entrance through the material of her nightgown. Although the action causes her to grow wetter her frustration at the lack of skin to skin contact intensifies.
Morgana yanks Merlin’s cotton shirt up and over his head, forcing their lips to part for a split second, the reunion is brutal, as their mouths attack in a twisted kiss of passion. Her hands wander all over his back, feeling the muscles as they twitch and flex. Merlin’s was not built like Arthur, big and broad. On sight one would think him absent of muscles, how wrong they’d be. Underneath his neckerchief and goofy grin, they’d find a slender but firm body, a perfectly sculpted form. She trails wet kisses down his abdomen as far possible before she would have to kneel. She will never knell to him, never. Merlin grunts his approval as her hands and eyes explore his body. Her lips will not reach the area that needs most attention, without breaking her longstanding rule. Instead she winds her hand lower, nails scrapping his flesh in an agonisingly slow manner.
When she finally cups him, Merlin kisses, before jerking forward into her touch. She stokes his erection through the material of his britches. Long, tortuous, motions, Morgana employs as she kisses, sucks and nips at his skin. She’s prolonging the experience for both of them, using her knowledge of the spots that make him delirious. Despite the fact he is currently swimming in a sea of hazed pleasure; unable to form a coherent thought, Merlin’s hands instinctively caress Morgana’s own spots of pleasure. His hands grope at her breasts. With squeezes and strokes he obtains profound moans from Morgana. His thumb brushes across her already hardening nipple through the silk material, the hand wrapped around his erection contracts. The gasp she makes in his ear is almost enough to make him loose control.
Eventually Merlin can take no more of her teasing and grabs her wrist, curling his hand roughly over hers he pulls it back, pinning it to the wall above her head. He repeats the motion the other. Merlin notices the bangle as his hand connects with Morgana’s skin. Images of the blonde haired woman bubble to the surface of his mind, the things she’d taught Morgana, how she’d bent Morgana’s mind, he was seething. He rips the bracelet from her flesh, with great, throwing it on the floor; watching as it lands with a loud klang, skidding across the floor and bumping into the wood of the door.
“Careful you’ll wake Gauis!” Morgana’s sing song voice danced into his ears as she licked along his jaw.
In that moment Merlin remembers his mentor; his head turns towards the door. Morgana grins and pulls his face back to her.
“Don’t worry he won’t wake up for a long, long time!”
A slight twang of panic courses through him.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing serious, a simple sleeping draft, you look so cute when you’re worried!”
Merlin growls in irritation plunging his mouth on top of hers, silencing her. She’ll pay for that he thinks. Teasingly he draws in her bottom lip sucking leisurely, rubbing himself between her legs, the material of her nightgown is damp now, he can almost taste the sweetness of what lies beneath. Morgana whines, pushing herself into him, desperate for more contact. Scrunching the material of her dress into his fist Merlin pulls upwards, revealing the skin of her thighs. Catching sight of the crimson material covering his hands, he falters. In a strange hallucinogenic moment the silk turns to blood, he sees droplets falling from her flesh, sees the violence she’s covered in. Fury gurgles inside his stomach; once more he questions how one so kind had become so cruel. He aches for her in so many ways, longs for ‘old’ Morgana, the one who’d been his friend, for the dress to change back to white. In an outburst of fiery mixed emotion he allows the dress to fall back down. Morgana looks at him in confusion, unsure of the events that pass between them. Merlin’s eyes burn into her, glowing with a fierce spark, he looks wild, dangerous, Morgana feels herself smoulder under his animalistic gaze.
Suddenly his hands were at the neckline of her dress, she gasps in shock and excitement as Merlin rips the dress apart, the material giving way to his hidden strength. The ivory skin of her body was revealed; glowing in the moonlight, the ferocity in Merlin’s mind settles as he drunk in the sight. Her skin still mirrors his in paleness. She wasn’t too far gone. Without hesitation his lips press themselves against her exposed breast, right over her heart. Morgana bit her lip, letting her head fall back against the wall; hands snaking themselves into his hair rubbing circles into the skin.
She was soaking, yearning for his touch.
Wet lips left tracks along her collarbone, hot air curling down it, she shuddered in pleasure. Moving her head down, she nuzzles herself into the side of Merlin’s ducked head, lips attaching themselves to his ear. Drawing the lobe into her mouth she sucks hungrily before pulling her teeth across it and releasing it back to its owner. The air around them is foggy heated by their passions. Sounds of combined moans, mewls, groans, and grunts echo throughout the small room.
Winding his hand lower past dampened curls Merlin enters a lone, slim finger into her, pumping in and out, thumb rubbing against the soft flesh of her clitoris. She gasps into his mouth, bucks forwards meeting his strokes. Slipping another finger inside of her, he enjoys the delightful sounds she makes. He knows the places to hit, how to make her glow.
His britches are becoming unbearably tight now. Sensing his discomfort Morgana reaches between them drawing his hand out of her, before bringing it to her lips and suckling his slick fingers. Merlin watches, the sight alone is enough to bring him to his knees but when she kisses him so that he too can taste her, his mind goes blank. She’s honey sweet, it makes his mouth water. He can’t wait any longer; he needs to be inside of her, she shares his sentiments. She makes quick work of his pants, exposing him fully and it’s not long before he is poised ready to enter, one of Morgana’s milky skinned legs wrapped around his waist for leverage.
“Turning shy on me?” she inquires lips smirking when he hesitates for a second. Merlin kisses her roughly in response grabbing the leg that’s still on the floor yanking it upwards he sweeps her off the floor, using the wall to prop her up. Instinctively she wraps herself tightly around his waist, clenching hard. Her hands come to rest around his neck. Merlin bends his knees, waiting for her to slide down to meet him, she does so. Both groan and gasp at the long awaited contact, standing upright again Merlin beings to draw out of her, then in again, over and over.
He’s not gentle with her, they’ve long past the stage of timidnes, lost somewhere between poison and swords. She meets each hard thrust full on, circling her hips, increasing the intensity of pleasure. Nails scrape along his back, hard enough to leave marks; she arches backwards pressing her nails further into his skin. Her fingers tug at hair, hands grip biceps, shoulders. Merlin grunts at all her attention, moans as her inner walls contract around his erection, bringing him closer to the edge. He sucks hard at her neck, knowing full well he will leave marks their, wanting too, like his claming her back with each love bite. She tilts her neck giving him more access as she writhes under his touch.
At one point Morgana takes hold of his face, forcing him to look at her straight on, and Merlin is once more struck by her beauty. So beautiful, so very stunning. Her face is flushed; eyes clouded over with intense, meaningful desire, hair ruffled, lips swollen. Their both close to falling off the edge now, he can feel, hear and smell it. Moving faster he keeps his gaze locked on hers, with one last long, deep movement he watches as Morgana’s eyes flash and her vision becomes hazy. She quivers and mewls, shaking as she comes undone. He’s about to draw himself out to come on his hand when Morgana arches her back grabbing him by the neck and pulling his face close to her breast with a rough “No”. The action sends him over the edge and he spills his seed inside of her.
They stay like that for a while, chests heaving, completely connected and recovering from their actions. Merlin doesn’t know where he gets the strength to keep her uplifted the way he does, but he’s thankful for it. He can see her mask fading now, the beauty she uses for camouflage disappearing, the true beauty underneath shining through. Her lips are rid of their deep dark tones, smudged away by his kisses. Her eyes once clouded with vengeful thoughts are clearing, hazed with afterglow. The only red on her skin; are the flushed patches and hickies but this does not repulse him but rather attracts. She’s exhausted, eyes half closed.
“Merlin!”
Merlin smiles softly, even her voice has changed, although it is rough caused by their actions, its no longer harsh and cold but warm, reminding him of a time when she said ‘you’re a true friend’. He removes himself from her gradually, eliciting a slow murmur from her throat. Carrying her to the bed he sets her down tenderly. Her black hair sprawls out on his pillow like a halo. He makes to draw back and retrieve his scattered clothes but slender fingers wrap themselves around his wrist.
“Merlin!?” She says again, voice low, gentle. She says it with uncertainty, like she’s asking a question. It’s not just one question though, it’s many. Her eyes are watching him from hooded lids. He can see the doubt, the hidden fear she keeps secretly locked away, the hurt and pain caged in bars of blood. He knows what she’s asking, she asked before in hidden words. Do you love me? Even though I have magic? Despite the fact I’ve killed? Do you still have hope?
Lowering himself he brushes his lips all over her face delicately, mimicking the gesture she’d first performed early in the evening.
“Yes.” He whispers into her open mouth.
“Yes, yes, yes!”
Morgana breathes them in, sighing deeply, profoundly as if the very air the words occupy gives her lungs the oxygen they’ve been deprived of for weeks, years.
Tilting her head upwards she meets his lips. This kiss is nothing like the ones they previously shared earlier; it’s tender, slow; delicate. They make love then. Savouring each movement, moving leisurely; each movement deliberate and meaningful. It’s not just sex, not a race to reach a climax of passion. This is a soul thing, an attempt to heal wounds and exorcise demons that rage, to get back to the start before everything turned to chaos and confusion. It’s why Merlin keeps doing all of this, the madness. Why he can’t bring himself to kill her. In these moments after the storm and the fucking she turns, reverts back to the one he knows, loves. Her smile grows wide, true, eyes sparkle, touch affectionate. There is still the will, the spirit but she has always had that, long before darkness took over.
He kisses her with everything he has as she hums at the contact; climaxes with more passion than before. Climaxes because of the way she purrs his name, holds him tightly in her arms, head burrowed in his neck, kissing every piece of skin she can reach. The way she loves him. They shake and quiver at the same time, falling into bliss. Tucking her in his arms, she snuggles closer, kissing him lazily on the jaw, already half asleep.
Tonight they will sleep deeply, peacefully and Merlin’s heart will fly with angels feeling that he’s finally brought her back. The morning will come, she will leave and once again he will be left with the sinking doubt that maybe it’s just all part of her twisted and cruel game.