Poetic Advent - Weapon of Choice 7/7
Title: Weapon of Choice
Author: Poetic Advent
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 16,100 words
Pairing: Leon/Morgana
Disclaimer: Not mine unfortunately.
Spoilers/Warning: None
Summary: Written for the KMM prompt, Uther wants to marry Morgana off for political gain. Leon is merely a knight, a dogsbody. Prompt HereHAND-TO-HAND
def: physical engagement of two or more persons without the inclusion of weaponry other than the human body
The most basic of formats, hand-to-hand combat allows a wide variety of attacks and defenses, limited only by imagination and determination.
The wicks had burned nearly three inches when she finally heard the latch turn on the door. Morgana flew across the room to yank it open and nearly stumbled into Leon when he was faster than she.
"Falling at my feet already?" he teased. His hands slipped beneath her arms to help her straighten, caressing the outer swell of her breasts through her diaphanous gown once she was steady again. "Remind me to marry you more often."
"Where have you been?" Her nipples ached for more than his light touches, and she arched toward him, hoping he'd take the hint. "You said you'd be up right after me."
"That was before Uther cornered me on the stairs."
Ducking his head, he caught the peaked tip with his teeth, sucking hard at her breast through her nightgown. Morgana gasped, her hand shooting to the back of his neck to hold on as her thighs turned to jelly. Though her nails clawed into his nape, he didn't let go. If anything, the suction increased, the fabric scraping over her sensitized skin even more.
"And it took an hour?" she managed to get out. Squeezing her eyes shut helped to keep control, as well as swallowing hard against the tightness in her throat. "Though that would explain why you're acting like you've never touched me before."
Leon lifted his head, leaving her nipple wet and cold with the abandonment. "I haven't as your husband," he corrected. "And any minute I had to wait was a minute too long."
"What did he want?"
"To remind me of the sacrifice he made for Camelot by allowing our union." He grimaced. "Apparently, I wasn't very convincing when I told him, multiple times, I already knew that."
Sliding her free hand down his shirtfront, Morgana slipped her fingers inside his waistband and began backing up toward the bed. "So how did you end up getting away?"
"Arthur saved me. He pretended someone needed Uther back at the feast, then gave me his own warning about not failing you."
She laughed. "Did you tell him that would only happen if you didn't make it to my bed tonight?"
"I thought it best not to push my luck."
The edge of the mattress nudged against her legs, forcing her to a halt. "Smart man."
Hunger replaced the humor in his eyes. Though she was the one with the hold on him, her limbs denied her commands, locking in place as he brushed his palm over the wet patch on her nightgown. The fabric caught on the tip, it too refusing to move, creating a raw burn over her skin when he plucked it away with a single finger.
"It's taken us a lifetime to get here," he said. "And now I wish I could prolong this moment so that we never lose this."
"We won't." A more fervent promise, she couldn't make. "We've gone through too much to ever take it for granted."
His gaze caressed the exposed length of her neck, his lips parting the second before he bowed his head to lick along the throbbing hollow at its base. Morgana tilted her chin back, shivering as she fought to catch her breath. Where his tongue first soothed, his beard chafed after, never allowing her the peace to relax against him, keeping her poised on the precipice of what he'd do next.
Inch by inch, he pulled her gown up, gathering it in his hands as he worshiped her throat. When he reached her waist, she relinquished her hold on his trousers, freeing one arm to slide out of its sleeve. The cooler air wrapped around her bared body, and she shivered as if she were a virgin unaccustomed to a grown man's touch.
Leon smiled against her skin. "If my lady is cold, I can always put this back on."
"Don't you dare."
His cheek grazed along hers as he nuzzled a path to her ear. "Then you will have to let me go at some point so I may finish."
He was right. The fabric bunched along her shoulder, but the only way to get it the rest of the way off was for her to untangle her fingers from Leon's hair. It meant concentrating and relaxing and willing her muscles to do the opposite of what they were naturally inclined toward, but her hand fell away, dropping to his shoulder so he could tug the nightgown over her head and off the rest of the way.
As many times as she had stood naked in front of him, this felt different, more exposed, fresh as a new moon rising over the trees. His face was already flushed, but as he drank her in, he smiled and let out a hard, quick breath.
"Part of me keeps expecting to wake up," he said. "Did I really challenge a prince for you?"
"You did more than that." She wouldn't be the only one to stand here without a stitch on. Without waiting for his approval-he was hers now to have, to take, to do with as she pleased-she worked at his clothing, pulling inelegantly at ties and fastenings in her haste. "You challenged Uther."
Laughing, he helped by shrugging out of his shirt. "Clearly, you've been a horrible influence on me."
She joined in his laughter with hapless abandon. "Clearly."
The sight of his battle-hewn body still thrilled her. More scars riddled his chest and arms than the callow knight she'd first met had sported, but she treasured every one. They were his trophies, the testament to his unshakeable dedication. Most importantly, they were proof he had survived to return to her. She would tolerate the bruises, the blood, because at the end of the day, she would now be the one to lay claim to them first. He would not be her knight without them.
He was already hard, the wet tip peeking through the foreskin to tease and torment her. Fisting his length, she stroked down to better expose the glistening head, then ran her tongue along the edge of her teeth. His groan went straight to her pussy.
"Considering how badly I want this, this might have to wait until after we've taken the edge off," she said.
"Ah, but I happen to love your edge." His knee pressed between her thighs, his eyes locked on hers as she widened her legs to accommodate him. Reaching around, he cupped her ass and dragged her the rest of the way forward, until she had no choice but to straddle him. "Being married will never change that."
The coarse hairs along his thigh rubbed against her swollen lips, though grinding against it smeared her arousal along the hard muscle and eased the first sting. She pulled at his cock, testing how far she could take him before his need won, but each stroke was countered with a subtle manipulation of his fingers-a pinch along the lower swell of her buttock, a graze at the outer edge of her opening. It became a battle to see who would break first, who would beg for mercy.
Morgana lost. She tried to hold out, but his patience had grown throughout the years. He rocked her body to his, over and over and over, until she could barely breathe from the heights he took her to.
"More," was all she said, was all she could say.
Keeping her tight against him, Leon twisted to the side to fall back onto the bed, her weight pinning him amongst the blankets. Her knees scrambled for purchase, and together they were able to stretch out more comfortably, her on top, his hands now roaming up and down her back.
She smiled. "It looks like I won after all."
He cocked a brow. "Who says this isn't my preferred way to have you?" A slight adjustment of his position nudged the long length of his cock along her slit. "It feels like we both win."
Not until he was inside her. For now, the slight pressure against her clit tormented her more than anything else.
She peeled away from his chest until her hair tumbled over her shoulders, shrouding them away from the rest of the room. Though it blocked out most of the flickering candlelight, enough illumination slivered through to make Leon's eyes gleam.
"Ride me, my lady," he murmured.
His command was her desire. When her hips rose, tilted, caught the tip of his cock, his breath puffed hot across her cheeks, somehow quicker than hers when it should've been the other way around. Another thing she loved about him. He seemed so calm, so assured, while she felt like she was going to fly apart, but the reality was they were more alike than appearances could ever reveal. Sinking down his length, that fullness that came with being stretched, filled, had her breath matching his, all the way to that moment when her clit ground against the short hairs circling the root of his shaft.
His grip fluttered along her sides, unsure where to settle, touching everywhere and anywhere to the point of madness. She stole a quick kiss, then a second, using the reprieve to gather her strength to do as they both wanted. The light grew brighter at the corner of her eyes, and she realized a moment too late that he'd wound his fingers through her hair, parting the strands to hold it like reins.
"If you insist on taking so long, you'll force me to ride you instead," he taunted.
"You were the one who wanted to prolong the moment."
"That moment. Not this one. This one, I have no problem letting go to see the next."
"See?" She squeezed around his cock, smiling at his unbidden moan. "I think you have your senses turned around, my lord."
She gasped at the fresh sting in her scalp when he tightened his grasp. "Say it again."
His meaning was easy.
Skimming her lips over his, Morgana clenched down around him again. "My lord."
With a groan, Leon yanked her down, slamming their mouths together as his body jerked upwards. He drove deeper inside her, if that was at all possible, and the pleasure/pain spiking through her flesh finally compelled her to move, rising off his cock several inches before sinking back down. Long strokes were impossible for now. Her skin stippled in hot and cold as he took more kisses and rocked with each one of her shallow slides.
They maintained their short, hard rhythm for several minutes, as long as it took before her lungs began to fight against her. Her hips stung from the way they slapped together, and her scalp hurt from how hard Leon held onto her, but Morgana wouldn't have had it any other way, not this first time. This was perfect, the union of his flesh with hers a duel just as everything else in their relationship had always been. They both needed to prove their worth, to show their value. Marriage wouldn't change that. Better yet, each recognized that part of the other and embraced it. Like it had been with that very first meeting in the armory. Like it would always be until death finally separated them.
She still feared her nightmares. When she'd confessed that not all of her dreams were necessarily prophetic, Leon had decided the one that had terrified her fell into that group. "You were upset about what had come between us," he'd said. "And Uther wasn't happy with your stubbornness. It was probably just your guilt finding a way to push you into making a decision that would ease your mind."
His hypothesis was possible, but Morgana didn't ascribe to it completely. Odds were, he would still die on a battlefield, whether it was fighting Odin or another enemy. As the wife of a knight, she needed to accept that. Trying to change the course of this prophecy, if indeed that was what it turned out to be, could only really happen if he stepped down from his duty. And that was something she would never, ever ask of him.
Gradually, their kisses slowed, while their thrusts lengthened. Leon gave her room to draw back, but the distance added friction against her nipples, force against her clit, sharpening everything inside and out to white-hot points. Camelot disappeared. They were all that mattered. He was all she saw.
She came with a scream, wrenching away from his hold to arch back, her shudders ratcheting out of control beneath her skin. Leon loosed her hair to grab onto her hips, ploughing upward until his shouts joined hers, his tremors an echo of her own. When they came back together in a collapse of limbs, their breath rushed out of them, mingling and rising in their shared laughter.
"Looks like I was right," he said, smoothing his hand down her damp back.
"About what?"
"We both won."
With a playful slap at his shoulder, Morgana closed her eyes. Her cheek fit perfectly against his collarbone, like everything else about him fit against her. "We'll have a rematch. Just as soon as I can feel my legs again."
His low chuckled vibrated through both of them. "Whatever you wish, my lady."
This would be the night for them, this back and forth with words, with wars. He would concede when she won, just as she would yield when he did. This was the start of the future she'd always wanted, the endless challenge from the man she adored.
This would be their life. The one where each made the other better, stronger. The one they had together.
Author: Poetic Advent
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 16,100 words
Pairing: Leon/Morgana
Disclaimer: Not mine unfortunately.
Spoilers/Warning: None
Summary: Written for the KMM prompt, Uther wants to marry Morgana off for political gain. Leon is merely a knight, a dogsbody. Prompt HereHAND-TO-HAND
def: physical engagement of two or more persons without the inclusion of weaponry other than the human body
The most basic of formats, hand-to-hand combat allows a wide variety of attacks and defenses, limited only by imagination and determination.
The wicks had burned nearly three inches when she finally heard the latch turn on the door. Morgana flew across the room to yank it open and nearly stumbled into Leon when he was faster than she.
"Falling at my feet already?" he teased. His hands slipped beneath her arms to help her straighten, caressing the outer swell of her breasts through her diaphanous gown once she was steady again. "Remind me to marry you more often."
"Where have you been?" Her nipples ached for more than his light touches, and she arched toward him, hoping he'd take the hint. "You said you'd be up right after me."
"That was before Uther cornered me on the stairs."
Ducking his head, he caught the peaked tip with his teeth, sucking hard at her breast through her nightgown. Morgana gasped, her hand shooting to the back of his neck to hold on as her thighs turned to jelly. Though her nails clawed into his nape, he didn't let go. If anything, the suction increased, the fabric scraping over her sensitized skin even more.
"And it took an hour?" she managed to get out. Squeezing her eyes shut helped to keep control, as well as swallowing hard against the tightness in her throat. "Though that would explain why you're acting like you've never touched me before."
Leon lifted his head, leaving her nipple wet and cold with the abandonment. "I haven't as your husband," he corrected. "And any minute I had to wait was a minute too long."
"What did he want?"
"To remind me of the sacrifice he made for Camelot by allowing our union." He grimaced. "Apparently, I wasn't very convincing when I told him, multiple times, I already knew that."
Sliding her free hand down his shirtfront, Morgana slipped her fingers inside his waistband and began backing up toward the bed. "So how did you end up getting away?"
"Arthur saved me. He pretended someone needed Uther back at the feast, then gave me his own warning about not failing you."
She laughed. "Did you tell him that would only happen if you didn't make it to my bed tonight?"
"I thought it best not to push my luck."
The edge of the mattress nudged against her legs, forcing her to a halt. "Smart man."
Hunger replaced the humor in his eyes. Though she was the one with the hold on him, her limbs denied her commands, locking in place as he brushed his palm over the wet patch on her nightgown. The fabric caught on the tip, it too refusing to move, creating a raw burn over her skin when he plucked it away with a single finger.
"It's taken us a lifetime to get here," he said. "And now I wish I could prolong this moment so that we never lose this."
"We won't." A more fervent promise, she couldn't make. "We've gone through too much to ever take it for granted."
His gaze caressed the exposed length of her neck, his lips parting the second before he bowed his head to lick along the throbbing hollow at its base. Morgana tilted her chin back, shivering as she fought to catch her breath. Where his tongue first soothed, his beard chafed after, never allowing her the peace to relax against him, keeping her poised on the precipice of what he'd do next.
Inch by inch, he pulled her gown up, gathering it in his hands as he worshiped her throat. When he reached her waist, she relinquished her hold on his trousers, freeing one arm to slide out of its sleeve. The cooler air wrapped around her bared body, and she shivered as if she were a virgin unaccustomed to a grown man's touch.
Leon smiled against her skin. "If my lady is cold, I can always put this back on."
"Don't you dare."
His cheek grazed along hers as he nuzzled a path to her ear. "Then you will have to let me go at some point so I may finish."
He was right. The fabric bunched along her shoulder, but the only way to get it the rest of the way off was for her to untangle her fingers from Leon's hair. It meant concentrating and relaxing and willing her muscles to do the opposite of what they were naturally inclined toward, but her hand fell away, dropping to his shoulder so he could tug the nightgown over her head and off the rest of the way.
As many times as she had stood naked in front of him, this felt different, more exposed, fresh as a new moon rising over the trees. His face was already flushed, but as he drank her in, he smiled and let out a hard, quick breath.
"Part of me keeps expecting to wake up," he said. "Did I really challenge a prince for you?"
"You did more than that." She wouldn't be the only one to stand here without a stitch on. Without waiting for his approval-he was hers now to have, to take, to do with as she pleased-she worked at his clothing, pulling inelegantly at ties and fastenings in her haste. "You challenged Uther."
Laughing, he helped by shrugging out of his shirt. "Clearly, you've been a horrible influence on me."
She joined in his laughter with hapless abandon. "Clearly."
The sight of his battle-hewn body still thrilled her. More scars riddled his chest and arms than the callow knight she'd first met had sported, but she treasured every one. They were his trophies, the testament to his unshakeable dedication. Most importantly, they were proof he had survived to return to her. She would tolerate the bruises, the blood, because at the end of the day, she would now be the one to lay claim to them first. He would not be her knight without them.
He was already hard, the wet tip peeking through the foreskin to tease and torment her. Fisting his length, she stroked down to better expose the glistening head, then ran her tongue along the edge of her teeth. His groan went straight to her pussy.
"Considering how badly I want this, this might have to wait until after we've taken the edge off," she said.
"Ah, but I happen to love your edge." His knee pressed between her thighs, his eyes locked on hers as she widened her legs to accommodate him. Reaching around, he cupped her ass and dragged her the rest of the way forward, until she had no choice but to straddle him. "Being married will never change that."
The coarse hairs along his thigh rubbed against her swollen lips, though grinding against it smeared her arousal along the hard muscle and eased the first sting. She pulled at his cock, testing how far she could take him before his need won, but each stroke was countered with a subtle manipulation of his fingers-a pinch along the lower swell of her buttock, a graze at the outer edge of her opening. It became a battle to see who would break first, who would beg for mercy.
Morgana lost. She tried to hold out, but his patience had grown throughout the years. He rocked her body to his, over and over and over, until she could barely breathe from the heights he took her to.
"More," was all she said, was all she could say.
Keeping her tight against him, Leon twisted to the side to fall back onto the bed, her weight pinning him amongst the blankets. Her knees scrambled for purchase, and together they were able to stretch out more comfortably, her on top, his hands now roaming up and down her back.
She smiled. "It looks like I won after all."
He cocked a brow. "Who says this isn't my preferred way to have you?" A slight adjustment of his position nudged the long length of his cock along her slit. "It feels like we both win."
Not until he was inside her. For now, the slight pressure against her clit tormented her more than anything else.
She peeled away from his chest until her hair tumbled over her shoulders, shrouding them away from the rest of the room. Though it blocked out most of the flickering candlelight, enough illumination slivered through to make Leon's eyes gleam.
"Ride me, my lady," he murmured.
His command was her desire. When her hips rose, tilted, caught the tip of his cock, his breath puffed hot across her cheeks, somehow quicker than hers when it should've been the other way around. Another thing she loved about him. He seemed so calm, so assured, while she felt like she was going to fly apart, but the reality was they were more alike than appearances could ever reveal. Sinking down his length, that fullness that came with being stretched, filled, had her breath matching his, all the way to that moment when her clit ground against the short hairs circling the root of his shaft.
His grip fluttered along her sides, unsure where to settle, touching everywhere and anywhere to the point of madness. She stole a quick kiss, then a second, using the reprieve to gather her strength to do as they both wanted. The light grew brighter at the corner of her eyes, and she realized a moment too late that he'd wound his fingers through her hair, parting the strands to hold it like reins.
"If you insist on taking so long, you'll force me to ride you instead," he taunted.
"You were the one who wanted to prolong the moment."
"That moment. Not this one. This one, I have no problem letting go to see the next."
"See?" She squeezed around his cock, smiling at his unbidden moan. "I think you have your senses turned around, my lord."
She gasped at the fresh sting in her scalp when he tightened his grasp. "Say it again."
His meaning was easy.
Skimming her lips over his, Morgana clenched down around him again. "My lord."
With a groan, Leon yanked her down, slamming their mouths together as his body jerked upwards. He drove deeper inside her, if that was at all possible, and the pleasure/pain spiking through her flesh finally compelled her to move, rising off his cock several inches before sinking back down. Long strokes were impossible for now. Her skin stippled in hot and cold as he took more kisses and rocked with each one of her shallow slides.
They maintained their short, hard rhythm for several minutes, as long as it took before her lungs began to fight against her. Her hips stung from the way they slapped together, and her scalp hurt from how hard Leon held onto her, but Morgana wouldn't have had it any other way, not this first time. This was perfect, the union of his flesh with hers a duel just as everything else in their relationship had always been. They both needed to prove their worth, to show their value. Marriage wouldn't change that. Better yet, each recognized that part of the other and embraced it. Like it had been with that very first meeting in the armory. Like it would always be until death finally separated them.
She still feared her nightmares. When she'd confessed that not all of her dreams were necessarily prophetic, Leon had decided the one that had terrified her fell into that group. "You were upset about what had come between us," he'd said. "And Uther wasn't happy with your stubbornness. It was probably just your guilt finding a way to push you into making a decision that would ease your mind."
His hypothesis was possible, but Morgana didn't ascribe to it completely. Odds were, he would still die on a battlefield, whether it was fighting Odin or another enemy. As the wife of a knight, she needed to accept that. Trying to change the course of this prophecy, if indeed that was what it turned out to be, could only really happen if he stepped down from his duty. And that was something she would never, ever ask of him.
Gradually, their kisses slowed, while their thrusts lengthened. Leon gave her room to draw back, but the distance added friction against her nipples, force against her clit, sharpening everything inside and out to white-hot points. Camelot disappeared. They were all that mattered. He was all she saw.
She came with a scream, wrenching away from his hold to arch back, her shudders ratcheting out of control beneath her skin. Leon loosed her hair to grab onto her hips, ploughing upward until his shouts joined hers, his tremors an echo of her own. When they came back together in a collapse of limbs, their breath rushed out of them, mingling and rising in their shared laughter.
"Looks like I was right," he said, smoothing his hand down her damp back.
"About what?"
"We both won."
With a playful slap at his shoulder, Morgana closed her eyes. Her cheek fit perfectly against his collarbone, like everything else about him fit against her. "We'll have a rematch. Just as soon as I can feel my legs again."
His low chuckled vibrated through both of them. "Whatever you wish, my lady."
This would be the night for them, this back and forth with words, with wars. He would concede when she won, just as she would yield when he did. This was the start of the future she'd always wanted, the endless challenge from the man she adored.
This would be their life. The one where each made the other better, stronger. The one they had together.