The Sacred Simplicity of You At My Side - part 1/?
Hi there! My first fic! Bear with me, I'm new here, and am still working out this whole LJ thing.
Gwen/Morgana - PG15 (?) - 400 words - In which Morgana has a dream. - Originally posted at kinkme_merlin #6: community.livejournal.com/kinkme_merlin/6345.html. More to come. Much more.
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There was no space between them. Every single inch pressed against the other and it felt like relief, like a screamingly, blindingly needed thing. Breast mashing into breast, stomach to stomach, legs tangled, mouths clashing messily in their greedy attempts to get at everything at once. She didn’t know how they’d got there, what had brought them to this, this tipping point into melting desperation, but as Gwen dipped her head to mouth slackly at the corner of her jaw, she found she didn’t really care.
She let her hands trail down Gwen’s sides, marvelling at the smooth curve of her waist, the dip in, dip out. So unlike anything she’d ever imagined for herself, and yet so beautiful, so - so right. Gwen gasped into her mouth as she let her fingertips trail over the curve of her buttocks.
“Thought - ohh - thought that you… thought you didn’t….”
“Oh, I do,” Morgana murmured back. “I do. I’m here, I’m right here.”
Gwen huffed a small, delighted laugh against her cheek. “M - Morgana, I…”
“Yes?”
“Morgana…”
“Yes, tell me, tell me anything.”
“Morgana.”
“MORGANA!”
Morgana lurched into wakefulness, disorientated by the sudden burst of awareness. Gwen sat on the edge of the bed beside her, concerned and watchful, her hands still at Morgana’s shoulders where she’d gently shaken her awake.
“Gw - Gwen? What, um, where, I…”
“Shh,” said Gwen, her voice low and soothing as she carefully brushed sweaty dark strands away from where they stuck to the side of Morgana’s face, “Shhh, you’re safe. You just had another nightmare. Don’t worry, my lady, you’re safe now, I’m here.”
Gwen tugged her into a hug, her chin pressed into the top of Morgana’s head as she rocked gently, crooning nonsense words of comfort into her hair. Morgana was limp, unmoving in her hold, her nosed pressed into Gwen’s pinafore, so coarse in comparison to her own. When she breathed in, the soft, warm scent of Gwen that had hung so strongly in that dream, that strange, strange dream, filled her nose and mouth once again.
It was only then she registered the heated, unmistakeable hum of magic fading from her veins.
Oh.
Oh.