Twists of Time
Author: alba17
Title: Twists of Time
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/s: Merlin/Freya
Character/s: Merlin, Freya, OFCs
Summary: It takes awhile, but Merlin finally finds her. Modern AU/Reincarnation
Warnings: None
Word Count: 808
Prompt: #14 Reflection
Author's Notes: The prompt made me immediately think of Freya. (I hope this works.)
Time is a strange thing. It folds in on itself, twists in unpredictable ways, absorbs and excretes like a sponge. A soul, left to eternity, finds itself walking odd paths, meandering without direction, unable to read the signs. Yet it yearns for completion.
For as long as he could remember, Merlin had dreamed of a girl with long, dark hair and a pale face, eyes wide with fear. In the dream he kissed her, brought her gifts and ached to save her from some unknown fate. He always woke gripped by horror but not knowing why. As he grew older, he dreamed of her less and less, until it faded away entirely and he no longer remembered the mysterious dark-haired girl.
When Merlin was thirteen, there was Amanda, she of Mario Cart marathons and grape popsicle lips, furtive smokes and kitten kisses. Flame-red hair and freckles; he didn’t know what he wanted, but she wasn’t the one.
When he was sixteen, there was Julie, she of drama club and Rimbaud, screaming old Cure songs at midnight, Jack Daniels on the brain. His first time, that night in the cemetery, almost dawn as he fumbled on the fraught edge between panic at discovery and euphoria that this was finally it. Her eyes, her lips, her hands on him urging as he slid into her, breath catching at the slick softness that surrounded him. Blonde pixie, girlfriend on the side; she wasn’t the one.
When he was twenty, there was Dylan, she of dark clubs and bruised people, a heart too sore to show him. It was Kerouac and clove cigarettes and eyes that stabbed him, tears as he tried until his mouth and jaw were sore and she pulled him up from between her legs, then curled away with a shaky sigh. Dark hair in waves, she broke his heart but she wasn’t the one.
When he was twenty-four, there was Faith. And suddenly a door opened.
**
She laughs, throaty, hair in long, dark tendrils that graze his face. Her neck is arched and a look of bliss transforms her face, turned up and smiling. She touches him deeply in this moment; his chest is tight; he wants to cry. She reminds him of someone long forgotten. It’s there, in her large dark eyes, in the way she looks at him and the sound of her voice; a bond to something unnameable deep within him. He thrills to it.
Where his memories are dark with sadness, Faith is all light and air, like a curtain pulled back to let in the sunlight. She can laugh and sing and sigh with pleasure, and that pleases Merlin greatly.
He brings her down to his chest. Their nakedness sticks together with sweat. He runs his hands down her back to her soft arse and squeezes, hips thrusting up into her one last time. Merlin can feel her insides gripping him, the final pulses of her orgasm like a lush, sluggish heartbeat against his cock. She answers his movement with a slow grind that ends in a hissed breath as he presses against her clit.
She lowers her face to his and nuzzles against it, nose to nose, then presses small kisses to his cheeks and lips. Her cunt is loose and wet around his softening cock. He doesn’t want the moment to end, he wants to wrap her in his arms and melt into her so they’re one, inseparable.
She whispers into his ear, sweet words that make him giddy, that lead to a tight embrace and more caresses, and before long, the day is gone and dusk darkens the windows. Merlin’s limbs are limp with the hours of lovemaking. Faith has been quiet. He can’t see her eyes as her head is resting on his chest, her arms twined around him; he wonders if she’s asleep.
“Let’s go to a lake,” she says, coming to life and looking up at him, chin propped on his chest. “I know just the one. My family has a country home there. Rather a falling-down old pile, but it’s quite fascinating. Do you like lakes?”
“Sure.”
She settles back down, nestling into him. “We’ll go then. I’d like to see you in a boat. Rowing.”
“Would you now? And why is that?” The image startles Merlin but he doesn’t know why.
“Don’t know. Perhaps I’d like to see your manly arms at work.”
Merlin snorts. “Yeah, right.” He noses into her hair. It smells of strawberries, yet he sees in his mind a single red rose in his palm. Everything about Faith is strange and wonderful. It makes him reel with delight. “Yes, we’ll go to the lake. I’d like that. I can call you my lady of the lake.”
She smiles up at him and he grins back, feeling complete at last.
Title: Twists of Time
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/s: Merlin/Freya
Character/s: Merlin, Freya, OFCs
Summary: It takes awhile, but Merlin finally finds her. Modern AU/Reincarnation
Warnings: None
Word Count: 808
Prompt: #14 Reflection
Author's Notes: The prompt made me immediately think of Freya. (I hope this works.)
Time is a strange thing. It folds in on itself, twists in unpredictable ways, absorbs and excretes like a sponge. A soul, left to eternity, finds itself walking odd paths, meandering without direction, unable to read the signs. Yet it yearns for completion.
For as long as he could remember, Merlin had dreamed of a girl with long, dark hair and a pale face, eyes wide with fear. In the dream he kissed her, brought her gifts and ached to save her from some unknown fate. He always woke gripped by horror but not knowing why. As he grew older, he dreamed of her less and less, until it faded away entirely and he no longer remembered the mysterious dark-haired girl.
When Merlin was thirteen, there was Amanda, she of Mario Cart marathons and grape popsicle lips, furtive smokes and kitten kisses. Flame-red hair and freckles; he didn’t know what he wanted, but she wasn’t the one.
When he was sixteen, there was Julie, she of drama club and Rimbaud, screaming old Cure songs at midnight, Jack Daniels on the brain. His first time, that night in the cemetery, almost dawn as he fumbled on the fraught edge between panic at discovery and euphoria that this was finally it. Her eyes, her lips, her hands on him urging as he slid into her, breath catching at the slick softness that surrounded him. Blonde pixie, girlfriend on the side; she wasn’t the one.
When he was twenty, there was Dylan, she of dark clubs and bruised people, a heart too sore to show him. It was Kerouac and clove cigarettes and eyes that stabbed him, tears as he tried until his mouth and jaw were sore and she pulled him up from between her legs, then curled away with a shaky sigh. Dark hair in waves, she broke his heart but she wasn’t the one.
When he was twenty-four, there was Faith. And suddenly a door opened.
**
She laughs, throaty, hair in long, dark tendrils that graze his face. Her neck is arched and a look of bliss transforms her face, turned up and smiling. She touches him deeply in this moment; his chest is tight; he wants to cry. She reminds him of someone long forgotten. It’s there, in her large dark eyes, in the way she looks at him and the sound of her voice; a bond to something unnameable deep within him. He thrills to it.
Where his memories are dark with sadness, Faith is all light and air, like a curtain pulled back to let in the sunlight. She can laugh and sing and sigh with pleasure, and that pleases Merlin greatly.
He brings her down to his chest. Their nakedness sticks together with sweat. He runs his hands down her back to her soft arse and squeezes, hips thrusting up into her one last time. Merlin can feel her insides gripping him, the final pulses of her orgasm like a lush, sluggish heartbeat against his cock. She answers his movement with a slow grind that ends in a hissed breath as he presses against her clit.
She lowers her face to his and nuzzles against it, nose to nose, then presses small kisses to his cheeks and lips. Her cunt is loose and wet around his softening cock. He doesn’t want the moment to end, he wants to wrap her in his arms and melt into her so they’re one, inseparable.
She whispers into his ear, sweet words that make him giddy, that lead to a tight embrace and more caresses, and before long, the day is gone and dusk darkens the windows. Merlin’s limbs are limp with the hours of lovemaking. Faith has been quiet. He can’t see her eyes as her head is resting on his chest, her arms twined around him; he wonders if she’s asleep.
“Let’s go to a lake,” she says, coming to life and looking up at him, chin propped on his chest. “I know just the one. My family has a country home there. Rather a falling-down old pile, but it’s quite fascinating. Do you like lakes?”
“Sure.”
She settles back down, nestling into him. “We’ll go then. I’d like to see you in a boat. Rowing.”
“Would you now? And why is that?” The image startles Merlin but he doesn’t know why.
“Don’t know. Perhaps I’d like to see your manly arms at work.”
Merlin snorts. “Yeah, right.” He noses into her hair. It smells of strawberries, yet he sees in his mind a single red rose in his palm. Everything about Faith is strange and wonderful. It makes him reel with delight. “Yes, we’ll go to the lake. I’d like that. I can call you my lady of the lake.”
She smiles up at him and he grins back, feeling complete at last.