Kink Me! #27

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Kink Me! #27
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"We'll Get Her Hot, Show Her What We've Got" || Gwen/Morgana/Vivian | 2 of 5

[anonymous]

Vivian swallows again and wriggles, trying to get more comfortable in what is obviously a terribly inadequate chair. She shouldn’t be here and this shouldn’t be happening, not even in Camelot where nobody has any sense of propriety at all, and she is going to get up and leave. Right now.

Gwen turns in Morgana’s arms and Morgana runs her fingers over the swell of Gwen’s breasts above her neckline, smiling smugly as Gwen shivers and Vivian feels herself blush so hard the room seems to heat around her. Her heart is pounding from what absolutely must be outrage as Morgana unlaces Gwen’s bodice, slowly, lingeringly, caressing Gwen’s breasts as she frees them, and Vivian can’t breathe this is so-

“All right?” Morgana murmurs, so quiet Vivian can hardly hear it over her heart drumming in her ears, and Gwen nods and steps away and pulls her dress over her head, leaving it where it falls on the floor. Her shift is much thinner than Morgana’s, the cloth worn almost as fine as gauze with frequent washing, and Vivian tries to think about what she should wear to dinner tonight instead of the way the shift drapes over Gwen’s hips-how she’s curvier than Morgana, touchable-looking-incredibly lovely in her own unfashionable way-how her nipples are drawn into hard nubs that disturb the smooth fall of fabric down her front.

Morgana takes Gwen’s breasts in her hands, rolling Gwen’s nipples between her fingers, and Gwen moans softly. Vivian’s hands curl into fists at her sides, her nails biting into the palms of her hands. “What do you want?” Morgana asks, her lips kiss-flushed and brilliant against Gwen’s cheek.

Vivian bites the inside of her mouth to keep from answering. She doesn’t want to be here, she reminds herself. She has better things to do than kiss servant girls. She can marry any lord or prince she likes and it will be suitable and dignified and entirely proper. She squirms in her chair again, her legs pressing together, and it sends a spark of pleasure up her spine.

This is outrageous, she thinks, feeling herself flush harder, and Morgana grins sharply at her over Gwen’s shoulder as if she knows exactly what she’s thinking, as if she’s aware of the arousal gathering tingling-hot between Vivian’s legs. “I want you to stop,” Vivian says, and she’s horrified at how her voice sounds, rough and low and breathless, and more horrified at the way it thrills her, like this is something she’s allowed to want.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Morgana says, “and I’ll do as I please in my own bedchamber. You can leave anytime you like.”

Vivian knows she should get up, she should go back to her own rooms and have-she doesn’t have a maid, there’s nobody who can draw her a bath-well, she’ll find someone, and she will have a cool refreshing bath and put on a beautiful gown and go socialize with her kind of people, not this half-wild lady and her unsubservient maid. Maybe before she has the bath drawn she’ll indulge herself, if the walk back to her own rooms doesn’t distract her from the want simmering in her blood.

Instead she parts her legs beneath her skirts just enough that they don’t touch, enough that she won’t be tempted, and says “I’m not that easy to get rid of, Lady Morgana.”

One of Morgana’s hands eases down Gwen’s belly, pressing the shift so close to Gwen that it might as well not be there when she cups Gwen through the cloth. Gwen leans back against her, widening her stance so Morgana’s hand can slip between her legs, and Morgana says, “What do you want, Gwen?” The promise in her voice is obscene, and Vivian feels her insides twist. “Do you want my hand first, or my mouth? Do you want me to spread you out naked on my bed and do it so slowly that you beg?”

Vivian can feel herself getting wet, feel it in the pulse beating hard between her thighs, and she’s just grateful that Gwen is talking and the other two might not hear the uneven panting of her breath, Gwen’s saying “I-I want you…” and Morgana makes an encouraging noise, rubs her hand higher against Gwen, and Gwen shudders from head to toe and says, “on your knees.”