Merlin: To Take Back A Soul (Morgana/Gwen)
Title: To Take Back A Soul
Fandom: Merlin (BBC)
Disclaimer: No money is being made and no infringement is intended.
Ship: Morgana/Gwen
Rating: NC-17
Contains/Warnings: Implied abduction, restraints, gagging, magical mind-control, blood, daggers, non-con.
Summary: For anon at kinkme_merlin who wanted "Gwen/Morgana, dub/non-con, When Morgana runs Gwen down in the forest, she doesn't turn her into a deer for Arthur to kill. Instead, she drags Gwen back to her hut."
Words: ~900
A/N: Shocked to realize this is my first femslash fic in over a year! Hello and welcome back my femslash muse.
Morgana patiently waits for Gwen to regain consciousness before gagging her, taking pleasure in the useless twisting and biting Gwen does, tied spread-eagle to the bed as she is. She presses a kiss to Gwen's lips through the rough cloth when she finishes, breathing out into it as she does. She smiles when Gwen whimpers, muffled groans of distress and anger. Placing a mockery of a kiss on Gwen's sweaty forehead, she whispers, "This is only the beginning, Gwen. Save your strength." She considers a moment, tracing a jagged nail down Gwen's cheek, following the tear tracks' path, "Or use it up now, it makes no difference to me."
She leaves Gwen's side long enough to grab a dagger before turning back to her captive, idly fingering the dagger's edge, letting it nip her when she presses just hard enough to draw blood. She kneels at the foot of the bed, and leans forward, slashing at Gwen's clothes, not minding the bloody scratches she leaves behind. Morgana pushes up the shredded fabric as she works her way up Gwen's legs, thighs, stopping her journey at her waist, leaving Gwen exposed. She holds the dagger in her teeth as she grants herself the pleasure of running her hands up and down Gwen's legs, pressing at the cuts, her smile growing with every moan of pain her captive makes.
Taking the dagger from her teeth, Morgana places it against Gwen's skin. She closes her eyes a moment, searching her magic, gathering it to her, before she presses down into Gwen's thigh, breaking skin. She opens her eyes, the whimper from Gwen a response to the fire in them now, or maybe it's the growing cut, Morgana could care less past her own enjoyment.
Mine, she thinks, as she slowly traces a rune out on Gwen's skin with the dagger's edge, resisting the urge to press in even deeper when Gwen hisses with pain, every muscle in her body taut with painful tension. The trace is a rough estimation of the rune, blood marring its lines, spilling thickly over the edges of the cuts. She presses the palm of her free hand to the wound, her magic rushing into it and forming a faint echo in her mind of the link she seeks.
"You were mine first, Guinevere," Morgana says out loud with intent, before bending down to press her lips to the rune, the blood flow slowing now, thick with magic she can taste, flavored with the resistance Gwen must be sending through her entire body to fight Morgana's internal invasion. She kisses her way up Gwen's inner thigh, closing her eyes and letting touch and smell lead her to Gwen's sex, rank with sweat and a scent so familiar Morgana has to rest her head on hot skin a while, the happy memories swirling in her mind, for the first time since her exile, useful. She drops the dagger over the side of the bed- her purpose is no longer pain- and braces herself on Gwen's thighs, taking some care to avoid the unnaturally healing wound before moving forward to take what rightfully belongs to her.
She works at Gwen's center, sucking with her lips and pressing in and around with her tongue, mindful of the sounds Gwen is making. They are no longer of pure fear; Gwen's body is at war with her mind, she sounds conflicted. Morgana seeks to drive all conflict and win her, bringing a hand forward to dip fingers inside Gwen, the space inside wet and familiar. She wills her magic flow out of the little cuts she made on her fingers and into Gwen. Gwen stands no real chance, though her fight is spirited even as she weakens.
Morgana is thorough, with a memory sharp enough to remember green fields just outside Camelot, afternoons spent under the shade, laughing and tasting. She twists a second finger inside Gwen, another memory, heat under the covers, Gwen muffled sounds escaping even through the pillow she tries to hide them under, much like the sounds Gwen is making now, only sweeter now for the darkness they speak to. The link between them is tighter now, Morgana can almost see it, a chain getting tighter as the tension inside Gwen builds, overpowering her will. Which is all Morgana needs in the end, scraping her teeth against Gwen and pressing with her tongue a final time before Gwen breaks, the snap and pull of magic suddenly tight inside Morgana's head with Gwen's submission. Morgana completes the magic, leaning back on her knees and rubbing herself roughly under her skirts, her coming is quick, but the binding magic holds despite her haste.
Morgana lets her own breathing calm- Gwen is still breathing hard, as if still in the throes of orgasm- but she cannot wait any longer than that before she has to know.
"Mine, Gwen?"
She is asking now, holding her breath in wait of the answer, the true test of whether her magic worked, the link in her mind strong and clear, if a bit tight.
The answer comes at some difficulty, Gwen biting down on her lip and moaning weakly, and Morgana smiles at the thought of Gwen's innate stubbornness still present in spite of the binding magic. Nonetheless, the answer is given.
"Yours. Yours, milady."
She has won.
Fandom: Merlin (BBC)
Disclaimer: No money is being made and no infringement is intended.
Ship: Morgana/Gwen
Rating: NC-17
Contains/Warnings: Implied abduction, restraints, gagging, magical mind-control, blood, daggers, non-con.
Summary: For anon at kinkme_merlin who wanted "Gwen/Morgana, dub/non-con, When Morgana runs Gwen down in the forest, she doesn't turn her into a deer for Arthur to kill. Instead, she drags Gwen back to her hut."
Words: ~900
A/N: Shocked to realize this is my first femslash fic in over a year! Hello and welcome back my femslash muse.
Morgana patiently waits for Gwen to regain consciousness before gagging her, taking pleasure in the useless twisting and biting Gwen does, tied spread-eagle to the bed as she is. She presses a kiss to Gwen's lips through the rough cloth when she finishes, breathing out into it as she does. She smiles when Gwen whimpers, muffled groans of distress and anger. Placing a mockery of a kiss on Gwen's sweaty forehead, she whispers, "This is only the beginning, Gwen. Save your strength." She considers a moment, tracing a jagged nail down Gwen's cheek, following the tear tracks' path, "Or use it up now, it makes no difference to me."
She leaves Gwen's side long enough to grab a dagger before turning back to her captive, idly fingering the dagger's edge, letting it nip her when she presses just hard enough to draw blood. She kneels at the foot of the bed, and leans forward, slashing at Gwen's clothes, not minding the bloody scratches she leaves behind. Morgana pushes up the shredded fabric as she works her way up Gwen's legs, thighs, stopping her journey at her waist, leaving Gwen exposed. She holds the dagger in her teeth as she grants herself the pleasure of running her hands up and down Gwen's legs, pressing at the cuts, her smile growing with every moan of pain her captive makes.
Taking the dagger from her teeth, Morgana places it against Gwen's skin. She closes her eyes a moment, searching her magic, gathering it to her, before she presses down into Gwen's thigh, breaking skin. She opens her eyes, the whimper from Gwen a response to the fire in them now, or maybe it's the growing cut, Morgana could care less past her own enjoyment.
Mine, she thinks, as she slowly traces a rune out on Gwen's skin with the dagger's edge, resisting the urge to press in even deeper when Gwen hisses with pain, every muscle in her body taut with painful tension. The trace is a rough estimation of the rune, blood marring its lines, spilling thickly over the edges of the cuts. She presses the palm of her free hand to the wound, her magic rushing into it and forming a faint echo in her mind of the link she seeks.
"You were mine first, Guinevere," Morgana says out loud with intent, before bending down to press her lips to the rune, the blood flow slowing now, thick with magic she can taste, flavored with the resistance Gwen must be sending through her entire body to fight Morgana's internal invasion. She kisses her way up Gwen's inner thigh, closing her eyes and letting touch and smell lead her to Gwen's sex, rank with sweat and a scent so familiar Morgana has to rest her head on hot skin a while, the happy memories swirling in her mind, for the first time since her exile, useful. She drops the dagger over the side of the bed- her purpose is no longer pain- and braces herself on Gwen's thighs, taking some care to avoid the unnaturally healing wound before moving forward to take what rightfully belongs to her.
She works at Gwen's center, sucking with her lips and pressing in and around with her tongue, mindful of the sounds Gwen is making. They are no longer of pure fear; Gwen's body is at war with her mind, she sounds conflicted. Morgana seeks to drive all conflict and win her, bringing a hand forward to dip fingers inside Gwen, the space inside wet and familiar. She wills her magic flow out of the little cuts she made on her fingers and into Gwen. Gwen stands no real chance, though her fight is spirited even as she weakens.
Morgana is thorough, with a memory sharp enough to remember green fields just outside Camelot, afternoons spent under the shade, laughing and tasting. She twists a second finger inside Gwen, another memory, heat under the covers, Gwen muffled sounds escaping even through the pillow she tries to hide them under, much like the sounds Gwen is making now, only sweeter now for the darkness they speak to. The link between them is tighter now, Morgana can almost see it, a chain getting tighter as the tension inside Gwen builds, overpowering her will. Which is all Morgana needs in the end, scraping her teeth against Gwen and pressing with her tongue a final time before Gwen breaks, the snap and pull of magic suddenly tight inside Morgana's head with Gwen's submission. Morgana completes the magic, leaning back on her knees and rubbing herself roughly under her skirts, her coming is quick, but the binding magic holds despite her haste.
Morgana lets her own breathing calm- Gwen is still breathing hard, as if still in the throes of orgasm- but she cannot wait any longer than that before she has to know.
"Mine, Gwen?"
She is asking now, holding her breath in wait of the answer, the true test of whether her magic worked, the link in her mind strong and clear, if a bit tight.
The answer comes at some difficulty, Gwen biting down on her lip and moaning weakly, and Morgana smiles at the thought of Gwen's innate stubbornness still present in spite of the binding magic. Nonetheless, the answer is given.
"Yours. Yours, milady."
She has won.