Re: Merlin: Morgana/Gwen - coming too quickly (sensitive spot, & w/o being touched) part 2 of 2wildejoySeptember 4 2010, 05:30:38 UTC
Gwen’s hands freeze at Morgana’s waist, and Morgana’s own hands settle on top of hers. Slowly, she slides Gwen’s hands up her torso and over the swell of her breasts, and holds them there. Gwen hardly dares breathe. She can feel Morgana’s nipples hardening under her palms, and her heart starts to pound in a way she’s never known before.
“My lady?”
“They’re very sore,” Morgana says, softly, and Gwen thinks she hears a little crack in the words but she can’t bring herself to meet Morgana’s eyes in the mirror.
Morgana’s hands drop to her lap again, and Gwen begins to gently massage the yielding flesh of Morgana’s breasts. The skin there is as soft as any of Morgana’s fine silks or satins, and their curve settles so perfectly into Gwen’s palms. She draws a thumb over Morgana’s nipple, an experiment - because with her hands pressed there, she can feel Morgana’s heartbeat, and it is quickening with her own - and Morgana whimpers, a delicate sound Gwen’s never heard from her before. Gwen chances a glance up into the mirror and sees a flush rising in Morgana’s cheeks, sees her lips red, not from rouge, but from the way Morgana keeps biting them with every movement Gwen makes. Morgana’s blue eyes are glazed over and half-lidded, fixed on Gwen’s face. She looks wanton and desperate, and as she arches her back into the caresses, she leans more of her weight into Gwen, as though she can’t possibly support herself any longer.
Gwen can’t answer - she can hardly comprehend the words. She slides off her chair and sinks to her knees beside Morgana, who reaches back to grip the edges of Gwen’s chair to stay upright. Gwen leans in and kisses the skin just beside Morgana’s nipple and Morgana whimpers again, a lower sound, more imploring than appreciative. Gwen kisses a path to her other breast and does the same, and Morgana squirms beneath the attention. At last Gwen takes a nipple into her mouth and oh, she could never have predicted the reaction.
Morgana keens, helplessly, arching into Gwen’s mouth so much that she throws her head back, and desires nearly chokes Gwen. She wishes she could see Morgana properly right now - dark hair loose and tumbling in glossy waves, red lips and pink cheeks, gasping for air. Morgana’s breaths are ragged and quick, and her exhalations have become streams of words that Gwen can’t focus on enough to make out. She’s too busy exploring - holding Morgana’s nipple gently in her teeth and flicking her tongue across it, or sucking or tugging. Morgana trembles beneath her. She even risks a few quick bites, sharp enough that they might bruise, and it’s something that could get her into so much trouble if Morgana didn’t hiss, “Yes, oh, yes, please-”
One of Morgana’s hands sinks into Gwen’s hair, gripping tightly and holding her there, and suddenly Morgana moans, a husky, broken sound that’s shaped a little like Gwen’s name. Gwen knows somehow that Morgana has climaxed, without even needing a touch. Gwen didn’t know this was possible, but she keeps her face pressed to Morgana’s breast, kissing the smooth white skin there and feeling Morgana’s heart still stuttering against her ribcage.
The hand that had held Gwen’s hair so tightly is now stroking it, as Morgana breathes deeply, trying to steady herself.
“Thank you,” she says, barely more than a whisper. She sounds so relaxed, so at peace, that Gwen wants to carry her straight to bed, to allow her to slip from afterglow into sleep. But Morgana still must bathe, wash her face and clean her teeth, and Gwen must comb her hair.
Nevertheless, Morgana does sleep without trouble that night. Gwen stays awake listening for any sign of distress, long after Morgana has fallen into slumber.
“My lady?”
“They’re very sore,” Morgana says, softly, and Gwen thinks she hears a little crack in the words but she can’t bring herself to meet Morgana’s eyes in the mirror.
Morgana’s hands drop to her lap again, and Gwen begins to gently massage the yielding flesh of Morgana’s breasts. The skin there is as soft as any of Morgana’s fine silks or satins, and their curve settles so perfectly into Gwen’s palms. She draws a thumb over Morgana’s nipple, an experiment - because with her hands pressed there, she can feel Morgana’s heartbeat, and it is quickening with her own - and Morgana whimpers, a delicate sound Gwen’s never heard from her before. Gwen chances a glance up into the mirror and sees a flush rising in Morgana’s cheeks, sees her lips red, not from rouge, but from the way Morgana keeps biting them with every movement Gwen makes. Morgana’s blue eyes are glazed over and half-lidded, fixed on Gwen’s face. She looks wanton and desperate, and as she arches her back into the caresses, she leans more of her weight into Gwen, as though she can’t possibly support herself any longer.
“Gwen,” Morgana gasps. “You understand, don’t you-”
Gwen can’t answer - she can hardly comprehend the words. She slides off her chair and sinks to her knees beside Morgana, who reaches back to grip the edges of Gwen’s chair to stay upright. Gwen leans in and kisses the skin just beside Morgana’s nipple and Morgana whimpers again, a lower sound, more imploring than appreciative. Gwen kisses a path to her other breast and does the same, and Morgana squirms beneath the attention. At last Gwen takes a nipple into her mouth and oh, she could never have predicted the reaction.
Morgana keens, helplessly, arching into Gwen’s mouth so much that she throws her head back, and desires nearly chokes Gwen. She wishes she could see Morgana properly right now - dark hair loose and tumbling in glossy waves, red lips and pink cheeks, gasping for air. Morgana’s breaths are ragged and quick, and her exhalations have become streams of words that Gwen can’t focus on enough to make out. She’s too busy exploring - holding Morgana’s nipple gently in her teeth and flicking her tongue across it, or sucking or tugging. Morgana trembles beneath her. She even risks a few quick bites, sharp enough that they might bruise, and it’s something that could get her into so much trouble if Morgana didn’t hiss, “Yes, oh, yes, please-”
One of Morgana’s hands sinks into Gwen’s hair, gripping tightly and holding her there, and suddenly Morgana moans, a husky, broken sound that’s shaped a little like Gwen’s name. Gwen knows somehow that Morgana has climaxed, without even needing a touch. Gwen didn’t know this was possible, but she keeps her face pressed to Morgana’s breast, kissing the smooth white skin there and feeling Morgana’s heart still stuttering against her ribcage.
The hand that had held Gwen’s hair so tightly is now stroking it, as Morgana breathes deeply, trying to steady herself.
“Thank you,” she says, barely more than a whisper. She sounds so relaxed, so at peace, that Gwen wants to carry her straight to bed, to allow her to slip from afterglow into sleep. But Morgana still must bathe, wash her face and clean her teeth, and Gwen must comb her hair.
Nevertheless, Morgana does sleep without trouble that night. Gwen stays awake listening for any sign of distress, long after Morgana has fallen into slumber.
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