[Merlin] Stitch Me The Fabric of Fall
A/N: Written for oxoniensis's Porn Battle; the prompts were magic and dreams.
Stitch Me the Fabric of Fall
Merlin. Morgana/Gwen, 421 words, Adult
The air in Morgana's quarters is chilly, but she does not feel the cold -- whatever it is that rushes through her veins is warmth enough.
Destiny. The word burns in Morgana's mouth, makes her skin itch. It conjures up forgotten dreams of a future she doesn’t fit into; a brighter, better world where Arthur, Merlin and Gwen stand tall in the sun.
She does not often dream of herself. Sometimes there are strange, twisting nightmares of darkness and power and rage, and sometimes there are other dreams, dreams of unknown pleasure, of soft sheets and skin, and sometimes, Gwen.
It is from these dreams she wakes, gasping for air and aching for release, her hand desperate between her legs.
---
It’s late at night, and Morgana is standing in the forest. Her feet are bare, her hair loose. She closes her eyes and suddenly she’s completely sentient; the trees whisper, the leaves reach out for her, the air breathes promises of something more, something real.
The earth is cold under her feet. She breathes in the cold night air and feels something deep within her burn.
She laughs, and the trees laugh with her.
---
Gwen's not far from her - she never is - and she approaches Morgana with a soft smile. "Can we go back to Camelot? It's only so long before people will start to worry."
---
The air in Morgana's quarters is chilly, but she does not feel the cold -- whatever it is that rushes through her veins is warmth enough. She pulls at the stubborn laces behind Gwen's dress, urging the fabric down. It falls to her feet, and Gwen shivers.
Gwen turns to face her, cheeks flushed and eyes dark. She steps forward and presses a soft kiss against Morgana's lips.
Morgana's eyes meet Gwen's, and she reaches for her hand.
---
There is a nervous, frantic energy to all of this, a desperate need that has somehow been with Morgana forever.
Gwen gasps when Morgana lowers her hand between her legs, she cries out when she slowly pushes a finger inside her, then a second, thumb circling her clit, and it is not before long she tightens around Morgana's fingers, burying her face between Morgana's shoulder and neck to stop herself from screaming.
They fall onto the bed, and the sheets twist in Morgana's hands as Gwen takes her breast into her mouth. Her hair has come loose and her dark skin glistens in the moonlight.
When Gwen eventually works her fingers into Morgana, she immediately unravels, gasping Guinevere into the silent night.
The spark in her blood ignites, and she feels like she's flying.
---
Tonight, Morgana does not dream of an uncertain future, but of whispered words and old magic and Gwen, Gwen, nothing but Gwen.
*
Stitch Me the Fabric of Fall
Merlin. Morgana/Gwen, 421 words, Adult
The air in Morgana's quarters is chilly, but she does not feel the cold -- whatever it is that rushes through her veins is warmth enough.
Destiny. The word burns in Morgana's mouth, makes her skin itch. It conjures up forgotten dreams of a future she doesn’t fit into; a brighter, better world where Arthur, Merlin and Gwen stand tall in the sun.
She does not often dream of herself. Sometimes there are strange, twisting nightmares of darkness and power and rage, and sometimes there are other dreams, dreams of unknown pleasure, of soft sheets and skin, and sometimes, Gwen.
It is from these dreams she wakes, gasping for air and aching for release, her hand desperate between her legs.
---
It’s late at night, and Morgana is standing in the forest. Her feet are bare, her hair loose. She closes her eyes and suddenly she’s completely sentient; the trees whisper, the leaves reach out for her, the air breathes promises of something more, something real.
The earth is cold under her feet. She breathes in the cold night air and feels something deep within her burn.
She laughs, and the trees laugh with her.
---
Gwen's not far from her - she never is - and she approaches Morgana with a soft smile. "Can we go back to Camelot? It's only so long before people will start to worry."
---
The air in Morgana's quarters is chilly, but she does not feel the cold -- whatever it is that rushes through her veins is warmth enough. She pulls at the stubborn laces behind Gwen's dress, urging the fabric down. It falls to her feet, and Gwen shivers.
Gwen turns to face her, cheeks flushed and eyes dark. She steps forward and presses a soft kiss against Morgana's lips.
Morgana's eyes meet Gwen's, and she reaches for her hand.
---
There is a nervous, frantic energy to all of this, a desperate need that has somehow been with Morgana forever.
Gwen gasps when Morgana lowers her hand between her legs, she cries out when she slowly pushes a finger inside her, then a second, thumb circling her clit, and it is not before long she tightens around Morgana's fingers, burying her face between Morgana's shoulder and neck to stop herself from screaming.
They fall onto the bed, and the sheets twist in Morgana's hands as Gwen takes her breast into her mouth. Her hair has come loose and her dark skin glistens in the moonlight.
When Gwen eventually works her fingers into Morgana, she immediately unravels, gasping Guinevere into the silent night.
The spark in her blood ignites, and she feels like she's flying.
---
Tonight, Morgana does not dream of an uncertain future, but of whispered words and old magic and Gwen, Gwen, nothing but Gwen.
*