Moonlight Serenade, PG, Arthur/Gwen
Title: Moonlight Serenade
Author: kepp0xy
Rating: PG
Pairing: Arthur/Gwen
Warnings: none.
Notes: Beta work by the wonderful writeangel1, any remaining mistakes are all mine. Thanks to isaysquee for the initial look over.
Spoilers: Hmm nope! Total and complete shameless fluff. Future!fic.
Summary: It had been a frustrating day, followed by an unfruitful meeting with his knights. Arthur had expected to find Guinevere asleep when he arrived at their chambers as the meeting had run late into the night.
Arthur brushes his knuckles along the back of Guinevere's hand before slipping his fingers through hers and tugging her to her feet. As she stands, the comb she had been using clatters softly against her wooden table, with only a few pins remaining in her hair, the rest tumbles over her shoulder.
Arthur smiles; his wife picks up on things quickly. As his hand slides along her waist, pulling her close to him, hers comes to rest on his shoulder. His fingers move over the soft linen of her nightgown, the warmth of her skin emanating through the fabric to heat his chilled fingers as they settle on her lower back. Her free hand rises briefly to cup his cheek, and he presses his face to her palm, before she takes up his other hand to complete the posture for the dance.
It had been a frustrating day, followed by an unfruitful meeting with his knights. Arthur had expected to find Guinevere asleep when he arrived at their chambers as the meeting had run late into the night. The thought had irritated him further: he usually spoke with Gwen at the end of the evening, both of them relating the events of the day to relax before bed. He hated going to bed tense.
Instead, Arthur pushed the heavy oak door open to reveal her sitting before her mirrors, letting down locks of thick brown hair. His entrance did not startle her, her eyes found his in the mirror's reflection and she smiled warmly in welcome. Guinevere had lit the fire, making the room cozy, and the golden light flickered over her skin, giving her a bronze glow. The room was calm and it soothed Arthur, replacing frustration with affection.
He was not prone to romance, not interested in whispering sweet nothings or writing poetry to declare one's love. However, he had first demonstrated his infatuation with Guinevere through a dance at a ball in front of nobility, and since then he had always enjoyed holding her and sweeping them slowly around a room.
Guinevere lays her head against his shoulder as he slowly begins to spin them. A few minutes pass in which the only sounds to be heard are her bare feet shuffling along the stone floor and his booted ones tapping quietly in her wake. He hears the smile in her voice when finally she speaks, "This is unlike you, Arthur." Then she hastily adds, "not that I mind, obviously. It's just unexpected." She releases an exasperated sigh and turns her forehead into his shoulder.
Arthur smiles: no matter how familiar they are with each other, no matter that she knows almost all his secrets and he hers, no matter that they share the same bed, the same food, the same space, Gwen still manages to trip over her words. He chuckles and spins her away from him. He had never been good at sharing his feelings with her but Guinevere had never needed many words. Spinning her back, he lowers his hands to her waist, holding her half an arm's length away from him and watching her upturned face. She smiles, bringing her hands up to hold his face.
Guinevere stands on her toes, and softly touches her lips to Arthur's. With a comfortable familiarity, Arthur lowers his head to allow her to drop from her toes and with practiced ease, Guinevere parts her lips to deepen the kiss. His tongue gently sweeps through her mouth, and her fingers dance to knot themselves in his hair. She tastes of red wine and smells mildly of the cloves that had adorned their dinner meats. Gwen's fingers tug gently at his hair sending a faint shiver down his spine, the promise of more, and she breathes a sigh into his mouth. Arthur smiles again, and slowly pulls his head away, savouring the last moments of contact.
"Did you have a good day?" he asks quietly while carefully brushing her loose hair over her shoulder.
"It had its moments," she responds after a pause. "How about you?"
His smile turns slightly ironic. "No." Guinevere inclines her head in gentle invitation but Arthur no longer wishes to relate his stresses to her, instead wanting to lounge in this quiet moment. "Shall we get to bed?"
Gwen's hand brushes down along Arthur's arm and she takes his hand in hers.
Author: kepp0xy
Rating: PG
Pairing: Arthur/Gwen
Warnings: none.
Notes: Beta work by the wonderful writeangel1, any remaining mistakes are all mine. Thanks to isaysquee for the initial look over.
Spoilers: Hmm nope! Total and complete shameless fluff. Future!fic.
Summary: It had been a frustrating day, followed by an unfruitful meeting with his knights. Arthur had expected to find Guinevere asleep when he arrived at their chambers as the meeting had run late into the night.
Arthur brushes his knuckles along the back of Guinevere's hand before slipping his fingers through hers and tugging her to her feet. As she stands, the comb she had been using clatters softly against her wooden table, with only a few pins remaining in her hair, the rest tumbles over her shoulder.
Arthur smiles; his wife picks up on things quickly. As his hand slides along her waist, pulling her close to him, hers comes to rest on his shoulder. His fingers move over the soft linen of her nightgown, the warmth of her skin emanating through the fabric to heat his chilled fingers as they settle on her lower back. Her free hand rises briefly to cup his cheek, and he presses his face to her palm, before she takes up his other hand to complete the posture for the dance.
It had been a frustrating day, followed by an unfruitful meeting with his knights. Arthur had expected to find Guinevere asleep when he arrived at their chambers as the meeting had run late into the night. The thought had irritated him further: he usually spoke with Gwen at the end of the evening, both of them relating the events of the day to relax before bed. He hated going to bed tense.
Instead, Arthur pushed the heavy oak door open to reveal her sitting before her mirrors, letting down locks of thick brown hair. His entrance did not startle her, her eyes found his in the mirror's reflection and she smiled warmly in welcome. Guinevere had lit the fire, making the room cozy, and the golden light flickered over her skin, giving her a bronze glow. The room was calm and it soothed Arthur, replacing frustration with affection.
He was not prone to romance, not interested in whispering sweet nothings or writing poetry to declare one's love. However, he had first demonstrated his infatuation with Guinevere through a dance at a ball in front of nobility, and since then he had always enjoyed holding her and sweeping them slowly around a room.
Guinevere lays her head against his shoulder as he slowly begins to spin them. A few minutes pass in which the only sounds to be heard are her bare feet shuffling along the stone floor and his booted ones tapping quietly in her wake. He hears the smile in her voice when finally she speaks, "This is unlike you, Arthur." Then she hastily adds, "not that I mind, obviously. It's just unexpected." She releases an exasperated sigh and turns her forehead into his shoulder.
Arthur smiles: no matter how familiar they are with each other, no matter that she knows almost all his secrets and he hers, no matter that they share the same bed, the same food, the same space, Gwen still manages to trip over her words. He chuckles and spins her away from him. He had never been good at sharing his feelings with her but Guinevere had never needed many words. Spinning her back, he lowers his hands to her waist, holding her half an arm's length away from him and watching her upturned face. She smiles, bringing her hands up to hold his face.
Guinevere stands on her toes, and softly touches her lips to Arthur's. With a comfortable familiarity, Arthur lowers his head to allow her to drop from her toes and with practiced ease, Guinevere parts her lips to deepen the kiss. His tongue gently sweeps through her mouth, and her fingers dance to knot themselves in his hair. She tastes of red wine and smells mildly of the cloves that had adorned their dinner meats. Gwen's fingers tug gently at his hair sending a faint shiver down his spine, the promise of more, and she breathes a sigh into his mouth. Arthur smiles again, and slowly pulls his head away, savouring the last moments of contact.
"Did you have a good day?" he asks quietly while carefully brushing her loose hair over her shoulder.
"It had its moments," she responds after a pause. "How about you?"
His smile turns slightly ironic. "No." Guinevere inclines her head in gentle invitation but Arthur no longer wishes to relate his stresses to her, instead wanting to lounge in this quiet moment. "Shall we get to bed?"
Gwen's hand brushes down along Arthur's arm and she takes his hand in hers.