fic 002.
Merlin | He'll Wash Over Me, Arthur/Gwen, Adult
A little porny something for the Porn Battle prompts 'bathing' & 'battle', that I'm crossposting because there isn't enough A/G love.
Fingers closing gently around one of her slender wrists, he pulls her hand out of the water and uses a cloth to carefully clean the dirt from under her fingernails. She sighs as he works, his brow furrowed in total concentration., 390 words
Their legs tangle together underneath the warmth of the water. She slides forwards in the tub until the surface comes to just below her lips. Her breathing is deep, back pressed flush to his chest and he can feel it each time she takes a breath. Her curls, still greasy and grimy from the fight and now frizzy from the humid air around the hot bath, brushes the tip of his nose and he doesn't mind the musk. It's hers, how could he.
Fingers closing gently around one of her slender wrists, he pulls her hand out of the water and uses a cloth to carefully clean the dirt from under her fingernails. She sighs as he works, his brow furrowed in total concentration.
He thinks about where the dirt came from, how she'd stood beside him and fought, sword tight in her grasp and fear left back in their morning bed. He always hated that he couldn't stop what he was doing and just watch her, admire the way she was so graceful and fierce at once, how she could use her lean arms to manipulate her sword into a man's chest.
Just thinking back now, he feels himself respond and press against her backside. Forgetting his earlier task of cleaning her nails, he runs a palm down her neck, collarbone, chest, until his thumb grazes one of the dark peaks of her nipples and she sighs again.
Half asleep from his touches and the warm water, she pulls a shining arm from the bath and curls her fingers around the back of his neck. His touch continues on until it ends it's journey between the cave of her thighs, finding her slick and hot and gasping when he presses just there.
Her unclean nails dig into the nape of his neck as he quickens his strokes. He presses his nose into the space behind her ear and thinks of how the same hands that grip the handle of her sword always grip him, firm and tender, and he's never been so grateful to have her.
She tenses, then shudders, and he grins as he leaves a kiss on her shoulder. "Arthur." Her voice thick with arousal and fatigue, her hand slips back under the water.
"My queen." Whispered into her ear, and it's a statement, not a proposal.
--
A little porny something for the Porn Battle prompts 'bathing' & 'battle', that I'm crossposting because there isn't enough A/G love.
Fingers closing gently around one of her slender wrists, he pulls her hand out of the water and uses a cloth to carefully clean the dirt from under her fingernails. She sighs as he works, his brow furrowed in total concentration., 390 words
Their legs tangle together underneath the warmth of the water. She slides forwards in the tub until the surface comes to just below her lips. Her breathing is deep, back pressed flush to his chest and he can feel it each time she takes a breath. Her curls, still greasy and grimy from the fight and now frizzy from the humid air around the hot bath, brushes the tip of his nose and he doesn't mind the musk. It's hers, how could he.
Fingers closing gently around one of her slender wrists, he pulls her hand out of the water and uses a cloth to carefully clean the dirt from under her fingernails. She sighs as he works, his brow furrowed in total concentration.
He thinks about where the dirt came from, how she'd stood beside him and fought, sword tight in her grasp and fear left back in their morning bed. He always hated that he couldn't stop what he was doing and just watch her, admire the way she was so graceful and fierce at once, how she could use her lean arms to manipulate her sword into a man's chest.
Just thinking back now, he feels himself respond and press against her backside. Forgetting his earlier task of cleaning her nails, he runs a palm down her neck, collarbone, chest, until his thumb grazes one of the dark peaks of her nipples and she sighs again.
Half asleep from his touches and the warm water, she pulls a shining arm from the bath and curls her fingers around the back of his neck. His touch continues on until it ends it's journey between the cave of her thighs, finding her slick and hot and gasping when he presses just there.
Her unclean nails dig into the nape of his neck as he quickens his strokes. He presses his nose into the space behind her ear and thinks of how the same hands that grip the handle of her sword always grip him, firm and tender, and he's never been so grateful to have her.
She tenses, then shudders, and he grins as he leaves a kiss on her shoulder. "Arthur." Her voice thick with arousal and fatigue, her hand slips back under the water.
"My queen." Whispered into her ear, and it's a statement, not a proposal.
--