FIC: Kissing Kin
Title: Kissing Kin (Rec this?)
Fandom: Arthurian
Pairing: Mordred/Morvydd
Rating: PG-13 for implied sex.
Words: 200
Disclaimer: The words are mine, the characters are everyone's.
Summary: A family visit.
Notes/Warnings: First cousins making out, if that bothers you; Morvydd or Morfudd is the twin sister of Ywain, and the daughter of Morgan le Fay. Double drabble for get_laid25.
Morvydd is eighteen when her cousins come to Rheged. Gawain is much like her twin brother: open-hearted, good-humored. She likes him at once.
Mordred is another matter. At seventeen he's lost the childish look; he laughs easily, but his flashing eyes are secretive. Her mother favors him. She keeps watching him, trying to learn why.
One night she goes down to the garden alone, and finds him among the herb beds. It seems strange to see him there, in a woman's domain, her domain; even Ywain never comes there, not since they were children.
"Cousin," she says, and Mordred turns on the instant. That quickness, she thinks; she's never seen a man move so lightly.
"Am I trespassing?"
His voice is soft and sober. Morvydd shakes her head. "No," she says. She takes his hands, fragrant with rosemary and southernwood, her own herbs, and lays them between her breasts. "But you should come inside."
Her mother will be pleased, she thinks hazily, as he kisses her. Then all she can think of is her own fierce warmth, and her cousin's cool, light touch discovering her body; and for almost the first time in her life, she forgets her mother entirely.
Fandom: Arthurian
Pairing: Mordred/Morvydd
Rating: PG-13 for implied sex.
Words: 200
Disclaimer: The words are mine, the characters are everyone's.
Summary: A family visit.
Notes/Warnings: First cousins making out, if that bothers you; Morvydd or Morfudd is the twin sister of Ywain, and the daughter of Morgan le Fay. Double drabble for get_laid25.
Morvydd is eighteen when her cousins come to Rheged. Gawain is much like her twin brother: open-hearted, good-humored. She likes him at once.
Mordred is another matter. At seventeen he's lost the childish look; he laughs easily, but his flashing eyes are secretive. Her mother favors him. She keeps watching him, trying to learn why.
One night she goes down to the garden alone, and finds him among the herb beds. It seems strange to see him there, in a woman's domain, her domain; even Ywain never comes there, not since they were children.
"Cousin," she says, and Mordred turns on the instant. That quickness, she thinks; she's never seen a man move so lightly.
"Am I trespassing?"
His voice is soft and sober. Morvydd shakes her head. "No," she says. She takes his hands, fragrant with rosemary and southernwood, her own herbs, and lays them between her breasts. "But you should come inside."
Her mother will be pleased, she thinks hazily, as he kisses her. Then all she can think of is her own fierce warmth, and her cousin's cool, light touch discovering her body; and for almost the first time in her life, she forgets her mother entirely.