Hello there! I'm new here, so please be nice! The inspiration for this story came from Maroon 5's song 'One More Night'.
Merlin is a woman in this story, and is only four years older than Mordred. This story will have hints of Merthur in it, as well as a onesided thing Gwaine has for Merlin.
Enjoy and let me know what you think!
The first time it happened, Merlin told herself it was also the last time.
"See that Merlin" Arthur gestured to Mordred, who was collecting firewood. The young knight looked up at her and the king wearily. "Its nice to see someone actually doing some work rather than having a little lie down"
She had been angry before, she had been utterly furious before. She had grabbed the power of Life and Death by the throat with her bare hands to replace Gaius for Nimueh, but this was a different brand of anger. Rage.
For a mere minute she had laid on the grass to regain her strength, after fighting with twenty-thousand Fae and convincing the Fae Queen not to kill the knights who dared make camp on their lands. She felt drained. Her arms were heavy and her mind hummed with a painful headache that only intensified with each turn of her head.
Merlin should have been angry with Arthur. Rationally, it was not Mordred's fault that the prat decided to include him in his prattishness, but because of Mordred's destiny and what she had Seen, the young knight had very quickly found himself as the subject of her rage.
The knights bellowed with laughter, taking her glare as some kind of hint that Arthur's comment was funny, and the matter was dropped. Merlin hoisted herself up, forced on her best smile and made them dinner. She may have hated them in those few hours, but after negotiating with a fickle, bloodthirsty creature for their right to live, she was not inclined to poison them for their ill treatment of her.
She held it in, as she always had done. Her mother had told her that there were people who would do things like this to her. People she loved. And her mother had told her to told onto the love, for love lasts longer than a folly. But she felt no love for Mordred, and as such confronted him when it was his turn to keep watch that night.
The knights slept soundly around the tamed flames. The stars above their heads and the soft, dry ground beneath them. She couldn't help but smile seeing them like that: knowing that they were safe. That was all she ever wanted for them. Safety. Happiness.
When Gwaine woke up Mordred for the change over, Merlin waited until she was certain the rogue knight was asleep before easing up from her position between Arthur and Percival, and quietly approached Mordred from behind. He faced the fire, poking the burning wood with a stick.
His head moved as she slid down on the stone beside him, watching her with his peripherals.
They sat in silence. Both knew something was doing to happen that night. Although it was not what either were expecting.
"You could have said something" Merlin stated finally.
Mordred ducked his head, using his most calming voice. "If I had approached the Fae myself they would have torn me to pieces instantly, or worse placed me under their enchantment. I thought it best to leave it in your capable hands"
The witch paused, the information ticking inside her head. She decided to ignore it. "You could have said something to them, they seem to value the word of a knight over a maid"
Mordred answered her swiftly, his tone indecipherable. "Arthur and the others care for you, they value your word greatly, Emrys."
Suddenly feeling angry, she pulled down the neckline of her dress and revealed the pale skin of her left breast, the nipple on just hidden by the faded blue fabric. Marring the white expanse were three long slices: the claws of the Fae Queen when she tried to tear out the witch's heart. The cuts were deep and blue-lined but did not bleed: the Fae's claws seal instantly, but leave a poisonous trace behind.
It would scar. Badly. She needed to get back to Gaius to get it treated, but for now she would use it to her advantage.
Mordred looked at it, as Merlin wanted him to, and with a sense of pride Merlin could see that he was ashamed. She watched his reactions, judging him and curious of what he would do. She wasn't sure what she expected from him, but it was not for him to lift a hand and hesitate just above the wounds. His eyes rose and met with her's questioningly.
"Its infected with the Fae's venom... you'll die" He told her. She nodded, knowing this. He inclined his head. "May I?"
For a moment she didn't understand, but then she registered where his hand was and what his statement insinuated, she nodded again and came closer: giving him easier access.
The shiver was completely unexpected as he laid his warm palm over her chest. His fingers covering the claw marks and a good third of her breast. His finger tips brushed against her collar bone.
He was concentrating. She could see his expression and how his brow furrowed with the effort. But with some murmured words she felt a hot sensation seep into her skin. Gritting her teeth, she held in a cry as the heat intensified: burning out the poison infecting her. At some point during the process Mordred's other hand grasped her arm to steady both her and himself.
When it was done, both parties were left panting.
They both looked down at his hand, still resting over her breast. Merlin could feel their breath on her chest, and knew Mordred could feel the same breath on the back of his hand. In her aim to gain some form of upper hand over him, Merlin had not realised how sexual her actions had been, and with the wound now healed, it was as if a barrier had been brought down. His hand shifted.
The lines were still there, but they were a pale pink and looked days old rather than fresh gashes. The blue was completely gone. Goosebumps rose over her porcelain skin as the cold night air ghosted over her.
"It will scar" Mordred murmured in a low voice, his shocking blue eyes fixed on the three jagged lines.
Merlin tilted her head up and peered at him through her lashes, vividly aware of how close they were sitting. Knee to knee. Shoulder to shoulder.
A shock ran through her when Mordred looked up to meet her eyes.
They then dropped to her mouth. Her's fell to gaze at his lips, parted with the easing gasps of the healing procedure. In sync, their eyes met again.
Together, they tilted their heads slowly and timidly. Her lips caught his bottom lip weakly and tugged on it lightly. With eyes fluttering closed, Mordred returned the gesture: capturing her top lip and then her bottom, kneading them between his own. Their noses brushed together in a movement that was almost gentle. Loving. Intimate. With a long sigh from Merlin, and an unsteady one from Mordred, their mouths molded together: a dance of deep, languid kisses and small pecks.
A sound from the other side of the fire startled them and they looked up to see Gwaine stir in his slumber. The knight rolled so that he had his back to them. They sat, frozen and waiting, but the knight did not move again.
Mordred's hand hadn't moved. Merlin brought one of her own up and covered it. Mordred's head snapped back to look at her, lids heavy and leaned in. Merlin met him half way and pushed her spare hand up his jaw and coiled her fingers in his hair.
A hand traced her waist while the other applied a tentative pressure to her breast, an echo of a tease he was unsure on whether to make or not.
She pushed him away, looked at the sleeping knights and made a decision.
Merlin stood up and grabbed him by the hands, reveling in the way he looked up at her with face open and eyes wide with wonder. His inexperience was evident, and somewhat... endearing to her?
She would and could not claim to be an expert, but she had subconsciously remembered a few unwanted tips from barmaids and whores in the taverns the knights stayed in during quests. The women perhaps thinking she was Arthur's woman, or the wife/female companion of one of the knights. Perhaps even all of them. Too many times had she received a wink and a whispered tip on 'how to make a man lose his mind' as they so put it.
The witch gave a small tug and he followed willingly, rising up to stand only an inch taller than her and gazing at her with an expression she never could have thought him capable of. A potent mixture of awe, arousal and nervousness. She kissed him, directing his arms around her waist and walking backwards into the darkened forest. His hands were light and unsure, and it was only with coaxing did he apply any real pressure.
She bit his lip and led him far away from the camp. A whispered silencing spell on her lips and a gasp on his as she put the first tip into play: her hand ran down his entire front, from neck to groin, and gave him a small squeeze.
Sitting in the sloping roots of an oak- Mordred's back to the wizened tree that had probably seen lovers like them many times before in its long life- they removed as much of each other's clothes as they dared in the bitter cold night. Merlin's dress came off her shoulders, leaving her entire torso bare, and bunched at her waist while Mordred's trousers were tugged down and his chain mail lugged off to reveal a corded red Camelot issued shirt which Merlin easily removed with deft fingers.
Feeling his hands run up and down her body, Merlin, with skirts gathered at her hips, hissed as she lowered herself onto him. He leaned forward and kissed her scars, making her sigh and let her full weight sit on his hips. Seductively, she hooked her arms around his neck and dipped her head to mouth his neck and the Druid tattoo that marked his right pec- another uttered 'trick' and nudge of an elbow from a sultry barmaid Gwaine had flirted with- and he, in response, massaged her chest in his palms. Her scars and headache were forgotten as they rocked into each other. Magic flared into life between them: tangling and intertwining and rising the pleasure inside them to impossible levels.
The cold night air sent their breath clouding between them as they panted and cried out. Hands wildly felt the curves and dips of each others chests. Their kisses desperate and rushed as their thrusts grew hard and erratic. Finally, after only a short while Merlin let out a small scream, clinging to his shoulders and hiding her face in his neck just as a yelp escaped Mordred's throat: the impression of 'Emrys' on his breath. His arms tightened around her.
With breathing unusually fast and desperate, their foreheads fell against each other and their bodies trembled with aftershock of lost virginity.
Their noses bumped just as before. An illusion of intimacy. Of love. He tilted his head up and fluttered kisses over her face, his thumb rubbing a circle onto her hip as he did so. Her slender fingers trailed down his defined torso, a numb sense of fascination overcoming her as she watched the sweat gleam of the distant camp's firelight and the powerful moon light pouring over them, and how the shadows accentuated the cuts of each muscle. His hands trailed up her sides, drawing up her dress with them and her right hand found his shirt off to the side: her magic calling the discarded garments to her. Carefully and in companionable silence they dressed each other, only getting up when the final haul of Mordred's chain mail required it. They both groaned at the sensation of him leaving her.
When they returned to camp Merlin slid back down in the large space between Arthur and Percival, aware of the soreness developing between her legs, and closed her eyes just as Mordred leaned down over Elyan to wake him for his turn keeping watch.
She listened as Mordred dropped down to the ground. Her eyes opened again.
Bright blue eyes met over a weakening flame for a moment before sleep over took them.