Like Lust
One
'Our Gentle Sin'
"Morgana," he said. His voice echoed, bouncing off the stone walls of the throne room. There was something so taunting, something so familiar about the sound. Despite how many cold memories lingered in the nooks and crannies of this room, his voice sounded sweet. It wasn't the type of sweet that putting honey in tea gives. It was the type of sweet that came to you slowly, and perhaps was only imagined. Perhaps it was the type of sweet that you only tricked yourself into thinking was there, because its absence would make the whole thing too bitter. Whatever the reason, she smiled at the voice, and how it sounded—so rich and regal, yet entirely belonging to her
"Arthur," she returned, with a bit of a sultry taunt to her voice. It had been two weeks since she had last traveled to the castle. She missed seeing it during daylight, missed how the sun would illuminate the otherwise unforgiving room, through the stained glass windows. The colors would dance, and so would she. But she was shrouded in darkness now, and had been for some time. The only golden shine she saw was his hair, or a quick flash of the candle's fire reflecting off his crown. He had become her sun, and he didn't even know the first thing about loneliness.
"What are you doing here," he said, a bit more of a tightness in his voice now. "Morgana, you know it's still too soon." Arthur began to close the distance between them, making his regal walk from the doorway to her place by the throne. He watched as she traced the design on the top of it. Her delicate fingers moved with the shape of the curves and in the moment he could have sworn she was nothing but air.
"Coward," she said sharply, but in passing. Her green eyes shot over to his approaching form. She would have tried to connect with his eyes, but it was still too dark to fully make them out. The only way she knew the sharp lines of his jaw existed was by touch. The last time she had seen him clearly, and not in the shadows, had been hours before Uther had banished her from the castle, all those years ago. She clutched tightly to the memory of his illuminated features.
He walked up the steps leading to the throne, and instinctively came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her stomach, pressing her into the wooden frame of the throne. "You know I want you," he whispered against her hair, and the heat of his breath made her eyes flutter shut with such pleasure and weakness.
"Then prove it," Morgana said, trying to hide the begging in her voice.
Pulling on her side lazily but firmly, he turned her to face him. Without giving her another second to continue her thought, he laced his fingers in her curls, and put his lips to hers. At first she was cold; stony, and unwilling. But after a quick nip on her bottom lip, she pressed her body against his, and opened her mouth to his. It was a feverish kiss, full of unsaid words, and desire that couldn't be quelled with lips. She took the crown from his head, and dropped it thoughtlessly onto the throne. They heard the gold clank against the back of the chair until it settled on the cushioned seat. Neither could care less. Monarchy be damned, when they were together, they were not a king and a sorceress. They were Arthur and Morgana, and they both compensated for what that meant by falling deeper into the heated moment.
Morgana found her feet sooner than Arthur did, and she led him clumsily to the nearest wall. On impact, Arthur's back tugged on the banner bearing the Pendragon crest. He found the small of her neck, and placed his hand there tightly, guiding her chest to his. He ran his tongue along her lip, and she quickly granted him access. Before she fully knew what she was doing, she was untying the strings of his shirt. His exposed chest was warm and taut, and the muscles in his neck trembled at her touch. Tugging on the now flopping collar, she deepened the kiss, and began to start lifting up the shirt.
Arthur tensed at this. If he was a good man, he would stop. For Gwen, for loyalty, for sworn promises. But the way Morgana's hands felt on his body were enough to make him forget all of that. They were each other's drug of choice since the tender age of sixteen, and time had only made them crave it more. Here in the dead of night, no one could touch them. They were a perfect sin, and in all honesty neither wanted it any other way.
"Do you want me?" Morgana slurred, running her teeth gently over his earlobe. She dropped his shirt, and it fluttered down his firm torso.
"More than anything," he said. His voice was distant, lost in a haze of ecstasy, and dreams of a different reality.
She responded by eagerly tugging the shirt off his body, and discarding it onto the floor next to them. The air was crisp and the throne room did not lend much warmth, but Arthur hardly noticed. Morgana was fire enough.
"Then make me your queen," she said heatedly, raking her fingers through his hair, pushing him deeper into the wall. She was gravitated to him in a way she couldn't even begin to understand.
He caught her hands as they made their way to his chest, and he held them away from his body. Morgana was more vulnerable than ever, her hands suspended in the now tense air between them.
"You know I can't do that, no matter how much I might want to. I made a vow to Gwen, and to my kingdom." The pain was evident in his blue eyes, but that didn't mean much to Morgana in this moment.
"Can't, or won't?" Morgana challenged, tugging her hands out of Arthur's grasp, and resting them on her hips. She had to regain the upper hand if she was hoping to make it out of this encounter with her dignity.
"I don't know," he admitted. "Being with you feels right, but being with Gwen is responsible."
"Well," she said with a flash of a smirk, "sometimes you've got to do what you think is right. Damn the consequences."
Her words from all those years ago hit him hard. He was stunned, and wistful.
"How about this," she reasoned. "Lift my exile, and I'll come back to live in the castle. Perhaps making your decision in the daylight will give you some clarity."
Her words were loaded, and she didn't give him a moment to let them sink in, before she started to turn and walk away. He quickly reacted and caught her hand.
"Yes," was all he said, before letting go, and leaning back heavily on the wall behind him.
Morgana nodded, and began her descent down the stairs. She couldn't help but smirk.
Hey all, I know it's been forever since I've written anything (and to be honest I probably shouldn't be starting a new story, haha). But, this idea came to me a while ago, and I finally decided to start writing it and figuring out the story (which I'm still working on. If you guys have any ideas, don't hesitate to let me know!). One quick note about this story: everything pretty much follows cannon, but in this story, Arthur and Morgana aren't related. Some timeline stuff may also be a little bit re-worked/different, but I'll explain that as the story goes on. Anyway, I hope you all liked this! Let me know in a review, if you have an extra moment.