To Do Your Will
He hated her. He hated her with everything he had, every bit of his being. He wished he had killed her when he had the chance, instead of waiting. He hated to be vulnerable, tied up at her mercy.
And yet, it was an answer to all his wildest dreams.
Morgana had lost weight since he had last seen her, and was even more pale then before, but she was also prettier than ever, in a diabolic way that made her a temptation for his too human needs.
She had always known she was pretty, and even know she used it to her advantage. The black dress was in rags, but the lace was revealing, and it contrasted to the pale skin of her over exposed breasts as she came closer to him.
Merlin didn't want to look, but he couldn't help himself. He drank the sight of her – face and body, voice and taunting, and he lusted after her as he had never when they were friends. She challenged him, the witch in a hovel, with him tied up to do her will.
As she held his face, he made an effort to control his body that reacted too eagerly to her proximity in a way it had never done with any other woman. He licked his lips, ready for a kiss or a slap, wishing either, hating himself for wanting her as he did now.
Morgana held him close for a while, her whole body pushed up against his, and he knew he couldn't hide how he felt. He saw up close as she smirked at him knowingly, and trembled in despair as she pushed him away. He honestly hated her.
(He would never know she would grant all his wishes as soon as he wasn't himself anymore).
