Chapter 12
She shouldn't have worn pants. That was her second thought after Merlin's lips descended on her neck like a starving man on a banquet.
Properly, her first was of complete outrage. The second was that the sensations his marauding mouth evoked were amazing.
She wanted to protest, wanted to say something, anything to make this madness stop. But she couldn't. Rather, she didn't want to. Because she was a part of this madness, and she wanted to be consumed by it.
And because it felt so damn good. For the first time in over week, she felt something.
Ever since her true parentage had been revealed and her botched attempt to murder said parent, she'd gone numb. Like some type of hollow creature, something empty, save for the burning rage that quaked her soul. She had one goal, one purpose-to make Uther watch as she took over Camelot.
But Merlin's mouth on her skin, the way he was devouring her…it was as if all the coldness that was slowly stealing over her was gone. Because she was so hot, so burning with passion, with Merlin. He made her feel human again. Weak and vulnerable. Powerful and strong.
She should've resisted. But she couldn't. So she gave into it, telling herself it was just for a moment, just for a second. That this moment of indulgence would be over soon…it couldn't last long. They were in the forest for goodness's sake, not exactly isolated, not exactly alone. Surely her good sense would appear.
But it didn't. Her hands burrowed under his coat and curled into the rough fabric of his tunic, pulling him closer. She felt the bark bite into her back, but it didn't matter. His mouth was doing the most amazing things to her neck. He sucked, he nibbled, he licked-every movement sent a delicious tingle of pleasure down to her center. His hands ran up and down her back, as if trying to press his touch into her skin.
He was breathing harshly against her neck, and she rejoiced in his reaction. He was affected too; he was out of control too. How nice it felt to be out of control together.
There was a type of desperation to his movements, a slight roughness that she should've found off-putting. Instead it only made her moan. Because he seemed to understand exactly what she needed.
His hands fumbled with the armored plate at her waist, finally unlatching the metal hook that held it together and throwing it to the ground beside their feet. Fingers wormed under the hem of her chain mail and undershirt, finally meeting the warm skin of her stomach. He sprayed both of his hands against the naked sides of her stomach, holding her, rubbing his palms against her. She could barely breathe as the heat from his hands spread through her body like wildfire.
Boldly, he slid his hands upward, his thumbs brushing against the undersides of her breasts. Her nipples tightened in response. He was so close, so close… Then he pushed her chain mail and undershirt up to reveal her breasts to his greedy eyes. She gasped a little as cool air hit her skin and opened her desire-shut eyes.
She saw his eyes widen as he gaped at her naked chest. "Your breasts are unreal," he said raggedly. She felt his hands tremble as he finally, finally cupped her fully. This was so much better than their early morning encounter. Flesh to flesh, hot skin to hot skin. She withered against his touch, arching into his waiting hands.
His hands were so large, they completely covered her breasts. When his calloused thumbs brushed against her nipples, she moaned. It was delicious, so incredibly delicious. But before she could bask in the sensation, his lips moved from her neck to her chest.
His hot breath wafted against her puckered nipples, she gasped as his tongue flicked out and grazed her nipples. "Oh God," she whispered and he did it again. Harder and with more confidence.
Then he took her nipple into his mouth. And sucked. She cried out in surprise. It was so overwhelming, so intense. Every flick of his tongue, every gentle brush of his teeth sent a shot of heat straight to her center. She clenched and unclenched her legs trying to ease the ache, but it wouldn't abate.
His hands skimmed down her naked waist and over her lower back to her bottom. He cupped her and pulled her tight against him.
"God, you're so lush, your body is perfect," he groaned against her breast, quickly switching to torment the other nipple. She didn't know if it was his actions or words that aroused her more. Had she ever felt like this with anyone else? Had anyone ever made her feel so damned alive?
He pressed against her, his hardness setting off a thousand little sparks of electricity. Naturally, she widened her thighs and his body cradled into her. They both moaned as his cock settled right against her center. He was so hard, so rigid against her. She arched into him and was rewarded with a shot of heat. So she shimmed again and it got even better. He thrust against her, the hard ridge of his body hitting just the right spot. His hands were on her hips, bringing her closer and harder against him. He buried his head in her neck, his erratic breath dampening her skin.
They moved in tandem together, every action making her yearn for…something. Her muscles were clenched, she couldn't breathe as pleasurable pressure seemed to contract her womb. Her nipples rubbed against the rough wool of his shirt, heightening the sensations throughout her body.
"Oh," she moaned out, getting closer and closer to the edge. His body began rougher, harder, tightening the movements of her hips. She was mindless, so aroused, so desperate to end this…ache…this yearning…. It was so close, just a few more thrusts of his hard body…
"Yes, that's it, love. Come for me," he rasped near her ear.
She stilled, curtailing her movements and the building pleasure. It was the "love" that caught her, the one word that cut through the erotic haze in this small corner of the forest.
This wasn't about love. This was about power, surrender, a win-or-lose-all-out-competition. And damned if he didn't get past her defenses once again. Lulling her into some intimate liaison where he proved yet another point, yet another weakness of hers.
She shoved him, hard, catching him off guard to the point that he fell back on his butt.
"Get your filthy hands off of me," she said sternly, ignoring the burning in her body and the pounding of her heart. She quickly turned her back and pulled down her shirt. Then spotting her discarded belt, snatched it up and buckled it. With her back to Merlin, she took a few steadying breathes to calm her aroused body.
Love, he'd called her. This wasn't love. She wasn't his love. There was only hate between them.
She turned back to face him, her hardened mask in place. She wouldn't let him see how much he'd affected her. Not now, not ever.
He had already jumped to his feet and was busy collecting the fallen firewood.
When he had finished, he raised his eyes to hers. "You shouldn't have come," he said breathlessly, swiping the back of his hand over his damp lips, as if trying to remove the taste of her skin.
"To the forest or on this trip?" she said.
"Both," he said, standing up to face her.
"You have no right to tell me where I can or cannot go," she said stoutly with as much intensity as he did.
Then she brushed past him, determined to get back to camp.
He was a few steps behind her when his wry voice rang out, "This seems to keep happening. We engage in something, you assault me, then runaway. That act's starting to get a little tired, sweetheart."
She growled frustrated and turned to face him. "Don't call me that! I am not your sweetheart and I am certainly not your love. I don't want to be around you anymore than you do. So keep out of my business, and we'll get along just fine."
"I can't do that and you know why," he said almost softly, his eyes boring into hers. There was a softness in his eyes…something that she couldn't quite figure out. Did he mean he couldn't keep away from her? That he too felt this strange connection, the crackling tension that seemed to draw them together? But before she could examine it, the look was gone, replaced with steely intent. Just like earlier, just like his previous threats.
He was trouble. And whatever it was that was going on between them was even more trouble than she'd imagined.
She needed to get the hell away from here. She needed to escape Camelot and Merlin's interference. She needed to get away from him, because he was dangerous to her plans. He saw too much, but then, he always did.
Merlin's words haunted her the rest of the trip to Fyrien…so don't runaway now, sweetheart….she wasn't running away. Not from him and certainly not from the awkward feelings or sexual tension. She was leaving, plain and simple. This was a part of her plan, had been her plan from the start of this journey.
Then why did it feel like she was running away?
FINIS
Phew, that chapter seemed to take forever to finally get out. I felt really stilted writing it. Maybe it's the recent news about Merlin being cancelled after S5 or something else (I had an existential crisis where I was thinking "Then what's all this fanfiction been about?"), but this was a hard one to finish. Although I do like how Merlin's become quite the seductive maven. Good compliments, right? I think most women want to hear something like that during an intimate liaison.
FYI, don't worry, I have no plans to stop writing on any of my stories. I even have some VERY naughty stuff happening soon.
Please review, cheer me up, and tell me your feelings about the S5 news? This is a safe place, let it out.
