Authorial Confessions:

1. I've broken down and started to watch Merlin S4 through YouTube. All the excitement, humor, and emotion literally gave me a stitch in the side. I'm currently up to episode 8. So. Damn. Good.

2. A few years ago, when I first started watching Merlin, I actually dyed my hair black because of Morgana. Even bought one of those "wave maker" irons to give it that sexy wave look. I have green eyes, pale skin, and some curves, so I thought it might work. Sadly, no amount of hair dye and beauty supplies can make me Katie McGrath.

3. As I near the final days of writing my dissertation chapter, I've decided to take the "Templar" route and stifle any sexual temptation. The philosophy behind such actions being that sexual release saps creative virility. You can imagine that it made this chapter particularly difficult to write. And yes, I'm still the queen of my castle.

Enjoy !

These violent delights have violent ends, and in their triumph, die,

like fire and powder, which as they kiss, consume.

-William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

Chapter 20

He woke at dawn with her naked body cuddled up against his side, her hair spilling onto his chest, her legs tangled with his.

Her dainty arm was thrown over his chest, holding him to her.

So it hadn't been a dream. Or some dungeon induced manifestation of his darkest fantasies. It was real, glaringly real. He'd told her about all of his secrets and they'd made love.

And it had been incredible.

He never thought of himself as someone to save his virginity for some abstract ideal of female perfection. Nor was he one to just throw it away on some indiscriminate liaison. He'd met women in the taverns or serving girls who had certainly shown an interest in more intimate encounters. But beyond a kiss or two, he'd never gone that far before. Indeed, he always figured that when the right woman came along, someone he loved, it would just happen. And last night, it had.

He still couldn't believe it. The intimacy of it all, the intensity had been so powerful. Looking into her eyes, feeling their bodies slide together as one…it had been beyond words, magical or otherwise. It was elemental. Pure. Right. When he'd ever let himself dare to think on this, he'd thought it would be some like some raging inferno. Hot and angry. Aggressive.

And while it had been full of passion, it was more like a slow smolder than a brushfire. He didn't think he could feel that way. Didn't know the human body had that much capacity for love.

He hadn't meant to speak of his love. But her vulnerability had undone him. He was used to seeing her as an indestructible force, a powerful enemy who had few flaws and fewer morals. And while these last few days had shown the cracks in that armor, it wasn't until she'd shown him such aching vulnerability that he'd been able to say the words. Had needed to say the words.

He wanted her to know of his trust, his faith in her goodness. Faith that had been tested and broken so many times before. But now, this one last time, it didn't feel so hard. Maybe others would think him foolish, naïve even to believe that this last time Morgana could be all she was before. That she would be worthy of his love, of his faith in her.

But he knew she was.

He'd spilled all his secrets. Now it was time for her to decide her own fate.

She stirred next to him, her head snuggling further into his shoulder. Letting out a contented little moan, she began to flutter her eyes.

He saw her eyes widen for a moment as all the sensations, all the memories flooded back. But she didn't remove her arm from around him or pull away.

He smiled softly at her residual shock and said "Morning."

She tentatively returned his smile and said, "Morning."

Their eyes met and held. He felt the irrevocable pull, the same intense tug that had fueled last night's activities that made every moment so incredibly special. He leaned in, bringing their lips closer, and finally uniting them once again. Electricity pulsed between them as she pulled his head closer to hers.

His hands tangled in her hair and slid over her silky shoulders. He couldn't stop touching her, the feel of her skin was intoxicating. Urging more of her weight onto him, he groaned when he felt her hard nipples press against the side of his chest.

"Someone's a little eager this morning," she whispered against his neck as she nudged her knee gently against his very awake body.

All he could manage in response was a moan. He'd been eager since before he woke up. Her silky skin pressed against him was more than a little arousing.

Her lips trailed down to his chest and she whispered, "Turnabout's fair play, don't you think?"

Her bare breasts brushed against his stomach as her hair slid over his skin. Her mouth was pure torture, laving and sucking on one of his flat nipples. He gasped at the sensation, so foreign and so erotic. She was innocent and yet so bold. So curious, and it was driving him insane. He couldn't get used to her touch, her hands were sliding over his body, branding him with her touch. Soft one minute, a little harder the next. He was jumping out of his skin as she trailed her mouth over his chest and then down his stomach. Surely she couldn't mean to…surely she didn't know how…

But of course she did, her pink tongue tentatively flicked out to taste him. He nearly came at that moment. The image so erotic, the feel of her lips fulfilling even his darkest fantasies. She experimented by pressing kisses along his shaft, lingering when she heard him moan. Her lips slid against the sensitive skin, caressing him with her parted silken mouth.

He was mindless with pleasure. His whole body drawn taut under her soft caresses.

How many nights had he spent in conjuring up such images to take the edge off his hunger? How many hours had he avoided looking at her smirking red mouth so as to banish thoughts of her soft lips wrapped around his…

"Oh God," he managed as she finally wrapped her mouth around the head of his shaft. And now it was happening. Freely. Without hesitation, without seduction. Because she was seducing him, although she'd done so since he'd first seen her in Camelot.

She worked her deliciously wet mouth down to the very root of him, taking as much of him as possible into her mouth. Dragging her lips slowly up, she started to bob her head again. The pleasure was intense, He was grabbing fistfuls of the velvet coverlet, arching as if being drawn on a rack. Only her torture wasn't painful, it was downright soul wrenching.

He was so close to letting go, so close to exploding in her mouth. But not yet, he wanted to be inside her. Wanted to share the pleasure.

"Together," he managed to say pant out.

Drawing her head up and off his aching shaft, he softly pulled her head up to his. Every inch of her soft skin slithered up his, her hips coming to rest just against his. Their gazes locked. Her eyes were half lidded with arousal. But he wanted her mindless with desire, as desperate and aching as he now was. Lifting himself onto his elbows and leveling his body against the pillows, he took her arms and placed her hands on the wall behind them. Sliding his hands down her arms, he smirked as she realized exactly what the position afforded him. Her breast hung right in his face and he didn't waste a moment in pleasuring her. Cupping her breasts in his hands, he buried his head between the sweetly plump flesh. She smelled so good. Like vanilla and something so intrinsically amazing that it would only be qualified as Morgana. Eager to taste her, he drew the tight pearl of her nipple into his mouth and sucked. He felt her shudder over him as her head fell back. Flicking his tongue again and again, he used his teeth to nibble. Moving to her left nipple, he gave that one the same treatment, hoping to drive her wild.

Last night had been shrouded in darkness. He could see well enough once his eyes adjusted, but nothing compared to the vision of Morgana's naked body revealed by the rays of the dawning sun. While her skin was luminously pale in the moonlight, she was made to be seen in bright day. The shades of her body, the most delicate pinks and deepest reds, weren't made for moonlight.

Her springy curls and dampness rubbed right against his hard cock. Using his body, he increased the friction, sliding his body right against her in a rhythmic motion.

"Please…" she begged as she rocked against him. Her pleas were hoarse. Moving his hands down to settle on her tiny waist, he lifted her up and placed himself right at her entrance. Her eyes widened at the position but understanding dawned and ,she slowly shimmied her way down, engulfing him in her heat.

He gasped out as the weight of her body settled and buried his entire length in warmth. She began to move, a slow lift and then a quick slide. She was a goddess, a mythical creature of which he'd never read. Aphrodite. Lady Godiva. The streaming jet black of her hair flowing over her shoulders, her lily white skin shining, the beautiful red of her bouncing breasts, and panting lips. It was the stuff of legends, of myths. If he didn't feel the heat, the fire that rose between them, he'd think he imagined the whole situation.

Her body came down harder and harder on his, taking him as deep as she possibly could. He arched into her, burying himself over and over in her heat, over and over in her softness. Her body made tight figure eights against his, riding him, creating more friction between their joined bodies.

He felt her body tighten around his, felt her inner walls clamp around him. She was moaning considerably now, his name falling freely from her lips. He felt himself climb higher and higher. He was so aroused. So desperate to relieve the ache that burned deep within his body.

But it was only when he felt her movements become rigid, when he heard her gasp out his name, her back arching as her body bore down on him length, did he let go.

"Merlin," she said, keeling his name breathlessly as she rode out her climax.

He gave one final thrust and spilled his seed deep inside her. The pleasure was intense, making his toes curl. He couldn't stop saying her name. Breathing the syllables through his clenched teeth. "Morgana….Morgana…Morgana…" he whispered. Their eyes met and he read the words she wouldn't say, read in the jade depths the very goodness he'd always wanted to see in her again.

He never thought of himself as a possessive person. When you had very little, particularly in such a chaotic world, you couldn't really afford to get attached to things, to possessions. And Morgana certainly wasn't a possession….and yet he wanted her to be his. Mine, his brain screamed as they floated in the blissful glow of post-love making, mine. He smoothed his hands over her damp back, holding her body to his. Never wanting to let go. Mine.

He'd never coveted anything before. Never thought of something as exclusively his. But he wanted that from her. Wanted her to admit that she was his. Because he'd long ago lost himself in her, long ago given her the one thing he as a manservant could own: his heart.

And in those moments she had been his and he had been hers. And as the rush of love making finally cooled from their bodies and she maneuvered to cuddle against his side, he couldn't help but feel some pleasure that something, anything of his was now in her. His seed. The physical representation of the pleasure they'd shared, the pleasure she'd wrenched from his body. Maybe it was crass to think on his seed buried deep inside her, but she'd taken so much from him. Had invaded him, penetrated his soul. Was it wrong that he wanted her to feel something of his? This moment they had shared. Their virginity they had lost. His seed had been spilt.

It was enough. For now.

She sat up, holding the velvet coverlet to her naked chest. Spotting her chemise on his side, he grabbed it and handed it to her.

"You don't regret it, do you?" he asked as their fingers brushing as she took the garment.

"No, of course not. It was wonderful. Both times," she said, smiling. Pulling her chemise over her head, she continued, avoiding his eyes, " But it doesn't change anything. I'm still confused, I'm still uncertain if I can trust you."

"So you can trust me with your virginity but not your heart?" he asked a bit petulantly as he too began to dress.

She didn't answer, focusing entirely too much on pulling her gown over her head.

Tenderly, he took her face in his hands and made her meet his gaze, "You can be queen if you want. All you have to do is marry Orsric and you can have those ambitions. But if you want something better, something different, I'll be there. If you can abandon your struggle for power and align yourself with Camelot, I'll be your man. I'll love you for the rest of my life. I'll give you a whole parcel of dark haired children. We'll be Arthur's most trusted advisors. You'll never be alone again. We can usher in a new world, one of tolerance and love, not hatred and secrecy."

She placed her hands over his hands on her face and said, "I just…I don't know what I want. It's all happened so quick, how do you expect me to give an answer?"

Understanding, he said, coaxing her to face away so he could lace her gown, "Just think about it, alright? I don't expect an answer now."

"What do you mean?" she said, turning to look over her shoulder.

A sudden idea struck him. Time, she needed time. He could give that to her. "How about in six weeks? Arthur's birthday, remember? Meet me outside the city. By the lake at dawn."

"How do you even know you'll be alive then?" she asked.

"I'll get out of here. Or Arthur will rescue me. They don't know I have magic, remember?" he said.

With a look of intent, he continued, "Look, come hell or high water, I'll be there. The question is will you?"

FINIS

Hot lovin', hot lovin'. Didn't see that coming, did you?

For the record, I totally planned the Arthur's birthday bit before seeing S4's "The Wicked Day". Maybe I have powers like Morgana's…..nah.

Please review!