Arthur gets reincarnated/ressurected/ dosen't die; him and Gwen make up for lost time (hint smut!)

She first sees him at the beach one summer. Sure, he's handsome; obviously he is, given the appreciative looks he's getting from both women and men.

But then, he's always been handsome to the point of near-perfection. Especially to her. To her, he looks like he was made of shining gold. His shining golden hair, his skin, pale but kissed golden by the sun.

There is something that draws her to him, a familiar quality that she can't shake. It's like she knows him from somewhere. Don't be foolish, she tells herself, if you had met him before, you would certainly remember.

Nevertheless, she resolves to return to the beach the next day just in case he's there.

Fate was kind that weekend, and she grew bolder, brave enough to walk pointedly past him in her deep red bikini and sheer lavender beach wrap, tied around her waist like a flowing wraparound skirt.

He's talking to another woman, but he sees her. Her presence calls to him like a beacon, and it makes his skin tingle. She sweeps past him, and as the breeze blows from the ocean, her scent reaches his nose and he forgets what he is saying in mid-sentence.

In a city where everyone seems to smell like coconut, she smells like lavender. "Excuse me," he says, undoubtedly irking the girl to whom he is talking, and he abandons her, following his lavender-scented goddess as though he is in her thrall.

He follows her at short distance like a lost puppy that has just found his mistress. As he walks behind her, he can't help the feeling that he knows every inch of her body as well as he knows his own, perhaps better. Every angle is familiar, every curve begs for his fingers as her flawless cinnamon skin shines in the sunlight.

She appears a shade darker then I remember. Probably from the warm sunshine here, he finds himself thinking. But why would I know that? This is the first time I've seen her.

Isn't it?

She stops in front of a food truck, on that sells high-end frozen treats. Fancy popsicles. She studies the menu and he studies her.

His feet a move without telling him first, and he is suddenly standing beside her.

"Can I buy you and ice pop?" he asks, immediately deciding that that was the worst pick-up line ever.

Luckliy, she turns her head and smiles at him. "Is it wise to accept gifts from strange men?" she asks.

"Well, in that case, I'm Arthur." He offers his hand.

"Gwen," she says, and when her hand touches his, she sees a brief flash: a vision, of the man before her clad in chainmail and a flowing red cape, a magnificent sword in his hand.

She gasps quietly, and his eyes tell her that he's seen something as well.

It's her, in a deep burgundy gown, beautiful and regal, her hair flowing down her back, a gold circlet adorning her smooth forehead.

"Um, what would you like? I mean, what flavor? Ice pop…"

"Mango mandarin," she decides. He gets strawberry kiwi.

"Here you are, Guinevere," he says, handing her her popsicle.

Her eyes fly to his. "How did you know my name is Guinevere?" she asks. "I only introduced myself as Gwen."

"I… I don't know…" he says, looking equally puzzled.

He watches as she brings the yellow-orange popsicle to her lips, sucking the rapidly-melting treat.

I definitely know those lips.

They find a picnic table and sit. And eat. And talk. The more they talk, the stranger it gets. The stranger it gets, the closer they sit to each other. Like two magnets, unable to pull away.

"Why do I feel like I know you?" he says suddenly.

"I don't know… I feel the same way. Like it would be the most natural thing in the world to just reach out and… touch your cheek…" she raises her hand hesitantly. "Like this."

He closes his eyes at the touch of her hand on his skin. He sees flashing in his mind's eye a hundred other times where she's touched his face like this.

His eyes open and her face is a mirror of his expression. "Did you see it, too?" he whispers.

She nods, lifting her hand from his cheek like it has burned her, and her hand hovers in the air next to his face.

"I want to try… have to try something," he says, then with no further warning, leans forward and kisses her.

The first kiss, in her small house.

Lancelot, leaving, and her tears.

Vivian. Breaking the enchantment.

"I cannot be your queen."

"I thought I'd lost you."

"It's what you do when you love someone."

The picnic. The wasp.

"When I am king, things will be different."

The kiss in the abandoned castle. The kiss in the courtyard, in front of everyone.

"That's the memory I want to take with me."

The sad little purple flowers.

"Even if they're not… appropriate?"

"I'd know it anywhere." The hug.

"Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Lancelot. The betrayal.

"I've missed you." "And I, you."

"I never once stopped loving you. Never once."

"I just don't ever want to lose you."

"Long live the queen!"

Uther's ghost.

The dark tower.

"With all my heart… with all my heart…"

Camlann, the tent.

The images flash through their minds as their lips and tongues reacquaint themselves with each other, soft and warm and wet, his arms molding her body to his, paying no heed to the collection of onlookers that has gathered.

They finally break apart, Gwen pulling her lips from his after seeing them in the tent in Camlann, knowing what comes next, not willing to face that pain again.

"Arthur…"

"Guinevere… my Guinevere… my love…"

xXx

"If you had worn something like this in Camelot you would have been jailed for public indecency," Arthur comments, running his finger along the edge of her bikini top, following the string from her neck down to the side of her breast.

"Good thing this is Miami, then. I can go to Wal-mart like this and feel overdressed," she giggles, kicking her flip-flops off inside his penthouse condo overlooking the ocean. After that kiss and the ensuing applause, they made a hasty departure, back to his place with one thing in mind.

Arthur scoops her into his arms before the second sandal hits the floor, his hungry lips searching for hers again, intent on finishing what they started at the beach.

He sets her gently on the bed, his fingers going to untie her wrap. He pulls it off and out from under her.

Then he shucks his trunks and crawls over her, kissing her stomach, her chest, her neck, as he works his way back to her lips.

"I missed you so much," he says.

"Not half as much as I missed you. I still had to… live after you died, you know. Take this bikini off of me, Arthur…"

"Sorry about that…" he mutters against her skin, relishing the texture, the taste. It's like coming home.

"Sorry for dying or for the bikini?" she asks, sitting up to untie the back of her top.

"Both," he says, pulling impatiently on her bottoms. "But mostly for dying." And with that, he lowers his head between her thighs, kissing his way up until his tongue darts out, flicking against her wet core.

"Oh…" she writhes on his bed, her knees falling wide for him.

"Mmm," he hums into her, his tongue circling, lapping her up, driving her wild. "You taste so good… just like I remember."

"No talking," she gasps, her hands squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples as he laves her. He slides a finger inside and she moans, her back arching off the bed.

Arthur suckles at her swollen nub, his finger easing in and out, in and out until her breathing comes in heavy rasps and her head tosses on the pillow.

"God… Arthur!" she cries out, climaxing around his finger, shoving at his head with her hands. "Too much..." she whimpers.

"Just getting started," he says, his voice a delicious promise.

As soon as she can reach him, she does, taking his swollen member in her hand, remembering its shape, its size, how it seemed to respond to her every touch, every word.

"Oh, Guinevere," he groans, taking her lips with his again, delving his tongue into her mouth and she meets him, tasting herself on him, thrusting back with her own tongue as she strokes him with her hand.

She brings him to her entrance, sliding the tip along her folds once or twice before positioning him where he belongs.

He pauses. "Are you protected?"

"Do we care?" she counters.

"Not really," he says, sliding slowly in, then, to his surprise, he meets a barrier. "Guinevere?"

"Yes, that's… that's what you think it is. Go, Arthur… I've been waiting for you…" she gasps, pulling at his shoulders.

Eyes full of wonder, he pushes forward, kissing away her brief cry as he breaks through, then stilling, waiting for her to adjust, for the pain to subside.

"I can't believe that you…"

"Shh… I told you already…"

"But you didn't know…"

"Part of me must have. Oh…" she sighs as he begins moving.

"Okay?"

"Oh, yes, Arthur."

He moves swiftly but smoothly, closing his eyes as images from their past life together flash through his mind again. Images of the two of them together. Erotic, stirring images that make his heart swell and his loins ache.

"God…" he groans, opening his eyes.

"I know…" she answers, "it's like… homemade medieval porn…"

Arthur laughs. "OhmyGod…" he's panting and laughing and groaning all at once, quickly approaching his release.

Her breathing speeds up again, her body writhes, practically quivering beneath him, and he knows that she is close. He bends and takes an erect nipple into his mouth, sucking it, swirling his tongue around it, biting lightly.

Everything he knows she likes. Everything he knows she craves from him. Only from him.

"Oh… oh yes… Arth… oh…" she plunges her fingers into his hair, grabbing and pulling as she climaxes again, crying out his name once more.

Arthur follows immediately, thrusting deep and stilling within her, growling deliciously as he does so. He collapses over her and immediately rolls them so she is lying on his chest.

"I love you," he tells her, kissing her lips again.

"I love you, Arthur," she answers, brushing his hair from his forehead.

"Marry me," he says.

"Okay," she answers.

"Tomorrow."

"Arthur, tomorrow's Monday. I have to work, and I assume that you do as well."

"Always so practical, my Guinevere." He kisses her again, longer this time. "Call in sick. Call in sick and we'll get married. I have to marry you now that I've taken your virtue. It's the right thing to do."

Gwen rolls her eyes. "How very archaic of you."

"Tomorrow."

"Still thinks he's king," she says to the wall over his head. "Okay. Tomorrow."

"Good."

xXx

"That judge looked strangely familiar," Gwen says as they leave the courthouse the next day.

"A bit, yeah. Pretty young, too, I thought. What was his name again?"

Gwen looks at the papers in her hand. "Oh, shit…" she starts laughing.

"What? What is it?"

She shows him the paper. Judge Merlin Emrys.

They turn and run back into the courthouse.