Merlin is fighting for his mind. It's beautiful to watch, mostly because Morgana knows it's a fight he'll soon lose, but also because she likes the way he looks -- tied up and helpless.
"No," he says, straining against the ropes. "It won't work, you can't make me do it."
"My dear Merlin," she croons, "I don't have to make you do anything. You'll want to kill Arthur more than you've ever wanted anything in your life."
"I wasn't... talking to you," he says, breath ragged. The Femorrah must be starting to take control. "I'll never -- I'll kill -- no!" He rocks his head from side to side. "No, no no no. I won't. He's my -- he--" He snaps his mouth shut as though he'd been about to say something revealing. What was he going to say?
"This is better than I dared hope," she says, putting a hand beneath his chin and holding firm until his eyes meet hers. "You love him. You're in love with him."
Merlin shakes his head, and Morgana laughs.
His mouth is so red. She runs her thumb along his lower lip, and then forces it into his mouth, feeling the warm wetness of his tongue and the sharp edges of his teeth. He tries to pull away, but she grips tighter on his chin, her fingers digging in beneath his jawbone.
"Don't try to deny it. It's obvious. How terrible this must be for you. To know that soon you'll be consumed by the desire to end the life of the one you love."
He growls and bites down on her thumb, but her fingers press in even harder under his chin, finding tender soft flesh. He stops struggling and she pulls her thumb free, smearing a stripe of saliva near the corner of his mouth.
"So tell me, Merlin: what do you want to do to Arthur now? Do you want to kill him, or do you want to fuck him?" She takes her other hand and runs it down his chest, over his abdomen. She can feel the heat of his body through his clothes. Her hand snakes into his breeches, passing over the coarseness of his pubic hair until she finds her target. His cock is soft in her grip. She stretches his foreskin out and then pushes it back, the edge of her palm sliding over the silky skin beneath.
"Do you wish this hand were his? His big palm, sword-callused, rough from years of training, stroking you, until you -- until you grow hard," Morgana says, smiling, as Merlin begins to do so. "Ah. You like that, don't you? But is that all you want? Do you want him inside you? Do you want to take it up the arse from the king?"
Merlin inhales shakily through his nose, saying nothing. His cheeks are flushed, his pupils large and dark against the blue of his eyes. She can tell he's fighting to keep his breath steady. His cock grows thicker and harder as her fingers drag over it. "You're going to come, thinking about Arthur fucking you. You're going to spill your seed all over this floor while crying his name. And then I'm going to untie your hands and send you off to kill him."
"No," Merlin moans. He closes his eyes and licks his lips. "Arthur."
Morgana feels his cock pulsing with blood and life; she strokes harder, speeding up the pace. "Yes. That's right. Talk to me, Merlin."
"I won't hurt him," he says. His entire body is tensed. "I won't, I--"
It is time.
Morgana leans forward until Merlin's face is inches away, never stopping the rhythm of her hand on his cock. "Think of Arthur, naked and bound. Helpless," she says softly, almost in a whisper. He moans. "And you with a knife in your hand," she adds.
His eyes fly open.
"I would kiss him. He couldn't stop me. I would take his cock in my mouth and suck him off. And then I would stab him," Merlin says, panting, "in the heart. Or slice his throat."
"Yes," Morgana says. "Or cut open his gut and watch his life slowly drain away."
"No," Merlin moans, thrusting his hips forward. "Why would I postpone the ecstasy of his immediate demise?"
"How very true," Morgana says. She leans in and kisses him, biting at his lips. She loses herself for a moment in the heat of Merlin's mouth, in the feel of their tongues twisting together.
"Kill," murmurs Merlin against her lips. She pulls harder at his cock and moves her face down to press into Merlin's neck.
"Tell me how else you could do it," she says, inhaling the scent of his sweat.
"Poison," Merlin says. "In his food. In his bath. Oh, yes. Poison in his wine. I could hang him from the frame of his bed, using rope, or a leather belt, or the fabric of his curtains. Yes." He moans and thrusts into Morgana's hand. There is a lot of friction; she hopes he'll be sore later.
"Strangulation," continues Merlin, his hips twitching. "Drowning in the bath. A fall from great heights. I could push him off the parapets. Or out his bedroom window." He throws his head back. "Fuck. Arthur. I want to-- You must let me go. I must go. I have to--"
She gives a final twist of her hand and Merlin convulses, gasping. His seed spurts hotly over her hand.
"-- I have to kill Arthur. I have to," he pants. His eyes are clear and hungry. Morgana kisses him on the cheek and runs her fingers through his hair.
"And so you shall, Merlin. So you shall."