Morgana walks into the blacksmith shop and is pleased to see that Gwen is there, polishing a dagger, alone. She raps her knuckles on the open door, letting her friend know she’s here.
Gwen looks up from her work, “Good morning, my lady,” she greets her with a smile and a small nod of the head. She rises from her seat, “Anything I can help you with?”
“Yes, I would like to put in an order for...a sword,” she answers rather loudly, warning everyone who might be watching that she does indeed have business here, as she enters the mill and closes the door shut behind her.
“A gift for Arthur?” Gwen inquires, her voice low, and Morgana is certain she hears a hint of jealousy in her tone. She licks her lips to conceal the satisfied smile that threatens to reveal her true intentions.
Instead, the princess scoffs, “As if the boy needs another toy.”
Gwen smiles. It is true, the prince as more than enough swords and weapons, but she stays quiet as she peers up from under dark lashes and waits for Morgana to go on.
“No, the blade is for myself, so I can fight off whoever tries to take you away.”
“Would My Lady even know how to wield such a weapon?” Gwen asks flirtatiously. She’s playing along; she knows Morgana can fight better than most knights of Camelot.
“Would you like a demonstration, Guinevere?” Morgana offers, cocking her head to the side, staring sultrily at the blacksmith’s daughter. Gwen’s breath itches, catches in her throat and a pretty flush colours her cheeks.
Morgana looks around with a cocky grin on her pink lips and grabs the hilt of a sword lying on the worktable. She takes a moment to admire the weapon in her hand. It’s surprisingly light and the grooves worked into the metal make it easy to grip. Raising the blade in front of her, Morgana twirls the weapon with practised ease as she walks forward, until Gwen’s backed against the wall, the tip of the sword at her throat. Her eyes, wide and bright with lust, never leave Morgana’s.
Silently, Morgana reaches up and trails her fingers down the side of Gwen’s face, caressing her cheek, her jaw and traces her bottom lip with her thumb. She lowers the blade and takes another step, closing the gap between them.
Sharp green gazes into soft brown. Morgana tilts her head down, just as Gwen raises her arms, encircling her neck and entangling her fingers into long, silky hair, pulling Morgana towards her.
There’s a clatter as Morgana lets go of the sword, and their lips meet in a soft kiss that rapidly grows hungry and desperate. Morgana puts one hand on Gwen’s hip and the other travels around and up her back, drawing her impossibly closer, her fingers digging almost painfully between Gwen’s shoulder blades. Gwen cups the back of Morgana’s head and slides her hand down her front, palming her breast, squeezing gently. Morgana lets a moan slip past her lips, and Gwen swallows it.
Up to this point, Morgana has had the upper, teasing hand, but now Gwen can feel the shift; senses how eager her Lady is getting, and so, Gwen takes away what Morgana craves the most: touch, intimacy. She pulls back, breaking the kiss and regrets it the moment their lips part, almost. Because then Morgana releases a whimpering sigh, and Gwen relishes its sound; it empowers her somehow.
Gwen takes a moment to contemplate how beautiful Morgana is, slightly dazed and breathless from their kiss, hair tousled, cheeks flushed and her usually piercing eyes glazed with arousal. She smiles at the pout forming on Morgana’s lips.
“You can get more of this when your sword is ready, My Lady,” Gwen tells her coyly, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.
“Make sure Tom knows I’m impatiently waiting for it then,” Morgana replies, smoothing the wrinkles out of her gown, before dropping her arms by her side. She draws a deep, centering breath. As disappointed and frustrated as she feels, when she looks back up, a smirk tugs the corner of her mouth upwards. They both know Gwen is bluffing, there’s no way she could wait this long.
Morgana casts one last, lingering look in Gwen’s direction before she turns to leave, hunger burning bright in her eyes. Gwen shivers, heat pooling low in her stomach. Morgana is going to make her pay for this interruption.
Gwen cannot wait.