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Bound By Fate

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Merlin was startled from his sleep by one of the many dreams that had begun to plague him since the Fomori incident, 3 months ago.

She tasted exquisite, like apples and fresh sweet cream. Her cries and moans spurred him on. Slow, then fast, lapping at her like he was starving, like she was the only thing he needed. He looked up past the smooth flatness of her belly to her rounded, perfect breasts, her face wasn’t visible to him but he knew her eyes were fluttering, her blood red lips parted from her cries. Her hands were at his head, buried in his hair, tightening and loosening with the strokes of his tongue.

Merlin groaned softly. His dream was so realistic and now he had an issue to take care of because of it. He loosened his breeches a bit more and reached in to grab his erection, rock hard and aching. He hissed when his palm made contact and began stroking as he remembered his dream.

“Goddess, Merlin! Please! More!” she cried out. He teased her bud faster. He wanted more of her, to delve deep into her sweetness, drink it all down, that was all that mattered, pleasing her.
He began to stroke faster, climax rapidly approaching. It was hard to keep his noises quiet as so Gaius wouldn’t come in and embarrass them both.

He could tell she was close, rocking into his tongue, hands getting tighter to the point of pain, keening, gasping, she was tightening, reaching her peak and she was utterly spellbinding. He teased her faster and faster until she hit her climax, screaming his name and shattering a glass behind them. His tongue kept moving, keeping her on her high.

Merlin gasped and gave a loud groan as he came onto his hand and in his breeches, continuing to stroke until the last bit of his essence was released. He cleaned up the mess with a spell and sat up in bed. This had to stop, these dreams. She was his enemy. She wanted to kill Arthur and Gwen and himself and hurt innocent people. This should not be happening, these sex dreams about her.

Sure, he had dreamt of these kind of things back before… he had almost seen her naked during his first days in Camelot. Morgana Pendragon was astoundingly beautiful, the kind of woman that made men go on valiant quests for and bards write songs about. But none of the dreams from before had even been so detailed. He could still taste her on his tongue, hear her cries in his ears, and feel those delightful fingers in his hair. These were too real. But he would remember sex with Morgana, wouldn’t he?
Merlin shook his head and got up out of bed for the day. Arthur would be waiting to torture him with chores again today.

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Morgana woke up yearning for something, no someone. He had awoken something within her that she hadn’t possessed before. Lust. She yearned for the fires of her lusts to be quenched again. Although against her nature, she contemplated taking a random villager for her pleasures, but threw away the idea almost immediately. She couldn’t control him and no one would measure up to Merlin. She wanted more of him, wanted more of that connection between them. It made her ill-tempered and even more vicious. The feelings that she was harboring were a weakness. She hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep for a very long time. Not since he left her. It wasn’t love that spurred her on, it was hate and passion. Morgana had always been a passionate and stubborn child and that fact hadn’t changed in adulthood. Soon she would have what she wanted. The Throne of Camelot…and her brother dead or in chains and… she smiled… Merlin...