Summer had actually forgotten that her tongue was sticking out, watching him dismount. She wanted nothing so much, in that moment, as to knock him down and kiss him until he rolled them over and took her right there on the forest floor. She stuck it out further, then taunted, “Make me.”
The knight hummed, knowing exactly what she wanted but he wouldn’t do it, purely for his amusement. “Hm, perhaps,” Mordred says, placing the basket on the ground before he started on the blankets, “perhaps not.”
“Tease,” she said fondly. She helped him spread out the rugs and blankets, dropping the few cushions carelessly over the fabrics. Uncovering the basket, she pulled out their luncheon and presented it neatly on one corner before sitting down herself. “There. Come.” She patted the space beside her.