Almost immediately she deepened the kiss, pressing up against him. He felt so good, so solid, like safety and security and someone who wanted her. She trailed her fingertips against his chest where the shirt was unbuttoned.
Mordred placed his hand at her waist, pulling her closer to him. His skin burned as she trailed her hands down his chest. He was dizzy, or perhaps that was the feeling of magic swirling in the air that heightened everything. He hummed against her lips, nipping the bottom one gently.
The only way they could get closer, after he wrapped his arm around her middle, was if their clothes came off. She whimpered a little at his teeth in her lip, and scraped at his bare skin.
She giggled. “No, no, you’ve got it backward. Do /not/ apologise.” Giving up on coaxing him down to the blankets, she stood up, hair spilling down to her knees, and pulled his head down to kiss him.
The young knight hadn’t argued when she forced him down onto the blankets. His muscles relaxing as she kissed him, the position allowing him to relax even further.
Almost immediately she deepened the kiss, pressing up against him. He felt so good, so solid, like safety and security and someone who wanted her. She trailed her fingertips against his chest where the shirt was unbuttoned.
Summer closed her eyes for a moment, almost purring. She loved people playing with her hair. “I did, and you have said no,” she said after a moment. “Now who should not apologise? Come.” She pulled at his shirt.
Mordred exhaled, walking closer to her as asked, stopping before her yet again but this time closer. “There is a need for apology?” He questions, tilting his head slightly, “although I believe it is I that should apologize.”
She giggled. “No, no, you’ve got it backward. Do /not/ apologise.” Giving up on coaxing him down to the blankets, she stood up, hair spilling down to her knees, and pulled his head down to kiss him.
“You said you would stay with me,” she reminded him, warmth in her eyes. “Stay, and hold me. That’s all.” Her smile deepened when he caressed her hair. “Stay, and play with my hair, Sir Knight.”
Mordred’s cheeks flushed. “Apologies, I thought you meant something else,” he tells her, glancing away for a moment as he continued to stroke her hair. “Of course I will.”
Summer closed her eyes for a moment, almost purring. She loved people playing with her hair. “I did, and you have said no,” she said after a moment. “Now who should not apologise? Come.” She pulled at his shirt.
With his voice in her ears, his arms completely enclosing her, she was able to come to a decision, stilling the whirl of thoughts in her mind. Summer slipped free and took his hand once again, tugging him after her to the alcove where she slept. “Nothing you do not want,” she told him, “but I want this.” Pulling him close, she sat down, and began to unbind her hair. Loosened, it spilled over her lap in a great coppery pile.
The knight watched as her hair fell over her lap, a soft smile dancing around his lips. “As much as I would love to, not tonight,” he tells her, stepping forward and running his hand through her hair. “Tomorrow night.”
“You said you would stay with me,” she reminded him, warmth in her eyes. “Stay, and hold me. That’s all.” Her smile deepened when he caressed her hair. “Stay, and play with my hair, Sir Knight.”
Letting go Mordred’s hands, she stepped in to his space, wrapping her arms about his waist this time. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” She settled her ear against his chest, listening to the heartbeat there, and smiled.
”I will keep that in mind,” he mutters, resting his chin against the top of her head. Closing his eyes for a brief moment, reopening them a few moments later.
With his voice in her ears, his arms completely enclosing her, she was able to come to a decision, stilling the whirl of thoughts in her mind. Summer slipped free and took his hand once again, tugging him after her to the alcove where she slept. “Nothing you do not want,” she told him, “but I want this.” Pulling him close, she sat down, and began to unbind her hair. Loosened, it spilled over her lap in a great coppery pile.
“Oh no,” Summer said, against his skin. She shook her head. “I’m not strong or powerful. I’m just a girl, trying to find a place of safety in the world.” Bolder, she kissed a fingertip again, and licked lightly at it, tracing a pointless pattern down the flesh.
“I meant beautiful,” he tells her with a small laugh. “Girls can be strong and powerful, despite what you might want to believe.”
Letting go Mordred’s hands, she stepped in to his space, wrapping her arms about his waist this time. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” She settled her ear against his chest, listening to the heartbeat there, and smiled.
She lifted his hands to her mouth and kissed his fingertips, locking their fingers to attend to each of his fingertips individually. “You have beautiful hands,” she murmured, kissing his palms and then his wrists. “Strong. Powerful.”
He watched her as she began looking over his hands, blushing slightly at her compliment. “Well then they are just like the person who holds them,” he says softly, smiling down at her.
“Oh no,” Summer said, against his skin. She shook her head. “I’m not strong or powerful. I’m just a girl, trying to find a place of safety in the world.” Bolder, she kissed a fingertip again, and licked lightly at it, tracing a pointless pattern down the flesh.
Feeling his upwelling of nerves, Summer put her hands over his after he took the chain mail off. “This is — you don’t have to — ” She looked up, trying to hold his gaze. “Mordred.” God, his eyes were so beautiful. Very steadily, holding tightly to her own fears so they didn’t show, she said, “Please don’t do anything you don’t want to do. I just wanted you to take off the chain mail.”
Mordred nodded, removing his hands, his shirt half open but he didn’t mind. “I don’t mind,” he tells her honestly, looking back up at her as he allowed his fingers to intertwine themselves with her own. “But as you wish,” Mordred says with a smile.
She lifted his hands to her mouth and kissed his fingertips, locking their fingers to attend to each of his fingertips individually. “You have beautiful hands,” she murmured, kissing his palms and then his wrists. “Strong. Powerful.”
She had to let him go to breathe, though she kept her face pressed to his. She ran one hand over his shoulder, and pushed a little. “Off,” she whispered. “I want — I need to touch you, Mordred, please.”
Mordred’s heart skipped a beat, the lump in his throat expanding as he began to remove his cloak and belt, sliding his chain mail over his head, placing it all on the table as he began working on the buttons of his undershirt.
Feeling his upwelling of nerves, Summer put her hands over his after he took the chain mail off. “This is — you don’t have to — ” She looked up, trying to hold his gaze. “Mordred.” God, his eyes were so beautiful. Very steadily, holding tightly to her own fears so they didn’t show, she said, “Please don’t do anything you don’t want to do. I just wanted you to take off the chain mail.”