“I haven’t had many,” she told him, “so it’s not much of a stretch. I don’t know, maybe it’s because we both have magic, but it was pretty spectacular from my end.” She turned the cup in her hands for a moment before drinking.
”Magic does heighten one’s senses” he agreed, leaning back in his chair. “Especially when it comes to all forms of intimacy, be it kissing or otherwise. It’s even more intoxicating when both parties possess magic” Mordred explained.
“My sister is the only other person I ever knew with magic, and hers isn’t like mine. Anyway no one at home ever wanted to kiss me, or anything else.” Summer turned the cup around and around, staring at the subtle carving around the rim, and not looking at Mordred at all. She couldn’t stop her mind turning down those old, well-worn paths, expression falling into pensive lines. “Not after they realised I could see through their games.”
She had to hold on to him when he finally released her from the kiss. She wasn’t sure her legs would hold her. “Please sit down before I fall down,” she finally managed to say. “Otherwise you’ll just be holding me up when you kiss me like that again. My god.”
Mordred laughed softly, guiding her over to a seat and placing her in it. “You act like it was the best kiss you’ve ever received” he tells her, handing her the goblet before taking the seat across from her.
“I haven’t had many,” she told him, “so it’s not much of a stretch. I don’t know, maybe it’s because we both have magic, but it was pretty spectacular from my end.” She turned the cup in her hands for a moment before drinking.
Summer was glad he’d got his arms around her waist; he was so tall compared to her that otherwise she would have fallen over simply trying to reach his mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck and sank her fingers into his curls, kissing back with all she had. A little moan slipped out.
He tightened his grip on her, pulling her closer as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. This time, unlike the last time he wasn’t afraid of hurting her, finally winning the argument with himself over whether or not he could truly trust her. Something told him he could, perhaps it was because they were kin and held magic, or something close to it and he couldn’t put his finger on it. A content sigh passed his lips as her fingers sank into his curls, pulling away for air.
She had to hold on to him when he finally released her from the kiss. She wasn’t sure her legs would hold her. “Please sit down before I fall down,” she finally managed to say. “Otherwise you’ll just be holding me up when you kiss me like that again. My god.”
“Is it alright — is it — can we — ” She stumbled to a stop, face burning so hotly she was sure she was glowing. “Kiss me? Hold me?” It came out pitifully.
He nodded, leaning down and pressing his lips against hers as he snaked his arms around her waist.
Summer was glad he’d got his arms around her waist; he was so tall compared to her that otherwise she would have fallen over simply trying to reach his mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck and sank her fingers into his curls, kissing back with all she had. A little moan slipped out.
A thrill went down her spine at his touch, mixing strangely with the fear in her bones. “I barely know you,” she said softly, “and I think I’m already falling in love with you … how can that be okay?”
He swallowed, looking over her once more. He desperately wanted to give her an answer but found he had none. “I have no answer to give you, Summer, I’m sorry.”
“Is it alright — is it — can we — ” She stumbled to a stop, face burning so hotly she was sure she was glowing. “Kiss me? Hold me?” It came out pitifully.
A few short steps sufficed to bring her close to him, without the table in the way. “I’m afraid of being myself, Mordred,” Summer whispered.
He tilted her head up, allowing himself to look at her. “Don’t be,” he advises, “there is nothing to be scared of. From what I have seen, you’re a kind, caring and beautiful woman, there is certainly nothing to be afraid of, especially not around me.”
A thrill went down her spine at his touch, mixing strangely with the fear in her bones. “I barely know you,” she said softly, “and I think I’m already falling in love with you … how can that be okay?”
He towered over her when he stood up. Summer fell back a step, not frightened, but so she didn’t have to crane her neck so hard to look up at him. “I don’t know who to be if I don’t know what you want,” she told him.
He watched her for a moment, slightly astonished. “Don’t be anyone but yourself,” he tells her, feeling himself lean in to chase her lips.
A few short steps sufficed to bring her close to him, without the table in the way. “I’m afraid of being myself, Mordred,” Summer whispered.
“Oh, don’t do that, it makes me forget what I want to say! Do you have any idea what you look like!?” She hung her head for a moment. “Mordred, I want — I want a real answer. What do you want of me, since you accepted my ring? I offered it as a joke; I never thought … ” She flourished a hand. “This would happen.” She turned faintly pink. “I liked kissing you,” she added, very low.
Mordred swallowed, his fingers dancing around the edge of the goblet as he thought. He didn’t really know what he wanted, especially from her. “I don’t know, Summer,” he tells her, getting to his feet, leaning over the table, “and I liked kissing you too,” he says, his voice low.
He towered over her when he stood up. Summer fell back a step, not frightened, but so she didn’t have to crane her neck so hard to look up at him. “I don’t know who to be if I don’t know what you want,” she told him.
Playfully, she curtsied. “Thank you, kind sir. I am but a poor maid here in the capital.” Placing both hands on the table, she leaned over its scant width. “Mordred.”
Mordred shook his head, placing his goblet down on the table. “Summer,” he says, cocking a brow at her.
“Oh, don’t do that, it makes me forget what I want to say! Do you have any idea what you look like!?” She hung her head for a moment. “Mordred, I want — I want a real answer. What do you want of me, since you accepted my ring? I offered it as a joke; I never thought … ” She flourished a hand. “This would happen.” She turned faintly pink. “I liked kissing you,” she added, very low.
He looked so proud and fair, so far out of reach, sitting at her table. If she were truly home, then perhaps … but she was in Camelot alone, with little to rely on but her own wits and magic. Summer offered him a cup of wine. “You should smile more, Mordred. It suits you so well.”
He smirked, taking the goblet from her. “Thank you,” he says, taking a sip. “Perhaps,” he adds with a laugh, “you have a lovely home by the way.”
Playfully, she curtsied. “Thank you, kind sir. I am but a poor maid here in the capital.” Placing both hands on the table, she leaned over its scant width. “Mordred.”
