“You can’t hurt me, Mordred. And you can’t lie to me.” Summer leans back again, to look him in the eyes. Seriously, she says, “I promise. No matter how tightly, you can’t hurt me.” A shy, teasing smile quirks one corner of her mouth. “If you’re so worried, take off your armour.”
Unintentionally Mordred drew himself back into the little cocoon he always found himself in, something that had become some sort of a second home to him. “You don’t know that.”
“You haven’t given me a chance.” It hurt. He pulled away inside, and it hurt. She searched his face, trying to find why. “You … aren’t going to give me a chance. Are you.”
“And now you are sad,” she murmured. “I don’t understand. Is it not enough?” She tipped her forehead against his.
“I‘m not sad,” he tells her, “and it is more than enough, more than I could ask for, I just- I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You can’t hurt me, Mordred. And you can’t lie to me.” Summer leans back again, to look him in the eyes. Seriously, she says, “I promise. No matter how tightly, you can’t hurt me.” A shy, teasing smile quirks one corner of her mouth. “If you’re so worried, take off your armour.”
Summer made a small sound, pressing closer. She didn’t care about his chain mail, only about the way his mouth felt against hers. But Mordred’s fear broke into the pleasure of it, and she drew back just enough to whisper, “Why are you still afraid?”
He sighed through his nose, saddened when she pulled away, his heart dropping. “What do you mean by still afraid?” he asked, lolling his head to the side.
“And now you are sad,” she murmured. “I don’t understand. Is it not enough?” She tipped her forehead against his.
Was it wrong for that to be the answer she hoped for; to want to be desired even a little bit? Too much thinking, her mother would tell her, stop thinking, Summer. Tenatively she leaned forward, unaccountably shy. They had kissed twice already, this would be no different.
It wasn’t meant as teasing, this time. She closed her eyes, the better to taste Mordred, and pressed her lips to his. Her arms went back round his neck.
A small smile came to his lips as he felt hers against his, her soft lips moving against his. Mordred wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her closer, but yet again trying not to hurt her all that much, scared his chain mail would hurt her or dig into her. He moved his hand up to the side of her face, bracing himself against her so he didn’t move or make a fool of himself.
Summer made a small sound, pressing closer. She didn’t care about his chain mail, only about the way his mouth felt against hers. But Mordred’s fear broke into the pleasure of it, and she drew back just enough to whisper, “Why are you still afraid?”
Summer turned her head, trying to catch his mouth again, but missed. “Then you must answer the question again. Do you want nothing for yourself? Just now, right now.” Her gaze roamed his face, searching for she knew not what. “Tell me,” she whispered.
Mordred took a deep breath, the first thought in his mind causing him to chew the inside of his cheek for a brief moment. “I want you to kiss me.”
Was it wrong for that to be the answer she hoped for; to want to be desired even a little bit? Too much thinking, her mother would tell her, stop thinking, Summer. Tenatively she leaned forward, unaccountably shy. They had kissed twice already, this would be no different.
It wasn’t meant as teasing, this time. She closed her eyes, the better to taste Mordred, and pressed her lips to his. Her arms went back round his neck.
She shook her head hard, loose red strands whipping about. “No, no, don’t tell me that! It’s important enough for you to say, like that, when I ask what you want … no. I will concern myself. You are,” she stumbled, “you are my husband for this week and your hurts are my hurts. I wish for you to wish for somehing more than a place to sleep and a full belly.”
The young knight smiled, kissing her cheek. “I appreciate the concern, my lady, but truly, the past is the past, and although it may come back to haunt us it is now no concern of ours in the present.”
Summer turned her head, trying to catch his mouth again, but missed. “Then you must answer the question again. Do you want nothing for yourself? Just now, right now.” Her gaze roamed his face, searching for she knew not what. “Tell me,” she whispered.
“If those are the only things you want for yourself, even as a knight, your life is more sad than you led me to believe, and I wish it could be better. I wish I could make it better.” Summer bit at her lip, face full of sadness.
Mordred shook his head, smiling at her. “It is fine,” he told her, “it’s all in the past.” He said, “Well, at least I hope. Do not concern yourself with such a thing.”
She shook her head hard, loose red strands whipping about. “No, no, don’t tell me that! It’s important enough for you to say, like that, when I ask what you want … no. I will concern myself. You are,” she stumbled, “you are my husband for this week and your hurts are my hurts. I wish for you to wish for somehing more than a place to sleep and a full belly.”
The simplicity of his desire, and the emotion coupled with it, took her breath away. One hand hovered over his cheek, fingertips just barely brushing the skin. “Oh, Mordred … ” Anguish for him laced her voice.
Mordred gave her a small smile, glancing down at his lap again. “You make it sound like it’s the worst thing I could ever want,” he says, looking back up at her, nudging against the palm of her hand.
“If those are the only things you want for yourself, even as a knight, your life is more sad than you led me to believe, and I wish it could be better. I wish I could make it better.” Summer bit at her lip, face full of sadness.
“Do you never want anything for yourself?” She sat up a little, wanting to see his face when he answered. Not that she wouldn’t know what he was feeling anyway, but seeing it made it more vivid.
Mordred looks up at her for a second, turning his gaze to anywhere but her after she asked her question. There was an answer to that question, a plain and simple one but then that would require explanations. He’d never gotten anything he’d wanted, his parents, a normal life, why start now. “To have a bed to sleep in and a warm meal.”
The simplicity of his desire, and the emotion coupled with it, took her breath away. One hand hovered over his cheek, fingertips just barely brushing the skin. “Oh, Mordred … ” Anguish for him laced her voice.
“Very much so.” Summer shivered slightly. She quite liked being hugged like this; someone’s strong arms at her back, keeping her safe. She didn’t know why. It was the same with her step-brother. Well, almost the same — she didn’t want to kiss Edward. She wanted to kiss Mordred again.
“I‘m glad,” he says, resting his head against her shoulder. “I live to please and serve.”
“Do you never want anything for yourself?” She sat up a little, wanting to see his face when he answered. Not that she wouldn’t know what he was feeling anyway, but seeing it made it more vivid.
