Summer traces the curves with a fingertip, then kisses the mark. “There is a whole community of magic folk? I wish I could meet others.”
Mordred gives her a small smile, his fingers wandering through her hair as he looks off towards the edges of the room, watching the shadows that danced around the room, cast by the fire. “Unfortunately I don’t know where they are anymore.”
She makes a sad face, “Then we will not talk about it.” She traces it again, and looks up to catch his eyes. “Where was I? Ah, yes.” A little smile curves her mouth, and she lays her head on his shoulder.
“If you keep doing that,” she manages to breathe, “Mordred, I won’t wait until tomorrow night.” She breaks away from the kissing and props her chin on his chest, then frowns slightly and sits up to pull the shirt away. “What’s this?” Gently she touches the triskele marking.
He glances down at his chest to the triskele he often forgot adorned the skin. “A druid symbol,” he tells her, watching her fingers before he looks at her face. “All druids are given it at birth, it’s blended with a special magic so that the ink never fades.”
Summer traces the curves with a fingertip, then kisses the mark. “There is a whole community of magic folk? I wish I could meet others.”
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.
Mordred chuckled as the sound of her whimper reached his ears and he ran his hand down her side, placing it at her waist.
“If you keep doing that,” she manages to breathe, “Mordred, I won’t wait until tomorrow night.” She breaks away from the kissing and props her chin on his chest, then frowns slightly and sits up to pull the shirt away. “What’s this?” Gently she touches the triskele marking.
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.
She giggled a little when his hair brushed her nose, and slid down to perch on his knee so she could see his face. Feeling as though it might be safe, now, she began to run her fingers over the lines of Mordred’s face, as if she was blind and trying to see what he looked like. Gentle fingertips stroked his cheekbones and slipped along his mouth, traced the bridge of his nose and shaped each eyebrow.
The knight watched silently, slightly perplexed as to what she was doing but he made no comment, allowing her to do as she pleased and not arguing. He wouldn’t lie, the feeling of her fingers brushing down his cheek sent a shiver down his spine. “Having fun there?” he asks softly, not taking his eyes off her face.
She nodded, biting at her lower lip. “I like the way you feel. I like to touch.” She touched his mouth again before leaning in to kiss him.