Eurydice (eurydice72) wrote,
Eurydice
eurydice72

Fic: For My Own - A/G - NC17

TITLE: For My Own
AUTHOR: Eurydice
RATING: NC17
WORD COUNT: 1835 words
CHARACTERS/PAIRINGS: Arthur/Gwen
SPOILERS/WARNINGS: None
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. No matter how much I wish it so.
SUMMARY: Modern AU. Gwen has a bad day at work, and comes home to find some relief in Arthur.
NOTES: Written for last LAS challenge, which was for smut using one (or more) of these three themes: love bites, honeymoon, or round table. I chose love bites. If I'd had more space, I would've taken this to include pegging, but alas, there's a word limit with the challenge.

For My Own


Even her front door hated her.

“Damn it,” Gwen swore when the key stuck in the lock, refusing to turn properly. They’d rung and rung about getting it fixed, but still, nobody came to even take a look at the bloody thing. She had to drop the carrier bag with the Chinese takeaway she’d picked up on the way home, as well as her overladen bag with the extra shoes she’d taken to work that day—ha, to look good for her review, fat lot of good that had done her—in order to wrestle the lock with both hands.

It finally gave way with a squeak. As she pushed the door open, she gave it an added kick along the bottom for good measure.

It didn’t actually make her feel better.

Her shoulders slumped as she stepped over the threshold, wishing she could leap ahead to that moment when thinking about today’s events didn’t make her feel like she’d fallen into a bed of nettles. The food weighed heavily in her hand, but she lacked the wherewithal to do much more than set it on the coffee table. From down the hall, the soft spray of the shower filled the flat with its ambient rush. She sighed. Arthur was home already. He would want to hear what happened.

The bathroom door was ajar, steam filtering through the opening and into the corridor. Gwen slipped inside, but the greeting poised on her tongue faded away at the sight in front of her.

Arthur stood in the shower, head bent beneath the spray. Though more steam clouded the transparent glass, enough was clear to reveal the sculpted plane of his back, the heavy muscles in his shoulders rippling as he ran his fingers through his hair. Water dripped down his skin, its tone still golden from their holiday in Menorca. Each rivulet found its own swell to caress, skimming in slow motion over a muscle here, a shoulder blade there. Some collected along his spine, the lack of impediment in the straight valley spurring them faster out of view. Those were the ones she wished she could see. They led to his perfect bottom, an angle she didn’t get to appreciate nearly enough.

When he straightened, her attention snapped up again, just in time for him to meet her gaze when he turned around for his shampoo. “You’re home early,” he said, his crooked smile firmly in place. “Are we going out instead of eating in?”

“No, no, I stopped and got the takeaway.”

The longer his eyes lingered on her, the more his smile faded. “You’re not bubbling with excitement.”

The acid in her stomach burned. “No, I’m not.”

“What happened? Did they postpone your review?”

She wished. “I had it. They gave the promotion to Vivian.” Her lip curled in mocking disgust. “I guess they decided the job required the ability to shag everyone in management rather than any actual talent to do the job.”

“Oh, Gwen.” Shaking the water from his hair, he reached for the tap. “I’ll be right out. We’ll—”

“No.” Her interruption surprised both of them. He paused to look back at her, while she ventured farther into the room. “I’m coming in. I just want to wash this day away.”

She stripped out of her clothes in record time, tossing them in piles onto the floor in her haste. Arthur edged out of the way when she opened the shower door, but as soon as it shut, his arms folded around her shivering body, strong and warm from the pelting spray.

“She won’t last,” he murmured. “Then they’ll come crawling to you to save them.”

When the tears that had been threatening her all day rose up again, she buried her face against his wet chest in an effort to stifle them. “That job was mine. Everybody said so. They promised.”

“I know.”

“I worked my ass off for that promotion.”

He smoothed his hand over the back of her head, cupping her nape to hold her close. “You’ll get it next time.”

She wasn’t so sure about that. Right then, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to stay there if it meant having the rug ripped out from beneath her again.

His lips brushed against her temple. “What can I do? Just tell me, Gwen. Anything you want.”

He would, too, because that was what Arthur did, seeing to what everybody else needed, reminding her of what it meant to be important.

But that wasn’t necessarily what she craved right now.

She peeled away, meeting his brilliant gaze. “Turn around.”

A curious cock of his head, the return of his smile, but he did as she requested, dropping his shoulder so he didn’t bump her. His body was stiff and awkward, poised in wait of what she intended.

Her mouth went dry. All that flawless skin stretching over his sinuous muscles. Hers for the touching.

Or the tasting.

Leaning forward, she dragged her tongue along the dip below the swell of a shoulder blade, capturing the beads of water on her tongue, feeling the twitch beneath his skin as he reacted to her touch. Through the sound of the water, she heard him catch his breath and echoed it with her own small moan.

“Gwen…”

“Brace against the wall.” Her lips hovered scant millimeters away from his body. More was impossible. As he adjusted his stance, his muscles conformed to a new shape, a sculpture of her construction, and she ran her hands up the length of his arms to grasp his wrists. “I wanted that job. So much, Arthur.”

His nod was a mere fraction. “I know.”

Another taste of his skin, but this time, the few droplets weren’t enough. She sealed her lips over the muscle and sucked, the tip of her tongue dancing along its surface. When he groaned, she sucked even harder, relishing the way the flesh pulled farther into her mouth.

She had to gasp for air when she broke away. Arthur’s ragged breaths joined hers.

“It was mine.” The spot of skin had gone bright red from the strength of her kiss. “Mine, Arthur.”

Desire drove her back to his body, finding another patch to suck and nibble. She let go of one of his wrists to slide her hand to his front, pinching the tight peak of a nipple with a matching force.

His back arched. “Next time,” he panted. “They’ll realize their mistake soon enough.”

“Yes…” She mouthed the line of his spine, drifting lower and lower. Occasionally, she veered off course, selecting fresh skin to mark, licking over the reddened patches when she was done. If it wasn’t red enough, she sucked at it again, calling as much blood to the surface as she could summon, all the while raking her nails down his flat stomach to where his cock bobbed in front of him.

Through it all, he repeated his assertions, how valued she was, what an error they’d made. The words choked off when she’d find someplace new to brand, but soon enough, he’d start up again, telling her what he thought she needed to hear.

And she did. To some degree. But what she needed even more was knowing the body that curled around her every night, the man who woke up with her in the morning, who’d chosen her when he could have had any other woman in the world, was hers, that he was hers to do with as she wished, and if she wanted to worship his powerful back, she could—and would—with his fervent approval.

When she reached the curve of his backside, she settled on her knees, withdrawing for the first time to better appreciate its glory. She’d never considered herself an ass girl until she met Arthur, but he managed to fill out his jeans so perfectly, she was a permanent convert from the moment she first noticed. She wanted to touch it, to watch it react to her fingertips, but one hand was firmly around the base of his cock, her thumb stroking along the vein on its underside as far as it could reach, the other anchoring her in place with its hold on his hip. She wasn’t willing to let go to indulge a simple curiosity. She needed to bring him to his release and feel it pulse into her palm more than the map touching him would provide.

A minute passed where neither of them moved nor spoke. Then…

“Please, Gwen.”

Such a simple request. Two words. And still, they shattered Gwen’s stasis as assuredly as any action he might have taken.

Water eased the path of her hand down his shaft. Pre-come slicked the last few inches, speeding up her stroke, but she refused to let it stop her, sliding back down with the same firm grip. Arthur thrust into the tight circle of her fingers. As he did so, his buttocks clenched, the muscles going hard and even firmer than normal. They relaxed when he did, and she watched, transfixed, by the rhythmic undulations of his flesh.

On his fifth thrust, she leaned forward. Her mouth sealed over one delectable cheek as it slackened, and she sucked harder than she had before, letting her teeth drag slightly across the heated skin.

Arthur cried out, his body going rigid. For a moment, she thought she’d hurt him, but when her hand stilled on his cock, he squirmed against her.

“Don’t stop,” he begged. “Please. Just don’t stop.”

Love like she’d never felt surged through her, overwhelming her in its intensity before she found the strength to do as he asked. Her strokes continued, but she slid her mouth to the side to savor new skin, alternately sucking and licking over the quivering splotches in tandem with her hand. He’d asked what he could do for her, to make up for her terrible day, and somehow, he’d found the perfect response, though she was fairly sure he’d argue later he only wanted to get off.

He was hers. For the lack of anything else, he’d given her the confirmation she needed to possess him in body as well as in spirit. He let her brand his flawless skin, albeit temporarily, and when he came, trembling from the power of it, he only had one word to fall from his lips.

Her name.

Her.

She took her time sliding back up his body, taking care with the marks she’d left behind. Her pussy was wet, her nipples sensitive everywhere they dragged over him, but satisfaction still managed to suffuse her body, a sense of wellness that had her smiling long before she laid her cheek along his back.

Arthur caught her hand and brought it to his mouth. “You should have let me get you off,” he teased.

“No worries.” With her eyes closed, she focused on the rise and fall of his torso as his breathing gradually slowed. “I got exactly what I wanted.”
Tags: arthur/gwen, fic, merlin
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 11 comments