Title: A Victory in Temptation
Character/s: Morgana, Merlin
Summary: Merlin gets lost in temptation.
Warnings: Mild hair kink
Word Count: 886
Prompt: #87, arouse
Author's Notes: How can I resist hair kink? This takes place in my AU where Merlin and Morgana are professors and Mordred their student, and can be found at AO3.
Though he was passionate about his work, about what he believed in, he couldn’t say much of the same of his more visceral needs. There had been Morgana, then Arthur, and then—well, it didn’t count if he couldn’t remember the names of his various flings over the years, did it?
No, as far as Merlin was concerned, only the Pendragons had known how to reach past the walls he normally erected, each in his or her own way.
Arthur might be gone, but Morgana was still here, and the one realization Merlin had come to since this year’s particularly emotional anniversary was that he missed how good it could feel to let himself go.
The snacks were gone, the rubbish tossed, and now they were stretched out on top of the blankets watching a Carry On marathon on one of the few stations the telly got. Morgana had pulled on a robe over the towel, but every time she laughed, the collar fell aside to expose the pale, perfect curve of her breast. At the first sign he was getting hard, he’d made a show of fighting over the pillows, letting her win all but one of them so he could claim that one to lay over his lap. He wanted her, but he didn’t want to frighten her away again, either. Anything that happened had to be mutual, not the desperation of one winning out over the other.
But the longer they laid there, he with his back to the wall, she curled up on her side, the harder it got to watch the movies and not her.
Her hair had dried without getting brushed again, a disarray of thick waves that spilled over her pillow and across the plain white duvet to tempt him into tangling it over his fingers, along his skin, around every inch of him, exposed or not. It had always been her one true vanity and rightfully so. Before, when he’d catch sight of her on campus, one glimpse of it hanging down her back was all it took to make Merlin momentarily forget all about the animosity between them and crave sinking his hands into it to keep her still. From there, the fantasy could take many routes.
Like fucking her against a brick wall in the dead silence of dawn, with the risk of getting caught out by their students driving both of them into a frenzy.
Like pushing her to her knees and tilting her head back to feed his cock to her, her eyes wide and locked on his as her lips stretched red and wet around him.
Like drowning in kisses, trapped in her wild embrace, nails scratching at his back while his were lost in her hair.
When it came to Morgana, his imagination knew no boundaries. She was the only woman he knew—had ever known—who wouldn’t be afraid of any of it.
The next time she laughed, he let his hand fall to his side between them. He caressed the nearest tendril, pleasantly shocked at how soft it was in spite of its dishevelment, and wound it around his finger only to let it loose again before she could detect was he doing.
Though she didn’t move, her soft voice cracked through the spell he’d woven around them. He glanced at the telly. Adverts were on. He had no idea if that meant the movie was over or not. “Yeah?”
“You’re not paying attention.”
Oh, but he was, to what actually mattered. His heart picked up a few extra beats.
When he didn’t speak, Morgana sighed and shut her eyes. “Do you know why I’ve never cut my hair?”
It wasn’t until she phrased it like that Merlin realized how true her words really were. She wore it much like she had when they’d met, when he knew other women who’d changed styles multiple times just within a year. “Why’s that?”
“Because you told me once how much you loved it like this.” She burrowed back in tiny inches until her ass nestled against his thigh and his fingers were now buried in her hair. “I still think it’s a little weird, but it’s a good, Merlin weird, so that’s okay.”
He chuckled at that, because she sounded just like the Morgana of old. Forgetting about the movie, he tossed aside the pillow and slid down until he could spoon behind her, one arm going around her waist, his nose nuzzling her neck. There was no denying his arousal now, not with it so firmly planted against her bottom, but the way Morgana melted into him scattered his worries to the wind.
“I could stay like this all night,” he murmured.
She wriggled. Just once. When he groaned, her light laugh filled the room. “That would definitely be a fun theory to test,” she said. “Care to make a wager?”
“Don’t want to lose?”
He pulled her closer and breathed her in, reveling how her hair tickled against his cheeks. “No. Because either way it goes, I still win.”
Morgana turned her head, forcing him to look up and meet her darkened eyes. “I think we’ve both won tonight,” she whispered.
Merlin smiled. Sometimes, allowing Morgana the last word was a victory for both of them, too.