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Posted on September 30, 2012 at 00:21:30 AM by arthur & pendragon
Warning: mature content, not appropriate for some readers. Contains nudity and sexual references.
She spun away from him again, climbing quickly to her feet as she moved across the attic towards the window. The soft light of the sun streamed in through the glass, adding a glow to her skin, the fly away strands of her dishevelled hair illuminated by the yellow-white gleaming. They were dancers, the cobwebbed room their dance floor. Each knew the steps, one from experience, the other from the feel of the music, the thrumming of the air which lent emphasis to their deep breathing and their loudly beating hearts. Arthur watched Dyna, his eyes upon hers, taking in the expression on her face. There was bafflement there, apprehension too, but the tenderness that had been there the last time he had seen her at such a distance was still sitting there, smiling at him from the blackness of her pupil, the silver-grey of her iris. A thought came to him, sliding its way intrusively into his consciousness, this was not a dance she had attempted before, she did not know the steps. He held himself steady, remaining in his place on the floor, his chin tilted up towards her face. In that single moment, Arthur placed the control of the situation into her hands, he was hers, not the other way around. She set the pace, she could turn the music off and walk away if she felt the need, but oh, how he ached to touch her again. The folds of fabric shifted, the buttons moving steadily away from one another, until the material tumbled free of her shoulders, revealing the smooth alabaster of her skin beneath it. The sight of her there, angelic with her crowning halo from the light at the window, called him to his feet, and in three long strides he was standing before her again. Achingly close he waited, restraining his eager hands in respect of her decision. The answer came a second later, her body pressing insistently against the hard muscles of his chest, her fingers tugging eagerly at his shirt. Arthur bowed his head as she carried the garment upwards, and once it had brushed past his ears, he paid it no further heed as it was throw carelessly to the floor. The king’s lips met with hers, one of his hands returning to its place on her waist, his other moving its way upwards in order to hold her face. Arthur’s fingers brushed against the softness of her cheek as he separated their mouths once more. Affectionately he returned a strand of her hair back behind her ear, his tone filled with understanding as he spoke, “you’re beautiful,” he told her, openly, honestly as he moved his hands again, taking hold of her own, and resting them carefully upon the buckle of his belt, “this is your dance,” he told her, “you decide the steps.” A smile lingered in place for a moment, before the king leaned forwards once more, drawing her back to him with a passionate kiss.  |
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