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Title: Unattainable Smiles
Author: Bonster ([insanejournal.com profile] jacklemmon)
Prompt: one-sided
Fandom: Merlin
Characters/Pairing: Merlin/Morgana
Rating: FRAO Explanation of Fan Ratings
Word Count: Around 775.
Summary: Morgana dreams of Merlin smiling, wide and happy.
Notes: Written for Porn Battle VII.



She dreams of Merlin smiling, wide and happy. She smiles back and feels light with joy.

She wakes and can feel the lingering upturn of her lips. She sleeps fitfully the rest of the night.

Another night, another dream, the perspective is different and she realizes it is not she who makes Merlin smile so.

She gets headaches from the frown that creases her brow at night and now the day. She feels a little disappointed and somehow lost.

Gwen tentatively asks her what's wrong, and Morgana just shakes her head, mired in her troubled thoughts, her burdensome desires.

She wants. She's desperate to be lit by a simple, beautiful smile. A smile that does not belong to her, but still makes her feel so much.

Four days pass, and Morgana knows she must act, must at least try, even if she's only able to grasp a shadow of the smile she's seen.

She searches out Merlin, finds him walking distractedly down a corridor on the far side of the castle. He greets her with a smile.

She brings her hand to her breast, tries to smooth her heart's poundings out, smooth her emotions as well. She sways.

"My lady?" Merlin rushes up to her.

His concern like a balm, she leans against him. He catches her, arms folding around her. She presses her face against his chest, takes deep breaths. He's not wearing a scarf so her lips brush his skin.

She mouths his chest, feels his breath hitch and body tense.

"Morgana-" he starts. He understands what she's asking.

"Please," she says, her voice strained. She will beg for this. Her hands grip his waist, tugging him impossibly closer.

Maybe it's her beauty, maybe it's her desperation, maybe it's just his kind soul, but he relents, he lets himself be tugged. "But not here, my lady," he whispers urgently.

"Please," she nearly sobs. Now.

"Somewhere more private," Merlin says looking at her earnestly. He runs a hand soothingly--but not longingly--down her back.

She may be out of control, gone mad, but she is no child to be placated. She sees no nearby alcove, but sees a door. She thinks on what lay beyond: an old, barely used room.

She feels the gods are at last being generous, and she feels inexplicably lighter. She grabs Merlin's arm. She's laughing, though it comes out as choked huffs in strange pitches.

Once in the room, she pushes Merlin so his back shuts the door. Back against the door, Merlin looks nonplussed and pale.

Morgana kisses him, fierce and hard. They're lips don't fit together precisely, but she knew they didn't fit to begin with, no matter how she might....

She slows her kissing, mouthing Merlin's bottom lip. She craves his lips. She brings her hand up to cup his jaw. She will linger, and she will savor this as much as possible.

When she can no longer resist, she rolls against Merlin's front, pressing her hips in, and Merlin groans.

He spins them around and presses her against the door. His mouth leaves her lips to glide along her chin, her neck, her breasts.

Her eyes roll back into her head as the sensations of his lips pour over her. She moans loud as he lifts her skirts, his hands unerringly finding her thighs and caressing them, moving aside fabric. She's not wearing all she should be, and Merlin's soft grunt at discovering so, causes her to wantonly lower herself toward his questing fingers.

"In. In, Merlin. Oh, please..." Morgana pleas breathlessly. She looks into his eyes, feels a quirk to her lips that they're doing this and that Merlin is red-faced and his hair is wild and he's a perfect vision.

She lowers her eyes to his hardness, bites her lip. He shakes his head as if clearing it and murmurs, "Yeah." He unlaces and loosens his trousers, his cock springs out.

Morgana's skirts, bunched between them, fall as he leans back to lower his trousers. Morgana makes a protesting sound, but Merlin quickly lifts the fabrics and grips her thighs, and she lifts them with his urging, wraps them around his waist. He enters her.

Her back presses against the hard, cold door. Her hips meet Merlin's thrusts. Her lips and tongue meet his own. Her climax comes fast, sudden. Merlin's follows.

As they're tidying themselves, Merlin smiles at her, an awkward, strained smile. His eyes slide quickly from hers.

It's not even a shadow she'll have after all, but a ghost.
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