Part 2: link
They reach their chambers, and Arthur opens the door for her. She enters and he follows, taking care to lock the door behind them.
He turns to her and gently removes the crown from her head, setting it carefully on the heavy long tafel, tabel there. Then he removes his own crown and tosses it gently beside hers, careless door comparison. He turns back to her, lifts his hands to her forehead and gently rubs it with his thumbs, massaging away the marks the crown has left indented in her skin there.
Arthur once again pulls her into his arms, kissing her briefly before raising one hand and brushing his knuckles lightly against the skin of her cheek, caressing down to her neck, coming to rest at the exposed tops of her breasts, which are rising and falling with her deep, rapid breathing.
Gwen reaches down and undoes his sword belt, discarding it to the floor with a loud clatter that makes her giggle.
“Why do u have to wear all this? Were we in danger of being attacked during my coronation?” she asks, helping him remove his chainmail.
“It’s traditional. Plus, lately, one never knows,” he says ruefully, stealing a kiss once the mail overhemd, shirt is over his head. There are advantages to having a wife who knows armor, he thinks, much preferring her assistance over Merlin’s.
“Your outfits can be as complicated as mine, u know that?” she asks as he steals another kiss, this time longer, searing heat into her interior.
“At least I don’t have ridiculous laces of rows of tiny buttons,” he complains.
“Yes, about that: Stop ruining my dresses. The maids are becoming kruis with u and I am meer embarrassed each time I have to bring them one to mend. We’ve been married only a week and it’s been three dresses already, Arthur.” She stops and looks at him with her hands on her hips. “I appreciate your… enthusiasm, but I promise u I will start mending them myself in spite of your wishes, if u continue to treat my dresses like rags.”
He knows she is serious about this. I’m actually surprised she hasn’t started mending them herself already, he thinks, familiar with her often flagrant disregard for his wishes in such matters. “Yes, Love,” he says, striving to appear contrite.
He is down to his overhemd, shirt and trousers, having just stepped out of his boots. Mindful of Guinevere’s recent request—no, command—he gently turns her around and starts to work on the row of laces down the back of her dress, cursing softly as he does so.
She obligingly moves her hair out of the way and distinctly hears him muttering something about “Blasted laces” and “feel like a maid.”
“If u prefer, I can call a maid in, and…”
“No,” he says firmly. He leans against her, and says softly against her neck, “Despite my grumblings, undressing u is one of my greatest pleasures.”
Gwen’s eyes drift close and he brushes his lips against the tender skin where her neck meets her shoulder. He then bites it lightly and she yelps and giggles as he returns his attention to her dress.
Why is he undressing me here? she wonders, realizing they are still just inside the chamber doors, not in the sleeping quarters.
“There we are,” Arthur announces, and Guinevere feels the dress loosen and he slides it from her shoulders.
The dress falls, pooling in a great mass around her legs. She starts to step out of it when Arthur lifts her bodily from the dress, leaving it there.
“Oh!” she exclaims in surprise. She kicks her shoes off in mid-air, and they drop to the floor.
He carries her in her thin shift the few steps over to the long table, kicks a chair out of the way, and sets her down so she is seated atop the table, facing him.
“Arthur, what…” she starts and her words are once again stopped, this time door a kiss as he leans into her, leaning her back into the arms he has wrapped around her back.
He kisses her passionately, and she returns his passion, her hands around his neck, up into his hair, then down, pulling insistently at his shirt.
“God, I love it when u get aggressive,” he groans, breaking away and pulling his overhemd, shirt off before reaching down for the hem of her shift, pulling it upwards, running his hands along her legs as he goes.
He scoots the kledingstuk up almost to her hips, and she wiggles slightly to allow him to release it from beneath her so he can pull it up over her head. She takes the opportunity to reach down and undo his trousers, and he lets them fall and steps out of them.
Guinevere pulls him to her, spreading her knees apart so he can come close. She leans vooruit, voorwaarts and kisses his neck, his collarbones; her hands tracing the lines of the muscles on his broad shoulders. Arthur buries his face in her hair, kissing her ear, her neck.
He lets a hand drop between her legs, touching, stroking, bringing forth moans of pleasure from her that make him smile. He bends to take a breast in his mouth, kissing and sucking, spurred on door her hands in his hair, holding him to her.
Arthur eases her back onto the tafel, tabel and leans over her, sliding easily into her. Her elbow bumps into their discarded crowns and she absently shoves them further down the table, out of reach.
“Oh…” Gwen gasps, slightly shocked door what they are doing. Not what so much as where.
Arthur bends over and kisses her as he thrusts, his hands holding her face gently, lovingly. He leans back with a groan as he feels her legs come up to cirkel his waist. His hands stroke the skin of her stomach, up to her breasts, holding them in his hands, running his palms across her taut nipples.
“Arthur,” she whispers, dropping her head back, sinking back flat onto the tafel, tabel as she brings her hands up over his, holding them, guiding them, encouraging them.
He bites his lower lip, gazing down at her. Beautiful, wise, and passionate. How on earth did I get so lucky?
Guinevere is starting to gasp beneath him, her head tossing from side to side. “Oh… Arthur… oh… oh…”
Her legs tighten around him and her hips lift from the table, shoving against him as she climaxes with several meer gasps. Her hands clutch at his, still on her breasts, and he responds door thrusting harder, faster, feeling his own come upon him quickly, encouraged door the vision beneath him on the table.
He roars and drives deeply within her, releasing into her with a giant flood of sensation that leaves him weak.
Arthur leans down to kiss her, and she rises up on her elbows again to meet him.
“I love you, my queen,” he says to her.
“And I love you, my husband.”
He eases away from her and helps her down from the table, pulling her into his arms, standing flush against each other.
I just love the feel of her.
His body is so warm and inviting.
They finally make it to the bed, snuggled close together.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” Arthur says after a time.
“What? On the table?” Gwen lifts her head and looks at him.
“Yes. The table.”
“For how long?” Now I’m quite curious.
“Since the kasteel of Fyrien.”
“When I brought the dresses?”
“Yes. Why do u think I didn’t get up?”
Guinevere laughs suddenly at this, burying her face into his neck.
“After that it was pretty much any time u were in here.”
“You’re joking.” She lifts her head.
“I’m not. u would be shocked if u knew some of the thoughts that have come into my head about u over the past several years,” he admits, eyes smoldering slightly as he looks at her.
Not half as shocked as u would be if u knew I was probably having the same thoughts, Gwen thinks. She considers confessing. Perhaps another time.
She raises her eyebrows at him. “Now I’m intrigued.”
He blinks at her. “Really?”
She nods, blushing slightly. She hides her face in his neck and finds herself saying, “I’ve had some thoughts of my own, actually.” Damn. I wasn’t going to say anything.
Arthur laughs. “Now I’m intrigued.”
“Don’t make me say…” she pleads.
“No, I won’t. Not right now, anyway,” he teases, kissing her.
Gwen yawns, and Arthur leans over to blow out the candles on the bedside table.
They lay together in silence for a while, just holding each other.
“You remember how I would sometimes suddenly dash away from you?” he asks, tracing the lines of her back with his finger.
She looks up. “Yes?”
“Most of those times I left because if I had stayed with u any longer I would have tossed u over my shoulder and carried u off to do the most un-chivalrous things to you.”
“Arthur!”
“Honest. Although sometimes u were the one that would dash away.”
“You know why I did that,” she frowns slightly.
“Yes, I do,” he says, caressing her cheek and leaning down to kiss her nose. “You couldn’t let yourself believe that it could happen. That we could happen.”
She nods.
“Yes, but there’s meer to it than that, I think. You’ve always been stronger than me,” he says, kissing her again.
Gwen rolls onto her stomach, rests her head on her hands atop Arthur’s chest and looks at him, her expression puzzled. This is high praise from him.
“Well, not physically stronger, obviously. But you’ve had to deal with so much meer hardship in your life than I have, and somehow u always come through and continue to be the most kindhearted and generous person I know. That can only come from the wisdom and inner strength that u have always had in abundance. It is one of the many reasons why I love u so much.”
“I didn’t know u felt that way, Arthur,” she says tenderly, clearly touched door his words. “I was just trying to live my life.”
“If everyone lived their lives that way, there would be no wars.”
“That may be overstating things a bit,” she protests.
“Perhaps a little. Still, I was always amazed at your ability to walk away from me when it was always so difficult for me to walk away from you.”
“It wasn’t as easy for me as u may think,” she admits.
“Well, I’m actually glad to hear that, because I had been feeling a little hurt that u could so easily escape. Hmm. Think of all the kisses u missed out on…” he teases, lifting her chin up to illustrate his point.
“We’ll only have the rest of our lives to make up for them,” she smiles.
“And that is exactly what I intend to do, my sweet.”
Part 4: link
They reach their chambers, and Arthur opens the door for her. She enters and he follows, taking care to lock the door behind them.
He turns to her and gently removes the crown from her head, setting it carefully on the heavy long tafel, tabel there. Then he removes his own crown and tosses it gently beside hers, careless door comparison. He turns back to her, lifts his hands to her forehead and gently rubs it with his thumbs, massaging away the marks the crown has left indented in her skin there.
Arthur once again pulls her into his arms, kissing her briefly before raising one hand and brushing his knuckles lightly against the skin of her cheek, caressing down to her neck, coming to rest at the exposed tops of her breasts, which are rising and falling with her deep, rapid breathing.
Gwen reaches down and undoes his sword belt, discarding it to the floor with a loud clatter that makes her giggle.
“Why do u have to wear all this? Were we in danger of being attacked during my coronation?” she asks, helping him remove his chainmail.
“It’s traditional. Plus, lately, one never knows,” he says ruefully, stealing a kiss once the mail overhemd, shirt is over his head. There are advantages to having a wife who knows armor, he thinks, much preferring her assistance over Merlin’s.
“Your outfits can be as complicated as mine, u know that?” she asks as he steals another kiss, this time longer, searing heat into her interior.
“At least I don’t have ridiculous laces of rows of tiny buttons,” he complains.
“Yes, about that: Stop ruining my dresses. The maids are becoming kruis with u and I am meer embarrassed each time I have to bring them one to mend. We’ve been married only a week and it’s been three dresses already, Arthur.” She stops and looks at him with her hands on her hips. “I appreciate your… enthusiasm, but I promise u I will start mending them myself in spite of your wishes, if u continue to treat my dresses like rags.”
He knows she is serious about this. I’m actually surprised she hasn’t started mending them herself already, he thinks, familiar with her often flagrant disregard for his wishes in such matters. “Yes, Love,” he says, striving to appear contrite.
He is down to his overhemd, shirt and trousers, having just stepped out of his boots. Mindful of Guinevere’s recent request—no, command—he gently turns her around and starts to work on the row of laces down the back of her dress, cursing softly as he does so.
She obligingly moves her hair out of the way and distinctly hears him muttering something about “Blasted laces” and “feel like a maid.”
“If u prefer, I can call a maid in, and…”
“No,” he says firmly. He leans against her, and says softly against her neck, “Despite my grumblings, undressing u is one of my greatest pleasures.”
Gwen’s eyes drift close and he brushes his lips against the tender skin where her neck meets her shoulder. He then bites it lightly and she yelps and giggles as he returns his attention to her dress.
Why is he undressing me here? she wonders, realizing they are still just inside the chamber doors, not in the sleeping quarters.
“There we are,” Arthur announces, and Guinevere feels the dress loosen and he slides it from her shoulders.
The dress falls, pooling in a great mass around her legs. She starts to step out of it when Arthur lifts her bodily from the dress, leaving it there.
“Oh!” she exclaims in surprise. She kicks her shoes off in mid-air, and they drop to the floor.
He carries her in her thin shift the few steps over to the long table, kicks a chair out of the way, and sets her down so she is seated atop the table, facing him.
“Arthur, what…” she starts and her words are once again stopped, this time door a kiss as he leans into her, leaning her back into the arms he has wrapped around her back.
He kisses her passionately, and she returns his passion, her hands around his neck, up into his hair, then down, pulling insistently at his shirt.
“God, I love it when u get aggressive,” he groans, breaking away and pulling his overhemd, shirt off before reaching down for the hem of her shift, pulling it upwards, running his hands along her legs as he goes.
He scoots the kledingstuk up almost to her hips, and she wiggles slightly to allow him to release it from beneath her so he can pull it up over her head. She takes the opportunity to reach down and undo his trousers, and he lets them fall and steps out of them.
Guinevere pulls him to her, spreading her knees apart so he can come close. She leans vooruit, voorwaarts and kisses his neck, his collarbones; her hands tracing the lines of the muscles on his broad shoulders. Arthur buries his face in her hair, kissing her ear, her neck.
He lets a hand drop between her legs, touching, stroking, bringing forth moans of pleasure from her that make him smile. He bends to take a breast in his mouth, kissing and sucking, spurred on door her hands in his hair, holding him to her.
Arthur eases her back onto the tafel, tabel and leans over her, sliding easily into her. Her elbow bumps into their discarded crowns and she absently shoves them further down the table, out of reach.
“Oh…” Gwen gasps, slightly shocked door what they are doing. Not what so much as where.
Arthur bends over and kisses her as he thrusts, his hands holding her face gently, lovingly. He leans back with a groan as he feels her legs come up to cirkel his waist. His hands stroke the skin of her stomach, up to her breasts, holding them in his hands, running his palms across her taut nipples.
“Arthur,” she whispers, dropping her head back, sinking back flat onto the tafel, tabel as she brings her hands up over his, holding them, guiding them, encouraging them.
He bites his lower lip, gazing down at her. Beautiful, wise, and passionate. How on earth did I get so lucky?
Guinevere is starting to gasp beneath him, her head tossing from side to side. “Oh… Arthur… oh… oh…”
Her legs tighten around him and her hips lift from the table, shoving against him as she climaxes with several meer gasps. Her hands clutch at his, still on her breasts, and he responds door thrusting harder, faster, feeling his own come upon him quickly, encouraged door the vision beneath him on the table.
He roars and drives deeply within her, releasing into her with a giant flood of sensation that leaves him weak.
Arthur leans down to kiss her, and she rises up on her elbows again to meet him.
“I love you, my queen,” he says to her.
“And I love you, my husband.”
He eases away from her and helps her down from the table, pulling her into his arms, standing flush against each other.
I just love the feel of her.
His body is so warm and inviting.
They finally make it to the bed, snuggled close together.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” Arthur says after a time.
“What? On the table?” Gwen lifts her head and looks at him.
“Yes. The table.”
“For how long?” Now I’m quite curious.
“Since the kasteel of Fyrien.”
“When I brought the dresses?”
“Yes. Why do u think I didn’t get up?”
Guinevere laughs suddenly at this, burying her face into his neck.
“After that it was pretty much any time u were in here.”
“You’re joking.” She lifts her head.
“I’m not. u would be shocked if u knew some of the thoughts that have come into my head about u over the past several years,” he admits, eyes smoldering slightly as he looks at her.
Not half as shocked as u would be if u knew I was probably having the same thoughts, Gwen thinks. She considers confessing. Perhaps another time.
She raises her eyebrows at him. “Now I’m intrigued.”
He blinks at her. “Really?”
She nods, blushing slightly. She hides her face in his neck and finds herself saying, “I’ve had some thoughts of my own, actually.” Damn. I wasn’t going to say anything.
Arthur laughs. “Now I’m intrigued.”
“Don’t make me say…” she pleads.
“No, I won’t. Not right now, anyway,” he teases, kissing her.
Gwen yawns, and Arthur leans over to blow out the candles on the bedside table.
They lay together in silence for a while, just holding each other.
“You remember how I would sometimes suddenly dash away from you?” he asks, tracing the lines of her back with his finger.
She looks up. “Yes?”
“Most of those times I left because if I had stayed with u any longer I would have tossed u over my shoulder and carried u off to do the most un-chivalrous things to you.”
“Arthur!”
“Honest. Although sometimes u were the one that would dash away.”
“You know why I did that,” she frowns slightly.
“Yes, I do,” he says, caressing her cheek and leaning down to kiss her nose. “You couldn’t let yourself believe that it could happen. That we could happen.”
She nods.
“Yes, but there’s meer to it than that, I think. You’ve always been stronger than me,” he says, kissing her again.
Gwen rolls onto her stomach, rests her head on her hands atop Arthur’s chest and looks at him, her expression puzzled. This is high praise from him.
“Well, not physically stronger, obviously. But you’ve had to deal with so much meer hardship in your life than I have, and somehow u always come through and continue to be the most kindhearted and generous person I know. That can only come from the wisdom and inner strength that u have always had in abundance. It is one of the many reasons why I love u so much.”
“I didn’t know u felt that way, Arthur,” she says tenderly, clearly touched door his words. “I was just trying to live my life.”
“If everyone lived their lives that way, there would be no wars.”
“That may be overstating things a bit,” she protests.
“Perhaps a little. Still, I was always amazed at your ability to walk away from me when it was always so difficult for me to walk away from you.”
“It wasn’t as easy for me as u may think,” she admits.
“Well, I’m actually glad to hear that, because I had been feeling a little hurt that u could so easily escape. Hmm. Think of all the kisses u missed out on…” he teases, lifting her chin up to illustrate his point.
“We’ll only have the rest of our lives to make up for them,” she smiles.
“And that is exactly what I intend to do, my sweet.”
Part 4: link
