Hang on to your knickers, girls. I need to get me one of those "Parental Advisory" stickers.

Part 12: link


    “She was kidding, right?” he asks once he is able to speak again.
    “Not entirely sure, to be honest. If she’s intending to drink…” she leaves it hanging.
    “Your door does have a lock, doesn’t it?”
    She kisses him. “Yes.”
    “Good.” He kisses her, then grabs her hand and pulls her up from the couch. He looks down at her and says, “I’d carry u off again, but I am at a disadvantage here.”
    “What’s that?”
    “I don’t know which room is yours.”
    She takes his hand and pulls him down the hall to her room. She closes the door and locks it as loudly and deliberately as she can manage, making Arthur laugh. He looks around her room. It is very cozy and comfortable. No frills of girlish nonsense, apart from a lone stuffed beer sitting on the lavender sprei, coverlet on the bed. It is wearing a rugby jersey. Arthur walks to it and picks it up. He raises an eyebrow at her.
    “It’s from my brother,” she explains. “I don’t see him much, so he gave me the beer to remember him by.”
    Arthur sets it on the nightstand. He regards the beer for a moment. Then he reaches back down to it and turns it so it is facing the corner. Gwen laughs, finding this little bit of foolishness sweet.
    “He hasn’t got a hidden camera inside,” she teases him, walking towards him. He laughs, but leaves the beer facing the uithangbord nevertheless.
    As soon as she is within reach, he pulls her towards him, hands roving again on her bare back. He is looking down at her, eyes smoldering. She can feel the heat in his gaze. God, the way he looks at me… Will we always want each other with such intensity?
    He turns them around, gently pushing her toward the bed. He eases them down on top, boven of it, kissing her as he does so. Her hands go up to his neck, holding gently, stroking the sensitive flesh at his nape, threading her hands up through his hair. She drops one to his waist and deftly unbuttons his fly with one hand. He reaches for her top, pulling himself from her to ease it over her head. She pulls his overhemd, shirt off of him and while he drops his shorts and underwear, she quickly whisks back the bed covers before he comes back to her, pressing her against the pillows.
    He slides his hands down her torso, reaching her shorts, which are still on. “No fair,” he mutters, opening them and sliding them down her legs, wanting to see what she has on under them today. No riem, thong this time, but he is equally aroused door the hipster boyleg panties she has on, and he admires them for a seconde before placing a kiss just below her navel and sliding them off as well.
    “No riem, thong today,” Gwen says, almost apologetic.
    “I like these, too,” he grins down at her, the kledingstuk hanging from his finger for a moment before he flings them to the floor. He leans down and kisses her stomach again, briefly dipping his tongue into her belly button.
    “You’re very interested in my knickers, aren’t you?” she laughs.
    “A bit,” he admits, “but I’m mostly interested in their contents.” She laughs some more, but it abruptly turns to a gasp when Arthur dips his head further down, burying his face between her legs, tongue probing and sliding around her most intimate parts in a way that causes her breath to come in rasps as her head presses deeper into the pillow, her back arching.
    He reaches up with one hand to caress a breast, thumb rubbing across her nipple, fingers squeezing and stroking. His other hand joins his tongue, sliding a finger into her as his tongue continues its sweet torment. The combination of sensations makes her cry out, and her legs reflexively squeeze Arthur’s head between them, causing him to squeak a bit in the back of his throat.
    “Oh,” she breathes, and relaxes her thighs. He chuckles, kissing her once more. He emerges and plants a few kisses on her inner thighs before sliding himself up over her, running his chest along hers, his light chest hair tickling her sensitive skin. She squirms beneath him, eyes closed, smiling.
    She opens her eyes and lifts her head to his muscular neck, bestowing open-mouthed kisses on the flesh there, tasting the salt on his skin with her tongue. Her lips burn into his flesh, and he drops down a bit to make it easier for her to reach him. She reaches down for him with one hand, holding him gently for a moment before starting to verplaats her hand, stroking him, bringing forth a groan from him. Then, much to his surprise, she guides him to her, stroking herself with him, giving them both pleasure as she bites his neck gently.
    “Still naughty…” he repeats again, smiling and breathless. He pushes vooruit, voorwaarts slightly, entering her with just the tip of his shaft. She gasps, raking her nails down his back lightly, conveying her approval. He pulls back and repeats the tiny intrusion again as she gropes for the now-familiar plastic and foil packets in the nightstand drawer. He slips back out and slides his erection along her one meer time before rolling them over, pulling her on top, boven of him. He grabs her sides and pulls her upward so her breasts are over his face. He latches on to one of them with his mouth, the other with a hand as she straddles his stomach, head back.
    “Arthur…” she gasps, and the sound of her throaty voice breathing his name that way pushes him to the limit. He needs to be as close to her as is humanly possible. Now.
    He lets her go and she rolls to the side, opening the packet, actually fumbling with it a little bit because his hand has found his way back between her legs, distracting her. She manages to keep her eyes locked on his the entire time she gets him prepared. He rolls her on to her other side, facing away from him and spoons up behind her. His skin is hot against her back.
    “What— ohhh…” she says when he gently takes her top, boven leg and raises it up so that he can enter her from behind. She instinctively bends her knee and wraps her foot back around his legs. He rocks into her a few times, planting kisses on her neck, one hand under her head, resting lightly on her shoulder. His other hand is caressing her breast as he thrusts, then it seems to get a better idea because it moves down her stomach to stroke her from the front while he drives from behind.
    She cries out when he does this, turning her head to the side. Her chin brushes against his fingertips, and she reaches down with her mouth and takes a finger, sucking at it, gently biting the tip. The simple action makes him pomp harder, meer ardently, and she can feel the brand growing in her belly again as he whispers her full name in her ear. She reaches back and grabs his rear in her hand, squeezing, feeling, pushing. Her climax hits her like a volcano, hot and liquid, and he comes as well, his hand leaving her and gripping her midsection tightly while his shout joins her frenzied gasps.
    He holds her like this, tightly joined, for several minutes. He buries his face in her hair at the back of her neck, relishing her scent and the feel of her hair against his face. She runs her hand along his arm that is around her, resting it there. After their breathing returns to normal, he simply says, “Wow,” and slides out of her.

    Once some basic matters are attended, they return to Gwen’s bed and snuggle together under the covers, facing each other again. Gwen has pulled her hair back into a braid so it doesn’t get in the way and turn into a tangled mess. Mmm, neck, Arthur thinks and starts planting sweet kisses along the exposed flesh to which he now has easy access.
    “Arthur…” she warns.
    “Yes?” he says, looking down at her, making his eyes wide and innocent.
    “You are incorrigible.”
    “Yes,” he agrees, but settles down. He is young and virile, but he is also sleepy. Maybe later.
    “Eight,” she says, smiling.
    “Eight what?”
    “Kisses on my neck just now.”
    Arthur bursts forth with a loud guffaw. He had forgotten about her counting. Good Lord, what else has she counted? he suddenly wonders. I best not ask. He gives her a squeeze.
    They hold each other, hands absentmindedly caressing here and there. They do not talk, but neither do they feel awkward in their silence. They are just enjoying being together.
    “Arthur?” Gwen says after a bit. Something is on her mind.
    “Yes, love?”
    “Are we crazy?”
    “Yes, I think we are.”
    “I’m serious.”
    “So am I.”
    “Arthur…”
    “I know. But can u think of a better explanation? Something logical that would explain why we have both completely taken leave of our usual behaviors and, let’s face it, morals? Something that would explain why I feel meer comfortable with u than anyone I’ve ever known, including Merlin, who I’ve known since I was twelve? Something that would explain why I never realized that I wasn’t a complete person until I met you?” He is gazing intently at her, his eyes shining in the dark of her room.
    His words bring tears to her eyes and her hart-, hart seems to swell, as if it wants to burst out of her chest and slikken him whole. “No,” she says, “I can’t. But if we are crazy, it’s the best kind of crazy, the kind that everyone should be so lucky to experience. I love you. I’ve known it since u smiled at me when we were dancing Friday night. I stopped breathing. And when I started again, it was like…” she trails off, not sure if she should say what she is thinking.
    “Like my body didn’t need oxygen any more. All it needs is you,” Arthur says, finishing her thought, and she looks up at him suddenly, realizing that he can read her mind as much as she can his.
    “Yes.”
    “That’s how I felt the instant I looked into your eyes after asking to buy u a drink.”
    “We are screwed,” she laughs into his chest, kissing it. He laughs with her, and reaches between them to take her hand and hold it to his heart.
    “Yeah,” he agrees, and kisses her. “I love you, too, Guinevere.”
    They drift off to sleep.

Part 14: link