Part 11: link

    They sit quietly for a moment, still pondering the strange coincidence about their mothers. I need to hold him. Gwen leans over and puts her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. He kisses her forehead, and notices a scar there, about an inch long, faint but there.
    “Where did Du get this?” he pokes it with his finger.
    “I walked into the küche tabelle when I was three,” she tells him. He laughs, and she protests, “I suppose Du have no scars from something dumb Du accidentally did as a child?”
    Arthur shifts position, and Gwen leaves his shoulder. He puts his foot across her knees, pointing to a long scar on his shin.
    “That’s a nice one,” she tells him, running her finger along the line.
    “Fell out of a baum when I was eight. My leg hit the edge of a large rock when I hit the ground. Eleven stitches. I broke my arm, too,” he grins at her.
    “I bet your dad was furious,” she laughs.
    “Livid,” he is also laughing. He takes his leg off her lap and reaches down to pick up her legs to put them across his.
    “I don’t have any scars on my legs,” she tells him, but somehow she has a feeling that’s not what he has in mind.
    “I know. I’ve looked,” he says, running his hand up the side of her leg, caressing the skin he loves so much, higher, up to her thigh. Good thing I took the ten Minuten when I got Home to hop in the dusche and shave, she can’t help thinking. His touch makes her warm all over, and he leans over to KISS her. I’m a bit helpless in this position, she realizes. Her eyes open wide. I trust him. With my life. I’ve known him a few days and already I trust him Mehr than I ever did Lance. Ha. Lance who? Her eyes drift back closed as she kisses him back hungrily, tongues warm and wet, feeling pushing thought out the door.
    Arthur breaks the kiss, sitting upright again. He has a sly look in his eyes, and he brings his hands down to one foot and starts massaging it. Gwen remembers what he sagte Saturday night about her toes, and watches him, curious about what he is going to do.
    His hands are warm and strong; her feet feel small and slender beneath them. He scoots further down the sofa so she is not sitting so awkwardly, and runs his thumb along her arch, pressing the muscles there. Gwen decides to lean back and enjoy herself, and she closes her eyes. It does feel quite good, she thinks. She is on her feet a lot at the bibliothek and he seems to know what he is doing. He presses his palm along her heel, rubs the balls of her foot with his thumbs. Suddenly she feels something warm and wet slick itself along her arch followed Von a KISS on the side of her big toe. Did he just…? She jumps in surprise at first, then smiles, never realizing how pleasurable such an odd action could feel. She closes her eyes again as a couple of her toes find their way into his mouth, where he gently sucks and nibbles at them while his hands continue to knead the small muscles of her foot. He places a KISS on her instep and then moves on to its mate, repeating his actions. She presses her released foot gently against his groin and he groans softly against the foot now in his hands.
    Having contented himself with her feet, he starts working his way back to her head. He crawls across the couch towards her, Küssen his way up her legs as far as he can go before her shorts get in the way. Stupid shorts, he thinks as he drops a KISS on her stomach, still covered, and places another one between the tops of her breasts, which are not. Her hands dive into his hair as he works his way up her collarbones to her neck, and finally to her waiting lips.
    There is rattling at the door, and it opens. Morgana is back. There is no childish embarrassed jumping apart, however. Arthur merely drops his head onto Gwen’s shoulder in dismay and slowly slides off of her and they both return to a seated position on the couch.
    “Morgana, it’s only nine-thirty!” Gwen says, surprised.
    “Sorry,” she says, “Hello, Arthur.”
    “Hi, Morgana,” he manages half a smile.
    “Date not go well?” Gwen asks.
    “Well, not really. I’m sorry Arthur, I know he’s your mate, but he’s just not… I don’t know… interesting enough for me.”
    “That’s too bad,” Gwen says.
    “I don’t think he was too keen on me, either, frankly,” Morgana admits, frowning slightly.
    “Why do Du think that?” Arthur asks.
    “Because I’m Home at nine-bloody-thirty!” she sighs, and Arthur laughs.
    “I’m sorry things didn’t go better,” he says. She would have eaten him alive, he thinks.
    “Merlin is very sweet, polite, intelligent, cute… But there was just no spark. Du know?” Morgana plops down on a chair.
    Gwen looks at Arthur and answers, “Yes, I know.” They both feel their own spark as they look at each other.
    Morgana stands up again. “I’m going out to the club,” she announces.
    “Alone?” Gwen asks. No, no, no… Arthur thinks, I am not going anywhere and neither are you.
    “No, I’ll call Elizabeth. She’s always up for it. We’ll take a cab, I promise.” Arthur breathes again as Morgana strides back to her room to change and make a call.
    “I wasn’t going to suggest we accompany her,” Gwen tells him once Morgana is gone.
    “I wasn’t worried,” Arthur lies.
    “Liar,” she says, shoving his shoulder with a grin.
    “Then what were Du thinking?”
    “We’d just go to your place.”
    “Ah.”
    Morgana comes back out, chatting on the phone. She’s put on flat sandals, and pulled her hair back, but has left the green dress on.
    “Okay, I’ll see Du in fifteen minutes. ‘Bye.” She hangs up the phone. “I won’t interrupt Du two any more. And Gwen, don’t forget to lock your bedroom door when Du go back there oder Du might find yourself with a third once I come home,” she teases, mostly for shock value. Arthur made the mistake of taking a drink while she was talking and was now coughing, Gwen pounding his back. Morgana floats out the door, laughing.

Part 13: link