Part 68: link


    “Mmmm,” Guinevere purrs contentedly, resting her head on Arthur’s chest. She curls into his side, throwing a leg over his.
    “I didn’t get to finish my lunch,” Arthur says, earning him a pinch. “Ow!”
    “Hey, Du were the one that left the table,” she shrugs.
    He slides his hand along her body, from her hip to her shoulder and back down again to rest on her hip, where he gives her a squeeze. “Well it was still your fault. And abendessen isn’t until seven,” he pouts.
    “So have a snack. oder go out and piece together what’s left of your burger. Wait, dinner’s at seven? Do we have reservations?” She sits up and looks at him.
    “Yes, at the restaurant downstairs.” He pulls her back down to his shoulder.
    She grabs the tangle of blankets around their feet and straightens them, pulling them up over their bodies. “I didn’t bring anything…” she starts.
    “I brought something for you,” he interrupts.
    She looks up at him, wary. “What? Not the red dress; I’ll freeze.”
    “No, it’s a purple one I found in your closet. It has long sleeves. You’ll have to wear your shoes from the wedding again, though.”
    “You do realize that those are not broken in at all and aren’t the most comfortable things in the world, don’t you?”
    “Actually, no, I didn’t. Why did Du buy them if they were so uncomfortable?”
    Gwen rolls her eyes. Men. “Well, they’re really cute. And they weren’t uncomfortable when I tried them on. But on longer wearing, they get pinchy.”
    “Oh, well, that makes it totally justified, then,” he teases. She smacks his chest lightly, and he grabs her hand and kisses it.
    Arthur squeezes her again, closing his eyes and sighing. Content.
    “Can we stay here, like this, forever?” he asks quietly.
    “Fine with me,” she says, nuzzling his chest with her nose. She adjusts her position, sliding her leg over his legs. His leg hair tickles her.
    Just then there is a bright flash of lightning, followed Von a loud crack of thunder. Gwen jumps in surprise, and laughs at herself.
    “I hadn’t noticed how dark it’s gotten,” Arthur observes, noting the clouds outside are very thick and dark. The rain is hammering against the windows. “If it keeps up, it’ll be fun to watch during dinner. The restaurant is in the atrium downstairs. The ceiling is all glass.”
    “Mmm-hmm,” she vaguely says, wrapping her arm around his chest, getting quite cozy.
    “Are Du falling asleep?” he asks, smiling down at her.
    “Little bit,” she mutters, and he kisses the oben, nach oben of her head.
    He closes his own eyes, relishing her warm little body pressed up against his. His hand stills on her hip.
    “Love Du so much,” she whispers against his chest.

    Guinevere studies her reflection in the mirror. Her hair is unkempt and slightly tangled. She has no makeup on, but that doesn’t really trouble her, as she doesn’t always wear it. I wish he’d told me about dinner. Now I have to improvise. She angles her head to one side, raking her fingers through her curls, freeing the tangles. Up it is, she decides with a sigh.
    “Where’d Du go?” a sleepy voice drifts into the bathroom.
    “I’m in here, trying to make some sense out of my hair,” she calls back.
    “What’s wrong with your hair?”
    “Have Du seen it?”
    Arthur appears in the bathroom doorway, leaning against the frame. Naked.
    “It’s not that bad.”
    “You have no objectivity,” she says, rummaging through her bag for something to secure her hair with. She finds an elastic hair band, which she frowns at, but sets on the counter nevertheless.
    “What about the thirty-four hairpins we extracted last night?” Arthur suggests.
    She looks up. “That could help. I really don’t want to have to deal with all of them, but…” She turns her head and looks at Arthur. “You’re not going to abendessen like that, I hope.”
    He pretends to ponder the possibility, then laughs. “Probably get me kicked out. And blacklisted. And then Father would kill me; he loves this place.” Arthur wanders off to find some clothes.
    Gwen settles on a simple braid, smoothing her hair back and braiding it elegantly down her back, secured with the elastic she found.
    “Aaah…” Arthur groans from the bedroom.
    “What’s wrong?” she asks, walking out to find Arthur rubbing his left shoulder, his face scowling.
    “Stupid shoulder. I must have overdone it oder something. I was putting my hemd, shirt on and I think I pulled a muscle.”
    “Overdone it how?” she walks vorwärts-, nach vorn and kneads the muscles there for him, pushing him down on the bett so she can reach better.
    “I’m not sure. Maybe between last night on the floor, this morning in the shower, dancing, and then picking Du up and tossing Du over my shoulder this afternoon I stressed it. I’ve, um, dislocated this one Mehr than once,” he admits sheepishly.
    “Is that so?” she asks, surprisingly calm.
    “Yeah.”
    She doesn’t press the issue, much to his surprise, just rubs the tight muscle a Minute Mehr and bends to KISS his neck a few times before getting up and going back to the bathroom. She returns with some pills and a glass of water for him.
    “Thank you,” he says, taking them. She kisses him again and reaches for the dress, which she takes back to the bathroom with her.

    “You look beautiful,” Arthur tells her in the lift as they ride down to the restaurant. He stands close to her, his hand possessively on the small of her back, despite the fact that they are alone.
    “Thank you,” she says, reaching over and straightening his tie. He is wearing his grey trousers and a white shirt, a red patterned tie, and the mantel from the wedding. “At least you’re getting another use out of this,” she says, fingering the lapel of his coat.
    “That’s what I figured. I bought this, Du know,” he says, his hand sliding up her back a little, then back down.
    She looks at him. “You bought the suit? Why?”
    “Well, one never knows when one might need such a thing. Plus, I figured since Du had to buy your dress, it was only fair. Well, and I just wanted to,” he admits finally.
    That’s rather sweet, she thinks. “Actually, my father bought the dress,” she says, smiling.
    “Details,” he says, waving his free hand dismissively. The other is busy exploring, running down her backside, first idly, then pointedly. He gropes around, and she starts to giggle.
    “Guinevere,” he says quietly, just as the elevator slows, “have Du got no knickers on?”
    The elevator dings. As the doors slide open, Gwen shrugs and says, “I told Du I didn’t have enough clothing,” just before she steps out of the lift and away from his grasp.
    Arthur groans, looking up, and the doors almost close again before he remembers to step out.
    “This is gorgeous,” Gwen says, looking up at the ceiling, seeing the dark sky beyond the pointed glass peaks of the roof. As if on cue, a bolt of lightning zings horizontally across the sky, followed Von a rumble of thunder. She smiles and looks at Arthur. He takes her hand, placing it on his arm, and they walk to the maitre d’ stand.
    They are seated at a cozy tabelle where they have an excellent vantage of the light Zeigen nature is putting on outside. Each time the lightning flashes, they look up and smile, both reminded of their weekend.
    Drinks are ordered, and they sit adjacent to each other. Arthur takes her hand in his, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb.
    “How’s your shoulder?” she asks.
    “I’ll live,” he shrugs.
    “When do Du go back to work?”
    “Well, the shift starts tomorrow at noon, but I won’t be going until Tuesday. Same as you.” He reaches up and tucks a stray curl behind her ear.
    She sighs. “I’ve had too much time off.”
    “I know, right? I don’t really want to go back.”
    Their drinks arrive and they place their orders. Guinevere orders the free-range chicken, Arthur chooses sea bass.
    “Not steak?” she asks, surprised.
    “Man can not live on steak alone, Du know,” he grins at her, then reaches for his glass. Unbidden, his brain drifts back to the discovery he made in the lift and he feels a slight twinge in his trousers.
    “Did Du order a new nameplate for your office?” he asks.
    He’s got that possessive look in his eye again, she thinks. “Yes, it should actually be installed Von the time I return, actually. I’m sure Autumn will see to it.”
    “Oh! Did I tell Du about Dr. Gaius?” he suddenly remembers.
    “What about him?” she furrows her brows.
    “You are not going to believe this,” he says, and starts to tell her as their Essen arrives.

    “That is too weird,” Gwen says, shaking her head in disbelief as she stabs a final of chicken with her fork.
    “We should know better than to be surprised Von any strange ‘coincidences’ concerning our lives, Du know,” he chuckles. “Clearly there are other forces at work,” he adds, trying to sound spooky. Nature obliges once again Von shooting off another bolt of lightning above, though the storm is dying down. Gwen laughs, loudly, and other diners turn and look.
    “True,” she admits, then adds, “And Hey – maybe Du can find out some Mehr details about your mum this way. See what the good doctor remembers.”
    “There’s a thought. Get a different perspective, anyway.” He sets his fork down and leans back, stretching his shoulder.
    “Can I interest Du in any Dessert tonight?” the waiter has snuck up on them.
    “Would Du like to share something, Love?” Arthur asks.
    “Hmm. Yes. Yes, I think so.”
    The waiter presents a Dessert menu, which Arthur hands back immediately. “Sticky toffee pudding,” he declares.
    “Very good,” the waiter gives a nod and sidles away.
    “Okay, so clearly Du know something about their desserts,” she chuckles.
    “Just wait for it,” he leans over and kisses her.

    “Take your hemd, shirt of and lie down on the bed,” Gwen orders once they are back in their suite. She had shed her shoes in the lift on the way up, and drops them back in the kleidungsstück bag.
    “Ooo, I like the sound of that,” Arthur says, dropping his mantel over the back of a chair. He quickly kicks out of his shoes and starts yanking his tie off as he walks to the bedroom. The twitch in his trousers reminds his brain once again about what Gwen isn’t wearing beneath her dress. Guinevere follows, laughing at him.
    She goes visits the bathroom for a few minutes, and returns to the bedroom in the large white robe, carrying a bottle of lotion. Arthur is waiting obediently for her on the bed, having gone beyond what is requested Von way of clothing removal.
    “On your stomach, genius. I’m going to work on your shoulder. And if Du behave, a few other things,” she grins at him and he quickly flips himself over.
    She joins him on the bed, and climbs atop him, straddling his lower back, taking care to keep her robe, gewand beneath her, for now.
    She squirts some of the lotion onto her hand, rubs it against the other for a moment and leans forward, sliding her hands on his shoulder, gently at first.
    “Mmm,” Arthur sighs as he feels her small strong hands kneading his muscles. She starts to push harder, working the sore area of his left shoulder. Her fingers find the knot and she slides them slowly across it, pressing it, trying to work it free.
    “Ahhhh…” he complains.
    “Sorry,” she says, and backs off a bit.
    “No, keep at it; that was the spot.”
    “You asked for it,” she smiles and resumes her battle with the knot.
    After a few minutes, she can feel it has loosened a bit, and decides to let it be for now. Smirking, she takes some Mehr lotion on her hands and starts to attend the rest of his back, running her fingers down along his spine on either side, then back up further apart. She feels the contours of his muscled back, his flat shoulder blades, up to his broad shoulders, in towards his neck. He groans contentedly as he feels her thumbs press the back of his neck and slide up to the base of his skull. As her thumbs work their way back down his neck and out to his shoulders, she leans vorwärts-, nach vorn and takes his ear between her teeth, lightly.
    Gwen distracts him with her lips and tongue at his ear while she unties the gürtel of her dressing gown, opening it. His eyes are still closed, but his hands at his sides start to grasp for her. He finds a knee, then slides his hand up her thigh as best he can. She still has him pinned down.
    She sits back, her hands still on his back, running down its length before leaving him for just a Minute to slip out of her robe. She lifts herself up just for a moment to pull it out from under her before tossing it to the floor.
    “Oh…” Arthur moans as he feels her body return to straddle his back. He can feel her, moist and hot, on the small of his back, and he tries to reach his hand back to her. He can’t quite reach, so he settles on her thigh, frustrated.
    Guinevere leans down over him again, pressing her breasts into his back, Küssen his neck now. Her tongue tickles the skin of his neck, making delicious Gänsehaut rise on his skin. He wriggles beneath her, longing to touch her, needing to take their combined weight off of the erect member beneath him.
    She retreats slightly, dragging her breasts along his back as she grinds herself against him. He can feel the slick wetness as she slides herself on his lower back; he can hear her sigh.
    “Guinevere…” he pleads, opening an eye.
    “Arthur?” she leans vorwärts-, nach vorn and asks softly.
    “You are torturing me,” he croaks, squirming.
    “Am I?” Her tongue snakes out and flicks into his ear.
    “Yes,” he declares, and makes the decision. He rolls over suddenly, catching her off guard, but she is quick enough to adjust and manages to stay straddling him, only now she is on his stomach. “There.”
    She smiles down at him, caressing his cheek with one hand while reaching back to grasp him in the other, eliciting another groan from him as she squeezes gently. Gwen bends down and kisses him fully, mouths open immediately, tongues meeting, still slightly sweet with the remnants of their shared dessert.
    “You taste like dessert,” he mutters between kisses, leaning his head up to KISS her neck a bit. She stays low over him, relishing his lips on her skin, his teeth as they nibble. His hand drifts up to grasp a breast, his thumb immediately finding her stiff nipple, playing with it idly, teasing it into a hard nub.
    Gwen pulls away, gently, and swings her leg across, climbing off of him. He makes a disappointed noise in the back of his throat that abruptly turns into a moan of pleasure Von the sensation of her lips on his erection.
    She takes him into her mouth, grasping the base with her hand, swallowing him in as far as she can, then out. She swirls her tongue around the tip before running it along his length, up one side and down the other. Arthur’s breath comes in heavy rasps, his hand gripping her shoulder, flexing, opening and closing as he struggles to maintain control.
    She moves her hand, cupping him beneath as she takes him fully in her mouth again, deep, then pulling back, sucking tightly the whole way. He cries out softly, then gasps, “Oh, God, Du need to stop…”
    Grinning, pleased with herself and her effect on him, climbs back astride him and pulls him up into a seated position. Kneeling, she lowers herself down over him, in his lap.
    Gwen swings her legs around behind him and wraps her arms around his shoulders, hugging him to her as he rocks his hips beneath her. She squeezes her eyes closed in ecstasy as she feels him bury his face in her neck, breathing her in as he moves slowly within her, prolonging the sensation.
    They cling to each other for a few moments. Arthur’s hands are around her back, holding her just as tightly. He moves his hands around to the front, gently easing her back away from him. He rocks his hips again, increasing his tempo as he ducks his head a little to take a breast into his mouth. Gwen arches against him, encouraging his tongue as it laves her nipple, flicking it luxuriantly, making her gasp his name.
    Arthur slips a hand down between them, reaching to pleasure her with his hand as he thrusts into her, bringing her enjoyment higher, Mehr intense. She cries out as his fingers make contact with her and start to move.
    Gwen readjusts her legs, bringing them back so she is kneeling again, allowing her to Bewegen Mehr fully over him.
    “Oh…”
    Arthur kisses his way across to her other breast while Gwen slides herself up and down on him, faster and harder, bringing them to the brink.
    “Yes…”
    His hand can’t stay with her now and he gives up, reaching around to grip her backside, pushing and pulling, intensifying their movements.
    “Arthur…”
    “Guinevere…”
    Their release comes simultaneously, and Arthur bites down on Gwen’s nipple, hard but not too much so, before throwing his head back.
    His growl joins Gwen’s frantic gasps as her fingers dig into his shoulders. He pushes himself into her, deep, holding her tight to him, surrounding her in his embrace.
    Arthur kisses her neck; a series of small delicate pecks on her soft skin, while Gwen’s hands roam through his hair, the silky strands sliding between her fingers.
    Their breathing returns to normal, and he lays back, bringing her with him, on oben, nach oben of him. She stretches her legs out on either side of him, straightening them.
    “You are an amazing woman, do Du know that?” he finally asks.
    “Only because Du make me feel amazing,” she tells him, Küssen his jaw. She rolls to the side, disconnecting them, and snuggles against him.
    “God, I Liebe you. I know I say it all the time, but I can’t help it,” he strokes her shoulder.
    “I don’t get tired of hearing it, trust me.” She traces patterns on his chest with her finger.
    “Neither do I,” he says pointedly, prompting transparently.
    “I Liebe you, my husband.”
    “That’s something else I don’t think I’ll get tired of hearing either, Wife,” he smiles, glancing again at the ring on his finger.

    Just before midnight, there is a knock at the door. Arthur turns his head sharply, saying, “Who the hell’s that?” before easing away from Gwen to snatch up his robe, gewand and stalk to the door, ready to give whoever is disturbing them a piece of his mind.
    “What?” he yanks the door open. It’s the bellman, Edward, with a large flat box in his hands.
    “Sorry, Mr. Pendragon, but this package arrived for you. The courier was adamant that it be brought up immediately,” he apologizes.
    Arthur looks puzzled. No one even knows we’re here, he puzzles, except… Merlin. taking the box. It is somewhat heavy, and he turns and places it on a nearby table.
    “Courier?” he wonders aloud. Then to Edward, he says, “Hold on, let me get Du something for your trouble.” He starts to walk to where he’s left his wallet, but the bellman stops him.
    “No, sir, I disturbed Du and your lovely wife,” he nods at Guinevere, who is standing a distance away, also in her robe, watching with interest. “Have a good night.” He turns to leave, but Arthur stops him.
    “Edward,” he calls after him.
    “Sir?”
    “This ‘courier.’ Was he a tall, thin man, about my age, with black hair and big ears?”
    Edward shakes his head. “No, sir. It was actually an old man. Fairly old, I’d say. White hair, with a squinty eye and glasses. I thought it was a bit odd, someone old like him working as a courier, honestly.”
    Dr. Gaius.
    “Thanks, Ed, have a good night. Er, morning.”
    “Good morning, Mr. Pendragon,” he Antworten and leaves, closing the door behind him.
    “What is it, Arthur?” Gwen asks, walking to where he’s set the box.
    “I don’t know.”
    “Merlin must have told Dr. Gaius where we were.”
    “He better not have. I swore him to secrecy. In fact, I only just gave him a slip of paper with a phone number on it last night with the instructions to tell them we would be arriving soon.”
    “Really?” She hadn’t realized that their wedding night destination was a secret.
    “Yeah. I didn’t want anyone disturbing us.”
    Just then Arthur’s phone beeps, and he wheels on it like it is the devil. Eyes wide, he looks at Gwen. “We both turned our phones off in the car last night. Didn’t we? I know we did.”
    “Yes, I remember the conversation,” she says, laughing nervously, remembering thinking how sweet he was being, wanting to shut out all outside influences so that they could be totally alone.
    Gwen is closest to where their phones had been sent for their little time-out, and she reaches for them. “Mine is still off,” she confirms before picking up Arthur’s. She presses the button to turn it on, finding it is, in fact, already on and has a new text message. Glancing at Arthur, she swipes her finger across the screen and reads the text.
    Open it, Clotpole.
    Gwen sighs, relieved actually, and shows him the message.
    “Damn his eyes,” he mutters, smirking in irritation at his suddenly-mysterious best friend.
    You told he sends back before he gingerly starts to open the box.
    “I don’t think he’s sent us a bomb oder Anthrax oder anything, Arthur, just open it.”
    Arthur lifts the lid, quicker now, and sees a long broadsword sitting atop a piece of red material. He lifts it out, admiring it. It is a beautiful sword, with Gold runes engraved on the blade, the leather-wrapped handle fitting perfectly into his hand.
    “Wow. What is this?” he asks, then quickly adds, “And don’t say ‘It’s a sword,’ because I can clearly see that.” He holds the sword, swishing it experimentally in the air a few times. It feels like it’s a part of my own arm, he thinks, a bit spooked Von the thought.
    She laughs, stepping closer to run her fingers along the blade. “Sharp,” she observes.
    Beep.
    I most certainly did not. I promise. Gwen reads the text to him, he smirks again, skeptical.
    “Merlin has some explaining to do,” she adds, lifting the red cloth from the box. It is heavy, rough and thick. And large. She brings it to the large tabelle in the lounge.
    Arthur picks up his phone. How the hell did Du turn my on phone? He taps into the phone, frustrated.
    Guinevere unfolds it to reveal an exquisite tapestry, mostly red, with a large Gold dragon in the center, near the top. It is old. Very old. Ancient, in fact.
    She studies the tapestry. Beneath the dragon is a large, ornate tree, with names Von the branches. Uther. Ygraine. Arthur. Guinevere. Other names. Morgana. Morgause. Gorlois. Agravaine. Its branches spread wide, with names everywhere, some clearly having been added as the years wore on, their threads newer and Farben Mehr vibrant. Some of the newest-looking names even appear to have been stitched Von a different hand.
    Her gaze drifts lower still, pulling the tapestry further up the table. At the very bottom is the image of a round table, and Mehr names. Arthur. Merlin. Leon. Percival. Elyan. Gwaine. Lancelot. Beneath those, Bedivere. Bors. Kay… The Liste goes on.
    A final detail catches her eye, in the lower right corner, in Gold thread. Two letters: G.P.
    “Holy crap,” she says. Arthur laughs a little at her exclamation and looks in her direction to see her head bent over the tapestry with her hand over her mouth, eyes wide. He sets the sword down in the box and walks over. He puts his arm around her.
    Beep.
    Wizard. Arthur rolls his eyes, but something in his gut tells him that Merlin isn’t joking this time.
    “Um, yeah,” he agrees. “Merlin has some explaining to do, indeed.”
    She touches the dragon gently, feeling the texture of the stitching beneath her fingertips. It does feel eerily familiar…
    Beep. A different number, one he doesn’t recognize. Gaius’, perhaps?
    You’re welcome.
    Arthur has had enough mysteries, and sighs, pulling her into his arms for a hug.
    “We’ll think about this in the morning,” he says, exhausted. He turns his phone off again with a puzzled sigh, and they walk back to the bedroom.
    All the candles in the room are once again lit.

Part 70: link