An: Be wary! I am a new member to the fandom, and I haven't written in a while but I have heavily allied myself to the ArMor ship and must contribute! (as always, I chose the most depressing)

Enjoy!

The soft warmth from the crackling fireplace clashed with the gentle draft from the cracked window, enveloping her room in a warmth that sent chills up her spine. The curtains surrounding her form upon her bed ruffled as the wind's loving touch felt the quality fabrics upon her fingertips, and released a sigh that Morgana felt deep in her chest. Her eyes remained closed but her hands roamed, touching the soft silk beneath her that felt like the ocean's waves parting around her sensitive skin. A bright smile broke out on her lips as she moved onto her side, releasing a small moan as pleasant soreness and bliss mixed deep within her belly. The candles placed around her room were dimming, and the weakening tango of the firelight danced against the colorful silks that secluded her from the rest of her room. With their dance twirled the scent of roses soaked in steaming water that has long since cooled, along with the smell of something much more invigorating...much more primal.

In the silence around her she laughed, and her fingertips grazed against her hip, bare like the rest of her. Though her skin was soft, while his was rough and calloused, the simple contact sent fire through her veins and made her emerald eyes close. Her teeth dug into her lip and she fell onto her back, writhing solely under her memories and the anticipation that was pressing against her stomach. It was late, but it wasn't so early that he was gone for the night. He would return, and though she swam in and out of the thin veil of consciousness, she knew that he would call on her again. His lips would be on her neck, his hands bruising her skin and his teeth marking her in ways no one else had. They were consorting in the throes of sin, but they both agreed that the temptation was too sweet not to taste.

As she anticipated, the door to her suite opened and gentle footsteps followed. Against the firelight his shadow was cast against her curtains and she noticed the two goblets he settled on the vanity before he crept closer and reached for the flimsy fabric separating them. His war-torn skin and breath-taking smile appeared where his shadow once was, and his sapphire eyes sparkled with light that could only be harnessed by the celestial objects hanging above their heads. "Morgana," his voice was so sweet on his lips, so soft and caring. "You're awake."

"Barely," she commented with a smile, pushing herself up but refusing to cover herself. "I must say dear Arthur, I am exhausted, but I seem unable to sleep unless you are close."

His smile grew, and he laughed as he pulled himself onto her bed and over her body; his own form covered only by the garments that he wore beneath his breeches. He was quick to bring his face to hers and his hand gently cupped her cheek before they met in a tender kiss. He smiled as their lips parted and wasted no time in dragging his kiss to her cheek and jaw before passionately latching on the pulse in her neck, sucking roughly and pulling a pleasured gasp from the Ward. Arthur sighed as he pulled away and his breath fell upon the shell of her ear, a gentle chuckle coloring his words before he spoke them. "Don't worry, Mori. I won't tell anyone of your weakness."

"I would appreciate that," she laughed, pushing on his shoulder and smiling when he pulled away enough for her to softly trail her fingertips across his cheek. "Uther would be furious if he found out..."

"What does he know," Arthur asked, smiling and lacing their fingers together so he could place soft kisses against her wrist. "He may know how to rule a kingdom, but he has long forgotten the fire of passion. Let the old King rile and rave, he will faze me little."

"Be wary, Arthur Pendragon," Morgana whispered, her lips forming into a smile of mischief. "Words like that might win you the crown of Albion."

"I'm only deserving of said crown if I have you standing by my side," he answered, noticing the gentle flush arise on her porcelain cheeks. "You keep me steady Morgana. You keep me guessing and you keep me grounded. You're constantly trying me, pushing me, pulling me up this rocky slope by the nape of my neck and while you infuriate me...you make me a better man. I am nothing without you."

The young Ward's face softened, and she moved her fingers from his grasp to cup the side of his neck. Tenderly, she pushed up on her elbows and kissed him; distracting him long enough for her body to push against his and cast him on his back. She straddled him and rose above him like a fabled deity that shimmered beneath her passion and power. Her eyes sparkled with an addictive darkness, her hair as dark as night fell in waves around her bare shoulders that shone with the light of the moon, and the smile on her lips assured Arthur that he was defeated.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, young Pendragon," she swore, running her hands down his toned and torn chest. "You should know that by now."

"I would like to disagree," he chuckled, sliding his hand up the curve of her waist before he ghosted his fingers over her stomach where he knew she was ticklish. "It seems flattery has gotten me right where I want to be."

"You wish to be beneath a woman?" Morgana tested, quirking an eyebrow in question. "How unlike you to be so...submissive."

"We both know I could have you beneath me and melting through my fingers in seconds," Arthur argued, sliding his knuckle down the line that graced the center of her stomach and smiling at the shiver that shook her body. Her eyes steeled, but before she could attempt a trick of her own Arthur had her on her back with her hands above her head and her wrists wrapped with a strip of fabric that once held the curtains of her bed back.

She laughed and tugged at her wrists only to find that he slipped the fabric through the small holes cut out of her headboard, leaving her hands worthless. "So quick to chain me are you?" she asked, laughing as he pressed a tender kiss against her neck. "What's next? Torture?"

"The sweetest kind, my Queen," he promised, trailing his kiss through the valley of her breasts and down her toned, quivering stomach. She gasped softly when his lips fell just below her navel and she squirmed beneath him, nervousness rising in her chest.

"What are you doing?" she asked breathlessly, trying to close the legs he kept open with his broad chest and pull her wrists out of their confines.

"Trust me," Arthur whispered, rubbing slow, soothing circles against her hips. "Just relax and close your eyes."

Morgana sighed and rested her head on her pillows, her fists clenching as apprehension spread with the darkness as she closed her eyes. She was tense, but her muscles began to relax as his thumbs continued to massage small circles against the dip in her hips. He tested her by pressing his lips against her inner thigh; her skin warm and salty from the sweat that had once lingered there from their wild coupling hours before. They were always so rabid with each other, tearing at skin and clothes and marking each other in pleasingly painful ways. They never emerged from each other's chambers without bruises, bites, or scratches, nor have they ever emerged drained and weak solely from testing their patience.

"She deserves gentility," he thought silently, slowly drawing his kisses up her thigh. "She deserves that and so much more."

So he slid his hands up until he was grasping her waist and he leaned forward to gently stroke his tongue along her center for the first time, tasting her and tightening his hold around her sides as her back arched away from the mattress and a gentle whimper passed by her lips. She squirmed against his grasp and breathed out slowly, unsure of how to react to the wet, warm pleasure that was slowly burning her from the inside out. She pulled at her confines and moved her hips against his kiss, attempting to draw herself closer to him even though he continuously pulled himself away.

"Arthur," her voice was so weak, begging, pleading for him to spread the fire in her loins faster, but instead of touching her and allowing himself to get carried away, he simply let his hot breath roll against her moistened core before he placed a gentle kiss against the small bundle of nerves that ached to be touched.

"Patience, Morgana," he soothed, slowly trailing his tongue along her slit. "Pleasure doesn't always have to come so quickly. It is much sweeter when it is savored."

She groaned and fought against the hold he had on her, panting softly and trying once more to touch him. "You just want me to beg," she accused, smiling when he met her eyes and he placed a gentle kiss against her milky thigh.

"It's an added benefit," he nodded before he slid his hand over her stomach and pushed up enough to kiss just below her navel once again. "Allow me to take care of you, m'lady."

And before she could protest, even though she had no intentions to, he was between her legs again; coaxing moans and physical waves of rapture from her body. Her headboard threatened to snap from her hands reaching for her lover, and her bed as a whole creaked beneath her writhing form. The fire in her groin began to spread, gently caressing her muscles until her toes curled and her knuckles turned white. She was tender, and sore but he worshipped her and introduced a quickly growing fire that she had never experienced before. Instead of completing her in delicious ways, he was solely focusing on her; manipulating her body to feel true, burning pleasure on her own...and it was driving her crazy.

No matter how much she cried and pleaded for him to fuck her, he remained agonizingly patient. The spread of the fire within her veins refused to quicken, and simply crept through her blood like a poison that wanted her to suffer for hours before her demise. Sweat broke out across her skin and she gasped for air, always stuck between a breath and a moan. Her entire body pulsed and she writhed even more as she felt herself being pulled up to the peak of her pleasure to balance on the edge between insanity and oblivion.

She cried out his name as she felt that final push and behind her closed eyes her usually emerald irises flashed yellow. The once dim candlelight roared to life around them and the heat from her body only seemed to intensify the heat in the entire room. She ripped at the fabric around her wrist and finally broke away from his hands, arching up and away from his mouth as her entire body shook and all the breath in her lungs escaped on the constant screaming of his name. All her heat and warmth surged to her core, and as her body settled, she felt moisture as hot as fire mix with the sweat that lingered between her thighs.

Arthur smiled, his fingers gently touching her calf when she relaxed and gasped for the air that had been lost from her lungs. He moved up her body and pushed away the hair matted to her skin before he settled his lips against her forehead and unwrapped her wrists. She groaned as she brought her arms down - her muscles sore from her constant pulling and thrashing - before she wrapped them around his torso and buried her face in his shoulder. He fell back against her bed and circled his arms around her pliant body, running his fingers through the wavy strands of ebony that tickled at her lower back.

"Sleep now," he whispered, kissing her temple and pulling her away from him just enough to rest her head on one of her many pillows. "You've barely slept all night and it is close to dawn."

"I have not offered complaint," she murmured, her eyes closing as his fingers ran up and down her back. "Will you stay?"

"As long as I can," Arthur promised, smiling at the angel that cuddled close to him in her most vulnerable state.

"Awaken me before you leave."

"Morgana, you need your rest."

"That wasn't a request, Arthur," she argued, smiling sleepily as her hand settled on his side and his fingers ran into her hair.

"As you wish, my Queen," the young Prince of Camelot whispered against her ear, before he settled his head beside hers, and fell asleep with the most beautiful woman in Albion tucked away in his arms.