Sophinisba Solis (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sophinisba) wrote2010-10-01 10:16 pm
sophinisba) wrote2010-10-01 10:16 pm
Entry tags:
Merlin/Morgana fic: Then Willingly, O Willingly
Title: Then Willingly, O Willingly
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Merlin/Morgana
Rating: maybe a mild NC-17
Word count: 2227
Contains: Spoilers for 3x01 and 3x02; Morgana torturing Merlin: bondage, breathplay, consent issues.
Notes: For the "locks/chains" square on my![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kink_bingo card, with thanks to themadlurker for inspiration and encouragement. Title from the poem "To Death" by Caroline Southey.
"Merlin."
He's used to that, to being called out of sleep by name, whether it's Gaius shouting from the next room or, in the old days, the Dragon calling from beneath the castle.
Only this time it's a woman's voice, right here, her breath warm on his cheek as she whispers close to his ear. And he can't jump out of bed to go to see what's wrong, because she's right here on top of him, her weight pressing down on his chest and her knees squeezing tight at his sides.
"Morgana," he breathes. "What are you doing?"
"What do you think?" she says, amused, looking down at his torso and not at his face. That's when Merlin realises it's not just Morgana's body squeezing him. She's got him wrapped in the same constricting chains Morgause used when they captured him in the forest. And once he sees the bright metal links he can also feel them starting to dig through his clothing.
"Help!" he cries out. "Gaius!"
"He can't hear you." She glances toward the door of Merlin's room. "Morgause is outside, making sure you can't get out. Neither can your voice…no matter how loud you shout."
Morgause, of course. Morgana couldn't have done this on her own, not without waking him. But Merlin will be all right. Gaius has already helped him, really. Once the crisis of the siege was over Merlin told him all about his encounter with Morgana and Morgause in the forest. Well, not quite everything, but he'd told him about the chains, and how all the spells he'd tried only seemed to make them pull tighter. It was embarrassing, that, telling how helpless he'd started to feel.
Together they'd gone through his book and found the spell that would release him should it ever happen again. He's practiced. Sometimes he'll take a length of chain from the armoury, burst out of it in a flash of power, then link it back together with a slow, careful magic so he can take it back first thing in the morning. He's added the broken chain to the repertoire of spells he whispers to himself when he's alone at night: how to bend the bars of a prison cell, how to smother the flames of a bonfire.
The words are on the tip of his tongue.
"Please, Morgana," he says instead.
She ignores his plea. "Gaius isn't going to rescue you, and he isn't going to forgive you for what you did. It's funny that you ever thought he could." She smiles at him, runs her fingers lightly over the chain at his chest, rubs the fabric of his shirt. "The man who let so many witches die says it's all right for you to do the same? And you believe him?"
"I only did what I had to."
"No, Merlin," she says, her voice suddenly harsh and her nails sharp through his clothing. "There were plenty of other things you could have done. You could have talked to me. You could have helped me, and instead you poisoned me. And I'm not just talking about the hemlock." She bends close to him and speaks softly in his ear again. "I'm talking about the medicine you used to bring to my rooms every day. Remember that? To help you sleep, my lady. I'm talking about you telling me my nightmares didn't mean anything, making me believe I was mad, and helpless, and alone, when you knew. You knew all along." She sits up, and Merlin feels the movement in his belly. She's crushing him. "Gaius can't forgive you for that," she says, "and I'm not about to."
"I told you I was sorry –"
"For everything I've been through? That's sweet, Merlin. It would be easier to accept if you hadn't been the one to cause it."
Morgana's eyes are intensely green, intent as she looks into his, and he wonders if they're about to catch fire, and what that will look like. He's not used to seeing it in other people.
He breathes quietly, slowly, holding on to each breath. It could very well be his last. He watches her, curious, fascinated, but not afraid. It hurts, all right, and the look in her eyes has always been a little scary. Yes, she's got some magic, but she's never known how to control it. Morgause may have taught her a few tricks, but she won't be any match for him. She's still too wild, too angry for her own good. Merlin's been worse situations that this before. Even their last encounter was more dangerous than this – he's no match for her with a sword, but with magic he'll be fine. She still doesn't know what he is, after all. Fine then, let her think she's the only one with a scrap of power in this fight.
"Why?" he asks. "Why are you doing this? I thought you were going to tell Uther I was the traitor. Have him kill me for you."
"Hmm, I considered that. I told him I broke the enchantment but I'm still working on tracking down the sorcerer. But that's a little complicated – I don't think I'd have any trouble convincing Uther, but then we'd have a public execution, and Gaius trying to intervene, saying I was off my head. I'm not even sure I can trust Arthur not to side with you at this point. And even if it works, what'll he do to you, cut your head off?"
Merlin's practised a spell to get out of that one too, but he's never been entirely sure it will work. All those other sorcerers he's seen executed – they must have known spells for rescuing themselves too. Why didn't they work? It must be different, once they've got you. Maybe it's the iron shackles, or maybe it's just the terror that keeps you from being able to think straight.
"I think that's boring," says Morgana, "and anyway, I think I'd rather save that accusation for Leon. He's been a bit of a pest lately. You're easier for me to deal with in person…more fun, even."
Her eyes don't glow the way he knows his do, just sparkle a little, and so do the chains, digging just a little bit deeper into his ribs. "Morgause did a good job with these last time. They're beautiful, aren't they? She doesn't often make mistakes, but she shouldn't have left you alone to die. We shouldn't have trusted you that much. Tonight I'm going to watch you die."
Merlin shakes his head. It's nearly the only thing he can move, with his whole body bound, from up around his shoulders down to his ankles. But it's his torso, there where she's touching him with her hands spread over his chest, where he feels it most. They're getting tighter, making it harder to draw a breath now than it was when he opened his eyes. He doesn't think it's just from fear.
"Do you know how hemlock kills, Merlin? You should know, you watched it happen."
He hesitates. "It paralyses you."
"Sure, that's how it starts. But what does that mean? You can't move your arms right now, but is that what's killing you?"
"No."
"What is it?"
"Stops – it stops your lungs from moving."
She nods. "Slowly. So each breath is just a little smaller than the last. There's less room in your lungs to take in the air. It feels a little bit like this."
Then he knows it's not just fear, and it's not just the way her thighs are strong at his sides. The magic sparks in her eyes again and jumps to the chains and they pull, and he gasps, and she's never been more beautiful. Then she smiles, and it's even worse.
"Excellent," she said. "Did you enjoy watching this, Merlin? I remember you held me when I started gasping. It was the closest we'd ever been."
"It was – didn't want –"
His words are cut off as the chains pull tighter, and then suddenly he's got room to breathe deep in his belly as Morgana scoots back to sit over his thighs. He breathes deep and desperate for the moment before the chains pull tight and squeeze that air out as well. Merlin's vision is starting to fade to white at the edges, but Morgana's face is still sharp and fine, the centre of his world. She slips a hand into his breaches and deftly takes hold of his prick, her thumb and forefinger squeezing tight at the base. His blood is rushing like it doesn't know where to go, and his head feels funny and foreign, swollen and heavy.
"I never knew you cared so much," Morgana says, her voice as soft as her touch is hard. "Until you were killing me. You looked me in the eye then. I didn't understand, but I do now."
"Please," he tries to say, though he's just moving his lips, no sound coming out.
There are other words he could say, but no, not in front of her. He keeps that secret. He's always kept it secret. That's the only reason –
Morgana keeps one hand around his cock and reaches forward to hold the other at the base of his neck, heavy with her weight and her glare. And Merlin's blood is slow and loud in his ears, his vision pulsing white and dark as he stares up at her.
"Tell me you deserve this, Merlin," she says, leaning so close her lips brush against her when she speaks.
"Yes," he hisses.
"Tell me you want this."
He can't, can't speak, can't move, he reaches out for his magic but it's off beyond the mist and fog. The only magic he can feel is hers, wrapped tight around him like a lover. Like her body right now.
Then Morgana shifts back, takes the hand away from his neck, and for the first time – he can barely believe it – the chain relaxes, gives him enough room to take in a tiny breath. She could have finished him then but she's given him another chance. This is it, now's the time he needs to say the words. Cast her away, save himself.
"I want it," he gasps, "– feels –"
Morgana smiles with genuine, cruel delight. The chain is still, giving him just enough breath to stay conscious, not enough to get his strength or his wits back. "That's right, Merlin, I see now I went too far. I never wanted to hurt you, don't you see? You forced me to do this, for your own good."
She laughs while Merlin concentrates on taking small, controlled breaths. Then she shifts again, lifts her long skirts and slowly, intently, without ever letting her eyes off his, settles over him, guides his hard trapped prick inside her. She grips him in her fingers and her vagina while she squeezes his whole body in her precisely controlled magic. Merlin can't move. He doesn't want to.
"Say we're the same," Morgana commands.
And without loosening the chain even an inch she lets the magic flow into his body, so that even without air he can answer out loud, "Yes, Morgana, we're the same. I've got magic. I knew you were like me, I wanted to tell you and I – but he said not to, and I didn't know what you –"
She cuts off the flow again and he goes quiet, but she moves on his cock and it's painful and perfect, and if he had air he would moan his gratitude.
"I know, Merlin. Tell me you're sorry." She releases the fingers around his cock so she can fuck herself on it more easily and touch herself at the same time.
"So sorry," he says when she lets him. "I want, please, let me make it up to you."
"All right," she says, smiling down at him beneficently, and her eyes glow bright gold and steady. She huffs out a word of magic and the chain pulls tighter than ever, stretches and snakes up around his neck, and Merlin chokes and jerks and comes as the world goes black.
Merlin!
He wakes to the sound of his name, shouted in exasperation. He's late to work and doesn't have time to look for the bruises as he pulls on a clean shirt and heads toward Arthur's rooms. But he can feel the sweet tightness in his chest as he starts to run.
"Your servant looks tired," says Morgana. "Pale. Are you working him too hard?"
Arthur shrugs. Merlin pours the wine and keeps his gaze lowered.
"Are you having trouble sleeping, Merlin? You should try the draught Gaius made for me. I don't need it anymore, I sleep so well since I've been home. You'll come fetch it from my rooms tonight, won't you?"
"Yes, my lady. As you wish."
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Merlin/Morgana
Rating: maybe a mild NC-17
Word count: 2227
Contains: Spoilers for 3x01 and 3x02; Morgana torturing Merlin: bondage, breathplay, consent issues.
Notes: For the "locks/chains" square on my
kink_bingo card, with thanks to themadlurker for inspiration and encouragement. Title from the poem "To Death" by Caroline Southey.
"Merlin."
He's used to that, to being called out of sleep by name, whether it's Gaius shouting from the next room or, in the old days, the Dragon calling from beneath the castle.
Only this time it's a woman's voice, right here, her breath warm on his cheek as she whispers close to his ear. And he can't jump out of bed to go to see what's wrong, because she's right here on top of him, her weight pressing down on his chest and her knees squeezing tight at his sides.
"Morgana," he breathes. "What are you doing?"
"What do you think?" she says, amused, looking down at his torso and not at his face. That's when Merlin realises it's not just Morgana's body squeezing him. She's got him wrapped in the same constricting chains Morgause used when they captured him in the forest. And once he sees the bright metal links he can also feel them starting to dig through his clothing.
"Help!" he cries out. "Gaius!"
"He can't hear you." She glances toward the door of Merlin's room. "Morgause is outside, making sure you can't get out. Neither can your voice…no matter how loud you shout."
Morgause, of course. Morgana couldn't have done this on her own, not without waking him. But Merlin will be all right. Gaius has already helped him, really. Once the crisis of the siege was over Merlin told him all about his encounter with Morgana and Morgause in the forest. Well, not quite everything, but he'd told him about the chains, and how all the spells he'd tried only seemed to make them pull tighter. It was embarrassing, that, telling how helpless he'd started to feel.
Together they'd gone through his book and found the spell that would release him should it ever happen again. He's practiced. Sometimes he'll take a length of chain from the armoury, burst out of it in a flash of power, then link it back together with a slow, careful magic so he can take it back first thing in the morning. He's added the broken chain to the repertoire of spells he whispers to himself when he's alone at night: how to bend the bars of a prison cell, how to smother the flames of a bonfire.
The words are on the tip of his tongue.
"Please, Morgana," he says instead.
She ignores his plea. "Gaius isn't going to rescue you, and he isn't going to forgive you for what you did. It's funny that you ever thought he could." She smiles at him, runs her fingers lightly over the chain at his chest, rubs the fabric of his shirt. "The man who let so many witches die says it's all right for you to do the same? And you believe him?"
"I only did what I had to."
"No, Merlin," she says, her voice suddenly harsh and her nails sharp through his clothing. "There were plenty of other things you could have done. You could have talked to me. You could have helped me, and instead you poisoned me. And I'm not just talking about the hemlock." She bends close to him and speaks softly in his ear again. "I'm talking about the medicine you used to bring to my rooms every day. Remember that? To help you sleep, my lady. I'm talking about you telling me my nightmares didn't mean anything, making me believe I was mad, and helpless, and alone, when you knew. You knew all along." She sits up, and Merlin feels the movement in his belly. She's crushing him. "Gaius can't forgive you for that," she says, "and I'm not about to."
"I told you I was sorry –"
"For everything I've been through? That's sweet, Merlin. It would be easier to accept if you hadn't been the one to cause it."
Morgana's eyes are intensely green, intent as she looks into his, and he wonders if they're about to catch fire, and what that will look like. He's not used to seeing it in other people.
He breathes quietly, slowly, holding on to each breath. It could very well be his last. He watches her, curious, fascinated, but not afraid. It hurts, all right, and the look in her eyes has always been a little scary. Yes, she's got some magic, but she's never known how to control it. Morgause may have taught her a few tricks, but she won't be any match for him. She's still too wild, too angry for her own good. Merlin's been worse situations that this before. Even their last encounter was more dangerous than this – he's no match for her with a sword, but with magic he'll be fine. She still doesn't know what he is, after all. Fine then, let her think she's the only one with a scrap of power in this fight.
"Why?" he asks. "Why are you doing this? I thought you were going to tell Uther I was the traitor. Have him kill me for you."
"Hmm, I considered that. I told him I broke the enchantment but I'm still working on tracking down the sorcerer. But that's a little complicated – I don't think I'd have any trouble convincing Uther, but then we'd have a public execution, and Gaius trying to intervene, saying I was off my head. I'm not even sure I can trust Arthur not to side with you at this point. And even if it works, what'll he do to you, cut your head off?"
Merlin's practised a spell to get out of that one too, but he's never been entirely sure it will work. All those other sorcerers he's seen executed – they must have known spells for rescuing themselves too. Why didn't they work? It must be different, once they've got you. Maybe it's the iron shackles, or maybe it's just the terror that keeps you from being able to think straight.
"I think that's boring," says Morgana, "and anyway, I think I'd rather save that accusation for Leon. He's been a bit of a pest lately. You're easier for me to deal with in person…more fun, even."
Her eyes don't glow the way he knows his do, just sparkle a little, and so do the chains, digging just a little bit deeper into his ribs. "Morgause did a good job with these last time. They're beautiful, aren't they? She doesn't often make mistakes, but she shouldn't have left you alone to die. We shouldn't have trusted you that much. Tonight I'm going to watch you die."
Merlin shakes his head. It's nearly the only thing he can move, with his whole body bound, from up around his shoulders down to his ankles. But it's his torso, there where she's touching him with her hands spread over his chest, where he feels it most. They're getting tighter, making it harder to draw a breath now than it was when he opened his eyes. He doesn't think it's just from fear.
"Do you know how hemlock kills, Merlin? You should know, you watched it happen."
He hesitates. "It paralyses you."
"Sure, that's how it starts. But what does that mean? You can't move your arms right now, but is that what's killing you?"
"No."
"What is it?"
"Stops – it stops your lungs from moving."
She nods. "Slowly. So each breath is just a little smaller than the last. There's less room in your lungs to take in the air. It feels a little bit like this."
Then he knows it's not just fear, and it's not just the way her thighs are strong at his sides. The magic sparks in her eyes again and jumps to the chains and they pull, and he gasps, and she's never been more beautiful. Then she smiles, and it's even worse.
"Excellent," she said. "Did you enjoy watching this, Merlin? I remember you held me when I started gasping. It was the closest we'd ever been."
"It was – didn't want –"
His words are cut off as the chains pull tighter, and then suddenly he's got room to breathe deep in his belly as Morgana scoots back to sit over his thighs. He breathes deep and desperate for the moment before the chains pull tight and squeeze that air out as well. Merlin's vision is starting to fade to white at the edges, but Morgana's face is still sharp and fine, the centre of his world. She slips a hand into his breaches and deftly takes hold of his prick, her thumb and forefinger squeezing tight at the base. His blood is rushing like it doesn't know where to go, and his head feels funny and foreign, swollen and heavy.
"I never knew you cared so much," Morgana says, her voice as soft as her touch is hard. "Until you were killing me. You looked me in the eye then. I didn't understand, but I do now."
"Please," he tries to say, though he's just moving his lips, no sound coming out.
There are other words he could say, but no, not in front of her. He keeps that secret. He's always kept it secret. That's the only reason –
Morgana keeps one hand around his cock and reaches forward to hold the other at the base of his neck, heavy with her weight and her glare. And Merlin's blood is slow and loud in his ears, his vision pulsing white and dark as he stares up at her.
"Tell me you deserve this, Merlin," she says, leaning so close her lips brush against her when she speaks.
"Yes," he hisses.
"Tell me you want this."
He can't, can't speak, can't move, he reaches out for his magic but it's off beyond the mist and fog. The only magic he can feel is hers, wrapped tight around him like a lover. Like her body right now.
Then Morgana shifts back, takes the hand away from his neck, and for the first time – he can barely believe it – the chain relaxes, gives him enough room to take in a tiny breath. She could have finished him then but she's given him another chance. This is it, now's the time he needs to say the words. Cast her away, save himself.
"I want it," he gasps, "– feels –"
Morgana smiles with genuine, cruel delight. The chain is still, giving him just enough breath to stay conscious, not enough to get his strength or his wits back. "That's right, Merlin, I see now I went too far. I never wanted to hurt you, don't you see? You forced me to do this, for your own good."
She laughs while Merlin concentrates on taking small, controlled breaths. Then she shifts again, lifts her long skirts and slowly, intently, without ever letting her eyes off his, settles over him, guides his hard trapped prick inside her. She grips him in her fingers and her vagina while she squeezes his whole body in her precisely controlled magic. Merlin can't move. He doesn't want to.
"Say we're the same," Morgana commands.
And without loosening the chain even an inch she lets the magic flow into his body, so that even without air he can answer out loud, "Yes, Morgana, we're the same. I've got magic. I knew you were like me, I wanted to tell you and I – but he said not to, and I didn't know what you –"
She cuts off the flow again and he goes quiet, but she moves on his cock and it's painful and perfect, and if he had air he would moan his gratitude.
"I know, Merlin. Tell me you're sorry." She releases the fingers around his cock so she can fuck herself on it more easily and touch herself at the same time.
"So sorry," he says when she lets him. "I want, please, let me make it up to you."
"All right," she says, smiling down at him beneficently, and her eyes glow bright gold and steady. She huffs out a word of magic and the chain pulls tighter than ever, stretches and snakes up around his neck, and Merlin chokes and jerks and comes as the world goes black.
Merlin!
He wakes to the sound of his name, shouted in exasperation. He's late to work and doesn't have time to look for the bruises as he pulls on a clean shirt and heads toward Arthur's rooms. But he can feel the sweet tightness in his chest as he starts to run.
"Your servant looks tired," says Morgana. "Pale. Are you working him too hard?"
Arthur shrugs. Merlin pours the wine and keeps his gaze lowered.
"Are you having trouble sleeping, Merlin? You should try the draught Gaius made for me. I don't need it anymore, I sleep so well since I've been home. You'll come fetch it from my rooms tonight, won't you?"
"Yes, my lady. As you wish."
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