Fic: Things You Shouldn't Do With Your Best Friend's Older Sister (Pt 3 of 3)

[gnimaerd]

Title: Things You Shouldn't Do With Your Best Friend's Older Sister
Pairing: Merlin/Morgana
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Awkward, sweaty smut.
Summary: Modern-day AU - Merlin certainly doesn't mean to lose his virginity to his best friend's older sister. It just kind of... happens.

A/N: The final part! Woohoo!

Part One here.
Part two here.

Things You Shouldn't Do With Your Best Friend's Older Sister:

New year approaches. Of course there’s going to be a party on the Pendragon estate and both Arthur and Morgana invite him.

 

“I want someone there I’d actually like to kiss at midnight,” Morgana tells him, and his stomach turns over and he finds himself grinning like an idiot.

 

“Bring Gwen,” Arthur tells him, separately, “what’s she like when she’s drunk, by the way?”

 

“I’ve never seen her have more than a glass of wine with a meal,” Merlin replies, coolly, “plus, she’d still slap you sideways if you tried anything. She doesn’t like you, Arthur.”

 

“She doesn’t know me!”

 

“You spent all four of your conversations staring at her breasts!” Merlin points out, a little exasperated, “how do you think most women are going to react to that kind of treatment?”

 

“I didn’t spend all of our conversations – ”

 

“Yes, you did!”

 

“Oh… fuck off. You’re a virgin, you can’t talk.”

 

And Merlin bites his tongue.

 

He’s actually spending more time snogging Morgana than shagging her at the moment anyway. They keep going out, where it’s kind of hard to fuck, though it’s perfectly acceptable for her to pull him across the table in their favourite sushi place to shove her tongue down his throat. Actually they have a few places where they like to go and make out. It’s fun. He never would have guessed how much fun it would be.

 

In spite of herself, Morgana seems to have gained an interest in conversation after all. Just before Christmas, she gave him her email address, and now they talk all the time. All the time. Even when they’re not emailing back and forth, the knowledge that she’ll answer inside ten minutes if he sends her a note is enough to make him feel like he’s never really alone anymore. And what really seems strange is that he likes it.

 

Merlin is very used to solitude. He’s never had more than a few close friends at a time – a childhood of alienation from his peers means that he has learned to like his own company. But now he likes Morgana’s company even more.

 

It’s so weird, how easy this has become. He can’t believe he was ever nervous about having sex with her. He’s still terrified that it will end, but every time Morgana traces his collar bone with a finger, or wraps her arms around his neck, or smirks into his shoulder, the possibility becomes more remote.

 

Stealing away from Arthur to shag is becoming more difficult because it’s becoming increasingly distracting. He doesn’t want to leave afterwards – they get into these long, rambling conversations. It’s getting harder to keep things under wraps, as well, because touching her is becoming reflexive. More than once he’s caught himself reaching for her automatically despite Arthur being in the same room.

 

Fortunately, Arthur Pendragon is rarely as observant as he would like to believe that he is, and doesn’t seem to have noticed.

 

“Why haven’t you just told him?” Gwen asks, as they make their way up the drive of the Pendragon estate, on new year’s eve, “I mean, you’re not really just sleeping together any more, are you? Like it or not, shagging with good conversation is essentially a relationship. Is Arthur really going to react that badly to you being her boyfriend?”

 

“Morgana doesn’t want to tell him,” Merlin replies, listlessly. “She doesn’t want to tell anyone.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“She…” she’s terrified of the idea that what she has with Merlin might be real – she’s terrified that she’s going to end up alone like Uther, like she’s been since her parents died – “she just has it in her head that she doesn’t really do relationships.”

 

“What exactly does she think she’s doing with you?”

 

“I’m not going to push her,” Merlin replies, “I’m fine with not telling Arthur. I’m fine with not telling anyone. Whatever she needs to feel comfortable – I like her, Gwen. I want her to feel secure.”

 

“You’re too nice for your own good, Merlin,” Gwen eyes him critically for a moment, “she ought to be proud she’s got you. You’re not something to be ashamed of.”

“She’s not ashamed – ”

 

“Well she’s acting like she is.” Gwen is being uncharacteristically snappish – Merlin gazes at her for a moment, wide-eyed. But it might just be the prospect of being in close proximity to Arthur. She doesn’t like him, after all.

 

They reach the mansion’s front door – there’s a couple of bouncers on it, which Merlin finds unsurprising, for, judging by the lights and the noise coming from inside, for once, the great Pendragon mansion is at full capacity and in all likelihood there will be gatecrashers trying to get in.

 

“You Merlin?” The bouncer asks and Merlin nods – he recognises him. One of the Pendragon’s gardeners.

 

“In you go, then,” the man waves them inside and thankfully Arthur’s just there in the hall, chatting up some blonde whom he immediately abandons when he sees Merlin and Gwen.

 

“Ah!” He grins at them – looks already as if he might have had a bit too much to drink, “Merlin, my good man – and Guinevere.”

 

“Gwen,” Gwen corrects, firmly.

 

“Guinevere!” Arthur enthuses, undeterred, “come in, the pair of you! Coats over here and go and find something to drink, we’ve got so much booze we’ll probably drown in it so we kind of need some more help on that front – this way!”

 

Merlin catches only the vaguest glimpse of Morgana – sees her flash him a grin from across the main room, but she makes no attempt to reach him. Arthur throws an arm around his shoulder and drags him over to a horde of girls he’s never met before.

 

“Merlin,” he informs him, earnestly, “I believe it my duty as your friend to get you laid before midnight – you can ring in the new year as a true man. Think of it as a late Christmas present.”

“Um…” Merlin manages, a little awkwardly. He sees Gwen cast him a significant look before she disappears into the crowd in the general direction of the drinks cabinet.

 

He spends the next excruciating two hours desperately fending off all three of the women that Arthur thrusts him at. Finally, Gwen comes to his rescue by grabbing Arthur’s arm and telling him that they’re out of diet coke and why don’t they go and look for some?

 

Merlin hastily turns to hapless, half-drunk girl number three, apologetically informs her that he sort of has a girlfriend, and scurries away.

 

He discovers Morgana on the veranda outside the main room, blowing bubbles.

 

It’s a breezy night and threatening rain so nobody else is mad enough to be out here, despite the fact that it’s approaching midnight and there’s meant to be fireworks. Morgana looks about as morose as it’s possible to be whilst blowing bubbles (the same bottle he gave her for her birthday, he realises).

 

“Hi,” he says, and she starts – then smiles at him, genuinely warm.

 

“Merlin!”

 

“You alright?” He asks, “it’s kind of cold out here.”

 

She shrugs, “I just wanted some air. Large parties, small spaces, loud noises…” she shakes her head.

 

“Kind of draining,” Merlin agrees.

 

They exchange quick, knowing grins and then Merlin sidles over to her. There is a long, companionable silence as they stand side by side with the light from the house at their backs, watching Morgana’s bubbles drifting out into the dark. Merlin’s watch bleeps – fifteen minutes until midnight.

 

“You know what I would rather be doing right now?” Morgana asks, abruptly.

 

Merlin shrugs, innocently. “I could… take a wild guess.”

Morgana carefully screws on the top of her bottle of bubble liquid, pockets it and then reaches across the gap between them to gently tangle their fingers together.

 

She leads him back into the main room, through the crowd, past revellers and drunk students and snogging couples and past the kitchen where Merlin is fairly certain that he just spotted Gwen and Arthur going at it on the table, and up the stairs, and down the hall, and into Morgana’s bedroom.

 

There doesn’t really feel as if there can be anything better than kissing and undressing Morgana Pendragon in those last fifteen minutes of the year. She pushes him onto her bed, straddles his lap in her underwear and presses her open mouth to his, stealing away his breath as he tangles one hand in her hair in a way he wouldn’t have dared to a few weeks previously. He is drinking her in – as if he is a man gasping in the desert and she is the last thing between him and death. She’s clinging to him too, he realises, a moment later – one arm about his shoulders, one hand cupping his face.

 

It’s like a sharp punch to the gut, this sudden rush of desire. Not the shock of the first time, nor the trepidation of the second (or forth, or fifth) but the sheer force of need is enough to make Merlin a little giddy. Morgana is gazing at him, her breath still short, dipping her head to allow her nose to touch his.

 

She doesn’t say a word and Merlin can’t find any of his own. He knows he’ll feel like an idiot if he tries to talk anyway – what would he say? Everything he feels he should say sounds far too much like every Hollywood romance he’s ever seen – I need you, I love you, I missed you, I didn’t know how much I missed you –

 

I know who you are, he wants to say. I know who you are and I like it and I hope you like me.

 

But in that moment there’s a sudden eruption from outside, and a chorus of voices all raised up at once, and his watch bleeps. Midnight.

 

Merlin swallows. “Happy new year, Morgana.”

“Happy new year, Merlin.” She strokes his jaw for a moment – dips, leans down and kisses him.

 

He kisses her back, enjoying the moment of closeness and connection. When it’s over he feels even more as if he should say something, but he has no idea what. They’re left regarding each other again – breathing each other in.

 

“Morgana – ” he manages, and then stops, helpless.

 

“Lie down,” Morgana suggests, softly, and he does, as she deftly peals off her bra and lace knickers.

 

He traces a pattern on her thigh as he watches her – looks at the fall of her hair and the flutter of her eyelashes. “You’re so beautiful,” he tells her, and then flushes, because it sounds stupid, even if it’s true.

 

But she smiles – he thinks – he thinks – she’s blushing. It makes him feel odd. He’s known for a while that for all Morgana is effortlessly glamorous and endlessly sophisticated, deep down she doesn’t feel like a particularly attractive person. Her past is too ugly, her world too convoluted – she feels like that rotten, gawkish, grieving twelve year old, still. The designer wardrobe and the black eyeliner is a disguise she hopes will keep the outside world from recognising her awkward, angry little self.

 

“You are beautiful though,” he insists, as she lies down next to him – he rolls onto his side to wrap her up in himself, folds one arm about her waist, carefully strokes the hair back off her face.

 

“I don’t need to be told, Merlin,” she nestles closer against him.

 

“Doesn’t mean you don’t want to be told, occasionally.”

 

She smiles, “oh, so you’re just flattering me, now?”

 

“I’m being honest – in a way that you’ll appreciate.”

 

She snorts, “think of something else to be honest about.”

 

“You’re honest. And you’re intelligent. And I like your nose.”

 

The sex feels impossibly good. Morgana arches her back and mumbles his name, drags her fingers through his hair and scrapes her nails down his back. He rocks against her, feels between them where they are joined and manages to stroke her clit, which makes her gasp. His fingers are slick and clumsy and Morgana’s face is flushed, her eyes half closed, her hair sticking to her brow and shoulders, and somehow it’s glorious.

 

He cums after maybe seven minutes (has to be a record) and rolls onto his back, head spinning. Morgana peels the condom off his softening cock, then leans over him to press her mouth to his. He feels her hair spilling across his chest, one of her hands tracing his collar bone.

 

“God, Merlin.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

She laughs into his shoulder then flops onto her back next to him, grinning.

 

“Did you – ” Merlin tries to catch his breath, “did you – ”

 

“Mm? No,” Morgana shakes her head, “it’s fine, Merlin.”

 

“No,” Merlin shakes his head, “it’s not – hang on – I’ll do something about that in… in a second if you could just – hold on…”

 

Morgana snorts, “well, I’m not going anywhere.”

 

He’s never properly gone down on her before – Gwen told him about a couple of things that he could do but he’s only used them briefly and he prefers his fingers. He knows how to use his fingers. But actually using his mouth turns out to be the best idea he’s ever had, as Morgana gasps and squirms and makes a low, trembling sound in the back of her throat that he’s never heard from her before.

 

It probably helps that she’s already aroused, but she cums very quickly, and when he sits up to grin at her she laughs, breathlessly.

 

“Oh, God, Merlin.”

 

“First orgasm of the new year,” he tells her, matter-of-factly, “serious business.”

 

She snorts. “Come here.”

 

She proceeds to kiss him very thoroughly, and he realises that she’s licking her fluids off his face, which he finds somewhere between bizarre and arousing. Nestled against her a few minutes later, with his cheek on her breast, as she idly strokes his hair, he thinks that he’d really like to fuck her again – and then go down on her again. And then…

 

He idly flicks a thumb over one of her nipples – watches the bud harden a little. It’s never going to stop intriguing him, the way her body reacts to being touched.

 

“Merlin?” She’s still stroking his hair.

 

“Mm?”

 

“You can stay if you want,” she pauses, takes a breath. “I don’t think Arthur’s going to miss you, somehow.”

 

“Yeah,” Merlin allows his brow to furrow, “was I imagining him and Gwen snogging on the kitchen table earlier, or did you see that?”

 

“I thought she hated him?”

 

“She does. He keeps staring at her breasts.”

 

“Hm,” Morgana tweaks one of his ears affectionately, “well, weirder things have happened than a girl snogging some bloke she doesn’t like.”

 

“I suppose.” He kisses her breast – her collar bone.

 

“Do you want to stay?” She asks – she sounds perhaps just a little vulnerable – her hand has stilled on the back of his neck.

 

“When have I wanted to get away from you – like – ever?”

 

Merlin is woken up, briefly, at eight the next morning, by the sound of his phone chiming in response to a text. He grimaces in his sleep, bats at his eyes without opening them, and when the sound stops, he drifts soundly back into sleep again, absently huddling closer to Morgana, who doesn’t stir.

 

Approximately an hour later, the phone rings and doesn’t stop, and Merlin sits up, disturbed. His mouth is dry and his head aches a little and mostly he’s just confused by his surroundings and the manner of his awakening. For a moment, he fails to comprehend where exactly the sound is coming from.

 

Morgana rolls over and buries her head in the pillows, moaning softly.

 

Trying to think in a straight line, Merlin untangles himself from the duvet and slides onto the floor, fumbling through the pockets of his jeans until he finds the ringing phone. He squints at the screen to try to work out who in their right mind would be trying to call him at such an ungodly hour on new year’s day.

 

“’Lo?” He manages.

 

“Merlin!” His uncle sounds peeved, “you didn’t answer my text message!”

 

“Oh,” Merlin replies, a little dumbly. He has sat down on the floor, in a pool of his cast off clothes, feeling very cold without the duvet. The room is dim, daylight only just fighting its way through Morgana’s curtains. “Sorry.”

 

“We have an agreement!” Gaius insists, “you must always answer my text messages, Merlin, so that I know where you are!”

 

“I was asleep,” Merlin tells him, rubbing his eyes.

 

“Well, where are you?” Gaius demands, shortly.

 

Merlin sighs, “at the Pendragons’ – I slept over.”

“With that girlfriend of yours?” Gaius is immediately suspicious, “I’ve no objection to you having sexual intercourse, Merlin, but I hope you used protection – ”

 

“Yes – yes – I know – it’s fine, Gaius – um – ”

 

“Is she on the pill? I’d recommend it if you’re regularly having penetrative sex, you know – condoms are the best defence against disease but they can break and you don’t want her getting pregnant – ”

 

“Yeah – thanks, Gaius – I’m um – I’m gonna be home sometime mid-afternoon, probably, okay? So – um – see you later – ”

 

“At the very least you must always use spermicide with the condom!”

 

“Bye, Gaius.”

 

He hangs up, then spends a moment staring blearily at his phone, wondering whether he really did just have the conversation he thinks he did.

 

He’s not going to think about it.

____________________________________________
Continued here.

Comments

[jeminisoul.livejournal.com]

I love it. All of it.

Gaius = love.

That man is wonderful.

You really have all of the characters down, they feel natural and I can easily imagine the senarios. Great fic :)

[marycontraire.livejournal.com]

LOL GAIUS GIVES THE SEX TALK. I love you so much.

[pizzazzical.livejournal.com]

I think I am vindicated in saying that you're easily the *best* Merlin AU writer I know :D I loved this - everyone feels so in-character and the relationship between Morgana and Merlin feels so natural, the perfect balance between adorableness and awkwardness... and Arthur is just so typically Arthur ;) Your imagination is amazing, you can come up with all these backstories and translate the "magic" aspect to the modern world - top notch!

[roguemouse.livejournal.com]

Gauis. Talking about... protection and...stuff. Now I'll never get that mental picture out of my head *lol*

[zahrawithaz.livejournal.com]

"Shagging and good conversation is essentially a relationship." So true!

And I love the fact that the sexual passion increases as their emotional connection do--a in my experience a truth most fics don't acknowledge.

[arysani.livejournal.com]

I was all overcome by cuteness but then I about died laughing at Gaius and his matter-of-fact sex talk amid the "you missed your check-in" rant.

This retains so much of the series in characterizations, in settings and body language and relationships - it really is like it was lifted from the medieval and plonked in the modern. I am really loving it.

On to the last bit, and I'm a little sad it's ending!