Another steam warning. This is becoming quite the naughty story.
Part 7: link
Gwen wakes up before Arthur does. She looks at the clock on the nightstand. Eight seventeen. She has slept like the dead and feels quite awake. She looks at Arthur, sprawled on his face siguiente to her, one arm thrown casually over her. Regret? No, no regret. Only… happiness. This is so weird, but it feels so right. She leans over and kisses his cheek, bringing forth a small snort from Arthur but he doesn’t wake. She decides to get up.
She visits the toilet and decides to go see if he has anything in the cocina that they can eat. She looks around the room, eyes falling on her small pile of clothes siguiente to the bed. Ugh. Don’t want to put those on yet. She turns and walks to a dresser against a wall, and opens the parte superior, arriba drawer. Underwear and socks. Next. Ah, t-shirts. She selects one, a navy blue tee with white lettering on it. She holds it up. The front says, “2010 Firemen’s Picnic” with a logo underneath it. The back has “PENDRAGON” across the parte superior, arriba above a large number one. Smiling, she puts it on, fully aware of how cliché she is being. She wanders out to the kitchen.
She opens the fridge. Two bottles of beer, a pack of some kind of lunch meat, a carton of eggs – yielding two eggs upon opening. Some cheese, a half-empty carton of milk, a few apples, and some take-away boxes. Hmm. She checks the freezer. Some frozen dinners and a box of tostadora waffles. Hmm. Breadbox. A third of a loaf of pan de molde, pan and some bagels. She picks up the bagels. What kind? She sniffs. Plain. All right, then.
Arthur stirs, hearing distant noises. He peels his eyes open. Who’s out there? A segundo later, Oh. OH. He shoots out of bed, remembering his overnight guest, eager to see her. He smells food, too. He grabs a soft pair of shorts that he generally sleeps in and pulls them on. After a quick pee, he shuffles out to the cocina to see what Gwen is up to.
He sees her standing in his kitchen, cooking his comida and wearing his shirt. He smiles, liking the sight of her not only wearing his camisa, camiseta but also wearing his name. He creeps forward, intending to surprise her, when she says, “I thought firemen were supposed to be good cooks.”
“How did you…?”
She points to the microwave horno above the stove in front of her. “Reflection,” she says, turning her head back to look back at him. She looks beautiful, well-rested, stunning. Her hair is pulled back now in a loose ponytail at the base of her neck to keep it out of her way. He comes up behind her, wraps his arms around her waist and kisses the side of her neck. “Good morning.”
She smiles at him, rumpled and half-naked, but incredibly sexy. “Good morning yourself. So?”
“So what?”
“You can’t cook.”
“No. I’m the exception. How could tu tell, anyway?” He goes to the cupboard and retrieves a glass, then stops at the fridge and pours himself some leche before he sits at the table, watching her as she turns back to the stove.
“Because tu have utter rubbish in your fridge.”
“What are tu making there?”
“Egg sandwiches.”
“What?”
“Egg, cheese and ham on a toasted bagel. Best I could do with what tu have here.”
“Sounds really good. I never would have thought of that.”
“It’s better than the ones you’d find at McDonald’s.”
“I bet it is,” he says, angling his head, checking out her legs and rear.
“I know what you’re doing back there,” she says in a stern voice, but she turns and smiles at him.
“Me? I am innocent,” he returns, wide-eyed, raising his hands up. She snorts, then comes to the mesa, tabla with two plates. She places one in front of him and sets the segundo plate down before walking back to retrieve her té from where it was resting beside the stove. She sits down beside him and they eat together.
“Mmm. This is really good,” he tells her after one bite.
“Thank you. It’s nothing, really.”
They hear a tiny bleep from the living room. Arthur looks over. “What’s that?”
“My phone. I’ll bet that’s Morgana,” she says, getting up to go check. “Yep, she’s sent a text.” She brings it back to the table, and says, “Do tu mind? I’ll just let her know that tu haven’t taken me off somewhere to murder me and chop me into tiny bits.”
“Please,” he tells her, taking a drink of his milk.
Gwen reads the text. How was he? ;) She chuckles, and writes: Amazing. Both times. Arthur leans over and reads the texts. He chokes on his leche and almost sprays the table.
Coughing, he says, “That doesn’t look like ‘He hasn’t murdered me.’”
“Well, obviously she’ll know that I’m still alive,” she laughs.
“You are far naughtier than tu let on, do tu know that? First tu tell Merlin that I was ‘tied up,’ and now this.”
She continues laughing, and leans over to kiss him. She says, “Yes, and tu amor it.”
“I do,” he says and taps the end of her nose with his finger. He leans back and pops the last bite of his emparedado, sándwich de into his mouth.
She stands up and reaches for his plate. He grabs her hand. “I’ll clean this up. Are tu done?” He motions to the last half of her sandwich.
“Yes, tu can finish it if tu like. I’m going to go take a shower.”
“Okay,” he says, and as he watches her walk down the hall in his shirt, he thinks, Wow, that was… domestic. He smiles and picks up the remainder of her sandwich.
Gwen’s loud laughter starts coming from the bathroom. Mouth full, he gets up and investigates. He finds her standing in the bathroom, a toothbrush in one hand and a rumpled slip of paper in the other, shaking her head.
“What is going on?” he asks, and she shows him the paper. It reads, Just in case! –M.
“I didn’t pack this, either. I just discovered it in the bottom of the bag she brought me. The note was wrapped around it.”
“The woman must be a witch,” Arthur says, grinning. Gwen finds the toothpaste and brushes. Arthur shrugs, Well, if we’re being domestic… and joins her. When they finish, he leans over and kisses her properly.
“Much better,” Gwen says, opening her eyes to look at him. He takes the toothbrush from her hand and puts it in the open slot siguiente to his. She looks at it resting there, then back at him. Arthur holds his breath.
“I guess I’ll need to go buy myself a new toothbrush today,” she says, and kisses him. He breathes again, and turns to go clean up the dishes.
Back in the kitchen, Arthur brings the plates to the sink and hears the ducha, ducha de turn on. Wait a minute. He looks up from the sink, staring at nothing. She’s in there. Naked. And wet. And naked. What on earth am I doing out here? He leaves the dishes and struts down the hallway to the bathroom.
He reaches his hand to the knob. Please don’t be locked, please don’t be locked, please don’t be locked. He turns it slowly and the door opens. Yes. She is humming to herself, not seeming to notice his entrance. He steps out of his shorts, pads silently to the tub and peeks through the curtain. Her back is to him, hair pinned up, as she soaps herself. Grinning, he steps in and slides his hands around her waist. She yelps.
“Managed to surprise tu that time,” he says, nuzzling her neck.
“A bit. Your hands are cold.”
“A bit?”
“I left the door unlocked, didn’t I?”
He growls at her, turning her around to face him for a kiss as he slides his hands around, enjoying the feel of her skin all wet and slippery. Her hands come up to his chest, then under his arms and around his back, and he pulls her flush against him, prodding her in the stomach with his stiff member. She slides against it, the water and soap causing a delicious slick sensation for him.
Gwen pulls away and reaches for the soap, getting her hands all sudsy. She rubs them all over his body, not missing an inch. Paying special attention to several inches, in fact. His head falls back and he croaks, “See? Naughty.”
She turns him around to give his back the same treatment, then moves him so he is fully in the shower’s spray, rinsing him. Once he is good and soap-free, she kneels down in front of him and takes him in her mouth, sucking and licking. Arthur groans and grabs the wall. She strokes him with her lips and tongue, holding and caressing his thighs, reaching up between them, and Arthur thinks he has lost his mind. The ducha, ducha de beating hot water down on his back combined with Gwen at his front is pushing him towards sensory overload and he feels he is getting close.
Gwen senses this as well, and replaces her mouth with her hand, standing to kiss him while her hand moves on him. His hands leave the walls and grab her as he comes, clinging tightly to her as he groans into her neck, pressing his lips against her as he does so. He leans back and puts his head under the spraying water, drenching him.
Arthur looks down at her, kisses her and says, “I’ve never gotten so clean in such a dirty way.” Gwen grins like a minx and reaches for the shampoo, pouring some in her hand. She reaches up and suds his hair, massaging his head.
“You’re too tall,” she says, arms getting tired.
“You’re too short,” he counters, then lifts her up so she is standing on the edges of the tub, his hands supporting her as she shampoos him.
He leans his head back to rinse his hair, and she tries to hop down. He doesn’t let her. He has too much access to her in this elevated position and he decides to take advantage. Arthur wipes the water from his eyes, then plunges into her breasts, placing kisses and bites over them. He moves one hand down between her legs, which are already spread since she has one leg on each tub edge. She moans, and he says, “Your turn,” sliding his fingers inside, finding her warm and slippery.
She grabs his head in one hand, her other at his shoulder, gripping firmly with her small hand. He takes a nipple into his mouth, flicking at it, rubbing it, his tongue mirroring the action of his fingers below. It isn’t long before she is gasping, her body twitching, and she hits her climax, digging her nails into his shoulder as she cries out and almost loses her footing. Arthur holds her safely in place as she briefly goes limp against him.
“Ouch,” Arthur says for the third time now, and Gwen giggles again, “Sorry!”
He helps her down, gives her another kiss, and she rinses off a bit, then reaches to turn the water off.
“You can use my shampoo,” Arthur offers, noticing she hasn’t washed her hair.
“I know. I washed my hair yesterday. I can’t wash it every día o it dries out,” she explains.
“Oh, um, okay,” he says as she turns the water off, pondering the mysteries of women and their beauty habits. He pulls the curtain back and steps out. He reaches for his towel and wraps it around his waist, then opens a small door and produces a clean towel, which he brings to her, wrapping her in it.
Arthur drives her inicial on his way to the firehouse. She decides to tell him of her worry.
“You know I’m going to jump every time I hear a siren now, don’t you?” She looks over at him. He reaches to take her hand and bring it over to rest on his leg as he drives.
“I know,” he says softly. He doesn’t know how to reassure her in any way that she will accept. He strokes the back of her hand with his thumb.
Stopped at a traffic light, he looks over at her. She has her hair back in the same ponytail as before, wearing the grey falda from last night with his t-shirt, on which she has rolled the sleeves up a little and has tied at the side of her waist. She looks incredibly cute and very worried. He leans over and kisses her just before the light changes.
“I promise if I go on any calls I will let tu know that I am seguro when I return,” he finally says.
“Thank you,” she looks down, biting her lower lip, wishing it was enough but knowing that there’s not much else he can do. It’s his job. He must be good at it if he’s been unscathed thus far. “I don’t want tu to feel that I’m smothering you,” she tells him, “I’m just a worrier por nature.”
“Not at all,” he says, reassuring her. “If tu were out doing something dangerous – say tu were a police officer – I would drive myself crazy thinking about what tu might have to deal with.”
She smiles again as he pulls onto her street. “Up there, the third on the left,” she directs, and he pulls over. She turns to him and says, “I guess it’s lucky for both of us that the biggest danger I face is possibly dropping a book on my foot o receiving the occasional paper cut.”
Arthur laughs at this, then leans over to kiss her goodbye.
“Would tu like to come up?” she asks, “Do tu have time?”
He looks at his watch and frowns. “Better not. Plus I don’t think I’m ready to face Morgana yet,” he says and kisses her again.
She reaches up and hugs him as tightly as she can inside the car, kisses him one last time and tells him, “I amor you. Be safe.”
“I amor you, too. See tu Tuesday?”
“You need to ask?”
She gets out of the car and he watches her walk up to the building, seeing that she gets safely inside before driving away.
Part 9: link
Part 7: link
Gwen wakes up before Arthur does. She looks at the clock on the nightstand. Eight seventeen. She has slept like the dead and feels quite awake. She looks at Arthur, sprawled on his face siguiente to her, one arm thrown casually over her. Regret? No, no regret. Only… happiness. This is so weird, but it feels so right. She leans over and kisses his cheek, bringing forth a small snort from Arthur but he doesn’t wake. She decides to get up.
She visits the toilet and decides to go see if he has anything in the cocina that they can eat. She looks around the room, eyes falling on her small pile of clothes siguiente to the bed. Ugh. Don’t want to put those on yet. She turns and walks to a dresser against a wall, and opens the parte superior, arriba drawer. Underwear and socks. Next. Ah, t-shirts. She selects one, a navy blue tee with white lettering on it. She holds it up. The front says, “2010 Firemen’s Picnic” with a logo underneath it. The back has “PENDRAGON” across the parte superior, arriba above a large number one. Smiling, she puts it on, fully aware of how cliché she is being. She wanders out to the kitchen.
She opens the fridge. Two bottles of beer, a pack of some kind of lunch meat, a carton of eggs – yielding two eggs upon opening. Some cheese, a half-empty carton of milk, a few apples, and some take-away boxes. Hmm. She checks the freezer. Some frozen dinners and a box of tostadora waffles. Hmm. Breadbox. A third of a loaf of pan de molde, pan and some bagels. She picks up the bagels. What kind? She sniffs. Plain. All right, then.
Arthur stirs, hearing distant noises. He peels his eyes open. Who’s out there? A segundo later, Oh. OH. He shoots out of bed, remembering his overnight guest, eager to see her. He smells food, too. He grabs a soft pair of shorts that he generally sleeps in and pulls them on. After a quick pee, he shuffles out to the cocina to see what Gwen is up to.
He sees her standing in his kitchen, cooking his comida and wearing his shirt. He smiles, liking the sight of her not only wearing his camisa, camiseta but also wearing his name. He creeps forward, intending to surprise her, when she says, “I thought firemen were supposed to be good cooks.”
“How did you…?”
She points to the microwave horno above the stove in front of her. “Reflection,” she says, turning her head back to look back at him. She looks beautiful, well-rested, stunning. Her hair is pulled back now in a loose ponytail at the base of her neck to keep it out of her way. He comes up behind her, wraps his arms around her waist and kisses the side of her neck. “Good morning.”
She smiles at him, rumpled and half-naked, but incredibly sexy. “Good morning yourself. So?”
“So what?”
“You can’t cook.”
“No. I’m the exception. How could tu tell, anyway?” He goes to the cupboard and retrieves a glass, then stops at the fridge and pours himself some leche before he sits at the table, watching her as she turns back to the stove.
“Because tu have utter rubbish in your fridge.”
“What are tu making there?”
“Egg sandwiches.”
“What?”
“Egg, cheese and ham on a toasted bagel. Best I could do with what tu have here.”
“Sounds really good. I never would have thought of that.”
“It’s better than the ones you’d find at McDonald’s.”
“I bet it is,” he says, angling his head, checking out her legs and rear.
“I know what you’re doing back there,” she says in a stern voice, but she turns and smiles at him.
“Me? I am innocent,” he returns, wide-eyed, raising his hands up. She snorts, then comes to the mesa, tabla with two plates. She places one in front of him and sets the segundo plate down before walking back to retrieve her té from where it was resting beside the stove. She sits down beside him and they eat together.
“Mmm. This is really good,” he tells her after one bite.
“Thank you. It’s nothing, really.”
They hear a tiny bleep from the living room. Arthur looks over. “What’s that?”
“My phone. I’ll bet that’s Morgana,” she says, getting up to go check. “Yep, she’s sent a text.” She brings it back to the table, and says, “Do tu mind? I’ll just let her know that tu haven’t taken me off somewhere to murder me and chop me into tiny bits.”
“Please,” he tells her, taking a drink of his milk.
Gwen reads the text. How was he? ;) She chuckles, and writes: Amazing. Both times. Arthur leans over and reads the texts. He chokes on his leche and almost sprays the table.
Coughing, he says, “That doesn’t look like ‘He hasn’t murdered me.’”
“Well, obviously she’ll know that I’m still alive,” she laughs.
“You are far naughtier than tu let on, do tu know that? First tu tell Merlin that I was ‘tied up,’ and now this.”
She continues laughing, and leans over to kiss him. She says, “Yes, and tu amor it.”
“I do,” he says and taps the end of her nose with his finger. He leans back and pops the last bite of his emparedado, sándwich de into his mouth.
She stands up and reaches for his plate. He grabs her hand. “I’ll clean this up. Are tu done?” He motions to the last half of her sandwich.
“Yes, tu can finish it if tu like. I’m going to go take a shower.”
“Okay,” he says, and as he watches her walk down the hall in his shirt, he thinks, Wow, that was… domestic. He smiles and picks up the remainder of her sandwich.
Gwen’s loud laughter starts coming from the bathroom. Mouth full, he gets up and investigates. He finds her standing in the bathroom, a toothbrush in one hand and a rumpled slip of paper in the other, shaking her head.
“What is going on?” he asks, and she shows him the paper. It reads, Just in case! –M.
“I didn’t pack this, either. I just discovered it in the bottom of the bag she brought me. The note was wrapped around it.”
“The woman must be a witch,” Arthur says, grinning. Gwen finds the toothpaste and brushes. Arthur shrugs, Well, if we’re being domestic… and joins her. When they finish, he leans over and kisses her properly.
“Much better,” Gwen says, opening her eyes to look at him. He takes the toothbrush from her hand and puts it in the open slot siguiente to his. She looks at it resting there, then back at him. Arthur holds his breath.
“I guess I’ll need to go buy myself a new toothbrush today,” she says, and kisses him. He breathes again, and turns to go clean up the dishes.
Back in the kitchen, Arthur brings the plates to the sink and hears the ducha, ducha de turn on. Wait a minute. He looks up from the sink, staring at nothing. She’s in there. Naked. And wet. And naked. What on earth am I doing out here? He leaves the dishes and struts down the hallway to the bathroom.
He reaches his hand to the knob. Please don’t be locked, please don’t be locked, please don’t be locked. He turns it slowly and the door opens. Yes. She is humming to herself, not seeming to notice his entrance. He steps out of his shorts, pads silently to the tub and peeks through the curtain. Her back is to him, hair pinned up, as she soaps herself. Grinning, he steps in and slides his hands around her waist. She yelps.
“Managed to surprise tu that time,” he says, nuzzling her neck.
“A bit. Your hands are cold.”
“A bit?”
“I left the door unlocked, didn’t I?”
He growls at her, turning her around to face him for a kiss as he slides his hands around, enjoying the feel of her skin all wet and slippery. Her hands come up to his chest, then under his arms and around his back, and he pulls her flush against him, prodding her in the stomach with his stiff member. She slides against it, the water and soap causing a delicious slick sensation for him.
Gwen pulls away and reaches for the soap, getting her hands all sudsy. She rubs them all over his body, not missing an inch. Paying special attention to several inches, in fact. His head falls back and he croaks, “See? Naughty.”
She turns him around to give his back the same treatment, then moves him so he is fully in the shower’s spray, rinsing him. Once he is good and soap-free, she kneels down in front of him and takes him in her mouth, sucking and licking. Arthur groans and grabs the wall. She strokes him with her lips and tongue, holding and caressing his thighs, reaching up between them, and Arthur thinks he has lost his mind. The ducha, ducha de beating hot water down on his back combined with Gwen at his front is pushing him towards sensory overload and he feels he is getting close.
Gwen senses this as well, and replaces her mouth with her hand, standing to kiss him while her hand moves on him. His hands leave the walls and grab her as he comes, clinging tightly to her as he groans into her neck, pressing his lips against her as he does so. He leans back and puts his head under the spraying water, drenching him.
Arthur looks down at her, kisses her and says, “I’ve never gotten so clean in such a dirty way.” Gwen grins like a minx and reaches for the shampoo, pouring some in her hand. She reaches up and suds his hair, massaging his head.
“You’re too tall,” she says, arms getting tired.
“You’re too short,” he counters, then lifts her up so she is standing on the edges of the tub, his hands supporting her as she shampoos him.
He leans his head back to rinse his hair, and she tries to hop down. He doesn’t let her. He has too much access to her in this elevated position and he decides to take advantage. Arthur wipes the water from his eyes, then plunges into her breasts, placing kisses and bites over them. He moves one hand down between her legs, which are already spread since she has one leg on each tub edge. She moans, and he says, “Your turn,” sliding his fingers inside, finding her warm and slippery.
She grabs his head in one hand, her other at his shoulder, gripping firmly with her small hand. He takes a nipple into his mouth, flicking at it, rubbing it, his tongue mirroring the action of his fingers below. It isn’t long before she is gasping, her body twitching, and she hits her climax, digging her nails into his shoulder as she cries out and almost loses her footing. Arthur holds her safely in place as she briefly goes limp against him.
“Ouch,” Arthur says for the third time now, and Gwen giggles again, “Sorry!”
He helps her down, gives her another kiss, and she rinses off a bit, then reaches to turn the water off.
“You can use my shampoo,” Arthur offers, noticing she hasn’t washed her hair.
“I know. I washed my hair yesterday. I can’t wash it every día o it dries out,” she explains.
“Oh, um, okay,” he says as she turns the water off, pondering the mysteries of women and their beauty habits. He pulls the curtain back and steps out. He reaches for his towel and wraps it around his waist, then opens a small door and produces a clean towel, which he brings to her, wrapping her in it.
Arthur drives her inicial on his way to the firehouse. She decides to tell him of her worry.
“You know I’m going to jump every time I hear a siren now, don’t you?” She looks over at him. He reaches to take her hand and bring it over to rest on his leg as he drives.
“I know,” he says softly. He doesn’t know how to reassure her in any way that she will accept. He strokes the back of her hand with his thumb.
Stopped at a traffic light, he looks over at her. She has her hair back in the same ponytail as before, wearing the grey falda from last night with his t-shirt, on which she has rolled the sleeves up a little and has tied at the side of her waist. She looks incredibly cute and very worried. He leans over and kisses her just before the light changes.
“I promise if I go on any calls I will let tu know that I am seguro when I return,” he finally says.
“Thank you,” she looks down, biting her lower lip, wishing it was enough but knowing that there’s not much else he can do. It’s his job. He must be good at it if he’s been unscathed thus far. “I don’t want tu to feel that I’m smothering you,” she tells him, “I’m just a worrier por nature.”
“Not at all,” he says, reassuring her. “If tu were out doing something dangerous – say tu were a police officer – I would drive myself crazy thinking about what tu might have to deal with.”
She smiles again as he pulls onto her street. “Up there, the third on the left,” she directs, and he pulls over. She turns to him and says, “I guess it’s lucky for both of us that the biggest danger I face is possibly dropping a book on my foot o receiving the occasional paper cut.”
Arthur laughs at this, then leans over to kiss her goodbye.
“Would tu like to come up?” she asks, “Do tu have time?”
He looks at his watch and frowns. “Better not. Plus I don’t think I’m ready to face Morgana yet,” he says and kisses her again.
She reaches up and hugs him as tightly as she can inside the car, kisses him one last time and tells him, “I amor you. Be safe.”
“I amor you, too. See tu Tuesday?”
“You need to ask?”
She gets out of the car and he watches her walk up to the building, seeing that she gets safely inside before driving away.
Part 9: link
