Open Post for Mordred (Arthurian Legend)

[thefaewithin]

Mordred ∞ Open Post
A U D I O • V I D E O • T E X T • A C T I O N

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[reparo]

He's right - there's something about watching the water drop make its sinful way down his bare chest that sends a shot of arousal down between her legs. It's unprofessional to be thirsting after an old-as-time, powerful wizard, and Hermione is usually very professional and very good.

She's haunted by the idea of him calling her a good girl while ordering her to lick that same drop of water up from his hipbone to the hollow of his throat, and in that moment he beckons her forward and she obeys. Thoughtlessly, without pausing to think about why she's so submissive to this man, when she's been submissive to nobody before.

"Right, well," she murmurs, as she steps inside, slipping past him and feeling her pulse racket, his scent catching her by surprise. He smells like dark, enchanted forests and old magic and parchment; he smells divine, has as long as she's known him, but there's the hint of water from the shower and she's making real efforts to not walk on shaky legs.

"I came over to..." She's forgotten why, it just seemed very important to come here today. See him again. "Um. As I mentioned, I rented a room at the bed and breakfast in town, but I'll have to check out tomorrow and head back to London, so I... I wanted to make sure we would have a way to stay in touch."

[ancientmagics]

After all his years, professionalism is overrated. Though he would bet she was a very good girl, especially with how easily she obeyed him. What he wouldn't give to see just what other commands she could be a good girl for him. His eyes are just a little darker at how good she was to obey, and the other thoughts that linger through his head.

He doesn't move either, as she comes in. So she's close to him when she comes in, and he loves that little hint of spice in her scent. Cinnamon maybe. It clings to her, clings to his breath as he takes a slow breath in while she enters. He can't help how one hand comes to rest on the small of her back as she stumbles over her words to let him know why she's there.

"A way to stay in touch would be good, though I'm going to be sad to see you return to London." His body shifts, just a little more into her, so he can close the door behind her. If it presses his chest to her arm a little, and his hip close to her hand, more than his hip really, well, that surely must be an accident right? Just a happenstance. "Sure I couldn't persuade you to stay a few days more? I think we're almost on to something." He nods over toward the desk, and yet doesn't move, curious to see if that hand will twitch in any kind of interesting way before she can help herself.