Random One Shot

37.5 Desire - Arthur X Guinevere ENG

There was something strange with him. Something strange that he had, actually, taken a while to translate to understand what exactly it was.

He knew it now. He felt it with every single fiber of his body.

It was a sensation of full, intoxicating and enveloping warmth that insistently flickered in the pit of his stomach, and then suddenly expanded and traveled to his chest, where his heart seemed to have gone mad or something since how crazy his beats were, accelerating during the most inopportune moments and making all the blood rise to his face.

Desire.

Desire flooded him every day, every hour, every damn minute, never enough, never really ending.

Desire made him tremble, lost in thought, wandering like a moth surrounded by darkness, looking for the light of the lamp, not paying attention at all to the possibility of being burned.

Desire made him burn. Oh, yeah, it definitely made him burn, but without ever being totally consumed by the flame. He burnt to the point that he could have screamed with all the breath he contained inside his body, spitting out the storm that was overturning him from within.

It was as if there was a fuel inside him ready to ignite at the slightest rub. The one who was rubbing it, in this case, for Arthur, was no longer Nimue, as the girl had been previously.

No. With her, the spark had sadly calmed down, turning into a feeling of respect, brotherhood, submission - she was a Queen, after all - and friendship.

Their love had become completely platonic, carnality had swarmed, like the flame of a candle that had no more oxygen, both from his side and from that of Nimue herself. And they had said it to each other in private, with all the calm and peacefulness in the world, finding themselves smiling with slight embarrassment at the memory of their - one and only - night together, when they had thought it might be the last. In reality it was only the first. For both of them.

Well, the feeling of butterflies, of the heartbeat that suddenly stopped and then threw itself into a desperate race without borders, of nervousness and swallowings that followed one another while his eyes almost went to caress the profile of the center of his attentions, daring for a contact, a meeting of glances ... All this was born for one of the Vikings. And not just a anyone of them.

To be accurate, the new source of his interest, the new adrenaline rush - that shook him on the spot until his legs were going to let him fall and that left his heart pounding so strongly that it even seemed to produce an echo inside his temples - was the fierce, gorgeous, strong daughter of Cumber, the Ice King, called by everyone as The Red Spear. But that he knew with another name.

Guinevere.

Yes, Guinevere was her real name. And that name sounded like a melody to his ears. Nine letters that were enough to bring him to attention, nine letters to which he would have dedicated verse after verse, song after song, until he lost every single residue of his voice, thus remaining silent, but without remorse, just as he would have dedicated to those beautiful dark and shining gems that she had as eyes, full of character and firmness, to the point that under them he felt almost stripped. Stripped by clothes, by any armor, hit in full by that thin blade that was her gaze, which infiltrated into his flesh to stay.

And Arthur accepted her, craved her, pined for her attentions, demanded that that weapon would stuck all the way into his chest, so that the sensation would remain as much as possible, so that she would remain as much as possible.

So that she would make him vibrate with all the excitement that ran down his spine - in a series of shivers that resembled invisible slender fingers - and took his breath away, already dead between his parted lips.