Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/509689.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Merlin_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Morgana/Arthur_Pendragon_(Merlin)
  Character:
      Arthur_Pendragon_(Merlin), Morgana_(Merlin)
  Additional Tags:
      Sibling_Incest, Alternate_Universe_-_Modern_Setting, Underage_Sex, Angst
  Series:
      Part 2 of Pornathon_2012
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-09-11 Words: 747
****** Let it end like this ******
by marguerite_26
Summary
     Arthur wakes to a bomb slamming the earth. The room lights in a
     blinding red flash. Morgana’s a silhouette of wild hair hovering by
     his bed.
Notes
     Thank you to eleadore for the beta. Written for summerpornathon week
     2: Fuck or Die / Apocalypse challenge.
See the end of the work for more notes
Arthur wakes to a bomb slamming the earth. The room lights in a blinding red
flash. Morgana’s a silhouette of wild hair hovering by his bed.
“What is it?” he asks once his ears stop ringing.
“I’m scared, Arthur.” She’s trembling, stumbling towards him. She looks nothing
like his brave older sister who has stood strong through the horrors of the
last few months, kept him sane while he waits impatiently to be old enough to
join fight.
He shifts over and offers her a spot on his bed; it’s freezing in this dank
cellar. Just one more reason to hate this safehouse. “Father’ll be back soon.
It’ll be okay.” He brushes the curls from her face. His confidence shatters
when he feels the wetness of her cheeks. Morgana hasn’t cried in years.
“It won’t be.” Her eyes are wild. They glow red in the light of another
explosion. “I had a dream. Arthur, it’s the end of the world.”
She pulls him forward, crushing their chests together and the lace of her
nightie scratches his bare nipples. His belly squirms at the contact. He tries
to put some distance between them, but she’s hysterical, clinging to him like
she never has before.
“It’s just a dream,” he lies. They both know better -- when Morgana dreams, it
happens -- but he can’t bear to think of that now and there’s nothing else to
say. He repeats, “It’s just a dream.” He lifts the covers. She tucks in beside
him like they did when they were kids and their father was gone for weeks on
army business, before they both got too old to hold each other through the
night.
She seems soothed by the familiarity of it. Arthur breathes a sigh of relief
and tries to get comfortable next to her on the narrow mattress. They’re much
bigger now. Arthur shoulders have broadened and Morgana’s suddenly all soft
curves. He’s at a loss where to put his hands, before deciding it doesn’t
matter. Nothing matters any longer; they both need the comfort. Morgana’s
draped over him, her satin-covered chest pressed against his, and their bare
legs tangled together. Arthur rubs her back until her breathing calms. Her eyes
flutter shut.
His mind races, needing to know what she dreamt. He stares at her, heart aching
at the tension in every shadow on his sister’s face. A year ago she’d been
laughing, carefree and full of life as they’d raced their mares across the
Pendragon lands. A year ago they’d lived in a world sheltered from the war.
Her eyes snap open. “It’s coming.” She looks manic, staring into nothingness.
It’s like this sometimes after a dream where she needs grounding to bring her
back to the present.
He presses his forehead to hers and whispers, “We’re together, Morgana. Here.
Now.” He twists their fingers together -- another childhood intimacy long
forgotten. “Let it end, I say.” He sounds much braver, much older than he
feels.
She laughs, and he’s so relieved to see the clarity in her eyes that he laughs
too and kisses her cheek.
Looking at him, her eyes soften. “Together,” she whispers and presses her lips
to his.
When she pulls back Arthur swallows thickly, licking lips that taste of his
sister’s mouth. His breathing’s gone funny. His body's flushed, heat swirling
in his groin in a way that it shouldn’t as he thinks upon every place their
bodies touch. His cock, trapped in only y-fronts, is pressing against Morgana’s
inner thigh. He feels the heat of her and he squeezes his eyes shut not to roll
his hips.
“I’m tired of being scared,” she breathes and kisses him again. This time it’s
soft, wet, growing more urgent with each heartbeat.
He’s not sure who moves first. It’s instinct and desperation positioning them,
certainly not thought. She spreads her legs and he kneels between them. They
yank at his pants until they’re pulled taut at his thighs, the waistband
ripping. He falls to his elbows, panting into her shoulder, trying to find his
control. He’s lost though once his hips jerk forward and his cock slides
against her wet mound.
She whimpers, her nails scratching his back.
The lights of an explosion fill the room again, and Arthur thrusts in, frantic
and inexperienced, overwhelmed by the heat and the slick softness he finds
between Morgana’s legs. They cling to each other, trembling like children.
They are all they have left. So let it end like this.
End Notes
     comment on the_livejournal_post if you prefer.
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