“High Priestesses at Beltane” (Morgana/Morgause) for rosewolfs
Morgana shivered, swaying to the beat of the horse-skin drums and the crackling of the towering fires. It was like nothing she had ever felt. It was the headiness of dark mead. The other-worldliness of a dream. And the burning of want.
“Come,” Morgause breathed in her ear, her arms sliding around Morgana’s waist as she pressed up behind her. “It is time.”
Her head falling back, Morgana smiled and dropped her hands to Morgause’s, feeling her untie her robe and open her up to the cold and moonlight.
“Come,” Morgause whispered again, taking one of Morgana’s hands and spinning her around, pulling her close.
“That a promise, is it?” Morgana breathed in the split second that her mouth brushed Morgause’s ear.
When Morgana spun away again, she caught sight of Morgause’s stunned expression and felt the Goddess laugh within her. She felt Morgause’s eyes watching her, boring into her when she thought Morgana was not looking. Hungrier and hungrier her gaze grew, until she could take it no more.
The next time she was within range of Morgana, she grabbed her around the waist and kissed her with all the force of the roaring fire around which they danced. Cheering rose around them and Morgana laughed.
“And here was me thinking all these months that you were all longing gazes and no action,” Morgana teased, artfully evading a kiss.
Morgause, speechless, only kissed her harder.
AU →When Queen Guinevere’s wife Morgana dies of an unknown ailment, Gwen turns to dark magic to see her beloved again.