Never Be Mine

A/N: There can never be enough Lancelot and Guinevere smut, as far as I'm concerned. This is a little piece that had popped into my head one day. The characters are a mix from the legends and the movie. Keeping this as a one-shot for now. If anyone likes it, I may continue it.

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Chapter 1 - No Talking

The moon was full in the sky, this dark evening in Camelot. The Queen was restless and longed for fresh air, for she found the castle quite stifling at times. Her husband, the King, was sleeping quite peacefully aside her in their grand bed. She turned her head to look upon him. Their marriage, she had once thought was so firmly built on their mutual love for one another. But if that were true, why did Guinevere wish to leave her husband's warm arms this evening? The feeling of uneasiness had been with her for a long time now. Her once genuine smiles had now turned artificial and she had to force herself most days to regard him with the same love that had come so naturally before.

The queen knew when her present state of mind had first begun. She knew when the disquietude had first captured her. She knew when she had first begun to think of another in her quiet moments alone. But most importantly, she knew so well that these newly emerging feelings had always been there, concealed under the surface. And it had taken the wedding, which should have been a most joyous celebration, to make her finally realize the hidden truth. Mind you, the wedding I speak of is not that of the King and Queen, but of the fair lady Elaine and Arthur's first knight Lancelot.

Lancelot and Elaine had been married not one month ago; and since that day, the agony in the Queen's heart had been continuously growing. She had no right to feel as she did, she had not right to hate this young woman, who had done nothing but treat her queen with the most sincere kindness. Elaine was of the sweetest disposition, as beautiful as the Queen, fair where Guinevere was dark, and it was obvious to all how she loved and adored her husband. For she doted on him constantly, and her light eyes shined so brightly whenever she was in his company. Lancelot as well seemed quite pleased with his new bride.

Guinevere had to admit, she never once thought Lancelot would marry. She was not certain why she thought so. Perhaps because she had never seen him show interest in any of the ladies of the court. Or perhaps it was Guinevere's own secret wish, that he never be tied to another woman. In all honesty, at times she was quite convinced that Arthur's first knight was secretly in love with her. Though he had never made any gesture to support her theory, she had always thought she could see something hidden in his eyes whenever he spoke to her. Though Guinevere would never admit it, she quite enjoyed his attention, and perhaps this was why she was altogether shocked to learn that he had found himself a bride.

As quietly as possible, Guinevere slipped out from under the covers, and tossed her cloak over her shoulders to cover her sheer nightdress. She left the castle unnoticed by taking the secret exit, the exit which only Arthur, the knights and herself knew of. The cool air ticked her face, and she relished in the openness of the outdoors. Thanks to the illumination of the full moon, she was able to make her way clearly as she headed into the forest behind the castle.

The woods were so utterly silent, and Guinevere's footsteps made only the softest of sounds upon the scattered leaves. As she walked, her thoughts were inevitably drawn to that day's events. Nothing out of the ordinary had occurred; they had all partaken in dinner at the great hall as usual. Guinevere had been seated at her normal post aside Arthur at the round table; and she felt her eyes being inextricably drawn to the newlyweds. The way Lancelot so unabashedly kissed his new bride in front of everyone irked her to no end. Arthur had never shown such affection to his queen in public. Not that Guinevere had any issues with such displays; but the sight of Lancelot and Elaine sharing such tender moments ignited something dark deep within her.

The queen stopped her meandering aside a most gorgeously grand oak, and rested her back against the tree. She closed her eyes, just savouring her solitude and the complete calm of the night-time forest. After a few moments, she opened her dark eyes and almost screamed for her gaze locked upon her silent watcher.

“Lancelot! What are you doing out here?” She asked, with her heart pounding in her throat.

“I could ask the same of you, my queen,” He replied with the faintest of smiles.

He moved closer to her until the sweet smell of his black leather garments filled her nostrils.

“I just felt like taking a walk,” she explained, staring into his dark eyes. The way he looked at her made her breath catch in her throat.

“You should not be away from the castle alone at this late an hour.” He voiced with concern.

“Well, luckily I have you here now to protect me,” she wickedly smiled back at him.

He was standing mere inches from her now, and she feared he would become aware of her intense heartbeat. She pressed her back firmly into the oak, enraptured with his piercing gaze.

“Would your wife not be most concerned to find you away from her bed?” Her voice was merely a whisper now.

He moved his hand to rest on the tree, just above her head, and he leaned his face so close to hers, she could smell his sweet breath.

“Would your husband not be equally concerned to find his queen away from his bed?”

She was having trouble breathing now, and her back was aching from pressing so tightly against the rough timber.

“Arthur sleeps soundly,” she replied licking her lips, for they suddenly felt parched.

He was so close to her, she could feel the intense heat radiating off his body. His dark eyes were hypnotizing; she could not look away. Without a word, he reached down and grabbed a lock of her curls, gently rubbing her silken hair between his fingers. She ached to equally entwine her fingers in his dark curls, but her hands remained at her side.

His free hand suddenly moved to caress her cheek, and one knuckle softly brushed against her open lips. Her tongue quickly darted to lap at where his fingers had touched her mouth, and she almost moaned from the feel of his skin against hers.

She wanted him, and he knew it; for he wanted her as well. He had always wanted her, though he had never once given her any hint to his hidden lust. In this moment, he knew she burned as he did, for he recognized her feelings so clearly simmering in her half-lidded eyes. Their shameful lust for one another was all consuming, and it took every ounce of Lancelot's strength to resist, if she were to return his caress he would surely be lost. He silently begged for her to both comply and refrain; though in the end he knew that he would grant her whatever wish she so desired.

Guinevere sensed Lancelot's hesitation, and she knew he was waiting for a sign from her; would she give in to her aching desire for him, or would she resist? She has been battling internally for so long, holding back her passion each and every day, and now that he was so close to her, now that she could almost taste his lips, could almost feel his warm body pressed up against hers, how on this earth could she possibly resist that which she had been secretly hungering for so long.

If he could only read her thoughts, he would have kissed her by now, for her mind was screaming to feel his lips against hers. Instead he kept one hand gripped in her hair and the other continued softly stroking her face. Touch him! Both her heart and her mind commanded her, and Guinevere obliged. Her hands finally moved to his waist and she pulled his warm body tight against hers. She could feel his arousal hard against her thigh, and her stomach tightened in response.

They were both panting into each other mouths with lust, though their lips had not yet met. Both his hands were now locked behind her head, and all he needed to do was push just in the slightest and their lips would be locked; but he hesitated.

She could end it at all now, before she condemned them both. He pushed himself harder up against her, and she forfeited her last bit of self-control, there was no turning back now. She finally entwined her fingers in his dark curls and pulled his lips down to meet hers. All thought left her mind, everything else fell away and all she could feel was his lips pressed against hers, his tongue slowly caressing hers, and his hard body arched into her.

He broke the sweet kiss to gaze into her eyes. There were so many things written in his stare, so many emotions shining in his eyes. “Guinevere, I …” his voice barely above a whisper.

She instantly silenced him with her hungry lips. No talking. Her hands moved to his trousers, and she tore at the buttons, freeing his hard cock. He was nibbling on the soft skin of her neck, when she reached her hand to grasp him, causing him to sharply intake his breath and let out a hot sigh into her shoulder.

“Guinevere, wait please.” He was practically begging.

Wait! I have been waiting forever for this. Guinevere would wait no longer. With one hand stroking his hardness, she lifted her nightdress and brushed the tip of him against her, letting him feel how wet she was for him.

She teasingly licked his earlobe before moaning her command, “Now!”

Your wish is my command. He slowly pushed himself inside her, until he filled her completely, relishing in her body wrapped so tightly around him. His swollen lips sought hers and their tongues danced together, fueling their heated desire. He moved so achingly slowly, dragging his hardness in and out of her slippery flesh.

It was nothing at all as she had imagined; surely it was glorious, the feel of him inside her. But his movements were so sweet, so loving. He was cool water dousing her burning flames. Yet she wanted him to be hot fire, equal to her own, and melding with her into an unrestrained inferno. Her husband was always so sweet and gentle in their lovemaking; if she had wanted that, she would stayed in bed with him this evening. She craved a dangerous and forbidden passion. Passion that she knows dwells within the dark knight. Passion that burns in his eyes when he gazes upon her. But she does not feel his passion; for some reason he is holding back, reigning in his deepest desires.

She attempted to encourage him by bending her leg up into his side, to allow him even deeper entrance inside her. She moaned loudly into his ear, hoping that would spur him to move himself faster and harder inside her. That's what she wanted, but Lancelot continued his gentle motions. She bucked her hips harder against him, but he steadied her. He was savouring every inch of her, and did not want to rush the sensation. She was quickly loosing patience at her failed attempts to increase his pace.

“Do you fuck your wife like this?” Her words icily whispered into his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

He stopped the soft kisses he had been placing on her neck and pulled back from her, a look of shock painted on his face. He thought she had been enjoying their love-making as much as he.

“I am most sorry to have displeased you so, my queen,” the hurt and sadness filling his eyes.

He attempted to untangle himself from their embrace, but she stopped him. No, you are not going anywhere. Staring at him with fire in her eyes, she took his hands and put them on the curve of her buttocks and forced him to lift her up as she tightly encircled her legs around him.

“Why are you so afraid to hurt me?” she whispered into his mouth, her gaze never leaving his.

She wanted him to hurt her. She knew why he was being so careful, so gentle; but she needed more.

She lightly dragged her tongue across his neck and whispered, “How long have you lusted after me? How many times have you fantasized of me?”

He tightened his grip on her ass, squeezing her soft flesh, and a soft grunt escaped from his lips, which was the only reply he could give her.

She grabbed his ass with equal fervor and pushed hard, thrusting him deep inside her. He let out a strangled groan into her neck as she cried out loudly.

“Now show me.” She commanded while biting down hard on his shoulder, crushing the thin barrier he had placed up to hold back his fierce passion.

“Yes, my queen.” He smiled wickedly, before crushing his lips against hers, and forcing his tongue into her open waiting mouth. Gone were the soft tender kisses and caresses of earlier. Finally his fire equaled hers, and he thrust himself deep to her hilt causing her to cry out from both the pain and the pleasure of it.

Yes! It was exquisite. This is what she had been wanting, needing. What only he could give her.

Her mouth hungrily found his again, and he moved one hand to her back, to push her heaving chest tight to his. He thrust harder and faster into her, each kiss interrupted by their panting and moaning. She never wanted this to end, but each soft groan that escaped from his red lips only pushed her closer and closer to the edge. She tried to hold it in, waiting for him.

“Guinevere” The way he cried out her name made her squeeze her legs even tighter around him, desperately clinging to him as her body was ravaged by shockwaves arching though her. The pulses tightened around him, and he groaned into her mouth as he filled her so completely, exploding inside of her.

She buried her face in his neck for a minute, until she was able to slow her ragged breathing. She pulled back to stare into his deep brown eyes, and with an enormous smile, kissed him softly on the lips.

He caressed her cheek, brushing his lips on her forehead, before gently releasing his grasp on her. Holding her hand firmly in his they walked together away from the tree. He stared down at his most beautiful queen, and opened his mouth to speak. She already knew what he would say, she could read every unspoken word in his eyes, and quickly silenced him by pressing her finger to his lips.

“Shh. No talking.” She stole one last sweet kiss from him, and with a final smile, turned and walked away.

It was no use, she thought to herself. No good could come from uttering forbidden words that could never change the simple facts of their reality. She was the Queen, and she could never be anything more to him. It did not matter if she felt the same as he; it did not matter that her hunger, which he had sated for now, would soon return; it did not matter that she would now ache even more for his touch. None of it mattered; for she could not change her lot in life, just as she could not change her feelings for her husband's dearest and most beloved first knight.

Lancelot watched as the queen who had bewitched him so completely walked back though the trees to return to the castle. He kept his dark eyes fixed upon her back until he could no longer see her shadowy figure. Shaking his head, he said aloud the words that filled his heart with anguish, the truth of their situation and everything he wished he could change, but knew he never could.

“She will never be mine.”