Side Note - The first part of this one's a little more rated R than our usual forte ;)
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The steam in the air is sweet, smelling of lotus and magnolia, as the gentle vapours rise from the copper bathtub and ascend into the cold winters' air. The room is dark and cavernous, rich golds and dark maroons dimmed by the sensual blend of candlelight and moonlight. The water is hot and luscious, all sorts of oils and flower petals swimming in the deep bathtub, occupied by two lovers of royal blood.
The water skates down Mary's beautiful face, darkening the already raven strands of hair, thickening it and lengthening it, letting it dance in the pool of water and rose petals as her head reclined back, a soft moan leaving her lips as her husband tips another jug full of water down her body that sits straddled on his bare hips. She bites her lip, enjoying the feeling of the warm heat lave down her alluring countenance and roll down the trim slender of her neck, rushing down the valley of her bare breasts and the curves of the two globes the King of France headily worshiped tenfold more than his own globe he walked upon and ruled over, dripping down her slender waistline, the envy of all the women of court and back into the murky grey water, full of flower petals, oils and soaps they've used over the last hour in the bathtub together.
Damn it all, the King nearly looses his mind at the sight above him, he frantically bites his cheek to keep himself within this moment that belongs to the two of them here and now. But to see her as she is now, like some otherworldly goddess or siren, he is never more tempted to take her now than ever before. He licks his lips, tracing the wet curvature of her neck and shoulder with a hand, skating it down and down until he hears his wife let out another shuddering moan. Her hands tighten around his chest and abdomen, their bodies, wet and lucid, press against each other in a way the Lord would scorn unless bound in matrimony. He licks his lips in anticipation as she nears him again, obviously intending to kiss him again, to perhaps start the game he both hated and loathed, teasing and taunting each other, denying each other until the moment was too much to bare and they could no longer hold back. She had indeed found joy as her husband flipped her over so she rested against the hot copper as his hands found other places upon her, the ones no other man would ever touch or kiss or worship.
The King of France lets out a groan as she kisses him deeply, cupping his face, her fingers dipping into the long, soaking wet, golden waves he holds on top of his head. She strokes his hair, smiling to herself as his hands find her back and lower and lower until he touches-
"Francis!"
Mary jumps, letting out a shriek as the door suddenly swoops open, and the warm air is replaced by a horrid chill. Any amount of light they may have had is at least drastically dimmed by the swish of air that enters the room, and the young Queen shivers involuntarily as the air is suddenly so cold around her, and she dips down into the water and into the arms or her startled husband to try and keep warm.
"Mother, what is this?!" Francis suddenly barks, such a stark contrast to the guttural noises and soft whispers he had been letting out up until this point, his arms tight, protective, around Mary's frame as his mother registers the scene she just walked into.
Alas, she doesn't seem to care about her son and daughter in law's distress.
"I've sent word to you three damn times about the Duke of Garcia's visit from Spain, but the poor boy came back blushing and mumbling about gardenia's and swiss wine, and all this time this was what he was talking about?" she huffs. "How many times have I told you that you have to focus on the dignitaries when they visit? Not the inside of your wife's body?"
Francis' mouth falls open, but it's Mary who speaks. "Don't you want a legitimate grandchild, Catherine? An heir for France to give her England?"
The Queen Mother raises a brow, and she begins to speak, but Mary beats her to the punch.
"Shouldn't you focus less on dignitaries and on your nightly routine, anyhow? I do believe I see some pores showing and you never want to greet-"
The door slams shut.
Francis laughs, while his wife smirks in accomplishment.
"Now, where were we?"
ΔΙΑΒΑΖΕΙΣ
You Are My Light Part II
Ιστορικό φαντασίας-Reign Oneshots/Taking Requests- The world can be dark, Mary, and uncertain and cruel. The only thing that matters is that we face it together. No matter what happens, you are my light. Part 2! -Read TEML first!-
