AN: Hello, this is Angel More with a new oneshot in collaboration with Caro (Vain x Life Poetess). Thank you for putting up with my crazy ideas!
WARNING: EXPLICIT MAN ON MAN SEX. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!
I wanna play with fire
Even in the pouring rain
Even in the stars above
I'm here with you again
Even if we're not in love
We'll dance together in the dark
I know how to light the spark
I'm burning up with my desire
I wanna play with fire
Ah Ah Ah
I wanna play with fire
Ah Ah Ah
Ah, aah, ah, aah, ah, aah, ah, aah, ah [4 veces]
Guess this is where it all bega
When we let the music play
Wanna drag me in
Taste me like champagne
And let your hands go everywhere
On my body, through my hair
Your moves are so amazing
You know it makes me crazy
Ah Ah Ah
I wanna play with fire
Ah Ah Ah
I wanna play with fire
Ah, aah, ah, aah, ah, aah, ah, aah, ah [4 veces]
Don't stop it no, surrender to the beat just you and me
Just like it used to be, set your heart free when you surrender
Don't stop it no, cause I can feel the heat of you and me
Just like it used to be, set your heart free when you surrender
(I can barely breathe...I can not believe
There's only you and me...Moving
Desperatly...Suddenly dance the dance)
Ah, aah, ah, aah, ah, aah, ah, aah, ah [4 veces]"
~Sexy Dance by Paulina Rubio
Calais
It was night, as all of our stories of passion, betrayal and lust they all start at the time when the sun rises no longer, when the skies are dark and it becomes easier for our animalistic desires to gain control of us.
Henry had always suppressed his desires for men. He knew what he was, he could have all the women all he wanted yet with the passing of time women had become less and less desirable for Henry.
His eyes now roamed toward other things, other people. Desirable and running amok, they proved to be the real challenge: men.
And Henry, being a hunter, wanted the ultimate prize, King Francis. He would be his greatest trophy, to have the flower of France in his possession. They had been rivals since they had been crowned, marked by fate to hate each other yet the more he found himself hating Francis the more Henry yearned to have him. He would have done anything to posses him to smear the younger one's pride, to make him his, his subject, his lover, his slave.
Henry was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't notice a pair of eyes watching him curiously and yet lustfully.
François of Angoulême, King of France, was un-doubtfully an experienced lover. His mistresses were well known among the French court, and unlike many Kings, he did not neglect his marital duties: his three sons and four daughters, bore by Claude, his sweet, pious Queen, were the living proof of that.
His reputation as a ladies man gave him the expertise in recognizing every sign of a women's body. Women were one of the most delicious things in the world: some of them were shy and delicate like spring flowers, some others were restless and strong like royal horses who needed to be dominated. He could decipher all their small gestures, all the hesitations and the waves of secret desire they
felt whenever they laid her eyes on him. And now he had just found he could use the same ability in people of the same gender.
Henry the VIII was not someone he liked. Actually, it was pretty much the opposite: the English monarch's endless whims and his capricious nature got on Francis' nerves. However, there was one thing he had to admit: Henry the VIII could be the most spoiled King of Christendom, but his piercing blue eyes, his pouty and kissable lips, his delicate, almost feminine face made him also one of the most attractive too.
Were they destined then, to play this game of cat and mouse forever now? The fates had spoken, Henry was sure that he being the King of England, young and conqueror since the battle of Theurianne when he squashed the flour de lis, he would win, he would claim Francis, claim those dark and alluring clothes, kiss those rosy and large lips.
He would make if not France, then his King bow to him.
He would make Francis his, and mark my words destiny, he thought Francis shall be mine and no one else.
Francis could see the desire burning in his nemesis' eyes. So he wants me for his own amusement? We shall see my young lion, we shall see.
That was when Henry's gaze lifted from his lap... and his eyes met the ones which he had been craving so furiously since he first met his opposite. What happened next was extremely brief yet undeniably powerful, a moment where they finally faced their enemy and were fully aware of his intentions
No words, no formalities were said, Francis took one step forward and before Francis could make his move, Henry ran to him taking off his belt, his trousers, his chemise. Francis could not stop himself, he wanted to know every part of this man.
Henry trapped Francis with his claws digging on his naked back. After all clothing was thrown aside. Francis feeling the pull of Henry's nails digging into his bare flesh, enveloped him into a deep embrace that forced Henry to surrender before the King's mighty roar as he claimed like an angry and hungry lion his prey.
Francis kiss was intoxicating, a mixture of wine and spices, as the two tongues battled restlessly. Then, quick as a predator, the French king trapped Henry with one arm behind his back. Henry tried to but soon his attempts were stopped due to the work of some rough fingers around his manhood.
- François - Henry moaned weakly. Things were not going accordingly to his plans.
- Oui? - came a hoarse voice right behind his ears, while his kisses pecked his hair, his neck... everywhere.
- I don't want this... to be this way - Henry complained. He wanted to have Francis, not to be possessed by the Frenchman as if he was a maid.
Henry's hair went all the way up when a low giggle was heard just behind him.
- Of course you don't. But I do.
- Damn you - Henry whispered in his ear feeling the hairs behind his neck stand up in fright as he felt Francois' fingers reach to the epitome of his arousal
Henry moaned and he found his hand, Francis's hand who else could it be while both of them were locked up inside his study? -Coming back to Francis' hand, he could feel now its finger being guided by his desire to posses Henry, trailing up to his left shoulder.
- Do you consent? - Francis asked huskily.
Henry shook his head, but it didn't matter as the King of France was going to claim his prize anyway.
Francis knelt his head down in the direction of Henry's shoulder and first savoring with his tongue the taste of his flesh, he brought his lips to it and kissed it.
Francis knelt his head down in the direction of Henry's shoulder and first savoring with his tongue the taste of his flesh, he brought his lips to it and kissed it.
At the same time, Francis hand pressed Henry's other shoulder, forcing the English monarch to kneel in front of him. Henry sighed in both resignation and excitement.
He tried not to look directly to the French King's manhood, but it was impossible. From where he was standing, he could appreciate François body fully, marveling at his broad chest, his strong legs and his rock hard member. Suddenly bit by guilt and embarrassment, Henry closed his eyes when his hand directed it to his mouth. At the same time, he was amazed by the contrast between the hard flesh and the smooth skin on his tongue.
His tongue was intoxicating and it was resulting in the impossible for Henry to resist those soft lips on his, then with his tongue pushing deeper into he got lost in the
he got lost in the feeling of ecstasy and the moaning that began to escape from Francis as well.
Francis began to lose control of himself as he felt the other King's fingers now on his manhood, he wanted them to get out of there, it was too much pressure they were putting on him, and his arousal did not stop when Henry forced more of his tongue inside his mouth. He felt like he was being swallowed by the chimera.
Sweet Holy mother of God, Francis thought once the King's fingers moved away from his manhood and came to his waist.
He had it coming, both felt about the other.
It was not meant it to be, this sin. Yet it was happening and Henry no longer able to control himself, brought Francis closer to him, he felt he had conquered at last however Francis gave one big surprise as his mouth found itself out of Henry's and got down to his neck where he roughly bit into the naked flesh, and before Henry could react, Francis brought his manhood, his erect penis on the other, and both interwined joined by pleasure and succumbing fully into sin, they became one.
Henry hisses in pain when he feels the tip of Francis manhood forcing its way into his body. He had never felt like that before.
- Hush, hush, mon cher cousin - Francis whisper in his ear, his chest crushed against Henry's back. - Slowly… very slowly.
He entered inch by inch, very slowly indeed. Henry was amazed, since the pain was increasingly becoming much more bearable. In fact, it was becoming more pleasant as Francis struggled to fit into his tight core.
His breathing became less erratic as the pain subsided and he found himself in heaven, Francis kept whispering in his ear to keep him sane while he found himself slipping away from reality.
But it was useless. As Francis explored the depths of his body, he grazed accidentally a small spot which made Henry gasp desperately for air, overwhelmed by the electrifying sensation which ran through his body.
His inner muscles finally gave him to Francis, which couldn't hold back a small moan of victory as he found himself completely inside the English monarch.
- Are you enjoying it, cousin? - he teased.
- Yes... yes... - it was all Henry could whisper. Any chances of coherent speech were long gone.
- Good, because the best is yet to come - and with that Francis thrust became rougher, one single time, and Henry's body started to shiver feverishly.
As Henry's shiver increased so did the pleasure in Francis as his voice made the hairs behind Henry's back stand up.
His fingers had claimed his body, his manhood had made them one, Henry found himself being owned by not Spain, the Empire or any other Country he formally dreaded, but France! The worst of all!
Lie to me, he said to his conscience, lie to me and tell me I have conquered and destroyed the fleur de lis, that I have made it mine.
But even his conscience could not lie, anymore that he could lie to himself that he was now Francis' mare.
His English mare.
His English mare, the name sounded perfect and when Francis whispered it to his English mare it made Henry flare up in rage as Francis made the desire in his body impossible to resist any longer.
Francis had done what his ancestor had always wished, to have England in the palm of his hands, and in his body. He had conquered England, he could feel the sweet melodic voice of Henry whispering "I am yours" it became music to the French King's ears as he stroke Henry's back bringing him closer his thrust speeding up as they were about to reach their climax.
Henry gasped as he felt it, all of the other man's essence spill inside him, entering his body making him stir and as the shades of night covered their sin, they could not help to think that once this was over outside of their underworld no one would see their actions very well.
But did it matter? The deed was done, and as Francis released himself in his English Mare, Henry's mind raced as Francis ravaged him over and over again.
Francis' iron hard muscles, not bad either thought Henry as Francis thought of his, for a man now near thirty, and for the first time as Henry's eyes gazed now, he glimpsed at Francis' impressive manhood, and wondered seriously for the first time if his "Lord" had been speaking the truth about knowing Mary Boleyn, his future wife's whorish sister, carnally, and if he had, whether he had really satisfied her as well as he himself had done.
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the increased pace of his Master's fingers on his manhood, and soon it was Henry's turn to scream in pleasure as he released his seed in the sheets. He knew it was a sin, but he had caressed himself a few times just like Francis was doing to him now. However, it had never felt this good... this intense, a small voice stated in the depths of Henry's mind
while his eyes rolled to the back of his hand and his body arched like a violin string. He bit the nearest pillow long and hard to muffle his screams of pleasure but also his humiliated tears. When it was all over, he buried is head in his arms, not daring to face his defeat, who lied right next to him, sweaty and panting heavily.
As for Francis, once his body was calm and collected, he lifted himself on his elbow to look at the English monarch, and was surprised to hear a muffled sob coming from the other side of the bed.
On one hand, he felt a savage pride and a sense of victory crushing upon him. He had Henry wrapped around his little finger.
Yet he pitied the young monarch. It must have been a major blow on the other man's ego.. and also on other parts of his body. Someone was not going to be able to sit properly next morning.
His hand reached to caress Henry's hair, but he soon stopped as an enraged hand locked his wrist.
- Don't you dare to touch me - Henry hissed. - Isn't it enough to humiliate me? To make me crawl beneath you? To make me your puppet... your whore? - he whispered shamefully.
- Wouldn't you have done the same if you were in my place? - Francis' tone was now cold. Henry didn't retort, but his flustered face said it all.
- I thought so - Francis continued. - But... like I once said to you... in most things we, French, excel you - the French king laughed. That was it, Henry thought. I'll kill you with my bare hands.
He then ignored the excruciating pain in his lower half and jumped on top of the French king, wrapping his hands around his neck in the process.
But Francis knew better. He put his hands on Henry's hip, pushing him aside and once again rolling on top of him, locking his wrists with his hands and waiting for Henry to stop squirming beneath him. When Henry finally gave up, Francis lowered his hand to kiss him. The kiss amazed them both, by its sweetness and gentleness. Francis then let go of Henry, who simply close his eyes in defeat and exhaustion.
The French king rose from the bed and put on his clothes. When he was finished, he gave a last glance to his enemy, who was lying now completely strained on the bed. He saw a single tear running down his cheek, and instinctively got closer to the bed, kissing Henry's cheek and tasting the salt of the English tears.
- Sleep now, my dear cousin, you will need it - Francis whispered on Henry's ear. Then he rose from the bed again, but when he was about to leave, an amusing thought made him lean towards Henry's ear one more time.
- I bet the Emperor wouldn't make you come this hard even if he tried for a million years - and with that he gently sucked on Henry's earlobe, smirking when he heard his opponent muffled grumble. Then he finally turned his back to the English monarch and left to celebrate in private the success of his charm.
He is truly despicable –thought Henry- but that despicableness was the result that like William the Conqueror not English but a Frenchman, that Francis had conquered English shores by nailing Henry to his bed, marking on the English King making him forever his.
Francis was right though. Henry groaned as he tried to lift himself up. This would hurt even more in the morning.