This moment, it belongs to them.
That's all Mary can think as her ladies prepare her for the ceremony, Francis doing the same in a nearby room. That no matter how many people were present or what they would witness, it was their wedding night. She wants nothing more than for her first night with Francis as husband and wife to be only theirs. But in spite of the witnesses she is determined to make it about them. Specially after all the weeks of longing and pushing him to the back of her mind, and how now she can love him like she's always wanted to, and that feeling takes over.
Her breath catches as he comes in, and she's left alone in the middle of the room. The witnesses scurry into place and her ladies stand by the side of the bed. It should make her cheeks flame, but they don't, she's too focused in Francis, mesmerized by him like she's been ever since he came back yesterday.
They take it slow. He comes closer, pulling her to him and kissing her breathless, his tongue slipping inside her mouth, tangling with hers. They kiss like they have all the time in the world to do just this, enjoy each other. He walks her back to the bed, and they fall, a mess of entwined limbs and gasps between kisses. The world outside the bed dissolves into nothingness as he kisses her, biting her lip lightly as his hands roam her body. And God, she's missed this.
It's like she can finally, after all the weeks of numbness and sorrow running through her bones, fill her lungs completely. With him so close it feels like she can breathe again, and so she pulls him closer above her, sinking her hand into his hair as he kisses and nibbles her neck, making her eyes fall close. She doesn't give him long before she's pulling him back to her mouth, deprived of his kisses for what feels like eternity.
"Francis." She gasps out against his mouth when he moves against her. She can feel his hardness through their clothes and her body aches with the need of him. He pulls back and his eyes search hers, a question swimming in their depths as his hand settles on her thigh. She nods faintly, it's been but a few minutes yet she can't wait any longer. She's far too impatient for this to seem like her first time but she doesn't care, doesn't see anyone but Francis. She pulls him down for a kiss as he hikes up her nightgown, and she's surprised by the sudden cool air she can feel on her bare legs. For the first time uncertainty grips her, her gaze slipping past him to the men beside them on the bed, but Francis' hand on her chin make her look back at him.
"They don't exist." He tells her quietly, his lips pulling at hers in a small comforting kiss. "Just us." His thumbs are rubbing circles in her thighs and she nods, relaxing back on the bed, her eyes focused on him and only him. The people in the room fall away once more, and it's just him and his weight above her. "I love you." His lips whisper against her collarbone and it makes warmth spread through her chest and her need all the more pressing.
He pushes her legs apart, settling himself against her, and she feels a shock of electricity run through her the first time their naked flesh comes into contact. His forehead is against hers then, his eyes focusing on her as he pushes inside gently, and the intimacy of the moment it's enough to set her alight. Her mouth falls open slightly and her hands grip his back, bringing him even closer. She doesn't try to hide the small whimper that escapes her as he thrust into her fully, her body readjusting to the intrusion. The twinge of pain a reminder of how very long it's been, the weeks that have passed since the last time she was in his arms like this. She almost relishes in it as he sinks deeper, her legs falling wider apart to let him in.
It's slow and lucid then, how they move together. How their tongues tangle and play and their hands roam over their bodies, pulling the other closer as if they'll never let go. They share the same breath, the same rapid heartbeat. It's just them, alone in a world of their own making, a hazy bubble where nothing else exists but this moment, his lips upon her lips, his hands on her skin, as his body and hers becoming one over and over again.
The warm air smells like him as he thrusts inside of her, his mouth ghosting kisses on her neck and sucking the spot behind her ear. She's lost in it. She can't help the wide smile that breaks out in her face, her eyes half closed; this feeling its pure bliss. She tangles her hands in his air as his mouth covers her again, his lips matching his unhurried pace as they take pleasure in each other. She thinks then that she will never tire of this.
The world outside this bed has been ignored by her through it all, but a sudden rustling near the door takes her attention, pulling her away from the moment. She grips Francis' shirt in her fist, shocked at who she sees standing there. Bash. It's jarring to see him there and she's lost on the reasons why. She knew their intimacy would be on display, but that was necessary. This is cruel.
Francis notices her unfocused attitude and follows her line of sight. She can feel his muscles tighten above from her as he notices his brother, his demeanor changing into something darker and she won't have that. This moment belongs to them. Just them. She looks away and kisses Francis' forehead, a silent "come back to me." Because it's been weeks she's felt her chest would burst from longing for him, and now they're here, and they are one in every way possible. And that won't be tainted by anything.
He focuses back on her, his hand trailing down her body and curling around her leg, and everywhere his fingertips touch her leaves a trail of fire on her skin. She gets lost in it once again, in them. His hand are everywhere, brushing over her breast, slipping down to her waist, gripping her thigh as he pushes into her harder, faster, picking up the pace and the waves of pleasure are so overwhelming she can't do anything but gasp, her open lips barely grazing his each time he thrusts inside her. They share the same breath, the same heartbeat.
He'd started so gentle, so agonizingly slow, but now he's relentless; sinking into her again and again harder and faster. In that moment she needs him so much closer, and she grips his arm and then grabs his neck to bring him closer to her, her mouth desperately moving against his before she pulls away, her lips open an her breath rushing out. Francis runs his hand down her body, sneaking underneath her gown and finding that spot, right above where they're joined, and rubbing it mercilessly, her eyes close as her moans start to fill the air and he kisses her to quiet them. Her climax takes over her body, rocking her in waves of pure bliss. It comes from deep within, making her heart race even faster and her muscles tighten all at once. He's not far behind, crying out "Mary!" against her ear, the sudden hotness shooting deep within her as he spills inside sending aftershocks of pleasure through her body.
They stop moving slowly, completely exhausted. Sweat gleams on their skin and their chests rise up and down at a matching pace. He pulls out of her with a groan, not before pushing her nightgown further down to ensure she remains covered. Her mind begins to clear and she looks up to the room, catching sight of Bash and his guard walking out. A sliver of guilt gnaws at, that he had to watch, that she forgot he was there at all. One by one, the witnesses file out of the room while Francis catches his breath against her shoulder. Once the guard finally closes the door behind him, Francis leans back to look at her.
"Are you all right? He asks her, one hand cupping her face, his thumb on her chin.
She wants to answer that question properly, to tell him that she's never felt more alive that right now, with him. That she swears her blood is boiling and it's all thanks to him, or that she never for a second cared about their meddling witnesses because his eyes are enough to hold her attention and his hands belong on her body. But it's easier thought than said, so she just answers:
"I'm more than all right."
She sits up, leaning back cross legged against the headboard. She can't help the smile that graces her features, just from looking at Francis, his blue eyes bright even in the dark of the room and his hair tousled from her fingers running through it. She smiles just from knowing all the happiness that awaits them. Their future together expands in front of her like a journey to be explored, by the both of them, finally together. No prophecies or disgraces looming. And she knows it won't be easy sometimes but they'll be together through it all and that thought alone paints the biggest of smiles on her face.
"What are you so happy about?" He asks, a slightly quizzical smile on his face. He kneels in front of her, his hands going to move up and down her thighs as if he can't bear to stop touching her, not even for a minute.
"Us." She says, caressing his cheek. "The fact that we're finally husband and wife. What is there not to be happy about?" She tells him, and she's drunk on this feeling, on finally being able to love him without fears or reservations. He is hers, and she is his, forever.
"I agree with the sentiment." He says, smiling even wider himself. He tugs on one of her ankles so she uncrosses her legs, and then wraps her leg over his waist. "I love you," He does the same to her other one, until her legs are around him. "Wife." He whispers the title against her cheek with a grin, pressing her against the headboard. Her hands sink into his hair, pulling him down for a kiss, and they continue to enjoy their wedding night, finally away from prying eyes.