Running his fingers through his hair, Francis finally came about the right way to explain the predicament. Denial was the only thing keeping him from realizing that true potential of his father's growing insanity.
"He's...He's...He's not himself at the moment," he muttered, slowing raising his voice. "I don't know what's making him act like this, but it's not right. However," he came to another pause. "We have to deal with it, okay? I need you to go with anything that happens...it won't be long, I assure you. We will fix this, but we have to deal with it together."
Mary nodded, finding no other way to address his request. She didn't have the strength to disagree with him. Albeit, she didn't have the knowledge of what would come of her efforts. In that moment, she knew making Francis as comfortable with his own family issues was her goal. If she had to go along with a lunatic's decisions, she would do just that.
"Mary, Mary, Mary," King Henry murmured, his breath heavy in his daughter-in-law's ear.
He held her tightly around the waist, sure to press her rear end against his front. He wanted to feel every inch of her as she felt the same of him. His hold tightened as he felt any movement, like a small child grasping tighter at a stuffed animal slipping out of reach.
When Mary agreed to "going along with it," she didn't expect every encounter with the King to be of this nature. She didn't think he would make a move on his own heir's wife ever chance he found.
"Henry, please." The words slipped from Mary's lips just before they were consumed by her pursuer's, leaving no real argument to be had. As she debated what to do, Francis's words echoed strongly in her mind. I need you to go with it. She couldn't help but think this wasn't what her husband had in mind.
Her lips molded to match those of King Henry's, kissing him back with reluctance. The feeling that began to build up in her chest was not one that she welcomed willingly. The thought of enjoying his kiss was enough to bring her supper back up, but she couldn't deny what he did to her.
Only two previous times had she landed in this predicament, kissing him with a lost passion that she convinced herself was faked. She had to make an act of it, keeping both Henry and Francis at bay.
When Henry's fingers found themselves unlacing the back of Mary's dress, she was brought to attention in a way she hadn't before. Was it getting pushed this far? Was he trying to take her further than the small kisses she couldn't deny him?
"I have to...Francis...He needs me to...uh," Mary stumbled over her words. She had no real excuses. Nothing could get her out of this moment like times in the past. She would have a bigger decision to make than before. To mesh in such a way with her husband's father was not something she desired. She didn't want to find herself in bed with King Henry, whether she had a choice of it or not. The kisses were one thing, but this was an entirely new situation. The only things going through her mind were risks and complications.
"There's nothing to get you away from me this time. I made sure of it, my love," Henry retorted, his hands pulling the laces undone with ease. He had plenty of practice, she could tell.
"May I ask your pardon?" Mary asked, pulling away with more defiance this time. The realization that he made an effort of this came more of a shock to her. Hearing the sly planning from his own mouth didn't settle well on her shoulders.
"Francis is busy with nobles. Your ladies are in Scotland until tomorrow. Katherine is...God knows where Katherine is, but, either way, we have no interruptions. Nothing will pull you away from me this time."
Mary's lack for words signaled the King onward, giving him no true barrier as he continued. He didn't have any objections weighing on what little morality he had left. His fingers took gentle care as they finished the lacing and slid the top of her dress off of her shoulders.
In only a short moment, Henry had the Queen of Scots out of her layers and pressed against his plush mattress. His recent dreams depicted what he was soon going to have for himself, though they hardly did the real moment justice.
"I like seeing you beneath me," King Henry said, gazing down at the much younger girl below him, pleased by his chances.
He had been lucky enough to keep his activity up these days, changing up his partners time and time again. Just days before, he pined for her good friend Kenna, having her in just the same fashion. He knew better than to point this out.
His hands wandered between Mary's legs, pressing them apart gently to make room for himself. He could tell that her tendency to hesitate returned, requiring more force from his end of the bargain. If she wouldn't give it to him by her own thought, he would take it from her. He needed her compliance this time around. He was stealing more than kisses this time around.
If it was his choice, there would have been more words between them, more seducing and taunting, more comments and compliments. Mary insisted on silence.
King Henry brought his hands to a halt on her body, situating himself with his trousers pushed down his thighs to reveal his only weapon. In his day and age, he didn't have much more to show for, but her tiny gasp was enough to prove that it held up. Every ticking second gave him confidence for a better time than he planned. Her growing eagerness was beginning to show, or so he thought. Whatever he felt radiating off of her was enough for him.
Mary turned over without reluctance this time, allowing the King to take control. She wasn't one for dominance any other moment, why would she make this any different? She didn't want Henry to think she wanted this from him. No matter how his hands felt on her slick skin, she didn't want him to think she liked it.
"Not a word I can pull from you," Henry whispered, directing himself into her rear. He felt no need for patience as he thrust into her. With himself fully sheathed, he leaned over her back. He wanted her to feel his presence. He needed her to realize that he was the one who should be with her every night. "Are you this silent with my son?"
Even in the heat of things, Mary could feel the growing exhaustion from the King. There wasn't much he could do without moving slower over time. The more she thought about it, each moment they shared was rusty in motion. He was losing his drive along with his own sanity.
"Henry?" she questioned, a shock coming over her as she realized he was asleep beside her. Only minutes before, they were deep in the throes of this love making.
The Queen of Scots rose slowly from the confines of the bed, beginning the hunt for her own clothing. While it hadn't been strewn too far across the room, finding the right layers took more time than she would have liked. Speed was necessary. She wanted to leave the King's quarters before he awoke again, leaving her in yet another predicament.
As Mary finally strode down the hall to meet her husband for the night, her previous actions were the only things on her mind. She needed to configure some kind of excuse for Francis. He wouldn't be pleased to find out she had been in bed with his father. However, coming up with a lie wasn't second nature for her. She wanted an honest relationship between the two of them.
Excuses roamed her mind as she felt Henry's hands firmly on her hips, the slow, steady pounding of his body against hers, the hot breathing against her neck. The realness of their moment burned like hot coals on her conscience, making it harder for her to push the memory away. One more moment for the books. One more thing she couldn't tell Francis. She had to go along with it, sure, but there was no way he meant for something like that to unravel between the two of them.