Happy Anniversary

Disclaimer: I am not a Theologian, a Historian, or a TV Producer; I therefore do not own any thing.
Pairing: Thomas Cromwell/ Elizabeth Wyckes Cromwell
Summary: "Well, Mister Secretary, you seem to have a problem with instructions." Thomas/Elizabeth, shameless smut, Very M.
Warning: Shameless smut, bondage, blindfolds, debauchery, devoid of plot or point.
Note: I was talking to a fellow writer about my prompt 58, Lovers, she was so excited about the idea of Thomas and Elizabeth having sex, and I had to disappoint her. I had intended to write a little piece about Thomas welcoming Elizabeth to court, our Lady Cromwell literally running into the King and the christening of a certain piece of office furniture, but as I was standing in a cornfield of all places the idea of James Frain tied to a bedpost hit me. And well… I'll stop talking now, nothing ruins the mood more.

"Elizabeth?" Thomas asked entering the dim, empty bedchamber. It was their anniversary and he had worked late, through no fault of his own and despite his best efforts. He could understand her being upset, but his inability to find his wife of twenty odd years had him worried.

A sound behind him brought pause, but before he could turn darkness covered his eyes. The room had been dimly lit by a few moody candles but now he could see nothing. He stiffened.

"Shh," Elizabeth's voice was in his ear, "It's our anniversary. Thomas, you're late." She made a hard 't' sound on late. "Did you think you could get away with that?" Another hard t. she nipped his ear. He calmed a little to find his attacker his wife and the blindfold dark silk. He was still blind but it was not unnerving. Thomas tried to turn. Tried to touch her.

"Ahahah, you made me wait." She teased pulling away, without his eyes he could hear her better, the sound of her voice, the dimple of their mattress as she rested there. "As penance you are not allowed to touch," hard 't's, hard Thomas. "me."

"That won't make this night any fun." He teased.

"Hush. Now strip." She ordered.

"Strip?" She spoke slowly.

"Ta-ke. Your. Clothes. Off." The scarf detracted from his expression but he pulled one anyway, though he did not complain, for his wife wanted him naked. Only good things could…come…from this.

A smile on his face he followed his wife's command, secretarial hands undoing the buttons on his jacket with the precision he brought to all things, his shirt soon followed. He could hear her appreciation, feel her gaze. He knew what he looked like. He was not the broad shouldered sports man like Suffolk or the King, he was narrow and lean, little fat or hair, save for the thick curls on his head. He knew he was not the cock of the walk, his over large ears rang with no praises, but the low hum in Elizabeth's throat told him that she at least appreciated his body, and that was all that mattered really. Feeling daring he did a little dance as he removed his pants, drawing a most unladylike snort from his bride as he wiggled his hips and twirled his linen shorts in his hand before casting them aside to land on God knew what.

"Very nice." She giggled before her tone turned to that authoritative siren's call that he loved. "Now get over here." He walked straight forward to their bed, he knew their bedroom – blindfolded. He heard the mattress creak as she rose to her knees upon it and kissed him. He wove his hands into her hair but soon found himself on his back on the bed, she straddling him, lips pressed to his ear.

"What did I say about touching?"

"No touching." He felt her smile.

"Well, Mister Secretary, you seem to have a problem with instructions." He felt her take his large right hand in her small one and raise it above his head; he felt the silk wrap around his wrist.

"Elizabeth?" she repeated the action with his left hand tying him securely, but not tightly to their headboard. "Elizabeth!"

"Trust me." She whispered against his lips before her tongue breached his defenses and swallowed any objections he might have had. He moaned. She smiled. Her hands raking down his body, making him shiver at the sensation of her nails on his sensitive skin, her mouth followed, stopping momentarily at his jaw, the point over his pulse that made his heart race and his body writhe as she nipped and sucked, sure to leave a mark come morning.

Her hands raked down his ribs as she sucked one small male nipple and then the other, her fingers darted south as her tongue penetrated his navel before turning its attention to his member. Her right hand drew a teasing design over his heaving chest as the other cupped his testacies, finger running alone the seam and making his eyes cross. He'd never been in his wife's mouth before, he'd heard others speak of such oral pleasures but had never dreamed to experience them, just as he'd heard of a man tying a woman to their bed but he'd never imagined he would be bound. What had his little wife been up to? Not that he had the ability to think clearly on the subject, he was blinded by sensation and frustration, his hands clawed at his restraints, he desperately wished to rip himself from his bonds and touch her – take her, but they held tight and he could be not but frustrated… and satisfied. Pleasure built between his thighs and behind his eyes, he knew the feeling, it signaled his impending release.

"Elizabeth." He groaned from between clenched teeth. "Elizabeth!" She relented and cool air passed over his overheated body, she had moved. Her disappearance was solved by her kiss to the lips that blasphemed and praised God as she sent him soaring through the heavens. She pulled back a second time and he felt her hot hands on his shins; her shapely legs stretch out beside his shoulders.

Slowly, sslloowwllyy she lowered herself onto him, tight as always, wet as the ocean. His eyes rolled back in his head as she began to move, a figure eight bringing him into contact with every part of her, in and out, left and right. He was panting. He was pleading, surely audible out in the hall as he begged to touch her. It wasn't fair, his fingers itched to feel her flushed, smooth skin, slick with sweat, he wanted to turn her over, to be in charge of her pleasure instead of making her work for it.

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth, Please. Let me touch you. Elizabeth, I beg you!" She laughed; he could feel it bubbling inside of her as she continued her tantalizing turns.

"The great Mister Cromwell begging? I should alert the masses."

"ELIZABETH!" he howled. Whether it was her mercy or God's he did not know but his hands broke free from their restrain and in a flash she was under him, he sheathed to his hilt as she screamed in surprise and pleasure. A single thrust had her inner muscles clamping tightly around him as she came – hard, her nails digging into his back, her eyes rolling back in her head, although he could not see this happen. Some men could get women to swoon, he could not, but he could get his wife to scream his name to the Heavens.

He managed to withstand her orgasm and tilted his hips, thrusting into her in a new, deeper rhythm; she twisted to meet his insertions, falling into their own special dance. He could feel the second wave of pleasure building within her and he knew he could not withstand its breaking. He threw off the blindfold, knowing that when they came the would do so together. He kissed her fiercely as they fell over the cliff together.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, shooting stars across his lids. It took all his efforts but he rolled over, off of her, his body surly crushing her flat. Pulling the blankets up around them he wrapped his arms around her, satin still dangling from his wrist, she nuzzled into his neck. He kissed her head, she the bruise she created.

"Happy Anniversary Thomas." She whispered sleepily.

"Happy Anniversary Elizabeth."