Summary: Lord Narcisse's perspective the morning after "Tempting Fate" episode.

AN: I don't own anything about "Reign." This started as a one shot, but had to add another. Rating M for sexy stuff. ENJOY!

He had long been awake and dressed in his clothes from the night before. As he was lacing up his trousers Charlotte had entered to rouse Catherine. He'd held up a finger to his lips to signal her not to say anything. She looked confused with his presence and as if she was torn between listening to him and her duty to the Queen Mother.

They had a hushed conversation about drawing a bath, then he gave orders for her breakfast to be delivered to her chambers. He wanted her to have as much time as possible to dress for the day and ready herself to face the many challenges he knew awaited her.

As he paced for a bit, trying desperately not to wake her, he thought it strange of him to feel the need to care for a woman such as Catherine. She'd never needed a man's care, and he knew how abundantly strange she felt when comforts were offered to her from men. No doubt he would be no different.

He already knew of her distrust for him. His lust for power made him no different than her. He'd caused an awful uprising in France with his blackmail of her family, he'd never regretted his decisions of that time until this very moment.

His gaze settled on her half naked form tucked beneath the white sheet of her bed. She rested on her stomach, sheets bunched at her waist, the contours of the porcelain skin of her back exposed to the early, morning, light. He sat in her vanity chair at the foot of her bed as he continue to study this woman who was such a mystery not only to him, but to all of France and most of her family. Her copper hair fanned out over the white linens of the bed caused her to look like an angel. She was peaceful, her breathing even and steady. He hated that she ever had to wake to face this day.

He knew of the challenges she'd spoke of. His promise that he'd made to her the night before was not one he would go back on. He couldn't help the pang of guilt that struck him as he thought about the fact that she very well could become regent of France, and if he stayed at her side what that would mean. The thought that had him completely twisted was the very real fact that he was realizing how little he cared about any of that; that in this small moment, all he wanted to do was to protect her from harm and from pain.

He smiled to himself as he thought back to the night before. He had always entertained women much younger than Catherine, and had never had a desire to look to any woman who was closer to his own age...before her. It amazed him, how much she made him want her. Her touch was so different than that of women before her; she didn't reach for him with trembling, inexperienced hands; but rather with a touch that was certain and confident. She knew how to give back. She knew how to make him feel just as wanted by her as she was by him. Everything about last night was a first.

Most of the women he brought to his bed were quiet and somewhat timid. That type of a woman ignited a need in him to seize control with them. To allow himself to experiment in various ways of pleasure because they were so pliable and willing to give themselves over to him.

Catherine was everything they weren't. It was a battle for control with her. She'd had no problem taking hold of the reigns. She'd fought him for control as he did the same and it ignited something in him he'd never known that he had. She was confident in everything she did. She wasn't afraid to tell him what she wanted and wasn't afraid to express her pleasure.

He gave a small laugh, thinking back to when his lips had trailed their way down the slope of her stomach and how she tensed when he brought his lips lower. She'd shot straight up and looked at him,

"Stefan?! What the hell are you doing?!"

He looked at her with shock and amazement.

"Don't tell me a man has never done this for you?"

He'd laughed out loud when she said, "That all depends..what exactly are you trying to do!?"

He'd convinced her, finally to lie back, part her legs, and not fight him; and above all to trust him. That first contact of his tongue on her was heaven for him and apparently the same for her.

Remembering how her back had arched violently off of the bed and the string of Italian curse words that left her throat on a moan; he'd smiled viciously up to her and coyly asked,

"More?"

Her eyes shot to him as she seethed between clenched teeth, "Stefan..so help me God if you stop i'll have you drawn and quar...AR...T..."

He'd stopped her rant by running his tongue agonizingly slowly up her cleft and plunging a single long finger into her tight depths.

"What was it you were saying?"

She cursed at him in Italian again as her head dug into the pillow and her fingers clutched the sheets in her grip so tightly her knuckles turned white. The sweat that had caused her skin to glow in the firelight, her screams of delight as she would find her way on top to control the pace, and her moans and gasps as he would re-gain control and flip her onto her back. They continued to dance like that all night.

Stefan's thoughts were brought back to the present as he saw her hand reach out, trying to find him. His heart gave small ache as he heard her very tired voice call his name. Before he came to her, he prayed silently to God that he could change his usual ways, that he could be someone for her that she might come to need; because though he didn't want to admit it, he was falling in love with Catherine De Medici.

To alenarose: my love to you, dear, for continuing to read and for your lovely reviews.