The moment the castle comes into view, he smiles and urges his horse forward. A week away from his wife and he misses her greatly. After just a few months of marriage, Arthur finds himself already unable to sleep well when she isn't beside him, her warm body pressing against his and her mess of curls all over his face. So when he enters their chambers, his heart drops in disappointment when he realises it's empty.

The servants inform him that she is in the council room speaking with some villagers who have come asking for help. He sneaks in and watches with growing pride as she handles the matter deftly and the villagers leave satisfied. As she speaks to one of the council members, he takes the opportunity to study her. The fading evening sun falls on her skin like gossamer cloth. The dress is new, a royal blue with a low neckline. He isn't sure if she simply liked such necklines or she liked torturing him with them. He imagines that if he were beside her, he would be able to see the dusky valley between her breasts and the freckles that line them. And he'll attempt to taste every one of those freckles. He hasn't been successful in tasting them all yet but he has been enjoying the journey.

The conversation between her and Gregory is still going on when she finally notices his presence. Her eyes light up and although he can see her attempt to maintain her composure, a smile spreads across her face. He too struggles to stop himself from simply shoving Gregory away and hauling his wife to him. Instead, he stops near her and gestures for them to continue.

"I'm sure we can continue this discussion tomorrow," Gregory says uncomfortably, his eyes darting from Gwen to Arthur.

"Of course," Gwen nods, her eyes still on Arthur. He smirks, pleased to know that he distracts her as much as she distracts him. "The rest of you can go too."

The moment the door closes behind them, Gwen makes to get up but Arthur shakes his head. A slight frown mars her forehead as she sits back down. She is a sight, regal, collected, every inch a queen in control. Suddenly, he wants - he needs - to see her lose control on the throne. The thought sends blood rushing to his groin.

She swallows and his body reacts. Slowly, he leans over to brush a kiss across her lips. Before she can deepen it, he moves away, drawing a disappointed groan from her as she shifts forward, trying to recapture his lips. He moves to her side and drops to his knees as he lifts her leg. The slipper she is wearing falls softly to the ground and he covers her feet with wet, warm kisses. Her leg twitches and she giggles as he moves up, his hands pushing her heavy skirts up. Soon her giggles dissolve into deep breathing and breathless moans as her fingers tangle in his hair. She tastes like sunshine and he licks and blows against her bare skin, smiling every time she shifts and groans. When he reaches her thigh, he suckles the warm, smooth skin there. Her fingers tighten in his hair. It's painful but the pain only makes him want more. Her legs have fallen open by now, her heavy skirt falls over him when he stops holding them up, his hands more interested in feeling the softness of her skin. In front of him is her. He wants to taste her arousal and he knows it'll make her shiver and mew but he doesn't. Instead, he kisses the top of her inner thigh, taking pleasure from the wriggle of her bum and the shivers of her thighs. Avoiding her centre, he moves to her other thigh and slowly kisses it too, tasting the wetness that has trailed down.

She bucks. The skirts make it difficult to hear but he thinks she is begging as well. His fingers lightly skim across her and she moans, loud enough for him to hear. He wonders what the guards outside think. He flicks her and she jerks towards him. They've done this many times and in his head, Arthur can picture her - eyes closed, hands fisted, chest heaving. Her hair would be damp with sweat, plastered to her forehead and her nipples would have hardened and show through her dress. He hears her sob his name and he relents, pressing forward so he can lick her, dragging his tongue slowly up her dripping wetness, savouring her taste. She presses into his face, her thighs gripping his head. She's squirming, moaning and he imagines that she's cupping her breasts, touching at her nipples. His arousal throbs and grows but he's determined to make her come first.

He licks a few more times before slipping his tongue in. She squeals at his invasion and he thrusts into her. His hands move to slide over the curve of her bum and he shifts her so he can position his mouth properly over her. When his teeth lightly grazes her, she jumps. She is saying something but he can't quite make it out. It doesn't matter. He's about to burst from desire, a combination of her scent, her movements and her obvious need, and teasing her is no longer as attractive. He slides his fingers in and out of her, alternating with kisses. Tension grows in her and he knows she on the edge.

He nips her.

She tenses and slams into his hand, pulsing around his fingers.

Arthur quickly pushes her skirts away and gets up, undoing his trousers as he does so. Still recovering, Gwen stares at him, desire in her eyes. Her skirt is haphazardly hiked up, her hand has replaced his and she stroking herself slowly as she watches him strip. She is a far cry from the proper queen who was giving advice on the throne just minutes before. Now she looks like a fallen angel, all lust and need. When she lifts her hand and puts one finger in her mouth, he groans, shoves his trousers down and sit on his own throne.

"Come here."

She doesn't hesitant. Her skirts fall but she pulls them up. Carefully, she straddles Arthur and sinks down on him. The moment he feels her wet heat around him, he moves. After everything, he comes quickly, his seed mixing with her wetness and coats his thighs. Gwen slumps against him, still moving up and down his softening length. He uses his fingers to help her and she shudders to a second orgasm.

For a while, the two of them stay joined on his throne. It vaguely occurs to him that someone has to clean up after them but when Gwen nuzzles his throat, he lets that thought dissolve.

AN: There really should have been kissing on the thrones at least. Meh.