Title: Fortune's Favours
Pairing: Charles Brandon / Henry Tudor
Rating: M
Story Summary: The story follows the storyline of the show, except for the fact that the King and his favorite Duke get a little closer in its course than in the original, making everything even more complicated. ;-)
Disclaimer: The Tudors belong to Showtime, I have absolutely no claim on the characters, the storyline etc.
A/N: I know the Tudors are in many points not exactly what you'd call historically accurate, still, in this fanfiction I decided to go with the Showtime version to avoid confusions.
First big thanks to bunnster, who did the beta-reading this time and also inspired me for the letter Charles wrote to Henry, which is actually a combination of two letters the real Charles Brandon wrote after marrying the dowager queen of France, Mary Tudor, without her brother's permission. One can be found at British History online
Chapter Summary: Charles finally returns to court to beg Henry's forgiveness for marrying his sister, but the king demands a rather unusual retribution…
Chapter Warnings: Ah, well, here we go: Graphic slash sex, strong language and once through the BDSM field – including d/s elements, bondage and slight physical abuse. If you don't like... you will when having finished. Trust me ;-)
VII
For His Majesty's Pleasure
They flee from me, that sometime did me seek,
With naked foot stalking within my chamber.
Once have I seen them gentle, tame, and meek,
That now are wild, and do not once remember,
That sometime they have put themselves in danger
To take bread at my hand ; and now they range
Busily seeking in continual change.
~ Sir Thomas Wyatt~
One of nobility's greatest disadvantages was clearly that you had to surround yourself and be friendly to people you actually didn't like at all. Or at least Charles thought so as he watched the newly created Lord Rochford enjoy the roast lamb and his wine with visible pleasure, trying to maintain a politely interested face as Boleyn talked seemingly casually about news from court. Charles knew perfectly well that they both knew the other one was pretending and the only purpose of that chat was to lure him and to show him quite plainly how much he missed the court. As if he had needed a reminder of that. Still, he was taking in every detail and every news greedily, especially those about the king and his well-being, although they didn't improve his mood. Boleyn wasn't frank with it, but from some sentences he dropped here and there Charles could conclude that his fears had proved true and Henry seemed to become closer with Anne Boleyn by the day.
All together, it was a terrible supper and Margaret who had been unusually quiet retreated soon after the dessert had been served. Charles felt the usual sting of guilt when he watched her leave, knowing quite well that the unhappy look in her eyes was his fault alone. If he hadn't lost his nerve, if he hadn't proposed to her out of a strange mix of pity, love and defiance they both would have been able to return to court months ago instead of being forced to sit out Henry's wrath in their beautiful prison in the Suffolk countryside.
"Alas, Your Grace, have you considered the Duke of Norfolk's offering?" Boleyn's voice ripped him out of his pensiveness, as he let the serving maid pour him another glass of wine.
"Certainly," Charles answered, seeing no point in denying it. In fact, he had thought about nothing else since the man had arrived this afternoon.
"So what do you say?"
"I said that I have considered it not that I've made a decision yet," Charles answered coolly, stretching his legs. "Tell me, my lord, how exactly does Norfolk intend to persuade the king to welcome me back to court?"
Boleyn only shrugged. "How am I supposed to know? But Norfolk is quite influential, I am convinced there are possibilities for him. After all he's currently the man with the highest rank of nobility in the kingdom... who still enjoys the king's favour."
The side blow hit its supposed mark, still Charles managed to keep a calm face. "I've heard that lately the Privy Council have been quite busy trying to convince the king that I should be either imprisoned or executed. And from what I've heard, it was the same Cardinal Wolsey who spoke in my favour that I am supposed to plot against now, if I agree to your offer."
"Well, the Cardinal is a clever man. He knows that the king might forgive you in time and probably doesn't wish to have another powerful noble opposing him. But you should ask yourself, Your Grace, if Wolsey had acted so much in your favour, how come you are still sitting here and the king has yet not called for you in months?"
"You speak as if His Majesty's decision to do so only depended upon your suggestions," Charles replied, not worrying to hide his disdain any more. "But if even the Cardinal thinks he might forgive me in time, why shouldn't I just wait instead of letting you draw me into your conspiracies?"
"Of course you can." Boleyn only smiled as an answer, obviously enjoying having the upper hand, then suddenly changed the topic. "Your wife is already with child, Your Grace?"
"My... what?" Charles asked, feeling too puzzled to hide it.
"She drank no wine during supper. Women often dislike the taste when being pregnant," Boleyn explained as if he was teaching a stupid boy. "Well, obviously you don't know about it, so I might be wrong. But if she is... I suppose you'd like the king to be your firstborn's godfather?"
Charles could only stare at him, for the first time totally lacking an answer. Boleyn's smile widened self-confidently before he leaned over the table, his voice suddenly changing from casual to insistent.
"I have noticed even more during supper, Your Grace. For example that you have hardly touched the food and, if you allow me to speak frankly, you look a little worn out. To be honest with you, I am quite convinced that His Majesty will forgive you in time, but no one knows when this will be. And though even a man like Norfolk can do no miracles, at least he could speed up the process and get you an audience with the king and a chance to apologize. What happens then will lie entirely in your hands, but I'm quite convinced you'll find a way to... smooth his wrath."
There is was again, that little misgiving, the small hint that Boleyn might know more about Henry and him than Charles liked. He felt a little dazed, not knowing what to say or how to react best to those words, but Boleyn had obviously noticed and stood up politely.
"I'd like to apologize if I've been too insistent to Your Grace. If you don't object, I will retreat for the evening and give you the time to think about everything."
"Of course," Charles replied mechanically, but called him back in a low voice when Boleyn had just turned to leave. "My lord..."
"Your Grace?"
"How furious is he still?" He really hadn't wanted to ask, especially not Boleyn, but the question was out before he could prevent it and he could have slapped himself for the meek sound of his own voice. Boleyn stopped, pensively measuring him with his gaze for a moment before he answered. "After all that I've heard, he is still quite angry and unforgiving. You've hurt him deeply, but you probably know that better than I do."
Charles slowly nodded. "You will have my answer in the morning, my lord. Good night to you."
"And to you, Your Grace." Boleyn bowed and then left, leaving Charles alone with his thoughts. For some time, he remained at the table, thoughtfully swirling the rest of the wine in his cup, before finally rising from his seat with a sigh. He decided that he needed a little fresh air and so he left the house to stroll a few steps through the park of the manor.
It was a warm night for April and the bushes were already wrapped in a lush green, the wind carrying the unmistakable smell of blossoms in full bloom. A soft, warm wind made the newly leafy trees rustle and some frogs were croaking at a nearby pond. The sound made Charles involuntary think of the days when he and Henry had been boys and tried to catch the quick little creatures. Even then they had always competed who of them was the better hunter, as they'd always competed in nearly everything they did together. Despite it Charles had always felt utterly loyal to his prince and later his king, he had never let Henry win any game deliberately. And he knew that this was the major reason why he was still banished from court after half a year, because Henry and he were both too stubborn and too much standing on their pride to give in.
"Charles?"
He was so deep in thought that he flinched a little at the sound of the voice. "What are you doing out here, dear?"
Margaret approached him slowly, wearing only a red, embroidered robe over her white undergarment, the soft wind playing with her loosened hair. "You didn't come to bed and I saw you out here from the window."
"I wasn't feeling tired, I had too much to think about," he answered evasively, rubbing his forehead. "You should go back inside, it's still cold out here..."
"But you should be tired, after all, you haven't slept much the last days," she said, gently placing her hands on his arms. "Or the last months, to be honest, unless you count your nightly tossing and turning as pleasurable rest."
Charles grimaced slightly. "I'm alright, wife, don't you worry about me..."
"But you're not, my dearest husband," she insisted. "You're suffering."
He didn't feel in the mood to deny this simple truth. "Obviously Henry doesn't, since he seems to be head over heels in love with Boleyn's girl."
Margaret wrinkled her nose. "Boleyn certainly is smug about that fact, arrogant prick that he is. But he'll soon get a nasty surprise when he discovers my dear brother will drop his precious little Anne soon as he did with her sister and all his former mistresses."
"He's surely an arrogant prick but in one point he may be right, namely that Norfolk might be able to put in a good word for us with Henry," Charles said thoughtfully. "I don't actually look forward to meddle with the conspiracies at court, nor do I like the thought of denunciating Wolsey for no reason but to give them greater power, still..." He let the sentence trail off and sighed softly, then gently pulled her into his arms. Her slender figure felt so light and fragile in his arms, though he knew that her body sheltered the soul of a fighter.
"What do you think I should do?" he asked her, which made a tiny smile appear on her face.
"That's the second time today you ask this question."
"Well, since you threw half of our tableware at me last time I made a decision and I don't have the money to replace it again, I'd prefer if you approve it this time," he teased half-heartedly.
She shrugged. "But I can't help you with this, since I feel too indecisive myself. On the one hand... I really like it out here and I like the time and attention you give me and that I don't have to share with anyone else, neither with other women nor with your friends and especially not with my brother." She put a finger on his lips just as he wanted to protest. "But these are selfish, jealous thoughts and seeing how unhappy you are doesn't actually make me feel better. And of course I also wish for Henry to forgive us, especially since..." She paused for a moment as if unsure how to go on, but then sighed just a little. "I'm with child, Charles."
His heart seemed to stop for a split second and he didn't know if it was because of fear, joy or the distinct feeling that he was a complete fool. Not because Boleyn had realized it before he even knew, though it really felt irritating, but because of the fact that all of a sudden, the whole weight of his unfortunate decision half a year ago seemed to crush on him, leaving him feeling dazed and stupid. He had always acted as if this matter was only about himself, his pride and his jealousy, a contest between two boys who were both too stubborn to give in.
Well, they were no boys any more, this was not a game and Margaret not an instrument for a power struggle. Still, a part of him had always known that he had been using her and that he shouldn't have, but until that very moment, he had never wanted to admit it to himself. And now it was far too late to get out of it.
"You don't look happy about it," Margaret's concerned voice ripped him out of his thoughts and he cleared his throat hastily.
"But I am. Really, sweetheart, this is wonderful." She relaxed, however, a doubtful spark remained in her eyes and to ease her as well as his own conscience he leaned down and kissed her. It was an affectionate, reassuring kiss and it had its desired effect, first calming and then heating her up, familiar tension flaring up between them. Charles had always loved this about her, this demanding, untamed passion he could kindle so easily, that fierceness none of the women he'd bedded before her had ever possessed. Of course it was also a quality she shared with her brother but he forced the thought of Henry back as he'd done a hundred times before and instead grabbed her, taking her up in his arms and to their sleeping chamber where he made love to her passionately and with the insistent patience only someone who felt overly guilty could bring up. And after they'd finished and she had fallen asleep in his arms, he stood up quietly, leaving her peacefully sleeping on the bed. His adjoining study was cast in darkness, but he lit a single candle at the embers in the fireplace, then put out a single piece of parchment and a quill. Soft, warm determination was flowing through his body that might have been the relief after the carnal act, but Charles knew better.
With a soft sigh, he put the quill into the ink, hesitating only for a moment before he lowered it to the parchment and began to write.
My most gracious Sovereign Lord,
With the most sorrowful and afflicted heart I beseech you to forgive your most poor subject his offences against Your Majesty, namely my marriage to Your Majesty's sister, which I admit I have done greatly amiss. It strikes my heart with grief that I should be the cause for your unhappiness and I pray you to rather promise me prison, death or otherwise, as may be Your Majesty's pleasure, than nurse further mistrust in your heart that I should not be true to you.
I was informed in diverse ways that most of your whole council is clearly determined to tempt Your Majesty to destroy me by said means. Still, methinks Your Majesty should decide this matter as he thinks best, for only you are my sovereign lord and master who has brought me up out of nothing; and I am your subject and servant who has offended you alone with breaking my promises and violating the trust Your Majesty has put in me. And so I will most gladly yield myself into Your Majesty's hands alone to do with my poor body your gracious pleasure, not fearing the malice of them. For I know Your Majesty to be of such nature that it cannot be your desire to destroy me. Before I did this, there was never a man that had such a loving and kind master, nor was there ever a master that ever had a truer servant than Your Majesty has and shall ever have in me; whatever it is you might think of me now.
So no matter what punishment I will have, I shall thank God and Your Majesty of it, and think that I have well deserved it. And thus, I make an end, with my heart filled with more sorrow and more hope than ever a man's heart was, praying to the Lord to send Your Majesty your most honourable heart's desire with long life, and me most guilty wretch your gracious favour, no matter what I shall endure to regain it.
Until that day that I shall await hopefully, I remain your most humble subject and servant,
Charles Suffolk
Henry sighed softly, as he had always done after the many times he had read Charles' letter by now, playing absent-mindedly with the already worn out parchment. He knew every word by heart by now; still, he had no clue how to deal properly with his duke or what to think of this letter. One the one hand, the sentences suggested that Charles really regretted his folly, on the other hand Henry knew quite well that grand words and promises had always come easily over his friend's lips. Of course the letter was held quite formal, making it hard to distinguish between what was phrasing and what was truth, yet he sensed Charles' pride bobbing up there and then among the submissive as well as suggestive words. He seemed to be quite sure that Henry wouldn't pay attention to the demands of his council and neither execute nor imprison his former favourite. And of course he was right, but the fact that Charles obviously thought he had to remind him of his own exclusiveness wasn't to Henry's liking at all.
Still, the letter Norfolk had handed him was a beginning, as was the remark that the Duke of Suffolk had come to see him, stating that he'd crawl on his hands and knees to beg his king's forgiveness. Given the fact that the two dukes weren't exactly friends, Charles had to be quite desperate if he had grasped for that straw, and the very thought filled Henry with a grim satisfaction.
The sound of the door interrupted his thoughts. "Your Majesty? The court is present and awaits your attendance."
Henry shortly nodded at his groom before he stood up, taking a deep breath. He would know in a few moments whether his stubborn duke was really sorry and ready to have deeds following his pretty words.
A great lot of the courtiers were waiting in the Presence Chamber, the curious whispering and talking quickly dying down as Secretary Cromwell announced his presence. Still Henry didn't pay attention to anyone but the tall figure waiting near the entrance, dressed in unobtrusive brown with a darker mantle. For a split second their eyes met, but Charles had the wits to lower his gaze hastily.
"Your Majesty, the Duke of Suffolk!" Cromwell announced him as Henry had taken seat and watched as Charles came forward, still not looking directly at him but kneeling down and humbly bowing his head. Henry didn't need more than a single look at the familiar face to know he was utterly miserable, his face being a little paler than usual with dark circles around the grey eyes that told of a lot of restless nights lately. Pity welled up in him for a moment, but Henry resolutely forced it back, since this was hardly the time for it. Instead he finally allowed all his stored up anger and disappointment to come to the fore. Charles had only himself to blame for his misfortune and he deserved every bloody minute of this.
Nothing had been said since Cromwell had announced him. The court as well as the duke were dead silent, all waiting for Henry to say something. Slowly he stood up and came closer, measuring Charles with a cold and scrutinizing gaze.
"I heard you crawled here like a dog," he eventually began, his voice as disdainful as possible.
"Something like…" Charles replied, making attempts to raise his head but immediately lowering it again when Henry sharply commanded: "Hold your tongue!" And adding mockingly, as he began to walk around the kneeling manlike a predator circling his prey: "You were always too useful with it."
Only Charles could grasp the little ambiguity of his words and actually, the strong jaw clenched a little more, yet his voice remained low.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Have you come to beg my forgiveness?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Despite his anger, Henry couldn't help but admire the sight of the well-toned figure obediently kneeling on the floor with the head he used to hold high deliciously bowed. And so he leaned down closer, until his face was only inches apart from Charles' head and he could catch the familiar male scent that used to excite him so many times before.
"Well, then beg for it," Henry hissed, resisting the sudden urge to bury his head in the brown curls and inhale deeply. He saw Charles swallowing hard, knowing that it cost his friend quite an effort to proceed.
"With all my heart, with all my soul, with every ounce of my being… My king, my sovereign, my dread lord, I beg you to forgive your miserable servant." His voice was low but determined and despite the submissiveness of his words he spoke with a certain dignity. Henry didn't know whether it should annoy or rather intrigue him, but he remained silent, letting Charles go on with his plea.
"Your humble, worthless, thoughtless servant, who deserved so little and by your bounty and your grace, was given so much. Ungrateful wretch that I am," he hesitated for a split second, before adding, "…unworthy of Your Majesty's love."
It was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop after Charles had finished, all eyes in the room fixed on them both. Henry knew the court was awaiting his reaction curiously; however, he still had no idea what to do now. A part of him felt flattered by Charles' words and wanted nothing more than to pull his handsome duke first into his arms and then to his bed, but another was still full of cold fury and hurt, insisting that he wasn't done with him yet, not at all. And Henry knew he couldn't just accept Charles back without having satisfied that part since he would never be able to look at him without anger, distrust and a subtle uncertainty about how his duke truly felt about him.
However, these were not matters for all curious eyes of the court to witness and so without any explanation, he turned around, heading for the Privy Chambers. He only looked back once to order sharply: „Come here!"
Henry didn't wait to see whether his command was followed but crossed the adjoining dining room with large, angry steps, entering his study. For a moment when he was out of sight, he bit his lip, trying to calm his troubled feelings, this mix of anger, uncertainty, craving and power he just couldn't fully control. And even though he still hadn't decided how exactly to proceed right now, he didn't hesitate for a second as his hand reached for the dagger he had carelessly thrown onto the windowsill sometime, he didn't remember.
Soft steps followed him, hesitating as they reached the door, but Henry didn't give Charles the time to consider. Spinning around, he slammed the tall figure against the door frame with as much force as he could muster. His left hand closed hard around the neck, forcing the head up, while at the same time pressing cold steel against the throat. Charles only gave a little surprised sound and then froze utterly, staring at Henry but not fighting back.
Cold bluish green eyes met wide open grey ones, whose gaze became a little fearful as Henry kept up his merciless grip for some moments, enjoying the feeling of the quickened pulse fiercely pounding against his thumb. Then he eased his hold slowly, so far that Charles could breathe again, but neither taking away his hand nor the dagger.
"I never thought I'd say this, but actually, I can understand Buckingham for once," Henry said coldly. "It's just incredibly satisfying to have you at the sharp end of a blade."
To underline his words, he let the point of the weapon wander up the throat, a soft, cold caress making the fluttering pulse under his hand speed up even more.
"There's only one difference. Whereas he would have brought himself into trouble if he stabbed you, no one would care if I spilt your blood over the floor. Like you undoubtedly deserve. Don't you?"
And when Charles didn't answer immediately, Henry flicked up the point of the dagger just slightly, but with enough pressure that it cut through sensitive skin and made his friend flinch violently. Red crimson began to emerge from the small cut at once.
"I said, don't you?"
"Yes, Your Majesty, I probably do deserve it," Charles replied through clenched teeth.
"Then give me one good reason why I shouldn't."
Henry knew he was being cruel, however, he couldn't refrain from it, since it felt just too good to keep Charles on tenterhooks just for a while. Just like that bastard did with him after he had returned from Portugal.
"Because," Charles began after some moments of silence with strained composure, peering down at him, "Buckingham hated me and would have loved to see me dead, whereas you don't, Majesty. Or at least so I hope."
"I don't?" Henry laughed without any trace of humour, but finally put the dagger aside. "Your Grace, I guess I have every reason to loathe you after you've betrayed my trust threefold, namely as my subject, as my friend and as my lover!"
With grim satisfaction he watched the guilt creeping back into Charles' eyes and how he opened his mouth to say something but closed it eventually.
"Let me hear it," Henry commanded insistently.
Charles hesitated for a moment, but seemed to remember what happened the last time he had tried to skip an answer. "Your Majesty, I admit that I have failed you as your subject and servant as well as your friend. But since you said you didn't expect me to devote myself only to you... how can I have betrayed your trust as your lover?"
Henry gritted his teeth. Did Charles really just try to turn the tables and make him feel guilty?
"Well, congratulations, you did it anyway," he growled in barely restrained anger, knowing that his words were the truth the very moment he spoke them. "Are you pleased now?"
"Henry..." Charles obviously tried to reason with him, but Henry sharply cut his words, his grip on his neck tightening just a little.
"Yes or no, Charles? And don't you dare to call me that again."
Charles closed his eyes and took a deep breath, obviously struggling with his answer. "Your Majesty, what am I supposed to say when there is no answer to that question that would not displease you one way or the other?"
It was the truth, since negating the question would imply that he didn't care about Henry's feelings and by saying yes he'd admit that by marrying Margaret he had simply intended to make him jealous. Still Henry wanted, needed to know it desperately since it was essential for how to further deal further with him.
"You're supposed to tell me the truth instead of cajoling me," he therefore hissed.
"Well then, yes, in a way I am pleased," Charles exclaimed, in such a defiant tone that made Henry's strained temper finally snap. Before he could even think about it, his fist hit the strong jaw with a satisfying sound and when Charles staggered at the force of the blow, Henry grabbed his shoulders and roughly pushed him inside the study and onto his knees.
"Just stay like this," he ordered coldly, his voice still shaking with anger. "It suits you far better anyway."
Fortunately, Charles obeyed without any further comment, trembling slightly with the effort to keep still, his eyes fixed to an invisible spot on the floor. Only his hand carefully touched the spot on his chin where he had been hit and he grimaced slightly, but kept quiet. Henry clenched his fists, trying to calm down eventually. Still, he cursed himself for the fact that Charles had made him admit that his anger resulted at least partly from the fact that he was jealous.
"This is not to your liking at all, is it?" he finally asked slowly, again circling the kneeling until he stood in front of him, glaring down at him. You probably expected coming here and reciting some pretty lines would be enough to melt my heart so I'd drag you to my bed the same hour and everything would be like before. Am I right?"
Charles didn't look up but finally nodded reluctantly.
"Well, then let me remind you that unfortunately, you are still married to my sister," Henry hissed, again feeling his bile rise. "I will allow you to return to court since I think the banishment and your public excuse are punishment enough to forgive my Duke of Suffolk. But did you really think I'd keep my sister's husband as my bedfellow without a second thought? What a man do you think I am, Charles? "
"You are my king, my lord and master." The answer was low, but determined. "But you are also my friend and my lover. And I know..."
"You're wrong," Henry interrupted him cruelly. "I am your lord and master indeed and I'm going to be until either I or you stop breathing. But your friend, your lover? I don't think I should really call you these ever again."
Charles swallowed hard and Henry realized that he had actually not counted on his refusal. He seemed to struggle with himself for some painful moments, his jaw clenching, until he finally raised his head, all anger and defiance vanished from his beautiful grey eyes.
"Majesty, please.... don't do this to me."
The soft, pleading tone of his voice made Henry's wrath calm, but just a little. "What do you mean?" he asked sharply although he knew.
Charles weakly shook his head, looking entirely miserable and desperate. "I don't wish to return if you deny me what I had then, Majesty. I wouldn't sustain a single day at court knowing that I'm out of your favour. Banish me forever, order my execution or kill me right here, I don't mind, since without you, I am nothing. But if you still care for me in any way, I beg you, don't do this to both of us. After all, you shouldn't suffer for my faults."
"You're really insufferably arrogant, considering that you are just begging me to fuck you again," Henry stated disdainfully, though he couldn't suppress a warm feeling spreading inside his body at Charles' words. Of course he knew Charles was pleading for more than just returning to his bed, but the fact that it was obviously important enough to him not to exclude it from his plea filled him with a strange feeling of relief.
Slowly, he approached Charles, gently placing two fingers under his chin and raising his head so that their eyes met. "So it shall be all or nothing for you? Very well then. But what will you give me if I approve?"
"Whatever it is Your Majesty desires, you shall have it," Charles said determinedly.
"Anything?" Henry asked with a predatory smile playing around the corners of his mouth, feeling utterly delighted when Charles nodded.
"Yes, Majesty."
Henry deliberately waited some moments that had to feel like hours to Charles, pretending to consider the offer. But actually, he knew what he had to do now immediately. And the very moment he realized it, all his helpless wrath and fury seemed to calm down to a feeling of confidence and determination. Charles hadn't disappointed him and had shown that he was truly sorry. Now the ball was in his own court, all the power back in his hand as it used to be.
So finally, he leaned down to Charles, his lips brushing the shell of his ear and sending a delicious shiver through his lover's entire body as he whispered: "Remember our little wager? The joust?"
And as Charles only nodded, he continued without further ado: "Excellent. Then, if you really want this, go to my sleeping chamber and undress yourself. When you're done, kneel down in front of the bed and wait for me to teach you a little lesson in obedience you're obviously in desperate need of."
The look Charles gave him was somewhere between tantalising and surrendering and so irresistible for Henry that he had to restrain himself not to drag his friend to the floor right here in his study to fuck him senseless like he did their first night together. Still, doing so wouldn't have served the purpose he wanted to achieve by this. And so he wordlessly watched his duke getting up slowly and heading for the bedchamber without another glance or word.
After Charles had vanished behind the thin curtain, Henry had to lean on the table to support himself for a moment. He just felt a little dizzy, with a lot of opposing emotions troubling him. On the one hand, he was still angry and wished to wreak his annoyance on its true source, yet when Charles had left the room, he also realized how much he had missed him, how much their separation had hurt him as well. And above all others, an almost strange, strong feeling of arousal shot through his entire body, making every limb prickle with anticipation. Just to think of the fact that the man he knew from boyhood and had always competed with, the one he knew to be almost as proud as himself, had just agreed to utterly submit to him and was waiting for him, naked and kneeling in the adjoining room... The thought alone was enough to make him hard. He had pictured this for quite some time, strictly speaking already since that dream about Charles as the bound centaur trembling so deliciously under his hands. However, he had always known that he couldn't just demand this from his lover. The jousting wager had been a try, but now Henry was almost glad he had lost it, since this way it was a dozen times more alluring.
Reaching for the flagon of wine on the table and pouring himself a cup, Henry noticed that his hands were trembling slightly. He emptied the cup in one gulp, the wine feeling pleasantly cool in his dry mouth. And after he had taken a few deep breaths to calm himself, inwardly preparing for what he was about to do, he slowly straightened and followed his duke into the bedchamber.
The curtains were closed and since the day was cold and rainy, a small fire was flickering at the fireplace It cast the room into a golden light and painted beautiful patterns of light and shadow on the strong back of the man who knelt on the wooden floor just as he had done in the Presence Chamber. Charles didn't look up when Henry entered but kept his head bowed, and Henry thanked the heavens for it, since he was sure his face would have given him away that moment. For a fleeting moment he wished he could have Charles painted like that, preserved for eternity, looking all vulnerable and seductive in his willing surrender. It was an image of utter perfection to Henry, but sadly enough, his court painter probably wouldn't share his opinion on this.
"Ready, Brandon?" he eventually asked mockingly, leaning against the doorframe.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Charles replied softly without raising his head.
Henry nodded, more to himself and then let his gaze wander through the room searchingly. In his fantasies, he had always had Charles chained up but since he naturally had no chains in his bedchamber, there had to be a replacement. And he didn't have to search long until his eyes fell on his black silk robe that neatly hung next to the door. The thin belt glided from its loops without a sound and Henry wrapped it around his left hand, before he finally approached the kneeling man. Charles tensed tangibly as Henry lightly put a hand between his shoulder blades, slowly and possessively running it down the spine.
"Just one thing, to make it clear," he muttered into his ear. "I do this because you have asked for it. So you'll be the one responsible for it this time, my darling duke. And I absolutely don't care about how you deal with your conscience or the fact that you give yourself to your wife's brother that way. It is not my problem since you're the one who wants this in the first place. Is that understood?"
"Yes," Charles whispered, barely audible.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, Majesty."
"Good. Then give me your hands now."
Charles obeyed and Henry noticed the deep blush on his face as he took his wrists in his hands, urging him closer to the bed. He knew how much self-control it took his friend to endure this and resist the instinct to fight Henry when he tied his left wrist with the silk belt to one bed post. For the other hand he loosened his own smooth leather belt, carefully tying the right hand to the other post, tightly, but not so tight that it cut into the sensitive skin. After he had finished, Henry stepped back to admire the sight, the muscular, golden body being all tense and completely at his mercy, prone to everything he wanted to do with it right now...
Henry swallowed hard, trying to brace himself before he stepped closer and leaned down again. Burying his right hand deeply into the dark curls, he pulled the head aside and began to roughly bite and suck a path down Charles' neck, finally allowing his stored up desire to come to the fore. His lover gasped both in surprise and pain, since Henry didn't bother to be gentle, and struggled against his bonds in a useless attempt to withdraw. It amused Henry more than it angered him, still, he simply pushed Charles' head and shoulders down to the mattress, holding him there with ease.
"Keep still," he ordered huskily, gently licking over the small cut his dagger had left before. It hadn't been deep and therefore had already stopped bleeding, but as Henry pressed his tongue against the little injury, he tasted the salty savour on his tongue, a mix of blood drops and sweat. Charles was panting heavier now, shivering under Henry's hands as he let them wander over the strong body he had missed so much, exploring it anew. His fingers ran up his arms, affirmatively closing around the bound wrists, over his back, sides and chest, deliberately slow and savouring every single moment of it. And Henry couldn't resist pressing himself closer to his enticing prey, biting the shoulders and leaving fresh purple bruises in the wake of his pathway down his back. The plain skin felt hot under his hands as they travelled further down as well, tightly closing around the firm buttocks, down the thighs and up again... A raw moan escaped Charles' lips as Henry's hand all of a sudden roughly grasped his cock and he reared up but Henry remorselessly forced him down again.
"I said keep still."
A hard slap on the buttocks accompanied his words and Charles winced, yet he stubbornly pressed his lips together, refusing to make a sound. Henry watched Charles' expression closely as he slowly began to stroke him, taking delight in his visible fight between arousal and the desperate attempt to keep some dignity in this. His jaw was clenched and his teeth gritted to choke down every moan, a decisive blush spreading over his cheeks and his eyes were closed. Henry could have watched him for hours but he intended to push him even further than this.
"I have to admit," he muttered tauntingly into Charles' ear, gently biting the earlobe, "despite having disappointed me, you still make a fucking excellent toy. Or the other way around," he added with a low chuckle, but quickly returned back to serious. "Look at me."
Slowly, almost reluctantly Charles turned his head just a little and opened his eyes, revealing a turmoil of conflicting emotions in the darkened grey, of lust, fear, devotion, anger, despair...
With a soft, lustful growl Henry grabbed his chin and drew him into a violent, bruising kiss, ravishing that rash mouth which had dared to object him before, with his tongue. There was nothing sweet, playful or seductive about it, just blind passion and stored-up anger meant to subdue and punish. And if Charles normally would have opposed him, taking the challenge for dominance, he now just meekly let it happen that Henry claimed his mouth in such a brutal way, flinching violently as his lover's teeth dug deeply into his bottom lip. As they finally parted, they were both gasping for breath, still Henry didn't let go of Charles but slowly traced his deliciously swollen lips with his fingers, pleased that he didn't try to withdraw.
"Open your mouth." A little nudge accompanied the order and this time Charles obeyed immediately and started by his own accord to suck and wet the two fingers Henry slid in. His eyes never left Henry's while doing so, a spark of defiance still in them stating that he was wildly determined to take on everything Henry would put him through. And the king loved to see him struggle with his pride, since it was a struggle he was bound to lose, and the challenge to finally overcome his resistance utterly just stirred up his blood even more. Withdrawing his fingers, Henry pushed Charles' head back to the mattress.
"Well, Brandon, let's see what you can take."
And this time Charles couldn't completely suppress the little outcry when rough fingers pushed into him all of a sudden. Henry had to grit his teeth just for a moment as he watched Charles' face, grimacing with lust and pain at the same time. His cock, being still restrained by his breeches, was almost aching by now, and the thought of having this tight, alluring heat around it was overwhelming for an instant. Still, he forced himself to be patient, just for another while.
"Seems you're not used to that anymore," he teased Charles instead, as he felt he had eased enough to pay attention to his words. And while he began to move his fingers, slowly at first, Henry leaned down to Charles' ear, his words one dark promise:
"You can consider yourself lucky, for I'll work you hard enough to make sure you'll feel the reminder of me for the next days, no matter if you sit, walk or ride on fucking horseback..."
Another choked down moan was the only answer as Henry steadily increased his pace. The other hand lightly cupped Charles' neck to make sure he stayed down as he began to roughly fuck him with his fingers, teasing the hell out of his young duke. Henry had bedded him long enough to know how to turn him on, but when Charles' moans became louder and fiercer, he pulled back with a jerk.
"Enough of that."
Henry realized the husky sound of his own voice and his clothes seemed to become heavy and uncomfortably sticking to his body that felt far too hot. Breathing fiercely, he stepped back, hastily removing the annoying cloth, while leaving Charles panting on the bed and ignoring the little desperate sound coming from his lips. He had originally thought of making his lover service him with his mouth, yet he had neither the patience nor the stamina for it right now.
Returning to the bed, he grabbed Charles' neck and roughly pulled him forward and up the bed, until his upper body came to lie entirely upon the high mattress, his arms being forced back due to the bonds. Spitting into his hand, Henry stroked his own cock a few times; since he had cast away the body oil in frustration some months ago, Charles would just have to do with that for now. And if it hurt a little more because of it, so much the better.
Henry noticed that Charles had turned his head and was watching him, now with an almost desperate silent plea in his eyes. For a few moments, he kept their gazes locked, before he stepped behind him, lightly placing his hand on his hips, yet hesitating.
"Now. I want you to beg for this."
Charles swallowed hard, but his resistance was visibly fading. "Please..." It was no more than a raw whisper.
"Please what?" Henry asked without mercy, pressing himself a little closer to the bound man, so that Charles could feel the hard, hot flesh rubbing teasingly between his buttocks. "I'd like to hear a little more of you."
"Majesty..." Every word seemed to cost Charles quite an effort, yet all defiance seemed to have vanished from his voice, being soft and pleading."I said I'd give you anything... anything you desired. So if it's my body that you want, then I beg you most humbly..." he breathed sharply, obviously struggling for words, "to take it for Your Majesty's pleasure... and fuck me as long as it pleases you."
Oh God, yes, that was better.
"Granted, Brandon," Henry hissed through gritted teeth, grabbing Charles' hip harder and thrusting into him with a single, fierce move. For a moment he thought he would come at once just from the heat and the clenching muscles that surrounded him, his groan mingling with Charles' outcry. He had to wait for a moment and take a deep breath before he could go on, slowly pushing in with hard and deep thrusts, each one drawing another gasp from his lover's lips. The golden skin was covered in sweat entirely that beautifully reflected in the firelight, flawless except for the purple bruises running from the shoulder up the neck and to the hair line of the soaking brown curls. By the looks Charles gave him, Henry could just have ravished him until he'd come in no time, still he wasn't done with him entirely.
"Look at you..." he whispered, not bothering to keep the triumph from his voice, "here you are, one of the mightiest peers in the kingdom, husband of a princess... tied to the bedposts, lying on your stomach and getting fucked like a common whore. And for what?" A single, exceptionally hard thrust made Charles yelp. "Tell me one thing, Brandon: Among all cunts you've ever fucked, was there ever a woman who could compare to me? Who thrilled you more than I do when I take you? Tell me!"
"Majesty... I..." A short whimper came over Charles' lips as Henry's thrusts became faster and more rhythmic, "...no... never..."
"Good..." Henry hissed, his nails digging deeply into Charles' hip as he leaned over him, pressing himself against his back. "Then let me tell you one thing... if you should ever get the stupid idea of cheating on my sister... if I even hear of you sharing another bed than hers or mine... then may God have mercy on you, Charles Brandon... for I won't. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Majesty..." It was more of an outcry than an answer, and Henry felt Charles ecstatically bucking under him, in the desperate attempt to make him thrust even deeper. "Majesty...please, I...for God's sake, Henry, please... please..."
With a groan and not bothering about the use of his first name now, Henry grabbed his lover harder and shoved the other under his body to grab Charles' cock. The pleading gaze out of grey eyes being clouded with lust was enough to make him forget about everything, everything that wasn't his lover's eager and compliant body under his own, their mingled outcries and moans, the heat, the breathtaking friction... All the troubling and conflicting emotions Henry had felt before melted into overwhelming, blinding lust and passion, as he slammed in and out of that delicious tightness as if caught in a frenzy, fucking his favourite lover and toy as he'd never done before. And it didn't take long until Charles' cried out, his body tensing and writhing on the sheets and Henry followed him just instants later. He came hard and long, just to fall on his lover's strong back afterwards, spent and sated and for some blissful moments too exhausted to even move.
When the heaviness slowly began to fade from his limbs and his breath calmed down he remembered Charles was still tied to the bedposts and sluggishly reached for his wrists to free him. The leather belt was easy to remove, different from the silk which had tightened when Charles had struggled and deeply cut into the flesh, but the other wrist had some treacherous grazes from the leather as well. As Henry let his arms go they fell down immediately, as if Charles had lost all strength in his limbs all of a sudden. Only now, Henry realized that his friend was shaking violently.
Without thinking, he pulled Charles into his arms, nestled against his back and gently squeezed and stroke his shoulder, calming and easing, while idly wondering why it seemed to be the most natural thing to do for him now. They had not given comfort to each other in such an intimate way since their boyhood, the last time Henry could remember being the day when his father had died and he knew he had to become king. But still, even then it had always been Charles comforting him, Charles being the strong shoulder he could lean on when he felt weak. Yet it didn't feel strange to have their roles reversed for now, him being the one holding and soothing his lover, and even the fact that he had been so angry at him half an hour ago didn't bother him anymore.
They didn't speak, words being unnecessary between them. And later Henry couldn't say how much time had passed in which he did nothing but gently stroking Charles, savouring in the warm, joyous feeling of the strangely intimate and quiet moment which was their reunion, when Charles slowly turned towards him. Even in the dim firelight Henry could see the grey eyes were gleaming treacherously, when he hesitatingly reached out for his face, covering his lips in a gentle, almost shy kiss. And Henry replied the kiss without a second thought, a silent confirmation to an unasked question, gently running a hand through Charles' hair. Their lips slowly brushed against each other, caressing, soothing and lingering in this sweet moment without a single thought of anything else but them both. Henry still held Charles in his arms for a while and after some more time had passed he realized from his breath getting slower and deeper, that he must have fallen asleep. A small smile played around Henry's lips as he slowly and as quietly as possible sat up on the bed. Charles' handsome features were relaxed, and he seemed to be utterly, finally relieved at once.
"Welcome back, my darling duke," Henry whispered, affectionately running a hand through the dishevelled brown hair again.
In the fireplace, the flames were still flickering, casting their everlasting mysterious patterns of light and shadows on the wall.
Banging onto your front-door
My pride's spilled on the floor
My hands and knees are bruised
And now I'm crawling back to you
Begging for a second chance
Are you gonna let me in?
I was running from the truth
And now I'm crawling back to you
~ Backstreet Boys, Crawling Back to You~
A/N: You might have noticed I took the liberty to subsitute the armwrestling scene *ahem* The reason for that is - except for the fact that I wanted a hot sex scene in here - that I never really understood its purpose. Henry hates losing games, so why does he allow Charles to come back to court when he loses the game? Besides, I always thought that arm wrestling thing was always some kind of metaphor for hot make-up sex. I mean... just give you the sound of the scene without looking at the screen... ;-) I hope you enjoy the chapter and of course I'm DYING to know what you think about it! And besides, I made a little wallpaper that fits the chapter. So please review!
