Prompt: Gwen is the Prime Minister's daughter while Arthur is the crown prince of England.
His lips are suckling at her neck, her hands are fumbling with his trousers and despite that tiny, sensible part of her brain that's flashing a warning, she's never felt so aroused or free in her life. Being the Prime Minister's daughter means following rules, regulation and reams of protocol. Here, in this darkened hotel room, she is free from all the shackles.
"Oh, do that again," she groans and he obliges, nibbling along her collar.. She finally pushes his trousers down together with his boxers - boxers that are bound to be cheesily patriotic - and wraps her hand around his hard length. He breath is released on a long hiss and Gwen smiles. Who knew she had so much power over the Crown Prince?
Somehow, he's managed to push her dress to the floor and his lips have latched onto her nipple. He bites and sucks and every touch of his on her skin is like fire. Why does someone so annoying have to be so gorgeous? Why does her body want him so much? Why are they doing this again?
But her eminently sensible questions are drowned out by the roar of desire that courses through her veins as he kisses her stomach, his hands firm against her hips.
"Tell me to stop," Arthur mutters against her stomach, his fingers poised just above her center. "We hate each other."
"We do," she agrees but moves so his fingers get closer. A low growl escapes from him and Arthur pushes his fingers in while his thumb rubs her clit. "I hate your ego, your refusal to listen to my father - "
"Don't talk about your father." He withdraws his fingers, adjusts their positions so his length is against her. "Last chance to say no."
She says yes and he sinks into her. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she tries not to cry out at the pleasure of having him fill her.
At the next party a month later, he catches her eye across the room and lifts his glass. Within the hour, they find an empty guest room.
