NSFW, 18+ content contained within.
They'd fallen asleep sometime after 2 a.m., his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close as they slumbered. After the pomegranate, she'd done exactly what she had said she would, licking and kissing and touching his penis with the lightest of caresses. She'd begun with the things she already knew he enjoyed; the swirling of a fingertip over its head, kissing the soft skin there while running her tongue around it, tasting the salty tang of his arousal. When her kisses caused it to slip a little further into her mouth he groaned loudly.
"Are you all right, husband?" she asked, worried that she'd hurt him in some way.
"Quite," he responded gruffly, his hips moving of their own volition.
"Do you like this?" she asked, bringing her mouth to his penis once more and taking him a little further.
He groaned again, incapable of coherent thought.
She continued this for several minutes, bobbing her head up and down his now solid shaft, enjoying the way he murmured her name and gripped her shoulders. She was only able to sustain these motions for a few minutes having had no prior practice or experience with this. And he understood that when she began to slow down, that she was tired and incapable of much more. He stopped her then, lifting her head up and drawing her body up his. She could feel the sharp press of his pelvis against the inside of her thighs, could feel how hard he'd become from just the touch of her mouth, could feel the roll and pull of his abdominal muscles beneath her hands.
"I…I don't know what to do, William," she said.
"The same thing we've been doing, love, only this time, you'll be the one on top of me," he said.
"But how?" she asked.
"Like this, sweetheart," he said, drawing her hand down to his erection.
He shifted slightly to help line up his head with her entrance, then he lifted her just a bit and seated her upon the tip of his erection.
"This way, you can take as much or as little of me as you'd like," he said, though it was exceedingly difficult to not thrust up into her as he so desired.
He would find though that his patience would be rewarded. She moved herself forward slowly, hands moving across his stomach and then up his chest. With each movement he could feel himself slipping inside of her further in further. She was gasping with her own movements, unable to process how no matter what he did to her, it always seemed to feel better than the time before. Just before she reached his mouth, she rotated her hips slightly and he groaned as he felt himself fill her completely. She whimpered and he looked at her.
"Are you hurt? Is it too much?" he asked in concern.
"No. No, my love. It feels…it feels amazing," she finished, words catching in her throat.
"My God, you are the most beautiful woman to ever walk the Earth, Eleanor Stafford," he said and she smiled down at him. It was the first time he'd called her by her married name and hearing it upon his lips, spoken so sweetly, and with so much love, drove her insane with lust.
She brushed her mouth over his and his hands reached up to caress the sides of her breasts, now flattened against his chest. In doing so, she began to slide herself up and down his shaft, her movements increasing in frequency and urgency the more she realized how good it felt. She raised herself up off his chest after several frenzied minutes and began to bounce more vigorously upon his lap. If she had been able to think at all she would have been appalled by her behavior, appalled by how willingly she agreed to these new and supposedly scandalous acts, appalled even further by how much she enjoyed and desired them.
He lay beneath her, moving his hips in time with hers and staring at her beautiful face as it flushed with her arousal and the pleasure these actions were bringing. He had been so worried that it would take months before she would experience any pleasure from this, months before she allowed him to show her anything new or different and instead she overwhelmed him with her passion and the lack of shame she clearly felt when they were alone together. There could have been no greater gift than her utter loyalty, devotion, and openness to him. He reveled in watching her; loved the way her lips parted as she took him particularly deeply, loved the sounds of her sighs and moans and whimpers as the waves of pleasure rolled through her, and he especially loved to watch her pert breasts sway as she rode him. Unable to take any more, he reached up to knead her breasts, stroking and teasing the nipples into even tighter peaks. A rush of her arousal coated his cock and he gripped her hip as he continued to tease one of her breasts. He moved more frenetically, raising his own backside from the bed as he pushed into her.
"Ellie…Ellie…oh, my love…Ellie," he growled as he impaled himself into her again and again.
Her moans had turned into short gasps and cries and he could tell her climax was impending by the way her nails raked over his chest and how she had shut her eyes and the fact that her movements had slowed. Reaching between their joined bodies, he pressed his thumb to her clit and she shattered around him, pulsing hard and fast, squeezing his cock tightly and he grunted his way through an orgasm of his own. Satisfied once more, she collapsed upon his chest and he drew circles on her back as they panted and heaved. When her breathing had slowed and evened, he realized she was asleep. Carefully rolling to the side, he drew her back into his arms, pulling the covers up over them once more.
He left her sleeping peacefully in her bed the next morning as he slipped away to chapel to give thanks to God for granting him such a beautiful, sweet, and adoring wife. Jane was already there, quietly praying her rosary and she didn't look up as he made his own prayers. He had always been faster than she, always had less time for the tedium of rote prayers like the rosary so he was already completed by the time she finished her final decade.
"Good morrow, sister," he greeted as she exited the chapel doors.
She jumped in surprise. It was unexpected that he had waited for her, especially on this morning of all mornings.
"William. Brother. Good morrow," she returned, with a quick curtsey.
A moment of awkward silence passed between them.
"I trust the Lady Stafford is well this morning," Jane said and immediately blushed at what that statement presupposed.
Seeing her discomfort, he laughed, "She is quite well, Jane. Quite well," he added with emphasis and Jane blushed even more deeply.
This was her brother saying these things and she was both relieved for Eleanor and mortified that he would be making such statements to her. Of course Eleanor had shared a little with her friend, explaining things they had done in the most generic of terms so as not to embarrass Jane or to make herself seem too wanton. But to hear it confirmed, even in the most circumspect of terms, by her brother was painfully awkward, despite how close they were.
"Ah, good morrow, William, Lady Jane," a familiar male voice said rounding the corner.
Jane had never been more grateful for Charles' presence than at that moment.
"Your grace," they both said in tandem.
"I see everyone has risen early today," he commented, "I must admit to being quite surprised to see you here this morning, William."
"Your grace, I came to give thanks to God for granting me such a lovely, sweet, and generous wife."
"Ah, our reasons then are similar, for you see, I came to give thanks for granting me such a devout, kind, and gracious lady," he said, pointedly looking at Jane.
"Charles!" she exclaimed, her face a bright red. Could this conversation actually be happening?
A moment later both Charles and William burst into laughter and she looked up at them.
"You're intentionally mocking me," she said.
"Teasing, sister, teasing. You are so easily embarrassed by these things, we thought to have a little fun."
"A little fun at my expense."
"No, Jane, as a brother to a sister, one final time before we are parted," William said much more seriously.
She felt the tears welling in her eyes, stinging the backs of them.
"Oh William," she said, stepping into his embrace, "How will I manage without you?" she asked, voice choking on a sob.
"You will be fine, dearest sister. You have always been the most steady among us. And, I am pleased to say that I am leaving you in the most wonderful hands," he said.
Jane wiped her tears and released her brother, turning back to Charles.
"You have left me in the most wonderful hands," she agreed, taking the hands of her beloved into her own. Charles smiled at her.
"And now, I must away to my chambers and to my wife for we are soon to part Grentham,"William said.
Jane turned back to her brother for a final parting hug. Everything would be different now.
"Fare thee well, brother," she said softly.
"Good bye, sweet Jane. We shall be together soon, I think," he said, "Your grace, I ask only that you take care of this, my most beloved sister."
"It shall be my greatest privilege and honor, Sir William," Charles answered.
With a small bow to both of them, he was gone and Jane felt her resolve crumble, felt herself begin to stagger until a pair of strong arms steadied her and then drew them around her as she cried into the front of his jacket.
After she had composed herself sufficiently, he walked her to her chambers. With virtually anyone else she would have been mortified to have let down her guard in such a fashion but with Charles, it felt perfectly safe and natural. She was immensely grateful that William had thought to have him present, knowing she would need his calm, reliable presence to help her. She kept to her rooms for the remainder of the day, unable even to go to the window to watch them depart. It was like losing her mother all over again, except this time the sword pierced her heart twice as hard for she was losing not only her brother, but also her dearest and closest friend. She knew they would see each other again but it would never be the same as it was before and even though she was overjoyed for both William and Eleanor, she couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for herself. In a few days Charles would leave once more for London, their future only slightly more settled than it had been at Christmastime. And though life at Grentham would certainly carry on and though she'd still have Henry to keep her occupied, the three biggest parts of her life would all be otherwise occupied.
After two days of not seeing her, Charles plotted a way to lure her from her seclusion. He knew she was sad, knew she was missing her brother and Eleanor, a double loss that he practically felt for her. It reminded him of being banished from court after marrying Mary, being out of the King's favor and out of his presence. It had been like losing a brother and his dearest friend all at once. So, he concocted a plan he knew she would be unable to resist.
She was at her writing desk, completing a letter to a friend when her maid announced Henry. She smiled and turned towards the door.
"Sister," he greeted with a little bow.
"Master Henry," she returned, "Come see me."
He crossed the room to her.
"I've come to ask if you will ride out with us?" he asked.
"Us?"
"His grace, the Duke of Suffolk and I. He is going to take me out to use my bow and arrow," he said.
"Ah, but perhaps you would rather have him to yourself, my lord," she said.
Henry shook his head no. "Please, Janey. We've had a picnic prepared and the Duke sent the grooms to set up a tent so you could rest while we practiced. He said that he would not take me unless you came as well."
Jane would have to remember to scold him for using her brother to manipulate her.
"Well, I suppose if there is a tent and a picnic, I cannot very well say no, can I?"
Henry beamed, "May I go and tell his grace that you will come?"
"You may."
He ran from the room and Jane summoned her maids, having them attire her in a riding gown of silvery grey.
He greeted her at the door where the horses had been stationed, kissing her gloved hands gently.
"You could have come and asked me to ride out yourself," she said, her voice low.
"But you can resist me. I am not sure you can resist Henry," he replied.
"I'm not sure I could resist you, your grace," she answered, leaning up onto her toes to brush her mouth over his.
"Jane," he sighed. It was becoming harder and harder to be with her and to keep his own rules.
They rode several miles out, well away from the house or where anyone else might pass by and the tent along with the targets had already been set up. He helped Jane dismount and she went over to sit in the nearby tent. Tables and chairs had been set up for lunch, a blanket was lain out across the ground, pillows scattered over it, presumably so she could watch them or read or rest. Accepting a goblet of wine from a groom, she situated herself upon the blanket and looked out at them. Charles had removed his jacket and was now in only his leather breeches, white shirt, a leather vest and his boots. She sighed at the sight of him. He was so strong and athletic, his broad shoulders moving as he showed Henry how to hold the bow and to place the arrow. It amazed her that he could be so strong and still so tender with her. They were far enough from her that she could not hear what he was saying to Henry but she watched as he patiently explained each part of the bow and arrow, and then helped Henry to place an arrow and release it. His first shots were far removed from the target and Charles had to offer not only lessons in how to shoot, but also bolster his young charge's esteem. And so it went for quite some time, Charles helping to load the bow, Henry aiming but falling short of the target each time.
"I'll never be able to do it," Henry complained glumly.
"Yes, you will. You just have to keep practicing," he said encouragingly.
"Will you show me again how you do it, your grace?"
Charles nodded and loaded his bow once more, aiming for the center of the target and releasing the arrow after a moment. It didn't quite hit the center but was close enough that Henry clapped in delight.
In his excitement, Henry picked up the bow and arrow he had been given and loaded them once more and then he turned to be sure Jane was watching. The next thing he knew, he was being spun around, the bow and arrow falling swiftly to the ground.
"Henry!" Charles yelled, "We never load and point an arrow anywhere but at a target. Do you understand me?"
Trembling now the little boy shook his head.
"If I ever see you do that again, I shall take you over my knee and thrash you soundly," Charles continued, his hands on the shoulders of the young boy, looking into his eyes.
Henry nodded once more, his lip trembling as he tried to keep from crying.
"It's all right, lad," Charles said gently, patting the boy's head, "It's all right. But you must always remember to load and point only at the desired target and never at anyone you do not mean to harm. Understood?"
Henry shook his head, wiping his tears away. All had been forgiven and it was a lesson he would not soon forget.
They continued at it a while longer, Henry finally getting the arrow to hit the target and Jane applauded from her spot beneath the tent.
"Well done, Henry!" she exclaimed.
Eventually they retired to the tent for lunch and Henry excitedly told her everything the Duke had taught him, including the most important rule of all, never point an arrow at someone or something other than the target. After lunch, he went to play with his toy soldiers on the blanket while they talked further about the affairs of the court. Eventually they realized he had fallen asleep amid the pillows.
"It must be lovely to be so young and carefree," Charles commented as Jane covered Henry with a blanket.
"I wish I had known you when you were so young and carefree, my love," she said, taking his hand as he helped her up.
He laughed, "I am still young, sweetheart."
"But not so carefree, I fear."
He looked at her, "No, not quite so carefree," he relented.
They walked away from the tent, through the meadow, up the hill to where they could look out over the lake and the gardens, all the way to the house which was but a mere speck.
"I know you think me young and unaware of the ways of the court. I know you are certainly more informed about the workings of his majesty's mind than I, but I hope, Charles, that you know you may always unburden yourself to me, free of judgment," she said.
He cupped her face in his hand, rubbing his thumb over her cheek gently.
"I do, my love, and I thank you for that. I fear that I do not know what troubles me, perhaps it is the King's desire for a son above duty to his own conscience. It may be the infestation of the Boleyn whore and her family, circling about the court like a pack of rabid dogs, always whispering into the King's ear. Maybe still it is the treatment of Queen Katharine, who was always kind to me and now sees me as an enemy. It is a tangled web, my love, and one that I wish I could spare you from."
"I love you, Charles and no matter how snarled and twisted the web becomes, I will still love you above all others," she said.
"Sweetheart, you have no idea how much it pleases me to hear you say so."
They stood together, his hand holding hers, tracing small circles over her palm.
"Jane, I…" he began but was interrupted by the sound of approaching horses and the call of his name.
The rider dismounted upon seeing them, rushing forward and bowing to them before handing Charles a letter that bore the seal of the King.
He unfolded the letter quickly, scanning its contents.
"Damn," he muttered under his breath.
"What is it, your grace?"
"I've been summoned back to court."
"Now? But I thought you had the rest of the week."
"I did but it seems that Cardinal Campeggio, the papal emissary is expected the day after tomorrow and I must return with all haste as they resume the council once more."
She nodded, disappointed, but determined not to let it show for fear of burdening him even more.
The next morning he left hastily, though they were able to steal a kiss before her father appeared to bid him farewell.
"I'll write," he said, "And Jane, I intend to ask for his permission when this council is concluded."
She smiled, "Write and tell me everything, my love."
And then he was gone, leaving Jane to her quiet life in the country without her closest companions or her most beloved Charles.