Oddments Reprise
Disclaimer: I am not a Theologian, a Historian, or a TV Producer; I therefore do not own any thing.
Pairing: Thomas Boleyn/ Katherine of Aragon
Prompt #25: Fetish
"Your neck, I love your neck."
It was an object of sexual attraction, slim and pale and a place where a simple kiss could bring about a heady moan. A moan caused by him, a moan for him. The Princess Dowager, Duchess of Wiltshire may have a head of her own but with a nip, with a kiss along that alabaster column he could turn that head any way he wanted.
Which is what he did now, his blunt fingers sweeping aside coal curls to expose the pale heaven of his wife's lavender scented flesh, his lips parted over the smooth, warm skin and his teeth nipped with just enough pressure to send her long, slim fingers tunneling through his showy hair as her head lolled to one side allowing him all the access he could desire. And he desired it all. All was not nearly enough.
She moaned as his tongue followed his teeth, lapping, soothing the mark he had left, the mark that branded her as his and only his. His to love, his to lust after, his to possess. And his to protect. He pulled back slightly, eyelashes skimming over her jaw like kisses from a butterfly's wings, barely there and yet beautiful none the less.
Against his lips he felt her pulse; the soft beat against the sensitive skin. His lips hovered directly above the vein that carried life through her. And in that moment the pale column was more than just something to be dominated, more than a possession, and more than just what it did to his loins. His proximity… he could kill her easily, sink his teeth into the flesh as if the soft flesh was that of an apple, the crunch all the same her skin turning as red as the fruit's. It was an animalistic fact, one that she instinctively knew, felt it as strongly as he did. And yet she did not pull back, she did not defend herself, in fact she opened to him. It was the greatest display of trust she could give. She offered herself to him readily, knowing that he could kill her and yet having faith that he would never.
He lifted his eyes to the mirror of her vanity where she sat, he leaning over her, his chin now resting on her strong shoulder, ear pressed to her neck, the soft intimate pump, pump, pump of blood ringing through his senses.
Her neck, he loved her neck.