This is not a piece of great fanfic literature. This is absolutely shameless lemon with no plot and tropes abound.

"I care not that they are upset, Lord M," insisted Victoria, as they rode away from Windsor. "Mama and Uncle Leopold have not yet realized that a proposal of marriage is my privilege. It is not theirs to dictate."

Melbourne's eyes slid over to his Queen. Nothing good could come of arguing with her when her posture was ramrod straight, eyes steely and determined. Leopold had seen all too well the connection between them and wanted his assurances that he would encourage the match.

He truly had meant to encourage the Queen towards marriage, but the most recent argument between Albert and Victoria had been about children. It had become clear to Melbourne that this marriage scheme of Leopold's entailed Albert effectively sharing Victoria's throne as she would be too busy bearing children. Albert's ambition, Albert's vision, Albert's ideas. That might well satisfy many in Parliament, but it made Melbourne's stomach roil with nausea just to think of the bright, shining light of his Queen being extinguished by her own blood.

The clouds gathered overhead and they were very far away from the castle now. Victoria's voice was small and dejected when she finally spoke. "Why, Lord M?" she choked. "Why can't my family be just that? My family. That loves me."

Melbourne's heart broke at the tears in her voice.

"They all want my throne, Lord M. Mama. Uncle Leopold. Albert. I'm simply a means to an end for them. I'm trapped! You are the only happiness I have ever known, Lord M. You are the only one who has never sought to use me for your own gain."

Raindrops, large and heavy, began to splash on their clothing. A downpour was coming. Melbourne threw his leg up over his horse's head and effortlessly dismounted. Removing his cloak, he passed it to Victoria.

"We must find shelter, Ma'am. There's a small stable just a bit further north."

As quickly as they could, they came to the stable. Melbourne hurried to help Victoria down from her mount and they dashed inside. Formerly used for hunts, it was maintained by the groundskeepers, so it was clean and dry.

"Stay here, Your Majesty. I'll bring the horses inside."

With the mounts secured, Melbourne was soaked. Beginning with his muddy boots, he began to strip at his outer layers. Still wrapped in Melbourne's cloak, Victoria stood transfixed at the sight of him removing his coat and waistcoat. He untied his dripping cravat, laying it out to dry, and when his eyes turned to hers, he knew. She burned for him. Ached for him in the way that he did for her. He could no longer run from her.

As if divining his thoughts, she dropped his cloak and stepped in front of him, sliding her palms up his chest. Her hands burned him through the damp, gauzy layer of his linen shirt. Melbourne's breath caught, the sound of his heart pounding in his ears drowning out the roar of the autumn rain outside as she turned her face up to his. Delicate fingers began to undo the buttons of his shirt, then lips started caressing exposed flesh. He panted, as powerless against his desire for her as he was against the raging of the elements around them.

Victoria looked up at him, blue eyes full of devotion. "Love me, Lord M. End our suffering, and make me yours."

Melbourne's will finally snapped as he yanked Victoria flush to his body, his lips closing over hers with a hunger he had never known. He would ruin her, but he no longer had the strength to refuse her love. His precious Victoria had exposed her heart yet again for him, and he could not bear to crush it another time. Not with the den of snakes surrounding her back at Windsor. His fingers flew to the jacket of her habit, briskly unfastening buttons. She gasped against his lips in surprise, but made no argument as he slid the offending cloth to the ground. Her hands stripped his shirt off his shoulders and together they made quick work of their garments before he lowered her onto his cloak that covered the ground, and covered her body with his own.

He had shamefully imagined this moment, drinking in her moans and sighs as his lips slid down her neck to her breasts, smirking inwardly at her pitched cry as he covered a taut nipple with his mouth and began to suck. Each time Melbourne had imagined making love to her, he had thought of how he would bring her to pleasure before taking her. The reality was far different. He could not wait. They had both waited too long. Instead his hand slipped between her thighs and gently nudged them open, growling as his hand made contact with her wetness. He positioned his cock at her opening and raised his eyes to Victoria's face. She raised her hips to him wordlessly and he thrust forward with a powerful cry of surrender.

Victoria's soft cry of pain brought him back from the shocking bliss of her tight womanhood surrounding him and Melbourne tenderly brushed damp hair away from her face.

"Are you alright?"

Victoria reached up and brought his lips to hers before whispering a fervent yes against his lips. "My Lord M," she breathed.

"Yes, Victoria. Yours," Melbourne nodded, as he slowly began to move within her. It was ecstasy, the way she looked at him while he took her. How he had denied her, denied them both this pleasure for so long, he would never know.

It took Victoria little time to adjust to him and as his thrusts became sharper, her head arched back and she cried out for him. "More!"

He groaned in pleasure as she started to meet him thrust for thrust, her channel beginning to tighten and clench around him. One hand slid down her arm, lacing her fingers through his own as he pinned it down above her head. Melbourne swallowed her cries as he began to slam his cock into her, thrilling when he heard her beg him to do it again. He ground his pelvis into her with each thrust, rubbing against that point where she needed him most.

Victoria's mouth dropped into an O of astonished pleasure. Melbourne briskly nodded, willing himself to wait for her.

"That's right, my darling, let it happen," he said, his breath shaking. "Come for me, my beautiful girl."

When Victoria arched her back and wailed in pleasure beneath him, digging her fingernails into his hips, Melbourne grit his teeth against the clamping vise of her sex, the force of his climax staggering him and his gut twisting as her spasms milked him of the strongest pleasure he had ever known.

They clung to each other, trembling with the intensity of their lovemaking. When they had caught their breath, their eyes mutually traced each other's features and they exchanged soft smiles.

"I can never let you go now, Victoria," Melbourne vowed, nuzzling her jaw. "I thought I could, but now that-"

"Nor I, Lord M," agreed Victoria. "We belong to each other, and I'll never allow their ambitions to separate us. I want to be your wife, and I will face down all the hounds of Hell to convince the world of it."

Melbourne laughed shakily. "May God help our enemies, Ma'am. If you can convince the Privy Council to make it so, then there is no end to your powers of persuasion, My Queen."

"They'll just have to accept it, Lord M. Either I marry you, and happily provide an heir to the throne; or I shall reign alone. I rest easy knowing no one wants Uncle Cumberland, so they will have to acquiesce to my demands. An English marriage will do quite nicely, I think."

"And what of your family, Victoria?"

"Their wishes can only take them so far. Mama has had her day of dictating my every breath, and as far as Uncle Leopold is concerned, I refuse to be a proxy for Cousin Charlotte. No doubt he would have kept her in the nursery so he could take over."

"I'll never allow that to happen to you, Ma'am," Melbourne promised, kissing her softly.

"Then you'll marry me?"

"It will be my honor, Your Majesty."

Eventually their idyll came to an end along with the rain and they laughingly helped each other dress.

Of course, they had been gone several hours, and they met their search party on the way back to the castle.

And what of Victoria's family?

It was as if Albert knew Victoria had closed her heart to him entirely. He had accepted early on that this was a fool's errand, so he went home and eventually found a wealthy bluestocking and social reformer to wed. He was not a consort, but he found their marriage quite satisfying.

The Duchess of Kent was distraught over her favorite nephew receiving no marriage proposal, but Victoria would not be moved. She took to her room for days, which was fine with Victoria.

Leopold's choler knew no bounds when Victoria officially summoned him to her throne room as the monarch and informed him that he would not be able to manipulate her into a marriage that she did not want.

Lady Emma Portman couldn't avoid exchanging a glance of wry amusement with Lord Melbourne. Whatever had happened during the storm, she was quite sure that things had gone Victoria's way at last.

As for the Privy Council and Parliament, they reacted with equal parts outrage and amusement. The Duke of Wellington was the most amused of all as the outraged had to pay him their wagers.

As for Melbourne and Victoria, they were wed. He reluctantly accepted a Dukedom as a necessity, but that reluctance was nothing compared to the joy he felt as he awaited Victoria at the altar in his Windsor Uniform. In the end, Melbourne reflected, he had done what was best for Victoria after all. She had a husband she respected, and whom she could trust, and that was far more important than any royal blood could have to offer.

The End