Dearest Kassandra, of course Ben will get her through this! In as much of a NSFW way as possible!

(Thank you to my lovely reviewers, readers, and adders of story/favorites!)

Abigail had only felt overwhelming dread, to the point of physically being ill, twice before. The first had been a few short weeks after Elliot had taken her maidenhead, and her menses had been late. She wasn't sure what Logan would have done had he found out, but she was sure she would not have liked it. The second when Logan had made her choose between the protestors and Elliot. It only felt fitting that this time was brought on by Logan, as well.

Having taken up residence in the room that had been her mother's so many years ago, she was hardly surprised to find stacks of letters and journals left for her by her brother, neatly piled and organized on her desk. The book on the very top of the pile was in much better condition than the rest, and it was with great interest that she had begun to delicately flip through the pages.

What had shocked her the most was the urgency of her brother's words; the impending doom of the beautiful nation, strong and curious, that he ruled at the hands of the darkness. Her skin crawled as she pushed the memories of the Auroran cave from her mind. His conflict over being a compassionate king and mourning the loss of most of his citizens, or being thick skinned and harsh, while most would live. Pages turned and were exchanged for more journals and letters, the queen's eyes frantically searching for answers unraveled- the most the most important at the time being what had happened to her beloved brother.

Calloused fingers wiped the tears from her cheeks, the newly appointed Major Finn making gentle noises of comfort as he pulled his lover close. Only a few of the room's sconces remained lit, but even in the dim light, he could see her face was a deep crimson, viridian eyes shining with tears yet to be shed.

"My dear Abigail," his voice was low, almost a whisper, "we have a year to succeed where Logan failed. I swear to you, we'll make it through this. It's another adventure! I know you've been itching to throw some more fireballs at baddies!"

Chuckling despite herself, she placed the last book down, letting herself seek the safety of Ben's arms. They provided an excellent distraction, she mused to herself, as his chest was bare at the late hour. Just one night she could allow for blatant selfishness and comfort. Her lips sought out his timidly at first, but quickly gaining confidence as her tongue traced along his lips. Ben was quick to allow her entrance, letting her taste the sweet, spiced rum that lingered on his tongue as their mouths clashed, fighting for dominance.

Abigail's leg swung over Ben's lap, straddling him, her lips never leaving his. His hands found her thighs and inched higher, lifting the powder blue silk of her nightgown to grip her naked hips. Lowering herself swiftly, she began to grind against the hardness, barely contained, in the major's trousers. His hands, surely leaving bruises from the strength of his grip, kept the tempo as his own hips raised to meet hers.

In the back of his mind, Ben thought of slowing their pace. Their movements now were as greedy and frantic as they typically were, and while that was fine and dandy in his opinion, they never had the convenience of taking their time. But as her head fell back and hands dipped to release his craning member of its confines, their bare flesh burning with combined friction and desire, aided only by the wetness of her core, he decided arguing was futile and pointless. This night, she would be his, and any guard within distance of hearing her hoarse cries would be made aware.

The queen fumbled clumsily by the bedside, opening creaky drawers until she found the square packet she sought. Slipping it to Ben's palm, she let her hands roam his shoulders and chest, muscles glistening, while her ministrations stopped. When his hands took their former place, she let one hand tangle in his hair while the other guided him to her. In a single motion, she took him in, jaw falling slack as wordless moans filled the room.

Within moments, the two moved against one another, striving for a single goal. Ben's hands found themselves cupping Abigail's heaving breasts. Thumbs circled nipples through the smooth fabric, pinching and flicking. Thoughtlessly, the nightgown was torn and his lips found her breasts, suckling and nipping at porcelain skin. His tongue followed the now familiar tattoos, tracing the patterns cumbrously as his rebel queen bounced in his lap.

As her hips churned and whorled, Abigail's hands kept Ben's mouth directed towards her chest, his own sounds of pleasure sending shockwaves to her core. She would not last much longer, she knew, speeding up her movements. Clenching around him, a guttural cry ripped from her, her fingers tugging at his hair. Her movements continued, if at a more deliberate pace, until she had reached her end. Smirking at her lover's confusion, she lifted herself from his aching member. Gently biting her way down Ben's sculpted chest, her hand rubbed over him in a ghost of touch.

Her name fell from his lips in a manner most reserved for prayer as she took him into her mouth, tongue swirling over his tip. His hand found her chocolate curls and he gripped them tightly, the fine strands no longer obstructing his view as her mouth lowered further, to his base, the tense muscles of her throat swallowing around him. Head tilting back and eyes closed, he came undone, body deflating against the plush duvet.

Pulling herself from his body, she swallowed his offered seed. Their mouths were quick to find each other again, this time lazily exploring the territories familiar. "You will stay, won't you Benjamin?"

Placing a kiss to the tip of her nose, his arms held her tight against him. "Not even Wally could chase me out of here."

Abigail giggled. "I wouldn't put it past him to try. You are aware his bedroom is just down the hall?"