Beautiful wild flowers hung from vines in the royal throne room. They were purple in colour, Mary's favorite. Kenna had been in charge of planning for this joyous event; a party in honour of the Queen's day of birth.
When Mary first enters the room, Francis at her side, she gasps in admiration.
"Kenna you remembered!" She laughs in excitement.
"Of course! You've only been in love with the colour for as long as I can remember." Kenna smiles at her friend. "Happy birthday Mary."
"Thank you," Mary grins.
The three of them stand on the edge of the mural in the floor, watching as their guests pour in. Other royals, nobleman, and foreign diplomats. The most important people in Europe were coming together to celebrate, but also to judge, and form new alliances. Surely a lot of them will stay at court a few days' time to solidify new agreements and trades.
"Oh, there's Greer!" Mary notices, grateful to see her friend after such long time apart. But it's not appropriate for the Queen of France to visit a madame, no matter their past.
"Go have yourself a lovely night, my darling," Francis says with a gentle kiss to her cheek.
She nods and smiles, releasing his arm to go and greet her guests.
some time later.
Francis approaches his dancing wife and two partners, Greer and Lola. Kenna dances with Bash and a few others elsewhere. When Mary sees him coming towards her she leaps forward in excitement, tripping over her dress in the process. He catches her of course, chuckling as he stands her upright.
"I think you've had enough wine," he winks. Leaning in as if to kiss her cheek, he whispers, "or not nearly enough. Meet me in the wine cellar in half an hour." Francis secretly leads her hand downward, and she gasps. He pecks her gently and nods to Greer and Lola, who can see the furious blush upon Mary's cheeks. "Take care of her," he instructs to them. They nod.
Quickly he's off to a nearby envoy, jumping right into political conversation. How he's able to put on such a show, she may never know. He plays his part as King very well.
She agrees to stand still for a moment and take a cup of water so as not to expose the true reason for her sudden wobbliness. Greer stands next to her, suspicious as she gazes upon the crowd.
"What did Francis say to you?" she wonders casually, avoiding eye contact.
"Oh nothing," Mary's voice is a tone too high. She coughs. "He simply wanted to tell me he loved me, isn't that sweet?"
Greer nods and smiles, "very sweet," she agrees, unconvinced still. She's silent for a moment before turning to Mary once again. "He said something naughty didn't he?" she teases, Mary's startled reaction and helpless stuttering gave it away. Greer laughs and pokes Mary on the shoulder. "You dirty birds!"
The Queen's cheeks turn almost as red as the roses in her hair.
half an hour later.
Mary paces back and forth impatiently, having been waiting for Francis in the wine cellar for ten minutes already. She was early, but figures it suspicious that they both disappear from the festivities at the same time. They may be married and royal, but they must keep their dignity and be discreet about such physical affairs. She knows that this was a request of desire, for when he encountered her earlier she felt his arousal, hard and ready beneath his clothing.
She sips a glass of wine and decides to lean against the table in the middle of the room, beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol.
The doors open from atop the stairs and Francis appears.
"Francis," Mary sighs, relieved it was him. "What are we doing down here?" She doesn't know why she's asking when she clearly knows the answer. He pours himself a glass of wine as he stands next to her.
He says nothing as he tentatively takes a sip and leans in to press a chaste but sweet kiss upon her lips. He then turns her around and begins to undo the strings of her upper corset. She doesn't object as the article falls to the floor, leaving her breasts practically exposed in the sheer tunic she wore underneath. He then drops her outer-skirt, leaving her in fine silk undergarments.
Reaching around as he kisses the back of her neck, Francis gropes her breasts, his right hand sliding into her tunic and gently thumbing her nipple. Her breathing increases and she leans her head back into his shoulder, tightening her grip on his hair and his shirtsleeve. His hardened manhood pressed against her exposed thigh, and Mary forgets to breathe for a moment.
He turns her around and kisses her with a fiery passion.
Lifting her up onto the table he places himself between her legs and whispers to her.
"I couldn't keep my hands off you for much longer," Francis moans as he grinds himself against her, their desperate kisses only intensifying. Her fingers tremble as she struggles to undo the latch of his belt, as she'd already removed his shirt.
"No, my love, today is your day," he takes her hand and stops her movements. Confused, she holds onto his belt still. "I'll treat you like the Queen you are, beautiful Mary." He takes her hands away and lies her flat against the table. After another taste of wine Francis slowly begins kissing his way down her body, until her hands were twisted in his hair. He uses his thumb to rub against her sensitive bundle of nerves before pleasuring her with his mouth.
She leans her head back and cries out his name in surprise. He uses his lips, his tongue, his teeth. He was incredible. She shivers and flexes her thighs, a feeling building up in her stomach.
Clinging to her hips with his strong arms he holds her in place, refusing to leave his position between her legs until she's had her release. Above him all he hears are erotic noises of pleasure.
He stays there for as long as he needs to, and to him it's as if no time has passed at all. For Mary it's like she's been wrapped up in the heat of it all for hours, and that feeling is nearing it's peak. She's about ready to explode. Her stomach twitched and her legs were numb.
"Francis please don't stop, I'm close," she begs, running her fingers through his beautiful soft golden hair. He continues still. "Yes!" she whimpers, tightening her grip.
He licks up and down her swollen clit relentlessly as she falls apart, waves of ecstasy hitting her like the water of a lake on a windy day. "Francis, it feels so good," she moans to him, rubbing his shoulders and his biceps as she begins to come down from the high of her climax. Her back arches and he reaches up to caress her stomach.
When he pulls away to look at her he is overcome with joy at the sight of his wife. Her hair was splayed out beautifully against the table, and the look of her face was flushed and exhausted, but she looked as if in a state of bliss. He knew she was when she smiled gratefully at him, reaching for his company despite the fact that she was clearly out of breath. He held her legs in his arms as they trembled. She would not be able to support herself standing right now.
He rubs his hand along her sensitive womanhood, sliding a finger between her slick folds. Her mouth opens slightly. This was surely natural lubrication brought about from her orgasm. She was nearly dripping onto his arousal.
"You are so wet for me," Francis groans as he places the tip of his erection at her entrance, holding her legs in his arms as she lies back in full few of her King. He slides into her with an ease so smooth it makes him want to cry. He begins pushing into her, picking up speed almost immediately in response to her pleas and moans.
"Harder!" she begs, and after only a few moments of gentle thrusting Francis feels himself approach climax.
"You're too tight, I'm gonna cum soon," he groans in pleasure, bracing himself for what was to come.
"I love you," she reaches for him and he leans in to place a tender kiss upon her lips before returning to his hurried thrusting. A few moments later and he his head leans back as Francis begins to spill himself.
He groans and roughly buries himself in his wife, wrapped in her arms as he rests his head against her breast.
"I love you too, and happy birthday my love," Francis whispers to her after the intensity subsides, pressing his lips to hers. Still intertwined they share a deep embrace, as if the party upstairs never existed. Nor did the rest of the world, hence eliminating their duties. All they have to focus on in this moment is each other.