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Lost Time

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Catherine sighed a pathetic, disappointed sound as she made her way back to her chambers. For the first time since their wedding, she had gone almost the entire day without seeing Henry. Well, she had gone without seeing him before, but that had been when he had gone to visit the front at Montereau. This time, he was actually in the castle. He had slipped out of bed that morning before she woke, leaving the bed already cold by the time her eyes drifted open. He had spent the whole day locked in counsel with his advisors. He hadn’t joined her for an afternoon walk in the orchard and he hadn’t even taken a meal with her. She had stopped at the door and inquired after him twice and was simply told that the king was occupied. She knew the message came from him, although she wished he had at least come out to tell her so himself.

She silently chastised herself for being so girlish and foolish. She should be able to make it through one day without her husband without doubting the connection between them. She believed that he loved her, although that didn’t mean that couldn’t tire of her. He seemed at night to be as interested in her as ever, even if she had been seeing less and less of him during the day. She knew his uncle and brothers were obsessed with planning the seige of Melun. After their victory at Montereau, they wanted to move quickly. She also knew that Henry wanted to wait until after the Harvest, until the cold had set in for the long winter. They hadn’t even been married for two months. She wanted him with her for as long as he could stay. And the fact that she was not yet pregnant bothered her immensely, even if he assured her not to worry. It will happen, he told her often, and in the meantime we can have fun.

She paused in front of the door to her chambers, watching as one of her ladies-in-waiting nervously shifted her weight in the hall. “Your highness,” the woman started, her eyes moving quickly as another lady pushed the door open, her mouth hanging open as if she had something she needed to say. The second woman stopped in the doorway, her eyes going wide and her hand flying to her open mouth. She turned quickly and curtsied, quickly moving away from the door and beckoning the other ladies to follow. Catherine turned and watched them move down the hall, heads and eyes cast to the floor. She was confused, wondering what could make them all retreat so quickly. She rolled her eyes quickly, hoping her father was not waiting for her. She entered her room and immediately found her answer.

There, resting over the back of the settee, was the unmistakable ginger head of her husband. His tall body was sprawled out, slouched into the cushions, legs flung out towards the fire. He still had his boots on.

“My love,” she whispered, closing the door quietly behind her. She felt her face light up at his presence, knowing he must have come straight from the conclusion of his discussions. It was still early, too early to retire for the night, but her ladies had convinced her that a few games of cards would help her to miss his presence less.

He did not respond to her call. He laid as silent as the night and she approached him cautiously, knowing better than to startle a warrior such as himself. She called his name softly, but received no response. As she approached the back of the settee, she reached out to run her fingers through his hair, a gesture that she knew he found comforting and, if she was lucky, arousing. But again, he gave her no response and as she stood over him, she looked down to find that her husband was asleep.

She rounded the settee and gazed at him for a time. He looked exhausted, clearly the days deliberations were weighing on him. His clothes were a bit rumpled and he looked as if he had been hunched over in concentration all day. She could even see the indent on his forehead from his crown. She knew he hated wearing it all day; she didn’t understand why he had to. They all knew he was king. There were some things about the English she just didn’t understand. He had clearly already been in her chambers for a while, at least long enough to fall asleep. She smiled, thinking about him escaping his duties and coming here to wait for her, longing to pass the evening with her.

She sighed as she watched him sleep, her eyes growing tired as well. She stoked the fire as quietly as she could and then stood to stretch. All she had wanted all day was a good cuddle with her husband; she resolved to take it anyway she could get it. So she pulled off her gown and reached to her back and pulled at the laces on her corset, easing herself out of it as best she could. It was definitely easier when her ladies helped her. Once she was more comfortable, she carefully crawled onto the settee next to him. She curled into his side, nudging her head into his collarbone. She gazed down his chest, imagining what he looked like without his velvet coat and she bit her lip as a delicious idea ran through her head. She silently and gently slipped the buttons of his coat open and ran her hand down his chest, feeling all the hard muscles that she loved. She lifted his arm that was pressed between them and draped it around her shoulders, scooting as close as she could. Then she wrapped her arm around him, curling her fingers around his waist inside his coat, closed her eyes, and sighed.

When she awoke, she knew immediately some time had passed. The fire was much lower, but more importantly she could feel his fingers pulling softly through her hair. He had his cheek pressed against the top of her head and while he hadn’t moved, his free hand was gripping her elbow, his thumb slowing rubbing circles against her skin. She lifted her head and heard him sigh. She smiled and turned her face towards his, immediately receiving an intense kiss and dismissing every worry she had turned over all day.

She let him kiss her for a bit, his tongue prodding and eager. “I missed you” he murmured softly, pulling on her hair, tugging her as close as he could. “I missed you all day.” She smiled into his kisses, running her hand up and down his chest, whispering to him in French because she knew he thought it was alluring. She told him that she missed him too, that she looked for him, that she wanted him. She ran her fingers through his hair and felt her center tighten and warm when he lifted his hips and groaned into her mouth. His kisses turned deeper, wetter, more heated, and she reluctantly pulled away, smiling at him and tracing her thumb over his slightly swollen lips.

“Je’taime,” she whispered, pulling his bottom lip between her thumb and forefinger. She couldn’t hide her happiness that he was back in her arms.

“Je’taime mon ange,” he replied, his thumb brushing over her jaw. His French might have been terrible, but they had perfected their endearments to each other. She gave him another quick kiss and then slinked out of his arms, smiling as he protested and reached for her. She gave him a knowing grin, before turning her back and stoking the fire again. When she stood up and turned around, she was not prepared for the look of complete lust and abandon written across her husband’s face.

“Kate,” he whispered, his hand idly moving down his chest, “you’re so beautiful in the firelight.”

“You think so?” she replied. “More so than usual?” He told her she was beautiful all the time. She eyed him carefully. His eyes were dark and dilated, his hand was rubbing his chest, his fingers flexing into his skin. And she was no longer naive about these things; the bulge in his pants was growing bigger by the second.

“I can see you,” he smiled, his voice carrying the slightest hint of amusement. “I can see  you through your gown.”

She smiled knowingly, completely aware that she had stripped down to her most basic garment. He must have been talking about her breasts, which she imagined he could just make out the shape of. She ran her hands up her sides, ghosting her fingers along the edge of her bosom.

“What can you see my lord?” she teased, passing her fingers over her now tightening nipples. Knowing what was about to happen was making her wet with anticipation and she couldn’t stop her body from telling him that she wanted him. She heard him suck in a sharp breath as she teased the nubs to points before her fingers went swiftly to the lacing on the front of her gown and pulled quickly, loosening the ties and letting the garment hang open so he could just peak the curve of her breast and the texture of her skin.

“Kate,” he groaned, dropping his head back against the settee again, “I’m so glad you like to play.” When he lifted his head again his smile convinced her of the sincerity of his words. She endeavored to be as regal a queen as he was a king. But when they were alone, she wanted to be wanton for him.

She came towards him, ready to really play her games. She leaned over, running her hands up his thighs and pushed his legs open enough for her to fit between them. She dropped to her knees and a ‘dear lord’ escaped his lips. She shot him a look and he shrugged. He knew that she didn’t approve of taking the lord’s name in vain, but he had explained that he was without the power to control himself when he was with her and she had chosen to let this particular sin go. Particularly when it was uttered because of his passion for her.

She ran her hands down his legs and the back of his calves, before reaching down to tug his boots off one at a time. Then she ran her hands back up his legs as she stretched forward, her hands going up his chest and slipping inside his coat. He leaned forward to kiss her as she pushed his coat off his shoulders and she could sense the urgency in his kiss. When his arms were free, his hands immediately buried in her hair, holding her close and trapping her in desperately wet kiss after kiss. He was hungry for her and she had to press him back into the settee before he would let her go. “You did miss me,” she exhaled, looking deep into his eyes.

“All day,” he replied with a groan, running his hands down the back of her arms and gripping her elbows. “I don’t like to be kept from you,” he huffed, drawing another smile from her. He pulled her forward, trying to coax her up. “Wife, come sit with me,” he begged. She knew he wanted her writhing in his lap, but she bit her lip and giggled. She had other plans.

“Soon my love,” she sighed, her gaze drifting down to the very large bulge in his pants. She sighed and pulled back, running her hands down his chest. She held his gaze as one hand started to pull at the laces on his breeches. He watched her, seemingly holding his breath, and he was fully surprised when her other hand sneaked up his inner thigh and cupped him from below.

“Oh god Kate,” he moaned as she massaged him, loving the feeling of the soft, hot weight of him in her palm. She loved every part of her husband’s manhood, and she had a weak spot for this, the softest part of him, just because they were a source of pleasure for him. He loved it when she tugged them or cradled them in her hand, squeezing them with the slightest hint of pressure. It drove him crazy when she stroked them and rolled them between her fingers.

Now his eyes were closed, clearly enjoying the feeling of her dragging her fingers up and down the length of him through his pants. His erection was full and clear to her through the fabric and she paused for a moment to appreciate the beautiful shape of him. He brought her so much pleasure with his body it overwhelmed her to think about it. She clenched her thighs, anxious for the moment he would discover just how wet she was and only from the mere thought of him.

He sighed loudly and lifted his hips when she moved to tug his breeches down. She gasped happily as she tossed them behind her, smiling as they hit the stone floor with a smack. The leather was heavy and she knew he was glad to be free of it.

“Now will you come?” he whined, reaching down towards her. “I want to touch you.”

“No,” she giggled, shaking her head. She pushed him back into the cushions and caught his eye. She held his gaze and she ran her hand up the inside of his thigh and slowly wrapped her warm hand around his throbbing cock. He moaned and lifted his hips, thrusting slightly into her grasp as she started a firm stroke, just the way he liked it. She leaned forward, letting her hot breath ghost over his whole groin. She looked up, holding his gaze as she withdrew her hand, licked her palm, and returned her firm grip to him, coaxing him to an even greater level of hardness.

“Kate,” he moaned, “jesus, woman!” She smiled and dropped her face to kiss the inside of his thigh. She wanted him to relax into the wet warmth of her grip, to anticipate what it felt like to be inside her. She waited until he dropped his head again, closing his eyes and reveling in her touch. When she was sure he least expected it, she leaned forward and gave his hot tip an experimental lick.

His eyes shot open and his head bolted straight up. “F-f-uuck,” he stammered, reaching for her hair with desperate hands. She no longer minded when he said that word, because she knew it meant he was overwhelmed with pleasure. Locking her eyes on his, she leaned forward again and wrapped her lips around the weeping head of his cock. He gasped loudly, tightening his grip on her hair, and she responded to him by sucking gently, pressing her tongue against the underside of his head. She loved the way he filled her mouth and the slightly tangy taste of him as he leaked all over her tongue. He whimpered her name, his breath coming out in an uneven, stammered gasp. She only smiled and took more of him in her mouth, working the base of his cock with her hand.

He had only let her do this a little bit and never to his release. He told her that it was better for him to finish inside her; he joked once that the lords would revolt if they wasted one drop of royal cum. And when they were in bed, he seemed to prefer pleasuring her. He spent a lot of time kissing and lapping and sighing between her thighs, whispering to her about how amazing she tasted and how much he loved her. On several occasions he had made her finish at least twice before he finally slipped inside her. He claimed he wanted her hot and wet and swollen around him. And he loved to tease, bringing her just to the edge before slowing her down. He loved to make her beg; he loved it when she finally groaned and pulled his mouth tightly against her wet folds, groaning ‘please’ over and over again.

And even though he’d only let her put her mouth to him a few times, she loved it as well. She understood completely why he loved to pleasure her that way; the power was intoxicating. Listening to him above her, hissing and moaning and writhing in pleasure. Knowing that with a change in speed or pressure she could dissolve him into whimpers. The sounds he made caused her to positively drip with want for him. As she worked more and more of him into her mouth, pausing regularly for kisses and licks and soothing breaths, she could barely resist touching herself.

She moved her lips to the base of his cock and devoted her energies to one of his very favorite things. He loved it when she used her mouth there. As much as he loved it when she tugged them with her fingers, he went mad if she sucked them into her mouth, exerting the same amount of pressure only with the added pleasure of her hot, wet tongue working over him. His groans were filling the room now, and she sincerely hoped none of her maids were waiting at the door. Although she also felt sure that by now, nearly all their servants were entirely used to listening to the two of them fuck.

When she finished and raised her head, he was looking down at her. She smiled at him, but his gaze was not on her face. It was on her hand, which without much conscious effort, had started to work between her thighs. She touched herself the way he did, running her fingertips over her tender lips, dipping them slightly into her soaked entrance, circling her clit. She bit her lip as he watched her, her hand wrapped around his shaft. She felt him throb in her hand.

“Kate, please” he growled, pulling on her arms again. “Now,” he demanded. This time she did not deny him. She raised up on her knees and he moved to help her up, but she suddenly remembered how much he liked to play. She pulled her slick fingers from her center and offered them to him, knowing how much he claimed to love the taste of her. He lept fearlessly, sucking her two fingers into his mouth with a devastating force. She shuddered at the eroticism of it as his eyes darkened at the taste of her.

She scrambled to her feet, leveraging herself up off his thighs, and immediately whipped her gown over her head, exposing her entire body to him in the firelight. How different from our first few times she thought as he reached for her hips. She crawled into his lap, scratching her nails down his chest, running her fingers through the spare hair that covered his muscles. His mouth immediately found her breast as she stretched against him, and she groaned, fingers clenching his hair, as he coaxed each peak to a hard, impatient nub. She gasped as she felt his fingers trail around the back of her thigh and lightly press forward. He moaned against her breasts when his fingertips slipped between her wet lips and she felt his mouth lose focus as he delicately ran his fingers back and forth, playing with her entrance and flicking gently over her clit. She pressed into his touch, lowering her hips and arching her back, greedy for more of his attention and she felt his smile against her. He pressed his forehead into her sternum as he pushed two fingers easily inside her. As her moan softened into a sigh, she could just barely hear him mutter ‘mine’ against her skin.

She was his and he was her and she couldn’t wait for him any longer. She leaned down, searching for his mouth, and when she found it she collapsed into his kiss, feeling his cock flex between her legs, pushing up towards her folds as if it had a mind of its own. Without leaving his lips, she lifted herself away from his hand, reached between them, and pulled his cock to her entrance. Once she felt his tip nudge her opening, she locked her knees into his hips and sat down, easing the entire, devastating length of him into herself. She groaned as he finally relieved that empty hollow feeling she’d had all day.

“Fuck.” There was that word again, dripping in his lust. His hands went to her hips, encouraging her to move. She could feel the pressure of his thumbs, his grip tight enough that it would leave a bruise for tomorrow. But she smiled into his kiss. She knew he wanted her to ride him, and she would, but first she would make sure he understood how much he turned her on. She slowly rocked her hips forward before moving them delicately in a circle, cradling him inside her and swirling him against her walls. “Ah,” he groaned, gripping her even tighter and licking his lips, “Kate, you’re so wet.”

She trailed her kisses down his throat, absently running her thumbs over his nipples as she continued to swirl her hips around him. She nodded, humming against the taut muscles. “Only for my king” she whispered. His hands slid up her back and buried his fingers in her hair, his arms locking against her back and holding her tightly against him as she continued to torture him with her arousal. She could feel it dripping down between them as every pass drove her just as crazy as it did him. It gathered at the base of his cock, making the most delicious velvet pressure velvet against her clit, almost as if he was using his tongue there.

“Henry” she whimpered, her hips moving faster, using the same rocking, swirling motion, desperately chasing the storm building in that tender bundle of nerves. He moaned and held her, his hands moving to guide her as she rocked her clit against the base of his cock.

“Yes Kate,” he gasped in reply, “faster. Almost there darling.” He kissed her hotly, whispering his desires into her mouth. She felt the pressure build and build and just as he told her that he wanted to feel her squeezing his cock as hard as she could, she came, her center flooding and pulsing around him. He moaned loudly as she gasped and his arms wrapped around her waist. He pulled her against his chest and his hips lifted, thrusting into her in an attempt to extend her orgasm, pulling each contraction out to its breaking point.

As she came down, she realized that she was cradled in his arms, his fingers trailing up and down her spine, his lips moving up and down her neck. As she stirred in his arms, his hands instantly became more desperate, kneading her breasts and her ass, gripping her hips. She knew he needed it, was slowly going mad without it, so she pulled herself up, gripped his shoulders, and lifted herself up on her knees.

She started slow so as to not overwhelm him completely. She knew at this point he must be so stimulated as to be close and sensitive to her touch. But soon enough he was panting and urging her to ride him faster. She watched him bite his lip as his gaze drifted down and she knew what he wanted. She lifted herself off of him and he slouched farther down into the cushions. Now, when she tucked him back inside of her, he could see himself plunging in and out, his cock slipping wetly through her folds. Again came the F word, his eyes starting to roll back in his head. She laid her hands flat against his shoulders and extended her arms, working hard to bring him to a thundering finish. She encouraged him with her voice, moaning and panting her love and desire to him. She rode him till her thighs burned and her hips ached, until the relentless pounding of his cock inside her caused her to shiver and moan and flutter all around him again. He rocked her forward as she came again and she could feel the sweat on his back. She took a deep breath and recovered faster, moving to ride him again, determined to bring him with her the next time.

“Cum Henry,” she whispered to him, scraping her fingernails down his chest as she elevated him to his breaking point. She knew he loved the vulgar sound of her thighs smacking against his; it meant they were driving each other crazy. Even though he truly cherished her, she knew he loved to fuck. “Cum inside me husband,” she panted, smiling at all he had taught her, even the right things to say to bring him to the edge. He started to thrust back against her erratically, no rhythm or purpose other than the orgasm that was just out of his reach. She kissed his forehead, knowing he was so close that if she clenched herself around him just so…

“Oh god Kate!” he yelled and she felt his body harden and seize beneath her. Immediately she felt the wet heat spread through her and her thrusts turned even slicker and easier. He moaned as he came, and she could tell it would be hard and long, spurt after spurt deep inside her. She moaned with him, pushing her fingers through his hair, her nails scraping his scalp. A shiver ran through him and she pulled him into her chest, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She rocked in his lap, ceasing her thrusts and returning to the wet, cradled rhythm. His arms enveloped her tightly and she could feel him shaking against her. She merely whispered to him, telling him how wonderful he felt inside her. She fluttered her walls around him over and over drawing his own climax out as much as she could.

Eventually, he relaxed back into the cushions and she was able to cuddle into his chest. He stroked her back and kissed her forehead until both of them were calm again. With her heart finally slowed and the delicious warm feeling of her husband soft and wet between her legs, Kate suddenly felt the urge for a generous stretch. And so she did, arching herself above him, her breasts pushing towards him in the low firelight. She did not miss the look that crossed his face or the way his hands reached up to grip her sides.

“Did you have a nice nap earlier?” he asked, an amused smile on his lips.

“Yes,” she replied, returning his smile. “Why do you ask?” She pushed her fingers into his hair and he seemed in instinctively lean into her palms.

“Because I want to know that you are well rested my love,” he teased in response.

“And why is that?” she replied, batting her eyelashes innocently at him. She knew why. She could feel him twitch against her.

“Because wife,” he replied, lowering his voice to a soft growl, “you may have guessed that I am not yet done with you for the night. I didn’t see you all day. There is much to make up for.”