Steamy King (NSFW)

This is sort of but not really part of a longer something that I’m working on that I’ll start to post more of soon.

NSFW = not safe for work, or children. Be advised.

***

The summer night was warm, but cooled by northern breezes. Overhead, stars twinkled brightly in the night sky. The scent of flowers wafted up from the gardens below, hanging heavy in the heat.
“Still can’t sleep?” came a gentle voice from the doorway.

Sara was not yet prepared for sleep. She had undone her hair from the many ribbons and pins, allowing it to fall down to her shoulders, but was otherwise still dressed. Her gown was of a pale blue silk, trimmed with golden threads, and she wore a thin shawl of similar gold over her bare shoulders. Summer gowns were often sleeveless these days, a fashion which her husband approved of, especially on his wife.
He turned now from his contemplation of the stars to study her beauty instead. Unlike her, Martin had dressed for sleep, wearing now a nightshirt and thin trousers made of dark blue silk. The breeze gently ruffled his unkempt hair.
“I confess I haven’t attempted it yet,” he replied, casting his gaze over her with some appreciation. A slow, lazy smile appeared on his face. Sara immediately guessed at his thoughts, and frowned in his direction.
“I wonder you get anything done,” she told him, “if your mind is always occupied with such thoughts.” She turned back toward the room.
“Why do you suppose I wanted to come here?” he returned, calling after her as she slipped through the doors and back into the bedchamber. “To forget about all those other things.”

He took the short distance between them in but a few steps, catching her easily about the waist and drawing her close. “To focus on what’s important.”
“You don’t suppose the welfare of your kingdom is important, your majesty?” Sara questioned dryly.
The young king took little notice of her insulting wit, for he was far too interested in nibbling at the soft flesh of her neck. “I suppose you are important,” he mumbled. His hands had already strayed from their hold upon her waist, one moving upward and the other down.
With a sigh, for it was difficult to discourage him when his mind was so focused, Sara submitted to his will, allowing his wandering fingers to pass over her body. She leaned backward, shivering obligingly at his lips on her shoulder. Slowly, Martin coaxed her forward a few steps at a time, following along behind her, somewhat awkwardly moving closer to the bed in the center of the room.
“Have I told you how I love this gown?” he asked, fingers now quickly undoing the lacing that held shut the bodice from behind. “It does wonderful things to enhance your beauty.”
“I believe you may have mentioned it a few times,” she answered in the same dry tone as before. “However, I believe you say such things about nearly all of my clothing.”
He made some noise of amusement, partly directed toward her words and partly toward her body, for he had freed all the lacing and could now clearly view the bare skin of her back.
“You are beautiful in all things, and even in nothing,” he replied, and now his hands slid down her bare back, slipping between skin and silk. Sara moaned an appreciative noise, relaxing her shoulders at last enough to allow the thin shawl to fall from them. She then slid the straps down over her bare arms, allowing her breasts to escape the gown.
At the edge of the bed already, she lifted her knees to crawl a short distance forward, allowing the skirts to fall down around her ankles. Martin hastily pushed the bundle of fabrics aside and clamored on to the bed behind her. Though Sara readied herself to roll onto her back, he pushed her down onto the soft mattress face first, causing her to gasp in surprise.

“It’s not most women who would fail to be swayed by her husband’s compliments,” Martin noted in the dry tone she had used before. He had crawled over her now, straddling her body with his own. “Are you not appreciative?”
“I am appreciative,” Sara answered immediately, seeing the wisdom of agreement while in such a vulnerable position. She gasped again at his touch.
“I’m beginning to wonder,” he answered. With one hand he now deftly unbuttoned his nightshirt, and with the other he teasingly brushed his hand over her bare, soft skin, as though in contemplation of his next actions.
Playfully, he swatted now her bare bottom, the sound of this contact echoing off the high ceilings of the bedchamber. Sara cried out now, letting a surprised squeak escape her lips. She struggled as though to escape any further beatings, but his weight was over her now, and she could not move much.
“What…?” she asked, struggling to turn and look at him. Martin now lowered his head toward her neck. In his right hand he took hold of her right wrist, pinning her further to the bed.
“I’m wondering if you’ve lost interest in me,” he said quietly.

His voice was low and soft, almost a threatening tone. Sara felt the briefest shiver of fear; goose bumps raised over her bare skin.
“No,” she said quietly. “I haven’t.”
“Are you sure?” Martin asked, lowering his lips down to her ear. In the same low, deep tone, he asked, “Are you sure there isn’t someone else you have taken an interest in lately?”
“No!” she protested instantly. “No, I have not. I have no interest in any other, I swear it.”
His silence was not reassuring. She could hear his quiet breathing nearby, his grip still tight upon her wrist. It seemed to Sara as though he was doubtful of her assurances.

“I swear to it, your majesty, there’s no one else. Please,” she said then, her voice meek.

He could hear now the panic in her voice.
Leaning forward, he gently pressed his lips to her earlobe. His breath was hot on her neck, and Sara found her body tensing in places she could not control. With one hand, the king slipped beneath her, cupping her breast with a possessive hold.
She dared not speak, but lay quiet but for a few moans of content and occasional surprise as he nibbled softly at her neck and shoulders, occasionally taking small nips. After a bit of that, Martin removed the hand that had been holding her wrist down and slipped his fingers below her, between her legs. She gasped again with surprise, and then pleasure.

Some time passed in this manner, with Sara lying still yet tense, as his hands and lips slowly coaxed pleasure and then passion from her body despite the fear she still felt. Her gasped faded to moans, first of pleasure and then of desire. She could feel her husband’s body against her own, could feel his desire pressing against her even though he had not removed his silky nightclothes below the waist.
 Did he not want her? she wondered.
His body would seem to contradict that, but he made no move to enter her, to try to please himself, nor to have her do so, as she had done so well in the past. Instead, he simply worked with fingers, sliding in and out of her until she was damp with more than simply sweat and teetering on the edge of climax.
“You are all that I want,” Martin mumbled quietly into her ear. “You and you alone. No one else. Understand?”
A few further moments passed before Sara realized he expected an answer. She cleared her dry throat. “Y-yes, sir, I understand,” she managed to reply. “You are all I want.”
“Am I?” he asked, his tone again dry and vaguely threatening tone. He removed his hands from her body and straightened himself. Before Sara could react to more than the sudden lack of touch, he’d taken hold of her wrist and flipped her on to her back. She now saw clearly his face – the dark look in his eyes and the vaguely threatening expression.
He rose, climbing off the bed to remove the last of his clothing in a few quick movements. He then stood for a moment, looking at her. Sara stared back wordlessly for a moment, then propped herself up on her elbows.
“I swear…,” she began, but fell silent as he again climbed atop her and pressed his lips to hers.

It was a passionate kiss, of desire, of possession. His mouth covered her completely, his tongue forcing her lips apart, demanding the kiss. His hand reached for hers, entangling their fingers, pushing hers to the mattress beneath them.
He paused for air, and then with his knees and his free hand pushed her already spread legs further apart. She was ready, had been ready for some time, and he was more than ready. Without further ceremony, he entered into her with a sudden thrust that again left Sara gasping in surprise.
Martin leaned in close again and whispered in a low, guttural voice. “Mine.” It was almost violent, as his thrusts were almost violent.
“Yours,” Sara managed to gasp in agreement. She wasn’t sure what she had said, wasn’t sure how she managed to speak or to think. Some strange combination of fear and pleasure, lust and terror, heat and sweat, prevented her from having coherent thoughts. The moments blurred, the pleasure overrode it all in an explosion of ecstasy.
Martin cried out as the pleasure took him into thoughtless bliss at almost the same moment. Overwhelmed with the sensation, she squeezed her hands into fists, squeezed her fingers around his, and found her husband squeezing back with as much force.

Too soon was it over. Spent, exhausted, Martin fell beside her on the bed, springs creaking beneath him.  For a moment, Sara lay still and unmoving, still incapable of thoughts, and then she became aware of his enveloping arms around her.
She turned then, rolling on her side to face him. Already, Martin had closed his eyes in sleepy contentment. Sara gently brushed his cheek and he smiled peacefully at her through his half-opened eyes.
“I swear, I haven’t…,” she began, but he halted her speech with a single finger, placed upon her lips.
“I know,” he replied, still with the same pleased smile. “I never doubted you.”

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