Tu Es Ma Lumière

111 - Jealousy

The young Queen of France and Scots giggled as she was spun quickly around in her chambers as soon as the train of her gown had entered the candle-lit room. Her back made contact with the door almost immediately afterwards, the handsome, golden haired man she held the absolute privilege of calling her husband pressing her into the wooden egress. She let out another giggle as his lips immediately attacked the pale, vulnerable, lilac scented skin of her neck, golden eyes sliding closed in delight. Her arms reached around the taut expanse of his waistline, pulling him closer to her, his lips burning hot against the skin of her neck.

The young Queen ran her fingers through the black velvet doublet he wore, the small fibres sliding through her fingers, almost water like. His scent, limes, jasmine, cinnamon and pine, consumed her small, slender body, the large width and expanse of his palms and fingers sliding around her body and gown. She inhaled shakily, pulling her husband closer as he continued his passionate assault upon the wife he hadn't left alone for weeks. It seemed the victory over Turkish and Finnish troops in the eastern borders had invigorated the new King of France, who was more eager than ever to begin fatherhood with his young Queen.

The Queen's fingers wound themselves into the soft golden curls of Francis' hair, the silky aurelian spun the softest thing she ever had the privilege of running her fingers through. Her hands blindly found the fine gold of his crown, nestled deep into his near shoulder length curls. It was so cold compared to the burning heat of his body, even though it had been worn for several hours during the King of France and Scots' anniversary of his birth's celebrations that had been conducted that evening. 

Their chambers were warm, due to the closed windows and the roaring, dancing fireplaces around the rooms. The grandeur chambers that the Queen shared with the King was almost completley lit due to the impressive amount of burning candles, echoing of a night just after Mary's first first light party, post Scottish exile. Accessorised with finery and accented with regalia, the royal chambers almost anticipated another passionate attack into the small hours of the next morning. The inanimate objects whispered to themselves in amusement, no doubt, it had happened so many times in the so little time the young King had been reunited with his  raven haired Queen.

Mary's back arched as much as it could in the tight corset she wore, caging her inside, seaking more of her husbands' warmth as his mouth danced from one side of her neck and throat to the other. She heard the gentle clink of her long earrings, and a small thunk as her finest crown -that glittered in the most exquisite gold and every kind of jewel-  gently struck the door that she was pinned against, her chin highering in relaxation and anticipation as Francis' hands greedily grabbed her and held her tighter. She inhaled deeply, shakily, no stranger to being made love to by a King, but each time never lessened her physical need for the man who she adored over all else.

Her gown was fine, one of the most sensual pieces she owned, so much so she was rather surprised not to have found it within Kenna's trunks. Purchased upon her wedding tour -easily the most wanton period of her young life, which probably had something to do with her mindset to purchase such a piece - not fourteen months ago, the King had been extremely pleased to see her don such a piece that he had barely ever seen before. 

A figure hugging mermaid cut attracted eyes towards the Queen's womanly curves, before a small bloom of underskirts just over her knees. The deepest black charmeuse positively shimmered in the dim lighting of the celebrations. A bodice of black charmeuse gave way towards a low cut, sweetheart neckline, a cheeky illusion addition in the middle of her swollen breast, exposing just a touch of cleavage. Two small straps pulled across her biceps holding up the gown, bunching up at the back, exposing a lower cut of her back, but was covered by the sea of raven hair she wore long this night. The bodice was completley covered in embellishments of black thread that slowly fell down the skirt, pausing upon her mid-thigh area. An over skirt of black organza fell from her tiny and trim waistline -the envy of all the women of court- pulled for four feet behind her as the Queen walked in her highest Court shoes. Edged with black embellishments that crawled up the delicate fabric, the skirt was delicate and gentle as it skimmed over the floors of the ballroom. The design glittered with small gems that had been woven through it. Not just that, but her jewellery was just as fine as the dress, with a crown, earrings, necklace, rings and bracelets to match the ensemble. Matching his wife, the King was dressed to the nines in the darkest colour, his newest velvet doublet a gift from his young bride, satin embellishments skating up his back.

"Francis." Mary mumbled deliriously as his lips skated up her jawline and cheek. "What-what's brought this upon?" she asked him softly, absentmindedly sliding her fingers through his doublet, into her husbands' satin waistcoat. She felt the fine embroidery of gold that he had worn upon their marriage date.

"I saw the way those men were looking at you this night." Francis mumbled into his wife's pouty lips, leaning his head upon his wife's. Their eyes closed, still holding the ability to see the beauty they had been blessed to be wed to. It was true, the women of court may have looked on enviously over the Queen of France, but the men stared on lustfully at such a beauty the King had been blessed to be matched with. "All of them."

"I'm yours." Mary whispers, bringing him closer. "Only yours. Always."

~

Hope you enjoyed this steamy little oneshot! Please leave a couple comments below, it really makes my day when I get a nice comment. Spoiler for the next one, modern Frary in the same AU as 'Daughter' and 'Father'!

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love

me

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