?

Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

so...not done

Title: La Cinquantième Jour
Fandom: Reign
Pairings: Mary/Francis
Rating: Mature
Genre: Romance/Humor
Words: 3931
AN: At end
Summary: Mary & Francis on her 50th day back at court. Just to crazy kids, madly in love.
Disclaimer: I don't own Reign, I just like to play with pretty, pretty things.



La Cinquantième Jour - (The 50th Day)

"What should we do to celebrate?" I ask Mary. We're breaking our fasts together in a small family dining room in the royal residential wing of the chateau.

"Celebrate? Celebrate what?" She looks up from piling jam on her bread, a furrow on her brow.

"Today is your fiftieth day back at court, we must mark the occasion," I reply, raising a brow, a smile spreading across my face.

"Really?" a grin spreading across her face.

"Yes," I laugh, smirking. "The date is seared in my brain, though not for reasons you might imagine. I was ever so put out you were returning."

"I seem to remember that," she laughs, the most beautiful music in the world. "You didn't want me here, you didn't want to like me. And certainly not love me," her hand seeks mine.

"Yes, well," I sigh, squeezing her small hand. "We see how that worked out."

Her eyes light up, her grin taking over her face, a blush creeping across her chest and cheeks. She is so incredibly lovely in this moment - she's always been beautiful, I've never denied that. But somehow in these days since we both admitted our feelings she's somehow become even more beautiful. The most precious thing in the world. Never a possession, though we possess one another's hearts and bodies completely, but something to be enjoyed, savored and appreciated.

"So," I knock our joined hands on the table breaking the spell we've woven on one another. "How should we celebrate? A ride, a picnic, both? A little boating trip on the lake? Court games on the lawns?"

"I don't really care as long as it's just us," she replies, worrying the side of her lip, her smile not dropping, her blush intensifying.

"If we go riding or on a boat outing we might have to take a few guards; we could get away with being completely alone if we go for a picnic on the grounds," I explain our options.

"Ummmmm," she starts to giggle. "I vote for a picnic on the grounds."

"Then a picnic on the grounds it is," I grin, putting down my napkin, getting up. "I'll meet you at the west entrance at halfpast midday. I have audiences with courtiers this morning, but I'm going to head down to the kitchens right now to put in a request for a basket lunch for two," I finish, kissing her palm and following it with a light peck on her lips.

"I'll see you then!" she trills.

I leave, a smile plastered across my face, a jaunt in my step. If only I didn't have to play the dutiful Dauphin we could just spend the entire day together. But duty calls - eventually it always does.

---


I'm leaning against the chateau wall, nibbling a piece of grass when she emerges from the western entrance of the chateau. I push myself off, spitting away the grass, moving to greet her with a kiss, cupping her face. I'd meant for it to be light and quick, but the way she molds her body into mine makes me pull her hips into me, holding her close, deepening the kiss.

"Mmmmm," I breathe out, touching my forehead to hers when we finally pull apart, my eyes still closed, savoring the moment. "I don't think that will ever get old."

"No," she sighs.

"Where do you want to go?" I ask.

"How about the same place we had our assignation when I was temporarily betrothed to Tomás?" she queries.

"Perfect," I smile. "It's still on the grounds, so no guards, but we can have some privacy as well."

"Perfect," she agrees.

I pull back, taking her hand, picking up the basket - it weighs a great deal - handing her the blanket for us to sit upon. "You look beautiful," I tell her. She's wearing the same thing she wore her first day back at court, she visited me in her old rooms - where I work on my swords and knives. She's just added a pale green wrap to guard against the end-of-summer chill.

"Thank you," she returns looking down, as if my compliments to her beauty aren't a regular thing.

"You looked beautiful the last time I saw you wear that as well," I continue, causing her to beam - she knows when I'm referring to. "That first day you came back was so hard. I'd decided that I couldn't let feelings be a part of our relationship, that I didn't want to marry you. And then there you stood in front of me, more beautiful than I ever could have imagined, offering me your heart. And I tried to throw it all back in your face. I'm so sorry."

"I meant it you know," she breathes out, laying her head on my shoulder. "If anything were to happen to you, I would try to save you."

"I know," I nod, "I'd do the same." We've gotten to the tree line, making me drop her hand so she can lead the way. "By the way, there wasn't anyone in my rooms that day."

"Really?" she says, a note of wonder in her voice, her head turning back.

"Yes, really," I continue. "Though if I'm going for full disclosure then I should admit there was someone there when I got back from the old wing, and she was perfectly willing to satisfy whatever needs I might have had. I sent her away."

"Well, you are the Dauphin, I'm sure lots of girls - and women - were willing to service your every desire," she shrugs. We've reached the spot. I put down the basket to help her spread out the blanket. "I don't know, it all seems trivial now. French court is known for scandalous behavior - you're the Dauphin, you're handsome, of course you have a past. One I suppose I'm a bit grateful for now," she finishes, her eyes widening, a blush sweeping across her face, a giggle coming out of her mouth as if she's shocked she actually said the last part.

"Mmmmmm," I chuckle, pulling her close to me, capturing her lips. It's a lazy kiss, one of two people who just want to enjoy the play of lips, the sweep and tangle of tongues. Lovers who have all the time in the world. "I'm glad you're satisfied with the lovemaking side of our relationship," I whisper. I'd been so surprised that morning when she had told me, 'never,' to never stop. Giving me her body, as well as her heart. We've been careful. I don't want her reputation soiled. I'm sure my mother would still try to disgrace her, even though I took her maidenhead and the only man she's been with is the one intended to be her future husband.

"Let's eat," I say, helping her to the ground as she arranges her floaty skirts around her. "I'm starving! Pestering nobles apparently make me hungry."

"Hand me the basket," she instructs. I heave it over closer to her so she can get out our luncheon. "Let's see we have rillettes of pâté, goose and pork, I believe. Smoked salmon and river trout, bread and crackers, two types of cheeses, chicken legs roasted with what seems to be honey, lemon and herbs. A salad of shaved carrots, and aubergine stew with those tomatoes from the New World, take it, I don't want to get it on me, but it smells wonderful. Grapes, figs and tiny lemon tartes. We have spelt water and golden wine. Someone wanted to impress the Dauphin," she laughs.

"Or perhaps someone in the kitchens is hopelessly in love with the beautiful Queen of Scotland," I return.

Her head dips for a moment, "What would you like?" she asks, pulling out cutlery and plates. "I'm going to play wife today."

Wife - that one word holds power, her use of it clenching my heart and loins. I can't wait to actually be able to call her that. The wedding I had so tried to avoid is one I now most anticipate.

"Is that 'just a wife'?" I tease, bringing back up her words.

"Mmmmmmm, maybe," she grins, eyes dancing.

"Well, 'just a wife,' your 'just a husband' would like a little of everything," I smile back. "Though give me trout over salmon and goose pâté."

She sets about fixing a plate, putting the aubergine stew in a small bowl, handing everything to me, with some bread and utensils. I look in the basket to fetch a napkin. She fixes herself a plate then arranges the cheeses with the figs and grapes on a small board, before beginning to tuck in.

"You know," I draw out, "I can't kiss you or feed you if you're all the way over there. This is supposed to be a romantic picnic, is it not?"

A smile teases her lips, she hands me her plate and cup, then walks on her knees to my side.

"Mmmmm, this is so much better," I whisper after giving her a lingering kiss - no passion, just the pure enjoyment of my lips on hers.

She arranges a cracker with salmon, crème and chives for herself, taking a big, and quite unladylike bite, making me laugh. "I'm famished for some reason," she shrugs after she's chewed and swallowed, completely unapologetic.

"The basket is for us to eat, no apologies necessary," I shrug. A little devil settles into my mind and I just blurt out, "Plus, I love being able to hold onto your hips when I thrust. I wouldn't want you to be skinny, like me."

"Francis!" she gasps, her cheeks flaming.

"What?" I ask, an innocent look plastered across my face. "There's no one to hear us. We're completely alone - why should I not engage in a bit of flirtatious banter with the woman I love?"

"Is that what that was?" she asks, her nose scrunching.

"Of course," I nod. "After all today we are newlyweds, you're my wife and I'm your husband. We can pretend till the day comes when we can actually make it so." I feed her a bite of chicken.

"Well, then husband," she smiles, "might I say I'm very pleased by the differences in our bodies as well. You say you're skinny, but I think you're perfect."

"Why thank you, my good wife," I smirk back, shoving some of the shaved carrot salad into my mouth.

"Oh, you must try this, it's delicious," she says, holding out a spoon filled with the aubergine stew.

"Mmmmm," I nod, "it's wonderful! Unlike anything I've tasted before."

"There really are some wonderful things coming from the New World," she agrees.

"Yes there are," I reply, "those little root vegetables called potatoes, I believe it is - they're wonderful too."

"Oh, those are lovely," she concurs. "I especially like them roasted over the fire. They're crisp, chewy and a little burnt on the outside and soft on the inside."

"I'll have to suggest to someone in the kitchens that you prefer them roasted rather than added to a mash," I smile, leaning over to kiss her. "Could you hand me the knife? I'd like some cheese."

"Which one?" she asks. "The veined one or the soft one? I'll get it."

One thing we've learned in the short time we've fully committed ourselves to one another is we do enjoy taking care of one another, just like we enjoy looking after our people. Me getting up to stoke the fire to ward off any chills; rubbing her small feet when she's had to spend a day on them in her uncomfortable court shoes; brushing her long hair, which makes her sigh; she enjoys serving me as well, just like today, as if we were just an ordinary couple - not royalty; rubbing my shoulders when I've had a long and tedious day of nattering courtiers. One thing I truly look forward to when we no longer have to play this game of sneaking about is getting to bathe together - washing her hair, her back, her stomach and breasts. Married life for us is going to be very different than it has been for my parents - of that I am sure.

"I'll take the soft one for now," I decide. "The veined one will be good with the fruit later."

"You don't have to get back soon?" she questions, knowing how busy I am with my father still gone.

"Nope," I pop the P. "I cleared my entire afternoon, told them I was otherwise engaged."

"So there's no rush?" she hands me my cheese.

"None what so ever," I concur. "We'll just have to leave when it turns chilly in the late afternoon. Until then, it's just blissful togetherness."

She beams at me, her whole countenance radiating happiness. "What is this?" She asks. Handling the knife, tracing the initials at the bottom of the hilt.

"I carved a monogram for us, entwining our initials," I explain. "That's what I was working on that afternoon you asked me what I was carving. I had to do it a few times to get it just how I wanted, but I like how it turned out."

"Francis," she breathes, looking up at me with glassy eyes and a watery smile. "It's beautiful."

"Thank you," I say, pulling her to sit on my lap, forgetting our food - we can come back to it later. "Like I said, it took a few tries to get it right, mmmm..." I murmur into her neck, sprinkling kisses upwards. "Then I cast it in silver and attached it to that small dagger," I finish explaining, getting to her jaw.

She turns her head - we're eye level sitting like this - and knifing her hands through my hair she attacks my lips. This kiss is nothing like the ones from earlier. It's passion and pulling at one another, my hands coming up to cup her breasts through her top, finding her sensitive nipples and pinching down on them. She bites down on my bottom lip, just like I love to bite her full ones.

One of her hands skims down my chest, scratching as she goes, it is but a temporary stop - her hands traveling lower to the fastening of my breeches, her small hands stroking back and forth on my rapidly growing hardness. She's looking down through hooded eyes, her bottom lip held between her teeth. "Is this okay?" she asks shyly.

She's been fascinated the last couple of weeks by how we fit together, how it all just seems natural and right. I'm glad, but she has no idea. I've been inside other girls but, even when she was tentitive and just learning about me - how to please me what made me moan or groan - it felt nothing like what I've experienced with her. Being inside her is the single most amazing experience of my life.

"You have no idea how okay that is," I groan out. "It feels incredible."

"May I?" she questions, her hands moving to the fastening of my breeches.

"If you're going to do that, I want to be inside you," I pant. She hasn't removed her hand from me - my breeches are quickly becoming uncomfortably tight. "Let me get your underclothes off," I continue, my hands diving under her skirts. My fingers skim her legs, grazing her heat causing her to gasp, before finding the tiny drawstring and pulling.

She helps me get her undergarment off, shifting her backside around on my lap, grinding down into me, making me gasp. My hands immediately swoop back under her skirts, my fingers seeking her wet heat, stroking her intimate folds. Her breath hitches sharply, her head lolling onto my shoulder. I plunge two fingers inside her, my thumb circling her sensitive nub. She starts to move, her hips rolling to create friction.

"Francis," she gasps. "I want you inside me."

As that's exactly what I want as well, I move to situate us, pulling one of her legs across my body so she's straddling me.

"Um, you don't want to lay on top of me?" she questions breathily.

"We don't have to do this that way every time, this way will be like you're riding a horse," I assure her. "Plus, I think your skirt will wrinkle less."

"Okay," she nods, excitement flaring in her eyes. Her small hands swoop back to the closure of my breeches, undoing them, pulling me out with her hands. I groan from the sensation of the cool air and her warm hands - it feels indescribably amazing.

"How?" she inquires not sure how to maneuver this new way to make love.

"Stand on your knees," I instruct. "And then..." I trail off as she gets the idea and plunges her wet warmth down on my stiffness, causing us both to moan.

She stops, not moving at all, so I ask, "are you okay?"

Her chest is rising and falling rapidly, one of my hands moves from her hips to her breast. "I'm more than okay, this is indescribable. I feel so much fuller this way."

"Good," I groan, she's testing out the position, fluttering her inner walls around me. "I don't really want to - because I love to touch you when we're together - but I'm going to lay down. I think it might be easier for you the first time we try this in this way."

"Mmmmm," she agrees as I lay back, resting on my elbows. And then she starts to giggle, her hands coming up to cover her mouth. I can feel it in every part of my center, I make a shallow thrust - between the giggling and the exploratory fluttering, I'm getting over-stimulated and can't stop myself.

"Ooohhh," her eyes widen, taking over her face. I sit up again, moving her hands so I can cup her face.

"Are you okay?" I ask her again, kissing her hard, my tongue tangling with hers, her hands pushing through my hair holding me to her, the pads of her fingers digging into my skull. "Are you okay?" I repeat, pulling away, one hand sweeping down to her breast - my thumb rubbing circles around her hardened crest.

She nods, then giggles again. Her giggles while I'm inside her are going to kill me, but I'm not going to complain. "You said...you said...you said," she stammers.

"Yes," I start laughing too, which only further stimulates my groin. It must hers as well. Her eyes widen again.

She tries to wipe the smile from her face, forcing herself to be serious and get out what she wants to say. "You said to ride you like a horse!" she exclaims with a shriek and titters of laughter.

My head falls to her shoulder, my arms wrapping loosely around her waist, giving in to the absurdity of this situation. I just laugh. "I did say that," I nod into her shoulder, "and I need you to start doing it soon or I'm going to reach my climax before you really get to test out this position, and where's the fun in that?" I turn to suck on the pulsing, exposed vein in her neck.

She uses her knees and thighs to make an experimental up-and-down motion, her face becoming a silent O as she feels how this position affects her. "I think you're right," she breathes out. "This will work better if you lie back down."

"Okay," I nod, detaching myself from her neck with a nip at her pulse and a sweep of my tongue to soothe. I lie back on my elbows again, grin up at her and say, "I'm yours to do with what you will."

A trilling laugh comes out of her. "I like the sound of that!" she replies in a singsong tone, her laughter infusing every note. Her thighs tighten and drop, simulating how she rides her horse. She puts one hand on my stomach to anchor herself, rolls her hips, then pulls herself off me and plunges back down. She does this several times, and each time she pulls herself off me the hit of cool air on my wet and throbbing hardness makes me hiss. This is the best kind of torture.

Getting used to the position - the power she has over me, her ability to control our coupling - she pushes off me, flinging her hair back, her hips finding a rhythm - in their roll, then pull back and plunge back down. Each time gaining confidence, losing herself in this moment, in us.

She's glorious, head thrown back, chest heaving and riding me with the same abandon she rides her horse. I wish we were naked - or that she was at least. I can just imagine how her breasts would bounce from the motion of her body - I want to see that.

I knew I wasn't going to last long, the time it took for us to figure out this position had very much over-stimulated me. I feel the familiar tightening in the center of my body. I carefully balance myself on one elbow so I can reach under her skirts to rub her nub and get her to come with me.

"Ahhhh," she wails, her walls clamping down on me with a vice grip, beginning to milk me as she falls over the edge. I'm right behind her, thrusting shallowly and spilling myself into her, collapsing back on the ground.

She falls down on top of me, her chest heaving, her breaths coming rapidly and shallow. "That was..." she trails off, nuzzling her nose into my neck.

"Mmmmm," my thoughts are incoherent, my brain buzzed as if I have drunk too much wine.

"That was amazing," she gets out after a few moments. She's molded her body into mine, my arms loosely encircling her. I'm still inside her, I can feel her body calm, her breath returning to normal. "We have to do that again," she gets out, her tongue reaching out to lick my pulse point.

"Most definitely," I agree, turning to kiss her fragrant hair. Yes, most definitely, when we're alone in our bed, and she's naked so I can appreciate her in all her glory.

---


"We should get going," I suggest, moving to sit up, helping her as well; fixing my breeches. We've been out here for hours, the evening chill is beginning to move in ahead of the sun's setting. It might have been the most perfect day I've ever had. Feeding one another grapes, figs, cheese and bits of lemon tarte. Drinking from the same cup because we're too lazy to bother with filling two. Making love twice more, Mary's inhibitions floating away on the breeze. But also hands and lips exploring, kissing, touching, caressing, giving pleasure to one another; no haste, no shame - just pure enjoyment and bliss.

I pack up our basket as she arranges her clothes and hair, she still looks a bit disheveled my hands spending hours knifing through her hair, mussing it, creating tangles. We fold the blanket together and she takes it to carry back, settling her small hand in mine.

"It was a wonderful day," she sighs. "I hope we can do it again soon."

"Definitely," I nod, reaching down to kiss the top of her head. "Soon and always."

It was a perfect day - one of many in our future if I have any say in the matter.

FIN

Endnotes:

1) This was written for the 50th Frary/Royals/Equals thread on the Reign board at fanforum dot com. Feel free to drop by and have a drink with us, or ten. We have a good time and love to post FraryPorn.
2) There are lots of great ladies on the thread, but I think all of us would be remiss in not mentioning Bree347, who keeps the thread moving and generally helps manage things around there. Thanks, Bree! But the piece is dedicated to everyone that participates on the thread, posts FraryPorn, contributes to good discussion, and generally obsesses over lip biting, royal boob grazing, tongue, #powercouple, modesty sacks, #tobysexeyes, giggles, shrieks, and shoes. Hope you ladies enjoyed this!
3) Many thanks to Marina who gave me the correct translation for the title of this piece, and also made the icon for this story.
4) If you happen to not know, aubergines are eggplants. The stew is ratatouille, which is fabulous.
5) Finally much thanks to my beta, justcallmesmitty. She makes what I write ever so much better. On my own I'm runons inc.


Reviews and comments are always greatly appreciated.