happyfalcon | [For Thomas] Changing Seasons

[For Thomas] Changing Seasons

There was no doubt, it had been hard. In the weeks that followed, Anne only got a few fleeting looks at Thomas Wyatt. Every once in a while they were able to steal fleeting kisses of the briefest touch of fingers at banquets. The letters they wrote were far more significant. Poetic verses, promises, sweet words - both were exchanged in equal passion.

But recently, Anne's happiness had taken a drastic drop. Henry had been pressuring her lately, wanting to make his relationship with Anne more public. She had refused, coyly at first, then logically. Her argument had been that, while he was married, it wouldn't do to have them both seen in public together. Henry had agreed at first without question. Recently though, he had started to grow annoyed. This would have been fine, except that Thomas Boleyn was beginning to feel the pressure as well, and was pressuring Anne to accept the king's public advances.

What else could she do? As the days grew darker, Anne turned to the only person she could trust without question: Thomas.

Anne wrote a letter, quickly and carefully when she finally had a free moment:

Dearest Poet:

Would that I could write of my fondness for you now; to tell you, as I often have these past days, that it is you that I love more than any. Alas, today I write to you with the gravest matter - The Lion seeks to show off his prize to the jackals that surround him. To show that the falcon is his, and belongs to no other.

What shall the falcon do, dear heart? You know well of the others that surround it, and the dangers the falcon faces should it refuse The Lion - though it wants nothing more than to do so.

I hope, dearest love, that you and your most brilliant mind are able to manifest some solution.

Until then, Poet, as always you have my heart, and my happiness lies with you alone.

Sincerest love,
~Brunet

Hopefully, Thomas's crafty mind would identify the new characters she developed to avoid dropping names. The Falcon, herself; The Lion, the king. What could she do? What should she do?

Slipping out of her chamber, folded letter in hand, Anne stepped down to their designated spot. No guards, no prying eyes in sight. Still, Anne kept the letter in her sleeve until she reached the left urn. Pretending to drop a bracelet, Anne dipped down to retrieve it, slipping the letter into the urn swiftly in the time it took to grab the bracelet and stand up. She continued on without a word.

Hopefully, Thomas could reply to her soon.

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The surroundings faded, made no matter anymore. They could be in Hever, or Allington, or in any palace in London. Or under their tree. As long as he had her in his arms, the location ceased to be of any meaning.

Wyatt supported himself on his elbows; close enough to kiss her, but keeping an angle that gave some force to his thrusts. Yet he was gentle to start with, remembering the first time - the only time - they had been in her bed. Thought of that nearly made his eyes burn.

"Anne... you have... my heart in hold."

But then he became more demanding in his movements and more urgent with his kisses. He grunted, his breathing coming in very short rasps. His hand went under her waist and lifted her up a bit- God that felt good... He moaned harder.

Anne let him set his pace and rocked her own hips to match it. Her hips lifted at the insistence of his hand as it slipped beneath her. She lost herself in sensation; feeling his hair and skin beneath her fingers, the chill of the air on her skin compared to the heat generated between them. Christening another room in Hever Castle with their lust, marking it as their own if only in their memories - but memories were so powerful for them, and gave them strength to get through the harder times they were forced to endure.

Again her eyes sought for his as he spoke. Her forehead pressed against his, as did her chest as she rolled up to meet him.

"And you, my love...you have mine...always."

She returned each and every kiss, each one more heated and desperate than the last. Anne's chest heaved up and down as her own breathing grew ragged. Each thrust into her coaxes another moan and sigh from her.

"So good...you feel so good, Thomas," Anne moaned. "I am...I'm all yours, my love. Only yours."

Surely no other man could make her feel this way. No other man could be this good. No - God intended for her to be with Thomas, even if it wasn't in the conventional sense.

"And I'm yours. We're... meant to be together." Of course. They fit together perfectly, in body, soul and mind. He has been besotted ever since he saw her making an appearance at court a year ago. And after all that had happened in the past few months Wyatt was now convinced that they could work out any disagreements thrown in their way.

He loved feeling her slender little fingers brushing through his hair or wrapped around his neck. He loved every sound she made for him, in bed and out of it. He closed his eyes and let the emotions wash over him as he moved on top of her. His hand left her waist and traveled upwards to close over her breast. He kneaded the soft swell of hers, kissing Anne all the while, tongues playing.

But as always, he had to be careful not to continue too long. Wyatt slowed down his movements and after a few more deep thrusts, had to yield to drawing out of her. "I'm sorry, we mustn't... I can't." It was disappointing, but they were used to this. He moved slightly to her side and sighed.

Yet his hands need not be idle. Wyatt caressed her belly and let his hand reach lower. "Do you want me to continue?" With his fingers, that was.

"We are!" Anne exclaimed her agreement. She agreed whole-heartedly. Something would happen soon, she knew it - they would be together, they were meant for more than this, and they would have it. Somehow, some way.

The press of his hand at her breast, the taste of his tongue, it all combined to make her mind swim and grow lost in the haze of lust that surrounded her. His rhythm and the depth of his thrusts made her cry out, so close to her climax and yet...

...as always, he had to pull out before he released inside her. Each time it happened Anne almost told him to just do it; if she became pregnant that was one way out of her current predicament with Henry - even if it wasn't the best option. But, she knew it couldn't be so. Anne simply whined when he slipped out, and nodded slowly when he spoke.

Feeling his fingers slip down her belly, Anne glanced to him and turned a bit to let her own hand slide along his chest, tracing invisible patterns over his skin.

"If you let me please you as well, yes," she whispered. Anne was hardly what one would call 'selfish' in the bedroom. Especially not with Thomas. She wanted him to enjoy himself just as much as she did. She had deft fingers and a sweet mouth with which she was prepared and anxious to please him.

Anne didn't want to leave him, not so soon - well, not ever, really. But the entire night was at their disposal, and she knew he would likely leave in the morning. And considering how long she'd waited for this night...no, Anne was not about to let it end this soon.

Her enthusiastic remark warmed his heart. He was already aware of her feelings, of course, but it didn't hurt to be assured of the fact. The comment about pleasing him brought a smile on his lips.

"Only in that case?" His hand made a quick trip down to between her legs, brushing teasingly. He knew he had interrupted the act at the worst time. "I dare not tell you nay, my love, but nor will I expect any such favours of you."

But should she choose to do that, Wyatt settled on his side so that she could easily reach him. He stroked her hips and backside before lifting her leg over his. His other hand held Anne's chin lightly, a thumb over her bottom lip. She still felt wet as Wyatt slid one finger inside of her and glided it in a rhythm that would hopefully give her the climax that he otherwise couldn't give her.

Anne settled nearer, moaning softly as he touched her and moved her leg over his. Feeling of his fingers sliding into her made Anne moan a bit louder. Her hips moved along with his rhythm, wanting him in deeper. But she wasn't about to be the only one being pleased in this bed. Her hand slid down his chest and lower, dragging just her fingertips along his skin towards his core.

Those same fingers wasted no time finding his length, and squeezing it gently. Anne had neither the patience nor the control to start slowly. Her fingers trailed up and down quickly along his length, matching his rhythm as he fingered her.

She couldn't keep quiet, sighing and moaning as he brought her on the cusp of her orgasm. Her dark eyes looked up to keep his gaze as he took her chin. She sighed softly at the touch of his thumb at her lip. Instinctively her lips parted.

"Thomas..." She whispered, her hips never faltering as she moved feverishly with him, so close, and closer still.

Wyatt gasped at the intensity of her touch, and that gasp was followed with a look on his face that could not be mistaken for anything other than pure pleasure. He pressed his eyes closed for a moment as another finger went inside of her, to better satisfy her. The way she moved within his touch- God it nearly killed him.

"You feel so good. You're so-," he swallowed, panting. His eyes, half-lid, then fixated on her mouth and he shifted to press his lips to her lips. All their motions seemed to blend and fuse into one single heated flow and he wasn't sure what part of him was touching what part of her.

He snapped out of that reverie when Anne called his name, realizing just how forcefully his fingers were delving into her. "Am I hurting you?", he asked, worried, though if he were, surely she'd not hesitate to tell him so or push him away.

Edited 2014-11-06 10:19 (UTC)

The addition of a second finger made Anne sigh out in pleasure. Her fingers continued their movements along his length, squeezing gently at the base and letting her fingers brush fleetingly against his tip, then repeating the process over and over getting steadily faster with each pass. Anne tilted her head into his kiss, the heat and passion of it overwhelming her in an instant. All she could do was feel, it was as if he'd never slipped out at all.

Except when he pulled back with that worried tone in his voice. She would be grateful and happy for his concern for her later, but now it only coaxed a low whine from her throat. Anne kept her lips close to his, desperate for another deep kiss.

"No! No, no...not hurting me - Thomas don't stop, please-!" She was practically begging him. As her fingers continued moving Anne's body pressed more insistently against his. She crashed her lips against his again, demanding that kiss, moaning into it as her climax loomed.

His hesitation didn't last long. Couldn't last long, when she so adamantly pleaded him to continue.

"I'm not, Anne... not stopping," his words confirming the action. She felt incredible to him as his fingers teased her, her hot body next to his. Wyatt welcomed that wild, hungry kiss; just as eager as she was.

And what she was doing was incredible, too. At times like these she could make him forget that their lovemaking had conditions. It couldn't take place whenever they wanted or however long they wanted but when it happened, all doubts were wiped away.

This was their right.

Wyatt grunted. He moaned, hips twitching. Anne's finger swept across the tip of his cock once more and that was the last incentive he needed. With no reason to hold back, Wyatt got his release.

"My Anne... your turn," he whispered, turning his full attention to giving her pleasure then.

All the restrictions, all the perils that surrounded them; wives, prospective husbands, possessive fathers, all forgotten. All that mattered, all that was important was between them now. Heat and passion and perfection.

When she felt his release and the heat at her fingers, Anne smiled and moaned out while his fingers continued to pleasure her.

"Yes, ooh yes Thomas-!" Anne's own hips rocked and kept pace with his fingers. Her walls throbbed and squeezed around his digits before she finally joined him in climaxing. Hard, hot, and wet - and with no quiet call of his name.

Anne curled against him then, burying her face into his neck and mumbling all manner of French sweetness to him.

If only this warmth, this perfection could last for eternity.

"My Anne," he repeated, closing the gap between them by wrapping himself protectively around Anne as she lied partly over him. Wyatt's chest heaved and his breating was heavy; it was the most satisfying sensation.

"You're amazing," he said after a while, playing idly with her hair and twisting it around his fingers. "How is it that you're so amazing?" Though it wasn't a question that needed to be answered.

Reaching for her chin, Wyatt tipped Anne's head up to kiss her softly. "Can you stay like last night? Say yes. Say yes and we'll slip under the covers and keep each others warm."

Anne breathed heavily, catching her breath while she pressed against him. Her face buried against his neck to take in his scent. It felt so good to have him hold her. Anne's entire body still tingled in pleasure.

"Because you're so amazing," Anne whispered. "For every man, God makes a woman that is matched to him. I am amazing because you are as well."

She tipped her head up to kiss him back. This just felt so right, there was no other place in the world that she was meant to be rather than in his arms.

"I'll stay - I'd be miserable if I went back to my bed now," Anne kissed him again. "I love you."

It amazed her again, the thought that she had denied him, denied the happiness he brought her. Anne was convinced: If he hadn't come to her masquerade that night, she would have died long ago.

"Even so, I believe God took special care in creating you. I've made mistakes that hopefully you'll never make just to match me."

No courtier was without blame and Wyatt himself had engaged in behaviour that was short of exemplary. But he had already mellowed down some and would willingly continue to do so if it meant having Anne by his side.

And if it meant hearing her loving words... he'd do anything. Wyatt squeezed her hard. "I love you, Anne Bole- Wyatt. Anne Wyatt," he corrected with a silly smile. "Anne Wyatt sounds about right."

He let go of her but only to push aside the blankets on his side of the bed and then he picked her up and lowered back down on the sheets. After a bit more tugging and pulling of the covers he was able to get them both under the blankets.

He sighed contently as he pulled her against him once more. "In bed, I am your husband and you're my wife."

Anne smiled and nuzzled him more when he squeezed her. But when he changed her name so, she couldn't help looking up to meet his gaze. It did sound right - it sounded so perfect, her name paired with his. She'd barely had a moment to contemplate that than he was picking her up and lowering her onto the sheets again, adjusting the covers so that they could lie together.

But once they were under the blankets and he held her again, Anne cuddled against him. Both hands came up to rest against his chest. She smiled as he spoke again, unable to stop saying 'Anne Wyatt' in her head over and over again. As content as she was to be his bed wife, Anne couldn't help wishing that the title could extend beyond the bedroom.

"My husband," she repeated, loving the sound of the word as she looked upon him. Anne leaned up and brushed her lips against his. "If I'm allowed to use the word at all to refer to you, my Thomas, I'm happy."

The words alone gave her hope. Surely someday she truly could call him her husband? But if not, she would be content to be here with him, as she had been since they'd begun this affair.

My husband. That also sounded so right. Wyatt's hand moved up from Anne's waist, tangling through that long hair and stopping at the nape of her neck. Eyes falling shut, he pressed his closed lips to hers and held that position. He could have fallen asleep like that, kissing and comfortable, the scent of her in his nose. But eventually Wyatt drew back his head and looked at her.

"I should like you to call me your husband, but meanwhile I am equally happy to be your Poet. In letters at least."

Back in London they would again have to seek solace in written words if they weren't able to see each other like this. Wyatt very much hoped Anne could find a way to his chambers now that holiday season was over and the court settled into a more routine way of life.

But first there was still hours left of this night and even if they would soon fall asleep, they could at least do so in each other's arms.

Anne leaned up into him, happy for the kiss, happy for the embrace, happy to just be with him at all. Her eyes wandered as he pulled back, taking in all the details of his face; the lines of his smile, each hair of his beard, the sparkle of those blue eyes. All were recorded in her mind, memorized.

"Husband, Poet, all are synonymous with you. You are what gives those words meaning for me," Anne whispered.

She leaned up to kiss him again, both lips closed over his own. After a moment she pulled away and rested her forehead against his. She just breathed for a bit, content to take in his heat and his scent for as long as she could.

"Did you mean it?" her eyes glanced up to him. "Before, when you said...that we're meant to be together?"

She believed it wholeheartedly. In London, when things were difficult again, Anne only wished to herself that the rest of the world could see that - that she wasn't meant to be with Henry, that she was meant to be with Thomas. Well...of those who knew or had figured it out, most were in agreement with her on the former...but not for the purposes of the latter.

"Anne, you can believe me when I tell you that I wouldn't risk so much if I didn't truly believe we're meant to be together." That was painfully true.

"I take no pleasure in putting you in danger, my love. For that I must repent each night before I lay down to sleep but I trust God hears my laments. We're not doing this to spite others but to be true to ourselves. And to what should be."

He was being very serious, evident surely in the tone of his voice.

Anne reached for his hand beneath the covers. Her fingers laced with his and she leaned up to kiss him again.

"You're not putting me in danger, Thomas. This whole affair is of no small risk to you as well," Anne pointed out.

She didn't like thinking about it, but if they were found out surely Henry would find some charge to arrest Thomas, even perhaps having him executed. God forbid her father found out, there would be a thousand ways he'd have Thomas taken out of the picture, and none of them were pleasant. Not remotely.

"I love you - I'm willing to take any risk for that."

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[For Thomas] Changing Seasons

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