happyfalcon | Prompt: Masquerade

There was danger - in her request, in his tone when he spoke. Anne knew this, and she still had asked. It wasn't a complete lie, but it certainly wasn't altogether true either. She did as instructed, holding the mask in place as he tied it behind her head.

The softest noise escaped her at the feeling of his fingers against her skin. Oh, it had been far too long since she'd felt his touch. What had she done? Why had she put herself in this situation to remind herself how sorely she missed him? What a fool she had been...to let her father manipulate her so, into becoming the king's mistress for everyone's benefit, except hers.

She turned slowly to face him, bright eyes glancing up to catch his gaze. Those same eyes betrayed her in that instant. Her eyes said what her lips could not - at least not here. But after a moment she looked away, glancing to see where George was, where Mary was - where her father was.

Thankfully they were all occupied. George was trying to woo some blonde in a green dress while Mary and her mother were enjoying tarts at a table. Her father was laughing with some other nameless noble.

"Thank you, Sir Thomas," Anne's voice was soft, almost barely audible over the music. "I believe we were after refreshments, were we not?"

Though wine, however sweet, was the farthest thing from her mind now.

Her quiet sigh didn't go unnoticed from him, even if there was noise and laughter and music in the room. Nothing she did went unnoticed.

He had already gone too far. He may well be a friend of the Boleyns but Anne was off limits. Her father had bigger ambitions for his daughters. As much as Wyatt came from a respectable family, it was a futile hope that Thomas Boleyn could ever consider him as a possible son-in-law.

It hurt to see in her eyes that she suffered, too. Wyatt would rather that he was the only one to carry that burden. He would suffer willingly if it meant that she didn't have to.

It wasn't his choice to make, though. Nobody, save perhaps the King himself, had their fate at their own hands. When Wyatt looked into his heart, he didn't blame Anne for anything.

"That we were," he admitted and gallantly helped her meander between other guests towards the table. Taking two goblets from a servant he handed one of them to Anne.

"To poets and their muses? Or is that too selfish?"

Edited 2014-07-07 21:29 (UTC)

Thomas Boleyn craved good husbands for his daughters, but not for their benefit. In many ways he was a loving father, and all his children were unquestionably devoted to him. But Anne most of the three felt that he had forced a burden upon her that was unfair of a father to ask his child.

She followed Wyatt through the crowd and smiled as she took the goblet from him.

"Not at all. I would add to freedom, loyalty and open hearts," Anne held her cup up to him in toast before tipping it to her lips. Though she took a more generous gulp than she normally would have.

As she took the goblet from her lips, Anne ran her tongue along the ridge of her lip to clear a stray drop of wine away. She glanced about, taking a moment to gather what courage she had to ask:

"It's a wonder anyone can move at all in this room, let alone dance! I wonder, Sir Thomas, would it be too forward of me to ask for a dance..." She paused. "...outside in the garden?"

"I will drink to freedom," Wyatt replied earnestly and followed her lead in downing a sizable gulp of wine. Twice. Then he took a deep breath. There was no freedom here to speak his mind but Anne was already suggesting something else. Wyatt felt the heart in his chest pound a little harder.

"Yes, I believe it would be too forward, mistress Anne," he laughed out of nervousness, then lowered his voice, "but I wouldn't say nay."

However, they had to be careful not to raise suspicion. Wyatt frowned as he searched for her father in the crowd.

"I need to go and greet your father. It would be impolite not to." Making sure no one was eavesdrpping them, he continued with even a quieter voice. "You could... go outside in the meanwhile? I'll join you soon."

((OOC: I have been to Hever once. The castle is beautiful, the gardens spectacular. Anne's room was surprisingly small.))

Anne did indeed feel embarrassed when he initially replied. But his quiet addition made her heart flutter in her chest. She tried not to seem too eager and too happy, but she could not fight the smile that broke across her face.

"Very well, I'll make some attempt to be patient," Anne chuckled before she turned slowly and disappeared into the crowd.

There were people outside, but most were too drunk to notice Anne. She wandered through the hedges and bushes, letting her fingers graze over silken flower petals. It was much cooler outside, Anne gave a slight shiver as the cold air teased her skin.

She glanced up to the night sky, picking out constellations in the stars above her. It made her smile at how peaceful it was.

((Lucky!! Awww I would kill to see it just once...my descriptions are probably way off xD))

Wyatt watched Anne go, finishing his cup of wine. He needed that, to brace himself in order to meet her father. He was about to engage in an idle chit-chat with the man he looked up to, with whom his own father was friends with and whose daughter he had just agreed to meet in secret.

Thankfully Thomas Boleyn was still in the middle of an important discussion with one of his financial advisors. Therefore he didn't find the time to pay much attention to the nervous poet apart from some simple pleasantries.

Wyatt felt like the most wretched guest when Sir Thomas asked him to make sure to dance with his daughters before the night was over. He offered a strained smile and excused himself as soon as possible.

For Wyatt, the cool night air felt wonderful. He strode across the small courtyard and then the moat. There was no need to wonder which way Anne might have gone; he knew her favourite places.

Quietly he joined her in the shadows of some tall hedges, staring at the stars.

"Where is my thought?
Where wanders my desire?
Where may the thing be sought?
That I require?"

((OOC: Hever has surely changed since Anne's days. I'm basing my descriptions on 21st century knowledge, so I think you're good :). ))

That in and of itself had been a test; Anne would not go so far as to say she had been hiding but she had at least made sure that she would not easily be found. At least not by someone who did not know her. How well did he remember sneaking out here with her before all this mess had occurred? How well did he remember her hiding places?

Apparently very well, for she wasn't waiting long.

Anne turned to him, slowly, her hands clasped behind her back and her trademark smile on her lips.

"I seek nothing,
But thus for to discharge
My heart of sore sighing,
To plain at large."

She gives a soft giggle before finishing her wine and setting the empty goblet down on the ground - as it was the nearest surface she could find to abandon it. Anne stood up straight again to face him.

"You were always far better with words than I," She admits. "But that is to be expected, is it not?"

In all honesty, he probably didn't know all her favourite places, but he knew some. And he trusted her not to make him search for long in this darkness. They didn't have that much time on their hands.

As for remembering... It was hard not to.

He remembered that smile: the corners of her mouth curling up just like that. She had the most expressive face. No wonder she caught the eyes of so many men.

There was a smile on his face, too, as Anne recited the lines.

"My lady, it is thanks to you if I have a way with words. To poets and their muses, remember?"

He stepped closer and nudged the goblet down with his foot.

"Your father wanted me to dance with you."

Edited 2014-07-08 22:03 (UTC)

"You speak as though you'd have absolutely no talent without me," Anne teased.

She looked up to catch his gaze, the blush on her face hidden by her mask, for which she silently thanked the Lord.

"Does that mean that you would not share a dance with me if my father had not asked?" She asked, her brow tilting a bit.

Anne chuckled a little more, turning from him and taking a step or two away. As if enticing him, inviting him.

"But, I certainly can't very well say nay," Anne pointed out. "What dance shall we have then, Thomas? A waltz? A volta, perhaps? We shall likely need to make our own music, as I can hardly hear the music inside the castle."

She forgot herself in that moment, thought things were as they had been. But she soon recalled their situation. Anne cleared her throat and stood a bit straighter.

"Ahh, Sir Thomas, I meant. Forgive me."

"I speak as I find true. God willing there is no need to find out if I'll have talent without you."

That was a little deeper than what he wanted the conversation to be about. Wyatt reached out for Anne's hand but she was teasing him, stepping backwards.

"No. Your permission is all I need," he replied to the question about dancing with her.

Wyatt contemplated Anne's suggestions. A pity he didn't have his lute with him, though obviously playing an instrument would have been a hindrance to actually dancing with her.

"A volta, my lady?" Wyatt's eyes flashed playfully as he extended his hand toward her. "Why not."

Though she did not reply to his first comment, she heard it clear enough. It replayed a time or two in Anne's mind, giving her momentary pause. That she had tried to shut this man out, albeit to save his life - it seemed so foolish. The ache in her heart for him seemed too strong to ignore. But she had to....didn't she?

But a volta...why, of all dances had she suggested that dance? It seemed like each country had it's own creative versions of it, but all were the same in that it required the dancing pair to remain close. Not quite so intimate as other Spanish dances Anne had seen, but it could be considered a sensual dance in its own right. Damn her traitorous tongue!

All the same, the challenge had been issued. There was no backing out of it now. She had suggested a volta, and a volta they would have. Anne's face did not betray her inner conflict - a fact for which she was incredibly grateful. Her smile stayed on as she reached slowly for Thomas' hand and stepped towards him. Her fingers slid delicately along his and around his palm. Anne followed the steps to the dance slowly, turning and bringing their clasped hands above her, before she completed the turn and came to face him, much closer now than they had been.

Thomas was, obviously, the man - so she would let him lead, as etiquette dictated. But for that moment froze her, however briefly - to be so close to him again, to have his hand in hers with no one around to find them...

She was done for.

Wyatt had never danced the volta himself but he had watched others dance it enough of times. Gently squeezing Anne's hand, he let his thumb caress over hers. They had to do without music but somehow that seemed irrelevant. He suspected he wouldn't have heard music anyway, not from his concentration on the movements they performed together. Dancing on grass was quite unlike in the ballroom.

Not to mention her nearness, intensified by the forbidden nature of the moment. He had no idea what she really wanted. For all he knew, Anne could have been playing with him. Indeed, she probably was doing just that. In a flash she could have been gone, leaving him to cool his feelings alone under the night sky.

As Anne turned and faced him, and they stood motionless for what seemed like a long time (yet wasn't), Wyatt believed Anne wasn't playing. Not at that particular moment. He ran his hands down her uplifted arms, stopping at her waist.

It would have been so easy to pull her tight against himself. But he swallowed that thought and lifted her up and made a turn - like he was supposed to do. The volta.

((OOC: Edited for a typo again, sorry.))

Edited 2014-07-10 18:15 (UTC)

((ooc: It's all good! Mine's edited because it seemed teeeerribly short...))

Anne had performed this dance a few times, at least. The most recent being with Henry. This though, this seemed far better. Wait, no - she couldn't afford to think that way. She couldn't afford to let herself dwell on the memory of that, no matter how many times she'd danced the volta with Henry, she had pictured Thomas as her partner instead. Blast! No! She tried to force herself not to think on it - to not think at all.

The turn had been a godsend in that regard. It seemed a bit strange - she had felt his hands at her waist at least dozens of times before. Yet this time, Anne couldn't stop herself from gasping, feeling the touch of his hands near her hips. Thinking quickly she tried to play it off as though she were surprised as he lifted her. She was a fine actress, after all - but was she that convincing? She wasn't certain...

It probably didn't help her cause when her hands instinctively went to his shoulders as he lifted her - brushing against his neck and through his hair as they moved. Anne smiled and gave the softest laugh as he completed the turn.

But as he brought her down again, her shoes and the tricky ground beneath them proved just how far from the ballroom they really were. Anne went to turn again, but her shoes caught on the ground beneath her and she fell forward, towards Thomas, with a sharp cry of surprise.

Edited 2014-07-10 22:37 (UTC)

For months Wyatt had steered clear of Anne by her own request. He had - rather unsuccessfully - tried to put out the fire in him. He had written poems of lovelorn men and hard-hearted women.

And now? Now the object of his affection was inviting his advances again. What was he supposed to do? Carpe diem? The words of a great poet, Horace, rang in his ears.

Before Wyatt could make up his mind, fate took matters into its own hands: suddenly Anne let out a scream and took a dive towards him! He gasped, flying his arms open to catch her, which fortunately he managed to do but with less grace than he'd like to admit.

Though who's to say it wasn't deliberate on his part to stumble off-balance? At any rate, he ended up kneeling down, Anne in his arms and lowered her on the ground. Eyes fixed at her, Wyatt tossed away his mask.

Last time she had turned away from him. Wyatt leaned down, closing the distance between their lips.

Graceful or not, he caught her all the same. Anne didn't conceive of any ulterior motives as he lowered her to the ground. As a matter of fact, she meant to thank him for catching her, and apologize for letting her feet get away from her. But seeing him hover over her so, it brought back memories, made her blush and effectively silenced her.

Really she should have seen his next move coming. But as Thomas leaned in Anne was completely stunned. When his lips came against hers, Anne parted her own lips a bit.

To tell him this is wrong - to tell him they should stop - to tell him there'll be hell to pay if they're discovered.

But no words arise. Instead her lips seem content to part only to wrap more fully around his lower lip. One hand comes up, pushing her fingers through his curls. After denying him and the impulse of her own heart, Anne felt warm and complete again.

"...No-" she breaks the kiss abruptly, but makes no effort to pull away. "....I shouldn't have...we mustn't..."

All the denied thoughts, all the sensible reason in her head screamed at her to speak, but her tongue would not obey.

"Thomas..."

She didn't need to tell him any of those things. Wyatt was well aware of possible consequences of their secret tryst, especially for her. What he would have wanted to know instead was why he didn't listen to the voice of reason in his head. Why was the lure of her so strong?

Not that he bothered with the answers at the particular moment. A low moan of pleasure escaped deep from his throat at the feel of her soft lips reciprocating his kiss and her fingers sinking into his hair. He had sorely missed this.

Her mask was a bit of a nuisance so with Anne breaking the kiss, Wyatt was able to push it away from her eyes. Then, lowering his head, he let his mouth brush softly along her throat while ignoring the not-so-convincing protests Anne tried to voice. He was careful not to leave any marks on her skin. She had little chance in escaping the embrace as he was practically pinning her dress to the ground with his knees, one leg over her leg.

Supporting himself on elbows, Wyatt looked into her dark eyes and smiled. "It's alright. We're not... doing anything." Self-delusion works sometimes.

Anne could ask herself the very same question. Why was she so consumed by him? Why, despite her greatest efforts and all her denial, could she not fight her feelings for him? Why was his lure so strong?

He may have pushed her mask out of the way, but Anne was the one who reached up and tugged the silk ribbon free and took the mask from her face. Despite her continued, slightly unintelligible, mumblings of how this was wrong and they should stop, Anne's own body betrayed her true desire. Her head tipped back, offering up more of her neck to him. He must have known, must have remembered how sensitive her neck was, and how even the slightest touch could set her body to tremble. So it was no surprise, at least not to Anne, when she was unable to fight the moans and gasps of pleasure as he continued kissing her neck.

"Mmm...such...such wicked lies you spin for a lady," Anne laughed a bit. Her fingers ran down his back, her nails biting into the fabric of his jacket. Acting of its own accord, or so Anne thought, her body arched a bit against his. She couldn't move much more than that, with her dress pinned so. "We both know...what this is, where it usually ends up."

Not that she was really complaining - but there was just so much danger in this. Not only for herself, but for Thomas, that was really why she was so concerned.

Well, she was concerned, but the more overpowering emotion was the sense of desire and need that just seemed to be burning hotter.

"Do we, my beautiful falcon?" Wyatt grinned and shifted his attention from her slender neck back to her mouth. His tongue slid out to caress hers, though that did nothing but fuel his desire even more. He moved a little upwards so that he was able to wrap one arm around her head and apply more pressure to his kiss. Wyatt would not force himself on Anne. Granted, he wasn't stopping yet, but it would be up to her to decide how far she'd let him go.

But damn! his heavy doublet and the stiff bodice of her dress. It was nearly impossible to truly feel anything though the layers of clothing. Wyatt opened his eyes to glance down; the tops of her breasts rising above the neckline... He swallowed. "Don't recall if ever have I written about the French countryside. The mountains," he touched across her bosom with the back of his fingers, "and the valleys."

If asked, he wouldn't have recalled a lot of things he'd written.

Then he swiftly pulled her along, rolling onto his back. Allowing her a moment to get comfortable on top of him, Wyatt managed to yank open half a dozen clasps of his jacket. Damn the person who dictated fashion. Getting undressed should not have to be so tedious.

He chuckled, nonetheless. "Apologies, mistress Anne. The fires of Hever burn so hot."

"We do," she managed to sneak the two little words in, but they seemed to lose their meaning as her tongue tangled with his. She did not want to seem too eager, but after so long without him that proved difficult.

His voice sent shivers through her. Honestly, with his skill at wordplay, Thomas could have sent her into a frenzy of lust without even touching her. Oh, but she was so glad that he did. His touch at her breasts made her breath catch and sigh softly. There were so many differences between Thomas and Henry - and Anne realized now more than ever just how much she preferred Thomas. Henry was rough, seized what he wanted the moment he wanted it. Thomas drew the pleasure out, stoked the fire slowly, made it damn near impossible to refuse him.

"I don't recall such a piece...but it makes me curious, I would be anxious to hear what else you might write about."

But then they're moving, Anne has to bite her lip to stop herself from crying out in surprise. But once they've stopped and she's on top, she smirks down to him, again forgetting their situation and slipping back to their old ways. One hand slipped back to the lacings of her bodice at her back and tugged them loose, letting the fabric slip lower on her bosom, though not completely freeing her breasts just yet.

"Oh, do accept my apologies, Sir Thomas...seems my dress was not laced properly. A shame, isn't it?" Her hands found his abdomen and her fingers slowly slid up, applying the slightest pressure to his chest to just remind herself: Yes, he's really here.

'The changing heart of a woman' would have been the answer to her wonderings, but Wyatt resolved not to utter that aloud. Instead he replied, "My lute," which was just as correct. His lute and pen both told the stories he ordered them to tell. Not so seldom it was about unrequited love.

Watching her unlace the bodice, Wyatt tugged his own shirt up the best he could. He was unable to get rid of the jacket and shirt completely while lying on the ground but whatever bare skin she found, he gladly gave up for exploring. Her touch sent ripples through his muscles.

"That maid of yours... she's worth keeping," he alluded to the laces not done properly.

His own hands went around Anne's waist, under the loose bodice, then down to grab her butt. Hips moving under her, Wyatt started to impatiently push up her skirts in order to feel more of her.

Anne tilted a brow and pursed her lips a bit at that answer. She leaned down, arching her hips downwards to meet his. Her eyes seemed to glint mischievously as she brought her lips to brush against his jaw and trail kisses to his earlobe.

"Your lute, you say? And what might you write about that?" She whispered, gently nipping at his ear before turning her attention lower.

Anne brushed her lips softly against his neck. She gave a slight chuckle of approval feeling his hands at her rear. Her own fingers continued exploring his chest, down his sides to pause at his hips. Anne gripped his hips, as if to pull him harder against her. For her liking, they were not close enough.

"You think so?" She replied to his comment about the maid. "You think I should always have my dresses so loose to fall open at any time?"

She glanced up to catch his gaze as her trail of kisses led her to his chest, and she pressed her lips over his heart.

Edited (c'mon phone...) 2014-07-12 22:33 (UTC)

"Mm-mmh... what?" Forgive your poor servant, mistress Anne. He was very, very distracted by having his earlobe nipped. "The lute? Um... ah, she my suit and affection... that I am past remedy."

The poem wasn't even finished yet but those were the lines that most readily came to his mind. Besides, they seemed to reflect his current state. He couldn't be cured from his love for her or from making the mistake he was about to make right here and now.

Wyatt would have laughed to know Anne didn't want to appear too eager. There was no sign of coy behaviour in the manner she took possession of his body. Blushing brides were all very well and nice in theory but he was grateful she showed her want for him openly. Well, as openly as circumstances allowed.

Managing to hike up her skirts enough, Wyatt slid his hands up along Anne's thighs and untied the drawstring at the back of her skirt.

"On second thought, that maid is useless. Why should you wear anything at all? Ever? At most, I'd wrap you up in furs and keep you warm by a fireplace." What a wonderful idea; Wyatt chuckled at his own genius. They should go without clothes all day.

To get closer to that idea, he took hold of her shoulders and gently pushed her up from his beating heart. Shifting slightly, he guided her hands down to where their hips met. "If it pleases my lady."

Edited 2014-07-13 11:24 (UTC)

Anne smiled to herself as Thomas stammered the reply. That she could drive him to such a state made her very happy indeed. She didn't like being the only one whose mind hazed over with lust. The lines of his poem described her well enough too; The only cure for her heartache was clearly Thomas Wyatt.

Feeling his hands at her thighs made her body arch even as he pushed her up again. To feel the drawstring at her skirt loosen and fall away, Anne smirked. She had been exactly right, but there was no point in boasting now.

"So you would prefer that I walk about the world naked, for all men to see?" Anne countered.

Still, the idea of being wrapped in furs appealed to her, she would have to keep that in mind for future reference. Mischievous as she was, Anne could find a way to sneak to his chambes clad only in said furs. But that was a plan for another time.

The plan for now was simply this: Her fingers slid slightly further south of his hips. With quick and nimble movements, Anne tugged loose the ties of his trousers enough to slip her hand beneath the fabric to tease him better, more substantially.

"You know it does," Anne whispered.

"I don't see anyone else around, just you," came his reply. True, it wasn't what she had meant but Wyatt didn't fancy thinking about the rest of the world at the moment. There was just Anne.

Her admission made him smile wide, as did her expertise in swiftly untying his clothes. And though he saw what was coming - had initiated it, in fact - somehow he wasn't prepared for the pleasure that struck through him as her hand found its way inside his trousers.

Wyatt's eyes closed and his mouth fell open to a silent moan. Chest rising, he gasped her name and reached out to pull at the bodice that was only halfway on her anyway. "Anne," he repeated.

Anne rolled her eyes playfully at his reply. But, for the most part, she's of the same mindset. Despite the fact that they could be discovered at any moment, the only person that consumed her thoughts was Thomas. There was no Henry; there was no Thomas or George Boleyn.

At his reaction, she leaned down and brushed her lips to his neck once again, over his pulse point. All the while her fingers continued their work beneath his trousers. As she leaned and he tugged at her bodice, it more or less fell away. She gave a slight gasp as the cool night air hit her chest. Anne trailed her kisses up his neck to his jaw, occasionally even letting her tongue flicker against his skin.

"Thomas..." she whispered his name, nearly moaned it in fact. "Have you any idea how often you entered my thoughts in the palace? How often I lay in my bed at night thinking of you?"

It was indeed true. Though she had managed to maintain a decent front in public. But once the lights were low and Anne found herself alone, she found that she was unable to fight off thoughts of Thomas - being alone with him, listening to his poems in progress, even writing a few herself, stealing the briefest kisses and touches when they could.

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