happyfalcon | Prompt: Masquerade

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.

A dozen conflicting thoughts flashed in Wyatt's mind. There was the wonder and amazement that they were truly here, together, and that she was allowing him this favour. There was the fear and sadness that this was a one-off, a farewell note before she'd slip away from him forever. With that came jealousy for the man who would have her instead. There was bitterness - why the hell have you put me through all this, if you want me as much as I want you?

His thoughts meant nothing; he wasn't in charge. And that thought let him go of all the others and simply feel her presence.

Biting his bottom lip, Wyatt let out a moan that left no suspicion of how he indeed felt having her hand working on him. It was dark but he could still see enough to admire her exposed breasts and his mouth formed a silent 'beautiful' when he caught her eyes again. It nearly killed him to have her move above him so that her nipples brushed him only so much. Wyatt splayed hands open against her back, bringing her as close as possible.

"I have no idea," he mumbled to her neck. Truthful it was, too. At first he had been angry at her, and wallowed in his own self-pity. Later he found no reason to wonder if she still cared about him. There was some solace in knowing she had cared once.

"But for relief of all my woe
It doth suffice that thou wert mine"

He let one of his hands fall down and squeeze her backside again.

"Tell me how often."

If asked that question, Anne would have answered easily enough: That she had done all that she'd done because she cared for him. That she wanted him to be happy, and that he wouldn't be happy if he was dead. Her father would most certainly have seen to that if he knew, if he suspected. So Anne had tried to force herself not to care, unsuccessfully.

However, Anne could really be accused of that same jealousy. Though Thomas swore he was going to divorce his wife, they were still married. Was it her lot in life to find herself matched with married men? Perhaps her bitterness over his marriage was the reason she'd been so cruel. Which didn't justify her actions, but still.

Could she be blamed for wanting Thomas all to herself?

Anne sighed as she felt him clutch her tighter. It felt too good to feel his bare chest beneath her breasts. Anne glanced up and moved to seize his lips with hers. Her free hand came up, cupping his jaw to deepen the kiss.

"'Wert'? As in past tense?" Anne let the question hang in between their lips. Was she teasing? Was she alluding to something else?

Either way, Anne moved on.

"Thoughts of you haunted me each night. Thinking of your touch, the way you kiss me, the way you hold me," Anne whispered. "Oh Thomas, how I longed to hear your poems again, to hear your words so lovingly penned and planned..."

Edited 2014-07-14 13:47 (UTC)

Wyatt didn't really know how to deal with his marriage. In a way he had taken an "out of sight, out of mind" approach and tried to erase it from his mind. Elizabeth hadn't been his choice of a wife. Of course, that was the same for everyone: a marriage was a union of two families, decided by parents. Love or affection had little to do with it. Oh - he hadn't exactly objected to her. She was fine to look at and there wasn't any other girl his mind was consumed with at the time. He had been young and the allure of the marriage bed was no small matter.

Unfortunately it had all gone wrong too soon. Before long Elizabeth was expecting their child and with that their relationship changed. Wyatt was proud of his son, no question about it, but he strongly felt Elizabeth wasn't pulling her weight in making the marriage work. Then came the suspicion that she had a lover.

A divorce was a possibility but not an easy one to get. Wyatt would have needed undisputable proof that she had been unfaithful. He didn't have that. So, by now he had resigned to the fact that separation was all that he was getting.

Elizabeth had never kissed him like Anne did. He felt powerless and exhilarated and totally lost in her when Anne held his face, unafraid to show her lust. Wyatt returned the kiss hungrily, hands trailing on her back.

Elizabeth had never cared for his poems like Anne did.
Elizabeth had never shaken his core like Anne did.
Elizabeth had never-

He was touched by Anne's words. Taking a deep breath, Wyatt pulled her hand away from beneath his trousers and laboriously rose up to a sitting position, Anne in his arms. He shrugged off the doublet and grinned. "You like my poetry, huh? Here's one for you:
Anne Boleyn,
I want you now.

Anne should have understood his dilemma with his marriage. She was a quick and clever woman, she could understand the circumstances well enough. But it was personal for her, personal because she wanted Thomas; so she wasn't exactly in her right and logical mind.

But there was indeed satisfaction in that he was here with her, while Elizabeth was off God only knows where. On the other hand, without a proper divorce, he could never truly be hers. And therefore, there was no escape route from Henry for her; at least not with Thomas.

God knows she had thought of this before, but Anne forced it from her mind now. This was not the moment to think of such things. She had him for now, he was hers in this moment. Anne didn't want to spoil it.

She let him move her hand and gave a soft giggle as he sat up with her in his lap. Anne's eyes glinted a bit as he spoke, and her fingers set about tracing invisible patterns on his chest.

"Oh come now, Thomas - surely you can do better than that," Anne smiled as both hands came up and once again pushed her fingers through his hair. Her body arched against his, her hips rolling a bit. "Especially after being apart for so long."

His eyes opened wide, an accomplishment of sorts, considering he had been nearly kissed senseless. Momentarily stunned, Wyatt didn't know whether Anne was making fun of him or not. His body ached for her and he knew he couldn't stand much longer. Wyatt tilted his head towards her right hand.

"There's nothing wrong with that poem but I can see how it should be acted out, not spoken out. Like this." He wrapped one hand around her shoulders and turned around, toppling her down onto his jacket on the ground. On top of her again, Wyatt kissed Anne quickly, then backed enough to fumble with her skirts, lifting all of those layers up and then positioning himself between her knees.

He had to curse the clothing again. It would have been so much better to undress fully but they didn't have all that time. Wyatt leaned in closer, kissing her right breast and collarbone. Hastily he pushed down his own trousers before his mouth found her neck again.

Anne had only been partially teasing him, but she was thrilled at his action afterwards. Her arms went around his neck as she returned his kiss. She reached down to help him hold up her skirts, she knew how frustrating her clothes could be, both to put on and to take off.

Anne arched her back and tipped her head to offer him more of her skin. Feeling the brush of his lips against her breast made the most lust-craving whine escape her throat. Her need was too great to deny now.

As he positioned himself between her legs, Anne bent her knees and actually maneuvered to wrap them loosely around his waist. Her hands ran down his back, her nails barely running along his skin.

"Thomas..." Her breath was heavy and ragged even now as she moaned for him. "Oooh...I need you..."

He would go to Hell for this.

Breathing hot and heavy, Wyatt kept kissing Anne's throat. His tongue trailed across that smooth skin until it reached the corner of her mouth, then inside it. He clutched his hand over her breast.

Breaking the kiss for a moment to catch breath, Wyatt glanced at Anne, his eyes dark and half-lid. Though she had her legs wrapped around him, he managed to lift his hips slightly, with the help of his knees pushing on the grass (and partly on the back of her dress), so that he could slide a hand between them, between her legs.

He didn't hesitate - God it was too late for that now. Reaching down enough, his middle finger sank inside of her. Wyatt kep his eyes on Anne, just to be sure her face didn't indicate any objection. Not that he thought it would but... he'd stop if that was the case. He swallowed and stroked her a few times, in hazy awe of how she felt.

But he was an impatient man now, more so than he wanted to admit. Hard already from her doing, he didn't need to do much else than guide his cock to where his hand had just been. Impatiently, yes, and hard, Wyatt drove his hips against her. He gasped and thrusted again, and again. Then his motions became softer, as did the expression on his face.

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