with this ring, I thee wed

[tiltingwithlips]

Man and wife.

They are at last man and wife, he hers and she his -- the Lord and Lady Percy.

It has been quite a day.

When the festivities are finally done, they have burned a great many candles, eaten a great deal of food, danced many a dance. Elizabeth is the one who finally takes Harry's hand, covering a yawn, and tugs him towards the door of the hall. The remaining guests raise a cheer and a cup as the couple head upstairs to their rooms.

Kate leans on Harry as they ascend the stairs, loose-limbed and smiling from exhaustion.

Comments

[valiantrebel]

He can't be said to have a plan, but how much of a plan can they really need?

Save, perhaps, for the little ones, like the one forming in the moment after Harry takes her nipple in his mouth and sucks, briefly, and looks up at her.

[tiltingwithlips]

She makes a surprised noise, and then bursts into laughter at herself. If it comes out a little hitched, well, who can blame her?

Still laughing, she runs a hand through his hair.

[valiantrebel]

"Oh, we like that, do we, my lady?"

He bends his neck, because her fingers in his hair feels good (a new revelation for him), and because it gives him room to kiss between her breasts and over the side of the other one.

[tiltingwithlips]

"Mm -- yea, lord, we do."

Shivering, she twines her fingers in his curls.

[valiantrebel]

He pauses, contemplating his options. Down by the joint of her hip, his fingers play over the skin there.

He kisses nearer and nearer to her nipple again, only this time, he takes it between his teeth.

[tiltingwithlips]

That gets a sharp intake of breath out of her, and a tightening of her fingers in his hair. It's not that she objects, it's just unexpected.

[valiantrebel]

Just a flick of the tongue at first, then a slow swipe.

Under her grip, without meaning to, he moans.

[tiltingwithlips]

She swallows.

"Do we -- ah -- like that, my lord?"

[valiantrebel]

"Oh, good my lady--" More kisses, toward her collarbone. "That we do."

And now he props himself above her, eye to eye. "I beg thee, Kate, to help me."

[tiltingwithlips]

"Did I not vow to?"

She tightens her grip on his hair again.

[valiantrebel]

"I heard thee myself." And another glad, unplanned twist beneath her hand.

He leans close to her ear. (She can't see his face, which is, for the record, deeply solemn.) "I am beset," he says, "by a pestilent pair of trousers."

[tiltingwithlips]

"--Oh!"

She runs her hands down his sides to his waist and starts to fumble with the laces.

"Are they such a burden?"

[valiantrebel]

"Oh, a desperate one, in faith!" He drops to the sheets, on his side.

He's still not able to keep his hands away from her hair, though.

[tiltingwithlips]

She sits up to keep working on undoing his trousers and starts pulling them down his hips.

"Let us relieve thee, then."

[valiantrebel]

"The lady is kind."

Naturally he twists to help her a little.

[tiltingwithlips]

A little farther down, and he's free.

Kate stops, blinking.

"'Swounds," she murmurs, "'tis no wonder they troubled thee."

[valiantrebel]

"My plight is not o'erstated, then?"

[tiltingwithlips]

"It would seem not."

Hesitating, she extends a hand to touch his . . . plight.

[valiantrebel]

Harry and his troubles are both receptive to her attentions. He grins up at her.

"What art thou thinking?"

If it's how to proceed, he has some ideas.

[tiltingwithlips]

"I cannot say."

Her fingers are light on his skin, uncertain.

[valiantrebel]

Too light, though he's been guilty of same.

He reaches down and wraps her hand around hers.

A little more pressure won't hurt. Especially if they just start slow.

[tiltingwithlips]

She draws in a breath, her eyes flicking up to his face for a moment, then squeezes him experimentally.

[valiantrebel]

Oh--!

"Less so, less so just yet!"

[tiltingwithlips]

"--I cry your pardon!"

She lets go hastily.

[valiantrebel]

"No, it's fine, it's fine!"

He takes her hand again. "Look you."

Slow and steady, up and down, to start.