bakerstreet | The Smut Picture Prompt Meme

It was hardly unusual for royalty from all over the known world to pay visit to the Vatican and to His Holiness, whether seeking money, title, blessings or simply to pay their genuine respects. What was particularly unusual for Cardinal Cesare Borgia was for someone in these retinues to capture his attention as immediately and thoroughly as Princess Margaret. Cesare has seen and had his fill of fawning, coy and quietly pretty princesses and marquesas and dames, and the only thing Margaret is of any of those things is pretty.

Actually, Cesare corrects himself, she is beautiful. And the kind to carry herself with a straighter, stronger spine than most of the College of Cardinals.

It would be the height of scandal for a Cardinal, let alone one who is the son of the reigning Pontiff, to be caught in the bedchamber of visiting royalty. And so Cesare, a practiced hand at all manner of deception, ensures he cannot be followed or detected when he visits Margaret late in the night. Finding her very much still awake, he leans against the frame of the hidden doorway he has just used.

"If I've been mistaken in my presumptions, Your Highness, let me know and I'll leave you to your slumber."

It's not the first time that Margaret and her father have made a visit - but things were different when one was a child versus when they were an adult, and she's certain that he's only brought her along to charm men in a higher position than him into giving him exactly what he wants. And so, she plays the game, and she plays the dutiful princess, but for those who look deeper at her, it's obvious that there's a fire in her and a desire to be more than what she's being groomed to be.

Even if she doesn't get a chance to speak to the Cardinal, she knows all too well who he is. He's just as darkly handsome and brooding as she's been told. And as she's whisked from person to person, she wonders if she'll get the chance to speak with him.

She certainly doesn't expect her opportunity to come about when she's alone and in her bedchambers and getting ready to sleep alone in a bed that seems too huge for just her. To say that she's surprised at his sudden presence is an understatement, and maybe for a moment she doesn't quite know what to say, but eventually, she finds herself, offering the hint of a smile.

"I should enjoy your company, actually. I'm not tired just yet. Would you like to come in? Feel free to make yourself comfortable."

OOC: Sorry for the lateness of this reply. Not only was I out of town for several days, I just found out all my notifs since the code push have been going into my spam folder.

Cesare nods in gratefulness and moves to a chair near the fire, leaning against it instead of sitting down for the moment, his manners even during this exceptionally forward moment not allowing him to be seated while a lady stands. He's left his cap and cloak in his own chambers, preferring to be able to move less encumbered and less recognizably, even though he still has his blood-red cassock on.

Cesare undoes the top few buttons of that garment, loosening it from around his neck-- a symbolism that fails to escape him every time he dresses. "I was hoping to get the opportunity to speak with you, privately I'd hoped. It was disappointing to not have the opportunity earlier. But then, such conversation would hardly be private."

"I have been told that you are something of a... handful, to your father. I sympathize," he tells Margaret with a smirk.

It doesn't take much at all for Margaret to take her own seat - there would be no struggling with a heavy gown - it is long past the hour when banquets ended, and close to the time in which she usually lies down to rest, and as such, she's dressed in far less than what she was only hours before. It's probably very untoward that he see her like this, but who would know? It wasn't as if she was going to speak to anyone else about this late-night visit.

"No," she replies, her voice quiet, although she watches him like a hawk. "And in such company, it would be difficult to say the things that we are allowed to do so in just each other's company."

And with that, he catches her off guard enough that she laughs. "My reputation has proceeded me, even here? I can honestly say that I wasn't expecting a man of such stature to know who I am."

Cesare laughs in return and it's almost as though he doesn't recognize the sound, at least coming from his own throat. He leans back and shrugs, absolutely taken already with the Princess' candor. It's more than refreshing, it's heartening.

"Being elected to the Papacy did not win my family very many admirers as you may have heard. Although we're all quite certain no one would openly defy or bring harm to His Holiness, we cannot be too careful. I make it my business to know all I can about visiting delegations."

He raised his eyes toward the young woman, lidded just slightly, suggesting a little more meaning in his words that followed. "Especially once something or someone has attracted my deeper attention."

It's such a pleasing peal of laughter, too, the sound is something that she doesn't get to hear enough of in her daily life. Sadly, though, it doesn't last as long as she would have wished, although the smile that it brings to her lips does linger.

"Of course not. There are many who would covet the title and the power and would do anything to take it. But you've nothing to worry about that with me, I have no political ambitions of my own." That is, of course, not always the case when it came to her father - always on the lookout for anything advantageous for him.

It's obvious that the compliment flusters her, and she shakes her head in response, her hair falling over one shoulder. "You flatter me. Surely there are great beauties here in court that you've noticed?"

Amusement tugs at the corner of his mouth now and he shrugs slightly. "That seems almost a shame. I would wager substantially on your ambitions, had you any. You strike me as the kind of woman who would achieve them." And he had met ambitious, driven women, like Caterina Sforza who unfortunately had achieved greatly and been poisoned by it.

As the conversation turns, the eyes he turns on Margaret darken considerably. "Beauties are commonplace, yes. Great beauties much less so." Cesare gestures at Margaret, indicating her from head to toe. "Great beauties with intriguing personalities are the most rare."

It's enough of a smile to let Margaret know that the conversation is heading in a good direction. Her own only widens in return, and she offers another shrug of her shoulders, this time far less sheepish than the last. "Perhaps I just haven't found the right motivation. Who knows what the future holds? I should, I know, never say never."

The look that he gives her is one that she is completely unused to, and the pink of her cheeks shows it. But then, what was she expecting, he'd come in from an otherwise unknown door - certainly, this wasn't the most orthodox of ways in which to speak. "Do you compliment them all in the same way you're complimenting me?"

"An excellent philosophy," Cesare remarks, rising from his seat and, upon finding the flagon of wine that he knew to be kept convenient in all the guest chambers, poured a cup for them both, setting Margaret's close at her hand. He then sat down, choosing a different chair much closer to the princess'.

"Not at all. You have the distinction of being the first to move me so." He raises his goblet to her and smiles. "And for that I thank you most deeply for being as remarkable as you are."

Cesare takes a sip and watches Margaret over the rim of the cup, his eyes traveling over her in what was certainly an impolite and imprudent but clearly appreciative way.

She watches each and every moment that Cesare makes like a hawk. And it's not as though she doesn't trust him - it's that he's very confident, he moves around her chambers as though they are his own. His ease of movement is fascinating. She nods her thanks, sipping daintily at her wine - after all, she'd had a glass at dinner, and although she's very comfortable, she doesn't want to lose all of her inhibitions - not quite yet.

"I am flattered," Margaret starts, relaxing further against the back of her chair, enjoying the wine, and the company, and the warmth of the room, "and grateful for your visit. Do you often steal away to have moments of freedom by yourself? I can imagine just how busy you are."

Truth be told, even though she blushes madly, she doesn't mind in the slightest the way that he watches her.

"Not nearly as often as I would like," Cesare replies, very much truthfully. The intrigue of life at the Vatican, life as the son of the Pope, life as a Borgia-- he had so precious little time for the life of Cesare that it was a wonder some days that he remembered his own name. "It does, though, result in my appreciating those rare occasions all the more."

He takes another long sip, feeling even bolder than he already was, entering a Lady's room secretly and unannounced in the dead of night. "So, beautiful and intriguing Princess Margaret-- how have you found the suitors your father has paraded before you? One of your father's requests to the Papacy was to know if His Holiness had any Italian noblemen to suggest."

While her own duties and responsibilities keep her occupied for most of her days, Margaret imagines that the same must be true tenfold for Cesare - he is much more important than she, after all, that she imagines that even finding time in which to rest is nearly impossible. That he's chosen to spend some of that time with her does fill her with a sense of pride. "Such as now?"

But then he asks that, and it is such a sore subject, even though he can't have known, that she can't help the way she rolls her eyes in response. "Some have been perfectly cordial and polite, some have tried to take far too many liberties with my kindness, and I am uninterested in all of them, much like I am the suitors he brings me when we are at home, as well. It hardly surprises me that this is the purpose for our visit."

"Such as now," Cesare agrees, raising his cup in her honor. Indeed, if he were to leave at this moment and return to his own apartments in the Vatican, he would still count the evening as having been well worth the risk. Any amount of time with a woman as intriguing and outspoken as Margaret-- so long as they sat on the same side of most conflicts-- was a great treasure.

He nodded as he listens to Margaret's frustration and disappointment as she describes her lot. It is not so very different from the fate of his own sister Lucrezia, and that realization only makes him more interested in Margaret's potential future.

"Are you not interested in men at all, or simply the ones you have been offered?"

"I am glad," she begins, pausing in order to take a small sip from her own cup, "that I have proven to be worthy company for the evening." Oh, she does hope that he doesn't find reason to slip from her rooms as quickly as he'd arrived. Of course, if he did, maybe she would wonder and hope for another visit at another time - she and her father would be visiting for a while, after all, and it was so nice to meet someone that ... understood her.

Truly, it is a terrible thing to sit and wonder just when her father would tire of her reluctance in choosing a suitor, and would take it upon himself to find one for her.

She blushes deeply at the question, although she doesn't avert her eyes in an attempt to hide. "The men that he's thrown my way have not caught my interest in the slightest. But I am beginning to see that not all men are as terrible."

"Not so terrible," Cesare repeats with a laugh. "I shall take that as a high compliment, indeed."

Taking a sip of wine, he regards Margaret again over the edge of the cup. He sees everything in the remarkable princess that he had earlier-- those things that had prompted this late-night visit-- and now knew more than enough to motivate him into great interest. Cesare knocked back the cup and finished his wine.

Standing, he approached Margaret and smiled. "I do hope the accommodations you've been provided are acceptable-- that your appointments are as you would wish... and that your bed is warm and comfortable."

"But it is!, Margaret replies, her voice full of amusement and lightness. "I find that I am enjoying your company quite a bit. That's more than I can say for anyone else I've been introduced to on this trip."

This time, she looks up at the right time, and doesn't miss the glance, which causes her to flush pink once more, to duck her head, to try to regain some sense of composure. This was so strange - no one has ever made her feel such things before, such ... giddiness. And all with nothing more than a glance.

And then, he's suddenly close, and it feels as though she can't breathe. "These are such lovely rooms - it will be a shame to have to leave them. The bed ... is perfect, yes. Big enough for two. Unfortunately ... it's just me."

"And I am enjoying your company a great deal more than I have anyone who has come to the palace in a very long time." Oh, of course Rome had more than its fair share of delights and should Cesare have been of a mind to, he could have engaged discreet distractions at any time he wished, but he was not like his brother, seeking only to sate one hunger at a time. Cesare wanted to be stimulated on many levels, and the princess before him was doing exactly that and more.

"This is going to be much more forward and inappropriate and very likely rude, but please do not hold it against me, but..." Cesare's lips curled into a smile, pleasant but also somehow hungry and suggestive as well. "I would like very much to remedy that for you, princess."

Reaching out, he runs a fingertip along her cheek, then curls it under her chin, tilting Margaret's face up toward him. "What say you?"

She is both pleased and flattered to have such a compliment leveled her way. She is not without her fair share of charm - when she feels as though a person is special enough to see that part of her - but she's absolutely certain that the Cardinal is acquainted with far more charming women than her. Still, no need to fret, he is still here, after all, still smiling, still watching her with an expression that sets her nerves fluttering.

Margaret has heard such offers from prospective suitors before (and lecherous confidantes of her father's, but she tries not to think about them, especially at a time like this), but she's never considered them seriously. And maybe she's making a mistake, especially if the knowledge of what goes on here tonight gets out, but -

"I think - ", she manages to gasp out, surprised by the touch, no matter how gentle it is, "I would enjoy that quite a bit. I would be honored if you would stay."

"Then I would be a terrible host indeed, to turn down such a generous invitation." Cesare's fingers stroke her cheek once more before he offers Margaret both his hands to help her to her feet. The easy, casual tone of his voice belies the fact that he, too, knows the risks of a liaison occurring here and now and between the two of them, but he is far too intrigued by the princess to turn back now.

Finding that he greatly enjoys even the slightest contact with her, Cesare's hands find the sides of Margaret's face once she is standing, and with soft insistence, he pulls her close enough to press his lips against hers. The first contact is gentle and testing as intended, but the touch sparks fire in him and his mouth parts over hers soon after.

"And you have been - ", Margaret begins, her voice trailing off in the moment that he caresses her face, only regaining composure once she's up and closer than before. "A perfect host thus far."

It's a dangerous thing, asking him to stay, knowing that there is always the risk of being caught, and yet, she can't quite bring herself to care. She's so tired of following the rules. She's tired of doing what pleases her father. Why not do something that pleases her for once?

And the way he holds her close, the feel of his hands holding her face, that initial gentle touch of his lips to hers - it's more than pleasing, so much so that she doesn't hesitate to follow his lead, to open her mouth to allow him access to do whatever it was that he was looking to do.

Guiding Margaret to tilt her head slightly, Cesare slides his tongue across hers as soon as her mouth parts enough to allow it. He tastes her deeply, working his lips intently, almost roughly. His thumbs stroke her cheeks before his hands slide downward, skimming for just a moment over the front of her bodice before they move to either side, finding her trim waist.

From there, he holds her close against his body. There are at the moment too many layers for the princess to be able to feel the effect she's having on him, but Cesare is fairly confident that will change. "Mmm," he says with a smile, "you taste as good as I'd hoped."

It doesn't take much to urge her to come close and stay close, nor to move in whichever way was easiest. Contrary to popular belief, Margaret isn't completely frigid - she's been kissed before. Just ... not like this. Never like this. She's almost embarrassed by the way she moans softly in response, and then decides that it's nothing to be ashamed of, and how could it be? How could enjoying herself ever be wrong?

Even though there are still far too many layers of clothing between them to be comfortable, she still leans in to his hands. As much as she craves feeling them on bare skin, she wasn't yet near the point of begging. "And what did you hope I tasted like?"

With the slightest of smiles curling at the corner of his mouth, Cesare dipped his head and kissed Margaret again. "Plum wine." Another kiss. "Cinnamon." And another kiss. "Honeysuckle." One more. "And... something... surprisingly spicy." His smiled widened. "Delicious."

His hands have been moving all the time he's been speaking, measuring the Princess' figure and finding her to be a very pleasing fit with his own frame. "I find myself feeling somewhat warm, Princess, what about you?"

If asked, Margaret wouldn't be hard-pressed to admit that that particular smile is the one that set her nerves on fire. Each kiss has her wanting to return them so that she can pay particular attention to what he tastes like as well. Each word has her eagerly wanting to hear more. "Delicious. You flatter me. But I hope that the rest of me proves ... equally pleasing."

She is well aware of his hands and the way he's been gathering her closer, the way he's splayed his palms against her hips, and she has to admit, it is nice to feel as though, finally, she belongs somewhere, even if the somewhere that she belongs is pressed up close next to him. "I - I believe that you're right. The fire is burning bright - we are wearing far too many items of clothing to be comfortable."

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And then Thanksgiving happened. Apologies for the delay.

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