bakerstreet | The Smut Picture Prompt Meme

"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."

"On the one hand," Cesare whispers huskily, "I have no doubt that you will. On the other, I am mad with the anticipation of finding out." There are still hours before sunrise, after all, sufficient to explore Margaret and her delights at leisure.

He nods as the Princess comes to agreement, and his hands that are already at her hips begin to move, fingers curling in succession, causing her skirts to slowly climb their way up her legs.

Margaret can't hide the anticipatory shiver that wracks her body. His voice, although soft, is full of intent, and she is absolutely certain that he means everything that he says. "If you cannot wait to find out, then ... why are you waiting? Have I not given you the proper permission to continue?"

It's obvious that she's teasing, and she breathes out a soft, breathy chuckle, wondering just where to begin with his own clothing. "And you? What do I dare remove first?"

"You have indeed," Cesare drawls, "but I do find it quite pleasurable to do some things slowly. At least at first."

He glances down to where Margaret is tentatively reaching for his clothes. "The shirt you can simply pull off, the trousers might take a bit more effort. I'd suggest the former first."

And the normally composed young woman actually blushes then, a faint pink coloring her cheeks - if one looks, they can easily see that the same color extends halfway down what is exposed of her chest. "Does the anticipation make the wait well worth it, then? I am afraid I am not well-versed in such things."

She makes a small humming noise in the back of her throat, considering her options, before deciding that he's probably right. Easiest garment first, and then the rest. Besides, she's still got her dressing gown to worry about - although if he's adept at getting it off, which she thinks he might be, it won't be much of a problem at all.

"Oh, yes, it certainly does," Cesare says with a growl underneath. His slow, deliberate motions raise the gown past her knees, past her hips, up to her breasts. By that point, his breathing is short and nearly ragged. He looks up at Margaret and smiles hungrily. "Although finishing with a little quickness can also be exciting."

With that, he pulled the gathered dressing gown up sharply, divesting the princess of her garment completely.

Margaret can't help the shiver that races up and down her spine at the sound of his voice - that growl enough to make her throb in all the right places. If she were able to think properly, she might have the good graces to feel embarrassed about how quickly her breathing has become. As it was, though, she was imagining how good his hands might feel on her bare skin, and she had no room for any other thoughts. "S - so I'm finding out."

And then, she's suddenly bare, and she breathes out a gasp as she pushes her hair back and away from her face. "A - and now ... you?"

Cesare's eyes are unequivocally devouring the sight of her, his breath growing deep and rough with every time his eyes move over Margaret's body. He nearly misses her question, answering almost absently. "Me? Ah, yes."

He reaches out and puts the princess' hands on his waist, just above his trousers so she can pull at his shirt while he undoes the laces that make it as easy to pull up and away as her shift had been. Cesare starts unlacing his leggings next.

With every moment that passes that he doesn't take his eyes from her, Margaret can feel her cheeks grow redder and redder in response. But it must mean that he's pleased with her, or so she hopes. There are things that she doesn't like about her body - that no matter how hard she trains, she's still ... soft, scars from battles past - but he doesn't seem to notice, and it puts her at ease, even though she's completely naked and vulnerable before him.

Although it takes a moment for her to make her hands move, she does, working at pulling the shirt free so she can remove it. Her fingers brush against the skin of his stomach, and she knows now more than ever just how much she wants more.

He can't stop himself from looking. Far more than any other woman he's been with, it's very clear to Cesare that Margaret's body has stories to tell, and he is utterly fascinated by the possibilities.

Cesare brushes his hands over hers for a moment before unlacing his trousers, loosening them enough to make it easy for the princess to push them down. Once low enough, he kicks out of them, leaving them both naked in each others sight. He reaches out for Margaret and pulls her to him again for a kiss, his growing hardness trapped against her belly.

If he were so inclined to ask, she would not hesitate to share with him anything that he might like to know. And maybe, deep down, she is beginning to hope that that was not just a one-time dalliance.

Margaret shivers at the brief contact, barely able to keep from shaking as she does her best to help him remove his trousers. And she might glance at him, curious to see what he looks like bare in front of her, but soon, she meets his eyes once more in the moment before they come together in another kiss. "Will you be gentle? I have never known the touch of another - "

Cesare's hand rises to cup her face his thumb stroking gently over her cheek and her full lower lip. "I promise, I will make this night as comfortable and pleasing for you as I am able. All you need to do is say the word and we can stop."

Not that he wants to, and he suspects that Margaret is surely of the same mind, but he knows how important it is for her to know the choice is hers. Leaning in, his lips close over hers and Cesare slowly begins to guide her over and down to the bed.

Margaret might still be nervous, but the way that Cesare reassures her, that soft stroking of his finger against her cheek, the way that he traces her lips - it's easy to see that he could be gentle, and it's those gestures and the knowledge that she could tell him at any time to stop and he would - she breathes out, and shakes her head, wanting nothing more than to continue. "I don't want to stop."

She knows, and she appreciates having the choice to change her mind - other men wouldn't be so kind. She's glad that she's doing this with him. And she gasps into the kiss, but she doesn't stop moving, desperate to lie down, and to pull him with her, and to experience things that, thus far, she's only had the luxury to imagine in the moments when she is alone and needy.

Although the fire inside of him is already as warm as the one in the princess' hearth, Cesare knows that staying with her this night will be far more fulfilling than if he had left the Vatican to slake his thirst with some readily welcoming Roman. No, Margaret would satisfy much more than just his carnal desires, he believed.

Once Margaret was situated beside him on the bed, Cesare enveloped her with his arms, pulling her close to his body. His kisses were hungry and insistent, tasting her deeply. Below, their limbs began to tangle and wrap around one another, his length now and again grazing her center as they writhed together.

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