#hal smut

you loved Hal’s Green Lantern get up, and he knew it, which is why he was still ( almost ) fully clothed, the emerald attire sticking to each crevice and dip in his muscle pads like a second skin. the waistband of his suit is rolled down just enough to expose his package, and even though the play button is smack dab in the middle of the screen, it doesn’t fully obstruct the visage of his thick, hard cock lain against his belly. there’s a smirk on his paused face, and a dusky rose tint to the apples of his cheeks. Hal always could smolder with the best of them, and just a look would have you dropping your panties on command. even now, this still image of your man had your core getting slicker and more needy for him.

you couldn’t help yourself. glancing around, mostly cautious, you slip around to the corner furthest from the door, and press your back against the side of the employee fridge, before you pressed play. the video’s window overtakes your screen, and the very first second, your speakers are assaulted with a lustful moan from Hal. your cheeks heat up, and you scramble for the volume down button, hoping no one outside the door heard the noise. “I know you’re at work, baby girl,” he starts, low and slow, one thick palm rubbing up against his swollen cock. he sucks in a breath, before wrapping his fingers around it in a vice grip, squeezing until the pressure forces a grunt out of him, and he exhales in a shudder. “but I’m hoping you got the chance to sneak away and watch me for a minute.” Hal’s wearing such a shit-eating grin because he knows you will. he knows that you can’t resist the urge to watch him play with himself, even though you should be working. after a moment or two of silent stroking, his fingers dancing along the traces of the veins that bulge out against his flesh when he’s hard as a rock, and then he elicits a little chuckle, murmuring to the camera, “That’s my naughty girl. You just play a lil hooky and watch me stroke with my cock.”

you wanted to be mad. damn it all, you wanted to lock your phone and get back to work and not give him the satisfaction of watching his stupid, sexy video. just because you knew that he knew that you couldn’t resist the temptation. still, your would rather sever your own fingers before you would reach for the pause button.

Hal groans on screen, rolling his mop of unruly, tawny hair around on his shoulders, as his thumb traces the shape of his frenulum, and his tongue lists outward to wet his lips before he inhales, sharply. “I can’t stand bein’ away from you, baby girl,” and, of course, the classic Hal Jordan charm starts to come out. “So, I’m thinking about you being here with me. How I’d have you sitting pretty, right here between my knees—“ the camera shifts, gliding down until it was perched right where he says he wants you. you can almost imagine the constructs he’s using to give you such a perfect POV shot as the swirl from his power ring, and hold the camera steady at a height close to your own when you’re on your knees. Hal caresses the swollen, red tip of his cock, bracing the balls of his feet on the floor to push up a little with his hips, creating a hypnotic undulation akin to the rhythm he likes to fuck you to, only this time his cock glides through the entrance provided by his own palm, and he grunts in approval, the specter of a curse upon his parted lips. “You’d look so fucking pretty, like a little angel, waiting to give my cock a kiss.”

his voice was low and husky, just like you liked it, and when his hand slid down the thick column of his shaft, he used said grip to angle the tip closer to the lens, as if he were going to swipe it against your lips. you felt your stomach do a steep loop, and found your mouth watering. if you truly were there with him, it would’ve opened, and willingly accepted his girth for you to suck on, like you had so many times before.

“I miss your warm, wet mouth, baby…” Hal murmurs, his hazel eyes heavily lidded. “The way you take me in.” you could tell by the dreamy expression he wore that he was deep in his fantasy, seeing you there, sucking his cock. it deepened the red in his cheeks, and his lower lip curled in as his teeth sank into it, suppressing a loud moan into a sultry rumble in his chest as he pumped his cock. “You’re so good at sucking my cock, like those pretty lips were just made to wrap around me and blow…”

you felt warm all over, and soaked between the thighs. you couldn’t believe how erotic this was— huddled in the break room watching your man get off on video for you. your body was begging for attention, some way to relieve the pressure in your core, so you slipped a hand under the waistband of your uniform to press your first, two fingers against your pulsing button through your panties. it didn’t help. if anything, you only got hornier. if anyone were to walk in right now, you’d be beyond screwed. but, right now you didn’t care. all you cared about was rubbing against your cunny and the sounds Hal was making as he, too pleasured himself. “Oh, Hal…” you whispered, feeling the damp patch from your panties start to soak through and wet your fingers. you elicit a soft whimper, rubbing more fiercely, pressing your back to the fridge to keep yourself steady.

“Fuck,” Hal curses louder, hips bucking forward as he ruts into his own, slick hand in a greedy rhythm that could only mean one thing that he soon confirms, “I’m about to fucking cum for you, baby… you wanna watch me blow my load right now?” though you know he can’t see you, you can’t help but nod eagerly, your breath coming out in furious little puffs as you strum yourself. “Oh, fuck, here it comes, baby!”

Hal cumming has always been one of your favorite things to watch, especially times like this when you had a front row seat to the action. his whole body moves in an orchestra of pleasure, each muscle writhing and tightening beneath his flushed skin, especially his abdomen, which dances to the hurried rhythm of his ragged breathing. his hips rock forward as he eagerly chases his relief, and when caught, he erupts with a broken yowl of your name. translucent streamers celebrate his coming undone in spurts from his furiously red tip. the first shooting upward in a long, thin rope. the second has a significantly shorter arc, and the third, until he is squeezing just below the head, milking out the final, beading droplets, huffing and puffing, staring down at his own satisfied cock.

you were still playing with yourself, and had almost reached your own finish line when there’s a knock. for a moment, your heartbeat thunders against your ribs, and it takes you several, breathless seconds to realize that it was coming from the video. a deep, booming voice then calls out to your lover. “Hey, Jordan! Let’s go!” Hal flashes the camera a sheepish grin, one so cute that you nearly croon.

the inside of you was bliss, and he made sure to tell you so, with a rumbling moan and his head tilted back.

but then your phone rang.

“Don’t answer that,” he’d mumbled, gripping your hips tighter, pulling you flush against his groin. and you’d mewled, but insisted you had to. you couldn’t stop talking to your friends the whole time your mom was away, things would start to seem suspicious. besides, you insisted that it would be five minutes, tops.

he could wait five minutes, couldn’t he?

except five came and went. then ten, then fifteen. he was trying not to count each sixty second interval, and instead, stared at the game on the television. he hadn’t been paying attention; when did the other team go up two points?

you were sitting flush against his lap, your belly full of his cock, and he wanted so desperately to bounce you up and down, use your body to get himself off. he was hard and aching for you, and he could hear your friend on the other line, talking a mile a minute. “Just shut up already…” he was grumbling under his breath, his palms laying against the flare of your hips; he eases you up, and slides you back down. your breath catches in your throat, and you slow down to a torturously slow grind, to keep yourself from moaning out loud. you flash him a glance, one that was warning that if he tried that again, you’d not be able to keep yourself quiet— and no matter how impatient he was, he didn’t want your friends finding out that you were his favorite, little plaything.

“What?” you perk up, placing one hand on his chest, “Green Lantern? You saw him? Where?”

Hal’s brow quirked— how was that possible, when he was sprawled in his living room, fucking his stepdaughter?

for a moment, your eyes were sparkling with excitement, and Hal feared you’d leap right out of his lap and sprint out the door, but all of that disappeared after your friend explained, “Oh.” you mumble, half flat, and trace circles over Hal’s chest with your fingertip. “No, it’s not the same at all. Because he’s not the Green Lantern!” you argue, and Hal strains, leaning forward to press a barrage of pecks to the side of your neck, partially to rush you off the phone, but also to hear what they were saying on the other line.

“— Green Lantern. Guy is better, even. He doesn’t hide who he is.”

Hal’s teeth grind. Guy fucking Gardner. a pain in the ass in the Corps, and now here he was, ruining the moment Hal was sharing with you. he couldn’t help the way his fingertips dig deeper against your supple flesh, pulling you tighter against him, while his hips buck forward to jab at your guts. your eyes widen, a shallow gasp escaping, but you clamp your hand over your mouth to kill a whimper before it seeps out, and your back arches in subservience to his aggressive move. he didn’t want you to think about Guy Gardner right now, or even Green Lantern, he wanted you to think about Hal, the man that was deep in your cunt.

“Guy Gardner is just— some dude with a green ring, besides the fact that he’s a total jackass, always bragging on the news. The real Green Lantern would never do that—” you breathe out after a moment, and your hand falls to grip Hal’s shoulders, trying to bring him back down so you could finish your conversation, but when his head dips, and he draws your breast into his mouth to suckle and nip, you knew he wasn’t going to wait anymore. his fingers interlocking at the small of your back tells you that he’s about ready to pound you out, and he no longer cares if your friend hears it. “C—can I call you back, actually?” you blurt out, interrupting your friend’s rebuttal, “I— I gotta go, okay? Yeah, love you bye!”

and just in time, too, because as soon as your trembling thumb pressed the red end call button, Hal was bouncing you up and down. being manhandled this way coaxed a swoon from your parted lips as your head drops back, and the phone slips from your fingers, forgotten on the couch. “Fuck, daddy! You’re gonna— get me in trouble—“

but Hal was smirking against your chest, tongue swirling around your hardened bud as he releases it from his mouth and traced his name with the tip of his velvety muscle over it— you could feel how deep his lovebites were, and you knew you’d be covered in marks. no low cut tops for a while, you supposed. “You said five minutes.” he replies, “I don’t like being lied to, Minx.”

your back arches, hips oscillating to meet his hips halfway, slamming yourself against his groin as if to apologize, “Sorry, daddy,” you whine over his sordid moaning— he’d settled back down in the chair, relaxing to let you do the work instead, and his pearly white teeth sink into his plump lower lip as he allows a ragged slew of pleasured obscenities to drip from his mouth. watching you ride would’ve been apologies enough for him, to see the way your brows knit together and your mouth hangs open in awe, to watch you plant your palms on his thighs and lean back, grinding each time he slides in deep.

“Uhhuh…” Hal mumbles, only half listening. he was too busy enjoying the view; one hand splaying across your lower back to support you whilst the other snakes around. it grabs at both of your breasts, rubs along the little ripple in your belly where his cock head barely poked out.

“Can you believe what she said, though? She told me she saw the Green Lantern right here in our town,”

“Minx…”

“But it was just Guy Gardner. Seriously? They can’t be calling him the Green Lantern, he’s just… Guy Gardner.”

You raise one brow. You had never held your tongue on Hal’s Kingly decisions, in fact, you had made a point of actively disagreeing with him because; ‘Who else can speak the truth but a Queen—a woman from the lands you rule? Who else would speak for the people?’ Still, you humor your husband when he's in this state, if you don't he'll worry himself into an early death. “I will speak to you as if you aren't my King .” You pause, carefully pulling another thread through your embroidery, “But, if you aren't my King. You are my husband, do you understand that?”

Hal shoots you a rather dry look that makes your lips pull up into a smile. It takes less than a second for that look to drop and he scoffs out a laugh. “Yes, well… Pretend I'm not. Pretend for a moment this is the first time we're meeting–”

“Where are we meeting?” You interrupt. “If this is truly the first time we are meeting, it would be horribly improper for us to be in a bedroom alone together.”

Hal falters, eyeing you oddly before shaking his head. “We are at a tavern and… you are a noble lady. Not a Queen, maybe the daughter of a Duke or Marquess and I'm a…. An earl..?”

You nod for him to continue and he clears his throat. He moves closer to you, pushing your legs up till they curl towards your chest with your embroidery balanced on top. “I sit next to you and–”

“Offer to buy me a drink, of course.”

Hal sinks into the bed, groaning. “My love, this is serious.”

“It is ‘My Lady’ to you, sir.” You say in mock offense. “Honestly, men these days think they can talk to women any type of way because they have a lick of pow–”

“My Lady, you must forgive me.” He interrupts softly, finally giving in. His hand falls on your clothed calf. “My mind has been plagued with… traitorous thoughts. Please, allow me to buy you a drink to make up for my grievance.”

Your eyes linger on his hand for a moment before you look back up to him with a tight smile— Hal's hand briefly grips your calf and you cough. “Right… it's the least you can do. Might as well tell me your thoughts while you're at it– Heavens forbid you stomp off to bother some other poor girl about it.”

Hal only lets out a long, purring hum. Then, delicate as he always is with you and your belongings– he pulls the embroidery from your knees and places it on the night table by your bed. You open your mouth to protest but Hal swoops in to grab your hand and places a gentle kiss against your flesh. “Heaven forbid I bother anyone but you.”

“Do not forget yourself, sir.” You manage to whisper, your pulse fluttering at his gesture. It is easy to forget that before he was your husband before he was your King— Hal was the son not meant for the throne. He was left to do whatever he pleased and he fell into plenty of beds before he fell into yours. Putting him in a tavern and taking away his title— even if it's just pretending, it was like letting a lion loose in a chicken coop. Dangerous, stupid and above all else—

“Forgive me, My lady.” He murmurs in reply, he looks up at you from his eyelashes. His eyes are warm yet dark— swimming with intentions not lost to you.

It's an easy death. To fall to the claws of the lion. You clear your throat once more and pull your hand away from him and to your chest, “Get on with it then. Tell me your woes so I can ease your spirit.”

“I fear the people closest to me are conspiring against me.” His voice is a deathly whisper as he leans closer to you, intruding in your space as he risks a glance around the room— you would be a fool to think that's an act of paranoia when the servants traveled between walls. While they might not have eyes, the walls always listen. Hal continues, “I believe… I believe they wish to trick me into a wa– a feud… I do not want.”

Your brows dip in shock, the pleasant fluttering in your chest turns into a thundering gallop as you process his words. A war? The English empire could not afford a war— they would not benefit from it, win or lose. “What started these… these fears?”

“Whispers, originally.” He admits slowly, finally looking away from you in thought. “Then, conversations overheard– for weeks, I've overheard things… servants sworn to secrecy to hide threats from me by men I thought I could trust.” His hands clench and unclench in his lap, his eyes unfocused as he recalls the events but he leans into you — invading your space just to feel you, uncaring if that means your knees dig into his side. You are a grounding source for the man and he has lost his footing. “At first I was so… angry. Livid. How dare they keep these things from me when I am their Kin– Earl. When I am their Earl. It would ruin me, you see– these whisperings of name-calling like children, threats of assassination–”

Your breath hitches and Hal is quick to rearrange himself— he turns and pulls you into his lap. It's clumsy, both your knees knock together and your sleeping gown bunches awkwardly but trips your pounding heart up. Your fingers clench at the front of his shirt and you open your mouth in shock. You try to find the right words but they all escape you. You could know all the languages in the world, both dead and living, but nothing can put the sudden fear you feel into words. “Hal–”

“Forgive me.” He interrupts, “Forgive me.” He pleads, “I do not wish to worry you, My lady. You know this.”

“I am your wife.” You hiss. “You can not tell me whispers of assassination and– and–”

“Oh, so you are my wife, now?” He muses. “I was under the assumption we have never met before.”

“Henry, this is serious.”

“‘Honestly, women these days get a lick of power and–’” He has the nerve to laugh when you bat at his chest. There's no power behind the hits, more taps than anything and he grabs your hand and brings it to his lips once more when you try to hit him again. “Forgive me, My Love. I couldn't help but tease.”

“This is not a teasing matter.”

“You are right… as always, my love. But there is more.” He lets your hand drop and instead runs a hand through his hair. “I believe… I am meant to hear these conversations. That this is all a ploy to trick me into fighting – funding a war. I am no fool, love, I know the gold I'd put into this war would go into the pockets of the most undeserving.”

He looks at you, really looks at you. His eyes swimming in a fear you've only seen once. It was a time before he was King when the death of his brother was still fresh and the King's illness still deadly— he had pulled you aside and spoken to you plainly, spoke to you truly. ‘I will not pretend I am holy, that I am not a boy. That I am not lost and unneeding of guidance– I stand before you today, with all the manhood I can summon and ask you to guide me. Lead me, love me in a way most holy. In a way, only you can do.’

In his gaze now, you find the same plea. The same trust; Lead me. Guide me. Your hands shake as you raise them to cup his face and if he notices, he does not say. He leans into your touch, eyes falling shut as he releases a deep breath— you hesitate a moment before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. He tries to chase it but you turn your head just slightly to speak, “You wish for my truth?”

“I wouldn't wish for anything else.” He replies, leaning forward for another kiss. You allow it with a hum, your fingers pulling at the ends of his hair. Hal groans into the kiss and tries to tip forward and pin you to the bed completely but you squirm.

“Hal– control yourself for two seconds.” You curse when he succeeds in pinning you to the bed— again, the positioning is still a bit awkward. Your legs are dangling off the bed and he presses into your hip but it doesn't seem to bother him as he presses a kiss to your neck and tries to trail downward. “Henry.”

“I am listening.” He murmurs against your neck and you scoff.

“If this is about the King of France sending you a ball–” His teeth sink into your neck without warning — without the gentleness, he'd usually have for you and you squeal, bucking and pushing him away from you. “Goddamnit, Hal!”

“Forgive me.” He says. Forgive me and not sorry because, well he isn't. Even as he watches you rub at the bitten skin with a frown, he can't summon the pity he should have. Was it stupid of him? Of course, but to hear you mention another man in bed while he was sweetening you up was an unforgivable sin in his eyes. Then he blinks, his mind clearing from the momentary blast of lust he frowns, realizing that; Christ. He was the one to bring it up in the first place. He says your name, sings it in a soft remorseful tone— “I’m–”

You hold your hand up to silence him, your brows drawn right in annoyance. “Listen to me because I will only say this once.” He falls silent and you pull your hand from your neck to pin him with a look. “You took him sending you a ball as him calling you a child. A boy King. A fear you seldom tell me– tell me, husband. Who else knows of this fear?”

“Sir John, of course. He is my most trusted man, you know this.”

John Falstaff is a man that would rather die than go against Hal, let alone arrange a plot to trick him into war. He has known Hal since he was truly a boy, he's more of a father than the late King was to him and most of all, Hal trusts him with his life, with your life. It's implausible but is it impossible? You nod your head sharply, hoping to shake that thought loose from your head. You trust John, Hal trusts John. That has to be enough for now.

“And?” You urge, your voice is tight. “Did you share this fear with anyone else?”

“You and…” His voice trails off, his brows pinching as his lips pull into a thin frown. “...Sir William.”

You try to speak again but Hal pushes to his feet with a loud scoff, your heart lurches as you jostle and fall to the bed— your hand just barely catching the end of his night sleeve. “Hal, come back to bed.”

“I can not.” He forces out, trying to shake your hand free from him. You only hold on tighter and it makes his eyes roll. “I must speak with him.”

“And what? Accuse him of unfounded nonsense?”

Hal tenses, whirling on you as quick as lightning and it rips your hand from him. His hackles raised as he pins you with a molten glare, “You believe I speak such? That all of this is a lie I conjured in my head?”

“Did I say that?” Your voice comes out quick, and loud snapping at him even without meaning. The both of you flinch, you're quicker to recover with a shake of your head. “You asked me to speak plainly– do not get mad at me when I do. I only implied if you speak to him now, you will have no evidence but these whispers you were meant to overhear.”

You and Hal stare each other down— waiting for the one who will turn belly up first, for the other to apologize. It's too bad, you think as he finally sighs, anger melting from his face and replaced with a sad look that makes you want to coddle him. He turns his head to look away and bares his neck to you and that's how you know you won, as usual. I am never wrong.

“I am sorry.”

“I know.”

“And… you're right.”

You give him a look as he settles back on the bed— well, he settles more so on you than the bed, pinning you to the bed with his whole body, his face nuzzling against your neck. Your hand cards through his hair and you sigh, relenting. “I know.” You pause for only a moment, “If you think you are being made a fool, remind the jester who's court this is. Who's castle he stands in.”

Hal hums, “And how will I do that?”

“Well…”

↓↓↓

“I believe this is idiotic.”

Neither you nor Hal looks in the direction of the irritated whisper. Your eyes stay solely on the large oak doors, an empty smile on your face as your eye twitches. Hal smoothes a hand down the side of your gown— you don't know if it caught the twitch but if it did he doesn't voice it as he inclines his head in the direction of the voice.

“Yes, you have said that multiple times now.”

Sir William shifts foot to foot, his face twisting with displeasure. “Your Majesty, I do not know who suggested this moronic idea but they clearly wish you unwell and the Kingdom.”

Hal snorts, his hand still running up and down your arm as he looks back to you, leaning into your little personal bubble. “Is that true, Love? Do you wish unwellness upon me?”

“Apparently.” You drawl, fighting back the urge to smile as his nose ghosts the cusp of your ear.

“And my Kingdom? Do you wish for madness and unrest?”

“Of course,” Your voice keeps the same dry tone as you finally pull your eyes away from the door. Your eyes land on Hal briefly before flickering to Sit William where he stands pale in the face. “As Sir William said, I want nothing but the worst for you.”

Somehow, the man gets paler. “My lad–”

“Your Majesty.” Hal corrects quickly, his voice hard. “Do remember your place, William. Her prior standing no longer matters when she stands before you as your Queen now.”

William audibly gulps and the sound is enough to make you smile— a smile you have to hide because it would be highly inappropriate of a Queen to find joy in her people's sufferings…. No matter how annoying said people are. “I mean no disrespect–”

“And yet, you continue to address me instead of her. My patience is wearing thin, William.”

William turns back to you, looking forcibly apologetic, “Your Majesty–”

There is a saying you heard long ago when you were a barmaid haggling patrons about their unpaid tab. Saved by the (church) bell(s). When penniless men and women would scuttle off to church at the sounding of its bells— false promises would fall from their tongues, followed by some type of comment about the Lord. ‘I’d pay you, lassie, I would but– the Lord calls my service and it would be a sin not to give him my coin first.’ You would always wave them off with a smile but the annoyance lingered. What a load of horseshit. Now, as the doors slowly swing open, you can't help but think of the saying. William, the git, is saved by the bell— or rather, the giant oak doors opening and revealing the King of France and his family.

You pretend you don't see the man sag in relief as Hal slaps a practiced grin of happiness on his face as he greets the king.

It's easy to let your mind go blank then— to fall into the role of the Queen of England and not…you. You offer smiles and nods, and half-hearted hums of acknowledgment— these people are not here for you despite it being your idea to invite them. They're here for your husband, for peace and to settle the growing tension between two nations. So it is a surprise— for everyone, might you add— when the Prince of France bows and pulls your hand to his lips.

The silence in the hall is staggering and you're sent blinking rapidly as the man pulls away. You chance a glance at Hal and see his lips have thinned in subtle annoyance. “I have heard stories of…of your beauty. But stories do not compare to the real thing, no?”

He lets your hand go gently, allowing it to fall back to your side as he resituates himself. Once he's standing tall and proud, he tucks a single strand of blonde hair behind his ear. “I am the Dauphin of France, your majesty.”

Summoning the composure that was so quickly snatched away from you, you plaster that same sickly sweet smile on your face and take a step away from the prince— it makes his brow twitch just slightly but you feel the heat of Hal's body behind you and ignore the action. “Ah… The eldest. A pleasure…?”

“Louis,” Hal says before the prince can. His voice is flat but strong, “Prince Louis and his sister, Princess Katherine.”

At the mention of her name, your eyes flicker over to the girl no older than you and Hal. Her pretty face is framed by the same shade of blond that floats wildly around the prince's head. For a moment, a mere second really, her face is twisted with annoyance as she glares at her brother but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared and she nods to you, curtsying with a grace that took you months to perfect.

“Your majesty.” Is all, she thankfully, says. You smile and curtsy in response before stepping away from your husband and around the prince— his brow gives that subtle twitch once again— and hook arms with the girl. She sputters, her accent thick but you're already turning back towards the grand oak doors and pulling her along. “Where are we–?”

“We will be doing anything but standing here, my friend.” You grin, you glance back at Hal who's already staring after you with a sweet fondness that warms your insides. “Send a servant for us when lunch is ready, won't you?”

Both the King and Prince blink hard at the order and Sir William bristles but your husband only laughs, nodding. “Of course, my love. Do have fun.”

↓↓↓

Princess Katherine was nothing short of a delight once she left the company of her family. She had laughed and joked with you as if the two of you had known each other for years and showed a genuine interest in your upbringing. Hal had broken more than several rules and standards to get you by his side, a fact, his court of old stuck-up nobles threw in your face regularly— But Katherine had called it an act of love she's only ever read about. She had told you in a stage whisper, about how she reacted when the news first reached France about your union. How she had thought it was a joke.

“But it wasn't,” She had said. “Your love is pure and true. I see it now, in the way he looks at you. It is truly the thing of fairy tales.”

You had tried to wave her off from the subject but she remained steadfast, her firm voice reminding you so much of your beloved husband and King. “I do not know why the King wished for us to be here but if it meant getting to meet you, I would not mind crossing the sea several times over.”

The two of you weren't… friends. Not yet, but it was a friendship you'd hope to build. Your walk back to your chambers was filled with an innocent cheer and bounce to your step — you had, had a good day. With her, during lunch where the Prince made it his mission to get you to speak more than two sentences to him, and at dinner, where you laughed with the King. Your day was so great in fact, it had slipped your mind that it was possible that Hal may have had a horrible one.

Though, you don't get the chance to think about it because as soon as you slip into your chambers, you see him lying face down on your shared bed.

You hum in a way of announcing yourself before shutting the door behind you and shedding your clothes as you make your way towards your dress. There's a brief shuffling behind you and you look, only to see that he has now shoved a pillow over his head. Smiling, you ask, “Can you breathe under there?”

He grunts.

Laughing now, you chose to wander closer to the man still bare of any nightclothes. Your hand brushes along the length of his calf, stopping to squeeze the cusp of his thigh. He shifts then, turning over to stare at you— but as quickly as his gaze settles on your face, they sink to take in the nakedness of your body. Where he'd usually smile at the sight of you in all your glory, he only frowns; a gentle hand raising to wisp over the slope of your breast and settling on the plane of your stomach. “Hal?” You start, your other hand raising to cup your own, “Is something troubling you?”

“The King did not send me the ball.”

Your eyes search his face— waiting for him to continue, to give you something other than a crumb to lead on but his lips do not part again. Instead, he keeps his eyes on your belly, his thumb rubbing a steady circle into your flesh. It pulls a shiver from you as you ask, “But that's not what's troubling you, is it?”

He lets a hum of agreement leave him before he shifts again. He throws his legs off the side of the bed and shuffles closer to you— pulling you between his legs. You go easily, willingly as he presses a kiss to the underside of your breast. He does this twice for each, then he trails down, heated kisses stop just above your pubic bone as he glances up at your squirming form. “I do not like the Prince.”

“You do not like many people.” You try to tease and he again hums in agreement. His arms settle on your hips and his hands on your ass— tracing faint patterns on your skin. “But, please, tell me what the Prince did to earn your discontent.”

Hal takes several moments to answer you, and you allow it— basking in the gentle affection he seemed dead set on showering you with. His kisses slowly begin to turn into gentle nips, opened mouth kisses turn into latching and darkening skin between his lips and teeth, and, the gentle brush of his hands on your body turns into an incessant kneading that leaves you panting. “Hal,” you whine, your knees knocking together as he pulls you closer to his body. “Henry.”

“I’m working.” He says, his voice muffled as he drags his lips to your breasts. He goes to latch onto your nipple but you jerk away from it and he groans, snapping his teeth almost playfully.

“You are not working.”

“I am working.” He persists, one of his hands leaves your ass in favor of dipping between your legs and you whine— bucking against the fingers that slip effortlessly past your folds. Hal preens at the sight of sound, “Working on getting you nice and wet for me. Seems I have what I want.”

His fingers slip inside you with little resistance and his thumb settles against your throbbing clit. He presses against the bundle of nerves at the same time he curls his fingers, smiling brightly when you moan out his name. “Yes?”

“You are being mean.” You whisper and he has the nerve to nod, a faux look of sadness settling on his face.

“I’m downright cruel.” He agrees his voice as soft as yours as he continues to pump his fingers into you. “But for you, I'd do worse. I'd tear the world apart for you.” He pants, his other hand snaking around your neck to pull you into a desperate kiss, he pulls away— his face deathly serious even as you whine for him. “I’d tear him apart for you.” He swears.

You clench around his fingers at the promise— your mind already too far gone to think about who this mysterious 'he' is but the feeling has him smiling as you fuck yourself against the pattern his fingers set. His name leaves your mouth in soft chants— Hal knows it's impossible, but he hopes the windy halls carry the sound of him pleasuring you all the way to the prince's chambers. Hal was never a saint, never one to boast about what he could do in bed— most nights of passion were spent pinning you to the bed, muffling your sounds with kisses and his hand. Your sounds were usually, only for him. Your husband, your King. But that same childish insecurity—jealousy had flared something vicious today.

It was clear to see if The King of France did not see Hal as a boy King, his son did.

A son that became starry-eyed at the sight of you. A Prince that had felt the need to comment on your body the moment you disappeared with his sister. A nuisance that had uttered something so… so…horrible, Hal had spent his dinner in silence letting you entertain both the King and Princess with humorous stories in order not to leap across the table and strangle the Dauphin.

‘Surely, a woman like her would bear good heirs. Have you not humped her good enough, my lord?”

Heirs. Heirs. It was a topic that never came up between the two of you — though, it was an unspoken rule of sorts. Hal knew that one day, his and your offspring would be the ones to continue the English Empire. He knows that you don't hate kids, in fact, you adore them. He remembers the months before your courtship hearing you go on and on about having one.

And yet, the conversation of children of your own never came up. Why hasn't it come up?

“Hal… need you.”

He blinks out his thoughts, falling back into the feeling of you around his fingers — the taste of you in the air. “You have me.”

You shake your head rapidly, disagreeing with him as your breath quickens. You're jerking away from his fingers now, trying to run from the pleasure he's freely offering. “Inside me, Hal. I want to…I want you…”

If he wasn't hard already, that sentence alone would have done the trick. He pulls his fingers from you, slipping them into his mouth as he stands— making you stumble back, you nearly fall but Hal is quick to catch and turn you so you fall back against the bed. He licks his fingers clean and smiles at you before dropping between your legs. “No, Hal.” You protest, pushing his head away before he can get any closer to your cunt, “We don't have to tonight.”

“I want to.” He argues. “Need to taste you.”

“Suck on your fingers some more.” You say. Smiling when he scoffs, “Or you can tell me what the Prince did.”

His face darkens. You're once again committing that same unforgivable sin. You aren't giving a warning as one hand pushes yours away and the other comes crashing down directly on your clit.

For a moment, you're seeing stars as a curse sharply leaves you— your back arches off of the bed and directly into another strike of his palm against your cunt. “Fuck–” Your voice jumps an octave as he delivers another blow, but this time he keeps his palm there applying pressure as he grinds his hand against your clit. Your mouth hangs open as the pleasure rapidly builds, the band in your belly coiling — pulling tighter and tighter. Your hand darts down to…to delay him maybe, your original goal had been to get him inside you. For the both of you to achieve pleasure at relatively the same time but that plan had gone to shit and Hal merely bats your hand away. You're right there, so close to teetering off the edge and plummeting headfirst into your pleasure, if he would just—!

Hal pulls hand away. A sob of pure frustration tears through you, your body jerking— writhing at the loss of pleasure as he returns his fingers to his mouth once more, sucking them. “Taste good,” He says, “Taste better if you'd stop mentioning other men when I'm about to hump you.”

“Hump me?” You echo, your voice airy as your brow dips in confusion. Hump you? Surely there were better ways to say it. Hell, Hal had found better ways to say it time and time before— hump you? When had he become so primal about it? Where is the man who'd make love to you till tears leaked from your eyes, till your voice was raw from pleasure? Hump you? What are you, an animal? A bitch in heat, ready for pups? Your eyes narrow as Hal shakes himself free his trousers, letting his erection spring free and slap against his stomach. He tries to get closer to you but you kick your leg out, keeping him at bay as you repeat, “Hump me?”

Hal’s hand hooks on your ankle and yanks you closer to him, you're halfway hanging off the bed as he takes his cock and rubs it through your folds. “Yes, is there a problem–?”

“No.”

Hal blinks, looking away from your cunt to take in the sour look on your face. In seconds, whatever persona he had been putting up falls and you're looking at your husband again— your confused and hard husband. “No?”

“No.” You confirm, Hal nods slowly and tries to pull away from you but you shift, wrapping your legs around his waist and pull him closer. Your arms reach out to loop around his neck and you pull him down to press a soft kiss on his lips. “You may not hump me. But you may make love to me as a husband would to a wife and not a King to his subject.”

His eyes flutter close, a look of shame passing over his face. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs, kissing you again. “I became lost in my head and wasn't treating you fairly.”

“No. You weren't.” You agree, smiling into the kiss. You shift against him till you feel his cock press against your cunt and roll your hips down to only take the barest inch of him in. It leaves the both of you gasping into another kiss and just as Hal slips his tongue into your mouth you pull away. “Tell me what's bothering you.”

Hal pushes more of himself into you, grunting as you clench around him. “Later.” He mutters, “I’ll tell you later.”

“You’ll tell me now if you don't want to finish in your own hand tonight.”

Hal groans, his eyes rolling in both pleasure and annoyance as he fully sheathes himself inside you. He allows you a few moments to adjust, taking in your expression as your arms go lack letting him lean away to look down at you. His hand ghosts down the plane of your torso, stopping at your stomach once more. Then he says, “The Prince wishes to hump you.”

It's like the words instantly dry you, your face twisting in disgust as you picture the blond Prince. “What?”

“He wishes to pump you with his seed and have french pups with you.” He continues, his voice flat. “He questioned why we didn't have heirs. How could I let a woman like you walk around with her womb empty.”

Your mind is reeling. That french bastard, how dare he speak of you that way? Especially to your husband out of all people— You're ready to push yourself up and redress yourself just to storm down there and give you a piece of your mind then have him thrown out of the castle. Make him stay in the stables if he wishes to act like an animal.

“Stop thinking about him when I have my cock in you.”

“Are you really saying that to me when his words got you this far?” You snap, “Hump me? Are you serious, Hal?”

He frowns, looking away from you. “I’m sorry.”

“Is that what you intend to do tonight? Pump me full of your seed? To make heirs?” Your voice is tight but it doesn't stop the way Hal twitches inside you at your words. “Do not make me a mother because another man played on your insecurities. Make me a mother because you want to. Make me a mother when you're ready to have kids.”

He doesn't look at you, his bottom lip now pulled between his teeth. “Hal,” You call and he turns his head, finally looking at you. “You must tell me what you want because I can read your mind.”

“I do. Want children with you, I mean.” He takes a breath and rolls his hips into you and chokes slightly when you tighten around him. “But not now, not when that french bastard is still in the castle. I don't wish for our firstborn to be born out of petty jealousy.”

You smile up at him, your whole body warm at the revelation. Your arms hook around his neck once more— the movement lets his hips roll into you again, setting a steady pace as your lips meet again, and again and again. Your tongue dances across his and he moans into your kiss, your fingers dance across his scalp as hips snap up and grind against your clit. Your gasp is swallowed by him and for a moment, he grins. “Ride me?”

“I need to walk tom-oh-rrow–” A whine leaves you as he picks up the pace of his hips, your fingers clutching to the strands of his hair. It only makes his grin brighten. “Hal–”

“If we continue in this position, I swear to you we'll have a child whether we're ready for it or not.”

“You're cr–”

“Cruel, I know, love. Now brace yourself.” Despite saying it, he doesn't give you time to do so before your body is pulled upwards and he slides under you. No words are exchanged as he resheathes himself in you, a hand on your hip to set a rapid pace while the other rests against your pubic bone, his thumb against your clit. “Atta girl,” He finally moans as your rut against him, your bed shakes and steady; twack, twack, twack, sound amongst your moans at the headboard hits the wall. “Christ, you take me so well.”

You tighten around him at his words, your pace faltering as the band quickly retightens itself, coiling rapidly as Hal fucks up into you. “Hal, I'm close.”

“Me too.” He pants, “Just a little more, just a little mor–” His voice chokes off and his back arches, he's quick to raise you from his cock, letting his seed splash against your cunt. You think for a moment he forgot about you but he drags his fingers through his spend — finding your clit and rubbing it at a rapid pace. Your body goes limp, but he holds you steady as you cum, a moan of his name and your fingernails indented into his arm.

“Next time,” He starts, still panting as he presses a kiss to your forehead as you tremble, coming down from your high. “Next time, I'll fuck you. I'll do it so good you'll be with a babe without a doubt.”

The other prince’s eyes shouldn’t have been on me, but they were. Hal sat there with intense pride. He knew I was more beautiful, more sensual, more well endowed than any of their wives or concubines.

“Isn’t she a beauty?” Hal asked of them. They sipped their wine with narrowed eyes. While they looked on, Hal attached his lips to my throat.

“Mmmmm,” I whined. He smirked and let his teeth graze my skin. He adored how verbal I was.

Now his long deft fingers played with my laced up corset. He pulled at the strings, undoing them slowly so that everyone saw.

“Henry, what do you play at?” Ground out an older prince.

“It’s nice to see pretty little things isn’t it? And what is prettier than my Queen?” He asked plainly.

My corset was now completely undone. I huffed out a breath of relief. Then, Hal pulled down my top with a quick yank. My tits fell out of my top. I nearly squeaked.

“Look at these,” he chuckled.

He comforted me with praises while he touched me. He was bragging as my plump breast and sensitive, swollen, nipples were touched.

I made absolutely pitiful sounds. He knew stimulation to my nipples always made me sensitive.

He massaged handfuls of flesh as he bragged to the other Prince’s. I knew some sent us dirty looks of jealousy, while some shamelessly touched their own bodies. Young and old men all gazing at my exposure.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured in my ear. I leaned back into him further as one of his hands dropped to my thigh. I writhed, and I heard a dark chuckle from his chest.

A spark, no, a flame was beginning inside me. His fingers pressed to my bundle of nerves. My cunt wept into my skirt, creating a wet patch.

I laid back against him, head on his shoulder. He kissed my temple as he kept up his ministrations. Was it minutes or hours of worship? I did not know, but when I opened my eyes all the men around me were touching themselves.

So many cocks were out. Wet sounds of lust filled the room. All I cared about was the voice in my ear and the way Henry touched the apex of my thighs and my sensitive nipples.

“Hal, I’m going to-“ my hips bucked up, cutting me off. I felt him hard underneath me. I was absolutely trembling as I neared release. I loved being on display, his play thing in front of so many people.

“My king,” I panted desperately. “May I come?”

“Come for me angel girl, show them how wet a queen gets,” he murmured in my ear. His fingers were deep and curling inside me. I was drenched at my core. The hardened buds on my breasts were swollen more than they ever had been.

I came like lightning had struck me. My peak was sharp and delicious and ran through me like lapping flames. The most lewd noises and begging exited my mouth.

“Hal, oh Henry, my king, my GOD!” I exclaimed, praising him like a real deity. He was all and everything.

“That’s my girl,” he praised.

After the pleasure ebbed a little he continued to pet my nipples. The scent of me permeated the air, but there was more too.

“Look around,” Hal whispered.

I realised I’d closed my eyes in bliss. I opened them and looked as he demanded. Many of the men had soiled their garments with semen, so many exploding from watching me.

“Not all of them finished sweet girl. Let’s go again Angel, and see how many of those sweet noises it takes from you to get them all there.”

He began to touch me again. This would be a long, wonderful night.

“You did it again!” Hal snarled and slammed his fist against the wall. I stood tall, but drops of fearful perspiration trickled down my back.

“You aren’t my Queen, but-“

“Exactly!” I screamed. “You say you treasure me, say I am worth more to you than diamonds, and yet I am not your Queen.”

“For the last time my marriage was ARRANGED!” He bellowed.

“You still fuck her,” I shot back. “Am I not enough? You said my body lights a fire inside you like no other. You promise your emissions never felt so good, that you have never felt so pleasured. Yet, none of it is enough to have you give her up.”

“She is my wife. She is the Queen. The kingdom, the nobles, they want an heir. A child by you would be less legitimate,” he barked. Again he wailed against the wall. His fist was a bit bloody now. He didn’t seem to care.

“Because I am only your mistress, I am free to engage in a dalliance,” I said with as much courage as I could muster.

Hal’s gaze whipped toward me. His normally emerald eyes flickered with orange from the fire behind him. He looked murderous.

He had to know I’d try something like this after he’d spent a week without sending for me. There had been a time when he called for me everyday. Sometimes, he’d reached out for me more than once a day. He would soothe his savage rage by ravaging my pussy. Since he’d stayed quiet, I’d got loud. Loud while I flirting with the visiting Duke where Hal could hear and see.

“Free?” He chuckled. “You’re nothing of the sort. You’re trapped. You’re stuck, because you’re in love with me.”

“I-I am,” I agreed with a gulp. He walked closer to me slowly. Every step sent a thrill through me. How many times had I fantasied about this happening? What would he say? Would he claim me completely.

“Oh my girl,” he crooned in a deep voice. He grabbed my jaw hard, but then his long fingers gently dragged down my throat.

“I know,” he said mockingly. I felt my soul flutter away. I was a ghost suddenly. I choked and my dreams and wishes were sucked from me. I could see him absorbing them, breathing them in like my disappointment fed him.

“A-and, how do you feel about me?” I asked timidly. I had no more confidence. This was not going as planned.

“I despise you,” he whispered in a voice was that was like sweet but suffocating smoke.

“What?” I gasped.

He grabbed me roughly then. He picked me up none up too gently and he threw me on his bed. He pulled up my dress to whip his hand across my bare ass.

“Not wearing panties I see. I know that isn’t for the Duke’s benefit,” he said with an inflated ego. How was this so easy for him?

“Say you want it,” he taunted as he squeezed my ass so hard I knew bruises would be left. The tip of his dip was close to my soaking entrance.

“I-“

“Say you want this big cock inside you, even though I don’t return one speck of your love,” he chuckled.

I couldn’t lie to my king.

“I want it,” I whispered.

He slammed home. He was pumping inside me in a way that made me know tomorrow I was would be sore. His fingers bit into my hips. He went so hard and fast I worried he’d hit my cervix, and I knew he wouldn’t care.

“Oh, oh, fuck! Oh holy hell!” I screamed.

“You’re just a fucking lowly whore. I have nothing but disrespect for you, so why do you love this?” He asked me. His voice was so mocking that tears nearly picked my eyes.

His hand whipped across my backside. I bit my lip as my eyes rolled back into my head. He grabbed my wrists so he could thrust himself deeper and pulled me toward him. His hips slapped my ass loudly.

“That’s for being disrespectful,” he snapped. Something seemed to awaken in him. Maybe he finally felt the gravity of something he owned trying to bed another. I could hear the anger in his voice.

He grabbed my hair and pulled me back. His teeth sunk into my neck and I whined desperately. My dress clung to my body with sweat.

Hal was heaving. His breath sounded ragged and mad. He made a wild jerk to the side. Suddenly, he had his knife. He held it to my throat and gave a throaty laugh.

He dragged the knife down the front of my dress. I squealed at the disrespect. With every rip of fabric he rammed his dick inside me. My torso got dangerous close to the blade. I couldn’t make myself care.

“My dress, I saved for weeks-“

“Don’t you get it?” He asked. “I don’t care. I don’t like you, but you’re mine. My property doesn’t stray. You mess with my temper I destroy you,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. No.

“You want to carry my seed though anyway. You’d carry around the heavy cum of a man who thinks so little of you?” He growled breathily. He was roughly rubbing his knuckle into my clit as he still filled me from behind.

“I do,” I whimpered.

“I know you pathetic peasant,” he said with mock sympathy.

“You want to be bred by a king so you don’t care if his sperm was brought on by the need to degrade you. The desire to make you look like a fool to others who see your swollen belly but know you’ll never get a ring on that finger. You’d change for a man like me. You have nothing going for you. You are nothing but a womb for me, a hole, a pussy, something for me to take out my rage lest I destroy everyone.”

“Ohhhhhh, fuck Hal!” I wailed. He was slapping and biting now. His teeth and nails were sinking into me over and over.

“Oh please, yes, I need it. I need to be possessed by you. I don’t care. Fucking use me!” I hollered. He smirked into my neck.

He pulled out painfully slowly. He brought the knife to my clavicle. I was panting but I didn’t tell him to stop. He began to lightly carve his initials as he fucked me deeper than he ever had.

“I hate you,” he breathed as he finished the H.

“You anger me beyond belief,” he snarled and gnashed his teeth. He tossed the knife aside.

“My wrath is about to impregnate you,” he said in the darkest and most twisted tone I’d ever heard. He let loose then. Rope after rope of cum spurted into my fertile womb. His bloody initials dripped down my chest as he owned me.

“I bloody hate you,” he gasped as my walls fluttered. He flooded me as I squeezed him. I could barely stand on my feet.

He pushed me roughly down onto the bed. He yanked my legs apart. He sucked at the leaking letters on me. I knew the marks wouldn’t be pretty. All the time he was shoving his fingers deep inside me to force his load deeper. He meanly overstimulated my clit. I whined and writhed and tears dribbled down my face. He just kept saying how badly he would ruin me because he hated how I acted.

“Even if I hate you,” he mumbled in my ear when I was fading in and out of sleep. I hadn’t used my safe word through all the pain and use.