Bash wasn't used to having his presence announced. Nobody ever announced the presence of a bastard. "Bastard son of the King wishes to see you," was a bit long winded, but he supposed so was, "Your Grace, Prince Sebastian." He rolled the sound around in his mouth, Prince Sebastian, Prince Bash. Him. Prince. Prince. Him. He sighed heavily and ran a hand down his face and straightened his posture, suddenly aware of Mary's guards with their eyes keenly on him. He nodded to the closest one to him, giving his permission to announce him as instructed. 

The guard shifted awkwardly but opened Mary's door anyway to call out, "Your Grace, Sir..." He stopped and looked back to Sebastian, as if he would lob his head off while his back was turned. Sebastian lifted a brow at him expectantly and nodded, trying to hide the grin pulling at his lips. "Sir...Bastard Bash to see you." He shut the door, a ruddy blush over his cheeks and went back to his post, his eyes on the floor. 

A moment later the door opened to Mary's surprised face but she beckoned him in and for the servants to leave them alone. Once the door was shut she turned to him, "What's wrong, Bash? You look troubled. Why did they announce you so?" Sebastian took a seat on the chaise and tried to remember what he'd come here for, if for no other reason than to look upon her beauty.

"I asked them to." He answered her last question first, and then, "Your Grace....you've saved my life twice this week and I am now to be king--someday, with you as my wife. I can't help but think..." He dropped his gaze to the floor, took a breath, and soldiered on. "I know I'm not your first choice, but I do want you to be happy." She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off with a wave of his hand. "I'm not asking you for anything, Your Grace. I just wanted to be clear that, other than our wedding night, I will not..." Sebastian waved his hand, trying to think of the polite way to put it, the way a prince might. "I won't...bed you without your consent or your....eager participation." 

He wanted to run himself through with his sword. That was quite possibly the worst way he could have worded it. Mary's mouth contorted, as if the vowels of her words were stuck in her mouth. "Sebastian..." She settled onto the chaise beside him, "I am to be your wife and I'll behave as such. I won't be disloyal to you."

Bash still couldn't look up at her, "I'm not asking you to be loyal to me, Your Grace. I only ask for your...discretion, and that you think of my feelings too." He ran a hand down his face again, "If you would be happier with another I won't stop you from---" Why was this so hard? Well, he knew why, but he couldn't find the right words. How could he tell her to sleep with Francis, so long as he did not see it or hear of it? 

Mary stopped him, laying her hand over his. "If we are to be married there won't be anyone else," she told him gently, squeezing his hand to reassure him. Her stomach clenches at the sad smile he gives her. If he can be brave well, she figures, so can she. "I couldn't bear the thought of your death, Bash. This may not be what I expected, but I would be lying if I said I did not hold feelings for you."

He looked up at her, those blue-green eyes reminding her of the first hints of blue sky over the rolling hills of Scotland. Sebastian was speechless, searching her face as if the words were scripted over the arch of her cheekbones, painted over the swell of her lips.

When his words continued to fail him he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I suppose I should go back to my quarter's, Your Grace." He could practically feel Mary's face flush with heat. "Stop calling me that. Still just as cheeky." She muttered under her breath. The breath of his laugh rushed over her cheek and made her face redden more. "I think it has a nice ring to it....sinful almost, Your Grace." He whispered the last two words in her ear, delighting in the little shiver she gave.

How easy it was to flirt with her, especially knowing that she had some feeling for him too---however small or large it may be. 

Sebastian was still grinning cheekily when she pushed him back. The grin instantly slipped from his face and, before he could apologize, her fingers clenched his shirt and hauled him forward and her lips crashed into his. Mary was determined to wipe the smug look from his face; for her to be the bold one, the cheeky one. 

Mary slid her grip from his shirt to his hair, holding him in place. She bit his lip and sucked it into her mouth, her tongue soothing the bite gently. Bash made a soft sound and arched into her, his hands respectfully on her hips. Slowly she pulled away from him but stayed close enough that she could feel his gentle, panting breaths against her face. Sebastian cleared his throat but his voice still came out husky, tinted with lust, "Your Grace."

Her lips moved to his jaw, mapping out the stubble with her lips and teeth. His eyes fluttered shut with a soft groan. "Stop calling me that," she demanded, nipping at his earlobe. Sebastian swallowed roughly, his hands holding her hips a little tighter, "As you wish, Your Grace." 

Agonizingly slowly her lips found his neck, her teeth nipping where his shoulder met his neck. He jolted slightly and arched into her touch, his hands moving up from her hips toward her breasts. Mary let go of his neck, "Sit on your hands." She commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument. Sebastian was hardly used to being given orders. He was always allowed to run free, do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted---and whomever he wanted. 

Even so he was being commanded now and it sparked something within him and he found himself desperate to comply. There was something thrilling about being ordered to do something, especially by Mary. Quickly he tucked his hands under him, lest they stop because of his inability to comply. 

Her lips returned to his neck, tugging his shirt aside to kiss and bite at his shoulder--sucking gently at the skin until she was certain it would leave a mark. His breeches were straining, entirely too tight against him. Bash tried to sit harder on his hands which were burning to touch her, to undress them both. Instead he stole a slow, deep breath and tilted his lips down toward her ear.

"Does this please you, Your Grace?" He murmured submissively, arching into the feel of her lips. She nipped his shoulder harder and a sharp whimper slipped out of him. Bash bit his lip roughly, chastising himself internally. He reminded himself that the guards weren't far from the doors, and loud sounds may startle them and send them rushing into the room. 

Mary kissed her way across his collarbone, drunk on the power she had over him and wanting to touch more of him, feel more of him. She tugged at his shirt to release it from his breeches and slid her hands up and under, feeling across his chest. His muscles twitched under her touch and she could feel him straining not to touch her. She pushed his shirt up and over his head, slipping the material behind his neck. 

The result left him looking rather wrecked; hands still tucked under him, his shirt still covering his arms and bunched behind his neck as if he were bound, chest heaving with his breaths, eyes hooded and cheeks flushed. He looked downright debauched. Sebastian licked his lips, his eyes hazy on her, "What will you do with me now, Your Grace?"

She knelt before him and pressed her lips to his ribs and she could feel him suck in a ragged breath. Her lips trailed upward until her lips found his nipple and her tongue flicked out against it. "Fu-" he cut himself off and swallowed the curse, shuddering with the effort to remain still. "Your Grace, please," He begged gently but she made no sign that she'd heard him, though he knew she had.

Her hand slipped between them and cupped the bulge of his breeches and gave a gentle squeeze. Bash thrust his hips upward and into her touch and it took nearly all of his strength to not repeat the action again and again, to get himself off against the curve of her hand. With sheer force of will he forced his hips to settle and let out a long breath in hopes to calm himself.

She ruined him bare seconds later when she untied the laces of his breeches and tugged them downward. She smacked his leg to get him to arch upward and, when he did, she tugged the breeches down to his knees and nodded for him to sit back on his hands.

A whine slipped from his throat. "Please," He begged again, desperate to touch her as she was him. She was still fully clothed and he nearly pouted at the unfairness of it. But then her fingers wrapped around his cock and he bit his lip hard though it was still not enough to fully stifle his moan. 

Mary had not quite done this before, though she was not eager to tell him that. She did not want to appear as the inexperienced child to him, but rather a woman who knew how to please him. Still she was tentative, stroking him slowly with the circle of her fingers, squeezing lightly at the base, watching the movement of her hand and the expressions on his face to guide her. Precum was leaking from the tip of him, a pearly sort of color glistening at the tip.

With her eyes on him Mary leaned forward and swiped it off with her tongue curiously. Sebastian cussed and tipped his head back to drag in a deep breath. His eyes found hers again and they were hooded and dark with lust, with need. He licked his lips and forced himself to speak, "Please, Your Grace." Another breath. "Mary, don't stop."

He didn't think he could bear it if she stopped. His skin was on fire, beads of sweat dotted along his hair line and glistening over his chest. 

She leaned forward again, suddenly desperate to see him come undone completely. To ruin the smug bastard for anyone but her. Her lips wrapped around him again and followed the path of her fingers, tracing him with her tongue. With each pass she took more of his cock between her lips, relaxing her jaw. For what she could not fit she kept her fingers wrapped around and began to move; teasing along his length. 

There was a ripping sound and Mary just barely glanced up to see that his hands were now beside him, nails ripping into the fabric of the chaise. She moved faster, hallowed her cheeks around him; swirling her tongue around the tip of him every time she drew back.

Sebastian was helpless above her, clenching the chaise as hard as he could; his knuckles were white, hair plastered to his forehead and his chest heaving with every breath, her name falling from his lips so quietly she almost couldn't hear it--but he said it again and again, as if it were the only word he could remember.

"Mary.." He whimpered a little louder, red flushed over his cheeks, "I'm close. Oh, god." His eyes rolled back and he let his head drop back and onto his shoulders. Still she did not stop. And then his hips twitched upward and a cry trapped in his throat. "Mary, oh, oh, shit!" Just barely quiet enough to keep the guards from running in. He whispered her name over and over again until his hips arched again and his muscles tightened as he came with a soft call of her name, his hips spasming upward.

He slackened all at once, his arms too weak to hold him up. He slumped back onto the chaise with a soft sound, drawing in ragged breaths over and over again. His eyes were still on Mary when she gave a soft, delicate swallow and sat up a little.