Hi guys! I wrote this for the Beyond the Bedroom Contest a few months ago, and although it didn't win anything, I'm really proud of it. It's certainly different from anything I've written so far, so it was interesting to flex those creative muscles. Anyway, thanks to all who read and reviewed during the contest, and congrats to the all the well-deserved winners! u/8423884/Beyond-the-Bedroom

The Republic of Redira, October 1935

Isabella Swan, the newly ascended heir to the Rediran throne, struggled not to tap her fingers impatiently or relax her face just enough for the telltale twitch of her left eye to appear. She idly surveyed the briefing room, or "COBRA", which stood for Conference Briefing Room A.

The room was too ornate, she criticized. It resembled a lounge that Louis XIV himself might have ordered. The reds, purples, and golds of the carpet were arranged in patterns that swirled like multi-colored goldfish in a pond beneath her feet. Furniture recycled from previous generations had been polished and preserved to be fit for display, while portraits of past leaders and artwork gifted from other countries adorned the walls, illuminated by twin chandeliers that hung on either side of the room. Rectangles and squares with gold trimming outlined carved helixes in the brilliant ivory of the ceiling, where an octagonal frame of even shinier gold surrounded the skylight in the middle of the room, offering the only glimpse of the outside world.

"Your Majesty, what are your thoughts?"

Bella blinked, allowing herself this instinctual reaction before pinning her gaze to the Court member, Secretary of Defense Jeffrey Tremaine. "Have we prepared a public statement?"

The man's perpetual frown of disapproval deepened at her response. "Not yet, but do you think it would be prudent to adopt such a forceful approach, given neither England nor France have intervened?"

She laced her hands together to eliminate the possibility of a tremor. "I understand the debt we owe our so-called birth countries, but we do not always have to follow their paths. Adolf Hitler may be greatly admired for his political accomplishments, but his extreme views leave little to be desired. If we are to take his remarks seriously, then we should prepare to act." The faint taste of nausea briefly returned, and she squeezed her fingers more tightly.

Concern translated onto the deep creases of his face, almost making him resemble a basset hound. "With all due respect, your Majesty, I think it is too early to determine whether he poses a credible threat to us or the rest of Europe. We do not want to be involved if there is no need for it."

Bella narrowed her eyes slightly. "That is not what I am asking, Secretary. I am asking that we arrange a meeting with the German Chancellor."

"You are asking to meet with one of the most powerful leaders in the world, ma'am, and I don't think-"

"Perhaps a break for lunch would do us all some good, Secretary," a wary voice interrupts, the Oxford English accent crisp in contrast to the French lilt of the previous voices.

William Edward Windsor, her husband and prince of Redira by marriage, directed a challenging stare at Tremaine. The third and youngest son of King George V, he was no stranger to the inner workings of such meetings, but could never quite mold into the paragon of royalty that was demanded of him. Like his older brothers, he had received a prestigious education and served in the military, but rebelled in ways that they did not-criticizing the British government, questioning the influence of religion on legislature, and frequenting unsavory pubs.

Marrying a queen, then princess, was considered his greatest accomplishment.

Tremaine shot him an annoyed look. "This matter needs to be resolved as quickly as possible. The League of Nations is meeting next month. We need to be prepared to present our stance."

Bella stood up, smoothing the invisible wrinkles in her dress. "I have made my position, Secretary. You and the other Court members can reject it, but I will not change my decision."

She met her husband's amused gaze across the table. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen-I have a ball to prepare for and an anniversary to celebrate."

"Bravo, darling. That was your strongest performance yet."

Bella breathed a sigh as she stepped into her gown, the emerald silk slowly molding to her figure. "I'm afraid it wasn't enough."

"Nonsense; they'll bend to your will soon."

A sound suspiciously similar to a snort (but of course was not) escaped the young queen. "Is that commentary on our marriage?"

Her husband slid on the suit jacket smoothly, brushing off the shoulders. "I wouldn't dare. I like spending time in your bed too much that I can recognize the possibility of being exiled to mine."

Bella pursed her rouged lips, stifling the burst of laughter that had shot up to her throat.

"Edward," she attempted warningly, using his preferred name. Her reproachful glance slid to the maids scurrying about, readying her evening attire.

He rolled his eyes, pulling up suspenders that snapped to his white dress shirt. "I can see why Lillibet looks up to you," he grumbled, dutifully changing the topic. "Do you know she taught those bloody weasel dogs to line up and sit?"

A genuinely pleased smile spreads across Bella's powdered face at the mention of her niece from her husband's side. "You know they're called corgis. How is she? Have you heard from your brother lately?"

He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Not in a few weeks. Though I'm sure he's plenty occupied with his two daughters and imminent promotion to King." He sighs sarcastically. "The burden of being the eldest."

She didn't miss the barest trace of bitterness in his tone, but decided to address it later when they were alone. "Well, I'm just glad she likes them. Finding a birthday present for my favorite niece was already a challenge, but when she's a British princess, it's downright impossible."

"It evens out then-I much prefer her sister, Maggie."

"Margaret is five years old, dearest," Bella replied sardonically. "I think you prefer her mentality above all else."

"Why not?" Edward asked rhetorically. "Remaining a child would be a blessing, not a curse. And people would consider it charming if you ran around naked, instead of indecent."

Two of the maids bit their lips, laughing with their eyes instead. It was well-known and well-documented that Prince Edward had a penchant for blunt, usually inappropriate humor. Politically, this was a disaster, providing further evidence that he was as fit for rulership as his brother, who shared his name and cavorted with an American divorcée. Yet the people of Redira reacted to his countless remarks and display with good humor, such that his public approval was high, even if his only ally in the Rediran Royal Palace was his wife.

"You do know what they call you?" Bella asks, mindfully smoothing down the frizzles near her forehead.

"They?"

"The press. Your adoring public." She met his gaze in the mirror. "They call you Edward the Obscene." She slid on the pristine white gloves before accepting the fur wrap presented for her shoulders. The finishing touches applied, the helpful hands retreated before silently and orderly exiting the bedchamber.

"Well, that's not very catchy, is it? And to think-I've given them so much material." Edward stepped behind her and gently brushed his lips on her cheek. "I much prefer your nickname for me."

It was debatable whether it was the low timbre of this voice or the warm puffs of his breath that caused a shiver to scatter down her exposed skin. "The Impatient? The Short-Tempered? The Off-Color?"

His hand secured itself around her waist and his thumb slid down the glittering black beads sewn into the wispy material of her dress. "God! Yes! Oh, my darling, my love!" His voice mimicked far too accurately her moans when she was under him, resulting in late nights and mornings that seemed far too early.

Bella swatted at him and he grabbed her arm, pulling close enough so she felt the vibrations of his deep chuckles. "No one would notice if we were a few minutes late. It's enough time for me to lick that sweet cunt of yours."

A blush overtook Bella's skin, but she managed to meet his darkened gaze again in the mirror, willing herself to stay still.

"Everyone would notice, dearest," she disagreed. She adjusted the sash that lay between her breasts before shifting the crown on her head, the sapphires even more sparkling against the polished silver.

She winked at him, her lips parting to a lascivious smile, a rare display of brashness that rivaled that of her husband's. "Besides, we would miss the party entirely if I allowed you to do so and achieve the pleasure I deserve." The pleasant, even tone that she used with Court regressed to a teasing and daring one, reminiscent of her teenage years, when they first met and honed their banter.

He tugged lightly at a pinned brunette curl, causing it to come undone. "Maybe you should consider spending some time on your knees then, wife," he growled, decades of etiquette training and royal rearing sloughing off to reveal a glimpse of the dominant underneath-the kind that no amount of culture could touch.

"Queen," Bella corrected. The word had an immediate effect-the previous mischievous smile quickly faded into the solemn, neutral expression she had adopted after her father's death two months ago. Her "sovereign" look, she deemed, ignoring the fact that it was eerily close to her the grieving expression she wore at both of her parent's funerals.

Her husband rubbed her shoulder soothingly. Or so she thought. "What a shame," Edward breathed, his grip tightening. "For I am merely a prince in name, not by reputation."

Cambridge University, 1927

Bella shifted again, sitting cross-legged on the chair. She balanced the racy novel against her knee under the table while Fundamentals of Mathematics lay open but forgotten on top. Rapt with fascination, Bella devoured the descriptive passage, which detailed the heroine being spanked by a handsome duke.

"Well, what have we here?"

She jolted upright but froze from taking any further action. The smooth, masculine voice aroused her instincts to run, though curiously, her muscles locked.

"Hello?" She asked uncertainly, squinting to identify the profile of a tall stranger with broad shoulders and elbows jutting from his side.

Her nerves acted up in spite of her father's advice. "You are always a princess, Bee," he had warned. "Never presume you are not."

She sat up and crossed her ankles together, automatically placing her folded hands in her lap. The book snapped shut, hidden between the pages of her textbook.

"Can I help you?"

The fiery hair of one Edward Windsor appeared in the library corner, lit by a solitary electric lamp. Hands tucked into the pockets of his beige slacks, he leaned against an ancient bookshelf and crossed one leg in front of the other, flexing and stretching his body. The navy sweater molded to his large frame, which was more similar to a rugby player's rather than a royal's, although the way he curled around the shelf reminded Bella of a panther wrapped around the branch of a jungle tree.

"Interesting question," he murmured, stepping closer. "One that has no answer, I'm afraid."

Bella edged away to the back of her seat. This was the first time she had been alone with a boy so close to her age of eighteen. Even Jean-Phillipe, her intended, was usually surrounded by his parents or other royal officials when they were together.

"It's after curfew," the young prince pointed out. "You shouldn't be here."

A stab of defiance caused Bella's eye to twitch. "And why not? What's the difference between my being here and your being here?"

Bright green eyes narrowed with interest. "If we were here separately, then there is no difference. But you are here with me, which means you run the risk of having your pristine reputation sullied, princess." He emphasized the last word with undisguised ridicule.

He's mocking me, Bella realized. "You overestimate your influence, Prince Edward," she replied evenly. There. That was a fair retort that was still perfectly tasteful. He may have been one of the most public figures at the university, known for inciting vigorous debates that he usually won, but she would not be scared of him.

He tilted his head back and laughed, the harsh, deep sound startling her. It wasn't a polite forced laugh like the ones she was used to from strangers; she'd heard this laugh come from her father's lips when he was surrounded by his male confidantes, drinking expensive liquor and smoking cigars. She was never allowed to stay too long in this foreign world, and it seemed her presence diluted the brotherhood aspect, the raucous laughter continuing only after she left.

A sliver of something-either excitement or fear-trailed down Bella's spine like icy fingers sliding down a piano. "You won't report me," she confidently stated.

His eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "No? What can you offer to ensure my silence?"

"What do you want?" She asked, a bit more petulantly than she liked. "We are nearly equal in wealth and power-what could I give you that you don't already have?"

He tsked, shaking his head disapprovingly before taking a seat across from her. "Your lack of imagination is disappointing, princess," he chided.

Bella bristled. "With all due respect, then, please leave me be. I need to study for my courses." It was a complete fabrication, of course, but he wouldn't know this. She steeled her features in the same manner her father did when addressing the Court officials.

"You were studying," Edward drawled, leaning closer. "But I don't think mathematics is responsible for that blush on your face. Tell me, princess-what has you in such a state?"

Bella clenched her jaw. "I'm afraid that is none of your business." She cursed the fair complexion she'd inherited from her father and the temperament from her Italian mother, who was always overwhelmed by one matter or the other.

A flash of navy reached over and snatched the book from her hands, causing her to jerk forward too late.

Edward calmly cracked open the spine, the small erotic novel falling with a soft thud onto the table. Bella's breath hitched, her eyes wide with horror as his flared with amused shock.

He scanned the contents lazily, those long fingers flipping through the pages. "Princess Isabella Maria Carolina Swan," he announced. "You are-"

"Don't," Bella gritted her teeth, her fists clenched. "Please don't-" Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, frustration choking her words. "Please don't say anything to anyone."

She forced herself to take in deep, even breaths. Always a princess. Act like one.

Edward's shoulders relaxed as he assessed her. After a few more exhales, he quietly promised, "I won't. Gossip is hardly ever on my side." Seeing her concern, he continued, "This is perfectly normal, you know. Men and women are no different when it comes to desire."

Bella looked down at the table, refusing to meet his gaze.

"For example, let's see...ah, yes. How ironic that discipline can be pleasing." His voice was a deep rumble, discussing the risqué scene like it was a work of Socrates. "Although I myself prefer to play the more active role."

She snapped her head up in shock. Mostly to chide him for his impropriety, not out of interest. No, not at all. "You prefer to beat women?"

Edward stifled his laugh. "No. Some women-and men-find it pleasurable to be spanked. As long as there is trust to establish safety during such play, with the option to stop at any time, then both parties can enjoy themselves."

Bella's head practically spun with the implications, her skin scalded by her blush. "I think it's barbaric," she managed, thinking that was the proper response.

He leaned in closer. "I don't think you do," he murmured. "I think you're intrigued by this, and you wonder how it would feel."

He crossed his arms and fixed his knowing gaze with hers, flashing with unveiled arrogance. "Your skin is flushed and your breathing has deepened, the quick pace matching the rapid beating of your heart. Perhaps you're squeezing your thighs together, hoping to relieve the unfamiliar pressure that echoes the heaviness in your chest. Not to mention your half-lidded gaze, Isabella."

He sat back, spreading his legs. "You look like you want to climb over this table, settle in my lap, pull up that long skirt, slide down your knickers, and present your pert little bottom to me. Perhaps you don't even know why, or for what. It's indecency by the very definition, but you only wish to relieve the throbbing of your cunt."

Bella had never heard a man talk like this, so explicit with unrestrained urgency. Having spent the last eighteen years focused on being the perfect princess, she'd forgotten that she would soon be considered a woman instead of a girl, the difference never as blatantly obvious as it was now.

She winced, and the young prince's lips spread into a victorious smile, one passed down by generations of imperialists and conquerors.

"Say it, princess," he demanded firmly. "I want to hear the word."

It was a dare wrapped up in a command, yet Bella was able to find steadiness. Quietly assessing, like she were anticipating the next move in a chess game.

You are not a pawn, she thought to herself.

She straightened and repeated, "I wish to relieve the throbbing of my cunt." Her voice was husky with condemnation, not with desire. No, definitely not.

Approval sparked in the remaining flecks of green that hadn't been touched by the darkness of lust. The young prince continued his analysis. "You wonder if a few smacks will assuage the pressure, but it will not, princess. You wonder if I will unbutton your dress, revealing your skin, and whether I'll kiss and lick every inch while you writhe about on my cock. You wonder if I will pull and suck at your breasts, causing you to cry out and beg for something you can't name. You wonder if I will take off my trousers and lower you onto my cock, tantalizingly slow."

The sweat on Bella's palms had slid down onto the fabric of her dress, clenched tightly by her fingers. She was biting her lip, although she had nothing to say.

Edward's face was drawn tight with desire, his unyielding stare refusing to give her an inch to breathe. "Just to be clear-I'm not being gentle to accommodate you. On the contrary, I want to remember every second of your tight cunt enveloping the thick head, and the sounds you will undoubtedly make to stretch for me."

How can I hear his voice so clearly, Bella thought, and the heavy sounds of my breathing all at once?

"You wonder," Edward continued, oblivious to Bella's falling apart. "If I fuck you, furiously and vigorously, if that will be enough."

The dim light illuminated the aristocratic features of his face, refusing to corroborate his crass vocabulary. He paused. "It will not, princess. Accept that the hunger will always be there."

Bella licked her dry lips, thrilling at the way his pupils swallowed his irises. "What is the meaning of this?" Instead of sounding like a monarch demanding an explanation, she simply sounded like a student posing a question to her teacher.

Edward stood again, straightening his sweater. His fingers twitched. "Underneath all of the titles and fancy wrapping paper, we are merely human-I'm simply a man and you are a woman. Contrary to overwhelming beliefs, we all deserve to pleasure and be pleasured in return."

He smiled, flashing his white teeth, offering recognition of a part of herself that she was still coming to terms with.

It was difficult to tell if the gesture was sincere or arrogant, so Bella simply replied, "If you're expecting a thank you for this education, then you have misread the situation."

"I don't expect anything." Quick inhale. "You are far from lacking any imagination, Belle. Don't be afraid to use it." He tapped the book on the table, sliding it over to her. "As it stands, we have both made transgressions tonight and now owe each other nothing."

Bella's eyes followed him as he turned around and walked to the shelf that had hidden his presence.

"Goodnight, princess," he softly said. "May your dreams be wicked instead of sweet."

October 1935

Edward nodded in response to the Duke of Citronia's joke, thanking the Lord that baldness did not run in his family. The man was almost a foot shorter than him, as skinny as a rail, yet had the lungs of an opera singer. Impatiently tapping against his glass, which was sadly empty, he scanned the large ballroom for his wife.

The glass slipped from his palm when he found her, but he caught it just in time. What the bloody-

Bella laughed, her shoulders shaking as she stood across from her previous paramour, Prince Jean-Philippe of Genovia. Dressed in a military uniform that women might have found dashing, the fair-haired prince was the current trend in Europe, what with his fairy tale looks and calm demeanor that reeked of a high pedigree. He had foiled an assassination attempt on the British Prime Minister last year, and his family capitalized on his sudden fame so that Genovia was now poised to enter the League of Nations.

In response, Edward had publicly remarked that the small country sandwiched between France and Spain had profited so much from the ordeal that one had to wonder if their involvement was simply during the attempt, and not before it.

Neither the Redirian nor the British governments had been pleased over the resulting backlash.

Personally, Edward thought Jean-Philippe looked like a peacock flashing his feathers. It was immature to make a scene, but his blood still simmered with anger when he saw the peacock lean in close and whisper something in his wife's ear.

He politely excused himself and went to find Princess Rosalie, Bella's younger sister, who was slightly closer to Bella and Jean-Philippe. "If your plan is to remain close to the alcohol tonight-might I join you?"

Rosalie turned to her favorite brother-in-law and grinned. "Judging by the way you're glaring at Jean-Philippe, I don't think you'll be here for too long."

He chuckled, shooting an affectionate glance at his wife's sister, with whom he had formed a close bond after moving to the palace. Much like himself, the twenty-two year old princess wasn't quite the black sheep of the family-for the Windsors, that title belonged to his older brother, the original Edward; the Swans, similarly, had Princess Alice. The eldest Swan daughter, Alice had abdicated two months before King Charles's death, an act from which the royal family was still recovering.

No, Rosalie and Edward were the so-called "spares" of their immediate family-not the first choices to rule but not the worst choices either. Both were deemed too opinionated and unruly for the throne, but incapable of causing a considerable stir.

"One who lives in a glass house should not throw stones," Edward playfully admonished. "Where is Sir Emmett tonight?"

Rose twirled the glass in her hand. "He's with Lady Balfe," she explained, the corners of her scarlet lips ticked down. "Remind me again that it's against the law to plot someone's murder, even if it is never carried out?"

Unfortunately for the queen, Edward and Rose shared the same off color humor, which never failed to exasperate her.

"Laws can change," Edward replied. Sensing her genuine discomfort, he laid a hand on her shoulder. "If he does not see you as the rare rose that you are, then there is no saving him."

Immune to such flattery, Rose simply rolled her eyes, the action identical to her sister's. "It does not matter what he sees," she murmured. "The crown will always take precedence. We live to serve, do we not?"

She took a generous gulp of her champagne, alluding to Emmett McCarty's scandal last year that now made him an unattractive catch for any respectable young woman. Especially a princess of Redira.

"The crown has no place in a marriage bed," Edward spoke, lowering his voice. "Something your sister takes to heart."

Rose peered up at her brother-in-law, curiosity wrinkling the corners of her blue eyes, the only resemblance she had to her mother who had perished shortly after giving birth to her. "Are you married to the woman you love or the woman who rules over Redira?"

He pursed his lips. "I married the woman I love in spite of her being a princess. It was fortuitous that she was of royal blood, which meant my family could be rid of me and strengthen diplomatic ties."

Rose nodded sympathetically, her eyes tracing the hard lines of her burly, handsome officer who started to dance with the ravishing blonde in red. Sir Emmett held his companion close, the sight inciting a sharp pain between the princess's ribs, jealousy settling in her stomach like acid.

Meanwhile, Bella had just kissed the handsome prince on the cheek in goodbye and was heading out of the main ballroom. "It seems my wife is finally done with her peacock," Edward announced. "Let us see if we've adopted a new pet." He finished the last of his champagne and placed the empty glass on the tray of a server.

Rosalie automatically presented her cheek, receiving a cordial kiss and a friendly pat on her shoulder. "No matter who you love, it is a fight," her closest confidante advised. "Be certain, my dear, that he is worth fighting for."

She smiled as the prince hurried off to find his queen.

Bella exhaled deeply, her stomach expanding beneath her dress. She calmly walked away from the main ballroom, feeling her bodyguard, Jacob, follow her. A constant shadow that she had become accustomed to, Jacob was previously on her father's service until the king's death.

"Apologies, your majesty, but I was told earlier that the women's restroom is dysfunctional at the moment," Jacob warned.

Bella raised her eyebrows and spun around. "Dysfunctional? Was it not working this morning?"

He shook his head. "I don't have any other information. If you could use the men's restroom, ma'am, I will ensure that you are not to be disturbed."

He paused. "I was informed by Prince Edward this afternoon." His expression didn't change, although the corner of his mouth twitched.

She barely managed to suppress her sigh. Why her brilliant husband couldn't siphon some of his creative energy into diplomacy was beyond her understanding. She pushed open the heavy doors and set the crown onto the marble counter, watching her painted face in the mirror. As if she were taking off an invisible mask, the concern and anxiety slowly returned to her features, knitting her eyebrows and dragging her lips downward.

The conversations she'd had tonight with the nobility did nothing to relieve her previous concerns. While some were alarmed by the regime building in Germany, many others were less worried.

"We've just started to enjoy our peace," the people proclaimed. "Why threaten it?"

Because peace was still an option, she wanted to argue. It may not always remain that way.

Her father had once told her, "A leader does what is right. A ruler does what is best." At the time, Bella had squinted at him, confused. "Which should we be, papa?" She had asked, perhaps naively.

The late King Charles tugged at her pigtails and stared into his daughter's large brown eyes, a copy of his own. A wistful smile appeared underneath his thick beard. "That is entirely up to you, my dearest."

Bella breathed through her chest. Which indeed?

The door burst open, and she turned her head towards her husband's reflection, a sheepish look on his face.

"What is the meaning of this?" Her voice held an exasperated affection rather than genuine annoyance. For now.

Edward grinned, looking every inch the scoundrel she'd encountered in that library ages ago, the hard glint in his gaze never failing to make her stomach clench. "I'm reminding you that I only agreed to cats and dogs in the palace-no other animals."

"I presume you're alluding to Jean-Philippe," Bella replied dryly. "He's a powerful ally, dear. I was simply catching up and performing my royal duties." Jealous Edward led to some interesting situations, but Bella was still too off balance to think of such matters. Her axis tilted a bit too far, unwieldy and unsteady.

"He looked like he wanted you to sit on him," her husband stated bluntly. "And you almost looked like you were considering it."

"He's one of the few people who supports intervention," Bella retorted, her hands gripping the cold marble in front of her. "Even though it's condemned by everyone else." She closed her eyes briefly, comfortable to show vulnerability only in front of her partner, who slid behind her and gently pressed down on her rigid shoulders.

His thumbs rubbed slow circles at the base of her neck. "It is not up to you to save everyone, Belle," he advised. "You are a queen, but you are still one person. Do not bear the unnecessary burden of everyone else's wrongs."

Her eyes opened, uncertainty clouding the tawny irises. "You agree with me, then?" Bella whispered, searching his muted gaze. "Do you think this is the right decision or the best one?"

Her husband, assuming the role of political analyst, simply stared back. "The right decision rests on objectivity, but the best decision is influenced by the political state at the time. If you try to incorporate both, then you will fail." He paused. "Your father, god bless him, would advise you to do what is right, but I-knowing the hardships you will face-want you to take the easier route. To do what is best and follow public and political opinion."

"To not intervene," Bella translated.

Edward nods, never breaking his gaze from hers. "Yes. But neither of us can make this decision. That ultimately rests with you."

Bella nodded, a sense of resolution setting in her chest. For the first time since the ball started, she felt she could take a full breath and not feel the weight of the monarchy on her shoulders.

"My father once told me a story of the peacock and the crane," Bella recalled. A huff of laughter escaped her chest. "One day, a peacock came across a crane, and showed off its brilliant plumage, ridiculing the crane for not having a drop of color on its wings. The crane simply replied that while it wasn't as beautiful, it could soar to the heights of heaven and lift its voice up to the stars, while the peacock could only strut on the ground, no different than a regular cock."

Edward's eyes glowed with satisfaction. "Fine feathers don't make fine birds."

Bella smirked. "Or fine husbands. Although Jean-Philippe had a number of fine qualities from what I can remember." Her sly tone allowed the royal couple to switch, almost seamlessly, from monarch and advisor to husband and wife. It was, after all, the fifth anniversary of their marriage.

"Perhaps I need to remind you of my better qualities," Edward teased, reverting to his earlier mood. He plucked the crown from the counter and tucked it into his jacket, before placing his hands on her arms and gently steering her towards the empty stall.

Bella shot him a sarcastic look. "I am unimpressed so far." She eyed the small space, hurriedly taking off her gloves and sniffing daintily.

His eyes narrowed. "Perhaps I need a reminder first," he challenged, locking the door. "Kneel."

She didn't bother to conceal her shock, cursing internally at his satisfied smile. "This is hardly the time or place."

He crossed his arms and stepped to the side, giving her just enough room to leave if she wanted. "Kneel, Belle."

Three breaths were exhaled as the young woman considered her options. "Are you ordering your queen?" She asked, far too breathily than she liked. Because of all the conversations she'd had throughout the night, not because of heightened anticipation. No, definitely not.

He didn't make any movements. "I won't ask again." He paused before adding, "Your majesty." A cheeky smile peeked through the dominating stare.

She cleared her throat and handed him her gloves, keeping her hand outstretched. "I require a soft fabric for my task," she requested in an exaggerated haughty tone. Her husband slid his jacket from his wide shoulders, pooling at their feet until it created a comfortable layer for her majesty's knees.

Bella held his gaze and thrilled at the widening of his pupils as she slid down, shifting in preparation. She unbuttoned the smooth silk of his trousers and pulled down the restrictive underwear, unable to stop a slight giggle from seeing her husband's bright red pubic hair. The member itself twitched, as if in annoyance, which only caused Bella to laugh a bit harder.

"Are you not taking this task seriously, Belle?" Edward growled, his ego slightly wounded by her reaction. "I believe you're due for a punishment."

She traced a finger down the prominent vein, shutting him up immediately. "Very seriously, darling." Her thumb circled the slit on top of the wide head, which was flushed an angry red. So much red, Bella mused. She wondered if their children would all take after their father, fiery in personality and looks.

"You're doing far too much thinking," Edward observed, his voice a tick lower from seeing his lovely wife on her knees, her full lips so close to where he desperately needed them. "Trace the vein with your tongue."

She glanced up at him. "Now," he replied sternly.

Rarely did Bella take orders from Edward. Only when it led to his undoing. She grabbed the base of his cock and pulled it towards her, before acquiescing to his request. His groan caused her to apply more pressure, smoothing the flat of her tongue against his skin, tracing up to the top, swiping away the salty liquid from the source. She placed a gentle kiss, her lips lingering, before shooting a half-lidded look at her husband, who breathed heavily through his nose.

Silently, he threaded his fingers in her pinned hair and pushed her down on his cock slowly, centimeter by centimeter, until she placed a hand on his thigh in warning. She used the other hand to wrap around the few inches she could not reach and started to move back and forth to the rhythm of his hand on her head.

"Belle," he hissed, feeling himself harden fully as his cock slowly disappeared between her full lips. He idly wondered if he would find traces of her ruby lipstick later. "My naughty little wife."

His hand flexed around her hair, applying more pressure but not so much that she couldn't free herself at any time. And yet, though that was always an option-Bella had never taken it. She'd never admit it to her husband, when she could barely admit it to herself-but she enjoyed his show of dominance every now and again. It was fascinating how pleasure could completely overtake him, forcing him to abandon all pedigree and propriety.

The wet sucking sounds only served to arouse her more, and she felt her thighs clench under her dress. Between these sounds and Edward's soft groans, they were the epitome of obscene.

It was a shame then, that this was also one of the most enthralling moments of Bella's life.

"Take in more, you dirty minx," Edward requested, gritting his teeth. He paused her ministrations and pulled out completely, before sliding his thick cock into her mouth again, watching her lips stretch around as he went deeper.

Finally, he stopped to admire the portrait: his regal wife on her knees taking his cock as ably as she could, her hands curled around his thighs.

"Suck," he commanded, watching her eyes flutter open. He felt the pull of her mouth and growled, hungry for more.

"Harder." She obliged and the throbbing intensified, spurred on by the hazy desire blanketing her irises. He released his hand from her hair, and she slid down an inch and began to bob up and down again, repeating the previous efforts with renewed confidence.

Edward didn't have the heart to tell her that she had at least fifteen minutes left.

Suddenly, the prominent sound of the door bursting open echoed through the bathroom, causing both monarchs to freeze.

"I much prefer Versailles, Phillip," a male voice with a French accent complained. "That is the premier location for such celebrations, non?"

The other man chuckled in response. "That may be your opinion, Jacques. I rather enjoy Redira."

The first man snickered. "I don't think it's the sights of the country that you enjoy, but the ruler."

Bella had paused immediately upon hearing the first man's voice and started to retreat until Edward fastened his hand on the back of her head again.

Breathing heavily, he mouthed, "Do not stop."

It was shock that compelled Bella to lower her mouth to his cock and take it in again, not intrigue. No, definitely not that.

Upon hearing the other man's comment, Edward tightened his grip and guided her at a slightly quickened pace. Belts clinked and trousers unzipped as the two men relieved themselves, their boisterous conversation covering any noises from the stall next to them. Though Bella was hardly responsible for being the topic of conversation, Edward's escalating annoyance translated loudly and clearly through his actions.

"She is quite beautiful, your princess." Edward tightened his grip and quickened the pace.

"Yes, she is. But she is not mine. Nor is she a princess any longer. We would have been an extraordinary coupling." Quicker, quicker.

"I'm sure that would have been quite extraordinary indeed." Twin laughter bounced through the walls as her mouth slid to pull just at the head, her tongue flicking at the slit rapidly.

Sharp flushing sounds briefly interrupted the men's conversation. Edward released himself once more to give her free rein, his eyes glittering with heightened satisfaction at her hungry sucking and vaguely surprised expression, as if she could hardly believe what was happening.

Two faucets turned on, the rushing water creating more ambient noise in the bathroom. "What do you make of her husband?" Bella's head shot up to see Edward, who raised his eyebrows. He placed a hand by his ear jokingly, and Bella rolled her eyes in response, even as her pulse threatened to burst her eardrums.

"He seems very full of himself," Jean-Philippe replied. "Though maybe it's a familial trait."

An arrogant smile, dripping with masculine satisfaction, crawled onto his face as he peered down at her. How mistaken he is, his expression seemed to say. When you're the one full of me, Belle.

A twinge caused Bella to shift again, as she wondered how much torture she could take. Her jaw was starting to feel sore. She shot Edward a frustrated look, and he mouthed, Soon. Keep sucking.

Bastard. Her fingers dug into his thigh in response, causing Edward to bite his lip and glare at his wife.

"He's a lucky bastard," his companion said. "Especially if he can tame her." The water finally shut off.

Bella's eyes narrowed as if to say, you wouldn't dare.

Edward smirked and crossed his arms, the spitting image of a sultan with a courtesan at his feet. In response, Bella swallowed to contract her throat muscles around him, causing Edward to softly curse and clench his fist against the door. He was short enough that she could take a considerable amount into her throat, but thick enough that she couldn't perform the trick endlessly. Nor would she want to.

"She's always been very pleasant," Jean-Philippe replied. "Even as a teenager, she showed remarkable restraint and maturity."

Jacques hummed. "Yes, I've heard. Though she had a reputation for being a bit stiff, did she not?"

"Maybe a little," Jean-Philippe replied. "She's certainly a charming queen now." Their voices grew fainter as both men edged closer to the exit.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, absorbing the tremors from his imminent release. No, that was just wasteful. He forced them open again, memorizing his wife's flushed skin and wild eyes, any hints of fear from being caught transforming to lust. Barbaric as it were, he couldn't help but feel triumphant, not because he had convinced his wife to submit to such an act, but because she had gotten on her knees willingly. For him, the spare of the Windsor family.

The heat at the base of Edward's spine suddenly escalated, and a low growl escaped his chest in warning. A thrill of panic skittered down her spine as she lowered her lips and sucked deeply. His hand secured itself in her curls once more as he grasped her desperately and held her still, biting the inside of his cheek to suppress a groan. At long last, his body stiffened until he finally shot short spurts into her throat, coating her tongue.

Neither party had noticed the bathroom door slamming open before it shut once more, submerging the room in silence.

The warm heat of her mouth slowly retreated, causing him to shake his head tiredly. "Every drop, Belle," he ordered. Her eye twitched, making him smile like the tyrant he was.

More sucking commenced, until Bella had enough and finally turned around to spit into the toilet, gagging a bit at the taste. She patted her mouth gently with the toilet paper, before standing unsteadily, patting down her hair and rearranging the sash across her flushed chest.

"Well," she said, when she regained composure.

Her husband, nowhere near as put together as his wife, grinned against the stall. "Yes."

It was fortunate that her husband knew she was hungry and desperate for a good fucking underneath the prim and proper disguise. Rushing past the last few goodbyes, they retreated to their bedchamber where Edward frantically ordered her to undress. Once naked, he immediately executed the proposal he made earlier that day.

"Oh," Bella moaned, the husky sound bouncing off of the lavishly carved walls. She lifted her head to admire the stark contrast of the red against her alabaster skin. Her husband's tongue slid down her center, and flicked at the tight bud of nerves at the top, repeating this circuit again and again. He applied more pressure and sucked, causing her to bow slightly off the bed. All this he watched with narrowed eyes, lingering on the nipples taut against her chest.

The night's events had her craving for something more animalistic. She wanted to continue the game they had started earlier and abandon any sense or sensibility. Only Edward could persuade her to forget her title, her family, and her country in these moments. Only he could make her understand that she was simply a woman and he a man, both guided by the need to be completely taken by the other, rejecting all semblance of civilization and reason in pursuit of that blind moment of ecstasy.

She pushed at his shoulder until he looked up, his parted lips shiny. "Darling, I need you to fuck me."

Edward turned her around and she maneuvered herself on her knees once more. He promptly laid a slap on her bottom, the action causing her to yelp.

"That is for making me wait earlier," he chided. "Did you enjoy taking my cock earlier, with two men right outside?"

She bit her lip before whispering, "Yes."

Slap! "Imagine if they were listening. What if they caught us, Belle? Would you let them watch?"

A needy moan was the only response she could muster.

Slap! "You filthy girl," her husband continued. "You would've loved it, wouldn't you? Loved them watching me fuck you against the door."

She cried out again, her legs falling open to reveal her swollen cunt.

"Beg," Edward demanded. "Beg for my cock, Belle."

She snapped her head back, her hair pooling onto her back. "Please," she breathed. "I need-I need your cock."

A vicious growl worked its way out of her husband's chest, and he guided himself to her. Bella tensed, the familiar pain causing her to take a few breaths as her body slowly relaxed and accepted him. She adjusted her position on the bed to be more comfortable.

Edward paused, waiting until he felt her body relax before slowly going deeper, his hand curling around her hip to steady himself once he was in far enough. Flush against her bottom, the other hand tugged her long hair backward, until he was right next to her ear.

A long and satisfied groan reminiscent of a warrior who had won a viciously fought battle escaped, rattling her ears.

"Jean-Phillippe and his friend could never imagine the pleasure I feel like this," he rasped, ignoring her squirming on his cock. "Your tight cunt so wet and perfect around me. The way you clench when I pull your hair slightly, like this-" he repeated the motion. "The way you look as you wait for me to fuck you."

He started to move forcefully, gritting out each word to the rhythm of his thrusts. "They. Will. Never. Fuck. You. Like. I. Can."

"They. Will. Never. Give. You. Pleasure. Like. This."

He continued his motions, vigorously and unforgivingly. At some point, Bella had collapsed on the bed while her husband anchored his arms on either side of her and slammed his body onto hers. The impact created an amplified slap sound that caused her bottom to shake, a sight that further hardened him, and the sensation caused her to emit a series of escalating cries, as she held on.

Then, for a second, Court popped in her mind like an unwanted display, but the damage had been done. She opened her eyes in dismay, struggling to re-focus on that sharp point of pleasure as she felt it slipping from her grasp. No, she gasped. No. Come back.

She slid across the sheets for friction, but it wasn't enough. "Edward-" She pleaded, looking back at her husband, who looked up from where they were joined, hunger evident.

"I-I can't-" It was mortifying to express in words, but she would not let this escape.

She swallowed. "Touch me," she ordered.

He immediately shifted forward and rubbed insistently at her clit. "Yes," she hissed in approval, almost maniacal in her search to rebuild the momentum she had lost.

"Harder. More," she demanded.

Those fingers obliged, while the other hand started to pinch her right nipple. She closed her eyes again and absorbed the weight of her husband, his soft grunts and determined touches, wondering what they must look like. What they looked like before.

Slowly, she was able to climb to the edge again, until her toes dangled off the precipice. "Oh, oh-" She cried, pushing into him forcefully.

Her husband, astute as ever, leaned over-the sculpted planes of his chest flattening against her back, increasing his pace. "Belle," he gritted, brushing her hair aside to reveal her smooth, delicate neck.

He gripped her waist with both hands and exerted a particular violent thrust. Simultaneously, he bit her neck, the teeth scraping across the skin.

Bella screamed, her release shattering through her, as if each bone in her body were made of glass. Her body grew slack as she greedily wrung out every drop of sensation until the haze began to clear. Blinking slowly, she began to feel sharp pinpricks of pain near her ribcage.

She became aware that Edward was still thrusting, albeit erratically, his arms shakily holding on to her. After a few more minutes, during which an exhausted Bella impatiently waited for him to finish, Edward too came-collapsing on top of her.

"Finally," Bella teased playfully, giggling like a lovesick teenager. In response, her husband blew a raspberry against her skin, their chuckles perfectly accompanying each other.

The sweat pooled uncomfortably against their skin, but it was much too late for a bath. Instead, she gently shoved her darling husband off and dried herself with the sheets. As usual, he ignored her retreat and wrapped around her, while she shifted to make herself more comfortable for the moment, knowing they would separate by the morning. It wasn't romantic, but it was for the best-her husband's chest was not as comfortable as her pillow, and his body rivaled that of a furnace.

Edward exhaled deeply, idly swatting his wife's hair away from his mouth. "For the record-you are neither a crane nor peacock. You are something much stronger-a swan."

Bella snorted, gathering her hair to one side. "A creature known only for its beauty."

"A creature known for its protectiveness," Edward corrected, kicking off the covers to feel the cool air on his skin.

He pressed his lips against her forehead. "Protect your people, Belle. Regardless of any mistakes you make, know that I will always protect you."

Bella closed her eyes gratefully. "Happy anniversary, my prince."

"Happy anniversary, my queen."

Love it? Hate it? Let me know what ya think! :) And yes, for those of you who suspected-this is heavily influenced by The Crown.