Two days later and they were on the final ride into London. As had been their habit for the last two days Richard was riding behind Henry although today was the first day that he’d tried riding astride the horse. Not that he thought he’d be riding that way the entire day; he was now finding it a trifle uncomfortable and was unsure that he could manage to keep it up. Unfortunately as they neared London, the horses were kicked into a faster pace, Henry wanting to reach the city before the gates were closed at sunset so he had to keep quiet and accept that he would be extremely sore by the time they reached the Tower.
The last two days had been a revelation to him, Henry had treated him with all of the courtesy that would be due to a queen or princess and had made it clear to all of his advisors, lords and knights that they had to do the same. What would happen when they reached London and Henry came up against his mother, the formidable Margaret Beaufort, Richard had no idea, he was certain that she would demand his immediate death, but having seen just how stubborn Henry could be he guessed it would be a close run battle. It would also be nasty, that he was sure of, and he knew that he didn’t want to be present when it took place.
Of course there were also the kisses to think about, he knew he should have been disgusted and should have pulled back when Henry had first kissed him but it had felt right. The kisses had been soft, undemanding and if he was perfectly honest he had felt a slight spark run through him as their lips had met. He hadn’t felt that since before his wife had died, no one had fired his senses like that since then. But Henry had. And it did confuse him. He’d always been taught that a man had to lay with a woman, that a man lying with another man was a sin against God. But if so why had it felt so good, was he committing a sin by enjoying Henry’s kisses.
And they hadn’t been the last ones. Each night they had slept in the same bed and Henry before they settled down to sleep had gently kissed him, soft undemanding things that had done nothing to scare him, but had been a gentle forewarning of what was to come in the future. He knew that Henry would want more, he was a virile man after all, and he would not always be satisfied by sweet kisses. He would expect Richard to yield completely to him, to give him his all. And at the moment he knew that there was no way he could do that, the thought of doing what Lord Stanley had done to him with anyone made him sweat with fear. But somewhere at the back of his mind was the memory of the pleasure that had flooded his body during the act. Maybe if he was with someone he respected and had feelings for he could perhaps learn to accept and enjoy such an act. As long as they didn’t tie him up or blindfold him.
A sudden yell drew him out of his thoughts, not a mile away they could see the City of London, the road leading down to his future life as what? Would Henry bow to his mother’s demands and have him executed, would he spend the rest of his life as a prisoner in the Tower? Or would Henry have his way and have both a Queen and an ex King as his consorts. Richard knew he would find out very soon. And he was surprised to realise that he wasn’t ready to die just yet.
Re: Fill: The Prisoner. Richard III/ Henry VII AU NC-17 Warning non con at first. 7
The last two days had been a revelation to him, Henry had treated him with all of the courtesy that would be due to a queen or princess and had made it clear to all of his advisors, lords and knights that they had to do the same. What would happen when they reached London and Henry came up against his mother, the formidable Margaret Beaufort, Richard had no idea, he was certain that she would demand his immediate death, but having seen just how stubborn Henry could be he guessed it would be a close run battle. It would also be nasty, that he was sure of, and he knew that he didn’t want to be present when it took place.
Of course there were also the kisses to think about, he knew he should have been disgusted and should have pulled back when Henry had first kissed him but it had felt right. The kisses had been soft, undemanding and if he was perfectly honest he had felt a slight spark run through him as their lips had met. He hadn’t felt that since before his wife had died, no one had fired his senses like that since then. But Henry had. And it did confuse him. He’d always been taught that a man had to lay with a woman, that a man lying with another man was a sin against God. But if so why had it felt so good, was he committing a sin by enjoying Henry’s kisses.
And they hadn’t been the last ones. Each night they had slept in the same bed and Henry before they settled down to sleep had gently kissed him, soft undemanding things that had done nothing to scare him, but had been a gentle forewarning of what was to come in the future. He knew that Henry would want more, he was a virile man after all, and he would not always be satisfied by sweet kisses. He would expect Richard to yield completely to him, to give him his all. And at the moment he knew that there was no way he could do that, the thought of doing what Lord Stanley had done to him with anyone made him sweat with fear. But somewhere at the back of his mind was the memory of the pleasure that had flooded his body during the act. Maybe if he was with someone he respected and had feelings for he could perhaps learn to accept and enjoy such an act. As long as they didn’t tie him up or blindfold him.
A sudden yell drew him out of his thoughts, not a mile away they could see the City of London, the road leading down to his future life as what? Would Henry bow to his mother’s demands and have him executed, would he spend the rest of his life as a prisoner in the Tower? Or would Henry have his way and have both a Queen and an ex King as his consorts. Richard knew he would find out very soon. And he was surprised to realise that he wasn’t ready to die just yet.