A/N: For Laura and Audrey, who insisted I write throne sex. Set during the grievances scene of 1x10.

this is as good a place to fall as any, we'll build our altar here
make me your Maria, i'm already on my knees

Anyone with eyes could see how frustrated Bash was with the state of the throne room, and Mary was torn between biting through her lower lip in nerves and rolling her eyes in aggravation at his behavior. She knew he wasn't prepared for this kind of a life, but she'd always assumed he would be a little more eager. Granted, hearing out the grievances of all the townspeople wasn't exactly an enjoyable job, but the people were trying to get to know their future monarch. It wasn't just a change for Bash; it was a change for everyone. Still, it was clear that even if he saw it that way, he was being driven up the wall by all these petty arguments and charges. He looked ready to crawl out of his own skin, and Mary realized it was time she do something before he ruin his reputation and chances at the people's love by saying something out of line. Clapping loudly and straightening her spine, she put on her best 'queen' face and strode to the throne, climbing the few small steps and standing at Bash's side. She placed one hand on his shoulder and felt him jump slightly beneath her. He still wasn't used to her touching him, still wasn't sure it was allowed, and it made her heart ache for him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the regent is tired and has a long day. Perhaps we should adjourn for a moment? I'm sure he'd be more than happy to hear the rest of your complaints at a later time this afternoon, but until then, please leave us," Mary declared, her voice raised just enough to be commanding. It took less than half a minute for the throne room to clear out, with Lola lingering. She nodded once at her lady in waiting's worried expression, a small smile gracing her lips to let her friend know she was fine. As soon as the heavy doors shut behind the brunette, Mary sighed and slid her hand from Bash's shoulder, stepping down from the throne and turning to look at him.

"I'm sorry-" he started, clearly bracing himself for a lecture, but Mary held up a hand.

Bash stopped nearly immediately, and Mary wondered whether or not she still had her scary regal face on, and made a conscious effort to soften her features. She didn't want him thinking she was mad at him, but she also didn't want him to think he was getting off scott-free, either.

"I understand your impatience," she said simply, clasping her hands in front of her, "but Bash, this is something you need to take seriously. These are your people, they're looking to you to help them. They're just trying to get to know their new future king, Bash, so let them," Mary asked earnestly, a plan already forming in her mind.

Bash started to make an excuse - and probably a valid one at that - but Mary's plan was already hastily put together, and she wasn't in the mood to hear it anymore. Much like he wasn't in the mood to hear so many petty complaints.

"We're going to play a game," Mary suddenly announced, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Bash raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "I'm going to be a villager, and you're going to be the king, and you're going to have to listen to my entire complaint and give me a verdict. If you can get through the whole thing without pouting or daydreaming, you can have a whole hour to do as you please."

"And if I lose?" Bash asked her curiously, already sitting up straighter.

"If you lose, I'll let every villager back in here and you'll have to hear every single grievance until sundown," Mary threatened, smiling slightly.

Bash's mouth dropped a little, but he recovered quickly, his lips dancing the fine line between a smirk and a smile. "You drive a hard bargain, Your Grace, but you've got a deal," he agreed, clearly convinced he'd win.

Nodding her head once, Mary turned and crossed back to the door, taking a deep breath before turning back and hoping this would work to calm his nerves. It was a big undertaking, and she understood that, and wanted to make him feel comfortable. They'd be married before the end of the month; Bash needed to be prepared for the duties that would come with being King Consort of Scotland, not to mention being the Dauphin of France.

"My Lord Regent," Mary said as she turned back, taking a few more steps forward before dropping to a deep curtsy. It felt odd to curtsy before someone else, as the only people who she owed that sort of respect were Henry and Catherine, and her mother. Everyone else always deferred to her, but she found she didn't mind bending the knee to Bash. The look in his eyes, though, seemed to make the room heat up to about ten thousand degrees, and Mary nearly grinned in victory when she realized her plan just might work.

"Rise," he said after a moment, his voice a tad lower than usual. He cleared his throat hastily, but Mary had already heard it, and could smell victory like blood in the water. "And what is your complaint, my lady?"

"Your Grace," she demurred as she stood, and took the opportunity to take another step closer to the throne in the process. She could see Bash swallow heavily, and Mary let her back remain ramrod straight, satisfaction tracing the curve of her spine. "I have a grievance of the highest order, I'm afraid. You see, I've been engaged to a man for nearly a fortnight now," she started, and Bash sat up even straighter, if that was at all possible. He was finally starting to look like a king, and her heart swelled with pride. "And yet in all this time, my fiancé has yet to touch me aside from a few clasps of my hand."

"Mary," Bash started, his voice straining and a curious look on his face, but Mary would not be swayed.

"I'm sure it's not for lack of love," she continued, as though he hadn't spoken, "yet I can't help but worry. After all, improper as it sounds, we've kissed before, and if we're to be married soon..."

She paused, realizing now that she was teasing him, the words were all too true, and she worried about letting them slip out into open air, where she could not play them off as a joke of the game, or take them back.

"I just worry that he might be changing his mind," she finally breathed, her eyes meeting his. "That maybe he doesn't want to marry me as much as I wish to marry him."

"Mary," Bash repeated, more insistently this time, and the earnest look in his eyes nearly did her in. This hadn't been her intention when she started this game; she'd wanted to make him more comfortable, not scare him off. She narrowed her eyes, trying to regain a bit of her dignity and the charade, and he nodded slightly, seeming to get the hint. She loved him for that, she thought. "And you do...want to marry this man? Why?" He asked, and it was suddenly oh so clear that the game had ended long ago.

"Many reasons," Mary said, honesty spilling out of her mouth in the wake of not being able to find something provocative to say. "He's a good man. He's kind, he's noble, and he's...perhaps the sweetest man I've ever met. He gives, and he asks nothing in return. I think he loves me, and I think I might love him too. I just worry I've pushed him too far."

"I don't think a woman like you could ever push a man too far," Bash told her seriously, his eyes positively burning into her soul.

"I think you'd be surprised the things a woman like myself might be capable of. I could have easily asked too much of him," Mary murmured back, matching his stare without flinching. "So, my Lord Regent, what is your verdict?"

Bash was silent for an almost terrifying length of time before he reached out a hand, an earnest look on his face. "Mary, come here."

Mary paused almost nervously before lifting her skirts with one hand and taking his in her other, stepping up to the throne and standing before him. Bash didn't let go of her hand; instead, he played with her fingers, interlacing his with hers and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles once, twice, three times before pressing his lips to the spot his thumb had just caressed. "Mary, my lady, my queen, my love," he murmured against her skin, lowering her hand slowly. "There is nothing you could ask of me that would be too much. If it is ever in my power to give to you, it is yours," he told her seriously, and she believed every word. "I will love you until the day that I die, crown or no crown. And whether I go to heaven or hell, I will love you there still."

She lost her self control then. He could win the damn game, she didn't care anymore. Leaning down without a second thought, she pressed her lips to his as hard as she could without hurting them, and his hand immediately came up to cup her cheek. He didn't hesitate to kiss her as thoroughly as she was trying to kiss him, and almost before she knew what was happening, she was sitting in his lap, her knees on either side of his hips as she rested on his thighs.

"You could never go to hell," she gasped a moment later, pulling away from him and pressing her lips to his jawline gently. "Your only sin is love."

"A sin of the highest order," he pointed out, his voice strained as her lips managed to find his pulse point. He was probably trying to tease her, but his hands had drifted to her hips, and Mary was finding it hard to laugh at anything with the heat pooling in her stomach.

"Is it such a crime to love your queen?"

She might not be able to laugh, but he could, and laugh he could, gently wrapping his hand around the back of her neck to pull her back up to meet his gaze. Their noses bumped lightly and he smiled at her, nuzzling her nose once. "Maybe. But to love my wife?"

"We're not married yet," she reminded him softly, her hands resting softly on his chest.

"I wish we were," Bash confided in her, and she kissed him again for his honesty. "I've never wanted anyone the way I want you," he told her when she released his lips, his hand stroking her hair away from her face and his eyes drinking her in.

"So will you touch me now?" She asked breathlessly, surprised at her own boldness, and he smiled, a chuckle escaping his throat.

"I am touching you, Mary."

"Bash," Mary whined, and he laughed again, leaning up to nip at the tip of her nose and then kiss her gently.

"Alright, alright," he murmured against her skin, and then he was pushing her dress up her thighs. His hands skimmed over the bare skin of her thighs like she was made of glass, like he might break her if he grabbed too hard, and the contrast from the quickness of Francis's touches was startlingly glaring as she bit her lower lip in anticipation. His fingers found the juncture of her thighs almost immediately, skimming over her undergarments and making her shiver, her hips jerking involuntarily towards him. Bash continued to play with the edge of her underwear for a moment, almost toying with her, before he looked back up at her and pressed a kiss to the hollow of her throat. "Turn around."

"I beg your pardon?"

Bash laughed at that; clearly something about her tone was hysterical to him. Mary turned bright red before lightly hitting his shoulder, calling him back to earth. "Turn around, my love," he repeated, nudging her hips. "Sit back, with your back like this," he instructed, now guiding her into standing and then sitting back, her back snuggled against his chest. He delicately gripped one knee, urging her legs apart until they were draped on either side of his own.

"Bash," Mary said nervously, casting her eyes at the doors right in front of them. "Someone could come in."

"No one's going to come in," he soothed, pushing her hair over one shoulder to kiss the side of her neck. "They wouldn't dare interrupt the Queen of Scotland the acting Regent of France," he said, and his voice in her ear made her shiver, relaxing against his back.

This was wrong. This was inappropriate. This was unholy.

This was such a rush.

Mary was nearly vibrating by the time Bash touched her again, his palm sliding up her side to cup her breast through her dress right as his other hand skimmed along her inner thigh. Her breathing came in gasps now, her teeth catching and worrying at her lower lip as his fingers traced patterns on her skin and kneaded her flesh. His name left her lips in a gasp, and he hummed against the place where her neck met her shoulder, his teeth scraping ever so gently across the spot. He was taking his time, but time wasn't what they had for the moment. A guard could come back in at any moment; they'd wasted too much time already, and so she grabbed his wrist from under her dress, pulling her skirts up as she guided his hand. Bash nearly froze, surprised by her boldness, but when his hand finally moved to her abdomen and slid under the fabric of her undergarments, they were both rewarded with her quiet moan as his palm cupped her heat.

Her hands shot to either arm of the throne, gripping the edges with white knuckles, and Bash's middle finger traced the line of her slit slowly, drawing another moan out inch by inch through gritted teeth. Apparently he wanted to savor the moment, and while Mary appreciated that on a sentimental level, the heat rushing to her core said otherwise. So she squirmed, positively whining as his knuckle bumped her clit, and Bash took that as a sign that he needed to hurry up.

"So impatient," he chided teasingly, nipping her skin again, and she rolled her eyes at him with a huff of a moan escaping her throat.

"It's not nice to mock a queen," she gasped breathlessly, and he hummed against her skin for a second time, pressing his lips down against her shoulder.

"Mocking? I wouldn't dare," Bash said, shooting for insulted but missing the mark with the wide smile that colored his tone. He managed to make her laugh with that, and she let her head loll back onto his shoulder to turn her face towards his.

"Bash, this is no time for cheek," she laughed, nuzzling his jawline with her nose.

He grinned again, turning his head awkwardly to bite her nose playfully. "No, I suppose not," he agreed, sliding a finger inside of her before she could retort. Her whimper made him shift against her with pride, and she hated him for getting the last word.

"That's just not fair," she gasped, her knuckles tightening on the arms of the throne, and he shrugged against her back.

"Bastard," Bash reminded her, his middle finger tapping against her entrance as his forefinger slowly slid in and out. She hissed and squirmed, trying to roll her hips against his, but he wrapped his free arm around her stomach, keeping her close against his body.

"Dauphin," Mary corrected breathlessly, her hips still trying to move against his hand, and he paused for a moment.

"I changed my mind," Bash declared suddenly, pulling his finger out from her and grabbing her hips, lifting her almost before she knew what was happening. "Turn around again. I want to see you," he whispered, flipping her abruptly, her knees banging against the throne before settling on either side of him again, and she glared down at him. "Sorry," he grinned, looking appropriately chagrined, and she pulled him up by his collar to kiss him again, biting down on his lower lip in displeasure. "Alright, alright, I got the hint!" He laughed, pulling away from her and then kissing her again in apology, his hand disappearing under her skirts once more. This time, thankfully, he wasted no time this time around, two fingers sliding inside her quickly and his thumb pressing against her clit, making circles and drawing shapes lightly with his nail. A startled moan left her mouth, louder than before, and Bash barely managed to drag her down for another kiss to muffle the sound. Her hands found his shoulders, gripping for leverage, and she whined against his teeth as his fingers dragged against her inner walls with aching slowness.
Pressure was already starting to build in her abdomen, and she was absolutely embarrassingly wet against his hand. They still had a long way to go, and Mary already felt ready to fly apart into a thousand pieces. And if he kept looking at her like some sort of lost goddess, that might happen a lot sooner than either of them had expected.

"Bash," she murmured desperately against his lips, her tongue flicking out to trace his lower lip.

"Move your hips," he whispered back, his voice strained, and dropped a hand to her waist to guide her motions. "Like this, see?"

She did see. Mary caught his rhythm quickly, effectively riding his hand as her nails dug into the fine fabric of his tunic. She could very well ruin the thing, but she doubted he'd mind. He was obviously uncomfortable in such finery; he'd probably thank her for getting rid of it. Her hips continued to roll against his hand as he worked her clit with his thumb, drawing whimper and moan and gasp alike from her with each different movement he made. He was probably memorizing the sounds, figuring out the best way to bring her release. She wasn't too far off from the truth with that thought. By the time his fingers managed to find some spot inside her that left her shaking and squeaking his name out in a high pitched voice that most certainly didn't belong to her, her release had crept up on her, and she was coming apart around his fingers and shaking like she might actually break in half. Mary was dimly aware of Bash pulling away for a moment, and by the time he'd stroked her through her release, she was ready to collapse against him.

"Alright?" He asked worriedly, moving his hand from her waist to her cheek while his other hand slid out of her slowly. Mary nodded against his hand, opening her eyes to see two blue ones so full of awe and adoration that she felt like someone had grabbed her heart and was squeezing it with an iron glove. "No other grievances?" He asked a few moments later, his smile playful.

"You're an absolute ass," Mary laughed, sighing and resting back on his thighs. That was when she remembered she'd barely touched him at all, and Bash seemed to see it in her eyes, because he caught her wrists before she could even move.

"This was about you, Mary," he murmured seriously, wiping his hand on his pants carelessly and shifting uncomfortably on the throne. "I can wait."

"I don't want you to have to," she started, her tone insisting, when there was a sudden knock at the doors.

Swearing loudly, Bash sat up immediately, taking her with him with an arm wrapped around her back. Her feet hit the floor just as the door opened, but Bash wouldn't let her step away from him. With her body shielding him from the door, he called out over her shoulder, asking what the guard needed, and Mary realized it was to keep anyone in the hall from seeing their regent in such a compromising position. Giggling loudly against him, she buried her face in his doublet, hoping the courtiers would simply think them lovers sharing a moment, and did her best to stop her laughter.

"And I'm the ass," Bash murmured skeptically in her ear before calling to the guards that they could send the villagers back in in just a moment. "I simply need to ahh...collect my thoughts," Bash informed them, and the guards seemed to accept that, shutting the doors for just a minute.

Mary erupted into peals of laughter at that, throwing her head back, and Bash shook his head at her, chuckling in spite of himself. "Get out of here," he told her playfully, gently pushing her away from him. "I'll never survive this damn afternoon if you're in here giving me those bedroom eyes."

"Of course," she laughed, curtsying mockingly at him as she headed for the side door. "Collect your thoughts, my king," Mary teased over her shoulder, smiling at him. "I'll see you at dinner." He waved her away, still grinning as he sat back in the throne, and Mary ducked out quickly, happier than she'd been in weeks.