<div style="text-align: center">​</div><span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'">Eleanor wasn't experienced with men, but she knew Roland, and she was intuitive enough to know what was causing him to feel that warm spur of need within his hard flesh. Her abilities were only confirmed to be working when his voice echoed between them, filled with need. Thankfully, he corrected himself, including the nickname he'd so lovingly formed for her, it hinted to her that their closeness was mutual, even if it may have felt somewhat different. As his tone grew stern, the redheaded vixen in his lap focused her gaze toward him, the gaze to her bosom hadn't been ignored... it had simply been noted. <br/>
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So far, his words made a great deal of sense, but the queen did not care for them... especially as his hands were painting a different story, a one of need that rivalled her own. "You have been my protector, my friend, my confidant, my world," Soft tones of lust were dominated by awe and genuine warmth for the man she sat upon. "There will always be a scandal, people will always talk," There was a firmness that rose in her tone as her lust was finally allowed to ebb out of her words. "Why should we deny what we so clearly crave for the people? We give them our lives, our waking hours, does that not entitle us to be able to love freely?" <br/>
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A soft groan escaped her narrowly parted lips the moment she felt his hand slip behind her neck, their growing closeness just fuelled the fire of lust burning within her. There wasn't enough time for her lips to truly sink into his before their soft union was broken. "Roland," Eleanor slipped her hands down along his chest as she remained nestled close to him, one hand slipped down to brush along the hard flesh of his pants, caressing the swollen flesh with a tender, coaxing motion. "Does this feel right? It feels perfect for me," Her gaze never relented, it was warm, inviting, just as the apex of her legs. "My father is gone, I am the throne now. A dead man has no feelings, he has no opinions. You have and always will look after me, there is nothing wrong with that." A lustful breath escaped her just as her lips drew near to his. "I have loved you for some time, and I do not think my father would disapprove of his daughter finding love in a man who should be standing beside her as King." As she spoke, her hand took great care of his bulge, until her words stopped.<br/>
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Slowly, the queen pulled her form further from him, and his grasp. One foot eased back to feel the cool stone, then the next as she rose. "I felt the way your hands touched me, I know what your body desires. If your mind truly doesn't want me, then I shall bother you no more." The queen was well aware that as she stood, the gown slipped down her curvaceous, supple form to pool at her feet. "It is normal for a king to take many women to bed, alongside his wife. I do not see why a queen should be any different." The crackling fire cast a warm glow on Eleanor's pale, silky flesh. A taunting shadow dancing along her. "Sooner or later, I'm sure you're aware, it will be expected of me to marry, to create an heir." Her gaze fell along his form with clear, lingering lust. "I would prefer the man I love and have grown to love in many ways. But I have a duty to my people." <br/>
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Deliberately, the female stepped out of the silky fabric ring, only to position herself closer to the male before she bent down at the hip, exposing her toned, slender figure. As she reached the clothing, there was a glimpse of soft, moist flesh that would've glistened in the right lighting, peaking toward him between her supple thighs. With a soft huff, she gathered up her dress and rose back up in a slow, taunting manner as if she knew she was restricting his view from her core. "The choice is yours, Roland. Would you rather pleasure the people and a dead man, or would you rather take what you want?" The redhead turned to face him, waiting to see his reaction.</span>