Dance of Flesh (2)

"Mary Tudor," Harrington announced with practiced formality that betrayed no emotion, though the unexpected arrival of Edward's heir at this hour surely surprised even his unflappable steward.

Bobby sighed internally. Not because of the identity of his unexpected visitor—he maintained connections across all significant political factions as a matter of strategic necessity—but rather because Mary Tudor's midnight arrival represented complications he'd hoped to avoid until after his planned meeting with Elizabeth tomorrow.

"Show her to the receiving room," Bobby instructed, rising from his desk. "Ensure privacy, but remain within calling distance."

"Of course, sir." Harrington hesitated briefly, a nearly imperceptible pause that nonetheless communicated volumes to Bobby's heightened perception. "The Lady Mary arrived with minimal escort—two attendants who await in the entrance hall. She expressed desire for... discretion regarding her presence."

"Understood." Bobby recognized the implications immediately. This wasn't an official visit from King Edward's heir, but rather a clandestine meeting she wished kept from court gossips. "Offer refreshments to her attendants, but ensure they remain in the entrance hall. I'll attend to Lady Mary personally."

As Harrington departed to fulfill these instructions, Bobby took a moment to adjust his appearance—straightening his doublet and running fingers through his thick dark hair. His nanite-maintained physiology required no genuine grooming, but the appearance of normal human behavior remained important to his cover identity.

Mary Tudor's appearance at his residence in the middle of February night represented both opportunity and complication. Unlike her younger half-sister Elizabeth, whose political calculations always prioritized long-term advantage over immediate gratification, Mary's approach combined genuine religious conviction with surprisingly pragmatic methods for securing support.

Bobby had first encountered Mary three months earlier when delivering "exotic medicines" to court physicians treating Edward's worsening condition. Their initial conversation had been purely political—Mary seeking information about Northumberland's intentions while offering cautious overtures toward potential alliance. Subsequent meetings had evolved beyond mere political discussion, as Mary deployed every tool at her disposal to secure his apparent loyalty.

At thirty-five, Mary Tudor had developed skills that her seventeen-year-old half-sister had yet to acquire. Where Elizabeth maintained careful distance from potential allies, preserving both physical and emotional boundaries, Mary recognized that physical intimacy often secured loyalties that money and promises could not. Her approach wasn't driven by personal desire so much as pragmatic assessment of available leverage.

Bobby neither judged nor rejected this strategy. In his billions of years of existence, he had observed countless variations of human sexual politics across civilizations. Mary's approach was neither unusual nor particularly manipulative by historical standards—simply practical utilization of available assets to secure necessary support.

That her methods proved personally enjoyable was merely coincidental. Bobby welcomed all forms of pleasure during his temporary residence in this timeline, particularly given the inevitable displacement that awaited him when quantum energy reached critical mass within his system. Until then, diversions of all varieties remained welcome respites from the weight of eternal existence.

He made his way through the townhouse's dimly lit corridors, considering how best to manage this unexpected development. Last week, he had arranged for carefully selected intelligence about Northumberland's movements to reach Mary through intermediaries. That she had responded by personally visiting his residence suggested either urgent new developments or specific requests requiring direct negotiation.

The receiving room doorway revealed Mary Tudor standing before the hearth, her back to the entrance as she warmed her hands. Unlike her usual court appearances where elaborate Spanish-influenced attire proclaimed her Catholic loyalties, tonight she wore relatively simple traveling clothes—a dark woolen gown with minimal ornamentation, covered by a plain cloak still damp from London's February rain.

"Lady Mary," Bobby announced his presence with the appropriate deference her royal status demanded. "This is an unexpected honor."

Mary turned, her expression transitioning smoothly from contemplative to warmly welcoming. Despite being past the age considered optimal for female beauty in Tudor England, she maintained striking presence—her mother Catherine's Spanish heritage evident in her olive complexion and dark eyes, though her father's Tudor features dominated her facial structure.

"Master Kestrel," she greeted him, extending her hand with regal confidence. "Forgive my unannounced arrival at this unseemly hour. Circumstances required discretion."

Bobby bowed over her offered hand, pressing his lips briefly against her fingers in the courtly gesture expected of a merchant receiving royal attention. "My house and services remain at your disposal, regardless of hour."

Mary smiled, the expression warming features often described as severe in court gossip. Contemporary chronicles rarely captured the complexity of her persona—the mixture of genuine warmth toward perceived allies and implacable hostility toward threats to her religious convictions.

"Your generous hospitality justifies the reports of your character," she said, withdrawing her hand as Bobby straightened. "Though I suspect such late visitation exceeds normal expectations of merchant service."

"I've never aspired to normality, Lady Mary," Bobby replied with a slight smile. "Please, be seated. May I offer refreshment after your journey? Wine perhaps?"

Mary allowed him to guide her to a cushioned chair near the fire, arranging her damp cloak carefully as she sat. "Wine would be welcome. The night air carries February's full chill."

Bobby poured two goblets of Spanish wine—a deliberate choice acknowledging her well-known preference for her mother's cultural heritage. As he offered one to Mary, their fingers brushed briefly—a contact that might appear accidental to observers but which Bobby recognized as deliberate from the slight pressure she applied before accepting the goblet.

"Your message regarding Northumberland's activities proved most timely," Mary said after sampling the wine with appreciative attention. "His agents attempted access to Framlingham two days later, precisely as you warned."

"I'm pleased the information served its purpose," Bobby replied, taking the seat opposite her. "I presume your countermeasures proved effective?"

"Entirely." Mary's satisfaction showed briefly in her expression. "The Duke's men found themselves facing unexpectedly reinforced guards and were forced to retreat without accomplishing their purpose of assessing our defenses."

Bobby nodded, noting her use of "our" rather than "my"—a subtle rhetorical inclusion that positioned him as aligned with her interests. Mary's political instincts were sharper than most contemporaries acknowledged, though not as refined as Elizabeth's would eventually become.

"Northumberland grows increasingly desperate as Edward's health deteriorates," Bobby observed. "His timetable accelerates beyond his preparatory capacity."

"Which brings me to the purpose of tonight's visit," Mary said, setting her wine aside and leaning forward slightly. "My sources suggest the Duke has taken more aggressive steps toward securing Jane Grey's succession. Documents have been prepared for Edward's signature that would bypass both myself and Elizabeth in favor of Suffolk's Protestant daughter."

"Your sources are well-informed," Bobby confirmed. "Though such documents require Privy Council endorsement to carry legal weight, and several councilors remain hesitant to overturn Henry's established succession."

Mary's expression hardened momentarily at mention of her father—the king whose religious vacillations and marital complications had caused her mother such suffering. "Even the most hesitant councilors can be persuaded when threatened with treason charges. Northumberland controls access to my brother completely. With appropriate pressure, even reluctant signatures can be obtained."

"A legitimate concern," Bobby acknowledged. "Though implementation remains challenging while popular sentiment favors your claim as Henry's eldest."

Mary studied him carefully, her dark eyes revealing political calculation beneath courtly manner. "Popular sentiment provides no protection against Tower walls or executioner's blade. I require more substantive safeguards against Northumberland's ambitions."

"Such as?" Bobby prompted, though he had already deduced her likely objectives.

"Information, resources, and connections," Mary replied directly. "Your network provides all three in quantities that could prove decisive in the coming succession crisis."

Bobby maintained neutral expression despite internal amusement at her directness. Where Elizabeth would have approached such requests through layers of implication and strategic positioning, Mary stated her requirements with straightforward clarity.

"And in exchange?" he asked, maintaining the mercantile persona she expected while acknowledging the transactional nature of their discussion.

Mary smiled—a completely different expression from the one she had offered upon his entrance. This smile contained frank acknowledgment of mutual understanding about the negotiation's true nature.

"I believe we've established effective patterns of exchange during our previous... consultations," she replied, her voice dropping to a more intimate register as she set her goblet aside. "Unless those arrangements no longer satisfy your requirements?"

Bobby allowed a small smile to acknowledge her meaning without appearing overly eager. "Previous arrangements have proven mutually beneficial. I simply seek confirmation that tonight's discussion follows similar patterns."

"With appropriate adjustments for the increased value of what I request," Mary confirmed, rising from her chair with deliberate grace. She moved toward the hearth again, positioning herself so that firelight silhouetted her figure through the relatively simple traveling gown. The effect was calculated—revealing enough to stimulate interest while maintaining plausible deniability about intentional seduction.

Bobby appreciated the skillful presentation. Unlike Elizabeth, whose inexperience created genuine tension between political necessity and personal hesitation, Mary had long since reconciled her religious convictions with practical necessities of securing male support. She utilized her body as strategically as any other political asset, without apparent conflict between her Catholic piety and pragmatic sexuality.

"I require funding beyond what my limited personal resources provide," Mary stated directly, turning to face him as he approached. "Securing loyal nobles and maintaining adequate defenses at Framlingham exceeds my current capacity."

"Substantial funding," Bobby observed, stopping close enough that the difference in their heights became pronounced. Mary, like many Tudor women, stood significantly shorter than his imposing frame, requiring her to look up to maintain eye contact. The position created natural power dynamics that she deliberately countered by placing one hand against his chest—establishing physical connection that shifted the interaction's nature.

"Yes," she agreed simply. "Along with continued intelligence regarding Northumberland's movements and access to your trading network for communication purposes. Letters between my supporters face increasing interception as Edward's condition worsens."

Bobby covered her hand with his own, acknowledging the transition from political discussion to more intimate negotiation. "These requests exceed our previous arrangements considerably."

"As will my compensation," Mary replied, her hand sliding upward from his chest to the back of his neck in deliberate invitation. "I believe our previous encounters have demonstrated my understanding of what you value beyond mere commercial advantage."

Without waiting for verbal response, she drew his head down toward hers, initiating a kiss that balanced aristocratic refinement with deliberate sensuality. Mary Tudor kissed like she negotiated—directly and without pretense, yet with sophisticated technique that reflected years of practical experience.

Bobby responded appropriately, one hand moving to her waist while the other cupped the back of her head, deepening the kiss with controlled passion that acknowledged her initiative while asserting his own dominance. The exchange established clear parameters—this was transaction wrapped in mutually enjoyable physical expression, without romantic pretense or emotional complication.

When they separated, Mary's breathing had quickened slightly, though her expression remained composed. "I trust my initial offering meets with approval? The full arrangement would naturally include more comprehensive... services."

"A promising beginning," Bobby acknowledged, his hand remaining at her waist in proprietary fashion. "Though specific terms require more detailed discussion."

Mary's smile held satisfaction at his response. Unlike many men who became flustered or overeager at royal attention, Bobby maintained composed negotiation even as physical interest developed between them. This balanced approach increased her respect—she valued strength and control in political allies.

"Then let us ensure privacy for our negotiations," she suggested, stepping back slightly while maintaining physical connection through her hand on his arm. "Your steward seemed most discreet, but additional safeguards against interruption would be prudent."

Bobby moved to the door, securing it with the heavy iron bolt before returning to where Mary waited. Though the gesture was largely theatrical—his psionic abilities could ensure absolute privacy without physical barriers—maintaining conventional appearances remained important to his cover identity.

"Now," Mary said as he returned to her side, "regarding the specific funding requirements for securing nobleman loyalty during the coming succession crisis..."

What followed established the pattern of their previous encounters—political negotiation interwoven with progressively intimate physical contact. As Mary outlined her financial needs with precise figures and specific purposes, Bobby's hands worked methodically at the fastenings of her gown, each small concession from him matched by additional garments loosened or removed.

By the time they had established the basic framework of financial support—Bobby agreeing to provide substantial credit through his banking connections in Antwerp—Mary stood before him in just her thin linen shift, her outer garments having been methodically removed and carefully placed across a nearby chair.

"Your terms seem reasonable thus far," Bobby observed, his hands moving to cup her breasts through the linen as they discussed intelligence requirements. "Though dedicated courier routes through Plymouth would significantly increase expenses beyond initial estimates."

Mary gasped softly as his thumbs circled her nipples through the fabric, but maintained admirable focus on their negotiation. "The Plymouth route provides essential connection to my Spanish supporters. I can offer additional compensation for that specific accommodation."

"In what form?" Bobby asked, deliberately intensifying his attention to her increasingly sensitive breasts while maintaining outwardly businesslike tone.

With practiced efficiency that belied her royal status, Mary reached down to unfasten his breeches, her hand slipping inside to wrap around his already substantial erection. "I believe this form of collateral has proven acceptable in previous negotiations?"

Bobby allowed an appreciative sound as her experienced fingers applied precisely the right pressure to his cock. At thirty-five, Mary had developed sexual skills that few English noblewomen could match—practical knowledge likely acquired during her years at court when various factions had sought her favor through male representatives.

"Acceptable but incomplete," Bobby replied, maintaining negotiating posture despite her skillful manipulation. "The Plymouth arrangements require significant resource allocation that exceeds standard parameters."

Mary's smile held genuine amusement at his continued business terminology despite their increasingly explicit physical exchange. "Then perhaps we should proceed to more comprehensive demonstrations of good faith," she suggested, sinking gracefully to her knees before him while continuing to stroke his considerable length. "I believe this particular form of assurance has proven effective in securing your cooperation previously?"

Without waiting for response, she freed his cock completely from his breeches and leaned forward to take him into her mouth with practiced expertise. The contrast between her outward presentation as the pious Catholic princess and her current actions—kneeling before a merchant with his cock between her royal lips—embodied the fascinating contradictions of Mary Tudor's character.

Bobby allowed his hand to rest on the back of her head, not guiding but acknowledging her efforts as she applied herself to his pleasure with surprising skill. Where Elizabeth remained virgin territory—her sexual development suspended by political necessity and personal caution—Mary had clearly embraced practical carnality as another tool in her limited political arsenal.

"Your dedication to alliance building remains impressive, Lady Mary," Bobby observed, deliberately using her formal title while she performed this most informal service. The contrast drew a muffled sound of amusement from her without interrupting her rhythmic attention to his cock.

Mary worked with methodical thoroughness, alternating between taking him deeply into her throat and applying focused attention to the sensitive head with her tongue. Her technique reflected practical experience rather than passionate abandon—she approached this act as she did all political tasks, with determined efficiency directed toward specific objectives.

After several minutes of this focused attention, Bobby decided to recalibrate their power dynamic. With a smooth movement that displayed his unusual strength, he lifted her from her kneeling position, ignoring her sound of surprise as he carried her to the large table that dominated one side of the receiving room.

He set her down on its polished surface, pushing her shift upward to expose her lower body completely while stepping between her spread thighs. Mary's expression registered momentary surprise at this assertion of control, followed by approval—she respected strength, having learned from her father that power ultimately determined political outcomes regardless of legal niceties.

"The Plymouth courier route requires additional discussion," Bobby stated conversationally, as though they remained in normal negotiation rather than their current compromising position. His fingers traced deliberate patterns along her inner thighs, gradually moving toward the center where evidence of her arousal had become apparent despite her businesslike manner.

"What—ah—what specific concerns require address?" Mary managed, working to maintain composed negotiation even as his fingers found her most sensitive areas. The juxtaposition of political discussion and intimate touch had featured in their previous encounters, a combination she found particularly effective at securing favorable terms.

"Frequency of communication, security protocols, contingency planning for interception," Bobby enumerated calmly, his fingers continuing their methodical exploration of her increasingly wet center. "Each represents significant investment beyond basic funding provisions."

Mary gasped as he found a particularly responsive spot, her political composure momentarily fracturing before she reasserted control. "Such details—might be more effectively discussed—after demonstration of mutual good faith," she suggested, reaching down to guide his hand more firmly against her core.

Bobby smiled at her transparent attempt to delay detailed negotiation until after physical satisfaction. "Strategic planning benefits from clear thinking rather than post-coital accommodation," he countered, deliberately slipping two fingers inside her while maintaining pressure against her clitoris with his thumb. "Unless you find concurrent discussion too challenging?"

The implied challenge triggered exactly the response he anticipated. Mary Tudor had spent her entire life proving herself capable despite male underestimation. "I assure you, Master Kestrel, my capacity for multitasking remains undiminished," she replied, deliberately contracting her internal muscles around his invading fingers while maintaining direct eye contact. "Plymouth communications should operate biweekly at minimum, with alternate routes established through Bristol as contingency against Northumberland's coastal surveillance."

"Weekly would better serve your interests given accelerating developments," Bobby countered, beginning rhythmic movement with his fingers that drew small gasps from her despite her determined focus. "Though that frequency doubles operational expenses and risk profiles."

"Weekly exceeds—ah—necessary parameters," Mary argued, though her voice had begun to betray the effect of his continued intimate attention. "Ten-day intervals represent optimal balance of timeliness and security."

"An interesting compromise proposal," Bobby acknowledged, increasing both pace and pressure as their negotiation continued. "Though implementation requires additional consideration regarding cipher protocols and authentication mechanisms."

Mary's thighs had begun trembling slightly despite her remarkable self-control. "Authentication through—God's wounds—through Spanish commercial references with rotating Biblical verses as secondary confirmation," she managed, her voice increasingly strained as pleasure built within her system. "Are you attempting to distract me from effective negotiation, Master Kestrel?"

"Not at all," Bobby replied with deliberate innocence, his fingers maintaining their relentless rhythm inside her. "I merely seek conclusion of essential business details before proceeding to more comprehensive alliance confirmation. Unless you find yourself unable to concentrate?"

The challenge again achieved its purpose, Mary's expression hardening with determination even as her body responded to his skillful touch. "I've negotiated treaties under far more trying circumstances," she declared, though the effect was somewhat undermined by the breathless quality of her voice. "Spanish verification requires reciprocal acknowledgment through merchant shipping manifests with appropriate numerical sequences."

"A workable system," Bobby conceded, deliberately altering the angle of his penetrating fingers to stimulate the most sensitive internal spot while continuing steady pressure against her clitoris. "Though key distribution presents logistical challenges under current court surveillance conditions."

Mary's composure finally cracked as his adjusted technique pushed her rapidly toward climax. "Enough—discussion," she gasped, reaching for his wrist not to stop his movements but rather to guide them more precisely. "Fucking finish this negotiation properly."

Bobby smiled at her uncharacteristic vulgarity—a linguistic descent that occurred only during their most intimate moments, when royal dignity temporarily surrendered to physical imperatives. "As the lady commands," he acquiesced, withdrawing his fingers and positioning his considerable cock at her entrance instead.

Mary made an impatient sound, reaching to pull him forward with surprising strength for her small frame. Bobby allowed himself to be guided, sliding into her with a single smooth thrust that drew matching sounds of satisfaction from both of them. After the extended foreplay of their negotiation, her body welcomed his substantial size without resistance, internal muscles immediately contracting around him with practiced control.

"Now," Mary said, her voice steadying somewhat despite their intimate connection, "regarding acceleration of support payment schedules..."

Bobby laughed—a genuine sound of appreciation for her determined return to negotiation even with his cock fully sheathed inside her. "Your focus remains admirable," he acknowledged, beginning to move with controlled depth that allowed continued conversation despite mounting pleasure.

This peculiar combination of political negotiation and sexual congress had characterized their previous encounters as well. Where most women in Mary's position would have abandoned business discussion entirely during intimacy, she utilized these moments of physical vulnerability to secure optimal terms—recognizing that male negotiators often proved more amenable during sexual engagement than in formal settings.

"Initial payment of two thousand crowns through Antwerp provides sufficient—" Mary paused as a particularly deep thrust momentarily disrupted her concentration. "—sufficient resources for immediate security enhancements at Framlingham."

"Fifteen hundred with additional disbursement contingent on verifiable loyalty from Norfolk's representatives," Bobby countered, maintaining steady rhythm that balanced pleasure delivery with continued cognitive function. "Recent intelligence suggests his commitment may prove situational rather than absolute."

Mary's legs wrapped around his waist, using the leverage to pull him deeper with each thrust while she considered his counterproposal. The position shifted power dynamics in her favor—while he physically dominated their connection, she controlled rhythm and depth through this strategic adjustment.

"Seventeen hundred initially," she countered breathlessly, "with remaining three hundred held in escrow pending Norfolk's formal declaration of support. His Catholic sympathies ultimately outweigh his survival instincts."

Bobby increased his pace slightly, sensing her approaching climax despite her remarkable concentration on their negotiation. "Acceptable terms," he conceded, his hands moving to grip her hips more firmly as their coupling intensified. "Though explicit documentation of fund utilization becomes necessary for transactions of this magnitude."

Mary's eyes flashed momentary indignation even as her body responded to his accelerated thrusting. "You question my financial management?"

"I question no aspect of your considerable capabilities," Bobby clarified smoothly, punctuating the diplomatic correction with a particularly well-angled thrust that drew an involuntary gasp from her. "I merely observe that accountability supports operational security when multiple agents access distributed resources."

The logical framework defused her momentary offense, allowing negotiation to continue despite their increasingly vigorous physical congress. "Quarterly accounting through Dominican channels," she proposed, her breath coming faster as pleasure built toward inevitable conclusion. "With coded verification through your Antwerp representatives."

"Monthly," Bobby countered, deliberately changing angle to stimulate her most responsive internal areas while maintaining the pace that had proven most effective during previous encounters. "With immediate notification of significant expenditures exceeding one hundred crowns."

Mary's ability to maintain political focus finally began fracturing as physical sensation overwhelmed cognitive function. "Bimonthly," she gasped, her final counteroffer before coherent negotiation became impossible. "With threshold at... one-fifty..."

Her voice trailed off as Bobby accelerated both pace and force, driving into her with controlled power that pushed her rapidly past the threshold of rational discussion. Mary's head fell back, her body arching against the table's surface as pleasure overwhelmed political calculation.

"Accepted," Bobby stated simply, though he doubted she registered the concession as orgasm claimed her attention completely.

Mary Tudor climaxed with the same combination of discipline and abandon that characterized all aspects of her complex personality—her body convulsing around him while she maintained just enough awareness to avoid outcries that might alert her waiting attendants. Instead, she bit her lower lip hard enough to nearly draw blood, her internal muscles contracting around his invading cock with remarkable strength as waves of pleasure coursed through her system.

Bobby maintained his rhythm through her climax, prolonging the sensation while watching her expression with genuine fascination. In these unguarded moments of physical release, Mary Tudor revealed vulnerability beneath royal composure—glimpses of the woman whose life had been shaped by political necessity rather than personal desire.

As her breathing gradually steadied, awareness returned to Mary's expression. "You haven't finished," she observed, noting his continued hardness within her. Unlike many men of her acquaintance who sought immediate completion regardless of female satisfaction, Bobby typically maintained control until mutual fulfillment had been achieved.

"Our business remains incomplete," he replied with deliberate ambiguity, slowly withdrawing from her despite her small sound of protest. "And I believe our negotiation mentioned comprehensive services for the arrangements discussed."

Understanding immediately colored Mary's expression. With practiced efficiency that belied her royal status, she repositioned herself on the table, turning to present her backside to him while bracing herself on her elbows. The position represented complete submission in physical terms, though they both understood it as tactical accommodation rather than genuine surrender.

"The Plymouth route deserves appropriate compensation," she acknowledged, looking back over her shoulder with frank assessment. "Though I expect comprehensive intelligence regarding Northumberland's succession planning in return."

Bobby positioned himself behind her, his cock sliding easily through her abundant wetness before pressing against her entrance again. "Information flow remains proportional to demonstrated commitment," he replied, pushing forward with deliberate slowness that drew a sharp intake of breath from her despite her considerable experience.

From this angle, his substantial size created more significant stretch, requiring careful adjustment even with her body's prepared state. Mary breathed deeply, consciously relaxing muscles that initially tensed against the invasion. Unlike most men of her era who would have simply forced their way forward regardless of female comfort, Bobby maintained controlled patience, allowing her body to accommodate him gradually.

"Specific intelligence regarding—" Mary paused as he sank deeper, adjusting to the fullness before continuing, "—regarding Edward's physicians and their treatment protocols represents particular value."

Bobby established careful rhythm, each thrust penetrating slightly deeper than the previous until he had fully sheathed himself in her willing body. "Medical information carries highest sensitivity given court surveillance," he observed, his hands gripping her hips to control their movement precisely. "Though certain aspects might be obtainable through appropriate channels."

This position allowed significantly deeper penetration, stimulating internal areas that previous arrangements had left untouched. Mary gasped as he bottomed out completely, the sensation hovering between pleasure and discomfort until her body adjusted fully to his considerable size.

"I require—" she began, then lost her train of thought as he established more forceful rhythm that rendered political negotiation temporarily impossible. For several minutes, their coupling continued without verbal exchange, the receiving room filled only with the sounds of flesh meeting flesh and their increasingly labored breathing.

Bobby watched Mary's composure gradually dissolve as physical sensation overwhelmed political calculation. Her carefully constructed persona—the dignified Catholic princess fighting for her rightful inheritance—gave way to more primal reality as her body responded to his methodical attention. Within minutes, she had abandoned pretense of negotiation entirely, pushing back against each thrust with increasing urgency.

"Harder," she demanded, royal authority momentarily reasserting itself even in this compromised position. "I won't break, Kestrel."

Bobby complied, increasing both force and tempo while maintaining precise angle to maximize stimulation of her most responsive areas. Mary dropped fully to her forearms, presenting herself at the perfect height for deeper penetration as their coupling intensified beyond pretense of political discussion.

"Is this how you fuck my sister too?" Mary asked suddenly, the unexpected question emerging between gasps as he drove into her with increasing power.

Bobby maintained his rhythm without hesitation, though the query represented interesting development in their dynamic. "Would that matter to you?" he countered, deliberately avoiding direct response.

"It might," Mary acknowledged breathlessly, her body continuing to meet each thrust despite the potentially contentious conversation. "Given her youth and rumored fear of men's touch, I imagine I offer more comprehensive experience."

The comparison was interesting—less from jealous motivation than practical assessment of competitive advantage. Unlike most women who might question a lover's other connections from emotional insecurity, Mary approached the matter as strategic consideration—evaluating her assets against potential rivals for valuable alliance.

Rather than verbally engaging this complex dynamic, Bobby responded physically instead—gripping her hips harder and increasing the force of his thrusts until the table itself began shifting slightly across the floor with each impact. The assertive response drew approving sounds from Mary, who appreciated definitive action more than diplomatic evasion.

"I thought so," she gasped, apparently interpreting his vigorous response as confirmation of her superior capabilities. "The virgin princess probably wouldn't know what to do with a cock like yours anyway."

Bobby found this competitive assessment darkly amusing given his awareness of Elizabeth's prophetic dreams—visions that had apparently included explicit sexual scenarios based on her reaction during their recent meeting. The contrast between the sisters extended to every aspect of their personalities—Mary's practical experience versus Elizabeth's visionary potential, immediate tactical thinking versus long-term strategic calculation.

"Different arrangements serve different purposes," he replied cryptically, refusing to confirm or deny Elizabeth's involvement despite Mary's obvious fishing for information.

His non-committal response clearly frustrated her, but further questioning became impossible as he increased pace beyond her capacity for coherent conversation. Mary abandoned the topic, focusing instead on the rapidly building pleasure that his relentless rhythm produced within her responsive body.

Their coupling continued with increasing intensity, political calculation completely replaced by physical imperative as Bobby drove them both toward completion. Mary's second climax approached more rapidly than her first, her body primed by previous satisfaction and the deeper stimulation their current position provided.

"I'm going to—" she gasped, unable to complete the sentence as orgasm overtook her with unexpected force. Her internal muscles clamped down around him with remarkable strength, her entire body trembling as pleasure crashed through her system with tsunami intensity.

Bobby maintained his rhythm through her climax, prolonging the sensation while finally allowing his own release to build after extended control. As her trembling began to subside, he increased pace to maximum intensity for several final thrusts before driving deep and remaining there as his own orgasm erupted, filling her with hot pulses that drew renewed gasping from her still-sensitive body.

For several moments they remained joined in that position, both breathing heavily from their exertions. Then Bobby withdrew carefully, watching with primal satisfaction as his seed began leaking from her still-pulsing center—visual confirmation of their transaction's completion.

Mary pushed herself upright with slightly shaking arms, turning to face him with remarkable composure given their recent activities. She made no move to cover herself immediately, instead regarding him with frank assessment as fluid continued running down her inner thigh—physical evidence of their arrangement that she neither acknowledged nor seemed troubled by.

"I presume our terms are settled then?" she inquired, her voice steadier than might be expected after such intense physical experience. "Initial payment of seventeen hundred crowns through Antwerp, with continued intelligence regarding Northumberland's succession planning and weekly communication through the Plymouth route?"

Bobby smiled at her immediate return to business matters, adjusting his clothing with practiced efficiency while she remained momentarily exposed before him. "With bimonthly accounting and notification of expenditures exceeding one hundred fifty crowns," he confirmed, completing their negotiated terms. "Plus additional medicines for Edward's comfort, though I make no promises regarding efficacy given his advancing condition."

Mary nodded, finally reaching for her discarded shift. "The medicines represent particular value. Despite our differences, I would not wish my brother unnecessary suffering in his final months."

This sentiment—genuine concern for Edward despite their religious conflict and his role in potentially disinheriting her—represented the complex humanity beneath Mary's often one-dimensional historical portrayal. Her capacity to compartmentalize political necessity from personal feeling mirrored Bobby's own evolved perspective after billions of years observing human complexity.

As Mary methodically restored her appearance, garment by garment, their discussion turned to practical implementation of their agreed terms. Bobby outlined specific banking arrangements through his Antwerp connections while she detailed her current defensive preparations at Framlingham. Throughout this exchange, no mention was made of their intimate activities just minutes earlier—the physical dimension of their arrangement acknowledged through completion rather than verbal reference.

When she stood fully dressed once more, Mary appeared exactly as she had upon arrival—the composed royal princess rather than the passionate woman who had demanded harder fucking just moments earlier. Only slightly flushed cheeks and unusually bright eyes hinted at activities beyond political negotiation.

"The hour grows late," she observed, glancing toward the window where midnight had long since passed. "I must return before my absence raises uncomfortable questions among my remaining court attendants."

"Indeed," Bobby agreed, moving to remove the bolt securing the chamber door. "Though given the weather, perhaps you might consider remaining until morning? Your attendants could be comfortably quartered, and further discussion might prove valuable regarding Norfolk's wavering loyalties."

The invitation represented practical consideration rather than romantic extension—continued proximity would allow additional intelligence exchange without requiring another potentially dangerous nighttime journey through London's streets. Yet Mary's slight smile suggested she recognized additional motivations beneath the practical proposal.

"A tempting offer," she acknowledged, adjusting her cloak with practiced dignity. "Though unfortunately impossible given current surveillance of my movements. Northumberland's spies report regularly on visitors to my authorized residences. Extended absence would generate questions I would prefer to avoid."

Bobby nodded, accepting this practical assessment without pressing further. "Then safe return journey, Lady Mary. My steward will escort you and your attendants to your carriage with appropriate discretion."

Mary extended her hand in the formal gesture of royal departure, allowing him to bow over it with proper deference that acknowledged their public personas rather than private arrangement. Yet as Bobby straightened, she stepped closer, speaking in tones too low for anyone beyond the room to hear.

"Your assistance may determine England's future governance," she said, her dark eyes holding his with genuine intensity. "When I secure my rightful throne, such loyalty will be remembered with appropriate rewards beyond our current arrangements."

"I look forward to that potential future," Bobby replied with diplomatic ambiguity that committed him to nothing while maintaining apparent alignment with her interests. "Though much remains undetermined in the succession landscape."

Mary's expression hardened slightly at this qualified response. "My father established the succession clearly through parliamentary statute. Only treasonous manipulation could prevent my rightful inheritance once Edward passes."

Rather than challenging this somewhat simplified assessment of Tudor succession politics, Bobby merely bowed again with appropriate deference. "May events unfold according to proper legal framework," he offered—another carefully constructed statement that could support multiple interpretations depending on one's definition of "proper legal framework."

Mary accepted this diplomatic response with a slight nod, recognizing the strategic ambiguity without challenging it directly. As Harrington arrived to escort her back to her waiting attendants, she departed with perfect royal dignity that gave no indication of their recent intimate activities.

After ensuring Mary's departure proceeded with appropriate discretion, Bobby returned to his private study rather than seeking rest. Despite the lateness of the hour, his unique physiology required minimal sleep, and the evening's developments demanded immediate strategic recalibration.

Mary Tudor's direct approach to securing his support created interesting counterbalance to Elizabeth's more cautious strategy. The elder sister offered immediate rewards—both financial opportunity through Spanish connections and explicit physical gratification—while the younger dangled future potential through prophetic glimpses of their entwined destinies.

Bobby found historical irony in their contrasting approaches. Mary, whose reign would be briefer and ultimately less successful, focused on immediate tactical advantage rather than long-term positioning. Elizabeth, whose forty-five year rule would transform England into global power, demonstrated strategic patience even at seventeen.

Yet both sisters underestimated the complexity of his actual objectives. For a being who had witnessed countless civilizations rise and fall across billions of years, Tudor succession politics represented fascinating microcosm rather than ultimate purpose. His partnership with Elizabeth served larger patterns involving humanity's scientific development, not merely immediate political outcomes.

Bobby moved to his desk, unfolding detailed maps of southern England while considering how best to manage these parallel relationships without creating unnecessary complications. Elizabeth would eventually discover his connections to Mary—William Cecil's intelligence network grew more sophisticated daily, and Bobby's own staff might reveal information given appropriate incentive.

When that discovery occurred, Elizabeth's reaction would prove revealing about her developing emotional state. The jealousy he had detected during their last meeting suggested personal attachment beyond political alliance—feelings that might influence her strategic decisions in potentially problematic ways.

Already he had sensed her growing resentment toward Mary despite public protestations about respecting legitimate succession. If Elizabeth discovered his intimate connection with her half-sister, that resentment might crystallize into something more dangerous—potentially increasing receptiveness to suggestions about bypassing Mary's reign entirely through direct intervention.

Bobby contemplated this possibility without moral judgment. In his billions of years observing human civilization, he had witnessed countless succession conflicts involving far greater violence than Tudor England could imagine. Elizabeth's potential willingness to eliminate Mary represented neither unusual depravity nor particular virtue—merely pragmatic assessment of political realities.

From purely practical perspective, accelerating Elizabeth's ascension by eliminating Mary's five-year bloody reign would arguably benefit England significantly. Catholic persecution would be avoided, Spanish influence prevented, and economic stability maintained rather than undermined. Thousands of lives would be spared, technological development accelerated, and national unity preserved rather than fractured along religious lines.

Yet such intervention would fundamentally alter Elizabeth's development as ruler. The guilt of supplanting her sister would shape her reign differently than historically established pattern where she had inherited legitimately after Mary's natural death. That psychological foundation—ascending legally rather than through usurpation—had proven crucial to Elizabeth's historical effectiveness as monarch.

As interesting as these counterfactual scenarios might be, immediate practical considerations required attention. Bobby would depart for Woodstock tomorrow morning to meet with Elizabeth as planned. Her letter suggested increased urgency regarding Edward's declining health, and Cecil would undoubtedly have new intelligence about Northumberland's activities.

Balancing these parallel relationships required careful information management—providing each Tudor sister appropriate intelligence without compromising either's strategic position prematurely. For now, maintaining both connections served optimal outcomes across multiple potential timelines, regardless of which succession trajectory ultimately manifested.

Bobby studied the map before him, tracing potential routes between key locations while considering defensive contingencies for various scenarios. Regardless of philosophical complexities, practical preparations remained essential—safe houses established, emergency resources positioned, communication networks secured against increasing surveillance as Edward's death approached.

The chess pieces were moving faster now as February deepened toward inevitable March crisis. Northumberland's desperation would grow proportionally with Edward's declining health, increasing danger for both Tudor sisters despite their different positions and approaches.

Bobby found himself genuinely curious about which sister would prove more adaptable to rapidly changing circumstances—Mary with her direct tactical approach or Elizabeth with her strategic long-term vision. History provided clear answer regarding their ultimate effectiveness as rulers, but immediate crisis management sometimes favored different qualities than sustained governance.

Either way, his role remained consistent—providing resources, intelligence, and support that optimized potential outcomes across multiple timelines while maintaining sufficient distance to avoid compromising his broader objectives. The physical relationships each sister sought represented merely one dimension of these complex interactions—pleasurable diversion rather than primary purpose.

As London's night deepened toward dawn, Bobby continued his methodical preparations, setting in motion arrangements Mary had requested while simultaneously finalizing details for his journey to Elizabeth at Woodstock. The Tudor succession crisis accelerated toward its historical inflection point, with forces now concentrating that would shape England's future for centuries to come.