Prompt Post 4!
The first, second, and third posts are now shut down for prompting. All new prompts must be posted here. Any new prompts posted to Prompt Post 1, 2, and 3 will be deleted without warning.
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Part One
We can fight our desires,
But when we start making fires
We get ever so hot,
Whether we like it or not...
It is not quite midnight when she comes to him, cloaked in blue like the Holy Virgin herself, more beautiful as Jezebel and just as sinful.
The Minister is standing before the hearth in his chambers, silently brooding over the flames, as he has done so every night since the fateful day he first laid eyes on Esmeralda. The heat of the fire on his face is nothing compared to the inferno raging within him, burning through his heart and loins. He does not hear the gypsy girl's approach when she comes, padding on unshod feet like a jungle cat. She touches him lightly upon the arm, breathes his name with that husky voice, softer than he'd ever heard it before.
"Claude..."
He is upon her almost immediately, robes billowing, reaching out to grasp her shoulders, devouring her with hungry eyes. Esmeralda does not fight, does not attempt to flee. He reluctantly slackens his grip after a moment, expecting her to run now, surprise and anger giving way to confusion when she does not. She is smiling, smiling as she parts the heavy folds of her cloak to reveal the bare flesh beneath, brown and smooth, gleaming like a marble idol in the firelight.
Frollo groans at the sight of her standing there, naked and unashamed, a raw sound which seems to emanate from somewhere deep inside, somewhere far from God. He reaches out for her, fingers curling around one pliant breast. The soft weight of it in his hand sends a bolt of lightning through him, blinding him, forcing him to his knees. He prostrates himself before the gypsy, kneeling to worship at the altar of her cunt. She strokes his hair, crooning some heathen lullaby as he caresses her skin with quivering hands.
Fittingly, the witching hour is upon them when Esmeralda finally spreads herself open for the Minister before the flames. She reaches down to guide him into her core, whispering encouragement and sweet promises, arching up to meet his wild thrusts and crying his name with furious abandon. Afterwards, when he has spent himself upon her taut stomach, she trails her fingers through the mess and licks them clean for his pleasure, satiated and purring.
"Why did you come here?" Frollo asks quietly, finally finding his voice and the strength to speak, "You've eluded me for so long. Why give yourself up now? Why give yourself to me?"
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Part Two
They say we can love who we trust
But what is love without lust?
Two hearts with accurate devotions
And what are feelings without emotions?
Esmeralda smirks, her tongue darting from between ruby lips to savour the last of his seed. She straddles him, tracing the jagged lines of his body as he shudders beneath her, wanting her again.
"I have another gift for you."
"That does not answer my question, Esmeralda. And besides..." Frollo is himself once more, bold and proud, "There is nothing else I want. There is nothing else you could offer me to surpass this..."
He twists her dusky nipples with a dark chuckle. Esmeralda throws back her head, impaling herself upon his cock in one fluid motion, rolling her hips and sighing as he reaches up to draw his fingertips across her face, her throat, her breasts. He can't stop touching her, looking at her, wanting her, even when he is inside of her, even now when she belongs to him. She undulates, fluttering like a mare in heat as he pushes up, harder now, faster, chasing his climax.
Flushed, jade eyes gleaming with cruel desire, Esmeralda rides the waves of her own pleasure, watching him, waiting for him to reach that peak. When he finally begins to climb, jaw clenched and chest heaving, she drags him up by his wrists, curling her legs around his waist. She leans into him, holding him close, and whispers...
"The Court of Miracles, my dear Minister," Esmeralda smiles as Frollo gapes at her in disbelief, "I will give you the Court of Miracles. I will give you every gypsy in Paris."
He moans, whimpers her name, thrusting madly into her slickness. His fingers sink into the velvety flesh of her buttocks, leaving red imprints and livid bruises in their wake.
"I will give you every gypsy in Paris, if you ask it of me."
Close now, so close. Frollo is roaring, hips juddering, breath hissing.
Seal the deal. Go in for the kill. Now!
"They will scream and writhe upon their pyres...and I will scream and writhe in your bed, Claude."
Frollo almost shrieks as he spills into her, pushing her back onto the cold stone, shuddering atop her, his entire body convulsing. She laughs and claims his mouth with her own.
"Why?"
This question comes much later, a hoarse whisper in the stillness of the chamber, bemused and hesitant.
"You are a king," Esmeralda replies simply, "You do not wear a crown but you are a king all the same. The people respect you. They fear you. No one can touch you, not even the King of France himself. You are the King of Paris."
Frollo seems pleased at that. He buries his face in her ebony curls, inhaling her exotic perfume beneath the musk of sweat and sex.
"And you will be my queen. Yes?"
"Yes," Esmeralda draws away, eyes burning with pale wildfire, distant and dreamy, "I will be your queen."
The Queen of Paris.
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