PG Love Scene Blogfest: Arranged Marriage

Go ahead, all me a wimp. I don’t care. The fact is, I couldn’t see my way to writing a sex scene with younger characters unless I dropped back a few hundred years to a time when teenagers were expected to marry before their 15th birthday. And yes, I know MG is supposed to involve characters between 8 and 12 years old. I may have gone a bit higher than that with this scene. I’m fine with that.

But seriously, don’t ask me why I chose to write from a young girl’s point-of-view, ‘cause I can’t answer that. It’s just the story that came to me. It is what it is, and what it is may well not be MG, nor even PG, but I’m going with it, ‘cause it’s all I’ve got.

And once you’re done reading this little gem-o’-embarrassment, do swing by the Blogfest home page and follow the links in the Mr. Linky widget to read the other entries. I guarantee they’ll be interesting!

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Father says it has to be this way, for the sake of the kingdom. I asked Mother if that was true, and she just told me it was a great honor for me to be chosen. I wish it felt more like an honor. I’d rather be at home again, with Nana and my sisters, instead of here in this castle that feels like it needs about sixty extra logs in the fireplaces.

This dress is silly too. I wish I’d been allowed to choose my own. The new maidservants told me it’s traditional to wear all this lace and chiffon, but I think it’s too much. I like the cotton dresses back home. I almost tripped over the train about ten times today.

At least I can finally take my hair down. They had it pulled back so tight it almost gave me a headache. It’s nice just to brush it while I wait. It’s easier to concentrate on brushing out the tangles.

The door opens behind me. I glance in the mirror, and there he is. I wish he was more handsome. I suppose he’s not ugly, just… nothing like I expected a prince to be. His nose is a little big, and he always looks like he’s frowning a bit. He does have nice eyes, though, and his hair’s cute tucked back behind his ears like that.

He clears his throat, and I finish one last brushstroke and put the brush down on the dresser. He walks over to stand behind me and puts a hand on my shoulder. I smile at him in the mirror. He offers a small grin in return. I do like it when he smiles.

I rise, and he takes my hand, leads me to the bed. We sit together on the edge. The mattress is softer than mine at home, and the bed is much bigger. The gauzy curtains hanging from the top rail tickle my shoulders. I wonder if his servants talked to him about what’s supposed to happen the way mine did. It doesn’t sound so bad, the way they said it.

He leans in and kisses me on the cheek. I turn my head, and he puts one hand to my cheek. His lips are soft and warm. I feel a little flutter in my belly.

His other hand is at my back, at the buttons lining the back of the dress, and I pull away and turn my back to him. He unbuttons the dress slowly, every now and then leaning in to kiss my neck. It makes me shiver when he does that. It seems like a long time before he reaches up and slips the dress off my shoulders. I stand and shrug out of the smooth fabric, push it over my hips and step out of it. The light cotton shift I’m wearing underneath isn’t enough to keep me warm—goosebumps raise on my arms, and I wrap them around myself as I come back to sit on the bed.

He’s taken off his robe and waistcoat, and his trousers, and now he’s sitting in just his long undershirt. He leans in to kiss me again. “You’re so pretty,” he says against my lips. I smile, and the flutter in my belly returns.

We lie back on the bed together, and he pushes the hair away from my forehead. I squirm my way backward until I’m in the middle of the bed, and he crawls until he’s leaning over me. His blue eyes are on me. He’s kind of handsome right now, actually. It’s almost cute the way he’s breathing fast through his nose. He pulls my shift up.

He kisses me again, and I gasp against his lips. I squeeze my eyes shut. It hurts a little. He raises up on his arms, takes a deep breath. I lie still, biting my lip. The maids said it might be like this, that it might hurt the first time.

He stops, and I open my eyes to see him looking at me. “Are you well?”

I nod and try to smile. He leans down to kiss me. If he’s not moving it doesn’t hurt as much, so I put my arms around his waist and hold him against me. “Wait,” I say.

I press my lips to his, breathe through my nose until the pain stops. I let my arms slide up his back. “All right.”

It still hurts when he’s moving, but it feels good too, a little. I press my teeth against my lip and stare at the carvings on the ceiling. I wonder if this means I’m going to have a baby.

I think I would like a baby.

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So there we go. My attempt at a PG love scene. Did I succeed? I don’t know. I need someone who actually writes MG and knows the market to tell me that. If the answer’s a resounding “NO!” I won’t be surprised, but that’s okay.

I will say one last thing before I go, though, and that’s a huge “Thank you!” to everyone who signed up for this ‘fest. Anyone who’s willing to take on this kind of writing challenge is worthy of respect in my book. I applaud you all. You are, quite simply, fantastic.