Chapter Text
His lips were soft against her’s— malleable and gentle, as though she were a flower in late bloom, poised to fall to the ground at the slightest pressure. This was their first kiss. Neither of them seemed to care or remember that they had somewhat of an audience with Jane and Bingley’s carriage behind them, and a crowd of friends and family behind that. They were frozen in that moment, in the swaying carriage, both of them hyper-conscious of the pressure of the other’s lips.
Relief coursed through her. Though she had never admitted it aloud, she was quite nervous about… about the events that were to come after the wedding. These past few weeks had been so hectic with the preparation for their wedding that she’d been able to ignore the growing apprehension, and was sure her dear Jane was feeling just the same way. But this kiss… it felt like the physical description of what their love felt like in those soft, sweet moments when their eyes met and held, as though they were both captured under the same spell that wouldn’t let them look away.
But this wasn’t the only kind of love that existed between them. It lacked the passion and adrenaline that their arguments always exhibited.
Yes, thought Elizabeth to herself. There are different kinds of love to explore. And some of them would take more courage than others.
They broke apart as slowly as they had come together. When she opened her eyes again, she was greeted with the most relaxed, gentle expression she’d ever seen on her— her husband’s face before. His eyes were still closed, as though he were savouring their kiss in the moments after it’d dissipated. When he blinked them open again, they were soft and warm, just like their kiss, but his mouth stretched back into that wide, exuberant smile that he’d been wearing when they’d run out from Longbourne after the Wedding Breakfast to climb into their carriage.
She couldn’t help but smile back at him, but unlike her usual cheeky smiles, this one was a bit shy.
“I’m so happy, Mrs. Darcy,” he murmured to her.
She couldn’t even scold him for calling her that when he looked so happy to be doing so. “Me too, husband. ”
Heat flared in his cheeks and he grinned down at their hands where they were holding on to each other between them.
“Do you mind if we stop at the turn-off for Netherfield? I didn’t get much of a chance to say goodbye to Jane.”
He nodded. “That’s fine. I want to put the hood up, anyways. Our journey is quite a bit longer than Bingley and Jane’s.” Then he instructed their drivers on their plans.
Knowing there wouldn’t really be time to have a conversation before their stop interrupted them, both sat quietly, contenting themselves with basking on the new closeness that was now their privilege to share. Mr. Darcy ran his thumb over the back of her hand while they sat, leaning up against each other. It almost felt like no time had passed at all by the time they pulled to a stop. Jane and Bingley pulled past them but stopped just beyond the turn.
With slight reluctance, Elizabeth extracted herself from her husband and stepped out of the carriage. Thankfully, the ground was dry, even though it was covered in freshly fallen snow, so her finery wasn’t in danger of being damaged by the road. By the time she got around the horses, Jane had also exited her coach. They met in the middle in a warm embrace. Bingley smiled at them both as he passed to have a word with Darcy.
“I was so hoping we would get the chance to say goodbye before you left for Pemberly,” her sister smiled brightly, pulling back so she could hold their hands between them. “I shall miss you terribly, Lizzie.”
“It won’t be forever,” she insisted. “I’m sure we’ll be inviting each other to one another’s homes often. And in the meantime, we’ll write lots of letters.”
Jane nodded. “I confess, as happy as I am, I’m not quite sure what to do without you near. There’s never been a time in our lives when we haven’t been side by side. And with how… how new everything will be, I think I will be quite bereft without you.”
Elizabeth smiled, half in sadness and half in understanding at what she meant by her halting words. “I feel the same.” Turning to glance over her shoulder at the men and confirming they were out of hearing and busied with their own conversation, she lowered her voice and spoke softly. “I suppose I never thought that I would actually marry. The things that come after…”
Jane nodded, a bit frantically but her face was relieved. “Yes! Lizzie, that’s just it,” she said quickly, happy neither of them had to or were planning to say the actual words out loud. “I shall not have anyone to speak to about it. I know mama spoke to us both—”
“At length.”
An embarrassed flush stole over both their cheeks as they remembered the horrible conversation. It had been more one-sided than anything else and posessed far, far too many specific situations Mrs. Bennet had found herself in over her many years of marriage to be able to look their father in the eye for the week following.
“—about it,” Jane continued, determined not to allow her embarrassment (or Lizzie's interruption) to stop her. “But I don’t think I shall feel at all comfortable conversing with her about it, as much as I love her.”
“A wise decision,” agreed the younger with a slight laugh. “Can you imagine? All of Meryton would become aware of far too much about your marriage bed.”
Jane actually shuddered. “And though Mrs. Hurst is married, I shan’t talk to my new sisters about it either. Knowing what you told me about what happened after Mr. Bingley left last fall… I don’t think I can confide in them, as much as I will try to be kind.”
“I think that is good as well. I don’t want to speak to anyone who might judge me, or make it seem like anything less than beautiful. I’m already frightened enough of what my reaction to it will be, I certainly do not need other people making it more difficult to enjoy.”
Her sister nodded slowly. “I’m not sure letters would be,” she flushed darker, cleared her throat once, and looked away. “...very prudent, either.”
“You are likely right. So then, what shall we do?”
“Plan for a visit soon?”
“Yes, I think we must. I almost wish you were coming with us, but I know we both need time to spend with our husbands and become accustomed to managing our estates.”
“Then let us decide on the particulars over our correspondence and hope to see each other again very soon.”
Lizzie laughed. “Indeed. I doubt either of our husbands would be very receptive to planning a visit right at the moment. Though I think you will find that proximity to our mother may make Mr. Bingley very receptive to some time away from Netherfield.”
“Oh surely not, Lizzie. Mama would not bother us so soon after our wedding, would she?”
“You are quite lucky you leave tomorrow morning to Bath. You shall at least have your first few weeks free of meddling. But don’t be surprised if she shows up to see you off.”
Jane did not look pleased at the prospect; in fact, she looked a little horrified. “I am sure everything will be fine,” she said, though it was apparent she was comforting herself. Elizabeth had this terrible image in her mind of their mother asking Jane all about her wedding night and the particulars of their marital relations. It seemed that Lydia had no issue divulging that which happened between her and her husband, as Lizzie had found out the hard way after accidentally overhearing them speaking quite loudly about it when they visited before travelling to New Castle. It might have set Mrs. Bennet up for expectations her elder daughters would not feel as comfortable meeting as her sixteen-year-old.
So, instead of agreeing, she just pulled her sister back into an embrace. She could practically feel Mr. Darcy’s desire to get on the road again from where he stood with his friends some distance away from them. Her eyes stung as she whispered, “I love you, Jane.”
“I love you too,” replied her sister, sounding verklempt. “I shall write you soon.”
Stealing herself against her tears, Lizzie pulled back and nodded firmly at her. “See that you do.”
Jane laughed wetly, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief. “You sound ready to manage your estate, already!”
Lizzie shook her head. “We shall see. I will do my very best, at the very least.”
“And you will succeed,” her darling sister predicted, her angelic smile made no less beautiful by her glassy eyes.
“So shall you.”
They pulled away then, neither seeming to really know how. For the longest time, they had been tied together as though they were twins, with each of them making up for some failing in the other. But now they were to be apart. For far longer than those few instances when they travelled without the other! This separation could very well be many months before they had the pleasure of seeing each other’s faces again. So, though they had both joined with their husbands, it still felt as though they were being ripped in half, somehow.
Elizabeth missed her already.
Warmth wrapped around her as Mr. Darcy placed his hands on her arms. She hadn’t even heard his approach. “Farewell, Mrs. Bingley. We would very much look forward to seeing you at Pemberley soon.”
Jane swallowed down her tears and thanked him with a smile. “You are very kind, sir. I believe Mr. Bingley and I shall be taking you up on your offer once we are all settled into our new lives.”
Her husband nodded, and squeezed Lizzie’s arms as Mr. Bingley came to stand beside Jane. It was time to go.
“Goodbye in the meantime, brother,” she smiled at him, and it didn’t feel so wobbly then, perhaps since their souls weren’t irrevocably entangled like her’s and Jane’s were.
Mr. Bingley looked delighted at her form of address. “Goodbye, sister! I am quite glad to be welcomed as one of your siblings.”
“And so you are.”
Both couples made their way back to their respective coaches. It wouldn’t do to be caught by friends and neighbours leaving the Wedding Breakfast, and they would be if they tarried longer. Lizzie watched Jane out the window for as long as she could before the hood of the cab blocked their eyes from meeting.
A handkerchief came into her vision. She picked it up from her husband’s hand and dabbed her cheeks with it. “Why thank you,” she tried to laugh her sorrow off. This was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, after all. “I had not realized I was crying.”
Mr. Darcy did not say anything, only held her free hand in comfort.
“I hope you don’t think I am unhappy to be your wife!” she exclaimed, trying to assess what he was thinking behind his warm gaze
“No,” he shook his head and smiled softly at her. “I am not afraid. My mother once told me that entering each new chapter in our lives meant leaving something of the old one behind. I do believe she was right.”
Turning her body away from the window, she faced him fully. “There is so much joy and excitement to be had in this new chapter.”
“There is. And I am excited to share everything with you. But I will not think less of you for grieving.”
Elizabeth leaned against him and relished in the feel of his arms wrapping around her. She felt safe and loved. His words soothed her. He did not take offence to her tears, so she let them fall down her cheeks freely as she ran through beautiful memories from her childhood, and grieved things she knew would never come again. Nights when she and Jane would climb into each other’s beds to keep warm on cold winter’s nights, helping each other prepare in the morning when their maids were too busy to help them, walks in the garden with quiet conversation shared between them about the goings-on of Longbourn, and so many other things.
“I wonder though,” Mr. Darcy asked after some time of quiet between them had settled, and the slight trembling of her smaller form had abated as her breaths evened out.
Elizabeth pulled back, straightening up so she could look at him properly. “Yes?”
“If I should ask what you two spoke of.”
Without her consent, her whole face flamed.
A playful grin teased about his lips and he looked down at his lap. “Your reaction makes me think that may have been the right question.” Then, looking back up to her, he leaned towards her ever so slightly, as though he were not aware that he was doing it. “Won’t you tell me, dearest and loveliest Elizabeth?”
Lizzie had to remind herself that there was no impropriety in his query. They had quite a bit of privacy and they were married now, so there was certainly nothing untoward about it. And… if she were honest with herself, she would rather speak to him of it before it started happening. Her breathing quickened for an entirely different reason than before even as she relaxed with the knowledge that he would understand her worries soon.
“We were speaking of— of what comes after, now that we are both married,” she managed, still fighting the blush on her cheeks.
A boyish grin broke out across his face. “Oh yes, I’m sure you both were very worried about how to manage an estate.”
That had a laugh breaking free from her, and she already felt more at ease. “More like worrying about how to manage our husbands!” she retorted.
“I don’t imagine you had very long to speak of it on the road,” he raised an eyebrow, disbelieving.
She huffed and glanced out the window to give herself a break from staring at him too much. “No. Nor did we speak of it before the wedding. I think we were both avoiding the topic.”
“Elizabeth.”
She turned back to him at the solemn tone, breath catching when she met his serious gaze.
“We do not need to rush. I would also feel happier going at your pace. I don’t want you to try to accommodate what you think I will want.”
“Maybe it would just be easier if you would tell me what you want,” she confessed. Despite having general knowledge about what marital relations entailed, she would feel more relaxed if she knew what he expected. “You know that I have no experience, and I would describe my education on the subject somewhere between entirely lacking and far, far too much.”
That had amusement sparking in his eyes. “That wouldn’t have anything to do with why you did not want to be alone with your mother this morning, would it?”
She laughed and looked away again. “You cannot blame me for that. After the last conversation she tried to have about it last week, Jane and I both respectively decided that we would take our chances rather than have to sit through another one.”
“Well then, it seems we will have no choice but to find these things out together.”
She looked at him in surprise.
“What is it?”
A small smile flitted across her lips. “It’s nothing, it’s just— I suppose I expected you to have some experience because as I understand it, men are not held to the same standards women are.”
“You would be correct,” his mouth twisted a bit in something between wryness and disapproval. “While I was in college, there were many situations where I was encouraged to take advantage of those different standards to the fullest.”
“But you didn’t?”
He shrugged, looking a bit uncomfortable. It was not a movement she could remember him making before. “I suppose I rather felt like what you do now when I first got to school, and then my parents passed, and I was more focused on my studies and filling in for their loss in Georgianna’s life. I had no idea how to parent a child, but it seemed to me that I should lead by example.” He looked a bit worried then. “Are you disappointed?”
“No!” she refuted, immediately and with feeling. “Not at all. Really. It’s actually a bit relieving. While it may be the blind leading the blind, I confess I am comforted to know you will not be thinking of the better experiences you’ve had elsewhere from others more skilled than I shall be tonight.”
“That would not happen in any case, I am sure of it. How could being with you feel like less than being with someone I would not have loved?” he turned her chin so she was looking at him again. “You and I will learn together at our own pace.”
“Thank you,” she breathed, utterly relieved. The way her mother had described it, Mr. Darcy would be unable to control his lust now that he was free from his socially mandated confines, and so would care little for her pleasure or comfort at first, but that she would learn to enjoy it more later on in their marriage. But the way Mr. Darcy also relaxed told her that he truly had been feeling anxious about it as well.
The rest of the first day of travel was spent in enjoyable conversation and lapses of silence when they tired of conversing. Despite their conversation, both of them were nervous when they came to the inn where they would be staying. A set of servants had met them at their destination and were currently flitting in, out, and about the suite whilst preparing it for their master and new mistress. The suite was simple, but by no means without its comfort.
“I hope the room does not displease you,” Mr. Darcy murmured from where he stood beside her. Short of the greater cities, lavish hotels were completely unavailable, so the lack of fine brocade, intricately embossed walls, and richly upholstered fainting couches was not a surprise.
“Not at all,” she answered, eyes running over the copper tub peeking out from behind the folded screen in the corner. “The room is very comfortable.” They had decided not to have a honeymoon in the traditional sense. Both of them were looking forward to returning to Pemberly. And truth be told, Elizabeth wasn’t sure she’d be able to relax completely until she had learned how to manage it smoothly. She was looking forward to meeting Mrs. Reynolds again, as she had been doing it since Mrs. Darcy died.
The lady’s maid—Abigail, if she remembered correctly—that Mr. Darcy had hired approached and curtsied before Elizabeth. “Mrs. Darcy, would you like me to prepare the bath for you?”
“Thank you, yes.” Then she turned back to her husband. “If you don’t mind delaying supper a few minutes, Mr. Darcy. I’ll not linger long.”
“Of course.”
While the bath had been drawn, Elizabeth retreated behind the room divider with the tub and slowly began to extricate herself from her trousseau. The dress was beautiful with its intricate lacing and delicate details, but by no means could it be considered hardy. She carefully draped it over the chair, making sure it didn’t snag on anything or get too close to the lamp burning on the small table against the wall. Once finished, she removed the rest of her layers and stepped into the copper tub.
“Shall I help you wash?” asked Abigail as she came around the screen with the last bucket of hot water. If she was surprised that Elizabeth had already disrobed and entered the tub, she didn’t show it.
“No, thank you.” Elizabeth was accustomed to bathing herself, with few exceptions, though she and Jane had had Mrs. Hill and Isabella at their disposal last night to set their curls and scrub them within an inch of their lives in preparation for their wedding.
“Very well. Please ring for me should you need anything,” she replied, motioning to the bell on the wall before leaving Elizabeth. “Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, do you take your supper in your suite or in the dining room tonight?”
Elizabeth started slightly. She hadn’t realized her husband was still in the room with her. Warmth flooded her cheeks at the thought. She was about to be alone in a room—naked!—with a man. With Mr. Darcy. With her husband.
“Elizabeth?”
“I would prefer to eat in our suite.”
“Please have it brought up in an hour,” her husband requested.
“Yes, sir.”
The door clicked shut behind her and the silence that followed felt very loud. Elizabeth couldn’t bear to let the awkwardness stretch between them.
“I feel very silly, right now,” she huffed ducking under the water a bit further.
When Mr. Darcy answered, she could hear a smile in his voice. “And why is that?”
“Because right now, I am sitting here blushing, and you can’t even see me!” she confessed.
She heard him shift slightly. “Well, that isn’t entirely true.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can see your silhouette.”
She swallowed eyes flicking to the lamp on the table by the wall. For a moment, her tongue would not cooperate with her, but soon she felt something akin to her usual bold demeanour creeping back up inside her. “Did you watch me undress?” she asked, unsure why her voice sounded alien to her ears. There was something about the tone that felt warm and a little dark.
He inhaled sharply. “Yes.”
Her thighs shifted restlessly against each other at his breathless answer. “And did you enjoy the view?” She hoped he did. She hoped he loved the view.
“Elizabeth,” he groaned.
Her lips quirked up. “Yes?”
“You are toying with me,” huffed Mr. Darcy.
This had her laughing slightly. “Perhaps a little, but…” her voice quieted. “I would hope that you did.”
“Enjoy it? A little too much.”
Her face went from a pleasant glow to an inferno in an instant. “Is that so, Mr. Darcy?”
“Fitzwilliam,” he corrected. “I would have my wife call me by some form of my name.”
“Fitzwilliam,” she murmured, tasting his name on her lips.
His breathing sounded a bit strained. “You don’t know what you do to me, do you?”
The warm water was cooling, and she remembered that she needed to actually wash while she sat here, too focused on Mr. Da— on Fitzwilliam to think clearly. She grabbed the cloth and the soap, letting the two slip between her hands as she created the lather.
“No,” agreed Elizabeth while she went about running the cloth over her warm body.
“Would you like to know?”
Would she like to know what made his voice so strained? Was she ready for that? The whispered word left her lips before she had much time to wonder. “Yes.”
“You light a flame in me,” he told her softly, voice hesitant. “You arouse me.”
“Just from my silhouette?” she wondered, though her mind was still fixed on what he might look like right now. What did desire look like on a man? What would it look like on her?
“No, not just from that. Many things you have done make me like this.”
“Tell me.”
“You will laugh, but I enjoy our arguments.”
She sucked in a breath at that, a large grin breaking out across her face. “This is excellent news—” she told him, thinking of all the ways they might choose to resolve their differences in the future. “—since we argue a lot. Tell me more.”
“I love it when you sing.”
Really? That surprised her. Elizabeth had never imagined her average voice capable of inciting that reaction in anyone.
“Your chest rises and falls, and your cheeks flush while you do.”
Instinctively, her hands came to her breasts, with the intent of examining her memories of singing in front of others to check for her modesty, but when her fingertips brushed against them, she gasped. What had that feeling been? She stared down at them at the suds her hands had left behind when she’d jerked them away. The washcloth had been dropped in the water. She picked it back up and continued running it over her skin, paying special attention to areas of interest.
Mr. Darcy continued without prompting this time. “I like it when you run for the same reason.”
“You’ve seen me run?” she cried, embarrassed at him having seen such an unladylike display from her. “When?”
Instead of answering, he moved on. “And when I am escorting you, you hold my arm tightly when you are jealous.”
She did? “I have been jealous?”
“I assume, so, else I’m not sure why you hold on to me so tightly when Miss Bingley comes near me.”
She scoffed slightly, not even noticing her own fingers slowly exploring her inner thighs. “I am not jealous of that woman. I am the one who married you, not her. I confess, though, I disliked how she spoke to you.”
“Because she flirted with me?”
“Yes. And because she did so in front of me as though she thought that I was unimportant and transient.”
“She couldn’t be more wrong.”
“I know. But regardless, I will put this information to good use.”
“Do you like knowing what arouses me?”
“Yes. I like being the only one who knows. I want to be the only one you come to for your needs.” It was not uncommon for wealthy men to seek enjoyment outside of their wives, especially if the arrangement had been political. Mr. Darcy may be in love with Elizabeth, but a part of her feared that she would not do it well, and that he would lose patience and come to dislike her company.
“You have my word, Elizabeth, I will only come to you.”
The words were sweet, but his voice was strained, and she could hear a muffled, unfamiliar sound. Curiosity got the best of her, and she arched her back over the edge of the tub so she could see around the divider. The sight that greeted her shocked her. He was sitting on the bed with his head thrown back and a towel over his lap. His hand moved up and down beneath it. He was touching himself.
“Does that feel good?” she asked, voice low as she watched the imprint his teeth were leaving on his bottom lip.
His eyes snapped open and he released his lip with a gasp. The colour flooded back into it more brilliantly than it had been before and his hand sped up. “Elizabeth,” he moaned.
Her womanhood pulsed at the sound, and her fingers were suddenly pressing against herself there without her conscious thought. Her answering moan had her ducking behind the room divider again, but her fingers didn’t stop. This was not the first time she’d touched herself. There had been times she’d done it out of curiosity, and times more recently when she’d done it after waking up to dreams of Fitzwilliam, but it had never felt satisfactory to her. She had never been able to let go and reach completion. A large part of her was afraid she wouldn't be able to because she didn't know how.
This time, though, her fingers felt amazing. They ran lightly around her labia, up to her clitoris, and down to tease at her entrance, exploring and seeking that jolt of pleasure she'd been told about.
“Are you touching yourself, Lizzie?”
She was too embarrassed to answer, so she only whined.
“I want to see you,” he whispered.
Any nerves she may have felt about him seeing her naked before evaporated to make room for the stark need racing across her skin. She wanted that too. “Please,” she asked, voice quiet and embarrassed. “I want that too!” she squeezed her eyes shut and waited to hear him move.
He did.
She opened her eyes again so she could watch him come around the screen, entering near her feet. Their eyes feasted on each other. She took in his flushed appearance. His eyes were wild and his tailcoat was rumbled, but as her eyes flitted downwards still and sucked in a breath. He was holding his cock in his hand through his unbuttoned trousers. The head was flushed and the length seemed thick, though she had nothing to compare it to. She was laying there, completely bare, and he was still almost entirely clothed. That simply wouldn’t do.
She stood up, paying the sloshing water no heed as she reached for him. He came eagerly, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his palms into her skin as though trying to emboss her body onto his. They were kissing and it was nothing like the one they’d shared earlier. His tongue was in her mouth and they were tasting each other with a carnality that could hardly shock her.
“Off, take this off,” she demanded, scrabbling at the front of his clothing.
He complied, but not before swooping down and capturing her mouth again. They both struggled to free him from his confines, but with limited success. She couldn’t help but laugh against his mouth a bit. He growled back in return, finally tearing himself free of his shirt tails. They actually did have to separate to get him out of his trousers but she considered it a necessary sacrifice because soon he was standing before her, gloriously naked, and panting with want.
She pulled him into the tub with her.
Once again, they were drawn together like magnets, snapping into place as though their hands and mouths had always been meant to be on each other’s skin. She let out a cry when his hands came to cup her breasts, thumbs flicking over her nipples. They had already peaked in the cool air outside of the warm water of the bath, so they were sensitive. She clawed at his back a bit, digging her blunt nails into his broad, lightly toned shoulders. He moaned against where his lips had been exploring her jaw, and his hips stuttered towards hers.
They both let out gasps as his manhood pressed against her soft stomach.
“You are so beautiful,” he breathed against her lips, coming back to snatch kiss after kiss. He lowered himself down into the tub and she followed after him, not wanting to be separated.
“You too,” she agreed, “I couldn’t stop thinking about your chest after I saw you in that wet shirt at Pemberley this last summer.”
“Did you think of me while you touched yourself?”
His fingers were dipping low on her back, skimming the tops of her buttocks.
“Yes! I did. I never knew a man could be beautiful before. I’ve dreamed of you for months,” she told him recklessly, not caring that she would feel embarrassed about what she was telling him later when it seemed to her that the more they spoke, the closer they were to touching each other. Her lips slid against his cheek to his ear and she spoke quietly, embarrassed, but so completely aroused. “I would wake up, burning and aching. I kept trying to press against myself, but nothing happened.”
He groaned, and his cock twitched against her where it was trapped between them. She’d had no idea it could move. “Please, Elizabeth, please let me try.”
Something about the way he asked permission made her even warmer. “Yes, please, Fitzwilliam!”
His fingers slipped between her legs from behind. She cried out in shock when his first touch zinged through her like a bolt of lightning. It felt completely different from her own fingers. She could feel the difference in the breadth of them and in the callouses he sported from fencing. There was nothing she could do, but hide her face in his shoulder as he explored her.
“You’re so wet,” he whispered.
“Ah! Don’t—mm!—say that out loud!”
But then she was beyond caring because one of his fingers pressed against her clitoris while another slid its tip into her. She clenched her teeth to keep from keening. She couldn’t focus on anything but those fingers. Her hips moved back and forth quickly without her telling them to. There was no way for her to bother caring about the way the water sloshed up and out of the tub while he was rubbing little circles against her.
“Oh, god,” he panted. “You’re so tight, Lizzie. You’re going to feel so good. Do you want me, my wife?”
His cock was hot and pulsing, and her rocking back and forth was rubbing her soft stomach against him as her hand inched towards him, before running her fingers over the flared head lightly. She wasn’t sure what happened or what started it, but a flash of heat exploded through her with burning pleasure following in its wake. Elizabeth abandoned his length to hold onto him tightly. Her teeth sank into the meat of his shoulder when a scream threatened to rip itself free from her throat. He cursed against her ear as she clamped down on his finger.
“Oh,” she moaned, pulling away slightly a few moments from the stimulation when her body had finished releasing. His finger slipped out of her and she winced. “Was that—”
When she couldn’t finish, he nodded, voice soft. “Your completion? Yes, I think so.”
“It felt good,” she slurred, relaxing against him.
“Yes, it did.”
“I want to make you feel good too,” she told him shyly, fingers circling one of his nipples with the hand that wasn't grasping his hip.
Elizabeth could feel him grinning against her temple. When she looked up at him, his eyes were so warm. He seemed so joyous. “You did.”
She blinked up in surprise before looking down at his cock. It was soft now, and smaller. “I did? How?”
His face burst red and he glanced away for a moment, drawing her attention down his neck.
“Fitzwilliam?” then her eyes landed on a bright red smear on his shoulder.
Oh my god. “I drew blood!” she cried, about to pull away, but he held her more tightly.
“I don’t mind.”
“What do you mean? I bit you!”
“And I liked it.”
Freezing, Elizabeth lifted her gaze once more to the flushed face of her husband. His pupils were dilated and he was licking his lips. “You really did, didn’t you?”
He nodded, just once. Was he embarrassed?
“Was that what made you… come?”
“It… contributed. A good bit. Does that bother you?”
Seeing as she was the one who had bitten him like an animal, she thought she should have been asking him that. “No,” answered Elizabeth. “Is that something you might want me to do again?”
He let his head fall back onto the edge of the tub. “Elizabeth,” he groaned, shifting a little. “I can’t get hard that fast, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get aroused.”
That had a giggle bursting out of her. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”
“Please do.” He ran his hands up and down her sides. “Your skin is so soft.”
“That’s fortunate since I rather like your hands on me.”
“And you shall have them on you often, if you wish.”
“Excellent.”
“Let’s wash before dinner. We’ll run out of time,” he suggested, still smiling. He’d been doing a lot of that today.
“Let’s.”