Missing scene from episode six. Note the rating. I will continue with my other story but this had to be written.
She was always going to keep a lookout that night. It would have been against her nature not to, against every trained instinct. It was her job to watch, and to care.
She only meant to stand and listen. Treading carefully, making sure her feet were quiet on the wooden walkway, she tried not to step loud enough for her footsteps to be heard, straining her ears to hear any sound from inside his cabin.
And then when she did, it turned her stomach. She did not need to strain her ears to hear the sudden, agonised howl that came from within. It sent shivers up her spine.
For a moment, she froze, her hand tightening a little, gripping the window sill for support. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to quell the nausea the sound of his pain caused her. She could hardly breathe.
And then she made a snap decision. She opened her eyes and she ran, round the corner of the cabin and to the door. She did not knock; she assumed he had locked himself in there, and more than pressing the latch, she threw the weight of her shoulder against the door. It had not been locked, and the force of her weight hitting it made it fly open with a considerable crash. Unperturbed, she stood in the doorway for little more than a second before moving into the room and closing it sharply behind her.
Roland was sitting in a chair, his head evidently only raised out of his hands out of shock, his face tear-stained, and he was staring at her. She approached him swiftly, she was here, she had to finish what she had started, she was not put off by his confused gaze. She stood before him, gently placed both of her hands on his face, made him look at her eyes, made him see the love she had for him pouring out, making him see the way that his hurt hurt her. Her thumb brushed the line of his cheeks, mingling with his tears. The sight was too much. She felt tears welling in her own eyes as she broke him again. His arms went around her waist and he buried his face against her stomach, letting out another muffled howl. She cradled his head in her arms, and bowed her head a little, kissing his brow. He sobbed even harder against her, tears staining her dress.
It was almost a shock when the gentle shakes of tears faded into something even softer. She bit back a gasp as she realised; he was kissing her through the fabric of her uniform.
He looked up at her in shock, looking as if he had surprised himself with his actions, and expected her to reprimand him.
"It's alright," she told him as levelly as she could, though her heart was hammering in her chest, "It's alright, Roland. I understand. I've lost a child too."
His face fell, his hands fell away from her in shock, almost as if he was disgusted with himself for what he had done.
"It was different," she continued calmly, "It was a long time ago. Stillborn. I never held her."
She reached out taking his hand in both of hers, caressing the back of it with her thumbs.
"But I understand," she said softly, "It's alright. Take what you want from me," she bade him.
He blinked up at her in surprise. He did not move. He was waiting for her permission again.
"I said, take what you want from me," she told him gently, "Whatever you need."
There was the briefest pause.
And then he snatched his hand away, standing, picking her up and lifting her clean off her feet. She gasped in surprise, but the sound was muffled by his shoulder. Her arms were around his neck and she clung on as he pushed her towards the nearest surface. It so happened that it was his desk.
Hastily, he pushed the papers off its surface, sending them flying, lying her across it. His lips latched onto hers as he bore down over her, and she wriggled to get closer to him, holding on to his neck. His jacket was discarded on the floor and he pulled her headdress off. Their top buttons were haphazardly undone in the attempt to touch as much skin as possible. He kissed her furiously, pushing his tongue inside her mouth, making her moan and shake. His mouth burned down over her collarbone, the tops of her breasts, roughly, he forced her corset downwards and her breasts came free and he kissed them, almost biting at her exposed skin.
He pushed her skirt up around her waist and she heard a tear, that she realised a moment later was her underwear coming away. He wanted her badly, she realised and spread her legs to accommodate him. He pushed inside her, groaning against her mouth, lifting her knee to hook around his waist as he did so, pressing her back down against the table. She arched her hips to bring herself as close to him as she could, biting her lips to stop herself from screaming with pleasure as he pushed hard into her at just the right angle.
He cried as he came too and collapsed on top of her. He sobbed weakly, the whole of his weight laid on top of hers. She could do nothing but cradle his head in arms as he wept, and wait for him to recover.
"Grace," he whispered hoarsely at last, raising his head a little, "Will you stay with me tonight?"
"If that's what you want," she replied.
He nodded.
"I need... someone," he managed.
"I understand," she forced herself to say, trying to make her voice stay level.
She stood up as he did, shaking her head slightly, making her hair fall down completely. Seeing no need for modesty, she undid the remaining buttons of her dress and allowed it to fall away from her body. She willed her hands not to shake, and not to cry. This is what she had offered, after all. She had told him to take what he needed, he could not be blamed when he did what she had bidden him to. With as much composure as could, barely covered by her corset and torn undergarments, she made her way after him to his bedroom, where he sat on the bed. He turned, saw her, and let out a shallow breath.
She divested herself of her useless garments, she was as good as naked anyway, and got into the bed, under the warm covers, waiting for him to take off his trousers and tie and join her. The bed was narrow, she faced away from him. She felt his arms wrap around her waist, his head buried in the back of her neck, against her hair.
When she woke, she felt his hand on her stomach, with a sharp, tender shock. She rolled a little in his direction, and found he was awake. He had been lying in the morning half-light, watching the golden ebb and flow of her hair.
"When did you lose her?" he asked her softly. His voice was hoarse, she had felt him trembling against her neck in the middle of the night.
"A long time ago," she told him, "I had a lover in India."
He was silent.
"Does that shock you?" she asked.
He smiled tiredly.
"Nothing about you would shock me," he told her softly. "Do you still think about her?"
"All of the time," she replied quietly.
Her eyes bowed, but his eyes stayed fixed on her face.
"It's you I need, Grace Carter," he whispered to her.
She looked back at him, met his eye, her breath changing sharply. That was all she wanted to hear, her hand holding his head, she pressed her lips against his, kissing him soundly. His arms went to roll over her, but she sat up before he could, her hands resting gently on his shoulders, her legs straddling his waist.
Their eyes met, and hers sparked a little at the look of surprise on his face. She pulled of his shirt and undershirt, allowing him a moment to rid himself of his undershorts. She was naked with him, and allowed him to fondle her breasts gently, pulling his lips up to kiss him as she sank down on to him. He groaned against her mouth, and she steadied herself on his shoulder.
"It's alright," she told him softly, as she rocked against him, "It's alright, Roland."
His eyes were closed and he held on to her, pressing their bodies together as she rode him.
"You are safe, my love," she told him quietly as he began to shudder beneath him, "I love you."
"Oh, God, Grace, I love you too!" He cried against her neck.
She held on to him tightly as he came, allowing his erratic thrusts to send her over the edge too. They collapsed gently together and she rolled them onto their sides, staying wrapped around him so that they could both fit in the narrow bed. And they lay there, paired, holing each other, their thumbs gently caressing one another's spines.
Please review if you have the time.