A/N: This was inspired by how delightfully flirty Matthew was in 3x01... I'm not sure how Mary kept her hands off of him for the whole episode, really.
Not my characters, I'm just borrowing them. Enjoy.
Doing Things Properly
It had been a lovely evening at Crawley house. Matthew, determined that he and Mary spend time together away from Downton and the pressures of obligation that accompanied it, had suggested that his mother send Mary a dinner invitation, and Isobel had been only too happy for the excuse to spend time with her son's fiancée. It was a different sort of dinner than they were used to, only the three of them at the table, but just as lovely as the large parties at the Abbey. Maybe more so, Matthew thought. There were no guests he was obliged to make polite conversation with, and no duties as the future Earl of Grantham to draw his attention away from Mary. She and his mother were getting along splendidly, and it was a rare treat to spend a whole evening talking with just them.
They had just gone through to the sitting room, Isobel finishing a long story about Matthew's father teaching him to ride a bike, when Moseley came in and quietly called Mrs. Crawley aside. After only a moment's conversation, Isobel seemed set with her air of useful determination.
"It seems Dr. Clarkson needs me right away. One of the village girls has gone into labor, and she says she will be much more comfortable with me there to help. I am very sorry to end our evening, but I'm afraid he is waiting outside."
Matthew rose immediately. "But of course. I shall walk Mary home right away so as not to delay you. Or I could order the car, if she prefers-"
Isobel cut him off. "Now really, that isn't necessary, Matthew. The wedding is only two weeks away. Stay, and do enjoy the rest of the evening for me." When her son still seemed unsure, she added, with a glance to Mary and a mischievous smile, "I won't tell if you don't."
"I have been enjoying tonight's respite from discussions of floral arrangements and dress fittings," Mary added, confident that Isobel meant well. "Maybe you could read to me for a while. You offered earlier."
"Alright, if you ladies insist," Matthew relented. He kissed his mother's cheek, sent his best wishes for a healthy birth, and saw her off.
He exchanged a few words with Moseley, then reentered the sitting room and took the chair next to Mary's. "So, my darling, shall I start boring you now with tales of legal contracts and court cases? Because I'm afraid you have quite a dull life to look forward to."
"Oh stop," Mary laughed. "I would never have agreed to marry you if you were such a terrible bore."
"Well, as this is the first time we have had a whole evening alone together, I feel as though you have not yet had the chance to adequately assess that."
Mary looked up quickly, maybe a little too quickly. "But Moseley is still here, so not truly." After only a moment's pause, she decided to add, "Perhaps I can engage him in a witty discussion."
"No, I told Moseley we won't need anything further this evening. I would like to walk you home myself, if that is alright with you, and I usually dress myself for bed. He has retired to his room."
"Oh." Mary wasn't sure how to respond to that, although it started a low buzz of excitement deep inside her. Alone with Matthew. She relished the thought that, soon, this would be a common occurrence. For now, it was certainly an unexpected pleasure.
"So about that book. Would you like me to start it for you?" Matthew asked, drawing her back from her musings.
"Yes please. I always enjoy stories more when you tell them to me."
This was true; while Matthew was confined to the wheelchair, what started as Mary wishing to read to him led to just the opposite. After the first time Mary heard him telling her a story aloud, she found herself wishing for the privilege more and more. The way his low, smooth voice rose and fell over the words on the page, at once decidedly firm and softly sensitive, awoke her senses and soothed her mind like nothing else. And it gave her the perfect chance to study him without observation, watching his expressions, his small smiles and his determined frowns. She was doing much the same now, appreciating the way the light caught in his eyes, when before she knew it, he had finished an entire act of Much Ado About Nothing and placed it back on the little table by the book shelf.
"Is that all I get?" she asked, her best guilty face on.
"Yes. I mustn't spoil you, or I'm afraid you would let me do nothing but read all day and night."
"You may be right, but your voice is lovely." She gave him a warm smile, so appreciating these quiet moments alone.
"No, you are lovely, darling." Mary felt herself blush, his compliment warming her, and as she looked away to demurely smooth her skirt, she could still feel his eyes on her.
She raised her gaze to him, appreciating the way his strong figure was so gracefully draped across the chair. He may not have been born into nobility, but Mary did not think she had ever laid eyes on a man as elegant as he.
"Now come and kiss me," he murmured, his voice low and gentle, one hand extended towards her.
She took a moment, unsure, but his cool blue gaze persuaded her. Slowly she rose, crossed the few feet's distance, and perched herself on one of his knees, both their bodies barely fitting into the narrow chair. It wasn't quite proper, she knew, but there was no one there to see them. She lowered her face and placed a quick, sweet kiss on his lips, then drew back a bit.
Matthew raised a hand to her face, gently running his thumb across her cheek. "This is nice," he said softly, appreciating the weight of her body so close to him. He leaned in for another small kiss; it seemed as though the air around them hummed with anticipation from their close proximity.
"Yes, it is quite nice," Mary responded, hands still clasped in her lap.
Matthew didn't quite know what to make of her mood. She seemed distracted. "So, I suppose they've been driving you mad with wedding plans lately?" he tried. "Well, no matter, we will be married soon enough and you won't have a thing to worry about."
"Yes, we will be properly married soon. We've been engaged for only a few months, but it seems so very much longer than that," she observed, rising up to meet his eyes again.
"Yes," Matthew responded. "It has seemed a very long time coming, indeed." He raised his hands from where they rested on the arms of the chair and placed them, gently, on Mary's hips, then leaned in for a deeper kiss. Their lips met, and when her mouth opened just enough, Matthew took his chance, his tongue delving in to gently caress hers. She moved closer, her hands rising to the back of his neck, shifting in his lap just a bit.
That little amount of movement from her body started waves of pleasure through Matthew, and his hands more firmly grasped her hips; then slowly but surely he moved his hands up her sides to encircle her shoulders. They continued to shift and move with each other, hands exploring, until Mary was almost straddling him.
Then, abruptly, she pulled back, cheeks flushed and lips full from desire. "Matthew," she breathed, trying not to get carried away. "We can't. Not yet."
Matthew dropped his hands from Mary's back, knowing she was probably right. He tore his eyes from her dark brown gaze, then dared just the smallest peek back at her as he teased, "You're not quite the ordinary, chaste bride, though, in all fairness."
"Matthew Crawley!" she scolded, trying her best to be outraged but failing miserably before his adorable grin. "I may not be the most virtuous of women, but there are still parts of my honor that are intact for you."
As he looked at her, she could see his eyes darken with passion. "Yes, precisely. Intact for me." He ran his hands slowly up her arms, across her shoulders, then down her back to rest just barely above her waist. "You are so beautiful, Mary. My almost wife." He smiled, that broad, glowing, heart stopping smile, and Mary felt the bit of joking resolve she had tried to preserve melt away. She turned, lacing her legs under the arms of the chair, and scooted forward until she was straddling him quite effectively, using the small piece of furniture to her advantage. She could just barely feel him through his trousers, but even that small contact sent them reeling, crashing their mouths together with frantic passion. She greedily ran her hands up his muscular back, feeling him ripple and flex with every small movement.
Matthew's hands had just started to explore under the neckline of Mary's dress when she had a thought. "What if you mother comes back?" she asked hurriedly, the words barely escaping between their kisses. They were, after all, in the house's main sitting room.
"Perhaps we should move." Matthew stood up suddenly, taking the slender Mary with him, her skirt hem almost entirely pushed up to her waist as her legs wrapped around his hips, arms encircling his neck. She giggled with delight, not expecting him to carry her so easily. Before she knew it they were upstairs and falling onto his bed, all a tangle of arms and legs.
"I would very much like to do away with this, beautiful, but somewhat inconvenient dress," Matthew whispered in her ear. He drew his face back and searched hers for permission.
Mary thought it over for a minute, but the sight of Matthew, her Matthew, perched over her, hair disheveled and eyes eager, made desire bloom from deep within her. "Well, we never have been very fastidious about doing things properly, anyway."
Matthew smiled knowingly, remembering that conversation from so long ago, the first time he proposed to her. He pulled her to her feet, gently turned her around, and began to undo the long row of buttons down the back of her dress. Once her dress and shift were off, he lightly pushed her down to the bed, until she lay on her back, wearing just her corset, stockings, and panties. He ran his hands from her waist up her stomach, then waited just below the bust of her corset. She gave a small nod and his hands delved hungrily under the top of the garment, pulling it back, caressing her breasts, gently at first and then with increasing pressure. Their lips found each other again as he ran his thumbs over her sensitive skin, twirling and pulling as Mary's body responded, shifting beneath him, pushing up for more contact, more skin, more heat.
His hands moved down her chest and stomach, slowly, undoing the corset's clasps one by one until she was free from it. Now it was Mary's turn. She divested him of his jacket, then grasped at the hem of his shirt, quickly undoing the buttons and throwing it to the floor. She had always imagined what he looked like underneath his suits, tuxedos, and uniforms, and now she relished the chance to run her hands over his strong chest, feeling his quickened heart beat. She placed her lips just above the waistband of his pants and slowly ran a trail of kisses up his stomach, chest, the side of his neck, and then gently nipped at his ear lobe. This elicited a low growl of pleasure from Matthew. He quickly flipped her onto her back and took one of her nipples in his mouth, swirling and sucking, watching the reaction in Mary's body as she arched her back, small sounds of pleasure escaping her lips, her hands roaming through his thick hair.
Slowly, mouth still on her chest, Matthew hooked his thumbs through the top of her stockings. Mary let out a small gasp at the feel of his hands on her thighs. He drew back and pulled off her stockings, one by one, letting his fingers trail slowly down her legs, then carefully freed her of her silk panties. He took a moment to appreciate her, naked below him on his bed, taking in all the gentle curves of her body in the dim evening light. He raised his lips to her ear, gently murmuring, "I love you," as his fingers found the apex of her thighs. She let out a gasp, followed by low moans with each circling of his touch. "Oh Matthew," she cried, as he slid first one, then two fingers into her, caressing in gentle movements.
After a few moments of his attention she could feel herself readying, the low, humming, building promise not far away. She made to grasp his hands, to show him the pressure she wanted him to apply, but all of a sudden he pulled back. She raised her head, wanting to know why he stopped, when she felt all of her breath leave her. His mouth was on her; she had not been expecting it, but it was wonderful and she could barely contain herself from shouting in pleasure at the overload of stimulation. His tongue slid in and out, circling around, and she was so close, but no, not yet…
"Matthew," she said, surprised she could form a sound when she was so close to coming undone. "Matthew," she tried a second time, louder, and he raised his head, moving to meet her eyes.
"What is it, darling?"
Before she lost her nerve, Mary's hands grasped Matthew's belt buckle, clumsily undoing it. "I know I'm not a chaste, pure bride, but still, you can be the first man, to…" she trailed off, not knowing how to phrase it, but wanting him to understand all the same.
"Are you sure?" Matthew asked, with gentle eyes. "Would you rather wait until the wedding? I want to make you comfortable, Mary. We don't have to."
But she was sure, she knew from the way he asked her that just now, knew from the way his hand was absent-mindedly stroking her arm, from the way he had carried her to bed. She knew from the way that listening to him read made her feel alive, warm and loved and filled with desire. In one swift motion she lowered his pants and trousers. "I'm yours to take, Matthew," she whispered against his lips.
He gave her a deep, lingering, soulful kiss, then eased into her, filling her with the most incredible sensations. They started moving, timing the motion of their hips together. Already their bodies instinctively knew what the other wanted; just a small touch from Mary and Matthew started to pump faster, thrusting into her until he felt her breath quicken and she spilled out beneath him. That was the cue for him to find his release, and they fell back to the bed together, stifling their moans with hurried, hot kisses.
"Oh god, Mary…" was all Matthew could mutter, raising his hands to caress her beautiful face, planting soft kisses on her forehead, her eyelids, her nose. In return she gave him a wide smile, feeling totally content there, naked in bed with Matthew. She knew she was supposed to be modest; they were not yet married, but nothing had ever felt more right.
They lay together for a few more precious moments, clinging to the sensation of skin to skin contact, knowing they might not get this chance at intimacy again until their wedding night. Matthew didn't know how he would bear two weeks without making love to Mary, but he supposed he had somehow survived the last eight years without her in his bed. That seemed nearly impossible now.
Finally, he gathered all the self control he could muster with Mary so snugly curled at his side. "Well, my darling, we must get you home."
"I suppose you are right," she returned, though with a disappointed expression. A few more kisses, then they were up, gathering their scattered clothes. Matthew helped Mary back into her dress, perhaps taking a little longer than necessary, appreciating the last chance to run his hands up her back. She stole a glance in the mirror, adjusted the hairpins that had come undone, then turned to Matthew with her arms out. "Well, how do I look?"
"You look wonderful, darling." He kissed her hand, then placed it firmly on his arm and, after checking for his mother, led her out of the house.
Just as they were starting across the lawn towards Downton Abbey, Mary chuckled quietly to herself. "What is it?" Matthew asked.
"I was just thinking what great luck I've had, that the heir to Downton is so young and handsome. I could have been stuck with some silly, tedious old fool."
"Honestly, you are such a troublemaker," Matthew pretended to scold her, delivering her punishment with swift kisses and a less than appropriate smack on the bottom.
Oh well, she thought, as they walked across the grounds of Downton, too late at night for anyone to see them. She supposed they were never meant to do things properly, anyway.