Written for the Tumblr Cobert Valentine's Smut Exchange. I'll post the prompt at the end so not to ruin the surprise.

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La Petite Morte

If there one thing Robert Crawley hated, it was the opera. Cora Crawley, however, loved it and for this reason, Robert endured it. This was how, one week before Cora's 37th birthday, Robert found himself sitting in a box at the Royal Opera House, waiting for curtain up at the UK premiere of Puccini's new opera, Madama Butterfly.

He had whisked her away down to London on the train that morning, away from Downton, and away from the girls, whom they both loved dearly but were proving to be something of an annoyance of late. Edith and Mary had always squabbled but recently they seemed to have taken it to another level. They were forever getting at each other, goaded on by 8 year old Sybil who acted like butter wouldn't melt. Mama and the governess had been left in charge of the girls whilst they were in London. Robert hoped a few days with Granny might stop a few quarrels. It being the week before Cora's birthday, she had not expected the surprise at all. A few nights to themselves in London, she had been delighted.

When Robert suggested going to Covent Garden for dinner, she'd never expected them to walk straight past the restaurant and into the foyer of the Royal Opera House. Robert had accompanied her to the opera on a few occasions and each time he'd grumbled his way through it. One time he'd actually nodded off, only to be awoken with a start when the Diva hit a particularly loud, high note. The fact he had brought her to something he hated so much only made it more special. It was birthday she would remember for a long time. As the curtain rose, Cora turned to her husband, grabbed his hand and gave him an almighty grin. Yes, he decided, he could sit through a few hours of Italian warbling for that look on his wife's face.

Two songs in however his heart began to sink. He really did hate the opera. He found his eyes drifting down to the orchestra pit, watching the conductor rather than what was happening on stage. It would be so much better if it was just the orchestra and none of this overdramatic wailing nonsense. His mind started to wander to other topics - how were mama and the girls getting on? Had he remembered to send that letter to the accountant? Somewhere in the back of his mind, Robert suddenly became aware of Cora's hand. It was still holding his, resting on his knee, but the grip had loosened and her thumb was tracing patterns against his thigh. He looked over to her with a bemused smile. She was totally transfixed by what was happening on stage. He was sure she didn't even realise what she was doing. Turning his attention back to the opera, Robert had no idea what was going on. He tried to concentrate but his mind kept wandering to Cora's hand on his thigh. He shuffled forward slightly, so that her hand was now higher up his thigh, and hoped not to cause her to stop. She didn't.

Sitting still was becoming increasing difficult. The more he tried not to think about it, the more he found he was. Cora's grip on his hand had long since relinquished, and now it rested on his leg, still absent-mindedly tracing patterns. To say it was starting to make Robert feel hot under the collar was quite the understatement. He rested his own hand on her wrist and began stroking back. The underside of her wrists had always been particularly sensitive. Foreplay for them often included Robert taking her by the hand and gently pressing a kiss on the tip of each finger, before kissing his way along the palm of her hand, paying particular attention to the inside of her wrist and continuing up her arm. It appeared to be having the desired effect. Cora gripped Robert's leg. A few seconds later however she pulled away, folding her hands neatly in her lap. Maybe not.

Robert tried once more to focus on the stage. He berated himself for thinking this was a good idea. He knew he hated opera. Alone in London with Cora he should be up to no good, not sitting in the dark watching some woman screeching about God knows what. Still it made her happy and deep down Robert knew that was all he wanted for her, to make her happy. Maybe it was the glasses of champagne Robert had consumed in the bar before hand to anesthetise himself to his upcoming ordeal, or maybe he was just having a moment of pure madness, but a thought suddenly occurred to him. It wasn't the hotel room, but it was dark and he was alone with Cora – well, alone bar the other two thousand, two hundred and fifty four people plus full company in the room but they didn't count. In the box it was just the two of them, and who said they couldn't be naughty?

Acting quickly, before his conscience got the better of him Robert, leant in and pressed his lips to her neck. She pulled away and whispered. "Robert! What are you doing?!" He grinned as innocently as he could at her. She raised a disproving eyebrow. "Just watch the opera." She turned her head back toward the stage and Robert planned his next strategy for attack. He was more precise this time, aiming for the spot just under her ear which on more than one occasion had caused her to shiver. He felt her gulp and smiled against her. She pulled her head away from him again, this time choosing to just to ignore him in the hope he'd stop. He didn't, he rested his hand on her thigh and began stroking his own patterns against her.

Cora couldn't work out what had gotten into him, kissing her in public like that. It was no way for a man of his standing to be behaving, especially not at the opera. At least he seemed to have stopped now and she could get back to watching without distraction – that is, she could, if it weren't for his hand on her leg. She glanced over at him. He was watching the singers intently. For someone who usually protested so fervently at the mere thought of going to the opera he seemed to be getting into it. Maybe it had finally won him over.

Robert smirked to himself as he saw her glance over at him out the corner of his eye. She'd obviously gone to tell him off for the hand trailing fingers along her thigh, but upon seeing him seemingly watching the opera, she'd let him be. Robert constructed a new plan. Slow and steady seemed to be the way to go. He inched his hand a small way up her thigh, not enough to be immediately noticeable, and continued to trace the patterns. After minute or two he inched it up a tiny bit further and continued to do so until eventually his hand was at the top of her thigh.

Cora squirmed. It wasn't as if she wasn't enjoying the opera, but she couldn't help feeling oddly distracted. She fidgeted again, suddenly aware of just how high Robert's hand had travelled up her leg.

It was time, Robert decided, to try again. Once more he leant over and placed a kiss against his wife's neck. Had it not been for the orchestra he would have heard a tiny sigh escape her. Taking her lack of movement as good sign he kissed her again this time sucking lightly and grazing his teeth against her before moving back to that spot he'd tried earlier.

Despite her better judgement Cora hadn't pulled away when Robert started to kiss her once more. She felt her eyes flutter closed and let out a sigh of contentment. He'd gotten her into a higher state of arousal than she'd originally realised. She felt him move down her neck sucking and scraping his teeth lightly as he went. She forced her eyes open. 'Opera Cora,' she scolded herself, 'focus on the opera'. He moved back up to her favourite spot under her ear and her breath hitched. Remembering where they were she pulled back and turned to him, this was no way to be behaving, his face inches from hers.

"Robert we're in public!" She hissed at him in an angry whisper. As he went to kiss her she turned her head causing him to catch the corner of her mouth. "People will see!" He went in for another kiss this time getting the side of her jaw.

"Darling everyone is watching the opera. Aren't you?" She looked truly scandalised. Robert somehow contained his amusement knowing it wouldn't help the situation but wondered if a guilty conscience was the cause of her over the top reaction.

"I could ask you the same question!" Her voice had risen. They heard a sharp shush come from behind the curtain separating their box from the next. Firmly closing her mouth Cora fixed him with glare before turning her entire body to the right so her back was to him returning her attentions to the stage.

Robert was not going to give up that easily. Taking advantage of her new position, Robert shuffled over until he was nearly sat as much on her seat as he was his own. Resting his hand on her back, he traced a finger firmly along her spine, from the middle of her back down the base. She shivered, once more cross with herself for reacting to him. He pressed his chest up against her back and nuzzled into her neck. Telling him off hadn't worked, and she didn't want to draw attention to them any more than they already had. Ignoring him again seemed her best bet. The more she ignored it, however, the more she found herself enjoying it. He peppered kisses along the side and down the back her neck, stroking back a piece of hair that got in his way. He wrapped his right arm round her and stroked at her side as he kissed along her left shoulder and down as much of her arm he could reach without having to bend too far. Upon reaching the limit he picked her hand, brought it to his lips and placed a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist.

It was at that point that Cora knew she was fighting a losing battle. If she was totally honest, she had lost concentration a good ten minutes ago, and wasn't entirely sure what was happening in the plot. She reached out behind her and stroked his face, turning towards him pressing her lips against his. They kissed slowly, tenderly but with an underlying passion caused by the last hour's teasing.

"The opera's down there Lady Grantham." He whispered pointing toward the stage. "You're looking the wrong way." She rolled her eyes at him and turned back to her earlier seating position secretly happy when once again he snuggled up to her, lavishing her neck and the side of her face with kisses. His hand returned to her thigh this time more purposeful than earlier. As he slid his hand up and down her leg, she felt the material begin to rise up round her ankle. She leant her head to one side, giving him further access to her neck, trying to focus on the stage ahead. Continuing the rubbing of her thigh he started to pull the dress up, exposing her calf. She grabbed his hand, stilling it.

"Robert!"

He brought his lips to her ear. "Shh, just keep watching. No one will see." He continued to pull the dress up, taking her slip with it. When it got to mid-thigh he stopped and ran his hand along her stocking-clad leg and under her skirt. She became aware of her breathing, of their surroundings. Willing herself to breathe more quietly and looking around at the people in the boxes on the other side, she hoped Robert was right and that no one would notice. She could see it now, Lord and Lady Grantham seen "canoodling" at the Royal Opera House. It would be all over the papers.

She felt Robert's hot breath at her ear again. "Watch the stage." Yes, the stage, she told herself, if she acted naturally no one would notice. Acting naturally, however, whilst Robert's hand skimmed up along the top of her thigh, was easier said than done. If she'd thought she was confused before, now she had literally no idea what was happening. Who was this woman with Pinkerton? She felt Robert's hand try to part her legs, and she gave into him. Concentrate, Cora. She tried to remember the synopsis she'd read to Robert from the programme. That's right she was his other wife, American, Robert had made a joke about that. His hands found her underwear, rubbing against her she squirmed in her seat. The joke was totally lost in her mind. His fingers sought the edge of her underwear and pushed their way in. She looked down pulling her dress down as much as she could with Robert's arm in the way.

"Eyes up Darling." She could hear the smugness in his voice. He was loving it. He ran a slow finger up the length of her, taking great pride in the way she bucked as her hit her clitoris. Once again he kissed her neck before nonchalantly gazing out at the stage. His fingers near mimicked the patterns he'd previously been tracing on her leg. Ever teasing he switched to one finger, rubbing small circles around the spot she wanted his finger the most. When he thought he might be pushing it too far he'd let it slide quickly over the area causing sudden intakes of breath and tiny sighs. Normally Cora would never let the teasing go on this long but not wishing to draw attention to herself she couldn't really tell him to stop. It wasn't long until she couldn't take any more. She grabbed his thigh and squeezed hard letting him know enough was enough. He took the hint slipping a finger into her with ease. It was shortly followed by another and took up a steady pace. Her breathing, now ragged, seemed overly loud, she was sure someone would look over and see them. When his thumb began to press where his fingers had earlier been, she found it more and more difficult to keep her eyes open. Her hand on his thigh had trouble staying still. Her nails dug into the material of his trousers before releasing them again. Her hand slid back up to where she was sure there would be an erection.

She was right. As she palmed it through his trousers, Robert lost rhythm for a moment. So close to the edge, she thrust her hips forward as discretely as she could, encouraging him not to stop. He picked up pace along with the orchestra. Suddenly it went very quiet, only the sound of Butterfly singing could be heard. She was sure someone would hear them. Thankfully the orchestra burst back into life, covering the groan that slipped from her lips, feeling her whole body tense then release as a rush of warmth charged through her. Robert's fingers stilled, giving her a moment to enjoy the full effect, before slipping out of her and pressing a final kiss to her neck. She opened her eyes unaware of when she'd closed them and leant her head against Robert's shoulder. On the stage Butterfly lay dead. Cora felt like she wasn't the only one who had died that evening in the theatre. The after effects of her orgasm made her head feel woolly but contented. The curtain came down and up again to reveal the full cast. The whole auditorium rose to their feet and applauded.

As the curtain fell for good Robert and Cora rearranged their dress into the most presentable state they could and left the building as quickly as possible. Stepping out the door, a cool breeze swept over them, providing relief to the hot, flushed appearance of her face that Cora had been overwhelmingly aware of. Stopping to look round for the car, Cora pulled herself in closer to Robert and scolded him in hushed tones.

"You are awful!"

"Really? It didn't seem that way." Robert said with a daft grin, proud of his own joke. Cora couldn't fight down the smirk. She rolled her eyes and took his arm, leading him towards their car back to their hotel.

"You are in so much trouble, Lord Grantham." Robert smiled with the knowledge he would definitely be having some more fun tonight. As he helped Cora into the car, she spoke to him over her shoulder. "You do realise we'll have to go back again tomorrow. I have no idea what happened in that last act. I was rather distracted."

His heart sank. Not another night of opera surely? Still at least he could distract her for the first two acts.

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Prompt-Robert takes Cora to the opera/theatre and they end up distracted in their private box.