Thanks for purple-roses-words-and-love for betaing. I've had several requests for some Trixie smut, so I decided to make an entire fic out of it, rather than 5 sentences. I feel a bit nervous about posting this, because I think that smut is not my forte, and because this fic pushes the boundaries of what I've previously written, steam-wise, but anyway here we go! Trixie's and Christopher's wedding night ;).
Trixie had a firm suspicion that she could not be happier. She also knew that she could not be any more nervous than she currently was, either.
She gave Christopher a small smile as he pushed the door to the bedroom – their bedroom – open and took her hand, leading her inside.
"There you go, Mrs. Dockerill," he said, giving her a wink and then immediately kissing her softly.
Trixie slung her arm around his neck and kissed him back. The waxing and waning of this kiss gave her a small sense of comfort. This, at least, was familiar to her.
Christopher's hands then travelled to the buttons and hooks that fastened Trixie's wedding dress. Slowly, leisurely, because they had all the time in the world, he began to undo them.
She shivered as the cool air of the bedroom kissed her skin, and as Christopher's fingertips counted her vertebrae. "I love you," she murmured as the dress fell from her body and puddled around her feet. Christopher smiled at her, cupped her face, and kissed her forehead.
"My beautiful wife," he whispered.
She smiled at that, and helped him get out of his jacket, her fingers trembling as she unbuttoned his shirt.
He didn't mind, stroking her cheek with his thumb as she did so. "There's no haste," he told her as she cursed under her breath because her fingers slipped on the last button. He shrugged out of his shirt once she finally got it undone, revealing his broad shoulders and chest.
Trixie touched his stomach, marvelling at how tight it was, how taut the muscles were.
Christopher started picking the pins from her hair.
She bit her lip as the locks came tumbling down, ghosting past her face, the tips tickling her shoulders, and sighed as Christopher's clever fingers pushed the straps of her slip from her shoulders. The fabric slithered down her curves, clinging to her hips for a moment before a small tug from his fingers sent it to join the dress on the floor.
"I love you so much," Christopher said, kissing the hollow between her collar bones and sliding his hands over her ribcage. He pushed his thumb underneath the elastic of her brassiere after that, stroking the strip of skin that was neither midriff nor quite breast.
Trixie moaned, and closed her eyes. He was going so slow, and she wanted him, all of him, wanted him to fill the ache inside her and quench the fire that licked low in her belly, scorching her.
As if he heard her desire, he unhooked her brassiere, and cupped her breasts, circling her nipples with his index fingers, smiling as her nipples pebbled and Trixie murmured his name.
She had strong legs from cycling, and her Keep Fit classes, but right now, her legs felt as if the bones had turned to jelly, as if her knees would give any moment. She clung to Christopher, burying her face against his neck, afraid she would crumble if she didn't hold on to him. His hand slid over her lower back, tickling the skin just above the line of her knickers, and she knew she had to speak up before these sensations, so new and wonderful, would rob her of all ability to think.
"Christopher," she whispered, voice low and more seductive than she had ever heard it before.
"Yes, sweetheart?" he asked.
"I think my knees are almost too weak for me to keep standing," she confessed. Then, because she felt he deserved her honesty: "I don't know what to do."
She wished she'd asked someone about what happened between a man and a woman during their wedding night. Oh, she was familiar with the technicalities (how could she not be, as a trained and skilled midwife?) but she had quickly come to realise that there was a lot more to lovemaking than what she knew from textbooks.
But there had been no one she trusted enough to ask.
Well, that was not strictly true; Trixie could have trusted Barbara, but had decided not to. After all, she had once imagined a future for herself and Tom, had fantasized about his arms around her, his lips on hers, his fingers exploring her body… Trixie had left that future that would never be far behind, but knew she would always have something of a soft spot for Tom. To ask one of her friends to describe the experiences she had once imagined for herself with the same man would be terribly awkward. No, Barbara had not been an option.
Trixie could have asked Shelagh – the doctor's wife had even offered it – but that had not felt entirely right, either. Shelagh was a sweetie, but also terribly private. Trixie had not wished to offend her with her questions, or shock her. Now, though, Trixie wished she'd taken her colleague up on her offer. It would have assuaged her nerves, if nothing else.
Christopher pulled back so he could study her face, frowning a little. "What do you mean?" he asked, smiling sweetly.
"I'm nervous. I want to please you, but I don't know how any of this works, and I don't want you to be disappointed in me," she mumbled, lowering her eyes.
"Beatrix, if I could pick a moment in my life to last forever, it would be this moment. I want to bring you pleasure, because seeing you squirm in delight gives me pleasure, too. Do you understand that? So don't worry about pleasing me. That will come in its own good time."
She felt her eyes grow moist, then. What had she done to deserve such a good man? "I love you," she whispered, then gasped as his fingers closed around her nipple, tugging gently.
"My legs…" she said, feeling how they went slack.
Christopher swept her up in his arms, kissing her deeply. "You're like a giraffe: all eyes, neck, and lesg," he told her as he carried her to bed and gently put her down.
"I've been compared to a doll before, but never to an animal," she said, frowning a little.
"I have," Christopher said, and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
A bark of laughter escaped Trixie's mouth, and she slapped his arm. "Christopher, that was awful," she said, sitting up and kissing the spot on his arm she had just slapped.
"Sacrificing my good sense of humour to see you smile is always worth it," he said, face open and honest. He quickly shucked his trousers and pants, then took her face between his hands and kissed her again in that familiar way that she felt would never bore her.
He trailed a path of kisses down her throat, hands resting on her ribs. She placed a hand on the back of his neck to anchor her to him, allowing the burning in her belly to wash away any sense of insecurity.
"May I?" Christopher asked, touching her knickers.
Trixie felt a splinter of doubt for one moment, but pushed it away and nodded, helping her husband to pull them off.
He smiled as he looked at her most intimate parts. "I did always wonder how much of a natural blonde you were," he confessed, kissing the sharp blade of her hips.
"Well, now you know," Trixie breathed, eyes half-lidded and toes curling with pleasure.
Christopher smiled, showing her his perfect teeth, then kissed the inside of her thighs, causing her eyes to fall shut completely.
"Oh," she moaned as his teeth scraped over the sensitive skin, his tongue immediately tracing over the spot to soothe it. He gave the skin next to it a few kisses in rapid succession.
"God, I love you," she said, placing her hand on the back of his neck, her fingers carding through his hair.
"Just wait till I'm done with you," Christopher said, and though her eyes were closed, she knew he was looking at her with one cocked eyebrow.
"Hm," she replied.
He kissed the other thigh in much the same fashion whilst his fingertips traced her folds.
She rocked her hips unconsciously in response.
"You are beautiful," Christopher growled, gently parting her with his fingers. Unexpectedly, he then leaned down and kissed her between her legs, the tip of his tongue touching the little sensitive bundle of nerves there. His kiss was so soft, almost as if it didn't happen, but it sent sparks to her very core, shaking her as if she had been struck by lightning. Her back arched and her fingers, still buried in his hair, curled of their own accord.
"Christopher!" Trixie gasped.
"What is it?" he asked, raising his face so he could look at her.
"You can't… you aren't supposed to do that, it's…" she stammered, already almost beyond words.
"Why not? Did it hurt?" He took the hand that was gripping his hair and gently unclasped her fingers.
She shook her head. "No." It had been a terribly strong feeling, like pain, only this was not unpleasant. It had been… exquisite. "It was nice," she said weakly.
"Please let me continue, then. Let's find out together what you like," he proposed, tracing circles on the inside of her leg.
"All right," she said, dropping her head back and inhaling deeply.
"I love you, Trixie," Christopher repeated.
"I love you, Christopher," she replied, biting her lip in an effort to still the sounds he drew from her as he kissed her pink flesh again.
He took her hand in his so she could squeeze it, and she did, feeling her wedding ring bite lightly into the skin of her finger as she did so.
And in that moment, she no longer had a firm suspicion but knew, knew without a doubt, that she could not be happier, because she loved, and was loved in return.
A/N: Here is a little follow-up to this story, in which Trixie does go to Shelagh to ask for advice.