Strip
By: piperholmes
A/N: So I have really debated with myself over whether to post this or not, because I'm not really a "M-Rated" writer. There are so many talented smut writers here (you know who you are, you naughty, wonderful writers!) and I don't feel very versed in writing such things, but I have decided to tell, perhaps, a different type of smut. (Not sure that makes sense) And I really wanted to contribute to the Rock the AU February month challenge and add to the M-Rated stories for S/T. So here it is, my contribution to the soft-core side of S/T…LOL!
Special thanks to Yankee Countess for her efforts to keep S/T going and putting together the Rock the AU in the first place!
Unbeta'd
Prologue
She watched dejectedly, fighting her tears, her baby suckling greedily at her breast, as Tom sheepishly excused himself to the washroom.
It had been a disaster.
A complete and total disaster.
She sniffled, startling the feeding baby, and wiped angrily at her eyes. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Not between them. It had always been so good, so perfect. It was a side of their marriage that had never suffered.
And she had no idea how to fix it.
Part 1: Body, remember
He tried not to stare.
This had become the routine. A new mother. A new father. A new baby. Of course this meant change. It meant adjustment. It meant Tom Branson kept eyes forward as they both dressed bed.
Or he tried to.
Instead he casually cast his eyes towards her, fleeting glimpses as she peeled away her robe. He wasn't at all enamored by her long fingers working to release the button. He didn't mind the way her chest rose and fell with a deep breath as the fabric slid away. He wasn't at all affected by the delicate scent, her scent, which wafted about them as more of her freshly bathed skin was revealed. He wasn't bothered in the least by way the nightgown fell between her full, round breasts. He knew the warmth of her soft skin, the small sigh that would escaper her plump, luscious lips, the power of her touch as she clung to him… He barely suppressed a grown.
He was definitely staring.
To his embarrassment, and clearly to hers as well, their blue eyes met.
He awkwardly cleared his throat, ignoring the burning of his skin, cursing his fair coloring, knowing his exposed chest was pinking.
"New nightgown?" he squeaked out, trying to hide, grateful that she didn't laugh.
She merely shook her head, giving him an odd look.
"Oh," he answered stupidly. Of course it wasn't a new nightgown. It was a familiar, comforting nightgown she had worn as her pregnancy progressed, which she still preferred as her three-month post baby body was continuing it's long journey to return to its pre-motherhood state.
She had lost a fair bit of her pregnancy weight, but still her body bore the signs of the months of growth and stretching.
She was…well, curvier; curvier hips, breasts, stomach, thighs…
Damn it. He was staring again.
Sybil's brow lowered in concern as he made no excuse; rather he scrambled to inelegantly tug his own nightshirt on.
He angrily shook his head. He wasn't a rake. He could control his body. He wanted his wife, nothing wrong with that, but he wasn't some sex crazed man who had to force himself on his wife. It didn't matter to Tom how long he had to go without, he didn't agree with idea that a wife was a man's property. He definitely knew Sybil didn't agree with that idea. They were progressive.
But oh how he wanted to be with her.
He thought it had been bad, waiting all those years for her to say yes. However, those lonely nights spent with an idea, a construct, urging him forward to his release, were nothing compared to the long nights spent sleeping beside her, knowing what they had experience together, memories playing out in his mind, images of her above him, beneath him, crying out, caressing him, teasing him, loving him.
"Tom?"
His eyes flew to her, realizing she had already crawled into bed and was now looking at him expectantly. "Is everything alright?" she pressed, concerned. "You've been acting a little odd this evening."
"Long day," he grumbled, and scrambled in next to her.
As had become routine, he turned the light off, wiggled down into the bed, then allowed her to snuggle close to him. They would talk, but almost always she would drift off quickly, with him not far behind. The baby would wake up once or twice during the night to be fed, then be up before the sun demanding attention. It was a level of exhaustion neither thought possible to live with.
Sybil bore the worst of it. While he didn't normally sleep through the baby waking at night, often getting up to get the baby out of the bassinet and bring her to the bed, he would fall back to sleep rather easily leaving Sybil to feed, usually change the baby, and get her back to bed. On occasion, those nights when her own exhaustion was too great, she would nudge him back awake and hand him the well-fed infant, and roll back over, leaving him with those responsibilities, but it wasn't often. She had argued with him, pointing out that he had a full day of work as estate manager while she would have the opportunity to nap during the day.
Which he knew she wasn't really taking advantage of.
Free time was spent trying to get their lives back on track. He hated working for Lord Grantham again, his only consolation as the estate manager was to try and work in some of his socialist ideals into the way things worked, but they both knew they couldn't stay here. He couldn't keep doing this, maintaining the status quo. She had taken over the responsibility to and find their new life. So she wrote letter after letter, inquiring after positions with papers, politicians, hospitals, colleges, anywhere that could serve their desire to work, to change, and to challenge them.
"I love you," he whispered, surprised when she lifted her head from his chest, having assumed she was asleep. "So completely and fully," he confessed, her moonlit silhouette filling his vision.
"There is something going on," she accused gently, her voice a harsh whisper.
It wasn't that such declarations were a rarity, rather she knew him, she knew his voice, and knew when he needed her.
"It's nothing my love," he assured, tucking her hair behind her ear.
"Tom," she pushed sternly, unconvinced.
"I'm fine," he soothed, keeping his tone light, playful.
The darkness made it difficult to make out her features, but he could hear her frown. He definitely felt her shift away from him, and watched as she rolled away, feeling a whoosh of cold air as her body left his.
"Sybil," he tried, now facing her back, as he sat up and reached for her.
She shrugged off his hand, and drew further away.
Stubborn woman.
"Sybil," he said again, "It's really nothing."
She whirled to face him. "Then why won't you tell me?" she fired back. "Why keep it from me? Why keep anything from me?"
He faltered. She'd caught him.
With a heavy sigh, he acquiesced. Sensing his surrender she too sat up, her round eyes shining in the dark as they stared at him.
"It's difficult to admit to…what I mean is…I don't expect you to do anything about it," he began badly. "Just don't feel pressured. I'm not asking…I'm not saying you have to do or not do something—"
"Just tell me Tom," she interrupted.
"I miss you," he blurted.
He could see her face contort with confusion. "What?"
"I miss being with you, making love to you," he clarified.
Her eyes lowered and a small "Oh" emitted from her.
"It's jus' we haven't been together like that since before the baby was born, and, well, I miss it, I miss being with you," he stumbled through, feelings of guilt warring with feelings of relief at being able to talk about it.
She said nothing, and his own eyes fell to his lap. The silence burned his ears, pleading for him to fill it.
"I'm sorry," he rushed. "You must think me an ogre. I know how tired you are, how much you've been through the last few months. I know you probably aren't interested in even discuss—"
For the second time that night she cut him off, only this time by pressing her lips tightly to his. His body responded immediately, his lips meeting hers, sucking gently against each other, pulling and battling. The kiss deepened, her tongue teasing his lips, demanding entry, entry he was only too ready to grant. They fought for dominance, desperately drinking each other up. They had kissed since the baby; prolonged moments of romance and delights, but those had ended chastely snuggled together. This was not that kind of kiss, this was a blatant invitation.
A small protest arose in his mind, shouting at him as if through water, he tried to ignore it, but knew he wasn't that kind of man.
He pushed her away gently, even as his body screamed at him.
Breathing heavily, pleading with her to put him out of his misery one way or another, he pressed, "Darling, are you sure?"
Her now swollen lips spread into the wicked grin he so loved. "I've missed you too," she answered huskily, "I've missed being with you."
His own lips spread into a wolfish grin. That was all he needed to hear, feeling the luckiest man in the world as he grabbed for his wife.
To be continued
Thanks for reading!
P.S. We'll get to the M-rated stuff, I promise ;)