So this began as a story for Across-the-Rubicon's "All Tied Up!" challenge, but something else began to emerge. On Tumblr, Sybil/Tom fans are encouraged to "Rock the Valentine AU!" and I wanted to do something smutty (sometimes you just need to read/write smut) but also something sweet and sexy too. So I came up with this idea of throwing together all sorts of "roleplay" stories into one volume, and TA DA! This lil' fic was born. There isn't much in the way of a plot-this is more or less pure, unapologetic Sybil/Tom smut, *but* a tiny plot does take place at the end of the story, or rather, it will "explain and pave the way" for things to happen ;o) THAT BEING SAID...this story is *very* much worthy of the "M" rating, so be warned! There is a *little* dirty-talk, plus because it pertains to the "All Tied Up" challenge, there is also some light bondage happening here. If those things don't appeal, then come back later, when more chapters are added-hopefully you'll find something you like! But if you do read, I hope you enjoy this exploration into Sybil and Tom's love life. And without further ado...
MASTER OF THE HOUSE, MISTRESS OF THE MANOR
By The Yankee Countess
Chapter One
"Prisoner of the Revolution"
"Umph!" Sybil gasped as she suddenly felt her backside hit what felt like…a mattress?
She couldn't see a thing; a blindfold was covering her eyes. And there was barely any light coming from beneath it; wherever she was, it was dark. And even a little chilly. She struggled to sit up, but it was difficult, since her hands were bound behind her back. She bit her lip and tested her bonds once again, but they were firm and fast.
Her struggles suddenly ceased…when she heard footsteps approach. "W-w-who's there?" she called out, trying to sound brave.
The footsteps continued their journey…until she swore that had stopped just at the foot of the mattress where she lay.
"Good evening, milady…" the voice whispered in the dark.
Sybil's body tensed at the thick, Irish accent. "W-w-what do you want? I haven't—OH!" she gasped as she suddenly felt a leg being jerked from where she lay, and when she realized it was being tied to…a bedpost? "What are you doing?" she all but screamed.
"Can't have our pretty prisoner escape, now, can we?"
She shivered at the voice, but continued in her efforts to sound brave. "I demand that you release me this instant! You have no idea who—AH!"
Her other leg was roughly tugged to another bedpost…and Sybil bit her lip, fully aware that her legs were both parted and that she was now lying atop this mattress…spread-eagled.
"Oh, I know exactly who you are, milady," the voice growled as it tightened the bond on her ankle. "The Earl of Grantham's youngest daughter; a posh member of the aristocracy…" her breath caught in her throat…as she felt rough, work-calloused fingers run down from her ankle where the bond had been tied…around the back of her leg…and sliding up her calf-muscle…to the inside of her knee. "…an English oppressor."
"Oppressor?" Sybil gasped, trying to shake the fingers off her leg, but it was proving futile, and the voice knew it and chuckled. "How dare you assume such things! Why I'll have you know—"
She gasped as she felt a hand grip her chin. It was rough, but it didn't hurt, surprisingly. The hand held her face, and while she tried to wrestle her chin free…she felt another hand cup her throat, and she swallowed against the rough skin. "Who…who are you…?" she was trying to sound brave, but her breathing no doubt gave her away. "I…I demand to know who you are!"
The voice began to laugh, a low, deep, and rather dark laugh. "You 'demand' me?" he chuckled. "I don't think you're in the position to be making demands anymore…milady," the voice growled, and Sybil gasped as she felt herself being pushed back onto the mattress…and her bound wrists were brought over her head.
"What…what are you…?" she gasped as she realized he was taking her wrists (still bound) and binding them to what she could only assume was a bed's headboard. "Let me go!" she began to struggle, but it was difficult due to how her legs and ankles were bound to the bedposts at her feet. "LET ME GO THIS INSTANT!"
Her chin was grabbed once more, and she felt the rough fingers sink into her flesh. "Keep shouting like that and I'll have to gag that pretty mouth of yours," the voice snarled.
Sybil felt her breath catch at the threat. But she gritted her teeth, refusing to let fear rule her heart in this moment. Despite what he was doing, this man had no power over her, and she would make that quite clear by calling his bluff. "You don't scare me," she hissed back. "Now…LET ME GO AT ONCE! DO YOU HEAR? AT ON-MMMMMMMMMMMMM!"
If there weren't a blindfold covering her eyes, they would have gone wide at what happened next.
A hot, demanding mouth was covering hers. And an even more demanding tongue was forcing its way inside, silencing any other words; indeed, robbing her of her very breath! She tried to struggle against her captor's mouth, but it seemed to be vain; his mouth was strong…and his tongue was wicked. It slid so tantalizingly against hers, drawing it, coaxing it into his own mouth…and God forgive her, she did. Her tongue betrayed her, and began to explore the demanding mouth of her captor. Her lips moved against his, feeling the rough skin, the stumble around his lip and chin. A treacherous moan escaped her throat…and her captor laughed against her mouth.
She tried to pull away then, realizing what she had done, but her captor held her down, his hands still holding her face, to keep it in its place against his, and his lips wrapping around her tongue, and sucking it deep into his mouth, his own wildly playing against it, causing the blood in her body to rise and boil, while her skin tingled and her heart thumped wildly.
He released her mouth then, and she gasped as air once again filled her lungs. Her captor chuckled, and Sybil felt her face burn with heat. "Do that again…" she threatened. "And…and I'll bite you till your lips bleed!"
She expected to feel his fingers roughly grip her chin again; or perhaps for him to do something else in an effort to try and frighten her. But instead…she gasped…as she felt her captor's fingers move down to the front of her blouse…and began popping the buttons on her rapidly rising and falling chest.
"I think you enjoyed that…" he growled.
"N-n-no…" she protested. "I…I hated it."
He chuckled. "You don't sound like someone who hated being kissed by a commoner."
Her flesh tingled a little more at this. "Commoner?"
"Aye," he growled, and a shiver ran down her spine, as he leaned close, his breath hot against her skin and his voice just inches from her ear. His fingers were still expertly removing buttons. "Even though you're an English aristocrat…a 'fine well-bred lady'…" his growl had almost become a purr, and Sybil bit her lip to keep herself from whimpering. "…I think you rather like…what's that term you posh folk use? 'Slumming it'."
She frowned and shook her head, while at the same trying to wriggle free from her bindings. "How dare you," she hissed. "I do not 'slum' as you refer to it!"
"Oh no?" She gasped as she suddenly felt him grip the sides of her blouse and pull it forcefully open. "Then explain to me…why you're here…in an Irish slum…and without a corset?"
The whimper she had been trying to suppress earlier escaped her throat. "I…I can't stand corsets…" she replied, as if that were a decent enough answer; as if that were the important answer to give in such a moment as this!
Her captor chuckled. "Mmmm…neither can I, milady," he murmured, pushing the material of her blouse further apart. She wore a simple chemise under her blouse, but that was all. And she knew that the material of her chemise was quite thin. And despite what her brain was telling her body, it seemed that her body had other plans, because she could feel her nipples hardening under the heat of his gaze, or so she imagined.
"Corsets can be troublesome things…" he sighed, and without warning, Sybil gasped as she felt one of his rough hands cup her right breast. "Not only are they quite uncomfortable, from what I hear…" his fingers were now tracing the outline of her right nipple, and Sybil was writhing beneath his touch. "But they can also destroy a woman's luscious curves…or flatten her beautiful breasts…" his other hand was now cupping her left breast, and Sybil whimpered and wriggled beneath his sensual touch. Oh forgive her; she wanted to feel his hands on her skin! "And I must say, milady…you have the most beautiful breasts I have ever seen." He pinched her nipples then and Sybil's gasp may have been louder than any shout she had tried to deliver earlier. "Of course…they're still covered. But I'll rectify that soon…" he promised, leaning close…and running his tongue along the flesh of her throat. "Mmmmm…your skin tastes delicious, milady…do you taste as good everywhere?" Her only answer was a moan, and she felt him push his hands beneath the fabric of her chemise…and pull it away from her skin. "Well? Aren't you going to answer me? I thought you posh girls were taught that it was polite to answer a question when a gentleman asks it?"
"You're not a gentleman…" she retorted, still moaning as his the rough pads of his fingers made contact with her breasts.
"Aye, you're right, I'm not…" he breathed and moved his mouth to her ear again, sucking the lobe between his teeth, causing her writhe and moan, while his fingers made lazy circles over her breasts, moving higher and higher, ever closer to her straining nipples. "Mmmmm…you feel so soft…like dove feathers…" he growled against her ear, giving the lobe a nip. "You're probably not used to the feel of rough, calloused worker hands like these, against your lovely, soft skin, are you?"
She whimpered as his lips moved to her neck, and he softly bit the skin there, sucking a little into his mouth. He was marking her, she knew it. So that all would know what had happened to her—that she had been another victim of the revolution.
"Now what have we here?" she gasped as his rough fingers, the very fingers he had been teasing her with, finally found her nipples. They flicked across the swollen buds, making them stand even higher atop her breasts, and ache even harder. "This part of you isn't so soft, is it?" he growled against her neck, kissing down to her throat, and running his tongue along it. "MMmmmm…it reminds me of a part of myself that is also hard…but much, much bigger…"
To emphasize his point, he ground his hips against her thigh, and Sybil gasped as she clearly felt her captor's throbbing erection through his trousers. Most men bragged when they talked about how "big" they were…but even though she couldn't see it, judging from the feel, it did indeed seem to be quite…large.
"You never answered my question…" he murmured against her skin, his lips skimming her collarbone.
"Question?" she whimpered, her chest rising and falling even more as she felt his lips begin to descend…kissing the tops of her breasts…before moving to the valley between them.
"Aye," he growled against her skin, causing her body to shiver even more. "About whether you tasted as good everywhere…"
She was gasping and moaning, feeling his mouth so close, her nipples straining and aching for the touch of his lips. "I…I…I don't know…" she managed to gasp.
He chuckled and blew a bit of cool air down upon one of her breasts. "Well…I'll just have to find out for myself then, won't I?" And without another word, his hot mouth captured her nipple…and sucked it deep inside.
"OH GOD!" Sybil gasped, bucking slightly against her restraints. Her captor chuckled and held her still while he continued to suckle her left breast, his tongue assaulting the nipple, thrashing it and flicking it, and she hissed as she felt his teeth nip it, before drawing it once again deep into his mouth and sucking it hard. He hummed around her skin, clearly making it known that he was enjoying this sweet torture, and without warning, he moved from her left breast to her right, and with a wild growl, immediately began to attack it, doing everything he had done to the other breast, but perhaps a little…rougher…this time. Still, Sybil didn't cry out in pain or beg him to stop. No, she was gasping and moaning and arching her back off the mattress, as if trying to push more of her breast into his mouth. She loved it. She wanted more. She was a wanton prisoner to her revolutionary captor.
She whimpered when she felt his lips leave her. But she could feel his chest, pressed against her abdomen, rumble with a low chuckle. "Mmmmmm…" he murmured, kissing the valley between her breasts…and pushing more fabric away as he kissed down her stomach. "Posh English girls do taste good…"
"Please…" she panted, not really sure what she was asking, but her body was on fire, and there was this tight ache in her core.
"Please?" he murmured, his voice sounding more and more like a warm purr, and she gasped as she felt his lips kiss and tease the skin around her bellybutton, while he continued to remove fabric and push it out of his way. "Please what, milady?"
She didn't know what to say. She should scream for help, her mind kept telling her to scream and fight and struggle and bite. And yet…instead, she lay there, writhing on the mattress, wanting to feel his mouth on her body, wanting to lose herself in the pleasure he had stirred, her cruel captor.
Yes, she was his captive; in every way possible.
"Mmmmmm…" his mouth continued to kiss down her body…and she felt herself tense as she felt his hands move up under her skirt, which had been bunched at her knees, when he had restrained her legs earlier. Oh God…was…was he…? "You smell so good…" he growled, as he continued to kiss and descend. "I wonder…do you taste good…" his hands moved up roughly under her skirt and she cried out, as she felt him grip the edge of her knickers, and tugged them down legs. "…Everywhere?"
"Please…" she whimpered again.
"Yes…this pleases me very much," he growled, pushing her skirt up to her waist, putting her on display for all the world to see, if it wished. She was completely exposed, and she could feel the cool air hitting her wet and vulnerable flesh. She could also feel the intense heat of his eyes as she imagined him staring at her with nothing but the purest lust. It shook her, the intensity of that gaze; instinctively she felt she should cover herself, but she was completely at his mercy. Her legs were bound and spread far, and even if she tried to twist her body so, it would do very little to hide her nakedness.
He must have sensed what she was trying to do, because she suddenly felt his hands grasp her hips and hold her still…while he moved his body lower…and she swore her heart stopped beating as she felt his hot breath hitting the inside of her thighs.
"Beautiful…" he whispered, his accent very, very thick. She heard him take a deep breath, and then a growl of satisfaction filled the room. "Mmmmm…your perfume, milady, is most intoxicating…"
There was a shift on the mattress, and Sybil gasped as she felt his rough, calloused fingers touch the inside of her thigh…moving higher…and higher…until it began to trace the wet, outer lips of her sex.
"Oh God!" she gasped.
He chuckled. "Indeed," he murmured. "I think I will be thanking God many times this night…" his finger continued running along her slit and Sybil moaned and whimpered and writhed and gasped, her teeth biting her lip while her hips attempted to rise off the bed every time his fingers touched her. "My God," he groaned, his finger coming away from her body. "I've barely touched you and you're soaking…"
"P-p-p-please…" she panted. She wanted him; God help her, she wanted her captor to possess her, entirely. It felt so wrong to want something like this, and yet…and yet…
"Please?" he repeated the word. "Please what, milady?"
It happened without warning. One second he was teasing her by brushing his fingers along her slit and the next…one of his fingers had sunk in, deeply, through the wet folds of her sex.
"Aaaahhhh!" she all but screamed, her head falling back against the mattress, her limbs thrashing every which way as she felt his finger sink further and further into her hot, wet core…all the way up to his second knuckle, before slowly, deliberately, pulling it out…only to push it back, with a little more force.
"Oh God! OH GOD!" she gasped over and over, her hips actually rising to the thrust of his finger.
He chuckled. "Do you like that, milady?" he growled, kissing her hip. He continued thrusting his finger…building a steady rhythm. "Does that feel…good…?"
"Y-y-y-yes!" she gasped, nodding her head and moaning as he continued to tease her with his finger. Oh Lord, help her…she wanted more.
"I thought so," he chuckled. "I wonder…can you take another?" He didn't wait for her response, he began thrusting two fingers into her body, and Sybil began to scream, but not from pain. No, the ache she felt was for relief from the intense pleasure he was giving her.
And it had only just begun.
"Mmmm…yes…I like hearing you scream," he growled as he continued thrusting his fingers in and out of her. The rhythm had increased, and so had the pressure of his thrusts. She gasped as she felt a callous thumb rise and began rubbing her clit. He chuckled as she was practically bucking the entire lower half of her body off the bed. "You like having a rough worker's hands on your flesh," he growled, his lips kissing her thigh. "And you love having a commoner's rough, dirty hands inside you…"
"YES!" she screamed as he continued to pump and grind his fingers in and out of her body at such an intense tempo. And when she suddenly felt his lips move to her clit and suck it between them…she came undone completely.
It was like shattering into a thousand pieces.
Her body stiffened and then throbbed and then trembled as the intensity of the orgasm caused her limbs to shiver with pleasure.
…But he wasn't finished with her. Her captor was far from finished with her.
Because his fingers remained inside her, continued to pump…while his mouth now attacked her body, his rough, velvet-like tongue licking her, lapping at her, practically eating her alive! He hummed, he groaned, and he growled as he devoured her body, his other hand coming up to spread her legs even further apart, if that were possible. She was screaming again, and on the heels of one orgasm came another (or perhaps it was the same one? She hadn't fully recovered from the first). And yet still, he did not relent his torture. He continued to lick and lap and tease her with his lips, teeth, and tongue. The stubble on his chin even added an erotic thrill as it rubbed against the delicate insides of her thighs.
"Please…" she moaned, as she felt his lips move up to her clit and suck it deeply, just as he had sucked at her nipples earlier. "Please…I…I…I don't think—"
"Is it too much?"
She only answered with a whimper, and let out a huge gasp as she felt his fingers withdraw completely…and his mouth give her sex one final kiss, the sort a lover would give when saying goodbye. She trembled and moaned as he lifted his head away…and lay there, panting…trying to get her heart to resume its regular beating.
She was a wanton.
She had allowed this...this…this rebel to have his ruthless and wicked way with her. She had given in completely to him; she had let him do things to her that she would never have let any other man do. And she had loved every second.
She should feel ashamed of her brazen behavior.
…And yet, God help her…she wanted more.
"OH!"
Apparently, so did he.
He was straddling her, practically. She had felt a momentary shift on the mattress, as if he had risen and stepped away. But now she realized that he had finished in removing his own clothing because she was very, very aware…that he was most indeed naked.
…And judging from what she could feel against her thigh, extremely aroused.
"I want you," he growled. "Can you feel how desperately I want you?"
She whimpered as he rubbed his hardness against her skin. Oh God, he was huge! And pulsing…
He lowered his lips to her ear and whispered, "Do you want me just as much as I want you? Do you want me…inside you?"
She was panting, his words arousing her more and more, as she could feel the tip of his cock nuzzling the wet folds of her body.
"Tell me," he growled against her lips. "Say it."
"Yes…I…I want you! PLEASE!"
He didn't make her wait.
"Ahhhh!" she cried, her head falling back as her body was suddenly, beautifully stretched and filled with his. His cock was buried to the hilt, or so it felt. He grunted and groaned as he sank deeper into her body, the muscles clutching him, drawing him in and never wanting to let go.
"SWEET JESUS!" he swore, his hands gripping her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh, marking her, letting the world know that indeed…she was his.
…And he was hers.
"Fuck," he swore again, easing his body out just a little…before moving it back in a quick, deep thrust.
He was panting. She couldn't deny, it caused her to smile, listening to him pant and gasp as he adjusted to her warmth and tightness, the same way her own adjusted to his length and girth.
"So…so tight…" he moaned. "God…you…you feel wonderful, milady…"
He was catching his breath…and began to thrust again, causing her to gasp and moan for him, wanting more, never wanting it to end! The hardest part, though, was not being able to touch him. Not being able to wrap her legs around his waist to draw him in deeper. Her own hands couldn't even move to wrap around his body, entwine around his neck, run her fingers and scratch her nails down his back. She wished, more so now than when he had taken her prisoner, that her bonds didn't exist. All she could do was lift her hips to meet his thrusts, and she bit her lip and groaned and tried her best to do just that.
He must have noticed, because she heard a throaty, pleasured chuckle come from his body. "You like this, milady?"
She couldn't speak. She was at a total loss for her words, so she simply nodded her head, trying to lift her hips again as he drove himself even deeper.
He leaned down over her, and she felt his hot breath against her throat. "You like being fucked by a commoner?"
"Yes…" she gasped, whimpering for more, needing more. "Please…don't…don't stop…"
"Never," he vowed, pumping his body a little harder, a little faster. "You're mine now, princess…and I'm never going to let you go."
"Promise?" she gasped, as he rolled his hips in such a way, that she felt him hit a rather pleasurable spot deep inside.
He chuckled and lowered his lips to her throat, gently biting the flesh, leaving his mark once again her skin.
"Kiss me…" she begged. "Please! Please…kiss me!"
He answered her plea, his mouth covering hers, kissing her deeply as his body moved rapidly, faster, harder, deeper, longer, each thrust causing the both of them to gasp and moan, while their mouths continued to find pleasure with each other, their tongues tangling and thrusting, trying to match the rhythm of their bodies.
She felt his hands move around her, under her back, lifting her as best he could, despite the bonds that held her down to the bed. He lifted her to meet his thrusts, his body never ceasing, the speed only increasing more and more.
"YES! YES!" she began to scream, her lips ripping away from his to let the world hear the pleasure her captor was giving her. She was his, completely; her body and her heart.
"Sybil…" he growled, breaking character momentarily as he felt the walls of her channel clench around him, squeezing him, begging for his seed to fill her. She was shaking, trembling, her orgasm spreading throughout her body and into his.
He quickly pulled out, just in time, and they both gasped, as she felt his seed fall across her stomach and breasts. They groaned each other's names…and then she felt him collapse beside her, his face buried against her neck, as they panted and recovered from their vigorous lovemaking.
"Tom…" she moaned, purring in deep satisfaction.
She heard him chuckle, and her purr only increased as she felt him lovingly nuzzle her neck. "Yes, milady?"
She couldn't see his face, but she knew he was smirking. "Am I now a member of the 'revolution'?"
He chuckled and kissed her cheek. "You always were."
"Good," she grinned. "So then, would be so kind as to remove my blindfold?"
"Hmmm…" he hesitated, but only to tease her. "I may need to interrogate you some more—"
"You better be careful with that, Mr. Branson, otherwise I will not be so kind when it's my turn," she playfully threatened.
He laughed and withdrew the blindfold then, smiling down at her when she could finally see his eyes, lit with nothing by the purest love. "Finally," she sighed, glad to see his face. Yes, it was very exciting to make love and have to rely on all other senses, but she missed seeing his face, seeing his eyes hold her gaze as their bodies joined as they both reached ecstasy.
He gave her a sweet, soft kiss on her lips, before quickly moving to undo the bindings at her wrists. She groaned as she was finally able to move her arms again, and gave them a quick shake, trying to get some circulation back in them. "You alright, love?" he asked, kissing her shoulders after untying her bonds, and then moving down to undo the knots at her legs. "I…I wasn't too rough, was I?" he asked, concern on his face as he held her gaze.
She smiled and shook her head. "No, no, it was…" she blushed and a small giggle bubbled up out of her throat. "It was rather perfect, actually."
He grinned at this, and kissed her left ankle after untying it, before moving to her right. "So you did enjoy it?"
She blushed again, but nodded her head. "Yes…very much," she whispered, feeling very bashful, which was always funny, especially considering the passionate role-play they had just shared. It started as something "completely innocent", when after they had returned from Mary and Matthew's wedding, Sybil revealed she had "snuck" back Tom's livery coat. She then explained how she always thought him so handsome in it, and that when she began to fantasize about him, he was always wearing that jacket, be it kissing her, dancing with her, or…making love to her. That night, he did all of those things, wearing that jacket, and nothing else. As they lay bed recovering, he then asked her what other fantasies she had…and soon, they were both sharing their deepest, and sometimes darkest, fantasies about the other.
This had been one of their darker ones, and it was actually Sybil's. Tom was surprised when she had told him that while she hated the thought of women having to be subjugated to men in everything from politics to the roles they played in the home…she had always wondered what it would be like…to be taken "captive", and be bound and at the mercy of her husband. The key in all these fantasies was trust, of course. And Sybil trusted Tom completely. So when she told him about her fantasy, he couldn't deny he was a little shocked…but at the same time, he couldn't deny he was also aroused at the idea of his beautiful wife…bound and blindfolded and gasping in pleasure. So…after some careful planning, Tom made the arrangements he needed…and left her a note, that simply read,
Be careful; revolutionaries are attacking and taking prisoners.
Sybil's face burned brightly upon finding the note on the empty pillow next to her in bed. And throughout luncheon she kept nibbling on her lip, wondering when her own revolutionary would be taking her captive. In many ways, it was quite hysterical, listening to both Mary and Edith ask her if "everything was alright?" because she kept jumping at the smallest noise.
It wasn't until after she had come in from taking the baby for a stroll around the gardens, and had put her down for her afternoon nap…that she felt two strong and familiar hands grab her about the waist, and pull her into a darkened room, before growling in her ear, "You're mine now, milady."
A tingling thrill ran up her spine, and she immediately fell into her roll, "struggling" against him as he put a blindfold around her eyes, bound her wrists, and to her surprise, threw her over his shoulder and carried her off to…where were they?
"One of the cottages Matthew has me looking at," he explained as she took in their surroundings. "The mattress is clean, and I brought some sheets and blankets from the house—no doubt Mrs. Hughes is wondering what happened to them, though," he chuckled rather bashfully himself.
"Good gracious!" she looked at him and laughed. "How did you manage to get me out here, without anyone seeing?"
"It was not without some difficulty," he confessed. "But...I wanted to make sure no one would 'interrupt my interrogation," he playfully growled, massaging her right ankle after freeing it.
Sybil groaned and stretched her legs, glad to be free once again, even though she had enjoyed their "game". "My, my, you did pull out all the stops!" she giggled, moving closer to him and wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her naked flesh against his own. Tom picked up one of the blankets and draped it around the both of them.
"Anything for my Lady," he murmured, nuzzling her neck again.
"Mmmmmm…" Sybil purred, loving the feel of his lips on her skin. "We should do this again…"
He lifted his head and gave her a roguish grin. "You've recovered that quickly?" She swatted his chest which only caused him to laugh.
"I mean…these…these games," she murmured, her eyes falling to the hairs on his chest, her fingers playing them and threading through them. "I mean…this was perfect; but they don't have to be as elaborate as this."
He laughed and kissed her lips. "I don't mind," he answered honestly. "And…I'm glad you liked it. I'll admit, I was a little worried in…how to be with you; how to speak, how to act…I didn't want to hurt you, and I didn't want things to…to get out of hand—"
"And I love that about you," she said, holding his face and looking deeply into his eyes. "I told you, I trust you, Tom; and I really do mean it…this…this was rather perfect," she said with a bashful blush, but a loving smile.
He grinned and kissed her again, this time letting their lips linger just a little longer. "Well…as you said, Mrs. Branson," he emphasized after the kiss had ended. "It's your turn next; should I expect to be taken prisoner by aristocracy?"
Sybil rolled her eyes. "You mean more so than you already have?" She knew that both her and Tom were making the best, or trying to make the best, of their current situation. They were "trapped" in a manner of speaking, at Downton, and would remain there at least for a little longer, until it was safer to return to their beloved Dublin. But in the meantime, Tom was helping Matthew with running the estate, while trying to find work as a free-lance reporter, while she had just resumed a half-shift at the hospital…and hoped within a few months, she could make it a full-shift. She also hoped that in a few months, before their daughter turned 1, they could find a place of their own.
"Hey…" she felt his hand cup her chin and she looked up at him and felt her heart melt at the love she saw in his eyes. "I'm supposed to be the one who sulks about Ireland, not you," he teased. "Besides…as much as I miss our flat and my family and our friends there…if anything this time here has taught me, my home is with you…and our daughter. No matter where we are…that's home."
She smiled and kissed him again, her heart overflowing with love for this wonderful man. How grateful she was that he had waited, despite her anxieties; how grateful she was that he kept his faith in her, and never stopped loving her, despite the blows she had delivered to his heart in those years he had waited for her answer. Indeed, she had meant what she had said to Mary that night, just before her sister had gotten married; she had no regrets, whatsoever.
"It's getting dark…" Tom remarked, glancing out the window. "We better be getting back before your father demands to know why I'm not in my tux."
"Tell him your wife ripped it off you and it's now lying in shreds on the bedroom floor."
He looked at her with wide eyes and she responded with a devilish smile. "Your father and I have come a long way, love, but I don't think he wants to be reminded that his youngest daughter and I do the sort of thing that results in the birth of his first granddaughter."
"Spoil sport," she teased.
He gave her a look, and then began attacking her with tickles, which had her falling onto her back in a fit of giggles, until he was looming on top of her once again…and she could feel his erection once more rubbing the inside of her thigh.
"Tom!" she gasped. "I thought you said we should get going?"
"I did," he grunted, thrusting into her once again, causing her to gasp in pleasure. "Which means…" he said between thrusts. "We best…not…waste…anymore…time!"
"Quite…so…" she moaned, wrapping her legs around him and drawing him closer, her arms also moving around him as she had yearned to do earlier, her nails scratching down his back as they made love.
After all, she was still a captive to the Revolution; best to do as they say.
To be continued...
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