Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
A/N: This is an idea I had a few weeks ago. I've been pondering with the idea of either adding more to this scene, or continuing the idea somehow. Reviews would be greatly appreciated.
The night felt as if it had come about as a wicked and luscious dream does. There was music, lights, laughter, decoration – at every corner a different assault on the senses. If one was not drunk, they were either swimming in a headache or had simply gone completely numb. The entire house had been flooded with a joyous feeling – an evanescent euphoria. Family, friends, and even a few opportunistic strangers had merged into one lukewarm solution created from the warmest and coldest of people. Rumors were tossed around like bad jokes and the alcohol was endless. But nothing less than what was to be expected of a party thrown after a grand, original white wedding.
All this richness only added to the relief the groom felt when he was able to finally shake himself from the dream-like state which possessed him.
Marius shut the door to his chamber with a soft click, immediately muffling the last raucous to be heard from downstairs. The party was finally dying down, like the last sputtered embers of a wild fire. He rested his forehead against the polished oak with a sigh. He had been accosted all night by well-wishes, questions, and had surprisingly remained sober. Now as the heady scent of polish, linen, and the flowery perfume of his bride filled his lungs, his mind began to clear.
His bride. He turned around and nearly collapsed against the door.
She was perched on the edge of the bed, the simple blue gown she now adorned a marvelous change after her intricate wedding dress. She looked just like a doll, her thick hair falling around her rosy face in waves. He gazed at her, his heart leaping into his throat with each beat – how the tables had turned after countless days at the Luxembourg. How much they had grown. How far they had come. Now there was his darling Cosette – sweet, innocent, untouched – waiting for him.
He took a few uncertain steps as if he were just beginning to walk again and found himself at her side. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, glistening with what he either assumed to be fear or excitement. Marius took her face in his hands carefully, placing a soft, chaste kiss upon her parted lips. He nearly died when she responded with a playful bite to his lower lip. He pulled away and stared at her in awe, as he had always thought of her as reserved.
The single candle which had been feverishly burning away beside the newlywed couple was nervously and hurriedly extinguished.
Clothing was peeled off from one another with clumsy, trembling hands. Cosette was divested of nearly everything, save silky chemise and drawers. Marius remained in his trousers; belt loosened from Cosette's clammy, prying fingers. She rested against the elaborate pillows on his bed, her chemise clinging to the fullness of her breasts, revealing and hiding all at once. Her legs were tidily folded somewhat beneath her, politely closed. Marius hovered about her, his arms on either side of her, his whole body distanced awkwardly. It was almost as if he would somehow break her if he came too close. But he kissed her again and again, until their tongues wrestled and they could feel the warmth of each other's mouths, neither daring to breathe.
Finally Marius broke away, eliciting a soft groan from Cosette. He smiled shyly in the dark, pleased by her reaction, but still unsure about the waters he was attempting to sail. He kissed the corner of her mouth, her delicate jawline, her neck. Cosette moved her head to the side with a sigh, exposing more of her succulent neck to his mouth. Marius continued, determined, his hand sliding up the side of her body before boldly slipping under her chemise. Cosette gasped at his touch as he cupped her left breast; he had never felt such softness and she had never felt such a sensation. Marius began to brush his thumb over her nipple in an agonizing rhythm. She leaned into his hand, her lips parted and wet as she exhaled roughly. With the little light which trickled through the window, he watched her expression with a newfound smug satisfaction, his trousers becoming unbearably tight.
When his hand moved to her clenched knees she made a small sound of protest.
But she allowed her husband to part them, and he finally settled between her legs. Marius kissed her gently, almost appreciatively, before removing her chemise, tossing the flimsy material aside carelessly. Cosette felt her face warm at this exposure, her arms swooping to cover her breasts furtively. Marius caught her wrists, holding them above her head with one hand, all the while whispering words of assurance. She shook ever so slightly in his grasp, eyes focused on the wall beyond his silhouette as he kissed her shoulder. His lips slipped from her shoulder, to her chest, to the concave between her breasts. She shut her eyes with a moan when his lips descended upon her already hardened nipple.
Marius sucked and licked – even bit, unable to believe the noises he was able to draw out from his Cosette. Distracted, he released her hands and they came to rest on the back of his neck and head, fingers tangling in his hair. Now he ventured to her other breast. Now he encouraged her to wrap her legs around his waist as his hand worked between their bodies. Cosette's hold on him tightened when he caressed her through her drawers. Marius felt practically proud and almost amused to find her growing wet, until her frilly drawers were soaked and he pulled away. Cosette swallowed, her breath rasping against her throat, a newfound throbbing beating mercilessly between her legs. She was a little frightened when Marius hooked his fingers onto the waistband of her drawers, seeming to slip them off with all the patience in the world. Cosette stopped him.
"Marius," she cried softly. "No."
He kissed her forehead, smiling weakly. "Why not, love?"
"I'm not sure."
Now he rested his forehead against hers, so that even their breaths mingled. "Are you scared?"
"Perhaps."
He chuckled warmly. "Oh, Cosette, there is no need to be. Trust me."
She began to chew her lower lip, a small smile threatening to curl the corners of her mouth. Cosette trusted him, trusted him more than he knew, and yet there was a taint of uncertainty which made her hesitate.
Marius sighed eagerly, "I can only wonder what you're thinking."
Now she was the one who held his face softly in her hands, kissing him quickly and ever so gently.
Without further deliberation, he tugged off her drawers as if he were unwrapping a present. A brief wave of excitement flooded through her. Marius fumbled with his trousers and taking Cosette's hand quickly, roused her to touch him. She would have recoiled, overwhelmed with embarrassment, if the one she was with hadn't been her Marius. Without a single word uttered between them, he encouraged his wife to stroke him. She grew more confident with each stroke, forcing his eyes to roll back, until he had to stop her to keep himself from finishing right in her palm. Cosette looked up at him curiously.
But before her thoughts could stray any further to consider what she had just done, her husband was positioning himself above her.
They didn't speak for the rest of the night, the breathless glances passed between them as they lie on their backs afterward all they needed to convey a slew of emotions. Marius reached out cautiously, smiling when his hand met Cosette's. She intertwined her fingers with his, letting out a small cry of happiness when he suddenly pulled her close. He placed a kiss on her temple, and she shrugged the covers over them. Marius was the first to give into sleep, one arm draped above his head, the other around his wife. Cosette listened to the smooth sound of his relaxed breathing, before she too, gave in. She felt the most content there than she ever had.
The noise of murmured voices grated against the calmness which pervaded the next morning. Cosette was slightly disheartened to wake to an empty bed, but was filled with a foreign, unshakable confidence in herself, in her marriage. She had woken later than she had hoped to, and quickly pulled on any decent article of clothing. Cosette was generally joyful, although she was fearful of the mess that was sure to have been left downstairs. She carefully ventured out into the hallway, the conversation distracting her so that she was no longer heading downstairs, but towards her husband's voice.