First kiss:
He's dreamed of this moment for years, never believing that his job or his attachment to the rules would allow him to bend to the point of breaking. But one look in her eyes and his resolve has shattered into a thousand tiny fragments of propriety and restraint. He is no longer willing to deny what he feels for her, what he's longed for in his busiest days and his calmest nights.
As he looks into her deep blue eyes, he is lost and not for the first time. But this is different. She's closer now. His fingers itch with a longing to take her hand in his, to pull her into his arms, to love and protect her for the rest of time. Instinctively, he takes a step closer, his eyes still locked with hers. The only sounds he can hear are his rapidly beating heart pounding in his ears and his shallow breaths as he exhales in great anticipation.
Forgetting everything and everyone else except the beautiful woman standing in front of him, Charles Carson's resolve finally crumbles at their feet. With a shaking hand, no doubt a product of his overwhelming feelings and rattled nerves, he bridges the distance between them and cups her cheek with the lightest of touches. He is mindful not to rush, not wanting to ruin the moment or to make her feel uncomfortable in any way. And when her eyes flutter, her gaze drops to his lips, he does not fail to notice. It is the sign he has been longing for ever since he entered her sitting room and closed the door behind him, shutting out the rest of the world for a few stolen moments.
His thumb caresses her high cheekbone with a touch as light as a feather, his ring and pinkie fingers ghostlike upon the side of her neck causing them both to shiver. His hand is large and his fingers are long, allowing him to touch beyond the side of her face, though never taking a liberty she has not given. He hears her quick intake of breath and briefly stills his hand, wondering if he is about to be rebuked for his boldness, chided for his longing. But those harsh words do not cross her parted lips. He is emboldened when he feels the weight of her head increase against his palm, feels her leaning into his touch.
That is his undoing. Slowly, he closes the gap between them, encircling her waist with his idle hand. He draws her into his embrace, still mindful of her reactions, still keenly aware that she could say no at any moment. It is when her eyes fully close and her face tilts upwards towards his that he is certain of her answer. Her actions have spoken louder than any words he has ever heard her utter.
He lowers his head towards hers and his eyes slip shut. He wants to remember everything about this moment, from the scent of her hair to the taste of tea on her lips, from her little ragged breaths to the beating of her pulse beneath this fingertips.
And then, the world stops turning, everything ceases to be in that one instant. They share a breath, a nervous one to be certain, but a shared one between them. His tongue darts out quickly to moisten his lips as the final distance is breached. Lightly, his lips brush against hers and he hears a little sigh of happiness escape her lips to land upon his.
He pauses, for only a moment, once more giving her a chance to back away, to break his heart. That wound is not inflicted upon him. She has proven, time and time again, that she is no Alice Neal. She is everything Alice wasn't. She is everything he's ever wanted or needed. She is simply … everything. And when her arm slips around his waist and her head lands squarely against his chest, he is filled with love and adoration for the woman in his arms.
His lips, still tingling from their brief visit to hers, find their way to her forehead. There, they linger. He wants her to know he loves and cherishes her, respects and supports her, is always on her side … for as long as she will have him. There is so much in his heart that he wants to share but the moment is too precious, too reverent to fill the silence with his deep voice. Instead, he lets his heart speak directly to hers through their shared closeness until a more appropriate time in which he can give voice to his feelings for her. For now, he simply wants to memorize everything about this incredible experience.
It is not his first kiss nor hers. Those were stolen long before there was a Mr. Carson and a Mrs. Hughes of Downton Abbey. But, this is the first kiss which has held so much promise, so much love, boundless respect and admiration. This, they will both recall moments, hours, and years later as true love's first kiss for it was when Charles Carson kissed Elsie Hughes.
A/N: A few weeks ago on Tumblr, there was a prompt about different types of kisses. I've been toying with the idea of exploring these various suggestions and to hopefully spark my muse into returning. And, with the encouragement of my amazingly supportive and loving friends, I have written this first piece. Guess we shall see where this road leads us … if you're up for another journey with me. If you've made it this far, thank you for reading the first kiss prompt. I'd appreciate a little review, guest or signed … long or short … whatever you're thinking … Hugs and Chelsie On!