A/N: ...and then this happened. It is pure, unadulterated wordsmut. I'm almost embarrassed. Almost. (Previously posted to AO3, uploading here for completeness. This is chapter 1/4 so far, likely more to come eventually.)

So many things she'd expected, hoped for, and still, he managed to surprise her.

He'd been shy at first, endearing, almost frustratingly slow, but he listened, watched, observed, adjusted. He noticed the little things, of course he did. It was what he did, what made him so good at this life of service. The way her breath caught - not in pain, no, certainly not - when he pulled at her hair a little harder than he intended. The way she responded by clutching at his shoulders, fingers digging in to his strong, broad back, pulling him closer.

They made love, and he learned. They learned together.

Tonight, he gripped her to him and groaned. "Oh- oh Mrs.- oh. My love, yes… so tight… your- you- "

Tight, slick warmth now surrounding him, squeezing him gently, her gasp — Oh, Mr. Carson! Oh — still ringing in his ears.

- her - her cunt - the thought echoed in his mind and in that moment he very nearly lost control and drove into her. He couldn't hold back these shocking, crude words from his thoughts, not here, not now, not when buried deep in her. But he would never say them aloud, could not, no, never.

He wanted so badly to- to- fuck her. Hard. Fast. He couldn't, it wasn't proper, it was… could he?

He held on, barely, held back, moved with her slowly, but lord, such words, such thoughts. Vulgar and so powerful, and in the right moment, here, with her, no longer coarse but intimate and strong. He trembled with it. And she was so tight, so wet for him and he knew he could never think such things again (oh fuck yes her cunt) and not relive this moment, joined with her in agonizing, delicious bliss.

Thick and hard between her legs. Pressing, inside, out, the slow friction and hardness and slick heat and his quiet groan and such need… she could feel his need for her, still tightly held in check even as…

"Oh God, yes, so… my man, my- your- more… pleasemoreyes I-"

- his cock, so solid, filling her, christ, moving against her, inside her. This was what she needed, yes, this firmness, this man, all of this. She relished in the delicious, uncouth thoughts to go with this improper, perfect deed. His cock. Fucking me, oh GOD… OH.

She was grinding against him now and she hadn't even realized it until he grunted hard and his hands, those beautiful, strong, meticulous hands that were made for service clutched at her hips and pulled her tighter to him. He drove into her deep and hard and fuck, yes, please, yes.

"More, oh, Ch- Charles, yes. YES. F- FUCK. Fuck me. God. Yes. More. Harder. PLEASE."

…and he came undone completely. Such a shocking, unexpected thing from her pretty, sweet, proper mouth, as if she could hear his own thoughts. They met thrust for thrust and grip for grip now, taking, gasping together until neither knew nor cared who might hear or know, until the perfect, agonizing pleasure peaked and they fell over the edge, her first, him somehow managing to hold back until he, too, went blank in a tangle of profanity (fuck, yes, love, yes) and hot breath and her legs wrapped around him and four strong hands clutching wherever, however they could find purchase.

And then he was spilling into her as she took him, all of him, with her, fucking him and christ, yes, her cunt, tightening around his cock. Lips, hard and wet and desperate and they came together and apart and together once more and he knew that he was home.

No, he was no gentleman, and she no lady. As much as they were the best of proper servants by day, and sometimes the gentlest of lovers at night, tonight they would couple like this, all heat and slick firmness and earthy desire, taking from one another.

Here, tonight, they would learn something new, and allow those profane, perfect words and thoughts to drift in and out of the moment, taking them higher, harder with anticipation, with need, with want, with love, with no regrets.