Author's note -

This M-rated S/T oneshot was born from a prompt by the lovely Yankee Countess, and it's dedicated to her as a wonderful friend and fellow writer of S/T smut.

It's based on a certain scene in the opening episode of season 5 (which I did not watch) showing Tom at a desk, and is set in my own season 5 AU, in summer 1925 during Tom and Sybil's visit from London (where they live) to Downton Abbey. You can find more of this AU on my Tumblr blog.

Fair warning - this story is very M-rated and includes sub/dom role play and some light bondage. As always, these two are equals in everything, including their sex life, and both of them enjoy these games!

Summer's ripening breath

"Are you sure we should be in here?"

"Go on, no-one will mind. Papa and Jarvis are off on their rounds, they won't be back for hours."

Tom moved over towards the desk. It was well ordered, with a ledger placed square on the blotter surrounded by pens, papers and envelopes – the various trappings of the estate. He sat down at the chair and swivelled it back and forth, one finger on his chin and a quizzical eyebrow raised as he looked at Sybil, still waiting at the door.

"Well, good morning, Lady Sybil. It's a pleasure to see you. How can I help you today?"

She moved forward and into her role without missing a beat.

"Branson, I need you to take care of something for me. At once."

"Of course, milady – it would be my pleasure to assist you with anything you might need. Anything at all."

She walked towards him, head held high, and casually removed her hat, dropping it on the desk. Then, she sat on the edge of it and crossed her legs, which made her dress ride up over her knees.

His eyes immediately darted to the glimpse of her legs thus revealed, and a small smile creased the corners of his mouth before he looked up. She put her hands behind her and leaned back a little on the desk, swinging her legs back and forth. Not saying anything, her look spoke volumes.

"What can I do for you?" Slightly more insistent this time.

She shuffled herself further backwards onto the desk, and seemed not to notice that this made her dress move even further up her legs.

"Well Branson, I seem to find myself in need of your... services."

"What kind of services, milady?"

He stood up from the desk chair, leaving his jacket on the back. Knowing she had a particular fondness for his strong, well muscled forearms, he rolled his sleeves up to the elbow as he walked towards her and was rewarded with a half smile and a drop of the eyelids from his wife, indicating her pleasure with what she saw.

"I seem to be having some trouble with my stockings, Branson. Could you take a look at them for me?"

"Of course, milady. On one condition, though. Such a delicate task requires concentration. Therefore, I must ask that you do exactly what I say, no questions asked."

At her nod, he knelt down in front of her, putting his hands on her ankles, caressing her through the fine silk. Before he began, he eased her shoes off her feet. Then, eyes on his work, he ran his hands and his mouth slowly up her legs, one at a time, stroking each calf, kissing the back of each knee, making her giggle and squirm while keeping his face completely calm and dispassionate.

"No issues so far, milady, that I can see."

"Maybe the problem is further up, Branson?"

"Perhaps so. I'll keep looking."

Keeping his hands on her knees, he stood before her. Eyes still down, he traced a spiral path along her thighs with his fingers towards the edge of her dress, then stopped short.

"Keep going, Branson – I need you to go all the way." There was a tremble in his wife's voice that he recognised, but he didn't give her what she wanted, not yet.

"Well, milady, if I'm to go further, I'll need you to take off your dress."

"Well, if you really think it's necessary, Branson?"

"Remember what I said, milady – no questions."

She took his hand and hopped down next to the desk, then looked up at him through her eyelashes.

"Could you help me? A Lady never undresses herself, you know."

"Of course."

Tom came around behind Sybil and slowly undid the zipper down the back of her dress, running a finger along her spine as he did so and feeling her shiver. Then, he eased it from her shoulders, letting his hands trace down her arms as it fell to the floor, to reveal a black chemise with lace trim.

"That's better. Now, back you go."

He picked her up, putting her on the edge of the desk again. Then, he paused.

"There's not really enough room here, is there, milady?"

With a sweep of his arm, the items on the desk were flung to the floor – the ledger, the pens and paper, her hat, everything was scattered, leaving the surface bare.

"That's better, isn't it? Now, I want you to lie back on the desk."

"Yes, Branson."

She did as he asked, resting up on her elbows, and his eyes met and locked with hers for the first time. He stepped closer to her, standing between her outstretched legs as his hands continued their journey up from her knees, to the edge of her chemise, then underneath it to find her lacy stocking tops.

The chemise rucked up towards her hips as he ran his fingers under the edges of her stockings. She let out a moan as his fingernails scratched the insides of her thighs.

"Look at me, milady. I need you to look at me," he murmured, seeing her eyes half closing as he moved still further up her legs and brushed against the lace at the edge of her knickers.

"Yes, Branson," she replied, opening her eyes again and letting him see the haze of lust casting a shadow over their usual sparkle.

"Now, Lady Sybil, I've checked your stockings for you, and they seem to be perfect. Are you sure that's where the problem is? I think I need to check... somewhere else."

Tom's fingers ran across the damp fabric of Sybil's knickers between her legs and she let out a moan of longing as he pressed a knuckle lightly into her clit.

"Yes, there, Branson, please..."

"Not so fast, milady. All in good time, when I say so and not before."

He slid his hand across her knickers again before letting one finger slide underneath the edge, eyes still locked on hers. Pushing the material aside, his fingers felt their way through the curls of hair that crowned her thighs, sliding up and down her folds before pushing between them. As one finger made contact with her clit, she groaned, dropping her head back.

"Eyes on me, Lady Sybil."

"Yes, Branson."

"Now, could this be where you need my attention?" He began to stroke her clit with his thumb as one finger, then another slid into her core. Another sharp gasp from his wife.

"Milady! I must say, I'm rather shocked to find how wet you are."

"I'm sorry, Branson. Did I do something wrong?"

"Well, we'll just have to see about that, won't we?"

On the word 'see', he pushed his two fingers all the way up inside her, and she cried out, her hands moving around his back to bring him in closer, her legs tightening around his waist.

"Do you like that, Lady Sybil?"

"Oh, To... I mean Branson, yes, oh yes."

"Do you want some more?"

She nodded, eyes still fixed on his, and he began to circle his thumb on her clit. His other hand began to wander casually up her body, running over the black silk across her stomach, then towards her breasts.

"Mmm, this all seems fine, milady. Perhaps, if you could let that shoulder strap fall... yes, that's good, very good," he commented, his eyes moving to the black lace brassiere Sybil had on under her chemise. His hand moved up, cupping her breast through the fabric and pinching her nipple between his fingers.

He watched her face through it all – she was breathing fast, flushed with arousal, his wild English rose in bloom. Noticing that she kept trying to close her eyes to savour the feelings he was evoking throughout her body, he made a 'tsk' sound with his tongue against his teeth.

"Now, now, keep your eyes on me, Lady Sybil. I told you before, you must do as I say." His hand moved across to her other breast, sliding under the chemise to touch it, and she arched herself towards his hand, wanting more of his touch.

"I can't find anything wrong at all here, milady. There's really only one more place I can check for you."

"Please, Branson, ooohhh, please." She was starting to lose control now, grinding her hips against his hand, begging for more pressure as his thumb continued to tease her clit and his fingers moved more deeply inside her. Then, he pulled his hands from her body, which left her pouting in displeasure.

"Please, don't stop Branson, I need you."

"No questions, remember?"

Tom cast his eye around the room for what he needed. Surely an estate office would have some? Then, he grinned in satisfaction as he spotted a length of rope on one of the shelves.

Stepping away from Sybil for a moment, he picked up the rope and then moved back to the desk. His wife was still leaning up on her elbows, legs sprawled wide apart, watching him.

"Just a couple more things to do first, milady. Can I ask you to sit and lift your arms above your head?" She did so immediately, and he lifted the chemise from her body and threw it on the ground.

"Now, I'll take off your brassiere. You won't be needing that." The black lace undergarment was soon adorning the floor as well.

"Lie down on the desk."

"Whatever you say, Branson."

Once she was on her back, he took hold of her hands and pulled them above her head. Lashing one end of the rope he was holding around her wrists, he tied the other end to the leg of the desk, pulling her taut across its surface.

He walked slowly back to the other edge of the desk, his hand trailling across her skin all the way, taking in the feel of her breasts, her stomach, her hips and thighs before he returned to his position between her legs.

She looked at him again as he slid his fingers under the top of her knickers and pulled them down her legs and off over her stockings. Then, he pushed her legs further apart and put them on his shoulders. Starting to lean forward, he rested his hand on her stomach and stepped out of character for a moment, thinking of their baby growing inside her.

Is this OK? A silent message flashed between them.

She nodded, biting her lip. Leaning further down towards her, he used his other hand to unbutton his trousers. He pulled out his erect cock and let her feel it against her thighs, running it along her slit and hearing her moan.

"Branson, I need you to fuck me..."

"Really, Lady Sybil, I thought I gave the orders."

He kept teasing her for a few more moments then slid his cock fully inside her, loving how tight she felt from this angle. Pushing into her as hard as he could, he forced her further across the desk until her head was almost hanging over the other edge. Then, he leaned forward over her body, bending her almost in half and pulling her ankles onto his shoulders. One hand slid under her leg, finding her clit and stroking it in rhythm with his thrusts.

She was wriggling, trying to free herself from the rope and touch him, but the knots were too strong. "Kiss me, Branson, kiss me please..."

Tom leaned down to find Sybil's lips with his. Driven to a frenzy by his attentions, she drew his bottom lip into her mouth and bit it, before pushing her tongue in to tangle with his. A series of moans broke from her when his free hand lifted and squeezed her arse, letting him push even more deeply inside her.

He knew she was close, and by then he couldn't hold back any longer either. Shifting the angle of his hips just so, he drove harder and faster into her. He didn't have to wait long until she was screaming incoherently, her hands straining against the rope as her body convulsed around him.

The ferocity of her orgasm brought him over the edge as well, and he came so intensely he fell down on top of her, groaning. Moving down her body, his lips felt for her nipple and he took it into his mouth.

He kissed her breasts for several minutes as their breathing returned to normal. Then, Sybil spoke, still in character.

"Well, I must thank you Branson. I was hoping to take full advantage of your services and I have to say, you didn't disappoint me."

"Perhaps you could mention your satisfaction to my employer, milady?" Tom lifted his head and winked, moving up level with her again and running one hand down the side of her face before tilting her mouth to his.

She giggled when their lips parted – "Can you imagine, Branson, how my father would feel if he found out what you'd been doing with me on the estate desk!"

He rolled off her, stood up and went around behind her to untie the rope holding her hands, doing up his trousers as he did so. She sat up, still naked except for her stockings, and pulled him into her arms again, wrapping her legs around his waist and kissing him until they were both flustered and breathless.

She lifted her lips from his, a pensive look on her face.

"I have an idea, Tom. The family are dining at Loxley tonight with Edith and Anthony. I'll say I'm not well, because of the baby, and that I need you to look after me. Then, you can meet me in the library later, and I can get my revenge on Papa's desk!"

A/N -

With many thanks to Allen Leech Online for the s5 screencap I used on Tumblr for the photoset for this fic, and to William Shakespeare for the title.

There may be room for a chapter 2 here, where Sybil gets her revenge - I have another prompt that would suit this scenario well, I think. Anyway, love to hear your thoughts!