Written in response to a jokingly-issued challenge to write a Music Man fanfic with gratuitous nudity. Morfiwien Greenleaf ran with it, and I had to respond lest I lose my honor!
The evening sky was dark and the air a touch cool when Mr. and Mrs. Harold Hill finally returned home after an exhausting, but enjoyable, evening spent at River City's May Day sociable.
Harold observed his wife with fond affection as she bustled between the front hall and pantry in a routine that had become familiar to him during the months following his marriage to the town's lovely librarian. Marian was a stickler for ensuring everything was in its proper place before they retired to their bedroom for the evening, and he had learned – very early into their marriage – that it was in his best interests to allow her this nightly routine.
When she eventually emerged from the kitchen a few minutes later, he beamed at her. "Satisfied?"
She nodded. "Quite."
Harold tilted his head toward her and offered her his arm. "Shall we retire for the evening, Mrs. Hill?"
Marian rolled her eyes, but slipped her arm through his.
"Honestly, Harold," she chided affectionately.
Harold merely grinned and dropped a quick wink. "I think the festivities went well tonight, don't you?" he asked conversationally as they climbed the staircase leading to their bedroom on the second floor.
"They were delightful," Marian enthused. "I especially enjoyed the Ladies Dance Committee's performance. Have you ever seen anything like it?"
Harold cast his thoughts over the "creative" dancing he had witnessed earlier and decided to settle for a truth – of sorts. "Well darling, I honestly can't say that I ever have." He cast a quick glance at Marian and saw the corners of her mouth lift in a quirky smile. A moment later, they were both laughing as they entered their bedroom.
As Marian went about removing the hairpins from her chignon, Harold sat on the edge of the bed, gratefully untying the laces of his shoes. An audible sigh of relief escaped him when his feet were finally free of the cramped footwear. As he wiggled his toes to work the numbness from them (he really was going to have to see about getting a different set of dress shoes), his gaze lingered on his wife who stood in front of a full-length mirror, slowly working her hair free until it draped her shoulders. She was still dressed in her sociable finery, and Harold couldn't help but notice how absolutely beautiful she looked in the dark green gown. He was struck with the sudden urge to take her in his arms, so rising from the bed, Harold slowly moved behind her, fully aware of Marian's eyes following his movements in the mirror, until he was able to slide his arms around her waist and draw her against him. Burying his nose against the slope of her neck, he inhaled deeply and then sighed in utter contentment.
"Madam Librarian, you smell delicious," he murmured. His hands slipped even lower as he began to lightly nibble on her neck. "Mmm, you taste good, too," he continued teasingly, delighted at the luscious sighs his candid revelations and affections were eliciting.
When Marian moaned softly in response to his caresses, Harold felt all traces of his previous playfulness fade away. His lower body tightened as he watched Marian's eyes flutter closed through the reflection in the mirror closed in the reflection and heard her breathing quicken. Whispering her name, his allowed his hands to slowly roam her curves until they found the fasteners along the front of her gown and after gently working them free, he placed open-mouthed kisses along the skin of her neck. Harold turned Marian toward him, eager to capture her mouth with his while his hands continued their path across his wife's familiar form. As he removed each layer of her clothing with practiced ease, Harold left a trail of heated kisses along the newly-bared skin while still taking care that each garment was carefully placed over the armrest of a nearby chair.
In return, Harold felt Marian's hands deftly undo his bowtie before moving on to trail down the front of his shirt, nimbly unbuttoning the garment. When her warm palm slid inside to rest against his bare skin, he sucked in a sharp breath and drew her closer, pressing her tightly against him.
"Do you remember the first time you touched me like that?" he murmured huskily.
Marian nodded, her eyes darkening and breath catching at the recollection. "I don't think I'll ever forget that day," she whispered, blushing. "It was the first time I realized – truly realized – how much I wanted you."
XXX
When Harold had purchased the home from Marcellus Washburn shortly before proposing to Marian Paroo, he had done so with the knowledge that it would need a little work here and there. Although it was in excellent condition, there were things he wanted to change; colors, curtains, wallpapers – all small details that would give the home Harold's, and eventually, Marian's personality. In light of that, Harold had invited Marian and her mother over one weekend in mid-December in order to solicit their opinion on a few decorating ideas he had for their future home. Once there, Mrs. Paroo had graciously volunteered to give the kitchen a thorough scrubbing and work on the curtains. Harold had gratefully accepted her generous offer. When the elder woman suggested Marian help her, the librarian and professor exchanged a resigned look, realizing that they would not be able to steal a few un-chaperoned moments together as they had hoped; however, Harold accepted this turn of events with his usual good humor and announced that he would retire to the upstairs bedroom to work on the baseboards.
After a solid hour of scrubbing and cleaning, Marian was ready for a reprieve from the soapy water and washcloths. As she lowered herself into a chair, she cocked her head and listened, realizing she hadn't heard anything from Harold in quite some time.
"Mama, is the tea still warm?"
Mrs. Paroo glanced up from the curtains she was stitching. "I believe so, dear."
Marian stood and rummaged through the cupboard in search of a cup. When she found one, she moved to the stovetop and poured the hot liquid into the little blue mug, then glanced at her mother. "I think I'll take Harold a cup of tea if that's all right with you, Mama."
"Don't be gone long, dear. I'm going to need your help to hang these."
"I'll only be a few moments," she promised and headed out the cozy kitchen toward the upstairs rooms where Harold was working. She admired the blue and gold paper covering the walls as she made her way up the stairs. The house was truly lovely, and she couldn't stop the current of joy that swept through her when she realized in a few short weeks, this would be her home, as well. When she realized Harold was working in what would eventually be their bedroom, she felt her face grow warm at the thought and all it implied. Still, she couldn't help grinning in giddy happiness as she breezed through the doorway carrying the hot tea.
"Harold," she called out. "I thought you might enjoy a hot cup of –"
Her voice trailed off as Harold Hill turned from the picture he was in the process of trying to hang. Three nails protruded from the right corner of his mouth, and he had a hammer gripped in one hand. His rich-brown hair, usually set in a stylish wave, was falling out of place, and few errant locks of hair had tumbled over his forehead in the manner that always sent Marian's pulse racing. He had a slight sheen on his face from the exertion of working, even with the far window propped open a few inches. But what had stopped her speechless was the sight of Harold's shirt. The usually-impeccably dressed music professor had rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, and the collar was hanging open, several buttons having been undone. She could plainly see the hollow of his throat and a teasing glimpse of the bare chest beneath the fabric. The hint of soft, dark hair peeking out caused her thoughts to venture into several scandalized directions, and despite the open window, she suddenly felt extremely warm.
Harold must've noticed the abrupt change in her demeanor, because as she watched, he followed her gaze to his open collar. Marian knew it wouldn't take long for her astute professor to realize his partial state of undress must be somewhat shocking to her. When his eyes lit up with delight, she knew he'd come to that very conclusion. Taking the nails from his mouth, he placed them and the hammer on the dresser beside him before moving toward her and gently removing the shaking cup from her trembling hand. When he'd set it alongside the hammer, he turned back to her with an amused grin.
"Madam Librarian, don't tell me you've never seen a man in his shirt sleeves before," Harold said with a wink, trying to coax a smile from her, but Marian's gaze remained riveted on him.
"Only Papa," she replied in a timid voice, her attention still focused on his unbuttoned collar.
"Well, I'm not your father," he laughed.
Marian stepped closer and brought her fingertips to rest lightly against the exposed skin at the base of his neck. Peering into his eyes, she shook her head and whispered, "No, you're most certainly not." Her fingers moved in the barest caress, but she could feel the steady thrum of his pulse quickly increase under the gentle ministrations of her fingertips.
Harold's teasing grin faded and a smoldering look flared within in his eyes at her light touch. Bringing his hand up to cover hers, he leaned closer and halted her movements.
"Marian," he questioned in a low voice. "What are you doing?" His eyes captured hers in a piercing stare, and she could see the desire. She gazed back in silence.
"I'm not quite sure," she finally admitted with a puzzled frown. Glancing at his hand covering hers, she belatedly realized how bold her actions truly were. They must be to have shocked Harold. Shame flooded her features, and she moved to retrieve her hand from his grasp, but Harold tightened his hand around hers and softly shook his head.
"I think not, Madam Librarian," he chastised gently. Marian could hear the humor seeping into his voice, but desire was still clearly evident in his heated tone.
As Harold's questioning eyes searched Marian's, he was pleased to note that behind the hint of confusion in her gaze, there lurked a tinge of thrill at finding herself in a situation such as this. Ever since Marian had accepted his proposal, the two had begun spending more time together planning for their future. As often happened, their conversation faded away to dreamy silence, and inevitably, the couple found themselves in each other's arms, tentatively exploring their passion for one another. In the beginning, Harold never allowed these moments to go too far, but as Marian became more confident in her kisses, Harold found his restraint sorely tested. So it was with true gratitude that he once again thanked Providence the wedding was mere weeks away. He didn't think he would make it if it were any longer – especially not after what had happened on Oak Street a few weeks ago – and judging from the dark emotions swirling in Marian's eyes, he was beginning to think his dear little librarian was experiencing the same frustrations. But mere weeks were still too long for him. At least, it was right now when Marian was looking at him that way.
Unwilling to resist her considerable charm, Harold succumbed to temptation and lowered his head to the sensitive spot just behind her ear to bestow the softest of kisses there. When Marian didn't pull away, he allowed himself the luxury of trailing his lips along her tantalizing neckline and over her jaw before finally capturing her lips in an ardent kiss. As his arm circled her waist and drew her to him, her hand moved behind his neck and she sank her fingernails into his rich brown hair. Marian's other hand, still resting upon his chest, moved and her fingers instinctively curled in the soft hair there; Harold groaned into her mouth and pressed closer to her.
A voice in the back of his mind was vociferously advocating restraint, but he was finding it difficult to heed the voice of reason through the haze of pleasure. But as it became more pronounced, the rational side of him realized he needed to put a stop to this now. They were dangerously close to crossing a line he had promised he would never cross, and after the incident on Oak Street, he had redoubled his efforts in preventing any untoward actions on his part toward Marian. Besides, Mrs. Paroo was a mere room away. If she were to walk in and see them like this, there would be serious repercussions – ones that Harold didn't want to contemplate. As fond as Marian's mother was of him, he didn't think that his silver tongue would be able to talk him out of the indignant tongue lashing he would undoubtedly deserve, especially after she had given them such leeway after their little amorous misstep.
With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly moved Marian away from him and inhaled deeply in an effort to curb his racing emotions. Marian's eyes sought his, and when Harold saw the passion still blazing there, he nearly broke his promise and gave into the temptation to wrap his arms around her again.
"Miss Marian, a far more honorable man than I would have difficulty resisting the temptation you present," Harold confessed in a heated voice. His eyes raked over her flushed form, and he swallowed hard. "In light of that, I think it would be best if you returned to your mother."
She opened her mouth to respond, but Harold shook his head and allowed a firm note to creep into his voice. "Now."
He watched as Marian stared at him in silence for a moment before comprehension slowly dawned in her eyes as she realized the logic in his words. With a gasp, she turned and fled from the room.
XXX
"I was so embarrassed that we got carried away – again," Marian admitted sheepishly, still blushing at the heated memory after all these months.
Harold's hands trailed along her bare form until they slowly encircled her waist. He surveyed her with a frank expression. "And are you embarrassed now?"
She met his eyes in a challenging stare. "Why don't you find out for yourself, Professor?"
The shocked look on Harold's face was well worth her bold comment, Marian mused. It was a rarity to turn the tables on her cheeky husband, and she knew well enough that she ought to use it to her benefit. Her husband was a handsome man. Marian had always known that. Even when she hadn't been enamored of him, there had been no denying the charm of his roguish smile and affable good looks. But now, after several months of marriage, she would admit, with no trace of shame or embarrassment, the sight of his tanned skin, gleaming in the soft glow of lamplight, easily enthralled her, and she wanted to see more.
With a confidence that would have once shocked her, she took advantage of her husband's stunned surprise and pushed the unnecessary clothing away from his shoulders drawing it down along his arms until they were free. In a moment, the dark blue shirt joined her gown and corset on the chair.
A small smile played about Marian's lips as Harold surveyed her in amazement. It wasn't often that she took the lead, but he had confided that he found it wildly attractive when she did. However, it appeared that Harold had other ideas as to who was leading tonight, because in a moment, she found herself swept up in arms and being carried to their bed in the center of the room.
She felt the soft down of their comforter under her back as he gently placed her atop the covers before joining her there. She reveled in the feel of Harold's hand sliding across her skin before coming to rest possessively against the flat plane of her stomach. Marian watched in languid pleasure as he marked a path of ardent kisses from her neck to where his hand lay. When he finally raised his head, he found her watching him with thinly-veiled desire.
"Do you have an answer to your question, Professor?"
"I'm not sure," he grinned. "I think I might need to work on my line of questioning."
This comment was delivered with Harold's usual seductive smirk and twinkling eyes, and Marian decided she would enjoy dishing out a little of the consternation he so easily elicited from her.
"Well, perhaps I can show you a few refinements," she offered in a suggestive tone.
Harold's mouth dropped open and his eyes momentarily widened before darkening when Marian's hands began to trace abstract patterns along his hip. As he gazed at her in amazement, Marian could almost hear Harold debating to himself as to whether he should allow himself the luxury of giving in to his wife's charms. After all, it wasn't every day that flirted with him so brazenly. The internal argument was short lived, though. A seductive smile stole across Harold's face, and he pulled her close to him. Rolling in their bed, he brought her to lie beneath him. There was a sparkle in Marian's eyes as she watched her husband gaze down at her, and she couldn't help teasing him.
"Well, Professor?" she queried.
"Some refinements?" Harold reflected. "Yes, Madam Librarian, I believe you can," he agreed and gently lowered his mouth to hers.