Summary: "And what other words have you read in these novels?"
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or world setting. No harm is intended nor any profit made.
A/N: This story is based on a recent discussion which has been making the rounds online. In an hour when I should have been working on other fics last night (:::cougholdwoundscough:::), on a lark I started to write a fic with all the cliché, terrible, and not-so-terrible words that occurred to me for an M-rated story. And I'm sure there were a number of other words I could have included, but this is what I came up with after a long, stressful day and one too many ciders.
I must also admit that after re-reading and editing this morning, this story is partially inspired by the brilliant fic Sanctuary written by a-lady-to-me, and I was hesitant to post it because it has a similar theme. But here it is anyway. Reviews are always appreciated.
"You being in this room is enough to make it nice."
Bates ripped the odd bit of dusty fabric from her grasp with some force before pulling her to him. Anna laughed at his forcefulness and smiled as he kissed her. Feeling the her continuing amusement in the upturned corners of her mouth, he fully intended to wipe all thoughts of humor from her mind. He burned for her, a sort of primal need which had been with him since the moment he'd seen her outside the prison. And finally, they were afforded some measure of privacy.
They fell together onto a nearby couch, as dusty and ill kept as the rest of the small cottage, but it would do. No one would be interrupting them in this place. John did not fancy himself a vain man, but he knew how to please a woman. And after just one night together before his incarceration, he had a great deal of catching up to do.
Unfortunately, while he was keen for a moment with his young wife and Anna seemed more than willing, the vessel for which he'd hastily chosen their brief dalliance proved unequal to the task. As soon as their combined weight set upon it, one of the legs broke, plunging one end the extra inches to the floor.
Anna burst into laughter despite herself, and Bates could not help but smile at her joy. Anything which made her happy was well worth whatever brief awkwardness he might suffer. But as she looked at him, her eyes flashing with excitement and her cheeks flush from amusement, he could not help himself.
He kissed her again, leaning into her with renewed passion as his lips found and plundered hers. She responded eagerly, still smiling into his kiss. As he pulled away from her, he noticed her grinning at him.
"Why are you smiling?" he asked.
"I don't know..." she responded with a shrug of her shoulder. "I just rather enjoy being a married woman."
"You'll enjoy it more when I'm done with you."
This time when he kissed her, he let his hand travel across her clothed body, its destination unknown until his palm came into contact with the soft firmness of one of Anna's breasts. While he knew her corset and fitted wool coat kept her bound up and away from his touch, he sighed into her mouth as her curve filled his hand. Flexing his fingers, he gently caressed her through far too many layers, and Anna's weak mewl of surprise was lost in his kiss.
She leaned back against her side of the small couch, but the movement only served to emphasize the delicate femininity of her figure. Bates felt himself pulled to her, a force beyond his ken denying their separation for even a moment. And in an instant, he knew he needed to touch her. Stolen kisses and frantic hands over clothing would not satisfy him, not when they she was wearing his ring on her finger and they had hours to themselves in a private place set away from prying eyes.
He unbuttoned her coat with trembling hands and her smile wavered as he pushed it from her shoulders. Underneath she wore a simple black dress, the uniform of a lady's maid, and the color contrasted darkly against her pale skin.
"You are so beautiful, Anna," he told her, stroking the whiteness of her neck with the back of his hand. "How did I get so lucky?"
Boldly, she responded, "And how did I get so lucky, to find such a handsome husband?"
Anna's fingers had no trouble unbuttoning his jacket, although he sensed a nervous hesitation on her part. Bates reminded himself that they had only been together the one night, over a year and a half earlier. Their bodies were still strangers to one another, albeit eager and willing strangers.
She was a virgin on their wedding night. He would not have been vexed if she was otherwise, knowing as he did the propensity for farm lads and lasses to find dark corners in ay barns at the height of summer. But he found Anna to be untouched before she met him, just as she'd confessed herself that night, a bit embarrassed but unashamed.
"I never intended to marry," she'd told him, "but I'm glad I kept myself..."
The thought of her waiting for him until that night was enough to throw even greater fuel on his growing passion for her. She'd continued to wait all the months of his confinement, her own thoughts of their time together perhaps filling her dreams as they had tortured his.
The buttons on her dress went up the back in an endless row he had no hope of conquering. So instead, he lifted the hem of her dress, letting his hands glide along the silky softness of her stockings. At the same time that he moved to explore her, she did the same with him. Her hands made short work of his vest, although they had trouble with his shirt and braces, stalling out as the sensation of his hand on her thigh became too much.
Perhaps in retaliation, she boldly dropped her questing fingers lower, cupping him over his trousers.
Bates groaned sharply at the feel of her touching him, already hard and ready for her. Instantly, he reached his hand down to grasp her wrist and pull it away, a growl of pleasure on his tongue.
"Not yet," he hissed at her softly, ignoring her wordless keen as he pushed her hand up beside her face so he could kiss her lips again. He explored further up her skirt, his large hand nearly encircling her thigh as it encountered the cloth barrier of her undergarment. He'd hoped for the garter she'd spoken of in prison, but Bates had no expectation of her wearing it during every free moment on the off chance they might find a moment alone together.
"May I?" he whispered, tugging at the edge of her knickers.
"As long as you afford me the same pleasure," Anna answered, her eyes alight with desire as they raked lower across his body. She wrested her fingers from his grasp to run them along his shirt.
"It has been so long," he reminded her, "I don't want things to end even before they begin."
"But I want to touch you," she said, splayed fingers burning a hole through his shirt where her hand pressed against his chest.
"You are touching me."
"No, I want to touch..."
He sighed deeply at the anticipation in her voice, wondering when any woman had sounded so eager to be with him.
"What, Anna?" he begged her. He needed to hear her say the words, needed her to betray her desire aloud and confirm that his wildest dreams were true - that she did want him.
"I want to touch you," she said again, this time more forcefully, "to touch your... manhood."
She spoke with such earnestness, but Bates could not keep in the sudden bark of laughter which came rolling out of him.
"My what?' he asked, grinning at her.
"Your... your member."
He could not help but chuckle at both the terms and her discomfort in pronouncing them aloud.
"Well, what do you call it?" Anna demanded, attempting to look ill humored but failing in her own amusement as she smothered a laugh. Her eyes danced, still dark with desire, but full of enjoyment at such intimacy.
"There are certain, anatomical terms..." he began.
"But that's not what they use in the novels," Anna responded. A second later, realizing what she'd given away, she blushed furiously, from her cheeks all the way down her neck. Bates so wanted to see how far down the color extended.
"Novels, you say? Surely none from Lord Grantham's library," he teased as he pulled at the barrier of her undergarments until they were free of her hips and down as far as her knees. She did not look afraid, but he sensed a hesitation in her, a need for reassurance.
"And what other words have you read in these novels of yours?" he asked, his tone turning darker as he moved to press his lips against her neck, the invisible stubble on his chin rasping against her skin. She shuddered wordlessly beneath him and he took it as a good sign as his hand resumed its earlier exploration.
"I don't know," Anna breathed, her eyes fluttering shut as she concentrated on the unnervingly delicious feel of him gliding up her inner thigh.
"You must know other words," he said, his fingers finally finding the treasure they'd been seeking. She nearly jumped at his touch, and he afforded her a moment to grow used to his closeness. "Tell me another one. What is your word for this?"
"Um..." Anna colored even more, whether in embarrassment or desire, he could not tell. She breathed in quick gasps, when she allowed herself to inhale and exhale through her excitement. One hand clung to his while the other grasped a handful of his shirt, twisting and wrinkling it in her grasp.
He moved two fingers against her, gently testing, almost a request for permission. She felt damp against him, feminine juices betraying her arousal in a way that made him even more desperate for her, if such a thing was possible. She was no stranger to his exploration, he knew, but their only time together had been so long ago.
"What about this?" he asked her. Moving his hand slightly higher, Bates encountered a small nub he knew to be an exquisite bundle of nerves, and a simple brush of his fingers caused her to buck against him. "This is your center of pleasure," he told her quietly. "And I love touching you here."
She let out gasping breaths as her body trembled. He realized that she'd shifted so that she was beneath him on the small couch, allowing his body to press her against the old cushions, his hand between pressed between them.
"I love it, too," she remarked between strangled breaths.
He rubbed his fingers against her core, making gentle circles at first, and then adding more pressure. He watched her eyes, gauging her reactions to his touch. Her lids fluttered open and closed as he moved his hand with expert precision. She attempted to hold back wordless noises of pleasure but they broke free from her lips as she pressed herself against him, welcoming the contact.
A moment later, he slid one long finger into her tight channel, her hot flesh yielding readily. Anna gasped at the sensation, her eyes opening fully. Bates ached at the feel of her, wishing it was him inside her. But they still had time.
As if sensing his need, Anna's hand once again reached down between them to caress down the front of his pants, finding him just as ready and eager to meet her. Bates froze at the feel of her as she glided up and down in gentle touches, unable to move as pleasure so sweet it verged on pain danced along his nerve endings.
For a time, he allowed himself to simply enjoy her unhurried movements. Her hand was small, delicate, and she was far gentler than he might have wanted. But the tantalizing feel of her was rapidly making it difficult for him to remain steady.
"Anna, you need to stop," he told her.
"Why?" she gasped, her chest expanding and retracting above the corset as she struggled to draw breath. "You like touching me. Why shouldn't I want to touch you?"
"Because it is too much," he informed her sharply, once again removing her hand. He froze, realizing that he held both her wrists in his hands, their tangled fingers twisted together framing her face on the far edge of the couch. His own breathes came as ragged and harsh as hers.
He lay against her, molded against her tiny form in exquisite agony, only a few layers of clothes separating them and an aching need to join.
They could continue on. Bates wanted to see her again, to strip off her clothes and confirm the beauty of her body as he'd remembered it so many nights in prison. He wished to divest himself of as well, to see her face at the sight of him on their wedding night - full of wonder rather than disgust, desire instead of fear.
But outside he heard the distant drone of voices - perhaps the people who were soon to be their neighbors. Perhaps Branson and Matthew surveying the cottages. Perhaps anyone. But the door to the dingy was unlocked, and Bates could not bring himself to risk embarrassing his wife in a moment of rushed need.
Besides, she deserved a real bed, with sheets and candles and some romantic scent. She deserved his time and care and attention, not fumbling hands beneath clothing in a home which was not yet theirs. She deserved absolutely everything he could offer her, and taking her in such a time and manner would only betray his own boorish desire. It would not do, not for Anna.
His wife.
"Soon," he assured her, pulling her undergarment back into place and smoothing down her skirt. He helped her back to a sitting position beside him, taking note of her flushed cheeks and disheveled hat. He really needed to help her remove her hat the next time, Bates noted to himself, lest it become squished and misshapen.
Anna grinned at him with open enthusiasm. "Not soon enough, Mister Bates," she told him. She reached for him again, although she seemed to expect his interception of her questing hand before it reached him. "And maybe next time I'll have some other words for you."
"I can hardly wait, Mrs. Bates," he told her before pulling her into one final kiss.
fin