The amazingly moving prompter strikes again: Helping Daisy has made Molesley feel somewhat regretful that he missed out on having children. Baxter can tell something is bothering him so she tries to find out what is bothering him. Could go smutty if she decides to be playful. (Except I've done it a bit differently, I hope you like it). (This is probably the last one I'll be able to do for a few days, but please keep sending them 3)
"Penny for them?" she asked, leaning against the doorframe of silver storeroom.
He turned around in surprise.
She smiled.
"You're not cleaning that," she nodded towards the silver candlestick in his hand, stepping into the room to stand beside him, "I can tell you're not yourself. What's the matter?"
Instead of resuming his task, he put the candlestick down on the table, and the cloth too.
"It's Daisy."
"Why? What's wrong with her?" she asked, "Is she having difficulty with what she's studying?"
"No," he replied, "In fact, she's very good."
"What is it then?" she asked him.
There was a deep frown on his brow that she had the urge to raise her hand and smooth away, but she did not.
"I don't know," he replied, "She's just doing so well; I'm proud of how far she's come."
"Well, that's good, isn't it?" she asked softly, "You should be proud of yourself as well."
He gave a discounted sigh. Resting her hand on the table, she leant in a little towards him.
"What is it really?" she asked him in little more than a whisper, leaning into his line of vision, making him look into her eyes, "Tell me."
He held her eye contact for a moment, before blinking, tilting his head a little and asking her softly:
"Do you ever wish you'd had any?" he asked her.
"Any what?"
"Children?"
She gave him a slightly uneven smile.
"There wasn't really the chance, for me," she reminded him quietly, "What with everything having been such an awful mess."
"No, I mean," he asked her softly, a sad, gentle kind of understand dawning on his face, "If we'd met earlier."
She looked up at him, her eyes widening just a touch as she too understood.
"You mean, if we'd had… children?"
He nodded. She swallowed away the lump in her throat.
"Well, I certainly wouldn't have said no to that," she told him, "Given the chance. But we weren't."
"I've upset you," he said apologetically, resting his hand on her arm.
"No," she told him quickly, dabbing at the corner of her eyes, "Goodness, I'd better not offer to teach Daisy proper needlework, if this is what teaching does to people. Not that she'd be interested in learning that anyway-… I expect she's only interested in learning proper things, like the things you teach her," she paused for a second, "You would have been such a good father."
She saw a little flush creep into his cheeks.
"You would have been a wonderful mother," he told her softly.
She bowed her head a little.
"Don't be sad," he told her, "It's still a wonderful thing, even if we never got to… live it out."
"Oh, Joseph," she murmured softly.
"I'm sorry," he told her softly, stepping forwards a little so they were standing very close to one another, facing each other, "You were only trying to find out why I was sad, and now I've brought you down with me."
"You haven't," she told him gently, smiling bravely, resting her hand on his chest tenderly, "You've said some wonderful things to me."
He remained apologetic.
"I'm sorry," he told her again.
"Don't be sorry," she told him, and then, with a mischievous smile quirking the corners of her mouth, "And if you are sorry, there's something you can do to make it up to me."
"What?" he asked.
"Close that door, and kiss me."
His eyes widened in surprise for a moment, and then he grinned, hastening to do as she asked him. She followed him, so that when the door was closed, he simply swept her to one side, his hands on her waist, pushing her gently back against the wall by the door. His lips pressed against hers, and she opened her mouth in passion, and surprise, welcoming the warmth of him, groaning softly. Her arms around his back, she pulled him closer, pushing their bodies together.
When he pulled away a little, she saw his eyes were dark, and as he spoke his voice was hoarse.
"I love you," he told her.
"I love you too," she replied, her hand on the back of his head, pulling him back to her.
And then she stepped her legs apart a little, lowering her height so that their lower bodies brushed against one another and he stood between her legs. She had the room to bend her leg at the knee, raise it, wrap it around his middle. He groaned into her mouth, his grip on her tightening. She smiled, returning his kisses with even more fervour. She could feel him hard against her hip, and moaned softly. He was kissing her neck, but still he whispered;
"Are you aright?"
"Yes," she murmured.
His hand reached down, grazing the inside of her thigh through her skirt.
"Can I?" he asked.
"Yes!"
Hoisting her skirt around her waist, his hand slipped along the inside of leg, higher and higher, touching her through her underwear; making her moan and rock her body closer to his.
"Oh, my love," he murmured, watching her carefully.
She was clinging to him, her vision swimming with desire.
"I want you," she whispered, "Please, Joseph."
His fingers were inside her. He kissed her headily.
"Please," she murmured.
He pushes her underwear down, discarding them on the floor. He lifted her without difficulty, resting his weight on the wall, leaning in to kiss her slowly as he entered her. She panted with the effort of keeping quiet, her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer into her.
"I love you," she gasped as he pushed into her.
His hand cradled her head.
"I know," he told her, before he buried his face in her neck, "I love you too."
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