Robert didn't believe he would be able to fall asleep, tucked away in a foreign bedroom, without the warm presence of his wife curled against his side. Each time he had opened his door to sneak to Cora's room, someone was in the hall. His mother, Matthew, Mary. A maid gave him an odd look as he ducked back behind the door and finally, his mother popped her head out of her room.
"Go to sleep, Robert, whichever bed you choose." With a morose expression he once again retreated into his own room and sighed sadly. It was as though he was punishing himself for unknown ills, stewing in his bad temper.
Mulling his own actions he must have dozed, because he was startled awake by warm hands sliding under his pajama shirt. The full press of his Cora's body to his back was a welcome feeling, even as her nails scraped up over his torso, leaving gooseflesh in their wake.
Her breath was warm against the back of his neck and when she spoke, he couldn't control a frisson of anticipation.
"If Muhammad is too stubborn," She pressed a kiss just behind his ear and her hands slipped lower over his abdomen, nails still drawing lightly over his skin. "The mountain will just come to him."
She captured his earlobe in her teeth and he tried to wriggle around to face her, but the tiny bed and his wife's arousingly strong grip kept him in place.
"Cora, we shouldn't." He heard himself saying, and wanted to slap himself. His warm, willing and daring wife was doing delicious things to him and he was still concerned about the look of things?
"Have you learned nothing from me?" She asked, fingers slipping even lower beneath the waistband of his bottoms.
"Have gun will travel?" He asked nonsensically when her palm wrapped around him.
"Oh, is that what this is?" She gave him a lazy stroke and stifled a laugh when his back arched and he muttered a very ungentlemanly curse. She released her grip on him, withdrawing to put a few inches of space between them. Robert couldn't help but groan at the loss of contact and he rolled towards her warmth.
She sat beside him, her eyes nearly black in the shadowy light of his room. Her lips, a pale coral, were twisted in a soft smile. Her hair draped over her shoulder and he longed to run his fingers through it but was sidetracked by her hands, nimbly popping the top pearl buttons of her nightgown. After thirty years he and his wife had seen each other in a wide variety of stages of undress but it still shook him to the core to watch her disrobe. The diaphanous material slipped off her shoulders and he couldn't stop himself from reaching forward and nimbly tugging at the gaping material. She wriggled slightly and the material slipped to pool at her waist. Robert's wide-eyed appreciation made her giggle and she leaned forward to cup his face, running her thumb over his bottom lip. The touch of his tongue to her skin was enough to break the spell of the slow seduction. With amazing dexterity,, Cora pressed a palm to Robert's chest, pushed him back against the headboard and moved to straddle his hips. It took her only seconds of fumbling to free him from the confines of his pajamas. More than 3 decades of practice meant it didn't require thought to know exactly what would be the most pleasurable position for them both. She hovered only a few seconds before sinking onto his lap.
They groaned in unison and she gripped the headboard tightly, using the leverage to steady her thrusts. Robert's eyes, though they fluttered shut briefly, opened again and blue met blue.
It was unnerving to him, sometimes, the way she would maintain such steady eye contact with him, as though looking through him straight to his soul. He learned to detect the subtle shifts in the iris, the widening of the pupil that meant she was nearing release, the softening of her gaze when he touched her intimately. She wanted to see him, to be with him, so fully. His English restraint made the whole experience initially distressing but the final result was always intensely erotic; he was able to watch his pleasure reflected in her gaze.
His hands settled on her hips for balance, letting her set the pace, fully enjoying the rare pleasure of his wife being in charge. It wasn't often, for even after all the time together she still felt uncomfortable being too forceful in their relations, but when it happened it was most amazing for them both.
"Touch me," She said, and though it was a command, it was also a plea. Robert untangled his hands from the silk at her hips and pressed his palms between her shoulder blades, moving her forward until their chests pressed together. The friction caused them both to moan in pleasure and Cora's mouth dropped to his neck, nibbling gently.
This time when she pulled back to look in his eyes, she fumbled for his hand.
"Touch me," She whispered again, guiding his hand to where she needed it most. When his fingers slipped over where they joined she cried out, whimpered, and began to move faster. "Yes."
"Yes." He echoed.
"Yes," She volleyed, although her tone was breathy and desperate. "Robert."
"I have you, my darling." He moved his hand faster between them and when she cried out in his arms, he leaned to lap at her throat. "I have you."
"Yes," She whispered again, dropping her forehead to his shoulder. "Yes you do."
It was plainly obvious that Her Ladyship did not sleep in her own bed the night before. O'Brien was unruffled and set to preparing her Ladyship's clothing for the morning while she waited for her to return from her husband's room.
The bedroom maid, however, was far more scandalized by the realization that the Countess of Grantham apparently had other sleeping arrangements.
Silly girl; it never crossed her mind that the Countess would be with her Earl.
Some of you may recognize bits and pieces of this from an anon-spam earlier this month. :D This is not the end. Oh no. We have miles to go before we sleep.
