A/N: I wrote this super quick because of the super response (please keep it coming.)
If there's any mistakes, I apologise in advance. Point them out to me, and I'll correct later!
O
Chapter Two: An Encounter in the Night
O
Darcy did not see Elizabeth alone again until two months later. In that time, she'd gained another year in spinsterhood, but wore an engagement ring to silence the naysayers. In the meantime, he'd been busy - first riding out to Meryton to ask Lord Bennet for his daughter's hand in marriage, to arrange dowry assets and so on and then doing the arduous task of informing his aunt, his dear friend Bingley, and his awfully catty sister, Caroline.
No-one had wished him well, with the exception of Lord Bennet and his wife.
Bingley had reacted with amusement, treating Darcy's proposal like a whimsical jest. He knew Darcy was desperate for a heir, and having grown tired of all the respectable ladies in London, had heard of him seeking out a reasonably bred woman, who wasn't as respectable as them.
Elizabeth Bennet was just the answer to his prayers.
And maddeningly...the woman had agreed! With the first ask!
Either she was happy to whore herself as Darcy seemed to think, or the woman was in some poor, misguided fantasy that she could harness Darcy's soul, and be the only one to tame him. Apparently, she'd said the latter, but with Jane as her sister, it had been seen through by Darcy as nothing more than a weak attempt to keep her modesty.
Anyway which way - it promised to be a rocky marriage.
Elizabeth, now content with catching glimpses of her future husband, as he called in occasionally for dinner at the Bennet household but left before any significant pleasantries were passed, was quizzed fervently by her sisters.
They'd cornered her in her room one day, refusing to let her leave until she answered their questions.
"Why is this Duke so special?" Kitty asked, bouncing on the bed. "Is it because of his peerage? But Lizzy...your head's never been turned by titles before! Did he perform some black magic on you?"
"No!" Elizabeth said, tugging a brush through her ill-tempered hair.
"Then what?" Lydia whined. "You pretend to be so calm and collected, but secretly inside, you're just like any wanton woman, trying to tame her beating chest!"
"Lydia!"
"Yes?" She innocently asked back.
"This topic of conversation is inappropriate for your age."
"But am I not a woman?" She burst dramatically, like she was at a theatre, with a riveted audience in the palm of her hand. "But do I not have feelings and desires, encased in this young but burgeoning body, like you do too?"
Kitty squealed in laughter. "Lydia, I'm older than you but I'm straight as a plank!"
They both stuck tongues out at each other.
"I admit," Elizabeth put her brush down, and studiously focused on her lap. "This marriage is sudden and blinding - but the man I'm marrying is insufferable! He had goaded me, and now, I am powerless to resist. I'm drawn to him. Want him to take back his words. And every dinner that he ducks out of, as a ruse to keep avoiding me, makes me seek him out even more."
"It's a pity Jane won't be here," Mary said.
Elizabeth barely reacted to her sister's name. After being summoned to Court, and being ambushed by Darcy's proposal, she'd only remained under the Queen's service for one week before returning home. That week had been hellish enough. At every hour, of every day, she was summoned to clothe the Queen, to bathe the Queen, to do menial chores...it was enough to know she was being punished for Jane's perceived crimes.
Maybe Jane had orchestrated this match, in order to save Elizabeth from Court-life forever more. After marrying, it was common for noblewomen to retire comfortably to their husband's estates, and be a lady of leisure.
"Jane has made her choice," Elizabeth stood up. "Now, she is by the King's side, he won't let her come and go as she pleases."
"How do you think the wedding night will be?" Lydia asked, wiggling her eyebrows. "It's not long to go now, Elizabeth! Only eight days..."
She closed her eyes.
And true to form, those eight days passed on swiftly by.
O
Darcy had wanted a small marriage, and since his aunt no longer wanted anything to do with him, he got his request. In attendance, were the entire Bennet family besides Jane, Bingley, and his sister Georgiana. Caroline had refused to attend the service.
As the church doors opened behind them, Darcy was feeling nervous, despite himself, just having been knighted by the priest, kneeling to take sword, and pledge alliance to the King, Bishop and God, the protector! However, as his eyes alighted on Elizabeth, dressed in a simple white crinoline, hoops and long gloves, her hair loose, and adorned with yellow daises, he felt more at ease with himself and put his hands behind his back. Playing the dutiful groom as the Bennet sisters walked forwards, leading the bridal party.
Their eyes met, and it was proficient, curt and bleak.
Just like their marriage promised to be.
The priest at the altar, began proceedings. "We are gathered today in sight of God and his Bounty of Angels to join this Man and Woman together in the binding of life." He continued on a few verses, and at last asked for any impeder to voice his or her concern out loud, to stop this marriage from happening.
None came.
Soon, the vows were upon them and they recited "I will," in turn, and waited for the rings to be blessed so they could slip it on each other's finger. They were then part of an hour's service of prayers and songs, with not one word exchanged between the pair.
That night, they set out for Pemberly.
After a few days travel, it became clear under no circumstances was Darcy planning to share Elizabeth's bed. Although he didn't openly tell her to maltreat their vows, the implication was clear as he departed for his own chambers, giving her the cold shoulder.
It took three nights for Elizabeth to work up the courage.
On the third night, she told him over the dinner table, that she planned to visit his chamber later in the evening, and if he didn't want her to impose, then to double-lock the door. Darcy didn't respond.
He just continued eating, like she wasn't there.
O
Dressed in a virginal nightgown, hair cascading down her back, Elizabeth descended the stairs with as much haughtiness as she could muster. The servants had all but retired, leaving only the dark and the unsteady pounding of her heart to aid her in her path. Frequently, she bumped into errant furniture, like a desk or a chest. But she soon learned to put her hands out, feeling for thin air, but knowing that meant she wouldn't run headlong into a wall of some sort.
Darcy's bedroom was at the end of hall, and as a proxy invitation, was open a smidgeon.
It was getting hard to swallow.
She'd warn him to look after his personal safety in the night, to lock his doors...but yet he'd ignored her unfulfilled promise, as if in a silent dare.
Which Elizabeth was fully prepared to accept. Stumbling towards the half strip of light, with her arms still outstretched, she located the door handle with ease, and with relish pushed it a little, to slip inside.
As the door creaked, she froze- fearing her wicked plan was all but over. But one desperate glance towards the bed, and she saw Darcy's slumbering face, peaceful and unaware.
At first she was so transfixed by his smooth, unworried expression, she let her eyes dip from his long, feathered eyelashes to his protruding cupid's bow, and the harsh line of his mouth now slightly open. His doublet was open at the collar, and as Elizabeth's gaze lowered, she started breathing heavily.
He was nude, besides the doublet.
Completely bare and open to her gaze.
It was certainly a thrill to a see a sudden switch of texture and flesh. The smooth fabric hid his taut stomach, revealing only a little patch above his pubic bone, which was hollow and vulnerable. And then there was that shock of blond pubic hair. It was untamed and unruly, curls, and coarse, and clinging. Hidden, like two shy little acorns, were two large, swollen sacs, that were veined blue, slightly mauve in shade and shivering in the cold breeze from the gap in the door, which even the finest of hair could not sheild or protect.
Elizabeth never having seen a man's cock below, instantly reacted to the unknown, liquid starting to gush between her thighs. Puzzled, Elizabeth realizing she could be caught any moment, reached under her nightgown and let her thumb brush against the wetness, feeling it thick and coat her fingers.
That was when the scent of her arousal hit her, and it nearly caused Elizabeth to gag. How unusual and...heady. Her body had never reacted like this before, and she was curious to why an unbidden image of her husband, had been the reason.
Mortified, Elizabeth looked back at Darcy's face, and saw his nose twitching, like he too could smell her wanton aroma. Hastily, Elizabeth let her nightgown drop, aware that if Darcy had awoken at that moment, he would've spotted her, with her plump rear displayed to the world, as she touched herself intimately.
Almost with hunger and urgent need, she willed herself closer, now looking at the piece of flesh hanging between his thighs, and unlike his ball sacs, was not hiding. True, it's base was somewhere inbetween all that thatch of pubic hair, but it's length was rested on his thigh, looking somewhat like a deformed third leg.
Made of flesh, and blood, it looked like it was slumbering, occasionally twitching.
His pale, slightly flushed cock was flaccid, the crown slightly bulbed, but hosting a slightly leaking slit.
Elizabeth longed to trace that slit with the tip of her tongue and the roof of her mouth. Her urge was so primal, she nearly acted on it, but stopped herself in time. Instead, she lowered her head and started it straight in the eye. Like her, there was remnants of a thick liquid, coating some of his well sprung cock.
She wanted to lick, suckle and wipe her wet core against the length of it.
Anything to relieve the mind-numbing pressure.
The tips of her hair brushed Darcy's thighs and he groaned in his sleep. But he didn't toss or turn, still presenting his goods solidly and proudly. It was up to her to take what she wanted. She'd been letting her light, cool pants fall on it for so long, it was now beginning to stir.
Out of the wilderness, his balls emerged, rising straight up and saluting the air.
And without Elizabeth presenting a single touch!
Delighted, she watched this magnificent display, still crouched over like a perverse old crone watching the maypole rise, for the dancers to skip around. Like a fountain springing to life, hot, freshly squeezed semen started seeping from the hilt, and it burned his puckered foreskin as it travelled down his length.
Elizabeth made a noise of distress, noting it would be lost in his thatch, and she quickly leaned forward and catch a drop with her tongue. It melted in her tongue, full of salt and sizzle, but it tasted no more unpleasant than she might have imagined. She made an appreciative, humming noise, and decided a second nibble was a must.
She bit his swollen ball sac lightly, but it was enough for Darcy to bolt upright with a shout!
It must've been quite a revelation, to see a woman leaning over him, taking him into the mouth. For an instant, Darcy tensed, realising the dream he'd been having was real, but then he saw the dip of Elizabeth's nose buried into his crotch, and it sent the fire raging even harder.
He was deeply aroused.
"Come Elizabeth," he said gutturally. "You need not do this."
But her slick tongue swept around him once, and Darcy fell back, panting and clutching his bedsheets. "God damn, Elizabeth, if you stop now, I will protest severely. You have started a dangerous game, and you must now finish it-argfooph."
Her lips latched onto his slit and started sucking heavily.
All the while, her hands were playing with each respective sac, kneading them, like she was an expert pie-maker, and massaging them, even giving the occasional slap to domesticate them.
It was the slap that started it.
As she did one, and then the other, the light smacks smarted, and caused his buttocks to instinctively jerk forwards, causing her to swallow half his cock. This further unexpected gem, made him start creaming in her mouth, and he couldn't stop himself, looking at her half-dazed eyes as his hips did small repetitive lunges, so his thick cock was sliding in and out between her teeth.
Darcy swore, and removed himself, sweeping Elizabeth to the edge of the bed, and urging her with a shake, to spit what he'd given her.
Small dribbles came out, but surprisingly after a few false heaves, she lagged back into his warm chest, and opened her mouth wide.
"I swallowed most of it," she said, her eyes large, dark and vulnerable. "I didn't mind the taste of it when I had it earlier...but what I did...was it wrong?"
The question floored him. Here, he was aghast and happy, after having the best orgasm of his life by a woman he'd never meant to think of in a sexual manner, and all she could think about was, if what she'd done was wrong or not?
"Elizabeth.." he said. "You were...perfect. Honestly, everything you did was perfect." And he kissed the top of her head, feeling something akin to fondness and affection for her. How many months he'd avoided her...and she'd sought him out at the first opportunity and showed him what he was missing...
If they didn't consummate their marriage soon, then Darcy would rather be a dead man. He wanted all of her. And he wanted it now.