HEY LOOK! I updated! :oP First off, I want to thank Piperholmes for the inspiration behind this chapter ;o) I can't remember when exactly, but not too long ago, she posted a very...well, shall we say somewhat "risqué" picture on Tumblr about how "no man is allowed to enter the temple of Sybil..." and well, that gave birth to this idea.
This role play is a little different from the previous ones; it's certainly a little fluffier than the others, but nothing wrong with that! Lots of "husband pampering wife" going on in this chapter (if Tom Branson hasn't ruined other men for you, this might be the chapter that does it). Also, even though this story was mainly written to a bit of an anthology for Sybil/Tom sexytimes, a bit of a plot has developed (I know many people who write similar types of fic can understand that!) It's subtle, but it's there, and will be the lasting link in a way to all the chapters.
Besides the lovely Piperholmes, I'm also dedicating this chapter to Cassiemortmain (author of the delightful S/T romance "Unexpected"-go read it if you haven't) who kindly reminded me that it has been a while since I had updated this fic ;o) So go read her story as a big THANK YOU for getting me to do it! ENJOY!
Chapter Four
Her Body is a Temple
The idea came to him over a discussion about baby names.
They were in the drawing room, having tea; Mary and Matthew, his mother-in-law, Isobel, and Old Lady Grantham, were sitting around a table, while he was actually sitting on the floor (something that earned him a look of disapproval and displeasure from both the Dowager Countess and Mr. Carson) making funny faces at Saoirse, who a month ago had discovered the joy of crawling, and ever since loved to do nothing more than crawl across the floors of several rooms, including the lush carpets of the drawing room. So that was where Tom was, down on his hands and knees, making Saoirse laugh and giggle while she scooted across the floor, looking like a tortoise but moving like a hare, when he heard the conversation.
"Not every name, Mary, has to be connected to the family," Cora advised. "I mean, Sybil's wasn't."
Tom turned his head towards his mother-in-law, most intrigued by this. He was surprised that this was something about his wife that he didn't know.
"Oh don't start giving her those ideas," Violet groaned, pausing to sip her tea, but not before she got a good eye roll in. "The stories I had to make up in order to explain why my youngest grandchild had the name of a Greek goddess."
Tom's eyebrows lifted again. He also felt the corners of his mouth lift as well. Named after a goddess…how appropriate.
"Actually, 'Sibyl' was the name of the prophetess that spoke on behalf of the gods, if memory serves," Mary politely corrected, smiling as her own husband turned and looked at her in surprise. "What? Are you surprised that I know a thing or two about Greek mythology? Or have you forgotten our infamous 'Perseus and the sea monster' debate?"
Matthew chuckled, as did the rest of them, although Violet looked quite put out by the entire conversation. "Please do not tell me that will be the name of my great-grandson," she groaned.
Mary and Matthew couldn't help but laugh at Violet's clear distress. "Actually, we both like the name 'George', and were thinking of calling him that, if the baby is a boy," Matthew explained.
Violet's eyes widened a bit, caught somewhere between disapproval that the name resembled no member of the Crawley family in recent memory, but also relief that it wasn't going to be Perseus.
"George is a fine name," Isobel added, smiling at her son and daughter-in-law. "Don't you agree?" she said, turning to Violet and smirking ever so slightly.
"Yes, very fine," Violet murmured, before lifting her tea cup to sip. "Although not as fine as Robert or even Reginald, perhaps," she muttered under her breath.
"But what if the child is a girl?" Cora asked, smiling at the young couple. "Are there any names that stand out to you?"
"Not yet, but we're still thinking," Mary assured. She glanced over at her brother-in-law and niece playing on the floor. "Perhaps I shall follow Tom's example, and give a little girl a nice, solid Irish name?"
Violet's teacup clattered on its saucer.
Despite the older woman's look of horror, everyone, including Tom, laughed. The conversation then changed to other subjects, but Tom found himself thinking about more and more about Sybil's name. His curiosity had been captured at the thought of his darling wife, who he teased had bewitched him upon the day they met when he first drove her, had a name connected to a mythological goddess. Very fitting, he could not deny; he worshipped the ground she walked on.
When everyone was rising to leave the room after tea, Tom approached Cora, hoping to learn a little more about his wife's name and what had inspired her to call her Sybil.
"Sybil's never told me about her name; I confess I always assumed she was named after an aunt or grandparent," he explained, scooping Saoirse up, who was now starting to look sleepy.
Cora smiled and held her hands out for her granddaughter. "Well, Robert and I had made an agreement before she was born," she began to explain, softly rocking the droopy eyed little girl in her arms. "If we had another girl, I could choose her name—a boy would be named 'Robert', as that had always been our plan. But another little girl, this time I could name her."
Tom found this interesting. "You didn't pick 'Mary' or 'Edith'?"
"Oh I did, but they were both named after relatives. 'Mary' was named after Violet's mother and 'Edith after the sister of Robert's father," Cora explained. "They're both lovely names, and I was happy to name them after two women who meant so much to Robert and his mother, but…well, Mary's love for Greek mythology didn't just come out of thin air," she softly laughed.
Tom smiled. "So you really named Sybil after a Greek goddess, like Mary said?"
"Yes, although Mary is right, Sybil, or 'Sibyl'," she pronounced again, "was not specifically a goddess, not entirely. Rather, like Perseus and Hercules; children of both gods and mortals. Sibyls were, as Mary said, prophetesses, who spoke on behalf of the gods, and who communicated on the mortals behalf to the gods. Sibyls were believed to have special powers, like the gods, and were often revered as gods, hence the confusion no doubt," she chuckled. "But what I remember most about the Sibyls was that they were women of great intelligence and learning, as well as wisdom and compassion. And as prophetesses, that meant they were not afraid to speak out and raise their voices."
Tom couldn't help but smile at this. Indeed; the name was very, very fitting for his wife.
"Perhaps it was divine providence that I named her thusly?" Cora laughed, before turning and giving a soft kiss to her granddaughter's brow. "And it is true, what Violet said," Cora sighed, giving a secret eye roll to Tom. "She never told me I couldn't name Sybil 'Sybil', but she did feel she had to go out of her way to explain to anyone we met, even if they didn't ask, why her granddaughter had such a name," she groaned. "Well, she should count her lucky stars that I decided to make her middle name 'Patricia' instead of 'Persephone', which was what I originally wanted. But even I thought that may have been a little too much."
Tom laughed, taking the now sleeping Saoirse from his mother-in-law's arms. But as the day turned into evening, he found himself continuing to contemplate this new-found knowledge about Sybil's name. After he put Saoirse down for her nap and before dinner, he went into the library to look through several books on Greek mythology, and even a few books on Renaissance art, to learn more about the Sibyls, and what they stood for and how they lived. He smiled as he read a little about the special temples that were established for the prophetesses; special houses of worship where "mortals" could go to seek counsel and aid from these "divine" goddess-like women.
And it was while he was there in the library…that an idea began to form.
Sybil had a long shift at the hospital that day. She left shortly after luncheon, and wouldn't be back until after dinner. She had had a similar shift like this a week ago, and Tom remembered how exhausted she was upon returning. Since the War had ended, the "surplus" of nurses that the hospital saw during Sybil's years as an auxiliary nurse had dwindled. It was rare that they would ever overflow with patients like that had during the War, but that didn't mean things couldn't get hectic, and especially with a smaller staff.
Yes, he recalled how tired she had looked, and how she groaned about her feet and back aching. He sat on the edge of the bed that night, holding her feet in his lap, gently massaging them for her, insisting she lie back and relax, to which she did, a soft giggle escaping her lips every so often (she could be quite ticklish at times). She actually fell asleep while he was rubbing her feet, and he didn't have the heart to wake her, even to get out of her uniform. He realized as he closed the book he was reading, that she would be returning feeling similarly. And while he was happy to have rubbed her feet that night to help her feel better…he couldn't help but think of other ways to pamper her.
…And these tales about mortal men worshipping these goddess-like women were certainly inspiring his imagination.
With the little time he had to spare before dinner, he went downstairs and spoke to Mrs. Patmore and to Anna about making a few arrangements for when Sybil returned. He didn't go into full details of what he had planned, but both women heard him out and nodded their heads that they would do what they could as he requested. Tom gathered a few things from the kitchen, and hurried back upstairs to his and Sybil's room, trying his best to arrange a few things just so (he knew Anna would take care of the rest), before hurrying back downstairs for dinner, before his father-in-law gave him the evil eye for keeping the rest of them waiting.
Dinner seemed even longer and more excruciating than usual, partially because Sybil wasn't there to steer the conversation away from any topic that could cause him to groan at his father-in-law (and vice-versa) and partially because he couldn't wait until she returned…and revealed to her his surprise.
When dinner had ended, he excused himself, returning back upstairs to check on things and make any final preparations. He entered the room and smiled, seeing what Anna had done. He knew he could count on her; she was a romantic as well. He quickly began to remove his tux, as well as gather a few more items from the adjoining bathroom. He had just emerged from it when he heard Mr. Carson's voice down below, "Welcome back, Lady Sybil…I pray you had a good day at the hospital?"
She's back…
He scanned the room one last time. He hoped she would like it. He hoped she wasn't too tired, or that her day hadn't been horrible. Even though he told her every day, he wanted to show her how much she meant to him, and how much he loved her, and how he truly thanked the good Lord every day, for letting him breathe the same air as she.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then turned off the lamp.
His goddess had returned…
It had been a long day, just like the one she had worked the week prior. She was tired, her feet were sore, and all she wanted was to see her husband and daughter before settling in for what she hoped was a relaxing and restful evening. And perhaps a bath? Yes, a bath sounded very appealing.
She gave Carson a smile, thanked him for his kind words, and then climbed the stairs, trying not to groan too loudly as she ascended them. The first place she wanted to visit was the Downton nursery. She knew Saoirse would be asleep, and she had no intention of waking the little girl, but she wanted to see her and drop a gentle kiss on her sleeping brow nonetheless.
Sybil was grateful to be working again; she missed nursing, and it had taken Dr. Clarkson a great deal of convincing (not to mention her parents) to bring her back on staff at the village hospital, but now that she was there, Dr. Clarkson was most grateful as she quickly proved to be one of the most knowledgeable nurses the hospital had seen in recent history, and part of that was in thanks to the experience she had gained for working in a large, urban hospital back in Dublin. There was even talk that perhaps the hospital board would elect Sybil to become head nurse (something she knew would cause her grandmother to choke at the idea). And as much of an honor as that would be, Sybil wasn't sure if she would accept the offer (if it were made). After all, she still had high hopes, along with Tom, that they would be able to return to their beloved Dublin soon. They followed the news very closely; Ireland's independence was within sight, surely it wouldn't be very long now?
The nursery was dark, and Sybil smiled as she heard the soft, even sounds of her daughter's sleepy breathing. She tiptoed into the room, gazed lovingly down at her child, and as quietly as possible, and bent her head to leave a gentle kiss on the girl's temple. This was perhaps the greatest downside to working later shifts at the hospital; it meant missing moments like putting her daughter to bed.
She softly ran her fingers along the child's cheek, her fingers touching the soft brown wisps of hair, before touching a soft earlobe and giving it the faintest of tickles, smiling as she watched a little smile form on her daughter's sleeping face. Oh it was tempting to wake the girl so she could hold her and kiss her, but she resisted the urge; after all, Saoirse was finally starting to learn how to "sleep through the entire night" and this was something that neither Branson parent wanted to interrupt.
With a sigh, Sybil turned and forced herself out of the nursery, dragging her sore feet to her old room, the little sanctuary she and Tom had created for themselves while living here. It wasn't late enough for him to be asleep, and he always tried to stay up until she returned. Perhaps she could convince him to massage her feet again like he had done last week? The very thought brought a pleasured sigh to her lips. Her husband's fingers were indeed quite magical…in many, many ways. She bit her lip to keep the wicked giggle at bay, and opened the door to enter their room.
"Oh!" Sybil was surprised to see that the room was…dim? It wasn't completely dark, but all the lamps were off. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the dim lighting, and she realized that there were a few candles lit, flicking and illuminating the mantle of the fireplace in her room. There was also a fire crackling in the fireplace, helping provide light for the room, but still…why were the lamps off? "Tom?" she called out, her hand instantly reaching for the closest lamp.
"Leave it off, love…"
Sybil stopped and turned her head towards the door that linked the bedroom to the private bathroom, realizing her husband's voice was coming from behind the door, which was open a crack. "Tom?" she called again. "Are you in there? Why can't I turn the lamp on—OH!"
Her cheeks suddenly began to flood with color and she could heat rise to the surface of her skin, as her handsome husband emerged from behind the door…
…Adorned in nothing but a towel.
"Welcome back," he said with a smile.
They had been married for nearly two years, and heavens knew she had seen her husband in much, much less many times (almost every night!) and yet seeing him like this, his chest bare, the cloth of the towel snuggly clinging to his hips…he still managed to cause her to blush and squirm in anticipation at the sight of him.
"I…" she realized then that she had been staring, and quickly shook her head, forcing her eyes up from his waist (and what she knew lay beneath the towel) to her husband's smiling face. "I um…were you in the bath? I didn't mean to disturb—"
"No, no, you did no such thing," he said with a smile, quietly crossing the room to where she stood. He stopped just before reaching her, and to Sybil's surprise, gave a little bow. She smiled at the gesture, and opened her mouth to say something, but was stopped short by her husband's question. "May I kiss you?"
Sybil felt her cheeks flush at the simple question. "Of course," she said with a smile. "You never have to ask."
Tom smiled, and leaned close. Sybil closed her eyes and lifted her lips, anticipating the feel of his, but instead, she felt them not against her own, but on her cheek! Her eyes opened, and she looked at him questioningly, but noticed how instead of looking back at her, his eyes were somewhat downcast. Was something wrong? She opened her mouth to ask, but once again, Tom stopped her short. "Here," he murmured, moving around to her back. "Allow me…"
Sybil didn't say anything, simply stood there as she realized Tom had moved behind her to untie the apron that covered her uniform. "Thank you…" she whispered as he undid the apron, and she held her breath…as his long, tapered fingers soon moved to the buttons at the back of her dress.
"May I?" he asked, his breath warm against her ear as he murmured his question.
Sybil bit her lip and simply nodded her head. In just a matter of a few minutes of entering their room, she found herself weak-kneed and eager to be in a similar state as her husband. When she was walking up the stairs, making love was the last thing on her mind; she just didn't think she had the energy. But the way his fingers slowly and gently undid all the buttons at the back of her dress…and was painstakingly peeling it off her body, was quickly causing her to pause and rethink that decision. Tom had a way of helping her find that energy…
"Careful," he murmured, as he took her hand and helped her step out of her dress.
Sybil couldn't help but giggle slightly. "Are you playing 'Lady's Maid' again?" she teased, looking over her shoulder at him.
She was delighted to see him blush as he recalled that particular night. "I was a 'Valet', thank you very much," he couldn't resist in giving her rump a little pinch, causing Sybil to gasp but giggle. "And no…this is a different game," he answered, dropping his head to let his lips taste the skin of her shoulder.
A shiver ran down Sybil's spine at this revelation. That energy she didn't think she had suddenly doubled, and she was starting to shiver in anticipation for whatever it was that he had in mind.
"Now…" he practically purred against her skin. "May I have your permission to undress you…completely?"
Sybil bit her lip to suppress the whimper. "Do you really need to ask?"
She felt his smile against her shoulder, before giving it another kiss. "Aye, I do," he murmured. "It would be very rude of me, a mere mortal, to presume such things without my goddess' permission."
Goddess? Mere mortal?
"Tom?" she turned to face him, and noticed that again, his eyes were downcast. She reached forward and cupped his face with both hands, tenderly encouraging him to lift his eyes until they met hers. "Is…is that what this is about?"
She held her breath as he turned his head into one of her hands and gently kissed the palm of her right hand. "I am here to serve you…and worship you…" he answered, his voice low and deep, his eyes holding hers for a long moment as the words lingered overhead, before lowering them again. "Now…may I have your permission to finish undressing you?"
Oh God. Sybil swallowed and mutely nodded her head, biting her lip as she turned her back to him once again, and felt his fingers running up and down her spine, while he lifted her slip up over her head…and then began to undo the clasps of her brassiere.
He had said he was going to "worship her". What did that mean exactly? A million thoughts flooded her head at the meaning of his words, and each thought caused the heat to rise in her face…as well as caused an ache to grow and spread from the core of her body throughout the rest of her.
A gasp escaped her lips, as she felt Tom's lips against her back, between her shoulder blades, and he kissed the skin below that, where the clasps of her brassiere had been fastened. She held her breath as she felt him peel the straps of the brassiere down her arms…thus freeing her breasts, which were rising and falling in eager anticipation. She stood with her back to him now, in nothing but her knickers, and even though she knew he had seen her in far less for as many times as she had seen him in far less than that towel, she still blushed every time she stood before him naked (or nearly naked).
Sybil gasped as she felt her husband's hot breath on her skin as he continued to kiss down her spine, his hands on her waist, sliding down until they reached her hips, and he was on his knees behind her. "May I?" he asked huskily, and even though she couldn't see his face, Sybil nodded her head in permission, her eyes closed and her breathing coming in even shorter gasps as she felt him grip the edges of her knickers…and began to peel them down her body.
"Oooohhh…" Sybil gasped, shivering and moaning as Tom's lips kissed small of her back…and then moved across her now exposed bum, his nose tracing small circles against the smooth skin of her rump, before his lips left a kiss on the dimples of her bum. First one cheek…and then the other.
He gently pulled the knickers down her legs, his lips still leaving kisses on every inch of skin exposed. "Tom…" she moaned, the moisture between her thighs growing hotter and wetter in anticipation. Oh Lord, could he smell her desire?
"Mmmmm…" he moaned, and Sybil gasped, as she felt his tongue flick out between her cheeks, stroking downwards to catch a bit of that moisture. "Delicious…" he groaned.
If he asked if he could have his way with her body, she wouldn't even answer him, she would just crumple to the floor and spread herself open, offering herself completely. She may be playing the part of "goddess" in this game, but truly, he was the one who had all the power.
"Lift your feet," he whispered, to which Sybil obeyed, thus finally freeing her from every piece of clothing, as he took her knickers and placed them beside her brassiere, slip, dress, and apron. "Turn around," he murmured, and Sybil held her breath as she did just that, turning slowly…until she was standing and facing him, completely naked, an orange glow covering her skin from the fire and candles that illuminated the room.
Tom remained crouched on the floor, his eyes caressing her body as they moved from her feet…to her legs…to her thighs…and higher and higher, pausing to gaze at nest of curls between them, a look that caused her to squirm. His eyes continued to lift, marveling at the flesh of hips, her waist, her stomach and abdomen. The scar from her caesarian had faded for the most part, but was still the slightest trace of a now pink line that covered her middle. She always felt a little self-conscious of the scar, and even now, moved her hand to cover it. But Tom's own hand, strong and gentle, reached forward and took her hand in his, kissing the fingers, before leaning close and without a word, letting his lips kiss her scar. "Beautiful," he whispered, and Sybil thought surely she would cry at the way he always managed to do that; make her feel so lovely, even her greatest moments of doubt.
His eyes continued then to move up her body, and she wondered as she felt them caress her, especially when they reached her breasts, if he could see how pink she was becoming, despite the dim light? He hadn't even touched her breasts, but her nipples were hardening under the intense gaze of his eyes. Eventually his eyes lifted again, to her collarbone, her shoulders, her neck…and finally to her face. When she had entered the house, she had removed her headscarf. Because of the short hair style that she continued to wear (she rather liked having shorter hair) there had been no pins to remove…so her hair hung delicately around her face, stopping just below her chin. Tom's eyes held hers, and she was grateful his hands had lifted to touch her hips and hold her steady, because she swore her knees would have buckled by the intensity of his gaze.
"You are the essence of Venus," he groaned in wonder. "The Goddess of Love and Beauty would lose many faithful followers to you."
Sybil blushed and bit her lip, before shaking her head. "You're biased," she bashfully giggled.
He smiled and kissed her other palm, which was running across his cheek in loving tenderness. "That may be, but I'm also right," he grinned. "Like Psyche, you would be in danger of Aphrodite's jealousy."
Sybil lifted a brow at his words. "So you're familiar with Greek mythology?"
Tom grinned. "I read Homer's works from your father's library when I was still a chauffeur," he chuckled. "And I brushed up on a great deal earlier today in anticipation of your return."
Now Sybil's curiosity had risen considerably. "Why? What do you mean?"
He chuckled and then bent his head, his hands falling to the ground until he was down on all fours, and Sybil held her breath as she watched her husband, who was not the sort of man to bend lightly to anyone…bow down until his head was at her feet…and dropped two gentle and reverent kisses on each.
"Let's just say…" he murmured against her skin. "I learned a great deal about the meaning behind your name."
"My…my name?" she whispered, her breathing quickening as Tom continued to drop soft, sweet, submissive kisses to her feet.
"Aye," he all but purred, before lifting his head and meeting her eyes once again, while still kneeling at her feet. "I learned that your name fits you in every way possible; you are a goddess and I am a lowly mortal who is blessed to be in your presence, and who worships the ground your feet tread—"
"Oh Tom, don't…" she softly protested. Her face was on fire, both from the words he used and the way in which he looked at her.
He, however, smiled and reached for her hands, bringing them both in front of him and kissing the knuckles. "It's true," he insisted. "You are my goddess and I am your servant; my duty is to see to your every need and care and comfort…to worship you as I promised…and that is exactly what I am going to do," he vowed, before finally rising to his full height once again.
And without warning, he scooped her up into his arms.
"OH!" she gasped, blushing and giggling as Tom carried her not to the bed, but instead to a chair near the fireplace. Sybil looked at him with curious eyes as he gently lowered her down onto the chair, before kissing her cheek and moving around to her front, once again kneeling before her, as if she were a queen on a throne.
"May I, my goddess?" he murmured, his hands hovering near her feet once more.
Sybil blushed again at his words, but answered by extending her foot to him, sighing as he took it, before moaning as his talented fingers slid up and down her leg from her knee to her ankle, rubbing soothing circles along the skin. "Feel good?" he whispered. Oh he knew the answer, she was sure of it, but she smiled and nodded her head, as she felt him begin to massage the balls of her feet. Oh yes, her husband was very, very talented with his fingers.
"Relax; lean back and just let me tend to you…" he whispered, his voice continuing to send delicious shivers up and down her spine. There were many pleasured promises in his words as well, and it was difficult to relax when her mind was leaping to all the possibilities. But she did what she could, leaning back in the chair, trying to ignore the fact that she was naked in front of him, and closed her eyes while he continued to rub her feet.
He hummed a tune that Sybil had heard him softly sing to their daughter when she was sleepy. It was a song she had heard him sing every so often, and her husband certainly had a talent for singing, although for some reason he seemed a little bashful about it.
"Sing it to me?" she murmured, opening her eyes slightly to catch his gaze. She couldn't help but giggle as she saw his own blush rise to his cheeks. "Please Tom?" she purred, a playful grin spreading across her lips. "Your goddess commands that she be serenaded."
He sighed, and she giggled some more, seeing a twinkle in his eye that seemed to say "don't let this go to your head", but he smiled and nodded. "As you wish," he murmured.
Sybil smiled and leaned her head back again, closing her eyes and sighing happily as the soft cords of her husband's voice began to fill the air around her.
Where Lagan stream sings lullaby
There blows a lily fair
The twilight gleam is in her eye
The night is on her hair
Sybil practically purred as she listened to his voice; it was so beautiful. She even felt tears brim beneath her lashes, because he had told her once before, that the old Irish ballad had never held any meaning for him until he had met her. Now whenever he heard its lyrics, or hummed its tune, all he could think about was his "English rose", as he called her.
And like a love-sick lennan-shee
She has my heart in thrall
Nor life I owe nor liberty
With love is lord of all.
She gasped as she felt his lips brush her knee. She bit her lip and parted her legs slightly, wondering if perhaps he would kiss further up her thigh. Instead, however, she heard the sound of something be dragged to across the floor, and her eyes opened to see what looked like a large wooden bowl, filled with steaming water and floating atop its surface, various flower petals.
Wordlessly, Tom took her right foot, and placed it in the bowl. He then picked up a small jug of water (scented with perfume from what she could tell), and poured a little of it over her foot.
It was such a strange, intimate act. She watched in fascination as he picked up a cloth, and slowly began to rub and wash her foot. He looked up at her then, caught her eyes and smiled, and continued his task of washing her foot while his song once again resumed.
And sometimes when the beetle's horn
Hath lulled the eve to sleep
I steal unto her shieling lorn
And thru the dooring peep.
Without pausing or missing a word, he took her left foot, and proceeded to do the same thing he had done with the other, pouring the scented water over it, before tenderly and reverently washing it with the cloth.
There on the cricket's singing stone,
She spares the bogwood fire,
And hums in sad sweet undertones
The song of heart's desire…
She thought she would weep at the loving way he…well, there really was no other word she could think of. The loving way he worshipped her.
With both feet in the bowl, he reached down and took the edge of the towel that was tied around his waist, and used it to delicately dry her feet. Sybil was reminded of the famous passage from the Gospel of John, where Jesus knelt and washed the disciples' feet, before drying them with a towel around his waist.
It was done as an act of love, and truly, she had never felt so loved as she did now, with her husband—a man who could be so proud and every bit as haughty as her grandmother if he tried—submit and humble himself like this to her, and all by his own choice as a way to show her how much he cared.
"Are you crying, love?"
She sniffled and looked into his eyes then; he was gazing back at her with sweet concern, as if he was worried he had somehow hurt her feet. "No, no," she quickly reassured, wiping her eyes and cheeks and cleaning away any residue her tears may have left behind. "I'm just…I'm so happy," she whispered, reaching out for him again, needing to touch him, needing to show him how much he meant to her, too. "You call me a goddess, but truly, I am the one who is blessed."
He smiled and kissed her hand, before once again rising to his feet. In anticipation, Sybil lifted her arms to him, and sighed happily as once again, he lifted her into his arms to carry her to her next destination.
"Am I allowed to walk at all?" she softly teased, her heartbeat growing faster as she realized he was finally taking her to their bed.
Tom couldn't help but chuckle. "Not tonight; I insist you let me carry you anywhere, even if it's to take you to the loo."
"Tom!" she gasped, before bursting into giggles. "I think that is a little excessive."
He grinned. "Perhaps, but I can't help it. I love the feel of you in my arms; I can't get enough of it."
Lord, he knew the right words to say, didn't he? Before he had the chance to lift himself away after laying her on the bed, her hands wove around the back of his head and she pulled his head down to hers, moaning as finally their lips came together, and her mouth rather insistent in deepening the kiss and drawing his tongue to greet hers.
Tom didn't fight it; what man in his right mind would? He obeyed the insistence of her lips, deepening the kiss as she willed it, tasting the richness and warmth of her mouth, and returning the moan she offered. She was pulling him down to her body, eager for this to continue and for their passions to take complete control. And all in good time, he thought to himself, as with all the willpower he could muster, he placed his palms on the mattress and pushed himself away from her enticing, beautiful swollen lips.
"Roll over onto your stomach, love," he panted, trying to get control of his breath, as well as control of his body. His cock was throbbing and aching to once again be nestled in her warmth.
Sybil stared up at him, her pupils dilated slightly, her heart pounding, and her body tingling with desire. She wanted him; God how she wanted him, she ached for him! Ever since she had entered the room and encountered him in just that simple towel, she had been on fire for him. "I thought I was your goddess?" she all but whimpered, her hands trying to pull his head down to hers again. "I command you to make love to me!"
Tom groaned, but shook his head. He knew that he would never live this down later, but that was alright; she deserved a night of pampering, which was why he wasn't giving in to her "demands". He wasn't finished pampering her.
"In good time, my goddess," he vowed, removing one of her hands from behind his neck and giving it a kiss. "If that is what you want later," he couldn't help but chuckle.
Sybil put on a pout, one that was so tempting to kiss (which no doubt was part of her plan). But he managed to resist it, and instead kissed her other hand, before once again encouraging her to roll around, onto her stomach. "Please, love?" he smiled at her wickedly. "I need to finish preparing her from the special 'temple ceremony'."
Sybil's eyebrows lifted at this. "Temple ceremony?" she repeated.
Tom nodded…and then as an incentive, let his hand run down the length of her body, stopping between her thighs, and she gasped as she felt one of his fingers slide across the wet folds of her sex, before nudging the tip of his finger inside, teasing her and causing her body to tremble.
He lifted his hand away then, and Sybil stared at him, looking both disappointed as well as perhaps a little angry that he had teased her. But if she was going to protest, the words died in her throat as she watched him lift the finger to his lips, and lick it clean.
"Now will you please roll over onto your stomach, love?"
Sybil groaned but nodded her head and did as he asked. It was then that she finally realized that the bed was covered with several towels. She looked at Tom in question, but he had already risen from the bed and was moving towards a nearby table, where several bottles lay, as well as another bowl filled with scented, steaming water.
"How is your back feeling?" he asked, returning to the bed with a few of the bottles.
Sybil watched him, her chin resting atop her hands. "It's a little sore," she admitted. Tom opened one of the bottles, and the smell of lavender immediately filled the space around them. "What is that?" she asked, as he poured some of the bottle's contents into his hands.
He smiled dropped a kiss to her back, before moving to stand and lean over her, his lavender-scented hands beginning to run across her skin.
"OH!" Sybil yelped at the cool touch of his fingers.
"Sorry," Tom apologized, trying to suppress his chuckle. "It will begin to warm up soon."
And he was right. She wasn't sure if it was the oil itself or the way his fingers ran across her skin, but whatever it was, it felt heavenly!
"It's my own concoction," he explained, chuckling softly as his hands massaged the flesh between her shoulders. "I took a little bit of your lavender soap…combined it with warm water…and then just a few drops of olive oil from the kitchen."
If he weren't working some sort of intoxicating magic on her muscles, she would have turned over and stared at him in surprise. Instead, she felt her body melt against the towels as Tom continued to rub soothing circles across her back, loosening any knots she felt from a long, tiring shift on her feet. "Oh Tom…" she moaned, as his hands began to move up and down across her back, sliding as far elbows, and all the way down to her thighs.
"Does that feel good?" he asked, leaning over her and whispering in her ear. She shivered again, but not from the oil.
"Yes…" she moaned in reply. "Oh yes…"
He smiled and kissed the back of her head, before continuing to massage her back. When he was finished the homemade oil, he took the bowl from the table, as well as a cloth, and began to gently wash away any excess oil from her back, always being tender, always taking care.
Satisfied that her skin was clean, he removed the towel that was around his waist completely (smiling to himself because she didn't know he had done that) and began to dry her back, once again running soothing circles as he went.
"Don't fall asleep on me, my darlin'," he purred into her ear, grinning as he saw her shiver again. She often told him that she found his voice very seductive, especially when his accent got thicker. This always happened when his passion was aroused, and Sybil had a way of keeping him in a near constant state of arousal.
He then took a second bottle, this one being some lotion that always saw her put on her hands and arms at night, that had the soft scent of lilacs, and he began to run that across her skin, murmuring something to her in Gaelic as she gasped at the cold touch of the cream, before purring once again as he rubbed the lotion into her skin, all across her back, down the length of her legs, before leaning up to get the length of her arms.
"OH!" Sybil gasped again, because he knew for certain that she had felt him against skin of her thigh as he leaned over her. "Tom…?"
"Hmmm?"
"Is…what happened to your towel?"
He chuckled, deep and low. "I used it to pamper my goddess," he confessed as he wiped his hands clean with the washcloth. "I'm completely devoted to her, you see."
Feeling him lean away from her, Sybil felt it was safe to roll over onto her back. "Oh?" she asked, looking up at him with curious, yet eager eyes. Very eager.
He nodded, taking the bottles, bowl, washcloth, and now the towel that he had been wearing, back to the table where he had gathered them. He could feel his wife's eyes on his naked back…and arse, he couldn't help it that he "dropped" the towel on the ground, sighing a little too dramatically, as he bent down to pick it up.
When he turned back to face her, he saw the passion in her eyes and the way her lips had parted in a perfect O, and the way her breasts were rising and falling in heated anticipation.
"You see…" he began, slowly moving back towards the bed. "Like a monk, if you will, I have given up all that I possess to devote my entire life and being, for my goddess." He smiled as drew closer, noticing how her eyes never left his…unless they were to roam down his body. He felt himself grow harder by the second.
"So…that's what became of your towel?" Sybil surmised. "It was…was all you possessed?" she was truly panting, needing him so desperately, needing to feel him all around her, as well as deep, deep inside her.
He smiled and nodded her head. "That's right; I come before my goddess now, like a man created on the first day…to offer to her all that I am…"
He held his arms out, displaying his body entirely for her greedy eyes, and indeed that was exactly what they were; most greedy and most eager. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, hungrily devouring the sight of him, his muscles, his shoulders, his chest, his waist, his hips, his legs…and oh yes, the part of him that looked to be painfully hard and throbbing and eager, just as her body was eager, to come together again.
Her eyes met his, and a wicked smile began to spread across her lips. "But what if she denies you your offer?"
Tom shook his head. "That's why there's a temple ceremony."
"Oh yes?" she remembered him using those words earlier. "And what happens at this 'temple ceremony'?"
"A sacrifice must be made."
"Oh my!" Sybil stared at him, curious to see what he was talking about, scooting back a little on the bed as he began his approach. "And…what sort of sacrifice is that?"
"A man must give himself over completely to his goddess…and be willing to undergo 'a little death'."
Sybil bit her lip, spreading her legs just slightly as Tom reached the bed, and began to lower himself until he was looming over her. "That sounds very…serious," she murmured, opening herself more to receive him.
"It is," he growled. "Only the most devoted servant can undergo this 'torture'…and be revived afterwards."
"And do you think you are strong enough to survive 'the little death'?"
His breath was hot against her skin. "Only one way to find out…" He was about to thrust himself inside her, the tip of his cock was nuzzling the lips of sex, but she stopped just before he could enter, her fingers digging into his shoulders, and pushing him up just slightly so she could see his eyes.
"But I've heard that no man may enter a Sibyl's temple?"
He narrowed his eyes and gave a possessive growl. "I beg to differ." With that, his mouth was over hers, kissing her hard and deep, just as his body thrust hard and deep into hers.
Both of them gasped at the sensation, and Sybil's legs immediately encircled, drawing him closer, capturing him and holding him to her. "More…ooohhh God, mooooooooooooore!" she groaned, her nails digging into his shoulders, clawing down his back until they reached his backside and squeezed, urging him to fill her completely.
He originally had been planning to be soft and tender with her, just as he had earlier when he was rubbing her feet and massaging her back. But he could see that he had pushed his wife's passion to the boiling point, and in truth, his own as well. Well, who was he to argue with his goddess? With a growl, he drove himself in deeper, his thrusts fast and slightly erratic, hard and deep, just as she begged. Yes, yes, just as they both needed.
She moved with him, lifting her hips off the bed to meet every thrust. She kissed him back with the hunger she had been feeling ever since she had returned, sucking his tongue into her mouth, nibbling his lips, whimpering and panting as they continued to make love, groaning in pleasure as it began to mount and rise higher and higher.
With a strength she didn't know she possessed, she managed to roll them over, until Tom was on his back, and he groaned and stared up at her in delight as he watched her rise up, like the goddess that she was, her back beautifully arched, her full, round breasts thrust forward, her palms flat on his chest, as she continued to move and ride his body as if it had been made for such a purpose. In truth, he believed that it was.
"Yes…yes…YES!" she cried, moving faster, riding his flesh, grinding her hips with every bounce and thrust. He reached up and cupped her breasts, taking delight in the pleasured gasps that escaped her lips as his fingers pinched and tweaked her nipples. Now it was his hips that rose and lifted to each and every thrust, meeting her movements, feeling his pleasure grow more and more, knowing that it was only a matter of time before he lost himself completely.
"Oh God, Sybil…" he groaned. "Take me; take your servant! I give myself completely to you, my goddess!"
She gasped, her hands covering his as they squeezed her breasts. "Yes…oh yes…I will take you to heaven and back!"
"YES!" he roared, thrusting harder, coming to the brink of pleasure, knowing that with only a few more motions, he would fall over the edge.
Her hands went up into her hair then, her body, the temple of his dreams and fantasies, completely on display for his eyes to feast upon. He took this blessed moment to move his hands down to the nest of curls between her thighs, and stroke the precious jewel between them. Her eyes went wide, and her head was thrown back as the most beautiful, pleasured scream ripped through the air, and just like that, Tom felt her inner walls squeeze his cock in pleasured bliss, and with one final thrust, he pumped his seed deep inside her, his own head falling back against the mattress, his own cry joining hers as "the little death" claimed him once again.
Sybil gasped and collapsed atop him, her head falling against the bend of his neck, his arms moving around to her back, enfolding her, his hands once again running up and down her spine, murmuring loving words to her in Gaelic as he panted and felt his body come down from the extraordinary pleasure he had just experienced with his beautiful wife.
Every time they made love seemed to be better than the last time. So once again, he found himself smiling and thinking about how this was the best it had been…so far.
"Oh Tom…" she moaned, kissing his neck lazily, before rising to kiss his chin, his jaw, before finally returning to his lips. "Oh Tom…" she moaned again. "That was wonderful…"
He smiled and carefully rolled them over until she was beneath him, and he kissed her some more, long, sweet, lazy kisses, until their heartbeats resumed to something that seemed normal. "I love you…" he murmured against her lips.
She smiled and rubbed her nose against his. "I love you too," she answered. "And you certainly proved your devotion, my handsome servant," she giggled. "Your goddess is very pleased; you shall be her chief priest."
"Her only priest," he growled, causing her to laugh as he attacked the skin of her neck, gently nibbling it.
Sybil purred, and took his face into her hands, lifting it so she could look into his eyes. "Thank you…for all of this," she murmured, running her fingers along his cheeks. "You truly made me feel like a goddess tonight."
He smiled and kissed her once more. "You deserve to feel like one every day; or at the very least, like a princess."
"Not too much like a princess, though," she wagged her finger. "After all, I wanted to get away from this house and this life, remember?"
He smiled tenderly down at her and ran his own fingers across her cheek. He couldn't deny it filled him with both joy and relief to hear her speak so. Ever since they had come back to Downton (and had been told that they couldn't return to Ireland, at least not yet) he had been worried that maybe she would realize all that she had given up in order to be married to him, and yearn to return to that life. But he knew he should never have doubted his darling Sybil; and he would continue to thank God for blessing him with the love and passion of such a wonderful, beautiful, devoted woman.
"You're my princess—well, you and Saoirse," he grinned, kissing her brow. "My two princesses…whom I'm allowed to pamper and spoil as much as I want."
"Careful," Sybil warned. "You don't want to develop bad habits…with either of your princesses," she giggled.
They both laughed and kissed and caressed one another, basking in the beautiful afterglow of their lovemaking. The thing that caused them to finally stir was the rumble of Sybil's stomach. She hadn't eaten since luncheon. But Tom surprised her again, rising from the bed and going into the bathroom, where he emerged with a plate of sandwiches, as well as a bottle of wine. "Tom! You truly are spoiling me!"
He grinned, joining her once again on the bed. "I told you, I'm your most devoted servant; I will do whatever it takes to see to the care of my goddess," he murmured, kissing her shoulder before handing her the plate.
They ate and laughed and drank wine together, snuggled on their bed, naked and glowing in the beauty of the firelight. When Sybil had had her fill, Tom took the plate and her wine glass and put them on the table with the other items. They held each other then, simply resting and enjoying the feel of the other's arms around them.
"You know…" Sybil murmured after a while. "I don't know if I like the idea of being a goddess."
"Oh?" Tom asked, looking down at her.
Sybil nodded her head. "I don't think I can enjoy immortality without my beloved servant," she grinned up at him.
"Ah…not to worry, love," he smiled, giving her a sweet kiss, before surprising her and laying her back down on the bed. "There's a solution to that."
"Oh?" she asked, trying to lean up on her elbows…and she felt her heart beat quicken as she watched her husband slide off the bed, until he was kneeling on the floor…and parting her legs, pulling them until they rested over his shoulders.
"Isn't ambrosia meant to be the food of the gods?" he asked, his breath hot on her thigh. "And if a mortal partakes of their food…doesn't he become immortal as well?"
Sybil was panting with anticipation. "But…but how much ambrosia does it take to make him immortal?"
Tom grinned, before kissing her thigh. "I suppose there's only one way to find out," he growled. "But I'm certainly willing to lick the pot clean."
So...whadya think?
Two notes! The info I gathered about "the Sibyls" came straight from good ol' Wikipedia. I am by no means an expert in Greek mythology, so I apologize if the info seems a bit off. ALSO the song in which Tom sings to Sybil is one I've used before (it appears in a chapter of Love's Journey and is a beautiful Irish ballad. If you wish to hear it, I recommend looking for the Celtic Woman version on Youtube.
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think!
