A/N: Some things… are worth taking their time. I've been tinkering with this one long enough, time to let them have their fun.
It was rare that he was awake while she was sleeping.
"What are we going to do about this, eh, love?"
She stirred, but didn't wake.
Of course they couldn't continue like this. It was one thing when it was a quiet, understood occasional thing, her slipping to his room late in the night and curling up against him. Simple companionship. It filled a need they both had, efficiently and without fuss (well, not much, anyhow). They did this together just like they did everything else, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
It was the most natural thing in the world to hold her like this. If their quiet, usually-platonic nights together in this bed had occasionally led to fulfillment of another kind, who was he to argue? It worked out well for them both. This was not something sordid and short-term, any more than anything else in their lives. They had fallen, slowly and irrevocably, into a faithful, long-term partnership. There had been no concerns of… complications… on her part, not at her age, and since this had started, neither of them felt the need to seek companionship elsewhere. A few hours together here in the night had never interfered with their days. Gentle and tender. Quiet and complete and perfect. Under the bright light of day, they were who they had always been — ever-professional, ever-faithful servants, the well-oiled team of butler and housekeeper, Carson and Hughes, with no one the wiser. If anyone knew how to be discrete, it was the downstairs heads of the house.
They loved each other, of course. They didn't say it (well, not much, anyhow), but they had an understanding. When it was time, they would retire together, marry and live out their days in a nearby cottage. They'd never discussed it. There was no need. What they had… it had been enough for them both for some time.
But something had shifted. She had started pushing, needing more, taking more. For his part, he had surprised himself at being more than happy to oblige, without question, despite the risks. Now he even found himself… wanting it. Allowing himself to want her, and at the most inappropriate times, too. Lord, he'd been this close to hiking up her skirts and taking her over the table in the servant's hall the other night, Anna and Bates be damned.
It was absolute madness. Insanity. They were going to give themselves away in no time flat if they continued to carry on like this, of that he had no doubt. It was one thing for Anna and Bates to know. Even Beryl. They could handle the good-natured teasing they would get from those three. But if Barrow got wind of it — just the thought made him scowl. He didn't believe for a moment that either of them would be fired, but things would end up twisted and wrong and full of… well, there would be an atmosphere.
She especially hated an atmosphere, which is why it surprised him so (pleasantly surprised, yes, he couldn't deny that, not for a moment) that she had taken them in this direction.
He would leave Downton for her. Leave service completely, if he had to. He knew that now. There was simply no question, if it came to the job or her. Something about breaking down some the final taboos of this relationship had made that crystal clear to him.
He kissed her hair as she continued to sleep. An arm and a leg were draped across him. She nuzzled in more deeply. What brought all this on then, hmm, my lovely?
"You think too loud," she mumbled against his shoulder.
"Sorry, love. I didn't mean to wake you."
"I'll survive it," she murmured. "You're a very comfortable pillow."
He chuckled softly. "And which of my thoughts is loud enough for you to hear in your sleep, hmmm?"
There was no hesitation in her reply. "The one where you're wondering what we do next."
Of course she knows. She always knows. "Hmmm. Well. It had crossed my mind."
She shifted a bit and blinked up at him with sleepy eyes. "And why this is all happening now…"
"Well, yes…"
"…and why we both can't seem to help ourselves…"
His eyebrows inched higher. "…that too…"
She kissed his chest and inhaled deeply. Mmmmmmmm. "…and how long we'll be able to keep this up before the other shoe drops."
"See, you're actually starting to scare me a little now."
She smiled up at him smugly. "Good."
They nestled in together again. Neither spoke for a long moment.
"So, Mr. Carson…"
"So, Mrs. Hughes?"
"What do you think we should do?"
He sighed, wrapping an arm around her more snugly. "Well… after careful consideration…"
"Naturally."
"…after careful consideration, I think if we continue on this way, it's only a matter of time before we're caught." His large warm hand finally settled, cupping one breast lightly.
Her fingers intertwined with his. "Anna and Mr. Bates already suspect."
"Yes, I believe they do. And I think if we're caught on any terms but our own, there will almost certainly be a scene." He nestled his face into her hair and inhaled.
"Hrm. Yes. And we do dislike scenes."
"Indeed." His voice was muffled. She could feel him move aside the hair from the back of her neck and she sighed in quiet bliss.
"So what then?"
She felt his lips, so light, almost not there, brushing against the back of her neck. "Well, not continuing is simply not an option."
She smiled broadly. "Good to hear. You almost had me worried there for a moment." The fingers at her breast flicked lightly over a nipple and she shivered.
"Good," he whispered, nuzzling her shoulder and neck with light kisses. "I should hate to be too predictable."
She laughed at that, turned a bit and kissed him on the chin. She looked him in the eyes now. "So?"
His look was serious, but tender. "So I think we need to ensure that when it gets out, it's on our terms."
"Agreed. Any ideas about that?"
His face softened, and he kissed the tip of her nose. "One or two, ranging from tame to positively outrageous. But first, a serious question."
She nodded, waiting.
"Why now? Please don't misunderstand, I'm not complaining, but… we never talked about it before. Never needed more than what we had. What's changed?"
She traced the lines of his face with her fingers. "I think I realized something. Even though we had an… understanding… I think…?"
The unspoken question was in her eyes, and he quickly dispelled any doubts. He nodded and kissed her forehead. "Yes?"
"…I realized I didn't want to be too old to enjoy this once we had the chance."
She turned and curled back into him, back to front, and pulled his arm back over her, placing his hand at her breast. "Passionate love is wasted on the young, Mr. Carson. They don't appreciate it, in all its infinite complexities. I loved you long before I lusted for you."
He pulled her close and they settled in to one another. His hand drifted absent-mindedly along her side, from breast to hip and back again, as they wrapped themselves in contented silence.
After a minute, she felt his breath tickle against her ear. "So you lust after me, do you?"
Her bare bottom fit snugly into his lap as they lay together. She wriggled and felt him stir against her. "What do you think?"
He pressed into her backside, rubbing himself against her, slowly but surely hardening.
"I think the feeling is mutual, pet," he growled quietly in her ear.
He encouraged her to lift a leg up a little, just enough that he could… yes, just like that. His hardening length slipped between her strong thighs. He sighed in satisfaction. Rather than rush to enter her, he began to tease her slick warmth. He felt her exhale sharply as he withdrew and then returned again. Slowly, deliberately, he spread her wetness for them both. Again. The muscles of her thighs tensed around him each time he slid between them.
Christ. This woman will be the death of me. But I will die a blissfully happy man.
They moved together like this, unhurried, relishing every sensation, every sweet pang of pleasure. When he thrust just a little harder, the head of his cock pressed firmly against-
"Oh god, Ch- Charles… right… there. Please." She gripped his arm tightly and whimpered.
"I think you're incredibly wet for me, Mrs. Hughes." The scent of her was almost enough to make him delirious. "And I think you love it when I do this-" he thrust harder once again, causing them both to shudder.
His voice was shaking with the effort of keeping control. "...and I think you almost cannot take it when I do this." His hand snaked lower and parted her folds while he continued the exquisite, agonizing torture. His fingers found their prize and she moaned, tensed further around him, adding pressure to the sweet, slow, firm friction.
He couldn't help but move faster now… god her cunt she is so wet, so… so… calm, man, keep control… the French have a word for this what is… ah, yes, 'frottage'. God bless the bloody French and their bloody perverted language.
They were both breathing heavily now, desperately, and still they continued, taking their pleasure from one another until it was nearly unbearable. His other hand had worked into her hair and he gripped it now, trying hard not to pull but barely holding on to his senses as she surrounded him, squeezed him tightly. They began to give themselves over to the delicious madness at the end of this.
"Oh, you're close, aren't you? Come for me, beautiful. Come like this, Christ, Elsie, yes..."
"Oh… love… oh fuck. Yes!"
His lips were hot on her shoulder and neck as he felt her stiffen around him. Her breath caught, and with the next thrust he entered her and held himself there, buried completely in her, slick fingers still working against her as she shattered in his arms. He lost himself to her then, the perfect release suddenly rushing over him, through him, filling her, and they both knew that this could never be enough.
Such lust.
Such love.
Never enough.