They sat side by side on their sofa, the one Mrs. Hughes had insisted on. She smiled when she remembered his confusion about the large piece. It was far more comfortable than most of the furniture of their day, and it looked quite unique in their little home. But the success of the purchase couldn't be denied as they sat side by side, turned slightly toward each other. He held his hands out in front of him with brightly colored red yarn wrapped loosely around them. She had the beginnings of a ball of yarn in her hands. They'd been reminiscing about some of the odder visitors they'd had at the Abbey.
"You mean Lord Ashbury," he said, tilting his hands again to let a loop of yarn loose.
"No, no," she dropped her hands, still holding the ball of yarn, into her lap in lighthearted frustration. "You remember, he had that great bear of a man for a valet. He had to duck under every doorway. And I couldn't look at you the entire day because whenever that enormous man opened his mouth, he had the highest little voice. And there was no earthly way I could keep a straight face while watching your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline." She was laughing, hardly able to get the words out.
"Oh, my God, yes! Of course! Lord…Lord Lancastershire!" he remembered triumphantly.
"Yes! Yes, that's it! It was on the tip of my tongue. I kept thinking Worcestershire." She shook her head, still laughing.
They laughed quietly together while she continued winding her ball of yarn. Knitting was a childhood skill that she'd taken up again. She'd returned to the task with ease, though they had shared a few good laughs at her first attempt at a pot holder. The misshapen thing now held a place of honor in one of their kitchen drawers.
As he watched the yarn slip away, bit by bit, from his hands, he let himself appreciate how comfortable, how happy he was. Even her knee pressing familiarly against his gave him a sort of contentment that was entirely new to him. They'd brushed knees in the past, under the servants' table. It was always accidental, and their legs were always quickly brought back and away from the other. As was expected in polite society, it was not even acknowledged.
But now, when he pressed his knee more firmly against hers, she looked up and smiled at him briefly before looking again to her task. She smiled quite often these days. She almost looked a different person, smiling and laughing so easily. Gratitude couldn't quite cover how he felt. The surprise of her love was, without a doubt, the best thing that had ever happened to him.
"You know," he said, "When I look back on my life, I divide it up into its different parts, almost as though they were entirely different lives."
"Mm-hmm?" she said, telling him she was listening while still keeping her eyes on her task.
"There was my childhood, of course. Then my time on the stage." He paused to look at her face.
She smiled at the growing ball of yarn in her hands. She'd only recently learned of his "acting career" and she was slowly dragging more and more information about that time out of him.
"Then Downton, and now this. My retirement with you." He paused. "And they were all very different in their ways. Downton was the longest part, of course, and I felt—I still feel—that my occupation was important and I performed it well."
She nodded her silent agreement.
"But this time, here. Now, with you. This is the best bit. This is my favorite time."
He tilted his hands again to give her more of the red string. A few seconds passed where she did not take up his offering.
And then he saw the ball of yarn hit the ground at their feet. He brought his head up quickly, his brow furrowed, questioning. Only to see her reach over to him and whisk the remaining yarn off his hands. It joined its companion on the floor as she rose abruptly only to sit immediately back down on his lap. As she sat, her hands went to his face and she kissed him soundly.
Surprised, but in no way displeased, he put his hands at her waist and returned her fervent kiss.
She'd known he was happy, of course she had. But it was another thing entirely to hear him say aloud that no part of his life had made him happier than being with her. Between kisses, she told him,
"Thank you. Thank you for telling me. I love you. So much."
After a minute of hands everywhere, mussed hair, sighs, and whispers, she stood and took him by the hand to their bedroom.
When she started undressing him, he wasn't fool enough to question her, and simply helped her in her task. When they tumbled onto the bed together, she immediately tried to pull him over her, wanting him inside of her right that second. But he resisted, kissing her and firmly caressing all the places she loved best. After several failed attempts to position herself underneath him, she huffed in frustration and said,
"Charles! What—?"
"I've been wanting…wanting to try something. Will you…try it with me?" he asked tentatively.
"Of course," she answered, thoroughly baffled as to what he could want.
Instead of telling her outright, he laid flat on his back and pulled her up and over him, positioning her hips where he wanted them. He groaned when she shifted her hips, causing him to slide agonizingly, gloriously against her. She understood then and keenly felt her inexperience when she realized that the idea hadn't even occurred to her.
"You…you want me…on top?" she asked quietly; hesitantly.
"Y—yes. Is that…alright?"
"Yes, of course, I just never thought…won't it hurt you?" she asked.
"No, no—" he grunted and pushed his hips up against her when she moved again.
Her uncertainty drained away while she looked at his face, twisted with desire. For her. It was replaced by a feeling of…power. She could…she didn't know quite what, but she felt powerful all the same.
"I don't quite know…you'll have to help me…" she started.
In response, he reached for her hips and lifted her over his hardness. She leaned forward for balance and tried to position herself to take him. The noises he was making as she shifted herself over him, sliding back and forth over his sensitive skin, made her flush with arousal. In a flash of inspiration, she reached down and wrapped her hand around him. Even though she'd thought of it before, she'd never actually touched him with her hand. He swore aloud and she could tell he was trying to hold still. She used her hand to hold him steady while she moved over him, never losing the contact between her center and the head of his cock.
He struggled to remain still while she seemed to be taking a lifetime to take him inside of her. After a few moments of this heavenly torture, he realized that she was doing it on purpose. He opened his eyes in surprised wonder to see her bottom lip between her teeth and her eyes closed in concentration. Her hand on him was making him insane, and she was sliding herself over him simply because it gave her pleasure. He almost came right when he realized it.
"God, Elsie, please," he begged.
Afraid she'd done something wrong, her eyes flashed to his.
"What? What's the matter?" she breathed.
"Let me—" he broke off with a groan.
She realized what he wanted and tried not to be embarrassed by her actions. He was clearly not judging her, after all, and it was all so new to her.
"Oh," she giggled, making his heart nearly burst out of his chest with happiness. "Sorry."
Slowly, unsure of herself, watching his face the entire time, she shifted and adjusted as she moved down his hardness. They moaned together when he was fully inside of her. Without instruction, her hips had already begun to move in a hypnotic, forward and back motion.
"Can I…is this?" she couldn't speak properly. After weeks of making love, she thought she'd learned everything there was to know. But clearly, this new, heady feeling was another part of a world she was just beginning to explore.
He couldn't answer her question with words. But he held tight to her hips and thrust into her as she pushed down on him, knowing she would understand. He watched her move before him and, for the millionth time since he'd been married, couldn't quite believe his good fortune. He stared up at her, thinking that she was made for this. For making love. In a kind of moment where one realizes something that should have been quite obvious, it occurred to him that they were perfect together because they loved one another.
She sat up straighter on him when her back began to protest her being bent forward over his chest. Her eyes flew open at how the change in position made such a drastic change in sensation. He grunted his approval and held her breasts in his hands when she began her release, which made her spasms stronger. Her voice cracked and broke as she quietly came apart on top of him.
When she would have slowed, he took hold of her hips again and increased his pace, thrusting hard into her. Her soft cries at the pressure and friction on her still trembling flesh spurred him on, and he groaned when he emptied himself inside of her. He used his hands to guide her hips during his orgasm, slowing but not stopping her.
After waiting the few seconds needed to catch their breath, she slid off of him and rolled to his side. He caught her with one arm and held her close. She let out a breathy laugh and he kissed her forehead, smiling. She looked down at him and let her mind wander, wondering how she might be able to surprise her husband in the future…