More with Downtown Abbey Series 7. Ha. Only Jaspernor flavoured.


Jasper steals into her room that evening like a thief in the night.

It's after 11 and she's halfway between being awake and dreaming when the door slides open and he pads into her room.

Somehow he's been trained not to make a sound, and its not the noise which makes her realise he's there but the sliver of light from where the door's been cracked open.

It's not the first time he's come in like this, he's tried it before.

Unsuccessfully.

But tonight she doesn't sit up. Or yell at him. Or throw something at him.

Tonight she stays exactly where she is, and she doesn't even dare let out a breath.

Even in the dark she knows when he's by her bed because of the intensity of the way he looks at her. She knows it from before when he turns his attention on her, it's like he can set her alight just by watching.

His hand drops to the pillow and he strokes her hair.

She doesn't know if he can see her watching him in the dark, and she still doesn't dare move an inch, or make a sound.

Jasper turns away and there's a rustle as his robe and then his boxers fall to the floor.

He takes a few strides around the bed, then lifts the sheets and slides into the bed.

His hand reaches around her and then he's pulling her into him, so he's pressed into her back.

"You can't just come in here in the dark like this you know," she tells him, still groggy from the state of almost sleep she reached. Even to her mind, her voice sounds only half hearted.

"And yet, here I am," Jasper tells her back, and as if she didn't already know he was there, she can feel him hard against the curve of her back.

And even if she was ever thinking about protesting, she forgets it once Jasper finds the spot on her jawline just under her ears and starts kissing her right there while his hand slips under her singlet, pushing it higher up until he finds her nipple and strokes it until it peaks.

The exhalation of breath and a half veiled murmer of pleasure is all the invitation he needs and then he's flipping her onto her back and his hand is between her legs and he slips a finger inside her.

His lips are against her mouth and his hands are working her into a state where she can't breathe and its his name that's on her lips against his skin.

She's almost gone when he slides his hand away from her and parts her legs wider and then he's inside her, rocking against her with sharp thrusts, cradling her body against his, his sweat against her sweat, skin against skin.

She slides her hands up the muscular arms on either side of her and curls her arms into his neck, as he sinks deeper into her. Her fingernails dig into his back. His chest presses against the soft flesh of her nipples, and his hands dig into her waist, holding her in place as his movements before harder and faster and more urgent.

It feels like she is on fire from the trail of heat he leaves inside her and her breath starts falling from her lips in ragged gasps.

Her head falls back, her eyelashes flutter and the world starts to blur. From afar, Jasper says her name, finally, with an intensity that startles her.

Afterwards, everything is quiet.

Jasper has pulled her into him so her head is pressed against his chest, and her hair fans out against his skin. He has one arm around her and the other is twined into her hand.

And because it is dark and late and there is no where there to see them, not even each other, she lets him.

"Tomorrow maybe we should ride up to the other side of the estate. Up near the river," Eleanor tells him. Her eyes feel heavy and soon she'll be slipping back to sleep.

"Yeah," Jasper agrees. "Maybe you should take your clothes off in the river, and we can christen it together baby," Jasper proposes, and even in the dark Eleanor's sure there is a smirk gracing his face.

"Yes I can just imagine that Mum's going to bloody love it if that story ever makes the tabloids," Eleanor mutters back sarcastically, while at the same time settling herself further into the crook of Jasper's arm.

"Wouldn't hurt to remind the public that Lady Eleanor Frost is fully occupied with her new role," Jasper says territorially.

Eleanor rolls her eyes, but doesn't reply.

It's late and she's too tired to say any more, so she shuts her eyes.

All she can hear is the tick tock of the grandfather clock keeping time.

And even though the night is cold, wrapped in Jasper's arms she feels safe and warm as his lips press into the delicate skin by her temple.

And as she slips further into unconsciousness, her last thought is that maybe - maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing if they were to stay married after all.