A/N: This is my contribution to my fic challenge on Tumblr, "Anywhere but a bed."

Hope you enjoy. *wink*

Breakfast

Dublin, July 1919

She always knew that Tom was passionate about many things: his politics, his family and his love for her. But now, just three weeks into their marriage, Sybil was reveling in his passion for her and his newfound freedom to show the world and her, that she was his.

In the mornings, when they walked to work together, Tom held her hand tight in his. They were both a little drunk on the knowledge that they no longer had to hide their relationship from anyone, and Tom meant to show all that would glance their way that they were young and in love, without shame.

When they went out, be it to his Mother's for a meal, to the pub for a drink after dinner or to a picture show on Friday evenings, when they sat together his arm was always resting protectively on the back of her chair so she could feel his warmth radiating into her shoulders. His mother nearly boxed his ears at Mass for such a display on the first Sunday after their wedding.

He kissed her in public simply because he could. Sybil could count on one hand the number of times she had seen her own parents kiss, but Tom was not held to such standards as they were. At first, during their engagement she had been embarrassed to be so publicly affectionate, but she would not deny either of them the pleasure now.

Even at home, without anyone around, Tom showed his love constantly. They kissed and caressed and made love throughout the flat more times than Sybil would have thought possible in a single day.

On one Saturday morning, after leisurely making love with warm air drifting in through the open windows, they wandered to the kitchen for something to eat in nothing but their dressing gowns.

As Tom started pulling things down for toast, Sybil started on the coffee, "I can't imagine ever going down for breakfast in my dressing gown at Downton."

"No," Tom laughed at the image in his head, "I don't think that would go over too well." Tom watched her place the toast on the table then reach into the larder for the homemade jam his mother had sent them. "Do you miss it?" He poured a coffee for both of them and sat down.

"Do I miss Downton?" she asked as she pulled a knife from the drawer and stood beside his chair.

He kissed her hand, nodded, and looked up at her questioningly.

"Of course I miss it a little," she ran the hand he was not holding through his hair, still messy from bed. "It's where I was born. I miss seeing my parents everyday and talking to my sisters before dinner...but I love it here with you, in our own space...with my work and your family. It's wonderful, more than I could have ever wished for."

He pulled her down to sit across her lap and kissed her, "I love you."

Sybil smiled and bit her lip. "I love you too, darling. And I love everything about being married to you," Sybil said, running her fingers lightly over his chest, the loose knot in his dressing gown doing little to keep him covered.

Tom laughed against her lips, "That's good to hear." He gave her long braid a slight tug, exposing her pale neck to him. She squealed when he bit it playfully and moved his hand up her thigh.

She stood up quickly and shooed his hands away, "Your breakfast is getting cold."

Before she could stop him, he grabbed one end of the sash holding her dressing gown closed and gave it an insistent tug. "I'm not hungry," he said as he watched her body being fully exposed to him.

She backed away from him giggling and he was left holding only her sash. "Maybe I'm hungry, you don't want me to starve, do you?"

He stood and followed her as she backed away from him around the small table, "we can eat after. I'll make eggs."

Still eluding him, she asked innocently, "after what, Mr. Branson?"

He grinned suggestively, "After I have you on the table." She blushed, but Tom could see her nipples harden at the suggestion. He reached forward, caught her by the waist, and pulled her flush against him. He pushed her dressing gown off her shoulders and let it pool at their feet.

She sighed happily as his hands ran from her shoulders, down her front, over her breasts and around her back to squeeze her behind. "I suppose that's alright...but only if I get eggs." She pushed up onto her toes and kissed him.

He groaned into her mouth and guided her backwards until he could lift her onto the table, away from their forgotten breakfast. Leaning back from her, he quickly untied his dressing gown and shrugged it from his shoulders. Tom kissed her deeply as his hands found her breasts once again.

Sybil bit his bottom lip and worried it with her tongue. She let it slip from between her teeth as she laid back, bare to him on the kitchen table. "Tom, please."

He groaned deep in his chest as he looked at his wife spread before him. "Alright, Love," Tom reached down and guided himself to her. He started to move within her as she hooked her legs around him.

"Oh God," She reached one arm over her head to grasped the edge of the table while her other hand found his strained forearm. "Tom!"

"Fuck, Sybil," He bent at the waist, bringing their torsos together and kissed her. "You feel so good."

When he dragged his mouth down her neck and took a nipple into his mouth, she couldn't help but beg, "MMMM...Harder."

He licked his lips and straightened himself out. Pushing harder and faster, he smiled, "Yes, M'lady."

They were both quickly approaching their climax. Sybil closed her eyes and threw her head back as she peaked. "Tom," she moaned.

"Fuck," he kept going, determined to hold out a little longer. "So beautiful..." Tom watched her writhe before him.

Sybil opened her eyes and met his gaze, "Darling?" She matched his next thrust, catching him off guard. He pushed into her until he could go no further and let himself spend.

Huffing for breath, Tom nestled his face between her breasts. "Mmmm, that...was much...better than...toast."

Sybil sat up, bringing his lips to hers. "Much better, yes," she smiled. "But you still have to make me eggs."