A/N: So sorry for the wait guys! Long chapter. There's also a longish Author's note at the end of this to explain a few things..but for now, enjoy :)
XXI.
Mary could hear her own sighs turning into gasps, then into moans as they moved against each other. She was pushed up into the large cushions with Matthew's heavy body covering hers almost entirely. They were still fully clothed, though most of her beautiful evening gown was crushed and crumpled by now. The hem had magically ridden up to her knees, though she knew Matthew was gentleman enough to leave it there, at least until she told him otherwise. His breath was coming in short ragged bursts as his lips kept devouring the skin of her neck and cleavage. With every gentle nip of his mouth, Mary could feel her mind shutting down a bit further.
The fire in the grate had gone out completely, though neither of them noticed. Mary ran her stocking-clad feet up and down the length of Matthew's legs, relishing the ripple of muscles underneath the formal black trousers. Her hands were alternately clenched in his hair or clutching at his back to pull him closer.
She noticed with some amusement that Matthew was always careful to shift his groin a little away from her body, so she wouldn't get a fright. The idea that he wanted to protect her innocence, so to speak, touched her so much that she kept trying to do the opposite. Mary wanted to touch him, to feel him come alive in her hands. Matthew was right, she decided, they had already moved past propriety long ago.
"Matthew." she whimpered as he grazed her earlobe, sucking it gently into his mouth. "Hmm?" he hadn't been able to form a coherent sentence for the past twenty minutes. Mary found it equally hard to speak, opting instead for a more feasible form of communication. They quickly sought each other's mouths again with even more passion, kissing deeply, longingly.
Their love felt intense, and yet so natural. So right. So necessary, like the air to breathe...
Mary moaned quietly as Matthew let his lips slide down the length of her neck, inhaling that intoxicating scent until it made him tremble. Control, he thought desperately, feeling it slip out of his grasp with every little sound that Mary uttered, every little movement she made under him, every bit of her that he got to taste or smell or feel.
He feasted on her lips and with some trepidation Matthew finally dared to invade her sweet mouth with his tongue. And there he felt it, Mary's tongue caressing his, teasing him, loving him back...
"God!"
Matthew yelped, then whimpered helplessly when he felt Mary's hand brush up against his arousal. His eyes briefly rolled back and he let his head fall onto her shoulder. Mary smiled, more than satisfied with the effect her ministrations had on him. Soon, however, he grabbed her hand and stilled her movements. She frowned.
"God...Mary." Matthew breathed heavily, dragging his eyes open to look down at her. His blonde hair, quite dishevelled now, flopped into his eyes. Mary gently brushed it away with her free hand. "Don't you like..." she whispered. A shaky laugh escaped him and when she looked into his hooded eyes, she knew it was a silly question.
"Mary." It seemed all he was capable of saying. The last thing Matthew wanted was for her to stop, but he was also afraid of going to fast...or too far. He'd tried not to let her notice his arousal when they were kissing, but he could feel all remnants of restraint slipping away by the second. And he would never have imagined Mary being so bold as to...touch him there.
"Are you afraid?" Mary wondered, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his open mouth. Matthew chuckled weakly. "Aren't you?" He whispered into her kiss. "Not with you." she said, shaking her head. Matthew blinked and tried to catch his breath, his chest swelled with pride. Mary trusted him, and yet he was terrified of disappointing her...
Neverminding Matthew's earlier misgivings, Mary reached both hands down to the opening of his mess kit trousers. There was no belt, but a contraption of buttons that she struggled with. A frustrated mewl came over her lips that tore at Matthew's heart and fuelled his desire to the point where he finally threw all caution to the wind. Gently stilling her efforts, he opened the buttons himself, then held her hand in his for a moment.
His eyes found hers. "I love you." he whispered earnestly. Mary knew that she loved him, too, with all her heart. But the words wouldn't reach her lips. Instead, she tried to show him, by kissing him fiercely, while she pulled her hand free of his hold to slide it down his belly until she found...
Matthew pressed his face into her neck to stifle the raw guttural sounds that tore from his mouth. Mary's hand was on his painful arousal...
...the same hand that he had held and kissed with innocent reverence, the hand that had given him her good luck charm...
...the hand that he wanted to endow with a ring and all he had to give...
Mary's touch melted his sanity and all too soon he felt his body giving way. If he so much as glimpsed at her now, he would be lost. His arms were shaking around Mary's soft frame, holding her close to his chest.
She tried to stifle her moans when she felt Matthew's warm hand cupping her breast and watched in fascination as he licked his lips, then greedily closed them around the firm tip, sucking it into his mouth through the thin silk of her dress. Mary arched her back up with a loud groan and her fingers flexed repeatedly around his aching flesh...
Matthew's world exploded. His hips bucked uncontrollably as he throbbed in her hand and a strangled cry of ecstasy ripped out of him, shattering the silence of the deserted house...
Tears came to Mary's eyes at the sight of his release. He was so beautiful in that moment, raw and uninhibited. She watched in awe as he shuddered on top of her for nearly half a minute, until he calmed and slumped down onto her chest. Mary let go of his spent manhood. She stroked his hair and shoulders in soothing circles now.
And then she noticed that something was not quite right.
Mary wasn't sure, but she thought she could hear him sob quietly into her neck. She continued her soothing, but he seemed to grow more agitated in turn. Matthew held her so tightly against him that it became mildly uncomfortable.
The air had become ice cold around them and she felt him shiver. There was a wet spot on the fabric covering her right breast where he had laved it with his tongue and it felt almost painful in the cold draft of the room. Suddenly, she remembered that there was a storm raging outside. The howling of the wind appeared to ebb, though it still drowned out the surpressed sobs of the man in her arms. Mary was at a loss.
Had she done something wrong? Or did he regret what they had done...because of Lavinia?
"Matthew?" she finally broke the silence and turned her head to where he had buried his against her. One of the hair pins in the disarray that had once been an elaborate hairstyle pricked her and she winced slightly. At long last, Matthew resurfaced. She had not been mistaken. There were traced of tears...
"What is it, my darling?" Mary whispered.
He laughed quietly and his voice sounded rough. With one hand, he quickly wiped his eyes and she saw his cheeks and ears redden with mortification. "I'm sorry...so sorry." Matthew croaked and shook his head. "Why?" she gasped and he could see her consternation growing. He had to explain himself.
"First of all..." he laughed again, though it sounded wry. "I don't believe it's supposed to...end so abruptly. I'm sorry. What a disappointment I am." his smile turned grim.
Mary made him look up at her. "You're not a disappointment. On the contrary." she assured him and he could tell that she truly meant it. That seemed to cheer him up immensely. But Mary sensed that there must be more...
"Tell me what's wrong." she prompted, stroking her thumb over his cheek. "I'm not sure how to...explain this..." he blinked upwards for a moment, trying to gather his jumbled thoughts. "I've never felt like this...and I never thought I would get to feel like this." Mary nodded slowly, though she did not quite understand why he would think so or why it should upset him...
"I'd wanted you for so long...you can't imagine." He chuckled a little. "I want you too." Mary whispered, not sure why she suddenly had to say it. She blushed. Matthew's lips quirked.
"See...I've imagined you saying that in all my dreams. But to actually have you in my arms..." he trailed off and his expression darkened. He hesitated, then licked his lips and forced himself to speak...
"In...the trenches, there's not much time to dream of anything like this...it's too bleak...too cold..." his voice shook slightly and Mary slowly began to comprehend. Matthew never talked of the trenches.
Never.
She held her breath and watched his face turn pale as he struggled with his memories.
"Sometimes...it makes you feel dead. As if you were dead...inside."
Matthew shuddered, but he tried to go on. "And you never want to feel anything...because it's all too much. So you teach yourself not to feel anymore...and you become sort of...numb...as if you were...dead."
There was a long pause and his eyes dropped back down to the face he loved most in the world. She didn't look horrified, as he had feared. She was silent, but neither from shock nor disgust.
He could feel it more than he could see it. Her understanding and...her love. Mary's fingers kept caressing his face.
Steadily. Bravely.
"I didn't believe I could feel alive again...the only thing that kept me alive was you, I think." He admitted, smiling a little when he thought of the lucky charm she had given him one misty morning in 1916. It was in his coat pocket even now.
"But when you touched me...I felt...so much...and..." Mary saw him struggling again and she quickly pulled him down for a long kiss. "Yes." she only said. "Yes."
It was as simple as that.
"You make me feel alive." he whispered against the corner of her mouth. To Mary, this was the most genuine declaration of love that anyone had ever received. "Yes." she repeated, almost inaudibly. It was the answer to a question she had yearned to give him three years ago and she wondered if he perceived it as that.
Do you love me enough to spend your life with me?
She did...if only she could. Loving each other was one thing. Marriage was a different animal altogether. At least amongst their people. So many questions remained, there was still so much else to consider.
And plain fact was that they were still engaged to be married to others...
In this blissful moment, however, Mary did not want to disturb his peace. He looked so happy as she watched him turn his head slightly aside to kiss the hand that cupped his cheek. No, she would not make him uneasy now. He deserved some peace and happiness. At least for a while. They would talk later...
Matthew's words about the war and life in the trenches kept haunting her mind. She glared up at the dark high panelled ceiling above them and her fingers tenderly raked though his hair as he dozed on top of her, his face buried against her neck.
Bleak. Cold. Numb. Dead...dead...inside.
Mary shuddered and clutched him tighter. Matthew...what was this war doing to him? And soon he would have to go back to all that. If only she could keep him here, safe in her arms.
In reality, however, she would probably never be allowed to hold him or kiss him again...
They had both betrayed their fiancés, there was no denying it and no justification. Evelyn didn't deserve this. Nor did Lavinia, even if she wasn't worthy of Matthew...
Then again, who was she to judge anyone? As 'tainted goods' she was hardly worthy of Matthew's adoration either.
Kemal Pamuk had touched her long before Matthew and taught her how to touch in return. He had robbed her of more than one kind of 'innocence'. Due to him she had seen the face of death...she had lied and deceived the people she loved...and pulled her maid and her mother into this whole mess...
Evelyn had been so good about these rumours. He had dismissed them as merely a malicious story concocted by her fanciful sister to ruin her. The ambassador had quickly been forced into silence and Mary's reputation was saved from further damage. Sometimes, however, Mary thought that Evelyn knew more than he led on...
And despite all this her story was still somewhere out there. And would always be.
If either Evelyn or Matthew ever found out the truth, they would despise her, of that she was sure. Mary knew that she could bear to see Evelyn turn away in disgust...but not Matthew.
Not Matthew.
Of course she owed him the truth, if they were to build a life together. She could not keep him in the dark forever, as tempting as the idea was...
His gentle snores tickled the damp skin of her neck as she idly traced her fingers along the shell of his ear. She would love Matthew until the day she died, but she would have to marry another.
Evelyn was her equal in many ways. He was not unlike Matthew. Inherently good, decent and loyal to a fault. The best thing that could have happened to her given the circumstances. And yet...
Was it fair on him to enter into this marriage under false pretenses? Evelyn was certain that she had developed deeper feelings for him over the years, even if she hadn't shown much interest in 1913.
And he was right, she did love him...to a certain extend...if 'love' entailed a deep admiration and respect for someone, a feeling comfort and security when you were with them.
Only...if this was love...then what did it mean to feel as if someone is so much a part of you that you feel like half of yourself is missing when they are not with you?
What does it mean to wish you could crawl under someone's skin and remain there forever?
What does it mean to want someone so badly that you could scream and cry with desire and longing for them?
And what does it mean when you are so terrified of disappointing someone with the truth of your past that you'd rather watch them leave than see the look of disdain on their face...
At the sound of her quiet weeping, Matthew stirred. "Darling..." he rasped, dragging his lips from her neck up to her cheek. "What's wrong?" he asked worriedly. Then he seemed to realize something.
"God...I'm crushing you. I'm so sorry." Still groggy from his short nap, Matthew pulled himself up to shift his weight off her body. Mary said nothing and made quick work of composing herself.
They both sat up and Matthew discretely tucked himself back into his trousers, grinning at her shily from aside. But Mary didn't look amused at all. A sense of cold dread settled over him. He knew that expression all too well.
"Did I do badly?" He forced himself to remain calm. Suddenly, he remembered all the things he had said, the things he had confessed about the war. What did she think of him now? Perhaps she thought he was being melodramatic or silly. Or even mad?
"No, you did nothing wrong. Not at all. But...it's enough now." She whispered weakly, taking several deep breaths to gather her wits. She hated herself for doing this, but there was no alternative. For both of them. Matthew was as honour bound to Lavinia as she was bound by her own network of lies.
Matthew laid his arm around her and pressed his lips to her temple, evidently relieved that he had not messed up. Mary closed her eyes, then forced herself to look at him. Otherwise he would not understand. "As wonderful as this is...us...together...we have to be reasonable." she began, cursing the way her voice shook. However, she was finding him quite in agreement. "I know. We ought to control ourselves until everything is properly resolved...as hard as it is." he chuckled.
"But how can we do this 'properly', Matthew? How can we get out of our promises without creating a scandal?" She said calmly and with as much decisiveness as she could muster. "I can't...we can't do this to them. We have a duty to other people...and unless they decide to release us, I'm afraid there is no solution..."
Matthew felt as if someone had just emptied a bucketful of icy water over his head. "Don't." he hissed.
"And what of Lavinia? You are bound to her, you know that well enough...and I can't just go and 'sack' Evelyn...he's done nothing wrong. He doesn't deserve to be treated thus!" She tried to rise from the couch, but he held her. "Not so fast." He said, his voice hard.
"Do you love me?"
After the way they had been together only moments ago, Matthew couldn't believe she would even suggest that it meant nothing, that they ought to return to their fiancées.
Unthinkable. Unacceptable. "Do you love me?" he repeated, an edge of despair to his tone now. Though he dreaded her answer, he needed to know, once and for all.
Mary pressed her lips tightly together. He wouldn't understand if she told him the truth. But she couldn't let him believe that she didn't love him either. There was no solution, to anything! It was maddening...
"Answer me, Mary." he urged. It could not be...it simply could not be that she would do this to him again. His mind refused to accept it.
Mary shook her head, avoiding his gaze. The gesture was meant as a decline to his request. She couldn't answer him on this, not truthfully at least. "I don't want to talk about this. Not with you. Please, let's just..."
The hurt in Matthew's eyes was evident. All these years, he had wondered if he had not been too hasty to dismiss Mary's feelings. Now he knew better. Mary wanted him, perhaps she loved him...just not enough. Never enough.
"So...it's him you choose...after everything?" Matthew concluded darkly, finally letting go of her. She jumped to her feet and went to retrieve her shoes, unwilling to continue this conversation. He was pushing needles into her, forcing her to push knives into him. They couldn't be reasonable like this.
"I said that I don't want to talk about this with you. You wouldn't understand." she repeated stubbornly. Perhaps after a good night's sleep, when she could think more clearly...
Matthew didn't know what to do anymore. There was no possibility of changing Mary's heart, if this is how she truly felt...
The clock on the mantlepiece struck three. Both stood facing each other, shivering in the cold. Mary watched him warily for a few minutes. His jaw was set and his eyes were fixed on the persian rug underneath their feet. She wanted to tell him the truth, tell him what he needed to hear...
But she could not. Not this time. Giving herself a hard push, Mary turned to go upstairs at last.
"I think you're being a fool." he called after her.
Just go, don't even listen, just go upstairs, she admonished herself to no avail.
"What?"
"This may be our last chance at happiness, Mary." he said. "Why can't you just accept it? Are you too proud to take what's right in front of you or am I still not up to scratch?" Matthew was breathing hard. "You...you almost laid with me...we were close to..." He waved a hand at the place where she had touched him so intimately...
The memory of it made him nauseaus now.
"Oh Matthew, grow up. You have no idea what I..." Mary shrank back from what she had almost revealed. It was on the tip of her tongue, but no. He mustn't know...he mustn't compare it with the Turk. There was absolutely no comparison between the two men or the two encounters.
One had felt so wrong, and the other so right, so very right...
Matthew nodded grimly. She was right, he had no idea. He had been merely a boy who went to pieces in her arms, without restraint or control. Mary had played with him, as was her custom and he had greedily taken whatever she had been willing to give. He was the fool here. And and it was the end of the line.
"You broke my heart, you know." he informed her quietly. She ought to know as much.
Mary glared at him. Her nerves were in shreds as it was and to hear him talk so made her furious.
"I dare say you'll survive it. Nobody's died of a broken heart yet." Otherwise, she would certainly have perished of said condition a while ago. And of course he still had Miss Swire to console him...
Her coolness cut him more than her words. Adrenaline flooded his body and his chest felt cramped again. He tried to take a deep breath, but it was difficult.
"And I dare say you don't even know what a broken heart feels like...you'd need to own one in the first place." he countered harshly, pacing towards the window, then back again. The room was starting to feel claustrophobic and the cold air stung in his lungs.
"Oh, bravo. How very poetic. You should write verses." Mary mocked him, even as her heart clenched painfully. It hurt. Everything hurt. If only the others came home and put and end to this. Surely Miss Swire would remind him of his duties...and Evelyn would look right through her. He'd already been suspicious at the ball...
"Just...stop being like this, for one moment, I beg you!" Matthew plead, trying to focus on what he really wanted to say. He knew that Mary was still full of resentment for his deserting her. It was quite plain to see, all the hurt she had dragged around for years, just like him. He wished to make her forget all of that, if only she'd let him...
"Alright. Let's stop this nonesense." Mary relented. "Regardless of what happened tonight...I will have to marry my fiancé. Please, don't ask about my reasons...you won't be happy about them." She raised a hand to stop his protest when he opened his mouth. "I think we must both be brave and accept that this is the end." She could not bring herself to meet his gaze as she said it.
"And I'm sure you will find happiness with someone else..someone who isn't..."
Matthew had turned pale. Part of him had anticipated Mary's final choice, but it was agonizing to hear her speak of his own feelings as if it were that simple. "I won't marry." he muttered. "But if you marry him...I'll never forgive you." he spat at last. It was too difficult to repress his anger when everything else fell apart.
"And don't expect me to wish you well... because it would be futile." He covered his mouth for an instant. "There is no greater pain than regret, Mary, trust me. He won't love you like you deserve and you'll come to hate him for that." Matthew snarled at last.
It was almost as if he observed himself from above, as if his soul had left his body, watching it say these vicious things to the one person he never wanted to hurt...
Mary couldn't hold back the tears any longer. She had never heard him speak so cruelly before, she hadn't thought him capable of it. This was not her Matthew, not her sweet, bumbling, shy, kind-hearted Matthew, who had proposed to her over a plate of cucumber sandwiches. This was some mean, resentful shadow of him.
"Fine then. Do you suppose I care what you think?" she hissed, like an angry kitten, who had been kicked.
"No. But you will care one day, when you feel miserable and unloved, you'll think of me and how I would have given everything to make you happy!"
"Oh, I see. Just because you don't get your will, you'd have me cursed and doomed to an unhappy life?"
"Perhaps." he bit out, trying to reign in his fury. He was hurting himself as much as her by saying these things.
Mary nodded bitterly. "Perhaps you should not come back here then. You won't have to witness my 'misery' if it's so distasteful to you." Mary declared in her haughtiest demeanour. Matthew gaped at her horror-struck.
"We did manage to stay out of each other's lives for three years. Let's get back to that." she said, more forcefully.
The air around them had turned so cold that her breath clouded in the room. He still only stared at her, willing Mary to take back her last request. For the life of him, he couldn't comprehend how they had gone from blissful love making to this nightmare...
"Please..." Mary said wearily, her knees were threatening to collapse. She was so tired, it was so difficult to think properly, let alone argue. "...just go and don't come back." Her tears turned cool against the skin of her cheeks. She had spoken quietly, yet the poignancy of her words did not miss its intended mark.
Outside, the snow storm had abated, as the night came to its darkest point. Matthew was still regarding her with silent terror, unmoving and pale to the tip of his nose. Somehow, she thought, he looked as if he had aged a couple of years in the past few minutes. His eyes most of all.
"As you wish." Matthew finally uttered in an unnatural, mechanical voice.
At long last, the roaring of two motors became audible, followed by the sounds of wheels creaking to a halt in the thick snow and car doors opening and slamming. Familiar voices crept closer...
Without another word, Mary bolted for the hallway and hurried upstairs, leaving Matthew to fend for himself in the early darkness of the new day.
A/N: I know! If you find this story too frustrating or snail-paced, I'd totally understand if you jump ship. But you see I have this whole thing planned out already and if you bear with me, there'll be a fantastically happy ending, I promise! Because M/M deserve one, no matter in which universe.
Now, there have been a few questions about why they are still fighting and not getting their act together. Here it is. Mary seems frustrating in this, but really if you think about her position and even how it has been in canon, she has no other choice. There's an obligation to Evelyn who hushed up her scandal, but other than Carlisle in canon, he's a thoroughly good guy. If he'd blackmailed or threatened her like Sir Richard, Mary would have much less scruples in throwing him over. And more than anything, she is terrified of telling Matthew about Pamuk, which was the same in canon. She only told him in the end because a) she was sure they'd never be together and b) he basically pulled it out of her. In canon, Mary would most likely have married Richard for the sake of keeping the scandal under wraps if Robert had not intevened and told her to hell with it. So Mary does make sacrifices for her family and the honour of Downton. In canon and in here.
As for poor Matthew. He is a lot more affected by the war in this story than in canon where it was imo totally neglected (two tiny references in all of S3!). But it is exactly because of the way the war has changed him that he decides to break it off with Lavinia. 'war has a way of distinguinshing between the things that matter and the things that don't' – such an important quote. Honour and the rules of society are nothing when it comes down to the basic instincts of keeping alive and coming home to the one you love. And this is what Matthew has learned in this AU at least...
So apologies for the renewed angst, but we're getting to the good times soon ;) Thank you all so much for reading and the amazing reviews! You guys really help to write this story and I can't thank you enough!
Next chapter: Someone's leaving...and someone else simply refuses to leave.