He stared at the ceiling, feeling like an absolute imbecile. She had been so quiet all throughout dinner, stuck inside her own treacherous thoughts, no doubt. How many times did she need to teach him not to trust her? And yet, obstinately he held on, wanting them to be on the same team. He pressed his palms to his eyes, sighing. The heart was a stupid thing, entirely overrated. Which was why he'd done away with his long ago. But here she was, a Pandora's box of possibilities, and all she cared about was destroying him every way she could. He knew he ought to do something, to take preemptive vengeance for her betrayal, but he couldn't bring himself to, still holding out hope.

Hours later, her heart was still thrumming excitedly. She had been right; it was a sonnet, and it was for her.

"The forward violet thus did I chide:

Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,

If not from my love's breath? The purple pride

Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells."

Violet, that was the word they changed. Violet. Someone was trying to tell her to be prepared, though for what she did not know. She had been lost in a positive storm of thoughts since she'd found out, trying desperately to grab things as they passed. She was still missing the middle of the message, still unsure of what she was being told.

She had checked out some more of the Shakespearean plays that included English armies, but as she had predicted, there were a lot of them. She only hoped she had enough time to decode it before it was too late.

And then there was the issue of her doting husband. She'd never seen him so crestfallen. Usually his loses brought him anger and indignation, so she couldn't imagine what might have happened to make him so quietly withdrawn. It was strangely uncomfortable. Perhaps he did miss her, like he said. It was implausible, but stranger things had happened. She'd learned not to guess at his actions, only to take them as they came. After all, he did claim to love her. But for him to miss her? She tried to picture her days without him, and the feeling left her haunted. "Disgusting," she chastised herself. Would she never learn not to care? But she did care, deeply and thoroughly and horribly.

Distractedly, she made her way up the stairs, only now realizing how exhausted she was. Opening the door to the bedroom, she was surprised to find him sprawled across the bed languidly.

He shifted himself up when she entered, not wanting to betray his vulnerability. Placing some books down on the dresser, she then walked over, sitting on the bed beside him.

"More Shakespeare?"

"Oh… yeah."

"Why the sudden interest?"

She shrugged nonchalantly, the vixen. Sighing, he looked away.

"Are you alright?"

He glanced up at her, surprised at the genuine concern in her voice.

"Are any of us ever?"

"What's happened?"

"Nothing has happened."

"You're just feeling particularly melodramatic then?"

"I take offense to that."

"As always."

"It's nothing that should bother you."

"You just seem… upset," she moved beside him.

He chuckled, running his hands along her legs before catching her hand in his own, pulling it towards his chest, "Oh yes?"

She looked down at him, staring up at her from the mattress. Was it possible for such a man to get lonely? She could feel his heart beating beneath her fingers, insistent and strong.

"Yes."

He lifted her hand, kissing her fingers lightly, "And what is it to you?"

"A happy husband is a happy house."

"Wow," he cocked his eyebrow in amusement, "how… conservative of you."

"I only mean hell rains down upon me when you're upset."

"I'm not upset."

"No?"

"How could I be with you looking like that?" He pulled her towards himself, kissing her softly on the lips. Her hands moved up from his chest until she was holding his face to hers, trying to taste a truth in his words. She felt a pang of disappointment when he broke the kiss, reclining against the bed again. Her stomach twisted, reminding her of just how lost she was. She shouldn't care about his happiness. She didn't. But still, it sat uneasily within her. Perhaps he was finally realizing regret at having kept her so long.

"You still seem sad."

"Don't give it a thought."

"No?"

"Not at all."

"That's a shame. I had a sure-fire way to cheer you up." She climbed over him, straddling him, her hands on his chest.

"Oh?"

"But if you don't need it-"

"There's no such thing as too much happiness, Darling. What scheme have you concocted now?"

"Nothing too grand."

"Oh?"

"No. You're a very simple man." She leaned down, pressing a kiss to his throat.

He frowned, "I take offense to that as well."

"Don't. It's a fact, not a judgement."

"Is this your plan? Because if so, it's absolutely terrible."

"It's not so terrible," she took his hands, pressing them to her thighs, dragging them up slowly.

"Actually," he smirked, taking his hands back and folding them behind his head, "why don't you just tell me what your plan is?"

He could see the anxious blush creep across her nose. It was adorable how she still thought she could surprise him.

"I don't think-"

"Come on, humor me.

"What-"

"You want to make me happy? Give me a show."

She regarded him a moment longer, and then leaning down, pressed a slow kiss to his mouth. He eagerly reciprocated, lost in the softness of her. She sighed against him, her nymphet smirk sending shivers across his skin.

"Am I not enough anymore?"

"Au contraire," he kissed her again, savoring the warmth of her lips.

She leaned back, crossing her arms over her body, pulling up the fabric of her dress. The cotton fell away with a whispering sound, her delicious skin taut as she stretched upwards. The dress spilled into a neglected pile on the bed, leaving behind an intriguing display of undergarments. She relaxed her muscles, watching his reaction quietly, her frame beautifully extrapolated upon by the lace. He cocked his eyebrow, a hungry, toothy smile creeping across his face.

"You do know me so well." She smiled quietly at the compliment, looking quite pleased with herself. He dusted his fingers over her, brushing the back of his hand up her side and over her hips. She shivered.

He pushed himself up, drawing her face down into a kiss. Her hands rested behind his neck as she willed herself fully into this moment, into the present. No past, no history, no consequences. Only this.

His hand ran from her cheek down her body, a seeping warmth that spread wonderfully as he caught her breast in his grip. She could feel him smile as a stuttering breath escaped her.

"My darling Violet," there was a purr in his voice as he caught her hand in his own, bringing it to his chest. Her fingers fumbled at the buttons, a nervous energy cascading over her. This was good. This was normal.

He watched her as she worked, an unforeseen patience in his eyes. She didn't stop at the last button, moving on to loosen his belt. It felt silly to still be so affected by the act, but she felt a knot of nervousness as her hand brushed against his swelling erection. When she looked up again there was a smoldering in his eyes. She leaned in again, kissing him, feeling the way he held her, protectively, wantingly. She sighed against his lips, shutting her eyes. He kissed the side of her face, moving along her jaw.

"Something wrong, Countess?"

She felt a smile on her lips, "What could possibly be wrong?"

"Nothing at all, but I thought I would ask anyway."

She kissed him again, a fuller, stronger kiss, opening her lips and inviting her tongue into his mouth. He enfolded her in his grip, bending her towards himself, catching her entirely in his arms. The feeling of him against her burned inside her, consumed her. This was everything she had. This was what she wanted.

She slid her hand against him experimentally, feeling the bony hardness of his ribs. She kept going, noting the hitch in his breath as she passed over his waist.

She could feel the anticipatory hardness of him through his open fly, the slight pressure as he pressed himself up to meet her. She slipped her fingers down, tracing him through the cloth, still somewhat nervous.

She kissed along the side of his neck, glad to hear his throaty groans as she pressed him back down, her free hand trailing back over his bare chest. He looked at her eagerly, expectantly, and it was everything.

Rearranging herself, she balanced on the edge of the bed, tugging off his slacks. He complied readily, unable to hide his enthusiasm. Moving over him, she left a quick chaste kiss on his lips. He moaned at the shortness of it, but then she was down against him, her hands intoxicatingly warm on his bare skin. Her fingers tucked beneath the elastic of his briefs, pulling them over his swollen erection. He managed to lift himself to his elbows, but then she was touching him, no more fabric left to hide the gentle heat of her, and it was all he could do not to collapse entirely. He breathed in sharply, gritting his teeth as she took him into her mouth, all warmth and perfection. Her one hand gripped his hip tightly, her fingers splayed across him while the other moved painfully slowly over the base of his cock, all delicacy and torturous attention.

"Fuck," he wished he could be more eloquent, but there was nothing more he could say to encapsulate what he meant. She was so goddamn small, so confident as she explored him that there was nothing else he could say.

"Is this okay?" she looked up at him, her eyes a damning well off innocence.

"That's- that's fine." He choked on the words as he spoke.

She frowned, "Just fine?"

"More than fine, wonderful-"

She hummed a note of dissatisfaction, her brow furrowed. And then she was taking him back into her mouth, her tongue sliding over the underside of his cock. He gripped the sheets tight, fighting the urge to tangle his fingers in her hair roughly, to pull her down against him, to thrust inside her.

She slid further down, humming a sharp note at the effort, unwittingly sending a jolt of pleasure through him at the vibration. Her other hand moved to his arousal as well, her lithe fingers tight against him, gripping him. He moaned, her tongue pressing beautifully to him as she slid back, careful.

She glanced up to check how she was doing, and the only thing stopping him from immediately gathering her up in his arms was the indescribably perfect picture she was creating. It was too perfect; her, between his knees, clad entirely in lace. He slid his hand through her hair as if to reassure her, not trusting his ability to be adequately eloquent. She bobbed her head back down against him, her hands warm as they pumped him, and he audibly gasped, reeling at the sensation. He could feel her strain, desperate to give him what he wanted, trying to please him as if he wasn't already dying at her hands. He wondered how many people would be willing to commit murder to be in his place right now. She pulled up against him and sparks popped in the back of his skull, synapses sending off fireworks of pleasure.

He could hear the strain in his voice as he groaned, growing increasingly desperate for release but not ready for this to be done just yet. He needed her; needed her to touch him, to want him, to be near him. In these moments she was his, unapologetically and unquestionably.

Her fingers closed around him beautifully, trying to compensate for what she couldn't reach. She was so careful, so thorough as she slid back down over him, all heat and wetness.

She looked back up at him again, her dark eyes watering, and he couldn't take it any longer.

Cupping her face in his hands, he drew her up, pulling her against his chest. She cried out in surprise, but then he was kissing her deeply, and she melted under his care, exuberant to be so needed. His hands wandered up her back, holding her against himself before pulling the thin straps of her negligee down, kissing the bare skin of her shoulders. His hands slid over her, pulling the insubstantial fabric away, exposing her breasts. She braced herself against him, kissing him back gladly as his arms circled around her hips, holding her tight, his swollen cock pressing against her.

"Shit, Violet-" his words were strained, pressed out from between his gritted teeth. She panted, trying to catch her breath as he pushed against her.

"Are you-"

His words were breathy, eager, "God, Violet, yes."

Balancing lightly, she sat up, easing herself down over him. She gasped as he filled her, the sound turning over to a groan as he rolled his hips upwards, enjoying her, savoring her. He gripped her hips tightly as she bobbed above him, her teeth parted in delicious bliss. She surrounded him, overwhelmed him as she moved, her legs tight to his sides, her voice falling across him. Her hands gripped the fabric on either side of his face, balling it in her tight fists. Catching her left wrist in his hand, he kissed it, pressing his teeth to her skin needfully.

"What a perfect wife," he smiled, his mouth still pressed to her. "Perfect, darling wife," he trailed his other hand up over her frame, bringing it to rest on her cheek. She cried out, a stuttering gasp, as he thrusted inside her. Tucking his thumb between her teeth, he held her tightly, a pleased smile on his face.

He drank in every bit of her-the furrowed crinkle of her eyebrows, the hot shine of her lips, the lift of her breasts as she moved above him. He wanted all of it, needed all of it. He needed all of her.

His hands continued to move across her, never still for too long. It felt like he was trying to memorize her, as if he would replicate her by touch alone. His hands slid down, wrapped behind her, before trailing up her back, holding her firmly. When she met his eyes, they were filled with a pleased enamoration, a happy, desperate thirst.

"Perfect, darling Violet."

"No 'my' this time?" Her words were broken up by her ragged breath.

He groaned, briefly distracted, before smiling up at her tiredly, "I thought the 'my' was implied."

"I would prefer it wasn't."

"Oh, yes?"

"Call it job security."

He rolled his hips up against hers, pressing himself deep within her. She gasped, trying to resynchronize herself with his increasingly desperate movements before giving up and just letting him take control.

He smirked, glad for her exuberant reaction.

"My Violet," he pushed himself up, meeting her in an open kiss, enjoying the flick of her tongue against his own. "My wonderful, beautiful Violet." He began to kiss alongside her jaw, feeling her breath hitch with each deep thrust. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her voice trembling as she gave audible cries with each rocking movement. He breathed in the scent of her, the sweaty and herbal and electrifying scent of her. Her fingers scratched at his back as she clung to him.

"Don't stop- I- Oh my god-" her half-formed sentences ran together as her grip tightened, her climax swelling within her, ready to burst out into feverish pleasure.

He kissed the skin of her neck, purposefully slowing his pace, "Not yet. Make me believe that you're mine."

"I-" she stopped, watching his eager expression. Leaning in, she brought his lips to her own. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding his face as she kissed him, a wondering, penetrating kiss that she hoped said all the things she couldn't. Her fingers slipped over his cheekbones, still holding him to herself, still trying to write her desperate message out beneath his tongue- There is no one else and nothing else. Everything I have belongs to you. I want you, I need you.

The air skirted hot over her lips as she drew her breath in, a contented sigh lost in the sound.

"I am yours. All of me is yours."

He smiled, a breathy laugh escaping him, "All of you?"

"All that you want."

"Then every bit must indeed be mine twice over."

He kissed her firmly, paying attention to every detail of the way she felt against him. She was miraculous, she was beautiful, she was-

She was Violet.

Perfectly disastrous and wonderfully destructive Violet.

She held the sides of his face, crying out her pleasure. He wished he could inhale the sound, could make it a part of him. He wanted to carry that sound with him forever.

She fell gasping upon his shoulder, still clutching him tightly as he continued to thrust inside her, edging towards his own release. Her face pressed to his neck, exhausted and radiant and impossibly warm. She whimpered softly as he continued to buck against her, thrusting into her quickly. He kissed the side of her face, the skin of her shoulder, drunk off the way she enveloped him in her grip, holding him as if she never meant to let go. Gasping against her, he finished, digging his fingers into her, not wanting her to slip away. She was his. She belonged to him.

Sighing, relieved, he leaned back, falling upon the bed. Gingerly, she lay beside him, fitting herself into the crook of his arm, closing her eyes tight.

This was right. This was her. She was his and that was who she was. He wanted her in all of her misery and horror, and that wasn't an offer she could afford to turn down.

Slowly, his hand began to trace over her skin, wandering over the softness of her breasts and stomach. She felt the bed shift as he moved, and then his lips were against the crook of her neck, pressing slow kisses to her jugular.

She sighed, bringing her hand up to rest on the side of his face. He continued to kiss along her flushed skin, catching her fingers betwixt his own, pressing his lips to the tender skin at the inside of her wrist.

"My Violet."

She craned her neck, sighing tiredly, not wanting him to stop. His touch was wonderful against her, gentle and warm, sending shivers down her. He kissed her shoulder, her chest, beneath her chin, along her face, murmuring quiet praises as he went. His hands were so delicate against her, so careful in his touch. He pressed a kiss to her jaw, his kind fingers tight against her waist.

"Tell me again." She said it so quietly she wasn't sure he even heard at first. There was a pause as he pulled back, looking down at her.

"That you're mine?"

"No."

There was a heavy silence as he hesitated, "Do you promise not to hit me?"

"Promise."

She could feel his pulsing heart still racing as he took her hand, softly kissing her fingers, biding his time. As he brought his hand up to cup her face, she held onto his wrist, watching his expression carefully.

"Violet," he stared down at her. She didn't let him finish, pulling him into a deep kiss that encapsulated perfectly all he had meant to say.