The Acquisition of Memories

by BorneToFlow

Embarking on their honeymoon, Charles and Elsie begin to process the events of their wedding day and those leading up to it. A series of internal reflections; lengthy, fun & sometimes in-depth conversations; &, interspersed with requisite amounts of playful holiday fun & honeymoon adult times. From Ch19 rating is a tasteful but strong M. Some S5/6 JF canon is blissfully ignored.

20. Chapter 20- Undone

The Acquisition of Memories- Chapter 20- Undone

A/N 1: Thank you for the reviews I did get for the last chapter. I hope it wasn't too out there with the language form for all the views I did get. In terms of the potential to write two versions if this next chapter, once I got in there and started on this, I found there was a way to have the best of both worlds I was requesting readers vote on. I hope it still reads true to Elsie and Charles in this new situation in life.

* Warning: Adult content-* and a bit more straightforward with the language than Chapter 19 was. NSFW! Enjoy.

A/N 2: Before that though, I just wanted to share these three lots of lines from Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf (a novel set in 1922, London)- as they are a) superbly written, and b) hugely influential to me and my ability to dig behind these characters and the moments of their life throughout this whole fiction- not just these last two, more risque chapters. If you have read all my fic so far, you will see how I have pilfered and doctored VWs style mercilessly! Although... the influence of that juicy third quote has certainly snuck heavily into Chapter 19, for Elsie's benefit, I now realise! Just citing my influences...

^'The compensation of growing old, Peter Walsh thought, coming out of Regent's Park, and holding his hat in hand, was simply this; that the passions remain as strong as ever, but one has gained—at last!—the power which adds the supreme flavour to existence,—the power of taking hold of experience, of turning it round, slowly, in the light.

^^'Because it is a thousand pities never to say what one feels, he thought, It was a great age in which to have lived.'

^^^ 'Only for a moment; but it was enough. It was a sudden revelation, a tinge like a blush which one tried to check and then, as it spread, one yielded to its expansion, and rushed to the farthest verge and there quivered and felt the world come closer, swollen with some astonishing significance, some pressure of rapture, which split its thin skin and gushed and poured with an extraordinary alleviation over the cracks and sores! Then, for that moment, she had seen an illumination; a match burning in a crocus; an inner meaning almost expressed. But the close withdrew; the hard softened. It was over—the moment.'

Now go out there and read this Virginia Woolf masterpiece of modernist literature! :)

**Disclaimer: JF owns them, but they are running loose in the world now and their images can be manipulated through the wonders of technology and the imagination. I do not profit from this.

Have fun like Chelsie ;P

BorneToFlow

CECECECECE

From Chapter 19- To His Coy Mistress

"Oh…A chagair!... My darling…My man… My Charles." She kisses his face again and again, in between each of her heartfelt devotions.

Her breathing finally starts to slow and she holds his face steady between her hands, looks deeply into his eyes through her joyous tears and kisses him full and loving on his swollen lips- briefly shocked, but soon fascinated and savouring and licking and tasting the sweet and peppery exotic flavour of her own lush ruby fruit upon his tongue. She plays languorously inside his mouth, feeling heat stir low within her again as she mimics what he has just done for her. She does not know where Charles learnt of such an act, but he shared it with her and appeared to enjoy it immensely, and he is responding now, so she is sure he is not too shocked by her own unexpected response to her scent upon him. Her beautiful and fearless and giving man.

Foreheads now resting together in their shared delight, she sighs in shivering contentment. He holds onto her tightly around the waist until she fully calms.

CECECECECE

Most reluctantly, he moves to loosen their embrace. Leaning back, he runs his hands softly down her bare arms and then presses heavily into the seat's cushion at her sides. Unlocking his aging knees, they click audibly as he pushes up slowly. He barely hides a groan of pain, but it is also tinged heavily with rekindled heat as he takes in once again the sight of all of Elsie's lovely nakedness, now beautifully flushed and sated. Growing uncomfortably harder in that instant, he rises to full height, trying, vainly, to shield his arousal from her. Elsie's eyes follow him intently and her hands reach out longingly towards his own, not wanting him to go, but he steps briskly away and leaves her to stand behind her chair once more, but now up against the wall, awaiting further instructions.

And they are soon forthcoming.

Elsie quickly tests the strength of her own legs, finding anchorage through the curling of her toes into the carpet and gripping onto the back of the dressing chair. From the mirror she sees him standing to attention- What is he thinking!- the daft old booby!- and another chuckle escapes her lips. He is adorably dishevelled, with his starch fronted shirt rucking up and out of his waistcoat and his hair completely mussed. He is trying, quite hopelessly, to straighten himself and to hide his growing need from her. He has never looked so wonderfully handsome and completely desirable. A brief but amazed glimpse at her own full and flushed figure in the mirror makes her feel proud and surprisingly youthful and vigorous. Refilled with joyous erotic energy for her utterly surprising and loving man, Elsie fairly skips her first steps towards him, admonishing him soundly with her heady, love thickened brogue.

"Don't you dare try to put even one more hair to rights, Mr Carson."

Glistening and gloriously naked, her hair hanging long about her heat-flushed shoulders and breasts, she walks as sure as Lady Godiva in the streets towards him.

He groans audibly. He never knew that she could saunter- not like this! She is lithe and exotic. She is everything beautiful. His hands clench forcibly at his sides again- nails digging deep. He knows now the feel of some of her soft flesh and it was not enough. It will never be enough. He wants more.

But not yet. Hold. Hold. Not quite yet, Charles… he tells his rapidly weakening resolve.

Dangerously low, huskily, she warns him, "My gorgeous man, if you don't let me touch some more of you- right now… one or both of us won't survive 'til morning!"

His eyes widen again and his jaw gapes and the air escapes his lungs in sharp shock, then his whole face breaks into a beauteous grin. He has never heard her sound quite like this! His Elsie, striking forth at him with loving fiery barbs- as tall and confident as ever she was. No more fears of not being able to please him. I did that!- he thinks. I helped her to see! He feels silly childlike pride sparkling inside of him and his hands open and fingers flutter by his thighs again. It worked! And he had adored every minute of it, and he would do it all again for her in a heartbeat- make her happy like that, let her know how much she is loved and that she is entirely desirable. And he just cannot believe his luck in this sweet, hot moment- that she wants him too…and she is coming for him!

He curls his hands into fists once more to stop that giddy, jumping and fluttering he has felt run through them the whole day long. He tries to strike an impassive butler's expression, and knows he is failing miserably! Trying harder to maintain some semblance of order to his mien, but unable to stop smiling like a total goof, he stupidly starts quoting, "If it were now to die, 'Twere now…"*

"Och! Shut up, Charles!" she cuts him off and with love and laughter in her eyes, she throws her arms around her lovely husband's neck, pulls his head down and crushes his lips to hers in a searing kiss. He gladly takes all of her sweet admonishments and moans into her hot and pliant mouth, and he just cannot will his hands to stay away from her warm flesh any longer. His arms envelop her and pull her up against him running his large warm hands up and down her back, over her full hips, cupping and squeezing, and stroking down the backs of her strong thighs, finally feeling all the lines of love he had only traced in the air above her up until now.

He knows she can feel his hardness pressing up against her through his trousers, but she doesn't seem perturbed by it, and with all of her soft loveliness wrapped up in arms, and his hands wandering to squeeze and fondle and caress her, it really is no longer in him to care. He has held back long enough, and although he will follow her lead in this, he also knows she wants him to touch her in the way that he has always wanted to touch her, the way he has shown her he soon would, from only moments ago. And now she was ready for it all- and he is ecstatic!

They kiss deeply, tongues gliding and dancing together, breath hot and mixed. Without having to look, one of her hands snakes from the back of his neck around to his bow tie and pulls the end to release the knot and slides it off him to rest over the top of her shoulder. In a single deft move she slips the stud from his high starched collar and pulls it away from where it was cutting into his reddened neck. She tosses it ingloriously aside. Sweet, blessed relief! He feels like he is breathing for the first time in his life. Breathing in the life of them from her own lungs as they kiss.

When she breaks their kiss, panting hotly across his chin, he moans at the loss of contact. She sees his sore neck and immediately reaches to soothe the areas with her lips. His skin, so close, smells divinely of his earthy, fresh shaving soap- and when she slicks her mouth along the iron red tinged lines, it zings on her tongue- like drinking whiskey from a metal cup. Strange and exotic, but somehow still comforting and homely. Charles moans his relief and his pleasure as his hands keep roaming her back, feeling each bump and ridge of her spine and swirling large circles with his fingertips over her fleshy buttocks. It is heavenly.

Then she leans back a little in his arms and opens her left hand between them to look upon the silver six- pence she had been gripping onto tightly all this time. Gazing up intensely into his eyes, her beguiling rolling accent sounds like smoke and light on the moors, calling to him, as she tells him-

"I believe I am due to give some borrowed happiness back to you, my dear Mr Carson." That accent! He wishes, insanely, that he could somehow eat it up! Pointedly, she slips her life-long promise to him into his waistcoat pocket to sit with her hair pins, and his heart swells fit to burst. He smiles like the happiest of fools and looks at her adoringly.

"I love you, Elsie," he says simply, and he steals another deep kiss from her delicious lips.

She has run her hands between them now and managed to release the few buttons of his waistcoat and now starts to unfasten his small pearl shirt studs. The sight of her fine fingers playing over their round hardness is exquisite and his hand slides up to cup her breast and fondle with one of her nipples in kind. He marvels at it hardening beneath his touch and his breath whistles hard and sharp between his teeth as she hums blissfully at his ministrations. Shifting his supporting hand from her lower back he reaches to her other breast, feeling its comforting weight in his palm as his fingers move to double their mutual pleasure. She mewls and rolls her hips into him and he is utterly entranced by her. He grunts slightly as heat surges through him where she is moving against his trousers making him harder than he has ever felt before.

She deposits the shirt studs into his waistcoat pocket then runs her hands firmly up over his starched shirt front, pressing through to his hard chest and then glides her fingers under black lapels to shift his tail coat off his broad shoulders. He shrugs himself out of it, reluctantly taking his hands away from her breasts to let it slide down his arms. The jacket drops quickly to the floor. He knows that he should hang it up to stop it wrinkling, but his eyes and hands are drawn inexorably back to her breasts and they are of far greater importance to him in this sweet moment. He does not want to be a butler anymore. He only wants her.

He dives his head down to finally take one of her pert pink nipples into his mouth, dragging it in – devouring its pleasure. Deep. She gasps and feels his silk necktie slide off her shoulder and brush with a shiver down her arm as it falls to the floor. She threads her fine fingers heavily through his hair once again to press him closer as her head drops back and her hips undulate of their own accord. It is everything. Everything. …And so much more than he ever dreamed of. He closes his eyes in bliss and even without sight, he feels like his head will still explode from delight at all the sensations that assail him- the taste of her, the feel of her –sweet and salty and smelling of floral sweat and the musk of her and the love that they have already made- and then the softness of her pale skin pillowing the hard bud that he rolls around and around with his tongue, reminding him of that other treasure he had just found and tasted and that had already overwhelmed his senses with the essence of her. And her moaning voice, calling out to him in that shallow breathy way that rolls the 'r' in hot purring contentment. The tones that he knows, well he thinks he knows, have only ever sounded that way with him and it all makes him feel indescribably proud. And then he foggily makes his way over to the other breast because he desperately needs to know if it will feel different in his mouth- and it does! And he cannot fathom why that might be so, but he is immensely glad of it and that he has yet another glorious and nuanced sensation to explore upon her body.

He finally forces his eyes open to look up at her face- and smiles his lips around her nipple as he sees his name leaving her lust reddened lips once more. Then he sees the scar on the side of her right breast up close and a pang runs through his heart, even now, that she was hurt so cruelly by illness and a healing knife, but he wants her to know once more that it does not change his desire for her at all, so he looks up at her and catches her eye lovingly as he kisses into the divett, gently at first, and then he licks it lavishly and feels all of the different bumps of hard scars from the stitches of her pain upon his soothing tongue. She looks into his eyes with tender wonderment and thanks for him being the man he is, and she starts to truly enjoy the delightful feelings that she did not know could be present in that part of her body anymore. It is a revelation. She glories in his touch all over again, her eyes closing blissfully, head rolling back again in pleasure, exposing the long and elegant expanse of her neck to him and he finds he needs that under his tongue as well.

His thumbs and fingers play around her stiffened buds once again, rolling their hardness between them, then he makes her gasp as he licks a long, hot, wet path over her breast to the dip between her collar bone where he feels her fluttering pulse, light and fast. 'Like a small rabbit's,' his mind strangely thinks- her heart's song – 'hold it gently, Charles.'- and he kisses softly and reverently into the hollow of her neck.

She moans and it draws him further up her neck, licking and kissing as much of it as he can with opened mouth, and her sighs are getting louder and her grip on his hair has strengthened and he knows that this is good…so very good. Then he finds it! A spot just below her right ear that makes her throat rumble with a guttural cry and she calls out her affirmation.

"Yes! Yesss….Charles…oohh…" hot and sensuous.

So he sucks that place into his mouth too, lightly, insistently, and her groans just deepen and she is like a wonderful puzzle that he keeps finding new and colourful pieces of and he is able to fit them easily into place around himself and the picture that it makes is beautiful… and then he wonders if the other side of her neck has a piece just like that, so he leaves that point and she moans her disappointment. Then he runs his hungry tongue around the base of her jaw, while she fumbles under the back of his waistcoat collar and releases some of the shirt buttons sitting at his spine. He brushes soft kisses over her chin and goes searching for that other spot that makes her sigh and grind against him so. It is heaven, he can smell her skin and her hair all around his face and he finally moves his hands from the nipples he has been rubbing and rolling and takes them back up to her glorious hair, to wind that other magnificent bounty around his fingers and wrists. And then he finds it- the spot on the other side of her neck, higher on this side, and she is delightful and he can feel the heat rising in her neck, prickling under his tongue and he follows its path instinctively up to her ear lobe, then sucks that into his mouth too. She groans again. Long. He feels the finest of downy hair tickling his tongue. There is just so much wonder in even the smallest part of her and he finds that he needs to see all of her again, he lets his thumbs keep tracing circles at those special places on her neck and he draws his head back to gaze at his lovely wife who is blissfully rolling her head back into his supporting fingers at her nape. Her mouth is slightly ajar, and he just wants to kiss that again too and he can- he is allowed to- and so he does and it is beautiful all over again.

There is just so much of her to see and feel and it is all so wonderful and he cannot take it all in. His brain is fevered and his movements lost in the chase of pure new sensation. He hasn't noticed that she has finally managed to still his hands long enough at the sides of her face to be able to pull out his cuff links. And then it slowly dawns on him that she has freed his head from her fierce grasp, and so he pulls back from their kiss in some small wonder. How could she manage those cufflinks while we were kissing like that? His mind is a puddle of clouded insights. But it does not matter anymore because her fine fingers have put the links into his waistcoat pocket, in with his watch, and her hands are pushing under the opening of his starch front and exploring his chest and he just stops to gaze at her eyes as she enjoys him and he tries to catch his breath.

She has pushed his shirt, along with his pristine white braces, outwards around the edges of his shoulders and it bunches around his upper arms, constricting his movement a little. This pleases Elsie in this moment, because, what with him ravishing her the way that he has been, she has not really come any closer to the 'more of him' she had adamantly called for. She is still the only one naked in their exchange and it is driving her to blissful but frustrated distraction. But now his strong upper arms are rippling against the tight edges of the remains of his blessed uniform and she is taking her time to revel in the breaking down of the butler into the fine lover she has dreamt of. He is so charming and still commanding in his size and passion for her, but there is also something adorable and confused and innocent about him now that he is rendered immobile in the middle of his desire for her.

He frets as his hands can only play lightly about her hips as she smooths her hands slowly and firmly over his chest, feeling the fine silver hairs running past the sides of her exploring fingers. His skin is hot and dry and the muscles under his collarbones are tight as he pushes uselessly against the restriction of his shirt. She slides her fingers out across each clavicle and curves them down until she finds his flat nipples. They are much lower down and more out to the sides than she had expected. They are delightfully silky compared with the fine ridged strands of the chest hairs that surround them. Her eyes are wide with wonder at the sensations she is discovering and she circles her fine fingertips around the nipples and they start to stiffen. She did not realise they would do the same things as hers do! He groans and she feels the vibration in his lower ribs rumble against her own hardened nipples that press into his exposed skin. "Mmmm" the sound escaping her own mouth feeds her desire and she wants to taste his skin again, she leans in and starts to kiss his hard chest and follows a path around to where her fingertip circles one of the silken nubs. She looks intently at their darker brownish colour then places her open mouth lightly about one of them, breathing hot sultry air onto it, making Charles squirm and moan, before her tongue darts out to feel its soft peak with the pointed tip of her tongue.

"Els-siee" he hisses and his head falls back against the wall behind him.

She is delighted with his response and the sound of her name said that way, and the feel of the nipple under her tongue is just too much and she starts lapping at it like a kitten at a cream dish. He is beautiful. She feels her core throbbing with heat and she simply must taste the other one too. He is breathing in short gasps now, repeating her name over and over and she does not want him to stop, she does not want to stop. But his waist coat is slipping further down his arms and she must stop to help it all the way off. She does not want their treasured six-pence to fall from the pocket and roll away, so she takes the vest and folds its shoulder seams back on themselves and places it carefully on the floor to their side.

Having briefly stepped away from his hands at her hips he looks utterly bereft, so she returns to him quickly, sliding her arms under his and wrapping them tightly around his waist where she finally plays them across his firm buttocks, squeezing them tightly and pulling his hips and his hardness towards her as she grinds against him. His breath escapes him in quite a high-pitched start. She digs her nails into his fleshy muscles through the back of his trousers, as she revels in the sight of him with his head thrown back and groaning her name like the prayer of a dying man to his maker. Then she moves to play her fingers underneath the back of his trouser to work at the buttons and loop fasteners of his braces. They spring loose, and he sighs –low. She feels his hardness press closer to her belly again as some of the restriction from his pants is released. It is a little shocking to register more fully its weight and rigidity, but Elsie finds it incredibly exciting too. She cannot help herself, she feels wanton and rolls her lower belly against it again, feeling the heat flame higher in her core. But she finds that she simply needs to know its size more clearly with her own hands and so she runs her hands firmly around to the front of his waist band, but still a little tentatively as she is not sure if Charles will approve of her brazenness- but his arms are still trapped by his shirt, so he cannot refuse either. Looking into his darkened eyes, worrying her lip with her teeth, he is breathing heavily and looking at her with rapt attention as her hand slowly drops to the front of his trousers and she feathers her fingertips lightly over the top of the obvious bulge there.

He whimpers and breathes out- "Dear God, Elsie…"

It is all the permission she needs. She presses her hand more firmly and slides along the length of him- it sits off to the side and she knows he must be very uncomfortable trapped inside his shorts, and even with her own growing fascination, that in itself is enough to make her want to continue- closer.

He tries to grip at her hips more tightly but he cannot quite reach them as her hands flutter lightly over him as she undoes all the buttons of his trousers and pulls the tails of his shirt up, bunching them above his belly and bending briefly to rain light kisses over it, for she loves this softness about him too, like it is his kind heart proudly showing itself to the world in the form of a huge pillow of cuddliness. She runs her hands broadly in light caresses over his stomach and it contrasts so much from the hardness she had just been exploring. A man of infinite contradictions and loveliness is her Charles!

Her hands slide back down the straps of his loosened braces that sit at odd angles across his bared flesh. They both breathe in sharply as she threads one of her hands into the opening of his trousers and she feels his hardness again, now separated only by the cotton of his undershorts. He jumps a little beneath her fingers and it is beguiling to her, she experiments with gripping around it, and he releases a shuddering sigh that sounds like the one he made that day at the beach when the cold water first washed over his tired feet. She smiles broadly at the memory, and that he is so desperately unsteady in her hands once more, but in such a new and completely wonderful way- and that he still trusts her implicitly. She wants to know more…She knows she wants more.

Quickly, she pulls the drawstring of his undershorts and then works to undo the buttons of his braces at the front of his trousers. She pulls the straps away from where they have sat around his torso and trapped arms, dropping them to the floor with the other pieces of his livery. She delights in seeing all this messy detritus of their loving strewn around them as that part of her new Mr Carson falls away; and yet, she is still incredibly aroused by the fact that enough of that Downton restraint is holding him together in rigid pleasurable torment under her hands. For Elsie she knows that he is more than capable of tearing at the seams of the shirt to free his arms, but he is still too gentle and reserved to do it, and it all speaks to her of his complete trust in her ability to please him. And of course there is every sign on him that she is doing just that!

Then, with a suddenness that surprises both of them, Elsie pushes down his shorts and trousers in one sweeping motion and he impressively springs free.

"Hunhh! Elsie… love…"

Charles' arms are still trapped by his shirt and his head is lolling from side to side, not quite knowing what to do or where to look. Elsie has a look of joy and wonderment on her face that he had never expected and he is proud, but lost and shy too, and more frantically aroused than he has ever been before in his life- and he cannot reach her at all, for she has stepped back to gaze lovingly upon him. And she isn't shocked at all by the sight of him. She just licks along her bottom lip as her eyes darken lustfully. God! I love her! Charles mind screams in that moment, but his throat and lips cannot shape it into coherent sound and he just whimpers his need for her to touch him again.

Elsie's mind is lucid and she sees that the skin of his lovely excitement is darker than she imagined and again there is a startling contrast in this to his soft white belly… And it is large, in its current state, yes, but she believes it suits her man rather admirably. To her, it appears as a most beautiful and wondrous gift- mysterious and sleek in its hardness and design- a secret for her alone to share with her man and it is, really, quite delightful! Her hands are drawn to touch her new prize and her fingertips dust along one side of it- feather soft. It is so warm, and silky. Charles breathes out her name again as it jerks about at her the contact. Feeling bolder, her fingers curl all the way around it, in a light grip, at first, and as Charles groans deeply she feels it more firmly and squeezes to test its quite amazing hardness under all that taut and silky skin. Charles is puffing erratic breaths out of his flaring nostrils, trying desperately to hold on, he wants to hold on for her, but he is so close to losing control just at the sight of her fine fingers around him- it is a torturous dream.

There is a heady musk of his heated skin and soap and strong manliness that rises gently between them- another stark contrast, it seems, to the fast, blood pounding feelings that exist between them in this moment. The scent assails Elsie's senses as she drops deeper into the lovely haze of him. Elsie has never heard talk of such a thing, but she thinks of what Charles has done for her already this evening, and the practical side of her realises that it must be something that can be done for men too, and in her love thrummed state he really does look quite delicious, and she wants to feel what that silky skin is actually like under the softness of her kisses. She loves her whole man, and wants this part of him too and so she bends closer to him.

Somehow Charles registers what she is about to do and he frantically tells her "No Elsie, you don't have too…" even though every other fibre in his being is willing it to happen just like that.

"It is lovely, Charles, I want to"

"But I can't Elsie…I can't hold back for you…I want to.. I want… Ah-uh!" He gasps as her hands stroke his length, pulling the pliant skin back and forth along his length and this feature is delightful to her too- long and slow. Somehow he manages to move against his tethering shirt and put his forearms to her slightly lowered shoulders.

He sounds shattered "I want you… I want you so much Elsie…Please.."

Elsie is only too aware of his dilemma. "It's all right, Charles," she looks right into his frantic eyes and soothes him with her low purring brogue, "I love you, so very much, you cannot know..." And then firmly, "And we will make world enough and time- for everything- we will, I promise. It's alright, I want this- freely. Please let me...let me love you too, a chagair "

Oh God!- That word. He doesn't know what it means yet, but it means everything to him. His mind is whirling and for some reason his eyes are pricking with tears of incredible tenderness for his wife, even as he bucks harder than ever into her hand and groans out his animal need loud into the small dressing room.

He is magnificent and she bends lower, inhaling his hot scent deeply, it is so exciting and she feel the sweet longing for him in her secret place- flowing hot from deep within her and her muscles there are stirring tightly now, almost painfully, with need, but his pleasure now is what she wants to see.

As she gets closer her hair brushes against his length and it just too much for Charles- Not her beautiful hair!- it is like silk wine being poured down a parched man's throat- desperately wanted but not quite the quenching water he needs to survive, but he wants it all the same and this conflict of his mind and body, his needs and wants just feeds his desire for more of what she is offering and his body is overwhelmed by the touch of just her soft fingers and a few strands of that delightful veil of hair, and then Oh Gods! She is kissing lightly across his length and it is just too, too much! More than he had ever seen in his dreams- better than he could ever possibly have imagined. Eye's glazed and slack-jawed, - but with blood pounding up through his neck that is clenched taut- The sight in the mirror, of Elsie's bent before him, loving him reverently and her hair hanging down so he cannot even see what is happening- there is only the feel of her as her hot wet tongue runs a pattern along his length so close to his painfully throbbing tip. Everything is rising fast and agonisingly hot within him and he cannot hold back. He just can't. He tries frenziedly to move her away with his hands and arms that are trapped and which he could not possibly coordinate even if they weren't. He does not want to do this onto her like this, he does not know if she realises what will happen, but he cannot get his hands to work and as she feels him erratically pushing at her, trying to distance himself, her resolve just deepens and she willingly takes his shining moisture slicked end between her lips and gives it a long languorous and rolling lick. And he is gone. Sharp and high he yelps.

"Noo! OH God! God! Els! Els! Hunh! nuh! Aaargh!"

He knows, in that mad moment, that he should pull away from her- protect her, but his body's need is so much stronger than any control he once had. He jolts hard towards her as he surges uncontrollably and his heat explodes into her liquid kiss. Cutting briefly through his bliss he thinks, blindly, 'Oh Thank God my knees have buckled!' for it means he has fallen from her mouth and face as he continues to shudder erratically as more of his hot seed spills out. But then he sees it streaming white onto her blushed chest and drops of it are rolling over the curve of her ample breasts and it is so exquisitely erotic and beautiful and her fingertips have curled underneath to stroke the weight of him, so lightly and he feels another hard spasm grip his whole body- every muscle and fibre- as his whole being tries to give her even more of himself.

'Oh! God! Oh God! YES! Els…Yeess!'

Then his swollen end brushes against the softness of her breast and he roars incoherently his love and pained delight to her, whimpering and panting to his end.

Her eyes had widened in surprise at the sudden liquid heat that had shot so forcefully into her mouth and she reflexively retracted from him, yet she still holds some of this new gift carefully in her mouth for the moment. What treasure is this? It tastes salty and thick and sweet and she thinks unaccountably of the smell and residue left on fine cotton when he decants a red wine. There seems so much of it pouring from her growling and frantic man as he judders uncontrollably towards her. The opaque stream hits searing wet heat onto her chest as he slides down the wall. She is quite in awe of the power of his pleasure. She never knew it could be like this and she is wide-eyed with wonder at it all and cannot keep a huge smile from rising on her face. Her hand still grips hard to him and she can feel every pulse rise up through him powerfully and she lightly strokes the contracting underside of his quivering rounded weight "Oh a chagair! My man!" She groans her approval loudly along with his roaring pleasure. He is magnificently laid bare before her and she feels such extreme fondness for this man who trusts her enough to let her see him so completely undone in this way.

She follows his body as it collapses down the walls in his release, and then straddles herself over his lap , leaning her body into him, with her forehead resting against his heaving collarbone and snaking her hands up to hold the sides of his great and slowly lolling head. His hands have collapsed, palms uppermost on the floor near his thighs and his slackened legs and feet roll outwards, still trapped in his trousers bunched around his dress shoes.

"Elsie… Elsie… I'm so sorry… I..." he is panting and his words sound fractured.

"Oh, my Charles, my man. Don't. Please don't. It was beautiful, and you are wonderful." And looking up, she holds his head still so that he must look her straight in the eyes and know that she is telling him the truth. And slowly his fear of disappointing her, of bungling it all up for her, of maybe scaring her or disgusting her with his uncontrollable and messy body disappears and he smiles sheepishly at her bright and smiling and loving face from beneath his heavy brows.

"That's better" she soothes

With a sudden flash of clear thought, Charles realises that he should offer Elsie his handkerchief to clean the residue of him from her skin, but his arms are uselessly limp and still trapped, and his top coat is crumpled up beneath him… and then he sees that Elsie has leant against his shirt anyway, and he giggles fiendishly at his efforts, forgetting that he would normally feel utterly ashamed.

"I think the valet service might have a time fixing up my livery in time for our dinner tomorrow, love."

"Today, don't you mean, Charles? The hour is getting late. Anyway, I am sure they have fixed up worse messes in a hotel like this before. I know I have seen my share in the laundry at Downton."

Charles cannot help but look aghast at this revelation about her duties for the family over the years, but her smile is wicked and bright and he cannot hold in his mirth about it all and starts grinning like a blissful fool once again.

"Oh Elsie. My love." And he kisses her firmly on the lips, his hands now under enough of his command to be able to squeeze her about her lovely fleshy hips.

"Hmmm." She sighs her pleasure against his mouth, then asks seriously, "Mr Carson, do you think perchance you could finally take your wife to our conjugal bed?"

He looks pleased and comically bereft at the same time, for as he casts his eyes through the dressing room doorway to their room, and the luxurious bed beyond it all seems an inordinately long way away.

"Oh, Els… Remind me of the etiquette- Would it be terribly undignified for a Butler, if I were to just crawl there?"

She laughs heartily and tells him, "I am afraid it would be, Mr Carson, for I'll not have any man o' mine feeling he needs to crawl his way into my arms of a night." And she kisses him firmly and lovingly on the lips before lifting his soiled shirt up over his head and tossing it aside. Then she shuffles back down his legs to take off his shiny black shoes and remove the rest of his rumpled clothes from around his ankles.

"Come on" she smiles brightly as she stands and offers him her supporting hand.

She is towering tall and gracefully, and so beautifully naked, above him and her supple warm flesh is beckoning him again. He reaches up to her, glad as he has ever been for her steady hand to hold.

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Oh, but wait… there is more!…. ;)

TBC

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A/N 3: When Elsie cuts off Charles at the start of this fiction, he was starting to quote Othello (Act 2 Scene 1, lines 174-5), from when Othello is rhapsodising about Desdemona. Here is the full verse! ... Just because I could ! :P

OTHELLO

It gives me wonder great as my content

To see you here before me. Oh, my soul's joy!

If after every tempest come such calms,

May the winds blow till they have wakened death,

And let the laboring bark climb hills of seas

Olympus-high, and duck again as low

As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die,

'Twere now to be most happy, for I fear

My soul hath her content so absolute

That not another comfort like to this

Succeeds in unknown fate.

* Othello Act 2 Scene 1 lines 168-178

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A/N 4: The amazingly thorough blog site Vintage Dancer has been integral to understanding wardrobe and grooming peculiarities of the 1920s. I wish I had found it earlier, as I had mentioned that Charles put on cologne prior to heading out to the theatre in Chapter 11- Preparations, but in fact, men did not take this up widely until the 1950s and 60s. Prior to that it was just plain soap/shaving soaps and generally clean manliness that accounted for their scent. Sounds yummy to me really! You see, I do like to be accurate!... But some things need modifying so it sounds better in writing.

In the last chapter the vintage dancer blog helped with info about ladies undergarments- of which Elsie was gifted something that was non-standard, but still available- the pair of high cut briefs to go with a brassiere. Normally knickers were a bit more of an all in one affair with snap fasteners between the legs (for bathroom hygiene purposes)- and of course, the young flappers were actually using bindings/ bands to flatten their figures, rather than supportive bras or the like. But I think I struck a reasonable and high-class option for an older fuller figured woman who has been spoiled rotten for once in her life.

For this chapter, Vintage Dancer helped with what I needed to know about men's dress shirts and detachable collars and the like. I decided not to mention sock garters or the one piece 'union' underwear that would have been most common for men in the 1920s in this chapter... not very racy, or convenient enough for the transpiring events of this chapter- IMHO! Cotton boxers, as we now know them, made an appearance in the late 1920s, but I have made Charles as a bit of a trendsetter here, by having them in 1926- I compromised and put them with a drawstring rather than buttons as it seemed a reasonable throwback to men's undergarments of the previous 100 years (Drawers) that were what many men went with throughout most of the 1920s.

In order to be completely in tune with the 1926 setting in this fiction, I have been searching the online etymology dictionary for various things too. It turns out that words like underpants and briefs were not used until the early 1930s. However, I personally find that the words knickers and drawers (and 'bra' and 'bum'!) have very jarring sounds to read and quite mood destroying/ off-putting in erotic fiction. So I have chosen words like briefs and undershorts as easier on the ears. Pedantic aren't I ! All sounds like a rangeof double entendres from an old Carry On movie!

Anyway, l hope this little erotic fic worked well enough for all you lovely readers out there.

Next up : Chelsie finally stumbles into bed at the end of what has been a very long wedding day filled with fun and love and a few chuckles for our pair of old Galapagos Boobies :)

BorneToFlow