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.

36. Chapter 36-Whom Gentler Stars Unite

The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 36- Whom Gentler Stars Unite

Disclaimer: I do not own them or profit from using them beyond my own selfish enjoyment.

Warning: M-rating. This is NSFW- but, of course, in a very loving way.

Enjoy : )

BorneToFlow.

CECECECECE

"Oh, you are sweet, Charles. But just think," she adds quite giddily, "neither of us need face such hardship as that again- and you need never be alone again if the need to lay waste to some worms should ever seize you again, Charles! Not for a moment if you don't want to be."

"How you managed to make that sound in the least bit romantic, Mrs Carson, I may never know, but I thank you all the same!"

"Well," she grins cheekily at him, "I think I may be starting to learn a thing or two from a rather young man at heart- filled with romance and passion- who has ably commandeered the body of a certain stuffy old Butler I know quite well!"

He just huffs out another happy laugh at her particular brand of backhanded flattery that he knows only he is ever rewarded with. He looks into her gleaming happy eyes and his eyes tell her Just keep on ribbing me until the end of my days, Elsie Carson. I'm yours.

CECECECECE

Having confirmed with Jenson their late checkout time and train schedule for the next day, Charles and Elsie arrange for a late dinner to be sent up to their room and spend the twilight hour in peaceable companionship. They make use of the red arm chairs that were the site of such turmoil earlier in the day to continue reforging and strengthening their bond as man and wife. Elsie has collected some sketching pencils and paper via Jenson and is busy working on the design for their future counterpane while Charles starts reading aloud to her from the very beginning of Thomson's Seasons suite if poems- for where else could a man such as he possibly start? Elsie smiles knowingly at his choice and their eyes exchange a silently understood message that this is exactly how they both envision their quiet evenings of retirement being spent. Elsie sketches their beautiful nosegay of flowers, soon to be stitched permanently into their memories and around their shared dreams, and Charles' rich and deep voice slides elegantly over the lengthy descriptions of spring-time growth and bounty from the book Elsie gifted him so many years ago when the world was striving to be reborn after the long dark winter of the war.

Intermittently one or both of them will mention that certain passages of the lengthy piece have always appealed to them, and then Charles will slow and clear his diction ever so slightly and pour even more focus into his intonation and expressions. It is lovely to finally share this mutually loved poem together. And more than either of them have found in their past separate readings of it, the different effect of reading it aloud serves as a true reminder that there is indeed great beauty and much good in the world to be enjoyed and shared.

When Elsie is satisfied that she has recorded the shapes and life of the flower arrangement as accurately as she can, including colouring notes, she rises and ushers Charles to their bed so that she can lie with him before their meal arrives and hear his voice reverberating through his broad strong chest as he continues reading. It is so soothing. She has long loved the sound of his voice. It can be so commanding and clear. She likes to hear it at work when she walks the background servants halls and she can hear him through the green baize door announcing new visitors into the Great Hall, or when he is issuing precise directions to the understaff, or sometimes even when he is shouting reprimands at the footmen. But she especially likes it when he is sometimes called upon to do a Psalm reading for the Sunday Eucharist service in church. Then he is worshipful and humble and deep and lilting and rhythmical and soothing- just as he is now - reading with reverence of all the wonders in God's creation. Before long she is slipping under the lullaby of his tones and in their prone position, so comfortable and at home with Elsie nestled in his arms, Charles soon follows suit in a lovely restorative early evening nap.

oOOo

They only awake when there is a tap at their door announcing the arrival of their dinner.

Which they decide to take on their balcony again as the night is clear and dark and warm, and most if the traffic down Piccadilly has slowed to an intermittent trickle at this later hour of the evening at the start of other's working week. Having read for so long, and at times today, conversed for even longer, Charles and Elsie eat in easy silence and communicate only through light touches to each other's hands and via small glances. So easy. So peaceful.

oOOo

Elsie finally breaks their long silence as Charles pours the last of their red wine and they settle back from their main meal to pick shapes out in the shadows of the leaves of the trees below them in Green Park.

"Do you know what I should like to do now?"

"What's that, Love?" he asks lazily.

"It is rather decadent, Charles," she says a little nervously, but then Charles sees the impish glint in her eye and revels in the way she chews on her bottom lip in that wickedly mischievous and sensual way she now has with him. It melts him.

"Decadence seems to be running roughshod through this whole honeymoon of ours already, Elsie. Let it ride I say. I am sure it will be absolutely wonderful, whatever you suggest." And he grins happily at her in anticipation.

"Well, I am not quite ready for dessert just yet, but let's finish our wine, and then…" she draws out as she runs a fingertip seductively over the supple veins on the back of his hand that rests on the table between them, "…then afterwards, I think we should change into our lovely bathrobes while we still have the chance to use them, and we can sit in the bed to have our coffee and pudding. How does that sound?"

Charles eyes her with a joyful and knowing fire in his eyes and sucks in a heated breath before breaking into a beauteous grin " Well… so long as my pudding can be forfaitaire de gelee fondante, I see no problems with that plan."

Elsie barks out a loud laugh and then covers her mouth quickly with her hand as she snorts in a sharp and unladylike breath as she tries to recover herself from the wonderful and racy visions his description for her brings to mind.

Charles has never heard Mrs Hughes snort with laughter! And he cannot help the belly laugh that rolls out of him at the sight and sound of it. She is delighting him all the time with these new facets to her. He could not have thought there would be so many new things to keep learning about a person after having already spent so very many years together. It astounds and delights him.

"Oh dear!" she laughs out, "it seems we still need to disprove that claim that you may actually be a bit of a devil, Carson the Magnificent."

"I am not sure that will be at all possible tonight, Mrs Carson," he joshes.

But Elsie slows and hums out longingly, "Hmmm…well… I am really in no great rush to do so," And to prove it, she removes her hand from his and reaches for her glass of wine and sips at it unhurriedly, and in a way that she now knows will make Charles' eyes widen with lust and his breath catch in his throat at this sudden change in pace for their conversation, and for her own confident play for him. She quirks the smallest smile at the rim of her glass when this proves to be the case and then purposely pools a drop of wine from the indent in her bottom lip as she moves the glass back to the table.

"Well," he breathes out heavily as he rises from his chair. He loves the way she purposely titillates him, but he also knows that he can play this game too, "in the interests of slow decadence, Mrs Carson, I would like to suggest…" and he draws her to her feet before him "that you allow your personal Butler to..." he bends his head towards her to delicately lick that fine rich drop of wine from her lips until he can savour the fullest flavour of his Elsie again beneath his languorous kisses, leaving her slightly breathless in the process, "…to share his expertise and love of fine wines with you… much…hmmm…much.. more thoroughly." He draws this last out as a low rumbling whisper near her ear and is rewarded with the shiver of energy he feels ripple down the length of Elsie's spine to settle in his hand that broadly spans her lower back.

Then, he reaches for her glass from the table and sips from it himself before offering it to Elsie with a querying lift of his eyebrow, tilting it slowly for her to drink from as he watches her face intently. They have never drunk from the same cup before. He can feel her heart beating rapidly through his shirt front as he anticipates her next move. Elsie remains breathlessly silent, for she is of no mind now to change the direction of this little lesson in wine appreciation that Charles is now offering. Not at all.

This time, Charles waits until Elsie's reflex to poke the smallest tip of her tongue through her lightly pursed lips kicks in before he brings his mouth to hers and brushes his own barely exposed tongue tip side to side over hers to remove the residue of wine upon her lips- making Elsie gasp involuntarily as he surprises her yet again with the sheer variety of ways he has for kissing her. She then finds her voice and speaks low and huskily to him.

"Perhaps, Mr Carson, we could finish this wine in the sitting room."

"Mmmm" he rumbles out, "as you wish Mrs Hughes. I look forward to it, as always."

"You perhaps ought to look forward to it just a little more than usual, Mr Carson," she purrs seductively to him as she moves to lead him away from the balcony, having grasped his glass from the table on the way. Charles licks over his bottom lip as he sees the silhouette of Elsie's legs through the light fabric of her blue skirt as she is back-lit by the soft glow within their suite. He stifles a longing groan at the sight of her hips swaying and the soft sound of her stockings brushing lightly together at the top of her thighs as she walks ahead of him. He enjoys the sight of her full curves becoming ever so slightly more pronounced as she bends forward to place the glass she is carrying on the little side table between the two plush red chairs. Then she turns to take the glass he is holding and he is allowed the same heady pleasure once more as she turns to place it beside its mate.

The wireless is playing some slow waltz tempo tunes and Elsie turns back into Charles body and most forwardly places her hand upon his shoulder and takes his left hand to positions them into a dance hold.

"I think I should like that dance now, Mr Carson," she tells him simply.

Charles feels unsteady in the most wonderful way buffeted lovingly by all the deft moves and parries Elsie seems to be directing with far greater alacrity than he is in this intoxicating dance of seduction they are slowly weaving together tonight. But she has his hand right now and he is steady enough to fall into instinctive rhythm with the tune that Elsie is so confidently playing.

"My pleasure, M'lady," he murmurs close to her ear as he holds her even closer, actually resting his chin above her head, because it just fits there, tucked in so neatly and so perfectly with him.

And it most assuredly is his pleasure, for the dancing with Elsie requires so little conscious focus on his part, her movements are a joy to read and to lead and to follow in any number of combinations back and forth between them. Easy and natural. And Charles knows that the fullness of this exquisite and slow seduction they are engaging in tonight will dance out in the same way. The tune is so very slow, and there really is no need to rush. Soon Charles has given up all semblance of trying to maintain some sort of step sequence with Elsie, his left handhold has dropped to waist level, just as his head has dropped to the side of her head and he is concentrating solely on the feeling of her ear brushing softly over his lips and the warm floral scent of her hair that he breathes in deeply, the softest hint of red wine vapours evident in the small warm breaths she exhales onto his own neck. Soon they are just swaying lightly from foot to foot, and turning slowly on the spot- just breathing each other in.

Chares murmurs against her silky soft hair as he runs his free hand slowly up her spine to the base of her hairstyle and feels the round pearl buds of her necklace tickle across his fingertips.

"I love you so much, Elsie. I feel like I can never tell you enough or hold you close enough."

"You are doing just fine, Charles." She whispers back. "Just fine. And I love you quite as much. Just dance now."

And they fall back into easy silence as they sway once more. Humming low and contentedly into each other's warmth at various intervals.

oOOo

Eventually, Elsie speaks. Charles feels it against his neck more than he even hears it.

"Let's get changed into those robes now, Mr Carson. What do you think?"

"I think that I never want to let you go, Elsie-love. Hmmm… But that sounds enticing enough to take the risk. Do you … hmmm…" he moans into her neck between soft kisses around her necklace, "mmm do you need me to help you?"

"Mmmm … probably not," she sighs out languidly, "but why don't you do that anyway?

"Mmmm," he smiles into her skin, "it would be my pleasure, M'lady. Come." And with that, he leads her over to her dressing room.

oOOo

They slowly undress each other, revelling in the closeness and the murmurs of soft devotions over one another's skin as they expose more of themselves in safety to each other in between their kisses. Charles enjoys slowly undoing Elsie's hair again, throwing off that ultimate symbol, at least in his mind, of her public persona, bringing her into her fullest self again in the privacy of their own sacred and sensual space together. Charles wordlessly insists on no nightgown for Elsie… for what would be the point? And on her not removing the pearl necklace that he finds so desperately alluring because… well…what would be the point of that either?

Now warmly wrapped in their pristine and fluffy evening attire, Elsie runs her hand across Charles' cheek and feels the rasp of a day's worth of growth. He picks up on the slight flicker of distaste shown in the movement of a muscle beneath her eye.

With no sign annoyance at the inevitable break in the sensuous proceedings of their evening that this will engender, Charles tells her quietly, "My shaving set is in the other bathroom. Let me go and see to it, Love."

She immediately smiles her appreciation. And still reaches up to kiss him through all the prickles, anyway, into her favourite little dip on his chin. "Thank you, a chagair."

Charles leaves room with his usual silent gliding pace and Elsie takes the moment to freshen herself a little for his comfort too then returns to their main apartment to take a seat on one of the red armchairs in the sitting area.

Charles makes quick work of shaving and as he returns to Elsie side she stands and bends to retrieve their glasses from the little table and hands one to him. Knowing now Charles penchant for creative lovemaking, and unable to forego this particular chance that may not appropriately come up for them when they return to the Abbey, Elsie feeds him the line he will need so as to take up their seduction were they had last left off with the remains of their fine wine.

With her bright but desire darkened eyes not leaving his, she speaks low and sensuously and close to his face, "I know you have told me how to sip wines to properly taste them before, Mr Carson… but… I wondered if you might …remind me of the particular technique you prefer? Then she takes a small sip from her glass and allows a residue of it to glisten across her lower lip once more.

Charles hums out and approving groan at the aroma of fine wine drifting from her lips, and at the sight of her wine blessed bottom lip caught up in her teeth in that new impish way Elsie has developed with him.

"Oh… it would be my absolute pleasure, Mrs Hughes," he rumbles out low and heatedly as he begins his instruction with a thorough demonstration of how best to savour the viscosity of a wine at the very tip of the tongue.

Elsie moans her full appreciation quietly into his exploring mouth.

"Now you try it, Mrs Hughes," his voice is gravelled and sounding in dire need of some quenching liquid. He swirls the glass of wine he is now holding to fully release its aromas and then brings the crystal to his nose to draw in its bouquet deeply once again, not once taking his eyes from Elsie's bright and expectant ones. Then he curls his finger down into the bowl of the glass and retrieves the finest film of wine on his finger pad. He slowly draws it under Elsie's nose and watches with rapt attention as she inhales deeply then and smiles dreamily as she tilts her head back slightly to capture the droplet on the very tip of her tongue, swirling it around to feel its thickness and taste the notes of sweetness from his hands. Charles inhales a sharp breath at the ticklish sensation he was anticipating and hums a longing moan as Elsie takes it upon herself to draw more of his index finger into her mouth to ensure she has left no part untested.

"What's next, Carson?" she breathes out heavily once she has released his finger. He feels her warm breath upon his chin.

Charles finds he has to clear his throat heavily before he can continue.

"Next we come to the full tasting. Perhaps you would like to take a seat, Mrs Hughes." As he envisions the next steps in this wine tasting tour with her, Charles feels the muscles of his legs and those stringing across his hips tighten with heat for his delightfully forward wife.. He kneels before Elsie, who has made herself quite comfortable on one of the low Louis XVI chairs, her knees pressed together and angled off to one side in a very ladylike fashion, allowing him the closeness and access he needs to her upper body. Charles unhurriedly draws the tie on her robes and opens the sides of it out across the chair. Elsie accepts this new state of undress easily and sits even taller and more confidently in her chair. Charles smiles to himself as he thinks of his next line of seduction and revels once more in the fact that Elsie is so comfortable with being naked before him and is already excited enough to have a heated blush of red showing across her chest and her delightful dusky rosé nipples are tightening before his very eyes in anticipation of his next move.

In rumbling tones he tells her, "You see , …to best appreciate something as full bodied as this, Mrs Hughes, …. you must sip enough of it into your mouth to coat the entire surface of your tongue. Allow me to demonstrate once more." And he looks at her with somewhat pained but delighted hunger in his eyes. "First tilt your head back slightly," and he uses light fingertips under her chin to guide Elsie's head back into the cushioned top of the chair. "Then tilt the glass slowly and allow enough wine to pool inside your mouth." And with that, Charles motions the glass towards her, but rather than bringing it to her parched and slightly parted lips, he slowly tips a little wine into the hollow of her neck, just below that elegant ring of pearls around her neck.

Elise draws in a sharp breath and then her mouth breaks into a beauteous smile as she realises exactly what his demonstration will now involve, which is really quite similar to certain imaginings of her own, envisioned when she first led him inside from their dinner.

All the finest beauty of the world upon my wife's fair skin.

Charles is in raptures at the sight of it all.

Some of the red liquid has trickled in slow path down her sternum and pooled in to her navel. She holds desperately still and waits for Charles to finish his evaluation of the wines merits. He brings his face close to her neck and explains quietly, "Now we sip the wine but do not drink it as such, first aerating it lightly as we almost suck it into the mouth."

And he leans in and dips the tip of his tongue into the liquid pooled between her collarbones before quickly, and reasonably noisily, inhaling it into his wanting mouth. Elsie gasps and moans at the light sensation he has just dusted onto her skin. The breath he draws away from the wine spikes in cool contrast to the prickling heat she feels striking across her décolletage and driving down towards her core.

Dear God! I love this man's passions!

In time Charles swallows this small sip so that he may continue with his explanation.

"You see, Mrs Hughes," he intones thickly, in-between continuing to lick the residue of wine from her neck, feeling her soft moans of pleasure vibrating under his tongue, and then slowly tracing the red rivulet lower and in between her breasts. "Hmmm…Drawing air in as we sip helps to release more aromas to the back of the palate and nose….mmm… thereby expanding the amount of nuanced flavours that can be detected in the wine."

Elsie's breath is becoming shorter and her chest is heaving rhythmically as Charles tongue tip glances lightly over the thin skin of her chest, tickling through to the hard bone underneath.

Charles continues in low rumbling semi-whisper, "Mmm… and…as you roll the wine over the full expanse of your tongue , my delectable lump of port-wine jelly…." And he runs the full breadth of his hot tongue back up her sternum, "every tiny taste bud is engaged in the full experience that the wine has to offer… mmm… oh ..Els-ssie…"he groans out hotly as he starts lavishing more fulsome sliding licks all across the smooth skin of Elsie's breasts.

"Moohhr!…. Ooo… Oh, Charles… it …it sounds delightful…. Hmmm…"

And then Elsie has another delightfully decadent idea and she brings her hand to the glass Charles has lightly balance near her hip and she dips two of her fingers deep into the rich liquid.

"But…Carson…," she pants out longingly, "perhaps you could….Oooh God… show me how that rolling action works again," she finishes breathlessly as she drips and rubs the wine from her fingertips around one of her nipples with the clear and lubricious intent of drawing Charles closer to her most heated desires.

He growls out a loud and rumbling purr of want and quickly draws her burgundy blushed nipple deep into his mouth and rolls that rippled bud of delightful flavour over the full expanse of his tongue.

Elsie shouts out her sharp pleasure and feels strangely wicked and even slightly silly about acting in such a way, and yet also incredibly beautiful and somehow filled with lavish goodness- trapped almost mindlessly inside her lust but completely lucid and carefree all at once. Her own actions are quite intoxicating for her as she groans out lustfully, hot liquid pooling fast and low where her thighs are still pressed together as she sits, providing her with as delightful friction to work against at her centre, even as her head flops languorously onto the chair back and she grinds her breast tightly into Charles loving mouth. She just feels so luscious and confident with showing and sharing herself this way with him.

"Oh…ohh.. aaahh…Charles… good…it so good…Hauh..ah…show me …show me… the other one … oh please."

Charles reluctantly lifts his head away from its current tasting and he stares up in wonder at his passionate wife, writhing in the purest pleasure of her own design. He loves it when she says how she feels and tells him what she wants. Charles wastes no time in dipping his fingers into the wine glass and dripping the cool liquid over her other nipple, then massaging some of the moisture out around her areola, sensing all the intricate and perfect ripples of hidden flavour it has to offer. He places the glass on the floor so that he may dive in and more thoroughly discern the subtle flavours of his wife's most piquant pleasure. He groans heavily into her breast and sucks cool air over the residue of his licks the wine away and taste her skin once more, making Elsie positively writhe upon the chair. The few drop of wine that were nestling in her navel have now trickled down to the top of her curls and at the sensation, Elsie's legs want to open more fully, wanting her man to drink from her again.

Charles senses her movement and most reluctantly he draws away from her breast, even as her thickened heated brogue calls him closer and closer to her the whole time. But as he leans back he spies yet another little wonder her breasts offer them that just cannot be overlooked in this very particular circumstance they have so enthusiastically navigated themselves into. Charles lifts the glass again as he almost engulfs her right breast in his other massive hand and pushes it firmly upwards, causing her scar to cup even deeper. Elsie gasps, wide-eyed, as she sees and realises exactly what he is going to do for her. For them.

"Oh yes, Charles… oh please yes… do it .. yess ..yess… " she breathes out ecstatically and she watches his every move with rapt attention, desperately trying to still her swirling, dancing hips as he does so.

Charles has shuffled between her open legs, pausing briefly as he feels a sharp twinge driving low in himself, but then he concentrates intently as he leans in to sip the wine from Elsie's beautiful scar- the one he never knew she even had until two days ago, that mark that has for all of these years carried the truth of the time when his heart sang out in joy for her life. He groans with heavy and strangely happy lust into this part Elsie's fearful history. He loves all of her and he loves building these new memories of pleasure between them on her unique and beautiful body- refashioning their pain into something beautiful again with his incredibly passionate and giving wife.

I adore you!

Elsie watches him raptly and does nothing to kerb her high-pitched sighs of excitement and the increasingly rapid and sinuous dance her hips are performing on the couch, arching her centre towards him as her belly undulates with every hot panting breath she takes as she flows closer to her completion.

She feels hot and sweaty and sticky with wine and so absolutely loved and adored and wonderful and she won't stop. She won't. Not when both of them want this all- all of it. So very much.

"Oh Charles …Charles ...I love you. I love you... want you… want you to…" she pants out frantically as she reaches up to run her tensed and yearning fingers through his hair and starts guiding his licks and kisses lower. Charles blissfully abides and she revels in his baby smooth shaved cheeks running like silk over her soft and rapidly pulsating belly.

"Ha-ugh… a chagair … aaahhaggher … Yess …Yess… Oh yes!… she arches high to feel more of his delicious sweet face on her, to help him breathe in that lush and heady aroma of hers that he has told her he so loves. Charles pauses at her navel his hands spanning over her hips and holding her dance under slight but loving restraint, even as his thumb pads circle slowly through her dark curls, moistened with the finest of red wines and her own fruitful passions, making her writhe even harder against him. Charles dips his tongue into the centre of her undulating belly, snuffling into the beautiful softness of her and licking the final drop of rich red wine from her Rubenesque dips and curves.

When he has tasted it all and savoured the underlying musky floral sweetness that he equates only with his Elsie, Charles goes to sit back on his heels on his journey even lower on his wife's delicious body. But he seizes suddenly and cannot help a sharp breath whistling through his teeth as he winces in pain. Elsie's head is thrown well back onto the headrest, eyes closed and with one hand raised and gripping white knuckled to the top of the chair stretching her soft curves out in that unusually muscular and potent way that he absolutely adores. In her ecstasy, she has not yet registered his predicament. And Charles does not want to see her stop. Not now. Not in the midst of all this wonder. Thinking fast, Charles reaches for the glass on the floor again and takes her free hand and dips her fingers into the liquor. The coolness whips her eyes down to his and he slowly brings her fingers to his mouth and lovingly draws each wine dripped digit long and slow into his mouth, savouring each sensitive finger along the valley of his tongue, then tickling the arched webbing at the base of each of them with the very tip of his tongue- deep into those places that he knows can bring her to the absolute brink for them. She is panting wildly now, and once he has cleared all the flavoursome wine from her fingers and has her lust-fuelled and fiery eyes drilling right into his own, he slowly and deliberately guides her love licked fingers down to her own centre. She gasps loudly and her eyes widen in surprise that she should even do this, or that Charles would want her to. But his eyes tell her clearly, Yes! You can, Love. I want you to. I want this for us. It is all right. You should. I love you, Elsie.

And he begins the sliding movement of her own sweet fingers across her most sensitive liquid core and as she continues to moan out her pleasure more robustly and as he feels her starting to direct the movements of her own hand for herself, Charles finally pushes himself backwards and up, managing not to groan out loud in agony as his knee unlocks with a very loud click and he flops himself back into the other red chair to stretch his leg out in front of him removing the pressure of the grinding pain that had just gripped him. But soon all his minor woes are forgotten as he takes in the full sight of his luscious wife, stretched back taut on to the chair, toes curled and thigh muscles tightened as she strains up against the finely strung vines of all her wild desires staring in lustful wonder at him- determined and powerful and pleasuring herself so freely in front of him, tinged streaks of sticky red wine still cling lightly on her torso and breasts and the light catches the shiny residue of his own tongue's languorous paths across her divine and bounteous body.

Absolute manna from heaven, he thinks wildly as fresh heat surges across his own muscle tightened thighs and he clenches his fists on the arms of the chair to hold himself in check, desperately wishing that Elsie's hands were free to roam across his hardness now, but also relishing the kindling fire within him being held under fierce restraint so that he can keep himself for all that his wife may want and need from him later.

Elsie gazes longingly at his vigorous and ready manhood, shamelessly exposed between the folds of his pristine and soft white robe. The contrast is excruciatingly beautiful to her and she feels it in the bizarre extremes of sensations and thoughts that swing wildly through her body and mind at the moment. She feels so wonderfully womanly and beautiful and strong when she sees him so excited for her and willing her so openly to find her ecstasy for herself, right here in front of him. And at the same time, all of her upbringing and years of modesty and restraint are fighting desperately to tell her to stop what she is doing for it is all wrong. Surely this is wrong? But she is so close …so very, very close and it is just so good- just like their lovemaking this morning. So like that. That was good. So good. So how is this wrong? She somehow reasons out in the middle of her fervour. This is me! This is me! For us! I want this! And Charles is just so very beautiful to her. But she can't. She can't. Can't quite. And her strained thoughts tumble frantically from her lips even as she keeps moving herself and chasing fiercely that bliss she knows is housed within her.

"I..I… I can't Charles… Shouldn't. Charles! Can't! I can't! "

And Charles is frantically and desperately aroused himself and he calls her on guiding her through all her rough strife. "Yes! Yes, you can, Love! You can, Elsie-love. Yes, you can. This is all for you. We want this- for you. For us, Els. It's all right. For us. You can. You can."

And his fervent loving words of affirmation and acceptance are all she needs. She sees him. She sees him fully – her wonderful loving and giving and passionate man. Charles manages to lean towards her from his chair and brushes his gentle fingertips over her the bumps and dips of her double strand pearl necklace – Our life. My wife. Elegant. Wild. Refined. Beautiful. So very beautiful and free. He draws his avid tingling fingers down over her deeply reddened breast, brushes tenderly through the cup of her scar and swirls a single fingertip over her tightened nipple, and as she tenses even harder against the vigorous movements of her own fingers he carefully pinches at that perfectly stiff little nub and wishes desperately that he could manoeuvre his legs enough so that he can taste it all over again, roll it over his tongue, she sees his want for her and she wants this too- she does. She does! She feels it all in the pitch and roll and she arcs forcefully against herself and finds her place high and safe and free and never alone. Never! Never ever alone with Charles right by her side.

"Ahaggherer! Ah! Ahh ! Charles. Charles. Love…Love … Oh Dhiol! Haugh- aha- aah! Yesss!"

And in a final shattering spark she coils into herself and holds herself together holds onto her centre. For herself. For her own sake. And for them. She shakes until she settles stunned and silent around her own supporting hand.

"Elsie… Hh my Elsie. My love. My beautiful love," he sings out low to her- melodious and sweet as he caresses his hand lightly over the back of her exposed arm and slowly down to her sweat-slicked back. The action uncurls her in a reflex of loving openness and she flops back gloriously sated into her crumpled white robe upon her deep red chair.

"O dhiol… Oh Charles.. I…I… can't believe I just did that…"

"Beautiful, my love.' He soothes her quietly with his voice. "It was so very beautiful. You are beautiful, Elsie-love. Beautiful."

His soft words calm him too, even though he is still throbbing with want and remains excruciatingly hard for her. But Charles revels in the slow dance of restraint that the give and take of their evening seduction has shaped around them. Charles merely reaches towards his glorious wife to complete his lesson on appreciating the finest flavours the world has to offer this one particular man. He lifts Elsie's still shining fingers to his mouth and sucks each of them slow and long onto the valley of his tongue as Elsie continues panting hot and heavy breaths into the night air and he shamelessly watches the last deep pulsing redness of her ecstasy slowly calming as she relaxes heavily into the safety of their private sensual space of loving acceptance. He breathes in the slightest amount of cooling air past the sensitive webbing of her fingers that he has first moistened with the very tip of his tongue, relishing all of Elsie's sweet aromas over his discerning pallet, then rolling all of her full–bodied flavours across his entire tongue and savouring completely her fine and rich smooth finish. Elsie groans long and low as she looks in wonderment at the feelings of blissful enjoyment shining clear and bright on the face of her very own personal Butler- her magical poet-lover- as he attends to her every possible need and desire again. Elsie struggles to believe, once more, what an astoundingly giving and comfortable and creative lover her Charles has proven himself to be with her- and how comfortable and creative and giving a lover she has found herself to be as well. Charles devotions overwhelm her as much as her own actions at times. But she is so very grateful - for all of it– and for him- her Charles. Unbidden, a thought flashes to the front of her mind.

Alice was an utter fool!

But it disappears just as quickly as it had risen and Elsie just revels in all of Charles devoted affection and attention being directed to her alone. She loves how he kisses her fingers. She sighs and pants deeply as she feels the aftershocks of her peaks of pleasure still pulsing and shuddering through her as his tongue languidly explores all her flavours held lightly in her own hand. The broadest smile rises over her face as the more important truth of the moment and the reality of the rest of her life shouts out loudly inside her head, I can have this! It's all mine! He's all mine! With him, she feels so totally herself. Astounding, she realises in a flash- to be able to find out new things about herself- all of her wants and needs and desires- some hidden for so very long, others she could never have fathomed to have existed at all- now brought to the surface after all of these years. How strange it is. How very wonderful and strange!- to be able build upon and enrich all that she has ever been within the safety of their marriage and this love- to be accepted so entirely by her man, who only wants for her to accept and embrace herself fully and embrace all that they can be together too. Unconditionally. Just them.

"My wonderful Charles," she manages to whisper out- languid and slightly slurred.

Charles smiles knowingly and with bright and happy love shining right back at her as he locks her newly caressed and blessed fingers through his own and sighs out his contentment at being able to see his Elsie so very happy and relaxed and shining brightly for herself and for them all over again.

And as painfully aroused as Charles has become in watching Elsie rise through her pleasure once again, there is still no rush. He is quite prepared to wait for her so that he may be with her again fully when she is ready. So, he disregards his urgent physical needs for the moment, knowing that the greatest delights of her body will all be there for him when she says the word, and he wants to be in no doubt that he will be ready for her then as well. But after their emotional and, particularly for Elsie, intensely physical day, he knows that she needs more rest too. They will not have to rush tomorrow morning, they can take as much of the night or even the early mornings they need. They needn't even pack their own bags as the room valet service can do all of that for them, and their train ride will also afford them a private first class carriage to rest in cosy comfort with each other all the way to Scarborough. Everything is arranged neatly to give them world enough and time for all they want to share within these four walls right now and for the remainder of their honeymoon.

With this in mind, Charles light-heartedly suggests the next leisurely move for them both.

"Well, then, now that it appears that mon forfaitairre de gelee fondante is finally ready, why don't we repair to our conjugal bed, Mrs Carson, for our coffee and pudding."

He delights in the fit of hearty giggling this engenders in Elsie, and which he is now becoming more accustomed to with her in the aftermath of her ecstasy as her joy continues to overwhelm her and rise to the surface to find air and life and release, either through tears or with laughter, and sometimes with both. He understands and accepts it all. Elsie manages to contain herself a little so that she doesn't actually snort out in an unladylike manner again.

"Och, Charles," she breathes out across her still panting breath, "how…how is it you make me laugh so? I mean.. haah…I have always had my suz-picions that there might be a cheeky rascal hidden inside that serious Butler of mine somewhere,' she haltingly stumbles the sentence out.

"And where, pray tell, have I ever given you cause to think that?" Suddenly Charles is little worried that he may have been ridiculous in the eyes of the understaff too often over the years. In front of his one Elsie-love right now it no longer matters, of course.

Elsie sees the worried look on his face and even though her mind feels decided fuzzy right now, she understands immediately his concerns for who he has presented himself to be over the years at the Abbey. She reassures him instinctively in her thick, relaxed and sated brogue, sounding almost as if she is mildly intoxicated, which Elsie supposes blearily, in a way, she actually is.

"Och, don't worry Charles," she drawls out lovingly, as she remains somewhat debilitated by her afterglow and stays openly sprawled back into her chair, her robe making her feel like she is floating on top of a fluffy high cloud on a clear and breezy day. "Hmmm …it is subtle, I'll not deny that, … it ohnly shows to those who are ob- ob- observant enough, ohng-ly sometimes… hmmm…" she sighs out languidly, surprised she can even command this much speech, and strangely her voice does sound and feel like it is actually coming to her from somewhere else entirely. This must be bliss, her foggy mind tells her in amongst all these other strange and swirling sensations. She yawns widely, too slack-muscled to bother with covering her mouth. "Everyone is entitled to laugh sometimes you know, Charles, even a stern old Butler like you, Love… it is just, … I see it in the way you have handled the liiikes," she yawns over the top of the word, "the likes of Mr Molesley over the years. And then… with the young ones sometimes too." She snuffs out a slow laugh at the memories assailing her now. "Or when you hear some of Mrs Patmore's little lines and jabs and… and you respond in that VERY serious manner of yours," she hams out for some unknown reason over a very full and pouty bottom lip. "It's there, though. It's always made me smile," and she manages to smile goofily at him.

Elsie finally registers Charles has been smirking at her all this time, and she cannot work out if it is because of her reassuring words, or something else entirely. Doesn't matter, her addled mind sputters gently to her.

Charles, for his part, is smiling for the sight of his Elsie-love, truly becoming, and surely the most delightful lump of melting jelly he has ever seen, and one who is so innocently trying to hold a lucid conversation from somewhere within her completely love-fugged mind! Indescribably precious. I love you, Elsie- any which way you are. Always.

"Haah…" she sighs lazily again and he grins even wider at her." I do like it, Charles. You know that?" And she smiles and leans to pat sloppily at his clickiest knee. "But it is aaalll confirmed now, Cheeky Charles. I have never known you to be such a joker before this weekend."

"I suspect there may be much we have kept hidden from one another over the years, Mrs Hughes." He says quietly as he continues to smile at the woman who was once Mrs Hughes to him, now acting in this strange, new love-drunk way.

"So it would seem." Elsie yawns widely again. "But don't worry, this can be our little secret," she whispers conspiratorially to him as she smiles a silly wide smile at him.

Charles does wonder briefly if Elsie may have actually had a little too much wine to drink at dinner, for he has never seen Mrs Hughes anywhere near being tipsy, and he actually hopes that he never will. He has never enjoyed seeing the sorry state that inevitably arrives one step after that level of insobriety, in himself or anyone else. However, he does know that Elsie was quite in charge of all her faculties as they left the balcony earlier, so it mustn't be the wine speaking. This makes him feel outrageously happy for the loving effect they can actually have on one another.

Elsie continues her stumbling speech to him, "I like my Cheeky Charles- and I think I might just keep him aaalll to myself. Haaa…" she sighs out contentedly and takes his other hand as well, finally commanding her brain just enough to sound briefly more coherent. "Come. Somehow we have to get these jelly legs of mine and your old clicky knees over to that bed, Charles. Help each other up, hmm?"

Charles is surprised that Elsie can even recall hearing his knee give out when she was in the midsts of her fervour, and then he finally releases the chuckle he has been trying to hold back behind his wickedly smirking mouth as he sat through that whole strange soliloquy from Elsie.

"Am I allowed to groan out loud, Els ?"

She actually does snorts out at that.

"Feel free," she says tiredly. "I will likely be joining you in the sentiment, my Cheeky clicky-kneed Charles. I'm going to keep you aaalll for me. Hmmm...I doubt we will be able to keep much hidden from each other now we are married, anyway."

"I think you might be right there." He smiles as he senses that Elsie may be briskly forgetting much that she has said only moments before.

"Come on, Mr Carson, let's get Jenson to send that dessert up for us." She yawns widely again, "Hmmm… then I'll rub your knees for a while and you can read a little more Thomson's to me if you are up to it."

Charles doesn't hold much hope that Elsie will stay awake to fulfil her promise, but he appreciates the sentiment all the same.

"You're good to me. You know that don't you, Els?"

"Feeling's mutual," Elsie, sighs out happily as she thinks fuzzily back across their day and finds she is still in quite some awe over the Charles Carson she is getting to know- what with his unwavering attention to her wants and needs, not to mention the fact that she is feeling shocked over the sheer amount of pleasure found within herself and that she has somehow found the energy to chase so often with him today. He certainly has been a man of his word!

They laugh together as both their bodies emit unavoidable loud clicks of ageing soreness and they groan in semi-exhaustion as they unfold themselves from their stupidly low slung chairs. Elsie pats Charles arm slowly and lovingly as they support each other to the valet sideboard and he calls through their instructions to Jenson, wisely choosing for dessert to be sent up in over an hour and a half's time, so as to allow them some space to rest first. Then they limp and stagger slightly towards their gloriously enticing bed, falling into a silly giggling heap when they finally make it there.

oOOo

Now up to reading the mutually adored final sections of the Spring poem, Charles continues it in a quiet soothing voice. Elsie is too limp and sweetly sapped of energy to sit up properly just yet so she shuffles to lie cross-ways on the bed with a pillow so that she can massage around Charles' knees as they drape heavily across her middle.

Before too long he hears a light snoring sound through the timber of his own melodic words and feels Elsie's hand wilt away from him as the comforting weight of his bare skin against her tummy sees her slide gently into a love-drugged doze. He smiles down lovingly at her. My Elsie snores after too much loving! He finds the notion stupidly endearing, and he files it away in the ledger of his heart- one more secret that only they will ever share. He slides down to join her on her pillow so that he can gaze more closely in wonder and adoration at his brand-new wife and the new life that it all brings to him as he spins a length of her silky hair repeatedly through his lazy fingers.

"I love you, pretty Elspeth" he whispers into her ear as he lies long against her body on his side and she snuggles into him instinctively.

He knows she is fast asleep, but he wants to recite for her the stanza in the poem that he feels best describes them- because of all the years they have spent side by side together already, and because of what they have found in each other this week and all the promise it represents for them as a brand new pair. He will share it with her again when she is awake, maybe even as they eat their pudding, but he wants its truth to colour all her sweet dreams right now. From memory he speaks the words low into her ear and as she registers his nearness in the tones that seep below the heavy blanket of her sleep, she turns fully into him and unconsciously rests her open palm upon his chest, right above where Charles feels his heart is about to burst out through his skin. He holds her hand tightly to him and runs his fingertip along her wedding band. And, as when he proposed marriage to her, the only outlet for the irrational amount of pressure this feeling of pure love places on his being is through the prickling of hot tears in his eyes. Elsie's poet-lover leans in, close and warm, to speak the words thickly and ardently to his beloved as he continues to stroke her hair back around the shell of her waiting ear.

oOOo

BUT happy they! the happiest of their kind!

Whom gentler stars unite, and in one fate

Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend.

'Tis not the coarser tie of human laws,

Unnatural oft, and foreign to the mind,

That binds their peace, but harmony itself,

Attuning all their passions into love;

Where friendship full-exerts his softest power,

Perfect esteem enliven'd by desire

Ineffable, and sympathy of soul,

Thought meeting thought, and will preventing will,

With boundless confidence; for nought but love

Can answer love, and render bliss secure.

oOOo

And as he rests his head down on the pillow next to hers, basking in the warm afterglow of Elsie's bliss, the last long remembered lines of the poem lilt silently through Charles' own mind as he drifts away with his Elsie for the while.

oOOo

Till evening comes at last, cool, gentle, calm;

When after the long vernal day of life,

Enamour'd more, as soul approaches soul,

Together, down they sink in social sleep.

oOOo

CECECECECE

Author Notes:

On Thomson's Seasons:

These small passages from James Thomson's Seasons suite I have shamelessly pilfered for my own selfish aims and may be found right towards the end of the Spring section.

(Lines 1030-1042) and (Lines 1084-1087)

There are many free public domain versions of this Thomson's Seasons suite of poems (written variously across 1726-1730 and edited continuously by the poet until roughly the 1746 imprint). Try kindle, ibooks and the like to get the full text. However, the following URL provides a version with correct stanza breaks and line numbers. Although, the page breaks do make it look like there are more stanzas than there actually are when read in this digital format.

. /e/ecco/004810089.0001.000/1:6?rgn=div1;view=fulltext

It is a very lengthy and rambling piece, especially the Spring and Summer sections. The writing preceded by many years, but is quite indicative of, the Romantic era poets (Roughly 1770-1840's- ish) and the emotional and spiritual movements of that time in this, and in other artistic realms. At its heart, many poets and writers' of Romantic the movement (Wordsworth, Coleridge, Byron, Shelley, etc.) works were spontaneous outpourings of that artist's emotions about such things as the nature of love, the glory of God, or divinity as being inherent/ imbued within nature's many wonders. As such, Thomson's Season's suite was a huge influence on these famous poets' later works.

Scottish-born (1700-1748), Thomson's work was wildly popular and consistently in reprint, and again, I think it reasonable that Charles and Elsie owned imprints of the complete suite for themselves.

Visual artists who idealised/ revered nature in this way during the Romantic era , and that Charles and Elsie would likely known of, are British artist JWB Turner (Elsie's new favourite!) and German artist Caspar David Friedrich, and even Thomas Gainsborough- whom I think of as a favourite of Charles's because he also painted many portraits for the British peerage. Anyway, just think big majestic sweeping landscape paintings.

Side note: Thomson also wrote the patriotic work Rule Britannia! that was set to music by Thomas Arne and it is the famous call to arms song still sung by a nation of Brits today.

CECECECECE

Other Authorial Musings:

By rights, I suppose I could finish this wee romance on this note quite easily, and the same could probably be said of any number of my other chapters, I suppose! And, I am aware that my writing is becoming weightier and that I have drawn these couple of days in London out to extraordinarily detailed lengths. As one reviewer has quite reasonably suggested, it may be time to move this narrative along- and I will do that… eventually! The Scarborough part of their honeymoon will only equate to a few final chapters- and the days of wine and roses there for Elsie and Charles will be skipped and brushed over a lot more, to be sure. However, I still have one more intricate and loving chapter for our daft old boobies on their London sojourn- because that it is what popped into my mind.

My reasons for continuing this fiction have morphed substantially along the winding complex road of its composition. And I am afraid that I will not apologise for the more ponderous and long-winded nature of the whole thing at this latter stage of its development. After all, I am not profiting from this beyond the learning experience it has become for me as a novice writer. This piece has been a journey through complex character feelings about all sorts of big things- from JFs plotting issues and drastic character anomalies through to an exploration of deeper human condition stuff, and for me, it has also been about the nature of romantic genre of storytelling itself.

So, I will issue this warning to you now: I do have at least one more chapter set in Scarborough that is going to be absolutely huge- but I will not cut it up as it is a real-time event and conversation that I need Charles and Elsie to live through together- and yes it is probably more for my own selfish benefit. Technically, they gain nothing- for they will ever be fictional characters! I do love how ridiculous that inherently makes all of this! Maybe it's worth will only live as important and real within my own heart- and that is ok.

So, I am sorry (but not really sorry!), if lengthy reads are not your thing. But do keep in mind that we all have a choice as to when we switch the television off.

Thank you to all who have persisted with this rambling intricate description of some days in the life of Charles and Elsie. I appreciate your efforts, and I do hope this story has been mostly enjoyable for you.

I hope to be back before too long with the last London chapter I will write.

Kind regards,

BorneToFlow. : )