AUTHOR'S NOTE: It is the very first time I wrote a proper sex scene, so to say I am nervous about posting it is a huge understatement! Comments and reviews most definitely welcome.
I hope you will enjoy it and that I managed to make it more hot than awkward ;)
Master bedroom, Eryholme, October 1913
Mary was terrified.
She could not wait to experience marital relations with Matthew again – she had been missing him in that way for over two years now! - and she knew Matthew was going to be a gentle, understanding, wonderful and passionate lover – she had no doubts about that. What terrified her were her own potential reactions to it.
Could she hide the fact that she had so much more experience than her husband, despite having a body of a virgin? Could she lie with her body while experiencing her beloved husband's caresses? Would he notice that something was amiss with her?
Her hand trembled slightly when she was brushing her hair again. It was completely unnecessary; Anna had already brushed it to glossy perfection, but she needed to do something to calm her nerves.
It was not working.
A gentle knock on the doors connecting the bedroom to Matthew's dressing room startled her so badly she nearly jumped. Matthew was ready to come in.
She put the brush down on her vanity, took a deep breath and called for him to enter.
He was so handsome she shivered with excitement, suddenly overcome by feelings of a very different kind. He was her husband. Everything was permitted now.
To hell with her worries, she thought impatiently. She could finally, finally touch him however she wanted. Looking at his hungry eyes roving over her silk clad figure and loose hair, she felt suddenly confident that he was not going to mind terribly if she showed some boldness.
After all, he had never minded before.
xxx
Matthew was not sure if he was more nervous or excited.
He had been dreaming about this night for months. If he was perfectly honest with himself, practically from the first moment he had set his eyes on his previously unknown fourth cousin, well before he had fallen in love with her. But fallen in love with her he had and this was the reason for his nerves right now. It was too important, she was too important, for him to mess it up somehow.
He asked Molesley to prepare his shaving kit and warm water, but then sent him away, not wanting him to hover while he tried to settle his nerves. He both wanted to have smooth cheeks for Mary and hoped that the familiar ritual of shaving would help him to calm down.
He heard Anna leave Mary some time ago and he ran out of things to do himself – he was washed, shaved, dressed in his pyjamas and dressing gown – and, taking a very much needed gulp of air, knocked on the door to their bedroom. He took another gulp of air when he heard Mary's quiet voice bid him to enter.
He opened the door and froze.
He knew Mary was beautiful. It had been the very first thing he had been struck by, before he got to know and love her. He had even seen her in her nightclothes, on the night that despicable bastard Pamuk died while attempting to force himself on her. But he had never seen her like that.
She was perfection personified.
His eyes were greedily cataloguing every detail – the way her delicate nightgown hugged and accentuated her exquisite body, its shape tantalisingly visible through the nearly sheer material of the lacy garment. The tumbling waves of her glossy brown hair nearly reaching her waist and softening her features. He had never seen it down like that, she had it braided when they had been moving that bastard's body. And it was this very sight, intended only for husband's eyes, that got him out of his stupor by reminding him that as incredible as it was, she was his wife now. He was allowed to touch her. He was allowed to kiss her.
He approached her slowly, encouraged by her welcoming smile, his eyes never leaving hers – which, he noted with a shiver, were giving him a hungry look of her own.
"You look absolutely exquisite, darling," he said breathlessly, thinking that he had never said a truer compliment.
"You look very handsome yourself," Mary answered with a smile, reaching with her hand for his face.
He kissed her, his hands moving towards her body seemingly of their own volition. His heart lost a beat when they touched her without the usual armour of her stiff corset, with just thinnest of silk to act as a barrier.
"Have you ever done it before?" Mary asked spontaneously. She was convinced that he hadn't, like previously, but so many things had changed...
Matthew blushed but shook his head firmly.
"Never. I was raised to consider it an activity only to be enjoyed in marriage. I was teased for my principles at university... and I will admit freely that I have been tempted to disregard them at times, but I never did," he blushed deeper. "I only hope my lack of experience won't make me embarrass myself with you tonight. Or worse, hurt you."
She caressed his cheek.
"Oh Matthew... you could never hurt me. And as for embarrassing ourselves, I think we are on equal ground here," she gave him a saucy smile, which seemed to succeed at lightening the mood.
When they next kissed, their hands growing bolder in their exploration, their nerves started quickly giving way to growing anticipation. Mary felt Matthew's touch sliding hesitantly from her back to her buttocks and nearly groaned, pressing her body against his more tightly. She felt his reaction to her proximity and smiled, her lips travelling to his neck. She reached impatiently to divest him of his dressing gown.
"The colour of your robe really brings out your eyes, darling," she said in a low voice. "But it is awfully in the way now."
She had been right; Matthew did not seem to mind her boldness in the slightest. As soon as she untied the belt of his robe, he threw it off to the floor and pressed her against him again. It felt heavenly to have only the thin cotton and silk separating them now, but it was still not enough. Mary's fingers started playing with the buttons on Matthew's pyjamas shirt, making a fast job of undoing them, while his got busy with pushing the lacy edge of her nightgown of her shoulders, his lips greedily following. Mary could not resist a moan this time when they dared to go lower and capture her breast.
The sound seemed to spur Matthew, because he threw off his pyjama's shirt as well – Mary didn't even notice when she finished opening all the buttons, she was quite distracted by his lips and tongue and fingers – and grasped the material of her gown, edging it upwards.
"Darling, may I see you?" he asked thickly. Mary nodded and raised her arms, allowing him to remove the gown completely.
If she had any doubts if her husband found her attractive, they would have been put to rest immediately now that she could witness his eyes growing wide and his mouth opening as he took in her naked body. She had not, but his gaze, so full of awe and lust, made her feel powerful, desirable, elated. She stepped towards him and, after a quick kiss, pulled him towards the bed. He followed with alacrity and in but a moment, they were laying there together, entangled closely, their mouth and hands exploring the other with new hunger and impatience. She vaguely noted that Matthew kicked off his pyjama's trousers and exalted in feeling him fully naked against her. Mary did not think anymore whether her actions were in accord with her supposed inexperience – she could hardly think at all, to be honest – not when Matthew's mouth were on her breast and his tongue twirling lightly over her nipple, driving her completely mad. She gave in to the growing ache between her legs and, grabbing Matthew's hand, pulled it there.
They both moaned when he touched her, his fingers exploring and learning gingerly, but without hesitation. Mary writhed against him, lost in the pleasure she had been missing for so long, which she had thought to have lost for ever for the torturous, unendurable six months and then had been forced to supress and deny for a year and a half. She was not sure if it were his fingers and lips which drove her to madness right now or the fact that it was Matthew's fingers and lips when it should have been impossible, but it did not take her long to lose herself in the wave of pleasure which made her cry out loud and collapse against him in momentary exhaustion.
She raised her eyes to him and saw pure wonder in his.
"Oh Mary," he whispered. "You are simply wonderful."
He bent to her to kiss her, his own passion more than evident and reigniting hers. She kissed him back eagerly, her hand going lower and lower, till she grasped him delicately and caressed the smooth skin over firm flesh. He gasped, closing his eyes at the rush of the sensation, and she smiled again, smug at her ability to affect him so.
They were both too impatient by then to prolong the exquisite torture of building anticipation – there would be other times for playing like that – so soon Mary guided Matthew towards her, eager to feel him fully again.
When he thrusted into her, she could tell that he was desperately trying to go slow, to be gentle – but it still rather hurt, despite her arousal. She stilled him with her hands on his waist.
"Please, wait a moment. Let me get used to you."
He stopped immediately, supporting his weight on his arms to avoid crushing her, his blue eyes full of concern for her.
"Is it very bad? Should I stop?"
"No!" Mary frantically shook her head. She did not want him to stop! "Just give me a moment."
She took few deep breaths and tried to consciously loosen her muscles. It was helping, the pain was more of a sting now, although she still felt very uncomfortably stretched.
Annoyed with her body and scared that the mood was going to be permanently ruined in a moment, she distracted herself with caressing Matthew's strong lean back. One of her hands wandered to cusp his face as of its own volition, pulling it towards her for a deep kiss. He responded, although his moves were cautious, his body stiff with iron restraint.
She moved her hips experimentally, making him moan with effort of not responding. The friction felt good, the pain was receding.
"You may continue, darling," she whispered into his ear. "Just go slow at first."
He nodded and started moving, intermittently slow, his eyes never leaving hers to monitor her reactions. Mary focused on the feeling of him inside her, of his chest rubbing against her breasts, on the silky strands of his golden hair between her fingers, on his impossibly blue eyes. Her hips started to move slightly to meet his, to encourage more contact and speed, her breathing fastened, the room around her started to blur and disappear; nothing existed other than themselves. The pain was barely there, forgotten, but the friction of their movements started building an ache of a different kind, one she remembered, a delicious, torturous one begging for release. Her hips buckled against her husband's, searching for more, getting greedy. He felt her reaction and smiled, delighted, speeding up his movements now and deepening his thrusts.
"Faster, darling," Mary whispered again. "I want you to, I won't break."
Her words had an effect of a spur on a horse, making him frantic with passion and letting loose of the iron control he had maintained so far. Mary whimpered, but definitely not from pain. She could feel it now, the pressure, the building up of a wave ready to crescent and flood her whole body with pleasure. It was growing, with their every move it was growing, and then it peaked and raced from her belly all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes, making her cry out in ecstasy and joy at experiencing it again. She felt her inner muscles contracting, triggering Matthew's release as well, heard his hoarse cry of her name, before he collapsed on top of her, kissing her frantically.
Matthew moved off her to lie on his side, but he kept holding her. They laid together for a long while, embracing tightly, kissing leisurely, waiting for their breathing to calm. Neither of them said anything, their heads too full of thoughts and sensations to find words.
Mary could not stop herself from a sad, puzzled reflection – so this is how it could be? If Pamuk never came to her, this was how a first time would look like? She knew Matthew was going to be gentle and considerate lover – he had been in her first timeline – but even though her body needed to adjust to his as well after years since her first unfortunate encounter with a man it was not virginal and the whole thing was much easier. But this, the care, the attention, the willingness to sacrifice his pleasure and to follow her lead in everything – this was how it should be. She felt both blessed and cheated at the same time, her past and present colliding.
Finally, Mary stirred to get into more comfortable position and hissed at the stinging between her legs. Matthew's head shot up.
"Are you alright, darling?" he asked urgently. Both looked down at her and Matthew flinched at the sight of blood on her thighs and sheets.
"I am absolutely alright," Mary assured her, pulling herself up and looking around for a handkerchief to clean herself. He understood instantly, fetched one from his nightstand and started wiping off the blood delicately.
"Are you sure?" he swallowed. "This seems to be more blood than I was given to expect."
"I am sure," Mary smiled at him gently. "It just stings a bit now. I should be perfectly alright tomorrow. And I was definitely more than alright just before."
She winked at him, which brought a smile to his concerned face.
"I love you so terribly much, my darling," he said huskily. "I cannot believe I was lucky enough to marry you."
"No, darling," whispered Mary, lowering herself back on the bed to kiss him deeply. "It is I who cannot believe how impossibly lucky I am."