Off on a Honeymoon. Robert is guilty. Cora is clueless. Paris is just the ticket. Right? ANYWAY. This chapter is most definitely M for sexytimes and A for awkward.
Robert was, indeed, glad of the distraction of their honeymoon preparations although not for the reasons Cora assumed. He was ashamed of their first night together; he'd intended to be so suave. They didn't speak of the business agreement that their marriage essentially was, but he saw in her keen gaze that she understood and accepted it. He wanted to at least be marginally satisfying to his wife, but on their first night he found himself in such a state of heightened arousal that the sight of her in her nightgown had almost caused him to embarrass himself right then and there. All his plans of seduction dissolved when he climbed in beside her. Her hair fanned out on the pillow behind her, a cascade of chestnut threaded through with the faint hint of perfume. Her expression was sweet and timid, blue eyes so full of trust. When their lips touched he had been forced to twist his fingers into the bedclothes for some control and when her fingers brushed his bare chest, nearly all was lost.
He slipped inside of her slowly, at least having enough self control not to rush and to give her time to adjust. His palm cupped her thigh around his hip as he thrust once, twice...she sighed and he felt her body clench around him. Sadly, pitifully, that was all he had. One more thrust, deeper this time, and he found himself spent and panting against her hair. His skin burned with a flush of both release and embarrassment. When he reared back to look in her face, she wore a small smile and an expression that questioned "is that all?" He could hardly get back to his room fast enough, purposely avoiding the crimson evidence of their coupling. He had taken something from Cora, something she would never get back. And he hadn't been able to make it last. He knew there was little chance of it being overwhelmingly pleasant for her, but he'd hoped at least...
It didn't matter. Done was done. Guilt and fear, however, had him concerned about a repeat performance.
They were headed to Paris for their Honeymoon and, as luck would have it, they would be there over the St. Valentine holiday. It had seemed such a stroke of fortune that the holiday would fall on their trip, a chance to perhaps become closer, or at the very least work out some logistics of their match. Now, as things stood, it seemed a very bad idea indeed. For Robert was entranced by the body of his new wife, guilty over his lack of genuine emotion for her, and embarrassed that he hadn't even managed a moderate performance on their wedding night. Robert thought of the nightgown he had purchased for Cora, intended as a honeymoon gift. Rosamund had fetched it for him from London and brought it to the house before the wedding, giving her brother a knowing smirk and making a few tactless remarks about the honeymoon. It was packed away in his belongings, carefully wrapped by the seamstress who had created it. He had imagined how Cora would look in the folds of silk and lace, the way it would drape below her breasts and contrast with her skin. It had seemed such a good idea. Now, thoughts of her in the nightgown were all he could imagine and he was distracted almost to a fault. His desire warred with guilt, keeping him especially distracted in the time leading up to their departure.
His thoughts kept him silent on the carriage ride to the station. Cora sat contentedly beside him, rosy-cheeked at the promise of an adventure. She snuck sideways glances his direction, averting her eyes every time he looked her way. Her chin would tuck and her lashes would flutter, and Robert was reminded of her coquettish playfulness during their courtship. He didn't dare believe that she sat flirting with him, and instead chose to chalk up her behavior to the excitement of the trip.
At the door to their train compartment Cora turned to him quickly, the brim of her hat nearly crashing him in the forehead. "I am so looking forward to our trip, Robert." Cora spoke quickly, as though if she didn't she might lose her nerve.
She was so good to him. Too good. He tried to manage a small smile but he was afraid it looked more like a grimace. "So am I, Cora." he managed weakly. "So am I."
The trip itself, first by train and then by boat, and train once again, was not overly long. But it was cramped and tiring. The result was, despite their private rooms, Robert and Cora felt rather trapped and never quite alone. The close quarters with the other passengers left them both reticent to try anything more than sleep, and even that was hard-won. Robert clung to the edge of the bed so that no part of him might touch Cora in the night, and he was always early to rise to take care of any embarrassing situation before she might wake. Travelling more like roommates than husband and wife, it had the very real consequence of exhausting them both. By the time they entered Paris by rail and caught a carriage cab, they were both desperate to sleep in a real bed, in a room that didn't move. They stayed silent, side by side, lost in their individual thoughts.
It had been a young girl's fantasy to plan a Honeymoon in the most romantic city in the world. During her tour Cora hadn't visited the fabled city of love, so it was an extra excitement to be there on her Honeymoon. However Robert's distance and distraction took a shine off the trip and, as they were driven through the streets of the city to their hotel, made it lonely as well.
Robert must have noticed her quiet demeanor for he opened his mouth to speak several times, finding nothing of import to say, and closing his lips again on a pained expression. Finally he began pointing out landmarks and describing them to her, as a way to break the heavy silence in the cab. Lacking the British restraint to appear unimpressed, Cora was quick to express her child-like wonder at the sights the city had to offer. America was, of course, amazing to behold. But the history and power in cities like Paris left her humbled. When she caught sight of the Eiffel Tower in her peripheral vision, she clapped with joy.
Once more, Robert was overcome with desire. She had that effect on him, which he found unfortunate. But this time, rather than reign in his impulse, he leaned in to steal a kiss. Cora turned more fully to face him, her eyes alight with surprise and anticipation. Their lips were mere breath apart when the cab bumped hard and they collided together, skulls cracking.
"OH," Cora breathed, cupping her palm against her forehead.
"Ow." Robert could almost hear the whine in his own voice. Once more, a moment of tenderness was waylaid by him causing his wife pain. Had Robert believed in omens, he might have given up then and there. Regardless, the tentative moment broken and he settled back in his seat, turning his attention back out the window of the cab, morose.
They didn't speak again the rest of the drive.
The hotel that was chosen for them was, unsurprisingly, elegant and richly decorated. Footmen in full livery, high ceilings, marble and oak graced the grand foyer. Tall green plants stood sentry along the columns lining the room and an enormous crystal chandelier commanded attention, glinting high above their heads.
"Viscount Downton," In impeccable english, a footman bowed and motioned for the two men with him to grab the luggage. "If you will follow me, I will show you to your room."
Roughly one third of the way to their suite, Robert faltered on the steps, coming to a rather abrupt halt. It was on the stunning realization that, like the train, the boat, and the train, once they were ensconced in their hotel room, there would be no escape for either of them. Unlike the train, they would be blissfully alone. Expectation would rise, desires would flare and... Without a dressing room bed made up, they would be forced to sleep side by side for their entire stay.
The entire situation was unavoidable. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying for the young man.
"Oh, Robert!" Cora stopped as abruptly as he, her hand resting on his forearm as he guided her up the stairs. "Are you well?"
His color rose and Cora's expression was even more alarmed as he tugged at the neck of his shirt.
"Just warm is all, my dear. Nothing to fret over." He tried to cover, but already he was feeling anxiety pressing in on him. Cora searched his face and then urged him forward with a hand on his arm. She did not look very convinced at all to his wellness but kept her counsel, at least until they were alone.
Just before the young bellman backed out of the room, Cora ordered for tea to be brought up along with a cool cloth for her husband. Then, once they were alone, she shepherded Robert towards one of the chaise lounges in the bedroom. The sight of the large king-sized bed, with the sumptuous brocade canopy above it, set Robert's mind whirling once more and color crept up his neck.
"I'm perfectly fine." He protested when Cora laid him back against the chaise. She reached behind his head to plump the pillow for him, giving him a tantalizing view of breasts, despite being covered by her travelling costume. Her perfume, the same she wore on their wedding night, drifted around them. He swallowed hard then closed his eyes.
He was being purposely tormented, he was sure of it, for being such a cad to marry a woman he had no love for.
A knock at the door came moments later and Cora exited the room, leaving Robert alone. He had no idea why he couldn't reign in his feelings, or why he was behaving like such a juvenile. After all, he was the Viscount Downton, soon to be the Earl of Grantham. He was a married man. There was no need for him to be acting like a boy at his first brothel.
And yet when Cora entered the room again, he could feel the cold sweat break out over his body. She was the absolute picture of youthful concern and innocence, and her palm on his chest to push him back to lay burned like a firebrand.
She set about to mopping at his head and cheeks, murmuring nonsense about the trip wearing him out. He nearly leapt out of the chair when she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his temple to check for a fever.
Her nearness was his undoing, and as if of their own accord his hands wrapped around her waist. Her cry was not the least bit fearful, followed up as it was by a giggle as she fell forward onto Robert's chest. If she found his conflicting behavior at all strange, she showed no sign.
Even through the volumes of skirt and corset, the feel of her small body pressed to his was unimaginably wonderful. His palm curled around the back of her neck and dragged her to be level with him before his lips pressed to hers. She made a little sound of surprise but submitted almost immediately. Her hands, still clutching the cloth, let loose of the damp material and instead gripped Robert's shoulders as if anchoring herself from his onslaught. Her acquiescence was his undoing, and Robert leaned to sit up, pulling Cora into his lap fully.
He wanted her, God how he wanted her, and she appeared to be willing in his arms. When he brushed his tongue along her lips she only hesitated for the briefest second before opening her mouth to his and sighing. They were still learning how to do this, tilting their heads this way and that, but Cora was more than willing to follow his lead. She kept her hands on his shoulders, allowing him to set the pace, waiting for him to guide her.
Her faith in him was stunning, and humbling. When he made no move to do more than kiss her, she allowed her hands to wander to the buttons of his starched shirt, playing with them before sliding the first through its hole. She wasn't at all comfortable in the role of a temptress, but she forged ahead, despite Robert's lack of initiative to move things forward.
Thinking with her limited experience, she guided one of Robert's hands from her waist to her breast, surprised at the clench of pleasure the pressure brought when he slid his palm over the roundness and squeezed gently. Their tentative play was having an effect on Robert as well, and Cora shifted at the feel of his arousal against her bottom. Releasing her breast, Robert stilled her hips, which had begun to rock against him. He was sadly and dangerously close to the edge once more. Settling on a course of action that had the least likely outcome of embarrassing him, he stood abruptly and Cora slid from his lap. She looked momentarily worried until she realized he was guiding her to the bed. One look at the laces and ties on his wife's intricate travelling costume had him pausing, however. It seemed ridiculous for him to ring for her maid, who had ridden behind them in another cab, for this. And although there was no way she could be counted on to undress herself, Robert knew for certain his help would be more hindrance than aid.
"Robert?" Cora asked, turning and sitting, taking in his expression of complete bafflement. "Have I done something wrong?"
"We'll just have to improvise." Robert murmured and helped Cora to lie against the pillows. She watched him warily as he scooted beside her, a hand on her waist. He kept distance between them, his desire to make this more pleasurable for Cora outweighing his own wish to sate himself. A sort of penance for his shortcomings, for his inability to be the man she deserved.
He had one chance to redeem himself, and he latched onto it gratefully.
"I'm going to kiss you now," He leaned in close and swallowed her giggle-turned-moan with his kiss. He allowed his hands to pass over her waist to grab at the folds of her skirt. Careful to keep her lips lazily busy, he lifted the skirt high enough to slip his hand beneath. She stiffened as his hand made contact with her inner thigh, drawing up over the thin material of her knickers with exaggerated slowness. Her legs slipped further apart of their own volition as he teased higher and higher.
The heat increased as he neared the apex, and so did the speed of her breathing. He tugged at the tie holding her knickers up and tugged them out from under the edge of her corset. He smiled when she shifted her hips, allowing him to draw them down to her ankles. Once more he traced a lazy pattern up her legs, over her knees and to her moist center. He placed his palm there, simply pressing against her, and he could feel her heart hammering in her chest. A glance at her face showed her trepidation as well as high color in her cheeks. Slowly she rocked into his palm, wordlessly encouraging him. He slid his fingers rhythmically and slowly over her folds, allowing her time to acclimate to the feel of his hands on her so intimately.
Color raced up her arms and flooded her cheeks, leaving her face burning even as she shifted in his lap. The small pearls of her teeth bit into her lower lip as he slid a finger inside her, her entire body clenching at the invasion and the accompanying rush of pleasure.
He continued to move slow, paying special attention to the change in her breathing. Long, deep breaths gave way to sharp gasps, dissolved into urgent panting. Her fingers twisted together helplessly and he whispered endearments against her temple, pushing her towards pleasure even as she mewled frantically in his arms.
"I don't...I can't..." She tried to speak but each time her words trailed into a surprised gasp as he brushed the pads of his fingers over her pleasure center. He pinched and slid gently until her back was arching against him and her head thrashed against his shoulder.
"Yes you can." He said gruffly, his entire self on fire from the pleasure of watching her pleasure.
All at once she shattered in his arms, her cry of surprise zinging through him. Robert's arms held her gently as she regained her senses. He had to gulp when she shifted against him again. His trousers were tight across his groin and he needed release desperately.
"Oh, Robert." She gasped and stretched languorously, lifting her head to press her lips to his. In shy thanks, she laid her palm against his chest and her fingers toyed with the buttons of his shirt. Her whole body still shuddered in the wake of the surprising feeling he'd drawn forth, and she couldn't quite find the words to describe him. "That was..."
She was interrupted by the feel of him sliding away from her, leaving her to recline against the pillows alone. His expression was pained as he turned away quickly, although not before she saw the straining bulge in his trousers. He slipped out of the room without a word, closing the door to the bathroom and flipping the lock. Cora was so stunned she wasn't sure what to do at first, still winded from the experience. Hurt began to surface as the pleasurable feelings subsided and then, on a groan from the bathroom, worry.
She stood on unsteady legs and crossed the distance to the bathroom, pressing her ear to the door and listening intently. Robert let out another guttural moan and, concerned, she rapped her knuckles on the door.
"Robert?" There was no reply, except for more moaning. "Robert, are you ill?"
"I'm...fine..." Robert croaked in response, but he sounded anything but fine. He was panting, his voice strained and punctuated by sharp gasps.
And then silence.
Cora backed away from the door to bed, realizing only when she sat that she was still missing her knickers. She tried not to cry as she went in search of them, and mused on what she might have done wrong to displease her new husband.
First of all, I'm too lazy to try to do the math of how long it would take (in days) to get from London to Paris. So I glossed over it. Artistic License, she cried! Second of all - happy valentine's day? Um. ;)
