A/N: SMUT AHOY! Not the smuttiest of smut, but SmutLite?


She was thankful for the darkness — as she undressed, she began to shake. The less clothing she had on, the more she wore her doubts like shawls, heavy upon her shoulders. When she felt his hand in hers, leading her to the bed, her heart quickened and she felt a stirring somewhere deep inside of her — was that what it felt like, she wondered, to want a man?

Sitting on the bed, she waited, her hands folded patiently in her lap. He reached up and held his palm against her cheek — she instinctively found herself turning her face toward his hand, delighting in its warmth. When he leaned in to kiss her, she felt him gently nudge her lips apart, and her stomach flipped when she felt his tongue slip inside her mouth. She questioned with hers, running it along his bottom lip. She felt his hands move down her arms and rest at her waist, one grasping her hip while the rest of his body moved closer. Chest to chest, he pulled away just enough to speak.

"May I — lay you back against the bed?"

She nodded and let her body relax as he guided her down and laid her gently against the pillows. He brushed the hair from her eyes and looked down at her, a peculiar smile on his face; all at once he was thrilled and apprehensive.

"I'm not certain how much you would like me to explain." He said, "I must admit that — I—I have never had to."

At first she wasn't sure what he meant, but then she remembered, of course, his days on the stage. Of course he'd had other women — and no doubt not a single one was virginal. If anything he'd been the one who had needed an explanation.

"I suppose I just. . .want to make sure I'm doing what I'm meant to do." She offered, folding her hands across her belly. Suddenly she felt vulnerable, the night air nipping at her bare skin and giving her gooseflesh.

He nodded, running his hand across the top of his head, "Shall I start, then? And you can ask questions if need be?"

She tried to staunch a nervous laugh that rose up in her — she may not have known much but she suspected his formality at this moment was a bit out of place.

"Go ahead," she said, patting his leg affectionately. She felt as though she were encouraging a cow to leave the barn so that she could milk it, back when she was a young lass and she rose with the sun each day to do her chores on the farm.

He gently straddled her — mindful of his weight atop her —and tentatively ran his hands across her bare skin. He let his fingers gently rest upon her collarbone, the other hand running up the length of her full hips. He stared, somewhat unabashedly, at her breasts, but seemed hesitant to touch them.

"Go on then, Mr. Carson." She whispered, reaching up to grasp his wrist. He looked at her, somewhat taken aback, but when she saw the wicked look in her eye he smiled. She brought his hand down and placed it on her breast. When he'd settled there, she lifted hers, waiting to see what he'd do.

Kneading them gently, he seemed mesmerized by her flesh. Odd to her, as until this moment she'd never given much thought to them herself. He'd just as well have been holding a 24 karat brick of gold, judging by the look on his face.

Something in him, then, unleashed itself and he leaned down quickly, his mouth on hers. The kiss was far less chaste than the ones they had shared before, and she felt the promise of this wonderment — sex —before her. He reached down and gently spread her thighs apart. She began to feel light-headed, as though she'd stood up too fast or gone to long without a swig of water. When his hand was upon her—upon that place she knew was meant for this yet somehow she didn't quite know how—she began to feel something rustle within her. The quiet swell of leaves in autumn, the rustling of a rabbit in the grass, the anticipation of wind moving through the trees and building, louder and yet staying quiet. A dampness there, something that at once troubled her but at the same time seemed natural, some previously undiscovered function of her body getting its wings.

He paused then, looking down at her. "You're alright?"

She nodded, biting her lip. "I—I think so, yes. Are you?"

He smiled, "I am. Oh, indeed."

She watched as he ran one hand down her body and then, hovered over his undershorts, which he began to lower. It seemed startling to her that she was permitted to watch him do this, yet while it was incredibly intimate, it was nowhere near as frightening as she imagined.

"I think, perhaps, if you look at me — just keep your eyes on me—for this next bit that. . .well, perhaps it would help." He said. She glanced up at him and nodded, feeling her body stiffen in preparation. She knew, from books, that this moment would be unpleasant. What had Queen Victoria said of it? 'Lie back and think of England?'

They held each other's gaze a moment, and though she wasn't exactly sure how it had happened so quickly, there was a moment of sudden, dull pain that wrapped itself tightly around her. She cried out, and her body's tense response only turned the pain inside her, sharpening it like a dull blade.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, though she wasn't in search of an apology. Guided by her instinct, she lifted her pelvis ever-so-slightly and seemed to redirect the sensation, alleviating it for the time being. Sensing her body relax around him, he settled on top of her, beginning slow thrusts.

What a peculiar feeling, she thought. Painful, yes, but also a pleasant sense of pressure, a building promise of release. The sensation of being filled made her realize, all at once, how empty she had been before.


Carson always knew when Aoife had fallen asleep in their room at some point during the night, because without fail he would wake up the next morning pushed into the far corner of the bed. Aoife, not unlike her mother, set the precedent for thievery when it came to bedcovers. He turned, supposing that neither of them were awake, and was surprised to see that Elsie was awake. She lay on her back, Aoife fast asleep on her chest as she rubbed her back. Feeling his gaze upon her, she let her head loll to the side, looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes.

Neither of them spoke. He slid his hand toward her beneath the covers, letting it rest gently on Aoife's back. As Elsie's hand danced tiny circles on the child's nightgown, she walked her fingers over his, sighing contentedly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, watching Aoife — she didn't stir, and he exhaled, relieved to not have woken her.

"I'm sorry," Elsie said, her voice softer still, the rise of her chest threatening to wake the girl. "I was so cross with you —"

"No, you were right." He said, rolling over to face her, "I forget, at times, that Downton is not my home. That it's not ours."

The sound of longing in his voice made her heart ache.

"Oh, Charles." She whispered, grasping his hand, "I forget that it's really the only home you've ever known."

"Perhaps — until you." He said, propping himself up on his elbow. He leaned down to kiss her, accidentally nudging Aoife, who whimpered, miffed at the interruption of her sleep.

"Hush, lass." Elsie said, kissing her hair.

Aoife yawned, "Da?" she mumbled, her heavy arms reaching for him. He moved to sit up, leaning his back against the headboard. Elsie too, sat up slowly, careful to use Aoife up with her. Eyes still closed, Aoife crawled from Elsie arms into Charles', whose embrace dwarfed her. Beneath his arms and the blankets, Aoife practically disappeared. Pressed into his chest, her fists tucked up under her chin, she quickly fell back asleep. He rested his chin upon her head. Elsie yawned and snuggled up to him, pressing her body into his side. He wrapped one arm around her and enveloped her in. Elsie arm wrapped around Aoife, who rested across his broad chest. They both sighed.

He was home.


A/N: YEAH WELL GUESS WHAT THERE'S MORE ANGST TO BE HAD IT AIN'T OVER. But, with angst comes make up sex potential I shall remind you. I'm several chapters ahead on this so you should see some regular updates now - with an interlude for work on the holiday fanfic exchange! As always, thank you for reading and commenting - I do it all for you, loves! (Okay, well, maybe the smuttiness is mostly for me hahaha)