A/N: Baxley wedding! Chelsie naughtiness! There is a reason this fic is M, mmmkay?
Did I mention I don't own Downton Abbey? Just a reminder.
*What Robert says is a line stolen from the film Chariots of Fire, it's not mine either.
Joe and Phyllis's wedding song is "I Choose You", by Sara Bareilles. I wrote a Chelsie canon one-shot about six months ago based on this song, but thought it would fit Baxley too.
I love you all! Chelsie on!
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Early September 2016
An azure sky gleamed through the windows. Cora, with Elsie's help, spread out Phyllis's lace train to its full length.
"And now, your veil," Thomas said softly. He pulled it gently over the bride's face. "Remember, no crying. Let Mr. Molesley do that."
Phyllis laughed. "I'm not sure I'm going to make it through the day without a few tears myself. I can't promise anything, but I'll try."
The door opened into the small room. "May I come in?" Charles's voice boomed from the hallway.
"Yes, please, come in," Phil called. The managing partner stepped in quickly. His secretary blushed at his dumbfounded expression. "Will I do, Mr. Carson?"
Thomas beamed while Cora shook her head. "Oh, don't mind me, I'm such a sap!" she said. Smiling, she reached for a tissue. Elsie felt her own tears shimmering in her eyes.
Charles gave Phyllis a fond kiss on the cheek. "You look beautiful, Phyllis," he held her outstretched hands. "And as much as Mr. Barrow would love to take all the credit, I can't give it to him. He had a wondrous canvas to work with."
"I do not want all the credit," Thomas huffed, pretending to be insulted. He handed Phyllis her bouquet from her almost father-in-law. "She's a right vision! I hardly had to do anything." Phyllis's face reddened at the additional praise. "Perfect," Thomas squeezed her arm. "Is the blushing bride ready? It's after three. We don't want to worry poor Joseph."
"I'm ready," Phil said steadily, making Elsie's heart swell. She grabbed her purse and rummaged for a spare tissue. Charles raised an eyebrow at her, and she half-laughed, rolling her eyes at him. He'll cry within the first five minutes.
Cora dashed for the door. "I'll let them know you're on your way," she said.
Thomas held Phyllis's arm as they walked down the path towards the gazebo. Charles and Elsie were right behind them, careful to keep a safe distance from the wedding dress. The day was gorgeous, the sun glinting off of Turtle Pond. They crossed the wooden bridge. Charles could just see the intimate group waiting for them through the trees, with John standing next to Joe.
The groom broke into the widest smile Charles had ever seen when the bride came into view. After Elsie quickly re-checked Phil's train, the Carsons slipped into the row where Anna had saved them seats.
Thomas preceded the bride down the aisle as the pianist played "Deep Blue". It was one of the few extravagances the couple had asked for – a real piano, outside. Thanks to Thomas and Jimmy's contacts, they got their wish. When Phyllis made her way to the front of the gazebo, several people in attendance gasped aloud, including Beryl. Elsie didn't blame her.
The bride was stunning.
Her short-sleeved white dress was covered in lace detail, with a scalloped-edge neckline. She had left her dark hair down. It tumbled down her back, shimmering in the late summer sun.
The ceremony, conducted by Reverend Travis, was fairly short. Along with the traditional marriage vows, John read aloud the famous passage from 1st Corinthians: "Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude…Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends…"
"What?" Charles whispered at his wife's smirk during the reading. He brushed at the tears on his face. "I'm not ashamed of my feelings, Mrs. Carson," he rumbled, his breath warm on her ear.
It was during Joe's heartfelt reading of Margaret Atwood's "Variation on the Word Sleep" that he put his hand on his wife's. Elsie's eyes were soft, a tear dangling at one corner.
"…I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center. I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and you enter
it as easily as breathing in
I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary."
By the time he finished, there was not a single dry eye among the witnesses.
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"What a lovely day. Just wonderful," Matthew commented, sipping his champagne. He tipped his head toward the bridge. The bride and groom were having pictures taken in the late afternoon sun. Joe evidently said something funny, because his wife threw her head back and laughed in his arms. The newlyweds giggled together for a few moments before he leaned forward and gave her a tender kiss. The crowd cheered and whistled. Charles clinked his glass against Elsie's.
"Molesley is smitten, wouldn't you say?" he grinned.
"Smitten?" Robert raised his eyebrows. "He's decapitated."*
"Can you blame him?" Cora laughed. Robert shook his head, putting an arm around his wife.
"Not at all," Mary said. "Phyllis looks like a dream."
Elsie sipped her bubbly liquid. "For once, I agree with you." Mary smiled warmly and raised her glass of water.
They made their way to the pavilion where the reception was held. The evening was just warm enough without being stifling. Elsie gasped when she and Charles sat down at their table, next to Beryl and Bill.
"Joe's father has outdone himself!" They all admired the cascading flowers from the ceiling, interspersed with soft white fairy lights.
"He has a gift," Bill said, looking up in awe. "He's done lots of weddings, but I think he was saving something extra-special for his son's wedding."
"As he should," Beryl agreed, dabbing her eyes. When Bill rubbed her shoulder, she laughed. "Oh, go on then, laugh at me! I've cried all afternoon! I never would have thought Joe Molesley would have reduced me to tears like that!"
Anna laughed on her other side. "There's nothing wrong with tears of happiness at a wedding." She squeezed John's hand. "Joe and Phyllis deserve all the happiness in the world." Her husband kissed her on the cheek.
"That they do," he leaned back in his chair, his tie askew and the top button undone on his shirt. "I've known Joe for a long time – ever since we worked together at the warehouse." He smiled rather cheekily. "I have to say, he's always had some hidden talents, but until today, I wasn't aware that poetry reading was one of them."
There was a murmur of agreement before Beryl laughed again. "So he didn't read poetry aloud when you were young men? What a surprise!"
"When did you work at the warehouse? Was that before you went to law school?" Elsie asked, leaning on her elbow. John nodded.
"Before, and during. Joe was fantastic. There were times I'd have a brief to write, or I'd be going on a couple of hours of sleep because I'd been studying for a final. He covered for me, always encouraged me to not give up. He was there for me when I really needed a friend." He circled his finger on the fabric-covered table. "It sometimes doesn't seem fair that now I'm a partner at the firm. I wouldn't be there if it hadn't been for him."
"Talking about me, John?" Joe tapped him on the shoulder, smiling broadly. John looked up.
"Of course, you're the subject of universal praise," he said, as Jimmy and Thomas slipped into their seats.
"Why wouldn't he be?" Bill Molesley patted his son's back, walking up to the table. "He's a decent fellow, never harmed a soul. And now he's got a lovely wife! Of course, he always had the best father around," he joked. Everyone laughed, complimenting him on the flowers. He was just about to sit down when he looked around. "Where's the bride? Where's my daughter?"
Phyllis appeared only moments later after greeting the last of their guests. "I'm right here, Dad. Let's sit down so everyone can eat. I wouldn't want to make you all wait," her eyes sparkled. She exchanged a sweet kiss with Joe after they sat down.
Charles's hand found Elsie's under the table, their fingers intertwined.
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Dinner was over, the cake was cut and distributed to all who wanted some, and, as Thomas said, it was really time to party. The sun had set, leaving an inky-blue sky behind, scattered with stars.
Phyllis's best man spun Elsie in a circle, before she found his place taken by Tom Branson. "I had to take my chance," the shorter man called over the music. "Since your husband is dancing with the bride now, I thought why not? Thomas doesn't mind much, he wanted to dance with Anna before they had to leave."
"I don't mind," Elsie giggled, her hand on his shoulder. "It's good for Charles to see me dancing with a handsome man. Now that I think of it," a wicked gleam appeared in her eye, "maybe it's time to do a repeat of my reception. Where's Jack? We need to request 'Marvin Gaye'-"
"Elsie Carson, you tease," Tom chortled, almost falling over laughing. "The first time I heard your nickname I thought it was a misnomer. But Sybil thought The Red Fox suited you perfectly!"
"Did she? That little scamp!" Elsie shook her head fondly. They whirled around the dance floor for the next few minutes. At one point, she turned in Tom's arms to eye Charles, going the other way with Phyllis. He looked over the bride's shoulder at her with such a heated gaze she stumbled. Fortunately, Tom caught her before she fell.
Charles chuckled under his breath at her reaction. It was past time for some payback, he reflected. Other than the bride of course, his wife was easily the most striking woman present. He'd had a devil of a time keeping his hands to himself during dinner. He envied Tom and every other man who had danced with her that evening. They had danced together once, but only briefly.
He'd have to do something about that.
The music came to an end, and everyone clapped. "All right, ladies and gentlemen," Jack Ross said from the corner. "If I may have your attention please. It is now time for the bride and groom's first dance together."
Charles relinquished Phyllis to Joe with a smile. He took a deep breath, thinking he would sit down for a few minutes.
"They have a request of their guests," Jack continued. "They would like for all of the married couples to join them on the dance floor."
Behind Charles, Anna pulled John to his feet. Robert and Cora set their glasses down and walked onto the floor. Matthew and Mary had already been dancing, and stayed where they were. Jimmy took Thomas's hand next to one of light-covered pillars in the center of the pavilion. Bill and Beryl Mason, Gwen and her husband Brandon…
"Are you looking for me?" Her low, seductive timbre, with its distinctive lilt, reached his ears behind him. He shivered. What her voice does to me…it isn't fair.
He took her hand in his, putting the other on her waist. "I will always find you," he whispered. He pulled her closer, pleased when she gasped. He raised her hand to his lips as the song began.
There was more of a beat than he normally would have liked, but listening to the words, he thought the song fit he and Elsie as much as Phyllis and Joe. The way his wife swayed in his arms, her eyes never leaving his, showed she felt the same.
Tell the world that we finally got it all right
I choose you
I will become yours, and you will become mine
I choose you
I choose you
Joe and Phyllis danced by them. The newlywed couple's heads touched, and they were lost in each other.
Neither Elsie nor Charles noticed.
Her chest rose and fell, making her cleavage visible beneath her wine-colored dress. He forced himself to concentrate on dancing, the lights, anything but the tortuous desire to taste her. He slid his hand from her waist to her back. Thinking it would help, he immediately knew he'd made a mistake when she came closer and brushed against him. A guttural moan came out of his mouth.
It was like a spark lighting a fire.
She wanted to kiss him, but didn't trust herself. It was one thing to joke about with Tom Branson. But in the privacy of their home, she tended to lose all control. When he moaned aloud, she let out a whimper, feeling heat pool between her legs. She was relieved when he yanked her into the shadow of a pillar.
He pressed his open, hot mouth to hers. The taste of her was electrifying. One kiss, two, more. Then his lips marked the soft skin of her neck. She made a sound between a hum and a whimper, her back arching against the pillar. Her fingers dug into the back of his neck. He returned to her mouth, nipping her lip.
He would have given almost anything to be younger, to lift her into his arms, wrap her legs around his waist and take her right there. Charlie, you dirty man.
She seemed to have the same idea, sliding her hands down his back to cup his bottom, thrusting herself against his groin.
"Minx," he gasped, breaking their kiss. His trousers were painfully tight. Her hair was slightly disheveled, her lips swollen. They were suddenly aware of applause. She went around him out of the shadows while he attempted to calm down.
Elsie clapped, watching the bridal couple acknowledge their guests. She felt disoriented. Hoping no one would notice her flushed skin or puffy lips, she turned slightly to check on her husband.
He stood with his back half to the crowd, and half turned towards the pillar. She touched his hand.
"I'm sorry," she muttered. "I didn't think. I should not have gone so far, I should have thought about you-"
"Elsie," he interrupted, his eyes dark. He laughed under his breath. "You did think about me, it-that-" he clapped a hand to his head. "I can't even think right now." His voice dropped. "Let's go home. Now," he growled. "I can't-you are-damnit," he said, exasperated. He reached for her hand. She took his, coming closer. He murmured into her hair. "God, I want you."
If she felt warm before, it was nothing compared to the way he looked at her then. A delicious sense of anticipation made her body feel like she was full of champagne, tingling all over.
"Let's go," she said, running her thumb over the back of his hand.
They said a quick goodbye to Phyllis and Joe (trying not to act like they were in a hurry), and to several more of their friends. Beryl gave Elsie a saucy wink, which Charles either didn't see, or chose to ignore.
Stumbling on the wooden bridge across the pond, he swore softly, still holding his wife's hand.
"Charles, are you drunk?" she asked, slightly worried. He seemed more off-kilter than normal.
"Yes," he said clearly as they got to their car. He tossed her the keys. "I'm drunk on champagne, and happiness, and starlight, and you."
As she started the car, he buckled his seatbelt, then reached over and stroked her thigh, his fingers coming tantalizingly close to her center. She hissed, and swiped at him.
"Damnit! Not now, I have to drive!"
"Hurry then," he said lazily, running his big hand slowly down to her knee, then back up again.
He kept touching her. All the way home.
She was extremely happy they only lived ten minutes away.
They made it in six.
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Halfway up the sidewalk to the front door, she lost a shoe. It didn't matter, as she had lost the other one in the driveway. His suit jacket was unceremoniously dropped onto a boxwood bush, and his tie was in the car.
Even with the outside light on, she struggled getting the key into the lock.
Of course, his hands roaming her backside and his lips on her neck probably had more to do with it.
"Shit," she swore, breathing hard. "When we buy a house, we're getting one where the garage has an inside door. Oh," she exhaled, leaning back against him as he massaged her breasts. Somehow the key fitted into the doorknob, and they almost fell into the front hallway.
Even then, he didn't stop touching her. After they regained their balance, he unzipped her dress, leaving a trail of slow kisses where skin showed. She stepped out of the open garment and threw it onto the recliner. He untied his shoes, balancing himself on one foot, then the other. She kept hold of his hand while he finished removing his socks.
This being done, he pulled her flush against him, her clad in nothing but her undergarments and slip. She undid his buttons and belt – at least, until he lavished the swell of her breasts. Panting, her knees gave out. She swayed against him.
He smiled, the movement of his mouth evident against the hollow of her throat. "I want to be close to you," he whispered, his warm hands caressing the back of her legs, sliding down her slip. "I want us to be as close as two people can be." For as long as my body holds up, for the time that remains to us on earth. Dipping his head, he tongued the space between her breasts.
"Oh God," she moaned, pulling his hair. Her legs were as weak as water.
It was then she knew they weren't going to make it to the bedroom.
She sat heavily on the couch, laughing when he kicked his trousers off like a petulant boy. His shirt went fluttering to the floor. Giving her a wicked grin, he removed his shorts.
The only thing he still had on was his wedding ring.
Her mouth went dry at the sight of his naked form. He doesn't think so, but he is beautiful. And he is mine.
"Come here," she whispered, her hand outstretched. He took it, climbing onto the couch in the same motion.
On top of her.
She reveled in his scent, the heat radiating from his body. She touched his face as they kissed deeply, his hot hardness against her thigh. He sat up, kneeling, pulling her with him. His soft lips and mouth danced a pattern across her collarbone while his hands unhooked her bra. She tossed it aside, then lay back down, lifting her hips so he could pull off her underwear.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured, taking her nipple into his mouth. "So beautiful, my love."
She cried out, her hands drifting down his sides to find his manhood. He gasped at her touch, but continued cherishing her breasts, marking her skin. Her body.
She found a rhythm, basking in his erratic breaths. Keeping a firm hold, she loved his hot, smooth skin, the hair at the base of his shaft. Her fingers worked their way to his tip.
Shaking, he beat her there by parting her legs, his hands caressing her center. She let go of him with a surprised yell. Burying her fingers in his hair, she rocked against him. He pushed, pressed her secret place, lightly teasing the tiny gift inside.
She was on fire from his touch.
A moment later he sheathed himself inside her.
He pulled out, then thrust deep within her. His leg brushed the back of the couch. Turning his hips slightly, he thrust again. The resistance against her swollen nub caused her to scream aloud.
He came with a roar. Her scent was everywhere, around him, inside him. Her voice echoed wordless cries; her body moved with his, was his, oh God, can we stay like this, just like this, her hair spread out on the pillow, her arms above her head, oh God, her body around mine, her gasps and pants and moans driving me on, yes my love, yes, my sweet, yes, yes, come for me, my wife, my love, yes, yes, oh my heavenly God, what did I ever do to deserve you, yes, yes, yes, yes, harder, oh God, she sings in Gaelic, yes, yes, who IS this woman, yes, oh God, please let my body hold on, yes, my GOD, she's coming AGAIN, yes, YES, my love, my wife, my Elsie-
The pleasure was so intense it was almost pain. Twice she came in his arms, and still he moved inside her. She was aware she laughed at one instance, before it was cut off when he dropped his head lower, his hair brushing her shoulder, and she shattered once more. His voice rumbled above her, but she could not comprehend what he was saying in words.
I love you.
I love you, my husband, my lover, my curmudgeon, my beautiful man.
She laughed, then cried, then laughed again. Both at the same time. Her fingernails digging into his shoulder as he cried out, she came undone in a white blaze of joy.
He continued pounding into her, marveling at his body's endurance (Thank you, God) and her stamina. When it did end, he gently removed himself from her, kissing her softly.
Then he saw her expression.
"Are you all right, love?" he whispered, his face hovering above hers. He kissed her again, which she returned.
She was shaking, crying, even as a laugh bubbled on her lips. She reached up, felt the sweat on his face. She tried to move.
"Shhh," he said, even though she hadn't said anything. "I'll get up. Don't get up too quickly. Just sit up if you want, and wait a minute. I'll be right back."
He managed to untangle his limbs from hers and moved, falling off of the couch. His feet prickled horribly, and his legs felt as though they could not hold him up. He shuffled into the kitchen, hanging onto the counter, and pulled out two glasses and the Brita from the fridge. He leaned against the cold metal as his equilibrium returned.
Wow. That was…wow. Beyond incredible.
I'm going to pay for that later.
He didn't care.
He carried the water glasses back into the living room, where Elsie had sat up on the couch. He set the water down on the coffee table and glanced at his wife. She still looked…far away.
Water. Yes.
Her throat was horribly dry. She took a few small sips, then a longer drink. She began to feel a bit more aware, for lack of a better word. If only the room would come into a bit more focus. He sat down next to her.
Good Lord. He literally pleasured me until I couldn't see straight.
She laughed, her shoulders shaking. Her stomach muscles clenched, as did several other muscles, but they were minor irritants at the moment.
He sipped his water, looked at her with a confused expression. "What's so funny?"
She put a hand on the back of his neck and drew him in for a kiss. "Life, Charles. Just life," She set her empty glass on the table and lay down on her side. "I love you," she mumbled. She was exhausted.
I don't want to think about how sore I'll be tomorrow.
Oh well.
He rubbed her foot and saw her shiver. "I love you," he said, before getting up and getting a blanket out of the linen closet. He laid it on her. She wrapped it around herself, murmuring thanks, and closed her eyes.
"Elsie?"
"Mmmm?"
"Do you want to sleep out here?" He squinted at the clock. "We might as well, it's almost one now."
Holy shit. We left the wedding at half-past ten.
He felt ridiculously proud of himself. "Els?"
"Mmm-hmmm?"
"Sleep out here?"
"Uh-huh," she murmured. "Oh," her eyes fluttered open. "Could you go check on Pepper?"
"Be right back." He padded down the hallway and cracked open the door into their bedroom. Despite the noise, somehow their puppy was fast asleep. On their bed.
He smirked.
She gets the bed, we get the couch.
He tip-toed back to the living room, switching off the main light. "She's fine. Sound asleep. Somehow," he whispered as Elsie moved to let him lay down next to her. He covered them both with the blanket, yawning hugely.
"At least now we know she'll sleep through sex," Elsie giggled sleepily.
"Good to know," he said before sleep overcame them both.
Early the next afternoon, Charles found a note taped to their front door from their next-door neighbor, Pete Beasley.
I found your coat laying on our boxwood bush. Sharon sent it to the cleaners for you.
We're glad you and Elsie had a good time last night.
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