A/N: Please don't hurt me. I'm going to be out of town for a week, with limited opportunity to write, so there won't be another update until next Friday at the absolute earliest. I hope you enjoy their wedding night. As usual, I own nothing.

M WARNING: TO PARAPHRASE THE ARBY'S COMMERCIAL, "WE HAVE THE SMUTS". READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

"Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation?" The young man smiled pleasantly at Charles, who had been unable (not that he'd tried) to do anything but beam since dinner.

"Yes," Charles risked a glance behind him at Elsie, who was taking in the spectacular views of the city from the hotel's eighth floor reception desk. He quickly turned back and provided his information. In short order, the room keys were handed over and a bellhop was promised to arrive at their room with their luggage within five minutes.

He strode over to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The golden reflection of the outside lights illumined her shapely physique. He was struck dumb for several seconds, unable to think clearly. He cleared his throat.

"Love? I've got the keys."

"That didn't take very long," she said, taking his arm as they headed for the double elevators. A group had just exited and were headed in the direction of the restaurant across the lobby. More than one person's eyes turned in her direction. Charles resisted the urge to strut. A memory of another day, another hotel, floated through his brain.

If he didn't stop smiling, his face was going to hurt later. He didn't care.

This amazing, fantastic, gorgeous woman is with me. ME. I am hers, and she is mine.

They chatted about dinner and their favorite moments during the reception as the elevator stopped at the nineteenth floor. She laughed recalling Tom Branson cutting in while they danced to "Marvin Gaye".

"You took that better than I thought you would," she giggled. "For a moment, I didn't know if you would be offended or not."

"I married the woman of my dreams today," he said as they strolled down the hall. "As long as you came with me after the reception, there was nothing you could do to offend me during the celebration, short of you being caught in flagrante delicto with another man. And I mean it," he growled, giving her a playful nudge with his hip. "If I had thought for a single second Tom's intentions were anything more than fun, I would have thrown him through the window."

"I thought Violet was going to keel over," she snorted, holding her hand to her mouth. He kissed her cheek with an exaggerated mwah.

"You were being rather naughty," he rumbled. "I hope you saved some of it for me." He loved the blush that spread across her face.

"For you, always." She looked up, slightly confused as they approached the door at the end of the hall. A man in a crisp white jacket and gloves smiled and opened the door for them.

"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Carson," he said. Charles let his bride go in front of him. He nearly trod on her shoes in his eagerness to see her reaction.

Her mouth dropped open in pure shock. The suite spread out around them, a dining room visible. The skyline spread to the horizon from the windows. Fire glowed from the fireplace. The uniformed man uncorked a bottle of wine and poured two glasses, while Charles tipped the bellhop.

"Is there anything else you need?" The man corked the bottle again, setting it carefully on the table next to the fireplace.

"I think that will be all for now, thank you," Charles said. The man left. Charles picked up the glasses of wine and handed one to his wife, who was still speechless. She kept spinning in a slow circle, taking in everything.

"What…is…this…place?" she whispered finally. He clinked his glass against hers, putting his other arm around her waist.

"This, my darling, is the Presidential Suite." He watched in amusement as her face became even more slack-jawed.

"I need to sit down," she murmured, feeling her knees weaken. Fortunately, there was also a living area with several chairs. She sat in one of them, unhooking her shoes, still wide-eyed. She looked up at him. "We're staying here two nights?"

"Yes," he said, sitting down next to her and removing his shoes as well. "Until Monday morning."

"When we leave to go on the honeymoon."

"Correct." He took a sip of wine. She was still frozen. "Is everything all right? Elsie?"

She was having real trouble remembering speech. "So what is this, then?"

He blew out air through his nose, a warm smile on his face. "This is me spoiling you. I have to make up for lost time."

"Oh," she said, still far away. She sipped her wine, then stood up again. He got up as well, standing with her looking into the fire. She put an arm around his waist and bit her lip. He tensed slightly.

"It's…overwhelming," she finally said, leaning into him.

"But do you like it?" He was worried. He kissed her lightly on her head.

"Charles," she gazed into his eyes, a gentle smile on her face.

"I know it's a bit much," he began, wanting to explain, "but I wanted something really spectacular for you-"

He was cut off as she drew his head down to hers, kissing him on the mouth, her hands behind his neck, running down his chest, around his back. She sucked slowly on his bottom lip and teased his tongue with her own. By the time she was finished, he had forgotten what he was saying.

"Husband," she gasped, both of them panting hard, "I don't like it. I love it." She hugged him, and he was grateful to wrap his arms around her. "But I would only argue that the only thing spectacular about this room is the man in my arms."

He laughed into her hair. "I won't disagree with you. I don't like it when we're not in agreement," he said, looking down at her fondly.

"I know," she touched his face. "Was that man in here earlier, was he our butler?"

"No," he said, swirling his thumbs on her hips. "He's a server, but I don't think he's a proper butler."

"Someday you can tell me the difference between a butler and a 'proper' one," she teased, looking in the direction of the door. "Well, whoever he is, as long as he doesn't disturb us, I don't mind him being here."

"There is no chance he will disturb us," he whispered, lifting her chin with his finger to kiss her again.

000000000000000000

They sat on the loveseat by the fire. He stretched out his bare feet on the ottoman, while Elsie sat facing the skyline, her feet in his lap. Her earrings, necklace and bracelet lay on the table with their empty wine glasses.

"Are you sure this doesn't hurt?" he asked, massaging her toes.

"Yes, I'm sure," she sighed. "It feels very nice. I like those shoes, but after the dancing…ooh."

"I know what you mean," he said, crossing his ankles. He glanced in her direction. She was lost in thought, leaning against the armrest and twirling the ends of her hair around her fingers. He bent over slowly, hoping she wouldn't notice, and pressed his lips to her ankle.

"Oh," she puffed out, a soft sound over the crackling of the fire. She twisted, sliding closer to him. Clutching the side of the loveseat, she reached out and touched the ends of his hair. His hands moved up her leg to behind her knee, holding it in place as his lips followed suit. She reluctantly pulled her fingers from his hair to shove the fabric of her dress to the side. It billowed over, trailing on the floor.

He marked her leg, humming as he sucked at the silky skin above her knee. "Ch-Charlie," she stuttered, trying not to kick him with her other foot. She moaned aloud as he slid his hand underneath her thigh. The feel of his warm skin contrasted with the coolness of the small metal band was unbelievably erotic. He squeezed her thigh, kissing sideways to the inside.

Elsie's heartbeat thrummed in her ears. She traced her fingers through her husband's hair, lightly tugging on his ears. A mischievous grin lit her face as she moved her other foot until her heel brushed between his legs. He jerked, unbending from his attention to her thigh. "Elsie! Wha-" He sat up, his hands still on her. She managed to turn her foot so that her toes massaged his groin. Concentrating, she moved her big toe over one area at a steadily increasing rate. She curled her foot, moving his legs apart. The bulge in his trousers grew. He moved one hand over her leg, but seemed unable to do any more.

"Stop," he finally hissed. "Please…"

She did, flexing her foot before setting it on the floor. Her other foot was still wedged against his side. He turned to her, his eyes dark. Shifting her leg aside, he snatched her hand. They moved together, his hands pulling her onto his lap, her hands cupping his face. They kissed, open-mouthed, hot and frantic.

His mouth left hers and trailed down her neck to her cleavage. Her hands were clasped behind his neck. He slid his hands up, squeezing her breasts. She let out a sound somewhere between a squeal and a gasp, and within seconds was off his lap, standing next to the ottoman.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, her face aflame. "I want this, I want you, but-" she took another deep, ragged breath, holding her hand to her chest. "I can't breathe right now."

"What's the matter?" he asked, his own need forgotten. His heart plunged to the floor. He sprang up next to her, his hand on her shoulder, on her face. To his relief, she shook her head slightly and laughed, a breathy sound.

"I forgot what I was wearing under this dress," she said, her shoulders still heaving with her gasps. "I pity the women who lived a century ago."

"But you're all right?" He ran his thumb over her cheekbone. She put her hand over his.

"I'll be better once I'm more comfortable," she said.

"Then let me help you." She nodded, and he turned her around. He marveled at the sheer fabric over her shoulders. "This is a beautiful dress," he said, beginning to unbutton it from the top. He softly kissed the nape of her neck once it was exposed. "It adorns an even more beautiful woman."

"Charlie…"

"Please don't disagree with me on this, Mrs. Carson." He hummed again as the buttons came undone, his fingers ghosting over her freckled skin. He frowned, running his thumb down her spine. "Exactly how many buttons are on this dress?"

"Too many," she murmured, backing closer. "If it makes you feel better, I don't plan to wear this again." Enough of the back was now open for her to shimmy out of the sheer sleeves. She took his hand for support, and stepped out of the dress, which sank to the floor. He looked in awe at her. The garment underneath was ivory-colored, and covered much of her torso. Her underwear matched.

"Is that…a corset?"

"It is indeed," she smiled shyly. "It doesn't have laces like they did in the past, but it does have hooks." She pressed a hand to the small of her back, and the curve of her breasts swelled against the fabric. His breath hitched. He reached for her.

"Let's get you out of it then," he said, his need making itself apparent immediately. She gripped his wrist before he could touch her.

"Not quite yet," she breathed. "Let's remove some of your clothing." She made quick work of ridding him of his bow tie and belt. He would have done both himself, and left her to unbutton his shirt, but he couldn't keep his hands off of her.

"Charlie," her breath hitched as he cupped her bottom, caressing his fingers between her legs, "for heaven's sake, can't you wait one minute more?" She tugged at his open shirt. "I can't get this off you if you still have your hands on me."

"Fine," he grumbled, removing his hands to let her pull them out of his sleeves. She tossed his shirt onto the chair, followed by his undershirt and trousers. He then pulled his shorts down, letting her have a good look at her effect on him. To his surprise, she skipped around his outstretched hands and went to the far side of the king-sized bed.

"Patience is a virtue," she said, biting her lip to keep from laughing at his forlorn expression. Truthfully, she hungered for his touch, but wanted to draw out their pleasure longer.

"Really?" He said, raising his eyebrows as they climbed into bed. He tried again to reach for her, but she rolled over, onto her face. "Wife, please," he begged. "I want you, love. I've needed you all day."

"Even in church?" she asked, turning her face out of the pillow. "Reverend Travis is fairly lenient, but even she has her limits. Here," she took his hand and moved it to her back. "Could you please help me out of this?"

He moved over, straddling her back, his knees on either side of her hips. The hooks on the corset were even more difficult for his fingers to deal with than the buttons. His fumbling was not helped by her soft moans as he poked into her behind.

"How did you put this on earlier today?" he asked, trying to keep his mind on his mission. He gritted his teeth as another hook came loose. There's progress, but at the rate I'm going, I'll be finished before we've even started.

"I didn't," she gasped. "Beryl and Anna fastened me into this."

"That explains it," he said. He had despaired of doing any better before his fingers discovered how to undo the aggravating instruments. He was elated, undoing them quickly. "Do you feel any better? Can you breathe easier?" he whispered, bending over her back, making sure she could feel his breath on her skin.

"Y-yes," she stuttered. She could feel open air against her back. She shivered when he spoke, but she didn't feel cold.

Not at all. If anything, she felt warmer. He moved slightly as his hands went to unclasp the lowest hooks. She bit her lip to keep from screaming. His erection bumped right against her center, through the silk fabric. She felt him undo the last one, and gladly let him pull the garment from underneath her. She tried to turn over, but he hadn't moved, locking her in place. She huffed in frustration as he pulled her arms above her head.

He laughed, the vibrations reverberating through her body. "Love," he trailed a line of slow, wet kisses across her shoulders and down her back, "I thought you should have a taste of what I've had to endure all day."

"And you think I haven't endured anything!?" she half-screamed. He slid his fingers under her silk underwear, touching, pressing.

It was torture; pure, sweet agony. She gasped, panted, moaned. She gripped the pillow in one fist. With the other, she held on to a wad of the sheet. He removed her underwear, and continued kissing her back and lower. She choked, and he realized she was crying.

"Husband," she whispered, begging. "If you want me, you can have me. I need you. Please."

He moved his legs so one knee rested between hers. She turned onto her back, pulling him on top of her, wrapping her legs around him. He kissed her forehead, her nose, and kissed and bit her lips until they were swollen. Her hands stroked his length, guided him into her. He worshipped the valley between her breasts with his mouth as his thumb found her center.

She wept as they joined, as her husband wept also. The union of husband and wife…is intended by God for their mutual joy. He sobbed, overwhelmed by the intensity of their lovemaking. His wife keened, arching her back, increasing the friction against her swollen folds. He let out a great roar as he poured into her. My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone…

They moved together after both had finished their dance. She touched his face gently, wiping away his tears. He smoothed back her hair and held her face in his hands. They kissed slowly, reverently, before holding their linked left hands together, their rings reflecting the firelight.