My thanks to chelsie fan, as always. Special thanks to deedeedeedee for her input on this chapter as well. And thanks to all of you, who have waited so patiently for an update.
Would you mind taking it off?
He let go of her waist, only to take her face in his great hands. Gentle, unhurried, he kissed her softly.
"You're sure?" he asked. He had to be sure. He wanted reassurance after reassurance.
"Yes," she said, her hands running up his chest, slipping under his jacket. "I am."
It was she who pulled him down into a kiss this time, and with that they were stumbling together, finding it impossible to kiss and walk and hold on to each other all at the same time. After a few awkward steps, they stopped trying to manage and stood still, catching their breath and getting their bearings. She blushed at her own forwardness, but took his hand anyway, her cane long forgotten beside the settee, and led him into their bedroom.
Hearing their bedroom door shut so firmly behind them made her heart jump in her chest. She'd made a decision, a very firm one, but that didn't mean she was entirely confident in how-
And then her line of thinking was cut off abruptly when he tugged her hand and pulled her closer. His thumb on her chin was her split second warning before his lips were on hers. She forgot momentarily about being nervous. She just wanted him, in any and every way possible. Her fingers finally pushed his jacket from his shoulders and he shrugged it off, tossing it away with uncharacteristic disregard. She pulled at his tie, already loosened, and it slid off easily in one smooth motion. Charles broke their kiss to take his tie from her hands and set it aside.
When he stepped away from her, she felt surprisingly lost. She could hear him moving across the room, probably simply picking up his jacket, but all she wanted was to have him back in her arms as quickly as possible. She couldn't wait another second. Reaching out, she took a step or two before stumbling. She heard him curse under his breath, and before she could speak, he was steadying her and murmuring apologies in her ear. He held her tight and kissed her firmly, his effort to reassure her that he was still there with her. Present. Practically shaking with the desire she'd awakened in him, but trying to remain still. He took her hands and guided her towards the bed, sitting down himself. To have her standing between his knees meant that he wouldn't have to crane his neck anymore in order to kiss her.
She smiled at him, the feeling of his legs pressing into her sides, his hands swiftly unbuttoning her dress, letting it slip from her shoulders, guiding it over her hips and down to the floor. She tried her best to undo his buttons, but they were so tiny, and her hands had started to shake on her. She tried to still them for what felt like an eternity before Charles stopped her and took her hands in his. He brought them to his mouth, kissing them as he had before, sending that same warmth blossoming through her.
"I'll do that," he murmured, admiring her form in only her shift
And just like that, her fingers were still again, but her worry still lingered, just shy of the surface.
His fingers were nimbler; decades of practice meant that in no time, all of them were undone. Tentatively, she reached out to touch his bare chest. He'd even undone his cuff links, but left the removal of the actual shirt to her. She stalled, and on her face was a look of great concern. He couldn't bear seeing her look so distressed.
"Elsie. Elsie, what is it?"
She took a full step back, trying to compose herself, but failing miserably.
"Elsie, you know you don't have to-"
"No," she said. Firmly. Quietly. "I want to. I do."
Charles didn't know what he'd done wrong. He'd done his best not to push her. Perhaps it was too fast, perhaps his eagerness was tangible to her.
"Charles," she whispered, blushing furiously. "I do want to, I promise you. But it's just…it's just…" The words lodged in her throat, and for the life of her she couldn't manage them.
"Come here? Please?" he begged, opening his arms to her. Slowly she took a step forward, and he stood, wrapping his arms around her. She gulped and sank into his embrace, hugging him back tightly.
"Charles, it's just…that I've never, well, seen a…man." It was easier, so much easier, to say it pressed against his chest. She tensed, awaiting his reaction.
"Ever?" he said evenly, stroking her hair, trying to respect how important her discomfort was while still reassuring her that everything was still all right.
"Well," she said slowly. "I suppose… as children we'd swim in the loch naked and it didn't matter. Men who got too drunk at a barn dance and weren't discreet enough in relieving themselves outside…" She couldn't believe she was bringing up something so crass now. Now. Of all times. But she couldn't help it; she needed him to understand. She was a woman well versed in the theory, but entirely new to its application.
"I think…" she said quietly. "I think this is a bit…different." She gulped back the tears that had so suddenly rushed to the brink.. Her anxiety about this moment had lain dormant for so long she'd gotten used to its presence. Her voice refused to remain steady. "I don't know how I'll manage this now that I'll never...well..."
"See me?" he provided flatly.
She nodded, still pressed against him. He sighed and she braced herself for him to let go, but he did no such thing. Instead he held her for a minute, inhaling and exhaling deeply, setting aside his own urgent desire for a moment, to try and focus on her distress. Eventually he took her hand and slipped it under the fabric of his shirt, over his beating heart so she might grasp something of how she made him feel.
"I think there is a solution, my love."
Her voice was still wobbly when she answered him. "Oh?"
"You'll just have to 'look'," he said softly, removing his hand and leaving hers. "As long as you need. And we'll sort it out together."
She let out a deep breath. Steadied by his pulse beneath her palm, she felt his calm wash over her. She moved her hand beneath the fabric, across his chest and shoulder, slowly pushing his shirt back on both sides until it fell away. He waited, ever so patiently, only moving when it was time to drape his shirt over a chair, lest it wrinkle. He gave her a proper warning this time, and when he returned he brought her hand back to exactly where she'd lost contact with him. Gingerly she traced his arm back up with her hand and caressed his neck, dropping her forehead to his.
"I love you," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.
He placed his hands on her waist, contenting himself just to hold her for the moment. "I love you, too, Mrs. Carson."
"Do you mean it? About letting me 'look'?"
"Of course I do," he promised her. "But perhaps it would be easier if you joined me on the bed."
She nodded, and climbed onto the bed, settling herself in a kneeling position. She shook her head slightly.
"What?" he asked, leaning his back against the headboard and taking her hands again.
She bit her lip. "I just never thought I'd ever be here with you."
He squeezed her hands. "Neither did I," he admitted. "But I couldn't be happier, Elsie. You do know that?"
"Yes," she nodded, a smile breaking through. "I think I do."
He loosened his grip and she ran her fingers over his hands, marveling at how gentle such large hands could be. Carefully, she ran her hands up his forearms and up to his shoulders, memorizing each and every line. Arms that had caught her, held her. These she knew, but somehow this was different. His skin bare to her fingertips as she danced over his chest, up his neck, and through his hair. With his curls freed by her fingers, it was surely in greater disarray than she'd ever seen, but being the one responsible for its untidy state was far more satisfying than any glance might have been.
Her fingers finally worked their way down until they grazed his belt buckle. Its blunt, cool metal was a surprising disappointment after the warmth and softness of his torso. Awkwardly, she wondered if he expected her to undo it.
Charles, on the other hand, feared offending her by simply unbuckling it himself, but his trousers had grown uncomfortably tight over the past few minutes.
They both spoke at the same time.
"Err, would you-"
"Would you like-"
Charles winced, but she laughed lightly, her face still blushing red. "We are quite a pair, Charles," she remarked.
"So it would seem."
There was a beat before he decided perhaps it was his turn to lead. "So would you like me to... "
"Oh for heaven sakes, yes, take them off," she said, her embarrassment taking the back seat to practicality at this point.
"All, erm, everything?" he asked, mortified at having to pose the question out loud.
"Well if you don't, we will certainly find ourselves having precisely the same exchange in about two minutes!"
She cursed herself inwardly for her curt tone. The bed shifted as Charles removed what remained of his clothing, but the mood had turned from awkward to almost clinical. Elsie covered her face with her hands. Why did she have to go and ruin a perfectly fine moment? Why did there have to be so many words involved?
Because you're broken, came a little voice from deep inside Elsie. Broken, damaged, incapable…
No. She told herself firmly. I'm not broken. I'm not-
"Elsie?"
Damn it all, she was crying again. In wild, inappropriate daydreams, ones she'd permitted herself once in a blue moon, their intimacy was never like this. They'd known each other for so long, could read one another like a book, or used to, maybe. Before.
"Sorry. I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head and wiping away her tears. .
"Why don't you just lie beside me for right now," he offered. She nodded, and he shuffled underneath the covers and lay down. He extended one arm around her, pulling her close as she nestled in the crook of his shoulder. She rested her head on his chest, letting the warmth from his body kiss hers. Eventually her breathing slowed to match his. He kissed the top of her head, ran his fingers gently over her cheek. A little sigh escaped his lips and the sound filled her with relief. He wasn't disappointed in her... No if anything he was... content. Content just to lie next to her, her shift the only thing between their bare skin.
There was one other barrier though, wasn't there? The one built in her mind, the one that greedily fed on her fears of being an inadequate wife. An inadequate lover. Perhaps he was content lying next to her, vulnerable in a way that she couldn't bring herself to appreciate. Perhaps he was content if that was what they could manage, but she realized she wasn't.
She could feel the heat radiating off of him and it wasn't enough.
"Charles?" she asked, hoping he hadn't drifted off too far.
"Yes, my dear?"
"Might I be able to look some more?" Her voice wasn't sharp or pained anymore. It was bold. Almost sultry around the edges.
Charles couldn't help but beam brilliantly at her, pressing his cheek to hers so she might feel his smile while he spoke softly in her ear. "If you wish," he said, moving so she might sit up.
She passed him her pillow so that he could prop himself up against the headboard. Feeling her hands graze his chest was enough for his body to reawaken, a surge of want making him feel almost giddy. He felt a tug of vulnerability grip at him, his body entirely exposed to his wife...and yet it wasn't really, was it?
Not yet.
She trailed her fingers down his stomach until she didn't dare move them any lower. Instead she knelt between his legs, moving her hands down his thighs, over his knees, all the way to his feet. When she reached the bottom, she surprised him by tickling him.
"Elsie!" he exclaimed, laughing despite himself.
"I see my man is ticklish," she said, her face mischievous. This was better. Miles better, hearing him laugh. It wasn't awkward anymore...if anything...
If anything it was... fun. Lighter. Teasing. She moved her hands back under his legs, making sure to check if he was ticklish under his knees too.
"I'm going to get you back for that," he warned her, trying quite unsuccessfully not to laugh.
"I'm not ticklish," she informed him smartly.
"I will have to see about that," he said, reaching out for her. She looked so becoming kneeling in front of him, her breasts pressed tantalizingly against her shift. He pulled her closer, unable to help himself. He sat up to kiss her cheek, gentle little kisses that trailed up to just behind her ear. She practically melted into him when he did that, and he knew that. And she knew he knew it.
"Charles Carson, you are dreadfully distracting," she told him firmly, her arms wrapped back around his neck.
"Is." Kiss. "That." Kiss. "So?"
"Yes, it is so," she said, though she sounded more aroused than annoyed by him. "Charles...Charles, honestly."
He let go of her, and she folded her lips with trepidation. "There is one more thing I have to...'see'."
"Right," he said, moving his head away so he could look at her closely. Her lip disappeared between her teeth and instead of kissing her, he ran his thumb over her lip, caressed her cheek, hoping she might feel more comfortable. Safe.
Slowly her hands trailed down his chest, not stopping like they had before at the line of coarse curly hair. He reached out for her, craving her softness.
His hands roamed up her sides, one caressing the side of her breast, causing her breath to catch.
"Charles," she said firmly. "Hands behind your back."
"Behind my back?"
She flashed him a grin. "How can I focus when you are being so very distracting? Hands behind your back."
He complied, albeit somewhat reluctantly. Her mouth was set again. Focused. Something had come over her that he'd never seen before. She was gorgeous, but he didn't even dare speak, lest he break the spell.
Her fingers grazed over something smooth and warm. Firm. He twitched at her touch. She was taken aback for a moment. He opened his mouth to try to explain, but before he could muster the words, she'd recovered and wrapped her delicate fingers around him.
He groaned before he could stop himself, but his wife merely smiled. Tentatively, she ran her hand up and down, taking her time to let her thumb trace the tip of him carefully. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but it wasn't something so silky against her fingers. She held him more firmly, her confidence building as she stroked him again. His desire for her seemed almost like a perfume in the air that sent tingles down her spine, through her center.
"Elsie," he said again, his voice cracking.
"Yes?"
"I need you to-" He didn't want her to stop, but instinctively, they both knew that she should. She moved her hand away, but couldn't bear to break contact with him, her arms snaking around his neck and pulling him close so she might kiss him. His tongue parted her willing lips, and he pulled her flush against himself as they kissed hungrily. When they broke apart for air, Charles touched his forehead against hers again.
"Elsie," he said, his voice rumbling lower than she'd ever heard it.
"Yes, love?"
"Might your husband also 'look'?"
She nodded, but backed away from him. He wasn't quite sure what she was doing, until he realized her hands were slowly bunching her shift up until she could pull it entirely over her head. She slipped her knickers off swiftly, before her self consciousness could insist otherwise and she sat there, naked before him.
He froze, drinking in the sight of her. A treasure for only her husband to know. She reached out for his hand and when she found it she pressed it gently, but insistently against her breast.
"I think he might," she whispered.
TBC...