A Hard Sacrifice

Part 7

A/N: This chapter was written for the S/T Smut Weekend and is rated M. I was wanting to go a bit further with the chapter but I think it wound up ending where it needed to, but hopefully I will get the next chapter done soon! This is completely unbeta'd and also I don't think I've written anything this um...descriptive before...not sure how well it turned out. Thank you again for all those who read and review, favorite or follow. I am completely floored with each chapter and utterly grateful.

May 1918

It was always dangerous for Tom to be in the house so late at night. There were a limited number of excuses he could use if caught, and the one time Carson had happened upon him as he entered the kitchen he'd been so surprised he'd nearly forgotten them all. He stuttered through his explanation of needing a book from the library, stood silent as the aged butler chastised him for the inappropriateness of the late hour, and had dejectedly turned and headed back to his cottage.

Yet there was nothing, absolutely nothing, he could reasonably claim if he were ever caught above stairs in the family's living quarters. At best they'd dismiss him on the spot and allow him to leave, at worst they'd discharge him and call the police. Where would that leave him and Sybil…and their baby.

Tom's breath caught at the thought. Their baby.

It didn't seem real to him; a life growing inside Sybil, a life he'd helped her create, a life totally and completely theirs.

Such overwhelming joy permeated his very being and he had to force himself to stop, pressing his hand to his mouth as he hid in the shadows, trying to swallow the excitement that fought to be released. As he'd gone about his duties that night, driving Old Lady Grantham about, he'd find himself thinking about the baby and his lips would turn up, a breath of laughter escaping at seemingly random times prompting the Dowager's face to sour as she raised an eyebrow and asked if he'd gotten into the drink.

He'd wanted to tell her, to shout at her, at the world, that he was going to be a father, a father to her first grandchild, that he and Sybil had made a child together and the world hadn't ended, houses hadn't crumbled, dynasties hadn't fallen, they had created, not destroyed.

Instead he'd mumbled some apology and vaguely explained he'd received some happy news from his family that there was going to be a new baby in the Branson clan. She'd assumed he was to be an uncle and he'd not corrected her; he couldn't yet claim the baby as his own.

That thought sobered him enough to get control of his emotions. Soon though, soon, he silently promised himself and his child, soon he would proudly stand next to Sybil and be the father he desperately longed to be.

With this conviction burning in his chest he began quietly moving once again.

It was the main staircase that always sent his heart racing. There was no where to hide if he met someone, it was completely exposed. He'd heard some of the soldiers talking about the trenches, about the land between, No Man's Land. He knew the fear and uncertainty he felt was only a small taste of what those poor bastards had dealt with, but it was enough to send the blood rushing to his head making him feel a bit dizzy. He went as quickly as he dared, praying with each step that his path would be unhindered until finally he was at the top and dashed into a dark nook he knew only too well. He waited until his breathing was once again under control, the dash up the stairs combined with the fear of getting caught always made his body desperate for air, the sound harsh and loud in the stillness.

No sound. No movement.

As carefully as possible he eased his way down the long hall to where her room was situated, grateful for the round portrait that hung above the lamp on the small table. Some long ago deceased member of Sybil's family stared out at him like a ghost in the darkness but it let him know when the turn in the hall was coming up and that he was almost to her room. He couldn't help throwing the dead man a wink, a small rebellion that renewed his resolve. Tom always held his breath as he rounded the corner knowing that Lord Grantham's dressing room was the next room over, as if it was some form of protection.

His heart nearly exploded out of his chest when a loud creaking sounded behind him and he stupidly flattened himself against the wall in an effort to hide himself. Pressing his body as hard as he could he listened and waited, letting his breath go slowly as he realized it was merely the old house settling.

His eyes caught the portrait again, the thin face of the man seeming to smirk at him. Tom scowled back, giving the painting a gesture he knew would send the Crawley's into a fit before scuttling to Sybil's door and letting himself in.

As was the custom, he locked the door, wincing at the loud click. Sybil had teased him the first time he'd done it, pointing out how little protection locking the door provided. Tom had just shrugged and explained that if Lord Grantham was going to kill him he'd prefer to have at least a few moments to get his pants back on before it happened.

Glancing towards the bed he could see her stretched out, her lack of response was enough to tell him she was asleep. Though in a nightgown, a closer inspection found her still with her shoes on in a deep slumber on top of the turned down covers. He had hoped that she would be able to see him tonight. Following her shocking revelation that afternoon he had been desperate to talk about what would happen next. Clearly her intentions had been to come see him.

"Sybil," he whispered, unsurprised when she gave no indication of hearing him.

Coming closer he again called her name, and when that didn't work, tried stroking her hair, followed by a gentle poke to her shoulder, then rubbing her back, until finally giving her a rather unladylike shake.

She groaned at him before swatting his hand away, never opening her eyes, merely scrunching her face up in frustration before rolling away from him.

Tom knew very little about pregnancy, an issue he was determined to rectify as soon as possible, but what he did know was it could be very hard on the mother. Sybil's ability to sleep through noise had surprised him at first, though it really shouldn't have. She'd had people coming in and out of her room since she was a baby. But with a little effort he'd been able to wake her. He could only guess the baby was the cause for her deep slumber.

With a disappointed sigh he set to work removing her shoes and getting her under the covers, secretly hoping the moving and jostling would wake her, but he was to remain disappointed as on she slept. Tom pulled his own shoes off, unbuttoned his waistcoat and stripped down to his vest before sliding into bed with her, wrapping his arm about her waist, shaping himself around her back and holding her tight. A bit sheepishly he lowered his hand, bringing it to rest against her stomach, wondering if he felt any difference.

As he cradled his wife and child, he knew he felt different.

He'd only allowed himself to doze, the danger of getting caught always lurking behind his eyes, preventing him from slipping any further, and when he felt her sit up his eyes flew open.

He watched as she slipped from the bed, his eyes following her as she moved across the room to the necessary. Shifting down into the bed so he could stretch his muscles, he stared up at the ceiling as he waited for her to return, marveling at the appearance. The only ceilings he'd ever slept under had always born water stains or chips and cracks.

When he heard Sybil open the door, he rolled over to squint at the small clock by her bed.

"How much longer do we have?" she asked, her voice gravely and horse from sleep.

"It's about half past one, so another hour at the most," he answered, opening his arms to her as she climbed back into the bed.

With a great yawn Sybil settled into his hold, her head against his shoulder. "Sorry, I was all set to make my way to you but had to wait for the house to go dark and my eyes were just so tired I decided to rest them a bit and the next thing I know I find you half dressed in bed with me."

"You sound displeased by that," Tom teased.

Sybil stretched against him, reminding him of the thin stray cat that he had fed behind his house. She would ignore him completely until she was ready for some attention then saunter up to him and reach her paws out, dipping her back and pointing her tale, her claws flexing in a dramatic fashion as she extended her muscles, then flop suddenly at his feet ready for him to pet her.

"I much prefer to wake up and find you completely undressed in bed with me," she purred.

Tom couldn't help it, he had to touch her, to feel her, and his held came down, his smiling lips meeting hers. The pressure was soft at first, his nose sliding along hers as their closed mouths connected, but it wasn't enough and as soon as the small caress ended they were again seeking each other out, more demanding, allowing Sybil to pull his lower lip between hers, her teeth teasing the soft skin. The sharp sensation of her teeth sent his tongue forward to caress where she had nibbled.

He felt her smirk, knew she had tricked him, lured him out and with a triumphant moan she attacked, sucking his tongue between her lips as her soft hand rested against his cheek, pulling him tighter again her.

When it came to his wife, Tom didn't need much prompting and he answered her trick with vigor, rolling them over, pushing her into the downy mattress as he deepened the kiss, his own hands beginning to move, sliding along her side before cupping her breast. He massaged the full mound with a firm touch, his thumb gliding, teasing, until he felt the peak harden under his ministrations.

Sybil gave a small moan, her fingers now working their way steadily through his blonde locks, gripping a bit tighter as his hand slipped under the top of her gown, his flesh against hers, now better able to appreciate the feel of his rough hand against her ever more sensitive nipple.

Suddenly he was gone, causing Sybil to jump in surprise as she watched him scramble back.

Panicked, she sat up and looked to the door, expecting to find an angry family member bearing down on them, but they were still alone.

"What?" she whispered harshly, panting to catch her breath. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry. I forgot for a moment," Tom began, his own quiet voice addled. "I mean the baby. I was on top of you. Did I hurt you? Did I hurt the baby?"

It took a moment for Sybil's lust filled mind to process his words and then with a sigh of relief she answered, "No Tom. You didn't hurt the baby, or me. It's fine. We can…continue."

Tom eyed her for a moment. "You're sure? It's alright to…do this?"

"Yes."

Sybil reached up, her fingers sliding up his thighs where he knelt between her legs, her fingers catching the hem of his vest pushing up, higher and higher, until Tom raised his arms and allowed her to pull it off of him.

"Yes," she said again, her lips peppering his naked chest causing Tom to hiss when her tongue darted out, caressing him.

"Yes," she repeated as her hands slid down his ribs then around to his rear to squeeze playfully.

"Oh Yes," Tom spoke this time when Sybil moved further up his body, resituating herself so she could wrap her legs around him, her fingers wound together behind his neck, giving her the leverage to provocatively grind her warm center against his hardening member.

Tom's hands skimmed down her back to grasp her bottom, helping her move up and down on him as he lips traveled to the spot where her shoulder and neck began to curve together, a spot he knew drove her mad. Sybil gasped at the contact, a shiver going through her as she lost the playful rhythm to wiggle against him.

Having her distracted allowed Tom to lean them both down to the bed, her legs still wrapped around him as he rose above her. Using his knees and forearms he was able to keep his weight off her even as his lips continued their assault on her skin, roaming down along her throat and chest, using his teeth to work down her night gown to reveal the smooth skin of her round breast.

Sybil's sharp intake of breath as he took the pink bud into his mouth sent a thrill through him that went straight to his groin. He loved to hear the sounds she made, even when those sounds had to be constrained. He worked his tongue over her nipple, mimicking what his thumb had been doing earlier, enjoying the way Sybil's foot slid up and down the back of his thigh, her toes occasionally digging into the skin behind his knee through his trousers.

"Tom," she whispered, and he knew the frantic tone. With practiced ease his lips returned to hers as his hand slipped lower, grazing down her belly, finding the hem of her nightgown and pushing it higher and higher around her waist.

The frilly lace on her knickers always amused him, a piece of clothing no one was suppose to see, so fancy and beautiful, was utterly ridiculous but if truly pressed he'd admit he didn't mind such frivolity on his wife.

Sybil was done with his delays, her pelvis thrusting up against his hand.

"Sybil," he growled softly in warning against her lips. It drove him wild how aggressive she was, sometimes a little too wild and he very much wanted to bring her to satisfaction before he lost it in his pants.

She nipped at him, her own lips curling upwards into a smirk he knew all too well. Again her pelvis shot up, knocking against the large hand that hovered just above where she would prefer it to be pressing.

Deciding she'd motivate him a bit more she dropped a hand from his shoulder, roughly shoving it under the belt of his trousers, shimming her fingers down into his pants until she found his erection. Tom's entire body went rigid as her fingernails lightly scraped along his velvety skin, his lips pressing tightly together to stifle the moan that sought release, his eyes squeezing shut.

He felt Sybil shift beneath him, her cheek meeting his as she whispered into his ear, "See? Isn't touching better than not touching?" She emphasized her point by wrapping her fingers fully around him.

"Touch me Tom."

Without further delay Tom shoved her knickers to the side, his long fingers gliding up and down her entrance until finally gliding between her folds.

Sybil's back arched, her hold on him tightening as ripples of pleasure moved through her.

A "yes" fell from her lips, light and airy as Tom slowly moved his hand; in and out, in and out, in and out. His thumb messaged her sensitive flesh, heightening the sensations, building the pressure she felt from within.

Her blue eyes stared up at him, their gazes colliding, even in the pale light streaming through the window she could see him, see the intensity of his love for her. She wanted to kiss him again, to never stop kissing him.

As they continued to stare at one another, the air growing still, Sybil worked his belt, then trousers open.

"No more waiting," she panted. "I need you."

Together they worked the remaining layers of clothing away, leaving them both completely naked and exposed. Sybil slid further down the mattress as Tom brought the blanket up around them, wrapping them together.

At first they simply held onto each other, fingers gliding over smooth skin, breathing in each other, memorizing and cherishing. But their need to be closer, to deepen the connection, to bring each other to the pinnacle of physical pleasure in a moment of pure intimacy.

Her legs fell open, cradling him as she reached down to guide him inside her, the wave of satisfaction merely a taste of what was to come.

Tom was grateful for the sturdy frame of her expensive bed that, even as they rocked, made no sound. Back in the early days they had taken care to move the bed just far enough away from the wall that it wouldn't hit, but not so far that anyone would notice. They moved together, steady and deliberate, Tom's knees pushing hard to keep himself off her.

With a small groan for frustration, Sybil once again wrapped her legs around him, forcing him deeper, closer. "Please, I need to feel you, all of you. I've been…"

Their movements slowed, Tom pulling back to see her directly. "Sybil?"

She turned from him.

"Sybil what is it?"

Her chest rose and fell against his as her breaths deepened. "I've been so worried these last few weeks. I've felt so…alone not being able to talk with anyone about the baby. I know I should have talked with you and I wish I could explain why I couldn't but I can't. I don't think I could talk about it until I understood how I felt about it, at least in some small way, but it felt wrong. I felt separated from you because of it and I never want to feel that way Tom."

Her confession surprised him. The revelation of the baby was still so new and fresh to him, he hadn't considered how long she'd been carrying their secret. His heart ached for her, for the woman he loved so completely. He knew the pain of their situation, how days could go passed without being able to see each other, and how his body, his soul, would long for her, an agony, a torment until they were again reunited, but this was different and he understood.

"Oh my darling, I'm here. I'm here my love," he promised, imprinting his words against her skin as he pressed his lips to her skin, her eyelids, her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, until finally sealing his lips to hers.

She pulled back long enough to demand, "Make love to me Tom."

Her hips undulated beneath him, her heels pushing into lower back, her arms wrapped tightly around him. Tom answered her movements, a dance of skill and trust and open vulnerability, no longer holding back as they became one.

The frenzy built—a constant hum of excitement, Tom's face buried against her neck as his thrusts took them closer and closer. His fingers gripped tightly to hers, clinging, as their rhythm became erratic both now frantically seeking release. Her breathy whimpers fueled his desire, driving him wild with need as he plunged into her, fighting to maintain control until she'd reached completion.

With a tiny cry, her legs tensed around him as her muscled went taunt, clenching and unclenching around him, sending him careening over the edge, thrusting through his release, pleasure exploding between them.

Despite her assurances, Tom still worried and pushed himself over some, bringing her with him as they lay on their sides, still connected, breathing heavy, facing one another.

Her hand came to rest against his cheek.

"My husband."

He brought her hand to his lips, kiss the tips of each finger.

"My wife."

He knew they hadn't much time left, and they still had so much to discuss, but that would have to wait. The words would come, but in the hidden moments they shared, it was best sometimes to simple enjoy, to be a family, to cherish.

So they did.

Thanks for reading!

I promise next chapter Sybil and Tom will discuss the baby and things get...heated.