This prompt is set somewhere in s2e2/s2e3 (didn't do a recent rewatch, so please bear with possible inconsistencies) when they open up Downton Abbey as a convalescent home. It's mostly other characters' POV on Cobert with eventual Cobert smut in the last third, so M-rated content :) Please review!
Red – Passion (& Energy)
The Dowager Countess sat at the dinner table at the Abbey. The world was moving especially fast lately, and Violet tried her best to move with it. The great bustle at Downton Abbey was certainly something that she had to get used to; it was too far from what she knew. Her daughter-in-law had made it very clear that the decision about the convalescent home didn't lie with the older matriarch. I hesitate to remind you, but this is my house now, Robert's and mine. And we will make the decision. She couldn't think of a moment where her daughter-in-law had shown such force. Never had she put her foot down in that manner with Violet. It had stunned the Dowager.
As she looked at Cora across the table now, she realised that Cora had something she hadn't. Something that gave her the determination to turn Downton Abbey into a convalescent home and do her part in the big war. Something that made her loudly counter the Dowager. Cora – the way her flawless alabaster skin was hugged by the dark dress, and her light eyes were wide in attention to take up everything her conversation partner said – had the energy of a young woman. Violet didn't. She had other things to make up for it. The knowledge of decades witnessing the life at Downton Abbey, understanding people and knowing how they would act, knowing what was worth the effort. But the energy she saw in Cora, she didn't have anymore. When she thought about it, she wasn't sure if she had been like that when she had been Cora's age. She didn't see Cora as a particularly young woman. By God, she had three daughters of age. No, Violet hadn't felt young and energetic at 46. But somehow, this was exactly what Cora was exuding. It wasn't a nice thing to say, but Violet thought that the war was doing Cora good. She seemed to be the only one the war wasn't ageing. She was probably choosing rightly with burdening herself with the convalescent home.
As Violet chewed on her piece of chicken breast without a great appetite, she kept her eyes on her daughter-in-law. The dark robe she wore was truly captivating. Violet found the ladies at Downton could pull off the newer fashions quite well. Not that she would wear it herself, but it complimented the younger ladies' features nicely. And apparently, Cora was still one of the younger ladies. The dark fabric – Violet wasn't able to tell whether it was black or a really deep red – pulled attention to Cora's wide neckline, and it was easy to get lost in the easily perceivable rise and fall of her creamy decolletage. Why would a married woman dress so close to the line of vulgarity? The Dowager Countess had to shake herself to notice she wasn't the only one lost in Cora's bosom. Her son next to her had slowed down his eating so much that it got suspicious the manner in which his eyes were glued to his wife's chest.
Violet cleared her throat before she brought the next piece of chicken to her mouth and gladly, it was enough to pull her son from his stupor.
"Aren't you spending too much on the women's wardrobes for war times?" she asked Robert, her eyes directed at her plate instead of him.
"What? Do you think so?" he sounded confused.
"Apart from Sybil who keeps wearing the same dress, the girls and Cora are presenting new excesses of fashion daily."
"It's only the gowns for dinner, I think. And I am surprised you are mentioning your opposition to that. I thought you praised that upholding the customs and a proper lifestyle even in these times is our responsibility."
"Yes, but it seems, contrary to the people in this house I know the right measure," she quipped.
Cora's head turned around and she looked at the two of them. They appeared to have attracted her attention. There was always this constant smile on her lips even if there was concern behind her forehead. Her earrings dangled bouncily from her ears. The ruby jewellery matched the necklace adorning her exposed neck, and still moved from the quick whip of her head. Like drops of deep red blood, the shining stones hovered a few centimetres from her unblemished skin.
Violet didn't continue the short dispute with Robert. There was no need to get Cora involved in this marginal back and forth. The Dowager brought her glass of wine to her lips instead.
Cora's look was merely directed at her husband now. The corners of her mouth twitched, and then it was over as quickly as it began. Cora touched her necklace with her fingertips, running them softly over the stones, before she picked up her knife again and said something unintelligible to Edith sitting to her left.
Violet wasn't missing that her son still followed his wife's every move. He seemed to have forgotten his food entirely. His cutlery was carelessly discarded on his plate. And he ignored his mother, whom he should entertain now as custom dictated, completely. Since she didn't feel like discussing anything of little importance, she let him be and unwillingly found herself joining him in observing Cora.
O'Brien really did a brilliant job with these chocolate curls. The way just the right ones bounced at every nod of her head certainly added to the countess's charm. Her face glowed with enthusiasm and her eyes were wide and awake, not all as tired as Violet certainly felt. As she thought for a second about her own tiredness, she had to stifle a yawn. She wasn't one for long evenings anymore. Because her mind became lazy as jadedness overtook her body, Violet once again got caught up in the shiny rubies on Cora's neck and head. The warm light of the candles got caught in them and bound Violet with the transfixing illusion they created. Cora's occasional touch against the stones on her neck or how the ones hanging from her ears brushed her shoulders just where they were still bare made an impression on Violet that let her think there was something slightly erotic about it and she shouldn't actually be watching. With delayed reactions, she finally tore her gaze from her daughter-in-law and a single look at her son confirmed her suspicions. There was something erotic about it. Robert's mouth hung slightly open. The red reflections of the rubies sprinkled across his face. Violet saw him gulp as Cora let a laugh slip from her lips; a sound that wasn't that common anymore since war had been declared. These were no times for laughter. But somehow Cora seemed to have found something that demanded such an openly happy reaction.
Eventually, it was enough for Violet. She rather briskly addressed Robert and implicitly forbade his ogling of his wife as she claimed the dinner conversation with him. If he and his wife wanted to be soppy and merry despite the gloomy times, they could do so in their private moments together, not at the dinner table. And if they weren't strong enough to ensure it, Violet had to take care of it. Even if it wasn't her house anymore. Some decisions still had to be made by her.
O'Brien tried to finish the steps of Her Ladyship's nightly routine as quickly as possible. She was exhausted and still had to make some alterations on a few nightgowns. She didn't want to be the last one leaving the servant's hall this night, so she hurried the tasks in the Mercia bedroom.
Her Ladyship seemed to be in a good mood tonight. She didn't appear nearly as exhausted as O'Brien felt but after all, she didn't spend her day hardworking. Lady Grantham glowed just the same as when O'Brien had dressed her for dinner, her blue eyes full of life and somehow, O'Brien thought, with a cheeky glint in them. When O'Brien finally got her to sit at the dressing table, her deft fingers quickly took up the task of pulling the pins from the dark curls. Her intricate handiwork that had served for a short night was unravelled in an instant. Her Ladyship was imbued with a constant low hum. Only briefly, it was disrupted by a serious thought that instantly showed on her face. She then scrutinised herself in the mirror with a furrowed brow and a grave look in the eyes, her mind entirely elsewhere than as present as the intense stare indicated. And as quickly as these thoughts came, they went again.
O'Brien could only guess that the convalescent home was always in the back of her head. No wonder. This monstrous invasion of the house would weigh heavy on anyone's mind. It was actually strange how light-hearted Her Ladyship still was a great deal of the time. But she was a very gullible person after all. She barely seemed to catch on to the gravity of the things, having only lived the most guarded way of life. Whenever she seemed to sense that something was more severe, though, she had a rather dramatic way of putting on a display of worry in her wide puppy eyes.
O'Brien sighed. Her Ladyship's eyes met hers in the mirror.
"Is anything the matter, O'Brien?"
"No, it's nothing, milady," she quickly replied. "It's just…" she hesitated, and sure enough Her Ladyship urged her with her look to elaborate. "I am worried the convalescent home will be a great burden on you and the house. It is very honourable and generous of you to provide your home for the greater good of the country. It just gives me a lot to worry about with so many strange men in your house."
Another tress tumbled down onto Lady Grantham's shoulder. She smiled at her maid.
"I understand why you're worried and I appreciate how involved you are with the family's wellbeing since you would not have to do that at all. It speaks well for you as an employee. But the convalescent home is going just perfectly fine. And there is no option to not do your part in the war. We have to supply what we can. So, we share our home with the ones in need."
Strange how it was just so easy for the countess.
O'Brien bowed her head and ran her fingers over Her Ladyship's scalp as the last pin was loosened.
"Yes, milady," she mumbled into the dark hair and aimed at her goal of hurrying the process again. She made a few quick brushes through particularly tangled strands. Her Ladyship was twisting the ruby jewellery that she had just taken off her neck around her fingers, creating a ruby coil, that O'Brien already saw the necklace snap and the red stones dotting the floor before her inner eye. With a quick motion, she gathered the hair at the nape of Her Ladyship's neck and stretched out her free arm to reach for the prepared red ribbon. Her eyes fell onto another red item that lay precariously just on the edge of the dressing table. Her Ladyship must have put it there herself because O'Brien couldn't remember touching it.
It was a red little book, and O'Brien immediately tried to forget the booklet's title. She didn't want to know these kinds of things. The title itself didn't immediately allude to the 'things' discussed inside. But 'Of Venturesome Philosophy' didn't appear for the first time in her Ladyship's bedroom. One time, quite a few years ago, O'Brien had picked the red booklet up with the intention to put it away. Inadvertently, she had picked up the cover so that a random page had fallen open. A page that held an illustration O'Brien wouldn't forget so quickly. She really didn't need to know in which positions a man and woman could find themselves if the devil of savage creativity overtook them.
Now, the book was there again after it had gladly vanished for some years. O'Brien felt her fingers stiffen in the first waves of shock. She fumbled clumsily with the ribbon and had to brush the hair again as she didn't manage to put on the ribbon properly.
Was this house really going down so completely now? Abasement of morality at every corner. Did the brutes of veterans maybe have a bad influence on Her Ladyship? Did she think it was alright to allow such uncivilised customs to take over because she saw the primitiveness of the 'guests' in her house?
However, O'Brien couldn't do anything about it. It was a shame. Not that she cared greatly about Her Ladyship's reputation or morals. She couldn't care less about the decay of the family. But it irritated her greatly that her influence on Lady Grantham seemed to go null lately while others had much more control over her. She worked hard to hold sway over Her Ladyship, doing so much to gain her trust and be her confidante. What was she doing wrong?
"Did you manage to do the alterations I wanted?" Her Ladyship looked at the nightgown laying on a chair nearby.
"I'm afraid, not yet, milady. I wanted to do it tonight."
"Oh, I see. That's alright. Then I have to make do with…" she drew out the sentence in an inquiring tone, and O'Brien quickly leapt to the chair and held up the nightgown for Lady Grantham. It was rather light and had very short sleeves but O'Brien noticed Her Ladyship's glance to the hem of the dress and assumed it was a bit too long for her liking.
"Alright. That is actually a nice one, isn't it?" She rose from her seat at the dressing table.
O'Brien disliked these questions. "Yes, milady." Putting the nightdress away again, she helped Her Ladyship undress, loosening the corset, taking off the skirts, unlacing the bodice, and finally pulling off the chemise. Lady Grantham's creamy skin was bare before her and the dainty shoulders and back filled a great part of the maid's vision. She noticed a bruise-like mark on her neck that hadn't been there in the morning but she decided to better ignore it for now. Wishing to depart as soon as possible, she helped Her Ladyship into the nightgown.
"Is there anything else, milady?"
"I think that's all. Goodnight, O'Brien."
"Goodnight, milady."
With the mahogany evening gown over her arm, O'Brien left the Mercia bedroom and took a deep breath once she closed the door behind her.
Everything tingled and prickled in him as her soft, soft skin glided over his. His hands roamed every part of her body he could reach to get as much of the velvety touch as possible. Her look from dinner was still a vision before his inner eye. The glint in her eyes as her look briefly brushed him. The touch of her fingertips to her neck where she traced the red shiny jewellery so tantalisingly. The hearty laugh that pulled the attention of the whole dinner party to her cherry lips. What had taken hold of her that today she was so seducing in everything she did?
Now, Robert sat with his back against the headboard. His clothes had been off him in no time as Cora quickly ensnarled him and drew her long fingers in stimulating patterns over his covered skin. Her position now in his lap, the nightgown thrown somewhere behind her, was the only reasonable position for her, Robert thought. His face was buried in her hair, and Cora, keeping her lips on the shell of his ear as best as she could while placing soft kisses there, made sounds that sent all his blood in an instant to his lap. She moved purposefully on top of him. He grunted into the tangles of her hair; her flowery scent clouding his senses. His lips searched her neck and connected with the tender skin he found there.
"So, what did you read tonight?" he groaned without lifting his head.
He had recognised the book immediately, even though she tried to push it into the drawer of her bedside table as soon as he turned the doorknob. The red cover was engrained on his brain. Immediate anticipatory excitement set in as Cora still stammered with red tips of her ears that it was only coincidentally that the book had fallen into her hands and that she had looked into it without any intentions. Her awkward reaction was the biggest giveaway that she had something planned indeed.
Robert wisely decided to not press the topic and merely reduce the distance between them. She would follow her plans soon and undoubtedly enough.
"You gave me no time to read anything," she breathed, and her words were loud and hot with her lips directly at his ear.
Cora pulled back and took his face into her hands. Her thumbs rested on his cheeks; her little fingers hooked under his jaw. Her eyes assessed his face shortly, the big pupils growing even larger before her lips descended onto his. And even though she had just pulled him from the delicious perfumy warmth of her neck, Robert couldn't fault her and was grateful for the taste of her plump lips. There was no way he could stop kissing her once he'd started. It was too addictive.
Her warm body pressed down on him. Robert couldn't help the occasional involuntary jerk against her warm centre. His arms circled her as completely as possible and pulled her flush against him.
Her bottom lip between his teeth, he breathed, "I know that you have plans with me."
Cora's palms settled on his shoulders. Her chest struggled against his with every desperate breath she took. Robert released her lips and Cora rested her forehead against his, gasping open-mouthed. Her look was directed down between them and she didn't answer. Robert tried to find her eyes so up close but there were just down-cast lids and flattering lashes.
"What do you want to do?" he prompted her, unsure if maybe she needed more reassurance.
"Uhm… I don't know if it works," she finally gave in; her voice a soft tone.
"Golly, what have you read there?"
She pulled back. The warm contact of her forehead breaking immediately left a cold sensation of loss on his skin. Cora still looked down. Her hands left his shoulders too and took up playing with each other's thumbs. Robert kept his eyes firmly on her for the pleasing nude vision in front of him. His palms rested on her hips.
"I wanted to try something different, something new, because… I… I don't really know why. But when I took a look into the… well, you know, I realised we already did quite many things. I don't know if we really have to try the more… experimental ones." At the end of her explanation, she looked up into his eyes and looked for his reaction.
"But would you like to? Because if so, then I'd say we try it. Your ideas have always been quite fun," he smiled.
"Alright." She shuffled on his lap; a smirk playing around her lips. Robert twitched at the sensations on his groin he was unprepared for. Cora sat back on his thighs and gave Robert some relief. Her direct look at him was more confident now.
As she spoke her fingers ran through the hairs on his chest, "For the one I saw, we wouldn't necessarily need a bed," Robert's eyes grew wide, "at least I think," Cora considered. "I'm still trying to understand it. And I'm not sure if it would work. It could be too straining on you," she explained.
"Too straining?" Didn't she think him capable? "Do you think I can't do it?"
"No, I didn't say that, but look," she stretched to open the drawer of her bedside table while only barely lifting herself onto her knees. She rummaged in the drawer. "You'd have to hold me like this." She flipped the pages of the red book, the many illustrations blurring in front of Robert's eyes. As Cora found the page, she quickly put on her hands on the pictures he shouldn't see. Cora was the keeper of the book. She gave Robert only the most necessary insights. One time, when the book had been quite new, Cora made the mistake of showing Robert the book openly. His first shock changed to confusion about the great variety. And his confusion didn't make for a pleasing experience. It wasn't smart to try it all once.
The illustration she now showed him portrayed a man in an upright position holding a woman on his hips, his hands on her backside, the woman wound erotically around him. Her leg was up high around his back.
"We can do this," he quickly decided. It reminded him of the naughty things they had done on his desk on rare and desperate occasions. It was just, as Cora had said, that he had to carry her, instead of the desk doing this job. And the slightly different angle piqued Robert's interest.
Cora's eyes shone at his quick response. "Really?"
The book was tucked away a bit helplessly as Robert's hands already distracted Cora and hazed her clear thoughts. Robert could immediately see the change in her eyes.
They soon found themselves in an aroused tangle, and the exact position didn't matter primarily for their intimacy anymore. Still, Robert was determined to get them where Cora had wished them to be. He wouldn't leave her wishes unsatisfied. But it was very hard to leave the bed when it all was already so nice and comfortable with his soft Cora in his arms. He indulged a while longer, her lips drinking the sweet nectar of pleasure from his and he gladly provided and reciprocated.
And then, he finally rose, pushed himself off her and the bed, and stood aroused at the edge of the bed. His dampened undergarments soon connected with the floor, and then he picked the flushed Cora who also struggled from her last garment and lifted her up. Her legs nestled to his body and locked around his hips. Cora hugged him tightly as her lips found his again in a fiery kiss. She was so close that it couldn't compare to the position on his desk. Robert's arms secured her to him, and he had to steel his resistance when Cora's hot and wet centre dragged along his arousal. The mewl in her throat slopped into his mouth as her tongue pushed inside.
After a quick agreement, both of them desperately excited by now, Robert flexed his arm to lift her ever higher. Her wet lust dragged along his abdomen and he groaned. Her moans filled the small space between them. Then, he finally lowered her onto himself. Her nimble fingers shot down between them, gripped him gently and guided him inside.
The way they rode through pleasure then, filled Robert with the greatest sense of fulfilment. Yes, it was a challenging task that demanded all his muscle work to let her bounce so deliciously on him. But being needed so fully and completely – having to give his all – made his heart leap as highly as it had just been about to forget was possible.
"Robert," she cried. And his urge intensified.
Only his name and variations of approving sounds were uttered by her. Robert focused his energy on his bodily performance. Merely silent groans accompanied his work.
Cora's limbs were everywhere at once, and Robert tried not to lose his orientation completely. When the twist of her hips towards his doubled the pleasurable experience, they both fell into a simultaneous deep groan. The moment she pushed deliriously down on him, more pronounced words left her lips.
More an enlightened revelation on the brink of total bliss than a desperate demand, she called in euphoric laughter, "I need you, Robert." She giving voice to his thoughts – that he was capable to give her exactly what she needed – made something in Robert snap, and he furiously rode through the hazy clouds of lust. Cora's calls grew more distant and closer at the same time. And he spasmed into her as her whole body clamped around him.
She needed him.
It was the thought that accompanied him for the rest of the hazy night, after he fell weakly – with her in his arms – onto the bed again, as sleep was coming and going while she dreamed in deep unrousable slumber in his arms and by his side, the certainty that with her, he had a purpose to serve – an important one he fulfilled successfully – gave him complete peace of mind for this night.