At first, I wasn't going to do this. I thought the first chapter might be considered scandalous enough for what is, objectively, a children's film. And a classic one, at that. But then I started writing it to see if I could, and I liked it so much that I just had to. Isn't that the way it always goes with smut? It's fun and freeing but also somewhat scary to write the first and possibly only M story for a couple, especially because I'm the sort of person who for so long felt like I needed to be granted some sort of "permission" to write certain things.
Hopefully I am not going to be kicking anyone in the childhood with this, but, well, if you're here, you're freely choosing to read it, right? My intention is never ever to be pornographic but rather to fully explore the depth of love and connection between two characters who have such great chemistry and such a charming love story. And I mean, for me, personally... I very much want this to exist, so there must be others like me out there somewhere!
Basically just please use your discretion and don't read this chapter if you find the idea of a sex scene between these characters to be distasteful. That's enough in the way of disclaimers, I think. Can you tell how nervous I am to post this or what?
xxx
During the three months of their engagement, Caractacus had spent much time considering whether or not Chitty would be the most efficient mode of transportation for their honeymoon tour. Of course, traveling by air would be significantly faster than taking boats and planes. But he certainly didn't want to make a spectacle out of them either, nor attract any unwanted attention. In the end, he'd worked out the brilliant plan to only take off and land in secluded rural areas closest to their intended destination. Despite that extra time spent driving, it would still shorten their travel time significantly.
Though they planned to head down to the French Riviera next for the majority of their honeymoon, Caractacus and Truly were spending their wedding night in London. This was largely because it would be a quick and easy destination to reach by flying, and, though neither one of them dared to speak a hint of the reason aloud, it seemed understood that they did not want to spend their first night as husband and wife en route to a destination instead of in each other's arms.
It had been easy enough, during the flight, not to get too worked up about what was coming later. There were so many fascinating sights passing below them as Chitty guided their path, and still so much to discuss about what had happened on the wedding day itself, that the conversation flowed as naturally as ever between them, and that most pressing topic had been left delicately unspoken.
They'd been wed in the gorgeous gardens of the Scrumptious estate, which were still largely in full summer bloom in September, and the weather had been as perfect as they could have dreamed. Caractacus had felt his heart leaping in his chest, his breath catching when he'd first seen Truly in her wedding gown, her face glowing with joy as she walked down the aisle toward him, an impossible dream come true. In a flowing, lacy white confection both more understated and more exquisite than the dresses he'd seen her in before, she'd looked as regal as a goddess or a queen, but she'd still broken her flawless stride to give each twin a warm pat on the cheek just before her father officially gave her away. And then Caractacus was lost in those eyes, stunning and blue, gazing into his own with such pure adoration as they'd promised to love and belong to each other forevermore, and he'd had to remind himself not to kiss his bride too heartily in front of all their friends and family and quite a few lords and ladies.
(If any of the aforementioned aristocrats were wondering why Lord Scrumptious' beautiful daughter had chosen to marry an obviously American widower with two children who'd made his fortune a few short months ago by inventing dog sweets, none of them dared to voice it, especially as Lord Scrumptious seemed so very jovial and proud to accept the inventor as his son-in-law. And the fact of the matter was that neither the bride nor the groom cared one bit about such ridiculous judgments, even in theory - in fact, the bride had made a point of whispering to her new husband during a dance that she would have been holding her head just as high if the King himself had been present and dared to regard the couple with skeptical eyes.)
It felt very strange to Caractacus, being apart from Jeremy and Jemima for the first time since their birth eight years ago. Overjoyed to officially welcome the new mother that they loved so dearly and always had, the twins had been just as jubilant today as the bride and groom themselves. It warmed his heart immeasurably to remember the way they'd flung themselves to hug Truly the very moment that the ceremony concluded, Jemima's exuberant cry of "Now we can call you Mummy!", which had brought Truly to the point of joyful tears, and their bright little faces as they waved goodbye while the newlyweds took to the sky.
But no matter how keenly he felt their temporary absence, the children were in good hands, with their Grandpa to care for them, Edison to play with, their warm and secure new home and quite a few new toys, and the entire Scrumptious estate to explore on the days when they were staying with their new set of grandparents.
"We'll miss you both terribly, but we'll have such adventures to tell you about when you get home!" Jeremy declared shortly before the couple had embarked on their journey.
Jemima, bouncing on her tiptoes, added: "And then you'll have to tell us about all your adventures, too, Daddy... and Mummy!"
Caractacus ruffled each twin's hair while Truly gave them a sweet kiss on each cheek, and the newlyweds made them promise not to have any adventures involving actual pirates, evil barons, or being swept away across the sea.
"I still don't understand why they couldn't take us along," Jeremy mused as soon as he thought they were out of earshot, causing husband and wife to share an amused smile as they listened in.
Jemima shook her head at her brother. "Because it's a honeymoon, silly, and they're in love!"
"What's that have to do with anything? They're our mum and dad, after all."
"That's just how it works," Jemima responded with a sage nod, hands folded neatly in front of her.
And now, a few hours later, the new Mr. and Mrs. Potts were back on solid ground, ready to embark on a very private adventure of their own. As they'd driven toward their London hotel, they heard the city bells ringing out the seven o'clock hour, and twilight was settling over the city like a blanket, a faint but pleasant early-autumn chill in the air.
Caractacus couldn't resist carrying Truly across the threshold into their hotel room, thrilled to be allowed the privilege of sweeping her up in his arms whenever he wanted, without needing the excuse of rescuing her from muddy water. She never veered off into the duck pond in her motorcar anymore, which was a very good thing on all counts except that he'd never had another chance to pick her up and hold her since the day he proposed. She fit just as perfectly in his arms as he remembered, so snug and warm nestled against him, and he couldn't help but lean in for a kiss -
"Mind the doorframe! We wouldn't want you knocking your head about again."
Laughing at his narrow escape, he whirled around with Truly still in his arms and closed the door behind them using his foot, turning the key in the lock for good measure. Once he'd settled her on her own two feet, he pulled her in for another kiss, not even bothering to take a look at the room itself just yet - it had been hours since they'd been able to embrace at all, let alone in such complete privacy as this.
Something about her sparkling laugh, something about carrying her in his arms and all the memories it provoked, something about finally being blissfully, thrillingly alone with this beautiful, warm woman who'd captured his heart made him a little giddy, and even though he'd spent a lot of time, far too much, perhaps, planning out how their wedding night ought to go so he'd prove himself to be the best husband possible, all he was thinking about right now was her. He couldn't stop kissing her, even though he had the distinct sense that he was forgetting something, and as she was responding to his kisses with equal ardor, he didn't want to stop, either.
It was only when he nearly stumbled backwards over his own suitcase as he pulled her further into the room with him that it hit him how impractical he was being, and they broke apart, laughing again.
"That, sweetheart, is exactly why a man's got to keep his feet on the ground!" he exclaimed as he righted himself.
"Well, isn't that a fitting start to our marriage! But better to trip than to hit your head, I suppose."
With Truly giggling and beaming up at him, it was incredibly difficult to resist the urge to pull her back into his arms and continue kissing her soundly, sweep her up and bring her right over to the bed and leave all the rest for later.
But Caractacus had to remind himself to be at least somewhat practical. He had to ensure her comfort tonight on every level, after all, even the most basic. They'd just traveled over a hundred miles by air and quite a few more by car, and he figured that they could both use a few minutes to freshen up and deal with their luggage before... anything else.
So he released her from his embrace, though he couldn't miss the wistfulness in her eyes, and carried both of their traveling trunks to their proper places.
"Better take care of these, first." He tried not to cringe at how that sounded, first - was he referring too casually to what was certainly coming next? "Are you, ah, feeling hungry after that long journey? Do you want anything? Tea? Biscuits?" He fumbled around through the sundry items that had been left out on a table for the room's occupants, as if one of them might improbably turn out to be a steaming kettle or a biscuit tin. (No tea without a stove, of course - he should really invent a sort of tea kettle that could boil the water all on its own.) "Now that I think of it, I doubt the room has anything to eat or drink, but I could call somebody up - "
"Please don't call somebody up!" she protested with a sweet, blushing smile, drawing closer to him. "I don't want - that is - well, I don't need anything right now."
Though she was apparently too embarrassed to elaborate much on this hasty objection, he was pretty sure he understood what she was thinking. No interruptions, no intrusions. He felt the same way, truthfully - his offer had been nothing but a frantic, clumsy attempt to ensure that she wasn't feeling pushed into anything for which she didn't feel ready.
He knew she was ready in the broadest sense, of course, that they were both ready. Last night had been proof enough of that on its own. But that didn't mean she was ready at this exact moment, and he was nervous about making her feel obligated to do anything instead of letting natural, mutual desire lead them there.
So he gave her a warm smile before turning to fix his windblown hair in a mirror. "Good, good. Why don't we make ourselves at home, then?" Taking deep breaths so his heart wouldn't race as wildly, Caractacus loosened his tie and kicked off his shoes.
Watching her sit down to unbuckle her boots and remove them was not much of a shock, as he'd seen her do something very similar many times at the seaside this summer. Of course, she'd never done so while perched on the edge of a bed they were about to share, but still, he appreciated that they'd already achieved a level of comfort with certain things that were not perfectly proper. It made settling into a room together for the first time somewhat less intimidating.
After a few minutes of dealing with such mundane necessities and chatting comfortably with her about the journey and the room, Caractacus found himself sitting on an ottoman, rolling up his sleeves as he watched Truly watch the London skyline from their window. The warm yellow lights of the city were glowing against the evening-blue sky and reflecting on the Thames, and the turrets and spires of noble edifices created an exquisite silhouette. He could only remember visiting London once in his life before, when he'd been a teenage boy and he and his parents had moved back to England from America, and he didn't think he'd gotten to see it from a vantage point anything like this one.
Still, as impressive as the view was, he couldn't take his eyes off Truly, whose silhouette he found far more stunning and captivating than any scenery. She'd removed the jacket of her traveling suit a few minutes ago and laid it aside, leaving her in a fairly simple white blouse with ruffles around the collar and sleeves and a slim mulberry skirt, her golden hair cascading down her back. Without her shoes or any sort of large, puffy hat, she always looked so much shorter, charmingly so. The somewhat-sheer fabric of her sleeves offered a glimpse of her bare arms that proved more tantalizing than ever, tonight.
Oh, how he ached to take her into his arms and undress her, explore the marvelous, uncharted territory of her body with his hands and his lips, make her sigh and moan and cry out with pleasure for the very first time! It wasn't only their right to live out every passionate fantasy they'd ever harbored about each other, now - it was, in fact, encouraged.
But somehow, he felt rooted to the spot, as if waiting for the perfect moment to present itself before he could act. If he were a different sort of man, he'd probably have some great romantic line to make his new bride swoon into his arms, but words had never been his specialty. On the occasions that he did say exactly the right thing, he was more likely to stumble into it by sheer luck.
"The city looks so beautiful from up here," Truly remarked, pulling him out of the maze of his own thoughts.
Caractacus raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. "Your family have a house here, don't they?"
She looked over her shoulder at him, eyes and cheeks glowing as she toyed with her wedding ring. "Oh, yes, but - it's different tonight. I've never seen it like this before."
Somehow, he understood just how she was feeling.
Because he'd never - never with her, and she was so lovely and perfect and so different. She was so... Truly.
England wasn't exactly known for its sunshine, but it had her, and that was enough. Her gentle smile and her sparkling, vivacious eyes, her tenacity and quick wit and fondness for teasing him, her laugh that always brightened his entire day, her stunning beauty and effortless grace accompanied with a sweet humility, a complete lack of egotism. She'd been born and raised in luxury beyond what he could fathom, yet it didn't bother her in the slightest to leave that world behind for him. Instead, she took in everything around her with an eager, open heart as she became part of his world.
Despite her delicate looks, posh upbringing, and love for pretty things, she was anything but a shrinking violet. She enjoyed impulsive adventures in the countryside, indulged the children's imaginations for hours on end, listened attentively while he explained every detail of the inventions she'd once scoffed at, and had a keen interest in learning all of the skills she'd been raised to believe she'd never need, everything from cooking and baking to motorcar repairs. Meanwhile, she'd also broadened his mind by sharing her own extensive education in topics he'd never really studied much before, art and music and literature, and, of course, the art and science of sweet-making.
He'd spent his entire adult life surrounded by English accents, but he could still never get enough of hers, delighting in the way she pronounced each and every word in that bright, clear, cultured voice. Autumn. Poem. Daughter. Marvelous. He'd thought she made his American accent sound especially unsophisticated in comparison, but, as she had inexplicably expressed an equal fondness for his accent, it didn't bother him much anymore.
Above all, Truly loved him and everything that he was, fiercely and unconditionally, a fact that still left him awestruck every single day. And, by God, was she delicious to kiss!
He thought of her on the hill last night, so warm and full of hungry curiosity, so eager to have her anxiety soothed and her mind filled with tantalizing hints of what was to come, whispering how perfectly wonderful she imagined it would be when they could finally make love. Her hands clutching at his shoulders, her body writhing as she desperately tried to get closer and closer to him, without even fully understanding what she was doing. And now...
Caractacus was startled when he realized that his hands were shaking, his heart threatening to leap up into his throat. He supposed, though, that he shouldn't have been so surprised that the pressure of the situation had finally gotten to him.
After all, he didn't think of himself as some sort of great lover. He was only an ordinary man, who'd been very happy with his first wife for far too short of a time. God, he wanted to give Truly everything, wanted to give her pleasure beyond her wildest dreams so she'd be thrilled to make love to him again and again, but what if he'd forgotten how in the past six years? What if all women's bodies didn't work the same way? That was a hypothesis he'd never before had the opportunity (or the desire) to test. And what if he hurt her instead of pleasing her?
Taking a deep breath to clear his thoughts, he reminded himself of what he'd told her yesterday when he'd been feeling far more confident. Calm down, Potts, you're an inventor.
Cause and effect, trial and error. He had a knack for making things work, finding just the right gears and wires to connect to make wondrous things happen. Of course, making love was far more art than science, and a woman was nothing like a machine, but just the fact that he knew that was an advantage already. And not all of his achievements could be classed as strictly scientific. He'd built Chitty with his bare hands from a hull of a burned-out racing car that might as well have been scrap metal, and he'd made her fly.
Tonight, he'd teach Truly to fly, too.
Walking up behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist, buried his face in her neck and breathed in her sweet aroma, luxuriating in her warmth. Without a moment's hesitation, she relaxed right into his arms, as if she'd been waiting for him to do exactly that ever since they'd stepped into the room together. There was no need to wait for a perfect moment, then - he could make one.
"Mrs. Truly Potts," he whispered into her ear, both because he knew it would delight her and because he couldn't quite believe it himself. Truly, his wife.
"I'm so happy," she said with a sigh, willingly tilting her head back to allow him greater access to her neck. "Oh, I love you."
"Mm, and I love you."
Deeming it a safe enough place to begin without coming on too strong, Caractacus began to slip the pins from her hair as he trailed soft, warm kisses along her neck, relishing the sensation of her pulse quickening beneath his lips. For the wedding, she'd worn her hair in the same gorgeous braided crown as she'd worn the day he'd declared his love and proposed, and, though she'd changed from her wedding gown into her traveling suit several hours ago, the little blossoms woven into her hair still remained. He collected them as they fell out one by one, and placed them on the small table near the window - he intended to press them in a book when he had the chance, just as he'd pressed a couple of the flowers she'd worn on that fateful day.
He was pleased that she'd yet to remove her neat white gloves, for it gave him the opportunity to slip them from her delicate hands and press little kisses to her palms while she gasped and sighed and trembled, early little sounds of passion that went straight below his belt. It was something he'd done many times during their engagement, one of the most intimate ways he could touch and caress her while still remaining well within the bounds of propriety and good sense, but it took on a special significance tonight, both of them knowing that he was about to remove far more than her gloves and kiss her far more intimately than this.
Blast it, his hands were shaking again! And this time, there was no hiding it. He clutched her hands even more tightly to try and conceal it before she could feel, but it was no use. Not very manly of you, Potts, he chided himself, feeling his ears go hot with embarrassment.
Truly tilted her head, looking at him with such tenderness in those deep blue eyes. "Look at you, always thinking. I can see it in your eyes. Cogs and wheels turning... Are you nervous? I - I didn't expect - that is, I mean, I'm nervous, but it didn't occur to me that you would be." She gave him a brave little smile. "Can I help in any way?"
She was so very sweet, it made his heart ache. Here she was, on the brink of this brand new, monumental intimacy, something she'd been taught at best to never think about and at worst to fear, and she was offering to help him through his nerves? This wasn't like his first wedding night, where they'd both come into it as equal innocents. This time, he knew what to expect and what to do, even if all he had were three years of experience that had ended six years ago, and it was his sole responsibility to guide his bride through all of these beautiful discoveries and ensure her complete enjoyment.
Thinking rationally, he knew that their lovemaking would get better and better as they learned each other's bodies and that tonight was only the beginning, but that didn't mean he was willing to disappoint her in any way tonight.
He wanted to deny his nervousness to ease her mind, but it wouldn't do to be anything less than completely honest, especially in a moment as vulnerable as this one. "I am, a little. Only because I want everything to be perfect. For you."
Truly bit her lip as she considered that. "Well. It always feels perfect, when you kiss me. So why don't we just - "
" - and then see - "
"Yes, of course."
With that unspoken plan decided upon, Caractacus pulled Truly right into his arms, kissing her with the same unreserved passion as he had on the hill last night, and she responded just as eagerly, parting her lips beneath his to welcome his tongue and pressing her entire body close to him with a boldness that delighted and astonished him.
Even as he swept her into his arms and carried her across the room to the luxurious bed that stood waiting for them, he tried to simply feel, not think too much about the fact that it was their wedding night. He didn't need to lay any heavy expectations upon this moment just yet - it could be just as it had always been between them, kiss after glorious kiss.
This time, though, when he felt the urge to reach up under her skirts and trail his hand up her leg as she trembled, he simply... did so. Her little cry of delight and the haze of heat in her eyes as his fingertips tentatively brushed her bare thighs for the first time were nothing short of delicious, and he resolved to fully dedicate himself, tonight and forever, to getting her to make more and more and more of those sounds.
Meanwhile, Truly astonished him with her own bold explorations, her nimble hands finding his buttons with equal alacrity, making him shiver pleasantly when they slipped along the bare skin of his chest for the first time.
So when he wanted to trace the curve of her breasts with his hands and undo the buttons of her blouse - when she wanted to push his shirt from his shoulders - when he wanted to unlace her corset and she wanted to unbuckle his belt - he did, and she did.
After several minutes and a flurry of such motion, they were nearly naked together, clothes tossed heedlessly all around the room.
It was working out well, the way his confidence gradually returned the more he touched her, the more he delighted her. It was far more difficult to get caught up in overthinking when Truly was half-naked in his arms, warm and eager and enjoying herself every bit as much as he was. Knowing that each touch, each new sensation, was something she'd never experienced before was an intense thrill in itself, and once he'd shaken off his jitters, he found that he greatly enjoyed teasing her, bringing her to near desperation for more before he went any further.
With considerable wonder, he cupped her breasts in his hands for the first time without the barrier of her corset, teased her nipples to firmness through the thin fabric of her chemise as she whimpered and squirmed in the most enticing way, and by the time he slid the silken straps down her shoulders, his lovely bride was practically pleading for him to continue, not at all apprehensive at being so exposed. He was immensely glad that, although her mother had briefly succeeded in instilling some fear in her, Truly at least seemed to harbor no needless shame over being intimate with her husband and enjoying it.
Her bottom was just as exquisitely soft as he'd always thought it would be, since long before such thoughts were remotely appropriate, and when Caractacus gave it a squeeze, she caught him by surprise when she slid her hands down his back and did the exact same thing to him, smiling against his lips as she reveled in her own audacity.
"Don't think you're the only one who's been looking forward to being permitted to touch, Mr. Potts," she teased, her voice breathy, and he was reminded again of just how perfect this girl was in every conceivable way. That forthright, bold nature of hers, combined with her playfulness, was going to make her a magnificent lover, he could already tell, and he was so overcome with excitement and desire and love that all he could do was pull her in for another long, deep kiss, each of them letting their hands wander avidly all over the other's barely-clothed form.
When he'd finally slipped off the chemise and pulled down her drawers and left Truly completely bare before him, he had to stop and catch his breath as he took in the sight of her, awed and overwhelmed.
She was, needless to say, a simply perfect specimen of femininity, as exquisite without her clothes as she was in them. Porcelain-pale skin, soft, shapely breasts, small waist flaring into full hips, rose-petal areolas...
Caractacus recalled flipping through a Pre-Raphaelite art book with her a couple months ago in the stillness of her family's pristine library, when she'd been showing him around a bit so they could briefly escape the pressures of his first high-society party. After glancing over a few female nude prints and realizing with a blush that they inevitably made him think of what she would look like reclining in the nude, especially the blonde ones - and when he dared to glance sidelong into her twinkling eyes, surely she knew it, surely she could tell - he'd quickly snapped the book shut and grabbed another one, a book full of much safer Impressionist landscape prints, both of them red-faced and laughing awkwardly.
That was what Truly looked like, a figure flawless enough to be painted by a master, but far more alluring and exciting than any work of art could ever be. No painting could capture the sensual beauty of a woman so delicately flushed, so soft and warm, and certainly not with eyes brimming with love and desire all for him.
It was difficult not to get caught up in those familiar feelings of unworthiness - he was an awkward eccentric who barely remembered to keep his hair combed half the time, and she was an ethereal angel - but instead of letting himself fall too far into those old patterns again, he just thanked his lucky stars that she'd chosen him and vowed anew to give her everything that she deserved. After all, she very specifically didn't want to be regarded as untouchable or in any way superior to him, and he wasn't going to think that way about her now.
"Oh, Truly, you're so, so beautiful," he breathed as he took in the sight of her bare body, and her lovely face lit up even brighter in response to that simple praise. "Every last inch of you - you're just perfect."
She reached up and trailed a hand down the plane of his bare chest while his heart raced beneath her touch. "That's just the sort of thing I always hoped you'd say, and the way I'd hoped you'd say it." Her cheeks grew even pinker.
Caractacus blinked several times. "Always?"
"Well, ever since - ever since I've been imagining this moment." Truly cast her eyes down with that coy smile he so adored.
Oh, there was a delectable thought. Now was not at all the right time to pursue this topic further, but at some point, he needed to learn about what those imaginings were like, and when they had begun. He knew - more than ever, after last night - that her fantasies couldn't have been too detailed nor realistic, but it hardly mattered. The idea of sweet, elegant, virtuous Truly lost in her daydreams and wanting him - wanting him! - was one of the most erotic things he could possibly envision.
He had enough sense in his head to realize that if he just sat and stared at her, she'd get nervous again, and then so would he, so, as Caractacus pulled her in for another ardent kiss, he resolved to waste no time in touching her in every way he'd imagined for months in feverish daydreams. She gasped and moaned when he teased each rosy nipple with his fingers, and when he eagerly leaned down to do the same with his lips and tongue, she let out a cry loud enough to ring out around their room, back arching and hands winding in his hair.
(Though he was only wearing his drawers, they were feeling more and more restrictive with every passing second. But he didn't dare remove them yet, detemined as he was to make the first part of this evening entirely about her, her pleasure, her comfort.)
Emboldened by her shamelessly enthusiastic response, he laid Truly down on the bed beneath him and began to explore every inch of her body, every delicious curve, memorizing her, his breath hitching in his throat with each new discovery.
Trial and error, cause and effect: she liked that and that and that, not as much that, and oh, definitely that. Thus he discovered several highly interesting places on her body, and then closed in on one particular spot so interesting that even the lightest brush of his fingers made her twitch and writhe and gasp beneath him.
"Oh, dear - I've never felt - " She managed to get out the words between breathless giggles, her pretty face alight with the most enchanting smile.
Between her thighs, she was hot and wet and soft like velvet and he sort of couldn't believe that this was really happening, that Truly was really his wife and really allowing him to touch her this way. She'd chosen him, loved him, over all the men of her class, over all the men it would have been considered far more suitable for her to marry, and he was the only man who'd ever have the pleasure and the privilege of seeing and touching her like this. It made his head fairly spin.
There was something wildly arousing about the thought that even a true lady like her, underneath all her finery and impeccable manners, was so warm and sensitive, so amorous and needy now that she'd awakened to his touch. It made logical sense that this was so, of course, but erotic thoughts weren't always strictly logical and scientific, to say the least. Words and images were rushing into his mind that were enough to make him blush, let alone her, if she'd had any idea of the nature of his thoughts. Eventually, he planned for them to do every last thing that was running through his mind at present, and maybe someday he'd possess the seductive confidence to actually use all those shocking words, too, and she'd be comfortable enough to like hearing them.
But right now, he had very specific plans in mind for their wedding night, and he dearly, dearly hoped that Truly would be amenable to them. When he slid down her body, trailing kisses along the exquisitely soft skin of her smooth belly as he went, he could feel her nervous laugh as well as hear it.
"Caractacus? What are you doing?"
Her tone was indulgent, a little teasing, but her voice was even higher than usual, almost quavering. As much as he longed to continue, he looked up and examined her expression, making sure that he wasn't frightening her. On the contrary, she was smiling, though shyly, blue eyes wide and dark with what seemed to be a combination of disbelief and desire.
After a brief moment in which he'd seemed to have forgotten how to speak, he remembered exactly what he'd said last night, and responded with a warm, reassuring smile: "Kissing you all over, of course."
In response to that, she simply reached down and ran her fingers through his hair with an adoring smile, even as her breathing continued to quicken, and it was such a fond, comfortable expression of trust and approval that any brief worries he'd held about proceeding on his current path dissolved almost completely.
After a brief detour to rain kisses upon those calves and ankles that he'd so admired ever since their first seaside picnic, he kissed his up her warm inner thighs, overwhelmed by the irresistible scent of her arousal. He could feel her thighs quivering, hear her breath start to come in stuttering gasps, and when he reached his intended destination at last with a sweep of his tongue over the center of her pleasure, Truly let out a breathless cry of wonder and surprise.
"Is that - ?"
"Do you want me to - ?"
"Yes, please, please."
The heat and feel and scent and taste of her - oh God, was it crass to admit that her name had made him think of this long before he ought to? Well, really, some would say that nobody ever ought to think of this act, but he disagreed emphatically and he was sure that Truly would too, because it wasn't long at all before she was shaking, gasping, sobbing with pleasure, writhing so frantically that he had to keep a firm hold on her thighs to keep doing precisely what she liked most without losing the rhythm of it. The pleasure was so completely new to her and so unexpected that she didn't even know how to manage it, how to control her responses, and there was an extraordinary primal beauty to that, his cultivated English rose at her most untamed.
When she reached her climax for the very first time, it was unmistakable, the way she let out a full-throated cry of unbridled ecstasy and shuddered and pulsed and clenched around his exploring fingers and grew even wetter for him, and the sensory experience of it all was so unbearably arousing that he was left nearly as dazed as she was.
As he lifted his head and took in the gloriously disheveled sight of her, reclining against the pillows like a goddess in repose, his face was alight with a grin as brilliant as if he'd made the most spectacular discovery of his life. (Well, hadn't he?)
Yet when he slid back up the bed, gathered his wife into his arms again and kissed her, he found her cheeks were wet with tears. Alarmed, Caractacus cupped her face in his hands. "Truly? Sweetheart, is everything all right? I'm so sorry if I - "
Relief crashed over him like a wave as she began to giggle, her golden head lolling against his shoulder on the pillow. "I'm sorry, dear, I'm quite incoherent. I have never, never, never felt anything like that. Is - is that what you meant by taste me?"
He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck, oddly sheepish for a man who'd just made his wife scream with pleasure for the first time. "Why, yes it was."
"Good Lord. You are a genius."
It was the most emphatic interjection he'd ever heard her use, and he grinned brilliantly down at her, masculine pride swelling in his chest.
As she flicked another tear away from her eye, she added, "I promise I wasn't crying. I don't quite know where the tears came from. I've just never felt so much before."
Even without trying, she said such beautiful things, whereas Caractacus was so overcome that he couldn't seem to string enough words together to express what he wanted her to know. After a moment, as he gently twirled the golden curl beside her left ear, he found he was able to speak his thoughts aloud in a mostly intelligible fashion. "Well, I just thought I ought to make sure you knew that it can feel that way. I always want you to feel that way with me, sweetheart. I'll always make sure you do."
He'd always found her smile so beautiful, but now, observing the sparkle in her eyes and the sweet curve of her shapely pink lips as she nestled against him, he thought that he'd never loved her smile more than he did right now, knowing the reason for it. He pulled Truly close, hugging her tightly to his body, running his hands down her bare back in long strokes. No matter what happened now - even if it didn't go as perfectly as he wanted it to when they made love for the first time - he'd given her what she deserved, what he'd promised, what he planned to give to her a hundred million times over. She now understood the limitless heights of sensual bliss she was capable of experiencing, and he thought he had no greater duty to her as a husband than to give her that.
After a few moments had passed in this fashion, Truly peered up at him with desire-clouded eyes and then tugged on the waistband of his drawers. "You're still dressed," she announced with something like indignance, and her tone was so affronted that he found it utterly adorable.
"I guess I got carried away. And before that, I didn't want to go too fast, you know." He felt like he was stammering a bit, unable to easily explain his own reticence. "I didn't want to frighten you or anything, if you weren't ready."
At that, Truly laughed and shook her head. "Frighten me? I've seen far more frightening things than my own husband's body," she reminded him with a gleam in her eye. "You should know - you were there."
Caractacus conceded to that with a laugh of his own, though he certainly didn't want to be reminded of any of those sights right now!
With their combined efforts, they made very short work of this one remaining garment, and soon it lay forgotten on the floor with all the rest. Though he'd wondered if she'd really want to look at him on this first night - and that was a large part of the reason he'd waited to remove his drawers until it became unavoidable, because he hadn't wanted to shock her with the immediate reality of the male anatomy - Truly drank in the sight of his body with her eyes, and though her eyelids fluttered and her cheeks turned a delicate shade of rosy pink, she did not shy away.
At last, she summed up her findings with a charmingly genteel: "Well, I never!" She glanced up into his eyes, curious but uncertain. "May I - touch - you?"
Her unexpected question left him speechless, blood rushing in his ears, body taut with arousal that had become almost unbearable by now. His initial thought was that he must be noble and refuse and tell her she could do so later, no matter how badly he wanted to say yes - he didn't know if he was going to be able to control himself if she did that - but he found that he didn't have the strength to turn down such an overwhelmingly tempting offer from such a dear, beautiful, loving wife. Here he'd been worrying over if she'd even want to look, and now she was excited to touch him? He heard himself saying yes almost before he realized it.
Just for a minute, he told himself.
So he guided her warm hands to touch and stroke him, all the while practically holding his breath to keep himself in control as her every little motion sent sparks of pleasure up his spine. She was surprisingly fearless when he let her hands go, and she went about it as if it not only aroused her but also fascinated her - perhaps his Truly had a bit of an inventive mind of her own. He'd already seen glimpses of her ingenuity during their engagement when he'd shown her the various workings of some of his machines, so perhaps it was to be expected that such a healthy curiosity would translate to the bedroom just as his did. Despite her refinement and innocence, there was nothing about her that could be called prudish, and he'd been able to sense that from the first time they'd kissed. If she was willing to be so daring tonight, that could only mean absolutely wonderful things for the future of their marriage.
He wondered what she was thinking - he wondered if she was thinking about -
He'd been right, he wasn't going to be able to bear this exquisite touch for very long if he wanted to make love to his wife properly in the immediate future. If he let her finish him, he was nearly certain that it wouldn't take all that long for him to be ready for her again, but something about that seemed... far too embarrassing at this particular moment.
With a ragged gasp, Caractacus stilled her hands with his own and rolled her beneath him, climbing between her invitingly parted legs while she blinked up at him with those beguiling eyes, a little startled.
"Truly, you're more than welcome to touch me that way as much as you want in a little while, if you'd like." Somehow, even in his current state, he managed a wink. "But I can't - right now, I can't bear it any longer - "
"Oh, I understand," she whispered. "I want - I need - " She paused for a moment to catch her breath, evidently searching for the right words. "I'm ready."
He nodded, then kissed her again, deep and long and hungry, while she wound her arms around him and kissed him back with equal ferocity. She was so warm and soft and silken-smooth against him, so much skin against skin. Caractacus thought, absurdly, of the first time he'd carried her across the water in the duck pond, when they'd both been at least performatively resistant to the whole thing. He'd been overwhelmed by the closeness of her after repressing even the slightest desire for any sort of intimacy for six lonely years, fighting his attraction to her, not wanting to admit for a second how enjoyable it felt to hold her in his arms. And that was nothing, nothing compared to how close she was to him now. And how happy she was about it.
She'd said she was ready, but he had to make absolutely certain of that to ensure he'd cause her as little pain as possible, so he slipped his hand down between them and stroked her again, gratified to feel her slickness and heat and to hear the way she whimpered with wanting, her hips jolting in response to his touch. Only when he had Truly trembling and pleading and positively melting with desperate need did he finally, finally dare to enter her, slowly and gently.
They both gasped.
He was certain he'd never felt anything like her - and he hadn't, of course, she was Truly and she was indescribably perfect, and she'd chosen him, she wanted him, she wanted this with him. He was so hard for her, so electrified, that it was nearly maddening.
She, on the other hand, winced in discomfort, wriggled beneath him as she tried to situate herself, and he felt a bit guilty over how good her movements felt. But the idea of Truly in any sort of pain made it easy to control himself, and he breathed in deeply, keeping very still. It was good practice for holding himself back, anyway.
"Truly, talk to me. Am I hurting you?" He gently swept a few loose curls from her forehead, heart racing.
She shook her head, her tense expression already softening. "No... only for a moment, as you said. It feels... unusual, but I think - " She fidgeted again, this time with a little shiver and a widening of her eyes, and he had to hold his breath, his body beginning to shake with the effort of not moving. "I think I want - well, I want you to, um." She smiled up at him, and it relieved him to see her more at ease already. "Show me what it's like, as you promised last night."
Caractacus couldn't help but to smile back at her, and he nuzzled her nose playfully while she laughed. It really was marvelous to realize how the effortless warmth between them persisted even in an intense and extraordinary moment like this.
He reached down between their joined bodies and stroked her again where she liked it most, and, just as he'd hoped, Truly relaxed and released the tension she was still holding in her body, especially when he bent down to kiss her soft and slow at the same time. As he began to move within her, slowly and carefully at first, she seemed to get the idea of it through instinct alone before he even began to guide her, moving her hips right along with his to chase these new sensations and trailing her hands down his back as she let out the most encouraging sighs.
"Is that good?" Caractacus asked, voice tremulous as he dared to quicken his pace a bit.
"Very good." Her words came out as something between a giggle and a gasp, so there was really no room for him to worry or doubt.
No dream, no fantasy could possibly compare to the reality of making love to Truly, holding her close while she gave herself to him with such warmth and love. Scent of honeysuckle and warm sugar, hair like sunshine on the sand, soft, smooth, untouched skin, sighs and moans in the loveliest voice he'd ever heard... Those long, slender legs wrapped around his waist, legs he'd first admired from a distance that day at the beach, knowing that it was hopeless to be attracted to a woman so unattainable... That gorgeous face, lit up and glowing with wonder and euphoria...
Really, Caractacus knew he should be thinking about blueprints and engines and spark-gap transmitters if he wanted this to last, but this moment was far, far too beautiful not to be fully present for as long as he could possibly stand it.
So, far from distracting himself from all those heated, tender thoughts, he gave voice to them instead, whispering them in her ear as he made love to her. He told her how sweet and perfect and lovely she was, how she was a dream come true, how very much he loved her, how he was the luckiest man in the world to have her as his wife. In a reversal of their ordinary dynamic, she was not quite so articulate at present, but she did profess her love over and over in breathy whispers and express her intense enjoyment, and all of it made his heart soar.
Caractacus had spent so much time worrying that, after six years of celibacy - and considering her beauty and his sheer adoration of her - he would not manage to last nearly long enough to properly please her the first time they made love, and that he therefore must ensure he gave her as much satisfaction as possible in other ways. But, though it still was incredibly difficult to hold back, and he could already feel his restraint starting to slip, his diligent whetting of her appetite thus seemed to have had the wonderful result of making her even more sensitive to all that followed.
Truly was near-delirious with delight almost the entire time they made love, and what astonished him the most was when her breathing abruptly quickened, her nails scored light scratches along his back, and she tightened even more around him, on the edge of pure bliss once again as she begged him not to stop what he was doing. Crying out something that sounded like his name, although it sort of got lost after the first two syllables, she arched sharply against him and then utterly melted, a rapturous smile on her beautiful face.
Watching Truly in the throes of climax while he was inside her was almost too much for him to withstand, especially considering that he'd never really expected it to happen this first time. He'd never seen anything more beautiful, more glorious. But then, when she'd opened her eyes and caught her breath, she proceeded to do the single most erotic thing he'd ever experienced or imagined in his life, gazing up at him with dreamy eyes and twining her fingers in his hair and telling him how very much she wanted him to feel exactly as wonderful as he'd just made her feel. Her entreaty was earnest and sweet, and his innocent bride clearly had no idea what she was saying, what she was asking for, how incredibly, overwhelmingly arousing it was.
Caractacus nearly lost his mind. Burying his head against her neck - honeysuckle and warm sugar - he moaned her name again and again and finally, finally let himself succumb to the ecstasy of release, bliss like sunlight spreading through him, a wild storm breaking to leave nothing but exquisite serenity behind.
She was his and he was hers, and everything was just as it was always meant to be from the moment they'd first locked adversarial eyes.
"I love you, I love you, I love you," he whispered, unable to stop smiling as he rolled them over into a more comfortable position. He gathered his wife into his arms and breathed her in, almost dizzy with the afterglow of such perfection, and she responded in kind to his declarations, clinging to him as she whispered her love in return. Keeping her nestled against his side with a possessive arm around her, he pulled the quilt up to cover them and couldn't find it anywhere in his brilliant mind to say or think one other thing.
When they finally began recovering their senses, he was surprised to feel Truly's body practically shaking by his side. Yet again, he examined her with concern - and yet again, his worries were proven unfounded as he realized that she was laughing. This woman! What had begun as silent laughter soon transformed into a jolly outburst, and she buried her face in his bare chest as she continued to laugh loud and long.
Caractacus raised an eyebrow, half-smiling, trying to figure out if this was a good thing or not. He had learned tonight that his darling Truly had a tendency to break down in giggles at moments of great pleasure, but, well, he didn't quite have enough information to know that was the case just yet.
"What's so funny?"
She looked up at him, blue eyes huge, her lips quivering as she struggled to contain her mirth.
"Oh, goodness, I was just thinking about what my mother told me yesterday! That there could possibly, eventually be - an 'odd sort of enjoyment in it' for the woman - 'mostly sentimental ' - "
Truly fell to pieces laughing again, and, though he only had the vaguest sense of what she was talking about, Caractacus joined her in laughter, beyond overjoyed by her happiness. Her laugh had been among his favorite sounds in the world ever since he'd first heard it, so bright and lovely like all the rest of her, and when she laughed, he was completely helpless not to laugh along. At a moment like this when he was already lightheaded with euphoria, the effect was even more powerful.
When they'd both managed to bring their hilarity to a lull, Caractacus gave his wife a kiss and inquired, "You're enjoying being married, then, Mrs. Potts?" He was only half-teasing - her answer seemed that it should have been obvious at this point, but he still wanted to hear her say it aloud.
At that, she gazed at him with the dreamiest, loveliest of smiles, purposefully entwining her naked legs with his. "Oh, it's marvelous."
xxx
When they'd donned their nightwear and cleaned themselves up a bit - there was something fascinating and appealing about how matter-of-factly she'd handled the aftermath of making love, how not-prim she could be when the situation called for it - Truly finally acquiesced to his offer of tea and biscuits, and they'd ordered some up to the room.
(Adorably, she insisted on hiding in the washroom while they were delivered, not wanting to chance being seen by some stranger in her current state of postcoital dishabille, though Caractacus thought she'd made herself quite presentable indeed.)
The idea of eating the biscuits in bed without so much as a tray was unthinkable to her, and he really couldn't fault her reasoning, so instead, they sat together on the cushy yellow sofa in front of the fireplace, Truly nestled against his side. The effortless, cozy intimacy of it was bliss, and as he watched the firelight paint exquisite patterns across her skin, he was sure he was falling even more deeply in love with her.
"Do you know," Truly remarked between sips of tea, "that I've never stayed in a hotel before?"
"Really? You know, I have to say, whenever I've thought about all the ways your life has been different from mine, that never even occurred to me."
"Well, whenever we traveled or went on holiday, we were always staying in one of our family homes, or an estate belonging to a friend of my father's, or a rented house." She looked down into her teacup and blushed. "Whenever I say these things, I really do think I must sound like such a snob to you!"
He shook his head emphatically, giving her a squeeze around the waist. "No need to worry about that, I always like learning things about your life. And you are anything but a snob, Truly. Now, granted, unless I have about ten more great successes and maybe a knighthood or two, I can't give you estates or houses all over - "
"I don't want that, though." She leaned her head against his shoulder, gazing at him with the sweetest affection. "I don't need any of that - though I know you'll have many more great successes. All I ever wanted, all I need is you. You, and the children, our children - that's all."
Caractacus took another sip of tea so he could swallow the lump in his throat. No matter how many times she told him this, it never failed to make him emotional, especially when he considered how he hadn't believed it, or rather, hadn't really understood it, until it was nearly too late. But that near miss was long past, and Truly was now completely and irrevocably his.
Before meeting her, the children had been the sole shining light in his lonely life, and his inventions an excellent distraction, but it hadn't even crossed his mind that he could know this sort of love and happiness ever again. And, of course, it never could have been with anyone else but her. She truly was the answer to every wish he'd never dared to make. Truly was a blessing, a necessity - but what really continued to amaze him was how she needed him just as much.
In her hands, his heart was wonderfully, perfectly at peace, and he planned to devote every moment of his life to making her feel the same way. Lifting her hand to his lips, he pressed a tender kiss to her wedding ring. Just as they'd promised each other on the day he'd proposed, neither one of them would ever be lonely again.
"Well, I'm still very grateful that I can give you a lot more luxury than I could have before, if we'd married when I had nothing. I've certainly never stayed in a hotel like this one before." He looked admiringly around at the plush carpeting, the wide windows with sweeping views, the elaborate molding on the walls and ceiling, the large bed with which they'd already become well-acquainted. "So I guess you could say we've met in the middle."
Truly finished the last bite of her ginger biscuit, daintily licking a few granules of sugar from her finger in a way he was now completely free to admit he found quite intriguing, indeed. "Mm, I like this room. It's cozy and tidy and private. And everything is so... soft!" She made a point of wriggling her toes in the carpet, making him laugh.
"Of course, we only have a couple nights here, but I think the hotel on the Riviera will be even nicer." He waggled his eyebrows at her. "I got us a room with a sea view!"
"Ooh, that will be just wonderful."
Setting her empty tea cup down, Truly snuggled up to him with a contented sigh, laying her head against his chest, and he simply held her close, stroking her back and enjoying her warmth and breathing in the sweet scent of her hair.
A few minutes passed this way in serene, comfortable silence broken only by the crackling of the fire. It seemed almost that she might drift off, and he was beginning to consider how long he ought to let her sleep like this before gathering her up in his arms and tucking her into bed at his side. But then all at once, fully awake and alert, she sat up and looked at him.
"Caractacus?"
"Mm?" He was too startled to even fully open his mouth to respond.
She leaned her head on her hand as she regarded him, lips pursed. "You don't really plan on... only making love with me a few times a month, do you?"
It was such an absurd, specific question that he thought she might have been teasing him, but her expression was mildly concerned, entirely guileless. He stared back at her in complete bafflement.
"Certainly not! I mean, not unless that's all you want - "
"Oh, thank heavens."
Before he could even ask her to explain, she pulled him in for a kiss with surprising ferocity - though, when he thought about it later, Caractacus would realize that none of this should have surprised him, coming from Miss Truly "now-you'll-have-to-marry-me" Scrumptious. Despite her innocence and ladylike demeanor, Truly had never been shy about what she wanted, so why should their lovemaking be any exception?
But right now, he wasn't thinking about any of that. He was thinking only of his beautiful young wife, soft and warm and lovely and wanting him so fiercely. He did, indeed, scoop her up in his arms and carry her to the bed, but with very different intentions than he'd imagined just a minute before.
As he untied her silken dressing gown and slipped it off, she continued her list of playful demands even as he saw his deft touch raising goosebumps on her skin. Though now, she was definitely teasing.
"If, however, you insist on making me cry out your name all the time - "
He looked up from nibbling at her collarbone to grin at her. "I most certainly do insist."
" - then I suppose I am going to require a pet name for you, eventually. But I just can't imagine calling you anything else... you're my Caractacus. It's not a name that lends itself well to abbreviation, is it?"
By the time she'd finished her musings, he had them both completely naked again - nightclothes were so convenient, that way. "Then I'm going to enjoy listening to you trying to say it when you cry out. Many, many, many, many times." His nervous awkwardness from earlier had all but disappeared, and it was with great confidence that he ran his hands over every inch of her body this time, seeking out all the wonderful little sensitive places he was already learning by heart.
Truly's blue eyes twinkled. "I suppose I may come up with something shorter, at some point. Necessity is the mother of invention - oh!"
Now that was an intriguing discovery! Oh, she was much more fun than tinkering on any gadget, that was for sure. Caractacus already knew that once they'd returned from their honeymoon, he was never going to be able to maintain the same pace in his work as he had before they were married, but really, he didn't mind at all. His family had always told him he spent quite too much time shut up in his workshop, anyways.
Better to have the occasional ingenious breakthrough in a clear-headed moment than to stay up late every night aimlessly fiddling with his machines that he'd worked on all day anyway... he'd have far more enjoyable reasons to stay up late now, and a far warmer bed to entice him to retire at a reasonable hour. If anything, maybe being a well-satisfied husband and not in the least bit lonely could prove to be highly beneficial for the creative mind.
But right now, the entirety of his mind and heart were focused on Truly as he lost himself in her, nudging her warm thighs apart with his own and vowing to discover every single way to give his beloved wife such pleasure that she couldn't possibly manage the four syllables of his name.