Author's note: Hello, my dearest readers! I am ever so glad you've found your way here once more! For a while I have wanted to work on writing some short, sweet scenes from our beloved Carsons' lives and, well, here I am with the first one. These small one-shots will undoubtedly bring me a lot of joy and keep me from overworking myself with my much larger projects (even if I love those dearly!). I shall try my best not to fuss over these as much as I normally do with my writing!
I would love to hear your thoughts on the chapter and also, feel free to hit me up with any of your writing prompts — whether it is domestic fluff, romance, smut, or anything in between — you would like to read from me! I, of course, have some ideas myself but I want to hear what you want to read!
But now, I hope you enjoy this little chapter and I shall be back as soon as possible with more of these or a continuation of my other projects! Until next time, lovelies!
Charles sat up and settled against the headboard with a pillow behind his back, the wrinkled sheets spread over his lap, as he watched his wife hastily pin up her hair for the second time that morning. He grinned at her in the mirror and, meeting his gaze, she stood up with a frown.
"Really, Mr Carson, you act as if you've never seen a woman in a corset."
Charles watched her move across the room, admiring the sway of her hips, "No, I'm simply a man who very much adores his darling wife."
The said wife huffed as she reached for her dress that'd been unceremoniously discarded to the floor almost an hour ago when her husband had all but dragged her back into bed when she had been getting ready to leave for work. She didn't mind, not at all really, she certainly hadn't minded at the time and had welcomed his affections with eager vigour. She loved that he still wanted her…And, besides, he was a very convincing lover, she admitted with a light blush. But honestly, now she was going to be late and Mrs Patmore would tease her about it for weeks to come!
"His darling wife, who is going to be late because her husband cannot keep his hands off of her!" she exclaimed, frustrated, but a small laugh accompanied her words and she started to pull on her black dress.
"Hand me those, would you?" buttoning up her dress, she gestured to her stockings that were draped over the bed sheets, over his legs, with a bow of her head and Charles bent to reach the said garments, his wife's awfully distracting, lovely stockings. She grabbed them from his hands when she finished with her dress and he almost pouted, much to her amusement, "You're incorrigible, you know."
"That is not what you told me half an hour ago at all, Mrs Carson, I am disappointed," he was teasing her, his eyebrows almost touching his hairline, but she was in a hurry and would have none of it.
"Oh, I'm sure," as she lifted her right leg on the edge of the bed and gathered up the hem of her dress to reveal pale, freckled skin, and erupting an appreciative groan from her husband by doing so. Shaking her head at him, she pulled the black cotton over her leg and upon reaching her knee, efficiently secured it in place with a garter. She lowered her leg and lifted the other one on the bed, once more tugging at her skirts as he watched her every move intently. Then, casting a sideways look at him, a sly smile playing on her lips, she slowly, agonizingly so, pulled up the stocking, unable to not tease him a bit herself, and was glad to receive a deep moan from him in return. Two could play at that game, she mused with satisfaction.
"You witch, stop teasing me or I'll never let you leave this bed ever again," he said huskily, adjusting himself on the bed slightly at the uncomfortable tightness between his thighs as she tied the second garter with a smirk.
"As tempting as you make that sounds, I'm not sure her Ladyship would appreciate it," she replied nonchalantly, now hurrying to get her shoes.
"If her Ladyship knows what's good for her, she'd not mind in the least," he huffed, making her laugh.
She slipped her feet into her shoes, bending to fasten the clips as she spoke and unknowingly giving him a very lovely view of her behind, "The cheek of you, Mr Carson, will get you in trouble one day."
He swallowed deep, twice, before forming an answer, "I should very much hope so, Mrs Carson." This woman, his wonderfully alluring wife, would surely be the death of him one day, make no mistake, Charles thought.
She straightened herself again, smoothing out the wrinkles on her dress, and glanced at the small clock on her bedside table. She almost gasped — half past eight! She certainly was late now.
"Heavens, Charlie, you'll put me out of my job before long!" she called out to him, shaking her head as she hurried out of the room and mumbled something in that enticing Gaelic of hers whilst disappearing down the stairs.
Charles chortled and listened as she bustled about the hallway, pulling on her coat and hat with haste.
"I'm going now!" he heard her shout from the bottom of the stairs, a happy lilt to her voice.
"I'll be here!" Charles called back then, smiling at himself as he heard the front door open and close as she took her leave.
He laid back in their bed, naked as the day he was born with only the sheets to cover him and thought of his wife and how he wouldn't mind at all having her home with him all the time. Perhaps he should ensure she was late to work more often in the future if only to show her late mornings were quite nice, he mused and shook his head at himself. Quite nice indeed. As he set to go about his day, grabbing his morning coat from the hook on the bathroom door and making his way downstairs to make himself a cup of tea and some toast, Charles only hoped Mrs Patmore would have something waiting for his wife when she arrived at work. After all, she had missed breakfast and would undoubtedly be hungry after the unplanned exertions the morning had brought.