Disclaimer:I don't own "Bridgerton" or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1:I wanted to write a little cheese ficlet exploring what might have happened in the Finch household after Phillipa realized her and Albion hadn't actually had sex yet.

Warnings: season three part one spoilers, sexual content, romance, drama, angst, sexual tension, social pressures, period appropriate attitudes.

The birds, the bees (let's fuck on a settee)

Chapter Two

"Are you quite certain?" he asked, only the barest quaver to be heard in his voice. Seemingly not aware his hand had already started to wander. Stroking her hip through her dress - just so.

"I am. Please, Albion."

They exchanged a soft glance. It was his usual overture that she met eagerly. Heartened to know it had not changed. Secure in the knowledge that this would be something they would share together, just as they had shared everything else thus far.

But this was more.

She could feel it.

This quivering excitement was-

He kissed her swiftly. Excitedly. It was different from the way they would usually start. There were no painfully soft kisses. Instead, there was a hunger to his overtures. It reminded her of the way he would get before the funny sound - before he needed to change his britches.

The flurry of kisses halted just as quickly however when he pulled back. Looking towards the closed door of the parlor with marked concern.

"We should go to our chambers," he uttered, the angle of his mouth giving her the impression his heart wasn't fully in it.

The thought was wicked.

Too wicked.

After all, what if-

"No!" she insisted. For some reason it felt important that it happened here and now. Location didn't matter, nor did discovery by one of the servants. It seized her with how strongly she felt. She would have him now. On the newly reupholstered settee. In the parlor with the wallpaper that was two seasons out of date. Here. Now.

And maybe he felt the same, considering he nearly dove to kiss her in reply. Making a queer rumbling in the back of his throat when she accidentally scored her nails across the back of his neck.

She would never admit it, not even to herself in the honest light of day, but he kissed her almost roughly. Not too roughly. Never that. Trailing kisses down her neck, his favorite spot, like he couldn't help himself. It was a lovely sort of roughness, she decided. It made her stomach flutter.

It felt like too much, yet not enough all at the same time.

"I can't," he said breathlessly, pulling back again. "I- I want to-"

She shook her head.

"You can," she interrupted. Willing him not to stop as that queer feeling threatened to cool.

"No," he returned, sounding oddly frustrated. His cheeks and neck were a lovely shade of red, but his voice didn't falter.

"I cannot- I cannot- do- what I want to you…here."

The words rebounded in the thick air. Begging to be teased apart and dissected for every detail. Making her feel like Penelope reading one of her thick, dusty tomes.

Her face felt hot, fancying he could feel it as he stared at her searchingly. Inwardly marveling that despite his best efforts, they were moving again. Bodies drawn together like a dance.

"Later," she soothed. Meaning it. She wanted to have whatever he was so focused on giving her. She wanted every bit of it. Everything he'd experienced. Everything new. All of it. "I want your-"

His mouth stole the rest of what she meant to say. Making her laugh with the rush of it all. But she only had a moment to bask in it before he was pulling away again. Worry flashed through her, causing her to grab at him, but he was on his knees before she could try.

Her lips parted with expectant surprise.

He paused like that, looking up at her. Hands stilled on the hems of her skirts.

She shivered. Understanding he was asking her permission.

It felt quite like the world had stopped, just for them.

She took a deep breath and nodded.

She felt equally exposed and cherished when he raised her skirts. Eyes so fixed on her she wanted to hide herself away. The feeling of him touching her bare legs, her hips, everywhere, was an exquisite torture.

She clutched her skirts as he ran his hands down her thighs. Barely able to see his face as he ducked his head. Petting down the soft of her belly before-

Her eyes went wide, squirming.

"Albion!"

The crook of his finger gentled over her sex. Tracing where the lips parted with single-minded focus. Keeping her so much on the edge of more that she could feel something building.

"Hush," he murmured, voice so low and lovely it made her squirm again. "I have you."

It was only then that she realized what the queer feeling was.

Hunger.

Only it wasn't for food.

She had no idea how to explain it.

But she'd never wanted anything more.

She gasped when his finger grazed a spot that made her vision spark.

Oh.

Oh.

She wanted to tell him as much, but it seemed she was the only one surprised. Because Albion had his lower lip crushed between his teeth, so focused on her nethers that the distant sound of the servants walking upstairs didn't seem to register. Touching her in that specific place once, twice, again, that she couldn't help but rock into his touch.

"Philipa..."

Her nerves spiked as their eyes met. Suddenly aware of how wet she was as his fingers came away glistening. Letting her see before he pressed a fervent kiss into the bend of her knee. Fingers growing bolder still as they traced her seam and dipped deeper. Coaxing such a sound from her she froze in place.

His fingers were-

She hiccupped through a breath, trying and failing to gather herself as the words left her unbidden. Unable to think properly, or at all, when the rough of his cheeks grazed down her inner thighs. Wanting nothing more than to remember the sound of him breathing her in for the rest of her life.

"Mama said-"

Albion snorted boldly. Somehow managing to be amusing and alluring as he looked up at her. Eyes beautifully dark.

"Dearest, the last thing I want to talk about- to think about right now- is your mother."

She giggled. Unable to help herself.

Albion flashed her a winning smile, mouth quirked.

That was all the warning she received before he leaned forward and gave her his tongue. Mouthing at her center as she strangled a moan in the back of her throat. The threat of discovery more real than ever as the soft jingle of their housekeeper's keys issued from down the hall.

But Albion was back with her just as quickly. Grabbing her hand and threading their fingers together. Checking on her before returning to his work.

"I'm going to use my fingers, Phillipa. Is that alright?"

She nodded, dazed but chasing something she couldn't name as his tongue laved her centre. Making her squirm and jump as he began to focus on the same spot over and over. That particular place that made her- ah!

And while she was aware, when his finger joined his tongue, that this wasn't exactly what mama had in mind, she was content to allow it.

At least they were finally going in the right direction.

A/N: Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think! – This story is now complete.