|A Title to His Love
Author: OrangeShipper PM
In the quiet of their wedding night, Matthew lets slip to Mary a dream he'd cherished as a younger man, and why it now can never be... and he doesn't mind that at all. Strong T-rated cuddling.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance - Matthew C. & Mary C. - Words: 1,142 - Reviews: 22 - Favs: 27 - Follows: 4 - Published: 06-20-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8236812
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: Just a quick one today, before I have to go and do useful life things!
Yesterday on Tumblr, a gif did the rounds from a 1960's film of a couple in a gorgeously intimate post-coital cuddle. It was so tender, and could so easily have been M/M, and so on request, this happened...
A Title to His Love
The room was quiet, and dark. In the dulled, softened afterglow of ecstasy, senses heightened to prickle with awareness of the slightest thing. Moonlight, glowing softly on bare skin… Gentle breaths, in, out, together… Touch.
That touch, still so new, treasured, electric… Matthew's fingertips stroking up, and down her spine, tracing languid circles… the pads of his fingers touching every ridge beneath her flawless, cooling skin, still damp with sweat. Sheets, limbs, pillows, all scattered and tangled and twined together. She curled herself around him, legs, arms, pressing as much as she could into his warm body that moved gently with each breath. Her arm was tucked under his head, somehow, and if she reached… just… there, she could lose her fingers in the damp softness of his hair that stuck up at all sorts of angles and he was… beautiful. Flushed, exhausted, sated… She would have eased back to look at him properly but they were so close, noses touching, his own hand stroking over the loosed, tangled hair at the top of her head that she couldn't bring herself to move. Only to wriggle closer, and kiss him, pressing her lips to his until they parted and slipped against hers in time, tongues glancing languidly together. Her body shivered in a frisson of delight, an aftershock of their love-making.
"Are you alright?" she breathed, watching as his eyes blinked sleepily open.
"Perfectly." His voice was a soft, hot whisper in the moonlight, and she felt it against her skin. "Are you?"
"Mm…" Her lips twitched into an indulgent smile, and she saw his eyes glitter.
"I don't think I ever want to move again," he murmured, eyes closing blissfully. "It's… You're… perfect." For so long, they'd waited… Years beyond the short months of their engagement, that Matthew counted as part of their patience despite everything in-between. For years, he had loved her, and wanted her, and now… they'd found themselves united in perfection, at last. And the delight they'd found together in each other's arms on this night, at the end of their blissful wedding day, was everything and more than Matthew had ever dreamed of.
Mary chuckled softly. "You won't hear an objection to that from me, my darling."
Her husband eased forwards and kissed her again, their lips still moistened and swollen from all they had done. She wriggled closer, her arms encircling him tighter, loving him… And he kissed her again, and again, almost painfully slowly but their energy was too sapped and fulfilled for anything more.
When Matthew finally broke again, realising that eventually he needed to breathe, too, he blinked his eyes fully open and looked at his wife, her body soft and trembling and naked in his arms. And he smiled, a smile of utter adoration that made her heart glow. And then he rolled his eyes and laughed quietly to himself, tucking his face into her arm as though he were embarrassed.
"What is it?" Mary laughed delicately with him, lifting her hand from the warmth of his waist to stroke along his cheek and tip his face back up towards her.
"It's nothing, darling, it's… terribly silly…"
She kissed his nose. "So are you, my love, but I don't mind that."
"I just thought…" he began softly, his eyes closed as if lost in a dream. "I used to think about… being married, and… I used to cherish the thought that when I woke, I'd be able to greet my wife – who never had a face, or a name, in my mind, not then anyway – as 'Mrs. Crawley'." He opened his eyes and smiled at Mary's indulgent amusement. "There always seemed something romantic about it but… I can never do that with you. Not that I mind…" he added quickly, when Mary blinked at him. He kissed her again. "I'd rather have you than a faceless Mrs. Crawley any day. Besides, then… you'd have the same title as my mother…" he grimaced.
At that, Mary laughed, enough that her body shook in his arms.
"Well then thank heavens for that! Anyway Carson would have a fit if he had to introduce me as such, you know how fastidious he is." She stroked her thumb fondly over his lips. Her voice lowered. "You know… you could, if you wanted to, call me Mrs. Crawley when you wake." Matthew's brow creased into a gentle frown, so she carried on. "I mean… if it's just between us, and… here, then… if you simply wanted to say it, you… could. I am your wife…"
"No, I couldn't."
She frowned at his insistence, her hand stilling on his cheek until he turned his head and kissed her palm, softening his expression to a tender smile. "I could… never, even just between us, call you Mrs. Crawley, my darling. Because… you're not."
"No, but –"
Matthew quieted her with a kiss. "You will always be my Lady Mary…" he murmured. "You are a Lady, and I love you, and… I could never even pretend otherwise, not even for a moment."
"Oh…" Somehow, Mary believed in that moment it to be the most romantic thing Matthew had ever said to her. Her eyes glistened softly in the darkness with the prick of tears. "Darling Matthew, I…"
They kissed again, limbs twining closer, tasting and delighting in each other until their skin had cooled from their pleasure and the night began to creep upon them. Without Mary even noticing, barely, Matthew eventually pulled up the sheets from where they'd tangled down around their joined hips to cover them. Their lips parted from each other in a long sigh of exhausted release, and Mary tucked herself more snugly against her husband's chest.
"I think I could sleep, now," she whispered into the scattering of golden hair she'd discovered there, and loved. Matthew's arms curled around her and he kissed the top of her head, content.
"Mm. I think so, goodnight… Lady Mary. My darling wife…"
She giggled, kissed his chest, and began even as sleep started to claim her to look forward to waking up in his arms.
"Goodnight," she murmured, "Mr. Crawley."
A/N: There we are! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it and I'd love to know what you thought!