Every now and then, a really outrageous writing idea will drop into your head. Like insanely filthy and yet hilarious and words spill out really fast and you read it over and go red as you suddenly realize HOW filthy it really is. Those are things that make you fear reader's reactions, and you wonder as the writer just what the hell the characters were smoking to talk to you like that. And you don't publish it. You might share it with a couple friends, egg them on to write their own too-dirty-to-ever-publish fic and even create an anonymous account in case you wanted to post it. *Cough*

But then you realize your friends *have* posted their own too-smutty-for-publishing fics, and under their own names no less. And there may also be a weekend of reading a 17 chapter smut-fest fic of a fandom for you show you don't even watch because it is *so good.* So in the name of this Isn't The Dirtiest Thing Up On , I'll actually publish this. All original instigators of this shall remain unnamed. ;)

(the usual thanks to Cls2011 and Lala-Kate for providing me a rock to hide under and the paper bag to hyperventilate into...)

Mary clutched George's hand tightly as she anxiously scanned the train platform. This was the last train in from York, and if Matthew had missed it, it might be another whole day before he was home. She sighed, frustrated, barely noticing George as he practiced jumping with both feet, chanting, "Papa!" as he did so by her side. The slight number of passengers and greeters was thinned out, and still no sign, unless….

A tall gentleman in a dark-olive great coat and hat was striding up to her, smiling broadly beneath a thick, dark blonde mustache. She took a step back, confused, staring at heart-stoppingly familiar sparkling blue eyes.

"Darling!" Matthew's joy was evident as he swept her up in his arms, kissing her soundly.

In her shock, she couldn't even close her eyes, and she tried not to push away as the unfamiliar brush of hair rasped against her lips. All she could hear was the rapid thundering beat of her pulse in her ears, and her brain was numb that this was Matthew, her Matthew. What had six months in India done to him?

Still, the softness of his lips, the grasp of his hands, the strength of his arms, the spicy-citrusy scent of him so familiar, and yet…

She wobbled slightly as he set her back on her feet and bent down to pick up George. "And how much has my chap grown?" He laughed and tossed the giggling boy up and caught him tight again.

"Papa, Papa!" George squealed happily, reaching out to tug at Matthew's mustache.

He laughed, reaching his other arm out to pull her in tight against him.

"God, I've missed you both so much." He planted another firm kiss onto her cheek and she shivered at the mix of familiarity and newness there. She opened her mouth, trying to think of something to say, but found all she could do was just stare up at him.

"What?" He laughed, trying to dodge George's tugging fingers. He reached up to stroke his fingers across the mustache, "Too much of a change?"

Mary nodded dumbly, then quickly shook her head. She had to clear her throat before she could manage to squeak out a hoarse, "No, it's … I —" She had completely loss the use of language. She glanced at George's fair hair and bright blue eyes and how he was now snuggling himself tightly against Matthew's neck, hand repeatedly patting his shoulder.

Matthew's fingers twined into hers, and she returned the squeeze of his hand with gentle smile.

"We've missed you, too, darling."

She had no idea what the dinner conversation was even about that night. All she was aware of was the general thrum of familiar voices, Matthew's rich baritone and easy laugh now joining in once again. She kept finding herself staring across the table at him, trying to take it all in, both that he was finally home again and that she was so thrown by it. She kept wondering what it was that had her so discombobulated. Several times, she caught Matthew staring back at her, a dark glint in his eyes, and the hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips. How she managed not to blush completely scarlet each time was beyond her, but each wave of heat that rushed through her was a good reminder she should at least pretend to be picking at her dinner.

"You were awfully quiet at dinner."

The rich velvet of his voice low in her ear as he brushed his hand ever so lightly against her waist nearly did her in. Her stomach did that familiar jump and flutter she hadn't felt in over half a year at the sound of him, and she could feel the heat of him behind her, matching the inner heat that was beginning to spread through her all the more rapidly. She blinked to try and refocus her gaze on the others in the drawing room.

His breath was hot against her ear again, "Can we excuse ourselves early tonight? Do you think anyone would mind?"

She shook her head, taking a deep breath against the arousal he was stirring to a boil within her.

"Just one drink should be fine for tonight," she murmured as she clutched her glass of port even tighter, fighting the urge to down it in one swallow.

The bedroom door had barely clicked behind Anna before Matthew was striding through the connecting door from his dressing room, a wolfish look in his eyes. Mary smiled coyly in return as she turned to the bed, slipping out of her dressing gown, expecting him to move to his side of the bed.

His arms were suddenly around her, turning her to him, smothering her cry of surprise with a lingering kiss. Her knees buckled as she quickly melted into his arms. God, she had missed him, missed the mad rush of feelings just his presence stirred up in her. She pulled back slightly, one hand reaching up to stroke through his hair, the thumb of the other tracing over his lips, her fingers taking in the new texture above his upper lip. She studied him, relearning him, noting that the mustache was coarser than the silky feel of the hair on his head, and yet it was still soft, only feeling rough where he had trimmed it into a neat line.

He watched her gaze closely, and she glanced up and saw the hint of disappointment in his eyes.

"You don't like it."

She was quiet a moment, before she leaned forward to pressed a feathery kiss against his lips, trying to accustom herself to the new feel of him.

"No, it's not that, it's …" she trailed off, curling her arms tighter around his neck. "I might need some … convincing."

His eyebrows arched, and she could feel his hands on her back, working her nightgown up. "Convincing?"

She nodded, lifting her arms as he quickly slipped her nightgown off before his hands grasped her again, lifting her onto the bed, pressing her back against the pillow as he crawled up over her. That dark glint was back in his eyes now, and his full lips were curving into a mischievous grin.

"I suppose that convincing you might take some work."

She nodded slightly, then moaned involuntarily as he captured her lips again. Her fingers were plucking at the buttons on the front of his pyjamas, quickly slipping the fabric from his shoulders. He seemed tanner, a more distinct contract to the paleness of her hands as they stroked across him, reacquainting herself with the feel of his skin, the flex of every muscle underneath. Shivers coursing through her, she arched up against him, desperate for the weight of him on her, the feel of him against her.

He chuckled softly against her neck as he began to suck a path down to her collarbone. She gasped at the maddening mix of sensations, the rasp of hair, silk of lips, the hot wet trail of his tongue searing her. She hooked a leg over his, arousal driving her mad, her fingers raking up and down his naked back.

He lifted his head to look at her, then slowly pushed her arms off of him, holding them up on each side of her head where she couldn't reach him. With a dangerous smile at her look of confusion, he lowered his head to a bare breast, teasing her with his breath and then the merest flicker of his tongue. The violent shock of his touch was echoed in her core, her hips bucking wildly as she cried out at the spiraling sensation. His mouth finally closed firmly over her to suck and tease, leaving her whimpering helplessly with need as she writhed beneath him. She was panting his name and he moved to tease her other breast with the same slow torture of breath, tongue, then lips and teeth as his mustache scratched against her. She was desperately trying fight against the strength of his grip that still held her arms above her, needing to reach for him. The only answer she got was his mouth tracing a path farther down her torso, teasing around her navel, before he finally slipped his hands from her arms, sliding a caress down her sides to her hips before gripping her thighs and pushing them open.

The heat and caress of his mouth against the center of her need sent her spinning toward the edge, sensations of dizzying want filling every part of her. She was helpless to control her cries and movements under his ministrations, a wild mix of silk and coarse caressing her, urging her closer, closer…. Her breath caught, body arching up as the wave of pure pleasure released over her, shaking her body and soul, and she reached out to twine her fingers in his hair, "Matthew!"

He tickled the tender skin of her inner thigh with his lips, rough mustache, tongue, and teeth before moving up to settle over her, his hips grinding into her as he found her lips in a deep kiss that tasted of her own arousal.

Shifting to look at her as she fought to catch her breath, he grinned. "Does that convince you?"

She lifted her legs to wrap them around him, pressing herself tight against his arousal even as aftershocks still thrummed through her. She caught his lower lip with her teeth and sucked on it playfully.

"Convince me again."