Fair warning, I guess. Chapter 1 is fairly tame, chapters 2 and 3 get quite directly into hot and heavy stuff. The tonal shift is rather remarkable, so don't be too surprised.

Are disclaimers necessary? This is Lemony Snicket if he was writing for a lad's magazine or something.


As soon as they broke the kiss, Esmé pulled out a pair of handcuffs and whispered, "Handcuffs are extremely in at the moment." Jerome immediately balked. This was not how he envisioned his wedding night to be; he expected it to be slow, sweet and passionate. Toys they'd introduce in at least a month into a marriage, he thought. Just to spice it up a little. But the main focus would always be each other. Intimacy.

Judging from the way his new wife kicked off her shoes and casually undressed, he had a feeling that she didn't exactly view their consummation in the same way.

"What's wrong? Nervous?" Esmé said, noticing the slightly frightened look in Jerome's eyes. Without the heels, she was just up to Jerome's eyes; she was tall, but he was taller yet. Her eyes flickered around his face, probing his feelings, before slowly moving into a surprisingly tender kiss. Jerome's eyes widened. Esmé had never showed such... tenderness in their relationship. She's always been rash, bold, stubborn... maybe even rude and apathetic. Jacques had warned him against rushing into marriage, in fact, he disapproved entirely of Esmé, but there was something intoxicating about her aloofness, something powerful that only served to hold his attention when it came to her. He'd shower her with gifts, which she would enthusiastically accept – only if it was in. He'd learnt to phone ahead to receive updates on the constantly changing fashion, adding up to enormous phone bills – but when you're in love, money didn't matter. For Esmé, however, love and money were interchangeable.

Esmé's hands reached up to caress his face, jaw dark with stubble. His mouth captured her heat, and his heart fluttered in expectation and hope – maybe it wouldn't be as... dirty as he first thought; maybe Esmé wants it to be a memorable night of passion as well... He closed his eyes and submitted to Esmé's deep kiss, his hands exploring her smooth, elegantly curved back, thumbing her bra strap.

The sound of cloth ripping and the sudden gust of cold air on his chest snapped his eyes wide open. He pulled away and looked down at his open shirt, buttons rolling about the floor. He looked up at Esmé with a look of confusion and surprise. Definitely unnecessary.

"Was that necessary?" he frowned, fingering the ragged edges of the buttonholes in his shirt. "This shirt cost quite a fair bit-"

"Oh, don't be a baby," Esmé snapped, walking towards Jerome, impatiently kicking aside the buttons that dared impede her way. "You can always buy a new one." She hungrily attacked his neck, trailing her fingers through his down of chest hair, circling nipples and drawing a gasp of what could only be described as ecstasy from Jerome; tonight... tonight it'll finally happen.

"Well," he panted, hands again sliding up Esmé's body. "I don't like to argue..."

"Then don't," Esmé growled, before shoving him onto the bed.