A/N: Lashings of apologies to all my dear long-suffering readers! This has got to be the worst tease in the history of fanfic!

After so many months, I have finally found my way back to this story. Well, first I psyched myself out about it and then I made the colossal mistake of watching S4 which really put me off Downton for a good while there. Then I had barely had time to read or write anything, and once I finally had this chapter down to post as a Christmas surprise, failed me! Durrr! Like Zombie!Matthew would say, 'We're cursed you and I', meaning this chapter and me...

That said, I do so hope that some of you who are still interested can still enjoy the story. I know I'm not the most prolific writer in this fandom, and certainly not when it comes to smut, but I truly love these characters and was very happy to write this little wedding night piece, which I hope comes through at least.

Again, I'm extremely sorry for the long delay and hopefully the (smutty) content can make up for it a Little bit ;) Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews to Chapter 35. And if you still care to, please do let me know your thoughts about this one!

Very much hope you enjoy :)

Chapter XXXVI

The rain was becoming heavier, drumming on the roof of the old cottage in a steady rhythm that felt soothing and agitating at the same time.

"Will that be all, Sir?"

Molesley carefully placed the razor blade in the basin of warm soapy water and covered it with a towel. He had been compelled to help Captain Crawley shave his evening stubble, since the nervous groom could not be trusted to maneuver a sharp knife near his jugular tonight.

His hands were shaking too badly…

The trusty valet made to exit the guest bedroom of Crawley House, which Matthew occupied as a dressing room to give Mary some privacy in their marital chamber. Anna attended to her at this very minute.

"Well…goodnight, Sir, and…um…congratulations." Molesley offered politely, clearly impatient to escape to his father's house for the night, before anything too exciting occured under this roof.

Matthew thanked him with an absentminded smile as he heaved himself up from his perch and turned towards the full length mirror in the corner of the room. He blinked at his own image reflected back in the spotless looking glass. The door closed softly behind the Molesley. Through the wall Matthew could hear, or fancied that he could hear, muffled female voices.

Anna was still with his wife…

Mary's new title arrested his racing thoughts for an instant, only to make his heart race instead. Would she feel the same excitement, the same anticipation for him? Passing a hand over his freshly shaven chin, Matthew took an shaky breath.

Surely, there was no need to be worried or nervous! Not on any rational level at least…

But had he ever been a 'rational' man when it came to this woman? He shook his head. When it came to Mary, all rationality had flown out of the window six years ago, the moment he'd laid eyes on her, here in this very house...where she would live with him now, to share his life…

And his bed.

Suddenly short of breath, he stooped to lean heavily on the chair Molesley had placed there for his evening routine. Matthew frowned at his own image in the mirror. How foolish! A grown man of thirty-three who panicked at the prospect of sleeping with the woman he loved for the first time…

The very first time…

But...what if he did something wrong tonight? What if she didn't like it? Or, God forbid, what if he hurt her in any way? After all, he still had nothing but theoretical knowledge about all those intimacies that were possible between man and woman…with the exception of those brief, precious moments he had experienced with Mary last winter.

Still, tonight everything felt a lot more serious. Tonight, it was expected of him, as the husband, to show some expertise, to initiate, to take the lead…

Matthew rubbed over his brow with nervous energy, feeling cold despair creep up in him. What had he been thinking, saving his virtue for the wedding night? What a romantic fool he had been!

How many times had he been invited, badgered even, to join Stevens, Maynard and the others on one of their trips to the 'pleasure' houses of Amiens and Ypres? And he had stubbornly declined every single time, because the sort of sordid 'comfort' and 'relief' offered in those places could never tempt him.

And so his desires had remained unsated, merely a dull ache for something far away, some distant memory of a passionate kiss over a silver plate of sandwiches. Even if this meant that he might have died without ever having known the pleasures, the warmth of a woman's body...

In his heart there had been only one woman he had wanted to know in that way…the same woman who was now waiting in his bedroom while he stood here gawping at himself in the mirror like an idiot!

Matthew exhaled with force and pulled himself up to his full height. Back rigid and chin raised, he tried to ignore the glaring image of the rolled up pyjama leg, neatly fastened with a safety pin.

She doesn't mind, he told himself firmly. She loves me…she wants me…

Tonight, he wanted to forget all the horrors and what they had made of him…a cripple with a desk job…Patrick's voice taunted once again. Matthew grit his teeth, raising his head higher. None of this now!

Tonight, he would be neither a soldier nor a lawyer or a cripple! He would be a husband…and a lover…Mary's lover!

This new wonderful appellation, the prospect of it, finally caused a potent rush of arousal and heady anticipation to effectively drown out the voices of doubt in his head.

In the hallway another door was opened, then fell shut again. Anna must have left.

Matthew quickly turned back to the mirror for one last inspection. He had never been a vain man, but on this particular night, he'd rather not leave anything to chance. There were hectic red spots all over his face and neck, and perhaps he ought have put on the other set of pyjamas after all…

Enough.

With final resolution, he turned away and carried himself to the door, trying to ignore that small pang of indignity that he would have to hobble to his wedding night on crutches.

Outside the bedroom door, he paused for a calming draught of air, then knocked gently at the hard oak surface. "Yes?" came the quick reply. Had he only imagined it, or did she sound slightly out of breath? He shoved the door open with one shoulder as he limped forwards, doing his best to move with ease, or appear so at least.

"My darling?"

He glanced around, she was nowhere in sight. The bed had been readied for them, but was still empty. Mary's vanity was deserted as well. Finally he caught a slight movement next to the long créme-coloured curtains at the window. "It's still raining." her voice sounded faint and definitely a tad breathless, he noted.

Matthew straightened himself as much as it was possible on one leg. Chest out, belly in.

The lamp in the room and the fire in the grate cast a soft light over the room. Mary stood by the window with her back to him, affording her husband an intoxicating view of long ebony hair that cascaded all the way down to her lower back…

…like a waterfall of shiny dark silk…

Matthew's fingers cramped around the wooden handles of his crutches when she turned around at long last, her hands equally tense on the belt that held the thin dressing gown chastely closed around her body. Husband and wife could only greet each other with a shy smile as light blue and warm chocolate eyes locked together and, for an instant, time stood still…

Anna had done ber best to calm the jittery bride, assuring her that it was perfectly normal to be nervous. All brides all over the world would be. But of course Mary was not exactly like all other brides all over the world, was she? She was not at all frightened of what her husband would do, the question that terrified her was what Matthew would think, what precisely his expections of tonight's events might be.

Because, if what he said was true, and she knew he would never be untruthful to her, then she was to be his first…his only…

Mary pressed her fingers to the cool surface of the glass. The sound and smell of the evening rain had soothed her agitation somewhat, but it could not quite tame those accursed pangs of insecurity that were seated much deeper.

How silly, how idiotic to doubt herself so!

And yet, she couldn't help herself. What if tonight wouldn't turn out like he'd imagined, what if she did not live up to his ridiculously high expectations? What if...this night was a disappointment to Matthew after so many long years of waiting…

What then?

With a frustrated sigh, she stilled the tense drum of her fingertips on the cold glass. It was beneath her to behave in so absurd and stupid a fashion - the sort of reaction silly girls might have, the likes of Lady Imogen or Lady Georgina with their insipid gossiping and giggling…

And so Mary continued to watch the rivulets of the rain until someone knocked on the bedroom door, causing her breath to hitch and her throat to dry up. "My darling?" he had called for her, sounding quite as winded as she felt.

Mary turned around to find that all her fears and worries were suddenly void at the sight of him, where he stood tall and upright, his iridiscent blue eyes staring at her so intently that she felt quite naked already…

And he was so very handsome, much more than he knew.

Finally, at long last, Matthew made a movement towards her and the knot of dread in her belly was pleasantly replaced by a flutter of excitement and joy. On a nervous impulse, she opened the sash of her dressing gown…

Matthew stumbled.

"Darling!" she exclaimed when he landed face-down in front of her. A string of expletives came quietly over his lips as he tried to scramble to his knees. He didn't look up at her, but she could see that his ears had turned a deep shade of crimson as he made to hide his face with one hand. Another groan escaped him, not of pain, but of utter mortification…

Mary was not sure how to react, so she knelt by his side. His name came softly over her lips as her hand instinctively fell into his hair. Finally, he uncovered his face and bravely met her searching gaze. "I'm terribly sorry." he muttered miserably, "I…ruined it!" With a regretful shake of the head, he quickly fixed his eyes back on the floor, as if he was half hoping to be swallowed up by it.

Matthew could not believe what had happened. It was too humiliating for words…

One glimpse of her body clad in something flimsy and he'd sodding well managed to trip and tumble to the floor like the useless cripple that he was! And in front of the woman he loved more than anything else in this world, the woman he'd so badly wanted to impress, to entice and arouse...

Well, congratulations! That went wonderfully!

"Are you hurt?" she wondered and he was not surprised to detect an unmistakable twitch around the corners of her mouth. "No." he replied with a wry smile. "Go ahead, have a laugh…I know you want to." he offered graciously. "Of course, it must have looked idiotic…" The quiver around her lips grew more pronounced and when their eyes met, Matthew had to chuckle as well. Her laughter would always be infectious to him...

Mary leaned forward to touch her forehead to his as their mirth ebbed away. "You know, my darling, all things considered…I suppose it was quite flattering." she determined. One of his eyebrows quirked up. "Oh, I'm sure it was. For you." Matthew smirked, then kissed his wife's cheek, delighted to see her blush at his next words. "You're far too beautiful."

They rose together and Mary made to retrieve his crutch, but he stilled her. She glanced upwards and only caught a brief flash of icy blue before her lips were caught up in a burning kiss that took her breath away. Matthew's arms closed around her body as they swayed together.

When they finally broke apart, to catch some air and composure, the initial tension grew thick once more. Matthew cleared his tight throat with some difficulty as he let go and gestured awkwardly towards his old bed. "Which…err…side..would you prefer?" he asked politely, though any attempts at nonchalance were instantly betrayed by the slight tremor in his voice.

Mary pursed her lips and tried to hide an amused smile. All evening, she had believed herself to be unreasonably anxious about tonight, but it would seem as though her poor darling was infinitely worse off. Whenever Matthew lost his head, he always turned inexplicably formal and and polite.

"I couldn't say…" Mary decided, "I'll surely end up on your side eventually." she added for good measure. The more she perceived of his frayed nerves, the less she seemed to feel of her own jitters. Matthew swallowed thickly and even in the dim lighting of the room, she could spot the deep blush and a thin sheen of sweat glistening over his brow. "Yes…quite." he coughed and cleared his throat yet again, "Well, err…I'll take the right then…if that's alright for you."

Mary bit her lip and sashayed towards the left side of Matthew's old bed, which was significantly smaller than her majestic four-poster at Downton. The silky nightgown from Lucille slipped a little on the fine sheets as she tried to settled in with as much grace as she could muster. She tucked the bedding neatly around herself, doing what she would usually do when settling in for the night. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Matthew imitating her, though in a marginally more awkward fashion. His face still appeared pink by the light of the lamp as he shuffled around restlessly.

"I…" he croaked. "Yes?" Mary leaned in a little closer. "I'm sorry…if I…" His breathing grew laboured. She touched his right hand where it rested on the covers between them and he quickly fastened his fingers around hers with a sigh of relief. Touch always reassured whenever words failed them. "Well, now I've ruined…the moment, so to speak. Just this damned leg…sorry…" He glared at the offensive limb and sighed again. "I keep falling all over the place like a clown and I hate that you saw this…and now…" While the words rushed out, his view remained stubbornly fixed on the fabric pattern of the reading chair in the corner. Finally, Matthew dared to meet his wife's eyes and offered her a rueful smile.

"You've married 'damaged goods', my darling." he informed her, and though his tone appeared light, Mary did not fail to detect the unmistakable savour of bitterness behind it. She hesitated, then spoke. "Mama once said that I'm considered to be 'damaged goods' and you still married me." If her intention had been to distract Matthew from his own insecurities, she had struck gold.

"What?" he spluttered, "You are not…what your mother said…that's absolutely…" For the moment, he was too outraged to find the right words. Mary smiled a little at his blistering and crept closer under the covers. "I was afraid that…what Patrick had said, that perhaps some part of you might feel that tonight is not as it should be, because…I'm not like other women, who are still…pure and…"

The words were dragged out of her with evident distress.

Matthew's livid expression quickly melted into something more tender and his hand came out to capture hers this time. He pulled it up to his lips, then placed it on his chest. Mary could feel the frantic thud of his heart beneath the cloth.

"Now, you listen, my darling…" His voice still shook with fury. "To me, you are the most perfect woman…my everything…precisely the way you are." He took a shuddering breath. "I love you, Mary…much more than you could ever know. And anyone who thinks less of you for the past had better steer clear of me! They should be the ones to feel ashamed and they deserve nothing but scorn for their words. Not you, my darling…never you."

The sudden silence fell heavily after this forceful speech. She swallowed hard, tasting salt in the back of her throat.

"Mary, I'm the one who's no longer...no longer whole." Matthew flinched, throwing a disdainful look at his legs under the covers. "And...I'm the one who acted improper. Breaking things off with Lavinia...to pursue you. Not to mention my audacity to marry an Earl's daughter, a middle class lawyer without grander prospects." He pulled a face. "It's no longer considered suitable or proper anymore to love you, to want you for my own despite all that's changed…now that I can no longer offer you everything you deserve."

A sad smile ghosted over his drawn features. "But I'm a selfish man, Mary...evidently...far too selfish to let you go when I should have."

She sat up straight, glaring at the man next to her. "You're a fool, that's what! Are you still harping on about that stupid entail…and what damn Patrick said, who is nothing but a liar and a layabout!" Matthew gaped at his wife, he'd never to his knowledge heard Mary curse. Not once.

"If marrying the man I love with all my heart is considered to be selfish, then I am being very selfish indeed!" she huffed. This was certainly not how she had pictured their marriage to commence. To start bickering and fighting on their wedding night…

Who'd ever heard of such a thing? This could truly only happen to them!

However, Matthew refrained from arguing back, so she deflated quickly. "I'm sorry…gracious…" she muttered under her breath. Settling back against the headboard on 'her side', Mary suddenly wished that she had not spoken at all tonight and rather kissed Matthew instead. She turned to find his expression unreadable and he merely stared down at his hands, the tips of his fingers and thumbs rubbing together…

Another nervous gesture she recognized.

Mary cringed inwardly. What had got into her that she would snap at him? Matthew had returned home from war with a terrible injury two days ago! Of course he was still grappling with all these changes...

And now she, his new wife, called him a fool on their wedding night!

"You just said…" he whispered roughly, his voice heavy with some unfathomable emotion. "It's just that…you never say it out loud, you know…or as good as never." Mary frowned despite her best intentions to be all sweetness, but his cryptic explanation made her impatient. "Never say what out loud?"

Matthew smiled tremulously at his wife's confused demeanour. "That you love me."

The fact that he was perfectly right hit Mary like a ton of bricks. It was true. Unlike Matthew, she was shy about voicing her feelings, even towards him. "Perhaps, my darling…" she offered softly, as she threw the heavy covers back. His arms came eagerly around her body when she moved up and against him. "…I'd much rather show you, than speak of it."

Matthew blinked and nodded. "Oh my darling, please…please do."

He groaned unabashedly when she pressed herself up against his side to seal his mouth with hers and deliver the promised demonstration with the full force of her desire. Very soon their tender kisses escalated into something more potent. A simple taste, a comforting peck or gentle nip was suddenly not nearly enough. Mary heard him moan into the hollow of her mouth as he clasped her to his chest with all his might.

Something must have emboldened him, she thought, for he seemed to have lost whatever shyness or fear had previously held him in check. With a loud sigh, she reclined backwards, allowing him to crawl over and onto her soft frame, their lips only ever drawn apart to catch a gulp of air, or to whisper muddled words of love…

"I…see you?" Matthew slurred, begging permission, though his fingers already slipped under the thin fabric that covered her sloping shoulders. She nodded, yes, and fumbled with the buttons on his dark blue pyjamas. Impatient with the minuscule work, Mary tugged and ripped at the offending garment until the buttons gave. She quickly glanced up at her husband, who crushed her lips once more with his, clearly appreciating her fervour. A second later, it became almost impossible to retain some semblance of lady-like behaviour when Matthew trailed his insatiable kisses down to her chin, over the curve of her throat, then off towards her delicate white shoulder...

Trying hard to focus, Mary shoved his pyjama shirt down to bunch at his elbows and he shrugged it off in equally mad haste. She wasn't sure whether it was a matter of nerves, his eagerness, or a combination of both, but her fashionable Lucille nightgown did not survive its premiere night.

"Oh my dear..I'm so sorry…" Matthew gasped when a loud rip announced the demise of the thin silk and lace concoction. Mary only laughed and sought to kiss away the apologetic expression on her husband's face. Taking fresh courage from the sounds he made, she moved up onto her knees and pulled the ruined gown entirely off.

Startling blue eyes, hooded with desire, became Mary's torment. She knew that he had been waiting for this moment an excruciatingly long time: to see his woman in all her naked glory, to enjoy what he had previously only been able to imagine and fantasize about.

For an instant, his laboured breathing was the only sound in the room and Mary felt her entire body flush with heat at the intensity of his gaze. Being stared at by a man was never something she had enjoyed and even now, even with Matthew, she felt mildly embarrassed at his intensity and the rawness, the uninhibited desire written so plain on his face…

Lust, she identified the emotion. For a brief instant the idea of it alone mortified her.

"God…" it came over his lips. Mary was quite aware that she had a lovely form…but she could not quite imagine that it would inspire such an expression of rapture and adoration in an otherwise perfectly sane man. She leaned back on one hand to stretch out her long legs and with a shiver of arousal, she simply let it happen, this first close inspection...

Light blue eyes roaming greedily over each feminine curve and dip.

Matthew made a feeble noise, his fingers flexing where she had guided them to rest on her waist, as she in turn touched the whirl of dark blonde hair that covered his chest, letting her fingers follow the thickening trail all the way down to his abdomen, where every nerve and muscle twitched and tensed under her teasing caress. "I want to see you, too." Mary whispered boldly, her eyes lingering on his pyjama bottoms as she fought the instinctive wave of shame that overcame her at the sight of a man's erection…

He was fully aroused. And it was her doing, she realized. Not without a hint of pride.

Encouraged by her tender words and caresses, Matthew quickly divested himself of that last barrier. Suddenly it was his turn to fidget under his wife's careful scrutiny. Some small part of Mary felt gratified to see him squirm, to know that he had never been so naked and exposed to another girl's eyes in all his life.

And he was beautiful, no matter what had befallen him, no matter what he thought of himself now. Mary noticed the faded scars next to some fresh angry red marks on his body, which only registered now that his skin was entirely clean for the first time in so many months.

She bit her tongue.

This horrid war had done all these things to Matthew, and she had not been able to prevent any of it!

He watched her reaction with hawk eyes and shifted a little to sit up on his elbows. His upper body, she noted, had become slightly stronger from the effort of carrying his own weight on two crutches at all times. Matthew seemed to hesitate, then pulled the covers off his lower half.

The amputation still looked ghastly, there was no sense in denying it. But he was alive and that was all which signified, Mary thought fiercely. Matthew must have caught the defiant way in which she thrust out her chin. "Don't…look at it…" he advised her, but before he had a chance to grab the covers and hide his wounds, Mary had become a lot more interested in something else…

"Wait! Oh…good God!" His head fell back with a helpless groan. Without warning Mary had begun to tentatively explore what she had hitherto never seen before. "Stop…" he gasped when her caresses became too enthusiastic and his hand shot out to prevent any further exploration. "My darling…wait, please…" he pleaded. Mary waited for him to calm down, her smile angelic.

The rain was hammering against the windows now, though the sound was quite drowned out by their heavy breathing as Matthew pulled his wife fully into his arms, making her shudder as she clung to his shoulders, careful not to tap into any of his fresh wounds. If she did, he did not seem to notice or mind as he pressed his body closer, to cover every inch of hers that he could reach. Mary watched him as he squeezed his eyes shut for a second, exhaling deeply in an attempt to gather his wits...

"Can I kiss you?" he panted, his mouth so close to hers that she could feel his warm breath. "…because I need to." Mary could not help but smile at his polite request. "Yes." she purred, and never waiting for his kiss, she leaned up to give him what he needed so badly.

She felt intoxicated, overwhelmed that it could feel like this. To be held so intimately by the man she had married…naked and warm…the texture of his skin sliding against hers, his warm masculine scent, pungent, clean…war-worn palms and lips caressing, fondling…and kisses, kisses everywhere…everything so close, begging for her caress in turn, to be inhaled, tasted, touched…

Matthew. How could it feel so natural…so wonderful…

He murmured nonsensically, his lips burning on her skin with an insatiable hunger. Mary tossed and squirmed in pleasure when he found the soft rounded curves of her breast, the sensitive tips gently sucked into the heat of his mouth until a piercing cry tore from her throat. She panted his name, then laughed hoarsely at the sounds he made at every tiny flutter of her fingers on his flushed body. It was at this point that Mary started to become slightly impatient and wholly consumed by a yearning for more...

"Matthew!" she gasped in alarm, when he slowly kissed his way down the length of her body and settled between her open thighs. Evidently, her husband had left all traces of shyness behind…

"Don't…that's…darling, not there..." she fumbled for words, her fingers tugging nervously at the sheets next to her head. Matthew stared up at his wife, confused and perhaps even a bit hurt at her negative reaction. She grappled with herself. This was not decent and she should not allow it! For him to see her so…directly…so up close and so very…open…

Why, she had never been so terribly exposed to anyone in her entire life!

"Please…" Matthew whispered roughly, already raining kisses onto the soft insides of her thighs. Mary closed her eyes in defeat "Well, alright." she conceded rather testily and made to hide her burning face in plain mortification. Something tugged at her hands. "Look at me." Matthew urged and kissed her fingertips before he let them slide into his neatly parted blonde hair. "My sweet darling." he called to her earnestly.

In the end, it was all the persuasion she needed…

Try as she might, Mary could not contain the volatile reactions of her body and after a few beats, she did not even care to anymore. Matthew held her safely in his arms while she moved erratically between the ruffled sheets of their bed. Sounds, she hardly recognized as her own voice, filled the room and mingled with his own appreciative grunts, emanating from some location between her thighs…

When she peeked downwards, it struck her that he was truly enjoying this. Bright blue eyes burned into deep dark ones while broken lips stroked teasingly over sensitive flesh, nipping, suckling shamelessly. Mary's back arched off the bed as she felt her whole world unravel against Matthew's mouth…and then, most agitating of all…the unbearable warmth of a tongue touching deeply, caressing…

Loving.

Mary whimpered, garbled versions of his name echoed through the room as every fibre of her body felt tensed to snap, every nerve ending so finely attuned to his touch that even the slightest bump of his nose caused her to leap off the bed. "Matthew!" she sobbed out, clawing at the covers when the pleasure he gave her became too intense. Her body rocked in his embrace as the bliss of release washed over her like a heavy, rolling cloud of thunder and lightening.

With great effort, she managed to lift her head to find Matthew staring up at her with glassy, heavy-lidded eyes, and wearing such a proud smile that a giggle rose up in her, though Mary felt far too weak to release it. "So beautiful." he whispered and lovingly kissed the apex of her legs, only to cause another fit of aftershocks to set his wife atremble.

"Come here." she mewled, reaching out for Matthew, who eagerly crawled up into her open arms for a much needed kiss. She still felt pleasantly lethargic, quite in contrast to the man on top of her who was shaking like a leaf. As she dragged her heavy lids open, Mary suddenly had a crystal clear moment of realization...

"You're here." she whispered, "You're here with me." The front would never have him back and the war could not take him away from her again…because he was hers now. Although her legs still felt like jelly, she pulled them up and around Matthew's hips, whose reaction was to shudder and squeeze his eyes shut when he felt her slender limbs engulf him completely. "Wait…oh wait, Mary…" he panted out raggedly.

"The leg?" she worried, not entirely sure what the trouble was. His only reply was a tense shake of the head. Mary turned her head to kiss his ear, the only part she could reach from where he hid his face against her. Very slowly, she let her fingers wander over the tense plain of his back, following a rivulet of sweat that led all the way down to his bottom.

Her hand wandered further, sneaking between their bellies where she could feel him fumble around a little helplessly. Mary stilled his trembling fingers and drew a strangled moan out of Matthew when she gently guided the tip of his erection to find its way inside.

"God…Mary…" Matthew whined as he finally dared to move and only managed to bump awkwardly against her in his eagerness. Smiling, Mary brushed an unruly strand of blonde hair out of his flushed face. She clutched at the tense, bunched up muscles of his back and her lips ghosted over his chin when her husband made his first uncoordinated moves as a lover...

It was tremendously clumsy, there was no denying it.

Matthew's lost leg made it even more difficult to move with any semblance of rhythm or refinement. He kept trying to apologize for his lack of skill, but his speech was rather impaired. Mary smiled up at him and lovingly stroked his cheek, knowing that, in the end, she would hardly remember how awkwardly he moved now, or how she winced whenever his elbow accidentally trapped her long hair…

She would, however, remember the feeling of being one with her true love, and the wonderful new intimacy that seemed to tease all her senses at once, that had every feeling heightened, every moment intensified…

Matthew. The familiar scent of him, musky and masculine. The tantalising prickle of his hair on her sensitive skin, rubbing enticingly against her thighs, belly…the tips of her breasts. And the taste of skin on her tongue, salty, tangy, and utterly intoxicating...

Most of all, Mary would forever remember the first trill of Matthew deep inside her, filling the void only he could fill, the place only he could occupy. With their bodies merging in a heated push and pull of flesh and soul, like crashing waves in a stormy sea; every frantic pulse and throb, the very beat of his strong heart, Mary could feel him at her very core…

She caressed his ears as they beheld each other, flushed and dishevelled, panting and quivering together, slick skin against skin, finally losing all inhibitions. Both were aware that he wouldn't be able to last longer than a few strokes, and sure enough after only a few beats, Matthew lost his head completely...

Time seemed to extend for Mary, even though her husband managed little more than a couple of ungainly, desperate thrusts before his first loving act escalated into a frenzy of spasms, cries and finally a loud crash where Matthew lost his balance at last and the beautiful new bedside lamp along with him...

Before he could fall as well, Mary kept him close. Through hooded eyes, she admired the beautiful expression of unabashed ecstasy on his features. Matthew's mouth went slack, his entire frame stiffened, with only his hips jerking forward uncontrollably; he surged, cried out, shaken with the force of this blissful release as his broken body spent itself deep inside hers.

Mary gripped him harder yet while he shivered and bucked against her.

"I love you, too." she cooed in reply to the only coherent sentence she had been able to reconstruct from his garbled words. For an instant their eyes locked and the intensity became too much to bear. Mary realized that he was literally shaken to the core when he buried his face against her neck and she could feel his muffled sobs pressed into the damp skin...

A Shhh formed on her lips but she stopped herself. After everything he had endured, Matthew had every right to weep as hard and as long as he needed to, so she remained silent, harkening to the rain where it ceaselessly drummed onto the roof over their heads. In time, she noticed, with the surpressed tears of the man on top of her...

His skin was still slick, but Mary hardly noticed while she continued to stroke soothing circles on his back and shoulders, her fingertips gentle on the fresh scrapes an puckered scars. Every muscle in her arms and legs began to ache in protest, but instead of letting go, she only tightened her embrace.

Simply because, she thought fiercely…over there…no one had held him when his own limbs had ached from the sheer strain of another harrowing day at the front…

Nobody had warmed him when he'd been half frozen in some cold and wet ditch...no one had caressed or consoled him when he'd been lonely and terrified. Or shared his burden when he had to lead dozens of men, as young and scared as he had been, into massacres of blood and dirt...

...and nobody, nobody had loved him, had made him feel alive again when he had felt as if he were dead already…

The fine hairs on her arms stood up like needles, before Mary realized that she was being held just as tightly, as her husband slowly calmed down. Matthew softly nuzzled her ear and his breathing gradually slowed, every pant cool now against the wet sheen on her skin.

"My…Mary…" he whispered. She continued to sooth and repressed the urge to ask what had moved him so. Matthew swallowed and spoke instead, his voice still raw. "I'm sorry…for…blubbing…so stupid." he stuttered and Mary could feel his cheeks were burning. "Blub all you want, my darling." she said.

He was silent, contemplating this, then whispered anxiously, "It was…too much…after…after…" Mary's hand crept up to stroke his hair and he broke off abruptly, to press urgent, frantic kisses to any bit of Mary within reach of his lips. "I know, Matthew, I know."

At last, the taut muscles in her limbs gave up service and limply slid off his hips. Their entwined bodies, a sweaty mess, felt almost raw after this first intense coupling. Mary groaned as she perceived a gradual return of blood to her strained legs. The sound roused her dozing husband immediately, who realized in horror, "I'm...crushing you."

"No.." she said stubbornly. A weak chuckle rumbled through Matthew and with some effort he lifted himself up on his elbows to look at his naked wife. He kissed her deeply, trying to convey the depth of his love, because words were not merely enough. She smiled at him, unconsciously mirroring the dazed expression of joy and disbelief that he wore.

"I'm sorry…that I couldn't do better…" he murmured.

Mary frowned and cupped his cheek with her free hand. "It was perfect, Matthew." she growled, daring him to disagree. Matthew chuckled and shook his head slowly. "Liar." he called her out, before indulging in another ardent kiss. Mary could only laugh as she raked both hands through his tousled blonde hair, revelling in the feel of it. She had never seen the neat side parting so very...undone.

He was beautiful. And…he was hers.

Perhaps it hadn't been exactly perfect, but it had been the most perfectly intense moment they had shared until now. And of course their married life had only just begun…

Still rather befuddled, Matthew just about managed to heave his weight off her, causing the old bed to creak ominously underneath them. The last thing he wanted was to squash his darling wife, even if she wasn't complaining. Laying side by side, he simply had to pull Mary against his body again and she complied only too happily. They gazed at each other in sheer wonderment...

The swirl of hair on his chest was still somewhat damp, but this did not prevent Mary from rubbing her flushed cheek into it, or kissing the place where his heartbeat was slowly coming back down to a regular level. She sighed contentedly as he buried his face in the tangled mess of her dark hair.

For a few moments, they simply enjoyed this new found intimacy of holding one another in the afterglow of their love making. "Kiss me." he mumbled, when his searching lips had found her forehead. Mary chuckled lazily and shuffled a little upwards to offer up her mouth. There was a rather silly grin plastered to his glowing face, one that he seemed unable to wipe off and with a pang Mary suddenly realized that he was truly happy…perhaps for the first time in so many years…

And she was the cause for it…

"Darling…my darling wife." Matthew whispered, one thumb stroking her soft cheek. "I did not think it was possible to love as much as I love you." His words came thickly and his eyelids drooped a little. Mary could tell that he was struggling to keep awake.

"Go to sleep." came her gentle order.

Matthew's languid smile broadened, though he proved to be stubborn. "Not tired...s'my wedding night." he informed her drowsily. "...and…I've Mary…" His nonsensical speech was slurring as if he had too much liquor. Mary laughed and bend to kiss one of the red scratches on his shoulder...

He was fighting hard now to keep his eyes open.

"Yes, Matthew. We're married…you're home." she whispered, her gaze raking over the worn features of the man she loved more than she could ever dare to admit. "You're safe…and you're mine." Mary's rich voice had dropped a cadence.

"Sleep now, my darling…sleep…"

Matthew pulled her impossibly closer to snuggle his face against her fragrant neck, purring deeply as his wife lulled him to sleep, her fingers lovingly crawling across his tousled head. When only a few blinks later, Mary heard the unmistakable sounds of light snoring, she could not help but smirk in a rather smug fashion.

Her stubborn darling had finally given in…

The low lights from the fireplace glinted off the small diamond ring, as her hand raked lazily through the mussed hair of the spent man in her arms. Mary did not know whether he was aware of it, but in his dazed state, Matthew had lodged his lost leg between hers, almost as if it were still there…

Looking down, she tried to make out his features in the murky light. When she shuffled away a little, his arms flexed to pull her in again, his steady snores disrupted by a low grunt of protest.

Stubborn. Even in repose, she thought, and laughed quietly into the pillow.

The fire in the grate had burned down to a few dying embers when with a bit of struggle, Mary got hold of the bedlinen, bunched up at their feet, and pulled it up to cover them against the coolness of the night. Miraculously, he didn't wake. Or perhaps, she thought, it wasn't that surprising at all. He had been completely exhausted, physically and mentally…not just after tonight…but after nearly half a decade of a life in constant danger and unspeakable horrors...

Mary's dark glance slowly wandered towards the shelf in the corner, where a thick bundle of letters was lodged between Kipling's short stories and a volume of Greek Mythology. He may never speak of it again, but she knew quite well what he had suffered in this war…

And yet, the little smile that still lingered around his mouth spoke of nothing but peace and contentment. Mary sighed deeply. How many girls were crying in their beds tonight, for the loss of their brothers, their fiancés or their husbands…because they did not have the immense the luck that she had. To hold him, to know that she could keep him for the rest of their life together...

She had prayed for this, so fervently...for the Lord to preserve him and send him back to her alive.

"Thank you…" she whispered into the darkness and squeezed her eyes shut as she kissed the mess of blonde hair that tickled her nose. Matthew snored happily into her neck, unaware of the thoughts that stirred his wife.

Mary took a deep, freeing breath of air and it felt as if a great weight was lifted off her chest...where now he was resting instead. Endless days of waiting and hoping and praying were finally a thing of the past. He was home, safe in her bed, and what was more…

He was her husband.

Smiling languidly at the sleeping form curled around her, Mary finally allowed the sound of the rain against the window, and the steady snores of her husband, to lull her to sleep as well...