This is…completely pointless and gratuitous and is answering a request (from tumblindownton) for kilt!smut (I honestly don't know. Just go with it.) based on the fact that we know that the CS is set in Scotland and my assumption that Mary will be pregnant then…

So, yeah, um…enjoy!

Matthew's New Suit

Matthew stood in front of the mirror, casting a wary eye over his apparel, his brow creased in a frown. It was certainly…different. A knock on the door pulled him from his reverie, and he smiled ruefully as Tom entered.

"Are you ready then?" Tom asked, his expression matching that of his friend's, equally displeased with his clothes.

"Well, it's now or never, I suppose." They both nodded and took a deep breath before heading downstairs.

"What on earth is taking them so long?" Mary sighed as she looked at the clock once more.

"My dear, they'll be here soon. Don't fuss; it's not good for you or baby." Cora smiled and patted her daughter's arm.

"I'm not fussing," she muttered, her hand stroking gently over the deep blue chiffon that covered her swollen stomach. "I'm hungry, and they're delaying dinner."

Cora was about to reply when the door to the drawing room opened and the men entered, with Robert looking just as uncomfortable as his son-in-laws as the women turned to them, their eyes immediately dropping to what was below the black jackets, faces lighting up with amusement.

Matthew made his way to his wife's side, holding out his hand to help her stand, smiling appreciatively at her new dress that was fitted around the bust but fell flatteringly over her bump, making it less noticeable. Mary's eyes widened as he reached her, taking in the dark checked wool, sporran, waistcoat and black tie.

"What are you wearing?"

"Well, darling, it's a kilt."

"Dinner is served." The butler appeared before Mary could reply, and they lingered for a moment after the room emptied.

"I know that, but why are you wearing it?" Mary's eyes dropped down again, taking in her husband's long lean legs, encased in long black socks and on show for everyone to see. His legs, which only she had been allowed to see before now, in the privacy of their bedroom and…without anything else covering them, or anything covering any part of him… She swallowed and licked her lips, feeling her cheeks flame as the slow throb of arousal started deep within her.

"It's…proper dinner attire up here. Lord Flintshire absolutely insisted, but I look ridiculous." He shifted uncomfortably on the spot, more aware of his legs than he'd ever been, and feeling unusually cold as every so often there was a slight draft that went…up. Mary smiled and moved closer to him, her hands reaching and smoothing over the thick wool of the shorter dinner jacket, his own hands settling on her waist.

"Nonsense, I think it looks very smart." She kissed him softly. "And you look very handsome." And again, smiling against his lips as he kissed her back, moving closer as heat flared between them at the contact, both moaning quietly as desire burnt through them, their bodies pressing together as much as they could, hands clutching at fabric.

"Are you…being truly authentic with it?" Mary pulled away, smiling breathlessly, her eyes dropping down.

"Well, that's for me to know," he replied with a playful confidence, and kissed her again, groaning as they tilted their heads to deepen it, hands grasping and clutching as they pressed closer still, their quiet moans filling the room.

"Darling- We…shouldn't," Matthew gasped as he pulled away after a long moment, resting his forehead against Mary's, his eyes squeezed shut as he fought against the urge to kiss her again. "Dinner, we're already late."

As if on cue, the butler suddenly appeared, coughing discreetly in the doorway. They stepped apart, cheeks flushed with arousal and embarrassment, and smoothed their clothes before heading into the dining room.

Throughout the meal, Mary was completely aware of every movement Matthew made; his hands, every tilt of his head, every time he shifted his legs which made his kilt ride up slightly giving her a glimpse of his bare thigh, which in turn kept her heart racing and her breathing shallow, a delicate pink blush permanently colouring her cheeks, making her grip the cutlery until her knuckles were white as she fought against the building tension that flowed through her veins, and the urge to reach down and tease him as she'd like to. Matthew glanced at his wife and recognised the signs of her arousal – the parted lips and dark eyes – smirking to himself as he shifted in his chair once more and ran his fingers up and down the stem of his wine glass, sensing where her gaze was fixed.

"Shall we go through?" Lady Flintshire's voice broke through the fog of chatter as the last of the plates were cleared and she stood, smiling serenely as the other women slowly rose from their chairs.

"Actually, if you wouldn't mind, I'm going to retire. I'm quite done in," Mary stood, meeting Matthew's eye as she did so, the slight quirk of her eyebrow offering him both a promise and a challenge.

He waited only a few minutes before excusing himself, explaining to the other men that he wanted to check on his wife. As he crossed the grand hall towards the stairs, he heard someone whisper his name. Turning, he saw Mary peering round the door of what he knew was the small library, smiling and beckoning him with her finger. Matthew grinned helplessly as he crossed to her, suppressing a yelp as she pulled him inside the room and pressed him against the door, claiming his lips with hers in a deep and passionate kiss.

"God!" He groaned as she pinned his shoulders against the door before letting her hands trail down…and across his chest, and…down. Matthew squeezed his eyes shut as he suddenly felt her hand against the bare skin of his leg, moving up under the kilt until…she reached him.

"Very authentic. Well, this certainly makes things easier," Mary murmured, kissing him again as her hand performed the gentlest of caresses up…and down… It felt…thrillingly different, and Mary moaned softly against his mouth as one of his hands sought purchase against the door and the other came to rest on her lower back, the flames of arousal burning hot and intense through them as she just…carried on, pushing him closer and closer to his release.

"Oh! Darling-" Matthew quickly pushed Mary away, both breathing heavily as their eyes met and she smiled, raising one eyebrow at him. His eyes unconsciously dropped to her chest, watching it rise and fall as she pressed herself against him once more, gasping as she felt him against her, his hands moving to her almost bare shoulders.

"Well, darling… We didn't quite get to finish, before," she smiled, shivering as he ran his hands lightly up and down her arms, as he looked back up and met her dark gaze. Bending his head, he lightly pressed his lips to her jaw, trailing along it and dropping to her neck…

"Oh- Yes, I quite agree." He grinned again as she gasped and writhed closer to him, already seeking a release from the building pressure. She was utterly lost in him and his teasing ministrations and didn't notice as he moved them so that it was her back against the door. His hands slipped down her body, briefly grazing over her breasts causing her to moan loudly, and he slowly started to drag up the material of her dress, the air cool around her stockings.

Mary moaned as he nipped at her earlobe, it was too much and not enough all at once; she was overwhelmed with sensation, was dizzy from it. Her fingers slid into his hair and gripped it tightly, pulling his head back to hers, their mouths meeting once more in a glorious clash of lips and tongues and teeth.

"How… How are we going to…?" Mary whimpered, her hands tightening their grip on his hair, knowing that her current condition meant that they could not make love against the door as they had in the past.

"Turn around," he breathed, kissing her sweetly as she raised her eyebrows at him. "Go on. Trust me." Mary nodded and did as he asked, instinctively bracing her palms against the door in front of her, closing her eyes as all of her awareness became focussed on Matthew and the feel of his hands bunching up her dress and pulling down her undergarments… The room was silent apart from the crackle of the fire and their breathing and the roaring of blood in her ears. There were no sounds of belts or zips, no sound of material sliding over skin. Yet, she could hear the shallow breathing and the soft moan as he reached round and lightly ran his finger over her, making her buck against him, as he angled himself and pushed into her tight warmth, her breath hitching as he slowly drew back before plunging in again with a loud groan.

"Oh, god Mary."

"Oh!" She gasped, her head was swimming. It was almost…unbearable. She felt wired and on edge, wanting and needing him more and more with each push of his hips.

His hands gripped her hips and he moved slowly at first, eyes closing as she leaned forwards, pushing herself back as he thrust deeply into her, and again, their cries getting louder as he curled forwards over her back, pressing his lips against her neck and whispering his love for her, filling all of her senses. He moved a hand and blindly reached for hers, their fingers lacing together with a vice-like grip, his other holding onto her hip, her dress bunched around her waist. Their bodies moved together, faster and faster, as they lost themselves to the wonderful, hedonistic pleasure that was both new and familiar, both dizzy with need as they hurtled to the precipice of their release… And everything was hot and tight and sweat and burning as they quickened… Mary squeezed her eyes shut and dropped her head as every nerve pulsed and throbbed and she stiffened with a shuddering cry as she climaxed in a glorious release, followed seconds later by Matthew, whose movements sped up as he jerked behind her and thrust one final time before collapsing against her, both gasping for breath as they rode out the waves of pleasure that jolted through them, the heavy oak door supporting their weight as their bodies calmed and the sweat cooled on their skin, their clothes sticking to them.

Slowly Matthew straightened, gasping as he pulled apart from Mary, tugging his kilt down before easing her to stand up properly, helping her rearrange her clothes, smiling as leaned in to kiss her cheek softly, tenderly stroking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Mary sighed happily and leaned back against the door, her hands rubbing fondly over the bump, feeling happy and content as Matthew kissed her again, his hand reaching to cover hers, both smiling as they felt a kick. She let her eyes travel down to the kilt again, smiling wryly.

"How do you feel about the kilt now?"

"Well, I suppose it's not that bad," he chuckled, pulling her into a warm embrace.

"Yes, I thought you might say that." They kissed again, slowly, and Matthew's hands moved to caress her cheeks while hers adjusted his tie before resting against his chest.

"I think, my darling, that we should perhaps go upstairs now." Mary nodded as he kissed her forehead, fixing her eyes on his legs as he led her out of the room, vaguely wondering if she could persuade him to wear the ensemble once they were back at Downton.


A/n: Well thanks for reading! There's a rock or something I'm just going to go and hide under for a while… Ahem. ;p And apologies for the not-so-good title; it was the best I could come up with without descending into poor puns.

I'm always incredibly grateful to hear your thoughts!