Campion: A Very Polite and Mannerly Love Scene (R/NC-17)
Summary: "I should like to be seduced."
Notes: For those who haven't encountered Albert Campion -- well, Wikipedia has the basics, but I recommend the BBC adaptations starring Peter Davison. This story is set after A FASHION IN SHROUDS, wherein (among other adventures) Campion and Amanda Fitton stumble into being engaged, and decide they like the idea. From there, however, I have branched AU. NENN for June 7th.
A VERY POLITE AND MANNERLY LOVE SCENE
*
"I should like to be seduced."
To Mr. Campion's credit, he met this rather startling pronouncement with nothing more than raised eyebrows and a pleasantly befuddled look, and a murmur of, "By whom?"
"By you, of course," said his betrothed. "It would hardly be a general request."
She awaited a response. But her fiancé merely nodded and sipped his wine and watched her with that inane expression, behind which he could be thinking anything. And for once, she hadn't a clue what that might be.
Amanda repressed a sigh, and sat back in her chair to try to think of another way to phrase her request. She had had to scheme and contrive in order to persuade Lugg to leave them alone this evening. No villains in the shadows or dangerous schemes, she'd promised: nothing but a late dinner at Albert's flat after an evening at the theater. She hadn't lied, either. This was only a trifle reckless, not dangerous at all.
Unfortunately, it required Albert to be equally reckless. That was the tricky bit. She understood Albert Campion quite easily most of the time: his chosen vices were inappropriate jokes and pointless card tricks, not drinking or gambling. If ever she caught him sneaking in at six in the morning, she knew he would have been out in search of a murderer, not another woman. He wasn't a man who would do that sort of thing. He never let his passions run away with him, not even with her. Which brought her back around to the question of seduction, comma, hers.
"Was there any particular time at which you'd like to be seduced?" Albert asked suddenly.
"Oh, no. Sometime in the next two months, I suppose. I've never heard you can seduce your own wife."
"My dear, you underestimate me." He spoke in his usual bland, easy way, so it took her a moment to really hear the words and realize what he'd said. He didn't allow her time to react, only set down his wineglass, sat up straight in his chair, and said cheerfully, "Well, then. Where shall we begin?"
"Is that a rhetorical question?" She couldn't help but smile. "At the beginning, I suppose."
"Excellent." He rubbed his hands together, smiling, though his eyes behind his glasses had a disconcertingly serious gleam to them. "Step One: make certain we're alone. Nothing ruins a perfectly good love scene like being interrupted at an inopportune moment. But I imagine you know that already: a single evening at the moving pictures would teach you that, with no need for your little Albert, so we shall move on to Step Two."
As he spoke, he rose, went to the front door of the flat, opened it, and leaned out for a look both ways. Amanda watched him in mild bemusement. He knew as well as she did that Lugg wasn't about. Did Albert really expect interruption? Then again, considering he never locked his door…
The object of her thoughts returned to the table where they'd been sitting, and took her hand. "Step Two involves our removal to Soft Furnishings. It's possible to seduce across the dinner table, I'm told, but that's a very advanced step indeed." He drew her to her feet, then led her down the short stairs to the sofa by the fireplace.
He hesitated for a moment there, rather than sit down, until Amanda looked up at him with half-laughing curiosity. He was still smiling, that foolish, pleasant smile, but his eyes had darkened. "Step Three," he said softly, and kissed her.
It startled her for a moment. Of course he'd kissed her before, but not like this, not seriously. You asked for a seduction, my girl, she reminded herself, and set her mind to determining how to kiss him back.
Just when she felt that she was really beginning to get the hang of it -- as near as she could tell through the increased pounding of her heart and a general rising warmth that seemed bent on fogging her brains -- Albert broke the kiss and took half a step back. His black tie was skewed, and he breathed as rapidly as if he'd run all the way from Mayfair to Piccadilly.
Amanda tried to catch her own breath. She'd apparently forgotten to breathe while kissing. "Step Four?" she asked hopefully.
"In a moment," her betrothed said unromantically, though he hadn't let go of her. "You're catching on far too fast as it is. Any moment I shall lose my head, and then you'll be forced to take over your own seduction. A pretty pass indeed."
"Oh, good -- you're enjoying it, then?"
She blushed almost the instant she said it, because it sounded so idiotic. Albert looked positively pained, but he cupped her face in his hands. "My dear girl, if it didn't involve skipping several steps in my carefully planned seduction, I should prove to you exactly how much I am enjoying this. But I refuse to be swayed." He sat down on the sofa, and drew her down after him.
"Carefully planned?" Amanda asked. "Do you mean you thought about this before?"
"Usually, I confess, in the context of our wedding night." Albert was petting her hand absently, which was far more distracting than it had any right to be. "Stodgy old fellow that I am, I hadn't expected any liberties permitted before then."
"Do you mind?"
Albert kissed her hand lightly, and for a horrible moment she wasn't entirely sure whether he meant yes or no. Then he looked up, meeting her eyes without flinching, and said, "Step Four moves from mildly improper to decidedly improper." He paused a moment, as if to give her the chance to say that she minded, then leaned forward and kissed her again. Amanda cheerfully dove in, and was so absorbed in those newly-learned intoxications that she nearly missed his hand quite boldly settling on her waist, then sliding upwards to cup one breast.
Albert pulled back, which was a mercy because between the kiss and the gentle pressure of his hand, she'd completely forgotten to breathe. He looked down at his hand thoughtfully, as if deciding whether to admit it was his, then withdrew it, allowing just his fingertips to brush over the fabric. It was quite unfairly tantalizing, less an actual sensation than a promise of one. Amanda caught herself leaning forward, as if that would accomplish anything, and straightened up again.
Then, without further announcement, Albert began to unbutton her blouse. "One mercy of modern clothing," he said. "Women used to be dressed in more layers than knights in full kit. Terribly difficult for a seducer unless he was willing to be caddishly direct."
Amanda obligingly kept her chin up. "Is this Step Five?"
"More like Four-and-a-half." There went the last button. Albert's hands dropped away, and he sat there for a long moment, watching her with that same inane expression that might mean anything. Amanda took a deep breath, then reached up and drew back the edges of her blouse, exposing -- well, exposing a perfectly modest slip and not terribly much else. She didn't have the sort of build that required much in the way of support garments. She still felt a bit exposed.
Albert, rather than taking any notice of the reddening of her cheeks, took her wrists and calmly unbuttoned those as well, then turned her so he could draw her blouse entirely off her, as if he were a lady's maid. She turned back to look at him, terrifically aware that she wore only a slip that wasn't that modest, not on its own, and her face was nearly as red as her hair.
He was watching her -- not with the silly blank look, but with the intensity she'd glimpsed behind it. Amanda resisted the instant, primitive urge to lean forward and forget herself by kissing him again, and instead said, "Is this where you take off your jacket?"
"No, I'm afraid not. The seducer remains fully dressed as long as possible, as an aid to his concentration -- you're too much of a distraction already, my girl. A woman being seduced is expected, indeed encouraged, to think of nothing…but…herself." And he nudged the fragile straps of her slip down off her shoulders, so the whole thing fell to her waist.
This felt several times more exposed. For a horrible moment, Amanda thought she couldn't bear it, that she'd have to take it on the chin and ask Albert to stop. But he mercifully didn't do anything, only took both her hands in his and watched her. She gathered herself, and opened her mouth to say something, go on, or I believe you've skipped a few steps, then thought better of it. Saying anything, anything at all, would put a polite distance between them, and she couldn't bear that. She would not bear that. Instead, she leaned forward and kissed Albert again.
He wavered. She could feel his grip on her hands tighten. Then he groaned as if she'd struck him, the sound muffled against her mouth, and his hands came up to her shoulders. He broke the kiss, but only to transfer it to her neck, soft nuzzling demanding kisses that sent pangs of shivery heat straight through her.
She shifted forwards, or perhaps he pulled her, or both -- it didn't matter, because she wound up sitting on his lap. Beyond decidedly improper, Amanda thought hazily, but Albert had bent to her breast and she cheerfully gave up thinking altogether.
It came as rather a shock when Albert's lips abruptly left her skin, and he said, "No."
"No?" Amanda echoed stupidly.
"No." Albert sounded hoarse, but decided.
Amanda took stock of the situation. At some point during the last few minutes, she had put her hand somewhere very interesting below Albert's waist. He now took that hand carefully by the wrist and tried to move her away. She resisted. "Albert--"
"Amanda." He met her eyes, no glasses, no pretense. "Another two minutes and I shall do something I would regret very much."
"I did ask you."
"I know. And like an utter cad, I agreed. But I will not have our first --" He hesitated as if searching for a word, then sighed and looked at her pleadingly. "I will not take you on a couch. My dearest, you deserve something better, you deserve flower petals and fine sheets and a bed." He cupped her face between both his hands. "You deserve a wedding."
"Yes, and in the meantime you'd wrap me up in silk and hardly touch me," Amanda pointed out. Her pulse was still pounding, and she felt distinctly interrupted. "If you won't make love to me that way, then is there some other way?"
Albert's eyebrows went up. "My dear girl, what has Lugg been telling you about my bachelor career?"
"Only the bits he thought I should know," Amanda assured him. "Why?"
"Because there are certain things I would much rather he didn't know." He had that thoughtful gleam back in his eye. He sat up abruptly, and pulled off his jacket, which got tossed carelessly across the chair next to them. Then he undid one wrist of his spotless shirt and rolled up his sleeve. "Sorry to be clinical like this," he said, "but it's safer this way if we want to avoid Lugg's curious eye tomorrow. Sit up for a moment."
Amanda obliged, a bit confused. Then she felt his hand slide up beneath her skirt and slip, warm against her thigh. Her body promptly reminded her that she'd been enjoying that touch before, and been rather left hanging.
"Now, then," her fiancé murmured, and slid his hand between her legs, and kissed her.
Amanda couldn't describe what he was doing. He was touching -- something -- but the sensation was only centered there: it spread in waves up to where his tongue was in her mouth, and where his other hand took possession of her breasts. The whole thing built beautifully until she couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but give in to Albert and the sensation.
Afterward, she slumped on Albert, feeling as if she had no strength whatsoever. He'd withdrawn his hand and was wiping it on his handkerchief silently. It didn't seem quite fair, for all his words earlier about being selfish, and she said, "What about you?"
"I thought that was my line," Albert said, and kissed her temple. "Asking if you enjoyed it and all that."
"Of course I did," Amanda said, and sat up properly. "But you didn't."
"On the contrary, I -- ah!" The last was more of a gasp than anything else, as Amanda relocated the interesting lump, and tackled his belt.
"I'm glad," Amanda said. Belt, trousers, undergarments -- good lord, he couldn't be comfortable like that. "But equity in marriage is all the rage, I understand."
He groaned, and let his head fall against the back of the sofa. "You'll be the death of me."
"Shall I stop?" She couldn't help smiling, watching his flushed face. He was, er, rather large, but if she wrapped her hand around it like this...
"I wouldn't dream of getting in your way." His breath kept catching in a very flattering way, and his hips pushed up into her hands. "God, Amanda --"
It took longer than she'd expected, given how long he'd been waiting. Next time she'd do better. Even this time, it was pleasant, in that warm, shivery way she was just learning about, to have Albert lose control, utterly and completely, for her, because of her.
She wiped him off afterward, although most of it had gotten on her, and tidied him up, trousers and belt and shirt-sleeve too. He laughed just as she finished, and she looked up curiously. He shook his head, and reached over to pick up her blouse from where it lay across the back of the couch. "Were you intending this to be a regular seduction," he asked politely, "or do I have a two-month respite?"
"Oh," Amanda said, and located the straps to her slip, shrugging back into it as slowly as she could. She hadn't dared to dream beyond this planned opportunity. "That's, er, rather for the seducer to decide, isn't it?"
Albert failed to take the hint, and instead helped her finish getting dressed again, then pulled on his dinner jacket. They might have passed as having spent the evening discussing the latest novels. But then he returned from fetching her wrap -- it was disgracefully late, and she did need to head home -- and said, "I may require your help in fobbing off poor Lugg. There's only so many excuses one can offer for being alone with one's fiancée before they're liable to tumble to the truth."
"We only need two month's worth," Amanda pointed out, nearly giddy. "Unless something comes up again."
Albert Campion merely smiled, and kissed her hand.
-end-
Notes: For those who haven't encountered Albert Campion -- well, Wikipedia has the basics, but I recommend the BBC adaptations starring Peter Davison. This story is set after A FASHION IN SHROUDS, wherein (among other adventures) Campion and Amanda Fitton stumble into being engaged, and decide they like the idea. From there, however, I have branched AU. NENN for June 7th.
A VERY POLITE AND MANNERLY LOVE SCENE
*
"I should like to be seduced."
To Mr. Campion's credit, he met this rather startling pronouncement with nothing more than raised eyebrows and a pleasantly befuddled look, and a murmur of, "By whom?"
"By you, of course," said his betrothed. "It would hardly be a general request."
She awaited a response. But her fiancé merely nodded and sipped his wine and watched her with that inane expression, behind which he could be thinking anything. And for once, she hadn't a clue what that might be.
Amanda repressed a sigh, and sat back in her chair to try to think of another way to phrase her request. She had had to scheme and contrive in order to persuade Lugg to leave them alone this evening. No villains in the shadows or dangerous schemes, she'd promised: nothing but a late dinner at Albert's flat after an evening at the theater. She hadn't lied, either. This was only a trifle reckless, not dangerous at all.
Unfortunately, it required Albert to be equally reckless. That was the tricky bit. She understood Albert Campion quite easily most of the time: his chosen vices were inappropriate jokes and pointless card tricks, not drinking or gambling. If ever she caught him sneaking in at six in the morning, she knew he would have been out in search of a murderer, not another woman. He wasn't a man who would do that sort of thing. He never let his passions run away with him, not even with her. Which brought her back around to the question of seduction, comma, hers.
"Was there any particular time at which you'd like to be seduced?" Albert asked suddenly.
"Oh, no. Sometime in the next two months, I suppose. I've never heard you can seduce your own wife."
"My dear, you underestimate me." He spoke in his usual bland, easy way, so it took her a moment to really hear the words and realize what he'd said. He didn't allow her time to react, only set down his wineglass, sat up straight in his chair, and said cheerfully, "Well, then. Where shall we begin?"
"Is that a rhetorical question?" She couldn't help but smile. "At the beginning, I suppose."
"Excellent." He rubbed his hands together, smiling, though his eyes behind his glasses had a disconcertingly serious gleam to them. "Step One: make certain we're alone. Nothing ruins a perfectly good love scene like being interrupted at an inopportune moment. But I imagine you know that already: a single evening at the moving pictures would teach you that, with no need for your little Albert, so we shall move on to Step Two."
As he spoke, he rose, went to the front door of the flat, opened it, and leaned out for a look both ways. Amanda watched him in mild bemusement. He knew as well as she did that Lugg wasn't about. Did Albert really expect interruption? Then again, considering he never locked his door…
The object of her thoughts returned to the table where they'd been sitting, and took her hand. "Step Two involves our removal to Soft Furnishings. It's possible to seduce across the dinner table, I'm told, but that's a very advanced step indeed." He drew her to her feet, then led her down the short stairs to the sofa by the fireplace.
He hesitated for a moment there, rather than sit down, until Amanda looked up at him with half-laughing curiosity. He was still smiling, that foolish, pleasant smile, but his eyes had darkened. "Step Three," he said softly, and kissed her.
It startled her for a moment. Of course he'd kissed her before, but not like this, not seriously. You asked for a seduction, my girl, she reminded herself, and set her mind to determining how to kiss him back.
Just when she felt that she was really beginning to get the hang of it -- as near as she could tell through the increased pounding of her heart and a general rising warmth that seemed bent on fogging her brains -- Albert broke the kiss and took half a step back. His black tie was skewed, and he breathed as rapidly as if he'd run all the way from Mayfair to Piccadilly.
Amanda tried to catch her own breath. She'd apparently forgotten to breathe while kissing. "Step Four?" she asked hopefully.
"In a moment," her betrothed said unromantically, though he hadn't let go of her. "You're catching on far too fast as it is. Any moment I shall lose my head, and then you'll be forced to take over your own seduction. A pretty pass indeed."
"Oh, good -- you're enjoying it, then?"
She blushed almost the instant she said it, because it sounded so idiotic. Albert looked positively pained, but he cupped her face in his hands. "My dear girl, if it didn't involve skipping several steps in my carefully planned seduction, I should prove to you exactly how much I am enjoying this. But I refuse to be swayed." He sat down on the sofa, and drew her down after him.
"Carefully planned?" Amanda asked. "Do you mean you thought about this before?"
"Usually, I confess, in the context of our wedding night." Albert was petting her hand absently, which was far more distracting than it had any right to be. "Stodgy old fellow that I am, I hadn't expected any liberties permitted before then."
"Do you mind?"
Albert kissed her hand lightly, and for a horrible moment she wasn't entirely sure whether he meant yes or no. Then he looked up, meeting her eyes without flinching, and said, "Step Four moves from mildly improper to decidedly improper." He paused a moment, as if to give her the chance to say that she minded, then leaned forward and kissed her again. Amanda cheerfully dove in, and was so absorbed in those newly-learned intoxications that she nearly missed his hand quite boldly settling on her waist, then sliding upwards to cup one breast.
Albert pulled back, which was a mercy because between the kiss and the gentle pressure of his hand, she'd completely forgotten to breathe. He looked down at his hand thoughtfully, as if deciding whether to admit it was his, then withdrew it, allowing just his fingertips to brush over the fabric. It was quite unfairly tantalizing, less an actual sensation than a promise of one. Amanda caught herself leaning forward, as if that would accomplish anything, and straightened up again.
Then, without further announcement, Albert began to unbutton her blouse. "One mercy of modern clothing," he said. "Women used to be dressed in more layers than knights in full kit. Terribly difficult for a seducer unless he was willing to be caddishly direct."
Amanda obligingly kept her chin up. "Is this Step Five?"
"More like Four-and-a-half." There went the last button. Albert's hands dropped away, and he sat there for a long moment, watching her with that same inane expression that might mean anything. Amanda took a deep breath, then reached up and drew back the edges of her blouse, exposing -- well, exposing a perfectly modest slip and not terribly much else. She didn't have the sort of build that required much in the way of support garments. She still felt a bit exposed.
Albert, rather than taking any notice of the reddening of her cheeks, took her wrists and calmly unbuttoned those as well, then turned her so he could draw her blouse entirely off her, as if he were a lady's maid. She turned back to look at him, terrifically aware that she wore only a slip that wasn't that modest, not on its own, and her face was nearly as red as her hair.
He was watching her -- not with the silly blank look, but with the intensity she'd glimpsed behind it. Amanda resisted the instant, primitive urge to lean forward and forget herself by kissing him again, and instead said, "Is this where you take off your jacket?"
"No, I'm afraid not. The seducer remains fully dressed as long as possible, as an aid to his concentration -- you're too much of a distraction already, my girl. A woman being seduced is expected, indeed encouraged, to think of nothing…but…herself." And he nudged the fragile straps of her slip down off her shoulders, so the whole thing fell to her waist.
This felt several times more exposed. For a horrible moment, Amanda thought she couldn't bear it, that she'd have to take it on the chin and ask Albert to stop. But he mercifully didn't do anything, only took both her hands in his and watched her. She gathered herself, and opened her mouth to say something, go on, or I believe you've skipped a few steps, then thought better of it. Saying anything, anything at all, would put a polite distance between them, and she couldn't bear that. She would not bear that. Instead, she leaned forward and kissed Albert again.
He wavered. She could feel his grip on her hands tighten. Then he groaned as if she'd struck him, the sound muffled against her mouth, and his hands came up to her shoulders. He broke the kiss, but only to transfer it to her neck, soft nuzzling demanding kisses that sent pangs of shivery heat straight through her.
She shifted forwards, or perhaps he pulled her, or both -- it didn't matter, because she wound up sitting on his lap. Beyond decidedly improper, Amanda thought hazily, but Albert had bent to her breast and she cheerfully gave up thinking altogether.
It came as rather a shock when Albert's lips abruptly left her skin, and he said, "No."
"No?" Amanda echoed stupidly.
"No." Albert sounded hoarse, but decided.
Amanda took stock of the situation. At some point during the last few minutes, she had put her hand somewhere very interesting below Albert's waist. He now took that hand carefully by the wrist and tried to move her away. She resisted. "Albert--"
"Amanda." He met her eyes, no glasses, no pretense. "Another two minutes and I shall do something I would regret very much."
"I did ask you."
"I know. And like an utter cad, I agreed. But I will not have our first --" He hesitated as if searching for a word, then sighed and looked at her pleadingly. "I will not take you on a couch. My dearest, you deserve something better, you deserve flower petals and fine sheets and a bed." He cupped her face between both his hands. "You deserve a wedding."
"Yes, and in the meantime you'd wrap me up in silk and hardly touch me," Amanda pointed out. Her pulse was still pounding, and she felt distinctly interrupted. "If you won't make love to me that way, then is there some other way?"
Albert's eyebrows went up. "My dear girl, what has Lugg been telling you about my bachelor career?"
"Only the bits he thought I should know," Amanda assured him. "Why?"
"Because there are certain things I would much rather he didn't know." He had that thoughtful gleam back in his eye. He sat up abruptly, and pulled off his jacket, which got tossed carelessly across the chair next to them. Then he undid one wrist of his spotless shirt and rolled up his sleeve. "Sorry to be clinical like this," he said, "but it's safer this way if we want to avoid Lugg's curious eye tomorrow. Sit up for a moment."
Amanda obliged, a bit confused. Then she felt his hand slide up beneath her skirt and slip, warm against her thigh. Her body promptly reminded her that she'd been enjoying that touch before, and been rather left hanging.
"Now, then," her fiancé murmured, and slid his hand between her legs, and kissed her.
Amanda couldn't describe what he was doing. He was touching -- something -- but the sensation was only centered there: it spread in waves up to where his tongue was in her mouth, and where his other hand took possession of her breasts. The whole thing built beautifully until she couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but give in to Albert and the sensation.
Afterward, she slumped on Albert, feeling as if she had no strength whatsoever. He'd withdrawn his hand and was wiping it on his handkerchief silently. It didn't seem quite fair, for all his words earlier about being selfish, and she said, "What about you?"
"I thought that was my line," Albert said, and kissed her temple. "Asking if you enjoyed it and all that."
"Of course I did," Amanda said, and sat up properly. "But you didn't."
"On the contrary, I -- ah!" The last was more of a gasp than anything else, as Amanda relocated the interesting lump, and tackled his belt.
"I'm glad," Amanda said. Belt, trousers, undergarments -- good lord, he couldn't be comfortable like that. "But equity in marriage is all the rage, I understand."
He groaned, and let his head fall against the back of the sofa. "You'll be the death of me."
"Shall I stop?" She couldn't help smiling, watching his flushed face. He was, er, rather large, but if she wrapped her hand around it like this...
"I wouldn't dream of getting in your way." His breath kept catching in a very flattering way, and his hips pushed up into her hands. "God, Amanda --"
It took longer than she'd expected, given how long he'd been waiting. Next time she'd do better. Even this time, it was pleasant, in that warm, shivery way she was just learning about, to have Albert lose control, utterly and completely, for her, because of her.
She wiped him off afterward, although most of it had gotten on her, and tidied him up, trousers and belt and shirt-sleeve too. He laughed just as she finished, and she looked up curiously. He shook his head, and reached over to pick up her blouse from where it lay across the back of the couch. "Were you intending this to be a regular seduction," he asked politely, "or do I have a two-month respite?"
"Oh," Amanda said, and located the straps to her slip, shrugging back into it as slowly as she could. She hadn't dared to dream beyond this planned opportunity. "That's, er, rather for the seducer to decide, isn't it?"
Albert failed to take the hint, and instead helped her finish getting dressed again, then pulled on his dinner jacket. They might have passed as having spent the evening discussing the latest novels. But then he returned from fetching her wrap -- it was disgracefully late, and she did need to head home -- and said, "I may require your help in fobbing off poor Lugg. There's only so many excuses one can offer for being alone with one's fiancée before they're liable to tumble to the truth."
"We only need two month's worth," Amanda pointed out, nearly giddy. "Unless something comes up again."
Albert Campion merely smiled, and kissed her hand.
-end-