Fic : Downton Abbey : Hat in Hand part 5
Genre: Drama/Hurt/Comfort
Rated: M
Character: Violet C., C. Carson, OC
Summary: Done with his time on the stage, Charlie Carson wants to return to his old way of life but returning to the Abbey he finds a less than cheery reception - and it seems he is not the only one to have fallen in his Lordship's favor.
Hat in Hand
Chapter 5
When she turned her back to him, he thought he had again succeeded in offending her, but resting her arms on her vanity and her head on her arms, she bent over that he might take her from behind.
It was not the first time she had offered herself to him that way. Her foreigner must have been very fond of taking her that way.
He knew how her foreigner had made love to her. He knew exactly how her foreigner had made love to her. She had told him upon their return from St. Petersburg the first time she had allowed him into her bed - not in words, but in deeds.
It was obvious in the way she now demanded to be made love to. No longer content to await him in her bed after being undressed by her maid, now she expected to be seduced and undressed by him every time. Kisses not just to her lips, but everywhere and not just once, but again and again after each of her many layers were removed.
Little by little for the past year his wife had been training him to make love to her as her foreigner had.
When she had offered herself to him this way in his study once months before, he had turned her around and lifted her onto the desk. What was the point of having such a beautiful wife if he wasn't going to look at her lovely face as he took his pleasure from her?
When he was not quick enough to respond, she beckoned him. “I would receive you, my Lord.”
Admittedly, the angle had advantages. It allowed him to more readily reach all of the places she liked while inside of her and it made his avoidance of her sullied mouth less obvious.
More practically, after his tantrum this afternoon, his wife's bedroom had not a bed - merely a mattress with no covering.
Today, the vanity's mirror allowing them both what they wanted, he acquiesced.
They had been at a stalemate for some time before their journey to Russia.
Having determined his various methods to avoid having her fall with child, his wife had openly declared her unwillingness to perform her wifely duties if he were not actually attempting his husbandly duty.
Another man might not have accepted such an expulsion so easily, but he adored his wife because she was an absolute terror not in spite of it. He could not diminish her by forcing his affection upon her.
The first time she had taken him back into her bed some weeks after their return he knew he was being cuckolded. Not having much choice in the matter, he had gone along with it. Imagine his surprise that it was not for just the one requisite night but that she kept inviting him back into her bed night after night - until suddenly she again wasn't.
While the entire situation was intolerable what he found most galling was that he was given only a week in her bed in exchange for allowing her foreigner's offspring into their nursery. She had fallen pregnant with Rosamund by convincing him that his efforts had failed and she was already pregnant. She had told him that the doctor had said it was safe for them to continue relations until at least the fourth month.
The fourth night of his return to banishment he had gone to her uninvited. She had been surprised to see him but she hadn't turned him away.
When they had finished he noticed that there was some spotting. Concerned, he had offered to have the doctor brought round. Neither concerned nor alarmed, merely mildly put off, she dismissed the idea. 'You should have allowed another day. I would have sent you away, but I thought it had tapered off.'
'You have had your courses?' Working back a month, he had come up with a time line. 'But then you would have last had your courses during the wedding.
'I started a few days before the ceremony. It continued through the first few days we were traveling home.'
'But -” He stopped himself from asking aloud. It made no sense. If not to cuckold him then why let him back into her bed?
He soon came to her epiphany. While previously his wife in her twisted little mind had always regarded their activities as a means to an end in St. Petersburg she had come to realize that the means could be it's own end. She had discovered what pleasures could be had for the sake of pleasure alone.
Approaching her, he lifted the shift she still wore and teased her entrance, refusing to actually join with her, until his proud little wife who never begged or pleaded, demanded him. “Take me, my Lord.”
When he slipped just the tip of his cock inside her, she pressed back into him trying to capture more of him.
Kissing her arched back, he reprimanded her. “So impatient.”
As he finally began stroking in and out of her, she gave a pleased sigh. One of her hands soon left the dressing table to reach down to the nub that fascinated her so since their hurried retreat from St. Petersburg. He batted her hand away and put his own fingers there.
Watching her expression in the mirror as her passion overtook her, he was torn between being enthralled at the sight and outraged that she had discovered such things at the hands - amongst other things - of another man.
The mirror had proved a poor substitution. Her foreigner may have been content to merely shift garments aside, but he wanted to see his wife - all of his wife - as he made love to her.
He gave her a few moments to ride out her pleasure before removing himself from within her for the purposes of travel.
Stepping out of the garments pooled at his ankles, he informed her. “I want you on the bed.”
Her eyes so recently closed in passion fluttered open as she asked. “The bed that the children have wrecked?”
He had miscalculated his timing - given her too much time. Though hardly recovered, she was no longer acquiescent.
“The bed can be remade.”
“Can it, my Lord?” Turning to face him, her eyes searched his.
Unable to meet his wife's gaze, with a sigh he looked instead to the havoc he had wreaked.
She spoke directly to his insecurities. “If you were looking for his letters I don't keep them.”
tbc
I seem to only be on lj sporadically and I never really did much of anything with the Downton Abbey community on lj so I'm reasonably certain no one is actually reading any of the DA fics I've been posting here. If I am wrong someone go ahead and correct me. Otherwise I'm going to start to skip posting them here.
Rated: M
Character: Violet C., C. Carson, OC
Summary: Done with his time on the stage, Charlie Carson wants to return to his old way of life but returning to the Abbey he finds a less than cheery reception - and it seems he is not the only one to have fallen in his Lordship's favor.
Hat in Hand
Chapter 5
When she turned her back to him, he thought he had again succeeded in offending her, but resting her arms on her vanity and her head on her arms, she bent over that he might take her from behind.
It was not the first time she had offered herself to him that way. Her foreigner must have been very fond of taking her that way.
He knew how her foreigner had made love to her. He knew exactly how her foreigner had made love to her. She had told him upon their return from St. Petersburg the first time she had allowed him into her bed - not in words, but in deeds.
It was obvious in the way she now demanded to be made love to. No longer content to await him in her bed after being undressed by her maid, now she expected to be seduced and undressed by him every time. Kisses not just to her lips, but everywhere and not just once, but again and again after each of her many layers were removed.
Little by little for the past year his wife had been training him to make love to her as her foreigner had.
When she had offered herself to him this way in his study once months before, he had turned her around and lifted her onto the desk. What was the point of having such a beautiful wife if he wasn't going to look at her lovely face as he took his pleasure from her?
When he was not quick enough to respond, she beckoned him. “I would receive you, my Lord.”
Admittedly, the angle had advantages. It allowed him to more readily reach all of the places she liked while inside of her and it made his avoidance of her sullied mouth less obvious.
More practically, after his tantrum this afternoon, his wife's bedroom had not a bed - merely a mattress with no covering.
Today, the vanity's mirror allowing them both what they wanted, he acquiesced.
They had been at a stalemate for some time before their journey to Russia.
Having determined his various methods to avoid having her fall with child, his wife had openly declared her unwillingness to perform her wifely duties if he were not actually attempting his husbandly duty.
Another man might not have accepted such an expulsion so easily, but he adored his wife because she was an absolute terror not in spite of it. He could not diminish her by forcing his affection upon her.
The first time she had taken him back into her bed some weeks after their return he knew he was being cuckolded. Not having much choice in the matter, he had gone along with it. Imagine his surprise that it was not for just the one requisite night but that she kept inviting him back into her bed night after night - until suddenly she again wasn't.
While the entire situation was intolerable what he found most galling was that he was given only a week in her bed in exchange for allowing her foreigner's offspring into their nursery. She had fallen pregnant with Rosamund by convincing him that his efforts had failed and she was already pregnant. She had told him that the doctor had said it was safe for them to continue relations until at least the fourth month.
The fourth night of his return to banishment he had gone to her uninvited. She had been surprised to see him but she hadn't turned him away.
When they had finished he noticed that there was some spotting. Concerned, he had offered to have the doctor brought round. Neither concerned nor alarmed, merely mildly put off, she dismissed the idea. 'You should have allowed another day. I would have sent you away, but I thought it had tapered off.'
'You have had your courses?' Working back a month, he had come up with a time line. 'But then you would have last had your courses during the wedding.
'I started a few days before the ceremony. It continued through the first few days we were traveling home.'
'But -” He stopped himself from asking aloud. It made no sense. If not to cuckold him then why let him back into her bed?
He soon came to her epiphany. While previously his wife in her twisted little mind had always regarded their activities as a means to an end in St. Petersburg she had come to realize that the means could be it's own end. She had discovered what pleasures could be had for the sake of pleasure alone.
Approaching her, he lifted the shift she still wore and teased her entrance, refusing to actually join with her, until his proud little wife who never begged or pleaded, demanded him. “Take me, my Lord.”
When he slipped just the tip of his cock inside her, she pressed back into him trying to capture more of him.
Kissing her arched back, he reprimanded her. “So impatient.”
As he finally began stroking in and out of her, she gave a pleased sigh. One of her hands soon left the dressing table to reach down to the nub that fascinated her so since their hurried retreat from St. Petersburg. He batted her hand away and put his own fingers there.
Watching her expression in the mirror as her passion overtook her, he was torn between being enthralled at the sight and outraged that she had discovered such things at the hands - amongst other things - of another man.
The mirror had proved a poor substitution. Her foreigner may have been content to merely shift garments aside, but he wanted to see his wife - all of his wife - as he made love to her.
He gave her a few moments to ride out her pleasure before removing himself from within her for the purposes of travel.
Stepping out of the garments pooled at his ankles, he informed her. “I want you on the bed.”
Her eyes so recently closed in passion fluttered open as she asked. “The bed that the children have wrecked?”
He had miscalculated his timing - given her too much time. Though hardly recovered, she was no longer acquiescent.
“The bed can be remade.”
“Can it, my Lord?” Turning to face him, her eyes searched his.
Unable to meet his wife's gaze, with a sigh he looked instead to the havoc he had wreaked.
She spoke directly to his insecurities. “If you were looking for his letters I don't keep them.”
tbc
I seem to only be on lj sporadically and I never really did much of anything with the Downton Abbey community on lj so I'm reasonably certain no one is actually reading any of the DA fics I've been posting here. If I am wrong someone go ahead and correct me. Otherwise I'm going to start to skip posting them here.