His and Hers
Title: Hers
Fandom: Downton Abbey
Characters: Sybil/Branson
Promtps: Words, wedlock
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sybil thinks about life with her chauffeur.
Author's Notes: Companion piece to His. Written for Porn Battle XII but nothing explicit, hardly more than implied smut.
--
Her husband was asleep.
Husband. She loved that word, she loved referring to him by it.
This is my husband, Tom.
My husband is a journalist.
I was talking to my husband this morning about it.
My husband and I are going to the theatre tonight.
It had gotten to the point half the nurses in the ward where she worked hadn’t even known his name and wondered who this handsome man named Tom who’d come to see her for lunch was.
She couldn’t help it, it was a little thrill every time she said it. If she had been able to she would have yelled it from the roof.
Tom Branson is my husband!
Tom (her husband) found it rather funny but she’d grown up in a world where a husband was someone who your parents would suggest and who you would marry for reasons all too often so far removed from your own personal feelings that she sometimes felt the world she’d been born into held no connection between the words ‘marriage’ and ‘love’. Often it’d be someone you were fond of but Sybil couldn’t imagine calling any of them “husband” and feeling the same giddiness she felt knowing it referred to Tom.
She smiled as she stretched slightly, careful not to wake him. She was lying on his chest, having slept on top of him the whole night, another of her habits he found amusing (though not at all unpleasant). She didn’t know why herself, the bed was very comfortable but he was even more so. They were both completely and utterly naked and Sybil didn’t mind at all, had someone told her when Branson had first been hired that one day she’d find herself completely comfortable being unclothed with him she’d have had a quite word to Cousin Isobel about their mental state.
She’d expected to feel shy on her wedding night, disrobing in front of a man for the first time and then what followed... But it hadn’t just been any man, it had been him, her husband, the man she loved and how could she feel embarrassed when he’d been so loving, so gentle and patient with her. For the first time she’d truly believed he meant it when he’d told her he would devote every waking moment to her happiness.
It had hurt for her, the first time and he’d been upset but promised her it got better. She trusted him, of course she had, and he’d been right. So right, she remembered with a smile. She had let him teach her everything about what happened in a marriage bed, let him teach her about herself too. She couldn’t believe there’d been so much about her own body she hadn’t known or understood and he had showed her everything.
He shifted slightly underneath her, still asleep and she thought about the night before, they’d been planning to go down to the tavern to relax and see some friends but Sybil had just been to see the doctor and Tom (her husband) had been in equal parts stunned, deliriously happy and utterly terrified at the news he was to be a father.
Happiness had won out though, he’d kissed her soundly and they’d eventually ended up in bed, which neither of them had been at all sad about.
And that was another thing Sybil had never imagined with the men she’d been expected to marry. She’d liked some of them but it was hard, downright impossible really, to imagine sharing her bed with any of them as willingly and as happily as she did with the husband she had chosen.
Oh, she could have had sex with them. Sex, that old, clinical word that was better suited to textbooks. Sex, the thing she’d had to learn about in hushed whispers and the medical textbooks for her nurses training. The thing that in her old life, was needed only to produce an heir, then you had your separate beds, unless it was a girl. After which, you did your duty again. Until you got it right.
She knew she didn’t do that with her husband. It wasn’t just a way to have children, though they had done that now as well, she thought with a smile but most of the time she took her husband to bed for the sheer joy of it, simply to show him how much she loved him and he would return the sentiment without hesitation.
Several years ago he’d taken her hand at a garden party and at the time it had probably been the most scandalous thing she’d ever done. She’d known other female members of the aristocracy interested in politics but even they would never had dreamed of touching a chauffeur like Sybil had then.
She couldn’t help but grin at the thought of what they’d say if they knew she’d run off with him. If they knew she’d married him, that she now shared her bed with someone who’d been her servant. She didn’t think they did know though, Granny was awfully good at taking care of matters like that.
Last night, as she’d watched him shatter beneath her, after he’d made her come apart, crying his name, and then gathered her back up in his arms, she knew she would never have been that happy anywhere else.
With anyone else.
They could have their grand houses, their sprawling estates and hoards of servants, their fancy frocks and their lives of idleness, their Seasons and gossip.
She had her chauffeur, her husband and she’d never want anything else.
--
Title: His
Fandom: Downton Abbey
Characters: Sybil/Branson
Promtps: Words, wedlock
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Tom still can't believe she loves him.
Author's Notes: Companion piece to Hers. Written for Porn Battle XII though it doesn't go much above the level of implied smut.
--
His wife was lying completely on top of him, not a single thread of clothing between them, her legs twined around his and her head resting peacefully on his chest like it was the world’s most comfortable pillow.
Tom wasn’t sure which part of the whole situation made him happiest. That they were both still pleasantly unclothed from the night before, the reason they had been celebrating last night, or that the amazingly smart, passionate and beautiful woman above him was his wife.
His wife.
Every time he said it he could feel himself smile. He liked to poke fun at the way Sybil always called him "my husband" rather than his name but in truth he understood it completely. He wanted to tell everyone he met that this perfect woman had agreed to let him love her for the rest of his life.
He smiled and looked up to see his wife awake and smiling back. “Good morning,” she whispered, leaning forward to kiss him and god does she know what she does to him? he wondered as her whole body moved along him to bring her mouth to his.
He can’t help but bring his arms up and pull her closer into him.
“Here, now,” he said with a grin, as they pulled apart for air, “why did we bother with a double bed if you just intend to use me as a mattress most nights?”
“Oh, well,” Sybil sighed, rolling off him, “if you want me to make use of the whole bed I guess I’ll just sleep over here.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, m’lady,” he growled, rolling quickly on top of her and kissing her deeply. He’s grown accustomed to calling her Sybil now but she will always be a Lady, his beautiful, passionate, brilliant lady. “I wasn’t complaining at all.”
Sybil laughed and kissed him again but when they pulled apart she sighed. “I should write to Mama,” she told him, “she'll be upset if she finds out we waited to tell her she's going to be a grandmother.”
“Are you sure?” Tom asked, making the disappointment clear in his voice, “because I can think of other ways to spend our time.”
She giggled as he leaned down again , this time to place a kiss on her neck, his hands caressing her and sweeping down her body, over her still-flat stomach and lower until she gasped at his touch, her eyes closing and her back arching in pleasure.
He grinned, then pulled away suddenly, ignoring her protesting sounds. “Then again, you’re right, we should probably tell your mother about the baby. She’ll want to know.”
Sybil glared, clearly not finding his joke funny in the least and he’d barely started to laugh at her indignant expression when her hands snaked around his neck and pulled him back down.
They hadn’t been together a year yet but it felt like he’d known her his entire life, that they could fall into this rhythm so quickly and so well and how she knew exactly where to touch him until he lost control, how he could make her move and gasp underneath him.
He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, how she was his world, his everything, his beautiful, gorgeous wife.
But words never seemed enough to convey his feelings. They always feel short of how truly perfect he found her.
“I love you,” he tried, after they were done and catching their breath, Sybil lying beside him.
The words didn’t seem enough though, but right now they were all he had and he intended to spent every waking moment for the rest of his life showing her just how much he means them.
--
Fandom: Downton Abbey
Characters: Sybil/Branson
Promtps: Words, wedlock
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sybil thinks about life with her chauffeur.
Author's Notes: Companion piece to His. Written for Porn Battle XII but nothing explicit, hardly more than implied smut.
--
Her husband was asleep.
Husband. She loved that word, she loved referring to him by it.
This is my husband, Tom.
My husband is a journalist.
I was talking to my husband this morning about it.
My husband and I are going to the theatre tonight.
It had gotten to the point half the nurses in the ward where she worked hadn’t even known his name and wondered who this handsome man named Tom who’d come to see her for lunch was.
She couldn’t help it, it was a little thrill every time she said it. If she had been able to she would have yelled it from the roof.
Tom Branson is my husband!
Tom (her husband) found it rather funny but she’d grown up in a world where a husband was someone who your parents would suggest and who you would marry for reasons all too often so far removed from your own personal feelings that she sometimes felt the world she’d been born into held no connection between the words ‘marriage’ and ‘love’. Often it’d be someone you were fond of but Sybil couldn’t imagine calling any of them “husband” and feeling the same giddiness she felt knowing it referred to Tom.
She smiled as she stretched slightly, careful not to wake him. She was lying on his chest, having slept on top of him the whole night, another of her habits he found amusing (though not at all unpleasant). She didn’t know why herself, the bed was very comfortable but he was even more so. They were both completely and utterly naked and Sybil didn’t mind at all, had someone told her when Branson had first been hired that one day she’d find herself completely comfortable being unclothed with him she’d have had a quite word to Cousin Isobel about their mental state.
She’d expected to feel shy on her wedding night, disrobing in front of a man for the first time and then what followed... But it hadn’t just been any man, it had been him, her husband, the man she loved and how could she feel embarrassed when he’d been so loving, so gentle and patient with her. For the first time she’d truly believed he meant it when he’d told her he would devote every waking moment to her happiness.
It had hurt for her, the first time and he’d been upset but promised her it got better. She trusted him, of course she had, and he’d been right. So right, she remembered with a smile. She had let him teach her everything about what happened in a marriage bed, let him teach her about herself too. She couldn’t believe there’d been so much about her own body she hadn’t known or understood and he had showed her everything.
He shifted slightly underneath her, still asleep and she thought about the night before, they’d been planning to go down to the tavern to relax and see some friends but Sybil had just been to see the doctor and Tom (her husband) had been in equal parts stunned, deliriously happy and utterly terrified at the news he was to be a father.
Happiness had won out though, he’d kissed her soundly and they’d eventually ended up in bed, which neither of them had been at all sad about.
And that was another thing Sybil had never imagined with the men she’d been expected to marry. She’d liked some of them but it was hard, downright impossible really, to imagine sharing her bed with any of them as willingly and as happily as she did with the husband she had chosen.
Oh, she could have had sex with them. Sex, that old, clinical word that was better suited to textbooks. Sex, the thing she’d had to learn about in hushed whispers and the medical textbooks for her nurses training. The thing that in her old life, was needed only to produce an heir, then you had your separate beds, unless it was a girl. After which, you did your duty again. Until you got it right.
She knew she didn’t do that with her husband. It wasn’t just a way to have children, though they had done that now as well, she thought with a smile but most of the time she took her husband to bed for the sheer joy of it, simply to show him how much she loved him and he would return the sentiment without hesitation.
Several years ago he’d taken her hand at a garden party and at the time it had probably been the most scandalous thing she’d ever done. She’d known other female members of the aristocracy interested in politics but even they would never had dreamed of touching a chauffeur like Sybil had then.
She couldn’t help but grin at the thought of what they’d say if they knew she’d run off with him. If they knew she’d married him, that she now shared her bed with someone who’d been her servant. She didn’t think they did know though, Granny was awfully good at taking care of matters like that.
Last night, as she’d watched him shatter beneath her, after he’d made her come apart, crying his name, and then gathered her back up in his arms, she knew she would never have been that happy anywhere else.
With anyone else.
They could have their grand houses, their sprawling estates and hoards of servants, their fancy frocks and their lives of idleness, their Seasons and gossip.
She had her chauffeur, her husband and she’d never want anything else.
--
Title: His
Fandom: Downton Abbey
Characters: Sybil/Branson
Promtps: Words, wedlock
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Tom still can't believe she loves him.
Author's Notes: Companion piece to Hers. Written for Porn Battle XII though it doesn't go much above the level of implied smut.
--
His wife was lying completely on top of him, not a single thread of clothing between them, her legs twined around his and her head resting peacefully on his chest like it was the world’s most comfortable pillow.
Tom wasn’t sure which part of the whole situation made him happiest. That they were both still pleasantly unclothed from the night before, the reason they had been celebrating last night, or that the amazingly smart, passionate and beautiful woman above him was his wife.
His wife.
Every time he said it he could feel himself smile. He liked to poke fun at the way Sybil always called him "my husband" rather than his name but in truth he understood it completely. He wanted to tell everyone he met that this perfect woman had agreed to let him love her for the rest of his life.
He smiled and looked up to see his wife awake and smiling back. “Good morning,” she whispered, leaning forward to kiss him and god does she know what she does to him? he wondered as her whole body moved along him to bring her mouth to his.
He can’t help but bring his arms up and pull her closer into him.
“Here, now,” he said with a grin, as they pulled apart for air, “why did we bother with a double bed if you just intend to use me as a mattress most nights?”
“Oh, well,” Sybil sighed, rolling off him, “if you want me to make use of the whole bed I guess I’ll just sleep over here.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, m’lady,” he growled, rolling quickly on top of her and kissing her deeply. He’s grown accustomed to calling her Sybil now but she will always be a Lady, his beautiful, passionate, brilliant lady. “I wasn’t complaining at all.”
Sybil laughed and kissed him again but when they pulled apart she sighed. “I should write to Mama,” she told him, “she'll be upset if she finds out we waited to tell her she's going to be a grandmother.”
“Are you sure?” Tom asked, making the disappointment clear in his voice, “because I can think of other ways to spend our time.”
She giggled as he leaned down again , this time to place a kiss on her neck, his hands caressing her and sweeping down her body, over her still-flat stomach and lower until she gasped at his touch, her eyes closing and her back arching in pleasure.
He grinned, then pulled away suddenly, ignoring her protesting sounds. “Then again, you’re right, we should probably tell your mother about the baby. She’ll want to know.”
Sybil glared, clearly not finding his joke funny in the least and he’d barely started to laugh at her indignant expression when her hands snaked around his neck and pulled him back down.
They hadn’t been together a year yet but it felt like he’d known her his entire life, that they could fall into this rhythm so quickly and so well and how she knew exactly where to touch him until he lost control, how he could make her move and gasp underneath him.
He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, how she was his world, his everything, his beautiful, gorgeous wife.
But words never seemed enough to convey his feelings. They always feel short of how truly perfect he found her.
“I love you,” he tried, after they were done and catching their breath, Sybil lying beside him.
The words didn’t seem enough though, but right now they were all he had and he intended to spent every waking moment for the rest of his life showing her just how much he means them.
--