A Study in Red Velvet, Epilogue
Now…I do feel a bit of guilt about this one. I wrote it yesterday afternoon in a bit of an escapist frenzy; I sent it over to EGT, hoping that she might be able to beta it so I could post it today-Thursday, the usual day for second chapters. I, ah…well, I kind of bullied her into beta-ing it, truth be told. Which was very mean of me, as she’s got a nasty cold. So...Thank You, earlgreytea68. You're phenomenal. And, for being mean,I’m sorry. I'm so sorry. *offers bottomless cup of piping hot Earl Grey Tea*
Rose fumbled with the keys, giggling, as Peter stood behind her, his hand resting lightly on her waist. Penny and Anna’s wedding had been lovely, romantic; the reception afterwards had been one of the livelier ones Peter had ever attended. The champagne had flowed freely, with the result that several of the guests felt relaxed enough to throw off their inhibitions and party like it was 1999.
He had noticed Mickey was the only one who had laughed when Rose shouted it.
Rose had even managed to convince him to dance, smiling invitingly at him when one of the ballads came across the speakers, enticing him with a wiggle of her fingers and a slight tilt of her head. Someday he was going to have to learn how to resist that, or she would figure out that she could so easily convince him to do all manner of ridiculous things.
She’d not let him off the dance floor after that, and he’d had to shed the heavy velvet of his coat before he expired of heat. He’d not missed the fact that Rose stopped running her hands along his arm, or across his chest, once the jacket was gone, and he felt a sense of triumph; she liked the suit whether she’d admit it or not.
Penny and Anna had finally left, bound for their honeymoon somewhere in the tropics-at which point he’d stopped drinking, cognizant of the fact that someone would have to drive. Rose had noticed, had given him a gentle smile, and had spent the rest of the evening nursing a single glass of champagne. They’d been shooed out of the hall sometime around midnight, and while Rose had slowed down drinking she was still delightfully tipsy. He loved it when she looked so relaxed, so happy and full of joy.
So he let her fumble with the keys, watched her grin with success as she finally slid the key into the lock and turned it.
She pushed the door open, and let out a squeak of surprise as he propelled her through, turning to hastily close the door behind them. She was just looking up to him, the faint light sparking in her eyes, when he leaned down and kissed her fiercely. She moulded her body to his, the keys dropping to the floor as she skated her hands up his arms, along his shoulders, down his chest. He brought his arms around her, pulling her to him, not letting her move.
Her hands slid around his waist; she gently ran her fingers up and down the back of the suit, kissing him back with equal fervour.
He began to drift kisses along her jaw, sliding a hand up to the centre of her back, his palm flat and holding her flush against him. “I believe, Miss Tyler, that we were interrupted earlier,” he whispered as he reached her ear, his breath ghosting across her skin before he began the task of tracing her ear with his tongue.
“What d’you mean?” she gasped, tilting her head back and away, encouraging him to pay attention to her neck.
“I mean,” he accepted the invitation, kissed just below her jaw, smiling as he felt a shiver pass through her, “that we were just about…here…” He turned, pinning her against the door, sliding his hands out from behind her and placing them against the wood, trapping her.
She tilted her chin down; he pulled back, catching her eye, watching as a slow smile spread across her lips. “I may need a bit more reminding.” Her voice was low, sultry; he felt his body react immediately.
He pushed his hips into hers. “I think you were talking about how you liked the suit.” He leaned in, brushing a kiss across her lips. She smiled, briefly returning it before ducking away.
She glanced down, and moved her hands to rest in between them. “I said no such thing.” She stroked downwards, watching her hands move across the fabric, before adding, “I think I said I liked you in almost anything.”
He leaned forward, capturing her earlobe between his lips, sucking lightly. Her hands paused, before sliding up across the fabric, coming to rest at his shoulders.
“Although…” Another swipe of her hands, this time down his arms, before returning to his shoulders. “I do rather like stroking it…”
He released the soft flesh with a pop, ghosting his nose across her cheek. “Is that so?” He paused, centimetres away from her lips.
“Oh yes.” She leaned forward, closing the distance between them, meeting his lips, her tongue seeking his out.
Her hands roamed across the velvet, her touch sure in some places, tentative and thoughtful in others. The entire time, she kissed him, teasing him with her tongue.
She shifted, kissing his jaw, nipping at his neck; it was his turn to tilt his head back, revelling in the feeling of Rose seducing him.
“I do think, though…” A nip, a quick lick, followed by a kiss; she then pulled back and continued speaking. “I think I’d enjoy taking you out of it.”
She slid her arms up, across his chest, her hands snaking under his jacket, over his shirt. He felt her begin to push the jacket off his shoulders, and he dropped his arms, wiggling to help the jacket slide off and drop to the floor.
“Like that, then?” he gasped, his lips grazing her cheeks.
“Just like that.” Her hands worked to untuck his shirt, shifting to unbutton the placket once the tails were free. He took a step back, staying in reach as she worked the buttons; he hastily released the cuffs of the shirt, the cufflinks hitting the floor.
He reached for the knot of his tie, hastily sliding the fabric through the knot as Rose unbuttoned the final button; her hands slid across his chest, finding his, and she leaned forward to whisper, “Allow me.”
He reached forward, cupping her jaw, pulling her towards him for a kiss; she returned it, distracted, her hands working to finish pulling the tie loose. He felt her smile as the silk of the tie slid through his collar.
Her hands glided across his chest, leaving fiery trails; he reached around her, desperate to find the zip to her dress.
There was none-at least none that he could find. He pulled back, confused; in the faint light of the hallway, he could see the gleam of her teeth, her smile wolfish. Her hands disappeared from his skin for a moment, distracting him; his breath hitched when he felt them reappear, stroking across his hips.
“Now, this…” Rose shifted, the fingers of one hand running a line up the velvet at his crotch, “this I could definitely enjoy.” He felt her palm press against his erection, rubbing small circles.
“I think I could too,” he growled, leaning in to kiss her once more. He pressed her against the door, the kiss demanding, his hands working the skirt of the dress up to her hips. He pinned her, his hips against hers, her hand in-between them; she wiggled her fingers against his hardness even as his fingers found her skin, seeking out her knickers.
“Peter.” She inhaled his name, pulling her lips away from his as his fingers slid under the edge of the lace.
“Yes, Rose.” He slid the fingers of his other hand under her knickers, moving his hands forward across her stomach.
“I…” Her voice caught as he dipped a hand down, brushing lightly against the curls at the join of her thighs.
“Yes, Rose?” He leaned forward, kissing her jaw.
Her head tilted back, her eyes closed; he felt her shift her hand, working to undo the button at his waist. “I…”
Her voice again caught as he dipped his fingers into the wetness he found, sliding backwards and forwards before leaving a trail up to the edge of her knickers. “Is there something you need?” He blew a soft breath across her ear, his eyes drifting shut as she shifted her hands.
“I want you out of these trousers.” Her voice held a hint of steel, and she pushed him away. “Immediately.” She shifted her gaze down, her hands wasting no time in flicking the button open, in shifting the zip down. He caught her wrists as she reached to free him from his pants.
“Unless you’ve a condom, we’re moving this upstairs. Now.” He slid his hand down to capture hers, and hastily led her up the stairs. The bed was the old one from Rose’s flat, a simple headboard of birch with a cornflower blue duvet; they’d shifted the furniture around when he’d moved to London, with his beloved antiques moving to what became their bedroom.
Rose had made the bed before their row, and he led her to it with alacrity. He stopped briefly at the wardrobe, hastily reaching into the matching birch cabinet to find the condoms they kept on hand; Rose’s hands began to slide across the velvet of his trousers, distracting him wildly; she pressed up against him, her body against his back, her fingers moving across the velvet covering his thighs, dancing a line around his penis. As he tore open the packet, she reached around him, her hands sliding across his skin before freeing his erection from his pants. It was the work of a moment to slide on the condom, Rose’s hands continuing now to drift teasingly over the velvet.
He spun, startling her; he captured her lips as he backed her against the wall. He wanted to be inside of her now, was done teasing and playing. His hands once more pulled the skirt of her dress up over her hips, bunching the fabric and holding it in place with one hand; with his other, he reached down, sliding the lace of Rose’s knickers aside. He dipped a finger into her, heard her moan in response.
“C’mere.” He helped her to shift, hiking her leg over his hip; he once again held her knickers aside, moving forward until he pressed just inside of her. She reached down, holding her skirt at her hips; he held her as he slid home, pushing as far into her as he could.
She moved again, bringing her arms to his shoulders, using his weight and pressure to hold her as she brought her other leg around his waist. He groaned at the change of angle, sliding further into her; she gasped as he came to a halt.
He pulled back slightly before driving into her again; the anger and hurt and guilt from earlier in the day making him far rougher, much more primal than he usually was. He heard her gasp as he repeated the action, over and over, his body driving into her as hard as he could; her arms were still wrapped around his shoulders, holding her in place, the sound of her breath catching spurring him on. He felt himself begin to harden further, knew he was close to orgasm; he turned his head slightly, his lips against Rose’s ear, as he slid a hand in between them, fingers wiggling down until he found Rose’s clit.
As he began to tease her, his fingers stroking her in time with his thrusts, he whispered his apology. “I’m sorry, Rose. I love you, so much. My Rose. I’m sorry.” Each phrase was punctuated with a thrust, his body growing ever closer to release.
He felt Rose’s hands splay against his back, her arms tensing; she turned, whispering his name as she came, her body clenching around him. His hand slid from between them, moving to support her; he drove into her harder, faster, heard her whispering his name, telling him how much she loved him, how good he felt in her. He felt a rush as the orgasm passed through him, his eyes clenching shut, his heart feeling as though it were about to explode. He pushed into her, her hips pressing against his, as he rode the orgasm out.
“Feel better, then?” she eventually whispered, her hand gently brushing his hair from this forehead.
He looked at her, surprised. He slid his hands to Rose’s hips, helping to support her as she stood again. He slid out of her, taking a step back, holding her gaze. He could feel the damp of his sweat-soaked shirt against his back, could feel how clammy Rose’s skin was as the sweat cooled on her body.
“I…” He paused, unsure of how to answer her question.
He did feel better.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, suddenly concerned as he realized just how much force he’d used. He hadn’t realized how much the emotions of the row earlier had lingered inside of him, even after he had thought they’d made up and resolved it; they had, after all, had a wonderful time at the wedding and the reception. He suspected, from Rose’s question, that she had known, that she had kept a quiet eye on him all night. Just one of the many reasons that he loved her, because of her uncanny ability to know him better than he knew himself
She grinned shyly, ducking her head. “’s okay. That was…that…wow.” She teetered slightly as she moved to step away from the wall. He reached out, his hands resting on her shoulders as he made sure she was steady.
“Good, then?”
“Oh, yes. It was.” She raised her chin, a warm gaze in her eyes. “Very good indeed.”
He blushed, the praise as embarrassing as it was gratifying. “Well, then, I’m quite glad.” He shuffled over to the small dustbin, taking a moment to clean up.
You’re right, you know.” Her voice drifted across the room, humour in the tone.
“About what?” he asked, tucking himself in and zipping his fly. He was glad he had finished when he heard her response.
“Sex against the wall-‘s not clichéd.”
He heard the answering humour in his own tone as he replied, “I’m so glad to hear that.” He turned, intending to walk back to her; he instead found her standing just next to him, a few inches shorter now that she’d taken her shoes off.
She smiled at him as she leaned up, brushing a kiss across his jaw. She balanced by placing her hands on his hips; as she rocked back, flat-footed, he felt her fingers stroke the velvet of his trousers.
“I think I rather like the suit after all, you know.”
She smiled, and he felt himself grin in response as he leaned down to kiss her.