A/N: So out of practice but I am just closing my eyes and pressing post. It’s fascinating starting the show from the beginning again. But go ahead and send me your prompts. Thanks for letting me practice a little on you to get back into the swing of things.
She wakes with a hum of pleasure in her throat, her eyes still closed, her legs stretching, feet curling, toes pointed. Those very toes brush against his calf. She feels like an indolent cat, moving against the sheets slowly, testing each muscle. Her toes wiggle as if to say hello, good morning. Matthew lets out a quiet groan, muffled by the pillow. When she risks the sunlight to lift her heavy lids and peek at him, it appears as if he fell, collapsed, face first into the feather bed and stayed their, limbs akimbo.
It’s still new–not the easy affection curling in her stomach–but the freedom in that easiness. She is not only allowed to want to lean over and brush the thick hair at the nape of his neck with her fingertips or find his skin in the dark but to actually do it. She smiles and she recognizes she is being rather smug but if she isn’t allowed to feel smug now, after everything, then when?
And all of this at once, her toes against his calf, her smug smile, the way the sheet slips down Matthew’s naked back as he turns towards her collides together until the joy is so piercing it’s like looking directly at the sun. Only a few weeks ago, walking down the aisle towards him, she would not have been able to believe she could be happier than she was in that moment.
“You’re thinking much too loudly,” he announces, his voice appealingly rough with sleep.
“Only of how much I love you,” she replies, pushing the messy blond hair away from his face. He smiles against her palm, eyes still closed.
“Well, that’s fine then,” he sighs and reaches for her, fingertips brushing her hip, his hand finding the small of her back so he can pull her towards him. “But it is very early. And I was awake very late.” He opens his eyes to blink at her innocently.
“But why?” She raises an eyebrow. Her responds with a grin. Their legs twine together; her breasts brush against his chest; a hum begins in the back of her throat.
His lips touch her throat, the hollow just there at her collarbone, teeth grazing along so that she shivers and presses herself completely against him. “I can’t say.” She feels his smile against her skin. “Maybe I can show you.”
“Oh?” His thumb finds her nipple as his mouth moves lower to follow it. “Well, if you must.”
“We’re rather lucky you’re naked this time,” he whispers as he takes her nipple in his mouth in lushly lavish, wet kiss.
She moans. Or he does. Or they both do. It’s hard to tell just now. Still, it’s a game they’ve made up recently, childish really, but she can hardly surrender now. “You mean my corset is lucky.” His fingers trace down the small of her back; his hands cup. She holds on to him by his hair as he rolls her over, settling between her thighs, continuing to playing homage to first one breast and then the other. “What will we tell Anna? I assured her I didn’t need her and then you couldn’t get me out of that thing. It’s destroyed. I would have thought…” He begins to use his teeth in such a delicate way that her body nearly bends like a bow arching into him.
“Yes?” His tongue dips into the valley just above her belly button.
She clears her throat. “I was only saying…I would have thought you were more industrious than that.”
“I got it off of you, didn’t I?” And his grin is wicked when he looks up at her. She is breathing heavily, chest rising and falling, legs shifting slightly in impatience. “It would have been a lot easier if my hands would have stopped shaking.”
He is right. Last night, she’d been telling herself she was ridiculous because she was desperate to be alone with him. She hand’t known that he shared in that desperation until his hand touched her arm. She can still feel them trembling against her skin, not with nerves, but with an intensity and urgency unknown to either of them. Even as they retired for the night and stood to leave, everyone gathered to celebrate their return from their honeymoon, his hand at the small of her back shivered with energy. After ascending the stairs, she found herself pushed against a door that wasn’t theirs as he bit his lip and rubbed himself against her and she struggled in her dress to lift her leg over his hip, her breath hitching. “Don’t stop,” she begged him then.
“I won’t.” Somehow they stumbled to their room. “It’s been a day and half since I’ve had you.”
“You mean,” and this time she bit his lip and he gasped as she kissed it better, “it’s been a day and a half since I’ve had you.”
So they trembled together for a long time.
The morning sun practically bounces off his blond hair. “I don’t know how well this will work, us living with your parents.” He rises to kiss her lips finally and sinks into her without meaning to. “Good morning,” he whispers, grinning foolishly but it doesn’t matter because she is grinning just as foolishly back.
“Indeed,” she hums, her brow winging up. “It seemed practical enough when we discussed it before.”
“Yes, but now I’ve had you.” His hand slips to the nape of her neck as he kisses her, her lip pulled into his mouth to nibble on before it is soothed by his tongue. Her legs wrap around his waist, her arms around his neck.
“And now I’ve had you.”
“We must reconsider.”
She groans. “We must.”
When he slides into her, he breathes her name. “Mary.” She looks into his eyes, even as her hips rise to meet his, inhaling sharply. He groans this time. “You’re trembling.”