Downton Abbey 1. Chapter 1

They were both standing behind his desk, looking over menus. The day had seemed interminable, but at one o'clock in the morning, it was finally over.

"I don't know why I'm even bothering with these," he sighed, "I can hardly see straight anymore."

It was rare that he admitted exhaustion, but she agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment. She showed her commiseration with a wry smile.

"Well," he sighed mightily as he set the menus aside, "I can't say it was without a hitch, but it did come off alright in the end."

She nodded her agreement.

"And, as always, it wouldn't have come off at all if it weren't for you, Mrs. Hughes."

She expressed her surprise and disbelief with a dismissive smile and a wave of her hand.

He wouldn't let it go.

"No. Truly, Mrs. Hughes. No one could have managed as well." He nodded, trying to encourage her to take the compliment.

It was nearly impossible for her to resist teasing him when he was so earnest.

"That is high praise indeed, Mr. Carson," she said with hint of mockery. "You're getting a kiss for that."

Before he could even begin to process her remark, she reached up to place a hand on his cheek. She quickly brought his head down, needing only gentle pressure to move him. And kissed him lightly on his other cheek.

Astonished, he watched her walk away from him. She tossed him a cheeky grin over her shoulder.

"Mrs. Hughes!" His reproachful tone stopped her at the door.

"Mr. Carson!" she shot back with an unconcerned smile.

He paused. Something hot and angry uncurled in his belly.

"Do you consider it one of your duties to mock me?"

"Mr. Carson," she said soothingly, "It's too easy to tease you. Sometimes I simply can't resist." With her tone, she tried to convey that she meant no harm.

But he wouldn't be placated.

"Even though you know I hate it?"

"But _I_ love it, Mr. Carson," she cajoled, making her argument sound as though it had just as much merit as his. "And to answer your question, no, I don't consider it to be part of my duties. More of a hobby, really."

He didn't know why her smile infuriated him more in that moment than it ever had. This certainly wasn't the first time she'd had complete mastery over a conversation of theirs.

"Right," he said. His face changed then. He seemed to have made a decision as he rounded his desk to come toward her.

An alarm bell clanged somewhere in the back of her mind.

"Since you seem to so thoroughly enjoy making sport of me, your colleague...your _friend_," he paused, noting with perverse pleasure the concern on her face, "perhaps it's time you felt what it is like to be...off-balance. To always be one step behind."

He'd only intended to kiss her cheek in repayment. To embarrass her. To show her that he could take what she could dish out. But during the short walk between his desk and her, he realized that that wouldn't faze her at all. She would probably make fun of him even more. Anger flowed through him as he stepped close enough to her that she had to crane her neck to look him in the eye.

Only pride kept her in place. The alarms were now a cacophony. She knew she'd gone too far. She didn't know why she had teased him so mercilessly that night, but she refused to retreat.

As he bent down, one of his hands flew to her jaw to hold her firmly but gently in place. It happened so quickly that she only had time to inhale with a gasp and press her hands against his chest. An echo of a thought flitted from her mind when he pressed his lips to hers. Perhaps she had placed her hands against him to push him away, but the idea vanished as quickly as it had come. She could tell his lips would be soft if he weren't so angrily pushing them against hers. When he slanted his head to slide his lips to fit more snugly with hers, his breath whispered across her face.

And she was lost.

She could have slipped away at any moment. Only one of his hands held her. His other hand hung clenched at his side. No part of him save his hand and his lips touched her. And as the seconds ticked away, she could feel his grip on her jaw soften. She could have pushed him away easily. But she didn't. Just as her fingers began to curl around his lapels, he pulled away abruptly. If she hadn't been pressed against his door, she would have lost her balance.

Frantically, he took in her stricken visage. It had been a contest of sorts and he'd won it definitively, tragically, irreversibly.

Alarmed beyond shame, he tried to repair what he'd done.

"Mrs. Hughes, forgive me. I don't know why — please forgive me."

She was nodding her forgiveness, her movements labored from trying to rein in the shaking that was controlling her body. After a moment, she was able to string a coherent sentence together.

"It was my fault, Mr. Carson. I never —"

"Oh, God," he groaned, putting a hand up to furiously scrub his brow. "Please don't. You bear no responsibility."

Almost in tears, she looked at his lips, swollen and red. Just as hers must look, she thought to herself. Deliberately not allowing herself a moment to think about her decision, she drew herself up, wrapped her arms forcefully around his neck, and kissed him. Hard.

She pressed herself against him and she could feel the shock of it course through his body. She was rougher than he was, giving back his anger and frustration with her body and her lips and her hands. Deliberately sliding her body against his, she moaned against his lips when she felt his hands frantically grasping her waist and his hardness pressing against her. With her hands on his face, she kissed him over and over again, executing her sudden plan to feel every part of his lips with her own. When her breasts started throbbing, she was able to pull herself away before she forcibly brought his hands to her chest.

Breathing heavily, not a hint of a smile on her face, she said,

"There. Now we're even."

With darkened eyes and shaking hands, he looked at her incredulously.

"Like hell we are," he ground out just before capturing her lips once more.

She whimpered her approval when he pulled her tight against him, thrusting his thigh between her legs and pushing her hips down to grind against it. And then, for the first time, he pushed his tongue between her lips. Granting him entrance to her mouth as rapidly as she could, she felt the familiar flush of her arousal building as he attempted to devour her. He pulled at her tongue, her lips while he lifted her skirts with one hand. His other hand was at her neck, fiercely pressing her into him. He was at the smooth skin of her thigh, roughly trying to unhook her stockings from her garter. Just as roughly, she pushed his hand away. She was narrowly holding on to the few shreds of control she had left. If he touched her sex with his massive, dexterous, erotic hands, she knew she would make him take her against the wall.

Unabashed, he removed his hand from under her skirts and grabbed a firm hold of her ass, pressing her harder against him. Shaking with need, she had to push hard to create some distance between them. Unable to reach her lips then, he tilted his head to attack her neck.

"Wait, wait," she breathed hoarsely.

He obeyed as well as he could, letting her go for the most part. Unwilling to break from her completely, he took one of her hands and held it to his mouth, worshipping her palm.

While she watched this arousing display, her words tumbled over one another.

"Come to me. Tonight. My room —" she broke off on a moan as he pulled one of her fingers between his lips.

"Will you? _Will you_?" she asked frantically.

The barest of pauses between her identical questions revealed her anxiety to him.

"God, yes! Yes," he whispered, pulling her to him again.

Relief made her knees turn to water. She pushed him away with a trembling smile. Just before she closed the door behind her, she whispered,

"Hurry."


	2. Chapter 2

He paced.

He ran his hand through his hair. Something he wouldn't normally do. But now he hardly noticed his actions.

He had to pull his frantic thoughts into a semblance of order. He had to calm himself to think rationally or they would be caught.

He had to be steady for her. He refused to let doubt enter his mind.

He wanted this.

She wanted this.

_Christ!_ It had to be a lifetime since she left his pantry. He decided that an appropriate amount of time between their departures would be an hour.

Or forty-five minutes.

Half an hour, rather.

He cursed when he realized that he hadn't noted the time she left him.

_Left him._

He would make certain that she never left him again.

After what he thought was probably about thirty minutes, but was really only five, he left his pantry. Violently flinging away the thought that she might have changed her mind and he would find her door locked, he tried to maintain a dignified pace on his trip.

At her door, he didn't even stop to look around him. Nor did he think of knocking. So intent on discovering the status of the lock at her door, he simply took hold of the doorknob and nearly fainted with relief as it turned in his hand.

He stepped quickly into the room and shut the door behind him, locking it.

She turned to him with a start. She hadn't thought he would take her command to hurry quite that much to heart. But she was very glad he did. Worry that he would abandon her kept trying to darken her thoughts. But his eyes on her, now in her nightgown, brushed away her fears and sent warmth through her to pool between her legs.

He paused only long enough to take off his shoes. He rushed across the small room, needing to have her in his arms. She welcomed him with her arms tight around the back of his head and her mouth at his neck. She gasped as she spoke the words she was desperate for him to hear.

"I'm glad you came," she said to the skin beneath his ear.

He pulled her away to look into her eyes, dark and shining now with passion and fear.

"I love you," he answered back. Bravely, firmly, almost defiantly. Daring her to make fun of him again.

Her eyes slammed closed. Two tears made identical tracks down her face. It wasn't too much. Wasn't anywhere near too much, but she had to steal a moment away from him to say a silent prayer of thanks.

He wasn't afraid. Could suddenly read her face like a book. A book that had previously been locked away from him as he searched blindly in the wrong house.

"Open your eyes, Elsie," he commanded softly, happily.

When she complied, he took hold of her face in his hands and waited for her to say the words. It was taking too long. It hadn't really been more than a few seconds, but time seemed to be moving slowly that night.

"Say it," he ordered her and she could hear the impatience and lust and confidence in his voice.

Tears still glistened on her face as she said with as much authority as she could muster, "You're very masterful this evening, Mr. Carson."

The only indication of his furious desire was a twitch in his cheek.

"Right," he said. "Have it your way, then." And he dropped her. She hadn't realized how heavily she was leaning into him until he let go of her and stepped back. She took an unsteady step to regain her balance while she let out a breathy laugh.

He stood still, waiting with an imperious gaze directed at her. They would both wonder later at their confidence, so out of the ordinary for them both. She recognized his actions for what they were: a playful attempt to gain the upper hand. Where he had been genuinely angry with her toying earlier, now it was a game.

She threw up the white flag immediately. She had had complete control over him in their lives before this moment, but he seemed to be able to read her thoughts all of a sudden. And she knew she couldn't keep her hunger from him.

"I love you," she admitted sincerely.

He smiled down at her as they came together again.

"I knew it," he said before kissing her.

Laughing, she pulled away to turn off the light.

Puzzled, he said, "No, don't. I want to see you."

Her confidence faltered then and frightened dismay took over her features.

He tried a different tack. "Or perhaps it's that you don't want to see me?" he teased lightly.

It worked. She was immediately at ease again. Her face seemed to be lit from within as she walked back to him. She tried to shock him by undoing his buttons, but he simply smiled and helped her in her task.

When he was undressed, he reached down to the hem of her gown, keeping his eyes on hers the entire time he calmly and smoothly lifted it over her head.

"Beautiful," he smiled at her, his eyes both kind and filled with passion.

Their earlier, frantic mood was restored when they felt each other, naked, for the first time. When he gently guided her down on the bed, she tried to bring him with her, but he had other plans. Kneeling on the floor next to her, he began to explore her as he'd been longing to. Roughly, he took her breasts in both hands and rolled his fingers around her nipples, making her arch and moan. He leaned his head down to take her breast into his mouth. While he pulled hard at her tightened nipple, he put his hand on the inside of her thigh, letting her know that he wanted access to the heat and moisture between her legs. Without thought, she bent her knees slightly and opened her legs for him. His gentle fingers were in stark contrast to the merciless pulling of his mouth at her breast.

In whispers and whimpers, she told him what she liked. Every 'There' and 'Yes' thrilled him to his core. He couldn't have hoped for a more intoxicating response from her. His every touch made her writhe. While he mapped her with one hand, the other held her cheek, allowing her to bury her cries into the flesh of his palm.

He knew that she needed to be ready for him, and his fingers slick with her wetness told him that she was. When he rose to join her on the bed, he asked,

"Do you think the bed will hold us both?"

He clearly wasn't going to let that concern stop him since he was settling himself between her thighs as he asked the question.

"I don't know," she replied, also unconcerned. "I've never done this before."

He paused to look her in the eyes. He had both hands resting on her legs.

"Really, Elsie?" he asked softly. "Never?"

Smiling, she reached a hand to his face and slowly slid her thumb across his lower lip. He kissed the soft pad of her thumb gently.

"No, dear," she confirmed. "Never."

"Good," he seemed very satisfied with himself and she laughed quietly.

Her hands rested lightly above her breasts as she waited passively to feel him inside of her for the first time. Her trembling manifested itself in subtle, quick jerks through her body.

Instead of thrusting into her as she clearly expected, he took hold of her hips and brought her steadily toward him, sheathing himself inside of her with only the movement of his arms.

She marveled at the strength that was able to lift her as though she weighed no more than a tea tray. And then her thoughts were elsewhere as she felt him pulse and twitch inside of her while he waited for her to get used to his presence.

Purposefully, with as much strength as she could gather, she pushed against him, knowing he would understand that she was ready. Her legs were strong enough to cause pain as they held tightly to him. But he paid it no mind.

Settling her carefully against him, he leaned forward, his palms resting so close to her sides that her breasts pressed against his arms. Then, trying to measure how powerfully he could thrust into her without making too much noise, he pounded into her. Once. She swore under her breath and caught his forearms in a crushing grip. With an appraising eye, he watched her face as he began his thrusts in earnest. She matched his strength and met him evenly for every push and press. Impossibly, her legs tightened around him even further as she came. Her movements stopped completely as she closed her eyes and tried not to scream.

He didn't stop moving within her, making her orgasm stronger, more drawn out, and more excruciatingly intense than she'd ever experienced alone in her room.

He waited to speak until he could no longer feel the waves of her climax milking him.

"Hold on to me," he ordered her in an impossibly low voice.

She looked up at him through tear-filled eyes and flung her arms around his neck. He buried his arms underneath her and held her close while he whispered endearments in her ear. He only stopped when he emptied himself inside of her. She could feel him pulsing inside of her and she jerked involuntarily while tears streamed down the sides of her face.

It wasn't an easy maneuver to roll her out from underneath him while kissing her and making sure he wasn't hurting her. But he managed.

When their breathing had returned to normal and she lay half sprawled across him, he cleared his throat.

"Elsie?"

"Yes, dear?" she asked sleepily, the endearment rolling off her tongue as though she'd been saying it for years.

"Tomorrow… when we're not lying naked in bed —"

She laughed at that. As he'd intended.

"Tomorrow, I'm going to ask you to marry me. I'd like you to say yes. Will you?" He lost a bit of his masterful confidence then. "Say yes tomorrow, I mean?"

She glanced up at his eyes and couldn't hold his gaze for the tears that threatened. Threading her fingers through his, she spoke to their enjoined hands.

"Of course, Charles. Of course I'll say yes. Tomorrow."

* * *

**The End and fuck 'stately' and if I hear the words 'slow burn' ****one more time I'm going to****_lose my shit_****.**


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Downton Abbey