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Chapter Text

Colin swept Penelope into another all-consuming kiss, deep and salacious, his body pressed to hers. One strong arm coiled smoothly around her waist as his other hand came tenderly to the round of her cheek. She felt herself melt against him, sagging into the heat of his embrace, skin trilling under his touch.

Despite how red she knew her face surely was, Colin seemed unfazed by the ton's hoots and hollers below. He kissed her with reckless abandon and dismissed the crowd of onlookers with a flick of his wrist as he backed their pair clean out of sight.

Somewhere in the commotion she vaguely heard the Duke of Hastings boom out some minor party edicts, and the ballroom din quieted down to chatter as the music resumed a prancing beat.

Penelope swayed in Colin's embrace, swept up in the heavy press of him, his grip reassuring and tightening around her in support. She felt altogether too lightheaded, and she knew it was from far more than just his impassioned kiss. He had behaved as though their entire world wasn't watching them. As if they were alone in the comforts of their bed chambers, as if 500 people weren't staring up at them; judging.

But, if she were truly honest, at this point, she could not bring herself to care. He felt so good coiled around her, too good pressed to the length of her body, that any lingering embarrassment she felt simply melted away.

How beguiling it was to get everything one's heart could desire. How profound. How humbling.

She did, however, narrowly remember that her secret was out now. That the power the secret held over her was lost. Cressida Twombley's vain attempt at blackmail, had failed miserably. Thanks to Colin and, no doubt, Anthony Bridgerton.

When Colin had begun his speech in front of the ton, Penelope had been so cross, so angry, she even felt the hot sting of betrayal.

The information he would be spilling was not his to reveal.

It was hers. It was her secret, her life's work, her passion, her treasure. Hers. He had no right to keep her in the dark about his plan to rectify the situation her actions had placed them in. He had no right to have his family stick to her side like glue, behaving like her nursemaid or some overbearing governess all night. Shadowing her as if she were some unpredictable creature, as if she was not to be trusted, as if she would do something careless or reckless.

Oh, she had been silently fuming. Brimming with a quiet fury she had not known was so close to the surface until that night.

Granted, hers was a mighty secret.

It was a secret that quite nearly ruined their families. A secret so deeply seeded within, one that took root so colossally, that there was no way to rid themselves of these smothering vines but through very drastic action.

And Colin had always been a man of swift action.

As her husband went on and on, as he began to sing her praises, as he waxed poetic of his love and awe of her, however, she felt her anger drift to nothing. She realized then, in an instant, that they were a team. A pair. A unit. Bound and bonded. Family.

And it was a peculiar realization.

She had spent her whole life looking out for herself, keeping herself safe in these shadows, taking care of her own needs, and shielding herself from danger on her own, that it was harder than anticipated to allow someone else to take those reins. Her dashing husband did, however, step into the role of protector easily, his voice booming and full of conviction, his need to shield her evident, and she felt her carefully built walls begin to collapse further into rubble.

She had to admit, it was a very good plan. A solid plan even. Brazen, but good. It took the wind right out of Cressida's sails, within only a few words. And, luckily, the ton as a whole was easily manipulated to fall in line with the most common denominator, so if no one spoke up then, no one likely would.

Not to their faces, at least.

By the time Penelope tipped the champagne flute to her lips, she was simply amazed by Colin, her love spreading warm ripples from her heart through to the tips of her toes.

Her husband moved them gracefully into the shadows, his footing sure and his grip around her unyielding. She could not have fled his embrace, even if she had wanted to, which of course she did not. With the warmth of him enveloping her so, his lips slanted over hers so perfectly, her worries melted away. If nothing else, his body shielded her from their audience, and the darkness that crept over them provided even further privacy, which she was glad for.

Through roving lips and tongues, Penelope felt her back softly hit a door frame, and Colin's hand dropped to blindly fumble for the doorknob. The momentary pause allowed her to mutter against his lips. "I cannot believe you just did that."

Even in this low light, she could see his impish grin. "You cannot believe I did it? Or that I possessed the courage to do so?"

With the door ajar, Colin stepped them through the threshold and into the small parlour they had found this balcony within, all before latching the door firmly behind them.

The room around them was pitch dark, save for a small stream of light that filtered up the narrow staircase and the gentle flicker of torches outside the windows.

"Both," she replied and reached on her tiptoes to kiss him again heartily.

He returned her fever briefly before his kisses migrated to her cheek, then down the column of her neck, "Are you still cross with me?"

Penelope welcomed him with a sigh, "I was, but..."

"But?"

"I am not anymore. I couldn't—Colin, the things you said," she trailed off, the disbelief in her voice raw and obvious.

"I meant every word of it."

Penelope couldn't keep herself from kissing him and pulled at the lapels of his jacket, dragging a groan out of him as she rolled her body against his. His arms wrapped around her middle, pulling their bodies flush, one nimble hand drifting lower to her bottom, where he squeezed through her skirts. She rolled her hips hard against him again, and he rewarded her movements with yet another low groan.

"Careful, dearest," he cautioned against her lips.

But Penelope didn't reply.

She knew his blithe little warning was bait. She knew he was trying to get her to engage in some flirtatious banter. She knew he wanted her to challenge him, wanted her to say something bratty, filthy, or provocative. But she thought better of it. Instead of falling for his wee trap, she gripped his lapels tighter in her fists and pulled him impossibly close.

He had talked too much that night already.

Penelope poured everything into this press of lips—all her anger, all her gratitude, her worry, her love—everything, her tongue coiling smooth and hot with his. She felt a wave of relief wash over her, as warm and rich as mulled wine. He smelled so good—an earthy mixture with hints of spice and an essence that was uniquely his—and he seized her senses whole. He returned her kiss hungrily, meeting every movement with his own while she swallowed his growls, smirking and satisfied with his ever-avid response to her.

Colin met every bit of her fire, and before she knew it, he had her pinned to a nearby wall. A small gasp escaped her at the pressure of his body against hers, and the movement ignited a smouldering fire within.

"I did not get the chance to tell you how beautiful you look tonight," he told her, lips drifting down from hers to meet the swell of her breasts. "This dress,"

She tipped her head back with a sigh, allowing him freer movement. "Do you like it?"

"I love it."

The sage green material caught her eye the moment she saw it at the modiste, and she knew that the delicate weaving of silver throughout would catch candlelight beautifully. She had to have every single yard of it and commissioned Genevieve to make more than a few articles from the threads.

"Thank you."

"You are very welcome," he mumbled into the deep valley of her breasts. "Is it new?"

She nodded and swallowed slowly, "The colour was my choice." The cut; Genevieve."

The design was far more sweeping than any of the other ball gowns she owned, and she was certainly more exposed than she was accustomed to. But she had gone to her friend with the desire to spruce up her wardrobe. When Genevieve had suggested playing with more daring silhouettes and necklines to showcase her best assets and her husband's favourite view, Penelope had been skeptical. It was not customary for a married woman to show more skin once wed. But she could not help the thrill she felt when Colin looked at her in states of undress, and the look he gave her in this dress mirrored those reactions perfectly.

To be sure, his response had been nothing short of sinful.

The dress was indeed rather venturous, sweeping and off the shoulder, the sleeves of which were for fashion over function and draped delicately off the caps of both shoulders. Her skirts were full and multilayered, accentuating the narrowness of her waist and the roundness of her hips. The moment she tried the frock on, she knew Colin would be rendered a simpleton.

"Your modiste is very good at her job."

Little did he know that, though her trousseau held many soft and whisper-thin articles of lingerie, she had commissioned even more pieces in this exact same colour. In fact, she wore one such design under her gown this very night, a discovery meant for Colin alone.

Penelope smirked, knowingly, "She accepts gratuities, you know."

"I will be sure to send my heartfelt, monetary thanks." Colin replied with a devilish glint to his voice.

His heavy eyes were dark in this gloaming, his sights locked on her. He watched her reactions as his hand dropped down her side, reaching for the hem of her skirts, pushing away the many layers to touch her ankle. He then smoothed a heavy hand up her stocking-covered calf to her thigh, sighing softly when his hand inched along her warm skin, higher still. She watched his movements, gasping at the coolness of his hand as it pressed against her warm skin, and with his slight encouragement, she hitched her leg up over his hip. He held her thigh firmly to his body; his lower half now nooked between her legs.

Without missing a beat, his other hand slid between them to her center, weaving through fabric to find her core, his eyes still searching hers in the dark. He gave her a questioning gaze and a slight raise of his eyebrow, and even in this low light she could sense his meaning. She nodded emphatically, though she tried to contain the thrill that rushed through her at the prospect of his hands being on her, so intimately, in such a public space.

Colin cupped her sex and groaned, yet withheld his usual petting as he kissed her slowly. Their tongues and lips slid sensually against each other, and her hips moved of their own accord, trying to create the friction he was still withholding. She felt desperate and eager, her whole body thrumming with desire. With her hips rolling, she reached her gloved hands up from his shoulders to his hair, where she sank them both in deep.

"It's finally happening," she whispered when they parted for breath.

Colin nudged at her jaw and kissed along her throat, his breath hot and panting as he mapped her with his lips. He began to gently knead at her, encouraged by and following the gentle roll of her hips.

"Finally?" he asked, absent.

"You have pulled me away from some dull party or dreadful ball and into a darkened hallway to have your way with me."

Colin hummed, a pleased, self-satisfied sound. In all truth, Penelope would never forget that he had fantasized about this very scenario. She would never forget how easily he brought her to release while told her all the wicked things he had longed to do with her. She would never forget how his voice poured over her as he told her all the ways he brought himself to climax with only conjured up images of them in these sinful predicaments.

"Do not let Daphne know you think her ball is dreadful."

She huffed out a little chuckle. "I would never! And it is not dread-" Her words died on her lips, however, as Colin pushed past the damp hair covering her mons to brush his fingertips through her sodden velvety heat. He himself withered, taking a moment to then push and pull his fingers against her lower lips, slowly, without direction, consumed by her welcoming warmth and wetness.

She groaned and grabbed at his biceps, "Oh, yes."

Penelope knew she was obscenely wet; she had been drenched the moment his lean frame pushed her up against this wall. And she could not help but bloom with delight when he sighed his satisfaction at her current state, mumbling in bemused reverence about how greedy and good and slick she was for him.

"You are right, it's not dreadful." He shuttered and ground himself harder against her, his own arousal thick and evident. "But, darling, this? This is so much better."

His fingers slowly teased at her entrance then, probing and swirling before pressing tight circles to the nub at the apex of her lips. Just as she liked, and she knew she was done for.

"Beyond reproach," Penelope mewled.

He steered them into a well-practiced cadence and caught her soft moans between their lips, coaxing her into more passionate kisses as his skilled fingers worked her into a frenzy. Without thought, her touch followed down his arm to his hand buried below her skirts. She shifted just enough and palmed at his rigid length through taut trousers, the angle making her movements shallow and languid. He let out a primal groan, and she felt herself flood with arousal.

"You are a wanton little thing, aren't you, Lady Whistledown?"

"Mr. Bridgerton forgets who has brought this lady to such a state."

Colin nearly purred, "Remind me."

The tone in his voice left her speechless, left her racking her brain for even a resemblance of intelligence. But she came up short, with two long, thick fingers now tempting her to the brink of pure madness.

"Tell me who gets you so worked up, love."

"You," she gasped, her hand on his length now gripping firmer, her hips pressing rhythmically against his hand. She groaned again as she searched for the vernacular to describe the effect he had on her, but he was relentless, and every time she opened her mouth to speak, he drew firmer, quicker circles around her pearl, and she was all but doomed. But she tried, Lord help her; she tried, "You, Colin, you do... this to me. You.. bloody hell..."

"Such vulgarity," he teased.

Oh, he was a scoundrel, downright and unapologetic, provoking her so. A handsome, lovely, wicked scoundrel.

Penelope was not above cursing. She knew it wasn't ladylike; she knew that if anyone other than Colin heard her drop the occasional bit of crudity, they would all be well and truly scandalized. She knew that most of the time, if not every time, she uttered these forbidden words at the hands, mouth, or other parts of her dear husband.

She also knew that, above all, he loved it.

Her head made a dull thudding sound against the wall as she tipped her chin and all but groaned her response, "Let's go home."

He chuckled darkly and slid two fingers inside her warmth, the heel of his palm now pressed to that bundle of feeling. Penelope sucked in a surprised breath that melted into a moan as the sensation washed over her. His groan in reply rumbled against her chest while he began to pump in and out of her slick grip slowly and at just the right angle, allowing the movement of her hips to determine their pace.

Dear God, it was delirium how much she wanted this man. How deeply she needed him. How she would allow the world to burn around her just to keep him exactly where he was. She felt a woman possessed, writhing and whimpering and lusting for more. More. More.

Her own hands were a flurry of untamed movements against him now, gripping into his shoulders and arms or taking fists full of his clothing and hair as she ground hard against his hand, chasing a high that was just now achingly within reach.

"I like my plan better," he uttered against the shell of her ear, picking up his rhythm as she keened against him.

His fingers were turning her limbs weak and her mind to mush. "Pl-Plan?" she panted.

"Have I not told you?"

Even through her haze, she could hear the sardonic glint in his voice. He was far too smug for his own good.

"No."

"How foolish of me." He pressed teethy, open-mouth kisses to her throat, his dedication between her thighs so skilled she thought it ought to be a crime. "My plan is to take you." Her eyes fluttered closed once more, and she sighed, savouring the feel of him, the timbre of his voice so soft and low. "Right here. Right now."

"Colin," Penelope moaned and felt him smile against her neck, another satisfied chuckle rumbling from chest to chest.

"I do love when you moan my name," he whispered as his face trailed lower.

He briefly loosened his grip against her thigh, shifting his body weight so that his hip and groin held her steady. With this newfound freedom, he cupped her breast heartily, pushing her plump skin up to his eager mouth. He kissed and nipped at the swell of her breasts before pulling her neckline down, just low enough to allow him slight access to one pearled nipple. He swept in to spill her from her confines, then took her stiff bud between his teeth and laved at her with his tongue, all while keeping his movements between her thighs steadfast.

"Oh gaw-!" She gasped, albeit a tad too loudly.

Penelope felt him chuckle again before he hushed her, shushing against her spit-slick breast. She bit her lip as pleasure cascaded over her and found it terribly hard to focus on the fact that there was a slew of people just below them enjoying champagne and dancing. She knew she had to be quiet. She knew it. But another too loud groan slipped out, and when Colin realized she could not be contained, he captured her lips in a bruising kiss once more, swallowing all her whines as she reached for nirvana. His hold returned to her behind, where he gripped and dragged her closer, hoisting her up and rutting his hardness against her thigh again, clearly in search of friction. His movements were enough to send her spiralling; the feeling of his solid length grinding against her, the heavy press of his body, his unyielding mouth, and his undivided attention between her legs thrust her over the edge in a flash. Without much warning, she swiftly shook apart with a muffled groan, bliss taking her over in long crashing waves. Goose flesh coated her body from crown to toes, her release gushing over his fingers and palm, all through whole body shutters. When she returned to herself, she felt boneless, limp, and satisfied, Colin's mumbled praise pouring into her ear. He buried his face against her neck as she regained normal breath; a lazy smile plastered her kiss-stung lips.

Penelope sighed, "You are a bad influence."

"Am I?"

"Yes. Terrible."

He gave her a casual shrug, "Seems like you rather enjoy being a deviant with me."

She grinned and kissed him again, taking his sharp jaw in her satin-covered hands. He kissed her back slow and tender as he used a petticoat below to wipe his hand dry. He slipped his hands round to both cheeks of her bottom, his palms taking in hearty handfuls. There he squeezed, and the movement forced her to coil both legs around his hips while he hoisted her up again. She hooked her ankles, pulling their bodies flush, realizing that somewhere in the fog that she had lost her shoes.

There wasn't much time to ponder further upon the topic as his grip on her behind became charged and possessive, his firm length now pressed to her heat. Penelope whimpered as he ground himself against her center, the rough scratch of lace rubbing against her sensitive core.

"Shall I continue?"

"Yes." She nodded and kissed him fiercely.

There were entirely too many layers of clothing between them, but they would have to make due. She quickly fumbled with the fingers of her gloves, yanking at the tips until she rucked both off, tossing them blindly. She longed to feel him skin to skin and hastily pushed at his jacket, forcing the heavy velvet fabric off his shoulders.

She began to pull at her skirts, lifting, trying to unsuccessfully rid themselves of these fabric barriers. "Whose clothing are you wearing?"

With a chuckle, Colin shook the jacket off and tossed it, then bungled with the buttons of his trousers, all while keeping Penelope pinned against the wall. "Anthony's."

She was not sure why the thought of getting him out of these clothes seemed so much more enticing and mandatory, but she smirked and took his jaw in her hands again to kiss him, her fingers slipping into the soft hairs at his nape to pull him closer. She shivered at the feel of his thick, silken strands running between her fingertips, drinking in the groan he made as her nails lightly scratched along his scalp.

Colin met her fervent lips again just as a boom of muffled laughter travelled up the staircase. The sound broke their lusty haze and froze them both in place, their lips only a whisper apart.

With breaths heaving, her eyes darted over his shoulder. "Must we stop?"

He did not answer, but instead gave her such a seductive stare that she almost didn't care what the answer might have been. He pressed another passionate kiss to her lips instead of words, and she understood keenly.

However, another boom of laughter travelled up the staircase, and Penelope was sure she could hear Simon speaking to someone right at the very base of the steps.

Colin's lips froze in place again. The look he gave her now was that of utter defeat. "I think I can hear my mother..."

"Oh," Penelope breathed, then the gravity of the observation finally sank in, "Oh!"

Though this forbidden encounter thrilled her, she was not prepared to be caught red-handed in this tryst. And especially not by a member of his family, let alone the family's beloved matriarch.

"Oh, indeed."

"Please, take me home." Penelope pleaded softly. Colin seemed to consider her request and tipped his head to the side, as if in deep thought. So she doubled down on her request and pouted ever so slightly. "I need to feel you bare against me. Besides, we have a home we can do this in."

With a groan, he looked down helplessly at the billows of clothing between them and said, "You are so pretty when you pout; it is hard to argue your logic."

He slowly lowered her back to her feet, allowing her a moment to regain her balance before he stepped back. He picked up his jacket, donned it quickly, found both her gloves and stuffed them into his pockets, then helped her slip her shoes back on. He took her hand and moved them closer to the window, stepping out of the shadows and into the filtered lantern light.

"Your hair has come loose."

Penelope moved in closer, and Colin coiled the escaped strands of her hair around his fingers, then slid her haircomb out of place to quickly scoop the bunch back in with the rest. He secured it masterfully, as if he had performed the act a thousand times, then gently brushed a few stray curls from her face.

"Yours is also a mess." Penelope said, pushing the fall of hair off his forehead before combing her fingers through his thick, chestnut locks.

Colin chuckled and repeated her movement through his hair on his own, then licked his palm and went over it again. In that moment, Penelope was absolutely certain she was a lush because the innocent act wobbled at her knees. Watching him primp, she absently pulled her bodice back into place and situated her breasts back into her stays, then smoothed her skirts while he tugged his waistcoat and jacket straight and rearranged himself within his trousers.

"Deep breaths, my love."

She glanced down at his still prominent arousal and gave him a slight raise of an eyebrow. "You too, dear."

If she did not know any better, she would have sworn he blushed slightly at her jest, but the moment was fleeting. "Let us get you home before I do something impulsive," he replied lowly.

His timbre left no room for any further teasing, so she held her hand out to him and waited for him to take it. Penelope remained until Colin grasped her fingers and tugged her towards the staircase. He descended the stairs first cautiously, and as he neared the base, his footing slowed. He quietly cracked the door open, his head on a swivel while he checked that their coast was clear. When he was satisfied, he beckoned her forward with a slight nod of his head. She obeyed willingly and took the steps down carefully, watching her handsome husband's face with acute awareness. Though he looked presentable—the perfect picture of a high society gentleman indeed—in a fine navy suit with accents of silver, there was a glaze to his eyes she knew was her own doing. Mind you, her own eyes might look rather the same, and she knew her cheeks must still be flushed.

The moment their feet touched marble, she could hear the soft bustling of skirts and the dainty but deliberate click of heels behind them. Penelope took her cue from Colin, who stopped dead in his tracks.

They should have known that their escape would not be without some snags.

"Oh no," Colin muttered moments before he turned to see Violet and Hyacinth hurrying in their direction.

"Colin! Penelope. We thought you two had left."

He dragged her around to face his family as a united front, his hand pressed firmly to the small of her back. As Violet came to stand before them, there was a look of expectancy upon her beautifully matured face. Oddly enough, Colin remained silent and stared blankly at his mother. He tried to relocate his brain along with his ability to speak; Penelope could see the wheels turning, but he was rendered uncharacteristically speechless. She smirked willfully and replied for her seemingly mute husband.

"We were on our way, but I was feeling a bit faint."

Colin broke out of his daze and gave his head a quick shake then spoke. "Yes! I fetched some refreshments for us before hailing our carriage."

"You do look flushed."

"Very," Hyacinth confirmed.

Now she was the mute. Penelope gaped and turned to Colin, who held his best Poque game face. He gave her an encouraging smile and held her a tiny bit closer, which did nothing but make her inability to speak even more prominent.

"Pen feels much better now, do you not, my love?"

"Yes!" she said in a rush.

"I hope it's not catching."

"Perhaps you are with child." Violet speculated.

"The swoon I felt was from nothing more than all the excitement. I assure you."

Violet let the matter rest, but not without a knowing motherly glance passed directly between her son and new daughter-in-law.

Hyacinth grabbed both of Penelope's hands then, gently shoving Colin away so she could speak candidly, "You must tell us more about Whistledown, Penelope! How did you begin? Why the name Whistledown? Where were you published from? How did you get there? A hired hackney?! Oh, and how much did you make from each issue?"

"Hyacinth!" Violet scolded.

"What?! One simply cannot drop a secret like that and expect to not be asked a flurry of follow-up questions." She swatted Colin lightly in the chest, "Especially in this family."

"Hy, our carriage is waiting." Colin bartered.

Liar.

They had yet to make it to a footman to call upon their carriage. They had hardly made it to the ground floor before seeing two of the many Bridgertons. But his bluff was nearly a sure bet, she thought. Most of the family was staying at Hastings house that night, so no one would need to follow them outside to confirm or deny this fib. Colin was dangerously charming after all, and the easy smile he gave Hyacinth sent a trill across Penelope’s skin. He could get away with anything he wanted; she was sure of it. And the notion that Penelope would navigate this life with such confident charm by her side filled her with ardour. She could not help but grin.

"You still look very flushed, dear," Violet gently removed Penelope from her daughter's excited grasp. "You will tell us all about your little alias at tea tomorrow, surely." She said sweetly, brushing an unruly curl away from her cheek, then giving her a soothing pat on the shoulder.

"Of course she will, Mother." Colin replied.

"If I continue feeling better, I am still rather tired,"

Now she was the liar.

She felt fine. Honestly, better than. But she could sense that the building tension between her and her husband would last well past tea time tomorrow. She clenched her thighs together and hoped the Bridgerton women did not notice her gnawing on her lower lip.

Violet and Hyacinth bid them goodnight, gracefully making their way back towards the ballroom, where the raucous festivities continued to trudge on.

Colin turned his attention back to Penelope and said, "Wait right here while I hail our carriage. I'll be but a moment."

She nodded as he pecked her on the cheek. "Hurry back."

Penelope watched his tall frame disappear through the doors closest to them, marvelling at his strapping shoulders and the assured strides he took towards his destination.

"Penelope Anne Featherington!"

Breaking out of her reverie, she spun on a heel to meet auburn-haired fury. She could tell she was about to get a hearty earful, and, quite frankly, she did not have the energy for it.

"Mama..."

"What is the meaning of all this?!" Portia whispered harshly.

Penelope felt herself curl inward, shrinking, as if she were a child again, easily knocked off her pedestal of happiness to wallow in childhood trauma. Her mother need not say anything more; she could feel it, disdain rolling off the older woman in dark, thick waves.

But, somehow, she dug deep and tipped her chin up in defiance, then feigned innocence, "A lovely ball, no doubt."

"That is not what I'm referring to, and you know it!"

"I see. So your applause was only for show then."

Portia reached and grasped Penelope's wrist firmly, yanking her towards the double doors leading to the ballroom. "What was I supposed to do?! The Bridgertons knew before your own family!"

Penelope stumbled as her feet slid across the glossed floor. "They are my family."

"For not but a month! Honestly, Penelope!"

"Let go." she demanded quietly, trying to twist her wrist out of her mother's grip.

But Portia's cold hands bit at her like ice, nails digging to leave crescent moons in the delicate skin of her wrist. Penelope tried to yank her arm away, yet her mother only held on tighter. The sharp sting of pain coiled deep in her stomach, churning nerves, and for a moment she feared she might never ruck herself free.

"Let go." Penelope tried again, her voice more timid than she cared for this time.

"Not until you explain yourself! How could you? How dare you?! The shame you have brought upon our family knows no bounds, Penelope, truly. We shall never hear the end of this humiliation. We might never recover! The embarrassment you have caused us alone must be atoned for." Portia shook a scolding finger in Penelope's face, and it took everything in her to not snap her teeth around the boney appendage. "You must recount your claim of Whistledown. My god, Penelope! How could you keep such wealth from your own mother? Your own family!! The sacrifices I have made for you and your sisters! Lord knows! You ungrateful, conniving, selfish, little sneak, the nerve-"

"Choose your next words very carefully." Colin's voice sent a jolt through Penelope, and her spine straightened, as if a hot poker were drawn up the length of her back.

Chapter Text

Colin regarded Penelope out of the corner of his eye, watching with pride as her hunched shoulders pulled straight in bravery.

"Mr. Bridgerton!"

He could tell that both women couldn't be sure how long he had been standing there. But he had been there long enough to hear more than her mother would freely admit, to be sure. He finished slipping on his brown greatcoat and buttoned it securely as he stared Portia down expectantly.

"Kindly unhand my wife."

"I was—"

"You were what?"

"She must explain herself!"

"Must she?" Colin cocked his head to the side and gave Portia a wicked sneer, "Did you not care for my speech? Was it not informational?" He turned to Penelope and asked, "Did it lack substance?"

"The girl owes me an explanation herself!"

He snapped his attention back to Portia, "I would rather you not speak to Penelope in such a demeaning tone."

"I was merely asking—"

"Asking?" Colin scoffed, "It sounded more akin to belittlement to me."

He watched Penelope beside him grow increasingly more uncomfortable now, saw her try to twist her wrist out of her mother's clutches. Only then did he realize she was in pain. He had been so focused on defending her that he did not notice how firm Portia's death grip was. The awareness filled him with a sickly rage, one that coiled and slithered and bled into every corner of his being. He had and would never hit a woman; the thought had never crossed his mind. In all three and thirty years of life he had not a violent thought or act to his name. But right now, in this moment, he would be lying if he said he did not entertain the idea of shoving Portia Featherington away from his beloved with every ounce of strength he had.

"I would nev—"

Colin cut his mother-in-law off again, swift and stern, his frame now towering over them both. "Portia. Unhand Penelope," he commanded, his voice low and bordering on dangerous.

Portia paled and dropped Penelope's wrist in a flash. "I am just, I am so very shocked by this Whistledown news."

Colin remained stoic as he slid his arm around Penelope's waist, subtly guiding her towards himself and away from her overbearing mother. She rubbed at her wrist, her brow furrowed in anguish, eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"Shock does not warrant disrespect, Lady Featherington. I will have you remember who you are speaking to and whose family your lovely daughter has married into."

"Yes, but—"

"Penelope owes you nothing. Do you understand?"

"I am her mother!"

"True. However, she is also her own self and a married woman. One whose choices do not concern you, even in the slightest." Portia opened her mouth to protest again, but he held a hand up to stop her. "My family," his voice softened as he stole another quick glance in Penelope's direction, "our family, love and accepted Pen, just as she is. You shall do the same."

Colin rather thought Portia looked like a fish, her lips parting in surprise as she took this stern information.

"There is nothing more for you to say on the matter other than 'Enjoy your evening,' Lady Featherington, I can assure you."

"But what about—"

Colin fixed her mother with a harsh look as he spoke, "Come along, Pen. Our carriage awaits."

He took Penelope's cloak that rested over his forearm, slung it over her shoulders, and looped it around her neck. He gave her a soft smile as he fastened the clasp. She mirrored his smile, but he could tell it was not genuine. He did not press the issue; he just needed to get her out of there, needed to get her as far away from her melodramatic mother as possible. With his hand on the small of her back again, he guided them toward their carriage. For her part, Penelope did not hesitate and kept her steps quick and light as they both disappeared into the moon-soaked evening.

Their carriage ride home was quiet and melancholy, the heaviness of their parting interaction hanging thick in the air. He watched the mischievous glint in his lovely wife's eyes diminish in the face of her mother's overreaction. He watched her confidence shrink, and her wallflower demeanour became more prominent. She sagged under the weight of Portia's disapproval, the nearly undetectable quake to her hands becoming ever more obvious to him.

He placed a hand on her thigh next to his. "Pen?"

She turned a small smile towards him, the gesture not quite reaching her eyes. "Yes, dear?"

"Are you alright?"

"Of course."

"Are you lying to me?"

She glanced down and rubbed her wrist, the angry red marking stark against her pale skin. "I'm... I am alright."

Colin cocked an eyebrow at her and waited. He all but knew she would elaborate. He knew his wife, knew her little tells, knew when she wished to expand on her thoughts and when she wished not to. He knew her. It was him after all.

It was them. Just them.

"I feel a bit... overwhelmed."

He felt a wave of guilt flood his heart, the sadness in her eyes cutting into him like a knife. He would throw himself from the carriage to learn she was despondent because of him. He could not handle it when she was upset, and this was heavier than that. This was thick and weighted and, for lack of a better word, overwhelming.

"Because of your mother?" he asked gently.

She nodded, "I did not know how I expected her to react. But I think I assumed she would react better than that."

"I thought it would go better as well. I'm disappointed with her."

He shifted toward Penelope and took her hand to inspect the light red ring around her wrist, his thumb smoothing over the faint yet angry nail indents left behind by his angry witch of a mother-in-law. He swallowed his anger with Portia, resolved in his objective to draw his mischievous, glowing, carefree wife forward again.

"At this point in our relationship, I cannot be more disappointed in her than I already am."

The statement hung heavy between them for a long moment, the gallop of horse hooves and rumbling of cobblestone loud within this silence.

"I am sorry she has let you down."

Penelope gave a sad little shrug. "It's alright."

Colin understood deeply that not every family was like his. Not every family enjoyed each other. Not every family held each other, took pride in each other, honoured, and loved each other as his did. They had their fair share of challenges and got on each other's last nerve often, but still, at the end of it all, they enjoyed each other, and that shared bond was important to every single one of them. What he could not understand, however, was why Penelope's own family was not as blown away and proud of her as he was.

"I'm sorry that all she has ever done is let you down."

She turned her big, warm eyes to meet him, brow furrowed, eyes brimming. His heart ached to see her like this. Everything inside him called for him to gather her up in his arms and reassure her that everything would be alright. So, with her hand still clutched in his, he slid his other arm around her shoulders and drew her against himself.

"Would you like to talk about it more?" he asked, but he was almost certain he knew her answer already.

"No," she replied and nuzzled in against his shoulder. "I would rather forget we saw her at all, honestly."

"That is very doable," he said with a sly grin.

She shook her head against him with a chuckle.

There it was. That beautiful, comforting laugh, soft and familiar, and just the cue he needed to continue on his quest.

"I have to ask," Colin spoke while lifting her hand to his lips. He pressed a slow trail of kisses from her wrist to elbow as he spoke, "Is your hair somehow more red tonight?"

Penelope tilted her head to look him in the eye and gave him a warm smile, one that lit up all her features. "Rae combed something through it as I got ready. I did not ask what."

"I like it." He couldn't help himself and slipped his fingers through the soft wisps of hair that framed her face. "Mind you, I have always been fond of your red hair."

Colin traced his fingers down the delicate slope of her neck, watching in delight as Penelope began to soften below his meandering touch.

"I'm starting to like it too," she admitted softly.

He coiled his fingers around her tresses, weaving a lock through his fingertips unconsciously. "What is there not to like?" He waited for her to argue, but she didn't, so he pressed on, "It's lush and silky and somehow always smells absolutely heavenly. It has movement and cascades over your shoulders so perfectly. Not to mention how beautiful it is in contrast to your skin and your eyes. It's unique, luxurious, and markedly yours."

He watched as Penelope silently took in his compliments, her fingers now absently pulling at the lint fibres of her cloak. He could tell that, though she was more receptive to his compliments on her looks, some of his opinions took her more time to digest. So with a self-indulgent smile and before she had the chance to rebuff him, Colin took her chin and brought their lips together, kissing her firm and deep and oh so slow. With a sigh she rose to the press, melting into him, allowing his arm the opportunity to drop and coil around her back, the movement shifting them both towards each other. This dance felt quite like some well-rehearsed choreography, steps that only they knew the cadence of.

He drew them nearer still, cradling the nape of her neck as he deepened the kiss. He couldn't resist the urge to bury his fingers in her hair, so he did just that, trying to bypass the hairpins and combs, swallowing her tiny groan at the action. He gripped her locks gently, angling her face in just the right way, allowing their lips to slot together seamlessly. She met him inch for inch, push for pull, the smooth touch of tongues building on the intoxicating anticipation that still fizzled between them.

Drunk and lost in the warm press of her body against his, Colin knew he was getting carried away again but could not bring himself to care. He gently sucked on her tongue, and her little whimper in response sent a jolt of desire straight through to his now aching cock.

It was madness. Glorious, soul-stirring, unbridled madness—how wrecked he was for her, how the softest touch or kiss from her could send him into another realm. He was obsessed, no doubt, and every moment he spent ravishing her with love, the more he understood. She was everything. And he was born for her.

His body continued on without the use of his mind now, a swift hand drifting down to cup her breast.

"Perhaps I'm not such a terrible influence after all," he mused, squeezing and savouring the weight of her.

"Oh, the irony," she muttered as he groped her.

His own groan surprised him when she covered his hand with her own, her fingers encouraging him to squeeze harder. He obliged, and she gasped in reply, pressing her chest further into his awaiting hand.

Time slowed to a crawl. They remained entwined like this, lost within one another, lips and tongues roaming, hands pawing and grasping, yet withholding from fully indulging in their lustful desires.

Somewhere in this heady haze their carriage slowed, and Colin sensed their impending destination. He pulled away from her lips just enough to brush his nose against hers. She whined softly, and her eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze.

"We are almost home," he told her, trying to hide the smirk that tugged at his lips when she pouted at him.

He pulled back reluctantly to look upon her. The filtered moonlight highlighted the rounds of her cheeks and her fiery hair flawlessly, her lips parted, red and plump, and Christ, she didn't even realize how alluring she was. Penelope was just as breathtaking as ever; she was exciting and soft, and as they inched closer to their home, his ache for her intensified. He was beyond determined to rid her mind of any sort of sadness or apprehension that might still linger, dedicated to making sure the only thing she could possibly think on was him. He had plans for them this night, oh yes, but he was adamant in ensuring her beautiful mind was wiped of everything other than pleasure first and foremost. Pure, unhindered pleasure.

The carriage stopped at the driver's command, and Penelope righted herself. She stretched her legs out in front of her, then smoothed out her skirts, preparing to disembark and make the short trip up their front steps.

Colin led them from the carriage, along the footpath, and up into their home. Once inside, Penelope turned an inquisitive look towards him, her eyebrow arched in speculation. He latched the door and lock with a loud metallic click and faced her.

"It's so dark in here. Where is everyone?" she inquired quietly.

The foyer of their home was lit by only one candelabra, placed deliberately on the table at its center. Each wall sconce and all other lanterns sat unlit and cold around the rest of the entryway, nothing but darkness and shadows covering the empty rooms adjacent.

Colin could not help but notice the apprehension in Penelope's voice; lord knows she had never been in a full-fledged home where no servants or attendants bustled about, where no one hurried to open doors and take their effects, where no one ensured a well-lit and illuminated path for their pair, where one's intimate surrounding sat so still and dark.

It felt eerie, even to him.

"I gave them the rest of the week off." Colin said as he shook off his coat and suit jacket. He draped the threads over the bannister and followed Penelope closely.

She passed the stairs and wandered down the hall towards the kitchen, passing the formal drawing and dining rooms on her way. She peered inside each but found them empty, only the remnants of smouldering fires crackling within the hearths.

Penelope stopped at the kitchen and saw that it too was vacant before she turned her attention back to him, "You did what?!"

"With pay, of course."

"There is no one here?"

He shook his head. "Rea and Dunwoody were very pleased to spend this surprise time off with their families."

"Colin, this is highly unusual. I do not believe I've heard of anyone dismissing their whole house, on a whim, just for a few days. Not without there being a practical reason, that is. It is peculiar, even for us. Servants talk."

"Since when have we ever behaved normally? Besides, all of our attendants are very well taken care of and loyal. They were happy for the break, I assure you. And, as Whistledown, do you not control the narrative?" She softened and nodded slowly, yet still gave him a mildly disapproving glare. "After everything we have been through these past few weeks, is it so wicked of me to want you all to myself?"

"No."

Colin stepped in toe to toe with her, moving slowly, as if to keep from spooking her. He unhooked the clasp of her cloak and slipped it off her shoulders. He gathered the wool and tossed it in a ball onto a nearby settee.

"Is it so unreasonable that I want you to scream out your pleasure with no one around to hear?" he asked softly.

She swallowed visibly. "No, but..."

"And, is it so wrong that I wish to bend you over every piece of furniture we own, in private?"

Her skin warmed in a blush. "No, but..."

"No 'buts,' darling. It is done."

"What will we eat? I cannot cook to save my life! And we can't survive on your biscuits and tea alone!"

"Funny you should say that. Cook refused to 'let us starve to death,' so she will return each afternoon to prepare a meal we can take at our leisure later on. She has family not far from here and has use of one of our carriages."

Penelope's hands landed on both hips, and she shifted her weight onto one leg. Now she gave him a challenging stare, and the sight sent a chill up his spine. "Who will help me dress? Hmm? You?!"

He had hoped she would ask that.

And so, with a smirk and a level tone, he replied, "I aim to keep you in provocative states of undress for the foreseeable future."

She scoffed but smiled, and he knew he had her.

He saw the shift in her demeanour play out across her beautiful face. The smile she wore now was brimming with that earlier mischief, and he could not help but beam with accomplishment.

"Where would you like me first?"

Chapter Text

Colin's stomach leapt into his throat. She was so wonderfully unpredictable, her heavy questioning gaze rattling him in the very best possible way. His thoughts raced with possibilities, scenarios flashing through his mind as quickly as a rushing current. He was almost overwhelmed with the potential, almost rendered simple with the overwhelming devilment of it all.

Almost.

With a slow draw of her bottom lip between her teeth, she raised a delicate, manicured eyebrow, clearly waiting for him to relocate his brain enough to answer her.

She was a vixen, indeed.

"The options are endless," he told her, clearly stalling.

He wasn't absolutely sure why he was stalling. Their empty home was their oyster, after all. Freedom to do as they bloody well pleased. With no one around to be scandalized by their less than genteel behaviours. And yet, he stalled. Maybe he stalled because he wanted to see how she would react, maybe he wanted to see what that sharp mind might come up with, or maybe it was because he was riddled with a buzzing anticipation left over from earlier that evening. Or maybe, if he were truly honest, he was a tad bit nervous. But maybe nervous wasn't quite the right word choice at all; maybe titillated was the more than proper wordage.

Everything was out in the open now; all their cards were on the table, all secrets left bare. They no longer had the ominous threat of Lady Whistledown hanging over their heads. Or his unbecoming jealousy. Now, their only responsibility was to each other. No threats of blackmail loomed, no threats of danger, no threats of anything foreboding. Nothing lay between them but love and honesty. They stood at the very edge of the rest of their lives, and the profound nature of it all sank heavy into his being.

"True," she mused, reaching up to loop her fingers in the knot of his cravat. She smoothly loosened the bow and worked the thin strip of fabric away from his collar. "But I am sure there is somewhere that sits at the forefront of your mind," she continued, dropping his cravat and moving her fingers down to pluck at the buttons of his waistcoat, and pushed the thick fabric off his shoulders, then returned to the smaller fasteners of his crisp linen shirt. He watched her slow, deliberate movements, her eyelids heavy, long lashes downturned and dusting the rose of her cheeks.

"You, sitting on my face, is what's at the forefront of my mind."

Her ivory skin warmed into another pretty blush as she took in the information given. Her big, warm eyes looked up to him, then glanced around their surroundings, but he knew that nothing posed as a proper perch.

"Is that something people do?"

"Some do, yes."

From the moment Colin tasted her, the idea of Penelope poised above his face rattled around his imagination. The thought of her plush thighs surrounding him, her weight atop him, the all-enveloping smell, flavour, the press of her sex to his lips, and her writhing body above him; the conjured images alone had him hard as a rock. But this was not an act one rushed into. Though they were newlyweds, and their physical attraction, appetite, and bond were stronger than he himself knew possible, he did not wish to push Penelope into every sinful escapade he could dream up right off the jump. Though he knew she was eager to please him and seemed very pleased in doing so, he wasn't about to scare her avidity away with too much too soon.

"I would crush you," she told him in a small voice.

It was a voice that reminded him just how gentle and innocent she could be.

"You wouldn't."

"I'm likely to smother you to death."

"A most honourable death, to be sure."

She swatted him in the chest, "Be serious!"

"I am!"

"Have you done it?"

"No. But I have seen it done."

"You have seen it?"

"Yes. At a brothel on my travels," he confessed, his heart thudding against his chest. He had never told anyone anything about the less than gentlemanly experiences of his travels. But he knew he could tell her everything and anything. "A man can pay to look alone."

"And you have paid to... to watch?"

"Yes. A few times, if I am honest. Does that bother you?"

"No." Penelope curled her fingers inside his open shirt, then rubbed her hands up his chest to his shoulders. "Was it educational?"

"Yes. Rousing and very educational."

"What else have you paid to see?"

"Two women together."

Penelope's big doe eyes widened, but, to his delight, in intrigue, not shock. Her fingers trailed mirrored lines down his torso, sending his skin shivering, then danced along the waistline of his trousers. "Fascinating."

Though he did not intend it, his voice dropped to a husky rasp, "I also saw a man taking a woman from behind. But, not in the same way you and I have done."

Her head cocked to the side, "Explain."

"He... well, he sank into her bottom."

"Oh."

There was a beat of silence before Colin said in a rush, "But we do not need to cross that bridge, my dear. Not unless you are interested, and even then, it takes some preparation."

She nodded slowly, "Should we retire to our bedchamber then? So that I might find a comfortable seat?"

He sighed in awe and relief, "You really are very good, aren't you?"

She shrugged and made the move to slip past him, but he stopped her by the shoulder.

"However, as beautiful as you are in this dress, it would be a waste not to see you without it."

"A waste indeed,"

He turned her by the shoulders and brushed the rogue cascades of her hair away.

"Here?! In the hallway?" she asked, glancing back at him.

Colin spoke against her ear from behind, "When will I ever get the chance to undress you in the middle of our empty home again?"

Penelope softened and conceded without further hesitation. Colin wasted no time then, his sure fingers pulling the soft toggles and loops of her gown free from one another. The fabric sagged off her arms easily, and as it drooped lower, she turned to face him, her bodice clutched to her chest. Once her eyes landed on his, she dropped the heavy fabric, the garment pooling at her delicate feet.

She stood before him now in a beguiling corset of sage green, one that matched her dress exactly, and Colin was gobsmacked. This item was far more comely than any of her other stays, most of which seemed more for utility than beauty. She was stunning in both, of course, but this piece had silver threading that showcased delicate floral embroidery and small silver piping edging the trim, which accentuated her curves. He had never seen the alluring article on her before, and it was nearly half the size of her normal stays. The lingerie ended just below her breasts, allowing the soft swell of her hips and belly room to breathe. Her breasts were barely contained within the boning, cups filled to the absolute brim, defying gravity and pillowing towards her graceful neck and chin.

Colin knew he was staring, drooling, in fact. He was sure she knew he was awestruck too; the smug little grin that tugged at her beautiful lips gave her clean away. He felt his pulse begin to race as he realized that she wore this knowing he would undress her, knowing he would be enjoying this view, knowing it would drive him absolutely wild. And the notion thrilled him.

"Well, this is different."

She preened so prettily under his admiration, "Do you like it?"

"Like it? I love it." Colin confessed eagerly. He traced the hem along the top of each breast with both index fingers before he moved lower to her waist and pulled the ribbons loose on her many petticoats, allowing those to join the rest of her discarded clothing. "Mind you, you could wear a burlap sack and I would find it fetching."

Slowly, Penelope took Colin's hands and encouraged them to the sides of her chest. He cupped her gently, watching while her décolletage spilled more prominently out as they applied the smallest amount of pressure together. Her soft valley became even more welcoming, plush and pillowy, and he sagged at the sight.

She encouraged him to draw his hands further together. "It is a new design. It laces in front to allow me to take it off without assistance and without undoing the back."

"There is hardly any room for you within this," he marvelled, his voice low and raw. He shifted slightly and moved to wrap his fingers around the knotted bow at the center of her chest. He watched his work while he undid the laces, looping his fingers in the weave to loosen them slowly and deliberately, as if he were unpacking a most coveted prize. Once he had the loops pulled slack, he took the two sides of the stiff boning and pulled, separating them from one another, and she raised her arms to allow him to lift the garment over her head. He watched her breasts sag to the freedom, soft and lush and heavy, and his mouth filled with salver.

"The corset has what is called a demi-cup, and it's designed low enough to remain unseen underneath sweeping necklines."

He dropped the stays she was explaining to the floor, taking in her voice but disregarding the facts she was laying out for him. He was far too distracted to take in a detailed lesson on women's fashion at the moment. Her chemise was featherlight after all, sleeveless, with a thin satin ribbon that secured it low across her heaving breasts. He could see the rosy outlines of her nipples, saw her peaks hardening under the sudden cool air, took in the curved rounds of her breasts, the thatch of red hair that concealed her womanhood, and the sprawling curves of her plush body. He held back a hearty groan as he cupped her, lifting and pushing her breasts together again.

Colin could be sure, unequivocally, that hers were the most beautiful breasts he ever had the honour of seeing, let alone touching. He had never considered himself particularly fond of one area of a woman rather than another. He had preferences, of course, but a woman as a whole was far more striking than any one part of her. Here now, with his beguiling wife, he could say with conviction that she was the unknown standard he had been coveting. She was as he dreamed a woman and wife of her calibre and station could be. She was Aphrodite and Peitho together as one, beauty and sharp wit and soft, sweeping curves that could persuade him to act upon every tinge of desire that coursed through his body. She was pliant and eager and so responsive to him, so avid to have his mouth and hands upon her in this way, that he solemnly vowed to never take that for granted.

"My God, you are so beautiful. Did you happen to know my favourite colour is green?" he asked, his thumbs absently grazing her pearled nipples. Her breath hitched quietly, so he continued, lazily sweeping his thumbs back and forth, watching his work, watching as her buds puckered, watching as she began to squirm under his touch. She took hold of his elbows, fingers curling in to steady herself, and gazed up at him.

"I did," she confessed, her voice soft and ragged. He looked to her in surprise, his teasing touch becoming more deliberate. He pinched both her nipples at once, and she groaned, "You—uh, you mentioned it... once... years ago."

"Once?" He watched her mouth fall slack as she nodded her reply. "Years ago?" She whined softly when he rolled her hardened buds under the pads of his fingers again. "That's quite the memory you have, my love."

Colin ducked in to kiss her, impatient with his tongue and teeth now as he encouraged filthy kisses from her. And, as per usual, Penelope met his fervour with her every inch. He was rock hard at this point, arousal so deep and gnawing that he almost felt sick with it. She stepped in closer, held his hips tightly, and the plush press of her near naked form against him sent him absolutely reeling. His lips migrated from hers to her cheek, then mapped a path down the elegant slope of her neck. He nipped at her collarbones, then buried his face in the valley of her breasts, pushing and lifting her until he was nearly smothered by her pillows. He shifted his face slightly lower still and rubbed his lips across her nipples, panting as she moaned his name. He repeated the motion, then laved his tongue over her, atop the fabric. He marvelled at her as his saliva turned her thin shift translucent, and he felt himself throb within the confines of his trousers at the sight. Penelope swayed under his mouth, so he moved a steady hand to her mid-back to hold her against his lips.

Colin dragged his teeth across her peaks before pulling each one between his lips. He sucked at her through fabric, enjoying the friction it created and the noises she made within the stark quiet of their home.

Penelope sank her hands in his hair and tugged hard, pulling a guttural groan out of him in the process. "Col, p-please."

He smirked against her tits and swiftly bent his knees to wrap his arms around her waist, lifting her easily off the ground and out of the puddle of clothing at her feet. She let out a little giggle as he swung them around, her shoes slipping off in the process. He turned to make decided moves towards their staircase, his footing catching briefly on her discarded ball gown. He kicked at the clothing and chuckled as well, smiling as his lips found hers again.

These kisses were giddy, uncoordinated, and full of mirth, lips, teeth, and tongues meeting and moving in a wonderfully clumsy dance full of mischief and lighthearted affinity.

Colin's grip and footing were sure now as he trudged down the hall. He purposefully rounded the corner to deposit Penelope on their staircase, three steps up.

Chapter Text

Penelope felt her posture straighten, her shoulders pulling back in pride as her vantage point allowed her the unique opportunity to look down upon her handsome husband. With his face at her chest, he was entranced, and she felt herself bloom under his heavy gaze.

She liked looking down on him like this, liked the height advantage, liked that she could admire his high cheekbones, the proportional bridge of his nose, long lashes, and the cupid's bow of his lips, along with the smattering of wispy brown hair that clung to his strapping chest, all from above. God, he was devilishly striking. She clenched her thighs together to dull the ache, feeling her desire wet and cool against the bare skin of her thighs. She knew what was to come; she could sense the buzz of excitement that radiated between them and knew she would be rendered writhing and speechless soon enough, but for now, at this angle, she could not help but admire him.

She watched him take her in, watched as he slowly reached behind her head to slip pins and combs from her hair. Once the collection had been removed, Colin quickly slipped the delicate metals into his trousers' pocket for safekeeping. Her hair tumbled out of the low-swept-updo Rea had coiffed, and her scalp tingled with relief. He looked over her with a fond and heated stare while his fingertips slid through her tresses, unravelling plaits, soft curls rolling over her shoulders and spilling down her back.

"So, this is what it is like to be tall," she mused jovially.

Colin chuckled and replied, "I do enjoy the view." His gaze roamed over her further, heavy eyes pausing on her breasts, her neck, her lips; he wet his own before coming to look her in the eye. His dark perusal made her shiver, and he gave her a smug little smirk at her reaction. "However, I rather like how small you are. It makes me feel larger than life and makes me appreciate how well you nook against my body."

Penelope kept her eyes on his and took a backwards step up, making her taller still, but he followed, so she took another cheeky step up, then another. She backed halfway up the stairway at this point, so without warning she spun on a heel and darted up the stairs. She heard Colin's bark of laughter and felt him make a swipe for her waist, but he missed, his fingers just grazing her chemise from behind as she bounded up the stairs two at a time. He lumbered quickly up the steps behind her, his long legs ever to his advantage. He caught her by the waist the moment they reached the second-floor landing and pulled her back flush against his chest. She squealed in delight and gripped onto his forearms as he squeezed at her sides. She was terribly ticklish, and he knew it, his fingers wiggling and digging into her soft sides, unrelenting in his torment.

She tried not to laugh hard enough to snort, but was unsuccessful.

"Play silly games, suffer silly consequences." Colin murmured against the shell of her ear.

She laughed mirthfully but managed to spin around in his grasp, her arms looping around his neck as she rose on tiptoes to kiss him soundly. The lighthearted air around them changed in an instant and became charged with need, the desire to take each other apart piece by piece, gripping and hungry. His arms wound around her, and he lifted her from the ground again easily. She heard herself moan against his lips, and then habitually wrapped her legs around his waistline, hooking her ankles against his backside.

Their second floor was even darker still; only the muted light from the single candelabra in their foyer below drifted up the stairs, and the warm glow from their upper floor bed chamber lit the space. Their eyes adjusted quickly, though there was no need for sight. They acted on touch and feel alone, mapped each other with memorized care, felt flushed skin raise with goose flesh, and deciphered each other's sighs and moans easily to spur themselves along.

Colin moved them barely a foot and deposited Penelope on a nearby side table, the height of which allowed her to be aligned with him perfectly. The items placed with care upon the etched wood shook with the force in which he dropped her, and they both let out a sighing, breathy laugh into their kiss. She pressed her heels against his buttocks again, urging him closer, and he pulled himself flush to her core in reply, all while keeping his attentive lips moving with hers. Though he was dressed and still securely set within his trousers, she could feel every inch of him against her center, through the whisper-thin fabric of her shift, intensifying this heady tryst.

Penelope unceremoniously slipped her hand between their bodies to palm his thickness, his hard length hot below her touch. He groaned against her lips and gasped as she moved her fingers over him. His forehead lay gently against hers, and he withered under her heavy petting, breaths panting, limbs beginning to tremble. She savoured the feeling of him throbbing below the threads, relished in feeling him pulse with need, and basked in her ability to render him near enfeebled.

She could say with all certainty that she had never been this bare anywhere other than their personal chambers before. She had definitely never behaved this way with anyone else home. They were in the middle of their hallway, out in the open, for God's sake. They were behaving as if they were some rakish or debauched couple, whose moans and screams echoed through the quiet streets of London nightly, or as if they were patrons of one of Colin's exotic peep show brothels. She felt herself dampen further at the thought and realized she rather liked the idea.

"You must be so wet for me." Colin groaned as Penelope squeezed his cock just a bit harder; she then shimmied her small hand inside the waistline of his pants. He was hard and searing below her touch, the soft yet rigid length of him pulsating against the palm of her hand. She reached as low as she could and wrapped her fingers around his girth, then gave a few languid strokes from base to tip, watching as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He sagged towards her, gasping and panting now. "Good Lord, Pen, you'll, uh, at this rate we will ha- have ruined these trousers to the point that I might nev... never be able to return th- them... to- to their rightful owner."

"Take them off then." She told him assuredly, her voice low and full of lust.

Colin clearly did not need to be told twice. He pushed back from Penelope and nearly ripped the fall of buttons from their loops as he shed his trousers. The cloth caught on his boots, so he hastily kicked them off before stepping free of his pants. He then shook the threads of his shirt down his arms to toss it aside. He moved back between her legs, all before quickly finding the top of her chemise. Eager, and with little resistance, he slipped the garment over her head, tossing it carelessly with his useless clothing. His hands gripped her hips and yanked her towards the edge of the table, and he nestled himself firmly between her thighs, her wet lips parting and welcoming him. His length slipped through her slick folds and nudged at the bundle of pleasure at her apex, and she groaned, hooking her ankles against his backside again to pull him flush.

"I cannot stand to wait any longer." His voice was strained and wanton. His hips were making slow, deliberate pulses against her now, making her whimper and squirm, the sensation sending shivers through to her soul. His breath trembled against the shell of her ear, lips and teeth nipping and marring her skin. "I need you," Colin pleaded, sucking softly at the column of her throat. "Please, love?"

Penelope took his jaw in her hands and kissed him passionately. Their tongues coiled sloppily, the heat of their embrace turning each animalistic in their pursuit, their hands gripping and pulling each other ever closer.

"Ask me again." She sighed against his lips, rolling her body against his, smiling to herself when he groaned.

He pressed his length harder against her core and nuzzled his face between her neck and shoulder. "Please, Pen..."

He begged so prettily, and though she was able to manage her self-control, she could not deny him even if she wanted to draw this teasing little game out a little bit longer. The sound of his voice had her acting on instinct alone. She didn't answer, not in words, only spread her legs wider for him, and without speech, he understood. He moved to take himself in hand and slipped into her hot velvet grip in one hard stroke, their moans melding at the connection.

Penelope buried her face against his chest and inhaled deeply, concentrating on the profound stretch, the consuming fullness of it all taking over. With his grip holding onto the thick flesh of her hips, Colin bottomed out; their bodies pressed and so tightly woven, there would be no way of knowing where one began and the other ended. He stilled a moment, allowing the completeness to wash over them.

"There is no better feeling than this," he mumbled before kissing her soundly.

With shallow, rolling hips, he began their flawless cadence, keeping their bodies close, arms wrapped around each other. They moved as one, unwilling to even allow a breath of air to pass between them.

Blindly focused Colin slipped from her hot grip almost wholly, only to surge forward again. She gasped and moaned quietly, so he repeated the movement over and over until they were both panting in rapture. He brought his forehead to hers, where he rested it lightly, focused on their brewing release and the quiet little groans she was trying to contain.

Penelope whimpered faintly, her bottom lip caught securely between her teeth. Colin, surely realizing she was trying to remain quiet, used his thumb and prompted her lip free, his pad smoothing over her plump lips before he met hers with his own.

"I want to hear you tonight, my love." He told her, pulling back from their kiss only enough to speak against her mouth, "I want to hear every groan and sigh and whimper, darling. God, I want you to scream my name if it pleases you." He kissed her firmly again, and she couldn't help but moan into his mouth, "Don't you dare hold anything back."

Shivering goose flesh rolled over her at his command, and she could not have contained her voice even if she tried. She moaned unabashedly, leaning back slightly and angling her hips up to create a delightful change to the angle of his thrusts. He growled at the shift and encouraged her hips back further into this position, the long drag of his cock gripped tightly by her pulsing quim bringing them nearer and nearer to their combined pinnacle. She braced herself with a hand behind her hip, and her fingers curled into the side of this surprisingly sturdy side table. Though the items that sat atop the piece had long since tumbled to the ground, surely meeting their demise, she could not take note enough to care. Her husband's body and magnetism clouded her mind, allowing nothing but the soul-stirring feeling of deep love and connection to occupy her thoughts.

His low needy voice broke her from her trance, "Touch yourself."

Penelope nodded absently and untangled her fingers from his hair. Slowly and seductively, she fed him her dominant middle and ring fingers. With thrusts still gliding, Colin groaned and sucked her appendages into his mouth, his tongue swirling around them, attending to them as though they were her nipples or tongue or sex. She watched him best she could in the dark, and the feeling of his saliva coating her fingers slick flooded her with even more pleasure. When he freed her, she allowed her fingers to smoothly trail down. She could feel his heavy gaze on her, so she took a moment to run her fingers over her peaked nipple on the way down to her destination. The act pulled a groan from him that she matched with her own before she moved her hand between their bodies. She pressed her sodden fingers to her apex, shivering wholly when she began her practiced swirling ministrations. She felt herself clench around him, felt her hips chase after his movements, felt him shudder and begin to unravel, felt him throb with impending ecstasy. Her head tipped back in pleasure, a crescendo of moans spilling from her with every vigorous thrust.

This rhythm was relentless, raw and shameless, animalistic and hungry, desperate and lustful.

"I'm so close, love. Tell me you are as well."

Vocabulary had long since left her, but she was able to cry out a strangled, "Yes!"

His hips shuddered, his rhythm faltering as he came undone, groaning and spilling his seed deep within her throbbing grip. Penelope followed closely behind, her arms wrapping around him again, and she shook apart in pure, white-hot bliss. He held her tightly, and she buried her cries of his name against his skin, teeth nipping as wave upon wave of pleasure soared through her entire being.

They remained still a long while, then both let out a disbelieving chuckle. He remained buried within her, unwilling to part just yet, peppering kisses to her shoulder, neck, and cheek now, muttering his awe of her in between kisses.

Penelope enjoyed this postcoital closeness almost as much as she enjoyed the act itself, their sweat-slick bodies pressed and panting as the surges of bliss dissipated. Colin was usually first to pull back, first to reenter the real world, first to bring them back to reality, but, to her surprise, he did not move; he only remained wrapped up in her grappled embrace longer. She could feel him within her feminine grip, still just as solid and hot and avid as he was moments before their release.

"Colin?"

His voice was absent, "Hmm?"

"Col," she prompted again.

"Yes?" he replied, blissed out and only slightly coherent.

"You're still hard," she observed softly, deliberately pulsing her muscles around him and moving her hips just a little. She was rewarded with a shiver that travelled from his body to hers.

"Yes," he groaned and rolled his hips against hers slowly.

Penelope resumed her position, both hands bracketed behind her now, ankles still hooked against his backside. She pulled him closer with the strength of her legs, her hips shifting up to meet him.

"Keep going."

Colin sagged into her, one arm sliding around her back in support, the other braced next to her head. He groaned desperately, "Pen,"

Her voice was demanding now, "Keep going."

With a sigh that was a beautiful mixture of agony and relief, Colin did as his wife bid him. He threw his hips against her with a building force, his pace steady, tenacious, and focused. He kept her as tight against himself as he could, bottoming out with every thrust.

"Pen..."

"Do not stop."

The rough drag of his pelvis against the bundle of pleasure at her crest urged her closer to another climax, but before long he was losing himself within her walls again. Through forceful thrusts he came undone, her name like a pleading mantra pressed to her kiss-stung lips. They kept their hips moving, even through his shuddering ecstasy, and matched each other, bit by bit, with the sensual feeling of his body rolling against hers, pushing her towards another release. He kissed her slowly as she chased her next high. She began to quiver, the pressure building low in her belly, and came without much warning, her grip pulsating around his now softening cock, her moans trapped against his mouth.

Colin kissed her tenderly, allowing the shimmering waves of pleasure to diminish before gently unravelling themselves from each other. He didn't drift far, though, only managing to back away enough to slip from her grip and uncoil her legs from his waist before he was kissing her again.

"That was different." Penelope panted.

He nodded with a wolfish grin, "That has never happened to me before."

"Never?"

"Never."

"With anyone?"

"No."

"Fascinating."

"I have nothing to clean us with."

She gave him a tender smile, "That's alright."

With another reverent kiss from him, she shivered, then stifled a small yawn. He had already worked her so ragged, and the warm glow from their bedroom, a promise of a soft feather bed, beckoned them onwards and upwards. Colin gave her a fond smile and ran his hands up and down her arms to create a bit of friction and warmth.

"Fortify yourself, dear wife," he told her, quickly grabbing his shirt from the heap at his feet. He secured the fabric around her shoulders with a sly grin. "I'm not finished with you yet."

Penelope slid her arms through the sleeves, thankful for the warmth, however light and billowy and far too large the muslin was. She breathed deeply; the material smelled so deeply of his cologne, the sweet smell of his skin and soap invading her senses, and she thought idly that she might have to make stealing his clothing a bit more of a habit. "You did promise me a seat," she teased him.

Colin, with his avid stare locked on her's, secured only one button of his shirt at the center of her chest, then replied, "And you, my dear, well know that I keep my promises."

Chapter Text

In a flash Colin had Penelope thrown over his shoulder, smoothly manoeuvring her against himself as easily as a baker might manipulate a sack of flour. He lifted and hoisted her up, then situated her carefully, his long fingers slipping between her thighs from behind, gripping in as he ascended their stairs.

With a squeal from his beloved, a wave of her hair flipped over as he heaved her, the soft tendrils dusting the small of his back, and she pushed herself up to keep from dangling upside down behind him.

"Colin!" She yelped.

She swatted at his backside with a laugh, connecting her palm with his rump, the smack a sharp snap that echoed within the staircase; and he revelled in the pleasing pain of it.

"Penelope," He replied lowly, drawing the word out to include every syllable.

Smiling to himself, he held her a bit firmer and gave her bottom a light little smack of his own when they reached the top of the stairs.

"You needn't carry me; I can walk, you know." She scolded him as he made their way towards their bedchamber.

"It is not about need, darling." He squeezed her inner thighs, and she squeaked again but her voice died on her lips as his fingers slid higher up to brush against the still damp hair covering her womanhood. "It is about want." He told her, flexing his fingers so that they might tease her, just slightly, "I want to carry you. I enjoy how surprised you are each time I lift you into my arms."

Penelope huffed a defeated, whiney, little chuckle, her own hands gripping harder and pushing against his hips and lower back. Colin strode through the partially parted doors of their bedchamber, allowing the wood to swing open wildly on its hinges. He did not bother closing the doors, a gesture that reminded them both just how alone they truly were.

Their room was properly lit, compared to the rest of the house, with a few lanterns and candles set. It felt inviting and warm, despite the dying fire within their hearth.

Colin all but tossed Penelope onto their bed, nearly tumbling onto the blankets alongside her. He had dropped her rather unceremoniously upon their bed, but the plush blankets and down mattress absorbed her fall. He went to pull away but she immediately grappled her embrace around him even tighter and pulled him down into a passionate kiss. With no hesitation he succumbed to her embrace wholeheartedly, sagging atop her and allowing himself to melt into her kiss. His body pressed against the length of her, her core warm against his thigh, and he shuddered.

"You must allow me to place more wood on the fire." He murmured against her lips.

Penelope threaded her fingers through his hair and angled his head so that she might kiss at his neck and shoulder, "Must I?"

He withered under the soft press of her lips, but he was highly aware that the fire was moments from burning out. "Yes. You must. Or we may freeze to death."

"So dramatic." She scolded lightly as she kissed along his jaw to capture his lips again.

He waded through the warm press of her lips, her tongue teasing and slick as it searched for his. He met her every movement, their passion clouding his mind, her newfound bravado enticing and enchanting.

Reluctantly he drew back from her embrace, "Says the woman who was shivering, not but a moment ago."

"How can you be so sure I was not shivering because of something else?"

"Well, of course you were." He told her with a fond smile, however self-assured and boisterous he was feeling, "But. It is also freezing in here."

Penelope chuckled lightly and allowed her limbs to fall slack in surrender, freeing Colin. He kissed her nose and pulled back to admire his dishevelled beauty. Her hair was snarled and fanned out around her head like a fiery halo, his shirt draped and barely obscuring her full figure under the thin fabric, making her seem even more delicate within his threads. Her cheeks and chest were still flushed, her plump lips red and parted from their impassioned kisses, her eyes locked on him and full of untamed desire. She was a vision, rapt and eager, and he counted his lucky stars that she chose him.

After committing every detail to memory, he hesitantly got up and moved across their bedroom to stoke the fire with more wood. He dropped a few hearty pieces into the fireplace, and once the flames took hold, he turned to make purposeful strides back to their bed.

Penelope had rolled to her side, head propped up in her lovely hand as she observed him. His oversized shirt draped over the soft curves of her body perfectly, her breasts threatening to spill from the low, open neckline. He swallowed and slowed his gait to admire her further. The warmth of the growing fire cast her in a glow, and had her hair gleaming, a stark contrast against the crisp white linen of his shirt. She watched Colin like a hawk as he moved towards their bed again, her eyes heavy; her smile wicked.

"On your knees, darling." He instructed, pulling the many decorative pillows off the head of their bed and dropping them carelessly. He marvelled as Penelope rolled and moved into position, her movements smooth and silky. "Face the headboard." He told her lowly.

The anticipation here was exquisite; time slowed to a crawl. She nodded, then shuffled towards the headboard. Colin knelt behind her, his large hands running up the backs of her thighs to her bottom, where he squeezed. He tried to hide the tremor of excitement as he smoothed over her lower back and hips, relishing in her soft, supple skin. He pulled her hips towards himself, pressing their bodies flush as his lips found her neck. Penelope gathered her hair and swept it aside for him. He smirked to himself, then kissed a trail down her neck as she sagged back against him, her hands reaching behind herself to encourage him to rut against her. He yielded wholeheartedly, the smooth rhythmic sway of his hips matching her own, the thin material of his shirt adding nothing but a maddening layer to this exchange. He was aching to feel her skin-to-skin again, so he pulled his shirt free from under her knees. With free movements now, his touch roved over every inch of skin, teasing, gentle and meandering.

Penelope turned over her shoulder to kiss him hungrily. He met her lips with vigour, tongues touching tenaciously despite the slightly awkward angle. His hands drifted up her body to cup her breasts from behind, savouring the plush weight, causing her breath to hitch, then catch on a throaty moan.

"Are you ready?" He asked against the shell of her ear, trying to contain his own raw excitement. When she did not avidly reply, he continued softly, "We need not do this if you do not wish to."

Colin wanted nothing more than exactly this. He wanted her to find a seat on his face and smother him with her sex. He wanted to be surrounded by her, to be taken in, consumed by and drowned in her. It was as simple as that. However, he did not want it at the expense of her comfort. Ever. It would kill him, just a bit, to turn back now, indeed. But there were a myriad of other acts they could participate in, acts they had well mastered, acts that were salacious and wanton, and just a wee bit cheeky. Still, the moment he spoke this desire to her, not an hour or more ago, he could think of doing little else.

She rested her head back against his collarbone with a sigh, "I want to. I just, I am unsure how to begin."

He let out a breath he did not realize he was holding. "I will talk you through it."

"Will you?"

"Yes." He spoke against her ear again and kneaded her breasts gently. When he felt her push her behind against his groin once more, he pinched both pearled nipples, causing her to groan.

"Alright." She rasped.

"All you need to do is straddle my face," Colin explained, letting his hands slip down her body again. "You can lean forward and anchor yourself to the headboard, or lean back and brace your hands against my chest."

"How will I know if I am hurting you?"

"You won’t hurt me."

"I might!"

"You won't, Pen, I promise." He cooed, his voice eager but encouraging, "How about this? If I am distressed, I will tap your thigh four times." He demonstrated by tapping on her lightly.

"Alright." She said again as she straightened.

With that, Colin smoothly backed away from his lovely wife and laid down beside her, his shoulders square with her knees. He watched and waited for her eyes to lock onto his, and when he had her undivided attention, he nodded toward himself. From her kneeling position, Penelope lifted one tentative leg over him and sat astride his face, just as he asked.

She braces her feet and hovered above, holding her breath, actively keeping her weight off of him, both hands gripping their ornate headboard tightly. And all that simply would not do. He wanted all of her, every bit. So Colin wrapped his arms around her thighs and encouraged her down, to move her sex towards his greedy mouth and avid tongue, her weight atop him now. The moment he made contact, he lapped into her sweetness thoroughly, keenly, and eagerly, nuzzling his face wholly within her slick heat, her flavour filling all his senses. He groaned and slid to suckle on her apex, then rolled that little bud between his lips and tongue, causing her to gasp loudly.

"Dear god," Penelope moaned and sagged further forward, her grip on the headboard catching her fall. Her head and mouth hung slack, "How... How are you so good at this?"

Colin's chuckle in reply was muffled and warm against his lips, her slick coating his face. With his attention focused, he had Penelope panting and shamelessly grinding down onto his face in no time, her moans building as he increased his fever and speed. She finally allowed her death grip on the headboard to loosen and slipped her fingers down to his hair, grinding her hips hard against his mouth as he worked her over. His shirt continued to get in the way of her hands and the length of the sleeves hindered her grip. So she quickly yanked the threads over her head and tossed it casually across the room, further messing her unkempt hair. He hummed his approval anew and slid his hands up her body to caress her breasts, bare to him now, lifting them with his palms and running his fingers slowly back and forth across her hardened nipples.

Penelope gasped and whined and begged him for more, the sound sending him reeling. Colin dropped his grip back down her body to find purchase on her thick hips again, encouraging her in their natural rhythm. He felt himself throb and twitch as she chased after her pleasure, her moans like sweet, sinful music to his ears. He could sense that she was close and took himself in hand. His grip on his cock languid and loose, his pace even and matched as his wife ground against his tongue, seeking her release.

"Are... Are you... touching yourself?" She panted, leaning her hands back onto his chest now and careening to look behind herself. Colin hummed his confirmation. "May I watch you?"

He groaned, but pushed her back enough to utter a muffled reply, "Next time. Just focus. Focus on this."

Penelope huffed a greedy little whine, and Colin chuckled against her lower lips. He doubled his efforts then, allowing the languid strokes on his hard length to slow to a halt as his attention became razor-focused. In a vain attempt to steady her rocking hips, he wrapped his arms around her thighs again, his eyes wide and locked on the celestial display above. She was everything, chasing the unbridled pleasure he coaxed out of her, her fingers tugging his hair, her body writhing shamlessly atop him. He was in awe, and aroused beyond measure. With her head thrown back, she ground herself against his mouth, hips moving the same way she moved atop his cock. He hummed as the realization laced through his mind like a shot, and the vibrations sent her spiralling. With a loud, strangled cry of his name, she shook apart, held solid only by his hands, his grip nearly bruising as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her. He lapped up every drop of her release, nuzzled in, drank her dry until she was nothing but a trembling mess, begging him to stop.

Colin did not prolong her torture though, his own need was undeniable now. He slowly allowed his grip to fall, feeling her steady her balance on her own, then helped guide her off his face. She sagged boneless and rolled next to him, spent on her side, the last ravages of her release like tremors across her body as she buried her face against the rumpled sheets, her little chuckle breathy and disbelieving.

"You're amazing." He mused, breathing deeply and licking his mouth clean. He then reached an arm out to drag his touch up her calf.

Through panting breaths, she turned to him and replied, "Did we rival your pleasure houses?"

"And then some. You are a vision, my love. Absolute perfection." Colin moved as he spoke, turning to kiss her knee, her thigh, then her hip before smoothly curling himself against her back and wrapping an arm around her middle from behind.

He pulled her in flush, heated skin connected with her every inch, and the damp press of her body fit him so perfectly that he shuddered at the contact. She gripped him with a contented sigh and nuzzled back even further, no doubt feeling his unyielding length pressed hard against her bottom.

"Can you give me one more?" He groaned and she whined a soft, noncommittal, little whimper. So he pressed on, "You have done so well already, dearest." Smoothly, he manoeuvred her leg up, hooking it back over hip, knooking himself against her behind, "But, I cannot get enough."

His cock pushed through her slick lower lips as she widened for him further, the sensation sending him spiralling. But he waited, rutting gently against her, allowing the movement to glide his cock through her sodden valley. He breathed her in, curling to press his lips into the crook of her neck, his face full of silken hair, her skin below soft, warm, and comforting.

"Can you do it?" He asked, and she replied with another soft, heady sigh, welcoming him, and yet still, he waited, "Please, love?"

Her hand lay upon his own at her hip and she encouraged him to spread her even wider, "Yes." She breathed.

Colin did not hesitate and nearly sobbed in relief as he slid into her tight heat effortlessly. Her moan in response was absolutely euphoric; deep, guttural, and almost animalistic. The angle and grip had her gasping the moment he was seated fully within her, the pulse between them near dizzying. He pulled her hips towards himself and sank in deeper, the shallow, unhurried movements turning his blood molten. He held her firm, keeping his thrusts slow and purposeful, his other arm now snaking under her neck to coil around her front and grope her breasts.

Penelope moaned at this, his fingers tweaking at her nipples, his other hand still holding her open wide to sink his cock in further. He felt himself begin to unravel, felt the tendrils of relese licking up his spine with each pulse of her grip around him, coaxing him closer to his climax. His pace increased, the downward spiral into blinding oblivion welcoming, covering him in her slick need and sweet voice.

"I feel so full," She mused breathlessly, face pressed into the sheets, while reaching behind herself to take hold of anything she could grab. He lifted her leg just a bit more and angled her hips back, his thrusts now hitting that sweet spot inside he knew made her toes curl.

"You take me so well." He growled, "Like you were made for me."

She moaned in reply, "I was."

That did him in; two little words shoving him full tilt into bliss.

Colin roared with release, his grip vigorous, hips sputtering as he coated her walls with his spend. Her pulsating quim milked him dry, her blinding grip hazing his vision. With rolling hips, he moved a hand to the crest of her thighs, where he rubbed her swollen bundle under heavy fingers. Penelope cried out and shook apart almost instantly, gripping his wrist as she came hard around his cock.

They lay still a long while, neither willing to move away from their entangled embrace.

Moments passed before Colin dragged himself from between his wife's lovely thighs, the loss causing them both to shiver. Despite this Penelope did not move from her place, sprawled across their bed, trying to regain normal breath. He used the opportunity to put more wood on the fire, blow out the candles and find a cloth to clean them up with. She lay satiated as he delicately wiped the soft fabric between her legs and across her inner thighs before cleaning himself. She hummed her thanks as he finished, then rolled to slither under the covers.

He followed her into the welcoming linens, dragging up the blankets and pulling her over to snuggle against his chest. She fit against him like a perfect puzzle piece, "I love you more than I knew possible." He mused, kissing the crown of her head.

Her reply was lazy with sleep, "I love you too."

Chapter Text

Penelope stirred awake slowly; the warmth of Colin's palm on her shoulder seeped past the linen sheet and worked into her muscles below. He shook her again, gently, chuckling as she groaned in response. She blinked the sleep away and took in the view above her.

"You're dressed." She mumbled, voice thick as she stretched out her sore limbs.

"I am." He replied with a soft chuckle.

Technically, he was dressed, but not according to high society standards. Though he did have a fresh pair of trousers on and a clean linen shirt, it hung buttoned haphazardly and was tucked in only at the front. His hair was dishevelled in a way that reminded Penelope of their youth, of watching him push it off his forehead constantly from the corner of the Bridgerton drawing room. How she had pinned to run her fingers through the locks, how she yearned to know just how soft the chestnut tresses were. But now, in this dim light, she could make out the faint shadow of hair that clung to his sharp jaw and the soft red of his lips. She smiled to herself, ruminating on what they had done last night and relishing in the notion that she would wake up next to him, next to his handsome face and kind eyes for the rest of her life.

"Why are you dressed? Is it morning?" she asked groggily.

"No."

She frowned and looked about in a daze. The room was dark and covered in the warmth of their fireplace, but the light filtering in from outside almost took on the hue of a glowing orange sunset.

"Then why are you dressed?"

"It is almost dinner time."

Penelope sprang upright, clutching the sheets to her chest. "I slept through the day?!"

"You did. You clearly needed the rest," he replied with a wry smile.

"How long have you been up?"

"Not long."

She softened and reached for him, beckoning him into her embrace, "Come back to bed then."

"I cannot."

"Why?"

"Because I poured you a bath."

"You what?"

"I poured you a bath," he repeated with another adoring smile.

"You said you dismissed our staff."

"I did."

"You are telling me you lugged water up two flights of stairs... for me?"

He puffed his chest a bit, chin tipped up with pride, then pulled his shoulders square. "I did."

"And you're prepared to empty the tub when I am through, as well?"

"I am."

"Allow me to get this straight: you lit a fire and boiled water... for me?"

"I did. It is not a challenge to boil water."

"I doubt Eloise could manage it."

Colin shuddered, "Leave my siblings out of this." He gestured around their current state.

She chuckled and then confessed, "I have never boiled water."

"Well, I have." He shrugged.

"So I am beginning to understand."

"I can show you how. Later. If you would like?"

"I would like that."

"I can show you how to start a fire, warm milk on the stove, brew a fine pot of tea, and more, Pen. If you'll let me."

"I would like that very much, I am your humble student."

"Student. I like the sound of that." Colin mused, tucking a curl of hair behind her ear, "Come now, before the bathwater cools."

He rose and helped her from bed, handing her a dressing gown as she stood. She slipped it over her nude form and took his hand again. He led them through their dressing suite and into their shared bathing room.

This area was almost entirely decorated by Penelope and was still a work in progress. She had chosen everything from the drapes to the rugs and every little flourish in between. She kept the colour palette warm and within the hues of forest green, dark wood, and copper, all to match the centrepiece of the room: a large slingback hammered copper tub. She loved a long soak, and Colin had made sure that she had this lavish tub within a week of her arriving home. Now, he had a roaring fire burning in the modest fireplace situated in the corner of the room and had a lantern lit on a small table next to the brimming basin. He had laid out her favourite soaps and oils and even gathered a tray of small biscuits and squares for her too.

"Colin," Penelope murmured.

"I thought you may want to relax. Sooth your, no doubt, tired muscles."

She squeezed his hand and brought it to her lips. She kissed his knuckles as she spoke, "It's just what I need, Col. Thank you."

"You are more than welcome, love. I have tea brewing downstairs. I'll give you a moment while I retrieve it."

Penelope watched him take his leave, watched his strapping frame carry himself out of the room, marvelling at each confident and assured step. She took the private opportunity and went about her regular morning routine, tending to her daily needs in the convenience that was their well-designed bathing suite. She then sat at her vanity and brushed out her tangled hair section by section and wove it into a thick plait. She scooped the heavy woven braid off her nape and bundled it atop her head, using long hair pins to secure it tightly in place.

Colin returned shortly thereafter, his serving tray laden with tea for two, sugar, cream, and even more sweets. He scanned the room for another flat surface to place his goods but came up a bit short. Penelope stood from her vanity and moved a few items aside to clear room for his tray. As he situated his wares, she moved to the side of the tub, where she held back her sleeve and tested the water's temperature. It was perfect, cloudy coils of steam mixing with the herbs and oils he had already added to her bath. Rea did not usually add oils to her baths, leaving the choice of fragrances up to Penelope alone. But there was something so devout about her husband choosing for her, something so touching, so personal, as though he knew exactly what she wanted, or as if, selfishly, he knew exactly how he wanted her to smell.

She untied the sash of her robe and slid the buttery fabric off her shoulders, allowing the garment to pool and hook in the crook of her arms as she glanced over her shoulder. Colin stopped, mid-motion, catching her reflection in the vanity mirror, his jaw hanging slack at the sight. He watched on as Penelope allowed the silken garment to slide down her back and slip over her backside. It fluttered to the floor, gathering at her feet in a puddle of Bridgerton blue, her skin raising with goose flesh from the temperature change. With his attention fixed now and a smirk on her lips, she tentatively stepped into the hot bath water, the warmth stinging her cold toes. She lowered herself slowly below the suds, breathing deeply as the aroma of lavender and bergamot swirled within the steam. She settled in with a long sigh, the warmth softening her tired muscles, the weight of his stare heavy and welcomed.

"Will you join me?" She asked while resting her head back on the rim of the tub.

"There is no room for me, darling." He told her, turning back to their tea. He poured them both a cup and dressed each to their preference.

"Of course there is!" She sat forward as if to prove there was plenty of room for him to coil himself around her, sloshing a bit of water out when she did so.

Colin gave her a look, a look that spoke of experience. They had tried this before and made a right mess doing so, "The moment I submerge myself, the water will overflow."

He had a point, of course, but she pouted anyway. "You're right."

"And, I may be a man of the world, but I would rather not spend my time cleaning that up."

She sighed dramatically, "Very well."

Colin offered her a cup and saucer. "But I could stay."

Looking up through her lashes, she took a sip of tea, his lithe body looming above her, his gaze roving over every inch of her submerged naked body.

She nodded, "Stay."

His banter turned teasing now as he braced his hands on either side of the tub, "I could pull up a chair, perhaps? Get comfortable. Take in the view even further?"

Penelope tipped her head back fully, keeping her eyes locked on his, "Stay," she told him again, more forcefully.

With a nod, Colin quickly disappeared into the adjacent room and dragged over an armchair, lifting it into place just inches away from her tub. He could reach a hand over and caress her thighs if wanted, and lord help her, she wished he would. She watched him settle into his chair as she drank deeply, the black tea smooth and rich with hints of caramel and cream, the overwhelming warmth within the room now turning her thoughts absolutely sinful. She pressed her thighs together and finished her tea in a gulp. She left the empty china on the end table, then gathered up her soap and washing flannel. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him lean back in his chair, his attention affixed, legs outstretched, ankles hooked. She could see the rapid rise and fall of his breath and could sense his need mirrored hers own.

His heated gaze was a leisurely thing, raking over her slowly, a look full of unhurried admiration, and she felt herself shiver wholly. She preened under his stormy stare, her fingers mindlessly working the soap and cloth into a rich lather.

It had been a long while since she had washed herself; one of her lady's maids usually assisted her with the task, and she most certainly had never washed herself in front of a man. Though Colin had seen her at nearly every angle, she had to admit this was new. She assumed she would feel a bit bashful, shy, or even timid, but she felt quite the opposite. She felt emboldened under his gaze—powerful, and maybe even a sliver of the goddess he proclaimed her to be.

She dragged the sudsy cloth up and down both arms, watching herself work, but highly aware of his heavy stare. She did not realize what a luxury this type of kinship could be, this quiet intimacy.

He watched every move, watched her wash every inch, her eyes trailing up to meet his as she cleaned down her neck to her breasts. She watched him as her cloth disappeared out of sight, the sloshing water cutting through their panting quiet. She cleaned between her legs, her movements dilatory, and she contemplated asking him to take over the task.

Penelope opened her mouth to speak, but Colin broke the silence first.

"The Mediterranean or Scotland?"

She shook herself out of her haze. "Hmm?"

Colin rolled up his sleeves, bunching both past his elbows. Penelope's heart hammered in her chest at the sight, the throb between her legs insistent now.

"The Mediterranean or Scotland? Or perhaps the Americas?" He asked idly, dragging his fingers through the cooling water. He gave her knees a teasing brush before fluttering his fingers away, "For our honeymoon." He clarified.

She beamed, "You mean it, truly?"

"Of course I do."

Penelope gazed at him adoringly and wondered what types of adventures lay before them, wondered where to venture first, where first to explore. The look of pure honesty lay upon her handsome husband's face, and she knew without a doubt that no matter their surroundings, she would be home with him.

"Paris, perhaps?" She said after some quiet contemplation. His eyes sparked with joy in response, and she nearly melted.

"You and I, in the city of love?" Colin leaned in close, a meandering hand below the water's surface inching higher up her thigh. He kissed her tenderly and pulled back just enough to speak against her lips, "Now that seems rather fitting to me "