Work Text:
Lounging against the mahogany headboard, big, fluffy pillows at his back, Tom grinned at his beautiful bride. He pulled back the covers and patted the mattress next to him coaxingly.
‘Come back to bed, love.’
Fastening her earring, Sybil shot him a fondly exasperated look in the gilt mirror of the fancy honeymoon suite her mother had gifted them.
‘I can’t! Mary and Edith will be here any minute.’
He shrugged, his smile widening. ‘So? Let them knock until they’ve got splinters in their knuckles. We’re on our honeymoon. We’ve got much better things to do.’
‘They’re my sisters, Tom!’
‘And I’m your husband,’ he countered, his voice low, enticing. ‘Your brand-new husband. The one you swore to love forever only the day before yesterday. And I’m in the mood for a little love now.’
She giggled, wagging her finger at him. ‘You’re incorrigible.’
‘I’m in love, and I fancy my gorgeous wife something rotten.’
Laughing, she rose, turning to face him, shaking her head. ‘There’s not enough time!’
‘Isn’t there? Are you sure about that?’ Slipping out of bed, he winked and sauntered towards her with lazy confidence, completely unbothered by his nakedness. ‘We don’t always have to take our time, you know.’
Sybil bit her lip, her breath catching, her eyes lingering on the still novel sight of a nude man. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, desire tugging at her. ‘Don’t we?’
‘No. Sometimes, it’s quite thrilling to do it quickly,’ he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
She laughed despite herself, shaking her head. ‘You’re impossible.’
‘And yet irresistible,’ he asserted, stretching out his hand, letting it settle on her hip, warm and exhilarating even through the layers of her clothing.
‘You’re frightfully full of yourself, Mr Branson,’ Sybil whispered, her palms resting against the solid warmth of his chest, delighting in the unfamiliar texture of muscle and hair beneath her fingers.
‘And yet you still married me,’ he murmured, leaning in to nuzzle her neck.
Sybil sighed, her resolve weakening, her knees shaking as he kissed her in that spot that made her head spin. ‘Do you really think we have time? I’m already dressed.’
‘Definitely. You don’t have to take your clothes off.’
‘Don’t I?’
‘No,’ he muttered, grasping the skirt of her dress and inching it up, his other hand slipping underneath it. ‘Let me show you.’
‘Oh, my goodness,’ Sybil gasped, her sisters forgotten.