Work Text:
Don't close your eyes
Don't hold it in
Reach out to me
Let it all begin
Don't be afraid, it's only love
Only a touch that frees you
Let it release you
Take the chance, it's only love
Let it come through you slowly
Open your heart and show me
Don't be afraid
It's only love
~ "It's Only Love," Rudolf: Affaire Mayerling [English demo]
From this day forward, nights won't seem so black
From this day forward, we will never look back
In whatever time we have
We will make the most of time
And at least we'll be together
In whatever time we have
~ "In Whatever Time We Have," Children of Eden
It had taken him all day, but Matthew had finally figured out why his chest felt tight against his quickly beating heart since the previous evening.
He was as certain as he was of God in Heaven that it wasn't because he was having second thoughts. Ever since he had proposed to Rosemary, with a Bible ribbon as a substitute for a ring, he had anticipated the moment that he could call her his wife and he could say that he was her husband. They hadn't been patient enough to wait until the end of the school year, as they had originally planned. In fact, it had only been during the wedding and the car ride to Westham that the tightness in his chest had vanished completely. But when he had carried her through the door of their hotel room, where they would stay until the first train they would have to take the next morning, it had returned.
And it wasn't because he was second-guessing his choice of substitute in his pulpit. He trusted that next Sunday's service would be in good hands with John-Boy.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, having shed his jacket and waistcoat. Rosemary was still in her wedding dress, her veil now unpinned from her hair and her shoes having been discarded by the door with his shoes. The lamp in the room was dimmed behind her, creating a halo of light around her auburn hair. She sat down beside him, a sweet smile blooming across her face. Despite the nerves he couldn't quite place, he smiled back at her.
"Hello, husband," she greeted softly.
"Hello, wife," he echoed, his voice just as soft.
A small, soft laugh escaped her. It was a melodious sound, as precious to him as any hymn he had heard in his life. He loved hearing her laugh. He could clearly remember hearing the night he asked for her permission to court her, even though it wasn't the first time he had heard it.
Matthew was unsure how long he was lost in thought, but he thought he could see a flicker of impatience in her ocean blue eyes, even amidst the adoration. Again, he was distracted from the moment, thinking about how her eyes. He had never seen blue eyes as dark as hers. They were like sapphires. But he pulled himself from his thoughts to focus on the beautiful woman in front of him.
"A-- are you--" he struggled to find the right words to ask this question. "May I..."
Rosemary set a reassuring hand on his elbow. Even though he was still clothed, her touch sent a jolt of electricity through him.
"Yes, you may, Matthew," she answered.
And even though it was the response he had hoped for, his heart skipped a beat.
His hands were shaking as he took her into his arms, but he told himself that it because he had barely eaten anything today. He was certain that she had heard his belly grumbling during the car ride. One hand trailed down to the hem of her skirt, letting his fingers caress her exposed knee. She leaned into his orbit for for a deep kiss. He was glad to accept her kiss, but... then he figured out why he had been feeling so anxious.
He tried to tell himself that he wasn't alone in feeling the way he did.
They were both nervous.
Neither of them had done this before.
But Rosemary had a bit more knowledge about this matters than he did. She had read about it in textbooks and dime novels (the latter half out of guilty pleasure rather than informative reading).
Him? He didn't know anything.
Sure, he had been more adventurous than he ever thought he would be during their courtship. They had snuck away for private picnics in the woods where, as they kissed, she had welcomed his hands to wander with more than enthusiastic consent, while hers toyed with him as well. He had grown to be excited by the fear that they might be caught, strangely. But that same fear was why they had never gone any further than kisses and caresses, even away from the prying eyes of every Jefferson County gossip.
He knew what marriage meant from a theological point of view. He could quote any passage about it from the Bible by heart, from memory. But that was all he knew, whatever he had read in scripture and in books on moral philosophy. As he had entered his transition to adulthood, even before his days at the seminary, he suppressed any urge that came up by hosing himself down with cold water or an intense jog through town. He had been taught since he was eleven to protect himself from temptation, even if he was in the company of a woman he loved. Yet, they had never prepared him for what he had to do when they came that a piece of paper and vows before the Lord meant that it would no longer be considered falling into temptation.
How could he let those walls down now, when he barely knew what he was doing or where to start?
What if he hurt her?
Even if he had no knowledge of her childhood, he would never forgive himself if he hurt his wife, let alone on their wedding night.
He wished that he had been brave enough to go to any of the married men in town for advice. But when the idea had first formed in his head, he told himself that it would have been inappropriate for a spiritual leader to approach any of his parishioners for such knowledge.
Matthew could barely acknowledge the sound or feeling of Rosemary humming into his kiss. It felt like he was underwater, his limbs as numb as he were floating towards the ocean floor. His stomach was twisting into a knot that felt like it could never come undone. When their lips parted, he gasped for air as if he would never inhale it again. His heart was pounding like he had run a great distance.
"Matthew?" Rosemary's voice was gentle, but he sensed something else within it.
Worry? Frustration?
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair and trying to ignore the feeling of a cold sweat seeping into the stiff fabric of his clothes.
"Matthew, are you alright?" Rosemary inquired.
"I... I don't know..." he said, though he shook his head.
He planted both of his hands onto the bed, trying to ground himself. The texture of the quilt was different than the blanket for his bed back in the parsonage, but it still soothed his nerves, if even by a hair. Rosemary laid a hand over his, and he looked back up from the floor into her eyes. His heart slowed back to a normal pace, or at least as normal as it could in her presence. His stomach settled enough that he remembered how hungry he was.
"It was a long day, and a long drive," she said. "If you're too tired, or if you're--"
His eyes began to widen as he realized what she might have thought.
"Oh, no. No!" he quickly interrupted. "No, no. Rosemary, I-- that-- that's not it, I-- I swear."
His heart was racing again, and he was on the verge of panting like a wild animal.
"Rosemary, it's not that I don't..." he tried to say before the words got stuck in his throat, only for them to disappear when he realized that he had no more words.
Her hand moved past his arm and onto his back, running up and down "Take your time, Matthew. Take as much time as you need."
He buried his face into his hands as he carefully thought of what he could possibly say and then revising those sentences. He lifted his head from his hands, looking into her eyes.
"I... I want to make love to you, Rosemary," he said. "I want to show you how much you mean to me, how much I have had to hold back when we were courting, show you how much I love you..."
Rosemary nodded. She didn't ask him what was stopping him, or ask what was wrong with him. She just nodded.
"But I honestly do not know what I'm doing. I-- I've never done this before. And I know that you haven't either, but... you've read about it. You've educated yourself without worrying what others would think if they ever found out. I've spent my life being taught to purge even the smallest seed of thought of it from my mind and heart. And I was too scared to educate myself as you have, so... here I am, in bed with my wife and with no idea where to start."
He exhaled sharply. Even though the tightness in his chest remained, he did feel as if a great weight had been lifted from it. The knot in his stomach finally seemed to loosen, but the organ itself seized up as he awaited her response. Warmth bloomed in his face, and he began to look away. But Rosemary lifted her hand to take his face in and turned him back to look at her again.
"We don't have to do anything tonight," she told him.
Matthew blinked in surprise. "We-- we don't?"
"No," she answered. "We can just get comfortable... sit or lie here on the bed, holding each other. And if we do decide to make love, and during it, you want to stop, we can go back to that."
Again, he blinked in surprise.
"You... you mean that?" he asked.
"I do," she affirmed, her fingers lifting up to brush a few stray locks of hair away from his eyes. "Matthew, I married you because I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. If you're not ready tonight, we have the rest of our lives to be ready. And... if you're willing... I can help you get there..."
"Yes," he nodded. "Yes, I want to get there, Rosemary. I-- I just want to show you the depths of my love for you now that... now that I can."
Her smile widened, and she ducked her head to try to hide the pink color flushing her pale skin. She looked back up at him, her eyes sparkling. "Well... one way you could start is help me with my hairpins. They've been piercing my scalp since this morning."
"Of course," he agreed.
Careful that he wouldn't tug, he gently took one of the first pins from her hair. A collection of her red locks tumbled down towards her shoulders. As he removed the second pin, the tension in his body finally began to ease. He let each hairpin fall to the floor and took in for a kiss, running his fingers through her hair. He loved her hair. It was soft, like velvet or the petals of a fully bloomed rose. He had combed it with his fingers many times throughout their courtship, sometimes twirling a lock around his pinky while she rested her head on his chest, reading aloud to him.
When they parted, he briefly tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, his hands then trailing down from her shoulders to her hands, and pulling them to his chest as he kissed her tenderly again.
"Rosemary?" he murmured into the kiss.
"Hmm?"
"Whether or not we make love tonight..." he began. "I would be remiss if I didn't help the bride out of her dress. If that would be alright."
"More than alright."
He felt a little shiver when she pulled away from him so they both could stand. She held her arms up, and ducked her head down into the modest neckline of the garment. Matthew tried to be gentle as he helped lift the dress off of her body. One day, their daughter could wear it for her wedding day. He briefly turned to lay it across the portmanteau they had brought along with them. When he turned back, she stood before him in a pale pink, silken step-in.
An involuntary gasp escaped from deep in his chest, and the blood in his body drained from his face, retaining enough that his cheeks were tinged red. He took one step towards her, gently grasping her by her upper arms.
"You are beautiful," he whispered.
A couple of tears fell from Rosemary's eyes, and a joyful laugh escaped her. She leaned into his embrace until she could hear his heart beating. The two sunk back onto the mattress and crawled underneath the covers. She remained pressed against his still-fully clothed body, beginning to be lulled to sleep by the sound of his heartbeat. Without stopping to think about what she was doing, her forefinger began toying with the top button of his shirt behind his necktie.
Neither of them knew how long they laid there silently. Maybe they had dozed off here and there, it was hard to tell. She had felt him press a few kisses to her temple, whisper something that she couldn't quite hear. Then, she felt one of his fingers lock with hers, directing it to undo the knot of his tie. Before it was fully undone, she used it to pull him into another kiss. She tossed it in the direction of where they had left their shoes. He pulled her hand back onto the top button of his shirt, and they both propped up their bodies on their sides against the headboard.
Matthew was impressed with how quickly she was able to unbutton the top half of his shirt, whereas his fingers fumbled in a manner that he could only say was laughable. His face flushed warm with embarrassment, however, when she opened his shirt to reveal the thick hair on his chest and belly. He looked down at his stomach, which somehow hadn't been toned by the combination of his previous calisthenics regimen and the four years of manual labor he had done since he came to the mountain.
He watched as Rosemary took him in, the knot in his stomach beginning to reform. He waited for something-- anything-- with bated breath.
Then, she set her palms flat on his chest. He flinched, not out of fear, but the surprise of feeling her touching his bare skin.
"D-- do you want me to stop?" she asked.
He shook his head. "No."
Using her nails, she trailed through his chest hair, then down to his stomach, and back up again. They met in another kiss, and her lips moved down his clean-shaven jaw to his neck. Then to his torso, nuzzling her face into his middle. He bit down on his tongue to stop himself from laughing at the ticklish sensation.
"You're so warm," her voice was muffled by his skin, but he could clearly make out her words. "And soft..."
He blushed again, letting out a breathy laugh. "I guess I've... I've gotten too used to mountain cooking."
"Oh, I love it," she insisted, lifting up her face to look at him and patting his belly firmly. "And your hair... I love how it curls around my fingers."
She buried her face into his skin again for a moment before planting a lingering kiss above his navel as she began to undo his belt. She pulled both his trousers and underpants down, revealing his fully erect member.
"Could you roll onto your back, please?" she requested. "And stay still."
He complied. She positioned herself over him, keeping herself balanced by holding on to his waist. The firm grip she had on his hips was grounding in a strange way. A secure feeling that he hadn't felt at all in his life, as if he were truly safe. She carefully lowered herself at the same level as his cock, pressing soft kisses along the length of him before taking the tip in her mouth.
"Oh..." he gasped out as something he could only register as pleasure that he had never known washed over him.
He gripped onto the sheets of the bed. Her tongue circled around him as her mouth maintained a hold of him, and he felt a euphoric swoop in his lower belly. Unfortunately, it didn't last as long as he had hoped. He came rather quickly, spilling himself onto her tongue.
When he removed himself from her mouth, she eagerly gulped down his fluid. He watched as she trailed a finger down her throat to her stomach, as if tracking his essence's journey to her very center.
"Rosemary..." was all he could say, feeling a little weak from his first climax.
But he was still able to sit up to join Rosemary on her knees. His mind was swimming in a fog that, oddly, wasn't too dissimilar from when he had gotten inadvertently drunk on the Recipe-- but better.
No, this was different, too.
If Rosemary could make him feel like this, he wanted to return the favor.
"Let me love you," he requested as if he were a beggar asking for alms.
"Matthew, it'll take a while before you can--" she began to explain, sounding rather out of breath.
"Let me love you as you just loved me now," he clarified.
She inhaled sharply, but nodded eagerly. He helped her out of her step-in, then fell onto his back as she spread herself over him, revealing the red curls dusted over her entrance. For a moment, he stopped, taking in the sight before him.
Her porcelain skin that had been freckled by summers on the mountain. Her soft, petite but ample breasts where she would one day nurse their children. Her lean waistline.
For a moment, he silently thanked God that this gorgeous, intelligent woman wanted to be his wife with the same yearning he had that he would be her husband.
He lifted his head up. He remembered how she had begun, kissing around her opening, but occasionally moved up to suckle at the skin below her belly button. He heard another sharp inhale from her, and her hold on his shoulders grew tighter until he was certain that her nails would break his skin.
"Oh... Matthew... Matthew..."
He kissed the insides of her thighs, daring to even nibble a bit at the soft skin. She squirmed above him and he could feel the muscles of her stomach contracting against his forehead.
"Matthew, that... that feels wonderful..." she whispered. "Keep going... keep going..."
Somehow, those words and the sound of her repeating his name were just as arousing to him.
His tongue flicked at her opening a few times, eliciting staccato gasps from her. When he finally entered her, she almost went limp above him as she murmured his name.
"Matthew... oh, M... good boy... You're doing so well..."
He felt the same flood of pleasure he had felt when she had her mouth around him just from hearing her tell him that he was succeeding in his endeavor.
"Even before tonight... before we were courting... you were always exactly what I needed..."
He wanted to send her over the edge, just as she had sent him. But he was growing too impatient. His lips moved up, peppering kisses up her belly as he murmured his thoughts to her.
"I love you, Rosemary... more than you could ever know... only He can know how much I... how much I love you..."
She moaned from the feeling of his voice vibrating against her skin. "Keep talking, Matthew... please... keep talking..."
"I want to spend whatever time I have in my life with you," he continued, moving up to her breasts and nuzzling them, kissing them with reverence and grazing his tongue over her nipples. "I want to hold you in my arms every night in our bed... I want everyone to see you and know that you're mine..."
Her skin bloomed with warmth from the sudden possessiveness in his tone. He began to move back down to her stomach, gripping her hips with a strength that she hadn't known he had. And yet, it didn't scare her.
"I want to make love to you... every night if I can. I want a life with you... a family..."
He needed to feel her. Her skin, the weight of her body against his...
"I want to fill you up, Rosemary... I want you to have my babies..."
"Oh..." Rosemary's head and neck lolled back until she felt herself fall onto her back.
She had always wanted to be a mother. She had often imagined what it would feel like to carry a child of her own, one that she had conceived with someone she truly loved. But it had seemed that it would never be in the cards for her, and she had made her peace with that. She loved her nieces and nephews, and she loved her students as if they were her own. It wasn't the same, but she had accepted it and she had been grateful for it.
Now, hearing him tell her that he wanted her to carry his children... imagining a part of him growing inside of her...
"I want that, too, Matthew," she said. "I want to carry your babies..."
He pulled her into a rough kiss, his hand splayed over her bare stomach.
"You have no idea how easy it is," he said throughout a series of kisses. "To see you in the pews every Sunday... imagining the space of your lap taken up by your swollen belly..."
He bent down to plant a deep kiss onto the skin of her belly, slowly marking his way back up with little nibbles at her skin.
"I can see you already... with your belly all round and hard against my hand... full to bursting..."
He fell onto her, their limbs tangling with each other as they gifted each other with fevered kisses. He tugged at her hair as her fingernails dug into the skin of his back and raked down. At some point, he grazed his teeth against her shoulder.
"I-- inside..." Rosemary muttered after some time of this had passed.
"Hmm?" he hummed.
"Matthew, I want you... inside of me..." she begged. "Please..."
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Yes!" she cried out insistently.
He reluctantly lifted himself off of her, his eyes scanning over her body as his hands wandered between her thighs. She willingly spread her legs open, and his stomach dropped. His fear that he might hurt her returned with a burning intensity that made his belly churn as if he had eaten too much, even though it was completely empty. Slowly, he shifted his hips forward, the tip of him teasing her opening. He could hear her toes curling against the sheets of the bed.
He could already feel how slick she was, allowing the two of them to finally join. She felt warm and snug around him. They both moaned, but he couldn't tell from the look on her face if it was because she was in pain. He thought that he could catch a wince of discomfort.
"Rosemary...?"
"No," she answered pre-emptively. "It's... it's an adjustment... don't stop, please..."
Even though he could feel her wriggling under him as if she were uncomfortable, he made a first, gentle thrust into her.
"Oh...!" she cried out, her hands gripping onto the bedspread as if she were hanging from a cliff.
"Oh..." he echoed quietly.
Something in him possessed him to take hold of her arms and pin them above her. Something primal inside of him that he hadn't known was there.
He used the full weight of his body to fully pin her down into the mattress with enough strength that it would leave the imprint of her body. The feeling of her stuck underneath him, her surrounding him, it was strangely grounding. Everything else vanished from his sight and his memory.
Now, it was only the two of them. Husband and wife.
"Look at me, Rosemary... only me... nothing else..."
Their eyes-- her ocean blue and his the same as the tail of a flame-- locked. He leaned down to whisper something in her ear, continuing to push himself into her so that he could hear her wonderful noises.
"You are mine, Rosemary... mine... my Rosemary... and I'm your Matthew..."
"You are," she agreed as he buried his face into the crook of her neck. "And I am..."
They were both so delirious with delight that neither of them knew how long either of them lasted. But they both came at the same time, with Rosemary sharply arching her back and Matthew collapsing onto her body as he left her. They laid in silence for what must have been ten minutes or so, just so that they could both catch their breath. He turned over with a dazed smile to look adoringly at his wife, savoring how her scent-- lavender soap, old books, and chalkboard dust-- bloomed in the air and mingled with the aroma of his bayrum aftershave and clean pine soap. Something red against her skin snapped him out of his high.
It was a bow-shaped welt on the neck, where he had buried his face. He let out an exhale as if the wind had been knocked out of him.
"What?" Rosemary asked. "What is it?"
Matthew traced a circle around the mark he had left, the guilt festering inside of him as he looked over her body. There were more marks. The bites he had left on her breasts, the imprints of his fingernails on the skin of her hips, where he was certain bruises would form within a day's time.
"Oh, Rosemary..." he whispered. "I-- I am sorry that I was so careless. I-- I have behaved like a brute. I'm sorry..."
"No, Matthew," she cupped his face. "You didn't hurt me. I promise you that."
"Are-- are you sure?"
"Yes. I'm your wife, and I promise that if you ever did something during our lovemaking that caused me pain, I would let you know. But this..." she pressed her fingers into the red and purple mark on her neck. "I love this. That you could claim me, leave something that only the two of us could know about..."
He buried his face into the crook of her neck again, this time to hide that he was blushing again. He took the opportunity to kiss the love bite he had left, following the path of the marks he had left to pepper with his repentant kisses as well.
"Besides, I think I left enough marks of my own to make it even," she remarked with a laugh that was part amusement and part tickled from the feeling of his lips on her skin, indicating both where she had gripped his hips and where she had raked his back with her fingernails.
Matthew laughed as well, lifting a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow.
"If you wouldn't mind stopping for now," Rosemary suggested. "Why don't I help us clean up?"
A part of him did mind, but the feeling of the sweat coating his body was already making him feel unclean. "Okay.
He sat up so that Rosemary, savoring the heavy and rhythmic throb between her hips, could stand from the bed. She disappeared into the washroom, returning with a basin of warm water and a few washcloths.
"Lie on your back," she directed.
He complied. She dipped one of the washcloths into the basin, and began to carefully and slowly wipe the sweat from his face. Matthew gave a sigh of exhaustion and contentment. The water wasn't too warm. In fact, it felt cool against his skin. He smiled up at her. A stupid, dazed, but sincere smile that she mirrored, and he could tell that she felt the same way.
Oddly, this-- her tending to him with such devotion-- was just the same to him as making love to her. No, even above that, it felt like the highest form of love. Perhaps, this was how Boaz felt when Ruth had washed his feet, a sense of being utterly cherished.
Rosemary moved the cloth down to his arms and chest. Matthew's stomach then chose at that moment to rumble loudly. His face flushed completely red, and he wanted to sink into the pillows. Rosemary's eyes sparkled with amusement, and she had that look on her face that she had whenever she had to keep herself from laughing. He had seen it on her face whenever his stomach would growl during a sermon, and he'd look into the pews with the hope that everyone had ignored it. Or when the two of them would steal way into the woods for a moment's peace. He would see that look on her face, and it would tell him that she had definitely heard.
"Oh, Matthew, dear..." she said, her voice tinged with concern. "You're starving, aren't you?"
He could only nod in response, either because he was a little mortified or because he could feel a hunger pang tightening up in the pit of his gut. She laid her head on top of him, with an ear to his belly as it continued to audibly protest its emptiness.
"I think we still have some pieces of that applesauce cake that Olivia Walton made for us," she told him. "If you wouldn't mind sharing a piece or two..."
Matthew's stomach gave its loudest growl yet, one that he was certain she could feel against her skin. "I wouldn't mind at all. But let me get it for us."
When he stood, his legs were trembling slightly, but he couldn't tell if it was from hunger or how he had just exerted himself. No matter the answer, he was eager to return to the bed he would share with his new bride.
They hand-fed each other a piece of the cake each, the golden bands on their left ring fingers catching the lamplight. Even though they now each had a ring, she still wore the Bible ribbon he had given her. Though hardly an ideal dinner, he was grateful for the relief of a full belly.
"Oh, you have a few crumbs... here..." he brushed the crumbs from the corner of her mouth, eliciting a giggle from her that he couldn't help but echo.
When they finally settled down to sleep, Rosemary draped her entire body over him and buried her face into the crook of his neck. She wrapped her legs around his to pull him even closer into her embrace. He tucked one of his arms underneath her shoulder, his hand reaching up to toy with a lock of her hair, and draped the other over her waist. As they lied there together, with Rosemary preceding him in succumbing to their mutual drowsiness, Matthew's mind began to wander.
He thought about whether they would be able to make love in the sleeping car of the train without disturbing anyone. If so, the thought was strangely exhilarating. Maybe it was like their trysts in the woods, where it was the fear of getting caught that made it all the more appealing. He would certainly make love to her at the inn in Niagara Falls. Every night, if she would have him. The hand on her waist trailed over her stomach, and he shivered with excitement at the thought that they had conceived their first child tonight.
If not, he was certain that they would have numerous opportunities.
And so, the reverend followed his schoolteacher into the Land of Dreams, with the final thought that he couldn't wait to experience the glorious future they would share together.