Sybil Crawley

Sybil arches against the touch of his hand, drawing in a breath with her mouth still next to his ear. Her shoulder lifts, helping the dress move downward, shivering though the apartment is warm. Her underthings are far less than she would have ever worn at Downton - corsets long since disposed of - but still not the racy things she's seen. Simple lace, a pale pink that stands out against her paler skin. She pulls back to meet his eyes again, her smile shy and her hand at his waist. Asking, albeit silently, if it is alright.