Christmas Eve (for Henri)

[adifferentlife]

For a short while Sybil had wondered if she'd even be able to leave her apartment on the Christmas Eve, the snow coming in droves the day before. But it had tapered off through the night, and on the 24th the roads and footpaths were all clear of it. She'd bundled up to meet Henri at the Soup Kitchen, their time there passing quickly. A few hours of ladeling soup, serving up rolls, and handing over baskets of canned goods and gifts for the children, and she honestly felt as if she'd done something to help those who needed it. It wasn't enough, the simple giving of food only a bandage on the wound. But it was what they could manage today, though she finds herself more determined to contribute more to Darrow in the coming year.

It's perhaps an appropriate mood for going to mass. She's never been to a Catholic Church before, and it seems rather disappointing in the end. In English just as any service she was used to, but with a dreadful number of candles it seems to her. Overall she finds lttle different, refusing communion as the entire idea of transubstantiation seems suspect, but enjoyable nontheless. It's nicer to have Henri to share it with, even if he seems somber at some points of the night.

When they leave it's nearly one in the morning, truly Christmas day. It's snowing again and as she slips her arm through his offered one, Sybil looks up to him contentedly. "Happy Christmas."

Comments

[adifferentlife]

That he seems concerned they not do anything she regret only makes her more sure. He's unlike anyone she's known before, and it's that thought that makes her nod, less nervous now though her stomach is still all aflutter. "I would."

[jaimemieux]

“Very well, then.” His stomach was twisted in knots, but Henri was smiling. “I-“ he laughed a little, "I should inform Prouvaire that likely I will not be returning tonight. A moment?” Still flushed, he pulled away and scrambled off the sofa to fetch his phone.

[adifferentlife]

"Of course," she says, grateful for the moment to herself to consider what she's really asked of him. Sybil stands, smoothing her skirts out of habit, the familiar movement a comfort. Is she ready for this? A part of her is still unsure, but that is now the smaller part. Sybil waits for him to finish on the phone before holding a hand back out to him. She wishes to kiss him again, to have him close to her.

[jaimemieux]

Perhaps it was only his impatience, but typing the brief message on the phone’s tiny keyboard seemed to take an age. With Sybil. Don’t expect me back tonight. He huffed a silent laugh and shook his head, thankful that Jehan was the least likely of his friends to tease him mercilessly for this.

Practicalities done with, Henri turned back to Sybil and took both her hands, pulling her towards him. “Have I mentioned recently how beautiful you are?"

[adifferentlife]

"Perhaps, but I don't mind hearing it again," she says playfully, the dance of her stomach soothed by her hands in his. Sybil closes the distance between them, pressing her lips gently to his.

[jaimemieux]

“Good. Because I intend to say it many more times.” By the end his words were barely a whisper, and as they kissed, he brought a hand to the small of her back and pulled her into the embrace.

[adifferentlife]

Her hand slips to the back of his neck, her fingers light against the hair at the nape. She's no words to whisper in response, sure that they're kiss is enough to let him know how pleased she is. Her kiss, and the tentative step toward her bedroom, almost as if she were the one leading a dance.

[jaimemieux]

It wasn’t long before Henri was breathless and flushed all over again, heart beating hard as he disappeared into the kiss. He let her lead, glad to have her set what limits she wished - and more than that, a bit thrilled by her boldness. His hand ran up her back, examining the curve of her body with a light touch.

[adifferentlife]

She's hardly a pinnacle of calmness herself, her breath catching as they step over the threshold of her bedroom. It's the only room in her apartment that he's never been in, and she knows should she go through with this she'll never be able to go back.

Sybil breaks the kiss again, her hands slipping to the front of his chest. She's watching them slip over his shirt and what lies beneath. His heart is racing and she smiles, knowing hers is as well. It's reassuring, and though her fingers tremble they're entirely sure as they undo a button.

[jaimemieux]

Henri was well aware of the line being crossed here, the boundary shifting as they stepped together into her bedroom. Though still half-afraid he would take some misstep, his fear was swiftly being buried under desire and a deeply-felt trust that Sybil knew what she wanted. he shivered as her hands ran over him, pressing his lips to her temple, her jaw.

[adifferentlife]

Each kiss sent a flush of warmth through her, more than she's imagined the times that she's dared to think of such things. His shirt parts beneath her hands and she touches his chest, her hands flat as they move over skin and traces of hair. That's another thrill inside of her, her lips parted in a silent 'oh'.

[jaimemieux]

Henri chuckled, smiling softly down at her, his expression warm, and a little sheepish, and still a bit awed. “You are a wonder,” he told her with amused fondness, and captured her mouth for another kiss.

Though he dared not remove her clothing, not yet, his own hands on her body became more purposeful, more sure. One hand he pressed flat to her back with gentle pressure, while the other roamed absently over her side, her waist, her hip.

[adifferentlife]

"I should say that about you," she mumbles when she can. The kiss, the movements of his hands, they cause her own hands to tense against his skin. She's not sure how much further this can go tonight, but Sybil knows that she's not yet ready to stop,

She lets one of her hands cover his, moving it purposely up her side, to the exposed akin above her chest. Her cheeks burn from it, but she wants to know how it feels to have his skin against hers.

[jaimemieux]

Pulling back enough to meet her gaze with a smile, Henri let his hand play over her collarbone and what was exposed of her shoulder. If his heart was beating fast, he knew hers must be going at tenfold speed, and he forced himself to take a steadying breath - as subtly as he could manage. Steady on. “All right?” he asked her softly, searching her gaze.

[adifferentlife]

"I think so. If this feeling in my stomach isn't that I'm going to die, I think that I am." She still makes a light joke, perhaps more a sign that things are well than any words Sybil can come up with. It's her who kisses him now, softly before she takes the step to perch on the very edge of the bed. Sybil looks up to him, her hand outstretched, very aware of what she's promising with that simple gesture.

[jaimemieux]

Henri chuckled softly. “Ah, no, I believe that is entirely normal. I certainly hope so, at least.” That single look from where her perched at the edge of the bed was enough to make his breath catch in his throat, and he had to swallow hard as he closed the distance between them with a step. Cupping her cheek, he leaned down to bestow a lingering kiss, and then sat down beside her.

“You know I do not expect- What I mean to say is-“ He took a breath, and smiled, and brushed his thumb lightly against her lip. “Whatever you want, Sybil. Truly."

[adifferentlife]

"Henri," she says as she leans into his touch. What does she want? Sybil is grateful for the pause, for the chance to think a bit more clearly for the moment.

"I want you here. I don't wish to stop. But I don't think we should-" her cheeks are flushed pink from the beating of her heart, as well as from what she's about to say to him. "I shouldn't think we should go too far."

[jaimemieux]

“Of course.” If the response disappointed Henri at all, he was careful to hide the fact. He cupped her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “And if I do anything- if you want to stop, you only have to say."

[adifferentlife]

Her life of privilege perhaps, or just the way that Sybil is, she couldn't imagine it being any other way. It is still reassuring to hear him say so, smiling at him. But she doesn't wish to stop now, drawing her hands back to the edges of his shirt, parted as it is.

"I would like you to kiss me," she says with flushing determination, "and perhaps to take this off?"

[jaimemieux]

Henri grinned. “And how can I refuse that?” He kissed her, this one brief and playful, but he fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, a wave of nerves suddenly hitting him. With another steadying breath he shrugged out of it, his smile a bit sheepish as he shifted closer to her.

[adifferentlife]

Her breath is steadying as well as she takes in what she sees before her. It's different then her work as a nurse, or the men she's seen at the beach here. Sybil's movements are slow but sure as she splays the fingers of one hand against his chest.

"I think that you shouldn't," she says softly, her other hand reaching behind to tug at her zipper, loosening the top of her dress.

[jaimemieux]

“Good.” He kissed her, nipping at her lower lip, and brushed his hand over hers at the back of her dress. “May I?"

[adifferentlife]

Sybil nods in response, letting her hand come away to instead cup his cheek. She feels bold, kissing the corner of his mouth, his cheek and his ear, nipping at the lobe as he did her lip.

[jaimemieux]

Henri made a soft sound of appreciation at the feel of Sybil’s mouth on his skin. He unzipped her dress slowly, and once down, ran his hand on her newly exposed back, nudging the dress off one shoulder. His movements were still careful, even tentative, ready to halt at the first sign of Sybil’s discomfort.

[adifferentlife]

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.