adifferentlife | Christmas Eve (for Henri)

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."

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From:

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.

From:

jaimemieux

And just like that, Sybil sat nearly naked in his arms. Gone were corsets, and shifts, and underpinnings - Henri had gathered that much from seeing enough women walking down the street in much less than Sybil ever wore - and all it took to bring them skin to skin was pushing off her dress. He had expected as much, after a fashion, but the experience of it still left him blushing. He swallowed as he gazed at her (and he couldn’t do anything but gaze at her for a moment or two, much to his embarrassment), sensing all at once the speed with which the evening was moving, knocked off-course by the suddenness of it all.

But he took a breath, and ran his fingers over the dip of her collarbone, and smiled at her. “Ma belle,” he whispered, dropping a kiss to the base of her neck where it met her shoulder.

From:

adifferentlife

His pause is reassuring to Sybil. Reassuring that he seems at least in part nervous, just as she is, and that this is all as much of a wonder to him, though perhaps for different reasons. Sybil has no doubt he's more experience in this realm - men always seem to - but when he looks at her as he does she doesn't care one bit.

She does wonder if it will be an evening filled with her gasping breath, unable to stop herself at his kiss. Sybil pulls to him, his skin warm and electric where it touches, her hands moving slowly up his back.

From:

jaimemieux

Henri exhaled against her skin, pressing another kiss to her shoulder, and one to her collarbone, murmuring softly in French. When he lifted his gaze to meet hers, his smile was warm and breathless, and he kissed her with real passion as his hands ran carefully up her body.

From:

adifferentlife

Her fingers curl in his hair when he kisses her again. Sybil matches his passion, feeling electric, alive. There's no shame in this, she thinks, in loving someone so very much as to wish to know all of them. How can there be?

From:

jaimemieux

“Le bon Dieu, Sybil…” Henri murmured breathlessly against her lips. He wanted her, wanted everything she would give - and more, frankly, though he was far too careful to even ask. The feeling of her fingers in his hair made him shudder, but when he ran his hand over her breast, he still met he gaze with a questioning look.

From:

adifferentlife

Her nod is slow, but it comes after a moment of consideration and steadying her breathing. Her kiss needs no consideration, and she pulls them both til they're laying on the bed instead of sitting perched on its edge. Still half dressed, it's another decision made, another realisation that she wants this, him, and more.

From:

jaimemieux

Lying next to her, nose to nose, and with his hands still on her body, Henri only gazed at her for moment, a smile playing at his lips. “You are a wonder,” he murmured, not caring that he had already said as much that night. There was a good chance he would say it again before the night was through.

From:

adifferentlife

"As are you." He's beautiful and handsome, his chest and arms strong and his touch gentle. Sybil curls a finger against his cheek before carefully removing his glasses. She has to stretch to set them atop the bedside table, turning back to look into his eyes, clear and pale.

From:

jaimemieux

Henri chuckled softly as she pulled his spectacles off, his smile still playful when she returned to his arms. Brushing her hair back from her face, he kissed her - first gently, but soon with renewed passion, pulling her close once again.

From:

adifferentlife

Each time they shift it changes things, and lying in his arms, her body curled to his has only made their kisses more intense. She explores his skin, a hand working her way slowly down his chest, trembling when it touches his stomach and moves across to his hip.

From:

jaimemieux

Henri exhaled softly through his teeth, eyes slipping shut. “Sybil…” He breathed her name as a shiver passed through him. As much as he wanted her, he hesitated now, less certain as they crept close to a point of no return. He swallowed. “Sybil, I don’t want you to regret…"

From:

adifferentlife

Yet as his certainty faded her own grew, it seemed. His sense of honour was only one of the things that attracted her to him, and having him say something now was sweet and wonderful. He, she thinks, is right. Being carried away by passion is a dangerous thing, and she's already said that she wasn't yet ready to have sex with him, and as much as she wishes to continue she knows that truth still holds. She kisses his cheek, and then his lips, both light and brief as she tries to find words.

"You are the most handsome and noble man I have known," she says with no prevarication and great affection. "Still, you will stay? I should like to fall asleep with you."

From:

jaimemieux

Henri laughed softly, ducking his head. “I have difficulty believing that, though I suppose I have no choice.” He had made the right decision, then, stopping matters where they were. Her reaction solidified that. Still, he could not help but wish that were not the case.

Honor could be a terribly frustrating thing, from time to time.

He kissed her forehead. “I would like nothing better than to stay, if you will have me."

From:

adifferentlife

"I would have you always, if you were willing," she says, her heart racing at what's both a serious and a provocative admission. Sybil would she realises, she would have him by her side and with her whenever she might, for as long as thing place would allow them.

Edited Date: 2014-01-05 06:27 am (UTC)

From:

jaimemieux

Henri’s smile was still breathless. “Dieu, ma chere.” He exhaled and blinked a few times. For a moment, he considered taking back his earlier hesitation. He could tell her just how much he wanted her, and ask if he might take her at her word - and she would say yes, he was almost sure of it.

But it was that very certainty that convinced him to keep his thoughts to himself. Just being here with him, Sybil had tossed away the conventions of her world, and though she had done so freely and happily, he knew that regret could creep up easily on a person. What was easy to ignore in a moment of passion could haunt someone come morning.

Instead, he cupped her cheek and kissed her softly. The pendant he had given her rested between her breasts, and seemed to give out a warm glow of its own. Henri was sure he had never seen anything so beautiful. “Happy Christmas,” he whispered.

From:

adifferentlife

"Happy Christmas, my darling," she whispers back, her smile warm and filled with love. She knows that she will have to move, to slip on a chemise and likely offer him her scrubs so he has something to sleep in that isn't his trousers. But for now she's content to lay in his arms a while longer, marveling in what they have, and how happy she is.