[ That cross little pout of hers has his smile widening, the petty little part of him that mostly rears its head when he's around Gwen feeling quite proud of itself, and he doesn't stop himself from indulging in the urge to dart in to buss a little peck of a kiss to her lips.
Her hand is soft in his, pleasantly cool, and he gives her hand a little squeeze as they walk back towards their rooms. ]
If you give it enough time, Predator will be back in her moorings soon, and Gwen can accompany you. I'd say you can't get into too much trouble with her keeping you company, but actually, you'd get into quite a lot more trouble with Gwen at your side.
[ Every time he gives her a kiss, she brightens with utter happiness. She's especially vibrant when he does so outside the privacy of their rooms where such affection would be more limited amongst others. It feels like a stolen treat that they're sharing together. Her hand holds his, but she wraps herself around his arm to keep him close. Their rooms are kept in a more private wing which has been particularly helpful given their raucous nights. ]
I look forward to it. Perhaps a little bit of trouble will be good for me. [ She says it so sweetly with the most innocent of looks on her face. She's always been dutiful and obedient. Eloise has always been the most belligerent amongst the Bridgertons. Francesca thinks it would be good to get out of her comfort zone. See what more is out there outside of music and the ton. ]
[ Francesca isn't the only one who grew up around an abundance of love in the home. While Benedict is perfectly restrained in public, his childhood was a happy one and he's much looser in the privacy of his own home.
The thought of letting Gwen loose on his bride makes him nervous, as it rightly should. Gwen is a force to be reckoned with, and he adores every diminutive inch of her even though she drives him 'round the bend and straight back again. He hopes that she will approve of his match, even though he had very little to actually do with it.
What he knows, not hopes, is that she will disapprove that he did not fight it. Her mother expressly forbid her from spending as much time with him as she did, and she immediately attached herself to his side. Her mother told her in no uncertain terms was she going to join the Guard, and she shattered two marble busts and reduced a priceless mahogany door to matchsticks in the resulting row, then marched her way down to the recruiting office and signed herself up regardless. Her mother told her she had to come back to high society life after her first year and disastrous first mission and Gwen...
Gwen had become functionally one step up from a pirate. That she is the executive officer on the Spirearch's personal errand-ship means very little to Lady Lancaster.
If she had told Gwen she had to marry someone for the good of her House and her Spire, he has a feeling Gwen would have figured out how to grow wings and taken flight without a ship to aid her. That or she would have burned the vattery down. She won't understand why he agreed. He's not really sure if he could even explain it to her, even if he tried.
He rubs his thumb over Francesca's knuckles. ] Just a little bit, please. I'm too young for gray hairs.
I think you'd look rather distinguish with some silver.
[ He's already a strikingly handsome man with an elegantly aristocratic air about him. It's hard to imagine them growing old when they're in the peak of their youth. His job is dangerous, so there's truly no guarantee he'll make it to old age. She'll pray to all the gods out there to ensure he does that. She doesn't relish the idea of being a widow especially not when her husband is such lovely company.
They reach the double doors to their rooms. She allows him to open it for her to usher her in. The crystals are low, so it's slightly cooler than they usually keep it.
She passes by her vanity mirror and spots the smear of oil along her cheek. Her nose crinkles and she turns back to him. ]
[ He tosses his head, playacting like his hair is longer than it is.
In truth, they might never find out. She's right that his work is dangerous, perhaps more so than she even knows, and many women are made widows by war. Still. Benedict expects to live a long and full life, maintaining his physical capability well beyond the age when most humans begin to lose them. If all goes well, Francesca will get to see her husband dawdle not just grandchildren, but perhaps even great-grandchildren on his knee.
Assuming their lives go that way.
When they enter their rooms, Benedict allows her hand to slip from his, so that she can move to her armoire as she pleases.
Having shifted to his own wardrobe, her question doesn't get answered immediately, not until he's pulled his shirt off over his head and used it to wipe ineffectually at whatever oil still lingers on his hands. He really will need a proper wash. Glancing at her over his shoulder, he smirks. ] Not the whole time.
[ She wouldn't say she's messy. No, messy is reserved for when her husband gets his hands on her in the evening after supper and wrinkles her dress from rucking them up her thighs and running his fingers wild through her hair. She's mostly just dirty, but most of it is simply on her dress. The rest of it is in her arms and hands as well as that streak along her cheek.
His cheekiness nearly ends him a retort, but it dies on her tongue when she turns and finds him shirtless. She's seen him like this quite a few times now, and yet, she's still enamored by the sight of him.
There's a rush of arousal and pheromones radiation off of her. She sniffs haughtily though it's not quite effective on her sweet demeanor. ]
Do I amuse you, husband?
[ She reaches behind her to untie the ribbon that ties her day dress back in a pretty bow in the back. She can get out of day dresses easier than her nicer gowns, but it means dirtying her hems with oily hands when she grabs them to tug it up and off of her.
She thinks she'll be able to do it elegantly. One graceful movement. She's done it a few times before. Francesca soon finds herself a bit tangled up and stuck in getting her dress off. She looks ridiculous with her corset and silk smalls exposed along with her stockings and slippers. The dress covers her arms and her, stuck at her shoulders.
Oh, yes. She's providing plenty of amusement for him. ]
[ Any sharpness in Francesca's tone is immediately undercut by the fact that he can smell her when she turns to look at him.
It's funny. Benedict is not entirely unused to being desired, although he has always scrupulously avoided looking at that fact head-on. It had always felt inappropriate, in a way, not just because it was something he wasn't supposed to know, but because he knew that the women who might have been desiring him knew nothing about him and that made it feel...disingenuous.
She starts to wriggle out of her dress but then gets stuck, and Benedict seizes the opportunity to him without any hint of guilt.
The room isn't cavernous, but it is still comfortably large; still, Benedict's long legs eat up the distance in a blink, so he can step up behind her and wrap his arms around her, halting her progress with her dress. ]
Amuse is not the word I'd choose... [ He's gotten quite used to seeing Francesca in various states of undress, but just because it's a familiar sight doesn't mean it doesn't kindle his blood regardless, and he allows himself to run appreciative hands down her body. ] Do you need assistance, wife?
[ She's slowly growing used to the way Benedict moves so silently. She doesn't jump when she feels him press against her. There's just a little shiver before she rests back against him. His hands roams her body now that the dress isn't providing any sort of coverage though she is ridiculously trapped in it.
From the sound of his voice, her husband isn't turned off by that fact. ]
Then what word would you choose? [ Her voice is a little muffled from the inside of her dress. The fabric moving against her head has mussed her hair and freed some strands from the pins that keep them in place. She does a little wiggle against him. ] Please? Lest I be trapped like this forever.
[ Francesca relaxes back against him, and he finds himself appreciating that even more than the sudden bloom of interest he smelled from hear mere moments before. It's still there, though, he can tell, and his own body warms in response, enough so that he ducks his head down to press a kiss to a sliver of skin at her shoulder that is still exposed despite how her dress has tangled her in a cocoon. ]
Arouse, perhaps.
[ He chuckles, amused by her embarrassing tribulation, and gives her a little squeeze as he straightens and sets aside his own desires to see to what, exactly, his wife has gotten herself tangled in. ] Hold still, let me see what's got you caught.
[ He can't see it, but there's color high in her cheeks. The way he says it has that bit of that low rumble to it that she enjoys so much. His beard brushes along her skin before she feels the press of his lips. He's distracting her from undressing and getting herself cleaned up because her thoughts are traveling a different path.
Thankfully, Benedict steers them back to her current predicament. An earring had caught on the dress which causes a painful tug whenever she tries to pull it off. ]
My earring, I think. [ She moves her head experimentally and feels the painful pull at her lobe. ]
[ Her pretty dress had indeed gotten tangled in one of her earrings, the overlay snagging the little prongs in such a way that all her tugging was just getting it more and more ensnared. Of course, when she went the other way, the earring simply rotated in its place, ensuring there was no way for her to get out of this snare without help.
Luckily, she has a husband now for such things.
His keen eyesight is helpful in this arena, as well as his general dexterity, though he feels a bit like an oversized oaf while he's trying to winkle the delicate fabric away from the slightly less delicate metal of her jewelry. ] Just a moment. I've almost got it.
[ Sure enough, a minute or two later, he manages to get the two items disentangled, and then he's able to finish drawing Francesca's dress up over her head, leaving her standing before him in her underthings, pleasantly rumpled.
His hindbrain associates that sight with only one thing, so he really can't be blamed for the look on his face when she finally turns to see him. ]
[ She patiently stays perfectly still. Francesca lets him do what needs to be done. Despite the size of his large hand, she can feel how careful he is with such delicate things. He's mindful not to accidentally ruin anything. He has so much strength in his body. She's only seen it in the way he hefts his weapons, but she knows that Warriorborn are much stronger than the average man.
He's learned how to contain that strength and how to carefully dole it out. He's such a man of discipline and poise that it's almost intimidating. Perhaps to others. Maybe a little for Francesca, mostly because she wants to impress the same sort of awe and admiration in him for her.
She's finally free of her dirty dress. She sighs in relief, pushing her hair out of her face. It causes more smears along her face. She desperately needs a bath. She turns to thank him with a beam. ]
Thank you, husband. You're rescued the damsel. [ She's noticed the look in his eyes. She smirks back at him and places a hand on her hip, cocking it slightly to the side. ] Can I help you with something in return?
[ He narrows his eyes at her, well aware of what she's doing, just as he's well aware that it's working. ]
You little minx. [ He darts forward to scoop her up in his arms, lifting her as if she weighed little more than a pillow and holding her up against his bare chest, one arm about her waist and the other tucked beneath her legs. ] Teasing me so.
[ It's hardly any teasing at all, but it's almost more effective that way. Francesca is learning herself (and him, as well), but she hasn't yet discovered the more polished and practiced things to say or the ways to hold herself that other women who are more experienced in carnality already know. ]
[ She is even if she is trying to deny it. He scoops her up with ease. She feels weightless in his arms. Her arms wrap around his neck to keep him close though she can tell from his hold that he has no intention of letting her go. The cooled sweat on body rubs on her where their skin touch. More and more, their scents mingle together to create something unique. ]
I thought I was simply trying to be a good little wife and return the favor of assistance.
[ Though he seems to have everything in hand. He's shirtless already. He'll still need his trousers and smalls off for a bath. ]
[ He's smiling at her as he starts towards the other end of the room where there is a door that leads through the thick spirestone wall into an adjoining bathing room. Sorellin House was wealthy enough to have the infrastructure already in place, but when his mother became Lady Sorellin, she insisted on new pipes being installed all over the house, ones that brought water straight up to the bath rooms. When Benedict was about thirteen, they upgraded them again to include boilers that heated the water even before it came out of the taps, which made bathing a much more pleasant experience for the family, and also for the staff who no longer had to deal with fetching and carrying heated water.
Benedict is as fastidious about his cleanliness as he is with most everything else, and the bath room adjoining his bedroom is well stocked; even more so now that his wife has joined him. Benedict's products are all carefully unscented, strong enough to handle the sweat and grime of his profession but unobtrusive for his nose. He hasn't really investigated all the various potions and perfumes that his wife's toilette entails, mostly because the array truly mystifies him, but also because it's really none of his business.
He sets her down once he's illuminated the lumin lamps, tipping her onto her feet in front of the mirror. ]
I think I have far fewer things to remove than you. But I would welcome your help regardless.
[ Her expression is utterly serene sweetness. He carries her to their attached bathing room. Bridgerton House has a similar structure with the pipes though they haven't upgraded it to have immediate hot water. Admittedly, Francesca is becoming a little spoiled with the instant hot water that comes from pipes. It's utterly luxurious, and it'll be difficult for her to go back.
Their bathing room, much like the rest of their rooms, has both their things neatly arranged. She's set down so gently by her husband before the large mirror. She sees fully what a mess she is, but she realizes something else. She looks at Benedict in the mirror. ]
You look nowhere near as dirty as me! [ She's chagrined at that fact. He's even trained, yet most of the dirt is the oil on his hands, and even then he's wiped a good amount off. Well, bother that. She'll just have to help him strip down, and it all won't matter anymore. ] Where shall I start then?
[ Her indignation has him laughing, his feline eyes squinting in amusement as he takes her in. It's true, she's got quite a bit more grease and dirt on her than he does. ]
Well, I've got quite a bit more experience doing this tidily than you do...
[ Having her ask where she should start has him faltering, if only because he's still not quite discovered how to speak about these things with any kind of aplomb, so instead he just reaches for her hands and brings them to his waist, so she can unfasten the buttons of his trousers and he can reach for the ties of her stays. ]
[ Which means assisting him more. She's more than happy to do so. It means she'll better learn the tools he uses that helps him survive when he must leave her. She's grateful for their honeymoon period because without, she's certain he'd be sent off on one mission or another. She wants to learn as much as she can about him and his life to be a good partner to him.
She smiles when he guides her hands to his trousers. She begins unfastening the buttons until the fabric begins to open up and makes it easier to push down his hips. Her gaze lifts to meet his as he steadily works on her stays. With each one undone, she can breathe a bit easier. Fuller breaths. A good thing too because looking at Benedict's body makes her breath stutter. He truly is a handsome man, and he's all hers. ]
You are so... [ She wishes she could find a word to encapsulate what she thinks of him. ] breathtaking.
[ Francesca's underthings are far more involved than Benedict's are, especially since he was dressed down for training and not for every day or even in his uniform, both of which are far more involved than his training clothes. Naturally, Benedict also makes a point to train both in his regular clothes as well as his Guard uniform, because being prepared is important, and an attacking force would not give him time to run home and change into comfortable clothes before engaging him in any kind of combat.
He's gotten rather adept at unlacing her after some practice, so it doesn't take long until her stays are loosened enough that he can peel them off her and set them aside.
Her compliment has him glancing away, not quite coloring under her praise but equally not just accepting it at face value. He's working at automatically not batting aside praise, though, especially praise from his wife. ] ...Thank you.
[ She slides his trousers and his smalls down until he's able to step out of them. Francesca still turns pink when she looks at his manhood, but she's getting better at least looking. Truly, she's best at touching though she doesn't touch him there right away. She brushes her fingers along his abdomen and presses her lips to the scars she can see. It's becoming a habit of hers to do so when they're both nude and have the opportunity. ]
You're welcome.
[ She's noticed the way he struggled to take praise. She knows the Warriorborn are often looked down upon, some view them as little more than beasts. Francesca has always been curious about them, but never had she considered them anything less than. If anything, they're superior given their sharpened senses and strength, but that's an opinion that the rest of society would heartily disagree with.
She chooses to be bold and pushes off her own smalls. It joins the pool of clothes at their feet. She stands there before, more and more confident about her naked body each day, and cups his face for a lingering kiss. It's a kiss that tells him all about her fondness and growing affection for him.
It's not love, not quite yet perhaps, but she's certainly getting there. ]
[ If she complimented his physical abilities like his strength or his speed, he'd have an easier time accepting them. Benedict isn't blind, or needlessly humble. He's aware that his blood affords him an advantage in combat, and that he is considered wildly useful in the Guard because of it.
Sometimes he wishes he had been born to a poorer House, or perhaps on a lower habble entirely, so that he would have fewer expectations placed on him. He'd never want to go work on the surface, he's not suicidal, but he would probably live a much more comfortable life as a Marine without the added burden of family duty and expectation weighing him down.
He loves his parents, and his aunts and uncles, and especially his cousins, but it is difficult being born different into a family that expects so much of him.
Francesca doesn't seem to mind, her cool — and slightly smudged — hands settling on his hips as she steps in closer to press her lip to the scars that dot his chest and arms. There aren't that many; Benedict is passing good at what he does, though even the best swordsman gets nicked sometimes. She quickly shifts to kissing his lips instead, and this is something Benedict has gotten quite comfortable with, so he's quick to reciprocate, his hands sliding around her naked waist to slide up the smooth plane of her back.
He doesn't even mind having to bend to kiss her, though after a minute or so he pulls away enough so that he can murmur, ] This is quite a novel way to bathe, my sweet.
I must admit, you've done a fine job distracting me.
[ Bathing is the last thing on her mind now that they're bare to one another. They share sweet kisses in the bathing room without any sort of care or rush. It's slipped her mind entirely that they're both in need of a good wash. It's a fine idea. Usually, once they start kissing like things, things have a tendency to turn heated, and they end up a remarkable mess.
It's not occurred to Francesca that they can continue such things while they bathe although it would also be incredibly efficient. She brushes her nose against his, nearly standing on tiptoes to reach him when he pulls back. Sometimes she worries he'll give himself back pain with all the bending he must do to kiss her. ]
You're right of course, darling. We are meant to bathe.
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Date: 2026-02-19 10:36 pm (UTC)Her hand is soft in his, pleasantly cool, and he gives her hand a little squeeze as they walk back towards their rooms. ]
If you give it enough time, Predator will be back in her moorings soon, and Gwen can accompany you. I'd say you can't get into too much trouble with her keeping you company, but actually, you'd get into quite a lot more trouble with Gwen at your side.
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Date: 2026-02-20 12:18 am (UTC)I look forward to it. Perhaps a little bit of trouble will be good for me. [ She says it so sweetly with the most innocent of looks on her face. She's always been dutiful and obedient. Eloise has always been the most belligerent amongst the Bridgertons. Francesca thinks it would be good to get out of her comfort zone. See what more is out there outside of music and the ton. ]
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Date: 2026-02-20 12:33 am (UTC)The thought of letting Gwen loose on his bride makes him nervous, as it rightly should. Gwen is a force to be reckoned with, and he adores every diminutive inch of her even though she drives him 'round the bend and straight back again. He hopes that she will approve of his match, even though he had very little to actually do with it.
What he knows, not hopes, is that she will disapprove that he did not fight it. Her mother expressly forbid her from spending as much time with him as she did, and she immediately attached herself to his side. Her mother told her in no uncertain terms was she going to join the Guard, and she shattered two marble busts and reduced a priceless mahogany door to matchsticks in the resulting row, then marched her way down to the recruiting office and signed herself up regardless. Her mother told her she had to come back to high society life after her first year and disastrous first mission and Gwen...
Gwen had become functionally one step up from a pirate. That she is the executive officer on the Spirearch's personal errand-ship means very little to Lady Lancaster.
If she had told Gwen she had to marry someone for the good of her House and her Spire, he has a feeling Gwen would have figured out how to grow wings and taken flight without a ship to aid her. That or she would have burned the vattery down. She won't understand why he agreed. He's not really sure if he could even explain it to her, even if he tried.
He rubs his thumb over Francesca's knuckles. ] Just a little bit, please. I'm too young for gray hairs.
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Date: 2026-02-20 02:44 pm (UTC)[ He's already a strikingly handsome man with an elegantly aristocratic air about him. It's hard to imagine them growing old when they're in the peak of their youth. His job is dangerous, so there's truly no guarantee he'll make it to old age. She'll pray to all the gods out there to ensure he does that. She doesn't relish the idea of being a widow especially not when her husband is such lovely company.
They reach the double doors to their rooms. She allows him to open it for her to usher her in. The crystals are low, so it's slightly cooler than they usually keep it.
She passes by her vanity mirror and spots the smear of oil along her cheek. Her nose crinkles and she turns back to him. ]
Has this been on my face the whole time?
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Date: 2026-02-20 03:57 pm (UTC)[ He tosses his head, playacting like his hair is longer than it is.
In truth, they might never find out. She's right that his work is dangerous, perhaps more so than she even knows, and many women are made widows by war. Still. Benedict expects to live a long and full life, maintaining his physical capability well beyond the age when most humans begin to lose them. If all goes well, Francesca will get to see her husband dawdle not just grandchildren, but perhaps even great-grandchildren on his knee.
Assuming their lives go that way.
When they enter their rooms, Benedict allows her hand to slip from his, so that she can move to her armoire as she pleases.
Having shifted to his own wardrobe, her question doesn't get answered immediately, not until he's pulled his shirt off over his head and used it to wipe ineffectually at whatever oil still lingers on his hands. He really will need a proper wash. Glancing at her over his shoulder, he smirks. ] Not the whole time.
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Date: 2026-02-20 04:30 pm (UTC)His cheekiness nearly ends him a retort, but it dies on her tongue when she turns and finds him shirtless. She's seen him like this quite a few times now, and yet, she's still enamored by the sight of him.
There's a rush of arousal and pheromones radiation off of her. She sniffs haughtily though it's not quite effective on her sweet demeanor. ]
Do I amuse you, husband?
[ She reaches behind her to untie the ribbon that ties her day dress back in a pretty bow in the back. She can get out of day dresses easier than her nicer gowns, but it means dirtying her hems with oily hands when she grabs them to tug it up and off of her.
She thinks she'll be able to do it elegantly. One graceful movement. She's done it a few times before. Francesca soon finds herself a bit tangled up and stuck in getting her dress off. She looks ridiculous with her corset and silk smalls exposed along with her stockings and slippers. The dress covers her arms and her, stuck at her shoulders.
Oh, yes. She's providing plenty of amusement for him. ]
no subject
Date: 2026-02-20 05:17 pm (UTC)It's funny. Benedict is not entirely unused to being desired, although he has always scrupulously avoided looking at that fact head-on. It had always felt inappropriate, in a way, not just because it was something he wasn't supposed to know, but because he knew that the women who might have been desiring him knew nothing about him and that made it feel...disingenuous.
She starts to wriggle out of her dress but then gets stuck, and Benedict seizes the opportunity to him without any hint of guilt.
The room isn't cavernous, but it is still comfortably large; still, Benedict's long legs eat up the distance in a blink, so he can step up behind her and wrap his arms around her, halting her progress with her dress. ]
Amuse is not the word I'd choose... [ He's gotten quite used to seeing Francesca in various states of undress, but just because it's a familiar sight doesn't mean it doesn't kindle his blood regardless, and he allows himself to run appreciative hands down her body. ] Do you need assistance, wife?
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Date: 2026-02-20 05:24 pm (UTC)From the sound of his voice, her husband isn't turned off by that fact. ]
Then what word would you choose? [ Her voice is a little muffled from the inside of her dress. The fabric moving against her head has mussed her hair and freed some strands from the pins that keep them in place. She does a little wiggle against him. ] Please? Lest I be trapped like this forever.
no subject
Date: 2026-02-20 05:44 pm (UTC)Arouse, perhaps.
[ He chuckles, amused by her embarrassing tribulation, and gives her a little squeeze as he straightens and sets aside his own desires to see to what, exactly, his wife has gotten herself tangled in. ] Hold still, let me see what's got you caught.
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Date: 2026-02-20 05:53 pm (UTC)Thankfully, Benedict steers them back to her current predicament. An earring had caught on the dress which causes a painful tug whenever she tries to pull it off. ]
My earring, I think. [ She moves her head experimentally and feels the painful pull at her lobe. ]
no subject
Date: 2026-02-20 06:32 pm (UTC)[ Her pretty dress had indeed gotten tangled in one of her earrings, the overlay snagging the little prongs in such a way that all her tugging was just getting it more and more ensnared. Of course, when she went the other way, the earring simply rotated in its place, ensuring there was no way for her to get out of this snare without help.
Luckily, she has a husband now for such things.
His keen eyesight is helpful in this arena, as well as his general dexterity, though he feels a bit like an oversized oaf while he's trying to winkle the delicate fabric away from the slightly less delicate metal of her jewelry. ] Just a moment. I've almost got it.
[ Sure enough, a minute or two later, he manages to get the two items disentangled, and then he's able to finish drawing Francesca's dress up over her head, leaving her standing before him in her underthings, pleasantly rumpled.
His hindbrain associates that sight with only one thing, so he really can't be blamed for the look on his face when she finally turns to see him. ]
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Date: 2026-02-20 06:42 pm (UTC)He's learned how to contain that strength and how to carefully dole it out. He's such a man of discipline and poise that it's almost intimidating. Perhaps to others. Maybe a little for Francesca, mostly because she wants to impress the same sort of awe and admiration in him for her.
She's finally free of her dirty dress. She sighs in relief, pushing her hair out of her face. It causes more smears along her face. She desperately needs a bath. She turns to thank him with a beam. ]
Thank you, husband. You're rescued the damsel. [ She's noticed the look in his eyes. She smirks back at him and places a hand on her hip, cocking it slightly to the side. ] Can I help you with something in return?
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Date: 2026-02-20 07:28 pm (UTC)You little minx. [ He darts forward to scoop her up in his arms, lifting her as if she weighed little more than a pillow and holding her up against his bare chest, one arm about her waist and the other tucked beneath her legs. ] Teasing me so.
[ It's hardly any teasing at all, but it's almost more effective that way. Francesca is learning herself (and him, as well), but she hasn't yet discovered the more polished and practiced things to say or the ways to hold herself that other women who are more experienced in carnality already know. ]
no subject
Date: 2026-02-20 07:44 pm (UTC)[ She is even if she is trying to deny it. He scoops her up with ease. She feels weightless in his arms. Her arms wrap around his neck to keep him close though she can tell from his hold that he has no intention of letting her go. The cooled sweat on body rubs on her where their skin touch. More and more, their scents mingle together to create something unique. ]
I thought I was simply trying to be a good little wife and return the favor of assistance.
[ Though he seems to have everything in hand. He's shirtless already. He'll still need his trousers and smalls off for a bath. ]
no subject
Date: 2026-02-21 03:03 pm (UTC)[ He's smiling at her as he starts towards the other end of the room where there is a door that leads through the thick spirestone wall into an adjoining bathing room. Sorellin House was wealthy enough to have the infrastructure already in place, but when his mother became Lady Sorellin, she insisted on new pipes being installed all over the house, ones that brought water straight up to the bath rooms. When Benedict was about thirteen, they upgraded them again to include boilers that heated the water even before it came out of the taps, which made bathing a much more pleasant experience for the family, and also for the staff who no longer had to deal with fetching and carrying heated water.
Benedict is as fastidious about his cleanliness as he is with most everything else, and the bath room adjoining his bedroom is well stocked; even more so now that his wife has joined him. Benedict's products are all carefully unscented, strong enough to handle the sweat and grime of his profession but unobtrusive for his nose. He hasn't really investigated all the various potions and perfumes that his wife's toilette entails, mostly because the array truly mystifies him, but also because it's really none of his business.
He sets her down once he's illuminated the lumin lamps, tipping her onto her feet in front of the mirror. ]
I think I have far fewer things to remove than you. But I would welcome your help regardless.
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Date: 2026-02-21 08:13 pm (UTC)[ Her expression is utterly serene sweetness. He carries her to their attached bathing room. Bridgerton House has a similar structure with the pipes though they haven't upgraded it to have immediate hot water. Admittedly, Francesca is becoming a little spoiled with the instant hot water that comes from pipes. It's utterly luxurious, and it'll be difficult for her to go back.
Their bathing room, much like the rest of their rooms, has both their things neatly arranged. She's set down so gently by her husband before the large mirror. She sees fully what a mess she is, but she realizes something else. She looks at Benedict in the mirror. ]
You look nowhere near as dirty as me! [ She's chagrined at that fact. He's even trained, yet most of the dirt is the oil on his hands, and even then he's wiped a good amount off. Well, bother that. She'll just have to help him strip down, and it all won't matter anymore. ] Where shall I start then?
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Date: 2026-02-21 11:19 pm (UTC)Well, I've got quite a bit more experience doing this tidily than you do...
[ Having her ask where she should start has him faltering, if only because he's still not quite discovered how to speak about these things with any kind of aplomb, so instead he just reaches for her hands and brings them to his waist, so she can unfasten the buttons of his trousers and he can reach for the ties of her stays. ]
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Date: 2026-02-22 01:26 am (UTC)[ Which means assisting him more. She's more than happy to do so. It means she'll better learn the tools he uses that helps him survive when he must leave her. She's grateful for their honeymoon period because without, she's certain he'd be sent off on one mission or another. She wants to learn as much as she can about him and his life to be a good partner to him.
She smiles when he guides her hands to his trousers. She begins unfastening the buttons until the fabric begins to open up and makes it easier to push down his hips. Her gaze lifts to meet his as he steadily works on her stays. With each one undone, she can breathe a bit easier. Fuller breaths. A good thing too because looking at Benedict's body makes her breath stutter. He truly is a handsome man, and he's all hers. ]
You are so... [ She wishes she could find a word to encapsulate what she thinks of him. ] breathtaking.
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Date: 2026-02-22 02:20 am (UTC)He's gotten rather adept at unlacing her after some practice, so it doesn't take long until her stays are loosened enough that he can peel them off her and set them aside.
Her compliment has him glancing away, not quite coloring under her praise but equally not just accepting it at face value. He's working at automatically not batting aside praise, though, especially praise from his wife. ] ...Thank you.
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Date: 2026-02-22 03:04 am (UTC)You're welcome.
[ She's noticed the way he struggled to take praise. She knows the Warriorborn are often looked down upon, some view them as little more than beasts. Francesca has always been curious about them, but never had she considered them anything less than. If anything, they're superior given their sharpened senses and strength, but that's an opinion that the rest of society would heartily disagree with.
She chooses to be bold and pushes off her own smalls. It joins the pool of clothes at their feet. She stands there before, more and more confident about her naked body each day, and cups his face for a lingering kiss. It's a kiss that tells him all about her fondness and growing affection for him.
It's not love, not quite yet perhaps, but she's certainly getting there. ]
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Date: 2026-02-22 03:35 am (UTC)Sometimes he wishes he had been born to a poorer House, or perhaps on a lower habble entirely, so that he would have fewer expectations placed on him. He'd never want to go work on the surface, he's not suicidal, but he would probably live a much more comfortable life as a Marine without the added burden of family duty and expectation weighing him down.
He loves his parents, and his aunts and uncles, and especially his cousins, but it is difficult being born different into a family that expects so much of him.
Francesca doesn't seem to mind, her cool — and slightly smudged — hands settling on his hips as she steps in closer to press her lip to the scars that dot his chest and arms. There aren't that many; Benedict is passing good at what he does, though even the best swordsman gets nicked sometimes. She quickly shifts to kissing his lips instead, and this is something Benedict has gotten quite comfortable with, so he's quick to reciprocate, his hands sliding around her naked waist to slide up the smooth plane of her back.
He doesn't even mind having to bend to kiss her, though after a minute or so he pulls away enough so that he can murmur, ] This is quite a novel way to bathe, my sweet.
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Date: 2026-02-22 06:07 pm (UTC)[ Bathing is the last thing on her mind now that they're bare to one another. They share sweet kisses in the bathing room without any sort of care or rush. It's slipped her mind entirely that they're both in need of a good wash. It's a fine idea. Usually, once they start kissing like things, things have a tendency to turn heated, and they end up a remarkable mess.
It's not occurred to Francesca that they can continue such things while they bathe although it would also be incredibly efficient. She brushes her nose against his, nearly standing on tiptoes to reach him when he pulls back. Sometimes she worries he'll give himself back pain with all the bending he must do to kiss her. ]
You're right of course, darling. We are meant to bathe.