LITTLE DARK AGE ! °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
fem!reader x benedict bridgerton
synopsis – dark rooms were very popular at the after-hours parties you attended. they were perfect for a lady like you, discreet and safe in a way only darkness could, until one night, when the man you lost yourself to in the dark wasn't a stranger at all.
smut.
my bridgerton masterlist
you loved the adrenaline of the dark room.
in there, everyone who was inside was a mystery, reduced to movements and sounds, to hands gripping a little too tight, touches that were meant to be momentary, lips that brushed skin longer than they should and vanished before they could be claimed.
the dark made everything easier, not like the large and bright bridgerton dining room. there was nowhere to hide there. your families were practically one, which meant there was no escaping the monthly dinners lady bridgerton hosted. no polite excuses, no convenient illness. you were expected.
and hungover.
at least no one seemed to notice. the table buzzed with conversations, everyone absorbed into their own chatter. your mother leaned toward violet bridgerton, voices low and conspiratorial. your father sat next to anthony, the two of them deep in discussion, nothing serious by the way they both laughed from time to time.
colin had your older brother's full attention, he was probably talking about his travels again, and your younger sister was enjoying eloise and penelope's company, talking far too fast for someone who clearly hadn't spent the morning battling nausea and regret.
no one was looking at you.
or at least that's what you thought.
while you were doing this revision of everyone at the table.
benedict reached for the bottle of wine and tipped it toward your glass. you noticed too late, his wrists was already turning, the bottle tipping and the red liquid filling your glass. just the sight of it made your stomach lurch. if that wine touched your lips, you were certain you'd throw up right there. no more alcohol. possibly not ever again. or at least until next weekend, when selective amnesia would set in.
—rough morning?
you pushed the glass away when he finished filling it. benedict smirked.
—you could say that.
—let me guess, —benedict said, leaning back in his chair, —last night seemed like a brilliant idea at the time.
you exhaled through your nose, resisting the urge to drop your head onto the table, so you just pressed your lips together into a guilty smile and nodded. the chatter around you continued, everyone unaware that you were fighting for your life over a glass of wine. benedict looked like he was enjoying every second of it.
—brave of you, —he added, —to show up today.
—i had no other choice. i would have been dragged here anyway.
benedict's smile showed that he was entertained.
—kicking and screaming, i imagine.
—barely conscious.
you and him shared a quiet laugh. he lifted his glass in a mock toast, taking a sip of his wine. your stomach twisted at the idea.
—cruel —you mumbled, reaching for your water instead. then, as casually as you could, you added, —they say you're in search for a wife.
benedict rolled his eyes and shook his head as if the very idea physically hurt him, —they say many things. most of them wildly untrue, —he through gritted teeth, looking toward lady bridgerton at the head of the table.
violet smiled, —benedict is trying, —he let out a slow breath and leaned back in his chair, —trying is a first step.
you hid your smile behind your glass of water. if nothing else, it was a comfort to know that even the bridgertons weren't immune to family expectations. especially benedict who had a lifestyle not so different from yours. the parties, the alcohol... you glanced at him over your glass. he looked relaxed enough, but you knew better. some people weren't meant to be contained.
while the conversation went on around you, you gulped, feeling all the memories from last night coming at you at once.
the room was completely dark. you'd taken the last sip of your drink without thinking before tossing the empty glass aside and letting it shatter. then sound came first, music low, laughter somewhere close, but especially it was a mix of soft moans and deep groans. bodies moved unseen, close enough that you felt their heat without touch.
you bumped into them without warning. two bodies, tangled together, breathless. one of them laughed softly, surprised, and his hand grabbed your waist. not rough, but inviting. you were pulled into the space between them like it was the most natural thing in the world. his fingers brushed your hair back from your shoulders and his lips were suddenly on the curve of your neck.
your fingers tightened around your water glass and you exhaled slowly, forcing yourself back into the bridgerton dining room.
your hand lifted, finding the other man's your neck and you also pulled him closer to you. the space closed, their bodies pressing you tight. the man at your neck nipped at your skin there, enough to make you gasp, while the other cupped your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks as he pulled you into a kiss that stole whatever air you had left.
then hands loosened and one of them slipped away, laughter fading as the other man was drawn elsewhere and you were left alone with the man who had been kissing you. not that you complained, he kissed like he was starving, hands that held your cheeks slid down to your neck, fingers pressing at the base.
your hands moved without permission, finding buttons and working them open. the dark hid his face but it sharpened everything else. his chest beneath your palms was hard, broad shoulders framed his body, the muscles in his arm tensed as he caged you against a wall and helped you to turn around.
the long fabric of your dress wrinkled beneath his hands. you felt the press of his chest behind you as he pulled down his pants just enough.
you shifted in your chair, adjusting your corset as discreetly as you could. you looked around the table, no one seemed to notice. had it gotten hotter here?
his thrusts were just as his kisses, desperate, as if slowing down was never an option. your sounds mixed with everyone else's in that room, your hand flew to the back of his head as his mouth found your neck. his sounds were deep, groans coming straight out of his chest. his hand came up again, firm at your neck to turn your face aside so he could kiss you. his hips were relentless, smacking against your ass again and again.
you took a sip of your water.
the way his fingers went inside your mouth, how he seemed exactly where to touch and how. one of his hands sneaking between your legs when he felt you were close, the way his arms held you when your legs started shaking. and the only thing he said, most of the people in those rooms never talked, but he murmured one single thing before he left...
—i had fun, —benedict said.
your head snapped, eyes shooting straight to the man sitting in front of you, —what?
everyone looked at you, benedict did too, surprised by your sudden interruption.
—at colin and penelope's wedding. i had fun, —he repeated.
and he said in the same way that had been murmured into your skin the night before.
you forced a smile and nodded, but your heart raced, loud in your ears, and the bridgerton dining room felt smaller. one of your hands went to your stomach as you focused on your breathing, —i couldn't agree more, oh, i'm...
you reached for your glass of water and accidentally knocked it instead. you stood, pushing back your chair. at the same moment, benedict stood too. everyone looked between the two of you, confused, but benedict saved it by lifting one hand and calling the service.
—no harm done, my dear, —violet said warmly.
you pressed your lips into a smile, eyes anywhere but on him.
—if you'll excuse me, i need some air...
you walked to the garden, before anyone could think to ask questions. the doors closed behind you, shutting the sound of the conversation, and the air of the night hit your face, cold and comforting. you stepped onto the grass and took a deep breath, then another, and then you realized you weren't calming down. you were nervously pacing around and the air that you've been taking in was from hyperventilating.
your face changed when you saw him crossing the garden to you. heat rushed to your cheeks and you couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or anger. before you could think of it, you started walking to him.
—are you...?
you pushed him by his shoulders, —where were you last night?
he looked down at your hands on his chest, then back at your face. he had never seen you like this before, —with my family. at dinner.
you let out a short laugh, —you know that's not what i meant.
benedict squinted. of everyone at that table, he was the one person who understood you in ways that only you and him knew. you and benedict had the same... hobbies. the same hunger for noise, and crowds and dark places. it had always been there, between you two. you never asked each other questions because you already knew the answer would look a lot like your own.
—i went out. why? —he finally replied.
—and what were you doing going out on the other side of the town? —you shot back.
—how do you...?
you didn't answer, instead you bit the inside of your cheeks, looking at benedict, waiting for him to realize. his brow furrowed, then slowly smoothed and all of a sudden it didn't feel like he was looking at you standing in the garden anymore, it felt like the shape of your hands gripping his shirt, the sound of your breath in his ear and the way you moved against him without hesitation.
without lights.
—you, —he stated.
the heat on your face intensified. you covered it with both hands like you could hide from it and you started pacing again. it hadn't been some stranger, not someone in the dark you'd never see in the daylight. it was benedict.
benedict who had known you since you were children, who had been beside you at these same dinners, across these same tables, exchanging jokes and rolling your eyes at the same boring parties. he wasn't supposed to exist in that other world.
—what were you doing there? —he asked, almost accusing.
you turned around to look at him, defensive, —what do you mean what was i doing there? that's my part of the town, i live there. you, on the other hand, were really far away from yours. i have never seen you at that party before!
he stayed quiet, letting you pace around, mumbling things he couldn't really understand, something about not knowing anyone, about that being the whole point.
—why is it so bad?
you stopped pacing again, frustration rising again. you turned again to face him fully, —because you're not some stranger i'll never know, benedict, —your hands lifted for a second like you were about to gesture, then fell uselessly back to your sides, —you're you. you sit across from me at dinner. you know my family. our mothers talk. i see you all the time. i can't walk back into that house and look at you like everything's normal when i remember...
—when you remember what? tell me.
benedict took a step closer, not enough to touch you yet. the garden felt smaller and you were suddenly aware of how tall benedict was, how broad his shoulders were. his tone wasn't gentle anymore, there was something curious in it, something teasing.
—i, —you started, then stopped, looking at him, —don't do that.
—do what? —he asked, taking another step, like he knew exactly what it did to you
—i'm serious, ben, —you mumbled. your back straightened but your feet didn't move, they didn't even try to leave which only annoyed you more.
—remember what? —he repeated, lower this time.
benedict was close enough, holding his own hands behind his back. so close that if you leaned, you'd touch him.
—i remember, —you swallowed, —i remember your hands... and... your mouth, and... —you looked down in embarrassment, but immediately after you did, one of benedict's hand held up your chin, tilting your face up and forcing your eyes back to his, —... and the way you touched me.
—don't look away, —benedict said, thumb resting against your jaw, —you're acting like we did something terrible. like you regret it, —his eyes searched for yours, —do you?
you shook your head, eyes moving from his eyes to his mouth. benedict tilted his head, nodding. he closed the distance slowly, making sure you saw it coming. this time there was no anonymity to hide behind, it was just benedict kissing you in the big backyard of the bridgerton house.
benedict's hands slid to the small of your back, and before you realized what he was doing, he guided you backward. your shoulders met the stone of the mansion's facade and he caged you with his body. just above you, a high window was half open, and through it you could hear everything from inside the dining room. your mother's voice. colin's laugh...
and outside, benedict put two of his fingers inside his mouth in the most sinful way a man could ever. you grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him into another kiss because you knew it was going to be hard to keep it quiet once he started sliding his hand up your thigh. you gasped into his mouth once his fingers went inside you, his thumb connecting to your clit.
you clung to him, your forehead pressed against his when the kiss broke, both of you breathing too hard, —ben, —you moaned, your grip on him tightened.
—i know, i know, —he said, shushing you as his fingers curled inside you.
the open window above you let out another burst of laughter, glasses clinking, someone calling for more wine. life continued while you melt in benedict's hands. his thumb draw circles on your clit, two of his fingers when in and out of you, making your legs shake. it felt even better now, knowing it was him who was touching you, being able to look at him in the eyes when you came.
you threw your head back, resting it against the facade, trying to catch your breath.
—feeling better? —benedict asked, kissing the mountains of your breasts showing from the neckline of your dress.
you nodded, biting your lower lip.
—has anyone seen benedict? —lady bridgerton said inside the dining room.
you and benedict looked at each other in panic as you remember where you were. then his hands were on you again, but this time fixing your dress, his knuckles brushed your sides and smoothed the fabric where it had bunched at your waist.
—hold still, —he whispered.
—i am holding still, —you whispered back.
you were smoothing his suit lapels and straightening his collar. his hands were resting on your waist again, looking at the door, hoping your families would take a second longer before they sent someone looking for you. you yanked benedict down by his lapels and kissed him. he kissed you back, hands sliding from your waist to your back, pulling you close again.
you pushed him by his shoulders, —you are insatiable.
he huffed a laugh, —you were the one who kissed me again!
and you did it one more time, grabbing him by the same place. he stumbled forward with a surprised laugh, one hand against the stone facade behind you. the other one caught your hand on instinct.
you smoothed his lapels one last time, though they were worse than before. benedict fixed your hair with clumsy fingers, both of you trying not to kiss each other again.
—now, —you said, —we behave.
benedict nodded, —of course.
