In the entire time they’d known each other, without fail, that feeling had always filled Mel with a sense of rightness. A soft but commanding sense of, oh, there you are, that settled in her sternum, filled her lungs with fresh air, and gave her whatever she needed in that moment—assurance, confidence, the knowledge that she was capable of whatever she set her mind to. That there was someone out there who believed in her. Someone who saw her.
For a long time, that had been the most beautiful feeling in the world.
Now, it just feels like the floor has fallen from underneath her feet.
Or: It’s been two years, four months, and three days since the last time Mel King saw Frank Langdon.
cw: exhibitionism, semi-public sex, tastefully fingering your best friend in public
"Down, boy," Garcia practically cackles, curls springing against her forehead. “Try not to cause any trouble tonight. You’re lucky you’re even allowed to be here. You can thank Little Miss Long Legs for that.”
Or: Frank and Mel cause some trouble at Trinity’s birthday party.
“I really, really mean it,” she affirmed, biting her lip to tamp down her smile, her earlier nerves settling into an exuberant giddiness. “I would like for you to get me pregnant, Frank. If you think you can manage it.”
He laughed, out loud. God.
Okay, yeah. They were doing this.
And they were going to start now.
Or: Frank is excited about the prospect of becoming a father again. Like, really excited about it.
Prompt: Kate ever the older sibling immediately takes to the younger Bridgertons and Anthony falls a little harder (set during Anthony’s “nope I can’t love my wife, not me” phase)
Anthony pored over the accounts in front of him, the numbers and information on the pages stable and dependable. The work had come on stronger in the weeks since his wedding, which had led to a host of incredibly busy days for the young Viscount upon his arrival back in London.
This was good. Work was good. It kept his mind sharp, it made sure he stayed busy, and perhaps most importantly: it meant he was not thinking about his wife.
(It was a task he was resolutely failing as of late.)
They had only been married for two weeks, and already he felt himself far too happy.
He didn’t love Kate, of course, he’d made sure of that. But he could not deny she’d proven to be a much better companion than he might have ever hoped for. Kind, compassionate and intelligent, with a wit so sharp he was unsure how it was her barbs felt so sweet — and then at night…
Anthony shook his head. This was precisely the problem. She occupied his thoughts far too much, and what he needed to do was focus on his work.
Which became increasingly difficult to do, as the moment he forced his head back down, there was a knock at the door of his study.
“Anthony?”
Kate had a tendency to take Anthony’s breath away, and today was no different.
(His attraction to her was growing slightly out of hand. This, he would admit. How else to explain that burst of light in his chest, whenever she graced a room with her presence?)
Her gown was of a soft lavender color, one that highlighted the mesmerizing darkness of her hair.
(Then again, was there anything Kate wore that did not compliment her?)
She looked regal, like some sort of Empress, and yet the way she tapped her fingers nervously against the door signaled there was more to her appearance than a mere desire to see him.
“Is everything alright?”
“Yes, yes,” she turned to check for something in the hallway and then turned back to face him, smiling, though there was an edge to it. “Are you very busy this afternoon?”
“I suppose it depends,” he grinned, ready to put his papers away at a moment's notice for a very particular activity if she so desired. “What do you need?”
Kate opened her mouth to reply, but before she could do so, two vaguely chestnut-colored whirlwinds stormed into his study, followed by Newton’s excited barks and taps on the hardwood floor behind them.
“Anthony!”
“We’re so pleased you’re back!”
“I’ve learned a new song on the pianoforte, I must sho—”
“I taught Newton how to sit just now! I think he’ll—”
“I was speaking first, Gregory! Do not interrupt me!”
“Well if you would speak like a lady instead of shouting, then perhaps—”
“Settle down, the both of you,” Anthony bit down a laugh, forcing his most stern expression. “What is the meaning of all of this?”
“Kate came to see us yesterday,” Hyacinth floated to where the woman in question was primly seated on the armchair in front of his desk and took one of Kate’s arms in hers. “She told us we could come and stay!”
“Oh?” Anthony darted his eyes between the two younger Bridgertons and his wife, whose cheeks had become stained with pink.
“Just for the night,” Kate said, with a warm smile on her face. “I thought it might be nice. If you’re not busy, perhaps we can retire to the drawing room after dinner and play cards?”
“And I still want to show you that song. Both of you. Please?”
Gregory was holding Newton now, attempting to act removed from the situation –– such was the attitude of a slowly growing young man –– though the glimmer in his eyes said otherwise. “And I get to play with him for a while. I like Newton.”
Kate chuckled, reaching out to scratch the beast between the ears. “He likes you, too.”
Anthony’s heart fell just a bit, seeing his two youngest siblings so excited, each of them in their own ways. As a child, their father had made it a point to provide them all with quality time, but Gregory and Hyacinth hadn’t quite had the chance to receive the same sort of attention.
“Why wait until dinner?” He made a show of closing his books, meeting Kate’s eyes with a smile for a brief moment before standing up. “We can begin now.”
Hyacinth squealed — a most unladylike sound, but he was feeling charitable — and dragged Kate ahead of them, while Gregory carried Newton and Anthony followed closely behind.
That afternoon, he indulged in Hyacinth’s performances and engaged Gregory in his ambitious animal training — Kate’s dog did many things, but paying attention to commands was not high on the list — all the while watching his wife: gossipping with Hyacinth while they prepared tea, kneeling to show Gregory some sort of card trick, and answering any questions the two of them had about how she managed to win Anthony in the particularly noteworthy game of Pall Mall that had quickly become legend.
Regardless of what she did, he couldn’t help but notice that she fit right in.
(Or the way it made him feel fuller and happier than he had in a long, long time.)
After dinner and sweets, the four of them sat in the drawing room once again, while Newton slept peacefully by the fire. The atmosphere was so peaceful, so quaint, that he couldn’t help it if he nudged Kate closer to him and inhaled the soft scent of her.
She was his wife after all — he didn’t need to love her to do any of that.
(Or to run his thumb across her knuckles softly. To closely watch the way her lashes fluttered when she was teasing the children and how her lips pursed when she was figuring out how to answer something. Right?)
“Thank you for bringing them,” he murmured in her ear, low enough that the two younger ones would not hear. “I didn’t realize how much I had missed them.”
“They missed you, too,” she smiled. “It’s a big change for them, I imagine. Having to leave their childhood home all because I turned up.”
“You’re natural with them. They like you.”
“It’s true,” Hyacinth said, grinning at them when they met her gaze and lacking any shame in having overheard their conversation. “We do. Very much. Right, Gregory?”
The boy nodded, an abashed expression on his own face.
Kate seemed to be at a loss for words, much to Anthony’s amusement. He gripped her tighter and was inordinately pleased when she sighed and dropped her head on his shoulder.
“I’m not sure what my brother did to deserve a wife like you,” Hyacinth continued, “but I dare say we are all the better for it.”
Kate blushed, waving away the compliment. She smiled and told the two of them, “When you’re older, I’ll tell you exactly what your brother did to lead us here.”
Hyacinth frowned, clearly confused as to what Kate meant, but too close to exhaustion to put up much of a fight. “Well. As long as my future husband loves me the way Anthony clearly loves you, it doesn’t quite matter how one gets there, I think.”
Kate smiled and fiddled with her hands, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I suppose so.”
Anthony tried to refute Hyacinth’s claim, if only internally, but he couldn’t.
Not when Kate was so sweet and warm against him; not after she’d set up an entire day for him to be with his siblings and enjoy their company; especially not when it was clear she’d blended so seamlessly into his life, that he didn’t understand how he’d ever managed without her in it.
No. In that moment, Anthony only knew one thing for certain.
i love your kathony fics 🥺. are prompts still open? if they are then anything around that moment that is mentioned by edwina in the books - when kate says people will move on from her and anthony's *love match* gossip soon enough and edwina's like not as long as anthony looks at you the way he did at that ball, smouldering, pushing people away to get to kate. i love that because anthony is still in his denial phase but his actions are SO clearly the opposite xD
i am indeed still taking prompts! i’m working through them all ridiculously slowly, as my inactivity might indicate (lol), but i will be getting through everything that’s being sent my way, promise! :)
ao3
“There you are!”
Kate turned at the sound of her husband’s voice, her eyes widening. She hadn’t expected him to notice she’d even left the ballroom, much less follow her out. Her slowly relaxing heart took flight once more, a mixture of shame and embarrassment pooling in her chest.
They’d arrived back in London only a few nights ago, fresh off of their time in the country after the wedding. And though the time spent alone had been rejuvenating and enlightening all at once — Anthony was, in almost every way, a very attentive husband — returning to London as a bride had been a difficult adjustment. The height of the season was still upon them, and with it a number of events and social responsibilities that now asked much more of Kate than they had before.
And she wasn’t quite sure she was up to snuff, if she were being honest with herself.
Anthony crossed the hallway in three long strides and reached her side. “I turn around for just a moment and suddenly you’re gone. Practically knocked down half of the ton trying to find you.”
Kate’s chest warmed. The ballroom had been so full he would have had to have been keeping quite the close eye on her to notice something like that.
She shook her head immediately, dashing those childish, romantic notions away. He’d been very clear on where their marriage stood, and trying to paint his intentions as anything other than a gentlemanly interest in her well-being would only lead to heartbreak. She was already lucky enough, with the deal she’d been cut; asking for anything more than what Anthony could give her seemed selfish.
Once he was at her side, he tugged her elbow, gently bringing her in front of him. “Did something happen? Why did you leave the ballroom so suddenly?”
Kate began to fiddle with the buttons on his waistcoat, her eyes fixated on a string of fabric that had begun to pull from within one of them. “My, it's warm in here, isn't it? You need to take this to get fixed. I can arrange for your tailor to pass by tomorrow afternoon, if you can manage to clear your schedule. I know y–”
“Kate,” he warned, cutting off her nervous rambling, his voice more insistent. To their left, couples and families donning their finest gowns and suits entered and exited the ballroom, chatting amongst each other easily. “What’s wrong?”
She kept fiddling with the string of fabric, chewing on her lips until she was sure they would end up bleeding. Anthony’s hands came to rest atop hers, limiting her movement. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
Kate sighed, gathering the strength needed for her admission. “Anthony, I don’t think I’m quite cut out for this.”
“Cut out for what?”
“Oh, you know, all of... this,” she emphasized, attempting to tug her hands away, but his grip only tightened.
“Marriage? It’s a little late for doubts like those,” he murmured.
“What?” Kate met his eyes then, surprised to find they were much more contemplative than she expected. “No, no. It’s not that. It’s just… well, I don’t really fit in, do I? I’ve never been good at the things that ladies are expected to be good at, have never managed to sit still or act demurely or... or anything like that, really and... well, now that is precisely what is expected of me.”
She paused, chewing her lip, taking her eyes off of Anthony’s to stare at the floor. “I know I’m not the kind of wife you expected. The sort that could smile prettily and charm everyone around her and be a proper viscountess.”
Anthony’s eyes narrowed with concern, his stance tightening. He took her hands firmly in his and held onto them, running a thumb over her gloved knuckles. “Kate, where is this coming from? Did something happen?”
Kate swallowed, her heart beating traitorously. It seemed no matter how hard she tried to convince herself of Anthony’s objectivity within their marriage, her body refused to cooperate. The simple gesture of him listening to her so intently, with such gentleness and care, made her knees weak.
“No one is saying anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she sighed, noticing the way he relaxed once more. Her face reddened remembering Lady Whistledown’s most recent column. “In fact… well, it’s obviously a bit ridiculous, but the consensus among the gossips of society is that ours was a love match.”
“Ridiculous,” he repeated softly. Not quite a question, but not quite a statement of fact, either.
“Yes. Ridiculous,” she said, her belly swooping pitifully. “Anyways, clearly, it is not. You need not remind me of that fact. That— it’s fine. But even if they think ours looks like a love match, they must think it’s an ill fitting one. I mean, I'm hardly a catch. I talk too loud, express my opinion too plainly. I keep meeting duchesses and countesses and realizing I... I'm nothing like that, Anthony. And I worry I never will be."
For a moment, Anthony didn’t reply, and Kate feared he agreed with her. That he, too, saw their marriage as the farce that it was. That the one with doubts was him.
But all he did he was bring her hands up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.
“Never speak that way of yourself again, Kate,” he said, his voice serious. “For my sake if not yours. In fact, as your husband, I demand it.”
Kate’s fingers were warm underneath the gloves where he kissed her, her eyes wide.
“I can only speak for myself, but there is absolutely nothing about you that I would wish to change. You are headstrong, passionate, and absolutely everything a proper viscountess should be, all of those other supposed virtues be damned. If someone — anyone — cannot see that, then that is their loss and theirs only."
He tightened his grip on her hands and made sure she was looking directly at him before continuing. "When you enter rooms you command the respect of others not because you are my wife, or a Bridgerton, but because you're you. And you are more than enough.”
Kate was at a loss for words. She knew that love would never be a part of their relationship. That even if her body felt most alive when it was next to his, even if she laughed and talked with him like she had with no one else before, even if she knew she was already halfway in love with him herself — that those feelings would have to be kept under lock and key.
But then, when he said those things…. When he looked at her like that…
It was, admittedly, a little difficult not to want to wrap her arms around him and show him exactly how she felt.
Kate released her inhibitions and embraced him tightly anyways, if only so that he wouldn’t see the errant tears that threatened to slip out of her eyes.
“Thank you,” she murmured into the velvet of his coat, indulging in the comforting smell of leather and tobacco and Anthony that she’d grown to associate with warmth and belonging. That she’d grown to love, little by little. "You needn't lie to me to make me feel better, but I appreciate it all the same."
“There is nothing I’ve said that I wouldn’t happily repeat in front of all of London,” he said, the smile in his voice evident. One of his hands wrapped around her waist while the other tipped her chin towards his. “Will you obey your husband and never disparage yourself like this again? Can I trust you to do that?”
Kate’s eyes narrowed as she bit down on her own smile. She was like a slice of jelly when it came to him, pliant and willing to do whatever he said. It helped, of course, that all he was asking of her was to be kinder to herself. That he seemed to really, truly believe the words he'd said. That he saw her that way.
“I suppose.”
He smiled and leaned down to slant his lips against hers, taking advantage of the brief lull in hallway activity. The arm around her waist tightened and brought her closer to him as his lips explored hers tenderly.
“Anthony!” she scolded, giggling against his mouth. “This is most improper. What if someone sees us?”
Leaning his forehead against hers, Anthony smiled. “The gossip about us is already scandalous. Why not add to it?”
Kate laughed but pulled away, shaking her head. As much as she loved kissing Anthony, she'd had enough scandal to last a lifetime. “I don’t think there’s any need for that.”
Straightening her ballgown and tightening her gloves once more, Kate took a deep breath. It was time to go back to the ballroom, where she would once again have to resume the act of viscountess; to pretend that she knew what she was doing, that she belonged there. With Anthony by her side, at least, it almost felt manageable.
Anthony’s smile was warm when he extended his arm out to hers. “Ready to return to the fun, Mrs. Bridgerton?”
Dash it. With him by her side it was certainly manageable. She had a growing suspicion that with him, anything was. Love matches or no.
She slipped her arm into his, remembering his words. His faith in her.
I can’t get enough of kanthony fics at the moment so I was v excited to see that you’re taking prompts 🤩 I know it’s been done loads, but I just adore protective!anthony fics after the carriage incident and would love to read your interpretation of it 🥺 loved your last kanthony drabble btw 💓
ahh thank you anon! 🥺i’m glad you’ve been enjoying!
i hope you enjoy this very soft, domestic take on protective!anthony hehe
(ao3)
Kate felt Anthony before she saw him.
She hadn’t yet opened her eyes, her body still clinging stubbornly to the very last bits of sleep that were left, when she felt the warm press of his lips against her forehead.
“Good morning,” he murmured.
She could smell the fresh biscuits and preserves that Anthony had brought into the room on a silver tray, much like he had done everyday for the past week or so since the accident.
There were few things Kate enjoyed about being confined to her bed as her ankle slowly healed, but one thing was true: her husband was a very, very good nurse.
Kate hummed indulgently, pulling the covers close to her as she watched him set up a tray with her breakfast, strikingly handsome in the morning light. “Good morning.”
He was only half-dressed himself in a shirt and waistcoat, his neck bare and the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. She loved seeing him like this, at ease and relaxed. As though the two of them were the only people in the world.
In this tiny world they'd created in their bedroom as she healed, it almost felt like they were.
They had both needed to adjust, in the first few days after the accident. The pain had been most severe then, and Anthony had been beside himself with worry, slipping spoonfuls of laudanum into her mouth every few hours and verifying with any professional that would lend an ear that her ankle was the only issue. Anthony had made it very clear that he was to be Kate’s caretaker, and as such it was up to him to see to her daily needs.
Soon enough, the pain had settled into something slightly more manageable, and thus their new routine had formed.
“Tea?”
“Please,” she said, sitting up and dabbing at her face with the washcloth on the table closest to her. Anthony had set up a makeshift desk near her side of the bed, and that was where the tray was currently located.
Kate smiled as she watched Anthony wordlessly pour her a cup, setting it on a tiny dish with biscuits, just the way she liked it.
Oh, he believed himself the rogue, absolutely. And there was surely a time when Kate would have enthusiastically agreed. But the more she came to understand him — the more they came to understand each other — the clearer it became to Kate that while it might have been the persona he’d chosen to show the world, the person within was wholly kind and generous. One that only a lucky few were able to truly see.
“Here we are,” he said, taking the tray and placing it on her lap. “What would you like first?”
Kate bit her lip, smiling up at him. "You know, if I recall correctly, it was only my ankle that was injured," she said, waving her hands in a show of their dexterity. "I can feed myself."
Anthony tsked. "Just because you can, doesn't mean you should. It is of the utmost importance that you rest as much as possible."
When he raised a biscuit to her mouth she took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Now, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you just enjoy the idea of feeding me.”
“I’ll happily admit it, so long as you don’t tell my secrets.” He winked at her with a charm and suavity that she was sure had made many a young lady weak in the knees in the past — only now, they were reserved just for her.
“My lips are sealed,” she smiled, leaning over to kiss him.
After breakfast had been cleared away and Kate had changed into a new shift, the two of them took their places: Kate lying on the bed, her foot raised while she tried to read or embroider or answer correspondence; Anthony at his makeshift desk, his concentration torn between any important documents he’d brought from his study and Kate’s comfort.
It was almost amusing: if she so much as sighed too despondently, he was up in an instant, asking if there was anything she needed, if the pain was alright, what he might do to make her feel better.
Most of the time, everything was fine — but Kate would have been lying if she claimed not to use this condition to her advantage.
For example, if she dropped pillows so that he might get up and replace them, guaranteeing that he might kiss her upon their replacement, well… she couldn’t very well be blamed for that.
And if she groaned about pain even when there was none so that he would adorably furrow his brow in worry and concentration, massaging her leg briefly to assuage her discomfort, it was merely her right as a patient, she believed.
Anthony was spending all of his time there, after all. He needed to feel useful. Really, she was doing him a favor.
At least, that was what she told herself.
“Anthony,” she mumbled, capturing his hand. “Would you…”
He stood up before she could get the words out, his hands ruffling the pillows behind her and mindlessly resting on her shoulders. “Yes? What do you need?”
She placed her book down in her lap, pouting in an act of meek helplessness. “I’ve grown tired of reading alone. Would you mind reading to me instead?”
He took the book from her and studied the title. “And this is a medical necessity?”
Kate smiled sweetly. “Indeed.”
She knew he wasn’t entirely fooled — never was, if she were being honest — and he seemed to know that she knew, but that didn’t stop him from taking a seat by her side anyways and opening the book to where she had last opened it.
“The night was dark and stormy as Mrs. Eversham’s carriage rattled away from the bustling streets of London…”
As he read, Kate had to admit that she wasn’t really paying attention to the contents of the novel.
How could she, when there was so much else to focus on — Anthony’s concentrated stare as he read, the way his lips moved to form the words on the page, the movement of his bare neck whenever he swallowed or spoke. That was much more entertaining than whatever was happening in the book.
When he was finished he snapped the book shut, bringing Kate back to reality and drawing her gaze away from his forearms — they were lethal, really, it wasn’t at all fair — before turning towards her.
“How was that? Did I do well?” He asked, looking a little bit like Newton when he was looking for a treat.
“You did wonderfully,” she beamed, pulling him closer to her. “So wonderfully, in fact, that I think you deserve a reward.”
“Oh?”
“Not just for the reading, I suppose,” she bit her lip, shifting and dragging him down so that he was sitting on the bed next to her. “But for everything, really… taking care of me, staying by my side everyday. You do know you don’t have to do all of that, don’t you? We have a lot of help.”
“As if I would ever let anyone else try,” he said. His hand moved to cradle her chin. “You might be surprised to hear this, Kate, but I do this — work beside you, read to you, feed you, entertain your fancies and tricks — because I enjoy spending time with you, even if we aren’t doing anything special. Just existing with you is enough.”
His fingers were running soft circles around her waist, the thin fabric of her shift doing little to mitigate the intoxicating feeling. “And taking care of you is my first priority, of course.”
Kate felt her chest grow warm. The accident had been a most unfortunate event, but ever since it had happened — ever since Anthony had told her he loved her — it was like they had gotten married all over again. Now that they could both bask freely in this new, beautiful thing that perfumed the air and sweetened pastries, making the grass a little greener and the sky a bit bluer.
“What would I do without you?” Kate whispered, more to herself than to him.
“Continue to be a plague on society, most likely,” he grinned, leaning over so that he was lying next to her on the bed and snaking an arm around her waist, very careful not to hurt her ankle. “It’s a good thing I'm here to keep you in line. Master of the house, and all that.”
“You wish,” she scoffed, pushing him away from her gently, only for him to cling to her tighter. “I will continue to be a plague upon society, and there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop it.”
“I know,” he said, planting a kiss on her brow. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Kate leaned into his embrace, closing her eyes. Perhaps they might take a nap; they were certainly at their leisure to do so.
“Now, about that reward…”
She grinned. “The reward is— well, I was going to let you choose. Is there anything you’d like in particular?”
“I can think of a few things,” he murmured, kissing his way down her neck. “How much time do we have?”
Kate giggled when he reached a particularly ticklish spot. “All the time in the world, I suppose.”
Kathony Prompt: Just because Anthony mentions several times in the books about wanting to tie Kate to their bed 👀 What about the first time time that happens?
+ this prompt: “Anthony confesses to Kate about his dreams of her but he doesn’t know she had a fantasy of her own about him. Or maybe more than one”
(proceed at your own risk/caution/ETC.)
read on ao3
It had started as a joke.
At least — that’s what Kate thought it had started as.
The first time had been on their wedding night. In his determination to assuage her insecurities, he’d made a stark, throwaway comment about forcing her to understand the way he saw her. To his credit, it had worked.
Then, it was something to say whenever they bickered; a way for Anthony to exert his masculinity and puff out his chest while they debated the minutiae of something inconsequential. If she continued to misbehave, or argue, or quarrel, he’d simply tie her to the bed and show her her place.
She indulged him in this show of pride not because she agreed, necessarily, but because… well, because a large part of her wanted him to.
It didn’t make any sense, but each time he threatened her with images of her tied up on their bed, her body willing and pliant as he exercised his authority over her... she could not deny to herself the way it lit a fire that crackled in her spine, or the way it resulted in moisture that pooled between her legs.
Her patience had grown too thin to ignore one night when he'd made the comment again, after she'd spent too much time in the kitchens that day with staff whilst preparing for a ball.
"You make it far too difficult to find you throughout the day," he murmured once he'd caught her, his arms wrapped around her thin dressing gown. "It's enough to make me want to tie you to the bed, keep you here for days. Do you know what it—"
"Why don't you, then?"
Kate was not of the disposition to act coy; he'd teased her with these new, wanton fantasies enough, and it was about time he followed through with them. Already, she felt herself growing warm when his arms tightened against her, his voice low and thrilling and deliciously dangerous. "What?"
She smiled to herself before turning around, masking her amusement under a stern glare. "Your threats are empty ones, constantly. Do you plan to tie me to the bed or not? "
It was a delight to notice the tension with which he swallowed, as well as the hunger that lit up his eyes. "Kate," he warned. "You would do well to mind your words..."
She shrugged. "Why? It's not as if you've given me a reason to believe you'd ever actually do such a thing."
"Is that a challenge?"
"Do you accept it?"
Anthony eyed the bed, then looked back at her, his expression quickly growing earnest. "Are you— Do you really want to...?"
Something hot and exciting unfurled in Kate's belly, the anticipation growing stronger now that he was taking her seriously. "Yes."
He turned quickly, rummaging through their cabinets, presumably to find something that they would be able to use. In the meantime, she rid herself of her dressing gown and waited.
Her fantasies had cleverly excluded these moments of quiet preparation, the mundane act of waiting while they prepared to enact this strange idea, but that almost made it even better — this wasn’t a fantasy. It was just her and Anthony.
She didn’t need anything else.
“Lie down,” he said, his voice thick with want. The words were spoken in a tone so authoritative that Kate had no choice but to comply.
Anthony liked to believe himself the rogue, but Kate knew well enough how honorable and kind he was at heart. And yet, it was thrilling to enjoy this version of him in such a new context, as opposed to stepping on his boots in the middle of a crowded ballroom.
The more things changed, the more they stayed the same, and all that.
Anthony gestured at her arms and she raised them up over her head, watching with thinly veiled lust while he tied them to one of the bed posts. He was breathing heavily, too, although he tried to hide it. Kate tested the strength of the cravat by tugging gently, smiling when it didn't budge. She was well and truly trapped, now.
He stepped back to appreciate his craftsmanship, his brows furrowing when he ran his eyes over the rest of her form.
"Is there something wrong, my lord?" Kate said, testing the use of his title. It was odd, to be sure, but part of what made this so thrilling was the sense of power he held over her. Using his title to address him while she was quite literally at his mercy made it feel more... real, in a sense. Dangerous, powerful.
It certainly added to the pleasure she was experiencing.
His, too, if his slack-jawed expression was any indication. He cleared his throat, running his hands over her stomach, her thighs. The slow pulsing between her legs was only growing stronger the more he teased her, but something told Kate that if she protested he'd only punish her further, so she tried to stay silent.
She closed her eyes when he finally had the sense to kiss her, desperate to throw her arms around him. Instead, she was forced to sit back while he lathered his attentions on her jaw, her clavicle, her breasts. He continued his way downward until she was practically mewling above him, his movements both too much and far, far too little.
"Kate," he sighed against her, his breaths growing ragged. "My love... you truly have no idea, the amount of times I've thought of you... just like this. Even before..."
It was almost difficult to hear him, so much had he crowded her other senses, but there was at least some small part of her that remained capable of rational thought. "Before?"
"When you loathed me," he admitted, reaching up to kiss her again. "And I you, to be fair. I could not stand the sight of you, and yet... the thought of you kept me up at night. Far more than my pride would allow me to admit."
Kate bit her lip, unsure of how to proceed. Yes, upon meeting Anthony, he'd driven her mad, but she would be a liar if she pretended he hadn't had the very same effect on her.
If he knew what she thought...
"Do you think I did not dream of you too?" she asked, her breath heavy.
“You did?”
Kate nodded. "So much so that I thought I was going mad."
Anthony nearly froze. His gaze when he met her eyes was predatory. "What kind of dreams?"
"I..." Kate tried her best to form a coherent sentence. He was running an absent hand over her thighs while he watched her try. "I thought of us... you... what we do now."
"You thought of it then?"
She nodded slowly, her heart beating furiously in her chest. "Many times."
He swallowed. His pupils were blown wide with desire, so much so that they looked entirely black. "And what exactly did we do, in these illicit dreams of yours?"
"We..." Kate sighed, catching her breath. They were doing almost nothing at this point, and yet the flames inside of her felt as though they would rip her apart, incinerating her from within. The hand that had been running absently across her thighs noticed the way she squirmed and resumed its teasing, albeit even slower.
"Tell me," he said. "Or I'll stop right here. Tell me what you saw."
"You were kissing me," she sighed, ready to yank the cravat off of the bedpost and force him on her. But she didn't. "You— you ripped my dress off in the library and... kissed me. Everywhere."
"Including here?" he gently nudged her legs open when she nodded. He licked his lips as soon as he did so, a movement that was not lost on Kate. For a second she thought he was going to do the very thing she'd just told him, but he stopped just before his mouth could reach.
She could kill him. She should.
"What did you do, when these dreams woke you? Fall back asleep?"
Kate swallowed, her cheeks growing impossibly hotter.
No, she had not been able to fall back asleep when those dreams had afflicted her. Not until she had... rectified the issue.
She had been so unknowledgeable then, and yet it was as though her body had known.
"No," she said, desperate to regain mobility in her arms. "I had to... well, you know..."
He chuckled. "I don't think I do. Use your words, my love."
She was growing wetter by the second. She could feel it, and she knew that he knew it, too. He could probably see it. "Anthony, please..."
"Did you do this?" he said, his fingers finding the sensitive space between her thighs. Kate almost hissed when she finally felt the contact, the pleasure made only more intense by the torturous wait. He made slow, decadent circles around her, the pent up energy bringing her close to her release incredibly quickly, the pressure building exponentially in her spine before he—
Stopped. His fingers stopped moving.
Kate nearly growled, her chest heaving. “Anthony. Wh— why did you…”
She was absolutely going to kill him.
“Is that what you did? All alone in your bedchamber, thinking of me?”
“Yes,” she forced herself to say.
He smiled. “Good.”
The word sent shivers up her spine, the tiny bit of praise nearly enough to send her over the edge. She could have cried with relief when Anthony added to it by pressing his mouth the heat between her legs, ending her torture.
He had a habit of kissing her there often, quite passionately, and Kate never managed to grow tired of it — not the way he did it, as though it were a gift she were bestowing on him.
Maybe she wouldn’t need to murder her husband, after all.
Without the ability to move her arms, Kate was lost to the feeling of Anthony’s lips and tongue, unable to focus on anything other than the desire that coiled deep within her and threatened to burst. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, bared for him — it might have been minutes, and it might have been days.
All Kate knew was that the moment she fell apart against him it was as though stars had erupted in her vision, turning everything white and fuzzy. She was so overcome by her euphoria that she hadn’t even noticed when Anthony untied the restraints and pulled her close to him on the bed.
“Anthony,” she said, as soon as she regained her lucidity. “That was…”
“I know,” he chuckled, kissing the nape of her neck. “You did very well.”
Again, with the praise. Why did it have such an effect on her? It was nearly enough to rouse her body once more, much sooner than usual.
“And you… you don’t need—?”
“As long as you’re satisfied, I am, too,” he murmured. “For now.”
Kate chuckled and sighed happily. She was certainly satisfied.
The truth was, it had felt good to submit to him. To know that it wasn’t a responsibility he took lightly. To know that she could trust him with her body, and that in turn he trusted her with his.
That was what love was, wasn’t it? Giving yourself to someone, wholly and without restrictions. That's what she had done tonight — and it wasn’t illicit, or wrong.
It was freeing.
“Anthony?”
“Hm?”
“Promise me something.”
He kissed her again, just above her shoulder. “Anything.”
“Next time, it’s my turn to tie you to the bed, and have my wicked way with you. I believe I have a very pretty lace ribbon I can use…”
prompt: “(redacted) in public. the show made it clear anthony loves that”
It wasn’t as though Kate loathed the opera.
It was only that the lights were often too bright, the company too banal, and the gaudy costumes paired with loud, sweeping arias had a habit of reminding her of—
