WARNING: This post contains nekkid Sims! NSFW!
Drunk and laughing from more than just the wine, Freddy somehow managed to wend his way into the bedroom with Clarice — his bride — securely in his arms. He kicked the door shut behind him. “And here we are!”
They had raced each other up the stairs, laughing and pulling at each other like a pair of rambunctious children. It was only once they reached the landing that Freddy had swooped Clarice up in his arms and carried her over the threshold of their bedroom. It was bad luck to let a bride walk it on her own — she might stumble, and what would that portend?
No. They finally had each other, and all the angels in heaven and the demons in hell couldn’t tear them apart. Freddy would let nothing ruin this, not now.
Clarice had shrieked and laughed the whole way up, and besides a token, surprised, “Freddy!” when he picked her up, she had laughed the whole way inside. She’d practically shaken with the force of it. Now … now she trembled. “Freddy, can you put me down?”
Oh, no. What had he done now? He put her down.
She smiled into his eyes, soft and sweet. But he could feel the clamminess of her hands on his shoulders even through his tunic.
Freddy brushed a trailing, stiffly curled lock of hair out of her eyes. Clarice arched into his touch like a cat. “So,” Freddy asked, “What do you think?”
She blinked. “Of …?”
“Oh!” She looked around — and somehow she found a reason to lean against him as she did so, her head fitting just so on his shoulder. Freddy’s arms locked around her waist; he closed his eyes and leaned his cheek against hers. Her hair tickled his nostrils with every breath. “You’re a good listener,” she murmured. “It’s — it’s just what I would like.” She pulled away, but only to look at him. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. You know I want you to be happy. I’m just thrilled you decided you could be happy with me.”
She looked at him — well, she looked at him the way she had looked at him when he gave his vows to her. Like she could scarcely believe her luck. But he loved her, and she knew he loved her. Why did she find that so hard to understand?
Perhaps, though, he should know better than to wonder, to question, any more. He had met Bors, after all. And when Bors had given his daughter away into his hands, there had been no stern, “Now, you take care of her,” or unspoken threats of intense bodily harm if so much as one hair on Clarice’s head was put out of place by him. Freddy had thought that was the normal thing for fathers to do. There had not even been a hint of a tear in Bors’s eyes, either. When Dannie had married, Richard had been claiming the whole morning to be coming down with a head cold in order to have an excuse to bring a handkerchief and use it and keep his pride intact.
And Bors? He’d looked proud. He’d smiled. And when he put Clarice’s hand into Freddy’s, he had beamed at the both of them, then turned one last, stern glance to Clarice — as if to say, Behave.
Then he had gone back to his seat without a further word.
But that was all over now — even if Freddy wasn’t sure how he was going to go about getting Clarice to understand that. It would be the two of them now, forever, and Bors could jump from the highest tower in Albion or Reme for all Freddy cared. He had tried to tell Clarice as much with their first kiss as a married couple.
He could not be sure that she had quite understood the message. But he did have the rest of their lives together to tell her as much — right?
Freddy gave her a rueful half-smile, as if to apologize for his lack of words, and pushed more of her hair back behind her ears.
Clarice giggled. “You like to play with it, don’t you?”
“There’s just so much of it …”
She laughed again, but her eyes swiftly grew grave. “Do you — would you like me to style it this way regularly?”
Honestly? He didn’t care how she styled her hair — he had yet to find a way that looked bad on her. But growing up the son of Bianca Ferreira had taught Freddy that women rarely responded well to a shrug when they asked their man what he thought of their looks.So he said, “You do whatever way works for you. But you don’t want your hair flopping in your face when you’re trying to do lifesaving surgery, aye?”
Clarice chuckled. “Aye, true.”
That seemed to kill that line of conversation — and the big bed was behind her, warm and inviting, and he had been waiting for this moment for years. So Freddy smiled and nodded to it. “So … shall we?”
Clarice followed the line of his gaze. “Oh! Oh, of course.”
He grinned and crossed over to the dresser. Everything was going to be fine from here on out.
Freddy was not a man who had grown up with a valet, and though both he and his father were not in a position to afford one if they so chose, neither of them could quite see the point. What use was money if it left you unable to dress yourself?
So it only took a moment for Freddy to pull his tunic and shirt over his head. Of course doing so destroyed the careful styling of his hair — but what did that matter? It was nothing Clarice had not seen before. He folded the tunic and put it away, somewhat haphazardly, perhaps, but he had more pressing things on his mind at the moment. He turned around. “Clarice, do you want me to –”
He stopped. So did Clarice. She was wringing her hands together, and — staring at him. Freddy remembered he wasn’t wearing a shirt. He glanced down at his chest, wondering how it might appeal to a woman. “Er …”
“Um,” Clarice stammered. “It’s — it’s, uh — it’s the belt. I — my mother had to help me put it on — and I’m not, uh, sure how she did it … so I don’t know how …” She gulped and gazed at him, her eyes begging for — what?
He could only offer his clumsy male assistance. “Oh. Do you want me to try?”
Clarice nodded, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Are you going to need a maid?” he asked, offhand, as he drew closer to her. “You can hire one if you do, you know.” A lady’s maid was not like a valet: any man who couldn’t dress himself or shave himself was a fool. But the son of Bianca Ferreira had learned from his very cradle that just as women’s fashion was infinitely more complicated than men’s, so were some of the gowns. It was very difficult to lace your own gown up the back. And that wasn’t even beginning to consider all the things women did with their hair …
“No, no. That — that would be a needless expense.”
“Hardly needless, if all your belts are like …” Freddy eyed it askance, took a step back and eyed it again. “How is that thing supposed to work?” What’s wrong with a simple buckle? Or better yet, a knot?
“I don’t know. Oh, Lord, isn’t this just perfect!” She laughed — but there was a hint of something else, something lurking underneath. “We can’t even get the belt off!”
“Hey, I’ve got an engineering degree, and you’re a doctor — we’ll figure it out between the two of us.” Freddy grinned, or tried to. It was hard to grin when Clarice was staring at him like a doe caught in the hunter’s tracks. “Maybe — can you pull it out a little? More into the light?”
She complied. Freddy reached for the belt, but with her little white hands so close to the damned knot, he could not help but notice something. “Clarice? Your hands …”
“My hands …” She looked down. “Oooh …” She dropped the belt, her eyes starting to fill with tears.
“Hey, hey.” Freddy stroked her cheek. “It’s all right. It’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with being — nervous.”
Her hand rested on his wrist. Now Freddy could feel it shaking as well as see it. “You’re not nervous,” she murmured.
“Yes, I am,” Freddy replied. “Of course I am.” I could end up being a huge disappointment.
“You’re not showing it.”
“That’s because my Granny used to yell at my parents and tell them only one of them was allowed to panic at once, because she didn’t sign on to be putting both of them back together.” Freddy took Clarice’s trembling hand in both of his and kissed it. “I’d hate for her to have to make a special trip down from heaven to put both of us back together.”
She laughed, but there was still that — something in it. That fear. “Clarice …” Freddy rubbed her hand. “You know we don’t have to do anything tonight.”
Clarice shook her head. “Yes, we do.”
“No, we don’t. We don’t have a kingdom riding on this. We can take our time. Nobody is going to be checking the sheets in the morning.”
“No-o. It’s our wedding night. I’m not going to …” She gulped. “I won’t ruin it.”
She couldn’t — she couldn’t possibly. He wished he could tell her that and have her believe it. But he knew the way she was looking at him, her chin tilted up, her eyes blazing desperate defiance. If he backed off now, she would think their wedding night — maybe their whole marriage — was ruined.
He couldn’t do that to her and live with himself.
Freddy took a deep breath of his own and put his hands on her shoulders. “Clarice … if you want to keep going, we will, but — but I want you to promise me something.”
“I — all right?”
“If I — if we — go too far, or too fast, or if you just need a minute — you have to tell me. All right? I know you want to do it tonight, and I respect that, but we still don’t have to rush it, Clarice. It’s not like we have to to go anywhere tomorrow morning. We can take our time.”
Clarice blinked rapidly at him — but then, slowly, she nodded. Then she looked down at her gown. “I think,” she murmured, “I think I can manage the belt — but, um, do you think you can get — get the laces? They’re in the back, and, um …”
He could not help but notice that the laces were discreet, but all the same, thick enough for even clumsy male fingers to take hold of and undo. But it was Dannie who had designed this dress. Trust her to think of everything.
The belt slid to the ground, and the dress soon followed a whisper of silk. Freddy lifted a hand to touch the chemise. It was as silken as the gown, embroidered with delicate flowers at the hem, clinging to her in all the right places. Perfect for a bride on her wedding night.
But Freddy had barely a moment to admire it before Clarice’s hands went up to her hair, pulling at the hairpins, sending lock after curly lock tumbling down. “Hey — need a hand?”
Clarice only nodded, and Freddy proceeded to try to worry the hairpins out with her. Between the two of them, it didn’t take long. But no sooner was the last hairpin safely accounted for than Clarice took another deep breath, grabbed her lovely chemise at the hips, and struggled out of it. Then she turned and stood before him. Naked. And trying to smile. “W-well?”
Freddy’s jaw, somewhere in the vicinity of his knees, could never work in time to answer her back. So he responded in the only way he could think to: He kicked off his breeks and hosen, grabbed her by the waist and kissed her.
He had thought the chemise was silken. He was wrong. Clarice — Clarice was more than silk, softer than satin. Warmer than velvet. He had never before known how two bodies could just fit together, click into place like the last, perfectly-cut stone for the wall. He found himself hard, and he was pushing for the bed before he was even properly aware of it.
Clarice didn’t resist — she let him guide her, even unto the point where her thighs bumped against the bed. Slowly, she eased herself onto it. Freddy followed a good deal less slowly. His hands exploring every inch of her, trying to memorize it, trying to figure out what happened if he put pressure there, just barely grazed here —
He heard Clarice mewling beneath him — not moaning, making a noise like a frightened young kitten — and her feet scrabbling against the counterpane. That was when Freddy remembered that it was not just his Clarice beneath him, but a frightened young virgin Clarice beneath him, and rolled off her.
Clarice’s head hit the pillow, her breath coming in shallow pants. Any hardness he may have had went slack at the sight of the panic in her eyes. “Clarice?” Freddy asked. “Clarice, are you all right?” Bloody hell, he hadn’t scarred her forever, had he? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to –”
She was trembling as she straightened herself out and sat up. Then, after a few good gulps, she sat up. “Why — why did you stop?”
“You seemed …” There was a freckle just below her elbow. Why did that make his heart start to pound so wildly? “Nervous. I just — wanted to give you a minute. There’s no rush.”
“No rush,” Clarice repeated. She took a deep breath. Freddy would not have been a red-blooded male if he didn’t watch her breasts rise and fall with each breath. Her dresses truly did not do them justice. “No ru–” She broke off suddenly, staring.
Freddy followed the line of her gaze … and flushed. He felt the sudden urge to grab his pillow and cover himself — but for what? He gulped. “You’re a — you’re a beautiful woman, you, you know that?”
Clarice still looked at it — then she looked at herself. “It’s supposed to go …” Her eyes were quite wide. Then — without warning — she shrugged. “Well, at least it’s smaller than a baby’s head.”
Freddy blinked — and howled with laughter. “Clarice! That’s what you think of?”
“Well, I — I wouldn’t have believed a baby could come out of there if I hadn’t seen it … so I guess if a baby can come out …”
“I can come in.” He shifted closer and closed part of the distance between them; Clarice closed the rest of it herself.
He took her hand in his, stroked it. “Besides …” he murmured, “Doctor Clarice, that can’t be the first one you’ve seen … can it?”
“Well, no, but …” She glanced down at him. “It’s a bit — different in an illustration, or on a — a cadaver.” She blushed.
As for what came next, Freddy had no idea where it came from. Perhaps it was Maude, come down especially from heaven to whisper it in his ear — although he would hope that she would leave him alone tonight of all nights, apparently not to be. But wherever it came from, it left via his lips before he could stop it. “So you’re used to stiff ones, then.”
Clarice’s eyes flew wide — and then she laughed. Hard, the musical sound ringing off the walls and ceiling, barely muffled by curtains and cushions. Freddy laughed with her.
And in the midst of that shared laughter, when Freddy pulled her to him and kissed her, and they both pulled away with a smile, there was nothing more natural in the world.
It was easier now — it was as if the shared laughter had opened something, loosened something in Clarice. She did not tremble and gasp now. Freddy slowly guided her down again, lips still on hers, one hand cradling her head, the other as close to her side as possible without sending his weight crashing down on top of her.
Their thighs were just touching now. He could feel every last twitch and rub. He leaned on his elbow, coming closer and closer to her. His finger just grazed her nipple.
Clarice broke off with a gasp. “That — that –”
“Feel good?” Freddy whispered.
It was not just her face but her whole body that was blushed. “Y-yes …”
Freddy grinned and stroked her breast.
“Oooh …” she moaned, her legs slowly sliding to lie flat. Freddy straddled her. But — nothing more. Not quite yet. One step at a time.
He kissed down her jaw, to her neck, her shoulder. Clarice started gasping again. But — they weren’t panicked gasps, this time. They were surprised, but — pleased. She grabbed his neck and held onto it, practically clinging for dear life. He couldn’t expect anything more from her, not yet.
“Freddy?” she whispered.
“Are … when are you going to …?”
He pulled away to look at her. Her lips still trembled — but her eyes were not blazing, now, but calm, even a little curious. “Are you ready?”
She bit her lip, but she slowly spread her legs.
“It won’t hurt,” Freddy soothed. “Er … well, it might, um, be a little uncomfortable at first. But it’s not supposed to hurt.”
Clarice’s brows knit together. “How — how do you know?”
“… Um …”
“Have –” She chewed on her lip again. “Have you done this before?”
Freddy blinked and his heart cracked. But he could not lie to her. Not now. “… Yes.”
“Oh. With — with who?”
“A courtesan. At — at Camford. Just before we left.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I — I wanted to make sure you’d be with a man who knew what he was doing.”
Clarice blinked slowly. “You — you did it for me?”
There was no way she would believe him, but he could only tell her the truth. “Yes.”
Freddy grinned back and kissed her forehead. “Ready?” he whispered.
Clarice nodded. Freddy’s lips moved back onto hers. He felt her surprise — she probably wasn’t expecting this — but just as the courtesan had said, her legs spread a little farther. And Freddy went in.
In those moments — bliss. Blankness. Joy. Oneness.
Somehow Freddy found it in him to open his eyes, watch her face as they moved together.
His guess was that he had told Clarice the truth: it didn’t hurt.
And then — too soon — it was over, and he could only slide out of her and flop back onto the blankets. Now it was his turn to pant and gasp. His hand found Clarice’s, felt her shiver. The night was cold — funny how he had not noticed that before. Of one mind, they slid under the blankets.
Freddy rolled over, wondering what you were supposed to say to your wife after you had taken her virginity. But — somewhat to his surprise — Clarice was smiling. “Freddy?”
“… When can we do this again?”