The couple’s first few days in Venice was spent the way the first few days of a wedding tour was meant to be spent.
Sun rolled through sheer curtains, unblocked by the velvet and holland curtains that hung in their English homes. Birds chirped in the trees outside and the entire home they had acquired for their time smelled of bread. Elizabeth was awake, bare chest resting against her pillows while she traced the little pattern on their sheets. She still existed in a state of marital bliss, content to writhe happily beneath her new husband as often as he pleased - which she found to be rather often. She’d learned not to expect certain things from him, but she enjoyed it well enough. And she certainly wasn’t going to complain or admonish him - it likely wouldn’t result in anything but his ire.
She dared a glance at him, his youth showed so plainly when he slept. Silky hair mussed about his forehead, thick eyelashes resting against flushed cheeks, his bare chest rising and falling with each steady breath. He stirred, turning his back on her suddenly. Elizabeth considered reaching out and touching him, tracing the dip in his back where, if he was just a bit thinner, she would be able to see his spine. He wasn’t quite so frail. Before she could make any movement to touch him, his arm reached out and pulled something from the bedside table. His eyepatch was in place swiftly and then it was him who was looking at her. She buried her blush in her pillow, embarrassed to have been caught watching him.
“Good Morning, Lady Phantomhive,” Ciel gave her the faintest hint of a smile, and it was enough to coax her from her shame.
She twisted at her waist, though the way he was sat had pulled the sheets away from her and denied her the modesty she still naturally sought. What proper lady would be comfortable lounging about fully nude, even before their husbands? It was a notion explained to girls the second they were old enough to understand it. Modesty was ladylike, and to be a Lady one must be ladylike. Ciel had never made motion to pull her arms away when she crossed them over her breasts, so she did not bother thinking he took issue with her modesty. He knew well enough who he was marrying when he did so. But this time she made no such move, allowing him instead to view her fully. He did so, watching her lasciviously, making a blush crawl down her neck. His hands twitched and he moved so he could press a curious kiss to her lips. Fingers danced across her ribs before seeking spots which were still hidden by the fallen sheets.
Ciel grabbed her by the crook of her leg, hiking it up around his hip and slipping into place. With a gasp, she almost wriggled away, but instead wrapped her own arm around his neck and pulled herself closer, breasts pressed to his own naked chest.
This position didn’t last, however, before his eagerness had meant she was on her back grabbing at the sheets, her heels digging desperately into his back. Her chest heaved, his lips kissing and sucking, leaving bright red bruises in its wake. She was so grateful her family was not here in Italy with them. How embarrassing to have to go each day to breakfast with such bruises? Though she was happy to wear the evidence of his affections in private.
She couldn’t help but wonder if Ciel had hoped that their multitude of couplings would result in an heir. Elizabeth would admit to herself that she felt she was still much too young to be a mother, too unused to adulthood to care as she ought for a babe. But this likely meant nothing to him, as he thought first and foremost about the estate, and presumably about his legacy and the continuation of his name, as it seemed every man did.
Deciding not to think about it, clinging to him instead, she moaned, gripping and scratching and begging to feel that release she’d not felt yet since they’d wed. She tilted her hips, trying to angle herself in a way which would bring her that glorious end. This new position seemed to be perfect, and with each stroke her body tightened and pushed nearer and nearer the edge of the cliff she wanted to throw herself over the edge of.
God, or perhaps rather Satan himself, had other plans. For when Elizabeth finally opened her eyes, her husband’s face buried against her chest and her hips still tilted just so, she realized that their bedroom door was sliding open. That damned butler stood on the other side, lips curled in that smug smile he always wore, and though his eyes were downcast, she couldn’t help but feel he was looking straight through her, through them both. But it was too late. Ciel’s movements had, finally, sent her over the brink - though more to her pleasure than her horror. Her legs quivered and her core tightened involuntarily. She pushed him, eyes caught silently on his butler. He gripped at one of her shaking thighs in surprise, lifting his face at the feeling of her constricting around him and pushing at his shoulders to see the horror on her face.
He followed her gaze, finding Sebastian on the other end. “Goddammit,” He hissed, pulling a pillow between them to hide their joined sexes. “Knock, Sebastian, you absolute beast.”
“A thousand apologies, my lord.” He made no move to leave, and now he had looked up at them, eyes trained on his master. Elizabeth tried her best to pull the sheets up around them - trying to hide her breasts and face, desperate to hide herself from view. “I’ve received word from Lord Ciccone, he requests your presence immediately.”
Ciel’s jaw clenched and he murmured a curse under his breath. “Leave us,” He dismissed before looking down at his wife. “I’m dreadfully sorry, Lizzy,” He sighed, kissing her quickly - then lingering for a second kiss - before sliding from within her.
“You really must go?” She made no attempt to hide her unhappiness at the motion. She still felt mentally hazy from the pleasured end she’d felt, no matter the embarrassing circumstances.
“Believe me,” He stood, still clearly in need of attention, “I am no happier than you that I must go. But the things I must talk to Lord Ciccone about are incredibly important and he has put this off for much too long already.
“I see,” Elizabeth wrapped herself in the sheets. “When will you be home?” Her eyes tracked him while he dressed.
“I am not sure, truthfully. This shouldn’t be a terribly long meeting, but if it is longer than I hope, I shall send Sebastian home.”
She said nothing on that, not willing to admit that the butler with whom he spent much too much time with was not on the list of people she wanted to see. Certainly not now, not after that humiliating encounter.
That was a matter which she was not ashamed to discuss. “Ciel, you are married now. You must teach that man that boundaries are important. Unless you intend for him to interrupt us frequently? I’d rather not have any man but you seeing me in this state.”
Something - greed, perhaps possessiveness - flashed in his eye. Clearly he had no intentions of others seeing what was his in any such state either. He pushed grease through his hair. “I’ll talk to him. He ought not be so presumptuous about your comfort. And you’re right,” he went to her side, pressing his hand gently to her face before letting his fingers curl around her jaw and pulling her face to look at him. “I have no desire for him to look at you as only I should.”
Her lips parted, a little breathless. “Then he shan’t.” Elizabeth pressed her hand over his. “Hurry home. I’ve no desire to spend any day apart from you during our tour.”