The hotel wasn't the biggest or the best in Brighton; both Will and Charity had preferred to put their money into their little end terrace house on Brook Row. Nevertheless, the Sand House was clean and cozy, and their room was on the second floor, overlooking the beach. The ancient bellhop who showed them up began wheezing, and without a word, Will took the suitcases from him halfway up the stairs.

"Thankee, sir; I do apologize—my breath's been short since my days in the mines," the old man sorrowfully. "Usually Reese does the upper floors and I take the lower."

"Not a worry," Will assured him with a smile. "What time is breakfast?"

"Cook's up at six and table's open from seven on, sir. Lunch is set at twelve thirty to two, tea at four thirty and dinner is around six. I'm Dan, and I'd be happy to serve you in any way you need."

"I'll keep you in mind," Will nodded as Dan unlocked the door and ushered them in. Charity gave a happy sigh, stepping into the room and looking around.

It was a garret room, with the low roof above slanting down to several diamond-paneled windows. The wood and plaster of the walls were very Tudor, and gave a sense of coziness along with the braided rugs and watercolors of the sea that hung on a few of the walls.

"The bath is down the hall, ladies and gents marked on the doors, and you have your own water closet there, just off to the left," Dan pointed out the small door. "Will that be all sir, madam?" he asked gently, hovering.

"Yes," Will told him firmly, and fished out a few shillings, tipping the bellboy. "Thank you very much, Dan."

"Thank you sir," Dan replied courteously, nodding and stepping out.

For a moment, neither Charity nor Will spoke as they stood self-consciously in the low light of the gas jets. Then Charity laughed, and moved to take her hat off. "This is silly."

"Silly?" Will reached for one of the suitcases and cast about for a spot to rest it. The dresser was low and wide, so he set the case on it and unbuckled the straps. "It's not silly. It's just . . . the newness of it all. That and the quiet."

Charity nodded; the wedding reception had been one long happy buzz, and compared to it, the silence of the room felt restful to the ear. She glanced out the window, noting the low sunset light spilling across the water with a glittery streak. She moved to open then, and the scent of the salty air was delicious.

"It's half-after six," Will murmured, coming over to her. "Are you hungry?"

"After everything this afternoon, I don't think I could handle another bite for *days.*" she murmured, feeling a shiver at his nearness behind her.

"I agree," Will sighed with a chuckle. "Mrs. Strake sets a fine table." He put his arms around Charity and joined her in looking out the window. "So what would you like, love? A walk on the pier?"

"Tomorrow," Charity whispered, and turned in his arms, bringing her mouth up to his. "Time enough for that tomorrow. Right now . . . I think I'd like . . . to be made Mrs. Clark for true."

Will drew in a shaky sigh, and bent his head to kiss her.

It was easy after that.

Charity loved the closeness of him, of how easy it was to undo the buttons of his vest, and after that, Will's shirt. In the low light he was pale of course, but the familiar sight of his ginger-furred chest made her smile.

Will caught her hands after his shirt was undone, and stopped her from going any further with a gentle shake of his head. "T'is my turn," came his murmur. Gently, he helped her pull the pins from her hair and when it tumbled down he ran his fingers through her fine black tresses, marveling at them.

"I've wondered what it would look like," Will confessed. "It's like a waterfall of night."

His unexpected poetic comment made Charity laugh. "It's not!"

"Oh it is," Will assured her and nuzzled it as he pulled her close. "And very pretty."

Charity kissed him again, moving her lips from his and then along his jaw line, trailing over the faint bristles of his skin. She savored the texture, the scent and taste of Will, feeling gratified when he groaned a little. His hands moved to her back, undoing the buttons of her dress with alacrity.

She pulled back to impatiently pull the dress down, feeling both self-conscious and amused as her bare arms and shoulders came into view, but Will's delighted smirk made Charity blink.

He ran his palms up along her arms to her shoulders, his warm touch both soothing and arousing. "How does it work that I'm the ginger one, and you have all the freckles?"

"The angels love me more," Charity sassed back, and Will bent to kiss her at the join of neck and shoulder, his mustache tickling lightly.

"Love," he breathed gently in her ear when he moved his kisses up, "When was your last time?"

A little dazed, Charity turned her head to look at him. "W-what?"

"Your last . . ." Will trailed off, a little uncomfortably. Charity blinked and then understanding dawned on her as she blushed.

"Oh! Three days past," she assured him, a tremble in her voice. "I'm . . . clean."

Will's arms tightened around her, and for the first time Charity felt his warm chest against her corset. She kissed his shoulder as he spoke softly. "Then we're safe, and I can love you without too much worry of a child just yet."

"Good," Charity murmured, and wrapped her arms around him.

It took a while to strip off the rest of their clothes; the corset was easy but the bustle straps were stiff and Charity giggled when Will rolled his eyes.

"Fashion," he grumbled, working the buckles loose with a final tug.

"Fashion," she agreed, and let the thing fall to the floor with a soft 'thump' of fabric and strap. Will gave a relieved sigh and picked her up; Charity giggled, feeling scandalously light in her undershirt and pantaloons.

"Bed," Will told her firmly and carried her over to it, setting her down on the big blue duvet. Charity sat up, reaching for his belt buckle. He looked down and hesitated; she smiled up at him.

"You are allowed to show it to me," she assured him. That made Will snort, and his dimples deepened.

"So I hear," he replied. "Saucy woman." Carefully he sat on the edge of the bed and undid his bootlaces while Charity kissed Will's neck and shoulders, making it more difficult to concentrate. When he slid his trousers off and rolled onto the mattress, she slid into his arms, moaning.

Will shifted to his side and leaned over Charity, kissing her with care. She kissed him back, a little frantically, but he let one big hand slide along her stomach between her lacy undershirt and the drawstring to her pantaloons and gradually Charity relaxed.

"Slow," Will murmured. "No rush, love. We've got time enough."

That made her snort a little, and she nipped at his nose when he leaned over her again. "Will, you should know by now that I'm not patient."

"Really?" he replied, and let his palm slide up, under the thin cotton to cup one big round breast."Fancy that."

Charity gave a happy shudder, and her pupils were wide as she drew in a breath. "Will--" came her little moan, "Please--"

With gentleness, he moved his hand out again and undid the buttons of her undershirt, then lightly tugged it open, revealing the pale luscious globes of her chest. It took a moment for him to fight the hard rush of arousal that spiked through him and further stiffened his shaft, but he smiled and let his fingers gently caress each breast. "God," came his happy sigh, "I've wanted to see these for—"

"—me too," Charity whispered, blushing. That made him chuckle, and Will flicked a thumb over the dark pink nipple, toying lightly with the stiffness as his wife whimpered.

He nuzzled her neck, drinking in the sweet joy of her arousal, feeling proud and eager to take her, but wise enough not to rush matters. Will understood that Charity's first time had to be good; that love and lust had to be equal in the moment. Bending further, he lightly nibbled one nipple and then the other. Charity gave a low cry of delight, and her arms scrabbled to pull him closer.

"Willll . . ." came her voice, a husky and hungry sound. "I want you, I do!"

He let his mustache brush over her breasts, and kissed his way up to her mouth, moving from pale skin back into freckled skin, and chuckled. "And I you, love; and I you. Come see me . . ."

Charity blinked, and shifted as Will took one of her hands and brought it down to his stomach. She looked, and timidly began to touch, stroking the trail of sandy fur that lead further down into his drawers, where a thick ridge was pressing hard against the plain cotton.

She bit her lips. "That's . . . it, then, isn't it?"

Will snorted. "Yes. And it doesn't bite," he assured her gently. "Ready to see it?"

Her eager grin was enough, and with Charity's help, Will managed to undo the drawstring and shift his drawers down. Her gasp, and warm caressing hand nearly undid him, but Will gritted his teeth and stayed still as she explored his erection.

"It's so hot," Charity marveled, curling her hand around the turgid shaft. "The skin's soft, but under that, it's like bone!"

"All the better to join with you," Will murmured distantly as he enjoyed her soft stroking. "Careful though. I don't want to spill just yet." She pulled her hand away as if scalded, and he laughed, kissing her temple. "T'won't break, dear, but if you keep playing with it like that, I'll spend and then we'd have to wait a while."

"It's big," Charity murmured with a hint of wariness in her voice as she reluctantly let go. "I didn't know they got so . . . big."

Flattered, Will gave a little hum, and slid a hand down her stomach towards her pantaloons. "Every man has his size, I suppose. And now, Charity my love, turnabout is fair play. May I?"

She made a soft sound of protest, and then reached to undo the string herself, laughing in embarrassment. "Sorry . . . I'm just nervous I suppose . . ."

Will moved to kiss her again, and as they did, he felt her relax a bit. Without speaking, he lightly slid his hand into her pantaloons, and when his fingers touched the curly fluff at the join of her legs he groaned. Charity wriggled her hips, hands moving to push the pantaloons down.

She didn't speak, but brought her hands to cup over his, pressing his touch down onto the soft fur. They kissed again, and Charity trembled, her body tensing with each soft caress of his hand. Will kept his touch light, even though every fiber in his body was urging him to roll on top of Charity and simply take her.

But he hadn't counted on her impatience, and with a little growl, she kicked off her pantaloons and gasped at him. "Will, please, just—now, please!"

He nearly laughed, but the sweet daze of lust in her eyes was more than enough to make him grunt, and he shifted, pinning her under him, and reaching down to guide himself. Charity grabbed his shoulders, her breathing noisy and her eyes glittering. "Oh Will---!"

"S-slow," he promised, and rocked forward, breeching her as gently as he could. Will tensed, fighting instinct and desire as he arched into her body. Charity flinched, but after a second, she moaned, and let one plump leg wrap around his thigh.

"More," she gasped, her grip tightening. "S'good!"

Will pushed further, and the sudden slickness, the lovely hot squeeze of her made him growl hard. He thrust again, caught up in the maddening drive now, and the pleasure throbbed through him from temples to toes. Charity gave a slow cry, and he felt her rock against him, mouth along his neck, fingers clutching hard.

They joined, making a sweet hard staccato of creaks on the bed, and Charity tensed as sweet heat flared from between her legs all the way up her stomach with every stroke. This was madness; a deep delicious madness that left her breathless and achy, although the ache was growing stronger and harder and faster . . . the feel of Will within her was wonderful, and now she felt as if she was dying it was too much, so much . . .

She tensed as the flare of joy seared everything else away.

Will let his body ride hers, lost in the sweet blaze of pleasure that poured through him. Charity felt like slick, hot heaven, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Will knew he would *never* get enough of her; that she truly was his wife now in the ultimate sense of the word. Then Charity gave a hard shudder, clenching around him, and Will joined her, thrusting raggedly as her damp arms clung to him and he gushed within her, thick and hot.

It took a lot not to simply collapse on her, and he grinned so hard his face hurt. Under him, Charity looked dazed, her long black hair tousled on the pillow, her cheeks red under the freckles. She blinked at him, eyes wet with tears.

"Are you hurt, love?" he asked, a flare of worry in his voice. Will damned himself—he'd been too rough; too hard and she a virgin---

"Oh I love you, Will Clark," Charity blubbered softly, sniffing and grinning. "I do so!"

Relief flooded through him, and he bent to kiss her, keeping most of his weight on his arms and knees. "Love you too, Charity my bride. That was . . . quick," Will admitted ruefully. "It's not usually quite so—"

"--We were ready," she corrected him gently. "At least, I was. Ohhhhhhh this is a sweet thing," Charity added, letting her hands stroke down Will's back and flanks, "this loving. I like this."

"With you, it's nothing short of amazing," Will murmured, nuzzling along the side of her damp face, "but we need some time to rest . . ."

"Mmmm," she agreed, and helped him shift out and away from her. Looking down, Charity blushed, touching the pinkish slickness along her thighs. "The sheets--!"

"Hold on--" Rising up, unself-conscious in his nudity, Will moved to the washbasin and dipped a corner of the facecloth in the water, then came back and lovingly washed his wife's thighs, dabbing at the cleft between them as well. Shyly, Charity let him, her eyes wide.

"If we were kings and queens," Will told her conversationally, "They'd hang this washcloth out to show we'd properly sealed our marriage."

"That's . . ." Charity wrinkled her nose, "Disgusting! Oy! Who's business is it anyway, and that's dirty laundry of the worst kind!"

Will laughed, and bent to kiss her knee. "Lucky then we're not royalty, eh? Still, you're a proper woman now, Charity, and I'm the luckiest man in the world."

"Oh you--" Charity chuckled, and held her arms out to him. "Come here, Will!"

After cleaning himself as well, he crawled back into the bed with her and they settled in together; still slightly self-conscious in their nudity, but content. Will lay back, feeling the lovely weight of Charity's head on his furry chest, and slowly dropped off to sleep, feeling a rare and lovely joy throughout his entire body.

*** *** ***

Charity woke up just after dawn, needing the water closet so she untangled herself from Will and scurried to the little necessary. When she was done, she stopped at the washbasin and poured a little fresh water, cleaning her face a bit as she looked in the mirror. The dim light showed Charity that her hair would need a lot of time with a brush, but other than that, things looked normal.

She smiled at herself. "You are a woman now," she whispered, and giggled.

Carefully Charity made her way back to the bed, and looked at Will, who was sprawled out, snoring lightly. His hair was no better than hers, sticking out every which way, but she loved how relaxed he was, and how . . . muscular. She cocked her head and kept looking at him, drinking in sight of his long, strong arms and broad shoulders, his forearms with their light golden hair, his big, wide hands.

She slid into bed and breathed in his scent, comforted and aroused by the tang of maleness he exuded; that little sweaty musk that Charity knew now would always mean 'Will' to her from now on. Sleepily he shifted, rolling to curl around her, one arm possessively sliding around her waist. "Mornin' missus."

"Mornin' mister," she whispered back. "Your prick is up."

"Language," he snorted, "Although I suppose it's all right. And yes, t'is. It's an early riser."

"Is it?" Charity giggled playfully. "So am I."

"Well now, we should do something about that," came his soft reply. He hadn't opened his eyes yet, but he was smiling, and Charity ran a finger along the deep dimples bracketing Will's smirk.

"May I . . . see it?"

His eyes opened, and the warm trust in them made her blush. "Be kind," Will murmured, and slowly pulled the duvet back.

Charity kissed him, and after lingering a bit, she lightly scooted herself down the bed, focusing her attention down the length of his torso to his hips. She propped herself on one elbow and reached out her free hand to curl around his shaft, her touch gentle, and her expression intrigued. "Oooh, it's getting bigger!"

"It does that," Will teased, his face red but his words merry. "Especially when you touch it."

"And these are your ballocks," Charity murmured, letting her fingers reluctantly let go of his erection to lightly stroke the furry ginger-curled mass under it. Will tensed and slipped a hand down to guide hers.

"Yes. Not meant for rough handling, either. You ever want to drop a man in his tracks, aim a good knee right here, and I promise you he'll be one sorry fellow, love."

"Mmmm," Charity tried not to laugh. "I'll remember that." She pulled away from Will's fingers and returned to caressing the thickening shaft, toying with it lightly. "Look at it rise—you'd think it was ready to crow!"

"That's why they call it a cock," Will snorted, making her giggle in delighted embarrassment.

"That's terrible!" she laughed, "honestly, Will!"

"It's an old joke," he acknowledged, his smile warm and intimate. "I'd bet Adam told it to Eve."

This set Charity off again, and she giggled helplessly at the thought. Will took advantage of her mirth and shifted his touch down to her breast. He tried to shift her back up next to him, but she resisted, and in a move of sudden daring, leaned over to experimentally lick his shaft.

He gave a groan of surprise. "Char--!"

Charity pressed a kiss to it, feeling gratified that what she'd heard was true: men definitely liked their members kissed and licked and sucked. She opened her mouth and drew in the plum-colored head of his shaft, tasting it lightly. Musk of course, and salt along the delicate skin.

"Christ!" she heard Will gasp, and the pleasure in his voice gave her confidence. Charity bent her head and let his shaft slide into her mouth, feeling a sense of excitement at such a naughty thing. Will groaned once more, the sound deep and utterly masculine; a sound she wanted to hear again.

Lightly she bobbed her head for a few minutes, letting her mouth glide up and down along his ever-thickening shaft, and the sense of power blended with a sudden rise in her own desire. The taste of Will made her ache again the way she had the night before, made her long for him to take her once more and drive the breath from her.

Dimly she felt Will reach down and lightly push her away; confused she looked up and saw the hot glitter in his eyes. "'S nice, but I don't want to end this way. I want to be in you, Charity," Will rasped. "Please, love—!"

She gave a happy groan and rolled onto her back, reaching for him, helping Will shift between her thighs. He kissed her with strength, stretching himself out on her body, and Charity cried out in pleasure as he thickly drove into her, hot and hard.

Will kissed her again, tasting himself in her mouth, tasting her flavors as well, and the unbelievable softness of her body under his made him ache. Those cushioning breasts, that wicked little tongue, and cradling him that tight, wet cleft squeezing him were enough to drive Will deeper. Charity—his harbor, his love, his beloved wife . . . the maddening pleasure built with each stroke into her, and he nuzzled her cheek, feeling wetness there, not knowing if the tears were hers or his.

Then she cried out, shuddering, her nipples so hard that they pressed into his chest as her delight crested. Seeing it, feeling her clench his shaft was too much. Searing joy flared through him, and Will arched into Charity, feeling the thick hot pulses of his spending gush deep within her.

It took a long while to come back from that.

Finally, Charity drew in a breath and gave a low, happy sigh. "That's good, that is. I didn't . . . know it could be like that."

"That's what makes it love," Will told her softly as he brushed her hair back from her forehead and kissed her nose. "A bit sticky and noisy, but love just the same."

"If this is how babies get made, we're in for a brood, Will," she pointed out teasingly. He gave her a grin as he gently rolled off of her, making the mattress creak a bit.

"Yes, well we'll come to that too. I'm not too worried about it, but I do think we ought to make an appearance so that people don't wonder about us. It's nearly ten now, I'm sure."

"Ten! I haven't been abed mid-morning since . . ." Charity thought back, trying to find a memory and failing. Will laughed.

"Up we get then. We can walk the pier and see what's in town if you like. I'll need to shave though," he ran a hand over his chin, scratching the faint gold bristles along it.

"And I need a bath," Charity admitted reluctantly. "I'm a bit . . . sore."

Will slipped an arm around her, pulling her over to him and kissing her temple. "I'm sorry, love. I should have been more gentle."

"Pfff," she snorted back, and kissed him before adding, "We'll take it slower later."

*** *** ***

It was a lovely Saturday. The heat brought the crowds to the beach, but Will and Charity watched them thin out as evening came on. They walked the pier, and Will rented them fishing poles for the afternoon. Neither of them had Bob's luck though, and they gave it up in time to shop a while. Charity bought a souvenir plaque with a watercolor painting of the beach and the scrolled lettering of 'Brighton' on the bottom.

They had dinner at the hotel and enjoyed flounder with boiled potatoes, all the while watching the other diners and gently chatting. Afterwards, they walked to the bandstand and waltzed among many couples there under the twinkling gaslights as the music rolled out in the warm lovely twilight.

And that night they made love again, playfully. Charity learned about the tantalizing pleasure of a soft mustache and warm tongue between her legs. She shivered and cried out joyfully several times, and Will happily received her gratitude when Charity rose on her hands and knees, looking back over her shoulder at him with saucy lust.

On Sunday, after a leisurely breakfast on the veranda of the hotel, Will and Charity packed, then caught the train back into London. Clattering, the cab took them from the station to Brook Row, just past the little park where they'd taken their first walk together nearly half a year earlier.

Will unloaded the suitcases .Charity had already trotted up the stairs and unlocked the front door of the little end terrace house. She was about to slip inside, but Will moved quickly to scoop her up. "Now Charity, we've got to do things traditional-like."

She laughed, and clutched her hat, trying to keep it from falling off as Will carried her over and into the little foyer. The house was quiet, save for the ticking of a clock in the living room and the distant sound of traffic along the other streets behind the other houses.

"Our home," Will sighed, still holding her.

Charity eyed the staircase. "Maybe you'd better set me down."

Will pretended to consider it. "No, I don't think so," he told Charity firmly. "It's only the afternoon, and I think we need to re-sanctify our marriage. Up we go, love—"

He carried her up the narrow stairs easily despite Charity's laughing protests, and only set her down once they'd reached the bedroom up above. Charity turned and reached for him, thinking that of all the things she'd ever hoped for when she'd first seen Will Clark, this was by far the most wonderful.

"I love you," she told him, her voice trembling.

"And I love you," Will told her lifting her chin and gently letting his mouth drift to hers. "Blessed, aren't we?"

And they were.

end