A/N: I read a lot of P&P fanfiction, and I know Darcy & Lizzy's wedding night has been covered extensively. But there aren't many stories that really take their time exploring that night and the thoughts of each of the characters. I think it's important to realize gentleman's daughters in that day were incredibly sheltered and Darcy would have had to really draw Lizzy out and take it slow to keep her comfortable. BUT on the flip side, Lizzie is pretty naturally passionate. Makes for an interesting night, I'm sure! So this is my attempt to sketch all of that. Takes it's time in getting there, but I promise it's worth it. Let me know what you think. Warning: super explicit! Don't read if that will offend you!

I'm not Jane Austen, I don't own P&P, etc.

Anticipation

The sun was shining on a crisp, snowy landscape on the day Elizabeth Bennet married Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy (of Pemberley and Derbyshire). The ceremony had been sentimental – as she shared it with her most beloved sister, Jane and her new husband's dearest friend, Charles Bingley – but the after-festivities had been necessarily brief. This, because the Darcys had to hie to London from the county of Hertfordshire some twenty-four miles away.

In truth, Elizabeth was not sad to have had only a short time to say goodbye to her friends, family, and the home she had known all her life. After all, she would be back. She would have chastised herself for her flippant lack of sentiment if it weren't for the fact that she was eager to be on her way to her new house in London – to her new life, a life she would share with the man sitting beside her now. Or, beside her may have been a bit of a stretch. A truer assessment of the situation may have been to say that he was sitting on the same settee with her, or perhaps just in the same carriage. Given that he was pressed against the opposite window as far away from her as possible, he was hardly beside her.

He had been in this attitude for some time now, almost from the moment they left Hertfordshire. She was not truly vexed (at least at first). He did, after all, periodically reach for her hand so that he might kiss it or hold it whilst lazily caressing the palm. That alone was its own reward. And truth be told, she had initially found herself in need of a little space as well. This not because the newly married couple had already begun to be weary of each other's company; certainly not. But it was only true to state that things had become a bit…awkward after they pulled away from Longbourn, her family's estate.

As it was, they had been in a most delirious state of surreal happiness; happiness, and headiness. It was all happening so fast - the wedding, the exchange of vows, the celebration breakfast afterwards (where they alternated between paying every attention to the guests clamoring to congratulate them and stealing longing looks at each other), and then the hasty send-off. Then at last they were alone in the carriage, the congratulatory and well-wishing cheers of their friends and family fading behind them. At last they could each one look upon the other's dear face and…well…what, exactly?

Logic suggested this would be a good time to enjoy their first kiss as man and wife, and both were in favor of the notion. Such favor, in fact, that their heads moved simultaneously towards each other, their lips meeting halfway. They had not rushed the moment, but neither had it been particularly slow. This was no tentative meeting of the lips. It was more like a solid, straight-on-the-pucker kiss. Solid, but soft. It had not lasted for too long, as Mr. Darcy had pulled away slightly to gauge his new bride's reaction. When she gifted him with a small smile and a look in her eye that bade him continue, he moved back in.

Their lips met again, more familiarly this time. The next kiss was followed by another one, and then a third. Elizabeth was quite enjoying herself when Darcy had, with finality, briefly applied more pressure to her lips before pulling away, signaling the end of the kissing. She had not been sure what to do. She had wanted him to continue, but he seemed disconcerted. That was when he had given her a small, but regrettably formal smile, squeezed her hand, and then maintained it as he moved to the other side of the settee.

Now, she sat, two hours later, and barely a word had passed between them. It was not an angry silence, or even a bored one. In fact, she thought she would have preferred a bored one. For it was, in truth, simply an awkward silence. One that left her with nothing better to do than ruminate over his behavior – and hers.

She thought back to the kissing. For Elizabeth they were the first kisses she had ever shared – with anyone – and it had not been what she expected. She had often pondered her future husband's lips (and then blushed to have found herself out); wondered what their texture would be like, how they would feel against her own lips. She was pleasantly surprised to find them much softer than she had anticipated; but not very soft, as she imagined hers probably were. They were firm, but tender. And the kiss was quite enjoyable, at least for her.

Was that a possible reason for why he had pulled away? Had she been too forward? Wincing, she regretted that she might have. Perhaps he sensed how pleased she was and was put off. Part of her was embarrassed by the thought, part of her was chastised, and yet another part of her was defiant. Should she not enjoy her husband's kisses? Her mother, of course had said she would not, could not enjoy his kisses, or any other touch he might "force upon her." But, as she did to all her mother's advice, Lizzy had disregarded it. Immediately.

Her Aunt Gardiner, on the other hand, always gave sensible advice. And that dear woman had said that a woman in love enjoys her husband's physical attentions. Certainly, Mrs. Gardiner could not have been wrong. Yet, Lizzy granted, she was not a gentlewoman of the ton. Perhaps there were expectations among that class, her husband's class, that were different. Lizzy cursed her ignorance in such matters.

As she continued to sit and quite over-analyze the situation she grew more irritable with her husband and the quandary he had now put her in. If he was going to react this way after a simple kiss, how was she to know what to do when he took further…liberties? For she knew they were coming. Tonight. The thought made her head spin and her skin warm. She hoped he did not notice her rising color. She should be mortified if he guessed the source of her disconcertion. Stealing a glance at him, she saw that he was still placidly staring out the window.

Well, she thought, at least one of us is not the slightest bit worried about tonight.

Little did Elizabeth know, she was quite mistaken in the matter. Mr. Darcy was disconcerted over the coming night.

Substantially so.

As he sat opposite her in the carriage, he was not ruminating over his displeasure at her actions – he was trying to control his own. And he was caught in a maelstrom of emotions over the coming night. That he wanted to lay with Elizabeth and had wanted it even before they were properly engaged, or in truth, before she even knew of his true feelings for her, was irrevocable fact. He was a man, after all. And men thought about these things probably as often as cows thought about grazing. But beyond that, she was Elizabeth. The woman who had turned his head when not a single other woman who had crossed his path had even made him raise an eyebrow. Oh, yes, physically speaking, he was no innocent. Much as he was loathe to admit it, he had not been able to keep his…appetite in line whilst waiting to find the right woman to make his wife.

But as far as his heart went, not a single woman had even come close to penetrating the outer shell – until her. She had, over the past year, turned him inside-out, upside-down, and slapped him every which way until Sunday. She was the most vivacious, witty, exciting, warm, courageous, and generous woman he had ever met. She had demanded a strength of character from him he had not even realized was lacking. In short, she had shown him himself. Yes; his Lizzy was a singular woman. That she was also beautiful and alluring beyond comprehension was delightful as well. As was her figure.

Oh, yes. Her figure.

Sitting on the seat with her, he felt a strong pull at his groin as he thought of it. He knew that true gentlemen did not dare let their eyes wander below face-level when in society with women. It was simply indecorous. Because of this it had always flummoxed Darcy that, as if to further strain the effort a man makes to conduct himself politely, fashionable society saw it necessary to cut women's gowns in the swooping, low fashion that put their décolletage best on display. But this fact never troubled Darcy more than when he was around Miss Elizabeth Bennet. For, although he knew he should not, he simply could not help observing that God had gifted this exceedingly alluring creature with a bosom so extraordinarily generous and milky white that it quite undid him. Added to that were the peeks of a slim, curvy waist and long, shapely legs that he had seen when the light hit her at just the right angles on their walks. She was the most maddening temptation.

And now this singular temptation, this woman, was his. All his. And only his. To do with as he pleased. And there were a thousand different things he could think of that he would be pleased to do with her, and to her. He was both overjoyed and over…stimulated. And therein lay the problem. He loved her, respected her, worshipped and revered her so ardently that he would never harm, embarrass or coerce her in any way in their marriage bed. She was an innocent and he must take things slow so as not to frighten her or offend her sensibilities. But his desire was such that he was not sure he could rein it in enough to be the man she deserved tonight.

It was quite vexing.

His entire life he had prided himself on his Darcy family self-control. He ran his estate with a competent, firm hand. He kept his mind sharp through constant reading and informed through active efforts to stay current on all things politically and socially relevant. He kept his body honed through persistent fencing and horseback riding. He was a most generous landlord and master. And, most importantly to him, he was an attentive, diligent brother to Georgiana. He was every inch the gentleman, in countenance, habits, attitudes and conduct.

But when it came to Elizabeth, he was put completely out of sorts. It had always been so. True, he had finally won the battle for her hand, but now came the truest test of his mettle. Could he put his own raging urges to the side to focus on what she would need from him tonight? If he were the typical man, he would not even entertain the question. What is that old joke, he thought. The wedding is for the bride, the wedding night is for the groom. To society at large, tonight was his time to finally get what he had so patiently waited for. And she…well, she would submit to his desires and hopefully learn to enjoy it. But he could not take that attitude. Not with Elizabeth. He wanted her to enjoy their conjugal relationship. Needed her to, in fact, if he was going to find any bliss in it himself.

But more than that, she deserved to enjoy it. She deserved to spend her wedding night with a groom who would have the bullocks to put her needs first and service her until she was ready for the consummation he was so desperate to experience. She deserved to have him take it slow, put her at ease, bring her slowly to arousal as he helped her discover her body's capacity for needs and passions she had certainly never known it had. She deserved for him to enter her slowly, and only when she was properly…er, lubricated…she deserved for him to wait until the pain passed for her, and if necessary – oh God! Please do not let it be necessary! – withdraw should she find it too painful. And if she could manage with the pain, he must take care to be gentle as he moved within her…thrusting into her…thrust…after thrust…after exquisite thrust…

He cleared his throat and shook his head soundly, seeking to clear his mind of the dangerous scene he had just created in it. Elizabeth, alarmed at his sudden discomfort, inquired if he was well.

"Perfectly well, my love," he responded with a pat on her hand and a brief grimace of a smile, "It is only getting a bit stuffy in this carriage, do you not agree?"

She sighed. He tried not to notice the swell of her breasts as she did so. "Indeed, it is. But such is the evil of traveling," she smiled fetchingly in his direction. "It is an evil I find I am quite willing to undertake given the destination."

Thereupon he gave a real smile and kissed her hand. She gifted him with an affectionate look that soon turned to…was it, curiosity? Or confusion? Before he could determine, she turned her face away, suddenly engrossed with something outside her window.

He was disappointed to have lost her attention, for he knew he had been an abysmal conversationalist these past few hours (as he had sat fretting over the impending trial of his honor), and sought to make it up to her. But this scenario had its advantages too. With her neck craned as it was he had the opportunity to appreciate the erotic slope of it, the way the sweet tendrils of her curly hair brushed it at its nape, and how their rich dark color contrasted with the creamy white of her porcelain skin.

Dear God, he needed out of this carriage.

"Would you like to have a rest? We could ask the driver to pull aside for a few moments so that we might stretch and walk about a bit before continuing on to the house."

Her brow knit in contemplation. "How far away are we? I cannot believe it is above an hour."

"Yes, just about an hour," he agreed.

She chewed her lip as she thought about it. He loved it when she did that. She looked so cute, like a contemplative child. He wondered at his own depravity that the expression that reminded him of a child also evoked in him the desire to press against that pretty mouth long, deep, moist kisses, the kind with heat. And preferably tongue.

"No," she finally stated, pulling him out of the salacious daydream he had once again slipped into. "I should prefer to continue on. I would rather just get there, if you do not mind. But, if you wish to stop, I am certain I may oblige you," she said with a cheeky smile.

He looked at her fondly. "If you wish to remain on the road, we shall. You are right; it is only another hour." Another hour of absolute concupiscent torture, he thought. Gathering his pride, he settled back against his seat and resolved to spend the time overviewing his plan for the night.

For it would be about her. Or he would never be able to live with himself again.