This is the result of a tumblr prompt regarding the kiss scene in 3.01. What if more happened after the kiss?

Encouragement from amerigirltn [Willa dear, don't be a tease. In other words, "Please, please write it for us"]

induced me into crafting this scene!

MATTHEW: Can I kiss you? 'Cause I need to. Very much.

MARY: No. It's bad luck to look at me.

MATTHEW: What about if I close my eyes and you do too.

MARY: All right. But you mustn't cheat.

Mary waits for Matthew to step around the open door. He steps inside with a smile and she feels her way forward with a hand on his chest. Her hand slides to his face and they kiss. When they pull apart, Mary opens her eyes. They both smile, though Matthew's eyes are still closed. Mary stands there with her hand on his chest and closes her eyes again.

MATTHEW: Goodnight.

With reluctance, Mary withdrew her hand from Matthew's chest. The curve of his mouth stayed in a pronounced grin as he started to back out of her bedroom. She watched him and although his eyes remained closed, it was easy for her to picture his blue eyes sparkling beneath their lids. After taking the final footsteps to exit the room, he closed the door. And that was when Mary heard the soft noise tapping all around her, it had started to rain.

She thought of their conversation from the night before, when he said he would walk home even if it rained. She was flummoxed by his evermore and increasing flirtations, his indications that any moment they spent alone together was worth it. Had he been bragging about walking home? Such a simple achievement, but not too long ago, it would have been impossible. Mary felt displaced by the gut wrenching heartache of picturing Matthew in his wheelchair. Something overcame her suddenly as she contemplated the increasing pounding the rain was making outside; Matthew should wait till it was over. Mary was going to get her way. She went to her door and called into the hallway.

Mary felt a chill and she raised her voice, unafraid of being heard.

"Matthew," she repeated her call even louder. "Matthew!"

She heard footsteps and a very surprised and slightly amused voice answer her call.


"Close your eyes we have to continue our conversation," Mary said as she stood at the edge of her door.

She heard a soft chuckle and couldn't help smiling herself. Mary was about to step into the hallway when he spoke again.

"Okay," he said with bemusement. "Shall I come back to you?"

Mary held the frame of the door and took a gulp of air as his words caught her off guard. She closed her eyes as images from the past several years floated through her memory. All of a sudden they were fighting at the garden party and she saw him off on the train platform. Mary watched as the man she loved stood next to another woman instead of her. She couldn't speak up, she had lost him. And then Matthew was missing, he was grievously injured; the memories filled through her mind in quick succession. Suddenly she needed to kiss him, it was all that seemed important.

"Mary?" his soft voice called she could hear the uncertainty. "Did you want to tell me something?"

She opened her mouth to speak but found herself speechless. Mary peeked into the hallway and saw Matthew standing just before the door with his eyes still closed; his brow scrunched in confusion. She looked back and forth across the corridor and then took his hand. Matthew hummed the same sound he had made earlier. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed.

"Would you stay if I asked you too?" Mary said quietly.

"That question sounds familiar," Matthew returned playfully.

"It's raining rather hard out there," she continued ignoring his flippant tone. "You can't leave yet."

"So, I'll get wet," he said and his voice was rich with implied flirtations in his tone.

"Be sensible," Mary said softly. "Save gallant for the honeymoon. You could catch cold and you said," she couldn't finish the thought. Would it embarrass him? She didn't want him to think she thought less of him, for that would never be the case.

"What did I say?" Matthew asked squeezing their joined hands.

"Come into my room," she said with a tug and was relieved to see he followed her command.

"Can I open my eyes or are you going to make me stay blind?"

"I haven't decided yet," she said as she directed him to a chair.

Matthew sat willingly with a soft sigh. He pulled her arm slightly and patted his lap, his eyes still closed.

"You are incorrigible," Mary said with a laugh as she resisted his attempts to grab her. She continued to hold his hand but ensured that this was their only contact.

"You've lured me into your bedroom, and yet I'm the rake?" He said while crossing his legs.

Mary bit her lip and shook her head slightly, quite unsure of what to tell him since he wouldn't let the subject drop. She was finding a strange pleasure in watching him unobserved. Matthew sighed and his free hand briefly rubbed at his forehead. He leaned back in the chair, his head resting comfortably. Mary found herself almost hypnotized as Matthew squeezed their joined hands, each finger could represent a year in their history, intertwined together.

"Mary," he said hesitantly. "I told you that damp weather sometimes hurts my back," he said tensely. "But, my darling, we live in England and it is often damp. So, I shouldn't have mentioned it. I'm fine," Matthew paused as his tongue whetted his lips before he continued to speak.

"I'll prove it to you tomorrow night."

Mary blushed at his comment. The shutters on the windows banged together from the pounding rain. Thank heavens so had stopped him from walking home in this downpour.

"Come here," Matthew said seductively. "Sit with me until the rain stops, my beloved storm braver."

Mary knew she should resist, but she did not have the capacity any longer after months of his flirtations and overtures. She perched on the edge of the chair's arm, her arm around his neck. Mary rested her head next to his, check to check. Matthew's hand went behind her back to support her and she found herself encouraged to lean into his embrace. His touch was respectful and yet curious as he explored the soft silk of her nightgown.

"I love your hair," he said as his fingers weaved through the soft strands.

"I could say the same to you," Mary said lightly as she stroked back the hair that perpetually fell over his forehead.

"What are we doing?" Matthew asked softly with a rueful chuckle.

"I'm not sure," Mary answered honestly. "But I do know one thing; you can't open your eyes."

"Bad luck to see you? Mary, we are beyond back luck. After everything, we've been through…all the mistakes and stubborn pride…"

"That was all you," Mary teased as she kissed him lightly on the cheek.

Matthew snickered but then sighed as he absorbed her affection.

"The first time you have your hair down and I can't see it," he grumbled quietly. "If anyone finds me here I will be forced to say: Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair, as my explanation."

"A princess kept in a tower, a blind prince," Mary laughed at his mention of the fairy tale. "No one will find us," she said with reassurance. "We are alone."

"We are together," Matthew said boldly.

The wind howled outside and the rain continued to pound forcefully. And Mary realized she was glad for the bad weather, for she didn't want to let him leave.

"Do you remember the Kent ball?" Matthew asked gently.

"Of course," Mary replied automatically although she was surprised by his change in conversation.

"London almost six years ago," he said wistfully. "My thoughts now almost exactly replicate what I thought then."

Mary frowned slightly as she tried to recall anything significant he had said to her from that night they had spent dancing together. They got along splendidly for a woman marked as damaged goods and a man who was a middle class solicitor. And yet circumstances split them apart.

"We saw shooting stars that night and I made a wish," Matthew continued.

"Oh," Mary said remembering how the dancing had been interrupted, and everyone gathered on the terrace to stare at the spectacle above them.

"We could see the shooting stars with our naked eyes."

"I wish I could see something else now with my naked eyes," Matthew teased.

"You haven't changed at all since the Kent ball," Mary said fondly.

The way that Matthew stiffened at her comment was almost imperceptible, even from her close proximity to his body. However, she could tell her comment had not had the desired effect she had expected. She had meant it to be a compliment, but Mary watched his face and his closed eyes strain with subtle anxiety.

"I'm glad you haven't changed," she continued.

"How can you say that?" Matthew's astonished voice asked.

"What?" Mary said tenderly. She stroked the back of her hand against his cheek.

"I mean, my memories are the same, my feelings too; but I don't feel at all like that person now. My eyes have been opened. Everything in France and…" Matthew's voice petered off, he cleared his throat to speak again but no words followed.

"You are the same to me, and I won't take you for granted like I did back then."

Mary tried to appease him with a kiss. However, when their lips met, they couldn't part; the desire of each moment of contact increasing with each kiss. Everything would change tomorrow, but that was starting to seem too far into the future. Only with reluctance did they finally part their lips from each other.

"Mary," he said sweetly. "My darling, may I please open my eyes."

"You're asking quite a lot."

"I was going to say the same thing. Inviting me to your bedroom, the night before our wedding. The temptation, the impure thoughts."

"What on earth on you suggesting?"

"Oh, I think you know," Matthew said as his free hand reached until it found her thigh, his fingers walking along her flesh.

"I'll make a compromise with you," Mary said fiendishly. There was a clap of thunder outside which seem to make the heated moment all the more dramatic. She slid from her perch into Matthew's lap. He groaned and she felt a passionate cocktail stream throughout every inch of her body, as though she had been struck by lightning.

"We can do what we both want; however, you have to keep your eyes shut."

"Mary," he said her name half from shock and half from pleasure.

"I want you," and the emphases on his passionate words were erotic, plain and simple; there was no other interpretation.

"Let's forget that we fought today and that we marry tomorrow," Mary said.

She had never felt calmer and in control, moments ago she had been nervous and anxious. This was not a decision she had to think through. It was not based on lust or a need for excitement, this was about joy and the passion of love. She had felt apprehension and worry, but now it was different. A bride may feel jitters, but currently she was something else. She was a lover, a woman unable to fathom one more night without the man she loved.

"I can't wait any longer either," Mary confessed.

When Matthew swallowed and licked his lips, the soft noises seemed magnified. She saw only him, she wanted only him; everything else was forgotten.

"How many steps to the bed?" Matthew asked as he tried to gather her more firmly in his arms.

"Darling," Mary said as she nuzzled her nose against his. "No need to carry me."

"But, I want too," his voice pleaded rather mischievously, "Don't worry about my back or my stamina," he said gently.

"I'm not," she said confidently. "At least not now, but I reserve the right to worry in the future as your wife it is my privilege and pleasure."

"Save the future for the future my dear. I repeat my question. How many steps are there to the bed?"

And this time Mary did not resist as he seized her into his arms and stood assertively.

"I'm not sure," she said with a giggle. Her heart was racing and she couldn't believe they were actually going through with this romantic folly.

"One," Matthew said as he stepped away from the chair.

"Step to your left," Mary instructed.

Matthew did as instructed. Mary turned her head away from him and eyed their distance to the bed.

"I suppose lucky number seven will do," Mary instructed, "Turn to your right now and we've reached our destination."

Very gently and with extreme care, he released her onto the bed. She relaxed against the pillows and to her surprise Matthew simply climbed into the bed beside her. His hand groped the material slowly as he tried to understand the dimensions of the bed.

"Since you can't see I will have to undress you," Mary said coyly.

"How very brave of you," Matthew said with a chuckle. "It's odd but I feel like I can see you despite my eyes being closed. I suppose I've dreamed of you enough that my mind knows how to feel in the blanks."

Mary was empowered by his words and quickened her touch, her fingers feeling the prowess of nimbleness, and soon his jacket, tie, vest and shirt were divulged and dropped onto the floor. She didn't waste time to admire his lean flat stomach for Mary was on a mission.

"Mary," he moaned her name as she unbuckled his trousers.

He reached for her, his lips puckered and ready to receive any of her flesh that he could make contact with. His mouth found her shoulder and the curve of her neck and he liberally feasted on the soft flesh, kissing it with all his might as he moved towards her mouth. Mary was powerless to stop such hypnotic kisses.

Gravity allowed her to push him against the pillows and he reclined against the headboard. Mary's hair cascaded down her shoulders and tickled Matthew as she leaned over him.

"No peeking," she reminded him before resuming her removal of his trousers.

She shimmied the fabric down his hips, stunned at the vision that greeted her. The male anatomy of her husband was bulging within the constraints of the fabric. She didn't know what she would have thought of such a sight in the past, but now she thought it was marvelous.

When he pulled her towards him and she complied, straddling over him, her body instinctively molding around his limbs. Matthew's impatient hands left the curves of her body and instead maneuvered around her nightgown. He moved the silk up her hips and then gasped in astonishment at what he felt.

"You're not wearing panties."

Mary's parted legs were spread eagle over her soon to be husband.

"Does that make things easier?" She asked coyly and pressed her body against him. To her surprise Matthew wasn't the only one that groaned, a deep coarse sound elicited from her mouth as well.

"I need you," Matthew snarled with passion. "God, how I've needed you," he said frantically.

"Me too," Mary said as his manhood entered her body. "This feels right," she cried out.

He thrust and she moaned. She pivoted and he called her name. They found a rhythm that was all their own. Through every verbal debate, every batted eye and sharp exchange they had always been in sync together; it was hardly, therefore, a surprise that they excelled at this rhythm too. Mary stifled her cries by humming as they rocked together. Matthew repeated her name as a passionate chant. She closed her eyes and realized that she could see Matthew despite this lack of vision. It was true what he had said, imagination, years of longing and desire knew how to fill in the blanks. And with her eyes closed, Mary was unaware that Matthew did peek and had opened his eyes. He had witnessed her in the full blush of her orgasm before she collapsed on top of him.

He said, "Mary," and she said, "Matthew," and that was all they could manage.

Both of them were completely unaware that it had stopped raining outside.

Thanks for reading!