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wildflowerspollinator · 3 months ago

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Between Confusion and Clarity

I published a new chapter of my fanfic. It’s smutty but sweet, and it could also work as a standalone piece. The whole story is fluff and smut with a bit of angst.

Chapter 18

Colin confidently steps down from the carriage, the sounds of bustling London streets muffled by the cool night air. Reaching into his coat pocket, he carefully withdraws a small, unlit candle. The coachman adjusts the carriage lantern.

"A candle in your pocket? I thought you were just happy to see me?" Penelope teases.

Leaning in close, Colin grins. "Upon closer inspection, my dear, you'll find that I am very happy indeed."

Stepping away from Penelope momentarily, he touches the wick of his candle to the carriage light. The flame catches quickly, casting a soft glow that illuminates his face. Satisfied, he turns to Penelope and offers her his arm with a warm smile. "Shall we?" he asks, the flickering candle casting light on the stairs leading to the townhouse.

Penelope takes his arm, her eyes reflecting the light as she gazes at him. "Thank you, Colin," she replies.

As they step inside, the interior is cloaked in darkness, save for Colin's candle's soft, solitary glow. He turns to Penelope, his expression warm and reassuring. "Stay close; it won't take long to light the place up."

Guiding her inside, he moves to the nearest sconce on the wall, gently tipping the candle to light a larger one in the wall-mounted holder. The flame catches, spreading a warm light across the entryway. Colin moves quickly, repeating the process with a few more sconces and a lantern, casting a welcoming glow throughout the room.

Penelope admires him and appreciates how he cares for her comfort, even in the smallest gestures. "There," he says with a satisfied smile. It's much better."

She nods, her smile widening as she takes in the sight of the townhouse's entryway. "Much better indeed," she agrees.

Colin sets the now mostly melted candle on a nearby table, its purpose served. Extending his hand to Penelope, his expression softens. "Shall we find somewhere more comfortable?"

"We could," she replies, pressing him against the wall and unbuttoning the first two buttons of his vest. "Give me a tour."

"A tour, you say?" His voice drops, "I think I can manage that."

"I should hope so," she says, her fingers lingering on his vest before slowly stepping back, giving him just enough space to move.

Taking her hand, Colin threads his fingers through hers and leads her down the hallway. "This is the drawing-room," he says softly, pride evident in his voice. "I thought it would be a good place for us to entertain guests or just relax with a good book. I've already moved some of my books and added a few decorative trinkets as placeholders, but we can work on building the collection together."

Penelope's eyes scan the room, taking in the cozy furniture arrangement and thoughtful touches. "It's perfect, Colin," she says sincerely, her voice filled with admiration. "I love it."

He turns to her, a tender expression on his face. "And I love you."

"Penelope," he begins, her name a question on his lips as if searching for the right words. "Before I lead you into every room, know it's a promise."

"A promise?" she echoes.

He nods. "A promise that this is our home."

Tears well up in her eyes. "Colin…"

He takes a deep breath, his voice softening even more. "Marry me, Penelope. I want to spend my life discovering you slowly, day by day. I want to learn every story and cherish every moment with you. I want every part of you. The bold, the shy, the playful, and the serious. I want it all, and I want us to fill this home with memories of a well-lived and well-loved life."

"Yes, Colin," she says, a radiant smile breaking through her tears. "Yes, I will marry you."

He leans down, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. When they finally pull apart, his eyes sparkle with joy. "Well, good," he says with a grin. "Then the tour can commence."

Retaking her hand, he leads her further into the townhouse. "We'll send an invitation to your house in a couple of days' time. Once Anthony and Kate have settled in, we'll have your mother over to decide on the wedding details. I told Anthony a dowry wasn't necessary—between my funds and, well…" He lowers his voice conspiratorially, "And he doesn't know about your Lady Whistledown earnings, but I think we'll have more than enough."

Penelope squeezes his hand, "So, Anthony is back?"

"Yes, that's why I was finally able to ask. But I've been working on getting everything set in motion since I told your mother I intended to court you," Colin explains, his eyes shining with pride.

"Hence the home," Penelope says, her voice soft with understanding.

"But now that it will be official, you must act somewhat surprised when you see the home again in full light when you return with Rae to settle on everything you'll need to run the household."

"Colin!" she exclaims, her voice catching with laughter and tears.

"Yes?" he asks, turning to her slightly worriedly. “Is it… is it not…”

"No!" Penelope quickly interrupts, shaking her head. "It's not that. I've always wanted you."

He steps closer, his thumb brushing away a tear that escapes down her cheek. "You have me, Pen," he says gently. "You've got me forever."

"I know," she whispers, her voice trembling. "But I wanted you and this for so long. And to discover that you've been putting it in motion, making our future turnkey ready, it's… it's…"

He looks at her expectantly, his heart thudding in his chest. "Yes?"

"It's the most attractive thing you could ever do," she finishes.

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across Colin's face. "I'm glad you think so," he says. He pulls her into his arms again, holding her tightly against him.

"Because there's nothing I want more than to make you happy. To build this life with you."

She hesitates for a moment, then whispers, "I…"

"Yes?" he prompts, his eyes searching hers.

"I intend to ravage you, Mr. Bridgerton."

His eyebrows lift in surprise and delight. "Oh? And where might you have in mind for such an endeavor?"

"Upstairs?" she suggests.

Without hesitation, Colin takes her hand, his grip firm and reassuring.

"Upstairs it is," he replies, reaching for the lantern. Its soft light flickers in the dim hallway and leads her toward the staircase. "I think you're going to love what I have in store for you," he proclaims as they ascend, their steps quick and eager.

"Wait," Penelope asks, her voice soft but insistent.

Colin pauses, looking down at her with a curious expression. "You don't want to go upstairs?"

She steps ahead of him, turning to face him on the stairwell, "It's not that," she declares, smiling. "I just never had the chance to kiss you on a stairwell... to kiss you at your level."

Colin pauses, his eyes flicking between her and the steps. His heart quickens at her boldness, "Then, by all means, Penelope," he says with anticipation as he leans toward her, tilting his head ever so slightly. "Kiss me."

Her smile deepens, and without hesitation, she leans in, her hands finding their way to the collar of his jacket as she pulls him closer. She brushes her lips against his, slow and teasing at first, savoring the novelty of being on equal footing.

Colin breaks away momentarily, breathless, his forehead resting against hers. "You know," he begins, "if I get you out of this dress and you sit in my lap like you did that night in the garden, we'll nearly be at the same level."

Penelope presses her hand gently to his cheek, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw. Her eyes lock onto his with a softness that holds him in place. "Okay," she whispers.

With that, Colin begins walking her backward, his steps slow and deliberate, guiding her up the stairs one step at a time. His mouth doesn't leave her skin as they ascend; his lower lip drags lazily up her neck as his lips find her earlobe, his teeth grazing it lightly before he sucks on it. She lets out a small, quiet gasp, her hand tightening its grip on his shoulder. His tongue flicks over her ear.

He pulls back slightly, taking her hand in his. His thumb brushes soothing circles into her skin, a gentle, grounding touch as they move down the hallway toward the main bedroom.

Once inside, Colin releases her hand momentarily and moves the lantern by the bedside. He lifts it carefully, using the flame to light a few candles scattered around the room, bathing them in a golden light.

As soon as Colin is done lighting the room, Penelope moves on him, fingers tugging swiftly at the buttons, so many buttons. Colin's gaze is intense, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths as he watches her undress him. His hands twitch at his sides, yearning to touch her, to return the favor and undress her just as urgently—but Colin waits, allowing her to take control at this moment. He waits because he loves the way her fingers move with confidence, her brows furrow in concentration, and her lips part slightly in anticipation. The hunger in her face drives him wild with need.

"Like my own Greek statue," Penelope whispers in awe. Her eyes sweep over Colin, admiring every line of his body, and her hands sweep over his abs.

Colin's lips twitch as he steps closer, "You know," he begins, "the nice thing about not having staff around yet is that you don't have to whisper." He leans closer, "We can be as loud as we want."

Penelope's cheeks flush a soft pink, but she grins, straightening her posture. With exaggerated enthusiasm, she repeats, "My own Greek statue!"

Colin laughs, the sound rich and full, as his hands slip around her waist, "And my goddess!" he declares, his lips brushing against her forehead.

His laughter subsides, and with a new intensity in his eyes, his hands move to undress her. His fingers work with care. Her dress falls in a soft heap at her feet, leaving her standing before him, exposed and vulnerable but powerful in how she looks up at him.

Colin's eyes trace her form before his hands slide to her waist in one smooth motion; he bends slightly, scooping her up effortlessly as Penelope lets out a surprised gasp. As he lifts, Penelope instinctively wraps her legs around his hips. His arms move to cradle her under her thighs, holding her securely against his chest. She grasps his shoulders for balance, feeling the warmth of his body and the strength in his embrace.

With a grin, he moves toward the ensuite door, nudging it open with his shoulder. "You know, we never completed the tour," he says.

Penelope laughs softly, her arms wrapped around his neck as she leans close. "Well, I'll have plenty to be surprised by in the light of day," she says, kissing his shoulder.

Colin smiles as he steps inside the room. "I know we have the sitting room downstairs," he begins, his tone thoughtful, "but I thought a smaller, more private library would be nice. With a writing desk..."

Penelope listens, her fingers trailing through his hair. Colin pauses, and he gently lowers her onto the desk, her body settling against the smooth surface.

"Are you going to read me more excerpts from your journal?"

"Not now."

"No?" Penelope's fingers trail down Colin's chest as he sits in the desk chair, facing her. His hands move to her thighs. "I'm going to write the next chapter."

"Now?" she manages to ask.

"With my tongue," as he slowly spreads her legs.

Penelope's eyes widen, "Oh," she gasps softly, her hands gripping the edge of the desk. "Do you plan on writing many chapters this way?"

Colin grins, his hands kneading her thighs as he moves in closer, his lips hovering just above her skin. "I'd like a reminder of this memory every time I sit at this desk," his voice a low, "to remind myself how best to use my talents, whether it's the stroke of a pen, the stroke of a finger, or..."

As his lips descend, Colin's tongue traces a slow, deliberate path; Penelope gasps again, her head tilting back as the intensity of his touch overwhelms her senses. Colin's hands continue along her sides, steady and firm as if savoring every inch of her.

Although a faint light poured in from the open door, it wasn't enough to reveal all the details of each other. Instead, their eyes remained veiled in shadow, amplifying the sensitivity of every other sense. Penelope's skin tingled as Colin's fingertips skimmed across it, the feel of his tongue, each touch electric in the darkness, making her hyper-aware of every movement and brazen by the darkness.

For Colin, the taste of her was intoxicating, her scent, her wetness dripping on him. The way Penelope didn't hold back, the moans spilling from her lips, drove him to the edge. Her voice filled the room, his name on her lips like a mantra.

In the afterglow, Penelope moves from where she's perched on the edge of the desk, her bare feet softly padding against the wooden floor as she shifts onto Colin's lap. She nuzzles her face into the crook of his neck, and a gentle rock of her hips follows; Colin's hands instinctively grip her, his fingers splayed firmly over the curve of her ass, holding her securely in place.

"I want..." Penelope's voice is a breathy whisper, her lips brushing against his ear as she speaks.

Colin's head tilts back slightly, his eyes half-lidded as he looks at her, barely able to make out her face. "What is it that you want?" he asks, his voice rough with desire, his hands tightening their hold.

"The feel of you... on top," she murmurs, her voice dripping with want. As she says this, her hand moves between their bodies, fingers trailing lower until they brush against him. And then, taking some of her own wetness in her hand, slowly, deliberately, she takes the palm of her hand and rubs it against his tip.

Colin lets out a guttural moan, the sound deep and primal, his head falling back as his body reacts to her touch. His grip on her tightens, fingers digging into her skin with a barely controlled need. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his heart pounding against hers. "Penelope," he groans, his voice ragged, barely holding onto the last threads of restraint.

She leans in, pressing her lips to the pulse point at his neck, feeling it race under her kiss. Her body shifts again, her hips rocking slightly.

Colin's body responds immediately. His hands slide up her back, tracing the curve of her spine with a possessive touch. His breaths come in short, ragged bursts as he struggles to keep in control, her teasing touch unraveling him with each passing second. "Yes," he growls, his voice low and filled with heat. Let's do that."

Penelope shifts, her body slipping from his lap as he stands. Her fingers reach out to graze him one last time, but instead, he props her back up on top of the desk; he steps between her legs, his body moving forward as though drawn by a force he can't resist.

He enters her in one swift, fluid motion, making her gasp in surprise and pleasure. She arches her back, curving to meet him. "I said I want you on top," she breathes, the words half teasing, half commanding.

Colin's face twists into a smirk, his eyes filled with unrestrained hunger. "I need fuel for the walk over to the bed," he replies, his tone ragged and filled with a desperate need for control.

With a low moan, he thrusts deeper, the sensation making them both shudder. Colin's hands grip her hips, pulling her closer; the desire to lose himself in her is overwhelming. He can still taste her as he licks his lips.

She could feel the strength in his arms, the steady beat of his heart against her palm when she rested her hand on his chest. The softness of his hair, the roughness of his stubble, the firm lines of his shoulders—everything.

"I dreamt about you last night, and it was incredible, but then I woke up, and you weren't there beside me," Colin admits like a confession. His face hovers near her chest, the warmth from her skin beckoning him closer.

"I dreamt about you last night and woke up dripping wet," Penelope replies, her voice a sultry whisper as she wraps her legs around him.

Colin lets out a soft grunt, overwhelmed by the admission. His fingers tangle in her hair as he frees one hand from her hip, brushing back the damp strands clinging to her forehead.

"God, Pen," he gasps.

"Give it a tug," she instructs the words sending a thrill through him. He complies, gently tugging her hair, feeling the way it elicits a soft gasp from her lips.

"You're unbelievable… you feel–" he mutters.

"How do I feel?" she asks, her mouth brushing against his throat, her fingers tracing paths through the hair on his chest.

"Soft," as his grip on her hips tightens, "and moist," as he grinds against her, "and hot and…breathy," as his mouth lingers near hers.

Colin starts to pull out, but Penelope digs her heels into the back of his thighs, pushing against him. "No, don't stop."

"I thought you wanted me on top," he murmurs, his voice teasing. "To feel the weight of me on you…"

"I do, but—"

He thrusts back into her, cutting her off. "You want everything," he rasps, one hand pressing just above her pelvic bone with his palm.

"I want everything," she whispers back, her voice catching on a breath.

He begins to move again, slow and deliberate, savoring every gasp and tremor from her body. His hand, still on her lower abdomen, feels every flutter and pulse beneath his touch, driving him to the edge.

"God, Pen," he murmurs, "You drive me mad."

Her nails dig into his back, urging him on, "Then go mad," she breathes against his lips, "Show me."

With a growl, Colin complies, his rhythm quickening. His mouth finds hers, capturing her moans as their kisses grow frantic, desperate. He feels her tighten around him, her body arching into his as he shifts slightly, angling his hips to find that perfect spot within her.

Her head falls back, a choked cry escaping her lips as he hits it just right. "Colin!" she gasps her voice a broken plea, her hands clutching at his shoulders.

"That's it," he encourages, his own control fraying. "I've got you."

"Colin," she mumbles.

"Pen," driving into her one last time, sending them both spiraling over the edge.

Colin pulls back, slipping out of her with a slow, deliberate movement that makes Penelope gasp softly. He takes her hand, his grip firm but tender, and gently tugs her forward. "Come with me," his voice low, "I want to be able to see you." He leads her toward the bedroom, the soft glow of the lantern casting light across the room.

As they reach the edge of the bed, Colin turns to face her, his hands moving to her waist as he slowly guides her back onto the sheets.

Penelope watches him, a flush rising to her cheeks as he positions her in the center of the bed, his eyes tracing over her body. Before joining her, they lay on their side facing each other.

"Hey," he murmurs, his voice soft and warm. One hand props up his head as the other caresses her back, trailing slowly down to her hips and lower, lingering as if savoring every curve. Meanwhile, one of Penelope's arms rests under a pillow, and the other settles on Colin's waist, fingers gently gripping as she leans into his touch.

"What books are in our private library instead of downstairs?" she asks, her curiosity piqued.

"Works deemed a bit too… daring for polite society. The ones I deem inappropriate for anyone but your eyes," he replies.

"Oh? Such as?" she presses.

"Well, there's some of the classical works. Ovid's Ars Amatoria , for instance. It's poetry, technically," he says, his eyes locking onto hers with a knowing look, "but it's far from the kind of poetry you'd read to your mother."

Penelope lets out a soft laugh.

Colin shifts, thinking for a moment. "I have a translation of The Decameron by Boccaccio. Scandalous in parts. It's... an exploration of human nature, let's say."

"There's more, of course," he continues, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "I managed to get my hands on an old copy of Fanny Hill —don't ask how. And then there are a few manuscripts that were never officially published.

"Will the travel journals of a Mr. Colin Bridgerton be amongst the collection?"

"Perhaps," he replies thoughtfully, "although they may need some revisions. I plan to ask my muse for guidance and be my editor."

"And who might that be?" she asks, a smile forming.

"You," he says simply, his gaze intense as it meets hers.

"Not your French—"

He cuts her off, his voice firm and unwavering. "Nothing compares to this. Nothing is like the inspiration you provide me. I've been quite the prolific writer since our first kiss. You should revisit the journal, take a peek anytime you want, into my endless thoughts of you, my desire for you, how you spur my imagination, both mystical and here on earth."

"Can you read me the passage of our first kiss?" she asks softly, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"Okay," he agrees, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Colin climbs out of bed and walks over to the private library. He opens the drawer of his desk and retrieves his journal, feeling a surge of warmth as he runs his fingers over its worn cover. Turning back, he heads toward the bed, crawling in beside Penelope. This time, Colin sits up with the journal in one hand, while Penelope shifts, resting her head on his chest as her makeshift pillow, her eyes glancing up at him expectantly.

Using his right hand, Colin carefully flips through the pages, finding the entry. As he settles on the right spot, his thumb grazes Penelope's cheek, his fingers trailing gently along her skin. She closes her eyes briefly before looking up at him again.

"Here it is," he murmurs, his gaze flicking to hers before dropping to the words he had so carefully penned.

I still cannot fathom what happened last night. I write this now with a hand that trembles, still feeling the warmth of her lips on mine, the taste of her lingering in my soul. Penelope. We were in the garden—of all places, that damned garden I've walked through a hundred times, thinking it mundane. But not last night. Last night, it became enchanted, a place beyond time. The moon hung low, casting a soft glow on the roses, and there she stood, more radiant than I had ever allowed myself to notice. Her eyes, wide and uncertain, drew me in. And for the first time, I allowed myself to see her fully—the depth, the beauty, the quiet strength. One moment, we were speaking, her voice like honey in the night air, and then she asks for a kiss and I was reaching for her. My hand cupped her cheek, and she looked up at me with such surprise and hope that I swear it nearly broke me. I could feel the tremor of her shoulders, the way her eyes searched mine as if seeking some answer I could only give in one way. It was soft at first, barely a brush of lips. And that was it. I was lost. I pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, needing to show her everything I'd held back for so long. Her lips parted under mine, and she sighed, a sound so beautiful I felt it echo in my bones. I can still hear that tiny gasp of breath, like a secret shared in the dark. She tasted of tea and something sweet, something that was wholly Penelope. I paused for a moment, intending to kiss her again, but something made me stop. I wanted to look into her eyes to see if she was just as affected by this kiss as I was. Was this shattering her as it was shattering me? When I finally drew back, I took her face in, flushed and radiant. Her cheeks were a deep pink, her eyes glazed. And I... I was undone. But then, she did something I hadn't expected. She blinked at me, her lips still parted, and whispered, "Thank you." Before I could respond and decipher the meaning behind her words, she turned and ran. Ran. I stood there, dazed, my heart still pounding as I watched her disappear. It took me a full moment to process what had just happened, to register the emptiness left in her wake. Thank you? For what? For making me crave more than I had ever allowed myself to dream of? She was gone, and I was left alone, I don't know how long I stood there, wrapped in that moment, but it felt endless and all too fleeting. I've kissed before, or so I thought, but nothing compares to this. To her. I walked away last night, my mind spinning and now, here I sit, trying to put what feels impossible to capture into words.

"You're astonishing, Colin," Penelope breathes, her eyes wide with admiration as she gazes at him. A hint of vulnerability flickers across her face as she looks down, biting her lip. "I ran because I was embarrassed," she admits softly.

"Embarrassed?" Colin echoes, tilting his head, his eyes searching her face for an answer.

"That I asked for a kiss," she confesses, her cheeks warming under his gaze.

He shakes his head, a gentle smile curving his lips. "Braver than me," he murmurs, lifting her chin with a tender touch so their eyes meet.

"I felt foolish," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you still feel foolish?” he asks softly, his thumb gently caressing her chin. “Knowing how it affected me?”

She shakes her head, a small smile forming on her lips. "No."

"That warms my heart," Colin responds, his voice softening.

"I'll keep your cock warm, too," she responds boldly.

"Penelope Featherington!" he exclaims, shock evident on his face. But almost instantly, the surprise melts into an awestruck grin. He grabs her, pulling her close for a kiss, his lips hovering just a breath away. Then, he pauses, his eyes gleaming with something more profound, "Penelope Bridgerton," he settles on, kissing her with all the tenderness and passion she inspires.

Penelope's fingers brush along his arm as she settles in, whispering in his ear, "I want you."

Colin kneels on the bed, positioning himself between her legs once more. His hands move to her thighs, gently parting them as he leans down, his lips brushing against her skin in a series of slow, teasing kisses as Colin moves to claim her once more.

He enters her slowly this time, his eyes locked on hers as he watches her react to every movement, every sensation. The rhythm they find is different now—unhurried. Colin's gaze flickers over her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, and how her body moves beneath his.

He watches her face, captivated by every expression that crosses it—the pleasure, the need, the trust.

#polin smut #polin #colin my wife bridgerton #colin x penelope #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #fluff and smut #smutty fanfiction #perhaps I used the word groan too much oh well #this is our home this is my cock

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