Ice Jams

It had started accidentally. Edward’s wife had insisted they dress as each other for Fitzjames’ Halloween party and what Viscountess Le Vesconte wanted, she got. It was a joke amongst his friends that Edward hadn’t gained a wife when he married, but became one. He’d never let himself think too long about the thrill that ran down his spine when they said such things. Not until he’d slipped on one of Henrietta’s dresses– a little straight black number that made her look boyish, yet floated femininely around him. He couldn’t stop staring at his reflection, even when she’d scolded him for refusing to turn his head so she could finish framing his face in delicate curls. Ed didn’t want to be a member of the fairer sex, of that he was certain, but there was something about the way the soft silk hugged his body that made heat rush to his stomach. The men calling him ‘ma’am’ all night had thrilled too, despite the laughter that lurked behind the words. If Fitzjames’ hadn’t stolen the Viscountess away before he could get to her, Edward was certain he would have actually had sex with his wife that night. 

Which was why when he’d found the evening gown, he hesitated. He was cleaning out the old honeymoon cottage on the estate, for the new groundskeeper to have a place to start raising guineas. Edward didn’t particularly like the new groundskeeper, only because he liked him far too much. Hazel eyes had haunted his dreams for a week after he’d first employed Solomon Tozer, collier-turned lieutenant-back to collier once more. Henrietta had begged him to hire the man, return him to some semblance of status after his retirement from service. He had thought it strange that his wife suddenly had a bleeding heart. Then he met the man and realized her true intentions. Edward’s… inclinations were more than enough of a basis for a divorce, yet she never pulled that card. Instead she held it over his head as she frolicked through the men of the village behind his back. As if he didn’t know what she actually got up to with Lady Fitzjames’. He was not a dumb man, despite his peculiarities. 

Tozer spoke in the pure vernacular of the village. Yet when Edward had wondered aloud how he’d managed to become a lieutenant after the war with an accent like that, Henrietta had given him a look as if he’d said that horses moo’d. “What accent?” she had asked, “He speaks the King’s English perfectly.” That was how he was certain of Tozer’s dislike of him, as if his taking of every opportunity he could to make Edward feel emasculated in front of his wife wasn’t clear enough. 

So he had done his damnedest to push broad shoulders and a half-moon shaped scar from his thoughts. It hadn’t worked in the slightest. Which is why he was here– going through boxes of things left from Henrietta’s family –to even discover the damned gown in the first place. It was soft against his hands, velvet and tulle and sparkly beadwork. It was a fashion from a decade or so ago– when women had womanly shapes and still wore corsets. A familiar tingle ran down his spine at the thought of a corset. He had enjoyed how Henrietta’s dress had flowed around him, but he wanted something more. Some… curve. Some softness. Edward ran his hand down the side of his waist, closing his eyes and imagining the soft, pale curves of a country girl under his fingers. He blinked his eyes slowly open and noticed the corset tucked under the skirt. 

For once, he didn’t think; merely took action. He had his coat and shirt off in a flash, the corset wrapped tightly around his waist as he tried to tighten it himself the way he often saw his mother do– when they’d been rich enough for society, but too poor for a maidservant. He got a good grasp on the laces and tugged, gasping at the way it drove the air from his lungs, gasping louder when he saw the way it pushed his pecs up and together, almost like cleavage. It was tantalizing somehow– the juxtaposition between feeling like he had breasts and looking down to see the hair of his chest. 

He caught the strings and pulled tight once more, determined he would cut a womanly figure in the alluring evening gown of the late Viscountess Le Vesconte. The Little women had always been flat-chested, but he was different. He could be the first Lady Little to captivate with her chest. He picked up the gown, rubbing the black velvet gently between his fingers before slipping it on. He had nobody to do up the buttons in the back, but that was for the best. He was not nearly as slender as either Viscountess Le Vesconte. The Little women had always kept the figure of ruddy country girls, in a way that drove men even madder than a waist they could slip their hands around. He scanned the room for some jewels he’d set aside earlier, slipping some pearls around his neck, then searched for a mirror. He knew there had to be one. Every room the Le Vesconte’s owned had at least one mirror in it, often two to three. He found it– full-length, draped with a sheet –and lifted the skirt to move with a delicate step across the room. All of the Littles ran on the short side, especially compared to the striking profile the Le Vescontes cut. 

A third gasp escaped his panting lips as he saw himself in the mirror. The tightness of the dress didn’t stop it from hugging his new curves. In fact, the tightness worked in his favor. It pushed his breasts even further up and the broadness of his shoulders widened the neckline– putting an almost obscene amount of cleavage on display. He felt like a woman of the world in this dress, like a woman who knew her way around a man’s heart– and cock. Edward wished desperately for a pair of silk gloves right now, as he ran his fingers softly over his own cheek, down the pale line of his delicate throat to come to rest at the base of it, dancing above his wonderful breasts. 

It was because of the damn groundskeeper and his guineas that Edward didn’t hear said groundskeeper enter. 

“Viscount?” he said, and Tozer had been fucking with Edward, because it was unaccented, for the first time ever. 

“Tozer,” he replied, impressed he managed to straighten up as much as he did. 

Shame was an anvil slamming into his head right now. He knew his cheeks blazed red. He kept his voice steady as he continued on under the weight of it, answering the groundskeeper’s questioning look with a sweep of the hand across the soft velvet of the dress’s skirt. “Another one of my wife’s ideas for a costume party.”

“And… you got stuck?” Tozer’s eyes stayed glued to Edward’s body as he spoke. It felt dirty and yet so redeeming, the way those hazel eyes roved his body, from the width of his hips to his trim waist to his cleavage. 

Edward nodded. It was better than any explanation he could possibly come up with. He spun around carefully so Tozer could assist him in sliding the dress off, undoing the corset. The same electric shock he’d felt when he shook Tozer’s hand for the first time ran through him when the man’s hand brushed lightly against Edward’s waist. His calloused fingers set to work unlacing the corset and Edward let himself slump a little. From disappointment or relief, he wasn’t quite sure. Either way, he hadn’t expected Tozer to begin lacing his corset properly. 

“What are you–”

“We have to have you looking proper, don’t we?”

All the blood in Edward’s body flooded into his loins when Tozer pulled the strings and truly drew all the air from his lungs. A strong arm caught him around the waist as he swayed. He was certain his head was no longer attached to his body, he felt so far away from it. Only the sensations on his body remained– the soft caress of flowing fabric over his hips, Tozer’s chest pressed to his back, the press of the heel of Tozer’s hand against his crotch. 

“Mm, you’re a woman who suits this dress with more than just her body then, eh? Know your way around, darling?”

Edward twitched against Tozer’s hand, his breath coming in soft pants already. “Oh n-no, sir,” he stammered, feeling his cheeks go scarlet again. “I barely know my way here. I’m i-innocent, s-sir.”

He felt himself twitch once more at the thought of having to say those words again if any of this ever got out amongst their social circle. Hodgson would be sure to spread this far and wide. Cheating on his wife with the groundskeeper while in an evening gown? Hodgson would die for gossip like that. Tozer pulled Edward tighter against him, and even through the thick, black velvet, Ed could feel his hardened cock along his hip. 

“Call me Solomon,” he whispered in Edward’s ear, nipping at the earlobe as he pulled away to kiss his throat. 

Edward almost reached his crisis then and there. He couldn’t help the whine that escaped his lips. 

“I thought you didn’t know your way here?” He could hear the smirk in Solomon’s voice and nearly whined again. 

“Toz-” Edward cleared his throat with a sharp cough, trying to deepen his voice as much as he could, “Tozer. This is most improper.”

Tozer stepped back to allow Edward past him and gave a small mockery of a bow. “Of course. My apologies. Forgive me… Lady Little.”

Edward stopped dead in his tracks, head spinning at hearing the title spoken aloud. Solomon gathered Ed in his arms, turning him so they were face-to-face, his dimpled smile so close to Ed’s lips…

Edward placed both of his hands on Solomon’s chest, the back of his thighs hitting the table behind him. If he didn’t feel like a woman in danger of being taken advantage of before, he certainly did now. Cornered like this… And by such a fine specimen of a man too… 

“You aren’t– Why aren’t you laughing at me? You laugh at me for every other damn thing I do.”

“In my experience, laughing at beautiful ladies does not help me get under their skirts.” Solomon slipped a hand up as he spoke and Edward’s knees nearly gave out. “Although damn is a strong word for ‘such an innocent lady’ such as yourself. Are you sure you’re a blushing, innocent bride and not an alluring, seductress of a doxy? You’re as wet as one already.” He stroked his fingers slowly along Ed’s length and his hips bucked involuntarily. 

“Solomon–”

“I know, I know. This is most improper,” he pitched his voice up, as if he were mimicking a woman. 

“Solomon-” Edward started again, the name desperate against his vocal chords this time, his own voice pitched up in his need. “Don’t laugh at me. Please just fuck me. Please.”

“Ah, there’s the dirty woman of the night I knew was hiding in ya. Didn’t know she was polite as well,” Solomon purred. 

In one swift, practiced motion, he lifted Edward up onto the table and lifted his skirts. He grinned at him, boyishly, mischievously, before his head disappeared under the gown. A strangled moan escaped Ed’s lips when Solomon began to lick him. It felt like an eternity of bliss as Sol’s tongue worked him, followed by a finger, then two. Solomon’s fingers slid out and Edward whined at the loss of feeling. 

“You’re doing so well, Lady Little,” Solomon said before he pressed a gentle kiss to Edward’s sweaty temple.

And then he pressed inside of Edward, filling him completely, and every single thought fled his head as Solomon thrust into him slowly, carefully. A gentle lover, like Ed had dreamed of ever since he was a little girl. 

“Mm, maybe you weren’t lying. You are as tight as a virgin. But girls like you usually are, no matter how many times they’re used. It’s been a long time since I held a woman shaped like one, much less a soft girl such as yourself. This new boyish trend is a bane. I like my women with hips. I’d like to know they’d do a good job bearing my children. You would do a fantastic job at it, Lady Little.”

Solomon’s whispered words sent Edward over the edge and his crisis hit him like the lightning bolt God was sure to strike him down with. He spilled all over the velvet of the wonderful dress. Fuck. He hoped Henrietta didn’t care to keep this dress, for it was surely ruined now. 

Sol continued to thrust into him, and Edward let him. He deserved it for being able to bring a lady to crisis so quickly. Edward tilted his head back and let himself float away on the sensation of Solomon’s mouth against his chest and the warmth of his cock inside him.  

There was a small cough from the doorway and Edward wrenched his head up and his eyes open. He met his wife’s bemused, dark eyes. Henrietta smirked as she took him in, skirts hitched up to his waist as Solomon took him against a table like some common whore.