You know I talk too much
Honey, come put your lips on mine and shut me up
Early May, 1890 — Melody's Bedroom, Crouch Home, Swallowbury
Ben had received the condom through the mail about a week after their last conversation in Melody's bedroom, but despite his assurance that he would tell her as soon as he did, he'd kept the news to himself. The whole notion of intimacy was strange in this setting, and so he was in no hurry to visit her bedroom. The two of them hardly spoke to each other at all when they were home alone together, except for exchanging a few necessary pieces of information. Even when they were out at parties and such, they spent more time talking about one another than they did to one another. It was easier to pretend to be in love that way, or at least Ben found it to be so. By this point he knew all the right lines to say to others. He could extol her virtues and comment on how admirably she had weathered the misfortune of her family's response to their nuptials, while expressing optimism over the future, and he thought he was doing it all with a reasonable level of conviction. When he was looking directly at her, on the other hand, Ben found himself with nothing to say. Even without introducing sex into the mix, then, he assumed that visiting her bedroom would be awkward and uncomfortable. When one factored in that she was likely not particularly interested in sleeping with him except that she felt she had to do so in order to keep him from sleeping with anyone else, this didn't promise to be a pleasant interlude for either of them.
She'd asked about it that evening, though, which meant he could no longer put off the inevitable.
He'd taken some time to prepare himself, mentally and physically, for what he assumed would happen: he'd enter to find her already lying on the bed in her dressing gown, and she probably wouldn't so much as move until he'd somehow forced himself through to a climax. Ben had been quite surprised when the interaction hadn't gone that way at all. She'd been nervous, and uncertain, but she'd responded to his touch, which had served to encourage him to do more in the way of exploring her body. After a few moments he found himself actually getting into things, forgetting the awkwardness that haunted every other aspect of their life and focusing instead only on how he was feeling.
After he'd finished, he disentangled himself from his wife (remembering at the last moment to take hold of the condom and bring it with him so that it didn't end up sloshing out on the bed) and took a breath. "That wasn't... awful," he commented, before thinking better of it. It wasn't as though it had been great sex, all things considered, but compared to what he'd been anticipating he was pleasantly in shock.
MJ made this <3