Chapter Text
It was a wedding like any other
Somebody’s son to somebody’s daughter
Pretending love and eternal bliss
But Reginald Fife wasn’t falling for this.
He’d seen the result of wedding vows,
The lies, the fights and endless rows.
His mother and father, two sides of the knife,
He had no desire for that kind of life.
Give him a whore, good food and good liquor,
He’d die quite happy, though probably quicker.
Once the vows are given and the service ends,
He heads to the bar with some of his friends.
He drinks and he laughs without a care,
While a devious miss is priming her snare.
The friendly Miss Goring with a flirtatious grin,
Points to a cupboard and beckons him in.
He accepts her call with a crooked smile,
But keeps her waiting for a little while.
(Maybe he waits a little longer than he ought,
He doesn’t want her to imagine him caught.)
For when he finally deigns to arrive,
The cupboard is empty with no one inside.
Miss Goring is waylaid or so it would seem,
He isn’t aware it’s part of her scheme.
So, when he hears footsteps, he assumes it’s his mark,
He reaches out, dragging her into the dark.
With hopes of a tryst or an armful of bliss,
The door barely closes before there’s a kiss-
An explosion of lust overwhelms him quite fast,
It hasn’t felt like this in the past.
Handfuls of flesh, her lips taste so sweet,
He sweeps her right up off of her feet.
Legs lock ‘round his waist, his paramour moans,
Such wanton, sweet and delightful tones.
Rocking and writhing, desire unabated,
He cannot believe how long he has waited
To feel something this strong, something this deep,
(Perhaps this is one lady he’ll have to keep).
His fingers dive under skirts and betwixt her thighs,
He could dine forever on her breathy sighs.
Pulling down her bodice, he starts to feast,
Unleashing his inner ravenous beast,
Sweat slicked and heaving, they continue to writhe.
It won’t take much for her to arrive!
Her cries getting louder, he suckles her breast,
(Since when did Miss Goring have such a chest?)
She begs and she pants, her breath in his ear-
It’s the sweetest sound he ever did hear
With shudders and shakes, she comes completely undone,
And once he is certain that she had her fun,
He allows himself to thrust and grind,
Hands gripped firmly to her behind.
A quick flick of his fall and a pump of his hand,
(He doesn’t care where his spend will land)
He’s come like a green boy with his first fumble,
But all he can do is slump down and mumble.
Her legs unwrap and she drops to the floor.
He can hear her shuffle back t’wards the door.
Suddenly a future of passion this great
Might just be worth the marriage state.
With a hand on the door, he stops her retreat,
Ducks down for a kiss in hopes of repeat.
He runs a hand through her hair dishevelled by fingers,
Feels sparks of the rampant connection that lingers.
He opens his mouth to suggest that they court
(Was Miss Goring always this short?).
But the toll of a bell, a chatter of voices,
If caught like this, it will take her choices.
With a throaty growl, he bids her to stay,
He will deal with what’s coming this way.
He slides out of the cupboard and stalks down the hall,
Fixes his attire and enters the ball.
The new husband and wife have taken the chance,
To open their marriage with a scandalous dance.
But that isn’t what makes dear Reginald stare.
What is Miss Goring doing right there?
She sidles up close and with a voice so grating,
Says “What’s the matter, Fife, get tired of waiting?
Perhaps it’s your turn to experience rejection.”
Then walks away without further objection.
It’s evident she wishes him to apologise and follow,
Yet something about her leaves him all hollow.
Reginald doesn’t care for the words she was hissing,
He wants to know who the hell he was kissing!
She was soft, she was lush and passionate too,
He had ruined a girl and he didn’t know who!
He might be a cad, a lout and a rake,
But he was a gentleman for heaven’s sake!
Determined he was now to go and discover,
Which gently bred lady was his newest lover.
Thinking of their tryst made him quite randy,
So off he went in search of a brandy.
His friends approached as he poured out a measure,
Demanding to know who’d been “at his pleasure”.
But before he could drag the words from his throat,
Lord Cho noticed something stuck to his coat.
“Look at this!” he cried and they all stopped to stare,
As he lifted a long, curly, strand of red hair.
She had been curvy and short, skin soft like cream,
She fit into his arms and kissed like a dream.
The evidence was there and he had to admit,
He’d only gone and tupped the Featherington chit!
A spike of panic came out of the blue,
The Bridgerton boy would run him through!
Although he’d denied her in his wildest dreams,
Everyone was aware it was not what it seemed.
Frankly, the boy was deep in denial,
Wouldn’t figure it out, at least for a while.
But could Fife allow her passion to belong to another?
(Especially someone who acts like her brother.)
No, the girl had depths Fife wants to explore,
(On the bed, on the desk, on the door, on the floor.)
It’s time Miss Penelope discovered for her sake,
What it’s like to be wooed by a rake.
He bids his friends to keep an eye out,
If they spot the girl, can they give him a shout?
It takes a long while but eventually,
They spy the young woman hiding behind a tree.
As he approaches her cheeks are quite flushed,
(From erotic diversion instead of a blush).
She eyes him with suspicion as he dips a bow,
Wondering what on earth he’s wanting now.
He wonders if she will even give him a chance,
“Miss Featherington, would you care to dance?”
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Part 2?
Unedited, unbeta-ed, uncaring.