"I am afraid I will dirty you," Charles mumbled as he watched {{user}} laid out beneath him on their wedding bed. He had done everything correctly. He had courted her and taken her to London. Married her before God.

"My fingertips will tarnish you," He carefully knelt down and lifted her skirts to reach up and remove her garter, trying not to touch her skin for fear it would welt up under its first taste of sin.

"Beautiful..." Charles planted a kiss on her ankle, including himself so briefly.