Chapter 13. That First Magical Night.

Margaret did not realize it, but Charles was finding remaining apart increasingly frustrating as well. As he was most adept at doing, he kept these feelings inside. He wanted to be absolutely sure that their first time together could be free and unhindered; if he could not be with her completely, then he was willing to wait.

"Margaret, I am simply not ready yet. You know how serious such injury can be!"

He was right, of course. He was always right.

She sat on his lap, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his shoulder. "You've been doing your exercises?"

"Yes, Nurse Houlihan."

"Talked to Pierce lately?"

"He feels I'm not ready for surgery yet. And if I am not ready for surgery, well..."

She sighed again. "All right."

The next evening, he and Margaret were playing cards at her little table. She got up to get more of the chilled Zinfandel.

She came up behind him and reached over his shoulder to pour him a glass. As she leaned forward, he felt her pressed up against him.

He closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of her, how he longed to touch her, explore her. She was taking her time pouring the wine, lingering against him. It felt so good to feel his warmth on her, she didn't want it to end.

He grasped the bottle and her hand as she started to pull back and held her there, refusing to release her. She relaxed against his back and shoulder, letting him restrain her hand, and began to slowly nibble and kiss his neck, below and behind his ear, the spot she'd hit before when he'd put a stop to it.

She hooked her left hand over his other shoulder, rubbing her hand on his chest. She moved her hand up to his neck, holding him to her. She wasn't going to let him excuse his way out THIS time!

Charles was in no hurry to pull away from Margaret's closeness. It felt so incredible that even if the pain and cramping began, it would be worth it. So far, he felt fine inside. Then she started nibbling on his neck.

Oh, God, he thought, waiting for that initial reaction and response in his groin and gut. It didn't take much from her to get him going, after all, being so close, her mouth and tongue on him. He was pleasantly surprised that there was no pain. None at all.

He'd see if they could progress to the point they'd been before the night they'd danced at the Officer's Club (he didn't want to think about it being the night he got shot). He took her hand off the bottle of wine, and began kissing and nibbling. She had such beautiful and delicate hands, but so strong and capable too. She moaned when his lips first touched, then continued her own magic on his neck and ear.

He gasped as she took his earlobe in her mouth, sucking on it, teasing and tweaking it with her tongue.

By this point, she'd retrieved her hand and both hands were pressing against his chest to push him even closer into her. He was sitting back and letting her do the work, his eyes closed, glorying in the sensation.

She ran her hands down his front, over his abdomen, feeling the muscles underneath tense up. She waited for him to say something, that it was painful, but he still had his eyes closed, head falling back, a look of rapture on his face. He's certainly not in pain, she thought.

When he felt her hands move down toward his waist, Charles knew that if there was no pain from the inner abdominal and inguinal muscles, that he'd be fine. And there wasn't.

He stood to face Margaret, gripping her small hands, looking down into her glowing eyes.

"Margaret, that didn't hurt! Not at all!"

"Does this mean...?" she asked hopefully.

He pulled her into his arms, lifted her off the ground and swung her around. "Those exercises have surely helped! This doesn't hurt either!"

He set her down, and they stood and looked at each other for an eternity. It was like a switch had been flipped. Margaret flung herself into Charles' arms, pushing him down to the bed.

All of the tension could finally be released, and they went at one another almost violently, hands and mouths everywhere. They kissed and touched one another for a time, and Charles abruptly threw her off him, onto the bed, and stood up, looking down at her.

She was panting from their exertions, chest heaving, looking at him like she was ready to pounce on him again.

"What?" she asked, confused. Isn't this what they'd been waiting for, after all?

He continued to stare at her, looking her up and down, smiling.

He reached his hand out to her and gently pulled her standing. He was so much taller than she, that he had to bend his head down to be face-to-face with her.

"Margaret, I want you more than I have wanted anyone in the world. But we must slow down, at least this first time, so we may enjoy the journey!"

She pulled his mouth to hers, his lips swollen from their passion. "You're right. How... do... you..." She stopped. He was showing her how he was going to start making love to her.

He turned her facing away from him, reaching over her shoulders. He too ran his hands over her, holding her neck while he kissed and nibbled her ear. He wandered down her front, relishing the feel of her. His hands and fingers ached to be closer, so as he nibbled and kissed, he slowly began to unbutton her uniform shirt.

By the time the shirt was opened and off, she'd managed to remove his as well. He sat on the edge of the bed, and she straddled his powerful legs, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into another fiery kiss.

He ran his hands from her thighs up to the small of her back, digging his fingertips into her bare skin and making her arch and wriggle on him. He didn't bother with her bra, and simply pulled it over her head. He leaned back so he could admire her, taking her in, locking that sight into his memory.

"You are glorious, Margaret," he said, admiration in his voice as he gazed at her.

She smiled and leaned back into him, pushing him down the rest of the way onto the bed and the stacked up pillows. She wriggled herself against him. "I could say the same for you, Major Winchester!"

He grasped her thighs and pulled her up so she was resting on her knees. He started kissing and nibbling on her bare skin, at the tender junction of throat and chest, exploring with his tongue, tasting and teasing her, moving further down her body as he pulled her up higher with his strong hands. He wanted to know every luscious curve of her, and held her by the thighs as he delved deeper, deeper.

Margaret lost herself to the sensation of Charles' mouth and hands. She couldn't believe it when he'd lifted her so easily. She hadn't realized how strong he was! His big hands, so sensitive and nimble, his long fingers, held her tightly around the upper thighs. As his tongue and lips worked their magic on her breasts, his fingers slowly migrated upwards, pressing against her firm flesh. She wriggled against him, the excitement building.

She gasped when he bit down on her, and arched back. Her response enflamed him, and he pulled her painfully against his lips and teeth, teasing with his tongue, making her writhe even more.

"CHARLES!" she screamed, dropping down and pushing him back at the same time. She grabbed his face and kissed him deeply, wanting to sink into him and lose herself, to fall into those wonderful glowing eyes and be his forever.

Margaret was poised over him as he slipped his hands down her sides, finding the waistline of her uniform pants. As she kissed his mouth, along his jaw to his ear and down his neck, he loosened first the belt, then the pants and slid them off her, running his hands down her now-bared hips and thighs. She relinquished him of his clothes as well, and soon they were on the covers of her bed. Margaret returned to straddling his hips, keeping most of her weight on her legs, so as not to press on his healed abdomen.

"This isn't bothering you, Charles?"

"It depends, define 'bothering'." He smiled up at her as she looked down, laughing.

"In this case, I meant the liver injury."

"Oh, then in that case, no."

Margaret remained on her knees mostly, but leaned forward, letting her hands rub up and down his abdomen and chest then back again. He enjoyed watching the fluid motion, back and forth. She's so graceful, he thought, enjoying the play of light and shadow on her ample curves as she massaged him. He ran his hands over her shoulders, down her arms, massaging as well, thrilling at such a simple touch.

In the next motion forward, she lay down on him and began kissing and nibbling, rubbing his sides, and moving toward his navel.

Oh my God, he thought. Is she...?

She wasn't...quite...going as far as Charles thought (and maybe feared?) she was. He had ambivalent feelings about such play; he'd heard about it of course, but had never experienced it. He knew there were other things he'd never done, or had done to him. Perhaps at some point he and Margaret could explore such new avenues, but for now, he was enthralled by her lips and tongue as she continued kissing down him. As she passed his navel, she abruptly sat up straight, a wicked grin on her face.

She scooched back, rubbing against him, teasing him. He put his big hands on her full hips, moving her back and forth. She refused to let him push her DOWN though, her legs being stronger than his arms. She squeezed his forearms, feeling the muscles in them working back and forth as he gripped her hips.

She flexed at the waist to his waiting mouth and kissed him deeply, as she continued to tease him with her grinding hips. She found again that delicate spot under his ear and began licking and nipping and nibbling at him, sighing every so often against his skin.

Within seconds, she felt him tense all over, his hands holding her almost painfully. She could feel in his arms that he was aching to push her down onto him, but she still refused to allow him.

"Margaret," he rasped, eyes closed, ecstasy lighting his face.

"Charles..." she paused, kissing and nibbling on his lip, teasing him. "Charles, I love you!"

"And I love..." Charles moaned loudly as Margaret slammed herself down on him, sinking entirely down until she couldn't sink any further. "YOU!" he screamed, as he forced himself upward to meet her, the two finding the steady rhythm quickly and easily.

He was semi-reclining on the stacked pillows. She was sitting back on him, bracing herself on his strong forearms. He watched her as she moved up and down his length, his hands moving with her. Her hair was aglow, the lamps behind her illuminating her once again, platinum waves swaying with the motion as they lost themselves in one another. He held on to her sides, moving his hands up and down to her arms and back, enjoying her swaying breasts as he held her ribs.

Margaret leaned forward, running her hands up his arms until she found his broad shoulders. She dug her fingers in, gripping hard, as she moved up and down, harder and faster, at a different angle, rubbing herself more and more against him. He knew what she was doing and reached behind her to increase the angle himself, bracing against her, his speed increasing as well as the build-up of tension in his groin and gut, and somewhere in the back of his mind, reveling that it did not hurt in the least.

He looked into her face, her eyes closed, head back as she anticipated the coming climax. She was breathing hard, lips parted. Her mouth was so inviting that he could no longer resist and pulled her hungrily to him, kissing her, thrusting his tongue in her. She moaned as the motion increased, grinding and moving her hips faster and faster, feeling him move with such abandon.

She had to pull away from his sweet mouth as she neared completion, panting and gasping. She soon screamed out as she reached her peak. He reacted by thrusting even harder, pushing up into her while she simultaneously slammed down onto him, over and over. He could no longer hold the tension and he found his own release, pushing into her a few final times before they both relaxed, going completely limp against one another, almost sobbing with physical and emotional relief.

They took a few moments to catch their breaths, alternately gasping and laughing in joy. Charles wrapped his arms around her as she'd collapsed onto his chest. He stroked her hair, damp from their love-making, a sheen of sweat covering them both on this warm late-Spring evening. She still held him captive inside her, neither being ready to sever that glorious contact.

He whispered in her ear, overwhelmed by the love he felt for her, "Margaret, you are the most amazingly beautiful and brilliant woman I have ever known!" He kissed her as he spoke. "That...was...incredible, my love!"

She sighed into his chest, "I love you so much, Charles, I can't say that enough! It's like all this has been building for months, and we're finally here. I could never have dreamed, my darling!"

He kissed the top of her damp head, "I love you too, my sweet, I love you too."

And so they fell asleep, entwined as one, smiles lighting their dreams.

Fin (for now).

(In this story, it's late-Spring, 1953, meaning the Korean Conflict will be over in less than two months, 27 JUL 1953. I will be doing my own After-the-Credits of "Goodbye, Farewell, Amen." I'm not sure if there'll be another C&M story in between this one and the series finale. I've got three WIPs that really need to be finished before I start another CEWIII story. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this very special night between Charles and Margaret. Reviews are always welcomed!)