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He froze and reality slowly resolved from pure sensation as he stared up at her, his eyes filling with panic and regret. Having seen what had almost happened, he had stopped cold, frightened by himself and by her and everything between them. Now he wanted to speak, to explain everything to her; but his brain still seemed to have no connection with his body. Even if it had, his mouth had gone instantly dry at the revelation.

Hands gripping gingerly at her waist, he pulled her as gently as he could off the console, settling her on her feet in front of him before letting his hands return to his sides. She was watching him, passion rapidly giving way to confusion as she picked up every emotion that he went through: regret, anger, embarrassment, shock. He knew she wouldn't, couldn't, interpret them as good - and so stood frozen, leaning towards her, bare breasts only centimeters from his chest, because that closeness was one thing he couldn't let go of. He still hadn't felt that, her naked chest pressed to his, because he'd been so intent on making her his, on possessing her, that it had overridden everything else.

He caught her gaze and saw confusion give way to humiliation. She swallowed and tried to lean away, to reach for her shirt. Laying a hand on her cheek, he felt her hesitate, swallow hard again, and he hoped it was for different reasons. Leaning in, he let his lips hover over hers, saw her brow crease as confusion returned; witnessed the subtle movement of her lips as she breathed in his scent.

She wanted to kiss him.

He moved over her, lips tracing above hers what he wanted to do, would do, and hers parted, opening with the slightest sound and breathing in a shaky breath. He still wasn't touching her, but she shuddered and he smiled, took the proper time to smile and caught her gaze again as it darted to his. He watched again as she considered him, then returned the smile, slipping forward, lips moving to press against his. He retreated fluidly, avoiding the touch, smiling wider.

Running his nose along the side of hers, his other hand rising to touch her cheek, he breathed slowly out across her lips and watched as she edged closer again, lips searching out his. This time he made contact. Slow and exploratory, he memorized how she felt, the touch of his lips to hers as he moved, then pressed closer still, letting her suck his bottom lip between hers and consequently tugging ever so lightly on her upper one. Deeper still, and the very tip of his tongue touched hers and he felt her knees give way. This was right. This was how it was supposed to be.

He pulled away gently, hands falling from her face: one to his side, the other trailing down her neck, breath-takingly over her breast, finding her hand, fingers entwining with hers perfectly, then coming to rest against her thigh.

Watching her, there was an unmistakable question in his eyes. He wasn't pushing any more, just waiting, patiently. Lifting their linked hands to his lips, he kissed the back of hers and then rested his mouth against their knuckles so that she could feel his breath, steady and hot.

Stepping back, he released her, his hand dropping hers and his eyes never leaving as he moved around her to collect her shirt. Offering it to her, still with their gazes locked, he was happy to see what he suspected was an unconscious shake of her head, her mind obviously too preoccupied with his sudden change of behavior. Transferring the shirt to his left hand, he help up his right, fingers outstretched in clear invitation.

When she placed her hand in his with no sign of hesitation, he couldn't help but grin.

Without knowing exactly what he was doing, without calculating it all out, he found himself leading her backwards, eyes slipping from hers. She kept laughing at him as he unsuccessfully tried to walk them the short distance to his room all the while without losing contact with her lips; rueful smiles her only answer before he swept his lips back over hers. And then they were there. Arms around her still, he pressed one last kiss to her lips, nipping tenderly as he pulled away and opened the door.

Somewhat unsure of just what to do once inside, she waited for him to turn; then marveled at the way his eyes swept up over her, slowly, tracking curves, pausing, smiling, considering. And then his eyes captured hers. He noticed the blush settling on her cheeks and crossed the few feet between them.

A splinter of what he'd been before slipped through and she felt his hand slip impatiently across her stomach, fingers edging beneath the top of her pants and holding there while the other found the button and quickly flicked it open. Then he settled, taking a breath before continuing. Using the added leverage, he pulled her towards him, moving down her neck with hot wet kisses; and this time it was about next time, about taking an account of how she smelled, how she tasted, how she reacted.

Somehow he'd turned this around and it was no long about possessing her, it was about revering her, and both of them could feel it.

Suddenly tumbling backwards, she feared for a brief instant that they'd lost their footing. Then she felt something soft against her back, his hand cradling her head even as the rest of her body fell gently onto the bed and his lips never left.

Climbing onto the mattress, perching on his knees between her bent legs, he kissed lower, tracing the path that had made him pause last time, this time slower, infinitely slower as he got lower and lower and smiled into the skin between her breasts as her hands tightened in his hair and he thought he heard a whimper.

He rocked back and shot her a smile, cheeky and daring, and she rolled her eyes back at him, perfectly prepared to laugh if he was going to be such a – she gasped as his lips closed around a nipple, tongue circling, and how had she not felt him moving? Head pressed back into the sheets, back arching and breath completely forgotten, she didn't even have the presence of mind to moan as his lips left her body, teeth scratching over in a manner so subtle it might not have happened.

His hands fell away and he gave her that same cheeky grin again as he licked his lips. She had a right mind to say something, but then he moved again; evidently deciding (quite fairly) to lather the same treatment on her other breast. And then again, modifying the movement and the glances he threw her until he'd won too many shudders and shivers and moans to count.

And then he moved lower.

A chaste kiss, then another, moving across her stomach while his hands joined in, drawing patterns until she was squirming at the sheer thought of it going on very much longer. Another kiss, this one anything but chaste while his tongue dipped hot and wet into her belly button. She bucked beneath him, her body pleading with him even if she was still busy clenching her eyes shut and biting her lip. Complying, he moved to stand above her at the end of the bed, hands slipping down her sides until they met the denim of her jeans and slipped under, tugging them and her underwear down easily with the button already undone. He undid the laces of her shoes and pulled them off along with her socks, finished taking her jeans off, and once he'd carefully dropped them on the floor, turned back to look at her.

Her eyes opened just in time to see the grin fall away, something sharp and delicious overtaking his features as he looked her up and down; and she was too intrigued to be embarrassed, too amazed that he could look at her like she was some incredible, perfect new world to explore and learn…and even then there was more to his expression. But before she could contemplate that, he was falling back down onto the bed to catch himself on his hands, face now inches from hers again; he still had that look in his eye as he kissed her for the hundredth time that night and it still felt perfect.

He lowered himself further onto her until her arms reflexively came up to wrap around his back and now he really could feel her whole body pressed to his: arms and hands against his back; the hint of nails he'd no doubt find she had a use for later; legs entwining with his (though there was still the problem of his pants); hips angling up to press urgently into his and god, this – she – was beautiful.

Raising himself up on one elbow, he let his other hand trail lazily over her, meaningless ellipses that took him lower and lower until he was so close, but again not quite there.

Onto his game now, she was determined to wait it out, let him hold her there on the edge of anticipation because eventually he'd have to do what she wanted, wouldn't he?

And then his little finger grazed over her hip in some strange perfect motion she could not have predicted and one of her own hands shot down, grabbing his wrist and not giving him time to resist as she angled it perfectly, slipping his hand down to where she needed it so desperately.

Her response was predictable, a gasp for air as he instantly took control and then a slow moan as she completely lost it. Managing somehow to catch sight of his face, pressed again, into her neck, she found him struggling for air, felt it against her skin a second later and everything got so much better when she imagined what this was doing to him.

She wanted more. Stretching down with both hands, eager and doing her absolute best to concentrate on his pants – failing miserably when he caught on to her plan and kissed her again – she began undoing them. Finally managing, she pushed them down his legs as far as she could with her hands and then kicked them down to his ankles with her feet. And god it felt too good when she did that, changing the angle and giving him a new challenge. So preposterously good that when he moved away, she sounded like she was in agony. But he knew better, just grinned and quickly kicked off his remaining clothes and then turned back.

As he leaned down over her, she let her legs wrap tightly around his waist, pulling him closer so she could angle up against him, teasing him on purpose, building friction with movement. And still, with exponentially growing clarity, she could feel him there, hard and ready - and she wanted him inside her right that second.

He wondered if she knew how ridiculously hard he was having to work not to comply.

Laying a hand flat across her stomach, he pressed down, calming her, stilling her body in a manner that felt like some sort of magic. His other hand grasping the back of her shoulder, his body covering hers, his lips at her ear, breathing as steadily as she, in time, smelling and tasting her and feeling the way she responded to even the minutest movement.

He told her, voice strong but rough, "I think I'm in love with you." And in the same breath, he sank down, sliding into her with his voice trailing off into some unnamable sound that was still just as rough around the edges but somehow made what he'd said a constant.

Arching up into him she felt herself already so close. And as he began to move, lips tracing the movements of the air along her neck, slipping out intricately slowly and then back in, pressing against her, making it far too obvious he never wanted to leave, she grabbed onto him, holding her arms around him and letting her nails nip at his skin because she was never going to let go.

Lips moving upwards over her jaw, he kissed her hungrily but slowly, every ounce of brain power concentrated on keeping the pace, on following that irresistible jazz rhythm that was tapping out in his head, on pressing down with just the right angle, of touching her everywhere she needed to be touched and learning how to do it better.

She tore her lips from his, unable to resist any longer, not caring about anything but getting what she needed from him and letting him know, nails moving over his skin, marking and demanding.

And he responded.

Increased the pace, increased the power, the angle, the depth, whatever it took. Letting his lips hover at her ear and letting her name escape in the only way he ever wanted it to be spoken, with respect and love and passion. Telling her so in muttered, disjointed English and then letting his tongue run over her earlobe as he felt her back arch and her hips rock hard against him, her whole body shuddering as it all came crashing down around her in the most devastating of ways. She let a string of words that may or may not have meant something escape her lips as moans and whimpers and he stilled, watching, waiting.

Her eyes fluttering open, she looked at him, saw the edge of need still present in his eyes and could feel him still hard inside her. She grinned with the euphoria of it and leaned up to kiss him hard and owning against the lips, shocking him with it and then falling back onto the mattress beneath him.

He cast his eye over them, breath hitched, and she wondered how it was for him. Meeting her eyes, he muttered. "Beautiful."

Knowing what he deserved, she didn't bother hesitating, didn't bother teasing. She knew perfectly well he'd made enough use of time to cover both of them, and with a deft movement of her hips coupled with her legs wrapping around his waist again, had him on his back in a second. And that made him groan, the sound rising from somewhere deep in his throat and slipping from between barely parted lips as his head fell back and his hands rose to her hips, willing her to move.

Her own hands rested on his stomach as she allowed herself to settle; then finding the desperate look he threw her far too much to resist, began moving against him, using her body to build the friction as she rose and fell, concentrating completely on him because she knew that's what he'd done to her, done for her. She knew he loved her, knew she loved him back and this was proof; how good this felt was proof.

Leaning down she kissed him the way he kept insisting on kissing her, dragged her lips along his throat, nipping and sucking and licking and blowing just as he had and grinning because she knew how good it felt. It was a shock to find herself so captivated by the way his chest vibrated beneath her with each and every noise, to find one of his hands had managed to find a breast and the other was slipping down between them, flicking over sensitized skin and then lower until she was suddenly all too dangerously close to the edge again and she needed to take him with her this time. She leaned up and arched, whispering into his ear exactly that and with one final movement, achieved it.

He chuckled into her hair once a semblance of intelligence had returned to them, kissing her forehead as he shifted around, pulling the sheets out from under them and then draping them half heartedly across her body and his. He watched her as she slid onto her side, amazed at the curves she made and even more amazed when she stared right back at him, grinning like an idiot.

"Should have guessed," she said, voice still husky with sex.

His brow crinkled and he dragged a hand through his hair before responding. "What?"

Grinning, she trailed a finger down his chest, watching it and then looking up to catch his eye, stating matter-of-factly: "You are a bloody good shag."

So that's the end. I hope you all enjoyed it and please do let me know by leaving a review. Thanks!!