(( Hey everyone! Got a mature lil songfic for ya here! I know those are a little old fashion, but so is the song in this fic! XD Still, it's an oldie but a goodie. Check it out, it goes really good with the fic, obviously! It's called "Possession" by Sarah Mclachlan! It's romantic but more than a little suggestive, so please be over 18 to read! Hope you enjoy it, and if you do, please review! :D ))

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You're quite sure that your dear husband, Doctor Ford of Westown, doesn't mean to be the single most frustrating person to be newlyweds with in the history of mankind…

But he is.

You love him more than anything, that will always be true. Til death do you part, and you meant it more than you've ever meant anything – And you're normally more serious a person than not, though you are occasionally known to let your humorous self shine through. But even you can't bear this for much longer. For your dear, sweet husband…

…Is a complete and utter –prude-!

Now you always knew that, of course – You've loved him since the first day you met him, for everything about him. All his strange quirks and habits. You expected a situation like this to arise, but… It's even worse than you imagined.

Of course you'd never push the man too much. You love him too much to cause any pain or discomfort to him. But he's testing even your famous saint-like patience for him…

You merely suggested the act your first night together, after your marriage. He had sputtered and insisted that he didn't expect you to rush into anything just because it was your honeymoon.

And you accepted that answer, because again, you had already expected it. Plus you were tired from the festivities anyways. So you wait a few more days after that before you try again. This time you settled down next to him in bed. He's laying down, but he's not asleep. You lay your head on his chest, and your hand rubs his stomach, pretending to do so aimlessly. Except then, your hand slips lower, digging the tips of your fingers under the hem of his pants…

He gasps sharply, in a way that makes you realize it was more shocking and less pleasant to him. You quickly apologize, and ask if he was alright.

He answers, in a tone that's trying to hide his annoyance, but not quite succeeding, "I'm fine… But I told you, there's no need to rush into things just because we're married!"

You're not able to hide how much that hurt. When you start to feel tears coming, you turn onto your opposite side, your back facing him. He quickly realizes his mistake after that, and begins cuddling up to you again. "I'm sorry…" He tells you, his voice shaking with tears of his own building up. "I'm just, not ready…"

You don't ask why. He tends to offer up information on his own time, but seems uncomfortable when asked directly. So you only do that if you feel a pressing need to know. This time you do not.

But he's also relatively quick to explain himself this time, choosing to do so the next day at breakfast, after a rather uncomfortable silence. "…I've told you before that my mother was a slob. But really, my father wasn't any better… They made me move with him when I was a teenager. I guess he figured I was pretty much a man by then, so he didn't bother to hide any of his bad habits. He barely cleaned more than my mother ever did. He smoke and drank, filthy habits… And he gambled, and, well…"

You look up at his face when you noticed the pause. He's burning with shame. Not regular embarrassment, but deep-seated disgust and utter shame. "…Once, in a great while… He would bring home a woman. A woman who was only there, because he paid her to be…"

He looked up then, his eyes locking onto yours. "Kym, my love… Please don't think you have to do such things for me! I know wives are often told to expect to… Perform a certain way for their husbands. But I'm not like that! Those disgusting, carnal desires that some men embrace, I promise you I don't have them! I would never, EVER behave such a way towards you!"

You nod in acknowledgment, but you don't say a word. You simply regard him, watching the signs on his face and in his body language. Putting the puzzle pieces together for yourself, silently. You don't say 'But I want you to!', that would be the wrong thing to say right now, considering how strongly he feels about this. You deduce that he must have seen something disgusting to him in his youth, and that it had since perverted his perception of sex. You of course assure him that it's fine, but it's really… Not.

It's not fine that someone hurt this man you love so much… Hurt him, and made it that must difficult for him to indulge in the pleasures that so many others take for granted. And you've made up your mind that you're going to find a way to heal the hurt he's endured, and make him feel whole again.

'But how to do that…' You find yourself wondering fruitlessly later that day, washing the dishes before dinner and after completing your afternoon chores. 'How do I make him see he doesn't need to feel ashamed, without making him feel more ashamed…?'

It's no small feat to undertake, and you find yourself damning those good-for-nothing parents of his, not for the first time. You once came across a very small pile of letters that Ford kept neatly tied together and hidden in a cabinet, in the upstairs level at his clinic. They were all the letters he had ever received from his mother and father. And you noticed, the letters were always very brief and impersonal. They always simply stated what they had been doing. Not what they thought about anything, or how they felt. It was more like a simple reminder that they existed, than any true appreciation for or interest in that fact…

You sigh raggedly, throwing a dish towel to the side in frustration. You watch with little interest as it lands on your CD case. Then, after a moment or two, you shrug, and you go to retrieve the towel, and the case. Bringing it to the counter, you begin flipping through it. There's a section for classical CDs, those are the ones you share with Ford most often. Then there's some rock n roll CDs, some jazz, some pop… And then finally, at the back of the case, there's a small collection of burned CDs that you made for yourself as a teenager. Most of them are labeled, but the labels are confusing code words, you barely remember what they even mean anymore.

Picking one completely at random, you bring it over to the CD player in the corner, and you place it inside. You listen to the first couple of songs absentmindedly as you clean the house. But then the third some comes on. You find yourself singing along with the old tune. You've always liked the song, but the words have a whole new meaning to them now…

Suddenly it hits you. You know what you have to do. Stopping the CD player, you polish the whole house until it's completely spotless. Then you wait for your dear husband to get home…

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You hear him come in through the door. You've showered twice after cleaning the house. You also replaced the bed last week, exchanging your old full size to a king. He seems not to have noticed, but you definitely did that for a reason…

"Welcome home, Ford my love~" You call, "How was work today?"

"Hmm." He smirks, rolling his shoulders. "Rather boring, actually. It's a good thing that so few people are sick or injured at the moment, even if it hurts my wallet. Just a few mothers with children came in, for check-ups or to bandage some scrapes…"

"Oh, that's good~" You reply, cheerfully but neutrally. Then you invite him to a light supper you've prepared, his favorite pistou soup, some spinach salad and green tea. Green, green and more green. He whole-heartedly approves.

After finishing the meal, which he declares "superb, truly stupendous" and such, as usual, he asks you what you might like to do for the rest of the evening. You usually take him up on this offer unless you know he has work to do, and tonight you jump at the chance.

"Actually Ford, I was thinking that I'd like to share a song with you tonight?"

It's something you've done before a few times, so he eagerly accepts. Ford usually prefers classical music, but he's found himself very open to all the music you suggest. It seems you know just what music out of any genre is one that he'll be able to appreciate. And of course, you listen to classical with him a lot too, because you absolutely adore classical music yourself.

Tonight you have something just a –little- different in mind…

You instruct him to sit on the bed, as you always do on the rare occasions you chose to sing for him, so he gladly agrees. As soon as you put the song on, he is listening raptly, and the tune is to his immediate liking. It is a lulling but energetic and soulful sound, a holy sound, like church music, and it soon leads to the voice of a woman. You stand before him, clothed in the blue morning glory yukata he likes so much, and you start to sing with her…

"Listen as the wind blows… From across the great divide…"

He is never lonely around you, not like he used to be. But he can suddenly recognize a sense of loneliness in your voice as you sing these words to him. "Voices trapped in yearning… Memories trapped in time…"

You had your eyes closed when you began the song. Now they are open, focused on Ford. You take a slow step towards him as you continue singing, "The night is my companion… And solitude my guide…"

He seems to be considering the words with interest. You can tell he identifies with the theme of the woman's words, of working with your solitude… But then the sudden chord of a wailing guitar sends a shiver up his spine. This, he realizes, is more about you than him this time…

You take a step closer to him, not just singing the next line, but really asking it of him, "Would I spend forever here, and not be satisfied…?"

A drum beat starts up, matching the guitar in taking over the tune. You take another two steps closer, barely more than a foot between you, slowly swaying your hips side to side, "And I would be the one, to hold you down… Kiss you so hard…"

You sway your head to the side too, but when you say that, you look right back at him, eyes locked on him. "I'll take your breath away~"

Indeed, he gasps at this part, about to hyperventilate. You then take a step back, still swaying, but letting him get his breathing back to normal. "And after I'd… Wiped away the tears…" You reach up and wipe at your eyes as part of the dance. "Just close your eyes, dear…" But you are the one to close yours, turning around and slowly swaying away from him for a moment.

"Through this world I've stumbled…" You even pretend to stumble a bit there, but all part of the dance. "So many times betrayed…" There, you looked over your shoulder, gazing into his eyes, knowing his past. "Trying to find an honest word, to find… The truth, enslaved…"

You turn around then, cupping your hands to your ears. "Oh, you speak to me in riddles, and you speak to me in rhymes…!"

You reach out to him with your hands, but you don't come any closer just yet. "My body aches to breathe your breath… Your words keep me alive!"

You sing along with the chorus once again, but by then you're more focused on your spinning, twirling, dancing all around the house, around the furniture. The song has an instrumental break, and you stop dancing just before it ends to gather your breath again, and complete the last part of the song. As you do, you stop dancing and begin pacing quickly in front of him, at arm's length, as if still pondering the words you are about to serenade him with, hoping he will understand. "Into this night I wander… Its morning that I dread…"

Then you stop in your pacing, right in front of him. You look directly into his eyes. "Another day of knowing of… The path I fear to tread…"

His eyes have widened, and you know that he finally knows. That it is him. HE is the 'path you fear to tread'…

You put all your passion into this final call to him, "Oooh, into the sea of waking dreams, I follow without pride…!"

And indeed, you have abandoned all pride behind, and as you sing this, you unfasten the sash around your waist, letting the blue morning glory yukata fall open, revealing that you are wearing nothing underneath.

You let it slip off of your shoulders, and fall to the ground. Ford was already blushing pink, but now he's turning bright red. You wouldn't have given him the time to recover even if you had it, but you are slipping into the next lyric seamlessly, singing it as you settle your naked body into his lap. "Cause nothing stands between us here…"

You lean in, breathing into his ear. "And I won't be denied…"

You let the true singer take over, as you stop singing, and instead use your lips for exactly what the song next suggests.

You push him back into the bed. You hold him down, a hand on each side of his face and head, cupping his ears. Not that he's fighting back in the least bit.

You kiss him, so hard… Not like your usual kisses at all. Usually you give each other sweet pecks, perhaps some prolonged kisses here and there but they are always more gentle, never too insistent. Not this kiss, this kiss is so hard, you suspect it might even bruise your delicate doctor's lips. Oh well. You plan to add another one on his neck later, anyways…

So hard, that he in fact forgets how to breathe for a few seconds, until thankfully the song reminds him, and he remembers he also has a nose even though you have his lips completely caught. You hear him inhale sharply a few times, then push his lips back up against yours, feebly trying to participate with the power and intensity of your passion.

He is overwhelmed. It brings a single tear to each eye. But the sadness in his heart and in his past cannot hope to compare to the happiness you bring him now in the present, and the promise of all the pleasure you will bring him in the future.

The very, very near future…

He lets you take complete control. He is not confident enough in himself, but he is confident in you. He trusts you and he knows nothing you could want could be wrong. Nothing that feels like –this- can be wrong…

"Just close your eyes…" You both do.

The CD transitions into the next song on the track. "Come as you are".

And soon you're both doing that, too.

You climbed atop him like your trusty white steed… Well. Your -other- trusty white steed, anyways. Besides the literal white steed in the stable next to your home.

Then, after rocking and rolling on top of him to the light rock and roll that was mostly on this CD, you finally grow tired of taking your pleasure from him. You requested that he instead… Give it to you. He nervously but most eagerly agreed.

You can tell when he's getting close. You decide to take him by surprise, and bring yourself to completion just before you know he's about to, which of course brings him there too as soon as he realizes what's happening, -feels- is happening around him…

Dazed, he lays against your chest for a while afterwards. He breathes in your scent and kisses your breasts and collar without any thought to what he's doing.

But then his senses come back to him, and he finally backs away a bit, though just a bit, since the bed might be bigger but there's still nowhere else to go. He at least rolls off of you and lies next to you, instead. What a gentleman.

He's not sure what to say at first. You're fine not saying anything. You trust he'll come up with the right words sooner or later.

Indeed he does. Finally, with a deeply satisfied sigh, he reaches in and kisses your cheek. "That was amazing. Thank you, dear…"

You smile back. "Anytime, dear~"

But then your sweet smile turns into a wolfish, toothy grin. "I mean it… Anytime, my dear Ford…"

He grows a little paranoid then. "…Just out of curiosity, how long do you think your appetite for my flesh is going to continue to be this insatiable…?"

Your smile doesn't falter one bit. "Definitely until you give me at least one baby. Possibly two."

He sputters over that at least a good full minute. "W-W, What! You want progeny from me now too…?" It sounds a much less daunting prospect than before though, admittedly…

And besides, you're tired now. It's well past your usual bedtimes. You snuggle next to him, and teasingly reply in a sing-song voice, "Just close your eyes, dear~"

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