Behind Locked Doors

Author: Firebird9

Rating: M

This fic works best if you assume Murder Under The Mistletoe took place in 1930, not 1929. Or if you cheerfully ignore canon. The writers denied us even one lousy kiss. I've taken it... a little further than just a kiss. Enjoy!

It was far too dangerous for Phryne to leave her door unlocked, and it was certainly far too dangerous for him to be wandering around alone in the dark, but nonetheless that was exactly what he was doing, because Jack Robinson had driven up a mountain in a raging storm to be there for her and he was damned if a little thing like an insane killer was going to keep him from going to her. He didn't bother try her door, because if she had listened to him and locked it then it wouldn't do him any good. And if she hadn't listened to him then they would very likely end up arguing about it, and he hadn't come there to argue with her. No, his plans definitely did not include an argument. And so, instead, he tapped softly.

"Miss Fisher? It's Jack."

After a moment he heard the key turn – 'well here's one for the books; she actually listened to me for once' – and Phryne peeped out at him.

"Jack! I thought it was 'too dangerous' for you to pay me a visit tonight."

This he chose to ignore for the moment. "May I come in?" he whispered. Her smile turned inviting and she stepped aside to let him enter before closing the door and locking it behind him. "Did you really think I could stay away?" he asked, and was rewarded with a soft chuckle and an armful of playful lover, legs wrapped around his waist, lips eagerly seeking his. One day, he reflected, that particular move of hers was going to send them both to the ground, but tonight he kept his balance and met her passionate kisses with equal fervour. He walked her back towards the bed as he did so: Phryne Fisher might appear small and delicate, but she was deceptively heavy. They fell to the mattress together, Jack catching himself easily on his arms so as not to land with his full weight on top of her.

For a few moments they continued kissing, working their way up the bed as they did so until Phryne's head was resting on the pillows.

"You know," Jack spoke breathlessly between kisses, his hands roving over her body. "As awful as it sounds, when Collins told me you had a dead body on your hands my first reaction was gladness." He pushed her heavy dressing gown and the silk nightdress beneath aside far enough to work his way down to the curve of her breast. Even with a fire burning the room was too cold to undress fully, but he wanted as much of her as possible.

"Gladness, Inspector?"

"Mmmm, because it meant I had an excuse to drive up here."

"Do you know – aahhh – why I didn't invite you in the moment I saw you on the doorstep?" Phryne responded, her mouth finding his earlobe.

"Wh- ohgod – why not?" His hands were working lower now, parting her clothing at the waist and rucking up her nightdress.

"When I saw you there – and I thought I wouldn't be seeing you until we got back – and there was a murder, and a murder without you just didn't seem right-" her words were barely coherent now, as he stroked her flanks while her eager hands worked beneath his dressing gown to undo his pyjamas "- my first reaction was to fling myself straight into your arms. I was so happy to see you. And with Collins there- Oh, God, Jack!" She broke off abruptly as his fingers finally made their way up her inner thigh to her slick heat.

"- With Collins there and this being just between the two of us," he continued for her, watching her face as his fingers stroked her in the way he knew she liked best before he lowered his head to continue kissing her.

"Yes, and I couldn't... Oh Jack, now, please!"

He paused for a moment, raising his head from ravishing her neck and breasts for long enough to ask "are you ready?" He wasn't talking about whether she was ready – if her words weren't enough to tell him that she was then the wetness now coating his eager fingers certainly was – but whether she was wearing her diaphragm. They'd been doing this for a while now, but that didn't mean they were interested in becoming parents anytime soon.

"God, yes, Jack. Yes!"

He sank into her with a moan. He had never thought he would see the day when the thought of working a murder case would excite him, but Phryne Fisher had changed all that the moment she had first burst into one of his investigations in a cloud of lace and French perfume, and God if he didn't get off on the thought of working a case with her in a way that was probably even more sinful than the way he was currently expressing his feelings on the subject. There were bodies in the cold room, there would probably be another lying somewhere by morning, but right now all he could think about was the woman writhing beneath him, arching up into him, moaning his name in a way he'd never heard it said until the first time they'd made love.

Phryne, for her part, dug her fingers into the thick fabric covering the firm muscle of Jack's back and pulled him as close to her as she could, burying her face in his neck, alternately kissing and nipping him in the way she had learned drove him wild. Seeing him arrive, frozen half to death having risked his life on roads turned treacherous with snow and ice, and knowing that he was there for her had been one of those moments in their relationship that periodically took her breath away: the knowledge that this man, this good, brave, loyal man, loved her and would do almost anything for her. It had taken all her self-restraint not to give expression to her feelings right there in the hall, but their relationship was still a secret, still too precious in its newness to stain with the scrutiny of their various friends and family members, and so she had stored her feelings up until Jack's arrival in her room had allowed her to give them unexpected rein.

They were both too keyed up to last long, and Jack grasped Phryne's hip and pulled her into a position that worked well for both of them, gratified to feel her stutter beneath him almost immediately. She watched his face as he joined her in release, loving the way his eyelids fluttered at the moment of climax before he more or less collapsed on top of her, his body a warm and welcome contrast to the rather-too-chilly air of her room.

After a few more moments of lazy kisses, however, he raised himself up to look at her.

"I should head back to my own room," he said, making no effort to hide his reluctance.

"There's a killer on the loose, Jack. Don't you think you ought to stay here and protect me?"

He couldn't help but chuckle at that, and reached beneath her pillow. He held up her revolver and quirked an eyebrow. "I'd say you were quite well protected without me, wouldn't you?"

"And who's going to protect you on the way back to your room?" she asked.

"Frankly, Phryne, if it's a choice between facing a killer on the way back from your room tonight, and facing your aunt on the way back tomorrow morning, I'll take my chances with the killer."

Now it was her turn to chuckle. "Coward."

He kissed her nose as he pulled slowly away from her inviting warmth. "Discretion is the better part of valour, my love. And whilst I'm happy to relinquish discretion at some future point, I'd prefer not to do it while I'm snowed into a chalet with your aunt."

She let him pull her up and followed him to the door. "Until tomorrow morning, then," she murmured.

"Or until the night is shattered by blood-curdling screams," he agreed, and kissed her one last time. "Lock your door tight, Miss Fisher, because I need you alive to help me solve this puzzle."

Nonetheless, she watched from her doorway until he was safely back in his room before she did as he asked.