AN: This is the first time I write something this explicit. Any feedback is greatly appreciated and, in advance, sorry for the mistakes!

All characters and places belong to J. Fellowes.

He has passed this door countless times, but there has never been a reason for him to enter the room. Why does she need him here, so late, should be a mystery any other day. Not today, though, not after their going to Ripon to get married. Most definitely not after the kiss they have shared right before going back inside the house.

John wanted her; he had been forced to control his desire for months, or even longer. And yet, he did not want their first time, her first time, to be in a hidden dusty bedroom, afraid of being found anytime, as if they were guilty of anything.

But she has asked him to come here, right when he was about to enter Lord Grantham's changing room. He saw her, eyes bright and a wide smile, and he could not help but feel proud that this beautiful woman was his wife. That that smile was just for him to enjoy.

Anna told him what room she'd be in, and asked him, almost teasing, not to get the room wrong. He frowned, knowing that she'd know he didn't mean it.

Now he is standing outside the door, doubting for a second if he should knock. He is scared somebody will see him, standing where he has no reason to be, so he makes up his mind quickly and opens the door.

Anna did not have to wait for long, but anticipation and excitement have made it seem like the longest half an hour in history. Feeling daring, she has taken off her shoes, cap and apron. Now she stares out the window, trying to make out the familiar trees amongst the shadows. When she hears the door opening at her back, she fears for a wild second somebody else has entered, and she turns quickly on his heels.

Mr Bates - John is here, looking at her with that smile that he has been wearing ever since coming back from Ripon, just for her; it doesn't seem to want to go away. He's taking the room in, too, and she sees he's puzzled.

"What's all this?"

"Lady Mary's wedding present. And Jane's" She smiles, a little uncertain. It just occurs to her that maybe he would not feel comfortable with the present. That maybe he would rather wait for them to have a place of their own. Anna starts marshalling her arguments in her mind, just in case; there is no saying when that is going to happen as, with his situation as it is, this could very well be their last night together in a long time.

John looks confused for a moment, and then he finally smiles. "It's very generous," he says, approaching her.

She has rarely been so near him without her shoes on, and she feels so small. How strange it is that there are so many things they have never done before and they can do now? Only after a ceremony and their signatures on a piece of paper?

He does not say a thing, but bends down to kiss her, softly, his hand lightly touching her hair and finding her bun.

"May I?" he asks, gently tugging at a lock of hair, and she nods.

He reaches for the pins holding her bun and removes them slowly. She helps him with a couple that he does not see, and feels both liberated and exposed when her golden locks finally drop over her shoulder.

"I remember the first time I saw you with your hair down," he mutters, his eyes fixed on her.

"Do you, now?"

"You were ill-"

She remembers it too. That night might very well had been one of the happiest nights of her life. "And you brought me a tray." She could still see his eyes, smiling more eloquently than his mouth, and the flowers on the vase.

He buries his fingers in her hair. "I've been wishing to do this since that night."

She wants to say something but she can't, some strange emotion pulsing inside her. So many years and so many things have had to happen for them to be here now.

He kisses her again, lingering, and after a moment he moves his lips to the corner of her mouth and further down to her jawline and her neck. Anna gasps. She is new to this strange emotion; it is making her shiver.

"Are you all right?" John asks, looking into her eyes.

"Yes," she says, her voice barely audible. "It's just I've never…" she trails off.

"I know," he whispers hoarsely, and resumes his kissing of her neck. It's not just his lips, his right hand is still caressing her hair, while her left traces circles on the back of her neck. He expects her to be unsure, afraid even, but he also expects to be able to ease her worries.

He tries to go further down, but Anna's dress prevents it.

"May I?" he asks again, his hands now toying with the buttons.

"You don't have to ask," she says with a smile, and yet he can see her lip tremble a little.

"Will you tell me to stop if you don't want to keep on going?"

She nods and he suspects she does not mean it. Still, the temptation is too much, and he starts undoing the buttons. Anna helps and their hands meet halfway. John stops and takes her small hands into his big ones. Slowly, he places a kiss on her knuckles. She chortles nervously.

"I remember the first time I held your hands, too."

She beams, "when you just arrived. We met you in the hall and you and I shook hands."

"Oh," he says, smiling sheepishly "I wasn't thinking about that sort of holding. But yes... and that makes you the first person I shook hands with when I first came here."

This time she stands on her tiptoes to kiss him lightly. "What were you thinking about, then?"

Looking at her dress, the neck open showing tantalisingly creamy skin, he takes off his jacket and vest, carefully folding them and putting them next to her apron. He likes the way their clothes look together. "We were outside, in the courtyard, and I told you to dream of a better man."

"And I wouldn't listen."

"I'm so glad you wouldn't" he kisses her, hungrily this time, and he can't stop his lips from playing with hers, asking for permission. When she lets him in, he groans.

"We almost kissed, then," she mutters when he stops for a moment, and he wonders if she's scared. But then, he's the one making most of the talking. Maybe he's scared as well.

"I remember how warm you were," he says between small kisses down her throat. "I remember the tip of your nose on my cheek."

"Were we that close?" she says, her voice now quivering. His kisses venture even lower, and he resumes his unfastening of the buttons.

"Oh yes."

She raises her hands and fumbles with the knot of his tie. Her fingers quiver, his tongue tracing paths on her neck and her body's response too distracting. "I know all about undressing ladies," she manages and she has to make an effort for her voice not to tremble. "But I have no idea of what to do with a man's tie."

John chuckles and stops kissing her. She is both disappointed and grateful, she needs to breathe and try to take control of her body again and yet there is a yearning for something she does not know, building inside her and burning hot.

"Let me show you," he mutters, and slowly he takes off his tie, his cuffs, and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

"I can do that," she says, her voice back to normal. For a second the small task distracts her, she is a professional, but then there is his undershirt, and she can feel the warm skin and the muscles moving beneath it as he moves his arms to place his hands on her waist, and it is all so intimate she can barely believe this is the same Mr Bates that sits next to her every day at mealtime.

Feeling suddenly bold, she slides her hands underneath the fabric and takes the shirt off his shoulders. Swiftly, he does the same with her dress and both are embracing, just very thin layers of undergarment separating their bodies.

"Oh, Anna," he mutters before kissing her again, and she can't tell if it's his lips or his hands, caressing her back and arms, what's making her shiver again. A low moan escapes her lips but she hardly registers it.

He risks venturing further and now his hands are on her waist again, feeling her shape and revelling on it. He goes down and feels her thigh, warm and strong under his palm.

Anna gasps and pulls away. A reflex, a long forgotten memory of bad breath and callous hands is coming to chase her after all these years. John is puzzled and she can see in his eyes concern mixed with desire. And love, so much love.

"Are you all right?"

"Sorry," she smiles and, because she's not sure it'll be convincing, buries her face on his chest. That memory belongs to another life, another Anna, and there is no place for any of it now. "You surprised me there, that's all." Her voice is muffled and she takes a deep breath of his scent. It's comforting, familiar even though they had never been this close before.

"Do you want me-?"

She won't let him finish.

Standing on tiptoes again she takes his lips with hers and kisses him as she never had before. Her tongue meets his, they move together, and he grunts in pleasure. The sound is so unexpected, but it was she the one causing it and the thought alone fills her with a wild sort of happiness that finally chases bad memories away. By the time he gently pushes her to sit on the bed and caresses her thigh again, everything is forgotten but the feel of John overcoming all her senses.

He's still kissing her, and his hands now caress her body urgently. They are matching her own feelings. When he stands up to take off his pants and shoes, she feels cold wherever his hands are not touching her anymore. He does not give her time to dwell on that. Slowly he lowers his body to the bed and, taking her hand, directs her to join him. She does not need further encouragement.

Her underclothes tangle with the duvet and she finds herself landing rather clumsily on top or John.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she rolls on her side giggling. "Are you hurt?"

He is grinning. "No, I'm not." His look on her is so intense it sobers her up. "I love to see you laughing like this. It makes you even more beautiful."

He takes a strand of golden hair between his fingers and twists it, unable to believe this is really happening, that he is actually entitled to be this close to her, to touch her. His hands seem to have a will of their own, and they move to her cheeks, her neck, her shoulders, in a hurry to commit to memory every curve of Anna's body. He wants to go on, every fibre of his body yearns to be as close to hers as possible, but he does not want to hurry her, he wants her to enjoy all of it.

She leans in and kisses him again and he vaguely thinks that the memory of these kisses will make it impossible for him to go through the next day without beaming stupidly. She is insistent now, maybe anticipating those feelings yet unknown to her. His lips left her mouth only to go lower; when he reaches her neck, she moans, and it's one of the most marvellous sounds he had ever heard. It's time to venture further, and he brushes the side of her breast with his thumb. He hears her sharp intake of air and, encouraged, lowers his head and takes her nipple in his mouth, over the soft fabric of her underclothes.

"Oh- John," she moans and his own excitement threatens to take over his self-control.

He starts gently, but she pushes her body towards him, her hips against his. She can feel his erection now, and she is curious about how would it look like, although the very thought is shocking. There is not much to think anyway, as he pushes her to lay on her back and he settles himself carefully on top of her, now rubbing her other nipple with his hand.

She hears her own sighs and fails to recognise them. The feeling is overwhelming, and yet oddly unsatisfactory. An unknown hunger had awoken inside her body and she wants to know what's awaiting her. She ruffles his hair, burying her fingers on it; John looks dishevelled and much younger.

His hand leaves her breast and she all but wants to protest out loud, but he is looking at her with a smile that is almost mischievous and she knows that something is going to happen.

She feels him fumbling with the hem of her underclothes and his warm hand is now going up her leg, slowly. It is almost a torture, but such a very pleasing one. His finger finds the end of her stockings and he takes them off, one at a time, excruciatingly slowly. His mouth leaves her other breast and kisses her again. Now his tongue feels almost familiar, and she loves how their bodies seem to be learning to adjust to one another.

His hand wishes to go further, though, and he can feel her need in the way her teeth start to tease his tongue. God, where did she learn to do that? He forgets the question as soon as it crosses his mind, new ideas driving his hand upwards, willing it to get rid of what's left of her clothes. He does, and he is now sure she is ready, but he knows he needs to go slow anyway.

It's the softest of touches, barely the tip of his fingers, and he is not at all surprised to feel she's warm and wet and marvellous. A soft moan, almost inaudible, and her fingers curl on his scalp. He smiles and tries it again, lingering, caressing.

"John," she breathes, her voice high-pitched. He stops his kisses to look at her, her eyes are closed and her mouth open; he feels overwhelmed by the thought that he is the only one who can, who will see her like this.

She feels his finger again, and a second one joining it. That hunger she has felt moments before is nothing compared to the urge now, the almost desperate need to be as close to him as possible. She rocks her hips, asking a wordless question, her body instinctively taking over when her mind seems unable to produce any coherent thought.

His lips move faster on her and his fingers too. He is afraid that he would not be able to do it right for her, as perfect as she deserves it to be, but her hips are too demanding and he finally pushes a finger inside her.

Anna's eyes snap open, she is breathing fast. The slow movements of John's fingers seem to be the answer of her question, but unbelievably intense as it is, it's not satisfactory enough.

"John," she repeats, "I… I need…" she is not making any sense, but her body is not making sense either, and she is unable to phrase what she does not know.

His fingers leave her and he straightens up to remove the remaining of his clothes. She barely gets a glimpse of his naked body before his hands take off her own garments, taking every possible opportunity to touch her. His need is almost unbearable, it has been so long… but this is entirely different. A flashing image of his past, of another bed and a completely different feeling crosses his mind and he almost shudders. None of that matters now, how could it, when this marvellous, amazingly beautiful woman is lying in front of him, creamy naked skin for him to taste, full body for him to take.

So he does. Slowly, carefully, he lowers his body to hers, ignoring the protests of his knee. Heat touches him; it takes all his remaining willpower not to thrust, to feel himself engulfed inside her.

Anna is looking at him, eyes wide open and bright, a small smile playing on the corners of her lips.

"Go on, Mr Bates," she says and she can't believe she can tease him in a moment like this. Only, he obeys; the pain, the excitement, the pleasure are almost too much to cope with and she whimpers.

"Anna?"

She can't find the words, or maybe it's just that her voice is gone. Slowly, she rocks her hips against his and now he is groaning and going out just to go back in, and again, and the pain is now forgotten. Her body shivers, she feels whatever the answer was it is near now.

"I love you," his voice is a low grunt. He wants for the moment to last forever, he wants to keep on feeling her heat around him, and yet he could not stop moving, not for anything in the world. He waits for her, controlling his own urge, and when she arches her body and cries his name he finally abandons himself to the tidal wave of feelings, his moans mixed with hers.

It might have been an eternity, or maybe just a few moments when he realises he's been lying on top of her, his heavy weight surely too much. He rolls onto his side and she sighs deeply. Anna is beaming, looking at him through half-closed eyes.

"I love you," she is glad her voice is back, although it's a barely audible whisper.

"I love you, too," he echoes. They are on top of the still made bed, and he does not want her to catch a cold, so he arranges sheets and duvet on top of them. She protests, she does not want to move, but once they are both covered and her legs are brushing against his, she finds no reason to comply.

Anna sighs in utter bliss, as she feels that despite of the unfamiliar room, she is home at long last.