I seem to write some of my most risqué fics during snowstorms. Kind of weird.
This was written for a challenge/prompt that I happened across online ;)
xxx
Madison Public Library closed early on Saturdays.
Before she'd been married, Marian Paroo Hill had used those extra evening hours to teach a couple extra piano lessons or maybe make sure that the stacks were properly organized, but these days, she was grateful for the chance to return home to her husband and infant daughter. As much as she loved her work at the library, nothing could make her happier than to converse with Harold or simply relax in his reassuring embrace, or to watch little Charlotte's large brown eyes light up as she caught sight of her, to watch her reach out for everything that interested her with tiny, curious hands. Marian no longer felt the need to linger in the library any longer than was strictly necessary, not when she had such wonderful things to go home to.
Not on this particular Saturday, though – today, the librarian wasn't going home until long after the last patron had left the building. As dreary as the prospect sounded, today the library was getting its much-needed spring cleaning.
In the days when the library had been all that she had in the world to really care about, she had frequently set aside time to keep everything neat, clean and organized. Not only did excess dust make the library into the sort of place where visitors might feel less inclined to linger, but Marian was also of the opinion that dusty shelves sent the wrong sort of message, that books were old and musty things that were best left untouched. But now, the library was as close to being truly dusty as it had been in years – she realized in horror that, due to the physical limitations caused by late pregnancy and childbirth, as well as the taxing demands of new motherhood, she'd not taken the time to clean her beloved library in over six months.
When she'd expressed how overwhelmed she'd felt by the prospect of scrubbing every last corner of the library, Harold had freely offered to help her – something that she wouldn't have dreamed of asking him, especially knowing that he might prefer to use his time to prepare for band rehearsals, or at least to relax after them. The librarian wondered, with a vague sense of irritation, if he still thought that she was too delicate to manage this task without hurting herself, though she had long ago recovered from the damages that childbirth had caused to her body. Still, she wasn't going to turn down such much-needed assistance just because she stubbornly wanted to prove that she could do it herself!
It was a sunny, late-April day that they at last got around to the imposing task. Somehow, the whole process had taken just over two hours, which seemed surprisingly quick – whether it was because twice as many hands had made light work or because they had worked a little more carelessly knowing that they had so much ground to cover, Marian wasn't certain, but what mattered to her was that she could walk up and down the aisles and run her fingers along the shelves without seeing a trace of dust. Considering that the library had been left undusted for six months, she considered this a tremendous relief, even if they might have cut a few corners here and there. For now, it was a marvelous improvement.
Keeping all of the windows open had, thankfully, minimized the unpleasantness of stirring up dust and helped clear the room of the strong smell of furniture polish. She'd kept the sleeves of her blouse rolled up the whole time, she'd stopped to wash up in the lavatory several times (and enforced these same conditions upon Harold) and, as a result of her fastidiousness, had managed to avoid the disagreeable consequences, such as headaches and sneezing, that could have easily come along with such an ambitious cleaning job. However, she was still quite grateful for the bursts of fresh spring air that she was able to breathe in as she went around closing each newly-cleaned window.
While Harold was still washing his hands, Marian returned to her desk to make sure that everything was absolutely in order before she left for the evening. Certainly she had already checked back when the library had closed to the public, but she second-guessed her thoroughness now that so much time had passed, and the last thing she wanted was to come in tomorrow and find that she'd overlooked something when she'd had such ample opportunity to set it right.
She had just finished checking that her ink was covered and put away when she felt Harold walk up behind her and covered her hands with his own. Without saying a word, he slipped his hands up her bare forearms and then all the way up to her shoulders, spinning her around to face him. Then he pulled her in for a kiss that was long and slow and sweet, and afterwards he gazed adoringly into her eyes and traced the shape of her jawline with his thumb before planting another little kiss right at the tip of her nose.
Though she tried to remain nonchalant, Marian found herself blushing and smiling irrepressibly at this unexpected display of affection. "What was that for?"
"Can't a man kiss his wife without having any particular reason?" He demonstrated by pressing another soft kiss to her temple and then one right atop her golden hair.
She let out a light, self-deprecating laugh as she turned to neaten the pencils at her desk. "Well, I don't look all that kissable right now," she remarked, recalling how disheveled she'd looked in the washroom mirror even before she'd splashed water on her face to freshen up, which had made her feel better but look quite unkempt.
"Marian, that is absurd," Harold scolded teasingly, fingers slipping around her waist. "You have never looked anything but kissable to me."
As the music professor proved the truth of his statement by trailing his lips along her neck, she giggled and gasped, feeling flattered and a little overwhelmed. She had grown more than used to the fact that Harold considered her some sort of incomparable beauty, but ever since she'd had the baby she enjoyed these remarks with a bit more vanity than could be considered proper. "Sometimes, I forget the way that you see me…"
He turned her to him and cupped her face in his hands, his gaze ardent and sincere. "I don't see anything that isn't entirely true, my love. I think you simply forget how gorgeous you are."
At first Harold only pressed a chaste, gentle kiss against her lips, but as she wrapped her arms around him and pressed closer in return, the kiss grew longer and deeper. Marian let out a happy little sigh as they parted and pulled him right back to her, and soon they were kissing again and again, the kind of sweet, leisurely kisses that had become such a rare luxury after the delightful-but-exhausting life changes brought on by parenthood.
She was aware that she should have been tired even now from all the work that they'd been doing, but the rush of energy that she felt from his strong, warm body pressing against hers and the familiar delight of breathing in the scent of him was enough to make her forget all of the dusting and polishing they'd been doing over the past few hours. However, she realized that she couldn't fully lose herself in his embrace until they'd settled one little matter.
"Harold," she whispered softly when he released her lips.
"Marian," he responded before she could continue, leaning in so he could capture her mouth with his own once again, but she giggled and turned so his lips landed on her cheek instead.
"No, I wasn't just – I was trying to say something," she said, laughing. "It's just that, well, to be on the safe side, we ought to lock the door. Not that anybody's been here for hours, but we wouldn't want them to walk in on us – kissing."
Harold wiggled his eyebrows mischievously, a triumphant smile spreading across his face. "I'll have you know that I already did lock the door, actually. I took care of that detail while you were washing your hands."
A little gasp of laughter escaped her, and she stared at him in wide-eyed disbelief – although she really had no trouble at all believing this. "What, you just expected that we'd be canoodling after we finished working?"
He shrugged. "I wasn't going to rule it out."
"I'd call you arrogant if you weren't completely right." She lightly ran her fingers along the back of his neck, playing in the soft fringe of hair there and making him sigh in contentment. "I was hoping to take advantage of our time alone together, as well," she confessed, and though she felt herself blush slightly, she gazed up at him with the honest, trusting openness that indicated that she was more than ready for him to kiss her again; Harold was clearly happy to oblige her.
Marian settled happily into his embrace, returning each one of his kisses with equal fervor and parting her lips willingly beneath his. Nowadays, these opportunities to be truly alone and indulge in all of the kisses that they wanted were nearly as rare and precious as they'd been when they were courting. Though they now slept in the same bed together every night, more often than not they dropped off to sleep within minutes, given that the baby tended to wake them up and keep them up at all hours of the night. They could go days without sharing any more than the lightest of kisses, and had come to accept that this would be the way of things for a good while; even though what they were doing now certainly could not lead them to anything more intimate, the librarian was pleased with this reminder that their passion was alive and well, even if they couldn't act upon it so often.
If they had been tired right now, perhaps they would have been entirely satisfied with this light canoodling, but soon enough the all-too-familiar desire for more was blooming within them both. It developed naturally, as it always had – they never could manage to skim the waters of passion without realizing how badly they wanted to dive in. Their kisses became harder, more urgent; he teased her ear with his tongue, tugged her high collar down to press love-bites against her neck, while she slid her hands inside his suit coat and glided her open palms down his chest.
Before long, Harold's hands gently traced the outline of her breasts, and, while that was undeniably enjoyable, Marian was relieved when he slid his hands back to her waist instead of attempting further explorations – they'd learned the hard way that he really couldn't caress her there properly as long as she was still nursing. But clearly he was intent on fondling her somewhere, because his hands almost immediately found the curve of her backside, and, as he pressed her tightly against him, she broke their kiss to gasp a little as she felt his erection press against her thigh.
Not that she was surprised, exactly, at least, not surprised that he was aroused and letting her know it – this wasn't exactly the first time that they'd canoodled to this extent in the library in well over a year of marriage – but she was a little shocked by the immediate intensity of the desire that swept over her at this knowledge. All she could think of right now was how fiercely she craved to do so much more than just canoodle with him, and she was already attempting to calculate how quickly they could possibly get home without appearing suspicious to any passers-by. Yet she couldn't bring herself to stop kissing and touching him long enough to propose this course of action, not when she was feeling as if she couldn't, would never, get enough of him. Instead, she clung to him and continued moving her hips against his in a desperate pantomime of lovemaking, although she knew very well that this would not satisfy their desires.
Somehow finding the strength that she currently lacked, Harold broke away from her at last after several minutes of this sweet torment, taking a few steps to try and create the distance that they would need if they were ever going to disentangle themselves. The librarian thought that she might sway back onto her desk, so shaky were her legs, and she hoped she didn't look too noticeably graceless as she steadied herself with a hand behind her.
The very sight of her beloved professor was enough to make her knees weaken again and her search for balance hopeless. Harold's rich brown locks were hopelessly tousled in that way she found so irresistible – fortunate for him that a hat would hide them! – and his unsmiling, intense expression revealed the urgency of his own desire. His voice was rough and thick with longing as he spoke the words that she so wanted to hear: "Oh, Marian, I'm going to take you home right now and – "
But he never finished his declaration. They realized it at the same time, and as her heart sank she saw his expression go crestfallen as well – "home" was where Mrs. Paroo was watching Charlotte, specifically so they could be here, working on the library's spring cleaning. They weren't free to go home and tumble into bed together, not by any means, and all of this buildup was going to lead to nothing more than frustration.
Taking a few steps back, Harold swore softly and raked his fingers through his hair, and the librarian was so disappointed that she couldn't even fault him for his shocking language. Not knowing what else to do, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think of very cold things to see if that would somehow dispel the uncomfortable heat that swelled in several delicate body parts. Unsurprisingly, it didn't work.
"Well, tonight, I guess," the music professor relented at last, with about as much enthusiasm as a boy told in the summer that he might get what he's asked for if he waits until Christmastime.
Marian sighed heavily, walking over to the table where she'd left her purse so she wouldn't have to face him, wouldn't risk making him think that she was resentful of him instead of the circumstances. "Right. We have tonight."
Tonight. After Mama went home, after dinner, after – no, if – Charlotte fell asleep. And if tonight didn't work out, well, maybe they could find the time and the energy sometime this week. Or maybe the right moment would never come and they'd have no choice but to let the matter drop. The thought of waiting so long for an opportunity to finish what they'd started was very near infuriating, especially considering how wonderfully different this had been from anything that they'd shared in a long while. Ever since they'd been allowed to make love again a few months after she'd given birth, their every tryst had been meticulously planned, and here they had been so close to something spontaneous and exciting again, only to realize that it wouldn't work out when it was already far too late to quell their passion. If only –
If only –
The realization dawned over her slowly, made her heart surge with apprehension and excitement. There was no "if only" about it – what she wanted was completely possible, although it was outside her experience, and it wasn't as though she hadn't longed for it many times before, even if she'd been unable to imagine how it would actually happen. All she had to do was say one thing, make one little offer…
Marian turned toward her husband slowly, her hands clenched into fists to prevent her from losing her nerve, and made her decision.
"Harold. We could – stay," she whispered, her voice rising with uncertainty but also with the thrill of possibility.
As she expected, he spent the first few moments in utter shock – Marian figured that he was searching for some meaning in her words other than the obvious, lest he jump to conclusions and offend her. He blinked, stepped back, leaned one hand on the desk as he tried to comprehend. "Darling?"
"I mean," she responded, trying her best to keep her voice level, "We don't have to wait until tonight." Just to make completely sure that her meaning was clear, she brought her hands to his bowtie and gently tugged it loose, allowing the loose ends to dangle down onto his chest.
Desire was written plainly over his handsome face, yet Harold was clearly fighting to keep himself in control, running through every logical precaution that he knew. "You're all right with that? You'd make love here? Where you work?" The fragmented questions tumbled out of his mouth one after the other, as if he couldn't give voice to all of her potential objections fast enough.
"Well, we lived out your little office fantasy, didn't we?" the librarian retorted, smirking at that very pleasant memory.
"Yes, but the music emporium doesn't belong to the city." He looked as if he already knew that this argument was unconvincing, and she thought she detected a hint of hope in his expression when she remained unrattled by his words.
"A technicality," she assured him. "We are most assuredly alone here, just as we were in your office, just as we usually are at home. Why, you've always said that you intend to make love to me in the meadow sometime, and, no matter how out-of-the-way that particular meadow is, there's still more of a chance of being discovered when making love outside as opposed to within a locked building!"
Harold nodded, placing his hands on her shoulders – Marian wasn't sure if he was trying to steady her or himself. "I'm not saying that it'd be wrong, but I want to make sure you've thought of everything before you make a decision – I just don't want you to feel guilty about anything we do."
As unnecessary as it may have been in this particular situation, Marian had to admire his chivalrous attempt at rationality even in the midst of his arousal – it was touching to be reminded that he would not allow his lust to overwhelm his need to ensure that she was absolutely comfortable. But she shook her head emphatically, not wanting him to worry for a moment that she would come to regret this afterward.
"I've already made my decision... I wouldn't have even suggested the idea if I hadn't. Because I know that if we wait until tonight, or whenever else we have the chance again, it won't be the same. It won't be like this, and it's been too long since it's been like this." Her voice trembled a little as she spoke, but she wasn't nervous about what she was suggesting they do – it was just that speaking so frankly about her desires still flustered her, and she wasn't sure if she even possessed the words to explain herself properly. It had barely taken a month of marriage before she'd realized that she enjoyed playing the role of sultry seductress now and then, but she'd never really gotten used to talking about desire in plain, logical terms.
"You know I don't take these things lightly," she continued, stepping closer to him just so she could take his hands and touch him in some way. "It's not as though this is the first time that I've thought of this, Harold. I always wanted this to happen someday – I want this to happen now."
He gazed at her with bare, undisguised longing, all of his defenses gone in the face of her calm certainty. "So do I," Harold groaned, and then his mouth was crashing over hers again, both of them overcome by the immensity of their combined passion.
Now that there was no question about where this tryst was leading them, the heat between them grew exponentially with every touch, minds and bodies utterly relieved to abandon restraint. If there had been a bed or other comfortable surface available to them, they would have tumbled right onto it, but, in the absence of such niceties, they found themselves staggering back toward the desk, mouths and hands roaming avidly over every inch of each other's bodies that they could reach.
As she'd already removed his bowtie, Marian decided to continue in that bold vein by tugging off his suit coat and then unbuttoning his shirt. This was something that she'd grown skilled at by now, and it didn't take long before she had the smooth, warm skin of his chest revealed to her. The gentle little patterns that she traced across his skin with her fingers turned abruptly to scratches, however, as Harold nudged her leg aside with his own and pressed his hardness flush against her once again, making her cry out softly and shiver. Even though there was not yet any substantial pleasure to outweigh the pain, Marian was relieved to see that he did not seem distressed by her involuntary scratches at all. In fact, judging by the harsh groan that escaped him and the way that the pressure of his lips on her skin suddenly intensified, he seemed to have enjoyed it in some way. Perhaps, she thought, it was not so different from the way that she reveled in his fierce love-bites, was even excited by the idea that she'd undoubtedly have bruises underneath her high collar when all was said and done.
It was all a little raw, a little rough, and – though she didn't know if maybe this made her somehow peculiar – she actually wanted him to be a bit rough with her, and she relished every single indication that he couldn't bear to wait a single second longer, that he needed her body now as much as she needed his. Ever since they'd resumed making love after the birth of their child, their amorous activity had been exclusively slow and gentle. This had been for a very good reason initially – the first time they'd attempted it, she'd feared that it might bring back some of the pain inflicted by childbirth just to have him touch her intimately, though this thankfully proved to be untrue – and even after that first time, the utter exhaustion of new parenthood kept them rather mild in their desires.
Marian hadn't realized it concretely until today, but she'd missed this, the whole reckless, daring tone of it. She missed him making love to her with right-here-right-now urgency, missed him fumbling for her buttons like he couldn't get her naked quickly enough, kissing her neck until she bruised, tumbling down with her in a tangle of arms and legs… really, it was no wonder she felt so excited at the prospect of making love with her husband on the spur of the moment in a place that they'd both perceived as forbidden.
How the next part happened, she wasn't certain – whether she'd done it herself or if he'd placed her there or maybe just helped her up – but she ended up sitting atop her desk with Harold standing in front of her. As he expertly unbuttoned her blouse, the music professor leaned in to place a few gentle kisses on the swell of her breasts above her corset, making her giggle and squirm. Though he couldn't yet touch her there in the way that they both truly wanted, she noted with pride that he could never resist paying some degree of attention to that adored part of her anatomy – Marian had the rather absurd suspicion that as soon as it was possible once again, he might just kiss her breasts for hours to make up for lost time.
She tugged him even closer to her by his belt buckle, and she gazed into his eyes with a brazen, confident smile as she worked the buckle free and then opened button after button with well-practiced ease. She wasn't doing anything new or exciting, yet Harold stared at her with stunned, pleased incredulity, presumably still a little shocked that she was so certain about doing this here. The more awed he looked, the more brilliant her own smile grew.
"I'd ask if you're feeling excited, dear, but I think I already have my answer," she teased, stroking a finger up and down the front of his trousers.
Though he groaned softly at her touch, he was obviously not willing to concede the upper hand to her just yet. "Then I suppose," he countered with a deliciously lopsided smile, "I'll be seeking a similar answer from you." As he began to slowly inch his hands up her skirt - his caressing fingers starting all the way down at her calves – the librarian delighted in this confirmation that teasing and challenging him during their lovemaking always yielded the most delectable results.
Opening his trousers at last, Marian immediately wrapped her fingers around him, thrilled by both the feel of him in her hand and the involuntary little hiss of air he took in through his teeth at the sudden rush of sensation. That thrill still surprised her a little – she was certainly used to his robust carnal appetites by now, but not so much to the fact that she equaled him in passion, even though it had taken her much, much longer to discover it. Before they'd been married, she couldn't comprehend how anyone could desire or enjoy those seemingly one-sided acts she'd seen vaguely mentioned in some of her more scandalous books, acts that clearly only brought physical pleasure to one's spouse, but she hadn't realized then just how doing those sorts of things would make her feel – to use a phrase Harold was fond of, how hot for him it could make her – and how intimate it could be just to watch him react. Now she took a certain pride in the fact that she knew exactly where and how he craved her touch the most, and that she could make the man she loved feel so wonderful through her actions alone – and, frankly, she'd found that there were few things more erotic than eliciting a pleading moan or a cry of ecstasy from her usually in-control husband.
Today, Marian let her fingers explore him with unusual delicacy, knowing that the feather-light touches would drive him mad. Just as she'd expected, he gasped and thrust his hips harder against her hand, wordlessly pleading for more. It excited her to anticipate the even more intense reactions she knew she would get if she used her mouth instead of just her hands, but before she even got the chance to consider how she could situate herself in such a position, Harold's hand had somehow worked its way inside her drawers, skillfully stroking along the soft folds that were already wet for him, and she wasn't willing to give any resistance to that.
As his thumb continued to trace her most sensitive area, he allowed one, then two of his fingers to slip inside her, and when she let out a high-pitched wail at the electrifying sensations and pressed her hips back against his hand, the librarian was struck by the sound of her own voice ringing throughout the empty room.
She heard him chuckle softly into her ear – felt it, too, the vibrations of his deep voice tickling her skin – and she pulled back and raised her eyebrows questioningly, waiting for an explanation. The whole pretense was rather ridiculous, considering that she was still stroking him, but she deemed the feeling of power she derived from that act rather fitting, anyway.
"What is funny about any of this, Professor?" Marian asked in a mock-scolding tone.
He laughed again, though she noted with satisfaction that there was unmistakably a gasp mingled in with his mirth. "Just that it strikes me as ironic that we have to be a bit quiet these days at home – but we can be as loud as we want here. In the library."
At that, she had to giggle as well. "I suppose you've always longed for that chance, haven't you?"
Never stopping the tantalizing motions of his fingers, Harold leaned in close, brown eyes smoldering and all trace of laughter gone from his low, smooth voice. "I've imagined making you moan loud enough to fill up this entire library since – since the first time I saw you behind that desk."
Marian shivered all over as she recalled the first time he'd walked in the library door, imagining those flagrantly carnal thoughts simmering just behind his thin veneer of gentlemanliness. Though she had certainly never relished the reality that he'd originally seen her as a potential conquest, there was something so powerfully alluring about the idea that he'd seen her as a woman capable of desire and pleasure months and months before she'd realized that in herself. And, of course, Harold had continued to see her in that way even after he'd come to love and respect her, even after he knew that she'd never experienced so much as a kiss before… he'd not only brought out the sensual side of her, but he had always known that she had one to bring out, and that thought continued to leave her breathless.
She let her head fall back and unabashedly gave free rein to all of the throaty, pleading cries that he drew out of her, her delight only increasing with the knowledge that this was such a long-held fantasy for Harold. She'd not been exaggerating when she'd confessed that she'd always wanted this, too – she'd dreamed about it even while they were still engaged and she couldn't even comprehend what it would be like to make love at all. It felt like it had always been inevitable that this would happen eventually, as shocking as the idea was. As wrong as it may have been, it felt right.
Running his free hand up her arching back until he settled it behind her neck, the music professor brought her lips back up to his and met them hungrily, every feverish motion of his lips and tongue against hers communicating sheer, primal need. Marian ached for him now, so urgently that his fingers could no longer be nearly enough, and she was certain that he must be feeling much the same way. As they resumed their kisses, she moaned into his mouth and grasped almost desperately at his hips, tugging him closer to her, and he followed her lead, stepping between her legs and stroking his hands along the tender skin of her thighs, all the way up until she opened her legs even wider for him.
"Make love to me," she pleaded even as she guided him to press against her entrance – she said it largely because Harold had once divulged that she'd often begged him in this way whenever they'd made love in his premarital dreams, and it seemed only fitting that she should make this brazen request as a part of this fantasy come true. She knew her words had the desired effect when his hips surged forward and his fingers seized even more tightly around her thighs, his mouth letting out a soft, strangled moan which she knew well enough to interpret as a wholehearted "yes".
As he filled her at last, Marian buried her face in his chest with a ragged, whimpering gasp, and he groaned her name in a tone that was a glorious combination of reverence and lust. They wasted no time trying to tease each other or draw out the anticipation any longer, moving together at a vigorous pace that was exactly what she'd wanted so very badly these past months, bliss radiating through her body with every undulation of Harold's hips against hers.
The husky moans that came from somewhere deep in his throat drove her wild, and their movements only grew more and more frenzied as they both grew increasingly aroused by the other's obvious enjoyment. The librarian watched her husband in adoration as his face contorted in pleasure because of her, and she delighted in clenching her legs and moving her hips in just the right way to make him cry out uncontrollably.
(Ever since they'd first made love, it had fascinated and perplexed her that neither one of them could ever truly know exactly what the other was feeling, that their experiences of this shared and extremely intimate act must, in sensation, be very different – she'd never forget the first time he'd told her in an impassioned groan that she was "so tight" and she'd actually apologized, making him laugh in charmed disbelief even in the midst of their lovemaking. Still, she was happy that she could give him such pleasure even if she could never fully understand what it felt like for him, and vice versa.)
All the while, Marian was completely aware of where they were, never lost consciousness of the distinctive parchment-and-ink scent in the air or the fact that her skirt-clad bottom was sliding back and forth across the surface of her desk, but she didn't feel the slightest pang of guilt or apprehension over this. In fact, the sheer wickedness of what they were doing, the utter incongruity of feeling her husband within her while she could look past him to see the familiar setting of her library, only increased the heady thrill of their lovemaking – which was really saying something, as even their most ordinary trysts were unfailingly blissful. Her eyelids fluttered and sometimes clamped shut entirely as her body reacted to each breathtaking spark of pleasure that Harold sent through her, but she did her very best to keep her eyes open whenever she could manage it, wanting to remember every detail, every single moment of what was happening.
As much as she would have loved to be naked with him, Marian was currently quite grateful that they were still almost entirely clothed, because without Harold's shirt to cling to, she didn't know what might have happened to her. In truth, as she knotted and twisted the fabric in her hands, she was slightly concerned that she might tear it – but only very slightly, given that she was not presently thinking about much except how wonderfully perfect he felt and how badly she needed him not to stop, and she told him so, over and over, pleas of desperate need intermingled with tender words of love. Her husband responded in kind, his fevered murmurings both inflaming her lust and making her feel like the most beloved, beautiful woman in the world.
When ecstasy finally overwhelmed her, she made no attempt to stifle her cry of rapture, allowing herself for the first time in months to wail and shout with all the bliss that she felt, back arching, head falling back, and fingers clinging fiercely to his shirt. As he watched her, Harold followed her into release within moments, thrusting his hips erratically against hers with wordless exclamations until he let out a long, low groan of her name, and she could feel his whole body shaking with pleasure from head to toe until he had to plant his hands on the desk just to hold himself upright.
With a final, shuddering sigh, Marian nestled her head against his chest, still keeping her legs wrapped tightly around his waist as she floated on a cloud of carefree elation. She felt beautifully, perfectly close to him in a way that she hadn't in a while – even though they weren't in bed, or even laying down, she thought she could stay comfortably like this for hours. Above all, she was glad that neither of them had let fleeting concerns about propriety prevent them from letting this opportunity unfold. What had happened here today had been important, so important, in reaffirming that they could still be passionate lovers as well as devoted parents, and she hadn't realized how much she'd needed that reassurance until she'd gotten it.
When she could summon up the energy again, she pressed her chin to his chest and smiled dreamily up at him, knowing that she must have looked foolish with love and satisfaction.
Brimming with equal affection, Harold grinned back at her and tucked an errant honey-gold curl behind her ear. "What are you thinking about?" he asked – clearly trying to sound suave and self-possessed, though his voice was still rough and shaky in the aftermath of such intense pleasure.
"Thinking?" she teased with a laugh. "I'm happy, Harold, that's all."
That wasn't nearly enough to describe how she was feeling, but she wasn't at her most articulate mere minutes after making love, to say the least. Taking in a deep breath, she tried to gather her thoughts again – not the easiest task after how perfectly empty her mind had been in the very recent past. "Today was the first time in a long time – since before I had the baby, even – that you didn't touch me as if you were afraid you'd break me," she admitted as she gently brushed his hair back from his forehead. "I didn't want to lose that feeling, or that moment. That's why I decided that no matter where we were, I just wanted to be with you."
"I hadn't realized," he responded softly, stroking his hands down her back. "I think I had legitimate reasons for not wanting to hurt you, dear – "
"No, you did, I know – "
"But I guess I never got used to the fact that you were – healed. That it could be like it was before, again."
The librarian beamed proudly at her husband. "Well, I think I've made that very clear to you now, haven't I?"
There was a surprising seriousness in his tone as he responded to her playful teasing, as though she'd somehow assured him of him something that he'd been aching to know for ages. "Absolutely, my love."
Pulling her close, he kissed her slowly and tenderly, one hand nested in her hair. Marian was certain that she could feel all of his love and gratitude for her communicated through that embrace, and she only hoped that she was able to properly express her adoration in return. She was a little disappointed that he didn't prolong the kiss, but it was probably for the best, considering that he was still inside her and they would certainly end up making love again if they didn't stop now – which was a wonderful idea, but one that they did not have time to pursue, given how long they had already lingered here.
Still, the librarian watched him a little wistfully as they went about the re-buttoning and tying and fastening of their clothing and the general eradication of all evidence that pointed to their scandalous coupling (at least other than their flushed complexions and secret-keeping smiles). Today, she felt almost as if she'd discovered her passion for him anew; she could have spent the rest of the day and night making love to him and it wouldn't have been enough.
Harold seemed to notice her distracted demeanor, and he must have been feeling a similar sense of longing, because, as she stood by the door and finished placing her hat atop her head, he walked over and took her hand in his own, bringing it to his mouth to bestow gentle kisses upon her fingers.
He paused after a few kisses and looked right into her eyes, a hint of mischief in his expression. "So… do we still have our date for tonight, then?"
Marian almost embarrassed herself by inquiring about said "date" before she realized what he meant and blushed pleasantly at the thought. "Why, of course, Professor. I'll be looking forward to it." For good measure, she gave him an impish wink.
As she turned to take hold of the door handle, however, he stopped her one more time, his hand on her shoulder. "So will I," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear. "I've already made a few plans for us, in fact – there are certain things that wouldn't have been so easy to do in a place like this without a bed. This afternoon was just the beginning, dear."
Then, purposely denying her a chance to react beyond a momentary gasp, he abruptly swung the heavy door open and took her arm, and they were walking out into the warm spring evening together, looking to all the world like a perfectly respectable husband and wife who had certainly not just used the Madison Public Library for purposes of marital intimacy. And, as self-conscious as she might have felt, Marian knew that no one could perceive the way that her head was spinning with that exact memory as well as with thoughts of all the heated delights that she and Harold were planning to engage in later tonight. She even managed to greet a couple of acquaintances on the sidewalk without blushing noticeably, as far as she could tell.
Marian had gotten remarkably good at keeping secrets – and with good reason, because before meeting and marrying Harold, she'd never truly realized just how enjoyable secrets could be.