Abbie was expecting the flowers and notes and other little romantic tokens. She was expecting the flattering words and longing gazes. She was expecting to be well and thoroughly wooed by Ichabod Crane.

She wasn't expecting him to be a freak in the bedroom.

Certainly she'd heard the term "freak" applied to him in the years in which they've been acquainted. Usually, it was muttered by some judgmental idiot side-eyeing his antiquated wardrobe and manner.

She just never imagined she'd be applying that term to the man she loves.

Actually, "freaky" is a more apt description. Crane isn't a freak. He's freaky.

And, he does, in fact, woo her with flowers and tokens. Abbie never has a reason to doubt his devotion to or love for her.

However, Abbie was expecting to be the tutor and he the student when it came to their physical relationship. She was expecting to have to convince him that it was okay to engage in "marital relations" even though they weren't married (yet. She always seems to mentally add that "yet"). And, their first time together was beautiful and wonderful, but it did not take long for Crane to come out of his shell.

The tables turned so quickly that Abbie found herself handcuffing Crane to her bed before she fully realized what was happening.

Crane is lying in the center of her bed, each hand cuffed to a bedpost. He's restrained, but giving orders. Abbie, caught in his thrall, follows his directives without question.

Not because she feels obligated. She knows she can refuse. She knows he knows she trusts him completely. Because he trusts her completely (she's got him naked and handcuffed to her bed, for crying out loud).

And damn, does he have charisma.

Abbie does as he asks because she loves him. And, if she is completely honest, she likes this unexpected side of him.

It's hot.

Really hot.

"Miss Mills, you still have your underthings on," Crane comments, his eyes raking over her form as she stands at the end of the bed. Now, he only calls her "Miss Mills" when they are in the bedroom. Outside, he calls her "Abbie," and occasionally, "Lieutenant," but he's chosen to keep "Miss Mills" for special occasions.

"So it seems," she says, shrugging one shoulder. Because she knows her impertinence just pokes the skunk. And, it's fun.

"Miss Mills, you will remove those... garments," he says, waving a restrained hand ineffectively.

"You chose these garments, I'll remind you," she says.

"You needn't remind me of anything," he answers haughtily, his left eyebrow rising in the way that lately makes Abbie's knees wobbly and her panties damp. "And now I choose for you to remove those garments." He pauses, licking his lips. "Slowly."

"Very well, Captain," she answers. It's meant to be teasing, but the pleasurable rumble that is his reply tells her she's going to be calling him "Captain" in the bedroom from now on. She turns around, her back to him, reaches up, and unclasps her bra. As she slides it from her shoulders, she hears his voice behind her.

"Minx," Crane growls. She looks over her shoulder at him as she extends her arm and drops her bra to the floor. Then, her back still facing him, she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her thong and slides it down, bending at the waist. He groans.

Abbie straightens up and slowly turns around, facing him again.

"Dear God, I never get tired of the sight of you, Miss Mills," he says, his fingers flexing ineffectively as his eyes rake over her.

"You're not so bad, yourself," she replies, allowing her eyes to travel up and down his long, lean form, lingering over his thick erection, resting on his stomach.

"Come up here," he says.

Abbie climbs up on the bed by his feet, kneeling on either side of his legs . "What can I do for you, Captain?" she asks, her hands stroking his thighs.

"Mmm," he says, biting his lower lip suggestively. "I should like to watch you. But, come closer, please."

She doesn't need to ask what it is he wants to watch. "Of course," she answers, shuffling closer, straddling his hips, still on her knees. She runs her hands over her breasts a few times, flicking her nipples just enough to make them stand up for him. Crane licks his lips, his eyes dark with passion.

She slides one hand down and parts her lips, slipping two fingers between, spreading the wetness he brought on without even touching her. She moans a little as her fingers circle her button, her back arching involuntarily. Her other hand is still toying with a nipple, and she pinches it as she plunges her fingers inside herself, pumping them in and out a few times. "Oh..." she breathes.

"Yes," he murmurs, "that's lovely."

His voice does things to her as much as his eyebrow does and she moans again. Then, she drops forward, depositing her breast into his mouth. He groans and latches on, kissing and sucking her breast, flicking her nipple with his tongue.

Abbie reaches for his shaft, rubbing her hand over him, wrapping her wet fingers around and squeezing just enough.

She leans back, bends down and kisses him, then lowers her hips, sheathing him within her.

"Miss Mills..." he says, struggling to make his voice stern. It is meant as a warning.

"Just a detour," she says. She slowly slides up and down on his shaft four times, then pulls away.

"Fuck," he gasps, tightly closing his eyes.

" All things in time , Captain," Abbie coos.

"Do not use my words against me, Miss Mills," he says, opening one eye. Usually, it is he who is chastising her to be patient.

She laughs and continues moving up his body, still straddling him. She sits on his chest, sliding herself around a little, spreading her wetness on his body, feeling the texture of his chest hair against her sensitive flesh.

"Mmm," he hums. "My favorite cologne."

Abbie grins and moves higher until she is straddling his face. She lowers herself onto his open mouth, moaning loudly as his tongue comes forward to meet her.

His voice and his eyebrows are wonderful. His tongue is magnificent. Sublime. Magical. Abbie grabs the headboard of the bed to keep herself from collapsing onto his face. Somehow, she thinks he wouldn't mind meeting his maker being smothered by her this way, but today is not that day.

"Cra— Icha— Captain," she finally manages to get the right name, her fingers clutching the wood of the headboard like her life depended on it. He is relentless, his tongue circling and flicking and thrusting and licking and after an eternity that is far, far too short, she cries out loudly, reflexively lifting up to escape his blissful torture as she powerfully comes. "Damn," she gasps, collapsing backward, lying awkwardly on his torso, her head on his hip.

"Interesting view," Crane deadpans, looking down at her, spread before him.

Abbie laughs and moves, straightening herself out. She leans down and kisses him. His beard is wet with her juices and she tastes herself as she kisses him.

"You're going to leave that in your beard as long as you can, aren't you?" she asks, touching her nose to his.

"Indeed I am, Miss Mills," he says, smirking mischievously. "You are my favorite scent."

"And you are amazingly dirty in the sweetest way," she says, returning his grin.

"Thank you very much," he says, raising that eyebrow again.

"Ooo," she coos, kissing him again as she reaches for his manhood. "Your turn?"

"Yes, please," he answers, flexing his hips upward, pressing himself into her hand.

Abbie kisses him once more, deeply, hungrily, then lifts her head. She winks at him, sits back, and turns around.

"Miss Mills?" he asks, temporarily perplexed.

She straddles him, this time with her back to him, and sinks down over his erection again, bracing her hands on his thighs.

"Oh... temptress... you are too cruel," he groans, pulling at his restraints now. The metal bites into his wrists and he sharply sucks air in between his teeth.

Abbie looks over her shoulder at him. "Okay?" she gasps, still moving up and down over him.

"Yes," he answers, his voice raspy. "Mmm, I must say your... backside is... oh... quite delectable," he grunts, falling back into her rhythm, his eyes now glued on the perfect round backside bobbing in his field of vision. "Oh, yes..."

Crane feels one of her hands leave his thigh, sees her arm move as it skims over her breast, and down again.

"Miss Mills, are you touching yourself?" he grunts.

"Yes," she breathes, her head dropping back. "Mmm, yes, I am," she says, increasing her pace, moving faster, harder.

"Yes..." he echoes. Abbie can hear his breathing grow heavy and erratic behind her. She's close, too, and arches her back, slightly changing the angle as well as more deliberately pointing her backside at Crane.

"Mmm," she moans, "Ichabod..."

"Oh, yes... oh, Abbie..." he chokes out her name as he comes, his entire body tensing beneath her.

Abbie is right with him, crying out wordlessly at the same time, her knees reflexively squeezing his hips.

He always reverts back to "Abbie" from "Miss Mills" at that moment. It always makes Abbie's heart swell when she hears it.

Crane exhales a long breath and Abbie carefully slides off of him, crawling over to retrieve the key to the handcuffs from the nightstand. She instinctively knows he needs to be freed as soon as possible and makes quick work of the cuffs, leaving them dangling from the bedposts for now.

As soon as his hands are freed they are on her body, pulling her into his embrace, caressing her skin. He tugs her up to lay on top of him, his arms wrapped around her as they kiss.

"I love you." They whisper the words over and over to each other in between their kisses, returning to earth.