While completely self-contained, this fic could be read as a series with "A Time for Everything" and "The Art Of Taming An Ocean". The usual warnings apply: Sex, drugs and violence in medium doses - So your usual holiday celebration really. Have fun and Merry Christmas.

Chapter 1: Aquamarine

He was woken by a pair of lips ghosting over his ear. It took Jack a moment to realise that he was not dreaming anymore - She was still there. In fact, Miss Fisher was rather hard to miss, her face only inches from his and it took some crossing of eyes to focus on it. She was grinning and Jack groaned inwardly. Dear god, she was in a good mood! Detective-Inspector Robinson was not what you would particularly call a morning person. Neither was Miss Fisher, but her mornings usually happened to be set a whole lot later in the day, which meant she generally avoided the motion of waking up early and with a lack of sleep altogether. Today however it was Sunday and from the sound of the birds outside, Jack gathered it was hardly 8 o'clock. And she was awake and smiling! That could only mean one thing – he was in trouble.

And so he was, as her fingertips had begun to draw mesmerising circles on his chest.

"Phryne." He croaked, his voice hoarse with sleep.

"Inspector?" She murmured, somewhere from the direction of his shoulder. Jack let his eyes flutter shut.

"You are aware I am an old man?" He asked, his resistance already approaching the life expectancy of an ice cube in the Australian sun.

"I beg to differ, Jack."

A gentle bite into his neck let him gasp. Alright, possibly he was not quite old enough to stop the hormones from flooding his veins whenever she did that. Without opening his eyes he reached out for her, attempting to pull her into a kiss, but was surprised when instead she grabbed his arm in a firm grasp, denying this notion. Questioningly he lifted his lashes to look at her and found that she was busy, slipping a thin black belt around his wrist and fastening it with talented fingers. The Inspector raised his eyebrows but didn't protest. He searched his soul in vain for any shreds of surprise, but truthfully, leaving him help- and quite often speechless had been Miss Fisher's favourite game from the day they'd met, so this was really just an embodiment of the dance they had been celebrating for two years. Nevertheless he felt a spike of excitement as the black silk slipped around his second wrist. It seemed oddly forbidden. Her eyes searched out his, dark in contrast to the aquamarine morning light falling through the closed curtins. She was asking for his permission, his trust and with a tiny nod he gave it. When Miss Fisher leaned over him to tie the belt to the iron bedframe, he felt a second rush and at the same time the tiniest of regrets for being unable to reach out and pull her closer. But it was too late for that, his arms were firmly fastened over his head and the Inspector tried to not think about just how she had learned to do this. Phryne left him no time for dark thoughts. She brushed a kiss to his forehead in an effort to let the worried creases melt away. Jack found he was holding his breath as she lightly ran her lips over his face, finally reaching his mouth and pressing a soft but lingering kiss to it, before pulling back without giving him a chance to deepen it. He groaned in frustration, shifting slightly. Miss Fisher smiled and ran gentle fingertips down his neck, rejoicing in the way he lifted his chin to grant her better access. Her hand wandered down further, to his utter annoyance avoiding his nipple and instead finding the scar between his ribs where he had been shot when he was still a young Constable, believing it to be heroic to hurl himself onto an armed criminal. Her fingers traced over the familiar bump in his skin before she pressed her lips to it and thanked god once again in silence that the bullet had missed his heart by a few centimeters. He watched her with dark eyes as she continued her journey down to the little unevenness near his navel, where he had blocked a German knife with his stomach, landing him in a war ambulance for several weeks just to be sent back into hell. Jack had never talked about those events before he had ended up in Phrynes house, arms and bed. He still didn't like to, those were hurtful memories edged onto the back of his mind. But she drew from him whatever she wanted, as she always had, and to his utter astonishment he found that talking to her actually soothed the dull pain somewhat.

"This one you never told me about." She stated, rubbing over a tiny blemish on his left arm.

"That was the most heroic of them all, Miss Fisher. A try to help my mother bake bread at the tender age of 5."

A wry smile accompanied this and Phryne felt the need to wipe it away by bringing her lips to his. Jack arched himself up as far as his restraints would allow and deepened the kiss, but again she pulled back with a mischief grin on her face, caressing another one of his numerous scars, this one near his wrist where a piece of shrapnel had grazed him back in Flanders, while killing the man beside him.

"I do not understand why you insist on paying them attention, Miss Fisher." He said, without tearing his watchful eyes from her.

"Because they are your wounds and they haven't healed yet." She answered in a voice that stated, this was to explain everything. The Inspector pondered this for a moment, a small smile spreading over his lips.

"As it is the nature of scars, I doubt they ever will."

Now, she finally looked up.

"That makes them a part of you then and they deserve as much attention as the rest."

Jack Robinson didn't point out that the remainder of his body was rather neglected at this stage, as she chose this very moment to slip the sheet off him that had covered his lower half up till now. The cold air ghosting over his skin reminded him in what a vulnerable position he was and he had to bite back a moan. With a look at Jack's hooded eyes, Phryne decided to finally show mercy on his desires rather than explore him any further. Though she did love the hills and craters of his skin, there were many things she wanted to do to him while she finally had him in her power. She reached out and curled her fingers through his hair, revelling in the way his dark eyes followed her every move and leaned in for a deep kiss that was coloured with passion. He moaned into her mouth, when she grazed a nipple with her fingernails, arching his back and a red hot heat spread through Phryne that would have made it completely impossible for her to do anything but ravish him right here and then, even if she hadn't already resolved to do so. But she held on a bit longer to prolong their torturous little game, nipping and tasting away at him while he squirmed under her experienced hands and mouth, as she hit every spot she had discovered in the last months to draw a different shade of sound from his lips. Only when a desperately whispered "Phryne" begged her for release, making her believe she'd reach climax right then just from the motion of hearing it, she took pity on both of them.

X

It was not a moment to soon. While Jack was still rubbing his aching arms after having been released from the grasp of her silk belt, there was a knock at the door. Miss Fisher called out for her maid to enter, barely giving the Inspector time to cover up, leave alone blush about the absurdeness of the situation. No matter how long DI Jack Robinson lived in this house, he would never get used to having servants intrude into his bedroom in the morning.

If Dorothy Williams noticed what had happened only minutes ago, she didn't show it. She greeted the two naked and rather sweaty people lying upon the bed with the same routine as she sat down a tray of tea and slipped the aquamarine blue curtains open, releasing a flood of sunlight into the room. While she handed her Mistress a cup with hot steamy liquid, Miss Fisher locked eyes with her loyal companion.

"You seem quite happy this morning, Dot."

The maid seemed to fight with herself if her thorough catholic breeding allowed her such an outburst, but chose to have it anyway.

"The dress - it is ready!" She exclaimed, excitement displayed in every muscle of her body. The Inspector watched on as the very same euphoria swept over to Phryne and the ladies started to discuss in detail every piece of lace and every drape of silken fabric. It seemed rather alien to him. Nevertheless, he had to admit that the animation this piece of clothing seemed to cause was touching.

"We better go to the salon, you need to try it today. Actually, let's do it right after breakfast." Phryne Fisher finally resolved, slipping out of bed. Jack couldn't help but watch her, feeling guilty all the same for staring at her naked curves right in front of Miss Williams very eyes. Then again, she would get to intimately know a man's desire first-hand soon enough. If she hadn't yet. Inspector Robinson was never quite sure how to interpret the relationship between his Constable and Miss Fisher's maid. While they both seemed rather innocent, even naive at times, there was depth to it that he couldn't grasp. Not that he'd really wanted to. Miss Williams was sent away for readying a bath in Phryne's own bedroom, while her Mistress slipped into her gown, tying it with a black belt which would make him blush from now on.

„You do not mind me going out on your day off, do you, Jack?"

He sat up in bed and shook his head, finding to his surprise that he didn't.

"Miss William's exhilaration is to be cherished. She will only get married this once in her life. Don't worry about me, I have plenty to fill my day with."

Miss Fisher ran her fingers through his sleep dishevelled hair and pressed a kiss to his lips before leaving. Jack Robinson did have plenty to do. There was paperwork lying on the table that needed to be done, case files to read over again, a call to the station to be made for some confirmation. But mostly there was a book on the shelf in the parlour that he really longed to read. Whistling under his breath, Jack got ready for the day and slipped downstairs. The comfortable silence of a now empty house settled around his armchair, as he flicked the novel open. He got to page seven, before the call came.