Tango; The dance of seduction.

Finally. It had been a day of longing. Longing for her to wake, sleep, smile, sigh. Longing to feel her.

Jennifer reaches out a tiny fist, finding his chest. It has taken him 20 minutes to swaddle her in that blanket with the fuzzy red daisies on it and still she fluttered her arm and escaped.

But her tiny eyes are closing again, perfect pink lips yawn and then rest. Will pulls her close then let's her down gently into the crib. He'd wanted to sing her a lullaby but in the eight short weeks they'd learnt her patterns that still felt like a desperate and shaky, wonderful dream. Silence put her to sleep, lullabies roused her gently with a gurgle or a whimper, but for now, more than ever before in her little life, Will needs her to sleep. Soundly.

"They're gone" she muses, watching him, the length of his arms, the strength in his stance, even with a shiny plastic bottle glimmering in one hand. Will turns without making a sound. There is a smirk, a glance up and down before he saunters to the living room leaving the bottle on the counter.

"Don't touch it" he's firm, eyes fixed on her, not her face, everything. The red floral sweater she'd ironed just before Finn and Rachel arrived for lunch. The skirt he'd bought her before her body swelled with their baby.

"I'm just going to put it in the sink"

No, she isn't. Their's is a game of leading and following that Will has owned since this morning when he'd peered at her in the shower and let himself get caught, licking his lips.

"Take it off". The room is hot, Emma glances over her shoulder to the nursery. Maybe this wasn't the right time after all, maybe they should wait another week.

A long quick step, she hears and Will is in front of her. The room is hotter.

"Take it off" he repeats, she glared back at him. It's more than seduction, it's a challenge that would take two to battle.

He stares with hooded eyes, she lifts the sweater and lets it fall to the floor. That was a surprise, but he has his own arsenal because instead of pulling her close, pushing her chest into his, Will freezes everything but his lips.

"Take it all off", he cracks. He means the lacy bra. For all his words of inspiration and romance he never has the words for her breasts, her hips, her ass.

He can see the change and she reaches back to unhinge herself, the straps fall with a greater weight than they used to. Everything is fuller, he wonders if there are other changes too. Whether she will moan louder, arch her back further.

Her nipples are flushed, they are a trick though, that much he knows. They appear cool, but in preparation for tonight he's been repossessing them. They're achingly warm.

Jennifer is happy with the bottle, the reason was so sweet and innocent and yet Will found himself literally thanking God when the decision had been made because with sleeping and greedy fingers now he could sneak them across her chest at night and watch her revel in her newfound sensitivity that peaked between his fingers.

She keeps going. Skirt, panties. Lingering a little too long on herself with her forefinger. She smiles, stealing the lead. With one step she connects to him, feels her naked self pressing into the buttons on his shirt.

There is a growl. Genuine frustration, his tongue is violent but shortlived in her mouth. Will sucks on her bottom lip and while the rest of her body stands waiting, Emma can hear him grasping for air and sucking, the pressure is everywhere and yet nowhere.

She reaches for his waste but he won't play, his muscles are so tense, she's going to lose and he still has her between his teeth.

"Damn it!" she pushes him back, like he knew she would. Their sex life was littered with her curses, sighed as he enters her or screamed as he thrusts one last time. This time it's a woefully deliberate attempt to force his next move.

Will shrugs, simmers to the armchair, where he can watch her from across the room. Her bottom lip bloated, tender. She puts her hands on her hips, exacerbated He spreads his knees wider.

The watching, that was all part of the dance. Since Jennifer cried her arrival, and maybe even before then when Emma's pregnant body took over her frame, Will had felt a searing need he assumed was primal. A possessiveness over the little girl that was his daughter and the beautiful woman that was his wife. It was mostly a tension point, Emma didn't need protection and she certainly wasn't a possession.

But when she catches his eye and bounces slowly towards him, there's a rush in his pants. That was all for him, even if he did have to fight for it.

"You never play fair" she hushes with her eyes on the bulge in his pants. It's painful when she gets on her knees. And it had a;; been painfully unfair.

He had apologised for minutes after the first time, until Jennifer cried and finally there was something real to worry about.

I don't want you to feel like you have to… you know. I'll wait.

Will, it's okay. You like it.

Do you? I mean, with your mouth, I know it's not… romantic.

I like seeing what it does to you. Seeing what reaction I can get, it's very sexy.

And so it had continued, the pleasure of her lips, her tongue, looking up at him until it all became too much. God, Em! Don't stop.

"Please stand up" he says, feeling her hands drape off him with regret. "I want to make you scream tonight".

She snickers as she straddles. Nimble fingers on his jeans as he works his own shirt.

"I want something from you" she mews seductively, lowering his underwear and warming up everything with her heat.

He's staring at her chest again. Not even realising that his hands and holding her upright.

"I want you to tell me what you want"

"This. These"

"My breasts? Why?"

"Because they're so… full"

"Here you go" she says a little louder than expected. Because his hands are busy gripping her lower back, making red marks that will stay for days, his mouth opens. And his tongue makes gentle swirls and he grunts.

It's volatile, his hunger for her. But she won't let her self be swayed.

"Now I want you, inside me"

And it's all so easy, Will is ready and Emma was ready to ask.

The real dance begins, it's painful, just a bit. "…so good" he groans, moving her up and down. This isn't the gentleman that wiped her brow in the hospital room, this isn't the father of her child.

She's his lover, bare, holding her breath, closing her eyes, inching closer however she can. "Harder" she whispers, but it's her that rules the momentum, the squeezes her legs tighter, that digs her nails into the headrest.

He bites. Hard. She likes it. She squeals, never one to shy away from a firm tentative hand on her neck or the pulling of her hair when he takes her from behind. But now she's on top of him.

Needy. But it's all still Emma, when he bites down again and pinches her buttocks hard, it's still her smile, her red skin, still her ginger hair never out of place.

"Come. Come Emma" she's trying. So finally, after a day of longing, he gives her something, an offering of peace, a momentary lapse in the battle of tango.

"Come now. Here with me. And then you know what? I want to see you in the mirror in the bathroom. I'm going to come inside you and we can see each other, in the mirror"

She moans. It's louder than he remembers. And when it's all over they rest for a moments, she relishes the way he feels, warm and cold all the same time.

Red lights play on the baby monitor, Jennifer's gentle snores are still enough to capture their gazes.

Then a kiss. His finger gently through her hair. Soft, sweet. The collection of their clothing, victims of the seduction battle. An arm on the small of her back and she walks to the kitchen, at last putting the plastic bottle in the sink. A promise that with longing will always come seduction.