a/n: The votes are in - it seems one chapter was not enough, so without further ado, here's part 2 :)

Please note the change in rating!

"Door's locked. Crash course is now in session."

"You - you're…"

Her fingers are cool against his stomach as she skims higher and higher beneath his shirt, succinctly obliterating Wyatt's ability to speak another stuttering thought.

"I'm sure. You're the only thing that makes sense to me these days, Wyatt...if I'm sure of anything, it's you." Her smoldering confidence dies out slowly as she rocks back just enough to leave him reeling. "Unless you're having sec-"

He hauls her back in with both hands splayed across her back, lunging forward into a kiss that ends with him toppling over her. Lucy's shoulders are level with the floor but her legs don't budge from around him, still snaring against his hips on either side. The magnetizing poetry of her lips, her tongue, her body - it throttles his concentration. His hands are roaming aimlessly like vagrants without a home, disjointed in their need to simply be everywhere.

She sucks him back in with a singular focus when her heels flatten against the back of his thighs, urging him to pitch his hips forward against her center. Wyatt complies immediately, angles his mouth down over the pale skin of her neck, and lets his fingers graze lower to make quick work of as many buttons and zippers as he can blindly discover. A pliant whine rises from her throat as his teeth nip up to her earlobe. He does it again, relishing in the shudder that stitches through her.

"You like that, huh?"

"You're one to talk," she returns with a wobbly exhale. "You're so damn loud, Wyatt, and that's with all your clothes still on."

He smirks into the side of her neck, running a deft fingertip along the opening of her unbuttoned blouse. "Save the trash talk for later, Luce. It's high time all these clothes came off, don't you think?"

Lucy wriggles her arms out of her sleeves without another word, face now flushed with something other than embarrassment. He matches her movements stroke for stroke, tugging his own shirt up and over his head while maintaining as much pulsing friction between them as possible. He slips a hand beneath her neck and rolls her body upward, searching for the clasp of her bra in a flourish of urgency. She exploits his distraction, fastening her arms around his shoulders and flipping herself around, bearing down on him suddenly and forcing his back against the floor.

If she'd been hoping to prove to him just how loud he really is, that move is one hell of a checkmate. He's groaning and cursing as he presses up into her, and that's when he hears a startling rip. Her bra is still clutched between his fingers and the flimsy little clasp that holds it all together is officially history.

He curses again, but this time it's with a tinge of self-reproach. "Shit. I didn't mean to - "

"Leave it. I have others."

There's a clever quip on the tip of his tongue, something about her supply of bras diminishing one by one thanks to him - this is the second one he's ruined since meeting her, after all - but she makes better use of his tongue instead, and he's not complaining about the alternative. The bra slides down over her arms, straps getting caught somewhere around her elbows, but he doesn't let that stop him from appreciating the view. Wyatt breaks the kiss with a pop, his pulse thumping like a jackhammer as he finally sets his sights on what he's been fantasizing about for too many goddamn months - the front side of that stolen glance in a New Jersey jail cell. He's touching her before he even realizes what he's doing, fingertips sketching downward over the inner curve of her breast.

"Wyatt…"

His name slices past her parted lips like the flare of a lit match. He ghosts his thumb over her more directly and her hips jerk into him with a low, whimpering cry.

He's excruciatingly hard and his restrictive jeans are doing him no favors, so he reluctantly abandons the source of his current fascination and transfers his efforts to the front fly of his pants. Lucy whines again, her mouth skimming his cheek. He turns into it, traps her lip between his, and manages a few sloppy, sporadic kisses until he can get his jeans open. He switches his attention to hers then, tugging restlessly at the waistband only to find that it's already undone.

Huh. He'd forgotten that he'd done that. He's even better at this than -

Lucy interrupts his short-lived ego trip with a frustrated sigh. "Wyatt. Off. Please."

He's never considered bossiness to be a turn-on before, but dammit does the lust-ridden insistence in her voice ever push him off the edge. He peels the tight denim down over her thighs, growling out a labored, "Sure thing, ma'am," as he goes.

She kicks them off as soon as she can, and he doesn't waste a single second, too impatient to bother with pushing his jeans and underwear any further than his knees. His arm cinches around her narrow waist before shifting both of their bodies up to where they started - his back against the door and Lucy straddled overtop of him.

Surprise flashes uninhibited across her face as she grapples for balance. Her squirming sends shockwaves of ecstacy through his entire body, and he frantically tightens his hold around her, desperate to keep her still before she can bring an untimely end to the occasion.

"This - " she clenches her teeth, staring at him doubtfully, "- this is how you...I don't know, Wyatt."

It requires the use of his last few operational brain cells to slowly pieces together the fact that she's feeling a little hesitant about his choice of position. "Trust me. You're gonna like it."

"How would you know what I - "

"Because I know," he persists, mimicking the stubbornness of her tone. "Let me put it this way - if nothing else, we'll both get to avoid carpet burn. It's a win-win."

Lucy responds with a sharp eye roll. Oh god, even now, she's going to be a never ending pain in his ass. She's on top of him in nothing but a lacy excuse for underwear, hair rumpled around her face, white skin on fire, just seconds from having him inside of her for the first time, and she's literally rolling her eyes at him.

How could he expect anything less? It's a battle of wits, a clash of opinions, that same old quick, snappy bickering. It's familiar, it's them, and it makes him want her all the more. Go figure.

Before Wyatt can even begin to formulate a suitable compromise, she's scooting forward and laying an open kiss to the corner of his jaw. "Okay."

And just like that, they're meeting halfway. The lace is shoved away, blissfully chafing over him as he angles himself against her, and then they're one.

He has to put his face to her shoulder to muffle the irrepressible noise that follows. It's been a long time, he's already admitted as much, but holy shit…

She's too warm, too tight, just too damn much for him to handle. He fears he'll tear a hole through the inside of his cheek for how harshly he's biting down on it, but he has to do something to keep himself in check.

Lucy's nails rake through his hair, her voice accelerating with unmistakable tension. "You…okay?"

He grunts something that surely doesn't count as any viable word in the English language.

She fidgets ever so delicately, then makes a little sound that tells him she's less than comfortable. It's enough to reintroduce a shred of clarity back into his rattled head.

"Here," he mumbles in a bit of a blur, his hands hooking around her bent knees and drawing her legs out gently until they're extended behind him. "Like this...feet, uh, flat on the floor. Better leverage."

"Oh - " the noise snaps off at the end as she presses up on her heels and comes staggering down around him again.

They both say "shit," in unison that time, the sound of which brings a fleeting smile to Wyatt's face. His hands find traction at the dip of her waist and he encourages her to make another fluid thrust, being sure to drive himself upward right as she's plummeting down. Her head arches backward as they fuse together, exposing the graceful line of her neck, highlighting each shiny ringlet of her glossy dark hair, brandishing inch after inch of smooth, faultless skin.

A potent affection kindles in his heart as he watches her, moves with her, throbs inside of her. His feelings are raining down around him like a meteor shower, lustrous and pure and illuminating. He slants forward to catch her mouth in kiss that's soft, simple, guileless, almost qualifying as chaste if not for the way he's delving even deeper into her with the resulting shift in his posture. Her palm is slick against the back of his neck as she clings to him with a high hum of pleasure. She's rocking back and forth faster now, and he scrunches his eyes shut, attuning himself to each intensified stroke she makes, chasing that illusive rush of delirium with another jolt upward, another sway forward, another -

"Wyatt?"

He peels his eyelids open, automatically noting the frenzied heat in Lucy's gaze. There's a trembling uproar sizzling through him as he nods his understanding. He's there.

He's there without even realizing how far gone he is, and if he's reading that feverished look in her eyes correctly, she's just barely hanging on herself.

With one hand darting between them and another supporting the small of her back, Wyatt plants a series of hectic kisses to her neck, her collarbone, her breasts. Her whole body curves and contorts as he provokes her toward an inescapable climax, one that her coiled little frame is clearly searching for with a palpable, shaking ferocity.

He hears her crying out just an instant before his last vestige of restraint fades away into oblivion. He loses himself inside of her, riding out each blistering crest of release as it ravages through him. Every intoxicating sensation is amplified to excess as Lucy crashes and flutters all around him, answering each erratic quaking movement with a colliding shock of her own.

Wyatt slouches back at last with a heavy groan. He's depleted, totally blitzed, nearly catatonic. And he's happy. Absurdly, undeservedly, wholeheartedly happy.

He's still wrapped up in a radiant haze when Lucy fizzles out against him, her head dropping to his shoulder as her arms fall limply between them. It's second nature at this point to settle his cheek against the inviting refuge of her hair, and he breathes deeply as he lands there, gathering her even closer in a drowsy embrace.

"I'm never moving again," she drones softly, her tone so low and languid that she sounds drugged.

"Fine by me," he murmurs against the top of her head. "Mason's cleaning crew might be a little thrown off by that decision, but I'm sure they'll - "

Lucy tenses against him, her voice far more alert now as she cuts him off. "Oh my god, we're at work...we're at work."

"Don't I know it. I've been working pretty damn hard in case you hadn't noticed."

"Oh my god," she repeats with a note of panic, although her body is already slackening into him once more, the apparent horror of this realization lessening second by second. "I cannot believe I let you talk me into this."

"Me? Please." He maps a hand over her spine, running it up and down in lazy, indistinct strokes. "I had made peace with the fact that I was destined for nothing but a very long, very cold shower. You're the one who threw yourself at me."

She curls her head into the center of his chest and taps a lone fingernail over his torso. "I still blame you. You made it impossible to resist."

He's barely worked his mouth open before she jumps back in to fill the half-second of silence.

"Don't you dare let that go to your head. It's already big enough."

She's not able to see his wicked smirk, so he deliberately lets it seep into his words for added effect. "Hmm. That's not the only thing that's bi- "

"Wyatt," she warns with a swift poke to his ribcage.

"Admit it. I knew what I was talking about. That was some damn good sex."

She sighs contentedly, delivering a riotous network of goosebumps over his cooling skin. "Okay, no arguments there. You were right."

"I was always pretty decent at Science, ya know. Or Geometry. Or whatever subject requires an understanding of angles and gravity. Maybe not on the level of engineering my way through the time-space continuum, but enough to know how to hit a G-spot."

Lucy chuckles quietly, the ripple of her amusement channeling pleasantly into him.

"Plus," he continues with the intentional edge of a challenge, "generally speaking, I know how much you like to be in charge, so..."

"Oh, as if you don't?!"

Wyatt concedes with an easy grin. "Okay, so we both like to be in charge. That should prove to be interesting…"

"A good kind of interesting," she says with a glowing lilt in her voice.

"The best kind of interesting."

Her mouth flits lightly over his neck for just a barely-there kiss that hits him like an aftershock. When she speaks again, it's both halting and weighty, her head simultaneously digging even further into him than before. "Wyatt, I, uh...I'm - "

"Uh uh," he says with a firm shake of his head. He takes her arms in his hands and coaxes her away from him, not satisfied until her charmingly pink face is in full view. "There. You may now continue."

That lights a flame of inky opposition in her expression. "Gee, thanks for your permission."

"C'mon, Lucy," he prods affectionately, trailing his thumb along the tempting line of her lip. "As you were saying…?"

Her mouth lifts with a gradual smile as she circles his wrist in her slim fingers. "You're so annoying."

"Oh, is that all?" he asks with a laugh.

"Nope, just that." She studies him for several prolonged seconds, raw emotion filtering through her gorgeous eyes. "Well, and...also that I think I might be in love with you anyway."

He's sure that his flurrying heartbeat is flooding up into his face as he regards her with a paralyzed smile. "You think?"

"I know," she returns with an enchanting buzz of conviction. "I know."

"Good, because I know it too." His forehead bows reverently to hers. "I love you so much, Lucy, and I - I was so sure I'd never be able to say those words again, but it's not even a choice with you. I just...I - "

His voice cracks beneath the intensity of what he's feeling, but he doesn't have to flounder for long. Lucy kisses him straight through his mumbling incoherence, rekindling an undeniable spark of dynamite despite the fact that his body is still a far way off from rebounding back into action.

Any chance of that eventual rebound miraculously happening sooner rather than later is cut short when a timid knock funnels in from somewhere above Wyatt's head, a striking reminder that there's still a giant web of knotted confusion awaiting them on the other side of that door.

"Yeah?" he croaks out with a frown, tilting his head sideways to stare at the lock that sure as hell better not start turning any time soon.

That frown thaws of its own accord as he feels Lucy scrunching her face into his neck, her murmur of "Tell me it's not another damn jump already," rumbling playfully against his pulse.

It's Rufus who answers, and even though his words are muffled through the barrier of the door, his stilted awkwardness comes through loud and clear. "Hey there. Just checking in to see if everything's okay. I, uh, drew the short straw...everyone else was afraid of what they might, umm…hear?"

Wyatt grins a lofty grin, feeling unashamed and a bit self-congratulatory while Lucy folds up in red-faced mortification and drops a few muttered curse words into the crook of his shoulder.

"We're fine, man. Better than fine, actua-"

Lucy smacks him just as he'd anticipated she would, her own indignant words rising above his reflexive oof of pain. "Thanks, Rufus. We'll be out in a minute."

"Uh, okay. Cool. Great. I'm leaving now because I think that's best for everyone involved. See you guys later."

Wyatt waits until the last of his footfalls have faded away, then turns his full attention back to Lucy. He works his fingers up through the tangle of her wavy hair, eyes darting over her with open adoration. "So what'll it be? Your place or mine?"

All remaining traces of irritation and chagrin are readily disappearing from her expression, dissolving into a serene, incandescent smile. "What?"

"Our base camp has been compromised, ma'am. We need to regroup and move out, and you're certifiably insane if you think there's any chance that I'm packing it up here just to go sleep alone tonight."

Her laughter cartwheels over him, brighter and richer than anything he's heard in a very long time. It's with a delighted kiss to his cheek that Lucy informs him that she'll happily follow his marching orders to just about anywhere - with or without a bed - as long as she isn't sleeping alone either.

Wyatt steals one last lingering look at her just as she is now, memorizing those layers upon layers of copper and caramel peering back at him, her dark gaze softened with the freedom of all that's finally been expressed between them. There's the poise and knowledge and strength that's so inherent to who she is, and most importantly, there's love, more than enough love to fill the entire San Francisco Bay a few times over.

He imagines there's plenty of love ablaze in his eyes, too.