Thanks very much to everyone who read and/or left feedback on chapter one of this story! MFMM looks like an awesome fandom and I'm very happy to be contributing in my own way.

I should probably say that the part in italics is Jack recalling a memory.

Right! On with chapter two!


'Well,' said Jack, looking longingly at the whisky bottle, 'I suppose we should talk about sexual positions.'

'Including the deviant ones, sir?' asked Hugh, alert.

Jack scratched his head. 'It's a bit hard to talk about deviant sexual positions when I don't know what they are.'

Hugh rose from his chair. 'Shall I get Father O'Leary on the phone for you, sir?'

'No!' Jack lurched across his desk and grabbed Hugh's arm. 'We don't need to disturb Father O'Leary. I'm…uh, sure he's got lots on his plate at the moment.'

Hugh shrugged. 'All right, sir.' He sat down again, pen and scrap paper at the ready.

Jack looked at his hands, hoping for inspiration. There wasn't much to be found.

'The most common sexual position, particularly among church-going personnel, is called the matrimonial, or missionary, position.'

'Right, sir.' Hugh made a note on his scrap paper. Then he creased his forehead. 'What does that involve, sir?'

'Uh... the woman lies on the bed, or equivalent surface' –

'What sorts of surfaces would be equivalent, sir?'

'I meant just the bed,' Jack amended hastily. 'The woman lies face up on the bed, and the man lies above her, and inserts his erect penis into her vagina. When she's ready.'

Hugh scribbled some more notes. Then he looked up. 'And then what, sir?'

Jack frowned. 'And then what, what?'

'Well, what happens after the man inserts his penis into the woman's vagina? Does he just hang around? Does the woman do something…?'

God preserve me from inquisitive virgins, thought Jack despairingly.

'Ideally when it comes to sex, Constable, is that you and wife achieve an orgasm. So, you need to move in and out in order to achieve this state.'

Hugh had stopped scribbling, but confusion was still broadcast across his open face.

Jack clenched his jaw. 'You know how you feel when you stimulate yourself – your penis – with your hand?'

'Sir!' Hugh's face had moved on from a tomato shade to that of a beetroot.

'You know every bloke does it, right?' Jack asked gently.

'That doesn't mean it should be discussed,' Hugh mumbled.

Jack whished Phryne was here. Hugh would have kittens, but she'd do a much better job of explaining the birds and bees to him than he ever could.

She'd probably love it.

'Okay, well, you know that thing we won't talk about… and how you feel afterwards…'

'Y-yes, sir.'

'The – uh – fluid contains sperm, and that is what you ejaculate into your wife's vagina. If you want to try for a baby.'

Jack rubbed his eyes and dragged the whisky bottle towards him.

'I see, sir.' The office was quiet except for the sound of Hugh's scribbling. 'So… right. I think I get it.'

Jack didn't consider himself a religious man, but the words 'thank God' were dancing the tango inside his head.

Hugh added a few more lines to what looked like his burgeoning thesis on sexual relations, then he looked up at Jack with a wrinkle between his eyebrows.

Damn. Jack knew that look. Unfortunately, it was not the look of a man who is satisfied with all the answers. Still, the ability to ask endless questions is pretty handy for a policeman, he conceded.

'Yes, Hugh?'

'Does the woman enjoy this position, sir?' he asked delicately. 'As much as the bloke does, I mean?'

Jack sat back in his chair. 'Good question,' he acknowledged.

He closed his eyes.


In Phryne's bedroom, Jack was hungry for her body. After this unbelievable bloody day, he needed to reassure himself that she was still alive, still flesh and blood.

She nearly died today.

Phryne, how could you be so bloody reckless with your life? Do you honestly not know how many people love and care about you? What little voice in your head tells you that it's perfectly acceptable to face a crazed lunatic – a crazed lunatic with a gun, mind you – with just your pearl-handled gun that had run out of bullets? He had his arm locked around your throat and a gun next to your head! If I hadn't arrived on scene and fired at the perpetrator, you could have –

could have -

He sighed and hugged her tight, burying his face in her ebony hair.

Phryne withdrew a little and looked up at him, her eyes serious. 'Your body's as tense as a drum.'

'I am a little tense, thank you,' he said between gritted teeth.

Anguished, she laid her slim fingers against his cheek. 'I don't want to argue with you anymore. Everything's been said.'

True. In the immediate aftermath of the harrowing event, Jack and Phryne had one of their biggest 'polite discussions' ever. About how she shouldn't run heedlessly into danger.

About how he needed to trust her.

About why she seemed incapable of waiting for back-up.

About how she'd never waited for a man in her life, and she wasn't starting now.

Back and forth.

Jack rubbed tiredly at his eyes. 'I nearly lost you, Phryne.'

She looked straight into them. 'I nearly lost you.'

He looked away.

'Please be with me tonight, Jack,' she whispered. 'I need you.'

He needed her, too.


Jack was impatient. He needed to fuck her. He needed to feel something. Anything other than relief and guilt, mixed with this heavy, almost-overwhelming, desperate obsession for her.

He easily rid Phryne of her clothes. She was as desperate as he was to join together, skin to skin, until he shrugged off his jacket – and drew in a sharp breath.

Phryne turned even paler than usual and made him stop. He stood still while she slowly peeled his jacket off, divested him of his waistcoat and tie, and gently removed his shirt, paying attention to where it was ripped and bloody on the sleeve.

The shirt fell from her fingers, and a hand crept to her mouth.

'It's stopped bleeding,' he assured her.

She swallowed hard; then nodded. Jack saved her from the smelly degenerate with the gun by shooting him. The man shot at Jack at the same time, and –

It's my fault.

And yet all he's done is show me how worried he was about me.

I don't think I can let him go.

She placed her fingers on Jack's singlet, but instead of raising it, she raised her pale face to his and kissed him. Deeply. Slowly. Her tongue licked his bottom lip, and he opened to her. He always did.

'I want this to be slow, Jack,' she breathed, a little later.

'My arm is fine,' he protested.

She shook her head. 'It's not that. I just want us to be as intimate as possible.'

Jack smiled briefly; and nodded.


The first time Jack and Phryne had sex, he was surprised that she didn't climb between the bed sheets, like he and his wife did. In fact, she laughed when Jack turned down the coverlet. 'Oh, no,' she said gaily, naked as a jaybird, 'I've waited too long for this moment for you to hide your body underneath my bedsheets! I want to see it. Every single beautiful inch of it.'

He raised an incredulous eyebrow.

Still. If she got to see every inch of his body – he got to see every inch of hers.

He reckoned he had the better deal.

Tonight was no different, except that he gathered her up in his arms and gently laid her down on the coverlet. She wrapped her arms around his neck and didn't let go until he was settled between her spread legs, face to face with her.

She was a stunning creature. But he hated to see her like this – uncertain, worried. This wasn't the Phryne he lov –

He lowered his head and kissed her, taking her breath away. His hand trailed from the curve of her hair, over her jaw. His mouth followed the path of his hand and further, ghosting over the fine column of her throat to the swell of her lovely breasts.

He drew each nipple into his mouth in turn, drawing them into hardened peaks. He made to move lower when Phryne pulled his head back to hers. 'No,' she said firmly. 'I need you inside me, Jack.'

He didn't let his pleasure at Phryne's return to her assertive self show, but held her gaze as his fingers brushed her core. Of course she was right; she was wet, heated and beautiful.

He gently parted her thighs further with his own, nudging the head of his cock against her body. He kissed her as he slid inside her body in one, smooth stroke, filling her, feeling all of her surround him.

'Jack' – she gasped, closing her eyes in bliss.

He lay still, feeling her pussy adjust to him, concentrating on the feel of her hands running through his hair. Then she opened her eyes.

He moved with deliberation, slowly in and out of her cunt. Phryne's body trembled, but she didn't drop their gaze. From time to time she'd raise her head to meet her mouth with his, moving their tongues at the same pace as his cock was moving in her pussy.

They stayed like this for some time.


Phryne wrapped her thighs around Jack's taut waist, angling herself so he could penetrate her deeper. 'Make me come, Jack,' she whispered.

He sped up his thrusts until they were hard and frenzied. Briefly he closed his eyes, hoping he wouldn't disgrace himself before she climaxed. Her moans and cries were words to his ears, but he could feel his own release start to build. Gently he touched a finger to the pearl at the top of her folds, stimulating it –

'Jack! Oh my God, Jack!'

She came over his cock hard, drawing him, for a moment, even deeper into her body. Jack closed his eyes and let his orgasm rush through him, spurting his come into her body.

He caught his breath.

As a gentleman, he should get off her and let her conduct whatever necessary ablutions she had to make, but right now, that was the last thing he wanted to do.

She understood, smiling and holding out her arms. He wobbled a bit as he lowered his body to hers – his arm was starting to hurt – but neither of them said anything.

There was no need.


Anyway, back to Hugh and his catalogue of questions.

'The woman can enjoy this position, as long as you're not too rough or go on too long,' Jack said slowly. 'Again, she'll let you know if you are. You can also stimulate her clitoris with your hand; that should increase her pleasure.'

Hugh scribbled frantically on his scrap paper.

'Hugh.'

He looked up. 'Yes, sir?'

The Detective-Inspector's features were kind. 'It's good that you're looking out for Miss Williams' marital well-being,' he said. 'Not many husbands bother.'

'Oh.' Hugh thought about it. 'So, I shouldn't mention any of this to Father O'Leary, then?'

'I wouldn't recommend it,' Jack recommended.

Hugh nodded, then squinted at his notes. 'So that's what you do when you want to try for a baby.'

'That's one of the positions to try for a baby, yes.'

Hugh scratched his head. 'So, it's possible to have relations and not try for a baby?'

Oh God, another one.

Jack stood up. 'Nature calls.'

'Oh! Of course, sir.' Hugh shot up from his chair as the Detective Inspector rose and headed to out of his office to the Gents. He flipped through his loose-leaf scrap paper manual. Just you wait, Dottie, he thought with pride, I'll be the best husband you'll ever have.

Well. I'll be the only husband you'll ever have, but I'll also be the best.


Chapter three: Father O'Leary won't be happy!