I felt my lips curl into a smile as my body relaxed. "I guess so. Good thing you're here to put a stop to all of that." I heard his Zippo strike and the smell of the flint overlaid by smoke hung heavy in the thick air. "You got another one of those? I don't have my pack on me."

I heard him stand. "I can see that," he said, leaning over me, his hands cool against my face as he placed the cigarette between my lips. I drew deep as his fingers ghosted over my chin, and as I raised my fingers to pull the cigarette from my mouth, I reached to remove the washcloth from my eyes. Murphy's hand closed around my wrist. "Don't," he whispered, "not yet." The steel bands of his fingers withdrew as I exhaled smoke through my nose and settled back.

The pads of his fingers were cool and calloused as they passed over my face, down my nose, across my cheekbone. He held my earlobe gently between his thumb and forefinger briefly before they slid down, gliding over the pulse in my throat. I inhaled deeply and caught the concentration of his scent, thicker and more tangible in the heat of the bathroom, I exhaled, heavily, and felt the heat from between my legs spreading through my body.

His fingers spread along my throat, parallel to my jaw as he passed the ball of his thumb over my lips. I parted them slightly, breathing heavier. He leaned in and replaced his thumb with his mouth, kissing me gently. I opened my mouth to allow him access, but his thumb under my chin pressed it closed. His lips met mine and remained, gentle pressure, his lips soft, his fingers stroking the sensitive skin of my neck.

I brought my free hand up to touch his face before he caught my wrist again and pressed my hand back down to the edge of the tub. I whined a slight protest against his mouth and he brushed back a lock of my hair, before he moved his lips a breath away from my ear to whisper, "Just let me touch ye, girl. For now. Just…let me touch ye."

His voice whispered against my skin, sending chills through my flushed body. I nodded slightly, not trusting my voice.

He kissed a trail from my ear down my jaw to my neck and up my collarbone. His hands ran across my skin lightly, leaving electric tingles in their wake. One hand moved to my throat, his palm across my windpipe and I tensed slightly. His mouth paused against my shoulder. "Don't ye trust me?"

I breathed deeply, and nodded, "With my life," I panted.

He placed a gentle kiss against my jaw. I hadn't even felt him move. "Then relax," he said, rubbing his thumb against my neck.

I exhaled deeply and complied, willing my body to melt into the water. I felt him smile against my skin and relaxed even further. I lifted the cigarette to my lips and inhaled as he pulled back to do the same. I pursed my lips to exhale and his fingers lighted around my mouth, tracing the curves of my lips before stroking up the line of my jaw to my ear, then back down my throat.

My skin was flushed and his touch maddeningly delicate as he traced my collarbone from shoulder to shoulder then his hand disappeared. I arched a little to find it again before I even realized I meant to do it, then his hand was back, fingers light at the top slope of my breast. I arched even further, bringing my nipple above the water line where it hardened to a nub in the sudden temperature change. Then his hand was gone and I whimpered as his lips touched my throat, his tongue running gently over my pounding pulse.

I felt his fingers touch my own as he plucked the cigarette from them. I gaped like a baby bird for a second until he put it to my mouth allowing me a drag before I heard the twin hisses as both cigarettes were dropped into the toilet.

Then his hand was back, running an uneven fingernail down my arm, raising goosebumps in its wake. His fingers encircled my wrist, lifting it to the edge of the tub then sliding down my hand clamping my fingers onto the rim. He squeezed them once to let me know to keep them there before he repeated the movement with my other hand.

Then he withdrew again.

I could hear him moving around me.

He leaned close enough for me to smell him.

Then backed away.

I felt his hair brush my face. He breathed hot against my neck. I shivered.

He drew back and I leaned forward. His hand pressed against my chest, pushing me back, then roamed over my shoulder. Then away.

He licked my earlobe.

He nipped at my shoulder.

His fingers stroked down my side, below the waterline, to trace my ribs. I arched into his touch, my fingers tight enough against the tub they were actually starting to hurt. I loosened my grip as his fingers left my side, dragging up my belly, a frictionless pressure against my skin.

I bowed my back as his fingers passed between my breasts, out of the water, then disappeared again.

Murphy had always enjoyed the tease (not that I had ever complained) but something about this was really getting my motor running. It might have been the sensory deprivation, not knowing where his hand would land next, or his mouth, or his tongue, concentrating only on his scent and trying to hear where he would be next, but whatever was doing it, I was completely damp and it had nothing to do with the bathwater.

His fingers lighted on the foot I still had braced beside the faucet.

He gently kissed the knee I had just above the water.

He palmed my hip softly, and I pressed against him

His tongue snaked across the pulse in my throat and I mewled, my body tensing and curving as he blew gently against my damp throat.

"Fuckin hell, Murph," I moaned even as he moved back. I stayed taut and bowed, swaying slightly back and forth, my head fuzzy from whiskey, the heat of the water, and the soft intensity of his touches that had set my nerves jangling. I listened.

Nothing.

I turned my head towards the door, trying to sense where he was.

Nothing.

I started to feel a little stupid…wondering exactly how drunk I really was.

Then like a shot, he was back, his hands on either side of my face holding me in place. And his mouth, ohmygod, his mouth was on mine.

Murphy had never been a slouch when it came to kissing, in fact, I'd have to say he was the better of the two. A minute superiority, but still there. But this…

Words failed me. **Me**. My brain short circuited and I was aware of nothing in the world but Murphy's mouth. Soft, but strong. Yielding, but never out of control. Maddeningly slow, but I didn't want him to speed up. His tongue twisted with mine in a sensual dance that I instinctively knew the steps to. I arched towards him, my back bowing, my breasts outthrust, but he never faltered, never sped.

I felt the movement of the water around my waist, distant, unimportant, and realized that my thighs were rubbing hard against each other, trying to ease the throbbing in my nethers. But Murphy's mouth didn't change, and I found myself whimpering into him.

My fingers loosened from the edge of the tub with no permission from me and found his hair and neck by instinct. He sucked in a breath through his nose and it came out as a growl into my throat as his arms wrapped around my neck and shoulders crushing me, painfully, against him and the wall of the tub, but I couldn't have cared less. I felt his hands slide the chopsticks from my hair and the washcloth fell away as I shook my head just enough to let my hair tumble down but not enough to force him to remove his mouth.

His fingers traced up and down my spine gently, slowly, and I shivered against him. I felt something closely akin to physical pain as he slowly withdrew his tongue and pressed his lips firmly against mine, once, twice, then pulled back, his forehead to mine.

My eyes were still closed as I tried to catch my breath and slow my heart when he spoke softly against my skin, "You're slick, girl."

I grinned, dirtily, "Tell me about it."

I felt him smile against my neck as he moved his head to my shoulder, "Meant yer skin was slick." I was opening my mouth to explain the concept of bath oils (to one of the two men to whom I had previously tried and failed to explain the concept of facial skin exfoliators (interesting conversation that had been, 'Ye mean, wee little rocks scraping away yer skin?')) when his hand left the back of my neck and tracked down my chest, over one breast, tweaking my nipple as it passed, then trailed down my belly, into the water, feather light, down one thigh, up the other until his fingers settled between them.

My legs parted and I shivered in anticipation. I felt the smirk against my neck, "Oh, shut up," I panted, my nails digging into his neck and scalp as he nudged against my folds. He had barely brushed my aching bundle of nerves with his knuckle when a surge of electricity shot through my body hard enough to make me buck.

"Ease down, girl," he whispered, his breath on my ear, then moved behind my earlobe, at the edge of my jaw. Licking lightly. Kissing. "Ease down."

I relaxed against him, by a fraction. "That's it," he said, using a tone that I imagine one would use for spooked horses. "That's it, girl," he kissed my neck, "relax." He drew the last word out and as it caressed my skin, my body melted against his and my thighs splayed, wantonly. "Aye," he said as he bit my shoulder and eased a finger from my clit to my soaked opening.

I moaned as I draped my arms over his shoulder, and rested my face against his neck. His thumb never left my clit, massaging slowly, gently…and it was driving me insane. His fingers teased my entrance and I whimpered, rolling my hips forward, but there was no rushing Murphy tonight.

Slowly he eased a finger in, an inch at a time. A satisfied sound rolled from my mouth as he slid completely in and began twirling his finger in a small circle. My arms tightened around him as he began kissing the skin along my neck. "Ye like that?"

"Yea," I whined against him.

"Or like this?" he asked, speeding his thumb ever so slightly and changing the motion of his finger. My breath caught for a second and I couldn't reply.

"Oh, like that," I managed.

"Aye?" he asked, his breath cold as it passed over my damp skin.

"Yea," I groaned, holding him closer as I felt an orgasm building ever so deliciously slowly.

"Tell me," he said, his mouth against my ear.

"Just like that," I cried against him. "So good. Feels so good."

He growled against my ear, audibly sniffing my hair.

"Maybe," I whispered against his ear.

"Hmm?" he grunted against my neck.

"Just a little faster?"

I felt him smirk against my skin. "Thought you'd never ask, girl," he said as he slid a second finger into me and started scissoring them back and forth at a feverish pace. His thumb became rougher and faster and before I knew it I was clawing at his back, rocking against his hand. That slowly building orgasm caught it's legs and started to spread like a brushfire suddenly exposed to a strong south wind. I lost all sense of what he was doing for a few moments, the motions of his fingers all blurred together in a haze of pleasure, all I knew was that I was howling into his shoulder, my fists clenched in his shirt and my entire body was twitching like a current was running through it.

I came screaming, once, twice, but instead of stopping or even pausing, Murphy continued his assault. My voice failed me for a minute as my body started building up to release again.

"Oh God, Murph," I gasped, barely able to keep my breath. "You're killing me, here." My ears couldn't quite believe the words coming from my mouth. The deep inner being that was my sexuality, growled in frustration.

Murphy's fingers never wavered, "Ye want me to stop?"

"Christ, no, I don't **want** you to stop, but -," the words 'I'm afraid I may go insane if you don't' died on my lips as his rhythm slowed delectably. I groaned in ecstasy, my hands still clawing in his shirt.

"Cause I can stop," he said, his mouth against my ear. "If ye really want me to…"

I shook my head almost violently as my back arched, pressing my breasts against the soft cotton of his T-shirt.

"Are ye certain?" he asked, his fingers curling inside me, his ragged nails scraping over my inflamed flesh, sending a jolt through my body, and I jerked slopping bathwater onto his shoulder. I nodded sharply, rubbing my face against the damp cotton, like a cat scenting a leg, as the water seeped down his tee, down the wiry strength of his frame.

"Truly?" he whispered against my neck, his fingers never slowing, never relenting.

A breathy moan escaped my lips as I nodded, the sensation of water creeping down his chest, soaking the cotton against my nipples was almost as intoxicating as what he was doing with his fingers…almost. His thumbnail scraped my clit slightly and I moaned.

"Tell me, then."

I drew a breath and spilled out in a gasp, "I never want you to not be touching me. Sweet bleeding Christ, Murphy, don't stop. Please?"

And then he did.

The evil unpredictable bastard.

I whined into his shirt and used all the willpower I had left in me to keep from braining him with a shampoo bottle. "What the fuck, Murph?"

He took both my hands in his, pulling me to my feet. Then leaning down, he put his shoulder into my stomach and straightened, lifting me out of the tub, my ass in the air, as he carried me to my bed. "Just getting started, girl."

And all I could think was, 'Oh, fuck. He is going to drive me insane.'