A/N: Thank you to those who've been taking the time to review! Bumped up the rating for this snippet. It was inspired by the scene in the film Amelie where Amelie and Nino meet face to face for the first time.

Exploration

He is surprised to see her, that much is evident.

The flame of the candle at his bedside flickers, and shadows dance across his face. Elsie stands with her back against the solid wood of the door behind her. She breathes in and out slowly, gathers herself. Cannot believe she is standing where she is. She takes a tentative step away from the door. Another. And another until her knees bump against the mattress on his bed.

He moves his lips to speak and she boldly places a finger against them, preventing the question from leaving his mouth. She does not have an answer, doesn't know why she's come to his bedroom late this night, doesn't really want to think about it. She's often wondered what it would be like, imagined a moment like this.

She's been in his bedroom a few times before, had refused to leave his bedside while he suffered from the Spanish Flu. But she doesn't know why tonight of all nights is the night she chose to go to him.

The only thing she knows at this minute is that the skin of his lip is soft, slightly chapped beneath her finger. She slowly moves her fingertip along, tracing his mouth. Her fingers find his eyes, brush his lashes ever so slightly as he closes them.

Elsie takes his stillness as acceptance.

She gingerly sits on the edge of his bed, her hand resting lightly against the stubble of his cheek. Her fingers continue their quest, outlining his jaw, strong chin, up to his hairline. She leans forward slightly, feels her breasts brush lightly against his the broad expanse of his chest, feels her nipples tighten. She hears his sharp intake of breath and closes her eyes for a moment, smiles inwardly. Leans forward more and softly kisses his brow. His eyes close again and she kisses each lid delicately. She moves lower and kisses the tip of his nose. Leans in farther, kisses his temple, the shell of his ear.

His arms reach up and push her back slightly, his eyes searching, wondering. He sees an innocently mischievous glint in her eyes. He sits up straight, leans against the headboard.

Elsie remains in place, closes her eyes, does not speak. Only points. Her forehead, her cheek, her eyes. His lips follow obediently. She turns her head to the side and feels his lips on her pulse, her ear, and finally her temple. Her finger moves to the corner of her mouth, then the other and he continues to follow her lead.

She pulls back, opens her eyes to look at him. His pupils are dilated in the dim light, so much so that his eyes appear black. She knows different. Knows they are a soft hazel brown. She touches her finger to her bottom lip, holds his gaze for a moment. His lips touch hers in a tentative first kiss.

Elsie feels her heart swell, nearly burst as a feeling of completeness overcomes her, wonders if he feels the same.

She feels his mouth begin to move against hers, finds herself responding. Boldly. Eagerly. Her hands move up along his strong arms, shoulders, link behind his neck. Her fingers play at the nape of his neck. Slightly calloused hands cup her face gently. His tongue darts out tentatively, traces her bottom lip. She answers the request, parts her lips slightly.

Their breathing grows heavy. Lips become swollen, cheeks reddened. They hardly notice in the faint light. They do not feel rushed. They have all night.

His hands rise along the back of her neck, thread into her hair, search for the pins securing it, pull them out one by one, sets them on the bedside table. He maneuvers them so they are both standing. Threads his fingers into her hair once more, kisses her ardently. He pulls away, searches her eyes once more. Elsie rests her hands on his upper arms, smiles. She reaches forward, kisses him again.

They each take this as their cue.

His fingers reach for the tie of her dressing gown as hers find the buttons of his pajama top. They undress each other slowly, reverently. Their clothing is draped haphazardly across the chair beside his bed. Fingertips and lips ghost along newly exposed skin. Goosebumps rise on their skin.

Soon they are fully exposed to each other and grow somewhat shy, apprehensive of what the other thinks. There are wrinkles, blemishes, softness where there was once firmness. They are not fooled. They are not perfect; no doubt they each worry about it. They meet each other's eyes and grin shyly. They are ok with that.

Elsie reaches a hand out to touch his chest, her fingers disappearing in the silver hair covering his chest, runs them down to the softness of his midsection, his hip, and back up his arm. She can feel her heart thump wildly in her chest, the beat of it loud in her ear and wonders if he can hear it too. His fingertips are at her waist tracing the curve of her pelvis, up her sides, grazing her breasts, brushing her hardened nipples. His thumb moves along her clavicle till it rests in the place where both meet at the base of her neck, feel her pulse under the pad of his thumb. He leans down and kisses the hollow lightly. Rests his head there for a moment.

They move to sit on the bed once more, his hand maintains contact with her skin. He cups her cheek again and leans in to kiss her slightly parted lips. His hand moves down, presses against her shoulder gently. She leans back on the bed, brings him with her.

He is a large man, she knows. Tall, much taller than her, broad-shouldered. His weight on her is a comfort, feels right. Elsie cradles his head against her breast, combs her fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck once more. They lay like this for a moment, taking in this new intimacy of their bodies, their minds.

Her heart is still beating wildly, more rapidly. His head twists; she feels his lips pressing against her heart. His arms trail up her sides possessively and her legs open to wrap him fully in her embrace. They are still for a moment. They begin moving together. Friction builds slowly. They are panting, delicious knots of pleasure building inside each of them. Before long, he feels her body stiffen, then shudder uncontrollably. He follows soon after. Cannot control his erratic movements. Collapses on top of her. Spent.

After a time, he moves. Attempts to lift himself, worries he is crushing the breath from her lungs. Her arms and legs tighten around him. He complies, understands the need for physical contact, but shifts so he is not directly on top of her. She straightens her legs out, keeps them entangled with his.

His breathing begins to even out. His breath is chilly against her dampened skin, her chest. She feels her nipple contract again. She massages his scalp, begins to fall asleep as her other hand surveys the muscular planes of his back.

They are content, warm, full.