Notes: I just wanted to thank everyone for their beautiful words and encouragement along the way! I'm so blown away by the response, and I will definitely be writing more Kwame/Gi in the future!


Kwame let the key to his room fall to the carpet as he kicked the door closed and hoisted Gi a little higher.

She paid little heed to the heavy slamming sound it made, instead focused on clinging to his waist with her thighs as she wrestled his jacket away from his shoulders. He let go of her, trusting her own grip and balance, to let his jacket shed to the floor, before he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her again.

If she'd stopped to think for a moment, she'd be surprised by the fact he was as suddenly eager as she was. Kwame was usually reserved and sensible – though she could count several examples of times he let his impulsiveness overtake the other aspects of his personality. She was suddenly grateful he hadn't lost the ability to do so altogether.

She was too afraid of what any assessment of the situation would lead to. She shoved all logical thought and doubt to the back of her mind and focused on the hot throb of her body, her skin alive and tingling.

His knees bumped the bed and he fell slowly, letting her hit the mattress first, gently and sedately. She blinked up at him for a moment, her fingers twisted in the material of his shirt.

He knelt between her knees, his arms straight on either side of her. Suddenly he was looking down at her rather worriedly.

"Gi," he said softly, "we should think about this. All the things that could go wrong..."

"I don't want to think about what's wrong," she whispered, interrupting him. She shook her head and pushed at his right shoulder, rolling him over so he was on his back and she was above him, her knees either side of his hips. She bent and kissed him again, her fingers working at the knot of his tie.

"So many things could go wrong," she whispered in agreement. "But I don't want to think about the wrong things. You said this felt right. And it does..." She looked into his eyes for new confirmation and he nodded and ran the tips of his fingers up her arm.

"It feels right," he agreed softly.

She nodded and he leaned up, kissing her again, his hands on her waist. She pulled his tie away and loosened the first two buttons of his dress shirt. He fumbled at the buckles on her shoes and she sighed in relief as he finally eased them away from his feet. He smiled against her mouth, running his hands up her back, pulling her closer to him.

His fingers found the zip of her dress and she realised how very little she wore underneath.

"Oh, wait," she breathed. She caught his hand and smiled down at him. "You first."

He opened his mouth for a moment as though to say something, then shut it and smiled instead, his fingers moving to his shirt buttons.

She moved her hands down his chest and his stomach to his belt before she unbuckled it, sliding it out of the loops and tossing it carelessly to the floor. She heard his shoes hit the carpet as he kicked them off.

His hands stayed clear of the zip of her dress, though he slid one palm up the length of her thigh, pushing the hem of her skirt up to her hip. She could hear her own heart pounding in her ears as she pulled him up to wrestle the stiff dress-shirt away from his body. She was even more impatient with the under-shirt, pulling it over his head roughly and tossing it aside. He caught her hands and she grinned down at him, settling back into his lap and straddling him so the silk material of her dress brushed against his bare chest.

He ran his hands up her arms and cupped her face, kissing her again, holding her to him and stroking his thumbs across her cheekbones. He dropped kisses against her cheeks and her eyelids, moving up to her brow, before his hands moved into her hair.

Each movement was slow, and careful, and deliberate. She found herself squirming slightly, her breath catching in her throat as he freed her carefully-pinned tresses, letting them untwist and slide free. He ran his fingers through, combing his fingertips against her scalp and pulling his fingers gently through her hair so she arched backwards. She closed her eyes and let her breathing deepen, only half-aware that her breasts were now straining at the front of her dress. She could feel his breath against the thin material, which was growing warm and damp as he moved closer.

She fumbled behind her, still arched slightly, and drew the zip down, peeling the dress away from her body so it pooled at her hips, which still straddled Kwame's. His breath hit her bare skin and she closed her eyes at the sensation, feeling nervous as she realised there was no going back from this moment. For a few seconds her mind ran wild and she tried to rationalise the moment by telling herself he'd seen her in a bikini hundreds of times and probably had a very good idea already of what her breasts looked like.

The need for rationalisation and reassurance disappeared the moment she felt his mouth against her skin. She twitched slightly, her fingers curling against the blankets beneath them. Her mouth dropped open and she let out a soft sigh, squeezing his waist with her thighs. She felt his fingers twist into her hair, pulling slightly so she remained arched and trapped.

His mouth left a hot trail against her skin, and when he breathed soft, cool air against a wet nipple, she squirmed on top of him and let out a long sigh of pleasure. He let go of her hair and she straightened up and lowered her mouth to meet his again, her hands against the back of his neck.

For a moment she found herself racking her brain in an effort to figure out who he had learned with – who else he had kissed and touched and pressed his mouth against. Hot jealousy bubbled up inside her at the realisation that it hadn't been her, but she quickly forgot it all again as his mouth trailed back down her skin and closed over her nipple. She rocked her hips against him, grinding into his body, and he moved his mouth back up to her neck, kissing her skin and letting his breath sweep hot and close against her.

She leaned her forehead against his shoulder and looked down as he skated his hands up her thighs again. As he pulled her dress carefully over her head, her mind still held the image of his dark hand against her pale thigh. She smiled and turned her face towards his neck, letting her tongue slide out to taste him. He tilted his head quietly, though his breathing had grown increasingly ragged and she was increasingly aware of the heat from his body every time she moved her hips against his.

She was almost entirely naked, but he still had his trousers on, and she tugged at them, urging him down onto his back. He kicked them away to the floor and slid backwards, pulling her with him. He hooked his thumb beneath the flimsy lace around her hips and tugged, lifting her up with his other arm wrapped around her waist so he could pull the material down her thighs.

She scrambled to get close to him again, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and widened her knees so her body lowered to his. She buried her face against his neck and closed her eyes as he slid inside her, his hands guiding her hips towards him.

He let out a soft sigh that made her stomach flip and tighten, and she felt his lashes brush against her bare shoulder as he held her body still against his. She shifted her hips slightly and heard his breath catch in his throat.

She kissed him again, moving slowly against him as his hand swept up her arm and over her shoulder to cup her face. His thumb rested against her cheek and his fingers tangled themselves in the silky hair that fell loose behind her ear.

They broke apart to breathe, though he kept his hand against her, holding her close to him as he stretched backwards, the numerous pillows behind him propping him up and letting him thrust against her.

They were quiet – no words, or names, or anything that would break the spell of silence and breathing that wove around them. She pressed her teeth into her lower lip and closed her eyes, following the rhythm of his body with her own, rolling her hips down against his, her knees sliding against the sheets as she shifted her body. His hands would move across her body slowly before stilling, his fingers curling into her hair or against the skin of her back or her waist or her thigh. She could feel the burn of his touch on every inch of her, raising the heat of her body, raising the pitch of her breath and the speed of her hips.

She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him up so her chest slid against his whenever she moved, her breasts moving against his skin. She could hear a quiet desperation and rhythm in his breathing that she had never heard before, but at the same time it was indefinably Kwame, and there was such comfort and joy and love in it she buried her face in his neck in an effort to absorb it all.

When he ran his hands down her thighs again, he clasped behind her knees and dragged her legs outwards, pulling them to wrap around his waist she so was utterly settled against him.

She had never felt so entwined with someone. She had never felt that it was so right to be entwined with someone. Her entire body throbbed and tightened with each breath until she was almost frantic with the electric pleasure of it.

He was lifting her and dragging her with his hands, controlling the way she shifted against him. She was deliciously helpless to stop anything.

"Kwame," she gasped, "I'm –"

Her breath caught and her eyes widened as she clenched her body, gripping him tightly, her fingers digging into his shoulders and his back.

She could hear his breathing, ragged and desperate, stalling and hitching as his body jerked and shuddered beneath her. She let her body collapse against his, slowly unwinding as he sank back into the mattress and the pillows behind him. She pressed her cheek to his chest and listened to his breath draw and sweep and his heart thunder. When she moved there was sweat between them, and her skin cooled uncomfortably as she separated from him. She rolled onto her side, facing him. His eyes were closed and his chest still rose and fell in a deep, quick rhythm.

She watched him quietly as he moved easily into sleep. There was a strange, strong pull in her chest, and she suddenly wanted to cry at the force of the connection between them. It wasn't a bad sort of feeling – just overwhelming, and she wasn't sure how to dissect it or deal with it after its tumultuous arrival. The more she thought about it, the more she realised she should have seen it coming.

He had always represented strength and comfort and protection, and for a brief moment she cursed herself for not realising just how much he really meant to her. She cursed herself for focusing on the fiery spark between Wheeler and Linka more often than she had focused on the slow fire between herself and Kwame.

She rolled closer to him, propping herself up on her elbow so she could look down at him and study the details of his face. He slept on, entirely oblivious, his breath deep and even, one arm stretched out across her pillow.

She wondered, anxiously, about what would happen in the morning. She wondered if she should slide back into her dress and disappear into her own room and sleep alone. She abandoned the idea quickly, but she still felt a flutter of nerves as she looked down at him, watching him sleep.

"Please don't wake up and regret me," she whispered, tracing her thumb down the straight length of his nose. She curled into him, resting her head in the hollow of his shoulder, before she finally gave in to the late hour and slept.


Gi woke once, during the night, sliding quietly from beneath Kwame's arm to head to the bathroom. She took a moment to inspect herself in the mirror, decided that her body wasn't too bad, really, and that Kwame probably wouldn't have any complaints, before she climbed back into bed. She was careful to pull Kwame's arm across her waist again before she sank into the pillows and slept again.

When she awoke the second time, silvery morning light was shining through the window. Kwame's fingers were slowly curling and uncurling against her hip, his arm tucked beneath her waist and curled up around the front of her stomach, holding her against him.

"Did you open the curtains?" she asked sleepily.

"Yes."

"When?" she rolled over and blinked up at him.

"Ten minutes ago." He smiled. "Good morning."

She smiled sheepishly. "Morning." She rested her head against his shoulder, her arm across his chest.

He curled his arm around her, his thumb still casually moving back and forth across her skin. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, suddenly too nervous to risk catching his gaze.

"What do you think the others will say?" she asked. She was terrified, suddenly, that he would tell her they had made a mistake and that this should never happen again.

"I do not think they will be too surprised," Kwame answered softly, his fingers grazing across her waist. "Surprised that we acted on it, perhaps, but not so shocked it will be a problem."

She felt his lips press against her forehead and knew he was smiling.

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Yeah," she agreed softly.

He gave a soft chuckle, but said nothing about the obvious anxiety she had been harbouring.

She tilted her head up and looked at him. "Do we have to tell them?" she asked softly, giving him a shy smile.

He looked at her in surprise. "You do not want to?"

"Oh, no," she said in alarm, hastening to stop any sort of misunderstanding, "I just kind of – I sort of... want you to myself for a while without the others watching on," she said, smiling and pressing a hopeful kiss against his mouth.

He grinned. "Oh, I see..."

She smiled and rolled towards him, and he used his arm around her waist to lift her on top of him.

"Maybe we just keep them in the dark for a while," she whispered, brushing her nose against his.

"Okay," he agreed quickly, holding her to him for a kiss.

She laughed at his sudden haste and brushed her fingertips across his cheek. "When do we have to go back?"

He glanced at the clock and smiled up at her. "We have time."

"Yeah?" She smiled back.

"Lots and lots of time," he promised softly, kissing her again.