Thank you again. :) You're so generous with your reviews. And quick too, unlike me with this update. Apologies for that. Anywho...

M rated ;)

What began as frightened and gentle crafts itself into powerful and decisive. Their actions take place faster than she ever knew was possible. Loosing self control is not an option, it is thee option. For the first time in her life she thanks the fact that there's nowhere she can run to.

They turn with each other grasping, he slams her against the wall, and she takes his weight against her heaving chest with hands squeezing his cheeks. But as they part and snatch oxygen, she opens her eyes and see's something awful in him.

Though she doesn't understand why, it registers and nothing other than fear.

"Harry?"

His chest heaves faster than hers. Tiny drops of sweat mix with the paint on his arms and collar bone, every detail of him screams to have her here, now. Her stare and hands holding his face plead for an explanation.

He closes his eyes as their foreheads are planted together.

"Ruth if I start I won't... I can't stop myself. If this is what you truly believe is right then I'll do it. I'll love you. I love you more than anything."

How can he sound ashamed? She never gave him anything to be ashamed of. And he never gave anything to himself.

She loves how he makes a final check, even in this passionate and untamed chaos.

A shaky "please," is all her tongue manages, still tingling from the sensation of his around it.

Again they're lost in an instant pull of his lips to hers, followed by his hot flesh, her hands loving the scarred skin of his chest and back as he presses further against her. He is desperately thankfully they spend no time discussing the pain filled history so blatantly painted on his body. His hands slide in unconscious movement to the base of her t shirt to lift it off and join his on the floor. Finally, skin meets skin and the world explodes in a single, beautiful moment.

It's odd how in a sudden step they're collapsed onto her bed. How did he know which door to carry her through as their lips were joined? How is he so fierce but so graceful? This paradoxical mix of a guilty and adoring man sweeter than she'll ever let herself truly believe is impossible, beautiful – he undresses her in a way that can only mean he loves her. She's laid like this before, under men who wont properly look at her. That hardly mean anything they say or do, in comparison to Harry. He is the one who undermines all those men, who tells her he loves her repeatedly, who will wait until the strict elating moment to bring her to ecstasy. She holds him against her as he fumbles swiftly with his trousers before breathing into him that she loves him, always has. Her jeans follow.

The cry of his name leaping off her tongue sends him wild. She was always this beautiful, he thinks as he loves her stronger, and she arches underneath him releasing quick gasps of his name. Skin to skin; the greatest sensation in the world. This is all he wants, he is all she wants. She loves him, he presses onto her, she rakes her nails down his back, their lips connect, pulsate, part, connect, pulsate. They form love in her bed, they complete each other, after more years than they can ever believe was possible.

Things that could never be forgiven are forgiven in an instant.

"Christ. Harry..."

He can't quite lift himself off her. Not yet. It's given though that she doesn't want him to; her hands, clutched slightly, hold his heaving back as he squashes her in her bed, now theirs. As if it was made for her shoulder his chin rests there as they gasp their breath back, sweaty and bright eyed. Eventually he rolls off to her left, exposing her bare torso to the air of the room where she lets her eyelids meet in a relief that can't truly be expressed through words. She lets her panting speak for her. Then she reaches over where he lays, one hand on his stomach, the other on her pillow and pulls herself on top of him to kiss him soundly.

"I love you," she whispers, and he whispers it back. Perfect words. The most difficult to say that now seems to come as if it was always natural.

Though she can't stop beaming, and repeating the phrase, he's quieter than she expected. Reason unknown only for as long as she doesn't ask, she probes him as she rests her head on his chest and toys with his skin, stroking her thumb down the side, feeling for and counting his ribs. Tracing circles, grinning mischievously at the goose bumps she creates. His hand forms similar motions over her shoulder blades and forearm.

"You're so quiet," she says eventually, speech slightly drowsy; she could slip into a sleep at the rhythm of his heart thudding to her ear.

He pulls the quilt a little high to meet his navel.

"I don't know what to say." He replies, "All I want to say is I love you. If I repeat it much more you'll think I've lost it."

She chuckles and strains her neck slightly in an attempt to catch his brown gaze, shadowed slightly by the gloom of her bedroom.

"Actually Ruth," he continues and she feels his muscles contract in a tense breath, "I just want you to know that I wasn't... I didn't intend this tonight. The sex, I mean. I didn't come round hoping to... y'know. Sorry. It probably looked that way. Taking my shirt off, it..." the sentence withers before it dies, his chest sinks a little under her head.

She'll admit she's moved by his sincerity and concern. But in fairness it hadn't crossed her mind. After his hesitation, his immediate apparent regret after they kissed in her bathroom indicated he had only been sure after she'd said please. After she finally said 'I love you'. With the smile still settled on her face, she pulls herself upwards to meet his eyes directly, putting a flat palm on his chest.

"This will surprise you or appal you," she teases, "Or both. You may not have intended it but I think I did."

His expression switches to... she's not sure. Then a smile begins to tug the right corner of his lips. She shrugs and continues, occasionally dips her focus to his chest under her hand,

"Probably didn't look like it. It was making that first step. I've never been good at that."

"And there I was scared as hell, thinking I'd been the most presumptuous fool in the world."

"As far as seduction techniques go, yours was one of the most entertaining, I can say that at least."

"Worked though."

She wriggles forward slightly and meets his lips. These lips that she's so used to now, that are so perfect, that fit with her smaller ones. Like his hand that curls around her shoulder and brings their bodies closer again. This is something she could get used to.

Rushed. Can you tell? More soon. They still haven't finished painting ;)