I'm terrible, I know and I'm so sorry. My muse has abandoned me for thoughts of Star Trek and Jim Parsons. Anyway I come with yum and hot and I hope that makes up for it. Please let me know what you think. I own nothing and mean no harm.


Within seconds she was soaked to the skin. The storm had appeared out of nowhere. One moment they were strolling along the river bank, walking parallel to the house and the next the skies had opened and the rain had begun to fall.

"We better run for it!" Tim shouted at her over the pounding rain, taking the hand he offered she nodded and they set off towards the nearest shelter.

Up the slope towards the gardens she could make out the lights that were strung over the grill and prayed they made it before any lightning managed to find them. The last few feet she was fairly certain he had dragged as much as she had run and they made it under cover just as tremendous clap of thunder pealed through the sky.

With a yelp she jumped and collided with his back; he turned without hesitation and she found strong arms wrapping around her and she didn't think, just buried her face in his neck. It was such a sweet gesture, so unbelievably romantic, that every romantic bone in her body was squealing and some of the more cynical ones as well.

"These summer storms can sneak up on unannounced," his words were a low rumble against her chest and she shivered. He pulled back, she saw the concern in his eyes, and smiled.

"You're cold," it was a statement and not one she could refute, and she watched as he dashed back out in the rain, a protest building and dying when he disappeared behind the structure.

Wrapping her arms about herself she looked out at the river, night had descended slowly, as the summer day had fought to keep the sun shining and for that she had been grateful. She didn't want the day to end. She didn't want it to be one day closer to the day she would have to leave.

And she wasn't sure she was ready to face what else the night would bring her closer to besides departure.

At the terrible sound of something scraping against the stone patio she jumped and turned with wide eyes she watched Tim drag something into their shelter. The 'something' he showed her with a huge grin was a chimney, one of those awesome ones made of terra cotta and covered in cool designs.

Of course Tim's was the biggest one she had ever seen and she couldn't quite believe he had dragged it all by himself. Looking at him as he bent and opened one of the cabinets next to the sink, she could hear him muttering to himself, but was too distracted by the tight pull of his muscles beneath his shirt, his soaking wet shirt, to pay closer attention.

Immediately she discovered that she was soaking wet, soaking freaking wet everywhere; watching as his more than capable hands tossed some of those fire logs you buy in the grocery store into the chimney and toss a match in after some crumpled up newspaper, her thoughts drifted back to when those hands had been more than efficient at starting a raging fire in her.

God, now she was thinking like a cheesy romance novel.

"You alright there Taylor?" startled she focused her attention back on Tim, finding him standing before her with a Panther sized smirk on his face.

"Yes, of course, just cold," she shivered appropriately and his smirk deepened, clearly unconvinced by her performance.

Looking over his shoulder at the fire that was beginning to catch she cooed and moved around him and stuck her hands out close. The warmth was instantaneous and she felt the moisture evaporation on her palms. Behind her Tim was dragging the largest of the dining chairs over and she glanced over her shoulder as he dropped dramatically onto it.

Her eyebrow rose at the patting motion he made onto rain soaked thighs, thought briefly about the discomfort of wet denim, and promptly dismissed them. Settling onto his lap with as much grace as could muster, she settled back against his chest.

"I love fires," she spoke without thinking and his chuckle brought out an eye roll, but she clarified, "growing up, there was no fireplace in the house, and now well, there are very few places that rent rooms that include the ability to cause an open flame."

"You know there are several up in the house," her breath caught, she didn't like to think about that house, perfect and wonderful and fucking amazing house. She didn't want to think about how similar it was in every way to the house of her dreams, with its porches and views and now fireplaces; of course there had to be fireplaces.

"We can build a fire up there after the first cold snap," and this time her reaction was far more noticeable, a sharp gasp, that drew her eyes to his. He was serious.

She didn't know what to do with that, so she stared at him as he stared at her, and sensing her confusion Tim shrugged a lazy shoulder. The mood broke, she might not know what to do with his serious words, but neither did Tim, and that was OK.

Time slipped by, they spoke just loud enough to cover the rain and crackling fire, Tim could tell a story; and boy did he have lots of them. She especially liked the one about Smash and a jellyfish during a Pro Bowl publicity event.

Hawaii was as beautiful as one would imagine. It occurred to her then just how much traveling he did. What with the team and training and his obligations in the off season, he must be on the road nearly as much as she was. He got what it was like to live days on end out of a suitcase.

This she told him with wide eyes, "You just get it."

Something so significant she couldn't keep the emotion from her voice, and quite frankly she didn't want to. Tim couldn't keep the emotion out of his movements.

Without a word of warning he hitched his arms under her legs and stood. Scrambling to cling to his neck, she squealed as the first pelts of rain hit her legs. She didn't know where they were running, or how he was seeing in the no light, and did she mention he was running?

But they were off.

And then they were stopping. Tim dropped her to her feet and dug into his pocket for a key. The silver airstream trailer had been parked off to the side of the house, she had noted it on their drive in, and as she stood in the cold ass rain she prayed there were enough amenities to provide warm air and dry clothes.

"Hurry up," her teeth were chattering, he peeked over his shoulder and winked, she glared in return nudging him none to gently in the back with a wet elbow, "sometime tonight."

With a chuckle he pulled the door open and ushered her in. There was a light on over the stove showing enough of the space to see clean surfaces and an unobstructed floor; she could work with that.

It was hard not to observe, to stop deconstructing her surroundings to fit into an article, so she turned her eyes back to Tim; if she was ever going to write about him, which she probably was, the words would be solely for her.

Arms wrapped around her from behind, she gasped, all thoughts fleeing as hands slid up over her stomach and cupped her breasts.

"Tim," a plea, a thanks, she would let him decipher it.

Urgency overtook her, turning in his arms her lips made contact with his and the kiss, oh, the kiss; it was hotness wrapped in lust wrapped in tongue.

Curiosity reached in and her fingers eased the death grip she had on his hair and slid down his chest; every girl in Dillon had been curious about one thing, one awesome and specific thing, and even as the Coach's daughter she was no exception.

The abs of Tim Riggins was a thing of legend. And her fingers, hers, were scratching over them.

Shucking his shirt, a wicked glint in his eye, Tim put enough space between them that her hands could explore with ease; her eyes followed her hands. She could feel the pressure of his eyes on her and tried not to be intimated by it, not to be intimidated by what was coming.

Much better to simply react, react and taste; pressing her lips to his clavicle, she took a naughty lip and smiled at his accompanying profanity.

He was a beautiful man, beautiful and had she mentioned strong, her shriek bounced off the shallow ceiling as he lifted her, slinging her over his shoulder and striding down the hall. She could only hope between half-hearted protests that there was a bedroom at the end of the journey.

A toss and a scream later and her question got answered. Slightly disheveled and more than a little aroused she sat up on the rather spacious mattress, it was at least a queen, and really how the hell had he gotten it in a trailer, but he was stripping off his jeans and any questions, died.

Tim smirked at her, she gulped in a big breath of air; "you have too many clothes on."

From somewhere inside a voice rose up, she didn't know it existed inside of her, but it convinced her to raise an eyebrow and look Tim freaking Riggins dead in the eye and ask him, "Well what the hell are you going to do about it?"

Ha! Score one for Taylor, Tim practically growled at her, hooking his fingers around her ankles he yanked her towards him until her ass hung off the edge of the bed. A move reminiscent of his play earlier she licked her lips in anticipation.

Her thoughts clearly read Tim winked at her, "maybe later," her giggle turned into a squeal when her skirt slipped down her thighs. Calloused fingers slid up her ribcage as her shirt was stripped up over her head and in the next instant she was nearly naked.

"Fucking beautiful," the praise was muttered and rough and sent heat directly to her pussy. She had been ogled before, her breasts especially, but she had never felt the attraction before, like a physical ache, until Tim looked her up and down and liked what he saw.

No different really than her earlier perusal of his skin. Emboldened by his interest she reached behind her back quickly undid the clasp on her bra, pulling the lace and wire away before she could think it through.

"Jules," a second later he was on top of her kissing and touching, his hands and tongue were everywhere all at once. Desperate to keep up she touched every bit of skin she could reach, her nails trailing down his spine, her teeth nipping at his shoulder, she licked a line across his clavicle that drew a moan from between his clenched teeth.

So fucking hot, she smiled up at him as she kissed his chin, an unspoken encouragement that he eagerly took.

She felt her thong shift, felt his fingers press against her clit, one than two knuckles slide inside and she bit her tongue; hard.

"So wet, Jules, so hot," he pushed words at her, spilling them into her ear. Language was lost to her, she couldn't think over the pounding of the blood in her veins as he worked her skin into frenzy.

Just when she was about to peak, just about to fall over again, he stopped, hands and wonderful, amazing fingers disappearing, he sat back on his heels. Blinking up at him, eyes focusing on his intention, her underwear left her body in record time; she knew it was time.

Without question or hesitation he stood she followed his movements to a small nightstand where he grabbed a condom from the drawer, huh, she was only a little bit ashamed to admit it had never occurred to her. But then he was naked and her shame turned to wonder and then to downright excitement when he began to roll it on.

Scrabbling to her knees she reached out gripping his wrists, stopping him, he arched an eyebrow at her, but didn't protest as she finished for him, her fingers stroking his cock, her palm cupping his balls.

Her thumbs pressed into the line of muscles leading from hips to yum and she pressed a kiss to his sternum, pleased to feel his heart beating at breakneck speed beneath her lips.

With a shove she was on her back and he was on top of her, "you ready for this?" his hips rolled up once, the tip of his cock inching inside of her; he was a fucking tease.

She slapped at his arms, "yes, please," he laughed, asshole, he was a tease and he knew it.

Opening her legs, her knees lifting, she rocked up. She'd go to him if he wasn't coming to her, "bitch," there was no malice in the word and she smiled.

He was hot and she was horny and so, so ready to get her some; she rocked up again, harder this time.

And he relented, bending his head down enough to catch a nipple between his teeth he grinned at her a split second before thrusting into her. Connection, hard and soft, there was a heartbeat, a breath, she caught his eyes, hazel and beautiful watching her, his jaw clenched; she reached up and smoothed away the tension.

Pressing a kiss to his shoulder she rocked her hips, there wasn't much room to move, but it was enough to get him going; and boy did he. Like a whirlwind there were kisses and touched and fingers, and God he had the most perfect kiss ever, and soon she was reaching for it; could taste it just beyond her fingertips.

"That's it Jules, come on girl, come the fuck on," it was the profanity that did her it. That Texas drawled bit of cursing had stars exploding behind her eyes and she dug her fingers into his back, registering his hiss of pain and groan of pleasure as his own orgasm took over.

She didn't want to come back down from that high closed her eyes and willed the feeling to stay. Christ she could write a song and sing it from the rooftop she felt so good.

"Well damn," Tim peered down at her, his bangs falling forward hiding his eyes, she let out a breath, blowing them out of his face and got the most brilliant smile in return.

Grinning cheekily back at him, she slid her arms up his until they sank into his hair and she could smooth it back from his face. God he was pretty.

"Like that?" he grunted and nipped at her shoulder as he rolled to his left taking his weight off of her but dragging her along with him.

"Like hardly seems a strong enough word," she watched as he stripped off the condom and reached for the trashcan, messy but absolutely necessary she supposed.

Distracted she almost, almost, missed his hand as it crept back and cupped her breast. Rolling onto her back Tim propped his head up on one hand and continued to run his hands across her body, he seemed content to explore, to take the time they had not taken minutes earlier.

She was so OK with that.

More than OK with that, and so ready to have a commitment to more of it, "like is good," she reached up, cupping his head and pulling him close for a kiss, "but maybe later we could try for great," she kissed his nose, "or amazing," she kissed his chin, "or stupendous," he caught her bottom lip with his teeth and tugged.

"That's a mighty big word," she laughed and fell back onto his pillow.

"I'm a writer remember. I know lots of big words."