A/N: Thank you all for your reviews and for telling me to POST NOW ;)
I hope you all remember I am the Queen of Fluffy Smut... enjoy and don't forget to review!


"We have to stop this."

The servants' hall is dark. She is wearing her nightgown and robe, her hair is done up tight in its braid. He wears his pyjamas and his robe too. They sit in their own places: he is at the head of the table, she on his right hand. They both are nursing a mug of tea.

"Why?" He asks.

It is a legitimate question.

"It's not right." Her mind is whirling, the wound the war has claimed still raw. She can't seem to think straight, there is nothing she wants more than to get into his arms, to be in the only place she feels safe and protected.

"Isn't it?" She looks at him. There is a hint of a smile on his face. He takes her hand. "We have always been like this." He adds. His hand is around her wrist. He tugs it, slightly and she get halfway out of her chair. Another tug and she falls into his lap.

What else is she to do, but to put her head against him, make herself comfortable.

"No, we haven't…"

"No… we haven't." He kisses her soundly and she can't make her argument, he has removed it from her mind. One of his hands in on her leg, he rubs it and feels the tin of pommade in her pocket.

"Why do you have that in your pocket?" He digs it out, looks at it, his eyebrows knitted together.

"I cleaned out the Blue Room a few nights ago." She lets him kiss her again, opens her lips for him, doesn't push his hand away as it unties her belt. She lets him ride his hand up her nightgown. She captures his bottom lip between her teeth. He puts her on the floor, takes off his robe, turns her so her bottom is against the table.

"We'll put it back tomorrow." His mouth travels down her neck, nips at her collarbone, only just within reach.

Her hands are in his hair. "Do you remember…" He makes her gasp as he roughly raises the hem of her gown and puts his hand on her bottom, one finger under the elastic of her knickers.

"That first time…" his voice quietly rumbles in her ear. She pulls herself against him, away from the table.

"Did you ever regret it?" She can feel his desire stirring against her hip.

"Never." He opens her robe, pushes it off her shoulders. Takes her nightgown and pulls it over her head. She only has her knickers on. Standing here before him, like she has done so many times before, she feels loved, wanted, needed in a way.

His gentle hands on her breasts, his warm breath on her cheek. He has taken off his robe and kicked off his slippers. She undoes the buttons of his pyjama top, but halts.

"No…" She shifts him aside, picks up her gown and robe, puts them on, gestures him to dress.

He is confused, she sees it, smiles at him, takes his hand. She leads him up the stairs, they climb higher and higher, she drags him away when he wants to walk towards the Blue Room and shakes her head.

One more flight of stairs, she opens the door to the maid's corridor, unlocks her door, takes him inside. She turns on the bedside lamp, sits on the bed. He puts his robe on the nail by the door, holds out his hand for hers and she gives it. He motions her to get off the bed and he pulls back the covers and climbs in, shuffles all the way against the wall, holds open the sheet and blanket and she lays herself next to him. Her back is against his chest and he puts his arm around her waist.

"Look." He points at their robes, his nose is in her hair.

"When we retire, they will always be like that."

There is a tidal wave of relief that runs through her entire body and she starts to shake. He doesn't let her go and she laces her fingers through his, tilts her head, lets her legs get entangled with his. When she finally stills, she turns completely.

"You knew all along." It isn't a question.

"Of course." They lean into each other and kiss. Softly at first, to seal their new status, but soon their kisses grow more heated, urgent like they were in the beginning, to still a hunger. He finds her tongue, she tastes him, tea and shortbread. Her hands are on the buttons of his pyjamas, untie the string of his bottoms, he lifts the gown over her head again, lavishes her breasts in attention. Kisses the pale skin, the rosy nipples, draws them into his mouth as her hands caress his chest, play with his curls, steal over his belly, one gets trapped between the waistband of his shorts.

She can't be bothered with it now, his hands are not staying still, one is going from the underside of her breast to her stomach, grabs hold of her knickers. She lifts her bottom so he can take it off. The bedcovers slide to the ground, her knickers land on top of them, his shorts follow. He is on his knees before her and she looks at him, hold out her hand. He presses his palm against hers, their fingers intertwine.

He doesn't break the contact as he runs his other hand over her arms, her chest, her stomach. He cups her sex and she opens her legs for him. His fingertips at her folds, her fingers around him, sliding them slowly up and down over his length.

Her eyes flutter shut, she bites her lip. He knows exactly how to move her, how to make her squirm. He releases her hand, hovers over her, one hand on each side of her. She cups his face, her thumbs touch the soft skin under his eyes. He must be tired, but he doesn't look it. He kisses her as he enters her and like that very first time in the dining room, she feels as if she has found exactly what she needs and she pushes her head into the pillow, digs her nails in his back as he moves her.

The bed creaks louder than the other time they did this, she finds it appropriate, fitting, though frightening. He notices, halts, looks around. He waggles his eyebrows and she shakes her head, doesn't understand and suddenly she is rolling off the bed, on top of the covers, where he takes her in a smooth movement. He has her buttocks in his hands, his lips are by her temple and it doesn't take long before they fall in their rhythm. It is familiar, comforting, exciting and she breathes heavily, moans, bites her lip again. He changes his angle, she gasps, says his name.

He pushes her towards release relentlessly and she feels how his thrusts become erratic, how he is getting close, he is panting, there is a slight wheeze coming from his throat. There are quiet affirmations, meant with every fibre of her being and just before she falls, she says it, the one thing she has never said before, not that way, that what had always been too big, not appropriate for a Housekeeper.

"I love you…"

Less than a whisper, but felt to the deepest of her being and she crashes around him, feels how she pulls him with her and they lie on the covers, catching their breath. He holds her tighter than normally, keeps kissing her sweetly, pushes strands of hair away from her face.

She is getting uncomfortable.

She scrambles up after gently releasing herself from his grip, gives him her hand, steadies him as he gets up. She lets him get in the bed first, looks around, decides to wash. She puts her foot on the chair and runs the flannel over the inside of her thighs, cleans herself. She knows he is watching her, the light is still on, she can hear a sharp intake of breath as she bends over. She gets up again, runs the flannel over her breasts, the cold water makes her shiver, stiffens her nipples.

"I love you too." He rumbles from under the covers.

She drops the flannel. Hurries to him, gets into bed, wraps herself around him. Presses her naked, slightly moist form against him. He falls asleep soon and she follows in moments.

They wake up from the scullery maid's customary knock.


[a special shout-out to Ellie, who stuck by this story and is such a loyal reviewer: thank you thank you thank you!]