Teetee: Agreed! (also, I admire both your honesty and your willingness to add your username).
Many thanks for Changedstripes, who is apparently something of an expert on Contraception and Australian Law, Circa 1929. Every girl's gotta have a hobby ;-)
When Jack awoke the next morning it was to the unfamiliar and entirely welcome weight of Phryne's body, her arm and leg flung carelessly over him, showing in sleep an even more profound disregard for his personal space than she did when she was awake. He felt a smile tug at his lips as he laid back and enjoyed the sensation, the fingers of one hand lightly caressing her arm through the satin fabric of her robe. She stirred and made a small contented sound, snuggling a little deeper against his side until, with a sharper inhalation, she awoke and pushed herself up to gaze down at him with sleep-glazed eyes and tousled hair.
"Good morning," he murmured, and she smiled.
"Yes, I do believe it is."
That made him chuckle, and he encountered no resistance as he slid his hand up to the back of her head and pulled her in for a lingering kiss.
"Once again, these aren't exactly the circumstances under which I pictured us waking up together for the first time," he sighed when they broke apart.
She drummed her fingers lightly against his chest for a moment in thought. "Perhaps instead of dwelling on what might have been, we'd be better off treasuring what we have," she suggested eventually. "And being grateful that we have it at all."
He nodded reluctantly. "When I'm well..." he began, in a tone which betrayed his frustration.
"... then we shall both take to our beds – or rather, our bed – and do all manner of wicked and thoroughly delightful things to one another," she finished for him, pulling determinedly away before one or both of them began to let things get out of hand. "But for the moment, Dot will be expecting to find me in my bed very soon, and while I have absolutely no doubt that she'd know where to find me if I'm not there, I also have no doubt that word of where she did find me would make its way back to Mac in short order, and then I shall get a lecture on jeopardising your recovery."
He shook his head. "You'd never do that," he responded with conviction.
"No," she agreed softly, "I never would."
Back in her own room, Phryne shut the door and flung herself face-down on the bed, stifling frustrated sobs in a pillow. Oh god, she wanted him! She wanted him so badly that she ached with it, her body hungering for his with a longing that never seemed entirely to go away anymore. She had tried easing her frustrations alone – a tactic which usually worked perfectly well – but to no avail. It wasn't just physical pleasure she craved, it was him. His touch, his kisses, his body. Heaving one last sob, she sat up and gave the pillow a resolute punch. At some point today, she and Mac were going to have a very pointed conversation about exactly what Jack would be safely capable of, and when.
...
Some hours later Jack found himself sitting alone in the parlour trying to concentrate on the book in front of him, and failing miserably. Images of a beautiful, dark-haired seductress who had suddenly and with all her accustomed bloody-mindedness turned into a chaste and considerate nurse danced in his head. It was not that she didn't want him. She did want him, and had made no secret of the fact, and the mere knowledge that he was wanted only served to intensify his own frustrated want. He blushed at the thought of asking Dr. Macmillan the kind of questions he desperately wanted to ask – she might be a doctor, and a lesbian, and quite possibly the most down-to-earth person he had ever met, not to mention the best of friends with one Phryne Fisher, but nonetheless she was still a woman and he didn't think he could ever bring himself to ask her what, how, and most importantly when he could finally consummate his relationship with Phryne. He did know that he could feel the pull of his wound every time he tensed or shifted the muscles in his abdomen, and that would make the more vigorous action involved in making love almost impossible, and possibly even dangerous, right now.
He was pulled from his introspection by a knock at the door, followed by Mr. Butler's arrival in the room.
"Your parents are here to see you, Inspector."
His parents! Somehow he was certain that no book of etiquette ever written covered the question of how a man should entertain his parents when he was a guest in his (almost) lover's house, whether in the presence of his (almost) lover or, as now, in her absence, and whilst Phryne would no doubt have laughed and suggested that there was a profitable market gap to be filled before going ahead and dealing with the situation with all her accustomed confidence and aplomb, Jack could only sit for a moment in confused silence. Fortunately, Mr. Butler was the living incarnation of etiquette, and knew exactly what to do.
"Shall I show them in and have Dorothy bring you some tea?" he suggested, much to Jack's relief.
"Uh, yes, thank you, Mr. Butler."
The unflappable manservant nodded. "Very good sir."
He rose carefully as his parents entered – and how on Earth was he supposed to make love to Phryne when he could barely stand without being very conscious of what he was doing, he wondered bitterly – and stepped forward to embrace his mother and clasp his father's hand warmly. "Mum, Dad, it's good to see you."
"You too, son." His mother looked him up and down, and evidently approved of what she saw. "Miss Fisher's taking good care of you then?"
"The very best." He gestured towards the chaise-longue, and his parents made themselves comfortable, looking around at the lavish room. Jack also sat, shifting slightly in discomfort. Surely they wouldn't take his love for Phryne, who happened to be wealthy, as a judgement on the more modest circumstances in which he had been raised? But he was reassured by his mother's smile.
"You've described it so well it almost feels like we've been here before."
"It's an unusual colour," his father remarked, although not in disapproval. "What do you say, dear, shall I use something similar the next time I repaint the kitchen?"
"Oh, you." She gave her husband an affectionate look, and Jack felt a sudden surge of wistfulness. Would this be him and Phryne one day? But then, they already bantered in such familiar terms that perhaps 'one day' had already come, and Phryne was right when she said they should enjoy what they had in the here-and-now instead of dwelling on might-have-beens.
Dot chose that moment to enter with the tea-tray.
"Miss Williams, these are my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Robinson. Mum, Dad, this is Miss Fisher's Companion, Miss Dorothy Williams."
"Pleased to meet you." Dot set the tray down and stood slightly to one side, and Jack had the distinct impression that she hadn't really expected to be introduced.
"Likewise," his father nodded and then, after a slightly awkward silence in which Dot looked at him expectantly, "milk and two sugars please, Miss Williams."
"Just the one sugar for me, and milk please," his mother added. Jack didn't bother state his own preferences – Dot had brought him enough cups of tea in the last few days to know exactly how he took it. She really did make an excellent cup, especially compared with the stewed, often lukewarm brew at the station, and the fresh baking – scones today – that was customary in the Fisher household was an additional and much-appreciated treat.
They were just taking their first appreciative sips when the front door opened again to admit Phryne. She must have taken a moment to hang her coat and hat, but then she swept into the room with her usual energy. "Mr. and Mrs. Robinson, how good to see you again!" His parents both rose to greet her, although Jack remained seated. Dot slipped out quietly to fetch another cup.
By the time tea was over, Jack's parents were coming to dinner on Friday evening. Although slightly apprehensive at the effect that one of Phryne's dinner parties might have on his family, he couldn't help but be pleased that she seemed to be getting on so well with them. But then, as his mother had pointed out, any woman who would make him so happy and was so obviously(!) in love with him would always be welcome in their family, regardless of her reputation.
"So," he asked as the two of them sat down to luncheon after his parents had left, "what did you get up to this morning?"
"Not much. An enquiry at Births, Deaths and Marriages – Hatch, Match and Dispatch?" she added, remembering that he had used the term in the past. Apparently, hearing her use it made him smile, so she smiled back and continued. "Then tea with Mac; you know, a chance to catch up. She said to tell you that she'll be round later today to take out your stitches."
He pulled a face. Whilst not actually painful, there was something decidedly disconcerting about having stitches removed. She rolled her eyes teasingly. "Would you like me to hold your hand?"
Remembering that they were alone in the room he leaned forward and challenged "you're always welcome to hold my hand – or anything else for that matter."
"Why, Jack Robinson!" She feigned shock. "Does your mother know you say things like that?"
...
He was sitting up in bed reading when his door opened later that night. "Phryne!" he exclaimed, both pleased and surprised. They had said goodnight about a half-hour earlier, and it was unlike her to come to his room after that. She said nothing, but closed the door behind her and sauntered slowly towards his bed. There was something in the deliberate nature of her actions that made his pulse jump. "Phryne?"
She sat down on the edge of the bed, close enough to feel the warmth of his leg against her thigh through the covers.
"As I said, I had tea with Mac today."
"Oh?"
"Yes, and a rather frank conversation." She turned then and knelt astride his legs, keeping her weight off him as her gaze fixed on his. "I want you to promise me something."
"That depends on what it is you're asking."
She moved up a little, resting her hands on his shoulders, and he swallowed.
"I want you to promise me that you'll let me do all the work."
"All the..." Distracted by her nearness and clear intent, it took him a moment to apprehend her meaning, but when he did he nodded. "Alright."
She nodded too, determined to make her point. "Alright?" When he nodded again, she murmured "good." Then she leaned in and kissed him. Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed her back, tentatively at first and then, as she pressed closer against him, more intensely. After a few moments she pulled away slightly and fumbled with the sash of her satin robe. Undoing the knot, she pushed it back to rest on her arms, and he realised that she was naked underneath. Wonderingly, he reached out to run his hands over her smooth, creamy skin, caressing at last the woman who had haunted his dreams for months. She was as bold as Rosie had been shy and arched back as he touched her, her pleasure unmistakable.
After a moment she reached out to undo the buttons on his pyjamas, the movements of her hands mimicking his as she explored previously-forbidden areas beneath the fabric. Mac had been adamant that sexual intercourse should be possible provided Jack was kept from moving his hips and abdomen too much, and her discreet nod to Phryne on the way out of the door that afternoon had effectively given her the all-clear to try this. Now she searched his face, looking for any trace of either physical pain or uncertainty at the direction their lovemaking was taking, and seeing nothing but happiness, and desire, and a certain degree of wonder as though he couldn't quite believe what she was doing but was very happy that she was doing it.
He had never been made love to before, he realised as he and Phryne continued to caress one another. His had always been the active role, the role of the lover, and it was a strange experience to suddenly find himself relegated to the relative passivity of the beloved. Not that he was helpless. He could touch Phryne, taste her, or lean back and admire her. What he could not do, thanks to a combination of his wound, her position, and the promise she had exacted before she had started making love to him, was take control of the situation, or his own pleasure – and, whilst that wasn't something he would be willing to accept as a permanent arrangement, tonight it felt... amazing. He moaned as she sank down onto him, and moaned again, more loudly, as she began to move against him. Yes, this. This was what he had wanted for so long now, and if it wasn't exactly the way he had imagined it, he was damned if he was going to let might-have-been steal the sweetness of this moment. He buried his face in her neck, murmuring encouragement as he forced himself to hold his hips still, to keep his word to her.
They took their time, but even so the moment had to end eventually and when it did she leaned her sweat-soaked body against his, feeling his arms wrap tighter still around her shoulders, his hand kneading restlessly at the back of her head as his lips pressed kisses to the side of her head.
"I love you," he sighed against her skin. A sudden thought occurred to him, and he cursed himself for not considering it sooner. "Phryne? I don't really know how to ask you this, but... children. I mean, do you – how-?"
She chuckled softly and kissed his cheek, then pulled back to look at him. "Well, I know I promised to try and be more law-abiding, but... family planning, Jack." She cocked her head on one side. "Are you going to arrest me?"
He huffed soft laughter at the thought. "Technically, it isn't illegal," he reminded her.
"Not even when it's imported from England?" she replied, in a tone that indicated that she knew perfectly well that importation, even for private use, was, for some unfathomable reason, a different matter.
"Ah," he sighed resignedly, and regarded her with mock sternness for a moment before pulling her back against him. "In that case, I might just have to detain you here for the night while I carry out a more thorough investigation."