And he arranged it.
Charlotte couldn't believe how Charles at taken her whim seriously. He'd wrangled, bartered, and worked bureaucratic magic to get them both three day passes the week before Christmas. She was astounded at his efficiency, and deeply touched by his gesture.
"It will do us both good to get away from this place for a while," he had rumbled to her as they left services on Sunday. "I'm taking Hunnicutt's post-op for the next few days to make sure all's fair, and I've agreed to cover for Pierce's Officer of the Day duties until we leave."
Charlotte was reluctant to ask Kellye to take on Morgue duties during her three day trip but oddly, Carole Able volunteered to do it. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, Charlotte agreed, and told Tucker and Henderson to help the Lieutenant as much as possible and they assured her they would.
So after a quick jeep trip to Seoul and a two hour flight along with other officers on a freezing Douglass C-47, she and Charles were at Yokota Air Base, chilled but thrilled as they checked in to the boq building. Their rooms were side by side at the end of the wing, and Charlotte noted that although each austere room had single beds they were far more generously proportioned than the cots back at the 4077th. There was also a small shower and tub for each, and she eyed hers with plans for at least one bath if not more.
The door to Charles' room was open but she knocked anyway, amused at seeing him unpacking so fastidiously.
"Tidy. I approve," she told him as she stepped in and closed the door behind her.
"It's easier in the long run. So," he finished tucking away the folded shirts into the dresser and turned to her. "We are here. Shall we make plans?"
Charlotte nodded, coming into the room and sitting on the desk chair. She felt self-conscious and happy at the same time, well-aware of the bed nearby. Charles came over, pulling something from his breast pocket. A list.
"There is a show at the kabuki-za late this afternoon that I thought we might take in, if you're interested."
"Kabuki?" she murmured, pleased. "Well we won't know what they're saying but I'd love to see it."
"Rather like opera," Charles agreed. "It's beautiful to watch and one gets a general sense of the story through the theatrics."
"Then yes. What else?"
"Dinner," he smiled. "As promised. I have a list of suggestions gleaned from sources I trust."
"Ooooh," Charlotte chuckled. "What time is the performance?"
"Four, so we have time to sight see or shop or whatever you'd like to do," Charles assured her. "We have time."
She looked up at him, holding his gaze. He looked back at her and in that mutual stare Charlotte felt her face heat up even as she saw him redden as well. Before her courage failed her, she rose out of her chair and reached out her hands to cup his warm cheeks.
"I want," she said softly, thickly, "you. A little more of you, dear. Would . . . would that be all right?"
He gave a wry smile, his expression open and vulnerable. "Oh Charh-lotte. When you look at me like that, I can't say no. But," Charles sighed, "I'm not handsome. I'm awkward and balding and not particularly well-versed in . . . physicality."
"Me either," she pointed out. "I'm short and boney and flat-chested."
Charles chuckled. "To me," he told her softly, "you are perfect."
"Prove it," she challenged, and pulled him towards the bed.
They stretched out together, kissing and cuddling for a long while. For once Charlotte was glad of her size because although the fit was close it was comfortable. She plucked at Charles' shirt buttons and tugged on the tee-shirt underneath.
Charlotte knew perfectly well what the male body looked like; she'd dealt with hundreds both alive and dead; nevertheless seeing Charles' torso for the first time left her a little breathless. Broad and pale, freckled, with a light field of copper curls like a shield across his chest. She pushed aside his dog tags and ran her hand over it, marveling at how warm and sturdy it was while he gave a rumbling sigh at her touch.
"Wow," she murmured. "All this muscle you've been hiding!"
When Charles tried to deny it, she hushed him and undid her own shirt, impatiently pulling it off before her courage failed her. He gave an approving purr at her lacy bra, and she blushed.
"More for show than support," Charlotte admitted, but gasped when He reached over and slid one of the straps off her shoulder, rolling to kiss her skin. The touch of his warm lips and brush of his cheek against her shoulder sent shivers through her entire frame. She slid her arms around him and when his kisses moved down the slope of her breast, Charlotte felt a strong jolt of lust surge through her.
"Ohhh, yessss," she managed, her hips rolling now, pressing up against his. Charles gave a groan muffled against her skin in response, lifting his head enough to shoot her a good-natured look of exasperation.
"Keep that up and matters are not going to last very long," he warned her in a slightly strangled tone. "I may be patient but I'm far from saintly, Beloved."
"More," Charlotte pleaded in a gentle voice. "It feels so good."
He kissed her throat and she cradled his head, the rush of pleasure almost more than she could stand as his bare skin pressed against hers. Charlotte moaned again, hands sliding down and around his shoulders, pulling his big body down on hers.
Their kisses deepened, intensified, and Charlotte lost track of time along with her bra. She thought she would lose her mind when Charles finally dragged his mouth down her chin to her breasts. The minute he pressed his lips around one aching nipple she cried out, rocking against him as the spike of pleasure raced between her hips, flaring there, leaving her trembling and breathless.
"Charlotte, dearest . . ." Charles rumbled, looking tousled and slightly terrified, "Dear God, are you . . . all right?"
She took a breath and chuckled, looking up at him even as her eyes filled up. "Oh yes," she assured him with a little smile. "I, ah . . . came."
Charles blinked, and Charlotte had to laugh at the astonished look on his face. She slid her hands around his broad bare back, raking it gently and pulling him back down to her, shifting so he lay between her trousered thighs. The shift was enough to bring the heavy ridge of his erection against her and she hissed a little, feeling a few delicious after-shudders.
Charles growled, his hips rocking. "Oh Gohhd . . ."
She clung to him, kissing his neck and face, enjoying the power and heat of his thrusts, her body wrapping around his tightly. When he muffled his howl against her shoulder, Charlotte blinked away the sudden flush of tears, aware more than ever of how much the man in her arms meant to her.
Mio Dio, Io amo . . .
Afterwards, Charlotte giggled at his expression as Charles pushed himself up and off her. His look of mortification mixed with tenderness was enough to make her reach up and tickle him. After that whatever self-consciousness he had vanished for the moment as he rolled to his back and pulled her over him.
"Here we are, half naked and sticky with bodily fluids that we need to go and clean off shortly, and frankly I've never been happier," Charles rumbled, brushing his fingers along her hair. "This is a situation I never thought I'd find myself in."
"Which part?"
"All of it, frankly," Charles assured her, "but most particularly the happiness."
She believed him. The look in his eyes said so much more than his words did at the moment, as did the gentle way his hands stroked her spine.
"Me too, although you're right about the washing," Charlotte sighed. "And thank you for letting me . . . seduce you."
"Thank you," he smiled.