U is for Undressing by nonsenseandmischief

A DVD played in the machine, whirring quietly in the background. Ruth seemed engrossed in whatever it was playing, but Harry had given up with it, content just to sit there with her head on his shoulder. Every now and then he would plant soft kisses on the top of her head, her hair brushing against his lips.

The film was finishing and she gave a small sigh. He raised his head from where it rested against her, so he could look at her.

"Now that" she said absent mindedly, grabbing some pop corn from the bowl on her lap "is what I call a happy ending"

He glanced at the screen and saw the two leads kissing passionately in the rain.

"Isn't it all a bit cliché Ruth? Just ending with a kiss as though that is the answer to all their troubles"

"Hmmm," she mused, mostly to herself "I happen to like Four Weddings and a Funeral. Besides, there's nothing better than a good kiss"

He chuckled softly and rolled his eyes a little.

"You're right - as usual" he agreed, planting one delicately next to her eye. She turned and caught his lips with hers, brushing against them lightly but parting them enough to catch the fleeting flicker of his tongue.

"Of course I am", she breathed, as he pulled away, leaving her wanting more.

Slowly, his hands snaked up into her long, soft hair and she moaned with delight as his lips met hers again. This time the kiss was fiery. Intense. His mouth seared on top of hers, and she parted her lips to let the warmth of the kiss spread deeper. Their tongues entwined like mythical creatures; ethereal, heavenly. She murmured a faint objection as he pulled away to brush the hair from her face, but stopped protesting as his eyes met hers. He had that look again. The one that made her stomach flip and her pulse sky rocket. The one that made her sure something incredible was about to happen.

Leaning in closer again, she could feel his breath, hot and steady on her neck. He sucked gently on her pulse point, and playfully nibbled her earlobe and then kissed his way gently down her jaw line. He growled her name, hushed and low as he did so; the movement of his lips and the sound of his voice causing her to tingle all over. Moving slowly and deliberately from their awkward side by side position on the large, plush sofa, Ruth shifted to sit across Harry's lap, cascading the remnants of the popcorn across the floor. He expected her to resume their kiss, to lean nearer so that he could kiss her neck again, but instead she reached slowly for the buttons of his shirt.

For a split second she held his gaze with a knowing stare; the look of a woman who knew what she wanted; and it thrilled him to the core. Hands shaking with anticipation, she fumbled with the buttons, stopping after each one to push more of the material aside and lavish attention on his chest; kissing, licking, nibbling. She was at his midriff now, and her fingers slowly traced a scar which disappeared into the waistband of his trousers. Removing her fingers, she kissed it along its length, and moved her hands to the belt.

"Not yet," he growled, "your turn."

For the third time their eyes met, and still she felt dizzy at the sensation. Standing herself up, she motioned for Harry to follow suit, and within seconds her back was against the wall. His hand brushed over her hips, and around her waist, lifting her top slightly and caressing her soft skin. Wrapping both arms around her, he tugged at the bottom of the camisole, and peeled it slowly from her frame. Ruth shivered at the cold wall on her back, and pushed their rapidly intertwining bodies out into the room again. Tangled legs and arms moved them across the carpet, neither of them really conscious of where they were anymore. The kiss that consumed them was all that they knew; absolute, intense, encompassing. His hands roamed her back, and glided over her curve of her hips. He traced a line gently up and down her spine, only to be interrupted by the black lace and silk of the bra she still had on. Slowly, knowingly, his hands felt the clasp, and she instinctively loosened herself from his grip to let the straps fall from her shoulders. Flesh on flesh of their torsos melted together as they danced their wicked dance. With a thud, Harry's back hit the banister but he didn't seem to notice, instead he spun her round any leaned her onto the stairs.

She was bathed in the dusky street light which shone through the stained glass of the front door, as he bent down to kiss her breasts. His lips felt soft and warm against her delicate, porcelain skin, and her body burned with such a ferocious desire, she wondered that she did not spontaneously combust. Raising her hips, she aimed to free herself from her skirt, but it only served to drive him further in his quest to explore every inch of her. Moving his hands from where they rested - supporting his weight and pinning her to the stairs - he stood, and told her, wordlessly to do the same. In an instant sweaty hands were fumbling with awkward belts and the last of their clothes began to fall to the floor, leaving only underwear remaining.

As she lay her head back to allow him to kiss her neck once more, she glanced over the handrail back into the lounge. It was like some sexual treasure trail, leading from the living room ever closer to the bed - a top here, a shirt there, her bra flung haphazardly over the lampshade, and now, a skirt and trousers on the third step up, twisted together just like their owners - and she knew what her prize would be at the end of it. His hands held her waist firmly, tracing small and sensual patterns with his thumbs as his butterfly kisses trailed down her collar bone.

He could feel the lace beneath his finger tips, the lace of the French knickers which was all that stood between him and her. He tugged gently at the delicate material in an attempt to slide them down her long smooth legs, but her hands took his and stopped him.

"I do believe I've told you more than once" she breathed huskily "the stairs really isn't the most comfortable place for that".

He looked at her knowingly and allowed her to hoist her frame up the last few steps, still arched over backwards and looking him in the eye.

"Too slow" he said, giving a masterful tug on her ankles, sending her cascading into his waiting arms. He scooped her up as she squealed loudly and let out a genuine laugh.

"Put me down" she yelled, the enjoyment in her voice spoiling her attempts at protestation "you'll throw your back out again…and then I'd have to trade you in for a younger model!"

He plonked her down unceremoniously on the second from top step and attempted a look of what she presumed to be offence, failing miserably. "You have 2 seconds to take that back" he warned, the flames of passion raging in his eyes.

"And if I don't?" she asked, walking backwards across the landing, him following her, inches away.

"I'll have to convince you I'm up to the task"

Her back was against the bedroom door and his hands felt behind her for the handle. She placed her hands on his, and moved them back the lace on her hips, opening the door herself "Go on then…we're not on the stairs anymore" she smirked.

You know what to do (points to the review button)...please?

xxx