Somehow it's come to this.

There was no discussion: well, not one with words anyway. Their date had been a trip out on a loaned boat accompanied by a picnic of Granny's finest and a bottle or two or French red. As always, he walked her home and she invited him in for a nightcap (and thank God it was late so everyone else was in bed - because with everything that has been going on in their crazy town she and Henry still haven't found the right apartment).

Halfway through a glass of spiced rum, he leans over and kisses her - his lips slick with cool alcohol, her tongue burning a little as she moves across the couch to sit in his lap. And it's lazy and soft but- there's something there, simmering underneath each movement.

He doesn't protest when she takes his hand. Her heart thuds as they walk across the loft, tiptoeing so the floorboards don't creak, feeling like a rebellious teenager sneaking a boy home (or at least, that's what she thinks this feels like-).

Her heart is racing. He must be able to hear it-

Then she puts her hand on his chest as he closes the door and she realizes that his is doing the same.

It's a strange kind of giddiness that overcomes her when he starts to kiss her neck and guide her to the bed. His fingers (of his two hands - she still wasn't used to that) working the buttons of her silk blouse while she tugs on his thick leather belt. And, shit, she has to swallow a laugh because this is actually happening. Of course she knew it would, eventually, but still.

"Love," he whispers, "Are you sure-"

And damn sometimes he's too much of a gentleman and she's too scared to put herself out there - and if they don't take the plunge now they might be dancing around this for God-knows-how-long and, fuck, she needs to feel him inside her-

"Yes-" she almost growls, falling back onto the soft mattress so he tumbles on top of her.

He's so tender with her, she kind of wants to push things up a notch - scared she'll fall into old habits and have second thoughts. His hands push her shirt over her shoulders. She goes to work on his buttons of his vest. The kiss goes on and she feels the heat between her thighs grow and she wants this so much.

There's a moment where the kiss breaks and they quickly pull off the rest of their clothes. Undressing is fine foreplay, but both of them know this is a long time coming and tonight the entree is more important than the appetizer. She runs her hands over his body, shyly avoiding his crotch at first, closing her eyes and drinking in the sensation of his lean muscles. It feels so good to finally just touch him without a barrier of leather and cotton in her way.

When she does let herself touch him, he gasps. It's dark: she already has a good idea of his size but in the flesh, so to speak, he feels so good in her hand and she can't help massaging him a little until he whines - "Emma" - and she understands that's not how he wants this to go and so she reluctantly releases him.

He's busy exploring her body, cupping her breasts, nuzzling his face against their flesh as he nips his way down her torso. With her fingers threaded through his hair, she lays back - seeing stars as he starts to kiss the inside of her thighs, pressing her legs apart before burying his face between them as he starts to devour her.

She's torn between succumbing to the pleasure and moving things forward until two fingers slide inside her and he's rocking against her g-spot and the stars become a blinding white and she has to bite on the back of her hand to stop from crying out as a searing orgasm tears her apart-

And normally, that'd be enough. She'd be satisfied and done.

But as soon as he's kissing his way back up her body, she's wrapping her legs around his waist - needing more, craving him with an urgency that catches her breath.

She considers returning the favor (briefly) but he's pressing at her entrance and there'll be plenty of time for that later (and there will be many laters, she assures herself).

He lifts his head and looks into her eyes, holding her face in his hands, letting her see his expression of bliss as he slips into her. His lips are parted and his breath is shaking (and, fuck, he feels so good). Then he's bottomed out and her body protests a little (it's been a while) but any burn is soothed when he starts to slowly rock.

[He understands they need to be quiet, she realizes].

She cups his face when his arms move to her sides so he can increase his pace. She's at the edge of the bed and his feet are still on the floor, giving him a substance to each movement which has her shifting up the mattress as his balls swing against her ass (and she likes that). The bedsprings make a little noise. She tells herself it's okay.

For a brief moment she wonders if they should have waited. He's pressing deeper and harder and circling his hips so he hits her clit at the same time and she's meeting each thrust she really, really wants to scream-

His heavy breathing is so goddamn erotic, because she knows it's because of her.

And she's not fooling herself, this is more than fucking because there's feelings and history (and she's pretty sure he loves her and knows she is falling for him too-): her mind is a mess and she wants to tell her inner voice to shut up and enjoy this.

She silences herself, by pulling him down for another kiss. His scruff burns her skin, their lips slide against each other. It's a tangle of two people so eager and needy for each other, who've waited too long.

It's a different kind of build than she ever felt before. The fullness of him inside is creating a sensation deep within her gut. A pulsing, growing burn that feels a little bit electric and increasingly hot.

She's putty in his hands. The proud part of her wants to play a more active role, but she's too spent and too deep into this to do more than weakly dig her nails into his shoulders and hold on for dear life as he takes her harder-

(And she will make it up to him).

(And they are making too much noise-)

A sudden clarity hits her, like storm clouds parting and revealing a clear blue sky.

She forgot to get out a condom. She left her pill packs in New York.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck-

The clouds of passion form again, and really, she should stop this, it's reckless and what if-

But then she feels the first pulses of orgasm and it's too late because he's there with her. Their bodies are hot and slick and her skin's sticking to the bed sheet and her legs are a little numb and he's grunting that little bit too loud (but she loves it and it's pushing her headfirst into her release).

And when it happens its such a relief she wants to cry. The culmination of months of dancing around each other in some cruel kind of foreplay is better than she could ever imagine. It's like she's being torn apart and rebuilt, cell by cell, as he pants her name into her neck, kissing it slowly as he slumps against her, his body weight oddly comforting.

Consciousness fuzzily returns. He's stroking her hair away from her face. The room smells like sex and him. She likes it. Then she remembers-

"Shit," she whispers.

"What's wrong?" he quickly asks.

"We forgot, um, you know, to-"

And why she feels shy right now, she'll never know (he's still inside her for Christ's sake!), but he seems to understand.

"Damn, I should have stopped-"

"I normally take a pill," she explained, "And there's condoms in the dresser-" (She explained those to him one drunken night at The Rabbit Hole. That had been an interesting third date).

It's awkward for a second. She knows him so well, but this is different and she feels stupid.

"So there's a chance-" he stops when she nods and bites her lip.

"A little, I guess," she admits. She knows she's mid cycle. She knows this is how Henry came to be conceived-

Wordlessly, he pulls out of her, and slides onto the bed, pulling a blanket over them.

"You know, I'm in this for the long haul Emma. I'm not going anywhere-"

Her heart thuds at his words. Because, strangely, the thought of another child doesn't scare her like she thought it would (his child - even if it's early, even if it seems rushed-).

"Promise?" she whispers, entwining their fingers and staring up at him, mesmerised by the handsome lines of his face and the look of pure adoration in his eyes. He nods and kisses her nose. "We'll be more careful: I mean, the chances are we got lucky, I mean what are the odds - you know?"

He smiles.

"Regardless, never think you'll be alone again, love. I'm a very persistent man."

And she knows he is, and that's part of what she loves about him.

/

She gets her period ten days later. There's a twinge of disappointment.

/

They make the decision together. Six months after their first time; sure it's what they both want, both a little giddy when they start to try.

Soon she's staring at a white plastic stick and smiling, happy tears in her eyes. Such a contrast to her first experience of this.

She can't wait to tell him.

a/n - a review is always appreciated if you have enjoyed this J x