Author's note: This chapter gets very sexy. There's no actual sex shown, but it's heavily implied (like three elephants on top of one another heavily implied). There's also very little plot, it's just romantic, but I wanted it in here, so feel free to skip it if it's not something you're into. Much of the content is lifted from So Long As I's Got You, which is what you can go and read if you want the smutty version of this chapter, but there is some extra content (a scene at the end) and the explicit stuff has been edited out. I'm going to post the next chapter later on today for all you folks who aren't into knowing about the Kelly's sex lives. Comments, as always, make my day x

"I's been thinkin' 'bout this all day," Jack rumbles, his mouth close enough to her ear that she can feel his warm breath fanning across her skin, his tone all low and dark and heavy-accented in the way that makes her stomach turn inside out, "ever since you's walked down that aisle, lookin' like some type o' angel. All day, Katherine."

He sounds almost desperate, needy somehow, in a way that she can barely bring herself to meet his eyes. But she forces herself to, clamping down on the fizzing in her belly and reminding herself that this is her Jack, the one who, despite being a little rough around the edges, is kind and gentle and patient. So she looks up at him and feels herself smile as she sees the familiar spark in his eyes. He's still holding her hand from where he's helped her out of the carriage; she gives his hand a quick, meaningful squeeze before dropping it and turning around to thank the driver. The elderly driver doffs his cap and then clicks his tongue for the carriage to begin drawing away.

They both turn then, looking up at the red brick house with the white-washed windows they've painted themselves, tall and thin, sandwiched in the middle of a terrace. Theirs. Their house. Together. Jack grabs her hand and looks down at her, barely suppressing his signature grin, before tugging her up the path to their front door, all the while fishing around inside his suit jacket for the keys.

Katherine shifts awkwardly, unsure of how to behave as he tries, with shaking hands, to fit the key into the lock. It's a full thirty seconds before she hears the lock click open and she spends every one of them pressing her lips together to suppress a sarcastic remark. This is Jack's night, she reminds herself, and he had made the wedding beautiful for her. He'd been on his absolute best behaviour and had somehow managed to charm her family members. And how could he not? His hair had been neatly combed during the service that morning, but his curls were now askew, back in their usual untameable, adorable mass and his tie was pulled loose around his neck, the collar of his shirt slightly open. Who could resist him when he looked like that, talking animatedly with fingers flying across a thousand invisible canvases and his eyes crinkling with warm smiles. But he was all hers, like this, relaxed and delicious.

When he doesn't move, she reaches for the door handle, ready to let herself into their new home. Jack's hand flies out to stop her and she wonders momentarily whether she's already managed to screw up. But then Jack has hold of her through her layers of petticoats and he sweeps her up into his arms and carries her over the threshold. It's a difficult manoeuvre; he has to push the handle down with his elbow and back himself in to prevent smacking her head against the doorframe. His tongue is stuck out in concentration throughout the whole endeavour and they're both laughing quietly by the time he's kicked the door closed behind them with his foot.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Kelly." He sets her down carefully and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

"I still think Mr. Plumber would have been better." She smiles into the lapel of his jacket.

"You would." He snorts, breaking away from her, eyes alight and anticipatory fingers fluttering by his sides in the same way they do when he's about to start work on a fresh canvas. He looks positively gleeful.

Katherine suddenly feels immensely self-conscious, dropping her eyes and searching for somewhere to put the little bouquet of flowers she's been toting around all day. There's a vase on top of the side table in the hallway, so she picks it up and mumbles something about putting them in water. Jack follows after her like a mildly confused lost puppy.

The kitchen is small and at the back of the house. It's strange for her, being in a kitchen. The last time she was in the one at house was when she was a child, playing hide and seek in amongst the barrels and wooden tables, tugging at the maids' skirts and stealing morsels from the fingers of the indulgent cook. Katherine wishes she was back there, amongst the herbs hanging up to dry, with the steam from a thousand iron pans on top of the enormous black range filling the air, fresh biscuits cooling on the sideboard.

She stands at the sink, cold water filling the vase, and feels Jack come up behind her and wrap his arms, strong and warm, around her middle, nuzzling the nape of her neck. She knows two things with instant clarity. The first, that someone could offer her the moon and she wouldn't trade it for being stood with the man loves in the house they share. The second, that she's scared out of her wits. She sets the vase down in the sink and spins around in his arms. Jack pulls back, looking mildly alarmed.

"I have no clue what I'm doing." She states with finality.

"Okay…" Jack remains puzzled.

"I haven't done this before."

"I should hope there wasn't another husband lurking somewhere." He laughs.

"Jack-" Katherine hisses, gesturing uncomfortably between them, "I mean I haven't done… this before."

"Well, I know that, Katherine."

"I know, but… you have." She falters, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Yeah, I has. Is that a problem?" Jack asks, dropping his arms from around her waist and folding them across his chest. Bit late, he thinks.

"No, I just – normally I can do anything I set my mind to but I don't- I couldn't bear to disappoint you." Katherine whispers the last few words.

"Oh, darlin', you won't disappoint me. You couldn't." Jack relaxes.

"But what if I do?"

"You won't." He says emphatically, taking both of her hands in his. "Ace. I love you. But if you don't wanna do this – we don't hafta."

"No!" Jack raises an eyebrow at her outburst. "No, I do, I just – I'm scared."

"Scared?"

"I don't want to mess it up. I don't want to make a fool of myself. I don't want it to hurt."

"You won't, you won't, and it won't. Believe me, I's gonna make sure of that." He grins, but there's a softness to it, a crinkling around his eyes.

"Mother said it would hurt – but mother said I also shouldn't speak to you about it… oh, damn it all." Katherine throws her hands up in the air and turns away from him, hiding her face.

"Hey, hey, c'mon." Jack whispers, pulling her back to face him and tugging her close, letting her bury her face in his chest. "You need to ignore everythin' your mother said, y'hear me? God knows I don't want'a end up like your father." She laughs quietly into his chest at that and Jack grins in response, resting his chin on the top of her head. "You trust me, don'cha?" She nods, face still hidden. "Then let me take care o'you, okay? An' if you wants to stop, you jus' says the word."

"Okay." She nods, slightly tearful. "I'm – I'm sorry, this wasn't how I wanted our marriage to start-"

"It don't matter, Ace. We's got the rest o' our lives to get this right."

Jack smiles and takes her chin between his thumb and forefinger, leaning down to brush a kiss across her lips. Okay Plumber – wait, Kelly, Katherine thinks to herself, changing the surname with no small amount of glee, this is something you can do. So she kisses him back, deep and long and languid, and somewhere along the line he gets the message and hooks his hands around the backs of her thighs and starts carrying her toward the stairs, her legs wrapped around him like some sort of monkey. He almost falls over when he starts trying to get them upstairs and they find themselves laughing into one another's mouths, stumbling against the banister and the wall, fingers tugging at buttons. Jack feels half mad with it, with the waiting, the wanting, with her.

By the time they get into the bedroom, their bedroom, Katherine has half the buttons on his dress shirt undone and has slipped one hand inside, warm fingers tugging gently at his undershirt. There's a soft whoomph as he sets her down on the bed, but Jack doesn't break away, not even for a moment, crawling over her and kissing down the side of her neck, kissing and biting and worrying the skin there in the way he's learned makes her keen against him. When she starts shoving his suit jacket down and off his shoulders, he's hardly going to say no. He rolls his broad shoulders obligingly and flings it off somewhere to his right, never breaking contact with her skin, burying his nose against it and breathing in her perfume. It's a different one to usual, something muskier, darker, more womanly, than her usual girlishly floral scent. It makes him want to buck his hips into the mattress, but he doesn't want to scare her, so he holds himself back. He'll be damned if he ruins this through a lack of self-control.

And then she yelps. Jack pulls back like he's been burned, hovering over her, propped up on his elbows and searching her face, cursing himself.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, sorry," Katherine blushes, watching as Jack's shoulders relax just a fraction, "my hairpin, it – stabbed me."

Jack looks at her for a moment, long and hard, and then bursts out laughing, rolling off her and laying down by her side. In one fluid movement, he takes her hand and brings it to his lips, placing a kiss on each knuckle.

"Go on," he chuckles, voice low and rumbling, "you'd best take 'em out."

He leads his flushed wife – wife! – over to the vanity and sits her down in front of the mirror. Brushing her hands away, he stands behind her and removes each pin more delicately than Katherine would have thought possible with his calloused fingers, placing them in a neat pile on the polished surface of the vanity. His hands in her hair, Katherine closes her eyes and leans her head back, allowing it to rest against the muscles of Jack's stomach. The sight of her, so trusting and vulnerable, allowing him, barely more than a street urchin, to touch her glossy hair and porcelain skin – it does something to him.

She opens her eyes when he's done, hair cascading down, but Jack just sweeps her hair to one side and gets down on his knees to start work on the buttons at the back of her dress. The little pearl buttons are fiddly and Jack feels as though his fumbling fingers will snap one of their fastenings before he's done. When he is done, Katherine stands and the dress slides off, white chiffon puddling around her feet, clothed in white silk stockings. She goes to turn around, unable to meet the eyes of her unclothed reflection, but Jack prevents her, fiddling once again with the fripperies of women's undergarments as he unties her corset.

It's only when that comes off that she hears Jack's sharp intake of breath. So. It had been a good choice then. She'd been embarrassed to go shopping with Medda for such things, but it turns out she really was the expert.

"Fuckin' 'ell, Ace. Look at you." Jack breathed and she finally managed to raise her eyes to her own reflection. Well then.

It was technically a chemise, but it could barely be called that. It was a single layer of delicate white lace, so thin it was practically see-through. She had hated it in the store, condemned its lack of practicality and pointed out that one or two good washes and it would be falling to pieces. It was only when Medda suggested it wasn't really meant to be worn more than once, that she'd understood its implications. Jack's reaction, at least, gave her a little courage.

"Is this all for me?" He asks, voice quiet and prayerful, his hands tentatively skimming down her sides.

"Who else would it be for?" Katherine asks, aiming for a mocking tone but hitting somewhere around a nervous giggle. "Oscar Delancey?"

Jack actually growls at that and squeezes her hips possessively.

"I don't want you sayin' no other man's name in this bedroom, y'hear?" Katherine nods, ducking her head and trying to avoid thinking about the rush of heat which Jack's low, angry tone has pooling in her stomach. "S'not nice. 'Specially when it's that scabber."

"It seems unfair that you're wearing so much clothing." Katherine mustered, inwardly disappointed that her voice was barely above a whisper, trying to pacify her husband. Jack chuckles behind her, indicating either her success or that he wasn't actually that angry at all, and holds out his hand to help her step out of the dress.

"It does, a little, doesn't it." He smiles, leading her over to the bed and gesturing for her to sit down.

He remains standing and Katherine watches, hands folded demurely in her lap, as he finished off the job she started earlier and unbuttoned his dress shirt, pulling his tie off, then shrugging off the white shirt, then pulling the undershirt off over his head. Katherine stares. She's seen Jack without his shirt before of course, occasionally wandering around the lodgehouse on hot days or when he's been in injured or sick. This is different now though. Now she has permission to look. She does, her eyes raking over her husband, all lean muscle and strength and a smattering of dark hair. In the low light of the oil lamp, his scars have all but disappeared, leaving him fresh and all hers.

"Like what you see, Mrs. Kelly?" Jack smirks, relishing the way the title feels on his tongue, sweet and smooth like honey.

Katherine's blush returns and she lowers her eyes, fiddling with the top of her right stocking, readying herself to roll it down.

"Whoa." Jack reaches out to stop her before dropping to his knees and gently rolling her stocking down himself. "I's gon' unwrap you myself, thank you very much."

"Unwrap me?" She laughs, the noise bursting from her chest. "I'm not a present, Jack."

"You's a gift, though." Jack grins up at her, his eyes alight. "Best weddin' gift I's coulda asked for."

He works her other stocking down her leg, then pulls off his own shoes and socks. Then he stops, looks up at her, half wondering, half analytical.

"How much do you know?" He asks.

"A little." Katherine blushes.

"Okay." Jack nods, breathing out through his nose. "Remember, this ain't about you pleasin' me. I wants you to… enjoy yourself. An' I's gonna make damn sure you do. You's just gotta… trust me. Can you do that for me, Ace?" She nods slowly. "Good." He rubs his hands together, warming them. "Sweetheart, you jus' say the word and we'll stop. Okay?"

She nods again, suddenly hyper-aware of her body, the fact that she has one. That said, she's never quite so good at being, at having a body, than when she's with him, so she stays still on the edge of the bed.

Her feet don't quite reach the floor and it reminds Jack that whilst she's the strongest woman he's ever known, god knows that he's never managed to get one over on her, she's also smaller than him. Delicate. Jack can't believe his luck – this woman, this heiress, has not only given him her love, her kiss, her trust, and now her virginity? Jack doesn't know what he did to deserve this, but he's not complaining.

When she cries out, saying his name over and over, like a litany, Jack wonders if he'll get to hear her say his name like that for the rest of his life. He hopes so; he hopes this is what being a husband is.

When they're done, he rolls them over, letting Katherine sprawl across his chest like spoils of war, heaving out her little hiccupping breaths. He's almost about to doze off when she speaks.

"Can we do that again tomorrow, please?" Katherine asks, looking up at him with a smirk that doesn't match the innocence in her eyes as she props her chin on his chest. Jack collapses back against the pillow with a smile, wrapping his arms a little tighter around her.

"Yes, Katherine. We's gon' do that again tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. Hell, I don't wanta do anythin' else for the rest o' my life."

"That might be a problem in terms of going to work." Katherine giggles, and hell if it isn't the most adorable thing he's ever heard.

"Screw work." Jack says, giving her a soft, affectionate kiss. "I don't need nothin' so long as I's got you."

When Katherine wakes up the next morning, she can't quite tell where she ends and Jack begins.

She'd expected it to be more difficult than it is, sleeping with another person after so many years of sleeping alone in her big downy bed. But although the mattress on her and Jack's bed is thinner and the bed smaller, she finds that she doesn't really mind at all. Not when they're intertwined like this, her head pillowed on one of his arms and his other arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close. Her left palm is flat on his chest and she can feel his heart beating and the steady rise and fall of his chest. She can't believe that this man, all goodness and quiet strength, is hers. He looks young when he sleeps, mouth slightly open, eyes closed. Katherine has never properly appreciated how long his eyelashes are. She didn't know men could have eyelashes like that.

Katherine shifts a little, trying to alleviate the strange soreness she feels between her legs. She finds that it's not a soreness she particularly minds though. It feels strange, like an overworked muscle, like that throbbing ache in your legs after you've walked for miles and miles, but it has that same sort of satisfaction that comes from finishing the walk, too. Her body remembers him, what it's like to have him inside her, her Jack. She knows, of course, that she ought to be mortified at the gummy sort of stickiness on her thighs and at the sharp smell of it, musk and sweat and sex, but this is how it's supposed to be, isn't it? Isn't this how she's supposed to cleave to her husband? Husband.

As she shifts, Jack stirs beside her, snuffling into the pillow like a rudely awoken cat. She winces, wishing she hadn't moved. She shouldn't have, should have taken the time to admire him a little bit longer. And then she remembers that she gets to do this every morning for the rest of her life and suddenly it doesn't seem all that bad. Jack opens his eyes slowly, blinking owlishly at her for a moment before a grin spreads across his face, caught somewhere between wonderment and wickedness.

"Good morning, husband." She whispers, removing her hand from his chest and reaching up to trace a finger along his jaw. Under her touch, the muscle tenses, then relaxes.

"Good mornin', Mrs. Kelly." He murmurs back, his voice low and dark and soft from sleep, his accent as broad as she's ever heard it. It ties her stomach into knots in the best way possible.

Jack leans close and brushes his lips against hers. It should feel silly, both of their throats dry and morning breath lurking somewhere behind their teeth, but it doesn't. Katherine should feel disgusting, sore and sticky as she is, but, frankly, she's never felt more beautiful. Her hands come up to tangle in his hair and Jack hums into her mouth as she tugs gently at his curls. Slow and careful, he tightens his hold on her and rolls them over. Her legs part to accommodate him, as easy as breathing, and he settles himself between them, cradled there in the sweet 'v' of her hips, without ever breaking their kiss. And then he brushes against her the wrong way and she whimpers, high and thready, and Jack, her darling Jack, is up on his elbows and meeting her eyes, worried and questioning.

"You sore, love?"

"A little." He makes to move off her, but she catches hold of him and clarifies. "Good sore."

"Yeah?" Jack smiles a little, settling back down over her and sliding a hand down between them. "Good sore, huh?"

"You're impossible."

"You love it." He winks, a gesture that makes her bark out a laugh, before then doing something absolutely fantastic with his fingers that has her collapsing back onto the mattress.

She twists in his grip, wanting more. "I love that."

"Oh yeah?" He does it again. "Y'know what I love?"

She raises an eyebrow.

"Your face, when you–" he breaks off, swearing under his breath, overcome, "Katherine, angel, I could watch you do it for the rest o' my life."

"Jack!" She admonishes him, blushing to the very tips of her ears and grabbing a pillow to cover her face.

Despite the very… pleasant events of the night before, Katherine still isn't fully comfortable with Jack's brazen affection, the way he talks so frankly about things that are supposed to remain unsaid. She can hear him laughing even as she presses her legs together around his hand and sighs into the pillow. Impossible boy. She uncovers her face and whacks him with it, a whoomph of feathers, but he just ducks, snickering.

"I plan to let you." She tells him.

She does let him. She lets him do it a lot.