Ceylon July 1930
The sun is soaking deep into her skin when his shadow falls over her again. She doesn't even need to open her eyes to know that she's right.
"Hello, Jack" she purrs as he sits down on the lounge chair next to her.
"Phryne."
With her eyes closed, she can hear laughing at a distance and splashing in the nearby pool. She can also hear him, near her, the rasp of his breath and the chair moving almost imperceptibly under his weight. Raising an eyebrow, she lifts her sunglasses and her lids, and he is there by her knees, leaning in.
When she pushes herself up, her knees knock against his and rest there. His eyes are lazy and warm, focused on her face. She smiles. He smiles in response. The space between them is minimal.
"Decided against getting wet?" he asks, and she shrugs, laughing.
"Perhaps later."
"Moonlight swim?"
Her mouth dips in a thoughtful grin. "That does sound lovely, doesn't it?"
"Is that an invitation?"
She raises her eyebrows. "If you like."
"Why not?" His grin slants. "It might be nice to relax some."
She had not realized, perhaps, until that moment, how close he really is. She swings her legs around, bare feet burying in the grass, and he grins again. "I'd better go."
"I just got here."
"Well, if I want to get myself freed up for the evening…"
He smirks, knowing her game. She shakes her head and can't help smiling as she puts her sunglasses back on.
"For fine company and cool water." She leans down and gives him a quick peck on the cheek.
"I'll see you upstairs, Jack," she says before walking toward the lobby to head to their rooms.
Later, she is in the sitting room in her kimono and half-reading a magazine through barely open eyes when a knock on the door startles her. She squints into the half-light of the room wondering what time it is. The sky is a deep blue-violet, signaling that the sun has set for the day.
Her limbs are heavy and slow as she moves to open the door. Tiredly, she opens the door and leans into the jamb, the bone of her hip sharp against the wood.
"Did I wake you?" Jack asks, and she laughs, waving a hand.
"No, no—not really. Did you forget your key?"
"No. I was afraid of waking you, so I spent some time sightseeing. Then I wake you anyway."
"Don't worry about it, Inspector," she says, his title falling teasingly off her tongue, though he doesn't look worried. "I could use a swim, at long last."
"At long last?" he teases, and she shrugs. The kimono falls from one shoulder to her elbow, and he reaches toward her as she pulls it back up.
"Of course," she says, turning to toss the magazine on the table behind her. When she glances at him over her shoulder, his eyes are focused on hers.
"Shall we?" Stepping out of the room, she slides into the space at his side, looping her arm through his.
"Want to stop at the bar first?" he asks with all the innocence in the world.
"Well," she says, smiling, "I wouldn't say no to a Ruby Punch."
"One of those Arrack drinks, you mean? The fruity one?"
"Yes, of course, the fruity one, and I must protest. When in the tropics…" She tilts her chin at him, reaching back to close the door.
"When in the tropics." His hand finds its way to her waist, thumb light against her hip bone.
She closes the door behind him and wraps her hand around his bicep, leaning in as they make their way to the bar. The bar is loud and crowded with guests. Hip to hip on their stools, they are reduced to shouting their words into each other's hair. The space they navigate is theirs alone, shared easily. He laughs when she does, and she fits against him, her arm resting against his.
She never knew it could be this simple. This amazing.
They finally make their way outside to the pool where the air is bright and clear. The ambiance is enchanting with torches placed every few feet around the pool, lighting it up just enough.
At night, Ceylon is if not cool then at least breathable. She raises her arms into it, inhaling hard. When she turns her head, he's looking at her again. She raises an eyebrow. "It's good to be out, after that."
"It was rather crowded in there. Not exactly what I was expecting."
Tilting her head back, the night breeze brushes along the curve of her throat, warmed from within by her drink. She catches that lopsided smile he reserves just for her.
"What were you expecting, Jack?" She asks as she makes her way poolside, slipping off her shoes and kimono along the way.
She dips her foot in to test the water. After the warmth of the bar, it's almost cold. She submerges herself in one dive and gasps when she comes back up. He smirks at her from his spot on the patio.
She shivers, as her legs sink, toes touching the bottom. She rests them there, reaching up to push her soaked hair off her face.
"Care to join me, Jack? No one is watching."
She watches it sink into him, his eyes wide and his smile lazy.
"Indeed."
He dives in, arms sluicing through the water, and she pushes off the bottom again, floating onto her back. His hand catches her ankle from beneath, pulling her toward him.
His hand snakes up her calf, and the expanse of her thigh to hold her by the hip, his other hand at the small of the back. She is weightless and his hands are familiar against her, practiced, she thinks and she laughs softly into his mouth.
She pulls him in harder against her, fingers tangling in his drying hair. His mouth leaves hers, moves down to her neck and she closes her eyes, his face pressed into the hollow of her shoulder, his lips slow against her collarbone. The ghost of her laughter turns into a gasp, and she feels him grin against her neck, teeth to her skin.
"Perhaps not here?" she offers weakly, and his hands slide up the curve of her back to the exposed skin of her shoulder blades. He kisses her neck again, again, over and over in the same soft place.
"You were the one who said no one was watching," he murmurs beneath her ear.
"You never really know," she breathes out.
His arms come around her. Hers rest on his chest. She leans in and he meets her lips halfway. They cling together, forgetting everything except the feel of each other's skin. Phryne runs her fingers down his neck and melts at the sound of the soft groan he gives in response.
He breaks his lips away from hers, pressing small kisses to her cheek and forehead as he pulls back. He meets her gaze, pupils dilated. She sees his pulse in his neck. He swallows to gather himself and says, "Shall we take this somewhere more private?"
Her eyes dark, Phryne nods. "Yes, please."
His arms wrap around her waist and he pulls her up against him, into his arms. She kicks out, yelping, a wave of water crashing poolside up to the grass.
"What are you doing?" Her arms loop easily around his neck as she knocks her cheek to his, her nose to his temple, laughing. "Jack?"
"Speeding up the process?" His hand slides around to cup her small breast, she arches into it, digging her fingers into his scalp.
"Oh, Jack!" she squeals. "Put me down. I can walk on my own," she then says, quite stern. He puts her down on the grass, and she kneels to pick up her shoes and kimono while he collects his shirt. She watches him put it on, the breadth of his shoulders, the movement of his abdomen, his fine form on display just for her.
She moves to him, touches the small of his back through his shirt, and they walk half-entwined across the ticklish expanse of grass to the hotel lobby. His hair catches the light off the torches on the lawn as they walk across the path, lighting him up gold. She leans into the space he leaves to put her head on his shoulder.
He is standing very straight, arm confidently correct around her. They are silent, passing the doorman, and the silence follows them up the stairs and down the hall to their door. She fumbles for the key she slipped into her shoe, placing it in the lock. The door swings open under her hand, and when she looks back, the look of hunger in his eyes flashes a desire that leaves her breathless.
"Jack." His name comes out as a whisper in the space between them, as she tilts her face toward him. Her hand slips beneath the fluttering end of his opened shirt, resting lightly against his hip. Leaning in, she brushes her lips against his. He deepens the kiss, sliding his arms around her, and the door knocks shut from a joint effort of hips and feet. The space between the door and the bed is navigated in a dance of stumbling, a tangle of arms and legs.
His hands catch under her ribs and move slowly from her waist to the straps of her bathing costume, peeling it down. It sticks to her skin, audible where it is stripped back. He kisses the upper curve of her breasts reverently, his arms around her, his palm catching against her breast. She hisses softly, sinking her teeth into her lip and arching against the hard line of him between her legs. She sighs in pleasure and leans her neck back allowing him to support her, giving him full access.
Backing her toward the bed, Jack slowly lays her down on the mattress, slipping his shirt off in the progression. His mouth moves from her neck to her breast and her nails sink into the muscle of his shoulder.
"God, Phryne." She hears him murmur, obscured into swallows against her skin.
A hum is her only response as her hands slip beneath the band of his trunks, pushing them down. She feels his hands sweep along her sides, the roughened skin of his fingers touching the delicate skin beneath her arms, the curve of her bottom. His kiss is soft and deep, but quickly turns demanding and desperate. Phryne feels her body melt into his.
"Your device?" Jack inquires, nearly breathless.
"You know me better than that, Jack."
He grins while Phryne pulls him back against her, her leg curing around his. She rests her hand on the small of his back and presses down slightly, half guiding, half giving permission. She draws a hissed breath when he pushes into her, arching toward him. He's unusually impatient and he thrusts into her in a quick, hard pace, wrapping his fingers around her knees to lift her legs above his shoulders. She closes her eyes, hands balled into the doona, clenching when he pushes into her.
He's not sure how long he'll last, but he knows he wants Phryne to come first. He loves to watch her face when she does. He pulls away from her, ignoring her soft whimpers and the tapping of the headboard against the wall as he keeps thrusting hard into her. He reaches between them and finds her clit. She gasps and arches as he makes small circles around it with his fingers.
"Jack! Oh… oh. Yessss."
Jack smiles through his panting, and leans down to kiss her.
"Come for me, Phryne," he whispers, his lips brushing against hers with every syllable. "Just let go."
Phryne's moans become louder, higher pitched, as she rocks her hips to meet his and get more friction from his fingers. It only takes a few thrusts until she throws her head back and cries out his name, arching again beneath him. Her brow is furrowed, and her mouth open just slightly, lips red and kiss-swollen. She looks beautiful. She tightens around him as she comes, and he is gone almost instantly. He groans, stiffening as he comes. He trusts once, twice more, and pauses, breathing heavily.
Phryne pulls on him, and he lets her pull him down to rest against her. Jack nuzzles at her temple, and she laughs softly. For a few minutes, the only other sounds in the room are the sounds of them catching their breath. She smooths his hair down, humming softly, as Jack traces his fingers up and down her side. Finally, Phryne sighs, turning her head to kiss his damp forehead.
A moment later, Jack moves to roll his weight off of Phryne. She reaches out to him, stretching luxuriously, and murmurs, "Stay, don't go."
Jack breathes deeply and kisses her repeatedly, quick pecks on the lips and cheek.
"When in the tropics…" He chuckles and nuzzles her neck, before rolling off, pulling her with him. Phryne settles on her side into the space next to his chest. Soon sleep claims them both.