Michael Gleason once vowed the viewers would never get a glimpse of Remington and Laura 'horizontal' and boy, did he keep that promise, much to the dismay of fans.

Before the convoluted Season 5, we fans were given the distinct impression Laura and Remington had 'crossed that line,' what with their matching wardrobes, shared hotel rooms, announcements of being committed, etc.

So, given that vow of Gleason's, what exactly didn't make the cut? Just what scenes were left on the cutting room floor?

For the readers who ask for more, More, MORE steam, these are just for you. Sex and nothing... well little... else. These stories may or may not be tied to an episode, and are only intended to get your temperatures rising.

As always, I do not own the characters, I am only borrowing them.

A/N: These stories will not update weekly but throughout the upcoming months, much like the Vignettes.

Chapter 1: London

"I need you, Laura."

It was a bold confession on my part, for I meant it in a 'my life no longer makes sense to me without you in it' kind of way. But, as was so often the way between us, she'd misinterpreted my meaning and I had the distinct feeling what she'd derived from my admission was 'my hopes were dashed today and I need to connect with you in the most elemental of ways.' She'd always been particularly drawn to me, after all, during one of my rare bouts of vulnerability.

I prepared to correct her…

Then she had stepped close…

Threaded her fingers through my hair, tugging my head downwards…

And sealed her lips to mine.

My good intentions fell by the wayside. Not by design, mind you, but because all rational thought had fled. It had been too long since last I'd held her and savored the sweet flavor of her mouth. My hands gripped her miniscule waist quite of their own accord, as my heart raced and blood pounded.

I was lost...

And knew it.

With a quiet hum, I wrapped her in my arms and drew her close, currents of electricity coursing through my veins when she melded her pliant body mine.

An entirely different type of need consumed me then: The need that had been gnawing at me since first our eyes had met…

To know her…

To taste her…

To touch her…

To be touched…

To hear her soft gasps of pleasure…

To feel her writhing beneath me…

To feel myself surrounded by her warmth…

To be a part of her…

To make her…

Mine…

It took a great deal of fortitude on my part to attempt to put the brakes on.

We'd been down this road far too often, she and I, and I knew this encounter she was instigating would end with Laura racing out the door and me beneath the spray of a cold shower – or, even more humbling, providing myself with my own relief in those confines of tile and glass. Crossing the line into the bedroom had always been so… complicated… for us. It would require the type of commitment from me that I'd never offered a woman before and a bit of faith in me on her part to trust she wouldn't wake the morning after to find I'd gone with the wind. Needless to say, neither of those things were our strongest points… and both scared the hell out of us.

Then there was the timing. Taking that step at the wrong time would leave too many chances for regret and a door slamming close that might never reopen.

Such as now. No, the risk was too great.

My hands shook as I clutched her waist and tore my mouth from hers. I took a pair of steps back until my heel hit the wall behind me, placing distance between us. I'm sure I must have been a sight to behold, my chest rising and falling as it was, my breaths coming hard and fast, unsure of what to do with my hands now that they'd released her.

"Laura, I think—"

She closed in again.

My body trembled, much to my own mortification, as she drew her hands up my chest, then neck, and pressed up on her toes to kiss me again.

"No more thinking…" she murmured, against my lips.

Steadfastly, I kept my hands at my sides… at least for a handful of seconds, but when she tugged her sweater over her head and dropped it to the floor then reached for my belt, all restraint was lost. I'm not sure how or when we'd shed our clothes, but suddenly there we were, skin-to-skin and her with her back pressed against the wall, her legs wrapped around my hips and urging me on…

"Now…"

Never had I imagined our first time together would like this: Feral… desperate. I'd devoted years to fantasizing about when we first became lovers, imagining a slow seduction, filled with heady kisses, blood stirring caresses, and foreplay that would leave us quaking until at last our bodies joined. Oh, those fantasies had taken place in different locations – from Paris to Tahiti to the bedroom in my flat.

Well…

And, if I'm being honest, I'd daydreamed a time or two or fifty of having my way with her on my desk at the Agency.

But this?

No, never had it once crossed my mind.

We slowed only as long as she needed for her body to adjust to my presence, more at my insistence than hers. When the head of my shaft pierced her, I heard the hiss of a quick, shortly drawn breath and had felt her fingers dig into my back. She never said a word, but I understood in that singular response and the tightness of the flesh enveloping mine that it had been as long for her as it had been for me. As I rested my forehead upon her shoulder, battling fiercely for control, I couldn't help but feel a bit chuffed about that.

Perhaps, as it had been for me, simply no one else would do for her either – and that did this man's heart good.

Three more strokes, three more pauses, and we were overtaken by too long denied ardor once more. I pumped my hips without restraint, her hips meeting mine thrust-for-thrust as we kissed hard and deep, our teeth clashing every now and then. In no time at all, I found myself swallowing her cry of pleasure when her climax ripped through her, her back bowing, as her muscles clenched and spasmed around my shaft. The sensation was far more than I'd ever imagined or was prepared for, and my restraint failed me. I shouted my own release as her body took me over the edge of bliss with her.

With her still wrapped around my body, I managed to stumble to the bed and I fell back onto it, pillowing her against my chest. I can't say how long we kissed and caressed, not a word spoken between us, but I soon found myself prepared to nestle with her, to catch a quick kip and once restored, to make love to her quite properly – in the way I longed dreamt of doing.

Laura seemed to have other ideas, slapping a palm against her forehead then scrambling off me.

"Oh, God," she opined, "I forgot about Mildred. She'll be here any minute."

And grabbing her clothing from where it was scattered about on the floor, she vanished behind the bathroom door…