This is a transition chapter. It's important to the plot, and the development of the characters. This chapter is also rated R. There is sex. SO if you don't want to read it, you're going to have to skip some sections. I hope you like it, please review. I know this has been a long time coming, but I've been mega busy. Hopefully updates will be a little more regular, but no, I haven't forgotten about this one.

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King paced. Ashling sat. They had totally opposite ways of dealing with the exact same situation. They were sitting on a Hellmouth. At least, they were pretty sure they were sitting on a Hellmouth. There was no telling for sure until they did a little more investigating, but supernatural senses from both parties were telling them that they were.

"A Hellmouth. Under this house." King said those five words for what Ashling thought was the one hundredth time.

"We think. We have to do a locator spell. Why don't I call Mom or Aunt Willow and get the directions?"

"They should do it from there. We don't want to be known as the freaky Wiccan people."

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with being Wicca." Ashling became immediately defensive. While she claimed no religion, her aunt was a devout Wicca, and her mother sometimes dabbled in spells. She had too, when a particular demon demanded it.

"No, there isn't. It comes in handy quite often. But," King continued, "People in Summerhaven aren't going to see it like that. We want to fit in, not stand out."

"True enough. Though if it isn't obvious, we can do it anyway. No one should be able to tell."

"We'll just have to check." He stalked across the kitchen, filled up his cup of coffee. "Want some more?"

Ashling shook her head. "No, thank you." King was amazed at how perfect she looked, in the clothes she had worn the day before, after a night sleeping on the floor. Not a hair was out of place, her face, make up free, looked fresh and lovely. He growled, had an inexplicable urge to muss her up. He strode back to the table, plunked his coffee down and gripped her by her elbows. He lifted her up and clamped his mouth over hers before shock could register.

Ashling only knew one moment she had been watching him stalk around their kitchen in mild amusement, and the next he had been yanking her out of her chair and kissing her. Taking it all in stride, she wrapped her arms around him and opened her mouth. Her quiet acceptance seemed to irritate him even more.

His hands tangled in her hair, dragging her head back so that he could savage her mouth. He used his teeth and tongue on her mouth, down her soft neck to her collarbone. His hands gripped her slim hips, yanking them into his, anchoring her hard against him.

She felt the quick surge of panic, the undeniable fear. She would not panic. She would not run. Her brain warred viciously with her body while they kissed. And the next thing she knew, she was on the kitchen counter, and his hands were under her shirt, taking possession of her breasts. Her hands were on his chest, the button up he had been wearing being thrown across the room. Her hands raced over the hard planes of his chest, down to his abdomen, where they fumbled with his belt for several seconds before it joined his shirt in an unknown corner of the kitchen.

She wanted him. She felt the need rise up in her chest, the flames igniting in her belly. She tore her mouth from his. "Not here." She muttered, abandoning his pants to more thoroughly explore that beautiful chest he had. She'd wanted to since the very first second she'd seen it. "Not here."

Understanding her desire not to make love for the first time on the kitchen counter, King scooped her up and headed for the stairs. He didn't know how he made it to the top of the stairs. Not when an incredibly gorgeous woman was wrapped around him, and her mouth was clamped on his. Not when his hands were discovering places on her body that had haunted his dreams the night before. But he made it, though he had to stop twice to slam her back into the wall and kiss her like he wanted to for hours. He turned into the first bedroom he came to and they tumbled onto the bare mattress, to absorbed in each other to notice what it was they were laying on.

He ripped her shirt from her, flung it away. She was tearing at his pants, and finally she managed to get them undone. He kicked them off, his mouth never leaving hers. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him hard into her, wanting to feel him against her. They rolled over the bed until she was on top. Instinct was the only thing that told her what to do. Her hips moved against his as she straddled him, his hands streaked up her rib cage from her waist and again found her breasts. She hadn't thought that she would ever enjoy having a man's hands there, but his were superb. Her head fell back, her hair streamed down her back and she groaned deep in her throat as he caressed her.

From the second he'd wrapped her in the shower curtain and asked 'want to come out or want me to come in', they'd known that they were only putting off the inevitable. It was like their bodies had been created for that one purpose. He sat up, fisted his hands in her hair and plunged into her mouth. He couldn't get enough of her. The way she felt, the way she tasted. He thought if he didn't stop making love to her for several years he still wouldn't have enough of her.

He unsnapped her bra, let it join her shirt and his pants in the evergrowing pile of clothing on the floor. And then she couldn't think, could hardly breathe. That glorious mouth took one of her breasts and she was lost. She couldn't have told him to stop if she'd wanted to. It was her turn to fist her hands in his hair, holding him to her as she reveled in sensation. She writhed as he tortured her.

He rolled her beneath him, stripped off her pants. He was determined to draw things out as long as he could. Give her as much as he could. He remembered the sensitive spot on her shoulder, nipped it lightly and felt her muscles go lax. He continued down her body, wanting to see, touch, and taste every inch of it. He finished the task of undressing her, explored every nuance and curve of her body all the way down to her toes. When he slid back up and took her mouth once more, she was quivering, her body humming.

"Ash." He said, and slowly, her eyes opened. He grinned at the blurriness of them. He imagined she couldn't so much as see straight. "Tell me to stop and I will."

She shook her head. "I couldn't have told you no three hours after we met." She murmured, "I want you."

That was the last coherent thought she had. His boxers hit the floor, he eased her thighs apart with one hand, and he plunged. Her body came off the bed, she surged around him, her hips bucked into his. He was long and hard, and filled her completely. They both stilled for a moment, each knowing that if they weren't still it would be over much too soon. He waited as long as he could, and then with a groan, started moving.

His strokes were slow and deep, and she felt every inch of him. Her hips moved in the rhythm he initiated, and her hands were pressed against his chest, caught between wrapping around him and holding on for dear life. When the thrusts started coming harder and faster, her eyes crossed. She'd never felt like that before. She was arching against him, moving with him, her hands had somehow linked around him.

He took her hands, curled her fingers around the headboard. Somehow, though he wasn't really aware of it, his locked with hers. "Hold on." He murmured, and let himself go.

He pounded into her over and over again, the speed and force managing to knock the headboard against the wall. If either had been able to notice, they'd have found the stereotypical action humorous. As it was, all they could see was one another.

She felt something building within her, something that she couldn't grasp onto, but that some primal part of her brain knew was going to possess her. When she toppled into it, and her body exploded in sensation, she screamed something along the lines of 'Oh my God, King!'. The sound was music to his ears.

He rode her through the climax and into his own, which wracked him so powerfully he was helpless to do anything but collapse on top of her, pressing her into the mattress. Their breathing was coming in short gasps, and their bodies were covered in a fine sheen of sweat. He couldn't remember ever having had a climax quite that strong. But then again, he couldn't remember his own name.

By the time he was able to form a logical thought, he wasn't at all sure how long he'd been lying on top of Ashling. With a groan, he rolled off of her, flopping onto his back beside her. After a moment, she sat up, and reached onto the floor for her pants and bra.

King reached over, snatched them from her and threw them across the room. When she opened her mouth to protest, he grabbed her around the middle and dragged her on top of him. "If you think I'm going to apologize for that, you're out of your mind."

Ashling was tempted to sulk. "I don't want an apology. I was free to say no, and I didn't." she sighed, let her head fall on to his chest. "Sorry. I just really shouldn't have done that."

King lifted one eyebrow. "Oh? And just why not?"

"I don't have one night stands. I don't jump into bed with strange men."

He rolled her over, started kissing her neck. "Far as I remember, it isn't night. And we didn't jump. We sort of tumbled." He parted her thighs with one hand. "I'm thinking we're going to do it again."

Ashling opened her mouth to protest, was momentarily distracted when she felt him slide into her. She barely managed to keep her eyes open. "We really shouldn't. This is wrong, and too quick, and we decided we'd wait."

He kissed her, letting his tongue roam through her mouth and effectively erasing every thought that she had in her head. "We really should. It doesn't feel wrong. It actually feels really, really good. And we'll slow it down a little this time so it isn't so quick. And you decided we'd wait. I objected to the decision, and you reconsidered and decided I was right."

Ashling wasn't sure what he was talking about. "Right about what?"

He laughed and started moving. "You'll remember later."

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He didn't let her escape from bed until even he was cold. It was December, and while it was still California, they were naked and had no blankets. And even then, she got as far as the fireplace downstairs. He lit the fire while she rattled around the kitchen warming up cans of soup and making grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner. Before they ate, he proceeded to show her why she really should have reconsidered making love for the first time on the kitchen counter. He'd already decided to show her why she should have invited him into her shower a little later.

Ashling was tired, she was feeling rather guilty, and yet she didn't seem to be able to stop him. She'd be completely determined to set up her own room and sleep by herself, and then he'd wrap his arms around her fro behind and kiss the back of her neck. The next thing she'd know, they were on the floor, tangled up in each other again. They ended up sleeping on the floor, very close to where they'd slept the night before, and he realized vaguely as he drifted to sleep that he never had gotten around to invading her shower.

He'd save that for the next day. They had to get some unpacking done first.