a/n - Finished on time! I'm posting this now because after too many edits to count it's still longer than I'd like, but I can't bring myself to cut any more and with any luck you'll enjoy it anyway. Thank you for all the reviews. They are fantastic as always. (Edit: Absolutely the last time I write the a/n at four in the morning. After reviewing the rest of the story, there will definitely be two more chapters. That will make it lucky number 13--and long enough to be a novel. Anyway, hope you enjoy this installment. The next will be up soon. Thanks again!) And for those who read the previous a/n, don't worry. I would never lead you astray, unless…oh…I can't say! You'll have to wait and see!

Chapter 11

"Fecund?" Snape repeated in a harsh tone. "Have you been feeling less than superior mentally Potter, or do you purely take pleasure from chemical dependency?"

"I thought we weren't going to be upset?" Hermione asked, surprised at the outburst.

"I'm not upset," he said through clenched teeth. "There is simply no reason why Fecund could have any …unless…" His voice faded as he back away from the bed, falling into the chair by the window and staring out while Harry slouched down into the pillows looking morose.

"Don't you start feeling sorry," she told Harry. "If this isn't the answer then we'll figure out some other way."

Quite suddenly, Snape began to laugh--a jovial laugh that nearly frightened her. Concerned that something must be wrong, she rounded the bed quickly.

"Are you feeling all right?" she asked.

"Never better," he answered, eyes alight with inspiration. "Hug me."

"What?" she asked, confused by the request.

"I need to speak to Weasley," he explained. "Hugging you seems to achieve that end."

She laughed softly, "I don't think it works that way."

"Let's test the theory, shall we?"

Nimbly catching her waist, he tugged her into his arms, the force of the pull landing her across his lap. Under other circumstances, she would be pleased to be there, but with Harry looking on, she was less than delighted.

"This isn't the time," she scolded in whisper.

"That didn't bother you a moment ago," he reminded lowly, his righteous smile stalling her objection. His eyes, however, were set on the doorway.

She had to giggle, "You don't honestly think this'll work, do you?"

Her words were still echoing when, to her utter amazement, Ron entered standing stock still a few paces into the room, obviously confused by what he saw.

"That was efficient," Snape chuckled, lifting her effortlessly as he stood and righted her to her feet. He paused to straighten his robes before heading directly toward Ron. "Mr. Weasley, exactly the person I wanted to see."

Eyes wide with panic, Ron backpedaled. "Why's that?" he asked, his voice anxious.

Hermione had no trouble supposing that Snape took enjoyment from Ron's reaction as he continued his retreat until the wall finally stopped him.

Halting a few steps from Ron, Snape stated casually, "We've been having the most enlightening chat with Harry and he tells us you've been supplying Fecund for him."

Harry was shaking his head no, but there was no way for Ron to see around Snape. Hermione just smiled at Snape's means of interrogation.

"Harry wouldn't tell you that," Ron avowed.

"The only thing I don't know," Snape continued, clasping his hands behind his back, "is why you've been buying it from Jonas Anderson."

"How do you know that?" Ron asked in a pinched voice. "I never told Harry the man's name."

Snape only laughed as he turned to Hermione, "May I speak with you in the room across the hall?"

"Of course," she answered, wanting some answers herself.

When Snape moved toward the door, Hermione got a glimpse of Ron's ashen face, still staring charily at Snape. Harry was staring raptly at Hermione, who could only shrug in response to his curious gaze. Leading the way across the wall, she waited patiently for Snape to close the door before beginning her questioning.

"How did you know that? Did you look into Ron's mind?"

"There was no need," he replied, joining her quickly in the center of the room and sliding his arms under hers, lifting her into a hug. "We've solved it," he said as he raised her from the ground. As he held her, he kissed her neck gently, sending shivers through her body.

She grinned as he set her to the ground, saying, "I'm glad to see you so relieved, but I don't understand how any of this is solved."

He laughed before answering, "Harry hasn't been taking Fecund. He's been taking Anderson's."

"What difference does that make?" she asked.

"Jonas Anderson is a botanist," Snape began. "I met him by accident shortly after I realized I wasn't going to find honest work. I went to New Orleans in search of Trilorian, which can be difficult for obvious reasons. To my amazement, there was a blooming Trilorian in a window--in the muggle part of town no less. That happened to be Jonas' shop. At first, I thought he was a very old muggle who had no idea what he had…"

"What does this have to do with Harry?" she asked, impatience overwhelming her curiosity.

"I'm getting to that," he chuckled. "I inquired about buying it, so Jonas took me to the back of his shop where he had rows upon rows of the plant. He told me that he had succeeded many years before with hybridization, making them easier to care for. They're still finicky, but they do grow much faster. He also said that it had no bearing on the elixir that some of the magic folk liked to brew. I thought he meant voodoo. I had no idea. I bought one plant knowing that I could start others on my own and then I forgot about him until two weeks before you showed up. I went back to purchase some other plants and he asked me directly if I was a wizard. I said yes, thinking I could Obliviate him if need be, but then he said that he could always tell the muggles from the magical by the plants that they bought."

"So he's a wizard?" she asked, appreciating Snape's chuckle at yet another question.

"Yes," Snape answered kindly. "But after that, he asked me flat out to produce the elixir for him. I was reluctant until he told me he would pay half the street value. I agreed, thinking I could still Obliviate him if I needed to…that was before I knew he was a Legillimens." He chuckled warmly before continuing. "Anyhow, he had heard I was quite good and he told me that he had a reputation to uphold. It was during that visit he told me of the young man who had been coming to him for some time all the way from London to purchase it for an ailing friend. Jonas asked the boy why he traveled so far, and he said that his friend deserved the best."

"How does that solve anything?" she asked before comprehension struck. Her face was growing hot as the implications set in.

Snape's face fell as he asked, "Why are you upset?"

She laughed softly before answering, "Because that means Ron wasn't as much in New Orleans to see me as he was to buy drugs for Harry." Sighing, she added, "That's beside the point. Please go on."

"The point is," he stressed, "Anderson crossed his Trilorian with Foxglove, creating a very unique hybrid. I think his Trilorian retained some of the glycosides from the Foxglove, specifically digitalis."

"Digitalis," Hermione repeated, trying to make sense of the information. "That's a muggle heart medicine."

"Exactly," Snape replied. "It increases the amount of blood pumped with each heartbeat without weakening the muscle. That, coupled with the natural properties of Fecund, appears to have worked against both phases of the curse."

"What good does the euphoria do?" she asked, unable to keep the cynicism out of her voice.

"It's what causes the euphoria," Snape laughed softly. "Fecund amplifies the amount of oxygen processed by the body with each breath while its own chemicals go to work in the brain. That is what induces the euphoria in a healthy person--and the dependency. In Harry's case, it counteracts the hypoxia. Each one on its own wouldn't have mattered much, but working together, they keep him alive. His drug slowed the tissue deterioration, now all we have to do is stop it."

"You can cure him?" she gasped.

"No," Snape sighed before another energized smile curved his lips. "But I think we can make an elixir potent enough to work as a restorative, at the same time preventing the curse from harming him further. He'll have to take it for the rest of his life, but he'll have a life nonetheless."

The truth was sinking in when she asked, "He'll be able to breathe…to talk normally?"

Snape laughed, "He shouldn't be running any marathons, but yes. I believe so."

His confidence was enough, allowing her to surrender the worry at last. She threw her arms around his middle, embarrassment edging in as the tears of joy slid down her face. While he held her, she closed her eyes, willing away the embarrassment with his scent and the peaceful cadence of his breathing. It was as though an eternity of anxiety dissolved with that one embrace.

"The best thing I've ever done was find you," she told him quietly, absently wiping her tears on his chest.

His chuckle thundered through her, "I was thinking the same."

Peeking up, she saw him staring at her, a mesmerizing quality in his eyes. As she stared into those eyes that she considered so irresistible, the room seemed to dissolve, the knocking at the door mattered not. Only they were relevant for that one instant while she admired the sweep of his lashes and the iridescent facets of daylight reflected from deep within the iris.

Snape glanced to the door before whispering, "We should answer that."

"They can give us another minute," she breathed, rising on tiptoe to let him know she wanted kissed.

As though he needed no direction, he met her midway. His yielding lips filled her mind with visions of the early morning. His tongue swept graciously across her bottom lip, wiping away all memory of where she was and why, leaving nothing more important than how he intoxicated her. All she wanted was for the ordeal with Harry to be over so that she could return to his enchanting apartment in Mandeville for a time. They could spend their days in the city and their nights under that fluffy black comforter next to those windows--where in her fantasy, it was raining.

When he began to pull away, she followed until she could no longer stand tall enough to sustain the kiss.

"I know we have a bed and the door is locked," he stated rather breathlessly. "But don't you think we should attend to that incessant knocking?"

Frustrated by the rude tumble into reality, she said the first thing that came to mind. "You locked the door?"

"Of course," he replied with a smirk. "I didn't come in here to attend the Weasley parade."

Hermione was still giggling when Snape took her hand and led her to the door. When he reached out to turn the lock, he let go, but she retrieved his hand, unwilling to hide her feelings from anyone.

"Are you sure?" he asked, squeezing her hand.

"Positive," she replied, unlocking the door herself. Upon opening it, as suspected, she found Ron's scarlet face staring back.

"Have you both gone deaf?" he asked loudly.

"Did you think we climbed out the window?" Snape countered in his caustic tone.

"Shall we focus?" Hermione offered, knowing both men well enough to stave off the impending pissing match.

They both gave a boyish nod, and Hermione and Snape started across the hall behind Ron. Snape stopped her before they reached the door.

"You tell them," he explained. "I'll fetch the plants."

"All right," she said, moving in to hug him again. He returned it, but just barely, patting her back softly. She saw him glaring at the doorway where Ron stood waiting. Public hugs were evidently not his way.

"I'll return shortly," he offered quietly in her ear before swiftly drawing away and starting down the corridor.

She watched after him, admiring his confident gait much as she had that morning, satisfied that she was right--she could not look at him the same. When he disappeared down the stairs, she turned to discover Ron watching her inquiringly.

"What was that all about?" he asked.

"It's in his contract," she answered matter-of-factly, smirking at him before brushing past into the room.

She owed him no explanation, especially after learning of Lavender and his clandestine trips she had never even suspected. Keeping in mind that Snape had already told Ron that morning, though Ron had failed to listen, she felt oddly gratified that she was concealing nothing.

For now though, she was content to relay the new information to her friends, unsure whether she should divulge the full extent of Snape's involvement with Jonas Anderson. Deciding it was none of their business, she chose to skirt the issue, allocating Snape the duty of telling them if he saw the fit.

When she was through with the monologue to the two very quiet boys who seemed to think that she might start shouting at them at any moment, she made a stop at the staff lounge for a coffee before venturing back to the potions lab to await Snape return.

As she sipped the bitter excuse for coffee, she thought that no matter how reluctant she was to say so, she was glad for the whole mess. When the events of the last week sprung forth, an epiphany struck, bald-faced and indisputable. Without the Fecund, Harry would have died and she wouldn't have gone into healing, meaning that she would have never found the letter and in all likelihood Snape would still be facing execution. "Huh," she said aloud to the empty room, suddenly grateful to Jonas Anderson and some man named Dumbley and thinking that fate certainly seemed to enjoy its little forays into her life. She also made a mental note to hug this Jonas, should she ever have the pleasure of meeting him.

>

Retaining a satisfied smile all the way, Snape opted to Apparate to the hostel to save a bit of time. Upon reaching the tiny room, he collected the plants, careful of the leaves as they were of much greater importance now. The significance of the situation was not lost on him, thinking as he descended the stairs that they would still be lost if he had never met Jonas. If it hadn't been for that single Trilorian in the window on that one day, Snape would still be stumbling in the unknown with the curse.

Blessed be the old man, whom Snape would have befriended if it hadn't been for his own melancholy. At the time, he had felt undeserving of such friendship, particularly from a man who reminded him so of Dumbledore, which was why Snape refused every offer of food or drink Jonas put forth. Stepping back onto the street with his precious cargo, Snape realized that the pang of guilt at Dumbledore's memory was less acute than it once was. Snape resolved then to pick up a bottle of something pricy after he returned home to share with Jonas. With that thought, Snape Apparated back to the hospital.

Ignoring the peculiar stares as he carried the plants through the building, he told himself that next time he would reduce them, should he ever need to carry six blooming plants at once. When he reached the potions lab, he thought at first that it was still empty, until he heard mumbling coming from the store closet.

"Severus is right. The people who organized this cupboard must be illiterate."

Gently placing the plants on the table, Snape moved quietly in the direction of Hermione's voice until he was standing just at her back as she tried to reach a jar on the highest shelf.

"Illiterate and tall," he said, chuckling as she jumped back.

She laughed, "How do you manage to make absolutely no noise?"

"I'm gifted."

He sent one arm around her waist as the other pointed to the bottle she appeared to be reaching for. She nodded.

Taking it from the shelf, he asked, "What do you need with jonquil extract?"

"Nothing you need concern yourself with," she replied, a bashful quality about her as she tipped a bit onto her finger. "I like it."

Snape took her hand and spread the drop from the tip to her palm, massaging it before bringing it up to partake. The scent was so very sweet without being cloying. Unable to resist, he kissed the inside of her wrist, sensing her tilt further against him as he did so.

"We should get to work," he advised, more for himself than for her.

"Just another minute," she said quietly.

Snape was considering kissing her when he heard someone harrumph behind him.

Knowing full well who it was, he snarled very slowly, "For the love of god boy, what do you want?"

"I'm looking for Hermione. Do you know where I might find her?"

To Snape's utter amazement, the oddly familiar voice did not belong to any member of the Weasley family. Turning to face the bother, he was nearly speechless at the sight of the man with the curly blond hair wearing hunter green robes.

"Mr. Hargrove," Snape said, dispensing with the disdain. "I do apologize. I thought you were someone else."

"Severus?" the man replied. "What brings you back to London?"

"I am here on business," Snape answered.

"Hello," Hermione said cheerfully from his shoulder.

"Hermione," Elijah replied. "I was in the building and thought I would say hello before I left. One of the nurses said I could find you in here with the angry man, whatever that meant."

Snape cleared his throat before saying, "She must have been the one reluctant to vacate the lab."

"You weren't mean to her, were you?" Hermione asked, smiling up at him.

"That is a matter of opinion," he replied, noting her smirk as well as Mr. Hargrove's.

"Hmm…I believe I've interrupted," Elijah said suddenly. "I stopped to say hello and I've done so." He rested his eyes pointedly on Hermione.

"I'll walk you to the door," she said before looking to Snape.

Snape nodded, watching her warily as she joined Elijah.

"It's good to see you doing well Severus," the man said.

"Yes," Snape nodded. "It's good to see you as well Mr. Hargrove."

"Good evening Severus," Elijah replied kindly. "And please, my name is Elijah."

Snape only nodded as the pair moved toward the door, unwilling to open his mouth in fear of the many spiteful things swimming in his mind, should one tumble out. He observed them, Elijah whispering in her ear before they reached the door, leaving Snape to roll over the reasons for Elijah's willingness to cast her pointed looks. Hermione was whispering back to him now, clouding Snape again with suspicion, no matter how hard he tried to smother it. Quite unexpectedly, Elijah looked back toward the cupboard, and Snape quickly tried to wipe away any emotion that may have shown on his face. Smiling, Elijah mumbled something to Hermione before casting another look toward the cupboard and leaving at last. Snape exited the store closet just as Hermione turned from the door.

"You two get on well," he said evenly as he started the task of placing cauldrons on the long worktable.

"He's a friend," Hermione replied with a smile, picking up a cauldron from the stack. "We chat now and again. I tried to avoid having to explain, but that was useless."

Muddled, jealous, and scolding himself for it, he set the cauldron down as he asked, "What precisely required explaining?"

"Being cuddled up to you in a closet," she replied coolly as she placed hers next to his.

Snape stopped to face her, feeling foolish and thinking that that should have been his first thought--instead of the numerous, less rational others.

"He's a friend of Weasley's," Snape stated.

"No," she said with a weary laugh. "Ron gets a bit…uncomfortable around Elijah. It's silly really."

"Because he's a lawyer?" Snape asked, puzzled.

"No," she giggled. "Because he's gay."

"Ah," Snape replied, smiling as he did so, feeling all the more foolish.

She giggled again, "You didn't know?"

"I had my suspicions," he lied, hoping he could gracefully move away from the topic. That was officially the first time he had ever felt jealous of a gay man, at least to the best of his knowledge. "It's getting dark, we should begin."

"Let me go get us something from the tea room," she suggested. "The lounge coffee is even worse than the stuff from there today."

"Of course," he replied. "I'll set up while you're gone."

She smiled before starting toward the door and Snape was beginning to feel confident that she was oblivious to his idiocy, until she halted at the doorway.

"There's no need to be jealous of the man who works the counter in the tea room either," she said, a dreadfully sarcastic smile on her lips. "He's gay too." After her statement, she left, though Snape could hear her giggle echo in the hall.

The blasted woman could already read him like one of her countless books, he though as he stared at the door. Moreover, she had allowed him to amble down the path of self-incrimination even further before deriding him. Thinking that she was more tuned to him than he thought, he grinned as he renewed the task of filling the table with cauldrons.

Brewing the elixir would be simple, but brewing the correct concentration would be trickier. The best way to ensure that they achieved the correct dosage, keeping in mind that the potion took a full day to stew, would be to prepare as many variations as possible. This would save a lot of time, though it would probably decimate an entire plant.

Exhausting the hospital's supply of cauldrons, Snape sat the last one on the table, which happened to be number thirteen. Considering this good luck, he filled them with water and started the fires, having lit the last one when Hermione returned.

"You've been busy," she observed upon entering. "Have we started a Fecund distillery?"

"I thought we should save time in lieu of waste," he replied.

"Good," she said, smiling back. "I'll just sell the rest and buy a house in the country."

"It's not as lucrative as one might think," Snape advised.

She giggled as she reached the table, her expression suddenly nervous, "I realized on my way back that you probably found it odd that I was hiding behind you. Honestly, I just didn't want to have to tell Elijah that I broke up with Ron and was already involved with you. Please don't think that I don't want to be seen with you. That was the last thing on…"

Employing the hand-over-mouth technique, Snape interrupted. "I noticed no such thing." He felt the need to explain his actions as well, and he loathed being at a loss for words, but every time he broached this subject he found himself there despite every effort. "If I am a bit…out of practice with the social graces…please forgive me."

As he removed his hand, shock flashed on her face for only an instant before she smiled. "Are we going to stand here or brew this damn potion? I'm starving."

Snape chuckled and imparted the ease of the potion. The work went quickly since it was necessary only to add the leaves and let it reduce unattended. Within half an hour, all thirteen cauldrons were simmering with their own version of the potion. All that remained now was to wait, a full twenty-four hours standing between them and any assurance of success.

Hermione excused herself when Snape began to collect his papers, leaving him alone and wondering mordantly if she were going to abandon him now that it seemed they were nearly finished with their work. He dismissed the paranoid thought and scolded himself for being so juvenile while he finished binding the sheaves of parchment. When she returned a few minutes later, she invited Snape to her apartment for dinner, noting that she had already placed the order to pick up along the way. Snape agreed, a dizzying hunger making him queasy after too much coffee and nothing to eat all day.

The hospital was nearly empty, but the street was busy with muggles and wizards alike, all out to enjoy the unseasonably warm Saturday evening. Stopping at a restaurant near her building, Hermione told him to wait outside while she ran in.

She came back with a box, saying, "I considered Vietnamese, but in the end I settled for pizza. Everyone likes pizza."

Snape laughed, "In the state I'm in, I'd have considered Vietnamese edible. Though, pepperoni pizza sounds much better."

"Good nose," she giggled.

"Look at me," he replied wryly, pointing to his face. "Do I have a choice?"

The rest of the walk took far too long, the scent of the food dreadfully distracting. As soon as they entered, she sat the box on the coffee table and mentioned something about plates as Snape opened the box and began to devour a slice.

"It's not going to run away if you don't finish it all at once," she giggled, handing him a plate.

He finished the current mouthful, "We're going to have to do something about your ability to repeat prior conversations verbatim."

Laughing, she cast a fire in the hearth before joining him on the couch. As they dined in silence, both leaving little time between bites for conversation, he thought that this was his favorite evening with her so far. There he was--having a normal meal with a woman, with whom he appeared to be--as she had put it--involved. It seemed an entire lifetime had passed since anything of the like had transpired. Perhaps because of his voracious hunger, he finished first, opting to recline into the couch and let his head lull onto the sofa with the drunkenness produced by the long-awaited meal.

It wasn't long before she too finished, clearing the near-empty box and plates and returning with two mugs. He took one and found the mug pleasantly cold. A quick sniff told him it was bourbon, and it was ice cold.

"I stuck the bottle in the fridge last night," she said softly, sitting on the far end of the sofa. "You like it this way, don't you?"

"Yes," he replied, reminded suddenly of how long it had been since he had taken a drink and wondering sluggishly why she was so far away.

He sipped gingerly, the velvet heat stinging like it hadn't in years. Letting his head rest yet again on the sofa, he turned to view her, an amber glow to her skin in the low light. She had let her hair down, the shoulder length curls becoming unruly, giving her a recently bedded look. Snape grinned before downing the contents of the mug.

The mood and his full belly were making his eyes unreasonably heavy. He closed them for an instant, only to be startled when he opened them. Hermione had somehow moved from the end of the sofa to his side in a split second.

"You fell asleep," she accused with a smirk.

"I only shut my eyes," he replied, keenly aware that her hand was running through the hair on his chest.

"For twenty minutes?" she giggled.

"That explains a lot," he grinned after glancing down to see his robe and shirt open to his waist. "Were you preparing to take advantage of me?"

"I was only taking advantage of the opportunity," she replied, her voice sultry and a bit naughty. Her hand began a slow descent as she asked, "Do you mind?"

He was suddenly short of breath, her hand reaching his waist, stationing itself at his crotch that she had already stirred quite effectively. He growled before he could reply, "Yes, very much."

Eyes never wavering from his, a scandalous smirk on her face as she caressed, she asked, "And what do you plan to do about it?"

Quickly and quite capably, she was obscuring his mind with profuse pleasures, chasing away every suggestive answer he may have otherwise managed to utter. Unwilling to stop her, he instead located the edge of her skirt and pulled it from between her knees. Trailing his knuckles up her thigh, he was astonished to discover that she had brazenly anticipated the maneuver. There was nothing to stop him when he arrived at the top of her legs, only a sensual open invitation. No sooner than his hand made contact, she leapt from the sofa.

"Take off your pants," she commanded earnestly, her celestial form backlit by the fire.

Riveted, he raised a questioning eyebrow that no doubt complimented his immodest grin. This only seemed to motivate her, manifest by her deepened grin.

She repeated more forcefully, "I said take off your pants."

Her dominion boundlessly erotic, he slipped his arms from his shirt and kicked off his shoes before abiding by her mandate and tossing the useless fabric behind the sofa.

Removing his watch, the last article still covering any part of him, he asked, "Does this suffice?"

Nodding slowly, she eyed his body with a flush of victory while she stood still fully clothed to the naked eye. He watched her eyes flick to his thighs that were flexing involuntarily in hope of her soon sitting astride them.

Taking her wand from her pocket, she pointed it toward the door and Snape heard the squelch as the door sealed.

"Feeling non-verbal?" he purred, his heart pounding in expectation.

Her wand clattered to the floor as she advanced on him, her searing eyes fixed upon his. Snape marveled at her, a steel hold on his limbs to keep from ravaging her when she lifted her skirt, sliding her knees onto the couch bestride him. Her mahogany eyes were lustful, bombarding him with a want he thought he could taste and certainly planned to savor. He found himself panting for air as she pressed against him, the buttons of her robe chill against his bare chest, her lips against his ear where he could appreciate her own labored breaths.

"What have you done to me?" she whispered, his chest heaving as her breath stroked his skin.

"I'm prim and proper," she breathed. "A perfect lady, and still I want to mesmerize you, but I don't know how."

In between sobs, he managed, "You're…doing well…"

He heard the leer in her next breathy words. "Would you like me as your courtesan, for your bidding, your whim? Or are you mine for my fantasy, should I fancy playing the harlot?"

Now excruciatingly motivated, he scarcely voiced, "Yours."

He shut his eyes tight and bit his bottom lip, a tactic he had never had to employ before sex. Then again, a woman overwhelming him was a new experience. In his condition, he wasn't aware of her next advance until he felt her hand on his shaft, directing him as her indisputable perfection began its measured descent. He focused on the unthinkable sensations as she took all of him, a momentous frenzy shouting in his brain as he released a low growl into her shoulder.

"Do you want me?" she gasped.

"Oh…god yes."

"Do you need me?" she murmured.

His hands clutched the sides of her face, pulling her nose to nose.

"I need you," he ground out, his words inferring far more than the mere physical.

She smiled and bucked her hips and all was lost. In a furor of pulsing lips, ripped buttons, and fumbled clasps, she was uncovered from the waist up. Absolute rapture coursing through his body, he located a breast with his mouth and worked his hands beneath the copious folds of her skirt to cup her delectable bottom as she rocked against him, one of her hands on his chest inducing perfect pain from his bruise.

He couldn't resist leaning back to observe her, head thrown back and eyes shut as she writhed against him. The melodious moans she gifted him with triggered an abandoned joy previously unknown to him. His eyes followed a trickle of sweat as it glided between her breasts and he claimed it with his tongue, launching a search for her mouth that eventually welcomed him with a whimper.

When he felt her tighten, she pulled her lips away, her resounding groan his cue. Moving one hand to her hip and the other to the front, he turned circles on the nub guaranteed to make her cry louder. To his fulfillment, she did just that while forcing her hips fiercely against his and he too could delay no longer.

His climax was absurdly generous while he embraced her, pressing his face to her cleavage, aware only of her--the salty-sweet sweat, her milky white skin, and all the while her whispered words resonating in his mind as she quivered against him. They came as one and he believed them one, no finite lines defining her from him as she invoked the names of more than one god. As soon as she hushed and positively spent, he collapsed with her atop of him against the backrest.

"I need you too," she sighed into his neck.

He freed what felt like a thousand breaths as he added those to the words he intended to cherish. Holding her as they calmed, immersed in the muggy, post-coital air, he tried to remember a time that he sought anything near as worthwhile as she was, but he failed. He tried to envision going on with life alone now that he knew her like this, and again he failed. Clinging to her still trembling body, he was grateful for this brand of failure.