AN: If you've read any of my other stuff, you may know I sometimes share stuff to support the chapter on Archive of Our Own, which was definitely the case with the last one and many of the previous ones. Sadly, I can't post links here, but if you're inclined feel free to check it out there (same username). Physical Intimacy Week 4, Day 7: Saturday

His voice is husky in her ear as he wraps an arm around her from behind. "You know… we've got twenty minutes before we need to leave for our class…" He nuzzles his face into her neck, and Lucy tries to squirm away.

"That tickles," she complains in response to the scratch of his stubble against her skin.

"I could tickle you somewhere else…" He presses a hot open-mouthed kiss to the crook of her neck.

Lucy snorts with laughter, reaching for the dish towel to dry her hands after their post-lunch clean-up.

"As romantic as that sounds, I think I'll pass." She turns to face him.

He frowns down at her, suspicion darkening his blue-eyed gaze. There's no way she's not at least a little bit sexually frustrated after the week they'd had and especially not after last night. Unless…


"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" Lucy pushes past him and heads toward her room to get changed.

He catches her around the waist, swinging her back into his chest as she laughs. Tim leans over her shoulder to press a few sloppy kisses to her cheek.

"Timmm," she groans, reaching a hand up to wipe away the lingering wetness. But despite her protest, she relaxes back into his hold and arches her head back against his shoulder as he slides the strap of her tank top out of his way and delivers a few substantially less slobbery kisses along her shoulder.

She sighs with pleasure — she never would have pegged him for someone that was all that physically affectionate outside of the bedroom (though, arguably, he is currently attempting to get her into bed). But she's loving every minute of it.

His lips brush her ear, "What'd you do after we got home last night, Lucy?"

Her brow crinkles in confusion. "What do you mean? You know what I did — I went to bed."

She feigns innocence but can already feel the heat prickling her cheeks.

"Uh-huh… You know, it's weird. I swear my Rams shirt was right at the top of my hamper yesterday, but this morning it was just… gone. You haven't seen it, have you?"

Lucy shrugs. Be cool, Soda Pop.

She tries to think about anything other than breathing in his scent as her fingers had worked diligently to remediate their little "balance" issue from the night prior. It doesn't work.

She can feel her cheeks flame. Busted.

He chuckles, squeezing her a little tighter. "You know I'm right here, ready to be of service… whenever you're ready for the real thing, Lucy," his voice is throaty and just smug enough to turn her on and piss her off at the same time.

But she's never really been gracious in defeat. She pulls out of his arms in a huff. "I don't know what you're talking about, Tim. But just to set the record straight — unlike you, I'm perfectly fine with delayed gratification."


Tim's eyes narrow at the infuriating creature that, unfortunately for him, has also become the object of his affection. "What do you mean unlike me?"

"Hmm, nothing really… just that you were ready to get on your knees and beg is all…" Her level of self-satisfaction is outrageous.

"I was not," he refutes with righteous indignation best suited to a twelve-year-old.

He absolutely was, but that's beside the point, and he's certainly not going to admit that to little miss 'delayed gratification' over there.

"Sure… whatever you say, Tim," she taunts.

They stare at each other, locked in a silent standoff as they size one another up and try to figure out exactly what they are arguing about and — more importantly — how to win.


"Perfectly fine with delayed gratification, huh?" Tim retorts.

"That is what I said," Lucy asserts defiantly.

She absolutely is not; like her peers, she's really more of an instant gratification type. But she's certainly not going to admit that to cocky mister 'ready for the real thing' over there.

"Huh. Well… I guess we'll see about that." His lips curve into a rakish smirk that makes her knees feel a bit wobbly.

She nonchalantly places a hand on the counter to steady herself, while forcing a confident nod.

His lips twitch as he follows her movement, and it's so damn rude. But also, why the hell does he have to be so damn hot? How can she be expected to function when he looks at her like that? It's truly ludicrous.

"I guess we will," Lucy challenges back with the petulance of a fifth grader.

Wait, what?

What does that even mean? Certainly not anything good for her, considering they'll be working through their next attempts at sensual seduction this weekend. And this time, Tim will be in the driver's seat.

Well, shit.


"Now remember, you want to apply the oil in a structured way. Put it in one hand first and then warm it up by rubbing your hands together. Use short strokes at first. Long strokes don't work until we have an oil base."

Lucy's kneeling behind a half-naked Tim, whose only wearing a pair of low-slung sweatpants.

And she's trying to focus — she really and truly is — but she's finding it awfully difficult. Of course she's seen him shirtless before. She's felt his chiseled upper body underneath her palms, felt it pressed against her own bare chest. But she's never really had the opportunity to study him in this way — to focus on nothing other than his broad shoulders, the muscular definition of his back, and his sculpted arms.

Why is it so damn hot in here? It's summer in LA. The entire globe is in the process of warming. You'd think they'd know to crank up the AC.

She bites her lip as she dribbles a few drops of oil between his shoulder blades and watches as they slowly traverse down the planes of his body. Delicious.

"Oh, no. Not like that, Lucy. Here, let me show you."

Lucy frowns, shifting back, as one of their two instructors, Mercedes, moves between her and Tim, rubbing the oil between her hands before rubbing her hands over Tim's upper back and shoulders.

Does her unhappiness have anything to do with the fact that Mercedes is a literal swimsuit model? It most certainly does not. She'd be annoyed at any woman who was so blatantly disrespecting her reality TV marriage.

The pretty instructor has been glancing over at them all afternoon, taking every opportunity to come over and correct Lucy and put her hands all over Tim in the process.

And did he — did he just groan with pleasure? She is going to murder him.

"See — just like this," Mercedes demonstrates. "Do you want me to show you again?"

Tim sighs something that sounds a little too much like "yes" for someone who ever wants to see her naked again.

Lucy's voice is tight when she finally responds, "No. Thanks. I think I've got it from here."

She pinches the back of Tim's arm as she settles back in behind him once Mercedes moves on to help another struggling masseuse-in-training.

He yelps in protest. "I don't think you're doing that right, Lucy," he complains as he leans away from her touch.

"Want me to ask Mercedes to come back and demonstrate again?" she hisses into his ear.

"Is that an option?"

And though she knows he is absolutely goading her, it still earns him a solid thwack.

"Whoops, sorry, just trying out that tapotement technique… guess I need a little more practice," Lucy explains sweetly when a few curious eyes turn in their direction.

Tim rubs his still tingling shoulder, grumbling something about her not being able to take a joke.

Mercedes is like a moth to a flame for the rest of the afternoon, and try as he might to appear unaffected and disinterested, it's pretty obvious Tim is enjoying the attention.

Lucy's so pissed she can't even enjoy what a flustered, awkward weirdo Tim turns into every time the pretty instructor comes around, oozing her sexual energy all over him.

Shockingly, when it comes time for Lucy to seduce Tim with her newly acquired skills later that evening, the massage isn't particularly steamy. But at least it's efficient. Production quickly moves once they realize there is quite literally nothing to see beyond Lucy experimentally poking and prodding at Tim's back while he whines about her technique, or lack thereof.

Tim flips onto his back once the small crew leaves them alone in the private massage room.

Apparently finally ready to move beyond his massage class infidelity, Lucy teasingly bends deeper than necessary over the table as she slides his hands up his chest.

He groans his appreciation, eyes locked on the rapidly lowering cut of her tank top. "Now this is more like it."

She eventually shifts downward to work on his thighs. Lucy raises an eyebrow when a little tent appears in the thin sheet draped over his pelvis. "Do you always have that reaction during a massage?"

He reaches over to squeeze her side. "Only when the masseuse is as hot as you are."

Lucy eyes him distrustfully, "Does that mean this has happened before?"

"Would it bother you if it had?" Tim asks lazily, too blissed out to notice just how far into the danger zone he's waded.

"That depends… did it happen earlier with Mercedes?"

Tim opens his mouth to plead innocence, but it's too late, she's caught the flash of guilt in his expression.

"I think we're done here," Lucy snaps, throwing his robe over his chest and turning on her heel to exit.

"Lucy — come on. It's just biology… it doesn't mean anything… I was thinking about you…"

So much for his happy ending.


Lucy's still a little ticked off when they make it back home later that evening.

"Lucy," Tim pleads as he follows her into the apartment. She leans back against the kitchen island, crossing her arms in annoyance as she waits for him to grovel. Because he is definitely going to have to grovel.

"Come on. Why are you so mad? All that stuff back in class — you know I was kidding. The only hands I want on me are yours. Come here."

"That's not what it sounded like," she fumes, not budging an inch.

His lips twitch, and she sees red. "I'm sorry — do you find something funny about this, Tim?" she seethes.

Tim shakes his head and chuckles before crossing over to her and pulling her into his arms. "I do actually. I find it hilarious that you're so dumb."

"That is the worst apology I've ever heard."

She pushes back from his chest, and he hurries to finish. "I just mean… you have absolutely nothing to worry about, Lucy."

"Who says I'm worried?" she grumbles, but then gradually relaxes into his hold, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "I'm listening…"


Tim has to admit he's kind of enjoying this. While things have been undeniably hot and heavy between them, he's still trying to get a read on where Lucy's head is. Fucked up as it is, it's kind of reassuring that she's bothered by the idea of him getting attention from another woman. And he's finding this little jealous streak of hers kind of adorable.

They settle onto the floor in the living room — Tim with his back against the couch, and Lucy seated between his legs.

"You know I'd take a shitty massage from you over an amazing massage from Mercedes any day, right?"

Lucy scoffs. "Needs improvement," she evaluates. Then, "Even with my tapotement technique?"

He laughs. "Especially with your tapotement technique. I kind of like it when you get a little feisty."

She bites back a smile. "You're an idiot."

He slides his hands down the length of her arms and presses his lips to her shoulder. He settles his hands over hers.

"You know I'm crazy about you, right?" He slides his hands back up her arms, continuing on to work up into her shoulder blades and back as she sighs with pleasure.

"Hmmph," is Lucy's only response.

Tim grins, allowing his hands to settle on her shoulders. "Because you're amazing…"

"Go on…"

He leans in to kiss the nape of her neck. "And fearless… and too damn smart…"

Lucy arches back as Tim slides his hands down her sides, settling on her hips as he turns his focus to working his thumbs into her lower back.

"How am I doing?" he breathes into her ear.

"Mmm… good. So good. Don't stop."

Tim chuckles, resting his chin on her shoulder as he slides his hold around to her front, kneading into her hips and upper thighs. "And so ridiculously talented… excluding volleyball, of course. And funny… and too damn caring for your own good… "

The sound of her moan cuts him off, and he laughs out loud, giving up on the massage and instead wrapping his arms around her, pulling her firmly back against his chest. "Oh you like that, huh?" he rumbles in her ear.

"Mmmhmm," she twists around, angling her face toward his.

Tim leans down to graze his lips over hers. "And." He kisses her again, this time delivering a proper peck. "So." His lips work more earnestly against hers until he gets them to part. "Fucking." He slips his tongue into her mouth, swallowing her soft sounds of pleasure as he pulls her practically into his lap for a better angle to explore her. "Hot."

She's turned completely sideways and they're both breathing heavily once he finally releases her.

Lucy gazes dreamily up at him. "You're really fucking hot, too."

Tim waits patiently for her to continue. But, apparently, she's done. He frowns, "That's it?"

"Really, really hot?" Lucy revises, offering him her most angelic smile.

He frowns, and then lifts her off his lap and gets to his feet.

"Where are you going?" Lucy whines, fingers tangling in his as she attempts to stop him.

Tim returns her deceptively innocent expression. "I wouldn't want to spoil you for tomorrow, Lucy. Besides, what was that you were saying? Something about how much you love delayed gratification?"

Lucy narrows her eyes as Tim turns his hand in hers and tightens his grip to help her to her feet. He dips his head to kiss her again once she's upright.

"Or… you could just admit you're a lying liar who lies, and I'll take you to bed right now, Lucy," he growls in her ear as he gives her ass a playful squeeze.

'Hmmph," she tilts her head back and pulls him back down to her for a final, lingering kiss good night.

"You wish, Bradford," she pokes him in the chest before turning on her heel to head for her room.

She pauses and then turns back to face him. "And Tim?"

"Yeah?"

She lifts her finger to point at him, "If I wanted you to take me to bed, you'd take me to bed. No ifs, ands, or buts about it."

He grins because she's absolutely right.

"Is that an invitation?" he asks wolfishly.

Lucy holds back a laugh as she shakes her head at him. "You really are an idiot. Good night, Tim."


Week 5, Day 1: Sunday

"Did they just turn on porn and leave?" Lucy asks incredulously as she turns to stare at Tim.

He arches an eyebrow and shrugs nonchalantly. "I think it's pretty clear what we're supposed to be doing." He gestures toward the screen where a male masseuse is massaging a completely naked, oiled-up woman with an offensively perfect body.

"Don't worry, Lucy. I've received extensive training. I know exactly what I'm doing," he pompously reassures her.

The extensive training was an additional hour of class the men attended this morning to cover advanced techniques for their private sessions today that weren't exactly suited for broadcast television

"The goal of tantric massage is to awaken your sexual energy, deepen the intimacy between you and your partner, and increase mindfulness of sexual pleasure and your body," the narrator explains. The voiceover continues to explain that the goal is not orgasm, even as Lucy feels the heat pooling in her lower belly.

Despite herself, she can feel her cheeks flush as she imagines Tim doing to her what the man on screen is doing to his partner.

She narrows her eyes at Tim, opening her mouth to set him straight.

"Yeah, yeah," Tim fills in before she can speak. "You wish, Bradford," Tim mimics in a high-pitched, offensively squeaky voice.

"That's too bad. I was actually going to say that looked pretty fucking hot. But we can do it your way."


Tim's hands are warm and the strength of his fingers working into the muscles of her upper back is pretty damn amazing.

"Why are you so tense, Lucy?" Tim teases in a tone with just enough goading for her to know he assumes it's sexual tension. The ego on this man.

"It's clearly the stress of being married to you…" she sighs with pleasure as he adds more pressure in exactly the right spot. He is really damn good at this.

"Uh-huh."

Things only get better as he continues to work his way down his body.

But despite his teasing, he's mostly behaving himself. Possibly a little too well.

His hands creep up her thighs in a way that has her thinking he might be about to earn himself a punch in the face, but also in a way that has her aching, wishing he would keep going. And dammit to hell he is prob eating up the fact that she is so totally and completely turned on.

"Time to flip over," he says, lifting the sheet in a way that is clearly giving him a full-on view of her backside and is not even going to cover her top half once she flips. He isn't even attempting to hide his appreciation of the view. So much for behaving himself.

Lucy shoves at him. "Yeah, no — you drop the sheet and turn around. I'll handle the flipping."

He stares at her innocently. "I spent a lot of time on my flipping technique in class. You're in good hands I promise."

"I'm sure." She rolls her eyes.

Occasional gentleman that he is, Tim begrudgingly turns around but is clearly not done with his quest to seduce her. "You know… we learned some other techniques in that class, Lucy. Some techniques that I think you might like."

"Mmm, I'm sure you did. Did you practice on Mercedes?"

Tim snorts but softens as he turns back around to face her. He reaches down to cradle her cheek with his hand and she automatically leans into his to touch.

"Let me take care of you?" he asks softly, brushing his thumb over her cheek.

Her entire body is screaming yes — more than ready to feel this man touch her in all the ways she's been fantasizing about for far too long.

And yet… she hesitates.

She's not sure why she's suddenly feeling so apprehensive about letting him 'seduce' her or the idea of a tantric massage, but she is. It had been different on Friday during her striptease when she'd been the one calling the shots.

This isn't like that. Without control, she feels vulnerable in a way that isn't exactly putting her in the mood to have her Yoni awakened. Which is a damn shame, because, to be honest, this type of spiritual, meditative practice focused on energy is completely up her alley.

And seeing Tim — king of goat yoga that he is — so willing to embrace all of it (though surely, the naked rubbing part has something to do with it), is pretty damn hot in itself.

Something flickers in his gaze and when their eyes meet, Lucy can see it — a tiny flash of uncertainty and even a bit of confusion as he waits for her response and tries to get a read on what she's thinking.

And of course he's confused. Hell, she's confused. They've been flirting with and teasing each other all weekend, presumably building to this exact moment.

"Tim, I —" she wishes she knew what to tell him. Wishes she herself knew what the problem was.

"It's okay, Lucy. I'm not trying to pressure you. I don't want to do anything you're not comfortable with," he says.

And god this is so frustrating. Because she absolutely wants this. Wants him.

And maybe, for whatever reason, she's just putting too much weight on this one thing — feeling like somehow letting him do this signifies some huge shift in their relationship, when, in actuality, they've been all over each other and pushing those boundaries for days.

She's overthinking it, she decides, going back to a mantra that has proven to be pretty damn problematic for her once before already. Sex can just be sex, can't it? It doesn't have to mean something significant. On some level, she could even argue this is perhaps the most transactional of all of their physical encounters — a quid pro quo for Friday night if you will.

And then, on the complete opposite side of the spectrum of her insane rationalizing, she wants him to know that she wants this, that she's comfortable being with him in this way. Because she is, isn't she?

She knows he means what he said, that, despite their idiotic out-of-control flirting and foreplay, he would never, ever push her. But she also knows how she would feel if the positions were reversed — how the mixed signals would make her question him and how he feels toward her. And that's the last thing she wants, though it's absolutely not a reason for her to do this.

None of these things are reasons she should or shouldn't do this. The only reason that matters is exactly the reason Tim has posited — that it's something she wants to do and it's something she's 100% comfortable with.

She grabs hold of his hand. "Come here."

She reaches up to pull him down toward her, kissing him in a way that she hopes is enough for him to know she is still completely in this with him, despite not being sure she wants to take things any further right now.

But when he kisses her back with just as much softness and tenderness and understanding, it's enough for her hesitations to begin to fade, to remember how much she craves closeness with him, and provide yet another reassurance that he has shown her over and over again that he's not the same man who hurt her.

He presses his lips to her forehead before pulling back, fingers twining into hers. "Let's get out of here," he suggests, pulling her hand to his mouth.

"Mmm. No way," Lucy's eyes sparkle with mischief. "I fully expect you to deliver on that sexual favor you just offered me, Officer."

Tim laughs out loud, shaking his head. His expression turns more serious as he gazes down at her.

"Are you sure, Lucy? I promise — all of the teasing aside — I would never want you to feel like you need to do something because I —"

Lucy shakes her head, cutting him off. "I know you wouldn't. And I wouldn't either. I want to, Tim. I'm sure."

He leans down to kiss her again. "You wanna stop, we'll stop. Just say the word."

She nods, body already heating in anticipation of his touch. His perfect read on and response to her uncertainly only making her want him more.

He turns up the warmer on the bed, and then, eyes on hers, he grabs hold of the sheet waiting for her nod before he pulls it down to her waist and then completely off of her.

And though Lucy fully expects him to dive right into the fun bits, he doesn't. Instead, he slowly and methodically works his way over her entire body, working over her shoulders, and arms, and abdomen, and hips, and legs all the way down to her feet. And shit, he is so damn good at this.

His eyes unabashedly devour her as he works, and though, maybe in concept, this should make her feel like she's on display or exposed, it instead makes her feel sexy, and beautiful, and appreciated in a way she's not entirely sure she's ever felt before. It also makes her ache to feel his hands on all of the places his gaze is lingering.

By the time he finally works his way back up to her chest, Lucy is a strange combination of absurdly turned on and blissed out — a heady mix that makes her feel a bit like this is some alternate reality.

He palms her breasts and works over and around them both with broad circular strokes. She exhales a deep sigh of pleasure.

Gradually, he makes the circles smaller, until his sole focus is on her nipples, gently working over them by moving his thumbs in the same round motion. Eventually, he shifts his hold so that he is grasping the taut peaks between his forefinger and thumb, torturously rotating between gentle rolling, pinching, and tugging gestures that could very well drive her completely mad with want.

Her body tenses as her build and need for release intensifies.

"Doing okay?" he asks softly.

She can't even manage to force her eyes open she's so caught up in enjoying his touch, instead just offering an "Mmmhmm," that's half mumble, half moan.

The tension increases when he works his way south, cupping his hand between her legs and moving it in a slow, soft circular motion. He gradually flattens his grip, his palm pressing up against her opening as he continues to massage.

Lucy's toes curl and she bends her knees up, parting her legs further for him as she continues to fight the strange euphoric battle between arousal and relaxation.

He works her folds between his fingers in a rolling motion, starting on the outside and then working his way in.

She emits a vocal gasp when his fingers find her clit, making those same torturous circles with the tips of his fingers — sometimes smaller and sometimes larger, sometimes one way and sometimes the other. Sometimes circles and sometimes pulsing. Sometimes pulsing and sometimes tugging. It's just enough variation to repeatedly disrupt her build in a way that is somehow both infuriating and so fucking delicious.

By the time he slips his middle finger inside of her, curving it in just the right way, she is completely and thoroughly edged. She cries out in response to his skillful movements, ready to beg him to take her the rest of the way.

When he stops, she has to stop herself from screaming in protest, only soothed when she realizes he is climbing up onto the table, settling himself between her legs.

He dips his head to kiss her, and his lips are everything to her in that moment — soft and warm and teasing in a way that has her debating where she wants his mouth more.

He decides for her, sliding down her body and lifting his eyes to hers for permission. She is practically panting as she nods vigorously.

He kisses down her neck, pausing briefly to take each of her nipples into the warmth of his mouth before continuing his path south.

The length of the table doesn't give him a ton of space to work with, and Lucy can feel that he's not entirely comfortable by the way he keeps shifting positions. It's making it harder for her to stay in the moment despite how ridiculously amazing he's made her feel. How amazing he is continuing to make her feel with movements of his lips and his tongue against her center.

He finally pulls back when it's clear she isn't getting any closer.

"Let's try another position?" he suggests, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth and attempting to catch his breath.

She pushes up onto her elbows, grateful he has another idea, since clearly what they are doing isn't working for either of them.

He gets to his feet and then helps her off the table, quickly taking over her position — lying flat on his back on the table.

"Come here," he instructs, jutting his chin upward to indicate just exactly where 'here' is.

Lucy's eyes widen when she realizes he's expecting her to sit on his face. He laughs, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "I promise I want to… if you're up for it, that is."

She nods slowly, warming to the idea of a position that will give her more control. She carefully works her way back onto the table, straddling his face in a kneeling position and bracing herself with her hands gripping the corners of the table.

He hooks his arms around her thighs to stabilize her, so she can sit back and relax without worrying about her balance.

It takes them a bit to find their rhythm with Lucy mostly staying stationary until Tim squeezes her thighs and encourages her to, "Use me however you need to."

And god it feels really, really damn good, but it doesn't take either of them all that long to realize she's having trouble fully relaxing and putting her guard down in this particular position.

She finally lifts completely off of him, shifting into a seated position in the small space above his head, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "I — I'm not going to get there," she says, not entirely meeting Tim's eyes as he sits up and turns to face her.

She's suddenly feeling all of the things she had feared, but hasn't actually had to confront until now —- vulnerable and exposed and maybe even a little embarrassed, though she knows she has absolutely no reason to be. And though he's been nothing but amazing and sweet and supportive, she can't help but realize she isn't entirely sure those are things she's comfortable feeling with this man again.


Tim takes her in. The way she's sitting makes her look so small.

"It's okay, Lucy. It's not a big deal," he reassures immediately, even though the words don't feel quite right. "Not that there's any reason it wouldn't be okay. I just —" he runs a flustered hand back through his air, feeling suddenly, painfully far away from her in this moment and completely unsure of how to bridge the divide.

He knows this really and truly isn't a big deal. It happens all of the time. It's not the physical part of this that's distressing him. It's the way she's pulling away, closing off to him.

Orgasm aside, he can't help but think back on their first time — how trusting and free-spirited she had been. He feels like a slick of sludge has lodged itself in the back of his throat because he knows he took that from her. And he hates himself a little more for it. Can't help but wonder if she'll ever be able to be completely comfortable with him again.

He slides off of the table, grabbing a wipe off of the counter to clean off his face before moving around until he's standing in front of her. He wraps his arms around her and feels almost immediate relief when she doesn't pull away, but instead slips her arms around him to return the hug, burying her face into his chest.


She's not sure how much time passes with him just holding her, but god it feels so good to just be held and reassured.

She pulls back to look at him and he slides his hands soothingly down her arms.

He looks like he wants to say something, but is clearly conflicted.

She presses a kiss to his jaw. "What? You can say it. Whatever it is."

"I'm just wondering if — I don't know. Do you — do you think you can get yourself there? And if I'm being an idiot, just tell me and I'll shut the hell up."

Lucy shrugs, chewing her bottom lip thoughtfully. She's genuinely surprised at the question. A lot of men would be too busy coddling their own bruised egos in a situation like this to still be trying to figure out a way to please her that didn't rely entirely on their own abilities in the bedroom (or lack thereof).

"I don't know. Maybe."

Tim nods, "I can leave… if you want to…"

Lucy shakes her head, tightening her hold on him. "I don't want you to."

He presses his lips to her temple, "I'll do whatever you want me to."

"Kiss me?"

He nods, leaning down to cover her mouth with his own, attempting to channel just how deeply he cares about her, how deeply sorry he is for everything he's done to hurt her, into the display of affection.

"Hold me?"

Tim climbs back onto the table and Lucy shifts over to make space for him. She settles in between his legs, relaxing back against his chest, as he wraps his arms around her.

And it turns out Tim isn't a complete idiot, because when Lucy does manage to get herself there, it is one of the most spectacular orgasms she's ever had thanks to all of the edging and foreplay, even despite the little detour.

She curls into him afterward, and he tugs her up more tightly against his chest. He grabs another wipe, reaching down between her legs to gently clean her up, and then pulls the sheet over her tucking her in against his chest.

Lucy can't help but think about her idiotic train of thought as she had spiraled earlier — nothing about this feels transactional. He's been so tender and sweet and caring with her. Whatever is happening between them could not be further from transactional. And that in itself is a little bit terrifying.

Tim tightens his hold on her. "Lucy, I need you to know that what happened in Mexico — when I told you I wasn't sure if I could have feelings for you —"

Lucy stiffens and Tim stops short. "That's not what you said."

Tim's brow crinkles in confusion, because, in all honesty, that morning is all a blur of heightened emotion for him. He can't actually remember his exact words. But obviously, Lucy hasn't forgotten them.

"You said you already knew you couldn't." She heaves a frustrated sigh and begins to shift in his arms. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. There's no point in rehashing this. It's done. You've apologized. I just want to move on."

Tim wants to argue, to point out that it clearly does matter if just mentioning it bothers her this much, but he doesn't. This afternoon has been hard enough for her when all he'd wanted it to be was fun and relaxing and a way for him to show her just how much he adores her.

She turns to face him, seeming to sense the shift in his mood as a result of her dismissal. She pulls him down to her for a sweet kiss. "This was amazing, Tim. Seriously. Thank you."

Tim nods, though he's not honestly feeling much like he deserves the gratitude.

She pulls the sheet more tightly around herself and climbs off of the table, "Let's get out of here?"


Lucy's back to her chipper, positive self by the time they make their way out to the parking lot. Tim is still a bit in his head, but he tries to keep his focus on her and to allow her bright energy to take some of the weight off of his chest.

"Lucy!" a voice calls from behind them.

They both turn.

"Oh good lord," Lucy grumbles as they spot Mercedes hurrying toward them, proving that she is highly capable of channeling both sunshine and grumpy in a span of thirty seconds.

She forces a smile while Tim attempts to maintain an expression that conveys complete and total innocence.

"Hey — sorry! I didn't want to miss you, Lucy. Look. I — uh — I know you guys are married, but well, it's reality TV, so I figured — um, well, you know…" She extends a card to Lucy, "If you'd ever want to go out or something, I'd really like that. My number's on there."

Lucy's eyes go wide as Tim doubles over with laughter once Mercedes is out of earshot. "What exactly is so funny, Tim?"

She shoves at him as he straightens, wiping tears from his eyes. "You were so jealous," he gasps.

"I was not. Wait — did you — did you know, Tim? That she was interested in me?"

He shrugs, still fighting back his laughter. "She may have asked about you once or twice…"

"Oh my god. You are the literal worst, Tim. You know what? Laugh it up, because in case you haven't noticed, that woman is a literal swimsuit model. Maybe you're the one that should be jealous."