Author's Note: The end of this chapter has been slightly revised to take back Jane's declaration of love, which was originally here. I decided their talk about their feelings fit better a little way down the line, in Bulgaria, so I deleted it, and the following chapter. :)

Kurt's arm was almost asleep, but he didn't care. Jane was in his bed, under the covers and cocooned within his embrace, sleeping off the exhaustion of the day. He was a little sleepy, a little uncomfortable, but not enough that he wanted to risk waking her by pulling his arm out from under her.

If he'd ever been this content before, he couldn't remember when.

They'd been curled up together with the bedside lamp on, talking for a while before falling into comfortable silence. Jane had fallen asleep before Kurt could turn out the light, and he'd memorised her features, so unguarded now. This moment was such a contrast to the last time they'd shared a bed, back in Kalina's motel room, when her face had been mottled with bruises and her forehead creased with pain even in her sleep.

Things were so different now. Jane was still struggling, but she could smile again. She could look at him without distrust or guilt being visible on her face. She could move without pain.

And he had forgiven her. Seeing how hard she was working to solve the tattoo cases, to right wrongs and to gather intel on her terrorist family's plans, had melted the last of the ice that had frozen his heart the night he'd found Taylor's body. She wasn't who he'd thought she was, and she'd made mistakes, but she was herself. Jane. The woman he loved.

The conversation they'd had earlier, where she'd apologised for using him for sex without considering how he felt, gave him hope that soon she'd be ready to hear how much he cared. He didn't want to pressure her into pretending she felt more than she did, or to leap into anything too serious, too soon. It would be a huge weight off his mind if she agreed to see no one else while they were doing…whatever this was that they were doing.

Jane sighed and turned over in her sleep, and he took the opportunity to extricate his arm from under her. It immediately began to tingle as blood flow was restored to the limb, and he wriggled his fingers to speed up the process.

She'd been asleep for about an hour, and he was pretty sure she'd have a nightmare coming on soon. More than anything, he wished he could take them away. She didn't deserve to keep suffering at Keaton's hands, night after night in her dreams.

Even worse had been her revelation that Kurt also featured in her nightmares. He'd been so selfish the night he'd found out Jane wasn't Taylor. If he'd been thinking straight, he would have realised that she had no experience with rejection the way most people did. Rejection started at a young age, and the mind built up a callus to protect itself from hurt and betrayal as time went on. Kurt was no psychologist, but it seemed as though Jane had been hit so hard by his actions because that callus had been stripped away by the ZIP, and she'd had less than a year to build up a new resistance to rejection.

On top of that, he'd been an unreasonable asshole. It was a miracle she was even willing to speak to him now, let alone share his bed.

Pushing away the darker thoughts, Kurt pressed his nose against Jane's hair, pressing closer against her back. The past was the past, and she was here with him now. He could work on proving to her every day that he would never hurt her like that again.

He must have fallen asleep for a while, but when he woke up, Jane still hadn't stirred. It had been a couple of months since he'd last been in a position to rouse her from her nightmares; maybe they came less frequently now.

Or maybe one was on the way.

It was the weekend and they could sleep late. Maybe if he woke her with positive stimuli before a nightmare took hold of her, when she fell asleep again she'd be too tired to dream.

Sure, Weller, he told himself, not buying his own bullshit for a second. That's the only reason you're thinking of waking Jane up.

Jane was warm, sleepy and safe, drifting on the edge of consciousness. A comforting, familiar scent surrounded her, though that same scent also gave her a distant spark of arousal.

Someone else was with her, a solid presence against her back. His body was warmer than hers, and she burrowed back against it, smiling a little when his arm tightened around her and pulled her more securely against him.

Light, repetitive touches against the back of her neck made her skin tingle. His hand rested between her breasts, over her heart, his thumb stroking languidly back and forth.

My starting point. Why did that seem familiar? She was too sleepy to analyse it.

The warmth at her back withdrew a short distance, and his kisses moved lower, beginning to travel down her spine. More tingles, flowing down her nerve endings and collecting low in her belly. She…wanted. Wanted him.

She rolled onto her stomach, granting him easier access as the kisses brushed lower. They tickled, the slightly scratchy roughness of his stubble giving way to warm touches. She tilted her hips down into the mattress, then back again, seeking…something. His kisses didn't go down far enough, reversing course to travel back up towards her neck again.

Jane gave a soft whimper, encouragement and frustration rolled into one needy sound. He stroked down over her ass to the backs of her thighs, his fingers following the patterns of the tattoos there, and she spread her legs apart in invitation without turning over. He ran his fingers up one of her inner thighs, down the other, still kissing her back and shoulders.

After an eternity of teasing, he finally slid his fingers between her legs, exploring, seeking out her clit. Even then, his touch wasn't enough, too slow and light to do more than frustrate her. Her skin was sensitised, anticipating, her pulse beating right where she wanted his attention most.

"More," she murmured, not sure whether it was a demand or a plea.

He put his hand on her hip, nudging a suggestion, and she gladly turned onto her back.

"Jane…"

She smiled at the familiar voice. "Mmmm…"

He laughed softly against her ear, stroking a path up and down from just below her breasts to her lower abdomen. "Are you even awake?"

"Mmm-hmm…" He needed to talk less and touch her more.

"Prove it. Kiss me."

Kisses were exactly what she wanted. She reached out for him, eyes still closed, and found the slope of his shoulder. From there, she explored up to the back of his neck and pulled him down to her.

His kiss was slow but heated, his tongue stroking across hers, then withdrawing, making her chase him. When he moved out of range, she finally opened her eyes to glare at him. "You're teasing me."

"I haven't even started yet." Amused, Kurt brushed her hair back from her face. "I didn't want to take advantage of you while you were sleeping."

"Take advantage now. I want you to." She pulled him into another kiss, and he gave a startled laugh against her lips before succumbing to her request.

"Are you sure?" he asked, when he lifted his head again. "Because I want to do this my way…"

His way had been more than satisfactory earlier. She smiled up at him. "What do you need me to do?"

"Just lie there and feel it."

Jane shivered as he took her hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. She'd never realised that part of her body was so sensitive. He continued a trail of soft kisses farther up her arm, teasing the inside of her elbow joint with his tongue for similar results. His eyes were closed; he was completely focused on his task, and that was almost as erotic as what he was actually doing.

He lingered at her shoulder for a moment, then kissed over her collar bone and down to her breast, cupping it with one hand and using his talented tongue to coax the nipple into hardness. Jane arched up into the touch, as he drew the sensitive peak into his mouth and bit down gently.

Everything he did sent more frissons of lust down to her clit. By the time he'd given her other breast as much tantalising attention as the first, her hips were shifting of their own accord, her body desperate for friction.

Kurt kissed the burning rose tattoo above her navel, then defied her expectations, tracing his lips up, around and down the body of the snake that curved over her left breast and down her side. When he reached its tail and began tracing his tongue over the coliseum pillars at the lowest point of her abdomen, Jane's heart skipped with anticipation.

The bastard skipped down her hipbone to the top of her leg, completely bypassing where she needed to feel him. Jane covered her face with her hands, gasping with frustration. "Kurt…"

His stubble against her inner thighs felt amazing, but not as good as his breath on her clit as he laughed. Blue eyes shining with amusement in the lamplight, he said, "I did warn you this was gonna be my way."

Consigning herself to more unbearable teasing, Jane raised her head off the pillow and grinned down at him. "Bring it, Weller."

Kurt pressed a quick kiss to her clit, then told her, "Your safeword is 'mercy'."

"Safeword? Why do I need a safeword?" She'd been trained in torture resistance; she was pretty sure she could withstand a little sexual torment.

Weller nuzzled the inside of one of her thighs, watching her with that same playful sparkle in his gaze. "Because in a while, you're going to start telling me, 'no more, stop, I can't take any more' and I'm going to ignore you."

A quiver of expectancy ran through her at his words. "You're pretty confident for a guy who's not doing anything," she told him. "Twenty dollars says I don't beg at all."

His eyebrow rose, and he gave her a look that was sexy and mischievous and determined all at once. "Challenge accepted."

Oh, this man…

Was this her sixth orgasm, or her seventh? Maybe it was still her first, going on and on and on and…

"Oh, fuck, no, no more…"

She could swear he laughed against her clit, and that did nothing to bring her down from her high. Overheated, dry-mouthed from gasping, with every muscle in her body turned to jelly, Jane groaned as she realised she'd done exactly what she'd vowed she wouldn't.

"That wasn't begging."

Weller lifted his head from between her legs, his fingers—she'd lost track of how many—still buried inside her, stroking over her sweet spot. "Uh-huh. Remember, your safeword is 'mercy'."

Before she could formulate an intelligent argument, he went right back to work, his tongue stroking up one side of her clit with a confidence born of seven orgasms of practice. He knew exactly what he was doing now, where every one of her triggers was, and oh my God oh my God—

She was so tired, her body completely worn out by the tension and release that alternately wracked her body. It felt so mind-blowingly wonderful, but she couldn't keep this up…could she?

Jane reached down a shaking hand to his head, not sure if she was guiding him or pushing him away. Either way, it made no difference. She was panting for breath, her head tossing on the pillow, as she vocalised her frustration through moans that did nothing to relieve her tension. "Oh, God… oh, please, Kurt…"

Was she asking him to stop, or to continue? She didn't even know. Her mind was a muddled mess, her composure a distant dream, and as his devious tongue curved over her clit just right, she grabbed the bedcovers for purchase, needing something to hold on to as her world tilted yet again.

Almost sobbing with exhausted, over-satisfied, under-fulfilled, contradictory pleasure, she wrestled with the idea of giving in. It reminded her of the time she'd been ordered to give up and ring the bell by the drill sergeant during her time in the military—only this time she really was done in, unable to go any further.

Tears in her eyes, she looked down to find him watching her carefully, even though he was still thoroughly worshipping her body. As if he knew she was struggling with her own stubborn streak. Ready to end this ecstatic, terrible torment the second he judged she couldn't take it.

The knowledge that he cared, truly cared about more than just scoring points to brag about later… That, more than anything his mouth and fingers were doing, was enough to tip her into another shuddering, half-screaming orgasm, better than all the others. A slow-breaking, intense wave that just got more and more intense when she expected it to subside.

It took her a few moments afterward to remember how to speak, her toes still curled and her whole body tingling. But finally, she managed. "Mercy. I need… I need to hold you. Please?"

Kurt slowly withdrew his fingers as she floated on the residual tremors of her climax, but instead of coming back up to lie with her, he kissed her stomach. "I promise I'll be right back."

He was as good as his word, returning a minute later with the most welcome object he could offer her at that moment—a glass of water. She'd been panting and gasping for so long, her mouth and throat were parched. Jane took the water from him with an unsteady hand, and drank it all down with only one small pause to breathe.

"Thank you so much," she said, as he took the empty glass and put it on the nightstand. "I really needed that."

Kurt drew her into his embrace, and she clung tightly to him, her ear over his beating heart, one leg over his. He was still aroused, and she knew she had done nothing but take pleasure from him with nothing in return, but she was so wrung out, physically and mentally, that she was next to useless.

He'd knocked down all her walls, climax by climax, reducing her ability to guard her emotions to nothing. It wasn't the physical sensations that had done it, but his selflessness, his concern for her limits, even that damn glass of water. And now he was just holding her the way she'd asked, not insisting that she get him off, just stroking her hair and letting her process.

She tightened her arm around him as emotion swelled in her chest, warmth and intensity and…

To own the feeling, you have to name it, Jane.

But if she named it, she had to own it. To deal with it. And she wasn't ready, not yet.

Was it even real? How would she know if it wasn't? All she could say for sure was that she'd never felt this way about Oscar, and he was the only other romantic experience she had to compare this to.

She shook herself out of her introspection and leaned in to kiss him again. She'd taken a huge step already tonight, acknowledging that she'd hurt him by using him for sex. And she hadn't fled from his bed; that was a milestone, too. Anything else would be rushing things.