A/N - Here be dragons... M-rated content ahead.

...

She awoke before dawn to the sound of him dressing. Peter cursed quietly as he tried to reunite his discarded shoes and socks – a job made all the more difficult without any natural light.

Assumpta leaned back on her pillow, basking in what had happened – and what very nearly could have happened. He'd spent the night. Peter – her Peter – had actually slept in her bed, in her sheets, on her pillow. It felt too giddy to be real. She rolled over to his side of the bed – no longer that sad and redundant area which she usually kept her robe and magazines. His side. It was still warm from where he'd lain, his large and awkward frame positioned gawkily on her queen-sized double. The landlady made a mental note to buy a new bed – one they could shop for and choose together; one where there'd been no one else – a fresh start for them both.

"Did I wake you?"

His soft, tender voice seem to lull her from her musings. "I don't think I've actually been to sleep."

"Me either," he smiled, still giddy from what they shared. But what did they share? Peter wasn't entirely sure of the naming conventions. It was more than he'd done with a woman in over a decade, but less than he'd done before. Whatever it had been, it had incited something extraordinary in the curate – he now wanted more. And more and more and more.

Their eyes locked in the darkened room. It was an unspoken rule by now that when such a thing happened, they'd close whatever space was between them and embrace, hungrily and without restraint. It was, of course, Peter who buckled first – surrendering his search for his lost garments and succumbing to the temptations that were fast becoming the only thing that mattered.

In one unsteady movement, he kneeled precariously against the bed, drawing her naked frame close against the length of his body. "How do you do this to me?" he grumbled rhetorically into the crook of her mouth as they met.

Assumpta wanted to think up a comeback for their repartee but her head, along with her mouth, was otherwise engaged.

He kissed her as passionately and as deeply as he had done before – it felt so strange for it to feel so right. Every boyfriend of hers to date had invariably done something to rob her of that heady thrill that a really good kiss can give you – too much pressure or not enough; an unsolicited grope administered 'to move things along'. But with Peter, this kiss was everything. They existed in this kiss.

When his mouth found hers, the world seemed to melt away along with all of the people in it. If anything, it was Assumpta who'd administered the unsolicited gropes 'to move things along'. It was what felt natural to her; when something felt as unequivocally good as this, she'd always want more. That was the human condition.

However, since that unfortunate intervention in the O'Leary shed, Peter had been holding back. Whether it was with the intensity of his kiss or the fact that they'd been entirely naked in her bedroom all night without moving passed second base, everything indicated that something was amiss.

Did he regret what almost happened? Was he having second thoughts?

In truth, the publican was too much of a coward to bring this up in her usual plain spoken manner. Better she should coax it out of him, tempt him from his vows in a manner that any flesh and blood male would have trouble refusing. As their kiss deepened, she seized her opportunity, running her feather light fingertips along the length of his torso and the band of his boxers. As she drew her hand deeper, it elicited a throaty growl from the curate. He tore away from her kiss but remained as still as a statue, his forehead pressed against hers. He was hard and wet against the palm of her hand. As she began to run her firmly cupped hand along the length of his shaft, Peter winced as if in pain. If this weren't immediately followed by an ecstatic sigh, she may have believed it, but every micro expression he emitted implored her to continue.

His hands fell to her breasts as she worked him up, fumbling nervously as if she were the first woman he'd held in this way. She moved to cover her free hand over his, positioning them firmly around her nipple, entreating him to touch her this way.

She felt that he was close. His cock was saturated in pre-come, it felt sticky to the touch. She fought the urge to take him how she wanted to, to feel him gush in between her legs; the ultimate betrayal of his vows. Instead Assumpta whispered next to him, "I'd like to try something."

Peter's eyes shot open as she said this, filled with both fear and delight. Wordlessly, he let her, allowing himself to be pushed back against the mattress as she straddled her legs around his waist.

"Not – not that. Not yet." he besought her suddenly, immediately pulling back.

If she felt at all burned by this dismissal, Assumpta didn't show it. Instead she whispered "Shhh – you have to trust me," echoing his previous night's words to her.

He tensed every muscle but lay statue-still. Peter cursed his protestations – why was he so afraid of going all the way? He wanted and feared it in equal measure, hoping beyond hope that he'd eventually be able to let go in that respect. For now, he focussed instead on the little things – the way her hair smelled of herbs and honey; of the way her mouth left hot wet trails of saliva as she ran it down the entire length of his body.

Oh…

This was entirely new territory for the curate. As her mouth tasted every inch of skin and devoured each appendage, Peter was pushed unwittingly the point of no return – whatever that was. He felt that together they'd summited a cliff-face and now were edging perilously close to the brink. As if on cue, she took his entire length in her mouth, an act which quietened his inhibitions and made the curate cry out pleadingly in addled rapture –

"Assumpta…"

Her name was heard as eagerly as it was spoken. In the publican's mind, it had signalled a power shift – a new set of standards. Rather than leaving it to him to denote the way of things, this was now the new normal. Her Brave New World. Why did she like the control? What made her keep chasing this feeling? The answer was surprisingly simple. She was in love. When you loved another as ardently as she did, it would put you in a spiral. It was only when you realised the extent to which they loved you back, how much they needed you, are you able to claw back some element of self-governance.

"Assumpta," her name was spoken urgently this time, as if she were about to be given warning. "Assumpta – I'm going to… I can't stop" Peter shifted his hips as if to move away, to save them both from the embarrassment of his ejaculation. But to his heady bewilderment, she didn't move an inch – this was a new world after all. Peter would just have to get used to it.

His utterances of expletives and apologies as he came did nothing to smother the mood, nor the satisfaction she felt at being the trigger of such raw emotion. It was apparent in that moment that this had been a first for the curate, something which was immediately confirmed as he rambled on involuntarily afterwards – "Is it always like that? I mean, was it okay?"

Assumpta smiled into their now shared pillow. "It was everything."

"Thank you" he smiled that adorable Clifford smile before instantly regretting his words. "Sorry, that was stupid. You probably guessed that I'm a novice."

"Of saying thank you?"

"Of being in bed with a beautiful woman."

Assumpta let her bashfulness take hold. "Ahhh, you'll get used to it."

"I intend to." They shared a comfortable silence before Peter, with his new-found tendency for post-coital rambling, spoke again. "I can't believe that I get to be here – that I get you."

Again, the publican deflected his sweet words with a sigh.

"I mean it.

"Think I should hold out for a Bishop?" Assumpta smiled wryly, her head shifted so as to snuggle comfortably into the crook of his arm. Her question remained unanswered as she noticed that he was falling asleep.

Peter, missing his cue entirely, mumbled sleepily moments later – "could put in a good word" before sleep took hold and he was off, softly snoring.

Great, thought the publican. Another thing I'll have to get used to.

But somehow she didn't think she'd mind.