A/N: Shenanigans ahead! This chapter is rated M.
Once again, Ruth found herself pressed back against the wall, kissing Harry as if her life depended on it. He had one hand on her bum, kneading her soft flesh and drawing low, desperate whimpers from her mouth. With the other hand he cradled her cheek, drawing her as close to him as possible while his tongue delved deeply into her mouth and sent shivers of want coursing up and down her spine. She was bowled over by him, and by her reaction to him; with trembling hands she pulled his shirt free from his trousers, and pressed the tips of her fingers against the warm, smooth skin of his back.
The moment her hands touched his skin, she was reminded of another kiss, six months and a lifetime ago, in this very house.
Harry was kissing her in a way she'd never known before, desperation radiating off of him as he clung to her and she drowned in him. It had started so quickly, so innocuously; Ruth had volunteered to wash their plates, after supper, and Harry had walked up behind her, whispered, "leave them," and pulled her into his arms. All the times she had dreamt of his kiss, she'd never imagined it would happen like this, both of them exhausted and devastated and falling back against the sink in their rush to get their hands on one another.
Harry's mouth trailed away from hers, giving her a moment to breathe; he dropped small, nipping kisses along the line of her jaw, heading for her neck, and Ruth did not try to stop him. She kept one hand on his back, under his shirt, and with the other she reached up to wind her fingers through his adorably shaggy hair, holding him close against her skin.
In all her imaginings, he had never been this gentle. She gazed at him in wonder, as he pulled himself back from her, his eyes seeming to ask, "are you sure?" Ruth gave him a little nod, and when he extended his trembling hand to her, she accepted it willingly.
"Not here," Ruth gasped, when she felt Harry's hand migrate from her bum to the back of her thigh; he'd started to raise her leg, as if he intended to take her right there against the wall, and as much as she might have enjoyed that six months ago, right now she very much wanted a bed. Harry raised his head, ceasing his ravishing of her neck to look into her eyes as he asked, "Bedroom?"
Ruth nodded, and they slowly disentangled themselves from one another, Harry sliding his hand down her arm until their fingers tangled together. He led her from the nursery, her heart beating against her chest like a little bird in a cage, frightened and hopeful and longing to be free.
She saw nothing of his bedroom; by the time they crossed the threshold, she was back in his arms, enveloped in his scent and the softness of his hands as they learned the contours of her body. Harry seemed hell-bent on taking his time, and she was more than willing to let him. It should have been scary, taking this step after so many years of denial, after so many horrible mistakes, but Ruth's rational side had deserted her. Harry was here, snaking his hand beneath her blouse to follow the length of her spine, and she could not think. She could only feel, and what she felt was love.
Once they were inside his room, Harry pulled her to him once again. The room was dim, the lights turned off and the shades drawn, but Ruth didn't need to see him. All she needed, in this moment, was to feel him, to feel his skin beneath her hands and his lips on her body, wherever he chose to put them. He kissed her urgently, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth and holding it there until she mewled in protest. He released her, and soothed her swollen lip with his tongue while she started unbuttoning his shirt, eager to feel his skin pressed against her own.
Once they were naked, Harry lowered her slowly to the bed, keeping his mouth pressed firmly against her own until the last moment, when he drew back to look at her. He did not speak; he looked as if words were quite beyond him. There were dark circles under her eyes and the lines around her mouth and eyes were tight and drawn from two solid days of grief and worry, but when he looked at her, Ruth knew he thought her beautiful, and she almost cried, at the open wonder in his expression.
Having successfully undone all his buttons, Ruth slid Harry's shirt from his shoulders, and withdrew from his kiss, to lavish attention on his chest instead. She'd always loved his chest, broad and strong and solid as a rock, despite the paunch of middle age he'd developed around his middle. There were scars there, invisible in the faint light, but she had traced this path with her tongue often enough to map them out with her eyes closed. She picked them out, one by one, brushing his skin with her lips and feeling him shudder in pleasure beneath her kiss.
He loomed over her, dropping little kisses across the sharp lines of her collarbones, his broad hands clasped around her waist, making her feel small and delicate and cherished beyond measure.
She felt him take hold of the hem of her blouse, no doubt intending to begin divesting her of her clothes as she had done to him, and the reality of the situation came crashing in on her. It wasn't that she wanted them to stop; she could not think of anything she wanted less. It was just that she was suddenly so nervous; she remembered the way he'd looked at her, the way he'd held her, all those months before, but her body was so different now. Her belly had grown, and her skin showed stretch marks where before it had been smooth and unblemished. What if he looked at her, and did not think her as beautiful as she had been, before? Her heart broke, at the very idea, and she buried her face against his chest, hiding herself from his sight as if it would be so simple, to keep her fears from him.
"Ruth," he said softly, "look at me."
She shook her head.
"Ruth," he tried again, his voice low and practically dripping with affection. "I want to see you. I need to see you."
After a long moment, she gathered her courage, and took a step away from him. She looked him in the eye, drawing hope from the certainty she found there, and removed the blouse herself.
He dragged his lips across her chest, her hips bucking up towards him involuntarily as he closed his mouth around one taut, dusky pink nipple. His every move was so slow, so deliberate, and Ruth felt herself falling, falling, falling into him.
Harry did not speak. His gaze followed the lines of her body, wonder etched across the creases of his face, and it gave her the confidence to slip out of her skirt as well, so that she stood before him in her bra and knickers, the changes in her shape on full display. He reached out with one trembling hand, and traced the shape of her belly, from top to bottom and back again, coming to a stop with his palm pressed flat against the curve of her bump.
"You're amazing," he said in a husky whisper, and Ruth just laughed.
"Kiss me," she demanded, and he breathlessly obeyed.
It felt like hours, since this had begun, and still Harry was lingering in the valley of her breasts, his kisses light and gentle and never ending. Ruth threaded the fingers of one hand through his hair, and with the other she traced the curve of his shoulders, her mind empty of every thought save for him.
As they kissed Harry nudged her back towards the bed, his fingers fumbling with the clasp of her bra, her hands deftly pulling his belt free from his trousers. When they reached the edge of the mattress she turned from him, shimmying out of her remaining clothes and stretching out on the bed, gloriously naked and miraculously happy, waiting for him. As quickly as he could he rid himself of trousers and trunks, and Ruth felt a little shiver of anticipation run through her at the sight of his cock, hard and straining for her.
"Christ, Harry," Ruth moaned as his mouth lingered on her left breast and the fingers of his right hand slipped through her dripping folds. He thrust two fingers inside her, slowly, so slowly, and her heart nearly stopped, as she begged him to continue, to finish what he started. Still he did not change his pace, forcing her to wait, his touch teasingly soft, so tender that just thought of it brought tears to her eyes, later.
Harry slid over her, his hands cupping her slightly larger breasts carefully, feeling their weight, no doubt comparing them to his recollections of her, and she sighed happily at his touch. He brushed his thumbs across her nipples and she trembled.
"Gently, please," she said, shocked by how breathless her own voice sounded. Her nipples were sensitive, these days; sometimes even the fabric of her bra brushing against her skin was more than she could bear. Harry just nodded, and replaced his hands with his mouth, feathering kisses along the curve of her breast.
"Harry," she was almost crying, now; he'd brought her to orgasm not once but twice, and still she had not felt him inside her. She hadn't known that she could do that, but Harry had known somehow, had taken his time, almost as if he wanted to prove that he could. It felt as if they'd been in this bed for days, as if the world outside had ceased to be, and she never, ever wanted this to end.
Ruth reached down between them at almost the same moment that Harry began to drag his hand down over the curve of her belly, and they smiled shyly at one another, when they realized what was happening. Harry's fingers brushed through her damp curls as her own hand curled around the thickness of his shaft, and for a time they let their hands lead them, reacquainting themselves with one another as they shivered and moaned, pressed as close together as they could manage.
"Now," she said, and Harry nodded in assent. Her thighs were already spread wide open for him, and he slid home with a groan. Her body was still on fire from his earlier ministrations, and she very nearly came again, when he thrust his full length deep inside her for the first time. This was Harry, bare and beautiful beneath her hands, this was Harry, touching her so intimately, this was Harry, making love to her in the middle of a terrible night.
"This isn't working," Ruth protested after a moment.
Harry pulled back from her, the fear in his eyes so plain that it nearly broke her heart to see it. Wanting to quell those fears, Ruth reached out and drew his face down to hers for another kiss.
"I just meant, my stomach's in the way. I feel like I can't get close enough to you."
This earned her a beautiful, brilliantly relieved smile. Harry kissed the tip of her nose, and wrapped his arms around her.
"I have an idea."
"Please, Harry, please," she gasped, but he would not be deterred. His thrusts were long and slow and deep, and she felt as if she were about to fly apart. This was a feeling such as Ruth had never known, a need so primal and so all-encompassing that she had lost herself completely inside it. Always in the past sex had taken a lot of concentration and a lot of persuasion for her to enjoy it, but this was beyond sex. This was something else, something amazing, something…wonderful.
Harry rolled them onto their sides, Ruth in front, Harry pressed flat against the plane of her back, his cock nudging against her bum insistently. He had one hand wrapped around her breast and one hand between her legs; he'd eased her thigh back, wrapping her leg around his own so she was open and ready for him. Gently, ever so gently, he brushed his fingertips across her clit while he pressed warm, soft kisses to the back of her neck, and she sighed in bliss.
"Please, Harry," she whispered, as she felt one of his fingers slide through her folds.
"Please, what?" he asked, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear.
"I want you inside me," she answered. Dirty talk had never been her forte, and she wasn't saying those words to enflame him; she wanted him, and she wanted him now.
When he finally let her come again, she actually screamed. She'd always thought that was a myth created for porn films, women who screamed in the moment of their pleasure, but she'd never had a man make love to her like this before. Her whole body seized up, the moment her orgasm washed over, and she felt her inner muscles clamp down on his cock like a vise, felt him tumble over the edge with her, felt his satisfied groan rumbling through her chest.
With one smooth thrust Harry's cock slid home, and she moaned, arching her back against him. God, but this felt good, his arms wrapped around her, his body anchoring her, enveloping her. He sensed her urgency, and he did not make her wait, this time; he set a hard, heavy pace, his fingers digging into the tender flesh of her breast, rubbing her clit in time to his thrusts.
For a long time she lay shuddering beneath him, unable to open her eyes, barely able to breathe. After all that, she had no idea how he was still holding himself upright, but somehow he found the strength to keep most of his weight off of her. Her inner walls were still clamped down hard around his rapidly deflating cock, as if she never intended to let him go.
His face was buried in the crook of her shoulder, and she almost couldn't hear him when he spoke.
"Don't ever leave me," he whispered.
"Never," she answered just as softly, wrapping her arms around his back and drawing him down to her.
She was panting in time to his thrusts, every move of his hips tearing the breath from her lungs, until finally it all became too much, and she tumbled over the edge, whimpering. Two more thrusts, and Harry was coming, too, his reaction as reserved as hers had been, but no less profound. They were quieter this time than they had been when they first came together all those months before, but the feeling was just as great, the bond between them just as strong. Harry cradled her in his arms, and she felt peace, for the first time since she'd left his bed. He kissed the back of her neck, his hands gentle on her skin, and she smiled, laying her head down, breathing in the scent of him, of them that lingered on the sheets.
Whatever happened next would happen, and no stopping it. For now, Ruth was right where she belonged, and she had no intention of leaving the comfort of his embrace.
