It took me forever and a day to update this, thanks to school, work and a very persnickety sex scene that truly tested the sturdiness of Laurie's piano... but finally, I'm done with the second part of Tempo and Rhythm. Potix, I hope you don't mind waiting so long for this bit! And Elizabeth, thank you for helping me out with this piece as always! In any case, I do hope people enjoy this bit o' smut and play. I hope it's a nice way to exorcise some of the dullness of the fall season. ;)

As always, reviews are much loved. Please do let me know if you've read and enjoyed this, or thought of ways to improve it!

Title: Tempo and Rhythm, Part 2/3
Fandom: Little Women
Series: Tempo and Rhythm
Characters/Pairings: Jo/Laurie
Rating: R for Soft-Core Sex; NC-17 Rated Version at my livejournal (see Author's Note)
Summary: Jo, Laurie and a piano. You may as well commence with the writhing...

Note: This is the R-rated version of the story, with around 2,000 words edited out in order to allow me to post on this site. If you'd rather NOT skip over the explicit sex to linger on the emotional convulsions, you can read the explicit NC-17 rated version of this story at my livejournal. If you can't locate it through the link in the author's note, leave me a review and I'll mail you a link to the more explicit version of the story. Please do not PM or email me-- it's much easier for me just to respond to reviews from readers, frankly.

***

No matter what Jo said to the contrary, Laurie knew that he had fallen in love with her the first time he had ever clamped eyes on her truly.

His skeptical wife, of course, had a habit of being very cynical whenever he tried to be romantic with her-- at least when his version of romance had a tinge of conventionality. As she had told him in the past when they had gone over the subject, she thought the idea of love at first sight was romantic dross that only existed to peddle romance novels and make people unhappy. True love, she fiercely maintained, only came from knowing a person and loving them despite the inevitable annoyances. Otherwise, a person might as well fall in love with the phantoms in their head-- they had about as much reality as the inevitably mislaid perfections they gave to pretty strangers who they imagined loving based on nothing more than a look, a glance, a dress or a pretty saying.

Which was all fine and good, Laurie knew, and certainly he loved Jo more now when he knew her inside and out than when she had been merely a bright figure leaping about in windows across from his grandfather's manse, a luminous and lively fairy of a figure who had captivated the lonely young boy next door weeks before their first real meeting. But no matter how well Jo argued against it, Laurie knew he had truly loved the young girl he had known only by the energetic shadow she cast in front of his eyes, even before he saw her fully. Even then, before he knew her name or her eyes or the radiance of her smile, he had known that he loved that girl, that he wanted to be with her, that she might well be the happy home and the loving family he had lost to fever in Italy.

Of course, if he had known that he'd eventually be hoisting that joyous young spirit up by her waist until she just barely rested on the covered keyboard of his piano and the shelf right above it, her balance only maintained by her fierce grip on his shoulders and the way her lovely, sinuous legs wrapped and flexed around his finally uncovered hips, her beautiful little nipples tight and her dark, velvety aureoles brushing against his chest as they exchanged eager, ardent kisses, her nails precariously raking down his spine every time he moved forward and ran his eager tongue across her wicked jaw, down her shuddering neck, past the pearly line of her collar and then down the glittering path of damp heat between the valley of her breasts...

Well, first he would have congratulated his older self on a job very, very well done. But after that, he'd tell his eventual wife the first evening they met each other that he'd been right after all and rather than dickering around for years on end, they might as well go ahead and get married at the ripe old age of fifteen.

In fact, Laurie had half a mind to say as much to Jo right now, and might have gone through with it if only she hadn't cleverly distracted him. And a thorough job she did of that as well-- moaning so touchingly as his teeth bit down on her collarbone, his tongue working at the heated skin there even as one of his hands slid from his hips and began working at the silky line of flesh right beneath her mons venus, the same fingers that had been at work on piano keys earlier slicking between her nether lips and drawing out gasps and sighs and calls for more from her, until he was much too distracted to coherently think...

Really, Laurie thought as she wound her legs more tightly around him and drew him forward against the warmth of her belly, would the perfidy of womankind never fully cease?

If all that wasn't quite enough, she had begun talking again, in that way that had never ceased exciting him quickly. He thought he would never tire of hearing her warm voice go throaty and low in that way it only did became when they did this, going hoarse with that certain timber and tone she reserved only for him, the one that sent heat spiraling to him just as much as the feel of her entire body arching and opening up to him... as though she were a flower blooming only for his needs.

And of course, the words she began to whisper didn't help to corral his excitement much either.

"Oh please," Jo was whispering, pleading-- and when did she ever plead, except when she needed him fully and completely? "Oh please, oh Teddy, I want this so badly, oh God, please don't deny me...!"

The fact that she ended that plea by keening as the fingers of his right hand worked their way within her-- his thumb rolling against her throbbing core even as three of his other fingers penetrated her slick warmth-- didn't exactly make her words any less intriguing. She was as welcoming as ever deep within, even as her long limbs clutched him to her skin, and it was all too tempting to just press her thighs apart, pull back his fingers, and simply go at it, the both of them rutting against his piano like animals until the heat between them spilled over completely.

But Laurie knew all too well that if he gave in and just drove into her as his senses were screaming to, this would be over in about five minutes, if he could even last under conditions as they were currently. And as extraordinary as those minutes might be, he wanted this to last. After all, it wasn't all the time when he got to unite two of his greatest pleasures: music and making his wife cry out for him as she lost control fully.

So instead, gathering his fraying self-control up like armor, Laurie pulled back, cocked an eyebrow at her and said, with a possibly unforgivable amount of jauntiness:

"But what if I want you to show me how much you want me?"

He honestly thought she would hit him after the words registered, when his fingers pulled away from her delicious inner coils and she was left looking between her thighs in surprise, as though unsure of what had happened and why the source of her pleasure had disappeared so abruptly. In fact, so great was the shock in her face that it was all Laurie could do not to laugh and bring this evening to a very abrupt conclusion indeed.

"What?" Jo finally managed, after looking thunder-struck for a moment longer. "Who-- what-- when-- why-- what on earth do you mean?"

"It's just... well..." Laurie had to hesitate at that, knowing precisely what he desired but not quite sure how to phrase it in a way that wouldn't have Jo blanching away in shock. Finally, he tilted his head and tried for sensitivity. "It simply seems as though this scenario's been on your mind for a while and it'd be a shame for us not to... ah... utilize it fully. So instead of rushing through this as though we're in a hurry, why not spend some time acquainting ourselves with the present... equipment?"

Jo did not blanch but she did look at him with a fair amount of shock, as though he had just interrupted her by slapping her across the face with a wet fish. "We've been married for four years, Teddy. I think I'm well aware of your equipment already!"

"That's a fair point," Laurie conceded, knowing it was his fault he hadn't been clear. But then he went on, leaning forward intimately. "But you don't know not all the equipment well, Jo-- especially not the one you're writhing on so delightfully. And besides..."

And really, if he had known earlier in his life that Jo had habit of biting her lip when she wanted something carnal and didn't know how to deal with it, life would have been much easier. If only he had known as much at the age of fifteen!

He took her tempting lower lip in his own mouth, sucking on the thin curve and nibbling with his own teeth until she sighed and let him press against her again, his ready prick pressed intimately to the warmth of her belly. And when he finally spoke again, she looked at him with hazy, languorous eyes that made her look as though she might be ready for anything.

It was enough to make any husband try his luck, and he'd always been impetuous indeed. So grinning against her mouth, Laurie went on. "You're already putting on a brilliant performance for me, Josie, and I don't want it to end so quickly. So, if you don't mind, maybe you could...?"

"Oh," Jo murmured even as she shifted tortuously against him. "Does that mean you want me...?" And when he grinned again and mimicked the movement he wanted to see with her hand, a blush overspread her high cheeks even as understanding lit in the great gray fields of her eyes. "Oh! Oh, Teddy, do you really want me to...?"

He interrupted her with another slow, dreamy kiss, one that found her lower lip trapped between his teeth once more as he rolled his hips against her, until they were both shuddering. And when he pulled back, his gaze was hungry and dark and half-hidden beneath his sooty lashes, calculated to drive his wife mad with longing.

"You're the raw materials that fantasies are made of, Jo," he murmured against her mouth, feeling her hands tremble as she raked them through his hair urgently. "Would it be too much to ask you to do this if you pleased?"

"If you're going to ply me with empty compliments again..." Jo warned, although her face and breasts had gone promisingly rosy and she was already leaning back on his piano's closed front, her eyes half-hidden by shadows as the candles in their room burned warmly.

"Believe me," Laurie interrupted, "by the time you're finished and I come at you, you'll see that they aren't empty."

And when she finally laughed, nodded assent and let herself fall back fully open to him, still supported by his hands on her hips and the frame of his piano, Laurie let his eyes lower to watch her as she began performing for him slowly.

It had taken them both a lot of trust to come to this point, to help Jo move beyond her nigh-Puritanical education (or lack thereof) on what was and wasn't acceptable between a man and a woman who were in love and happily married. Even after their first night of intimacy together-- a night Laurie had some very, very fond memories of but which had not exactly gone smoothly-- Jo had often been paralyzed between her passionate inner nature and the messages she had received from childhood about decent women not doing much more than passively accepting their husbands' occasional, shameful needs. Still, as time went by, Jo had learned to make love with a daring and a boldness that drove Laurie half out of his mind with desire, and made him think of the more laissez-faire mores of Italy, where women did not restrain themselves quite so ridiculously. And as they grew closer and learned more of one another, she had become become more and more open with him, letting him show her how to please them both, letting herself touch him as she pleased, letting him explore every delicate pore and follicle of her body with his hands, his lips, his prick, and his teeth.

But she'd only touched herself for him a handful of times before, usually after a great deal of tenderness and coaxing. And although Laurie could not quite explain it even to himself, there was something about watching Jo-- his Jo! so shy when it came to love before!-- spread herself out for him and caress herself between her own thighs with soft, trembling fingertips that seemed even more intimate than other acts of carnality.

Of course, the fact that she was also stroking herself in front of him while splayed out in front of his piano added to the effect. Laurie's inner fifteen year old was now dumb with shock and possibly hyperventilating.

Thankfully, Laurie's outer twenty-eight year old self was a little more level-headed. His breath a hiss between his teeth, he leaned back, gripped her waist, and watched her touching her own body with almost feverish avidity.

She was beautiful when she was like this, so beautiful and so tempting, so eminently touchable when every nerve in her body seeming to sing as she stretched out and pleasured herself, fingers curved against her own velvety skin. With her head back and her neck exposed to his lips, she rocked and moaned and arched enticingly against him, the back of her thighs pressing tight against his own body every time she shifted towards him, her long lashes fluttering against her high cheekbones as she threw herself into this as she did every other thing.

She had touched herself for him only a handful of times before-- but she had never performed for him as she did now, as though she wanted him to share in her own ecstasy. She had never before done it without him needing to first stimulate his own pleasure before she shared hers with him, and even then hesitantly. And she had certainly never before looked him in the eyes as she had done it, gray eyes meeting dark ones as she trailed her fingers to the rosettes of her cheeks to the set of her shoulders, from the line of her throat to the lush curve of her breasts, from the ripples of her ribs to the little dimple of her navel, from the dark curls between her thighs to the hidden folds of warmth just beneath...

With her slender legs curving like parabolas around his hips and her wild and unbound hair flowing around the both of them, she could have been a goddess from his native land: Juno on fire to tempt back her husband or Diana hunting down her prey in a distant land or Minerva passing judgment on the man who had pinned her down at last. She could have been the goddess of marriage or the hunt or of wisdom as she ran her hands all over her candle-lit skin, her gaze piercing as she lifted her dear face to look up at him, flushed and blushing but determined to please, always willing to throw all of herself into a moment.

And then she slipped the fingers of one hand between the curls of her sex as she used her other hand to draw him close by his hair and she was none other than Venus, goddess of desire herself, making his blood boil in his veins as he watched her stroke herself to completion again.

"Is this what you want?" Jo whispered, her fingers curving intimately inside her as he insouciantly lowered his eyes and watched her, his breath stuttering within his throat as she watched him gaze at her without hesitation or fear. "Is this what you wanted to see, Teddy? Is this what you need from me?"

And then, fingers still at work at her folds as her other hand dug into his scalp and brought his lips so close to hers they were nearly at a kiss, she asked: "Am I fulfilling your fantasies?"

And he would have answered except his control broke at long last-- and instead of replying with whatever inadequate words he could grasp, he seized her by her hips, lifted her to the air, and then pushed her sharply down on that part of him that was aching for her already.

(scene break for explicit content)

And though he wanted more, though he wanted to hold her for just a little longer, though he wanted to keep on moving within her, wanted to make her keep shuddering until she was aching--

Though he wanted, he knew he couldn't, whatever else his other desires might be. He couldn't, he simply couldn't-- no matter what he might, or how good he might strive to be. For though everything they did was something they had done hundreds of times before-- in beds across Europe, in the wilds of Massachusetts, in Laurie's old bed-room and in the March's private parlor and in front of Jo's beloved attic screen-- this was different, wonderful and different, something he could never shared with any other being. This was different because she was different-- different and impossible and wonderful and unfathomable and he had chosen her because of all of these things. This was different because he loved her even when he couldn't understand her; different because every lunge he took at her reminded him of his love, different because he knew now that she had chosen this without him needing to coax her, that she had been fantasizing about doing this with him for days or weeks or months or maybe even years--

And somehow that was enough-- more than enough-- more affecting even than their bodies moving in tandem as she broke as well, crying his name in his arms and pulling him close as she clenched against him desperately. Somehow, that thought was enough-- more even than the warmth of her skin or the heat of her lips, the press of her breasts or the tightness around his prick-- to make him collapse and shudder and break at last, his eyes sliding closed at last but the image he had of her splayed out against his piano emblazoned in his mind's eye completely.

Somehow that was enough-- more than enough-- more than enough to know she loved him and wanted him so dearly--

And when he finally finished inside his Jo, he pressed his face to hers even as he pulled back and came against the warmth of her body and the wood of his piano, both of them welcoming and supporting him in the shaky moment afterward, as though determined to bring him back home.

***

Author's Note: As always, reviews, comments and feedback is much appreciated, although I know the fandom has been slow as of late. (Not that I can blame anyone for that fact!) Did you enjoy the smut? Is it better or worse than the wedding-night scene in the last part of A Night to Remember? Was the, er, climactic part all right? I worry that that bit might have fallen victim to a certain hastiness in writing...

Remember, there is an uncut version of this story at my livejournal. If you want access to it and cannot find it on your own, please review this story and tell me you want it! Otherwise, here is the link to the explicit version of the story:

http :// mariagoner . livejournal . com / 184355 . html

It will be locked to the general public (or at least, those who don't contact me) in a few weeks because I'm very paranoid about livejournal's strange new policies toward 'adult' material. But until then, enjoy!

In any case, thanks once again for reading. I have much less time in fandom than I used to but I still am enjoying the hell out being an active part in it. Reading and writing Little Women fic is a hell of a lot more enjoyable than reading up on psychoanalysis, I can tell you that! In any case, I'm going to attempt to put part 3 up sometime in November. I just hope people keep reading even after the smut is done. ;)