And here is part 2 of this culinary tease, based upon a most delightful scene in Season 4, Episode 7. Once again, if you enjoyed the appetizer of "Scrambled", you can thank Cls2011 for issuing this writing challenge to me on tumblr. Many thanks to her, Miscreant rose, and Silvestria for their read-throughs and friendship. Love you girls!


Act II: Sizzling

His face leaned in slightly, testing the charged air sparking in the non-existent space between them. Her breathing quickened, fingers clasping the table behind her as she instinctively sensed the need for support. She knew it was coming, had known from the moment she had smeared mud across his mouth. Her breasts tingled in anticipation.

Then his lips touched down. And her body felt a jolt.

How different, summoning, yet confident his touch now resting on her back. Firm, unflinching, yet she sensed him holding back, offering an invitation rather than making a demand. Just as he had in the barn.

An invitation she accepted with a slide of her mouth over his.

It nearly knocked him over.

Reality was suspended, all he could fathom standing before him, all he could comprehend held securely in his arms. This creature he had not truly known until tonight stood taking charge of him so easily by no other means than being her. He had resisted, distanced himself, determined he would not succumb to the charms other men seemed to find irresistible.

Yet look at him now. Putty in her hands.

Her hands crawled up to his shoulders, this dance of lip on lip, breath on breath building into something both understood yet continued to skirt around. Then they drew back, staring, searching, pondering just what would happen next.

"Unexpected, indeed," he managed, his forehead hovering over her own in a tease that was frustrating.

"Oh, do shut up," she shot back, her eyes hooded, her voice a throaty command.

Then he chuckled. And really kissed her.

Hot, tantalizing. His mouth nudging with a welcome insistence, seeking further entrance into the mystery of her.

Her own lips rounded around his, sampling the top, her body trembling at the foreign taste and feel of something that used to be familiar. But this was new—he was new—and she was shocked at how quickly her mind and body accepted this fact, leaning in, pulling him closer.

Hungry for more.

Fingers stroked the side of his face, mapping the dark stubble, rougher than she had known in the past.

She liked it.

Apparently, so did he.

She felt a small smile against her lips before he claimed her again, setting off a chain of heat as she opened her mouth to him. He groaned into her.

Her toes curled in her shoes.

His tongue made a move, brushing parted lips, easing in, teasing and sampling the exotic realm of her mouth as her hand slid up his neck and into his hair. She answered, stroking the length of him, teasing crevices that tasted of red wine and aroused man.

Her mind began to fog.

Her neck continued to beckon him, he could hold off no longer, his mouth canvassing, making her jump as he found a spot she liked. She was a drug, her skin earthy yet smooth, a heat he would have never guessed she possessed crawling out of her pores and snaking around him in a silken web. Tendrils pulled him closer, his tongue stroking lower, finding her collar bone.

Her back arched into his body. Legs shook, thighs clenched, her very pores honed in on the art his tongue was painting across her skin.

She whimpered into his ear…before she nipped it.

Black eyed gazed back at her, the scent of a man in need nearly making her knees buckle.

God—how had he missed this woman right under his nose?

Mouths slammed into each other, partaking of an unexpected feast. Pressing, biting, begging for something they both wanted yet half-feared. It dangled before them, theirs for the taking, the forbidden fruit of bodies on fire meeting souls just introduced.

Capable hands stroked her back, her side, daring yet still respectful, teasing boundaries she secretly wanted him to cross. Nerve endings were raw, something primal beginning to pulse in deep regions kept quiet for too long. Her senses were unravelling as quickly as her hair as she felt his fingers deftly release the rest of it. The sensation of it falling about her shoulders made her shiver.

And the sight of it nearly made him explode.

"Mary," he whispered, daring her name without her title, watching her eyes round and then hover.

"Charles," she voiced, sampling the taste of his given name upon a palate he had already seasoned.

They now truly saw, eyes open to what had been veiled but hours ago.

Then steps were heard, rudely shoving them apart, her body suddenly cold at the loss of contact. She checked her hair out of habit, pulling a short laugh from him that nearly reduced her to a fit of giggles.

A breath to clear the mind, a stiff back to set the stage. She was ready.

And a servant entered the room.


Your thoughts? Act III: Hard-Boiled coming to a kitchen near you soon.