Okay, I lied. I felt sort of badly about cutting the last chapter off right before it got interesting and I decided to post this chapter mid-week to make up for it. This is also a fairly long chapter, and it's the smut part. It's taken four chapters but I've finally gotten to the lemon! A special thanks once again to MissWed, who read over the sections of this chapter that I was unsure of and helped me through my jitters.

In case you hadn't figured it out, this chapter does contain fairly graphic sex scenes—if this sort of thing bothers you then you might want to get out now before you burn your retinas. It won't curl your hair, but you might not want to read it at work or where anybody important can walk up behind you and read over your shoulder. Just a fair warning.

Disclaimer: Until the check clears, I don't own Robin Hood. Those lucky BBC bastards do.

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o…o

There was a small room—almost like a cupboard—near the back of the ship's hold. Djaq had stumbled across it by accident a few days ago, leaning against what she thought was a wall and falling through a door that opened quite suddenly behind her, and decided that the little hidey-hole might be useful at some point. The door to the cupboard looked like part of a wall, so it was no wonder that nobody had found it yet. There only two crates inside and there was one of the tiny little portholes high up on the wall, allowing fresh air to get in and making it suitable to use as a room. The dim light of late evening seeped into the tiny little space, providing enough light to see by, and a lantern was lit and resting on top of one of the crates, throwing off a flickering orange-yellow glow and making the shadows dance on the walls around her. It was probably as close to a private room as she was going to find on the entire boat.

It was good enough for what she needed.

She stood by the door, holding it open a crack and looking out, waiting for him to pass by and ready to spring on him the second she saw him. It seemed like ambush was going to be the only way she'd be able to talk to him. But she would get his attention, even if she had to do it by force.

Thum, thum, thum.

Dull, heavy footsteps approached her hiding place, and her heart jumped into her throat. It was Will. A wave of intense nervousness shot through her whole body, prickling in her chest and making her heart thud painfully hard. She very nearly backed out on her previously solid resolve, but she steeled herself; she had to do this.

Thum, thum, thum.

As he passed the door, she opened it wider and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him backwards and hauling him forcefully into the dark little cupboard. He gasped raggedly, flailing his arms and struggling against her. She quickly covered his mouth so he didn't draw attention to them and closed the door, leaning back against it to keep him from running away.

His eyes were wide and frightened as she looked into his face but when his gaze rested on her, he visibly relaxed and released a relieved sigh around her hand.

"You can't do that," he breathed, gently taking her hand away from his mouth. "You could've scared me to death!"

Had she been herself, she would have said something about having been a physician for a long time and never seen somebody die of fright, but she wasn't in the mood for joking at the moment.

"I am sorry," she said softly. "I just—I have to speak to you. It has been so difficult for me to talk to you that it seemed as though ambush was the only way to do it."

Will didn't say anything in response to that. She didn't expect him to.

They stood facing each other; she still kept her position backed up against the cupboard door, effectively cutting off his only escape. He looked heart-stoppingly beautiful in the dim orange-yellow light of the single lantern, his face half lit and half darkened and his eyes practically glowing with an odd intensity. She didn't dare touch him, no matter how badly her hands itched to take his—she knew he was already nervous at her sudden surprise attack, and she didn't need to do anything to make it worse.

For a long time, they stood staring at one another, neither of them daring to move or speak. Then, suddenly, Will lurched forward and planted his hands on the door behind her, one on either side of her shoulders, trapping her. Djaq gave a little gasp in surprise. His face was so close to hers, his gaze so intense…

"Will…" his name was a whisper on her lips.

"I heard what you said," he murmured.

"What?"

"What you said to Allan—about me."

"Oh!" She gasped quietly, covering her mouth with a hand. She hadn't expected that; while she'd wanted him to hear what she had to say, she'd actually wanted to tell him.

"Do you mean it?" He asked.

"Of course I did—I do," she replied, almost before the words left his mouth. Why would he think she wasn't sincere? "I love you, Will Scarlett. We are very lucky to have this second chance together—I would be very disappointed if something happens and I die knowing that I did not take advantage of it."

She watched his expression soften as her words sank in. And then, without a word, he lunged forward and covered her mouth with his.

That took her by surprise. Not that he'd started the kiss—he did that sometimes—but because the kiss was so roughly passionate. Before now he'd always been so timid and unsure of himself, but this time it was different; the kiss was bruising and forceful, his mouth moving quickly against hers, swallowing her startled cries and soft whimpers with every caress of his lips.

His hands dropped to her hips and clasped onto her, holding tightly; his thumbs flicked up under the hem of her shirt and slid so lightly over her bare skin, and she sighed shallowly, delighting in this the first decent contact she'd had with him in days. As the kisses deepened and his tongue invaded her mouth, she grasped at his shoulders to keep herself upright—it was all she could do as he sucked the strength from her body with every kiss.

When he tore his mouth away from hers and left her limply pressed against him and gripping his shoulders for dear life, a small whimper escaped her lips at the loss of contact. Only one thought was going through her head—he had better not be stopping.

"I love you," he rasped in her ear. Those words, breathy and shaking, made her heart melt. "But I don't…"

He trailed off there. The pause might have lasted all of about a second, but in her mind it was painstakingly long. In that one second. She saw all of her fears flash before her and felt so incredibly, uncomfortably, frighteningly vulnerable, and she hated that feeling. She couldn't force him to do something he didn't want to do, but what if… what if he didn't want her? She didn't know if she'd survive that.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said finally.

"Oh, Will…"

"Tell me to stop," he went on. "Tell me, and I will."

"No. Don't you dare stop," she ordered. To punctuate this, she pulled him back down to her and kissed him firmly.

Whatever remained of his already weakened resolve was gone; she could practically hear the last of his self-control dissolve as he pressed her roughly into the wooden door, once again consuming both of them in intensely heated kisses. His mouth seared as he pressed kisses to her lips, her jaw, her neck, her collarbone—her skin burned wherever he touched, her stomach fluttered, her heart pounded hard in her chest. That hot excitement flared once again, making her shiver and tingle all over, all of it compounded by the knowledge that, this time, nothing would interrupt them.

His hands left her hips, but she didn't even have time to be disappointed before he moved them underneath her thighs and pulled her up off the ground. Djaq cried out softly as he lifted her further and further up against the door, a little bit at a time. She wrapped her legs around his waist, leaving her sandwiched between Will and the door, their faces now level.

He snorted softly when she tightened her grip around him with her arms and her legs. She could feel him growing hard against her through their clothing, and she rolled her hips into his. He growled into her neck and responded, roughly grinding her into the door behind her. That contact made her squeal in delight, but he quickly silenced her with another kiss—she would have to keep herself quiet. Only the thin wooden walls around them separated their actions from everybody on board the ship.

"Shush," he purred, his breath tickling her ear. He took the lobe into his mouth and bit, then mouthed little nips and frustratingly light kisses back behind her ear and down her neck, making her struggle to keep reasonably quiet.

He was going to drive her absolutely crazy, and she was thoroughly enjoying every second of it.

He moved again, pushing her higher and higher. She had to relinquish the contact of her hips with his, which she did very reluctantly.

She went further up, and now her neck was level with his mouth and he kissed down her throat and into the hollow at the base of her neck. He kept her there only a moment before he moved her again, further up, until he was at eye-contact level with her chest.

He looked up at her questioningly, that familiar uncertainty coming back into his face as he waited for her permission to continue. She nodded swiftly, neither knowing nor caring what it was he wanted to do as long as he did it, and threw her head back as he began mouthing her right breast through her shirt. She bit her lip so hard it nearly bled and clawed her fingers through his hair, squirming against him, revelling in the feel of his warm mouth on her sensitive skin.

She tried—tried!—to keep quiet and not to make a sound, but it was so very difficult to do. Her lungs burned as she breathed and her legs trembled as she tightened them around him even more. She felt the slick heat between her legs as she moved against him along with the dulled sensation of his tongue over her clothed breast.

This scenario had unfolded in her mind many times before, but never like this. She usually imagined it as taking place somewhere in the forest, far away from the gang in a private little grotto somewhere or cushioned on a springy bed of green in the cool shade of the towering trees in Sherwood. In her mind, it had always been peaceful and serene, warm and quiet, the two of them escaping the madness that was Nottingham in one another's warm embraces and passionate kisses. It was always an idealized lovemaking, sweet and perfect. She never expected she might first have Will Scarlett on the floor—it was going to have to be on the floor, they had nowhere else to go in here—of a tiny dark cupboard on board a ship.

Will's hands dragged up her sides, under her shirt, grazing her bare skin with his fingernails. It tickled enticingly. He brought them behind her and stroked up and down her back and then back around her sides and over her stomach, all the while never taking his mouth away from her breast. He gently bit down on the nipple, making her gasp raggedly and dig her nails into his shoulders.

Keep quiet.

But as he wetly mouthed her breast again, licking away the sting of the bite one warm stroke of his tongue after another, a long slow moan escaped her, unbidden, and he stopped. She growled low and angry in her throat, tried to pull him back, but he resisted. When she looked at him, she saw a lopsided smile on his face and a look of amazement, an odd combination of expressions that made her both excited and want to giggle. She would have laughed, except that it would have been completely inappropriate, and the moment was far too intense for that.

He licked again, once, experimentally, and she released her breath in a hiss.

"You like that, don't you?"

Again, her actions were different now than they would have been if she had been herself. Normally, she would have kept herself in check, having learned long ago how to rein in her emotions, but she decided right now that self-control could go and hang itself.

"Yes," she groaned. "Please do not stop."

Instead of continuing, he took the neckline of her shirt in his teeth and tugged at it; she could hear a little whine low in his throat.

"Off," he growled.

"What?"

"Off." He pulled again on her shirt with his teeth, harder this time.

"Wait!" She gasped, her mind concocting one coherent thought through the lusty haze in her head.

"Huhn?"

This time she couldn't help it—she giggled. Will's eyes were glazed over and he still had a loose bit of her shirt in his mouth; his hair was badly rumpled where she'd dragged her hands through it before.

"Stop biting—you will rip it," she said.

"So?" He tugged again, and she reached up to wrench the fabric from his mouth.

"Oh, yes, that will be very easy to explain to everybody. That I am not wearing a shirt anymore because Will chewed it off like a wild animal!"

He laughed, leaning his forehead against her shoulder, then lifted his head and kissed her neck. She wiggled the shoulder, making him move away from it with a questioning frown.

"Back up a bit," she whispered. "And try not to drop me."

With a nod, he obeyed, putting his hands underneath her backside to steady her as she let his shoulders go and wriggled away from the door behind her. The only thing supporting her now was Will, while she took the hem of her shirt and slowly pulled it up. She did it painstakingly slow on purpose, watching his face as she did so and taking a little jolt of excitement at his expression of utter awe and his mouth falling slightly open.

Inch by tantalizing inch, she pulled her shirt up, forcing herself to go slowly just to tease him. Finally, she jerked the whole thing off and threw it to the ground in one swift motion, leaving her bare from the waist up and waiting, braced between him and the door, for his reaction.

He neither said nor did anything, just stared at her bare chest with a look on his face not unlike the one he wore when he saw her accidentally. Utter shock. A pink blush was creeping into his face, turning his ears red and staining his cheeks, and again Djaq was reminded about how little experience Will had with the opposite sex—she had no doubt that she was the only woman he'd ever seen naked. She could only imagine how daunting it was for him to be confronted with this, with her, knowing that this was real and that she would let him do anything. His sudden shyness was in stark contrast to the eagerness just before.

She looped her left arm around his neck and stroked the side of his face with the other hand, gently bringing her fingernails through his hair and resting her palm on his cheek.

"Will," she whispered, trying to get his attention. "Will…"

He looked up, and then hastily began to apologize in a jumble of words. "I—I'm sorry—it's—I can't—I haven't…"

She pressed her finger to his lips to silence him.

"Hush. It is all right. Take your time."

There was a pause then. She didn't want to rush him, but oh, this was so frustrating.

Just when she was starting to get antsy, he lurched forward with a renewed fervour and began planting kisses along her collar bone, across her chest, and down between her breasts. She leaned back again and sighed, letting him take his time.

The shyness soon subsided and was replaced by his bold actions of moments earlier. He ran a rough, calloused thumb over her breast, making her groan again. She wriggled under his exploring hands, arching into his touch when he came in contact with her nipple; she gripped his shoulders and encouraged him with soft words and pleading whimpers.

Frustratingly, he stopped again, and she growled at him.

"Hush," he breathed hotly in her ear. "You're being too loud."

"And you are going too slowly!" She shot back, keeping her voice low.

He grinned. That look made her breath catch in her throat.

"Oh!" She cried out and then bit her lip hard and concentrated her efforts on staying quiet.

His mouth was on her breast, the sensations now much more intense with her shirt discarded and she melted in his arms as his tongue swiped over her breast again and again. If she didn't already know better, she'd have thought he'd done this before. He licked and bit, tugged gently on her nipple with his teeth—until all she could do was whimper and desperately hold onto him.

Back to her lips now—plundering her mouth and gently biting on her lower lip. When he pulled away, she followed him, determined to keep as much contact between them as possible.

"Djaq," he growled her name between kisses, but she didn't stop.

She lipped down his neck, pulling his shirt down in the front to gain more access to his warm bare skin and mouthing kisses as far as she could without tearing his clothing off. He grunted softly and tried to back away again.

"Djaq." His voice was raspy. "Djaq, my arms—"

She came up again and silenced him with another kiss, her hands in his hair. He was sweating and his chest heaved against hers; the coarse, scratchy material of his tunic against her bare chest was simultaneously irritating and arousing. His arms tensed and began to tremble slightly under her backside.

Suddenly, his hold gave way and with an incredible jolt she found herself sitting in a heap on the floor.

He'd dropped her.

"I'm sorry!" He said quickly, crouching in front of her immediately. "Are you all right?"

She couldn't help but laugh, tossing her head back against the door with her whole body racked with laughs. "Is this what you were trying to tell me?"

"That my arms were going to give? Um… yes. It's hard to hold you up."

She was still laughing.

"Will you stop that, please?" He begged. "If they're going to have to hear something out there, I'd rather it not be you laughing."

She took a few deep breaths and calmed herself down, leaning back against the wall and smiling at him as he knelt before her. He looked guilty and apologetic.

"I am fine," she assured him. "Not hurt. Just surprised."

"Maybe we should stay on the floor, then."

"Good idea." And with that she pounced on him, knocking him flat on his back on the floor.

"What—!"

She knelt over him, straddling his hips and leaning over him, and kissed him swiftly.

"You," she purred, "are far too overdressed."

Her fingers scrabbled at the ties of his cloak, undoing the knot and moving on to his tunic, sliding her hands up his stomach. Her touch was soft and gentle, tickling him; he squirmed helplessly under her, wriggling and grinding his hips into hers. She squealed, returning the action in kind and thoroughly delighting in watching his eyes roll back and the feral growl rumbling up in his throat. He squeezed the outsides of her thighs where his hands were resting as the growl faded into a rumbling sigh.

She could have tormented him a bit more, but she decided not to overdo it and set about removing his tunic and shirt. Years of experience in disrobing men for surgery let her make short work of the garments, pulling them up his torso and over his head and arms and flinging them somewhere off to the side. Just then, he looked so sweetly surprised to find his clothing discarded so quickly and he looked like he was wondering where his things had gone.

Now that he was suitably bare, she flattened her hands on his shoulders and gently smoothed them down his chest and stomach, following them with her mouth and leaving soft little butterfly kisses down his body. He trembled and breathed heavily, and then began to slide his hands from her hips slowly up her waist. For a moment, she stilled and sighed, letting herself enjoy his ministrations a little while. His hands moved around to her back, where they became still.

Even though she'd seen him in various states of undress before—and not always to his knowledge—her stomach still fluttered as she looked at him. His arms and shoulders were well-muscled and defined, but the rest of him was thin and lithe, with a narrow waist and subtle curves that had absolutely no business being on a man. His collarbones jutted out above his chest and she could just barely see the contours of some of his ribs through his skin; she gingerly ran her fingers along the visible bones and watched his skin come out in goosebumps in response to her touch. His shoulders and arms and chest were dotted all over with the old scars of a difficult life. He was pale, so very fair—Djaq found the stark contrast between his light flesh and her own dark hands beautiful.

As she looked once again into his gorgeous, expressive green eyes, she decided that he was perfect. Just—perfect.

She resumed her action and continued placing those light little kisses all the way down his chest. His muscles tensed under her lips as she went steadily downward, to his stomach and then even lower. When she dipped her tongue into his navel, she heard him sharply intake a breath and hold it. The last thing she did was take the waist of his trousers in her teeth, pulling it out a bit and letting it snap back down against him—and apparently that was all the teasing he was going to take. He reached down quickly and hooked his hands behind her legs and dragged her back up to him, surprising her.

Looking down at him, with his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and his eyes lustily half-lidded and his chest heaving under her with heavy breaths, she felt her chest tighten. He was impossibly, heartbreakingly beautiful. She bent and kissed him again, sweetly and gently this time, holding herself up with one hand and letting the other go no further than his face while she cupped his cheek.

Even in the midst of this, her whole body hot and tingling and aching for him, she couldn't help but realize that even with their miraculous second chance, thoughts of the future were bittersweet. She knew that even if nothing happened between here and Acre, anything could happen while they were there—they all went into this mission willingly, knowing that there might not be any way out—and that the hard wooden floorboards in a little cupboard on a ship was the closest thing the pair would probably ever have to a marriage bed. It was angrily disappointing and unfortunate and horribly unfair.

She would have liked to have had much, much more time with him. If it was at all possible, she might have even…

She could have married him. Yes, she would have wanted to be with him forever, as his wife. The idea of being tied down to another person in matrimony never appealed to her at the best of times, and at worst actually frightened her. But the thought of being with Will Scarlett for the rest of her life, of sharing his bed this way every night, being free to love him as much as she liked—she wanted nothing more.

Only she knew that they probably wouldn't make it that far. That was what made her want to take advantage of her time with him while they still could: the knowledge that there was more than a chance that one or both of them would not live to see life after this voyage.

For a moment, she lost herself in his green eyes, deep and beautiful and expressive, as she was once again confronted with this grim knowledge. It scared her.

Below her, Will frowned, no doubt wondering why she'd stopped; then the frown melted into a sly smile. Before she realized what was happening, he rolled his hips and turned them over, switching their positions so that she was on her back on his cloak on the floor and he was kneeling above her. He bent low and kissed her deeply, sweetly, and she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back with equal fervour.

With that kiss, her resolve came back—she knew she had absolutely no influence over what was going to happen to them in future. It was all beyond her control. She would enjoy him as thoroughly as she could, for as much time as they had.

Towering over her, he took control. He explored every inch of her naked flesh with his mouth—from her neck and shoulders to her breasts and all the way down her stomach, making her squirm and sigh happily. The connection of skin on skin, his bare chest pressed against her, sent a jolt through her whole body.

Now he was trying to do two things at once. He licked and mouthed at her breasts, moving slowly between them, while his hands were lower on her hips and trying to work out how she'd tied her trousers. She purred softly, trying to grip him by the back of his hair—this would have been so much easier when his hair was longer—to make him go where she wanted him. He laughed softly, a low chuckle in his throat, and complied, his broad tongue on her nipple making her feel as if she was going to melt into the floor.

It soon became apparent that he didn't have the presence of mind to negotiate her clothing ties while his frustrated growls came up in his throat and rumbled delectably on her skin; growing impatient as he steadily made zero progress, she untied the leather cord keeping her clothes in place and kicked off her boots to make it easier for him. He sighed with relief and quickly dragged her trousers and undergarments over her hips and down her legs. She wriggled against him, aiding him in divesting her of the last of her clothing.

Fully naked now before him, she felt herself falter this time. A combination of nerves and excitement jumbled together inside her, making her heart thud in her chest and her skin tingle wherever his body made contact with hers. She turned her head to the side, away from him, and waited; she felt nervous and it showed in the way she trembled and gently bit her lower lip. Yet another thing that always worked out differently in her head; she'd always imagined herself as being a bit more confident in this endeavour. She had never been this nervous before, but then she'd never felt quite so strongly before. At the time, she thought she'd loved the few young men with whom she'd had a frenzied half-fumble as a teenager when the adults weren't looking—but now, years older and infinitely more experienced in the world, she knew that they were just passing girlish fancies. That she was so hopelessly in love with Will compounded her nerves and made her more than a little anxious.

She turned back again, and her worried lip-biting stopped and she grinned shakily. He was still hovering over her, supporting himself on his hands planted on either side of her arms, and his gaze moved slowly up and down her body with an awed expression on his face.

"Yes?" She asked, the tiniest little fringe of nervousness in her voice.

He came back up to look her in the eye and snapped his mouth closed. Then he gulped—audibly gulped—and her grin broke into a broad smile.

She couldn't stay nervous. She used this moment of awe to catch him off guard and turned them over again so that she was on top. He looked a little surprised to find himself once again on his back and it was enough to break him from his reverie.

"This is hardly fair," he whispered.

She was prepared to say something back, something tart, but any words broke off in a gurgle as he chanced touching her. Her limbs buckled beneath her and she dropped slightly; his fingers kept moving, sliding aggravatingly slowly against her and making her shiver. Instinctively, she bucked against his hand, trying to get even more contact between them. Again, he stroked her and she had to bite her lip to keep from making a sound.

Her actions encouraged him and he kept going, teasing and pinching and delicately caressing. Oh, he was good. With every stroke, a small warm bubble in the pit of her stomach heated up, hotter and hotter until his touch burned and her breaths came raggedly. Hotter, hotter. She ground her hips into his hand again and again, craving more contact, more of his touch. As he willingly complied with her wordless demand, she gave up trying to keep quiet and began voicing tiny little mewls and low groans around shallow gasps.

Warmer, warmer.

The awed look returned to his face at her obvious pleasure, knowing that he was the cause of it. Her eyes fluttered closed and her head dropped to his shoulder.

Closer, closer.

She kept up the rhythmic roll of her pelvis into his hand, encouraging him with her moans and pleading whispers.

"Will…"

The heat in her belly exploded, boiled over; her whole body convulsed and blood rushed in her ears as her arms gave out under her and she collapsed against him. His touch softened and soothed as she slowly came back down from that high, trying to catch her breath. Her skin was slick with sweat, which quickly began to chill in their cool surroundings.

She barely even noticed when his hand dropped away from her sex and came to rest on her waist.

"Djaq?"

The sound of her own name only vaguely registered through the rushing noise in her ears, the sound of her thudding heartbeat and her own heavy breathing. It was a long time before she calmed down, before her heart stopped pounding and she slowly became aware again of where she was.

Finally, she opened her eyes and looked at him, their faces level, with a loopy smile on her lips.

Her breathing slowed and steadied, and she kissed him, long warm kisses with her tongue tangling with his and her hand gently placed on his neck. He looked undeniably proud of himself, so much so that she might have giggled, but she still felt far too intense for that. And anyway, he was entitled to it—she hadn't expected him to try anything like that, much less be good at it.

She didn't see him reach for her again and didn't notice it until she felt his fingers on her hypersensitive flesh, and she yelped loudly, jerking away from his touch. She quickly silenced herself and removed his hand. He looked shocked, his eyes wide and worried.

"What did I—?"

Djaq shook her head. "Not yet," she told him. "I need a moment."

He nodded, but she wasn't sure that he understood. Someday, she'd explain it to him, but not right now.

Through the heavy fabric of his trousers, she could feel him hard and pressing into her thigh. She'd almost forgotten he was still partially dressed and decided that now was the time to rectify that. When she reached for him and began to unlace his breeches, he sat up abruptly, taking her with him. She found herself sitting straddling his legs, looking confusedly up at him. It wasn't until he reached his arms around her and leaned forward that she realized what he was doing.

His boots came off quickly, added to the steadily expanding pile of discarded clothing around them. That done, he quickly lunged around and flipped her over, planting her on her back on the floor again.

"Must you fight me for the upper hand?" She sighed, feigning exasperation.

"Yes."

"Oh. All right, then." She settled back on his bunched cloak on the floor.

He looked at her oddly—clearly, he'd expected her to argue with him about that. She used the momentary surprise to gain the dominant position once again.

"Hey!"

She laughed. Actively fighting for dominance hadn't been something she expected would happen; it seemed as though Will Scarlett's shyness was quelled by his passion.

When he reached down for his trousers, she swatted him on the wrists and shook her head like she was scolding a small child—she was going to have a bit of fun with him before moving on.

She traced her blunt fingernails along the inside of his thighs through his clothing, carefully avoiding his erection and feeling every muscle tense at her touch. When she heard him groan quietly and buck his hips against her, she knew she was driving him mad. Good.

With the ties on his pants now undone, she hooked her hands into the waist and slowly, slowly, began to inch them down a little bit at a time. Inch, inch. As she went, she paused to mouth warm, wet kisses on the newly exposed flesh.

Inch, inch.

Every time he tried to urge her to move quicker or tried to move things along himself, she slapped his hands away and resisted, continuing her slow torment.

She lipped down the bottom of his abdomen, below his navel, following the little trail of dark hair that disappeared down below the waist of his trousers.

Inch.

"Djaq…" His voice was strained and throaty, the name burbling to his lips around low whines. His eyes were clenched closed and his hands clutched his cloak on the floor under him with a white-knuckled grip. "Djaq, please…"

How could she say no to that?

She swiftly pulled the last of his clothing off, dragging his pants over his thin hips and down his legs. He did the last of the work himself, kicking them the rest of the way off as she crawled back up his torso.

Goodness, he was… quite gifted. She didn't mean to stare at him, but she couldn't help herself; she unconsciously licked her lips as she stared at him, and he grinned.

She reached down and devilishly ran a hand up his length, slowly and deliberately; her hand was steady and firm and her brazen action disguising her jumbling nervousness. He nearly jumped out of his skin, his face reddening with the effort it took to keep a cry from going past his lips. All that escaped was a long strangled moan. He twitched in her hand, his hips bucking again into her touch.

Back up now, face-to-face and looking into his eyes; he looked wild, frantic, his lips parted as he panted quietly, a single bead of sweat rolling off his forehead and down his temple. He pulled her face down to his and kissed her again, hard and passionate and deliciously rough, biting her tongue and gripping the back of her neck so hard she was sure he would leave bruises.

There was a pause when the kiss broke, their lips hovering just a hair's breadth apart and breathing the same warm air. The tension was palpable between them, their warm and sweaty bodies flush against each other. His heartbeat thudded against her own chest; she could feel him trembling shallowly—or was that her shaking?

Again, she reached between them, this time taking him in her hand and positioning him in the heat between her thighs where she wanted him to be. He held his breath and waited, his eyes closed and his hands grasping her hips.

"Will."

His eyes snapped open, and she nodded. She lowered herself, going slowly; his fingers dug into her flesh, but he didn't rush her. Then she stopped, took one deep, shaky breath, and took all of him, quickly. She buried her face in his shoulder to stifle her small cry of pain. She whimpered softly, raking her nails across his shoulders and trying to control herself. She knew this would hurt, and she thought she was prepared for it, but now she wasn't so sure. She gulped air in short gasps, gripping him with her thighs.

For a long time there was no movement, no sound but for their coupled ragged breathing. Djaq continued to score his shoulders and chest with her nails, grunting into his shoulder while she allowed herself to accommodate his girth.

Neither of them had any perception of time, and they didn't know how much had passed while they lay there. Eventually, Will took a chance and moved his hips, rocking against her and sending a lance of painful pleasure through her body. Another cry burst from her lips.

Even now, the concern for her was obvious in his face—she knew he was afraid he'd hurt her. All of this was as new to him as it was to her—she'd never come this far before—and she didn't want him to think he'd done something wrong. She pulled away from his shoulder and smiled shakily with her lower lip caught between her teeth. An experimental roll of her own hips into his, and the painfully uncomfortable feeling began to subside. Another roll, harder this time, doubled them with shivers; he rose up to her, pulling her down with his hands as he did so and grinding into her hips even more.

A few more awkward movements into each other, and more shared tremors until they slowly found their rhythm. They moved in tandem, with him rising every time to meet her and pulling her down and grinding their pelvises together; with every roll and thrust, the discomfort lessened and the pleasure became a little bit more intense.

She ground him soundly into the floor, lost in the combined sensations of his touch, feeling him inside her as her body gripped him, and the slow rocking of their bodies into one another; he moved easily in and out, punctuating their movements with a jerk of his hips upward, sending jolts of pleasure along with the pain through her whole body again and again.

Her heart pounded. Her head spun. There was nothing else in the world now—it was just this, and them, breathing and movement synchronized, searing hot kisses on her face and neck and shoulders. She returned them, pressing her lips to whatever of him she could get to without paying much mind to what.

The tiny cupboard was filled with soft sounds, low moans and quiet yelps whenever one of them did something that the other particularly enjoyed. Djaq groaned, babbling incoherently in a slurred mix of Arabic and English; he was only able to voice wordless sounds of pleasure.

Will's movement became quick and erratic, his hips bucking frantically into hers, his tight grip leaving bruises on her skin where he held her so very tightly. She could feel his breathing on her shoulder and neck, rumbling and growing faster and faster. Even if she hadn't known what was happening, it wouldn't have been difficult to read—she knew he was close now.

Another grind, this one the hardest, like he was trying to crush her into his own body. His already painfully tight grip on her hips tightened even more, his whole body tensed and then shuddered—he suddenly lurched forward and clamped his teeth down on her shoulder, biting down. She felt the muffled roar as vibrations in her shoulder, coupled with her own growl of pain. He slid into her one last time, as far as he could, and stopped.

Finally, he released her flesh from his teeth and his head lolled back onto the ground. He was glistening all over with sweat and he was still shaking, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. She, too, was out of breath and shook violently, though not for the same reason, she was sure. She could barely support herself over him, her arms struggling to hold her trembling weight.

She watched him as he came back down to earth; his grasp on her relaxed, his hands turning gentle and stroking away the bruises. The glazed look in his eyes was gone as he opened them and looked at her, his expression almost unbearably sweet, all the way to a crooked, giddy smile. She felt a strange sort of peace seeing him like this, even as she was still tensely holding herself up over him.

At the time, she didn't know how he knew that she wasn't through just yet—though, looking back on it, she imagined she was quite obvious, the way she was still rocking her pelvis against him and whimpering. It may have seemed a little unfair that he'd gotten his release and she was still perched on that awkward cusp. Carefully, tentatively, no doubt remembering that she'd slapped his hand away none too long ago, he slid a hand in between them. When calloused fingers came into contact with her slick and heated flesh, her held breath escaped as a groaning sigh. Encouraged by that sound, he kept going, applied more pressure. Her eyes closed again as she let herself become consumed by his touch.

She reached her own release in just seconds, her muscles tightening around him and she finally let herself fall into his chest. He held her shuddering frame securely against him with arms that still trembled.

For a long time they simply lay there together in a tangle of arms and legs, their heavy breaths soon evening out into long sighs. She used the last of her strength to roll off of him, coming to rest on her side next to him in their dimly lit makeshift bedroom.

She began to shiver as the air chilled her sweaty body. Instinctively, she huddled closer to him, to his warmth, and snuggled into his chest. Reaching behind himself, he pulled the folds of his cloak and wrapped it around them both.

"Thank you," she murmured softly.

He hugged her close to him, kissed her lips and her cheeks and her forehead and then her lips again. He ran a warm, gentle hand down her body, from her shoulder to her hip and back again. His tender actions were so completely different from those before, and she sighed pleasantly—as much as she'd enjoyed their rough play, she loved his gentleness and his soft touch.

Her eyes drooped slowly closed and her head went fuzzy, lost in his gentle warmth.

"I love you," he whispered.

"Love…" she breathed the word as she felt sleep slowly overtake her, wrapped snugly in Will's arms.

o…o

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There you have it! Four chapters in, and I've finally gotten to the actual smut bit. I hope it doesn't disappoint.

Looking back at it, I'm glad that I decided to split this story into chapters instead of posting it as one massive, enormous smuffy one-shot—it would have been far too much to digest all at once.

Feedback is, as always, much appreciated—but not demanded.