Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to The Princess and the Frog. This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.

As ever, thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to read, and everyone who has reviewed. I remain very much grateful to you all for your kindness and your support, as well as your patience as time and again I forget to upload the stuff I've already finished writing, so c'mon, Memlu, get on the ball already.

Hey, it's smut time! Well, sort of. This particular story has a precautionary rating of M (or R, or whatever)for sexual content, so if that isn't your preferred cup of tea, you might want to skip it. It isn't terribly explicit, but you never know! I'm keeping the overall rating for the collection at T (or PG13, or whatever), though, as the only vignettes currently exceeding that rating are this one and another which I will be posting soon enough (with another warning regarding the content).

This is set after the film.

Tricky to Verbalize

In the silence of their room and the warmth of their bed, Naveen bent over her; he bore upon her.

"Naveen," Tiana said. She arched, pressing close, closer, pulling at his shoulders. Beneath her palms, his skin was slick with sweat, slick and so very hot, and high on his back, where her fingers wandered, the muscles rippled, bunching.

"Naveen," she said, "I--"

He pressed a graceless kiss beneath her jaw, into the soft hollow there: his mouth open, lips warm, his teeth scraping faintly; his tongue flicked out across her skin. He cupped her waist, slid his hand smooth and firm down the length of her thigh, and lifted, hitching her leg higher.

"Naveen," she said again, and he rolled his hips, pressing down into her, pressing deep. "Oh," she said, and he did it again. Her skin itched. She felt as if she'd been drawn out, a cord pulled tight and just about ready to give. His fingers on the back of her thigh, his mouth hot on her throat, his shoulders shifting beneath her hands, the steady undulation of his hips as he met her: all of it, like water running through her.

"Oh," she said, "oh, oh-h." She rose up against him, legs tight around his back, and dug her nails in, dragging him down and down. He nuzzled her jaw, the tender spot where it met her throat, and followed it up to the little joint behind her ear.

"Naveen," she said, "Naveen, please, I can't-- would you-- please." She closed her eyes and breathed: in once, out once. Her lips were dry; her tongue, too. She ached. "I need you to..." She frowned. "I need--" but she lost it.

Naveen nipped at her earlobe; he dragged it through his teeth. In her ear, he exhaled, his breath gusting, hot.

"Ti-an-a," he said, each syllable a drawn groan resounding in her ear, scraping across her skin. "Use your wor-rds."

It coiled in her belly and swirled through her, bubbling higher and higher, an irrepressible warmth sweeping through her: Tiana laughed; she shook, helpless. He hid his own laugh in her hair, his back shuddering beneath her hands.

His hips stuttered; he fell out of rhythm.

"Oh, hello," he said. "That has never happened before. Let me try again--" and she threw her head back; she laughed, flush against him.

She laughed still, as he drew her thighs up and fit himself within her, and as he kissed a long trail up her throat, whispering silly things against her skin; and when he rocked once, then again, and again, each lazy drive a line of heat roiling up her spine, she twined her fingers in his hair and smiled into his mouth.

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 12/20/2009.

As multiple people have commented regarding this: I think part of the fun of something as ambigious as Maldonia (where it's located, its culture, etc.) is that everyone has a different interpretation. My Maldonia might not look a thing like your Maldonia! There really is no correct answer.