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.

Thank you so much to everyone for your continued kindness and support! Thank you. I'm so, so glad you've enjoyed all these stories. And what the heck, here's another before I head off. See? I'm improving! Maybe! (But seriously, thank you.)

This story is set after the film. I'm giving it a precautionary rating of M/R for sexuality, though it isn't awfully explicit; better safe than sorry!

Summer Night

Naveen emerged from the bathroom in an aromatic cloud, every inch of him that wasn't clothed gleaming. The drawers didn't hide much. He stopped off at the dresser, rummaging through the drawers in search of something. His back stretched; his shoulders bunched, rippling. A bead of water ran alongside his spine, vanishing into the hollow low on his back.

Tiana tightened her hold on the July issue of Ladies' International Cookery like the magazine was the only thing mooring her.

"Where on Earth is your shirt?" she said.

He shut the dresser drawer, frowning. "It's too hot for a shirt," he said. "You know, you Americans wear too many clothes at night."

She scooted over to give him room enough to slide into bed beside her. His leg brushed hers, his skin still damp, warm from the shower; his hip pressed snug against her hip. The condensation in his curls glimmered in the thin light of their room. He reached for a magazine of his own. Tiana followed the line of his arm.

"Maybe," she said, "that's because we Americans know how to dress like decent people." She folded the page corner down, then closed Ladies' International Cookery on a promising chocolate mousse recipe.

He settled back against the headboard, the sheets pooled in his lap. He grinned sidelong at her. "Of course," he conceded. "That must be it. Or perhaps you are all simply prudish. Or perhaps--"

Tiana set her hand on his chest. No longer slick, but still faintly wet, his breast rose against her fingers. Her heart zipped. She curled her fingers.

She said, "And where'd you get an idea like that?"

"You must promise me you will not get angry," said Naveen.

"I'm not making any promises," she said.

He shrugged. "Then I'm afraid you will never know."

"Well," said Tiana, her head feeling like it was full of air, "how about I teach you a lesson?" and before he had the chance to come up with something clever to say - before she'd time enough to fluster herself into backing down - she kissed that wide, too-clever mouth of his.

He rose a little, chasing after her. She pushed on his chest and down he went, sliding down the backboard and into the mess of pillows and sheets. He blinked up at her, shining curls fanning around his ears.

"Tiana," he said.

"Naveen," she said, her heart beat-beat-beating.

She slung her leg across his waist and leaned down to kiss him again. Her fingers spread wide, wider across his chest. He palmed the small of her back through her discreet chemise. His breath shivered against her lips: his mouth opened beneath hers.

One kiss, two kisses, three, building one atop the other: lazy, now something else. Her nails pinched at his chest. At her back, his fingers itched. He was right, she thought. It was awful hot.

Tiana peeled out of her chemise as neatly as she could. His hand slid up and up her back, following the bare trail as she pulled it higher. She didn't feel at all beautiful yanking that over her head, but Naveen drew her closer, leaning up to nuzzle the swell of her breast. She pushed down on his chest again. He fell back, his eyes black in the shadow she cast across him.

"Now I don't want any of your smart talk," she said. "You hear?"

"Yes, yes," he said. He smiled, slow, and covered her hand upon his breast. "As you wish, my princess."

"Not one more word," she warned.

He mimed turning a key between his lips. She bent to him, kissing him again and again until his lashes fell dark over his eyes. His chest trembled. She ran her fingers down the slope of his chest, down his flat belly, which fluttered beneath her fingers. He said nothing then or when she snapped the band of his drawers; he shucked them with a flourish.

"You're picking those up," she told him. Naveen held his hands out as if to say, Oh, well, then he turned his face up to her, his throat arching.

Long, long kisses: she drew them out. He shifted beneath her, his fingers scratching down her back. When she pressed closer, not at all close enough, his breath stuttered, glancing across her cheek. Her heart thumped, and low in her belly, cradled high between her thighs, she itched; she ached; she burned all the way up.

Tiana cupped his jaw in her hands, her fingers sweeping the curls thick behind his ears. She kissed him once more, lingering. His hand flexed on her hip, tightening, then gentling. His lips moved, parting: she thought he said her name. He closed his eyes as she dropped little kisses to the left of his mouth, then the right. His chest rose and his head fell further back, his throat arching higher, his chest, his hips angled down. His skin was slicker now, the line of his throat lifted in offering glinting.

She kissed him softly again, taking what he gave, then she sank down upon him, holding him close as he pressed his brow to her shoulder and mouthed her name into her collar again, again, again, his breath like fire rolling across her skin.

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 02/03/2010, for livejournal user bluecheshirecat, who purchased fic from me at help_haiti, a fandom auction to raise donations for Haiti in the wake of the earthquake disaster.