Okay, so I mentioned in my A/N last chapter that I wasn't sure if this fic would have smut so anyone who wanted to could follow the story could make sure they'd be able to find it if the rating changed. What ended up happening was a poll of sorts taking place in reviews as to what sort of content chapter two should have – not what I was going for, but I appreciate y'all's input, haha. Anyway, you've seen the rating has changed, so if smut isn't your thing, you may want to hit that back button now.

Paige tightened her fingers around his curls, sucking at his bottom lip and running her tongue along the outside, feeling his hands slide around to her bottom. She pressed backward, against his hands, as her tongue continued to tangle furiously with his.

Immigration would ask. They would get personal, determined to find a crack in the marriage, a sign that none of this was real. But as they continued to kiss, as he moaned into her mouth and followed her as she tilted her head to the side so the kiss wouldn't break, she realized that she wanted him and she knew that long before she agreed to marry him.

Paige pulled back, swinging her leg back over him and kneeling beside him on the couch, quickly wiggling out of her pants as he pulled off his shirt. Before he could do anything else, she straddled him again, kissing his neck and pressing her hips down. The pajama pants she'd packed had been decidedly unsexy – at least in the conventional sense – made of thick flannel, and she whimpered as she pressed back down on to him, needing nothing between them but not wanting to break the contact they did have again, so soon, so he could take off his pants and so both of them could remove their underwear. She rocked her hips, grinding down on him frantically, whining again in agitation.

Walter groaned against her lips. "Paige," he managed, continuing to kiss her with the almost overwhelming intensity that had nearly rendered her unable to stand at City Hall. His kisses had a tendency to do that, she realized, thinking back on their admittedly limited history on that subject. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, kissing her as if they were on a mission with millions of lives in the balance. She hadn't been kissed like this in…well…

Ever. "Walter," she said, tearing her lips away. He responded by grunting, pushing himself into a standing position and carrying her the few feet to the bed, settling her down on the edge of it. He stayed standing, undoing his belt and letting his pants drop to the floor.

Then he was over her, kissing her again, working his hips between her legs, and she didn't stop him, lifting her legs and wrapping them around him. Pressing her heels against his hips, she tried to push his boxers down. No luck. She whimpered again in frustration.

Walter's hand hooked around her underwear and she dropped her legs from around him, letting him pull them down her legs. In almost the same motion, his boxers were tossed on the pile of clothes on the floor.

He settled back between her hips put his lips firmly back on hers, sliding his other hand under her hips as he pushed inside her. She grunted, wrapping an arm around his neck and, realizing that she hadn't taken off her pajama top, grabbed one of his hands and slid it under the flannel and up to one of her breasts. She felt him grunt as he continued to thrust into her, pushing deeper until she completely surrounded him.

Her eyes rolled back as she lifted her hips, pushing her head and shoulders harder against the mattress. Oh God, it all felt so good. "Yes," she breathed, her eyes falling closed, hearing the grunts that accompanied each of his breaths. "Oh God," she gasped, rocking her hips vigorously along with his thrusts. "Oh God. Oh God."

She was already clenching around him and as he began to thrust faster, clearly near the end already himself, and Paige put a hand, on top of her pajama shirt, over one of her breasts, squeezing her nipple through the flannel, and moaning loudly as he hit just the right spot two, three, four times, causing her to contract further around him while the rest of her went limp as she came apart.

Paige wasn't sure how long it was – though it couldn't have been more than half a minute – before he stilled, his hips against hers, a groan escaping his lips just an inch from her ear.

His breath was hot and fast against her neck as he panted, struggling to regain some form of control. She instinctually wrapped her arms around his neck, tipping her head so her cheek rested against him, opening her mouth to soothe him…but the sound that very nearly escaped her lips wasn't words, but a sorrowful cry as she slowly came back to herself.

It shouldn't have happened.

Walter rolled off her, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. She saw his chest moving, saw the glint of sweat on his skin, saw how he put his hands over his face in what she was sure was an attempt to block everything out so he could calm down.

She'd let it happen. No, she'd initiated it. And when she'd briefly realized, when they were still on the couch, that they were about to make a mistake, when she'd pulled away and said his name and he'd responded by moving them both to the bed, she hadn't said no. She should have. She should have pulled back, stood up, said that they shouldn't. She knew they were getting away from themselves and she didn't do the responsible thing.

It shouldn't have happened.

She'd let it happen because she wanted him. Because she'd wanted to do what they'd just done so much she physically ached.

He couldn't handle that. Toby was right, he was terrible with things like this and they overwhelmed him and…

Walter loved her. He didn't know she knew, and Paige had no idea if that made it better or worse. For him, it probably didn't matter. He was a man who couldn't process emotion and wasn't used to dealing with feeling things so strongly, and whether he knew that she knew how he felt about her or not, this was bound to be downright harmful for him.

It shouldn't have happened. She'd been so selfish. I have memories of us that he doesn't. It's not right.

She sat up, finger combing her hair, suddenly panicking. "I'm…I'm s-sorry," she stammered, jumping out of bed and reaching for her pants.

"No." Walter was still laying on his back, his hands over his face. "No, no I'm sorry. I…"

"Don't apologize I…we…" she held a hand out, palm up, and made a sweeping motion across the room. "Hey, we…if immigration asks us…I mean…we know. Now. Right?"

His hands still covered his face. "Uh huh."

"Walter, please look at me."

He did, sitting up, and God, oh God, she couldn't read what was happening in his eyes but something was there, something complex, she'd done this to him, it was her fault…

"Walter, it…we…" She looked at the door. "I'll get another room. They're not busy tonight, we got in late, if they were almost sold out they wouldn't have had enough flexibility to ask for our floor preference."

"Paige."

"You're right. We can't. Spending our wedding night apart? This thing will fall apart before it even starts. I…uh…" Her eyes fell on the couch. The sofa bed. "Pull out!"

Walter looked frantic. "Oh God."

"What?"

"Protection."

A silence followed as they stared at each other in horror, Paige feeling the blood drain from her face. "Oh…God."

"Target, Walmart, Walgreens…" Walter said quickly, jumping up and reaching for his clothes. "They'd…Target is probably closed, Walmart is twenty four hours, isn't it?"

Paige stepped back, falling onto the sofa and putting her head in her hands, her elbows digging into her knees. I'm a horrible person, I'm a horrible person, I'm a horrible person…

"Hey. Paige."

He dropped down in front of her, she could see him through her hands, she could see the love he had for her in his eyes, I took advantage of him. "Please just go to sleep, Walter."

"Are you okay?"

Are you okay? He wasn't okay. Not after this. Happy warned me years ago about messing with his head. Well if this isn't the epitome. "We have a flight in the morning, Walter. I'll sleep here."

"No, I will."

She dropped her hands, looking at him without obstruction. "No. You don't sleep as well as I do. You should have the bed."

"No, let me sleep here. I'm used to sleeping in less than favorable conditions."

"No, Walter."

"How about this?" Walter raised his eyebrows. "We both sleep in the bed."

That was the initial plan, anyway. She sighed. "Okay."

He nodded, smiling at her the kind of smile that was less about real joy and more satisfaction that they'd reached a common ground.

He stood up. "So…do you have a side, or…"

"Left."

"Okay." Walking around the bed, Walter climbed in, pulling the covers around him. Paige slid into the other side, rolling on her back away from him, pressing her thumb and middle finger against her eyes and tucking her chin to her chest in an effort to hold back tears of regret.

Walter reached over and turned off the lamp that was providing the remaining light. Bathed in darkness, he stared up toward the ceiling.

He should have stopped it.

He knew they were getting caught up, he knew they were rushing toward something they weren't going to be able to stop, Hell, when she'd stopped to take her pants off he could have jumped up, he could have said that they shouldn't, but he wanted her so badly and he loved her so much and she was showing signs of wanting him too and then her body was on his again and he didn't say no.

Every second of what happened was already burned into his memory, a memory that was both a blessing and a curse, when it came to her.

He pulled the second pillow from behind his head and hugged it to his chest. It shouldn't have happened – not like that.

In all the times he'd fantasized about the two of them being together, it was never like that.

He wanted to worship her, to undress her slowly, kiss her lips, her jawline, her neck, her throat, her everywhere. He wanted to run his hands slowly over her body, making her shudder and feel safe at the same time. He wanted to learn everything about her, what made her tremble, gasp, moan, writhe. He wanted to care for her afterward, rub her thighs, brush her hair back, and make sure she was okay. He wanted to hold her close, whisper in her ear how wonderful she was, and feel her body slowly grow heavier on his arm as she surrendered to sleep.

Tonight hadn't been like that at all. Tonight had been hard and fast, fulfilling in only the very basic sense of the act. He knew that was fine – couples had nights like that all the time, but…

We will never do it again. Tonight was a fluke, a result of a full day of playacting, an apparent logical next step in the game that was over and done with now.

The only memory he'd ever have was the crushing regret of allowing them to get away from themselves.

He buried his face in the pillow. He couldn't let her hear him cry.