AN: This may be skirting the line of M-rated in the beginning...I apologize if this offends anyone.

Hands fisted in her hair, Harry pushes Ruth back, gasping for breath as he struggles for self control. God the things his fiancée can do with her mouth and hands. They have to be illegal somewhere.

"You're no fun." she whispers, slowly sliding up his legs to sit just below his erection.

Her hands are sliding up his chest, nails scrapping lightly at the skin as he tries to use his hold on her hair to pull her closer.

"I want to be in you when I cum."

His answer is blunt but honest and she smiles at him, lifting herself up to press her lips against his. They'd agreed months before to be as honest with one another as they possibly could with their line of work and so Ruth has had to become accustom to the other side of Harry Pearce. Smiling, she reaches for his hands in her hair, and with a firm grip, moves them above his head. He smiles back and holds onto the bed frame, his pelvis lifting as she moves against him; both sighing as she grips him with one hand and slowly lowers herself onto him.

Her hands are gripping his as she starts to move; the rotation of her hips slow and deliberate as both gasp at the sensations being created and flamed.

Each thrust has them moving faster; closer; towards completion. Ruth's head is thrown back as she gasps quietly, feeling tension coiling in her stomach. She's just about there when there's a knock at the door. Movement stops as she turns to look and Harry shakes his head no.

"Ignore it." he gasps, hands leaving the bed frame to grip her hips.

"It could be important." she says, looking back at him.

Any further argument is cut off as he lifts her up slightly, watching her moan in frustration before pulling her down onto him hard. She gasps, hands falling to his shoulders as she quivers beginning. Mouth falling open in a silent gasp, she feels him shudder beneath her and lets go, collapsing against him. They're lying there in a sweaty heap; his arms having moved around her back to hold her tightly; when there's another, unmistakenable knock at the door.

Followed by another a minute later.

It's the third knock that has Harry swearing before rolling Ruth to the bed beside him. Throwing the sheets off, he grabs one of the dressing gowns from the chair and crosses to the door. Wrenching it open, he glares at the person on the other side.

"What?"

He's pushed back into the room as Jane storms in, her eyes livid as she looks from him in the robe to Ruth in the bed. In shock, Ruth grabs the sheet and wraps it tightly around herself, wishing the bed would open up and swallow her.

"I see you're doing what you do best, screwing a whore."

Slamming the door shut, Harry turns to glare at his ex-wife. "Firstly let's get one thing straight. Ruth is not; nor will she ever be; a whore or any of the other nasty words you've been throwing around these past few days. Secondly, what my fiancée and I do; whether in our bed or elsewhere; is none of your business. It ceased being your business over twenty years ago when you divorced me."

"We have children together!"

"Yes we do." Moving further into the room, Harry grabs the other dressing gown and silently hands it to Ruth. Turning back to Jane, he grips her arm and leads her to the sitting area, pushing her down in the chair with its back to the bed. "Children who are in their twenties and thus leaving you no reason to worry about or question the woman I am with."

"She'll still be around any grandchildren we might have."

Harry laughs, watching as the woman fumes before him. "And you're worried about this because? Look Jane, what I do with my life, its none of your business. It's mine. We've been divorced over twenty years and you've shown no interest in it until now. So tell me the real reason you're here in my hotel room at..." he pauses a moment to look at his watch, "twenty past six on Christmas morning."

"How dare you."

"No, how dare you come into my room and try to degrade both myself and my fiancée; whom by the way has done nothing to you. You want something and I want to know what it is."

Frowning, the older woman looks at Harry before purposely turning to glare at the younger woman currently gathering clothes. "She needs to leave."

"Jane..."

"No Harry, it's alright. I'm just going to get a shower."

Before he can protest, Ruth has slipped from the room and quietly closed the door to the en suite. Running a hand across his face, he counts to ten before looking at Jane. "Talk."

"God you smell like cheap sex." The words are out of her mouth before she can think about it.

"Out." Standing, Harry grips her arm in his and pulls her out of the seat. "I'm tired of sitting here listening to you mouth off about something you know nothing about."

"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for." Pulling her arm from his grip, Jane sighs and sits down. "Look, I'm sorry alright. Sorry for ruining your Christmas Morning and sorry for belittling your fiancée. I need your help."

"Funny way you've gone about getting it." he mutters, still glaring at her.

"It's Graham."

Any words he might say in argument are lost as she mentions their son. Sitting down on the sofa, he watches as she twists her hands a moment, sighs, and then starts. When she's done, he can only groan at the stupidity his only son has managed to entangle himself in. He watches as she stands and finds himself promising to look into it.

As she silently closes the door, he has to wonder where the peace of the morning has gone.

AN: Well, this took a bit of a different direction than I had planned. What started as a one shot for Christmas is developing a little plot. Damn Jane. ^^