AN: M rated chapter

PJ

"Ok bed time!" Gillian announced now the last story had been read. They were piled up in the bed she shared with her husband, three-year-old Owen was in her lap, lying full body against her chest, eight-year-old Lewis was in between her and Cal, cuddled up against her arm. Cal was wrapped around her and their sons, taking his turn to read every alternate book from the stack Owen and Lewis had brought in for story time. Of course, Lewis was starting to outgrow all the picture books. It was Saturday and the boys were allowed an extra fifteen minutes of story time before bed.

"Let's go," Cal shifted away, pulling back the covers to allow the boys space to get out. "Mum will tuck you in."

"Will she now?" Gillian asked him, pushing her youngest off her. He was sticky warm and made her pyjamas damp. Lewis gave his father a hug and kiss goodnight, then grabbed the books. Owen reached up to his father to do the same and Gillian went to the door with her eldest. She took him down to his bed room and watched him put the books back on the shelf while she turned down Owen's bed ready for him. Lewis climb up to his bed and when he was ready he leaned towards her for his hug and kiss. Owen came in behind them and climbed into his own bed. While Gillian hugged and kissed him goodnight and tucked him in with teddy, Lewis removed his hearing aids and put them in their case carefully, then put the case on the little shelf Cal had put up by his bed, where he kept his book, his watch and a clip on lamp. Gillian wished them sweet dreams and headed for the door, putting out the light and pulling the door mostly closed.

She left the hall light on as she headed back to the master bedroom. Saturday night and the kids were in bed? And it was still relatively early? She was smiling as she reached the door and pushed it open, about ready to suggest some naughtiness, and then she saw Cal and she stopped, surprised, her hand slipping off the doorknob. She was stunned actually. Her breath caught and she stumbled against her own feet. Her heart started pounding and he grinned salaciously before sauntering over.

"Aye, aye," he uttered with such arrogance in his tone and expression and body, her stomach flooded with heat and her mouth went dry. The look in his eyes... she felt like she was standing there naked. He reached her and grabbed the door next to her hand, never breaking eye contact and pushing it shut. Gillian felt her heart kick in, pounding and now that he was standing so close to her, she was aware of her arms trembling. The door clicked shut and Cal stepped around her slightly to lock it, his body warmth detectable and sizzling as he leaned close to her. "What do we have here," he murmured and he slapped her backside, hard. She jumped and turned on him but he held her at arm's length; she hadn't even realised she had reached out for him. "What do you think?" He asked, the bravado dropped for a second, the question sincere.

Gillian stood and appraised him, feeling like she was finally getting a hold of herself for functioning thought. He was in his most worn pair of jeans, the denim faded out at the knees, threadbare, and in various patches on the thighs, around the pockets and the cuffs. He had on a white undershirt wife-beater that showed off the lean muscles of his arms and chest, the tattoos merely adding to the look. And on his head was a yellow hard hat, painting shadows across his face. He even had the tool belt. And it was slung low so it seemed nothing was actually holding it up but the slight bulge in the front of his jeans. And she couldn't keep her eyes off him. He looked... hot. Now she understood why he hadn't shaved for a few days.

"It's," she started and gawped instead; he dressed up for her! He grinned and she laughed and stepped forward to crash her lips against his, aiming blindly because she couldn't quite see. She felt Cal smiling beneath her mouth and the hard hat knocked against her hair line as she tried to duck beneath it. Then she felt him grab her roughly and push and turn her and slam her into the wall. Not too hard, but firm enough to make a thud and a little thrill go through her. He started to kiss her harder and tugged at her pyjamas roughly. He grabbed a handful of breast and thrust his tongue at her and she felt the dizzying rush of trying to keep up with him.

His mouth broke from hers and she gulped in cooler air while he nipped at her neck, breaking her rule for leaving a mark. He ground his hips against hers and the friction of the tool belt and rough denim through her thin pyjamas made her legs shake. He turned his cheek to scrape the rough scratch of his jaw against the sensitive skin he had just teased and another shiver went through her. She tried to grab at him but he took her hand and slammed it back against the wall. She wondered where they were exactly but every time she tried to open her eyes he was there and all she caught was yellow plastic. It was better with her eyes closed anyway because she could skip ahead to what was going to happen next...

PJ

Cal was actually getting just as much of a kick out of it as he could tell Gillian was. In his mind she was some saucy piece of work just strutted past his construction site wearing a tiny wee skirt, a shirt one size too small and impossible heels and he was going to do her behind the manager's portable office, or a partial external wall. He pushed his hips against his wife's again because he liked that too, feeling her against him; it wasn't quite the same if they weren't horizontal. He stepped closer, careful of her toes beneath his untied boots, and closed the distance between their bodies. He could feel her hot torso through their thin clothing and shifted his hand from her breast to slip beneath, against skin. She gave a little whimper and he was glad; he was doing this all right then.

He nibbled at her neck, roughing up her skin with his stubble, realising belatedly that tomorrow it would leave a red rash and he would probably get in trouble; she might forgive him this once. He moved on, lower, to her collarbone, feeling the pressure of her hand trying to escape his. He stroked a thumb over her nipple, noting it tightening beneath the pad of his digit and heard a moan and was glad again; she was playing along. He didn't want to think about the conversation that had brought his about. He didn't want to think about the last time he had worn a hard hat.

Gillian started pushing back with her hips and her breath got more pronounced and she gave little murmurs of discontent. She was reaching that point... Cal shifted his pelvis back a little to let his hand trail south quickly to her pyjama trousers, pushing inside her underwear, stroking against her. She gave a gasped moan and thrust her hips against him. He teased her, worked her and still held images in his head of fucking her in broad daylight in the middle of a building site. Oh god seriously.

"Fuck I want you," he growled removing his hand to her disgruntled pant and popping open the button of his jeans with his slick fingers. A much trickier move that he counted on. He fumbled for ages, trying to grasp his fly and as he mucked around he felt the sense of urgency in his wife get stronger, as well as her confidence to defy him; she pushed back.

"Hurry up," she groaned at him, raising her other hand to his head, turning the helmet so the small visor was to the side. She drew him in for a searing kiss. It made his knees weak. He stumbled against her, pinning her harder against the wall. They were right beside the door and kind of making a bit of noise. They boys weren't even asleep yet. She wasn't kidding. They had to hurry this the hell up.

Cal let go of her other hand and kept her pinned with a shoulder while he used both hands to free himself from his jeans and underwear. The tool belt slid lower and he could feel the weight of it at the back of his thighs. He reached for Gillian's pyjamas, tearing them down roughly. She gave another strangled groan and reached for him, placing her hands over the back of his shoulders, pushing up with her toes to meet him. Cal reached for her knee, grabbed a hand full of the back of her thigh and pulled up, catching her weight against his chest as he unsettled her. It took a bit of jostling but he got her with her legs around his waist, his side and chest pressing her back flat against the wall, an arm bracing in the small of her back to help hold her weight; they weren't as young as they used to be.

Gillian had a hand between then, stroking and teasing him while he moved them. His other hand was tied up in gripping her leg so for a second she was all in control; Cal was glad she didn't immediately take that opportunity to shove him off her. If this was pushing buttons for her it was all the right ones. Thank god, because Cal wasn't sure if he could stand it if they stopped right now. It was rare for them to tear at clothes these days, it was rare to do it against the wall, it was rare for there to be such desperate passion.

Gillian suddenly gripped him hard and directed him to place, pushing up with her hips to meet him and he slid inside her. Cal stepped forward again and the back of her pelvis smacked against the dry wall. Her fingers dug into the back of his shoulders and she gave a strangled breath, throwing her head back as well. Cal had to take a second to gather himself, let alone making sure his wife was ok. He pulled back and thrust again, adjusted his stance to get the best angle, the best force; keep his balance.

"Cal," Gillian moaned. "Harder."

He complied, letting rip his own desperate groan, the tension unbearable. He shifted his hands on her to get a better grip, needing more leverage, more friction, more of her, more... more... He closed his eyes, pictured her again in that tiny skirt, a push up bra, breasts in his face. He panted against her shoulder, the curve of her neck, feeling her tightening everything around him, holding on, coaxing him; hot and slick.

"Oh god Gillian," he groaned again, desperately, slamming into her again and again, the tempo of his heart setting the rhythm. He could hear a constant whimpering and moaning and panting, right in his ear. "Gill," he murmured again. "Fuck!"

PJ

That was Cal's little cue that he was getting close, when he started muttering her name and cursing in short syllables. Gillian gripped a handful of his hair at the back of his head and pulled his head to kiss her hard. Their teeth and chins bumped against each other as his hips thrust and after a particularly painful clash she started laughing. That was so not going to work. Cal chuckled and she laughed again, delighted.

"Go," she urged. "I'll go with you," she whispered. He gave a grunt but didn't stop and let go. He pushed a little bit harder, letting it linger just a little bit longer. He was so close, so close and she just knew as soon as he started it would set her off. She was practically on fire, the throbbing was almost painful. She pushed her hips against him when he slammed against her and she felt him stumble for a second. She squeezed her muscles down, feeling him twitching, knowing he was barely holding it together; his breath strangled in his throat and then he cried out her name into her shoulder, his teeth grazing through the material of her shirt and she felt the quivering explosion of him. She fell a second later, the ripples of delight shocking her unexpectedly.

Then she literally fell... in a controlled way, to the floor, as Cal collapsed against her, dragging her down to the carpet. They landed in a heap crushing and cushioning each other, pressing against the wall. Cal gave a last little grunt and moved away from her and she was left staring up at the ceiling enjoying the kaleidoscopic patterns her pleasure was causing behind her eyes. It took a long time to eventually end and she shivered with each new reverberation. Cal uttered one of his amusing tame curses he used in front of their kids instead of saying the real thing and she giggled on reflex. If there was ever a time to really let rip with a real swear it would be now. Then Cal was back, pulling his jeans up a little higher to cover himself again. Gillian reached up to tug him by the neck, down against her so she could hug him. She pressed a kiss against his temple, her legs like jelly, her arms barely holding it together. Cal moved closer, so he was lying against her side and put an arm around her waist. She didn't know what to say...

PJ

Cal made a starfish in the middle of his bedroom floor. "Merlin's beard," he cursed and Gillian gave a small laugh. He caught his breath and turned, wanting to be closer to her, pulling his underwear back into place and leaning in for a hug. He pulled her close as best he could, knowing she wasn't able to move much herself. He liked it that way the best, when she was a complete mess and it was all his fault. He grinned against her shoulder and turned his head to face the red patch he'd left on her skin. He was so getting it for that tomorrow. Tomorrow though. Right now he was hoping for a lot of brownie points. He kissed her softly, along her throat, then pushed himself up on his arms, which were still a little wobbly as well, and traced kisses along her jaw to her mouth. He kissed her deeply but nice and slowly and softly.

She sighed when he broke away again and the grip of her arms around his neck loosened a little. Her eyes seemed to come back to focus and she looked up at him with a lazy smile. He gave a slight grin, waited, but she didn't say anything first. "That was utterly fantastic," Cal told her.

Her smile got wider. "Uh huh."

"Killed my back though," Cal gave a wince, the low ache starting to rear its head. That was probably his payback for aggravating her skin.

Gillian laughed. "Aw," she pouted and then she let him go and propped herself up on her elbows. She surveyed him again and he could feel the heat of her body against his. "You're going to keep that outfit right?"

Cal turned to her surprised. "That wasn't enough for you?"

"Fantasy and favourite position. You do spoil me."

"But it wasn't enough?" Cal queried innocently, leaning in to nibble against her jaw.

Gillian gave a light hum of approval. "Completely satisfied Cal," she murmured. "I just want it again. Later."

"Ugh," Cal gave a light groan. "Next week? When I recova?"

Gillian laughed, lightly, beautiful. "Sure. Or, you know, you could surprise me." She gave a wiggle of her eyebrows.

"I'll keep that in mind," Cal growled lowly. He felt his wife shiver and smiled, pleased. He lifted his gaze to hers and saw the amusement there too.

"Can I make a request?"

"Absolutely," Cal agreed readily.

"Wear that for Halloween."

Cal gave her an unimpressed expression. "All right but what will you wear for me?"

"Hm," Gillian mused. "Whatever you want me to."

Cal gave her a lascivious grin and watched her muscles twitch again. He might be done but he was starting to suspect she wasn't. He leaned in closer to her ear and she went still to listen attentively. "Have to be naughty secretary," he whispered. Her giggle was musical and she gave him a little shove. He moved back.

"Deal," she agreed. "Now bed ok?"

"Ok," Cal agreed and got to his knees, his muscles already starting to feel stiff and sore. His knee popped when he put pressure on it. "Ugh I'm gettin' old," he complained as he stood and started stripping off. Gillian watched him from the floor. "You all right?" He asked lightly, dumping everything in a heap.

Gillian took a deep breath and smiled again. "Yep," she agreed easily. She got to her feet too, stripping off her pyjamas and tossing them on the same pile as Cal's. He was tempted to just leave everything there but heaped the materials up in his arms and took them to the bathroom, dumping them in the hamper instead. When he came back Gillian was under the covers and he slid in next to her.

Cal put out his bed side lamp, then leaned over to extinguish hers too. Gillian waited patiently for him and when he lay down she snuggled in closer against his chest. Cal felt his skin zing alive with the feel of hers against his. Her leg came over his and she pushed a little with her hips. He was seriously done, but Gillian... wasn't...

"Confession," he started, keeping his voice soft.

"Ok," Gillian agreed, her hand on his chest, making small strokes, her breath against his neck.

"Just now, when we were..."

"Yes?" Gillian asked and she sounded a little wary.

"I was picturin' you," Cal murmured. "In that black skirt I really like." He felt Gillian move that leg a little higher up his thigh. "And the white shirt that I can see your bra through." She gave a 'hmm'. "And those heels, the black ones... you know those ones you got last year for the mayor's charity ball?"

She quivered against him and her hand shifted to his wrist. "Yes? What else?"

"I imagined you walked by, on the street, lookin' like that," Cal went on and why hadn't he done this to start with? He should really have planned it out better. He could have worked her up to begging for it, then screwed her against the wall. "And maybe I'd whistle at you."

"I'd ignore you," Gillian murmured almost immediately.

Cal chuckled. "Really? All rugged and unshaved and dirty, with my tool belt hung low?"

He felt Gillian give a pant and knew she was picturing it. And knew she was loving it.

"Smelling like earth," she added.

"Sizin' you up?" Cal went on. "Devourin' you with my eyes? Lettin' you know just how badly I'd want to fuck you. Right then. "

Gillian gave a little 'oh' and her grip tightened on him for a second, her hips pressing in tighter. "Where?" She practically gulped and he loved so much that she was playing along with him. "Where will we go? There's nowhere to go."

She was so playing along!

Cal thought about the manager's desk, but that was his fantasy. This was hers. Dirty pickup truck might do it, but it was broad day light and she would not go for that. "There's a place around the back, a finished section."

"Oh," Gillian whispered again. She shifted that leg up further, so it was over his thigh and he could feel her hot, against him. He wanted to touch her and so he did and she was fiery and sticky and he swore to Merlin, if he was younger, he would be flipping her over right now to do her again.

So unfair.

"Against the wall," Cal went on, his breath a little more pronounced too, sliding his fingers against her and she whimpered delicately, suddenly deciding that now might be a good time to be quiet? "Have to be quick though. In case we get caught." It must be a miracle a small someone didn't knock on their door to ask what was going on. Surely the boys hadn't fallen asleep that quickly? Gillian pushed her hips against him in a sudden thrust. "Are you picturin' it Gillian?"

"Yes," she gave a desperate groan, her fingers gripping around his wrist tightly, the tension in her body palpable.

"Are you picturin' me fuckin' your brains out?" He wanted to. He wanted to, to do it again, with her, god he wanted to.

"Yes!" She cried. "Cal, oh god," she groaned and hung on to him as he wound her up again.