Prompt 9: "If we get caught, I'm blaming you."
Summary: Finding privacy in South Africa was surprisingly difficult.
A/N: THIS PARTICULAR PROMPT IS M-RATED PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Patrick was losing his mind, although he couldn't say if the unbearable heat driving him to insanity was more caused by the hot African sun or his overly-flirtatious wife. She had to be just as frustrated as him, he supposed, though if she was, she was doing a bang up job of hiding it.
It all started with her ridiculous bri-nylon nightgown...which shouldn't even look this tempting and since when did he like ruffles? Apparently, he liked ruffles now, or at least the sight of Shelagh in nearly nothing but ruffles since the remainder of the garment left absolutely nothing to his imagination. Her grin as she walked into their bedroom the other night told him she knew exactly what she was doing and that combined with her outfit sent him reeling into a fit of passion he didn't know he was capable of.
That lasted about five minutes before they were interrupted by Sister Winnifred knocking on their door asking if they were going to be "done moving their furniture around soon" because she and Sister Julienne were woken up by the noise. If she noticed that Patrick's hair was in disarray or that Shelagh was hiding half-naked in the corner, she didn't say and neither of them were about to tell her that the noise was in fact Patrick practically throwing the former sister against the adjoining wall.
They could've continued and been mindful of the noise, but Shelagh couldn't shake the awkwardness of knowing her former Sisters were on the other side of the wall and he wasn't going push her. Since then, he'd been practically drooling over her and he'd had to check himself a couple of times from blatantly staring at her while they were working. Shelagh, meanwhile, wasn't making his struggle any easier. She would never be outwardly seductive around their colleagues, but he was convinced that she was going out of her way to make sure that she gently skimmed his hand every time she walked by and that she was consciously putting an extra sway into her step.
Of course, he might be imagining everything. She might be doing none of those things and his over-active desire might be putting images in his head, but he liked to think he knew his wife better than anyone and he was pretty confident she was as frustrated with the situation as he was. After all, they'd 'talked' about how much they were looking forward to time away from the children and now it seemed that the nuns were even worse…
This would not do.
He made a show that night of walking with her to their room and waving goodnight to the rest of the group in their dwelling area, feigning exhaustion with over-exaggerated yawns. He closed the door behind them and she made to get ready for bed, but he gently grabbed her wrist and held his finger to his lips.
"Patrick, what-"
"Shh." He hushed her, listening for movement outside their room. Satisfied that everyone had apparently retired, he quietly inched the door open and pulled a confused Shelagh out of the room.
"Where are we going?" she asked, even though the determined blaze in his eyes gave her a strong inkling.
"Where Sister Julienne can't hear us." he murmured back.
Her skin shivered and she eagerly followed him. She still wasn't quite bold enough to initiate sex outside of their bedroom, but she would go along with it if he was the instigator. So, she'd been spending the past two days trying to provoke him into recklessness and it seemed she succeeded in her task.
As they silently made their way to...somewhere...Shelagh couldn't help the growing feeling of nervousness. Thinking about sneaking around and potentially being caught was one thing, but actually doing it was quite another. Not only that, but neither of them actually seemed to have a planned destination-
Shelagh gasped as Patrick suddenly turned, yanked her into the clinical room, and started backing her towards the supply closet, his hands clawing at the buttons on her nurse's uniform as he placed frantic kisses against her neck. Somewhere during his search for a quiet spot, he'd become too wary of being completely exposed outside and too desperate to search any longer.
"Patrick...we...shouldn't…" she stuttered out between her own contradictory kisses. "Not...here…oh!"
Her back hit the door to the supply closet as he used her body to close it. She wasn't sure when they'd gotten all the way there, but she couldn't find it in her to fight her body much longer - not when fingers had somehow gotten her dress completely unbuttoned and were quickly making their way down the front of her panties and 'how does he always find that spot so quickly?'
"Do you think I didn't know what you were doing these past two days?" He growled into her chest as he kissed and nipped his way towards her breasts, shocked that her soft moaning turned to whimpers as he got a bit rougher. "The others wouldn't have noticed. They would never think little innocent Shelagh was capable, but they don't know you like I do." He punctuated his last sentence by sliding two fingers inside her and she nearly sobbed with relief. He was right. She needed this just as badly as he did, sometimes she just needed him to push her over the edge of the remnants of sexual shame she still carried. There weren't many left, but they both knew they were there and by God did he loved knocking down those walls with his bold wife.
She crept her hand down to the now-grown bulge in his trousers and relished in the catch in his breath as he struggled to maintain control.
"If we get caught," she whispered, "I'm blaming you."
"Gladly." He would take every ounce of blame if he could be inside her in the next 30 seconds.
The wall banged behind them as they tore away at the rest of their clothing, but neither cared anymore. There was something exhilarating about being so carefree in a foreign country away from everything that plagued them over the last few months in Poplar and they felt their skin was singing with freedom.
When he finally slid inside her and she threw her legs around his waist, he cried out louder than he meant to; caught up in the thrill of finally having her. Shelagh clenched tightly around him and tried desperately to find leverage against the door only to find that in this position, she had to let him lead or he might drop her. He chuckled at her frustration, but quickly picked up his pace at a less-than-gentle bite against his shoulder. God, Shelagh.
She was going to have bruises on her back in the morning, but at the moment, she couldn't care less. Nothing mattered except the exquisite feeling of her Doctor filling an ache she didn't even know could exist until he came along to fix it. His fingers dug into her backside, they both reeked of sweat and dirt, and she loved every second of it. He felt deliciously alive against her skin for the first time in so long and she could've cried with joy.
Her release surprised her and she nearly launched them off the wall with how tightly she clung to him as she rode out wave after wave. When he came it was just as violent and he fought to keep them upright as his knees threatened to buckle beneath them. He slid them carefully to the floor as their breathing slowed; both of them too filthy by now to mind the added dirt against their skin.
"I love you." Patrick muttered sweetly into the top of her head as he cradled her.
She kissed him long, and deep, and so differently from the frantic energy of before.
"I love you, Patrick."
They cuddled together in silence, fingers tracing soft circles on cooling skin.
"You're a horrid tease, you know?" he laughed.
She blushed.
"I don't mean to be." she apologized.
"I know you don't." he replied. "That's what makes it all the more torturous."
"Oh, you poor man." she gently mocked.
"I don't know how I survive having such a beautiful wife. I really deserve a medal."
She rolled her eyes and nuzzled against his chest.
"We should head back to our room before we're missed." she suggested half-heartedly, though she knew it was true - in their line of work, one never knew when an emergency would happen.
"I suppose you're right." he sighed.
They giggled at the sight of their stained, rumpled clothing as they tried to make themselves presentable. Hopefully, no one else was awake. It would be nearly impossible to hide their activities.
Shelagh took his hand and kissed it as he smiled and opened the supply closet door…
"Nurse Gilbert!" Shelagh gasped.
Patrick's jaw dropped at the sight of Barbara and her Reverend on the bench of the clinical room with their limbs entwined and faces flushed. At least no clothing was missing...for now...oh god, how long had they been there?
"Dr. Turner...Mrs. Turner…" she stammered, humiliated.
"We're so sorry," Tom fervently apologized, "we were, um, planning on the closet, but, well…" he trailed off and all four of them blushed deep red.
"The walls in our building are very thin." Shelagh blurted out. She really should've just stopped talking.
"We know…" Barbara murmured, embarrassed.
All four stood awkwardly, not at all sure how any of them was supposed to work with the others in the morning.
"Never happened?" Patrick asked sheepishly.
"Never happened." the other three quickly agreed.
Shelagh and Barbara quickly grabbed their respective halves and hurried in opposite directions.
9 down, 41 to go! Hope you enjoyed! ;P