Author's note:

VoiceoftheVoiceless: Thank you, dear. No need to get angry with Timmy... The guy just needed his problem sorted out for him. ;-)

You guys, I've moved up the rating to M. It seemed necessary :) I have absolutely no idea why...

As always feedback is love, so FEED ME MORE FEEDBACK!


Nina cracked open one of her eyes. For a moment her field of vision was dominated by the colors grey and white. She opened her other eye. Grey like his T-shirt and white like his pale skin. Out of furthest recesses of her mind some random literary reference popped up in her thoughts. Elizabethans would have loved him; after all they had waxed on endlessly about skin as white as snow for pages and pages.

She ran her hand over his arm, his fingers that rested on her belly twitched. He stirred and snuggled up to her. For someone who was a tough-ass wrestler he was rather cuddly. She would however take care not to say it to his face, because he sure wouldn't appreciate it. Speaking of faces...

She slightly turned her head to look at him. That up close she could see his skin was ever so slightly freckled. She supposed those freckles got more prominent the more time he spent in the sun.

They would have to dye his hair again rather soon. The aggressive bright red color had washed out somewhat by now. If she squinted, she could see that his roots were blondish, or rather strawberry-blonde. Another piece of puzzle fell into place and she smiled. She would have loved to see what he looked like without that obligatory dye job they made him go through every other week. That was probably why she had suggested he stop dying his hair when they first met. Maybe once he got a longer break from his job...

She was still curious about him. And though she already knew a fair share of things about him, her curiosity was never quite sated.

It was atypical for her to be able to just be lying there without doing anything and in fact this was already just about as much of it as she could stand of it. Time to get up. After a gentle fight with the rather cuddly Irish kraken, she managed to get out of bed and softly padded over to the living room. She was an early riser and she didn't want to wake him. He probably needed a bit of extra sleep what with his tight schedule and his constant traveling about. So she let him sleep and gently pulled the door closed behind her.

There were soft noises coming from the kitchen. Tim was already buttering about there. When she entered the kitchen, she found him munching on a bowl of cereal, bent over something he was reading. The scene was oddly familiar and took her a couple of years back into the past when they had last lived together under one roof.

He was yet to notice her, but when he did, a look of guilt briefly flashed over his face. Guilt? Now why was that? As she looked closer, it occurred to her that he wasn't reading just anything. He had obviously gone through her belongings last night and happened upon one of the things she felt most private and protective about: her short stories. In her free time, whenever she got the chance really, she sat down and wrote something that didn't have anything to do with work. It was liberating because she could pour all her crazy ideas onto paper. Paper didn't judge, but people did. Even her brother. She didn't feel ready to be showing these to anyone just yet.

"Tim!" she practically growled his name.

He jumped up from the kitchen stool. "I swear, Nina, I didn't mean to read this...," he started to explain.

"You didn't mean to? So how did you find it? It sure looks like you were reading it on purpose," she noticed the whole stack of her short stories resting on the kitchen counter next to him and quickly stuffed them under her arm.

"I was bored last night and I didn't feel like watching TV, so I started reading this," he held up the sheet he had been reading earlier and she unceremoniously snatched it from his hands. "Hey, why are you so angry? This is really good."

"Really good?" she repeated ill-humoredly. "Is the concept of privacy completely alien to you?" She looked at him in disbelief for a couple of seconds, waiting in vain for an apology. Nothing! All she got was a sheepish shrug. She shook her head and breezed out of the kitchen to deposit the stack of paper somewhere away from her brother's filthy hands and food, both equally large sources of danger to a possession that was most precious to her. She placed her short stories on the coffee table in the living room and quickly made her way back to the kitchen. She wasn't done berating Timmy.

As always when Nina and her brother met, they ended up arguing. It was like a law of nature. They got together, they squabbled, and they made peace. But getting to the last part of that sequence of events was usually rather difficult. Their mother had years of training in dealing with them and with her help their arguments were usually resolved in a matter of seconds. When she wasn't there, the mutual recriminations and insults just kept coming.

Nina's and Tim's rather heated discussion was briefly interrupted by a rather sleepy Irishman padding barefoot into the kitchen. The arguing siblings didn't give Stephen much pause; his family was loud and temperamental too. He just grabbed a bowl from one of the kitchen cupboards and reached for the milk carton and the cereal that Tim had left on the counter. He sat down on the stool Tim had occupied earlier and calmly started munching on his cereal.

The accusations Nina launched at her brother were growing more severe and Tim's remarks took a turn towards slightly insulting. "Moron!" "Bitch!" "Manwhore!" "Prude!" Stephen placed his bowl on the counter. It made a slight bell-like sound that was drowned out by the arguing voices. He stepped between Nina and her brother and placed a silencing hand on both of their mouths. The two Stewarts looked at him in surprise, unsure of what to make of his sudden intrusion in a routine that had been established over the course of years and years.

"Now you two, listen up! That's quite enough. Do you even remember what started this whole thing?" Nina nodded her head vigorously and Stephen decided to glare at her. A slightly sheepish look appeared on her face. "You're just arguing for arguing's sake now, so you better cut it out, 'cause it's starting to get on me nerves."

He gave them a stern look each before he continued. "Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to take away me hands now. You," he looked at Tim, "are going to apologize to your sister for being disrespectful. And you," his eyes now landed on Nina, "you are going to stop eating his head off and just give him a fecking hug, understood?"

Both of them nodded in unison and Stephen removed his hands. After they had done as they had been told, he nodded in satisfaction, sat down and started eating his cereal again.

Nina picked up the milk carton and shook it. It was empty. She made a face. "And what do I eat for breakfast now?" she asked into the kitchen.

Tim decided it was time he got himself out of harm's way and slipped away to the bathroom. "Off to have a shower," he called out as he fled from the kitchen.

Stephen finished the last of his cereal with a smug grin. Nina just pouted and leaned against the counter next to his stool. "Stephen?" she looked at him batting her eyes like she was meaning serious business. He grinned. "Yes?"

"Darling...," she cooed and he started laughing.

"Oh, it's darling now? Interesting..." He stroked his beard as he looked at her. She was trying her best to be cute. He had never seen anyone try to do cute in a Nirvana T-shirt. Well, there was a first time for everything.

"Come on," she punched his upper arm. Now gentle violence, that was more her style.

"What?" He chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. He'd be damned if he knew what was going through her head.

"Do you want me to starve?" she shot him a sour look.

He sighed. "Don't be such a baby. There's still cereal." He pushed the box, which irony upon irony happened to be Lucky Charms, in her direction. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Without milk? Really?"

It was beginning to dawn on him where this was headed. Oh, that woman! He had two options now. He could give her what she wanted, which he supposed entailed fixing her something to eat, or tease and flirt until she would eventually relent and take care of breakfast herself. Neither one of those solutions was really ideal. There had to be a third one.

"You're not gonna quit nagging until you get what you want, ey?" She grinned and nodded her head as an answer to his question.

He grabbed his bowl and carried it over to the sink. "You know us Irish folk, we react very sensitive to being exploited. We don't take too kindly to that sort a thing..."

Something brushed against his sides. He looked down and saw two arms encircle his midriff. She was rubbing her cheek against his back now. He raised his eyebrows. "Please, Steve!"

Stephen gently pulled her arms away from his midsection and turned around. He regarded her with an air of superiority as she threw him her best puppy dog expression. "'Please, Steve!' isn't going to cut it, lass. I'm immune to those sort a tricks. What else you got?" He made a challenging gesture with his hands.

The way she regarded him now with those big round eyes of hers, he was oddly reminded of that cat from Shrek. What was the wee little fella's name again? Puss in Boots? Whatever! That wasn't going to work. Oh, dear, now she was batting her eyes too. He was a goner.

He let out a contemptuous scoff. "All right, all right. But don't you think this will happen every time… Actually this is a once in a lifetime thing. I've got a reputation to uphold after all."

"What kind of reputation?" she asked innocently.

He gave her an incredulous look. "I swear sometimes you're driving me completely bonkers, lass. Don't the words Celtic Warrior mean anything at all to you? After all you're me writer… They should."

"Yeah, they do. But might I point out to you, Steve, that you're not in the ring now. You're on my turf," she said, calmly inspecting her nails. "And here you don't get any gold stars for being extra-super-manly."

"Her turf, she says!" he repeated, shaking his head. "No gold stars, she says! Lord, I must have completely lost me mind when I went for this one." He was trying to appear disgruntled, but the fact that he was also smiling told Nina that she was seconds away from getting her will.

"What's wrong with me?" she asked him, buffing her chest.

His expression softened. "Absolutely nothing, you're just an incredible pain in the arse sometimes."

"Well, that's like the pot calling the kettle black," she pointed out with a shit-eating grin.

"Ugh!" he let out a groan and actually pulled at his hair while she looked on with a triumphant smile on her face. "All right, all right, I get where this is headed. We're both stubborn as mules, so we can have at this till noon, but since I'm clearly the smarter one of us," her eyes sparkled at him dangerously there, which he ignored with a smug smile on his face, "I'm going to be gracious about this and call it a draw for now…"

"State your conditions," she said simply.

"Conditions?" he asked.

"Well, this is a ceasefire, so you might as well state your conditions…," she suggested.

"Simple. You," his index finger came to rest slightly underneath her collar bone, "are going to make us coffee while I'll fix you something to eat."

"All right," she grinned. Coffee was easy. She had expected something far trickier and nastier.

When Tim came back, he found them sitting inside the kitchen in deceptive peace and harmony. Nina was munching on a plate of scrambled eggs and Stephen was watching her with a smile on his face, occasionally sipping from his cup of coffee.

"Man, you behave like an old married couple," Tim joked.

"Oh," Nina grinned brightly, "didn't I tell you? We are. We got hitched in Vegas last month."

Her brother went pale in the face and Stephen started laughing, although he scorched his mouth on his next sip of coffee.

"Gotcha!" Nina grinned at Tim, pointing her fork at him. "After what you told us last night it was time you tasted a bit of your own medicine. Speaking of last night... Have you already talked to Sandra?"

"Yes," Tim nodded dutifully. "She says to come over to talk."

"That's great!" Nina smiled in approval. "When are we going to head there?"

"Right after you've hit the shower," Tim suggested. "You wanna come too, Steve?"

"Thanks, but I don't think I'll be of much use," the Irishman shrugged his shoulders.

Tim raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "Hey, I'm not even sure I want to go over there. I get it."


Nina was smiling to herself as she drove home. This had all gone rather well. Sandra had eventually, after Tim had been practically begging on his knees for half an hour, opened up the door to him. Another hour or so later Tim had called her on his cell phone to let her know everything was alright. By that time she had already left her car and bought herself another coffee at a nearby coffee shop.

The empty paper cup was still sitting in the cup holder and later, when she got out of her car, she threw it in the trash. In record time she made it up to her apartment door and after fiddling with her keys for a second or two, she stepped inside the apartment. "I'm back!" she called down the hall. No response. She took off her shoes and padded towards the living room. No one there either.

She sneaked closer to the bathroom and stopped outside the door. Through the thin wood she could hear the water running and Stephen's deep voice belting out a song. For a second she was tempted to go in there. He probably wouldn't have minded, in fact she'd even go as far as saying he'd love the idea, but she didn't feel quite brave enough for that yet. They had come as far as stripping each other down to their underwear, but full-on nudity was a whole different territory, at least to her. She needed to ease herself into certain situations before she felt comfortable with them and she wouldn't be comfortable with barging into the bathroom now.

"I'm back!" she repeated again and the singing was briefly interrupted.

"Well, come on in!" he called out to her.

She laughed. "I'm not sure I'm quite ready yet for the whole package..."

There was an answering chuckle for the other side of the door and she decided to go as he passionately launched himself into his own personal rendition of the "Irish Rover".

Back in the living room, she sat down on the couch and started reaching for the remote control. She froze mid-movement. The manuscript of her short stories had been neatly divided up into two stacks. She eyed those stacks curiously. Someone had read her first two stories and was right in the middle of her third one. Someone? There was no need to be coy about it, that certain someone was Stephen.

A sudden surge of anger propelled her out of her seat and towards the bathroom. She ripped open the door, thanks to her wrath totally uncaring whether he was fully clothed or not. His head shot up in surprise. He had just wrapped the towel around his hips, but there were still some droplets of water running down his torso. Plenty of women would have probably given their left arm to see him like that, Nina, however, didn't even register his current state of undress, all she wanted to do was rip him a new one for reading her stories.

"I can't believe you did that!" She was barely able to contain herself. He had never seen her quite that angry. Her face was flushed and her chest was heaving.

"Did what?" he asked finally, after having stared at her for a moment without knowing what to make of this situation or her behavior.

"You've read my stories. Didn't it occur to you that you were maybe not supposed to? Yes, they were lying on the coffee table, but that wasn't an invitation to read them..." Her tone was shrill and her voice was echoing from the tiled walls of the bathroom. Nina took another step closer to him. Perhaps she wanted to make sure his eardrums would explode when she would next start screeching. She wasn't aware of it, but she was getting up in his face and he didn't particularly like that. Years of self-defense training tended to kick in when people did that and it made him tense up automatically. It was hard to tell your body to stay calm when all his reflexes tell you to do the exact opposite, so at this point it was pretty clear to him that he was fighting a losing battle.

"I'm sorry, if I had known you'd be this pissed off..." he tried again, hoping that she would finally calm down.

He didn't get to finish the sentence. She interrupted him. "Well, your stupid sorry doesn't cut it!"

"What's your problem? Those stories are brilliant. People should read them," his voice was starting to increase in volume. A flush was creeping up his neck. Not very much longer...

"People," she stressed the word in a way that made clear she didn't mean people, she actually meant him, "should have waited. Because that was way too personal. You should have asked for my permission first."

Now he was losing his patience with her. He was irritable. Always had been. If she went back to Cabra, his hometown in Ireland, and asked the folks there about him, they would say something like "Farrelly? That fella sure has a temper." So it wasn't smart provoking him.

"I should have asked for your permission?! Well, how the bleedin' hells should I have known that you were so touchy about that stuff?!" He took a step closer as well and glared at her. His breathing had quickened too.

A single water droplet ran down his chest and drew her attention to his rising and falling pectoral muscles. From there her eyes wandered lower, over his abs to the edge of that towel slung around his hips.

She could feel her anger changing into something else. She remembered last night: how he had kissed her and how those kisses had felt against her skin. Yesterday they had played with the fire and come away with slightly singed fingers. It had been exciting and she wanted more. And now they were alone. No one would stop them and spoil things. If she took just one more step closer, she could get this started. Just one tiny step. Do it! You know you want to...

Those thoughts pushed her forward and encouraged her to claim his mouth with hers. A second passed without him responding in any way. She was momentarily worried he would break the kiss and shove her away. To her surprise that didn't happen. Quite the opposite actually. He poured all his anger and frustration into the kiss. She opened her mouth and welcomed him in. His kiss robbed her of the last shreds of her sanity and whatever shyness that had still held her back. His body was pressing her into the bathroom door. His mouth was on her neck, his fingers pulled down the neckline of her T-shirt while he nipped at her shoulder with his teeth. She made a sound she had never heard herself make. Somewhere between a moan and a sigh.

This moment was the catalyst of weeks of sexual frustration. Their eyes met briefly and she saw something in his that made her self-control immediately evaporate. Something wild and primal.

She didn't think anymore, she let her body take control. Her hands wandered down his back and came to rest on his buttocks. In the state she was in she hadn't thought the move through. It encouraged him to move his pelvis closer to hers. Soon she felt proof that he found this just as exciting as she did. She couldn't help herself and slightly arched her body into his. Both of them sighed. No wonder the thought that this would be so much better if she weren't still clothed forced itself on her now.

She hooked her leg around his hips. Under normal circumstances and with a clear head, she would have thought that to be slutty move. She would have felt ashamed of herself and vowed to better herself, but right now she didn't give a damn about propriety. It was understandable, wasn't it? They had been dancing this dance for weeks now. Well, no more of this. She wanted him and he seemed to share that sentiment, because she felt him position his right hand under the hollow of her knee to keep that leg in place. The other one was cupping one of her breasts. His mouth was on her throat again. Its kiss made her think of lying down, of ripping off that damn towel, of how hard the tiled floor would be and also, that if the universe finally allowed them to go through with this, it would be worth any discomfort she would feel afterwards thanks to lying down on those cold stone tiles.

"So should I stop? That too personal for you, too, luv?" His teasing, but somewhat breathy voice and the sudden loss of contact had her look at him. His hands were left and right of her head while the rest of their bodies were pressed up against each other. The sound of his voice and the suggestive undertone in it, made her instinctively arch into him.

"Not personal enough," she said. Her voice was low and sultry. She didn't even know it could sound like this.

Upon hearing her words and feeling her body move against his, his eyes fluttered shut and there was an expression on his face that was halfway between torture and bliss. "If your brother comes back to interrupt this again, I'm not going to be held accountable for me actions…"

"No, I won't open that door again. Not for anyone," she said, leaning forward to kiss his chest. His collarbone was just at the height of her nose. She opened her mouth and let her teeth graze a little over it. She felt goose bumps rise underneath her lips and continued a bit lower, as if trailing down an invisible line, perhaps the one that single droplet of water had taken before.

Underneath her lips his skin was warm and flushed and tasted salty. His quick breath fanned against her cheek. "I want you. And I'm past caring whether it happens right here on the floor or anywhere else," she said softly, pressing yet another kiss to his chest.

"On the bathroom floor?" God, his voice sounded sexy when it was that breathy. "That doesn't seem the right kind a place for the first time we do this…"

He stepped away from the door, took her hand in his and gently tugged her towards him. They shared a long and heated look before they set into motion. They quickly made their way over to her bedroom. It was almost mad dash. There was definitely a little running involved. They were hopeless, pathetic, horny and finally inside the bedroom.

She closed the distance between them and stepped into his embrace again. It wasn't one of the innocent variety, it was all roaming hands, a bit of groping, kisses and moans. Eventually he tugged off her shirt in the process. They started kissing in a way that made it difficult for her to form coherent thoughts; the only one remaining was the wish to get rid of that stupid terry cloth towel around his hips. She started pulling at it and he chuckled against her lips as it came undone and fell to their feet.

"A little impatient, are we? So no foreplay then? Right on to the main course," he said and she gulped, trying hard not to think about the fact that he was now completely naked and what part of his anatomy was currently pressed up against her.

"Foreplay? Seriously? We've had weeks and weeks of foreplay," she pointed out, not feeling quite as courageous as she sounded. She was blushing ever so slightly. The reality of what was going to happen now was starting to hit her. After having fantasized about this for so long, it was only natural she had a slight case of the jitters.

"True," he cocked his head and grinned. "What's that? Are you blushing? Are you getting shy on me now? Perhaps I'm imaging things. Cause that would be sort a ironic, lass, considering that I'm the one without any clothes on… Maybe I should take a step back, so you got a chance to get a nice eyeful," he wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively, but despite his teasing words he didn't move. Apparently that was his way of being gentlemanly.

She hesitated and in that moment of hesitance she felt his hands stroke her back reassuringly. "Not shy. You just need to get my stupid mind to shut up," she said quietly. "I've just got some trouble letting myself fall."

He frowned. "Are you sure you really want this?"

He wasn't going to do something stupid like breaking this off right now, was he? She placed her hands left and right of his face. "Am I sure? Please! Stephen, ever seen those little dogs that try to dry hump peoples' legs? I'm seconds away from that level of patheticness. That's how much I want this."

He grinned. Apparently she had managed to boost his male ego somewhat. "So you need me to do something to shut up that nagging little voice inside your noggin?" he asked. She nodded slowly. The way he was smiling, reassured her of the fact that instead of being repelled by the thought, like she had feared, he was actually fascinated by it. Maybe he even saw it as some sort of challenge.

Most people would have made the mistake of saying that Stephen Farrelly was a man who didn't do subtle. With his bluntness and his ever teasing sort of character he didn't seem to possess a predisposition for being sensitive to anyone's needs. Despite that he had managed to pick up on the fact that the woman in front of him was a bit more complicated than she let on. Going in for the kill straight away would get him nowhere here.

He pulled her close against his body. One of his hands was resting between her shoulder blades, while the other one was tracing up and down the length of her vertebrae. His fingertips were barely ghosting over her sensitive skin and despite that he felt her shiver against him. He turned his head, so his mouth was right next to her ear. His breath tickled her ear and her neck and as he felt her fingers curl into his shoulders, he smiled in satisfaction. "Tell that stupid head of yours to shut up now, 'cause it's getting in the way of me plans for you and I…"

"What sort of plans?" her voice had taken on a different quality. It was low and sultry and there was a little sexy quiver at the end of that sentence. If he hadn't wanted her like crazy before, now that voice of hers at taken things up a notch. He turned his head to look at her. His eyes met hers.

For once he had trouble channeling that witty side of his, so he simply dropped all pretenses and just said what popped in his head first. "I've been thinking about this for weeks now. What it might feel like, your skin against mine, nothing between us for once. I want to know what it's like when you let go of that tight control you have over yourself, 'cause I know that what lies underneath there is like a force of nature. Red hot energy..." When he was done talking, he kissed the spot on her neck, right underneath her ear. The caress was like a full-stop to that sentence or rather an exclamation mark, because it felt that intense. His beard tickled her skin she squirmed against him. Apparently his words had not left her unaffected. He was yet to find out that that was in fact the understatement of the century. He had actually managed to do no less than that what she had demanded of him. He was beginning to get an inkling of that, though, when she forcefully pulled his head away from her neck and planted a hard and demanding kiss on his lips that nearly took his breath away.

They tumbled down on her bed, their bodies locked in a passionate embrace. For a while there her enthusiasm managed to infect him. They got lost in kisses and touches, but eventually, very eventually his mind resurfaced from the hormone induced vacation it had taken. They could let this take its natural course and it would be over in a few minutes, because let's face it, at the pace they were going and after all those weeks of involuntary sexual frustration, they were of course talking minutes OR they could make this memorable in another way. A good way.

When she had taken off her jeans and crawled back into bed with him, he took the opportunity to tell her what was going on inside his head. Not in so many words, of course. He merely said: "Slow down."

"Why?" she answered, already peppering his chest with kisses again that made him feel like the important thought he was holding was slipping through his fingers.

He grasped her wrists and pinned her to the mattress. The move was supposed to buy him some time in order to be able to form a coherent sentence. "'Cause if we keep at it like that, it's going to be over too fecking soon."

He watched her eyes fall on his hands enclosing her wrists. She licked her lips. Huh? Did she like that? The realization let a small smile appear on his lips and he filed that information away for later use.

"All right," she said softly.

Determined to work their current position in his favor, Stephen traced his fingers over her shoulders. He hooked his index fingers underneath the straps of her bra and gently pulled them down. The straps left two weak imprints in their wake and he leaned in to kiss them better.

"That ol' thing's clearly not doing you any good. We'd better take it off," he told her.

She chuckled at his comment and he silenced her laughter with a kiss during which he pulled her into a half sitting position that allowed him to deftly unhook her bra. He grasped it and threw it away with a gesture of mock disdain.

"There, all better now," he told her as he gently, almost reverently, laid her down on the mattress, his eyes roaming over her naked upper body.

"Stop talking," she admonished him softly, letting her gaze trail down his naked body as well.

"What if I feel like talking now?" he said, rolling his hips against hers. His teasing move backfired on him. The only piece of fabric still separating them was her slip. And it wasn't like that was much of an obstacle in the way. It gave both of them a rather realistic foretaste of what was to come next and apparently they had thoroughly underestimated that. He heard her suck in her breath, felt her body underneath his shiver. His own fingers dug into the mattress and his eyes drifted shut.

Her strained voice brought him back from that brief moment of teetering along the edge. "You feel like talking? What about? Politics, literature, philosophy?" She teased in a breathy voice as she placed her hands on his naked buttocks and squeezed, pulling him closer against her again. A breath whooshed from his lips. She took in the flush that was spreading all the way from his face to his chest with a certain satisfaction and pride, knowing that it was her doing.

He opened his eyes again. They were the brightest blue now. Perhaps thanks to the lighting or maybe it they changed color when he was turned on; anyway she was mesmerized by them. "How about we talk about how I'm going to have you completely naked in a couple of seconds?"

She liked his way of thinking. She pulled him down to her and kissed him again. True to his promise, her slip was gone in a matter of seconds.

His mouth was on her body, showering it with hot and wet kisses and she quickly learned that she liked the way his beard brushed against the insides of her thighs. She learned that the most sensitive place, apart from the more obvious ones, was his neck. She learned that it was a massive turn-on to her when he moaned and also that he was not only a tease outside the bedroom but inside it as well.

Each caress, each kiss brought them closer to the point of no return and she was ready for it. About as ready as she would ever be. They managed to quench their own eagerness and impulsiveness for one last rational thought. Protection. But after that was taking care of, there was no more holding back.

She was shocked how good it felt being this close to him. The first seconds they spent, unmoving, looking at each other in wonder. It had been a long time for her and this felt so different than she remembered. This was very intense. He started moving experimentally, just a tiny fraction. She moved with him. She gasped and her eyes drifted shut. Her overactive mind switched off for a second as all the neurons in her body started wiring one single message to her brain. Pleasure, sensory overload, arousal, sex. Her whole body shuddered.

"You okay?" he asked, which she found cute.

"Yes, very okay," she smiled. "Now let's work on making us both more than okay," she breathed, barely able to get a straight sentence out. He bent down to kiss her with a smile of his own on his face.

He moved slowly and it was torture - the sweetest kind of torture. Her body reacted to each of his movements and she felt a familiar tension building up inside of her. What wasn't so familiar about it though was its intensity. She blamed it on those seemingly endless weeks of sexual tension that now finally came to be resolved.

Finally his movements grew more self-assertive, while her breathing, in turn, grew faster. She decided she needed something to hold on to. She tried holding on to him, but it wasn't enough. She was falling. It happened much more quickly than she was used to.

Pleasure rolled over her in waves and each wave carried her higher and higher. She felt her whole body grow taut. She was like a bowstring waiting to be released. His body moved over her and she met him stride for stride. Unlike when this had first started out, they were in complete sync now. There was a slight sheen of perspiration on his chest. His fingers dug a little into her hips as he tilted them up a little. Their eyes met. It calmed her, let her feel the emotional connection between them in addition to the physical one they were now sharing. Her hand cupped his cheek; he closed his eyes and exhaled a long deep breath as if he was trying to mobilize his last remains of his self-control to be able to hold on just a fraction longer. She felt another wave of pleasure roll over her. "Let it go, let it go, let it go," she whispered incoherently.

"Let it go" - such simple words. She herself could no longer postpone the moment, so she gave in and stopped resisting. She was unprepared for when it happened, for what it would feel like and how her body would react to it. Her toes curled up, her whole body arched upwards; she pulled him closer, holding onto him like she was drowning. She heard him breathing hard. She heard herself moan. She arched into him again, feeling greedy, always wanting more. And he made sure to give her that. For a moment all her senses were on overload. For that one single moment everything faded into the background except him and her and how this felt.

Their movements eventually grew less frantic and slowed down. His kisses turned from passionate to tender. She still held on to him even after it was over, tracing lazy patterns on his back. His head was resting in the crook of her neck and his hot breaths were puffing against her skin, growing slower gradually until they reached a normal pace.

He hoisted himself up on his arms and she smirked at him and the adorable expression on his face that was somewhere between drowsy and completely blissful. "Hey, you!" she told him affectionately, her hand cupping his cheek. "I love you," she added in an afterthought.

"I love you…," he told her and chastely kissed her lips. "You little tease." The grin on his face told her everything she needed to know. It was filled with adoration. She gave him a gentle slap on the cheek; actually she merely touched her hand to it.

"I may be a tease, but at least I deliver right?" The question became a little shaky towards the end as he rolled off of her. Her facial expression turned into a pout because of the sudden loss of contact. He pulled her into his arms.

"Oh, yeah! Big time, a chroí."

"Steve?" she turned and shot him a funny look, her head propped up on her left elbow.

"You really want to talk to me now?" he said, cracking one eye open to look at her. "Just so you know, you've just shagged half me brains out, luv."

She looked at him momentarily with her mouth hanging open. Had he really just said something that crude? Judging by the smile on his face, she guessed he had. "So you want me to shut up now?" she actually sudden a bit disapproving.

"Yes, but I also want you to come here," he held out his arm to her, inviting her to snuggle up to him, "Just relax, enjoy this feeling..."

"Fall asleep?" she supplied.

"No," he said. With a frustrated huff he laid his arms around her midriff and pulled her closer to him. She made a bit of a fuss but eventually complied.

"What happens now?" she asked.

"Now we both shut our gobs," he suggested.

"What you're trying to do is cute, but senseless. I'm not one of those girls who say stupid stuff like "hold me", 'cause I don't usually feel like being held. Not even one hell of an orgasm will change that..." she scoffed.

"Don't knock it, till you've tried it." His right arm wrapped around her body and pulled her against him. She felt his muscular chest against her back and the reassuring warmth his body radiated. Her eyes drifted shut slowly and a sigh escaped her lips. Then again, maybe she could become one of those girls who said stuff like "hold me".

"See, not that bad after all," his mouth was directly next to her ear. Instead of an answer, she placed her arm over his.

True to his earlier words, he did not fall asleep. She could tell because from time to time he would kiss her shoulder or move his fingers to stroke her skin. And for the first time in a very long time she relaxed and did absolutely nothing apart from lying there.

After a while, however, her thoughts started to drift here and there, they grazed the surface of many ideas and issues and eventually returned to the question that had originally occupied her thoughts.

"Can I ask you something?" she said eventually.

"If you must," by now she was well able to tell from only the tone of his voice whether he was teasing her of not. This was teasing.

"You know how I love it when you speak Gaelic...," she continued.

"Well, actually I don't, you've never told me."

"Okay, I do. This is me telling you now that I love it...," she grinned.

"Brilliant," he smiled. "So far so good."

"It's lovely and all, but I have no idea what you're saying. Could be anything from 'you daft old cow' to 'my darling'," she pointed out.

"Maybe it is..." The mischievous tone had returned to his voice. She sighed. Why did she put up with him again? Right, it was probably because she loved him.

"Well, do you speak French?" she asked.

She felt him shake his head. "Apart from the few swear words I've picked up on the road, no."

"I do," she told him smugly.

He let go of her and leaned over her to look at her face. "What's your point, lass?" his eyes narrowed, but she knew it was only for show. He was still lying next to her after all.

"My point is, I want a translation and pronto!"

He rolled on his back and pulled her on top of him. She was now sprawled out on his chest and there was nothing between them, not a wisp of fabric. Things couldn't get any more personal than that.

"A stór means 'my treasure', whereas a chroí means 'my heart'," he told her softly.

"You're awfully nice to me in languages I don't speak," she grinned.

"Yeah, only so you can't call me a big softie anymore."

She raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't call you a big softie and particularly not now if you get my drift." Her eyes looked down pointedly. "Where's all that energy coming from anyway? Aren't men supposed to be past their sexual prime once they reach 30?"

He laughed. "Past their sexual prime? Oh, you really are something else! What about women?"

"Once we get past 30 we actually flourish in that department, which is ironic, considering how gravity also becomes our enemy."

"Haven't seen any bingo wings on you yet, love," he pinched the back of her left upper arm to make his point.

"What do you call them? Bingo wings?" she chuckled and buried her head in his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. As her laughter subsided, she noticed how her own amusement was replaced by arousal. She started kissing his chest and his neck. His arms released her. He looked more surprised than he rightfully should, considering that she could feel rather solid proof that he was ready for another go as well pressing up against her belly.

"How about a rematch?" she teased him. "And I'm not talking about one that lasts only 18 seconds."

"Ha! Cute."

"Yeah, thought so, too," she smiled.

"No, not 18 seconds. What I had in mind for you was a bit of exquisite torture and followed by several minutes of positive delight," he said, starting to trace his hands along her curves.

"That was rather poetic, babe. I thought it was called 'shagging' on the other side of the pond."

He laughed at her crude remark and pressed a lingering kiss to her neck. "No, I think I prefer calling it making love to you from now on."

For once she refrained from making a sarcastic comment and placed her hands left and right of his face before she pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. "Fine by me..." She whispered to him when she pulled away.