A/N: This chapter is M rated. Very…
The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve: Lovers, to bed; tis almost fairy time - Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream
Ruth, eyes gleaming, tows me unresisting into our room, then pins me against the back of the door, seemingly intent on having her way with me here and now. "I can't wait any longer," she breathes into my ear, "I wanted you to take me against the wall outside…I need you now," and my head whirls at the force behind her words. I open my mouth to speak, but Ruth is having none of it, as we kiss again, and then time itself seems to splinter into tiny fragments of sensation…
Her hands tugging at my belt and seizing me eagerly…
The heat of her breath on my skin as she opens my shirt and slides her hands inside, gliding over my skin from belly to shoulders as I quiver in pleasure…
The cool weight of the silk as I push her dress up, and up higher still…
The shape of her in my hands as I lift her up to meet me…
The unyielding oak of the door at my back as I brace our weight against it…
The strength of her as her thighs lock around me in a vicelike grip…
The searing heat which greets me as I finally take her in the way that she is begging me to…
Her breasts tantalising me as she arches her back in ecstasy
Her panting cries as we move together with frantic urgency…
Her hands clenching my shoulders as she comes with more intensity than I have ever seen, her head thrown back in wild abandon…
My ragged breathing as I tumble over the edge after her, with her name on my lips like a pagan prayer…
My knees give way as we finish, and we slide down the door to sprawl on the plush carpet, Ruth still in my lap, both of us laughing in exhilaration at our impromptu liaison. Usually, our lovemaking is far more considered and careful (Ruth would probably say, polite and respectful) affair; this is the first time in my life that I have just been so caught up in the moment that I didn't even get undressed first! I blush to think of it, but Ruth simply stretches like a contented cat, and purrs, "Malcolm, that was amazing…"
What a revelation adrenaline-fuelled sex is, I muse through my euphoria, for that is what we have just enjoyed. Of course, some of our urgency was due to the long build-up over the course of the evening; but I very much doubt that we would have ended up against the door if not for that awful incident with Mace. It is as if I have emerged from a confining shell, like a butterfly from its chrysalis, into a new world of sensual freedom. I feel ten feet tall and as strong as a young man, as I gather Ruth into my arms and stand up, carrying her across the room, her long dress trailing like a mermaid's tail, and gently lie her across the bed; the moonlight filtering through sheer curtains gives the room an undersea, somewhat ethereal appearance, and the fine hairs on the back of my neck suddenly prickle as somewhere in the distance, a church bell tolls midnight…This is a night when ancient magic is abroad, I recollect dimly, as Ruth twines her arms around my back and pulls me down to her again, whispering her desires…
With the tiny part of my rational brain which is still functioning, I know that I should check the room for bugs – there's nothing more likely at Toad Hall than that a curious guest or two will have slipped a few into different rooms, just to see what they might catch – but with Ruth beneath me, and saying things to make me blush, it is getting increasingly difficult to think. With a tremendous effort of will, I murmur as softly as I can, "I should clean the house first," and when she hears the familiar operational phrase, she sighs, then reluctantly releases me. I have never conducted a counter-surveillance search so quickly, yet so thoroughly, and I am glad that I do, as I find no less than four.
Two are unimaginatively secreted behind picture frames on opposite walls, one (slightly better hidden) is in the cistern of the lavatory, and one is cunningly disguised as an extra button on the multi-device remote control for the sound system, satellite television channels, and DVD player. The one in the cistern I crush and flush – it's a common enough listening device, one used by Six as well as Five – but the other three I carefully deactivate before wrapping them in some foil from a Kit Kat in the mini-bar, and stashing them at the bottom of my overnight bag. None seem to be transmitters; rather they are older style recording devices, except for the remote-button bug, and I hypothesise that whoever planted them chose to use this variety, hoping to avoid detection by the standard security services anti-surveillance sweep that would have been conducted at Havensworth earlier this afternoon. I'm looking forward to studying them more closely…the bugs on the picture frames seem familiar, but the one from the remote control, that's something entirely new. I smile to myself as I imagine the discussion Colin and I will have…I wonder what he would think if he could see me now…
Meanwhile Ruth has disappeared into the bathroom, and when she emerges, framed by the bright light behind her, she looks even more like one of Odysseus' Sirens with her hair now tumbling around her shoulders in loose waves, and the train of her dress pooling around her bare feet. Slowly, deliberately, she walks towards me, and my heart begins to race at the look in her eyes. When she is standing before me, she turns around, sweeping her hair off her neck so that I can undo her dress. Unusually, there's no zip, just a long row of tiny buttons, which my normally nimble fingers are finding hard to manage as they tremble in anticipation… finally I work the last one free, and with a rustle of silk, the dress falls away, and Ruth is standing there, wearing nothing more than a diamond necklace and a smile, slanted rakishly over her shoulder at me. My breath hitches as she looks at me, then walks gracefully towards the bed, like a goddess from ancient times, or a fairy queen… I follow her, mesmerised, discarding clothing as I go. Ruth still has her back to me as I reach her, so I slip my arms snugly around her waist until she twists round to entwine her arms around my neck, drawing me towards her for a long kiss which deepens, setting me alight again and transmitting her urgency. We move backwards, until I feel the edge of the mattress behind me, and then Ruth pushes me down, and follows me onto the bed.
Ruth seems now to be made of moonlight and quicksilver, with a wildness at the heart of her that demands I respond with all my recently discovered sensuality and skill, and more, as she stretches herself next to me at full length and fixes me with a look that holds both challenge and promise. I start by tracing a trail of kisses along one side of her beautiful body, then across to the other, and then I visit all points in between until she shivers in delight. I am learning the signals which show that she is ready for more; the rosy flush across her chest, her nipples standing proud to my touch, the way her breath catches as I caress her, the unmistakable scent, like hot seawater, which begins to rise from her, the tilting of her hips to welcome me as I finally move between her thighs, and finally, her throaty moan of excitement as we begin.
Tonight, as it turns out, is about something more primal, more raw, than anything we have yet known together, as we race quickly to the brink, spurring each other on, until I break with a sound I barely recognise as my own voice; and before I have fully recovered, she rolls us over and continues, with some help from me, until she too cries out with pleasure, then lies at full length along my body as we catch our breath together, my hands stroking the satiny skin of her back and then gliding over the fascinating topography of her bottom, hips and thighs. Before I am fully recovered, she sits up with her knees on either side of my ribs, and pins my arms above my head, eyes gleaming as she looks down at me, my chest still heaving from our exertions, and says hoarsely, "More…" I look at her incredulously, and then, with a little laugh, I ask, "Have you ever heard of a refractory period? Men, especially men my age, find that we need them…" Ruth blinks slowly, catlike, and replies, "It's not all about that, you know…I think it's time I showed you a bit more about how we do things in the twenty-first century…" And, to my utter amazement, she does.
We sleep, then, worn out by the excitement of the evening and our exertions, still wrapped around each other. When I next wake, Ruth is already up, judging by the muffled noise of water running in the bathroom, and the dawn is beginning to lighten the Eastern sky, coming early at this time of year. Ruth emerges from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, and smelling faintly of the expensive complimentary shower gel – Penhaligon's Bluebell fragrance, I think it is – but as she spots me lying flat on my back, and quite evidently pleased to see her, she crosses to the bed slowly, holding my gaze as she moves towards me, each step bringing her closer, until she drops the towel, turns back the sheet which is draped over me, and swings her leg across my hips as she climbs onto the bed, smiling down at me in anticipation.
Ruth nestles herself carefully into my lap, then leans forward to kiss me, the tips of her breasts just grazing my chest, before sitting back up and drawing me up along with her, her hands on the back of my neck, until we are both upright, and as close as it is possible for two people to be, as we each caress every inch of the other's exposed skin; and then, when we judge the time to be right, she sets her hands on my shoulders, rolls her hips forward until she engulfs me once more, and making small, precise movements, as I exert all my self-control for her, we reach a new peak of sensation and intimacy. Ruth embraces me tightly as her first climax hits, and shortly after, her fingernails score the skin of my back, as her hands clench convulsively with the cataclysmic arrival of her second orgasm, along with my own. This time, I cry out in Welsh, so intense are the emotional and physical feelings, and as we collapse onto the mattress together, Ruth rolls onto one elbow, and asks me what I just said. Flushing with embarrassment at having been so overwhelmed by the strength of my love for her that I involuntarily reverted to my childhood tongue, I turn my head to look at her, and gently take hold of her hand to place it over my rapidly beating heart. "I said, you have torn my soul from me…and that I love you, Ruth, with all my heart…" She smiles until her dimples appear, dips her head to kiss me, and says softly, "I know, Malcolm, I know." We fall asleep spooned together, naked in the warm room, before we wake to start all over again, this time as the morning sun stripes our skin with golden light. I have never known anything like the fierce hunger Ruth has awakened in me last night; it is as if I have been starving for my entire life, and have finally found the only food I crave.
When the red flash comes, mid-morning, neither of us hear it; we are too deeply asleep, caught up in Midsummer dreams…