Gilbert drank in the sight of the woman sleeping beside him. Several strands of orange had escaped the confines of their braid, and reached across his pillow like thin limbs of a fiery vine. A constellation of freckles dotted the creamy skin of her face, under the twin crescent moons of her copper eyebrows. He resisted the urge to kiss her delicate nose, letting her rest a bit longer.

The flames of passion brought on yesterday by their unsupervized adventures had fizzed out on their way back from the forest. The walk home, already made uncomfortable by the spring breeze blowing at their sodden clothes, had become exponentially unpleasant when Anne had tripped on a branch and twisted her ankle. Gilbert had offered to carry her, but being barefoot himself, it had still taken forever to reach Green Gables. Her reminders that it had been his idea to leave the footwear at home did nothing to improve his mood.

Since neither he nor Anne had felt particularly romantic in their bedraggled, dripping state, his plans of joining her for a soak in the tub had been set aside for another day. He'd let her bathe first, wringing out his garments as well as hers before having a turn in the steaming water. There had been just enough time to towel off and get dressed before Marilla's return. The sainted woman hadn't commented on Anne's wet hair, or their clothes hanging on the line - she'd merely rolled her eyes, and said that she hoped they'd had a nice day.

Anne and Gilbert's dispositions had thawed significantly once they'd regained the privacy of their room. Not so much that they'd rekindled the fire, but just enough to go to bed wearing only their underclothes. Warm and dry at last, they'd fallen asleep in each other's arms. Well, Anne had, at any rate: Gilbert stayed awake quite a bit longer, lecturing his raging erection on the virtues of patience, and eventually succumbing to a fitful slumber.

Coaxed back into consciousness by the same issue that had kept him up the night before, Gilbert tried to remove his underwear without jostling the mattress too much. Soon, he promised himself through the want that was quickly turning to ache.

Fate intervened in form of the backdoor shutting loudly. Anne's brow furrowed at the noise, and she squeaked to life with a feline yawn and stretch. Finally, her eyelids fluttered open, and Gilbert was subject to a sparkling stare that only aggravated his problem.

"You're awake," she mused in a breathy voice.

"So are you," he pointed out, making her smile.

"I could get used to waking up like this," she purred sleepily, rolling onto her side. Gilbert snaked an arm around her and brought her in closer, depositing a slow burning kiss on her lips.

"Darling," she whispered, pushing away. "Marilla will be up any minute-"

"She just headed out. We have at least an hour before she comes back."

"Oh." Sudden shyness tinted her cheeks a rosy hue.

"I want you," he pressed himself against her thigh to validate his claim. Anne's breath caught, and for a tense moment, Gilbert feared she might leap out of bed: instead, she awarded him a tender caress that trailed down his bare torso. He melted into the mattress, his muscles quivering as she pushed the sheets off his stomach. When her hand finally closed around his arousal, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Oh, Anne," his throaty moan ignited a spark of lust within her. She tightened her grasp just enough to drive him wild. Through a haze of lust, Gilbert reached blindly until his hand found the opening in her drawers. He flicked his finger over the spot hidden among her curls, adding her gasps to his own.

"Anne," he pleaded as she forgot to move, lost in the sensations brought by the finger teasing her. His index slid down to her entrance and paused. "Anne... tell me I can..."

Greyish-green eyes found his, wide and glazed. "Let me please you," he nudged inside a fraction of an inch, waiting for her approval.

"Gil... OH!" The shock of his digit entering her lasted less than a second: he touched a place so deep within her, one she'd thought unreachable. Molten, liquid pleasure spread across her body.

"You're so wet," he marvelled. "So hot."

"Ah...Gil..." Her hips bucked reflexively.

"Tell me what you want."

"I need... more..." she panted, whimpering when he pulled out of her completely - only to insert two fingers back into her.

"GIL!" Her hand squeezed around his shaft and stroked clumsily.

"Oh," he moaned, thrusting into her grip while simultaneously sinking his fingers into her soft, moist heat. They moved faster still, working each other up into a somewhat synchronized frenzy.

"I- ah... please!" Anne found herself unable to articulate what she wanted, or to even understand what it was she sought in the first place.

Gilbert doubled his efforts, chanting her name with every thrust. Her cries became less coherent as his own took on a guttural rasp. They moved together now, to the natural rhythm of their growing pleasure: faster, harder, and faster yet, until Anne's delicate form arched in ecstasy. Her savage abandon sent Gilbert over the edge, and he quickly followed with a shout, his release more powerful than ever.

"Oh, Anne," he moaned sensuously as he pulled out his fingers, making her gasp. "Are you alright?"

"That was..." her voice wobbled with unspilt tears, to his horror. "...it was so incredible, Gil."

"Are you alright?"

"I... yes," she giggled incredulously, the moisture still pooled in her eyes. "I've never been more right."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm absolutely sure." The smile playing on her face underlined her sincerity.

"Well," Gilbert leaned in to kiss her upturned lips, then drawing back just enough so that their eyes were level. "I'm glad you liked that, because next time, I will make it even better for you."

"Nothing could possibly feel better than that," declared Anne with such certitude that he couldn't help but smirk.

"Just imagine," he rested his forehead on hers. "How much more I could give you."

"You mean-" Anne's breath caught. "With your-"

"Well, yes," reasoned Gilbert in a gentle tone. "It's wider than my fingers, and certainly longer - think of how much more intense it would feel..." he faltered, belatedly taking notice of the tension that had crept over her body. In a swift movement, she was out of bed and struggling into her robe.

"Anne, wait! We don't have to-"

"I need to wash up," she said briskly, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

"Anne, I'm sorry! I didn't mean now, we can wait..."

"It's late," she continued, as though he hadn't spoken. "We'd better not dawdle, or Marilla will wonder what's keeping us." And with that pronouncement, she fled the room. Gilbert pounded the mattress with his fist and called himself all the colorful names in the book. He'd pushed too much, too soon... and now, they were back where they'd started.

Thank you, dear readers, for your continuous support! We already know how this week ends, from the conversation that took place in Hester Gray's garden (OOW, chapter 14 "Garden of Promises). These chapters may therefore seem a bit redundant, but they should fill in some of the gaps while still being (somewhat) sexy. Many thanks to all who read, and special thanks for the reviews!