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They decided they weren't sober enough to take his car back up the Woodstock Road, so, idiotically, they took her bike, taking turns to ride it at first, then, when running to keep up with the other became too much, she sat far back on the seat, holding on to his waist, while he worked the pedals.
When they got back to the house, locking the bike up was by necessity a collaborative process. They stumbled through the front door, still laughing at themselves. By instinct, he helped her off with her coat. She met his eyes as he slipped his thumbs under the shoulders to push it off, and as she shrugged the sleeves off her arms, she reached for him, pulling him towards her. She reached up and kissed him and was met immediately by his eager responses. She sighed a little with relief- she obviously wasn't tipsy enough not to be nervous. Good, she thought. She did not want to be too drunk to remember this, whatever happened next.
"Hang on," he told her, pulling away gently, slipping his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket, producing a neatly folded, clean white handkerchief, "You're going to get your lipstick on your chin if we go on like this much longer. Lovely as it looks."
"You came prepared?" she asked, accepting it from his hands and dabbing the red off her lips.
He grinned bashfully.
"It never hurts to," he replied.
"No, it doesn't," she agreed, "You're right. Here," she reach up, dabbing at his mouth too, "I got some on you."
She handed the handkerchief back to him a second later and he slipped it back into his pocket, half a moment before she pressed her mouth back to his again.
They had kissed before, but it had never been like this. Before it had just been a bit of fun. This did not feel like a bit of fun; it was something else. It was intense, it was passionate. Fun was the wrong word altogether. It was incredible.
They broke apart, and it seemed to suddenly occur to them both that they were standing in the hallway of their house kisses each other's faces off when any one of their friends could potentially walk in. Except maybe Glynis, who was almost certainly still unconscious.
"Do you want to come up to my room?" she asked him.
He looked hesitant for a second and she added; "Only if you want to. It's not like you haven't been there before."
"I want to," he replied softly, looking at her incredibly tenderly and, she realised a moment later when he spoke again, bravely, "But I think I want more too, Phil."
"That's alright," she assured him, the corners of her mouth perking up into a smile, "That's more than alright, because I want more as well."
She watched a disbelieving smile blossom on his face too. She offered him her hand and he took it, and she gave it a soft, encouraging squeeze.
"My room?" she asked, and he nodded fervently.
Once they were there, she shut the door and locked it, at both of the locks.
"I don't want anyone to disturb us," she told him as she turned back towards him, her voice determined and emphatic.
He grinned back at her.
"Fair enough," he agreed, "I'm not mad keen on being interrupted either."
"Good," she replied, stepping back towards him, reaching out her arms with another little smile, "Will you kiss me like that again?"
"Of course," he replied quietly, wrapping his arms firmly around her as she came back to him, "If that's what you want."
"Yes," she murmured, almost against his lips, "It is."
They kissed for long, long minutes, barely pausing. She unfastened his tie and let it fall onto her floor, nudged him in the direction of her bed and he went willingly. Her hands on his shirt front, she pulled him flush against herself allowing herself to fall back onto the duvet with the force of it, laughing a little at the look of surprise on his face. She lay on her back for a moment looking up at his face.
"This is really nice," she told him, "I'm really glad you're here with me like this."
He leant forwards and kissed her on the forehead, and she let out a contented sigh.
"I'm glad you like it," he told her softly, "That's all I want, to make you happy."
Her heart swelled and she beamed up at him, slipping her hands under his jacket, encouraging him to take it off.
"What are you thinking, Joe?" she asked him quietly when he'd done so and it lay on her floor with his tie. He lay, half over her, half beside her.
"I'm thinking that I can't believe this is happening," he replied, "I'm thinking," he admitted, "That I fancy you like mad," she laughed softly, "I want us to be more than friends, Phil," he told her, looking down at her, his brown eyes meeting hers, "And I know it's soon," he seemed to swallow a lump in his throat, "But I think this is the real thing. I think I'm falling in love with you, Phyllis."
"It's not really that soon," she told him softly, tracing a pattern on his shoulder through his shirt, "We've known each other since we were eighteen."
His eyes close heavily.
"You don't mind me saying all of this to you, do you?" he asked tentatively.
"How could I mind?" she asked, "Oh my god, Joe! You say the daftest things sometimes!"
"I know," he replied, "I'm sorry."
She grinned up at him, shaking her head a little. She couldn't help it.
"You idiot," she told him, "You bloody fool. I've loved you since I woke up next to you."
"Have you?" he asked incredulously, and she nodded.
"So more fool me," she told him quietly, "If you're rushing in then I certainly am."
He pressed his lips fervently to hers and she welcomed him, parting her lips against his. Her hands stroked through his hair.
"Will you stay here again tonight?" she asked him softly, "And before you ask, I want you to. Of course I want you."
"Alright," he replied, the smile audible in his voice. His face was too close for hers to see it, and he pressed another quick kiss to her lips.
Her hands raised suddenly, working on the buttons of his shirt. He helped her, and soon it was on the floor too.
"Hang on," she told him gently, pushing on his shoulders a little, encouraging him to flip them over so that she had a clear view of his chest, so she could stroke her hand gently over his skin. His eyes followed her fingers, followed the gaze of her eyes. A moment later, she raised up her arms, showing him the zip down the side of her dress, hidden under arm. He obliged, tugging the zip down, raising her dress up from her legs, over her head and off.
She heard his breath catch.
"Fucking hell, Phyllis," he murmured.
She hadn't been wearing a bra underneath. She laughed softly at his sheer astonishment as he took in her body. When he did not stop staring, she was moved to question, though:
"You have seen a naked woman before, haven't you Joe?"
"Only once or twice."
She was brought up short. The look on his face, his voice, suggested that it wasn't false modesty. He seemed to swallow through a lump in his throat again.
"No one as gorgeous as you are," he told her softly.
She leant down over him, her lips close to his.
"Kiss me," she whispered.
He leant up a little off the bed, capturing her lips, his arms pulling her body closer to his. He pushed up, rolling them over again, nearly toppling her out of bed, pulling back and shuffling across at the last moment.
"Shit," he murmured, "Forgot it was a single for a second."
She smiled up at him.
"That's alright," she replied.
He kissed her again.
"I love you," he whispered.
She smiled again, thinking how that confession had evolved over the last few minutes.
"Are you becoming more sure?" she asked him, the hint of a tease in her voice.
"Yes," he replied levelly.
As he kissed her again, she lifted her legs, wrapping them around his waist. She heard him groan, felt him.
She met his eyes.
"Do you want to?' she asked him simply.
"Yes," he told her again, immediately.
"Now?" she asked, her voice teasing again, just a little.
"Oh god, yes, please, Phyllis."
A second later, his hand was in her knickers, feeling her gently; running his hand against her and then tracing circles. Her mouth fell open and she gave a deep sigh.
"Yes," she heard herself murmur appreciatively, "Yes, like that."
She pulled his lips back down to hers, kissing him as he rubbed against her. Gently, he pushed a finger inside her and she groaned throatily, her grip on his shoulder tightening a little. He was kissing her collarbone and then her breasts. God, she had never enjoyed sex as much as this before.
"How does that feel?" he asked her softly, lifting his head to look at her face.
"So good," she told him, "So good, Joe."
She saw a smile spread across his face. He pressed his finger a little harder against her, and she moaned as her hips rocked upwards towards him;
"Joe," she told him, "Joe, I want you. Please."
A second later, he was gone from her. She sat up quickly, slipping her knickers off as he stood up and removed his trousers.
He lay back down on top of her, and she wrapped him back up in her arms. He pushed into her as gently as he could, the look of concentration on his face was intense.
Inside her to the hilt, he paused for a moment, planting a kiss on her forehead, and it was that which made her tell him again, "I love you."
He looked so happy as he looked down at her.
"Are you feeling alright?" he asked her.
She nodded.
As he began to move, her arms wound up over his back, holding him tightly as she rocked with him. His face was buried in the crook of his neck.
They had both finished and lay in an exhausted, trembling heap, when she murmured to him, her breath only just levelling out;
"I think we should be together."
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