Thanks for the great response to the first in this series. I've now retitled that My Man - Afghan, and, as you can see, this one is Bath. This one is totally distinct from the first. It is set canonically from when they are walking back from the restaurant in Episode 5. It is assumed, as in the show, that they haven't done it yet - ie shared a bowl of CocoPops ;-) .

This one, despite still having some belly-churning smut, is deliberately more romantic than the first, and more tender, I suppose. More in keeping with the tone of their romance, I hope. I think I prefer this one to the first. I love these two so, so much.

If you've found this through your own love of Our Girl, welcome to new readers, and thanks for joining us. Now over to Molly and the totally utterly gorgeously perfect Captain James. LL x

Molly wondered how a man could still be so effing sexy with a support on his leg.

Admittedly, it took a while to walk back. Bossman had to take it slowly; his leg would take months to heal properly. But Molly barely noticed the slow pace. She'd never been happier. At some point she'd have to start calling him Charles. She smiled to herself. Nah. How could she do that? She'd rather call him James. A first name just didn't seem right with him. Or Cockwomble. She could call him that. She gave him a sneaky glance as they walked and a laugh escaped her.

'What's funny?' he smiled, his eyes dancing.

'Nothin'.'

'Something is, clearly.'

'Not sure I can call you Charles.'

'Why not?'

'Dunno. Don't think of you like that.'

'Well …' He stared ahead of him and wrinkled his nose in that stupidly cute way he had. 'I'm sure you can think of something else.'

She slipped her hand through his and felt his fingers tightening around hers. He looked down and sniffed out a laugh.

'Now it's my turn – what's funny, Boss?'

'This. Holding your hand. Here.'

'Don't you want to?'

'God, yes. More than anything. But it's not something I could have thought about in Afghan.'

She looked around her at the tall, golden buildings. Birdsong rippled from the branches of the trees. The sun shining above them was tender and warm, not the blistering aggressor it had been.

'This is about as far from Afghan as it gets.'

His grip tightened. 'Can't believe you're here with me.'

'Well, I am, so get used to it, stupid.'

He turned and laughed again. 'I'm still me, you know, Molly. No matter where we are. I'm me and I love you.'

She stopped and looked at him. 'That makes two of us.'

His face lost the crease of humour and he stared hard into her, leaning in, as close as he had been that time in the hospital with Sohail. And like then, his hands rose to cup her face. She would never feel safer, never feel better.

'Molly …' he murmured, his voice thick and low. 'Want you, want you so much.'

She could have him now. Right here. Right here on the street in front of everyone. Her need for him had grown like some wild thing, uncontained and limitless. She turned her head up and felt his lips brush hers. She opened for him and they were locked in the deepest kiss in the next instant. They stood there, clinging to each other on a street in Bath, trying to absorb the other.

A woman brushed past with a black Labrador that wound its way around their legs. 'Goodness. Not here, thank you!' muttered the woman as she passed.

They broke apart. Charles turned to the woman, extending his hands in apology. 'I'm so terribly sorry. Do forgive us.'

Molly stifled her laugh in her hand. His effusive apology made him sound like Prince William or something. But the woman melted under his gentlemanly charm. 'Oh, that's alright. Young love,' she smiled before moving on.

When she was out of earshot, Molly dissolved into giggles again. Charles joined her. 'Get you,' she said. 'Sound like Mr bloody Darcy!'

'What's wrong with that?'

'Nothin', just most men I know would've been effin' and blindin' at her to mind her own bloody business.'

'I'm not most men.'

'No …' She curled her arms around his waist and held him against her. 'You're my man. Now … Captain Charles James … Take me to bed or lose me forever.'

He cocked an eyebrow. 'Top Gun?'

'Yeah.'

'I'm not air force. Does it matter?'

'Shouldn't think so,' she grinned. 'But I'll tell you after. Are we ever gonna get to this bleedin' house of yours or what?'

Charles took her hand and, for a man with a severely wounded leg, managed the last few yards with considerable speed. He led her into a wide, curved street, one of the most beautiful places she'd ever seen. 'Royal Crescent' it said. Maybe you had to be a prince or princess to live here, she wondered. Soon enough they were walking up the steps of one of the houses. Molly had fallen silent. She didn't belong here. How could this be happening? What was this weird world she found herself in? But Bossman turned and smiled and everything was alright again.

He opened the door and led her inside. The first thing Molly did was look up. It went on forever, right up to heaven, as far as she could tell. Right up, higher and higher, staircases curling around, drawing her eyes and her spirit up with them. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.

But instead of the sense of inadequacy she feared would take hold, she felt again that deep sense of everything being all right. She looked at him. He was staring at her, only at her. That was all. She was with him. About bloody time. Silently, he walked her up the stairs.

With each step her desire grew more uncontrollable, like it would burst out if she couldn't have him. His grip tightened as they mounted the stairs and through it she could sense his own need, lust seeping from his very core.

He pulled her into a bedroom but she saw nothing of it. Before she knew it she had fallen back across the bed and her captain was leaning over her.

He took a moment to study her, as if needing to fix the moment in his head, as if it was too precious to rush. That was fine with Molly. It was. She had waited so long for this, she could wait a few seconds more for perfection.

But then, when everything was set, he lowered his head to hers and kissed her.

At first it was gentle and questing, like they were two teenagers discovering intimacy for the first time, almost shy. He was again like the little boy he'd revealed through his jealousy, and it made her love him even more.

But then she felt his hand moving down, stroking over her dress, running firmly along her waist and hips. She opened her eyes and looked into his. His expression had altered and he was now that same man who had strode out before his platoon at Brize Norton.

'Now, Dawes?'

'Now, Boss.'

He bent again to kiss her, and there was a new determination to him. He was sliding up her dress and she let her leg fall to the side. She was burning for him, desperate for his touch, and instinctively she arched up, seeking it out.

'Steady,' he said, but his fingers had found their goal. Still kissing her, he coiled them around the band of her knickers and tugged. Molly lifted her hips to help them off. She kicked desperately as they worked their way down her legs. He smirked at her haste. 'Plenty of time, Dawesy.'

'Not anymore,' she slurred, finding the buttons on his shirt and hurrying to undo them. But her hands fell limply to the bed a moment later. He'd touched her. Those perfect strong fingers had found her right at the very heart of her desire. She drew in a sudden breath as pleasure tapped at her awareness, focusing every sense and fibre in her being on what he was doing. He stroked, sliding down through her wetness then back up to the plump bud nestled at the top. She couldn't help a little moan rise from her.

He smiled gently. 'There you are, right where I want you.'

'That's so good,' she sighed. His fingers continued to stroke, now building in ever-growing circles, not quite touching her directly, but working around her clit so that each movement built pleasure on pleasure. Her skin was pricked with goosebumps but burning up. She threw a hand up to his shoulder and held him tight, almost painfully. He just carried on stroking.

And then his hand slipped under and he pushed one, then two fingers up into her, slowly, as if learning her for the first time. She sobbed, acutely aware of him inside her. Charles's brows furrowed a little, almost in revelation.

'Molly … you're so incredibly wet.'

She felt herself blushing and had to avert her eyes. 'Can't help it. You do that to me.' His fingers were out again and circling her clit. She reached down and grabbed onto his wrist, not wanting to lose that feeling. 'Ooh, Jesus, that is so good!'

'I used to lie there in my tent at night, Molly. I used to lie there and wonder about you. Wonder what you'd feel like, what you'd sound like when you came, how that amazing face of yours would look when I made you come.'

'When you made me come?'

'Yes, me, only me, Molly. Only fucking me.'

'Yes, Boss, only you. Please …'

'Please what?' His touch had slackened a little. He was teasing her. She almost wailed.

'Please make me come now.'

He gave her the slightest cause for hope – tiny tickling grazes. Her clit throbbed for him, her desire wailed in frustration.

'Are you begging me, Dawes?' he crooned, his voice lilting.

'Yes! Anything! Please, sir, please!'

'Back to sir, is it? Bloody hell, Molly, I'm not Christian fucking Grey!'

'No, Boss, I'll take you over him any day! Oh, Christ, please touch me again!'

He let out a low chuckle but her answer came when his fingers started their movement again, building now, faster and faster. It didn't take long. She was so ready, so primed that anything would tip her over.

'Ooh, God, yes!' she cried out. It was happening. Pleasure. She came so hard her eyes squeezed shut and she opened her mouth and wailed. But as her hips bucked off the bed with the force of it, his fingers didn't leave her and he sent another surge of ecstatic sensation dashing through her body, right down to make her toes curl.

She came down slowly, and he let her. She lay there, eyes closed, heavy sated bliss seeping through her body. At length, she looked up at him. He was smiling down teasingly. 'I take it that was okay.'

'You'll do,' she smirked. He kissed her again, his tongue slipping in and making dizzying circles in her mouth. But this time Molly pulled away. 'Now … your turn.'

She pulled him up to kneel on the bed as she knelt opposite him. Her hands returned to his shirt and undid the remaining buttons with slow deliberation this time.

She glanced down. His jeans were tenting out and his breath came in short fast pants. 'Don't make me wait too long, Molly. I've been a very patient man, you know.'

She gave him no answer but looked up at him and bit her lip slyly.

She avoided undoing his jeans but pushed his shirt from his shoulders and finally had his naked torso before her. Now she bit her lip without even realising it. God, he was stunning. She'd caught glimpses before – in the paddling pool, working out, but had forced herself not to linger on those moments. Now, he was right here and he was hers. With deliberate sensuality she placed her hands on the lower part of his abdomen, relishing the tightness of his muscles, and slid them up, slowly and with aching languor, causing him to groan in torment. When she reached his shoulders she curled her hands around his neck and pulled him into her. They kissed, but he took the opportunity to pull her dress up over her head and unclasp her bra. She was soon naked without even realising it.

There was a sensuality to their sex that she'd never known before. This wasn't sex, she guessed, this was what people called making love. She hadn't reckoned she'd ever do that – make love. Wasn't that what people in old movies did? But this was so incredibly good and right. She couldn't have anyone else ever again. Her need to please him was so overwhelming that it felt like it would stifle her. But his kiss brought her back.

'So beautiful, Molly,' he said, his lust clear. 'Please …'

She smiled at him. 'Your turn to beg?'

'Do I have to?' He was looking at her in that way again, that way that meant she'd love him for always. She knew it then. She took a moment to glance down to find the buttons of his jeans then looked right back into his eyes while she undid each one. His eyes fluttered shut and his chest rose and fell fast in anticipation.

Her fingers brushed over his erection as she worked and each time he sucked in sharply. Molly enjoyed her little moment of power, of role reversal. Now she was in command. He was entirely in her hands. She slid her hands to the band of his jeans and took hold of his trunks at the same time. With no more hesitation, she pushed down, revealing him fully.

She looked down and her eyes widened. 'Now there's something I'd womble any day.'

He sniffed out a laugh and she noticed the faintest pinking of his cheeks. She liked embarrassing him. Just a little. Charles shuffled off the bed and pulled off his jeans and underwear at last then climbed back on the bed, pushing her down again.

Niceties were over. They needed this like oxygen itself. He leaned down to kiss her a final time and she parted her legs for him, beckoning him in.

He held himself in one hand and pushed. Molly gasped and saw his Adam's apple lurch along his neck. He pushed again, deeper and deeper until he was in her to the hilt. For a time they couldn't move or speak. She held his back, stroking it a little, just feeling him hard and long inside her.

She could feel his breaths shushing against her neck, as if he was trying to hold himself back. She stroked his hair. It was so soft, so soft and delicate, she could do it all day.

'This is where you belong,' she said, barely audibly, but he heard it because he replied.

'Yes.' He took in a breath sharply and she felt him large inside her. 'I have to move,' he said. 'I want to move.'

Molly pushed on his shoulders so that she could look at him and gave him a kiss of acceptance. 'Move for me.'

So he pulled back, the slightest amount, and she felt the head of his cock stroking her secrets. He withdrew almost to the point of falling from her but then pushed back, harder this time, right in again. She gasped at the sudden fullness of it and clenched down on him, eliciting the most gorgeous groan. He did it again, out then in. Never had she felt so in tune with a man, so at one with another body. Could it be like this? Was this for real? She stared up into his eyes, eyes that had inhabited her days and nights for months now, and knew that it was.

'Oh, fuck, that's …' he moaned, his words dying as brewing pleasure ransacked his body.

'Don't stop moving, please don't.'

He looked down and picked up his pace, ploughing through her now, each thrust purposeful and real. 'No, Molly, never. I won't. I won't.'

She clung to him, her fingers would later leave bruises, but neither of them noticed or cared. He surged through her, faster and faster, and she rose to meet each thrust, each powering drive affirming all she wanted, all she'd ever wanted. Here, in Afghan, it didn't matter, as long as they were together.

'Christ, Molly, I'm … I'm …' His face twisted and he opened his mouth and released a cry, guttural with abandon. He was coming so hard she wondered if he'd survive it. But then she joined him. As she felt him pulsing deep inside her, her own orgasm took her by force, and as his cock still released she met him, coming harder than ever, her neck strained, her body rigid with pleasure. Her own cry echoed off the high walls of the room and was thrown back to their heaving bodies.

And then there was silence, that heavy, damp, awed silence when you know it'll never be right with anyone else again. He lay on top of her, heavy, and she loved it. She could still feel him inside her, little twitches, as if in gratitude.

They would have to speak at some point, she supposed. And at that point, her stomach rumbled.

He gave a little chuckle. 'Don't tell me you're hungry after that fabulous meal I just arranged for you?'

'Maybe.'

He pulled up and stroked her face, his gaze so heavy with adoration she almost cried. The movement caused him to slip from her. She pouted sadly. 'Don't go.'

'Sorry. Not for long.'

Her stomach rumbled again and she threw a hand onto it and laughed. 'I was so bloody taken with you in the restaurant I hardly ate a bloody thing.'

'I'll get you something. What do you fancy?' He moved to sit on the side of the bed and looked over his shoulder at her.

She grinned across at him. 'Coco Pops?'

'Knew you'd say that. Never have I enjoyed dipping my spoon in someone's bowl of cereal so much.'

'Long may it continue.'

He turned and was on her again, kissing her hard. 'Oh yes, it will.' Charles grazed down her neck until he reached her breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth to tongue and tease.

She moaned. 'Oh, God, don't do that now – where are me Coco Pops?'

Charles pulled up with a laugh. 'You're insatiable.'

'You'd better believe it, sunshine.'

He stood up, pulling on his trunks as he did so. 'Love you,' she said.

He looked back, his face warm with acceptance. 'Ditto.'

'If you hadn't just done what you've done, I'd thump you for that, but … yeah … that'll do alright.' He leaned down and they were kissing again. She didn't think they'd ever stop kissing. But some things had to be done. Molly pulled back and grinned. 'Now go and get my Coco Pops, you massive cockwomble.'

I may ... maaaaaayyyyy ... do another one. I think maybe we need one for what happens after he shuts the door on them at the very end of the credits, don't you? ;-)

Let me know your thoughts, on this, the next one, and Captain James generally, because right now I could talk and think about him all day. Yes, I really, really could. LL x