He's let her use the bathroom first, and as she slips inside it and closes the door behind her, turning to look around, she almost gapes in astonishment at the size of it, for not only does it have an enormous bath tub, but also a separate shower cubicle. She gazes around the room for several moments in amazement, taking in the soft blues, greens, and greys of the décor and thinking that whoever was paid to decorate it did a marvellous job, before she checks herself, opening up her bag to extract her toothbrush, hairbrush, and other things she needs, including the nightdress she's brought to wear tonight. Then she strips and steps into the shower.
It takes her much longer to get ready than she anticipates, at least twice the amount of time she normally takes at home, but when she exits the bathroom, she's feeling deliciously relaxed and renewed thanks to Harry's incredible shower that seems to have got rid of all the tension, and aches and pains from the day.
"That is the best shower I have ever had," she sighs as she slips back into his bedroom.
He's looking out the window, but he turns at the sound of her voice and smiles at her, saying, "One of my vices, I'm afraid. I enjoy a bit of luxury and indulge myself more frequently than I probably should."
"I can see that," she smiles, remembering the luxurious interior of his car, the plush, reclining armchair in his living room and enormous bathtub next door, not to mention the huge, comfy looking bed that dominates this room, which she's valiantly trying not to look at right now. He does love a bit of luxury, her Harry, she thinks fondly, watching him cross the room towards her as she adds, "but this particular one I heartily approve of. I'm sure it was worth every penny."
He's removed his jumper, shirt, shoes and socks and is only clad in a vest and trousers, and she can feel her insides begin to melt with want at the sight of him. He looks... divine, his attire emphasising the broadness of his shoulders, the strength of his arms, and the sheer animal magnetism and sexiness he exudes.
"It certainly was," he murmurs, his voice husky now with desire. "You look... God, Ruth." He stops a few feet from her, his eyes raking over her body hungrily, and she's pleased that she'd decided to bring her most alluring nightdress for tonight, the sheer, pale-blue, silk one. She watches his face, self-consciously hugging her bag and clothes to her chest and probably completely ruining the effect of her sexy sleepwear, but she can't seem to help herself; he's so... large and male, and so present in this moment that she feels she needs a barrier between them, something to hide behind until she finds the courage to act, or he does. She can clearly see him struggling to control his desire for her, fighting to keep himself in check, and soon, the lust in his eyes in combination with his physical presence has her own passion and anticipation rising steadily higher until she's struggling to keep her breathing even. But just as she's about to throw caution to the wind and reach out to touch him, he abruptly growls, "Don't go anywhere," before wrenching his gaze from her and striding purposefully towards the bathroom.
Once the door has closed behind him, she exhales heavily, taking a few deep breaths before she turns to look around the room to calm and distract herself. The king-size, luxurious bed is its main feature with the rest of the furnishings being sparse, simple, practical, masculine, no-frills nonsense. She walks over to the chair along the opposite wall, near the window, under which she'd neatly tucked her shoes when they'd come upstairs, and places her things on it, taking out the clothes she's brought for tomorrow and laying them carefully across it so that any creases, hopefully, iron themselves out during the night. Then she puts the clothes she wore today in her bag, taking care to avoid creasing her dress as much as possible. Once all this is done very carefully, taking an inordinate amount of time over it in the hope of distracting herself for as long as possible, she can still hear the shower running in the bathroom. She glances at the bed, noting that he's already turned down the covers to reveal crisp, cream coloured sheets and debating with herself whether to slide into it before he returns, weighing up the pros and cons of waiting for him in bed or not. In the end, she decides against it, preferring to take a couple of steps across to the window and gaze out into Harry's back garden in the hope of finding something to distract her while she waits.
The room is quite warm despite the November chill in the air outside, so she's not uncomfortable as she stands, gazing out into the dark. The night is overcast but not heavily so, so she can discern the general layout of the garden, the path winding down it, the apple tree at the end of it, the swing to its left, and the raised flowerbeds in the centre. It's not a large garden, but it's large enough to be a pleasure to sit out in, in good weather. She briefly indulges her fantasies by imagining sitting beside Harry on the swing in the heat of summer, his powerful legs swaying them gently to and fro, each of them reading a book, his arm around her shoulders as she leans into his side, her legs tucked up beside her, Scarlet and Fidget resting in the shade of the tree... a toddler, a little boy of about two with a head of blonde curls, soft, pouty lips, and dancing, hazel eyes, sitting beside the dog, his arms wrapped around her neck... "Stop it, Ruth," she sternly murmurs out loud to herself, wrenching her gaze from the garden and lifting it up to the sky, and that's when she realises that everything is still; the shower has stopped running.
She spins round abruptly and finds him taking slow, silent steps towards her, his eyes never leaving her. Bloody spook, she thinks fleetingly, how long has he been watching? But the sight of him dressed in nothing but a chocolate coloured towel wrapped around his waist soon chases all thought out of her head.
"You look stunning, Ruth," he murmurs as he moves closer still, taking the final few steps to cover the distance left between them, and reaching up to cup her cheek as he whispers, "You take my breath away."
Her mind has turned to mush again, his proximity rendering her inarticulate, so all she manages to do is whisper his name. "Harry."
He kisses her then, pressing soft, pliable lips against hers, again and again, while his hands caress her skin, his right still cradling her head, his fingers massaging the nape of her neck and his thumb gliding along her jaw, while his left hand rests against her side, softly running up and down her body over her silk nightie.
It takes her a moment to realise that she can touch him too, so caught up is she in the sensations, but when she does, she eagerly lifts her hands to his lower back, feeling his warm skin and strong muscles below the surface as she presses more firmly against him, running her hands up and down his back from the edge of the towel as high as she can reach, to his broad shoulders and the back of his neck. He moans and deepens the kiss, pulling her against him as she parts her lips in welcome. They kiss over and over again, longer and deeper until they have to break apart to catch their breath, both of them breathing hard. Her lips are tingling deliciously and they feel swollen as she lifts her eyes to his. They're dark, full of desire, but there's also something else there, the same something she'd seen in them earlier, downstairs, but it's much clearer now, a fierceness and a tenderness, a look of love. He doesn't speak, but his eyes... his eyes in that moment are magic and she feels her own admission of love rise up in her throat, ready to spill from her lips, but before they can form the words, her hands have slid down his back again and accidentally dislodged his towel, causing it to fall to the floor. His eyebrows lift in surprise and then he smirks as her hands move of their own accord to cover his buttocks and she squeezes them experimentally, pulling him against her and almost groaning at the feel of his hardened length pressing into her stomach. He gasps and then murmurs her name before they plunge into another deep, passionate kiss. She runs her hands over his back again, his bum, scraping her nails across his skin and making him moan into her mouth, his hand tightening its grip on her head and pulling her closer still, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth in a primal rhythm that has her blood boiling in seconds.
His left hand begins to gather the material of her long nightie, his fingers brushing against the back of her thigh in the process, teasing her as the passion surges through her, and as he succeeds and his hand closes over her right butt-cheek, squeezing her flesh repeatedly, she moans into his mouth, grinding her hips against him. This is bliss, she thinks fleetingly, feeling more alive than ever before.
"Ruth," he pants as they come up for air, "we need to... slow down."
"Why?" he asks, pulling back to look at his face, genuinely surprised for a second, so lost is she in their passion.
"Because I won't... last long if we continue like this," he confesses quietly, looking a little embarrassed.
"So what?" she murmurs, lifting her right hand to trail her fingertips down his neck and then his chest, making him close his eyes and shiver at the sensation, her passion making her bold and forthright. "I'm enjoying myself. Aren't you?"
"Yes," he breathes, "but-"
"Then that's all that matters," she interrupts, leaning forward to lick his right nipple and making him groan and take a step back from her, breathing heavily. She smiles as she watches him struggle with his need for control, her own innate shyness and usual lack of self-confidence when it comes to sex having deserted her in the face of the obviously devastating effect she's having on him. She watches him take a seat on the bed facing her and the window, his hands on his knees as he takes deep rugged breaths to steady himself, but she only gives him a moment before she moves to stand in front of him, running her fingers gently through his hair.
"God, Ruth," he groans, reaching for her and pressing his face against her stomach as his hands pull her to stand between his knees. She strokes his hair and runs her hands across his shoulders and down his back before moving them up again, massaging his ears and neck. He hums in pleasure, remaining still and enjoying her caresses for long moments before he begins to plant kisses against her stomach while his hands run up and down her back, over her bum and the back of her thighs a few times, making her sigh in delight. He gathers the material of her nightdress once more, pulling it up, over her bottom, his hands caressing her thighs and buttocks. "No knickers," he groans. "Are you trying to kill me, Ruth?"
"Far from it," she smiles. "I thought I might surprise you... and besides, I usually sleep without them when I wear a nightie."
He exhales heavily and moves his hands round to her stomach, mumbling, "Always wear a nightdress, Ruth."
"Always?" she manages to reply, closing her eyes at the feel of his hands running over her skin. "Even on the Grid?"
"Especially there," he growls before his lips find their way under her nightdress too, his tongue running sensually over her skin from her navel down to her pubic bone, then round to her left hip and down to her inner thighs, making her legs tremble as she clings to his shoulders for support, her breath coming in gasps and pants. "Then I can do this to you every minute of every hour of every day," he murmurs against her skin.
She's about to make some comment about the others finding out about them if he does that, when the thought's chased right out of her head by the feel of his fingers caressing her folds, dipping inside her slick passage, slowly, repeatedly, in a delicious rhythm that has her insides melting and the energy building in her core, coiling tighter and tighter inside her. "Oh God, Harry," she moans.
Her legs have almost given out from under her when she begins to push his shoulders down, forcing him backwards onto the bed as she leans over him to capture his lips with hers, kissing him passionately, slipping her tongue in and out of his mouth in the same rhythm he had set moments ago with his fingers inside her. His hands are pulling her nightdress higher now, over her waist and her ribcage to her shoulders, but they stop here as they move round to cup her breasts, squeeze them and pinch her nipples, making her moan and press her heat against his shaft, gliding along it and causing them both to groan, his hips twitching under hers.
Then she sits up and pulls her nightdress off, gazing down at him as he lies below her, taking in his lust-filled eyes, his kiss swollen, sensual lips, his broad shoulders and chest which carry so many scars, marks of his brave service to his country. She's never felt this confident before, brave enough to just stare at her lover's body without feeling embarrassed or self-conscious, but tonight she feels strong, powerful and in control somehow. "You're beautiful," she murmurs, running her hands down his chest and she feels him twitch beneath her.
"Hardly," he replies huskily, "but I'm glad you like what you see."
"I do," she smiles, leaning over him and planting kisses across his chest and shoulders, dipping her tongue into the hollow of his throat and licking each one of his nipples in turn, delighting in his deep groans of approval.
She moves lower, stepping off the bed as she leans over him, kissing his stomach that is delightfully smooth and soft, moving lower still to plant kisses all the way down to his pubic hair, her cheek brushing against his hardened length as she goes, but as she lifts her head to admire his cock, running a fingertip all the way up his considerable length to its glistening tip, he abruptly sits up, his hands wrapping around her upper arms and pulling her up as he gasps, "Wait!"
She lifts her eyes to his as she watches him breathing heavily, fighting to remain in control. "Harry," she murmurs quietly, reaching a hand up to cup his cheek, "let go. Stop trying to keep control of everything all the time. It doesn't matter how long this last or if you come first. Even if we stop right now, I'll still be happy and satisfied." She watches him search her gaze carefully, knowing he doesn't quite believe her, so she adds, "I mean it. Being with you, like this, is enough for me. And besides," she smiles mischievously, "the clouds have parted... so this is my chance to ravish you in the moonlight." He smiles then and lifts his hand to her face, cupping her cheek and looking at her tenderly as he pulls her towards him and their lips meet. And she can feel it now as he kisses her, can feel the passion surge through him as he lets go of his self-control.
Their hands are everywhere, caressing, groping, squeezing, pinching as he pulls her into his lap, rocking her against his cock, her clit rubbing deliciously against him as he lifts his right hand from her bottom and slaps her flesh, sending a surge of desire straight through her. "Oh yes," she gasps, pitching her weight forward so that he falls backwards onto the bed.
Instantly, he rolls her underneath him, sliding her further onto the bed as with a quietly mumbled, "I'm sorry, Ruth. I can't wait," he reaches a hand between them to guide himself to her entrance and plunges deep inside her. A groan of deep pleasure escapes them both, and she feels her heart swell with love for him. He feels so good inside her, so right, that she never wants this to end. Her legs wrap around his hips and her arms around his back, her hands gripping his shoulders as his lips find hers, hungry and insistent, his tongue plunging into her mouth again and again, matching the rhythm of his thrusts into her core, his strokes swift and deep, propelling them both quickly towards their peak. Soon they break apart for air, panting as they gaze at each other, his eyes burning pools of liquid fire. I love you, she thinks as she stares into his passion-filled eyes, the words reverberating inside her head, getting louder and louder until they're ready to spill from her lips.
"Ruth," he gasps, his own eyes brimming with emotion, but the sensations are almost overpowering now and she can't keep her eyes open any longer as the energy inside her builds, and all she can manage to do is whisper his name in return. "That's it," she hears him pant, his voice hoarse and strained from holding back. "Come, my darling." He presses his face into her neck, planting kisses against her skin, and she can hear him groan loudly in her ear each time he plunges into her now, his movements becoming frantic and erratic as he nears his peak.
"Harry," she gasps, her hands skidding across his sweat-dampened back, fingers digging into his shoulders, nails scraping his skin as his teeth grasp the flesh of her shoulder near her neck and he bites down, sending her straight to the edge of oblivion. "Oh God, yes!" she calls out, teetering on the precipice for a moment until he rams himself into her hard and stills, his muscles tensing for a second before he roars his release, the sound and feel of his climax sending her tumbling after him with a long, drawn out moan of ecstasy.
All thought stops after that and for several minutes they lie without moving, his body still partly covering hers, his face buried in her neck, her hands resting against his damp skin, their legs tangled together. They must have moved a little, she realises as she slowly comes back to herself, enjoying the delightful tingling that still lingers in her body, for her legs are no longer wrapped around his hips, nor is he inside her. She's never felt so good in her life before, she thinks dreamily as she begins to stroke his back with one hand, her lips lifting in a smile of true joy. He hums under her ministrations and she feels her heart fill and threaten to burst with love for him. Should she say it now, she wonders, or is it a bad idea to do it right after sex? Perhaps he'll think it's just the afterglow talking. Perhaps it's better to say it another time, in the morning perhaps. She pushes the though aside for now and focuses on her body. It feels bloody marvellous, a tingling mass of pure sensation and pleasure. He's a bloody magician, she thinks dreamily... with a fucking huge wand. She grins at the thought and turns her head towards his shoulder, fighting hard to contain the giggles that want to escape her.
"You're thinking very loudly, Ruth," he mumbles sleepily, pressing a soft kiss against her shoulder and sliding his head back so he can focus on her face. His eyes are hooded and sated, a lazy smile flirting with his gorgeous, sensual lips.
"I was trying to decide whether the whisky bottles stand for 'you are thrillingly huge', 'throbbingly hard', 'happily thorough', or 'honestly tantric'," she grins, delighting in the laughter that escapes him. She loves to see him happy and relaxed, and as he rolls off her, still chuckling at her joke, she feels incredibly lucky to have him. Harry Pearce. Hers. It seems too good to be true.
"I take it you enjoyed that then," he murmurs when his laughter has subsided.
"Immensely," she smiles.
"Me too," he sighs, rolling onto his side again, folding his left arm under this head, and reaching his right hand up to cup her cheek. "My brilliant analyst," he murmurs affectionately. She wrinkles her nose in displeasure at his choice of words, causing him to frown and drop his hand as he asks, "What?"
"Nothing," she replies, "I just... well, the other day you said you're not my boss when we're away from work, so it follows that I'm not your analyst either."
"You're right," he agrees solemnly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I should have said you're my brilliant, beautiful, sexy, irresistible lover." His voice drops into an intimate rumble on the last word, making her blush, and she can't help smiling shyly as she lifts her eyes to his. He looks happy and sated, his eyes twinkling as he gazes at her adoringly.
"I think you have me confused with yourself, Harry," she murmurs softly.
"Hardly," he objects. "I'm certainly not beautiful or brilliant, and as to sexy and irresistible, well... you've managed to resist me for years, Ruth."
"Only because you're my boss, Harry," she replies, "and you didn't show any indication of wanting me. I've thought you were sexy and highly shaggable since about ten seconds after meeting you for the first time, all those months ago." He smiles softly at her words and covers her hand with his as it lies between them on the bed, but then she sees his eyes widen in alarm and feels her pulse quicken in response as she asks worriedly, "What?"
"I've just realised," he groans, rolling onto his back and covering his face with his hand for a moment, "we didn't use protection. I meant to use a condom, but I forgot in the heat of the moment." He turns back to face her, saying in a deeply apologetic tone of voice, "I'm so sorry, Ruth," and he looks so upset and disgusted with himself that she feels her heart expand with love for him.
"It's all right, Harry," she soothes softly, lifting her hand to caress his chest. "It's rather flattering actually that you've forgotten all about it two times out of three, and besides, I took care of it," and at his puzzled frown, she adds, "When I went to the doctor, after the first time, she suggested a copper coil as it would work right away as well as... in the long run. So since you'd said you wanted our relationship to... continue, I thought that would probably be the best option. I meant to tell you last time but I was... well... a bit shy," she confesses with a blush.
"So it seems I'm not the only one who was prepared," he smiles softly, lifting her hand from his chest and bringing it to his lips, softly kissing her palm.
"No," she agrees, "though I haven't gone as far as keeping a holdall with all the essentials in my car yet." She blushes as she realises what she's said, and looks down quickly, mentally kicking herself.
"Ruth?" he questions, releasing her hand and reaching for her chin, tilting it up so he can see her face. "You do know that the bag I keep in the car is for operational reasons only, don't you? Sometimes, though the older I get, the less frequently it happens, I need to change out of my a suit and tie to meet an asset, or for some other op, so it comes in handy if I'm already out of the office or far from home... And besides, I've been in this business long enough to know that having a bag or two packed and ready to go is a distinct advantage as you never know when you'll need to run, hide, or spend a few days in a safe house. And believe me, having your own shaving kit and a change of your own clothes can make a world of difference in a situation like that."
Her relief is palpable and she feels tears spring to her eyes even as she smiles in happiness, turning towards him and wrapping her left arm around him as she buries her face in his shoulder. She feels his arm wrap around her in return, his hand running gently up and down her back while he presses his lips against her hair. "I have... many failings and limitations, Ruth," he murmurs softly into her hair, "not least of all my job and what it demands of me, but I am trying to be a better man... a man who can make you happy. I promise you that I will endeavour to never cheat or lie to you, Ruth, and to never hurt you." She nods, not trusting her voice, and presses a soft kiss against his bare skin. Then she feels him pull away, saying, "Come. Let's get in bed."
So she releases him and follows him as he turns and shuffles over towards the other side of the bed, her muscles barely able to respond to the commands sent by her brain, they're so relaxed and sated. She sighs as he rests her head on the pillow, the one in the middle of Harry's huge bed while Harry reaches down for the covers and begins to pull them over them. There's still plenty of space for Harry to lie beside her, which she's grateful for as she has no desire to lie in the wet spot they've left on the right side of the bed. She smiles, unconsciously reaching down between her thighs to the slickness she finds there. "Would you like a towel?" she hears him murmur, making her eyes fly open in alarm as she pulls her hand away quickly and blushes deeply in embarrassment. He's watching her, his gaze warm and knowing; "Or I have some wipes too," he offers softly. He turns away, twisting his body round as he pulls open the drawer of the bedside table and reaches inside, retrieving a box of wipes and a soft flannel which he places on the bed between them. "Here," he murmurs, looking slightly embarrassed now, no doubt knowing that she's guessed what he uses these items for when he's alone.
"Actually," she finds herself whispering softly, "I like it. It's... part of you." She flushes scarlet at that and turns away, burying her face in the pillow, his stunned expression making her wish she'd just kept her mouth shut. He doesn't say anything, but she can hear him open and close the drawer again and then feels him lie down beside her, pulling the duvet over their naked bodies and switching off the bedside lamp, plunging the room in darkness save for the moonlight still streaming in through the window. He reaches for her then, his fingers finding her left arm under the covers and trailing slowly down it before sliding over to her back, his palm resting softly against her waist, pausing there for an instant before gliding up to her shoulder.
"Ruth?" he murmurs huskily.
"Yes?" she whispers.
"I'd like... to hold you," he says, sounding uncertain. "May I?"
"Yes," she replies, and when she feels him move closer and wrap his arm around her shoulders, she turns her head and body towards him, wrapping her arm around his waist and pressing her face against his chest, her left leg slipping between his. She can hear his heart beating, its rhythm quite fast in response to her proximity, and when she accidentally on purpose presses her body a little closer, her thigh riding up between his a little more, she can feel that he's no longer completely flaccid. "Harry?" she questions softly, more than a little impressed by how fast he's recovered, her body beginning to respond with desire.
"Yes?" he murmurs huskily, his fingers running softly down her spine as he presses his lips against her hair and then her forehead, trailing soft kisses down to her cheek when she tilts her head back to look at him.
"Are you...?" she asks breathlessly.
"Yes," he growls, capturing her lips with his and kissing her soundly as he rolls her underneath him. He takes his time and is incredibly tender, thorough and totally in control this time, building her up and watching her come again and again before he allows himself to join her, climaxing quietly inside her as he whispers her name. But afterwards, as she's drifting off to sleep in his arms, utterly sated and exhausted, she knows that their first time tonight was the best because he'd lost control and had allowed her a rare glimpse into the heart of the beautiful man he is below all the armour he wears and behind all the walls he has erected to protect himself and his soft, gentle soul.