They settled on the small and pretty town of Rye. It was close enough that they could get to it easily, but far enough that there was basically no chance of running into someone they knew.

Jacob picked the Bed and Breakfast, dipping into his fairly meagre savings to pay for it. It was probably more than he ought to have spent on just one night, but he wanted them to go somewhere nice.

She seemed a bit confused by that. Ever practical, she had suggested a motel on the outskirts of London somewhere, but shrugged and accepted it when he insisted. He didn't quite know how to explain that he wanted it to be somewhere special, a memorable weekend for lots of reasons. That he wanted to treat her, show that he could be thoughtful. Romantic.

The fact that he didn't know how to summon the words made him pause. 'I love you' should have been easy enough to say, in principle; they'd been saying it to each other since they were children. It meant something else, obviously, in their new context, but that shouldn't have made it so difficult.

There was that niggling fear that festered under the surface. What if she deliberately misunderstood? What if she didn't return it? She seemed to, but she was hard to read at the best of times, emotions locked up tightly inside an impenetrable fortress of order and discipline.

He told Father that he was going camping with some friends over the weekend, that he'd be out of reach. Father just shrugged and nodded.

One of her millions of extracurricular activities seemed like the best bet for going away without arousing suspicion.

In the end, she decided to tell Father that she was going to an overnight field hockey practice match. That had happened before, so it wouldn't seem out of the ordinary.

He asked her if she'd need any money, she told him she wouldn't, and that was the end of that.

She also needed to excuse herself from debate practice. Lingering after class, she approached Mr. Green at his desk. "I'm afraid I won't be at practice this weekend. I have a family event I can't miss." Not strictly untrue.

He frowned at her over his books. "We're approaching a crucial time in preparation, Miss Frye. I hope you won't be making a habit of this."

"No, Sir."

"You seem to often be distracted as of late. Is something wrong? Something…" He hesitated. "Something happening at home?"

After a fashion. "Just tired."

He stood to put a hand on her shoulder. Again, she couldn't help but notice that the grip was a little too tight, the touch a little too long. "You can talk to me any time."

"Thank you," she said, giving him a polite smile.

They left the house at separate times.

She went earlier, carrying her duffel bag over her shoulder and going before anyone else was really awake. They had agreed to meet at the station around midday, but she had an errand she wanted to run.

The store was quiet, but it was somehow still overwhelming. She'd always just gone straight for the beige and white underwear section at the M&S, and this seemed like a totally different ballpark. The sheer array of available colours and styles was sort of making her head spin. Some of these things were ridiculous, made of barely any fabric at all. How could she spend £45 on a scrap of a thong?

She almost bailed.

Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself. This was no more frightening than impending A-levels or a ballet competition. She could do this.

In the end, she settled on a matching set that was black and lacy. It was slightly see-through, which seemed impractical, but she reminded herself that practicality wasn't technically the goal in this case.

It would be nice if he liked it. She had no idea what his preferences were in this area.

The girl at the till praised her choice. "This set is very popular," she said, wrapping it in pretty paper and putting it in a discreet bag.

She suddenly wanted to share with someone. "I'm going away for the weekend with my-" Evie almost stumbled on the word, "-boyfriend." What a strange concept. In all but name, though, that was exactly what he'd been over the past weeks. The thought gave her a sort of tingly happy feeling.

The shop girl did a cheerful little clap. "I'm sure he'll adore it."

Evie hoped she was right.

Rubbing his hands together nervously, he looked over his packed bag for the last time.

A change of clothes. Sleep things. Toiletries. Condoms. Lube.

He felt a little lightheaded every time he looked at the last two. He'd even settled on wearing a longer coat for the day, mostly because he couldn't trust junior to behave in public in light of what was happening.

Oh, Christ, this was happening.

He wandered down the stairs and grunted his goodbye at Father. Father grunted back.

The wind was chilly when he left the house, impending winter hanging low in the air.

She was waiting on the train platform when he arrived, tucked into a warm scarf and boots. He wished he could greet her with a peck on the cheek, but he settled for quickly squeezing her hand, wiggling his eyebrows at her as she giggled.

The train ride was long. They sat across from each other and she worked on her homework; he was grateful for the coat over his lap, because she would occasionally wrap her lips around the end of her pen and suck thoughtfully. Bloody distracting.

They stood outside Rye station, getting their bearings. He fiddled with google maps on his phone and turned to her. "We can go get something to eat, if you'd like, or we can head straight to the hotel."

She stepped close to him, her lips an inch from his ear. "I think you know what I'd prefer."

She had been nervous to check in. Everything was in his name and she knew that they didn't even look particularly related, but she still couldn't relax until they had the key and were alone.

The attendant had barely left the room before they fell on each other. Coats and hats, scarves and shoes were tossed aside as they grappled, almost wrestling each other towards the bed.

He had pushed her down on the plush coverlet and was tugging her shirt up when she remembered her new underwear, still sitting in its pretty paper. "Hang on," she said, tapping him quickly on the shoulder. He responded by feathering ticklish kisses to her stomach, fingers lightly tracing her waist until she was laughing. "Jacob, hang on!"

He finally looked up and pouted. "What?"

"I need to get ready."

His brow creased. "Get ready… How?"

Wriggling out from under him, she leaned down to press a kiss to his nose. "Trust me."

Shrugging, he shuffled up on the bed, crossing his arms behind his head. The bed itself was huge, a fancy Victorian looking thing that took up most of the available space other than a small dresser and table for making tea. The whole room was fairly ornate, with patterned wallpaper and a soft carpet.

Now that they were here, she was glad they hadn't gone with a motel. It would've made the whole thing seem a lot more… Grubby.

"Two minutes," she promised, grabbing the bag and going to the bathroom.

It was quite nice in its own right, with a sizeable shower and a deep claw foot bathtub. She would definitely need to use that later.

Slipping out of her things, she pulled on the bra and panties, stopping to look in the mirror. Considering her reflection, she undid her bun, combing her hair with her fingers in an attempt to make it a bit fluffier. Turning a bit this way and that, she tried a pout in the mirror. Ugh, no, bad idea, it just made her look petulant.

She didn't feel particularly sexy. She mostly felt nervous. God, he'd better not laugh at her for trying too hard or something. He'd looked so good on the bed, fitted t-shirt and jeans showing off the benefits of all that boxing, and she wanted him so badly that it almost hurt.

Adjusting the bra slightly so it pushed her breasts up a bit more, she took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped back into the room.

Jacob had moved from the bed to the table, where he was fiddling with the kettle. "I think this might be broken, I can't get it t- ohholychrist." He dropped the kettle on the table, where it bounced off to the floor.

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"I- uh," he stammered, voice now a bit more high-pitched than usual. "You, um. I…"

She gestured to herself. "Do you like it?"

He had lapsed into staring at the bra, mouth hanging a little open.

A bit impatient, she stepped towards him and was about to ask again when he held up a hand.

"Hang on," he said faintly. "I'm preserving this image so I can keep it until I die."

Feeling a surge of confidence at his words, she grinned and attempted a slow spin, wiggling her hips a little.

"Fuck," he rasped, the sound drawn out and faint.

When she completed her turn, she found that he had taken a few steps toward her, now just out of reach.

He almost looked nervous. "Can I…" he said slowly, putting a hand out towards her.

Reaching out and tangling his fingers with her own, she pulled him closer, pressing his hand to her breast.

He was on her in an instant, his mouth crushed against her own with almost angry intensity, his other hand snaking around her hip so he could yank her to him. When she moaned and arched against him, he slid both hands to her ass and picked her up off the ground, her legs wrapping around his waist as he conveyed them to the bed.

"Fuck, Evie," he moaned, setting her down on the edge and kneeling before her. "I think you're trying to kill me."

He ran his thumbs along the lace of her panties and she spread her legs wider, gasping when he tucked the thin band aside and slid his thumb into her.

"Fuck," he said again, leaning forward and pressing a kiss through the fabric, his breath hot. "So fucking beautiful."

The words made her relax a bit more, mind going cloudy and blank, a curled heat coiling in her hips. He was wearing far too many clothes as far as she was concerned, and she wrapped a hand into his shirt, tugging wordlessly.

Withdrawing his thumb, he moved up over her and pulled his shirt off, running a hand along her cheek. "Look at you," he breathed, his tone awestruck. She leaned back to lie on the bed and he followed the movement, lowering his head and running his tongue along the sheer fabric of the bra, the contact sending a surge of electricity straight to her hips. "Fucking perfect. I can't even decide what I want to do first." A hand was tweaking her other nipple and she moaned under him, running her hands along his shoulders.

"Please," she breathed.

"Tell me what you want," he said, voice low.

She briefly felt that usual surge of embarrassment but decided that today, she wanted to be bold. Propping herself up on her elbows, she looked down at him, drawing her legs up around his hips. "I want you to fuck me."

She could've sworn that she saw his pupils dilate at her words, breath becoming ragged. "Pretty sure I should get you off first."

"No." She put a hand to his hair, letting her fingers run through the soft strands. "I want you to fuck me."

"I want you to be ready-"

"Jacob," she said, starting to feel a bit impatient. "I have been thinking about this for over a week now." She could feel the stickiness on her thighs and she took his hand, sliding it between her legs and under the fabric, pressing two of his fingers against her entrance, sighing with pleasure as they slid in easily. "I'm ready. Fuck. Me."

"Jesus," he breathed. "So bossy." She squirmed as she realized he was scissoring his fingers, trying to stretch her, prepare her for something much bigger. It was too much and entirely not enough all at once when she felt a third finger push in, pressing steadily. "So impatient."

"Please," she moaned, trying to move against his hand, "please-"

He smothered her words with a kiss as she scrabbled at his jeans, popping the button and sliding the zipper down. Palming his cock through his pants, she heard him hiss in a breath through his teeth.

He gently pulled his hand away and tugged her panties down, following it by sliding his jeans and boxers off in a smooth movement. When she reached towards him, he slid his hands around her back and unhooked her bra, dragging it off her arms. "It's pretty," he murmured, "but I like seeing you bare."

They moved up to the middle of the bed, his larger body practically caging hers underneath him. She went to try and stroke him, but he grabbed her wrist, holding her at bay.

"This is already probably going to be fairly short," he said, sounding a bit strained. "Let's not make it worse."

She giggled at him and pulled him down for a kiss instead, parting her lips, sucking his tongue into her mouth. He was grinding against her again, his cock hot and slick, just teasing, just barely pushing into her. The anticipation was building like static electricity, ready to snap against her at any moment. Lying back on the pillows, she twitched her hips at him, trying to encourage him. "Please, Jacob-"

He looked punch drunk. "I have condoms in my bag- and some lube-"

The words slowly drifted through the fog in her brain, taking a while to settle. "… What? Do we need either of those?"

He swallowed. "Well I don't know how careful you want to be, and I don't want to hurt you-"

The surge of emotion was as powerful as it was unexpected. This was all so confusing- and in many ways, incredibly fucked up- and there he was, in the middle of it all, trying to be a gentleman. She tugged him down for another kiss, and when he pulled away, she gave him the softest smile she could manage. "The IUD is enough. Unless you have herpes and you haven't told me."

He laughed at that. "No, no chance to have gotten anything, I'm afraid."

"As for the lube…" She tucked her hips lower against him, heartbeat speeding as she nudged a little bit more of him inside. God, it was big- she had to wave away a little flutter of nerves. "Does it feel like we need it?"

"Not really," he agreed, sounding a bit strangled.

"Well then," she breathed. "What are you waiting for?"

Closing his eyes and smiling, he nodded, the movement almost rueful. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, moved a hand to her hip, and gently started to push.

Oh, dear God. It felt a bit like being pinched, except somehow in reverse, the intrusion slick and hot. She tried to relax, ease the muscles in her stomach, but it was all so much and every time she thought that surely, now, he was finished, there would be another little stretch, another little push-

His hips finally bumped against hers and she let out a little shuddering breath.

"You okay?" He was searching her face, looking worried.

"It's a lot more than fingers," she managed.

There was a flash of male pride that he quickly wiped off his face. "We can stop?"

"No," she said instantly, "don't stop."

With a deep breath, he pulled out slowly, pressing in again at that same excruciating pace. By the fourth or fifth stroke, she was starting to feel an undertone of something different, an aching sort of pleasure that raced through her body. She dug her nails into his shoulders, finally starting to move herself, pushing her hips up to meet him.

"Fuck," he breathed, eyelids fluttering. "So tight, Evie, fuck."

The pain had almost completely subsided now, replaced by a sort of ravenous hunger that stretched through her whole body. "More," she moaned out, enjoying the way it made his breath hitch.

She hooked her ankles around him as he sped up, tangling a hand in his hair and gasping with each thrust. She couldn't do more than risk a glance at his face, his eyes were so intense and searching; instead, she focused on his chest, with that delicious little trail of hair, his arms, muscular and solid beside her, his broad shoulders moving under her hands.

His voice was strained. "This feel good?"

God, yes. "So good, please-"

She felt his self control fall away as he started to fuck her in earnest, each stroke hard and sweet, painful in such a perfect way, new and strange and she was so glad that she was learning this with him, that she felt so safe and beautiful and ravished all at once-

"Evie," his breathing stuttered and he tucked his head against the crook of her shoulder, the snap of his hips becoming irregular, "fuck, I'm sorry, I'm-"

"Come in me," she breathed.

He made a desperate noise and gave a few last hard thrusts, each one forcing a gasp from her, his body slumping on top of her when he finally stilled with a shuddering sigh.

She felt something leak against her thigh, warm and wet.

"S' sorry," he slurred. "That was fast and- and you didn't even come-"

She wondered if a giggle would hurt his pride. Instead, she reached around and patted him on the back. "We still have lots of time- I'm sure I will before the weekend is over."

He nuzzled into her ear with a happy sound. "As many times as you can manage, I promise."

She was curled against his chest, shoulders rising and falling as she breathed. The afternoon light was peeking around the edge of the curtains. They would have to go look for food soon, but for now, it was nice to just lie together, not having to listen for someone coming home or for footsteps in the hallway.

From his position, slightly propped up on the bed, he could see where that bra was tossed on the floor.

Christ. When she'd first come out in that, he thought he was going to have a heart attack. She looked like a pin-up girl had wandered off the page.

She turned slightly. "I think I'm going to take a bath, do you want to join me?"

Did he ever. "Sure."

Once the water was high enough, they crowded in, her back against his chest as she sat between his legs. He moved his hands to her shoulders, rubbing in small circles against the tense muscles, enjoying how she sighed happily and relaxed against him.

He pressed a kiss to the back of her neck and breathed in her sweet scent. The words came out before he had time to even think about them, sneaking from his lips in a whisper. "I love you."

For a fraction of a second, he froze in fear, worried that he had somehow overstepped-

"I love you too," she said, easily, naturally, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.