Abbie POV

Song: I Wanna Be Your Lover - Prince

I awaken the next morning to bright rays of sunshine beaming through my window, pleasantly warming me. Feeling rested I spring out of bed to peer out the window. We got hit with another big wave of snow. Glittering snowflakes fell soundlessly, taking their time before they reached their destined places of rest, enveloping everything in a calm, silent coldness that was comforting in its special way.

Time to assess the damage.

I flip the switch in the bathroom, letting out a full sigh of relief when the lights flicker on. I twist the knob and smile, as the water begins to steam indicating that we still have hot water. I maneuver in a celebratory dance; the generator is still working and the pipes are not frozen.

I disrobe and take a quick shower, afterward, I groom and dress. This is as good a time as any and I decided to finally open the yellow form-fitting tracksuit with matching, fuzzy socks Jenny bought me last Christmas. I look like a little banana, but I'm surprised the material is really comfortable.

As I descend the stairs, the air suddenly changes, becoming laced with the scent of freshly made coffee. My pace accelerates as my nostrils are delicately enticed with the delicious smells of breakfast. The vibrant aroma of bacon penetrates deep into my nose. The sizzling sounds filled the house with a pleasant smell that had me salivating in seconds.

"Good morning Lieutenant," Crane says without turning to face me, he's busily cooking, "Breakfast is almost ready." He maneuvers to the coffee pot and pours me a cup.

"Good morning Crane," he slides the half-full mug of coffee to me and I scoop it up into my hands appreciably, "sure smells good," I add before taking a sip.

"We're having hotcakes, with buttery syrup, bacon, and fried potatoes," He replies cheerfully, pouring the batter into the pan, "besides only having enough eggs for this batter, the food rations are sustainable."

"Great," I reply after taking another sip of coffee, " We're stuck here for another night, but we should be in the clear by tomorrow morning."

"I figured as much," he replies, flipping the hotcake with surprising expertise, "I watched the storm coming last night, so I had figured as much." He repeated as he so often does.

I examined the frying bacon in the pan, even its greasiness is perfection to me. I waited with hungry eyes on the stove, waiting for the bacon to be crispy. It had to be crispy.

I go to the refrigerator, retrieve the butter, and proceed with buttering the stack of hotcakes. After that, I set the counter with two forks, two plates, and a stack of napkins.

"The news report said the snow came in after midnight, did you have trouble sleeping?" I asked, noticing his body tense, wondering what was displayed in his expression.

"The snow did not keep me from my slumber. It was relaxing observing from the safety of the lodge, the word, snow hardly seems an adequate word for what the weather outside had become, clouds broke into a deluge of whirling winds. I watched the driveway disappear in the white icy vortex," he says placing a heap of fried potatoes on my plate and then three strips of crispy bacon, "Sleep claimed me eventually."

"Good," I took a bite of perfectly crisp bacon, nodded, and forked my potatoes, they too were perfect. Golden crispy on the outside tender and savory on the inside. The hotcakes were fluffy sweet nirvana.

Crane is an amazing cook. We ate in silence and after we were both about half finished with our ample-sized rations, he broke the peaceful quiet.

"How did you sleep?" He asked me, there was no significance in his tone. His long-form slouching in the chair stuffing his face with hotcakes and bacon.

But his eyes… his eyes tell a different story.

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks as Crane looked in my direction, he grinned and I snapped my head away, knowing that if I continued to stare, I would get lost in his big blue eyes. I could feel his eyes still on me, I silently inhaled and exhaled. He's no longer peering at me in the apprising, logical manner of which I am all too accustomed too. Oh, no…now he's looking at me as if seeing me for the first time. He stares at me for what seems like the longest minute in the world.

When he notices that I've stopped eating I look at him in a completely different way. The room becomes thick with newfound tension. The strained silence that descended between us confounded me. The air was so thick with sensual tension that I could practically taste it on my tongue. I can see that he wants me – just as much, if not more than I want him. The problem is neither of us is in a position to complicate things with such a union.

I rise from my chair with my plate in hand, "I slept well," I finally answered when I got to the sink and I was no longer facing him. I could feel his eyes still on me. My cheeks are warm and the feeling is slowly traveling south. I kept recalling that dream, oh that magnificent dream. I could have sworn it was real and the notions, all the possibilities the dream left behind…

I begin running the water for the dishes, he's been behind me clearing the counter the whole time. Suddenly he's not, I can hear him walking towards me, he's closer now, so close I feel the heat from his body. I can't move and I'm just standing here looking at the sink filled with water and suds.

"A penny for your thoughts," he murmurs, pacing his dish and glass in the sink. His hand lightly touches mine and I feel a bolt of electricity course through and I shiver.

"I-I'm not thinking of anything really," I manage to finally sputter out.

I lied to him, I had to. How could I actually say out loud what's going on in my mind? How can I tell my partner, my friend, a man who's from another century for crying out loud, that the very thought of him makes me wet, and all I can imagine him doing is touching me, tasting me, and fucking me into oblivion!?

I now realize that I've always loved to touch him - never in a sexual way, never anywhere other than his face, his hands, his dark hair that fell in tousled locks. His warmth would seep into my being and he comforted me. I'd melt into him as if I belonged next to him as if he belonged next to me. And each time before we parted the aching to be in his arms would begin anew.

As I began washing dishes, I could feel him inching closer behind me, his long arms stretching around me as he placed another dish in the water…

If he moves one step closer, or if I back up just a little…oh my…

A smile crept and the air grew thick with a tenderness that couldn't help but make him breathe slower, deeper, happier. My skin tingled where he touched me and my heartbeat erratically in my chest so hard that I thought it might fly out. There were butterflies in my chest, but it felt good. I couldn't find my voice. I felt my cheeks flushed hot, and my stomach was heavy. My heart pounded in my throat, threatening to break out. I finally admitted to myself what I knew all along, but was too afraid to admit it: I liked him. A lot. And I wanted to be with him.

And then it happens...he presses his tall lean muscular body into mine, cradling me in such a sweet and tender embrace, my entire body shudders as my knees become unbearably weak, and I surrender to the moment.

"Crane", I said softly, my voice was so feeble, I barely recognized it.

"Abigale," he whispered back smoothly, the baritone of his voice reverberating through my entire body causing me to shudder against him, "I was not honest with you," he said and his words gave me just enough strength to turn and face him.

"About what, Crane?" I look up to meet his gaze, his stunning gaze, his eyes weren't just light blue they had dark blue flecks in them as calm as the sky before the storm, but as wild as the sea during one. Those were his eyes and I became lost in them.

"I did not sleep well last night. My entire being was consumed with thoughts of you and how much I desire you," he said breathlessly, pulling me into his arms, his hardness pressing enticingly on my belly, "Beautiful Abigale, your eyes have such a softness to them, there is something so welcoming. The first time I gazed into them I felt a little more lost, a little more at home, each time we were together. You are the sweetest melody, your beauty, your eyes, so deep as if this were the start of a song that plays on and on, something so soothing to my soul."

"Ichabod...Make love to me," I plead. My voice wavers, exhilarated from the mutual desire between us.

He did not hesitate, he wanted me, he needed me and I needed him so much I almost couldn't breathe. He gently leans in and kisses me, after a moment we pull apart and take shaky, shallow breaths.

Unable to contain ourselves anymore, Ichabod holds my head in his hands and pulls me into a fiery and passionate kiss, planting the mother of all kisses on me. His kiss is steeped in a passion that ignites. It is the promise of realness, of the primal desire that lives in us all. And with it, he tells me that he is all mine.

My hands work their way around his body, feeling each crevasse, each line along with his perfect physique.

They stare at each other, deep into each other's eyes. Ichabod is full of wonder and love, and Abigale is full of curiosity and passion.

He carried the small-framed woman into the living room, gently placing her down on the sofa. He then ignited the fireplace.

Abby smiled, if it were not daytime, this would be the exact same setting as her dream. Ichabod was thinking the exact same thing, he wanted her dream, her fantasy to come to life.

They began tugging at each other's clothes, feverishly removing piece by piece until they were both naked.

"Beautiful," he murmured, his eyes hungrily taking her slightly curvaceous frame as he covered her body with his. With fevering, he placed open-mouthed kisses on her neck, slowly moving to her shoulder and down her chest, "So beautiful", he reached her magnificent breasts, palming one and nibbling and sucking on the other, her nipple hardens and her subdued moans get even louder.

She's moaning and writhing below him, but he plans to have her wait a little longer. He continues his attentions down her taut stomach, biting gently and sucking the skin. He purposely skipped her warm center and moved to her thighs, smirking when she whimpered. He knew just how to please her, after all, he had the pleasure of seeing her pleasure herself. Now he was going to show her what he could do.

He dropped to his knees. The need to taste her was maddening. He put his hands on each knee and looked up at her lovely face as he spread her legs wide apart.

"I want to taste you."

They locked gazes, glaring at one another in a lusty haze.

Ichabod dipped his head down and as his mouth connected with her sweet moist and warm center, she moaned and her body jerked in reaction. He had to hold her down by the knees, and her hands found the corners of the couch as if holding on for dear life.

"Your taste is of heavenly nectar," He whispered, completely spurred on.

He licked and nibbled at the swollen bud while listening to Abby's erratic breathing, and soon enough she was chanting his name.

"My god Ichabod!" It was music to his ears. His tongue penetrated her, making her even more vocal. "Oh, so good Ichabod…"

She became incoherent, so he doubled my efforts but didn't let her find the release she desperately sought.

He knows it would not be long before she would beg for mercy and of course, Crane took mercy on her. His hand crawled up her leg and he inserted, first one, then two fingers inside, while his mouth sucked her sugary clit. Her walls had begun clenching around his fingers, so he curled them up and stroked her pleasure spot.

"ICHABOD!" She came hard and screamed his name. He didn't stop until he had lapped up all of her juices.

He admired his work, her lovely petite body, lay slumped, sprawled out with a glistening sheen of sweat. She had a lazy smile on her lips, which matched his own.

After a moment, he positioned himself at her entrance and looked into her eyes, which were clouded with lust. As their gaze's locked, he entered her slowly, never breaking their stare. He could feel every inch of his cock being enveloped by her heat.

"Abigale," He moaned, taking his time entering her, enjoying the feeling until he was buried deep inside her.

"OH ICABOD!" She moaned quite loudly and grabbed his hair, pulling him down for a hungry kiss, while wrapping her legs around him, burying his ample cock to the hilt.

As he deepened the fiery kiss, her hands clawed at his back. He held still, as their kiss grew more passionate until he could feel her writhing uncontrollably below him.

When they broke the kiss, she whimpered, "Please Ichabod..."

He slowly, achingly began pulling out of her while looking deeply into her big doe eyes. He pulled almost all the way out, before entering her again just as slowly. Her eyes and body were begging him to let her find release. Still, he maintained his unhurried pace, slowly driving her insane. His massive cock entered and exited at a leisurely rhythm until she couldn't take it any longer, and her hands went to his ass digging her fingers in the flesh, trying to make him fuck her harder.

He finally conceded and sped up, tilting his hips just the right way to hit her pleasure spot. Her hips met his thrust for thrust, while she moaned feverishly, between cries of his name.

"Ichabod, oh, oh…"

His pace became more and more frantic, building and building as she urged him to go harder, deeper, until they are both crying out, groaning, quivering, and then stilling as he releases spurting hot and deep inside of her, his dick pulsing in response to her orgasm and their body's rhythm. Ichabod came into her like a hurricane, everything that once held him in place was blown away.

He collapsed beside her, quickly tucking her to his side and covering them with the fleece blanket.

"Did I measure up to your dreams?" He whispers in her ear.

She smiled and yawned, refusing him a response.