MI-5/Spooks 1. Chapter 1

**Obviously we don't own Harry, Ruth or Spooks (more's the pity), but we're just having some fun with them, so please forgive us!**

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"Is this some sort of joke?" Harry first eyed the envelope in Ruth's hands with mistrust and then gave the same look to the small group of spooks gathered around her desk.

"Funny, that's exactly what I said," Zaf muttered under his breath, which earned him a glare from Jo.

"It's a gift. Apparently, they all chipped in. Two nights bed and breakfast in The Cotswolds," Ruth explained, a light blush evident on her cheeks, due in part to the gathered crowd and the thought of spending two nights in a guesthouse with Harry.

"It's sort of an apology," Jo ventured, faltering slightly as she saw Harry's eyebrow raise as his curiosity was piqued. "For the gossip, it – we didn't help matters..." She trailed off, aware that she would incriminate them all further if she kept talking. The one thing they had all agreed on was that the book Zaf had run on them would not be mentioned. In fact, that was the only thing about this whole situation that Zaf had agreed to without reservation.

Ruth felt the welcome pressure of Harry's hand on her shoulder as he addressed the group. "Thank you."

Whilst there was genuine gratitude in his tone, there was also an unmistakeable tone of dismissal and the spooks scattered, following Adam off the Grid at his suggestion of drinks.

"Well, that was unexpected," he ventured after they had remained silent for a good few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts about the proposed mini-break.

"Yes," she murmured, concentrating on the pen she was nervously toying with.

"I, erm...," he cursed his sudden inarticulateness, blaming it on the fact that his mind was full of images of them enjoying a dirty weekend. "We don't have to go, if you don't want to."

She smiled at the uncertainty in his voice, pleased to know that he was aware of the shift that their relationship was bound to take if they went away together. They had agreed to take things slowly and had spent the last two months getting to know one another on a personal level as well as a professional one. Their evenings and lazy weekends together had, so far, remained relatively innocent, despite the sexual tension that crackled between them.

"I think we should. Go. Together I mean." She turned to face him and caught the grin on his face. "You needn't look so smug."

--

"I'm glad you saw sense in the end."

Zaf smiled at Jo as she settled next to him and handed him a pint of lager. "I think you owe me more than a pint."

He smirked as she reddened, which turned in to a laugh as she punched his shoulder. "You wish." She sipped her wine and changed the subject, "Why The Cotswolds, anyway?"

He smiled into his pint, taking a drink to stifle the laugh that threatened to erupt as he thought of the happy couple's impending weekend getaway. Composing himself, he told the partial truth. "Travel agent suggested it."

Jo rolled her eyes at him. "Attractive was she?!"

--

"First class, they must be feeling guilty," Harry muttered, as they took their seats in the plush train carriage. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before murmuring suggestively, "Hopefully, our lodgings will be just as good."

"As long as the bathroom is clean and there's a large bed, I'm not bothered." Her eyes widened as she realised how her comment might have sounded, "I-I didn't mean it like that."

He leant closer to her, his shoulder rubbing against hers as he spoke in a low tone. "Shame."

"Harry!" she admonished, blushing despite the pleased smile that claimed her face.

"You know, you're very sexy when you get all shy," he teased, leaning in for a kiss.

"So you keep telling me," she muttered, seconds before his lips pressed lightly but firmly against hers.

The rest of the journey passed by in a blur of increasingly suggestive flirting, so much so that both were rather excited to finally arrive at their destination. Taking her hand firmly in his, Harry led them both through the station and towards the taxi rank, suddenly eager to see where they were staying.

--

A small but buxom woman answered the door, smiling broadly and stuffing a duster and can of polish onto the windowsill so she could extend her hand to the pair of them.

"Welcome, Miss Evershed, Mr Pearce, if you'd like to step inside I'll be taking your bags and showing you to your rooms." Her voice was warm and rich, peppered with long vowels and rolling r's; she was clearly from much deeper into the West Country than this little village on the Gloucester border.

"Er…" Harry began, but her friendly burr interrupted him before he could continue.

"Yes, my duck?"

"Room. There should be one room."

"No, duck. I've got you down as a Miss and a Mr. That'll be two rooms for the pair of you."

Ruth looked faintly amused, and offered a smile to the older lady, partially relieved at the thought. She'd been looking forward to spending the night with Harry and sharing his bed, but there was still hesitation there. Having taken things slowly, it was building to a point where the mystery surrounding each other and what their first time would be like was being blown out of all proportion in her head.

Harry, on the other hand, looked distinctly less amused by the situation, and his face had taken on a beetroot hue as Ruth watched him bite down his blatant instinct to point out that this was the 21st Century and that he'd 'share a bed with who he bloody well liked, thank you very much'.

"Two rooms. Lovely," Ruth replied. "I'll be able to stretch out and not have any one snoring in my ear," she continued, trying to make light of the situation to distract from Harry's glaring.

"Jolly good. This way, if you'll be following me." She extended two stout arms to take each of their weekend bags from them, wrapping her podgy little fingers around the handles and leading the way ahead of Ruth.

"I don't snore," Harry muttered, from the back of the procession.

"Well, I guess I'll have to take your word on that," smirked Ruth.

--

"Can you believe that woman put us in two bedrooms?" Harry muttered, leaning against Ruth's doorframe. He had finished unpacking some fifteen minutes earlier, and yet Ruth still seemed to be arranging toiletries in front of the bathroom mirror, traipsing back and forth from her holdall on the bed. Apparently it really did hold _all_.

"Harry, keep your voice down, she'll hear."

"You'll have to remind me of that, later," he winked, sneaking behind her as she bent down over her bag to retrieve another mysterious pot of cream. His hands smoothed over her hips and moved down her thighs as she straightened up in front of him, allowing him to place a kiss at the back of her neck.

"Harry, some people have very strict views on this kind of thing. We're a guest in her house and those are her rules, so if you think I'm sneaking off to your room after dark you'll be disappointed."

"We're paying guests."

"_We're_ not the ones paying."

"Must you always follow the rules?"

"If you don't know the answer to that by now, then…"

Her sentence was truncated by his lips against hers, soft but insistent until she parted her mouth beneath the pressure. His tongue dared to taste her before he sucked on her bottom lip.

"Shut up," he muttered, his lips vibrating against the top of her jaw.

"You're not helping," she replied, willing herself not to be taken in by him.

"I know."

"Harry!" She swatted his arm, playfully and stepped backward, trying to calm the blush she knew she was sporting. It was one thing arguing with him over the matter, but quite another if her body's reactions were going to argue to opposite case.

"Dinner?" he asked, in a conciliatory gesture.

"Dinner," she agreed. "And no, no dessert!"

"We'll see," he winked and, grabbing her hand in his left and her handbag in her right, ushered them out of the door.

--

Perhaps it was the large glass of white wine. Perhaps it was the summer fruits brûlée, shared with one spoon. Perhaps it was the walk in the cool, dusk, country air. Perhaps it was strolling hand in hand like teenagers, with no Spooking eyes around to see. She couldn't quite put her finger on what it was, but something was making her giddy and girly and ridiculously overcome all at once and she liked it. She felt at ease – almost – with herself, with Harry, with work and life; something she hadn't felt since she didn't know when.

"What are you smiling at?" he asked, amused by her visibly lifted demeanour. He was used to her being happy around him, but it was rare she was so unguarded.

"I'm just thinking how nice this is."

He stopped walking, forcing her to halt to by virtue of the fact that their hands were entwined. With his free hand, he reached out and brushed the hair from her face, her eyes glittering in the lamp light thrown out from the side of the B&B.

"I love you, Ruth, and although this might have seemed like a mad idea, everyone sending us away, it's pretty perfect." He kissed her, lightly. "And I promise to stop being so petulant about the rooms. I didn't come because I expected something to happen and I don't want you to think that just because I want to share a room with you that that's all I wanted."

"Oh, I…" she sounded disappointed, and recognised the tone in her own voice, just as she knew Harry had, and wasn't sure how to justify that disappointment in light of her earlier rebuttal.

"Not that I'm saying it wouldn't be nice, Ruth," he cut in, sensing her predicament. "Because it would be very…very…nice." His arms had wrapped themselves around her waist and he was aware that he was walking them backwards towards an ivy covered wall. "But you're in the driving seat. It's up to you."

She tilted her head to look at him, knowing the simple gesture would bring his lips crashing to hers, and she wasn't disappointed. He swept inside her parted mouth, clumsily, all tongues and teeth and passion, still stepping them towards the wall until she was pinned in the foliage and their kisses sank into a steady rhythm.

"Kiss me again like that," she murmured, lowly, as she pulled away, "and I shall lose what little conviction I have left."

"And I," he replied, "will be a very happy man."

She sighed, audibly, as his lips met hers again.

"Ten minutes ago, I did think you would be for turning, you know."

"You make it sound like my sexuality was in question."

"No, Miss Evershed, only your integrity."

"Oh you're unbelievable," she admonished, wriggling free from his arms, only to wrap her own around his neck and draw him closer.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Crazy chapter 2 ...**

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The cool, crisp ivy tickled the back of her neck and Ruth's hands interwove with Harry's at the side of her body. Their kisses were lazy and delicate but it was just this sort of tender kiss which never failed to make her weak at the knees.

"You know," she muttered, nuzzling her lips into his neck, "perhaps we _shouldn't_ have come on this trip."

He looked at her enquiringly.

"Well for a start," she began, removing a large ivy leaf from the side of her face, "if we were back home, I wouldn't feel like I needed Piriton, and secondly, I'm almost certain the house owner would more than approve of our sharing a bed." She looked at him, seriously, hoping he would make the connections in what she was trying to tell him.

"It's up to you. I'm certainly not going to hold it against you if you go back on what you told me this afternoon, but I'm not going to make you feel bad if you don't want to sneak around."

"She's a lovely landlady and I really don't want to upset her if we've got another two nights to stay."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Always too bloody considerate, you," he muttered, sealing the admonishment with a kiss.

"I know," she whispered in reply, a trickle of laughter almost breaking free. "Somebody has to balance out your bluntness."

He arranged his face into a suitably exaggerated expression of shock. "Such insolence, Miss Evershed…if only I could say it wasn't true."

She laughed, loudly, before lowering her voice to a more appropriate tone. "I wouldn't change you though. Now be a gentleman, help me out of the flowerbed and walk me to my room."

"With pleasure," he whispered, hand extended, and the loved-up coupled retreated inside.

--

"Harry! You're supposed to be being a gentleman!" her voice was hushed but incredulous as the warmth of his palm grazed the back of her thigh beneath the linen of her skirt. Making it to their rooms had been the easy part; separating to sleep alone was proving trickier than Ruth expected following her alcohol consumption and their intimate embrace.

"Ruth, you're the one with one palm tucked inside my shirt buttons who can't stop kissing me."

"Point taken," she mumbled, as she did exactly that again, and pressed her lips against his. She stepped backwards, and his fingertips tickled bare flesh as they trailed over her retreating legs. A moan tripped involuntarily from her throat and she bit her lip and smiled. "G'night, Harry," she whispered, back against her door, hand on the handle.

"Goodnight, Ruth," he replied, withdrawing down the corridor backwards so he could watch her a few seconds longer until she had disappeared inside.

--

"What!?" Harry groaned. A banging of some sort had penetrated into his conscious thought but he wasn't really coherent enough to make sense of it. The digital clock read 00.11, and he reasoned he could not have been asleep for longer than 15 minutes, but it felt as though it was the dead of the night.

"Are you awake?"

"No, I'm sleep talking," he muttered, grumpily.

"Let me in," she whispered.

A series of dull thuds and heavy trudges grew gradually closer, and a topless, boxer-sporting Harry appeared where seconds previously a sturdy oak panel had been.

"Are you ok?" he asked. Ruth noticed his one eye was closed and the other squinted at her, his head tilted lopsidedly.

"Oh…oh, you _were_ asleep."

He nodded, slowly, as if it was a monumental effort. "Ruth, are you sure you're ok?"

"Uhm, yeah," she squeaked, "um, fine. Sorry I woke you up." In her mental rehearsal for this moment, she had arrived in his doorway, seductively leant against the frame, and had been swept up into his arms, no questions asked. In reality, however, having woken him up, found him groggy and squinting at her, she was feeling more apologetic than horny. What's more, the failure of her movie-like fantasy to materialise meant she was now going to have to verbalise her desire to him.

"Ruth…?"

"Yeah? Oh, um, I…um, I was thinking about you. Well, not about you…kind of about you, actually. About me _and_ you."

Harry's other eye miraculously opened and both brown pools gained focus. "Yes…"

Her nerves were abated, at least, by the fact that she had now secured his attention; now all she had to do was banish the guilt she felt at sneaking around, and work on meeting his gaze rather than boring a whole in his chest with the heat of he stare.

A small cough floated down from the end of the hallway. "Oh dear, is there something troubling you? Can't sleep? Perhaps I can make you a Horlicks or get you something?" the sweet-as-pie landlady cooed. The look on her face told Ruth she was not _so_ innocent as to believe that Ruth simply couldn't sleep, but it was better than an out and out confrontation about why she had one foot over the threshold to Harry's room.

"I, er, Harry has my, um…." _Oh God, think of something woman! What might Harry have that's yours?_ "My…"

"Tablets," stated an authoritative voice from over her shoulder, thrusting a cardboard packet at her.

"Oh, funny tum?" the older lady asked, sympathetically.

Ruth looked down at the packet in her hand and let out a loud, mental groan. "Yes," she muttered, "funny tum. Night both." She shuffled back to her room without another word to either of them.

--

_Imodium!? xxx_

Ruth wasn't sure if it was possible to type in an incredulous fashion, but she was trying her damndest as she inputted the letters into her phone and hit send.

_For emergencies_ x, came the reply. She rolled her eyes.

_That wasn't what I meant. You could have passed me paracetamol. Or a hair dryer xxx_

_Stop moaning. It was dark and I was rushing. Love you, Mule x_

She smiled. She remembered the first time he'd called her Mule, and the feigned offence she'd made at his blunder, but now she liked that it had stuck. Besides, she'd repaid him in kind with a nickname of his own after one of his more infamous temper tantrums had struck.

_Love you too, Grumpy xxx_

--

"Morning," Ruth smiled, pulling a seat up around the small, circular, breakfast table. Harry rose and then seated himself again.

"Morning, sleep well?"

"Not exactly," she replied, weighing up whether to whisper that she hadn't quite ever managed to shake the notion of a second attempt at visiting him. Thinking better of it, as she remembered her shame at having almost been caught breaking the house rules, she continued, "strange bed and all that, I think."

Harry smiled, sympathetically.

"You?" she asked.

"Well, a rather naughty house-guest did try and disturb me around midnight, but after that I slept like a baby."

She blushed profusely at his words. "I did feel bad."

"For waking me up, or breaking the rules?" he winked.

"Both." She gave his left shin a quick nudge with her foot as their host – Flo, as Harry had earlier learnt she was called – entered the room with an oversized tray of warm empty plates and a rack of toast.

"If you'll tell me what you like I have everything on the go on the stove," she explained, already retreating through the open door and into the other room. She continued to talk to them even out of sight. "Good night's sleep? Sweet dreams? Ruth, duck, are you better?"

Harry didn't exactly think any of his dreams could be likened to "sweet", and would certainly not be the type of thing she would want to hear about. She popped her head around the door in search of an answer to her questions, and her guests simply nodded to appease her. Satisfied, she returned to her cooking, a glorious smell of bacon and sausages appearing from almost nowhere, and Harry craned his neck to try and peer into the kitchen. She walked past and caught him staring, a look of hunger on his face.

"Banger, Harry?"

"I would have loved to, given the chance, you puritanical nun," he muttered, under his breath, seizing upon the unwitting double entendre she'd provided.

"What?" she asked.

"Oh, I said 'I'd love one, any chance I can have more than one?'"

"Will you give her a break," hissed Ruth, after Flo has finished establishing the rest of their breakfast order. "_That_ is quite clearly never going to work this weekend so can you stop going on about it? It isn't her fault you have no self control."

"Oh, _just_ me is it!?"

"Fine, _we_…but you started it."

"I know. And I intend to finish it too," he replied with a wink. "Just as soon as we get home."

"There you go," Flo sing-songed as she placed full plates of hot food in front of them both, "I'll leave you to enjoy it in peace."

Ruth smiled warmly at the older woman, knowing from the look on Harry's face that he was doubtful whether Flo could actually manage to leave them unattended for longer than five minutes.

"A fiver says she's back here within the next two minutes," he muttered as Flo wandered back towards the kitchen.

"Harry!" she tried to admonish him, but the small chuckle that escaped belied her tone and Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "Oh fine, you're on!"

She had got as far as picking up her knife and fork before the kitchen door re-opened and Flo bustled back across the room. "Sorry! I almost forgot to give you this!"

Harry made no attempt to hide the satisfied smirk that had settled on his face at the reappearance of their overbearing hostess and was too busy mouthing 'I told you so' to take note of what Flo was saying.

"Not much use having an itinerary if it gets let in reception is there? I don't know, I'd forget my head sometimes!" Flo carried on, unaware that both her guests looked alarmed as she plonked the sheet of paper down next to Harry. "I'll leave it here for you."

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	3. Chapter 3

**More daftness from the peas...**

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From the moment the word 'itinerary' had been mentioned, a feeling of dread trickled through Ruth's body. Her worries had only been compounded when Harry had quickly scanned the offending article, a look of horror sweeping over his handsome features, before bringing the paper closer and re-reading it, slower this time, as if he hoped the words would change.

"Harry?"

He shook his head, folded the paper and put it in his pocket. "I think Mr Younis has had a hand in this."

"Oh God! Do I want to know?" She was finding it hard to imagine what it could possibly be but, knowing Zaf as she did, she realised it was likely to be something ridiculous.

"I'll show you," he muttered, wearily, and got up from the breakfast table.

She obediently followed him out of the dining room, through the lounge and out of the patio doors, squinting slightly as her eyes adjusted to the sudden exposure to sunlight. She was about to question him again when he seemingly led them towards a small bike shed.

"Harry, I hope the only reason we're heading for the bike sheds is because you want to take me somewhere private!"

"Unfortunately not." He came to a stop and turned to capture her hand. "Although I'll bear it in mind that you're not averse to such an idea."

"So we're actually riding bikes?!"

"Not exactly," he said and directed her gaze to the side of the shed.

"It's a tandem," she stated, unnecessarily, whist eyeing the offending vehicle suspiciously.

"Yes, I had noticed," Harry muttered, amused at the look of distaste on her face.

"What's it for?"

"Cycling, Ruth," he answered, deadpan, and had to try hard not to laugh as she first glared and then rolled her eyes at him.

"No, I mean, I know _that_, but what has it got to do with us? At no point was cycling through the countryside mentioned as a daytime activity."

"It could be fun," he ventured, more to see her reaction to his suggestion than a desire to go on a bike ride.

"Fun?! Harry, the countryside is for looking at and for picnicking in, not for rushing through on a rickety bicycle!"

"Oh, it won't be that bad, Ruth." Suddenly, he was determined that he would get her on the bike as he pictured their leisurely ride in his mind, thoughts filled with romantic notions of them laid beneath the shade of a tree as they rested in a secluded field. "Besides, you're the one that keeps telling me I need to exercise more!"

She opened her mouth to argue and then promptly shut it when she couldn't think of a way to win. "Fine," she muttered, "but don't blame me when you get saddle sore."

--

Harry had to admit, if only to himself, that the reality of the tandem ride wasn't quite matching up to the vision he had had in his head. In his imagination, he hadn't been quite so out of shape, nor had it been so bloody hilly. He wondered, briefly, if she had picked this route on purpose to teach him a lesson, but that notion was dismissed as he heard her puffing and panting behind him; he didn't have her down as a masochist. He took a second to look at his watch as they freewheeled down a small incline and realised that they had only been going for twenty minutes: was it too soon to suggest a break? Yes, it was, he decided, he'd give it at least another fifteen minutes; although the steep hill that was looming almost made him change his mind.

"Bloody hell, Ruth, you can pedal too you know!" he panted, as they struggled up the hillside.

"I _am_ pedalling!" she snapped, eyes boring into the back of his head as she gripped the handlebars tighter and forced her legs to keep going.

"Could have fooled me," he muttered, under his breath, becoming increasingly annoyed with the whole thing.

"I heard that!" she shouted, incensed he was accusing her of taking it easy. "This wasn't my idea, Harry, so don't blame me if you're not as up to the task as you thought."

"You're the one with the map!" he retorted, not really certain as to why he was choosing to fight with her.

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"It means," he muttered, pausing for breath at the summit before carrying on, "that you could have picked a better bloody route."

"Shut up and pedal, Harry." Although the words were spoken quietly, he heard the anger and hurt in her tone nonetheless.

They were still pedalling in furious silence twenty minutes later, although mercifully the terrain had remained flat for the most part, something they were both grateful for. Harry contemplated the idea of taking a break and, spotting a sign for a village two miles away, decided he'd mention it when they got a little bit nearer. Buoyed by the prospect of getting off the damned bike and stretching his legs, Harry let his attention drift from the road to the scenic countryside they were passing through. It really was beautiful and he was just about to say as much to his companion when the handlebars started to wobble in his hands.

"Harry!"

"I'm not doing it," he answered, and pulled on the breaks before they swerved into the middle of the road.

Panting, they both dismounted wordlessly and looked at the bike for answers. "Ah, I think we have a puncture."

"Oh, do you have a repair kit?" she asked, hopefully.

"Yes, Ruth. I always carry one around for an emergency such as this!"

"There's no need to get so bloody sarcastic Harry, I was only asking. It's not my fault we got a puncture!"

"Are you saying that it's my fault?"

"You're the one steering, not me!"

He heard the accusation and felt a sudden desire to be away from her before it escalated into a full blown argument. "Right, well, since it's clearly _my_ fault I'd better walk to the next village and get something to repair it with." He saw her about to speak but cut her off, growling, "You stay with the bike."

She watched him as he marched off down the country lane and asked herself where it had all gone wrong. It was supposed to be a romantic weekend together, a time for them to relax and be a couple, without the normal pressures and interruptions. She had spent the last few days daydreaming about this trip away and not once had she envisioned them arguing over a punctured tyre.

"Bugger it!" she shouted, to no-one in particular, as she absently kicked the offending tyre, only realising too late that she had kicked too hard and as a result spent the following few minutes hopping about and swearing.

--

"Hi." Her head snapped up at the softly spoken word and she gave him a small smile as she scrambled up from the grassy banking where she had sat waiting for the last forty minutes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, as they stood staring at each other.

"I'm sorry too." He flashed her a perfect smile before murmuring, suggestively, "let me make it up to you?"

She leaned in and kissed his cheek. "You can start by fixing that damned bike!"

Chuckling, he snaked an arm around her waist and almost instantaneously pulled her body flush against his and covered her lips with his own. She sighed into his mouth as the tip of his tongue flicked lightly and teasingly against hers and, in that moment, she knew that she would never tire of kissing him, of being in his arms, and of loving him.

It was a reluctant and rather warm Ruth that put an end to the kiss, suddenly afraid that if they carried on she might not be able to resist him. Now that there were restrictions in place that limited their intimacy, she was finding it harder and harder to deny them both what they so obviously wanted. Not for the first time, she wished that they were actually sharing a room; it was just like her perpetual bad luck for them to be booked into the one guesthouse where morals came before money.

"Let's get it fixed, then we can be on our way," Harry murmured, aware of the effect she was having on him.

Ruth happily let Harry take charge of fixing the puncture and set about locating the bottle of water she'd brought, as he bent down and assessed the damage.

"Do you need a hand?" she asked, before taking a large gulp of cool water.

"No," he murmured, as he fiddled with the inner tube, "just a blow job really."

Ruth choked on her water and, between coughs and splutters, managed to find her voice. "What?!" she shrieked, at full volume.

Harry turned and gave her an odd look. "It just needs blowing back up. What's wrong?"

"That's not what you said," she replied, cheeks beginning to redden as she realised she was going to have to explain herself.

"What did I...Oh! Well, erm, no, I didn't mean _that_ Ruth!" He wasn't sure if he should be embarrassed or not and added, without thinking, "not here anyway."

"Harry!" If it was possible, she turned an even deeper shade of red.

"Sorry," he offered, trying not to laugh.

"Just blow the bloody thing up and let's get out of here!"

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	4. Chapter 4

**We still don't own anything Spooks related, which is a shame because we would make them do things like this! **

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"I need to get off! Stop!" Harry yelled, breathlessly, out of nowhere. They had been peddling solidly for the best part of 35 minutes, homeward bound after a lovely few hours mooching around a local village. Admittedly the large slice of cake he'd consumed there, nor the ice cream they'd shared later in the afternoon, had not been helping his stamina on the return journey, but the problem now seemed not to be an uncomfortable 'full' feeling and mild stitch, but a full blown cramping in his right thigh. "Ow, bugger it, stop!"

"Er, you have the brakes," she called, removing her feet from the peddles and trying to keep them out of the way.

He tugged sharply on the two metal levers…too sharply. The back end of the bike skidded round on the gravel path and Ruth slid sideways from the saddle across the stones as the frame hit the ground. Harry, who had just about dismounted in time, was hobbling madly in a circle around her, swearing violently and trying to walk off the cramp whilst tending to her.

"I'm so sorry, Ruth. Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," she whispered, but her bottom lip was trembling as she looked at her grazed palms and her bloodied knee, and there was a definite quiver in her knee.

He tried to crouch down to her, but a searing pain tore through his muscles and he shot back up right with a long loud, "blooooody hell!" from under his breath.

"What have you done?"

"Cramp!" he panted. "Very bad cramp!"

"Deep breaths in through the nose, gentle movements and have some water; there's some in the bag." She was still staring at her cuts, gently picking dusty debris from them. A minute later, he sat down with a thud.

"Better?"

"Tolerable." He was still clutching the water bottle in one hand, but with his free hand he reached out and enclosed her left wrist. "Here," he whispered, bringing her hand over the space between them. Slowly, he tipped the water bottle so that a gentle trickle of liquid spilled out, turning cloudy red as it washed over her dirty, bloodied palms. She flinched, and her fingers curled reflexively, causing yet another painful reaction. "Sssh, I'm sorry." He leant across and kissed her temple, before changing hands and attending to her right, washing it clean and revealing only a very small cut to her palm.

"For the record," she ground out, through gritted teeth, "I was right."

"Knee," he ordered, and she obliged.

"This wasn't a good idea."

"Is that the subtle way of saying 'Harry you're an idiot for managing to puncture the bike and throw us both off it, but I still love you?'"

"I suppose so," she replied, the curve of a pouting smile threatening to grace her otherwise pained expression.

"Good," he laughed, with a mischievous smile, "because right now I'm your nurse, so you need to keep me on side."

--

The walk back was slow and painful to say the least. Ruth's raw hands meant that even helping to wheel the bike, let alone cycle it – an option already ruled out by Harry's aching leg and her own scabby knee – had been out of the question. Instead, she had hopped along next to an equally sorry-looking Harry who was dragging the tandem, both of them limping slightly, and wincing through a conversation so overly bubbly and cheerful it was almost forced; neither wanted to whinge when the other was in pain but their painted on smiles were becoming almost farcical, and Ruth didn't know whether to laugh or cry, eventually resorting to a combination of the two.

"Ruth?"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sore, the cut on my knee keeps reopening, I ache all over, you can't stop limping, you're dragging a two man bike, we fell out over a puncture and now we're attempting to hold a conversation about what a lovely day we've had." Tears were streaming down her face as she winced and dabbed her knee with a tissue, but her chest was heaving with laughter not sobs. "I say we moan all the way back to the bloody B&B, get ourselves cleaned up and then start afresh…although without a tandem in sight!"

The tandem fell to the floor with a clatter and a crunch of gravel beneath it, and Harry began a slow, determined limp towards her, cupping her face and bringing their lips together in a long, hard kiss.

"Best thing you've said so far today."

--

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah."

She turned the brass door knob and let herself inside.

"Ugh," she coughed, "what is that?" A pungent mix of essential oils and chemicals had filled the room, and she knew it instantly as the smell of Deep Heat. She had felt clean and fresh after her shower, but now couldn't shake the sense that this scent would cling to her all night.

"Flo leant it to me. Common occurrence. Lots of novice cyclists." Once again, Ruth had caught in him in little more than his boxers, and she watched as he rubbed the mixture into the top of his thigh before standing, painfully slowly, to try and reach the back. He was surrounded by barrage of treatments, from a hot, damp flannel, to paracetamol and an assortment of creams, from which, Ruth decided, he'd chosen the worst smelling.

"N-need a hand?" she gulped. Although this couldn't strictly be classed as an intimate situation, he was as unclothed as he had ever been around her and she was aware that her hands had never caressed any exposed skin lower than the top of his chest. He nodded. "Please. Close the door. Flo would throw a fit at the sight of you within three foot of the door, never mind massaging my thigh."

She did as she was bid.

"God, I hate this stuff," she muttered. She crouched as much as the plaster on her knee allowed and placed some Deep Heat on her finger tips, well away from the plasters adorning her left palm, and began to tend to him. "It's so repugnant and smelly. Why on Earth anyone would ever consider misusing it is beyond me!"

"Misusing it, Ruth?"

"Um," she gulped, quickly becoming aware that he had no idea what she was talking about, and yet again facing the prospect of having to explain away something less than savoury. "You know…"

"No, I don't, but I'm sure it can't be as bad as anything which is currently springing to mind."

"Erm," she squeaked.

"Ok, out with it. Now."

"I, er…I think I can hear my phone ringing next door," she muttered, removing her hands and standing up.

"I can see your phone tucked in your jeans pocket," he replied.

"Ok," she conceded, taking a deep breath. She rocked back on her heels but remained standing. "I was reading one of Jo's magazines…"

"Oh God have mercy on us," he interrupted, rolling his eyes.

"…and I was reading the problem pages…and a couple were…you know…"

"Having sex, Ruth?"

She swallowed. "Yes. And they didn't have any, um…lubrication…" her voice had dropped to an embarrassed whisper.

"Oh, good grief, they didn't?"

She nodded, chewing her lip. Harry shuffled in his seat, uncomfortable at the thought.

"See," she whispered, her voice full of quiet alarm, "and at least _he_ could wash it off. She…._she_…". Ruth stood suddenly and retreated to the bathroom to wash her hands.

"Where are you going? Come back?"

"No, I'm too embarrassed, now."

"Ruth, how are we ever going to have sex if you can't have a conversation about it with me, concerning two people we don't even know?"

"That's completely different."

"Is it?"

"Yes. I'm just not very good at discussing those things."

"Fine," he relented, "will you come back here then, please?" She walked over to him, sulking just a little and still wearing a delightful shade of crimson across her cheeks. "You don't have to talk about these things, but I want you to feel like you can."

"Harry, you're making me more embarrassed now. I promise you, I've not got any issue in that area it's just one of those things I find hard to talk about."

"Ok, I'm sorry, I'll stop."

"Thank you."

She dropped back to her knees and reapplied the deep heat to her finger tips as he shuffled right to the edge of the bed so that she had access around the whole of his thigh.

"Just no funny business with the cream."

"Oh stop it," she muttered, smiling.

Her fingers worked firmly and rhythmically, in perfect symmetry on each leg before turning their attention solely on his injured right thigh. She traced circles in contrary motion, eight nimble finger tips rotating around the firm pressure of her massaging thumbs, working up and down the length of his muscle, front and back, completely absorbed in her work and the feel of his firm quads beneath her hands. In fact, she was so absorbed, that it wasn't until it was blindingly obvious, that she noticed just how effective her technique had been at relaxing him and realised that the fidgeting she'd told him off for a minute previously had been his attempt to disguise his impromptu display of appreciation.

Almost reluctantly, she looked up to his face. His eyes were closed and a look of intense concentration creased his features as his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. She could tell he was struggling to even control his breathing, let alone anything else. His eyes opened, gingerly, aware from the cessation of her ministrations that it was now obvious.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Bloody biology."

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**Oh dear...poor Harry! I wonder what will happen next? Leave a review and you'll find out sooner! x**


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter has increase to an M rating - if you know you shouldn't be reading this, then please don't!**

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"Don't be," she whispered. "I locked the door."

"Ruth…?"

"Bugger the rules for now. I'm not having a repeat of last night. You know as well as I do the reason I couldn't sleep, even if I didn't say it. I told you, I might turn beetroot red talking about these things," she said, sporting an accurate representation of that assertion, "but I'm not a prude."

She reached for the hot flannel he had discarded in favour of the cream, and wiped the Deep Heat from her palms. "No funny business with the cream," she repeated and her good hand moved up inside his boxer shorts to gently caress him. "Better?"

He didn't reply, and she noticed his eyes were closed again, but she watched him slowly nod his head. His breathing was already noticeable shallower and, fed up with the confines of the cotton, she released him from his boxers and moved so she could grip him more comfortably.

Kneeling behind him, knees aside his hips, she nuzzled kisses into the side of his neck as she reached around and pushed his legs apart and wrapped her hand around him. She stroked up and down his hardened length, letting her wrist twist slightly as she moved over him, pausing to run her thumb across the head. His whole body bucked and she pressed her mouth against his shoulder, snaking out her tongue and sucking hard as she continued to work him.

"Oh God. I'm gon…gonna…oh fuck."

She took the lobe of his ear between her teeth. "I know, that's the point," she whispered. "Come for me."

She ran her finger from balls to tip, gently applying a little pressure between thumb and forefinger around the head before wrapping around him once more, pumping once, twice, three times before she felt his whole body jerk and the throb of his erection in her moving hand. The spasms ripped through him again, spilling him onto her, warm against her skin, her fingers slipping against him as he continued to shudder and come.

She held him in her hand until he began to soften, pressing light kisses into his shoulder as his heavy breathing quietened and he regained composure; only then did she reach for the discarded flannel, and he rose in front of her. She raked her fingernails across his buttocks which were now perfectly displayed to her and gave a light squeeze, leaning forward and placing a kiss at the back of his hips. Anchoring her grip on him, she pulled her weight up and stood behind him.

"You'd better shower off," she whispered, into the back of his neck. "The table's booked for seven." He craned his neck around and caught her mouth awkwardly, half on her lips.

"Sod dinner." He turned around fully and faced her and found her already pacing backwards to the door, hands on hips, lip between her teeth, shaking her head at him and suppressing an almighty smile.

"And Flo is bound to pay an impromptu visit soon," she added, pointedly, failing to suppress a laugh at the look of utter loss child-like disappointment in his eyes.

--

At quarter to seven, a showered, shaved and suave Harry knocked at Ruth's door, gently tapping three times. He was suddenly nervous, which was ridiculous; last night's dinner had been wonderful but laced with awkward expectation, but now they were far beyond that and he wondered how things might have changed between them. She answered the door, and he ran an approving eye across her body. She still wore the jeans he had seen her in twenty minutes ago, but the t-shirt she had been wearing had been replaced with an almost sheer kaftan style top with fluted three-quarter sleeves and provocative neckline.

"You look gorgeous," he told her, as she pulled the door closed behind her. He watched her blush at the compliment, and smiled softly. "Very sexy," he whispered, directly into her ear. "Our landlady would have a fit at the thought of me escorting such a beautiful woman to dinner, unchaperoned."

"Harry," she chastised, but a smile belied her true feelings.

"I moved our table booking," he stated, suddenly, and waiting for her to look at him with the questioning gaze he knew she would use. "To the alcove behind the fireplace."

Ruth felt a surge of butterflies flutter up in her stomach. They had both seen, and quietly remarked, on the alcove last night, tucked out of sight at the back of the pub, lit by tea lights tucked in the niches of the stone wall, with a small table nestled into a curved bench, littered with mismatched cushions. Last night, their meal had been about banter and chit chat; taking the time to talk about something other than work, and their days on the Grid. They had sat in the window and watched the world go by, flirting gently and reacquainting themselves with each other properly. Back home, her private nature had almost dictated the path of their relationship to quiet nights in and a comfortable but plain routine of discussing their day, snuggling up close in front of the TV and winding down together. This break was their chance for something more – to build a proper foundation and reclaim everything that first date had promised them. Tonight, she knew, would be different yet again. Her boldness earlier, and her eagerness to prove to them both what she knew herself, would have changed the rules. She was unused to the game of seduction, but not so out of touch as to be ignorant of the fact that this meal would be their most intimate yet, and that whatever happened over dinner would shape the course of their evening.

"Is that ok?" he asked, after getting no reply.

"Yeah," she nodded, "it's ok."

--

"I'll be back to take your order shortly," a pretty, redhead told them, as they shuffled themselves into the alcove. They sat opposite each other, knees lightly touching.

"You're shaking," he observed.

"Am I?" she swallowed.

"Yes," he laughed, gently.

"Oh. I'm…I'm fine. Honestly. This is beautiful."

He looked at her, knowing there was more to come but that she wasn't quite ready to say it yet.

"Earlier…"

"There we go," he said, finally sensing he had his answer. "This is just you and me eating, Ruth. Only with candles and overpriced pub food. That's it. What did or didn't happen earlier doesn't dictate what does or doesn't happen from now on."

She nodded, slowly, and then laughed. She loved that he was so concerned, but the problem wasn't that she was abnormally anxious about sleeping with him – perhaps a little more than she would be about any other first time with someone, but with good justification given the four years of hesitation leading up to the moment – but her inability to rationalise her rule breaking; she was a grown woman, with a will of her own, but good manners and a healthy dose of guilt were ruining her ability to throw caution to the wind, and she was constantly on edge, knowing that if anything happened, she couldn't resist, but that if Flo was within 20ft of the 1st floor, she'd have to. "I know; this isn't about what happened _in_ the bedroom. Flo caught me leaving your room again earlier and I felt horrible. She looked so disappointed."

"Do you know one of the things I love about you?"

She shook her head.

"You're always thinking about other people. You always consider what they want, and respect them. Just don't do it at _your_ expense, Ruth."

"I know what I _want_ to happen, but –"

"Then we'll make sure it happens," he assured her.

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	6. Chapter 6

**We still don't own anything :( **

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"It's rude to stare," Ruth quipped, as Harry's eyes trained themselves on her, unblinking. Dessert had been cleared and the waitress had promised to leave them in peace for a while, and now it was just the two of them.

"I don't seem to be able to stop thinking about kissing you," he admitted.

She shuffled further into the curve of the horseshoe shaped bench by way of invitation, and he mirrored the action in acceptation, resting one hand on her thigh and the other on her hip as he leant in and kissed her in a gentle fusion of lips and tongue.

"Mmm, you taste like black cherries and chocolate," he mumbled, against her lips.

"Uh-uh," she replied, distractedly, rubbing the tips of their noses together before brushing her open mouth against his lips and letting soft skin just drag against skin until he reciprocated, placing gentle kisses on her top and bottom lip before pulling away and placing a tender kiss on the end of her nose.

Her eyes opened, lazily, and focused on him. His eyes were dark, darker than normal, and the way he was watching her was doing crazy things to her body. She leant forward again, incapable of holding his gaze any longer without fear of fainting, but made no effort to control her racing pulse and erratic breathing. His mouth slid over hers, drawing her bottom lip between his and lightly tasting it with a flicker of his tongue. She replied by parting of her mouth, and he wasted no time in exploring the soft, warm space.

Her arm snaked up around his neck, holding him closer to her, encouraging him to continue as the pace increased and each of them poured everything they had into the simple gesture.

"Stay with me tonight," she whispered against his mouth. She blushed at her own boldness and was thankful that the dim lighting hid it.

"Only if you're certain, Ruth. I _can_ wait until we got home."

"Maybe I can't," she answered honestly and held his gaze as his hand slid into her hair, fingers tangling with the silky strands as he guided her warm, inviting mouth back to his.

--

They strolled back to the B&B hand in hand, both lost in their own thoughts of what the rest of the evening held for them. As they approached the door, Harry stopped walking and pulled her close to him, stroking her cheek with his free hand. "I love you, Ruth."

"I know you do," she whispered and gave into temptation to kiss his soft, pouting lips. "Now get upstairs and hide in my bedroom before I change my mind!"

"If you insist," he breathed and pulled her in for another lingering kiss.

She pushed him away reluctantly and almost gave in and kissed him again when she saw the disappointment flash across his face. "There'll be plenty more kisses inside Harry."

"I'll hold you to that," he whispered before giving her hand one last squeeze and walking off round the side of the house.

Ruth waited until he had disappeared and gave him a few minutes to get round the back and upstairs before she went in through the front door. As Harry had expected Flo was still milling about downstairs and Ruth gave her a small smile as she crossed through the reception area and headed off upstairs.

She was half way up when she heard Flo call out to her. "Harry not with you dear?"

"Oh, um, no. He decided to have a little stroll around the grounds to stretch off the cramp from earlier."

"Ah right, well I hope it helps. Sleep well, dear."

"I don't intend to be sleeping any time soon," Ruth muttered under her breath as she turned and headed up the rest of the stairs.

--

They had been locked in a passionate embrace for less than three minutes when the knock on the door came. They guilty sprung apart and Ruth shouted 'Just a minute' as she pushed Harry across the room and shoved him into the en-suite bathroom. She composed herself as best she could and opened the door to find Flo stood in the corridor.

"Sorry duck but I thought I'd check if you'd be joining us for Sunday lunch?"

"Oh, um it's no problem. Actually I thought it was Harry saying goodnight," she lied, hoping to throw Flo off the scent.

"I've not seen him come in yet dear."

"Ah, well his leg must be worse than he let on. Erm, I'll have to talk to Harry and see what he wants to do."

"No problem," Flo smiled sweetly at her and Ruth had the distinct feeling that they had been rumbled, "I'll ask him when he gets in. I'll be up a while longer anyway."

"Right. Yes. Thanks," Ruth mumbled before closing the door and cursing the determined landlady under her breath.

Hearing the door close, Harry popped his head round the bathroom door. "Is it safe to come out now?"

"Yes but you have to leave."

"Oh?" he tried not to sound overly disappointed but she saw the flash of hurt cross his features.

She crossed over to him and cupped his cheek. "I haven't changed my mind Harry. Frau Flo is waiting for you to return from your walk."

He groaned loudly and swore. "This is getting ridiculous! I've half a mind to pack up and whisk you off to the nearest hotel."

She lowered her hands to his chest and smoothed her hands over the soft cotton of his shirt. "I'll admit it is tempting but..."

He captured her wandering hands in his and kissed her lightly on the nose. "It was a gift, I know."

She nodded and kissed him on the lips, keeping it intentionally light so that she didn't succumb to the temptation of suggesting they do it quickly and quietly before he had to sneak back out. As much as she wanted them to finally be together fully she knew a quick fumble was not what either of the wanted. With a regretful sigh and a last longing look Harry stepped away from her and turned to leave.

"Love you, Harry."

"I love you too, sweetheart," he whispered as he disappeared.

--

The bleary eyed look that greeted her as she knocked on his door indicated to Ruth that Harry had managed to get about as much sleep as she had. Her every waking thought had been of him and twice she had to stop herself from diving out of the warm bed, marching next door and picking up from where they had left off.

"Hi," she whispered as she reached up and kissed him softly on his cheek.

"Morning," he mumbled as he turned his head and captured her lips between his and kissed her with a laziness that belied the passion bubbling beneath the surface.

"W-what was that for?"

He smiled widely at her. "I wanted to do that all night, that's why."

She had to bite her tongue from asking what else he might have wanted to do all night and instead suggested they went for breakfast. He shot her a knowing look but mercifully made no comment.

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**Pesky Flo not leaving them alone!! Leave a review and we'll post the next part soon!**


	7. Chapter 7

"Dare I ask what the itinerary for today is?" she enquired into her grapefruit.

"Sod the itinerary," he purred, and she shot him a questioning glance. "I think it would be fair to say we both had a rotten day yesterday daytime, but last night was perfect and I'm not spoiling that now with a bloody itinerary."

She blushed, remembering last night's events and sensed what she was thinking.

"I _meant_, Ruth, that I want to spend the day enjoying being in each other's company, not bickering over punctures."

"Go on then," she encouraged, "what are you up to?"

"You'll see."

"Harry…"

"Ruuuth…" he teased.

"Harry, please. You know I don't like surprises."

"Ten minutes. You'll find out when we go upstairs."

There was an audible intake of breath from across the table.

"Bad phrasing on my part. Sorry to disappoint," he winked.

--

"I think I still underestimate you sometimes, you know," Ruth announced, slipping her hand into Harry's, again. They had been strolling, gently, for an hour, so he was interested to know what had prompted this thought. He turned his head to her, asking her to continue. "I can't believe you ordered a hamper, and champagne, and everything, and found out a nice, easy walk."

"I just thought it would be nice. I don't think I've been on a picnic since…probably since my Dad was alive," he admitted. Heading up various departments and running operations hadn't left much time with his own family for the things he had enjoyed as a boy.

"Well it's lovely," she whispered, squeezing his hand a little. "Next you'll be telling me you ordered this glorious sunshine, too."

"No," he chuckled. "I just didn't sing in the shower this morning."

She rolled her eyes and laughed softly. "So when do we get to eat it all then?"

"Soon," he declared, "the basket's bloody heavy. According to this pocket map, there is a valley coming up soon which is particularly picturesque though, so maybe we should eat there."

"How far's that?"

"Two miles."

They looked at each other, knowing each was thinking the same.

"Ok, bugger the scenery then," he said, and she laughed, loudly.

"Well I wouldn't exactly say I was disappointed with this lush green field, the blue sky and the woods to our left," she replied, cheekily. "And I'm hungry."

"Pick a spot then."

"Under that solitary tree," she pointed. "It might be nice to cool off under the shade for a bit."

He nodded, and headed towards the spot, shaking out a blanket which had been rolled up under the handles of the hamper.

"Perfect," she sighed.

"I know," he muttered, wrapping his hands around his waist. "And this picnic malarkey isn't bad, either."

She looked up at him with a slight pout, purposefully refusing to indulge him, but instead of staring down at her, he brought their mouths together in a fleeting kiss.

"Cheek," she muttered, eyeing him sideways before sitting down.

Kicking off her flat sandals, she let the long grass tickle her toes as she stretched her bare calves out off the edge of the blanket, absent mindedly smoothing the creases from her brown linen crops before settling back onto her elbows. Harry sat down next to her, still shod and shirt buttoned almost all the way up, and looked for all the world like a man who had plain forgotten how to picnic properly.

"Go on," she whispered, as if she was about to dare him to do something. "Take your shoes off."

He shot her a playfully dirty look and slipped them off, along with his socks.

"Now that top button," she commanded.

"It _is_ undone."

"No, the next one." She sat up and knelt in front of him, and reached over to undo it. He caught her hand, gently but firmly pulling her body to his, releasing her wrist only when she was just inches away. Her fingers began to work the button again, and she slipped it out of the cotton edged hole whilst kissing him soundly.

"Much better," she decided. Her knees were either side of his thighs and he was finding it very tempting to misbehave.

"Your turn."

"Nice try," she retorted, flicking open the top button of her blouse herself. "But I'm wearing a cami top, too."

He let his index finger trail lightly between her breasts to the lace edging of the fabric and she shivered slightly at his touch.

"We should eat," she murmured, acutely aware that if he did that even one more time, then they were going to be in big trouble. Her willpower wasn't up to much.

He smirked at her, knowing from the desire swimming in her eyes that her self control was hanging by a thread. He was half tempted to repeat the motion and be damned with the consequences. "We can eat later," he whispered, nibbling her earlobe briefly before sucking it into his mouth and making her moan softly.

"Harry..." she managed to sigh before her stomach rumbled and cut her off.

"Maybe not!" he exclaimed between chuckles and reached for the hamper. "What do you fancy?"

She resisted the temptation to answer 'you' as he peered inside the basket. Seemingly oblivious he offered her a choice of sandwiches, whilst laying pasta, salad and various other dishes out on the blanket.

--

Resting on her elbows, Ruth lifted her head up off the blanket and watched Harry as he tidied away the remaining food.

"That was lovely, what's for dessert?"

Her innocent question was met with a suggestive look and a wide smile from Harry. "I can think of one or two things I wouldn't mind having, Ruth."

"Don't you ever behave?!" she teased, secretly pleased.

"No," he answered and stuck his tongue out at her when she rolled her eyes at him. "There's fruit or what looks like chocolate mousse."

She swallowed hard and then licked her lips as she imagined sucking the chocolate from his bottom lip.

"Now who's not behaving?" he growled, knowingly. His dark eyes held hers until she felt she could barely breathe.

She cleared her throat and tore her gaze away from him, feigning a sudden interest with her champagne glass. She took a few calming breaths as she watched the bubbles fizz and pop inside the glass before feeling that she was able to look him again.

"Fruit?"

"No thanks," she whispered, finally lifting her eyes back level with his.

He shrugged and bit into the peach he was holding in his left hand, enjoying the sweet flavour of the succulent fruit as it washed over his tongue. He was unconcerned by the juice that spilled from the fleshy fruit onto his fingers, pooling in his cupped palm before it overflowed, dribbling over the fleshy part of his palm and tracking down his wrist in tiny rivulets. Ruth watched intently as he lifted his arm higher and snaked his tongue out to catch the errant drops of peach juice before they seeped into the cuff of his rolled back shirt sleeve.

A small moan of longing escaped from her throat at the sight. "Oh God, you do know that's practically indecent, don't you?"

"I have to eat, Ruth."

"Yes, but you don't have to turn it into foreplay," she muttered, a definite hint of frustration evident in her voice.

Undeterred, he sent her a smouldering gaze. "Saw something you liked, did you?"

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	8. Chapter 8

**To JD, from K and E**

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"Bastard," she grumbled, affectionately, before downing the rest of her champagne and reaching for the bottle to top her glass back up.

His hand covered hers as she grasped the neck of the bottle. "Here, let me."

She nodded, loosening her grip on the bottle and watching in horror-filled slow motion as the champagne slipped from their grasp and landed on the blanket. Harry's reflexes were quicker than Ruth's and he managed to grapple with the bottle before too much damage was done. There was a noticeable champagne patch at the bottom of his chinos but other than that he was relatively dry.

"Shit," he mumbled, putting the bottle to one side and standing up to shake his trouser leg.

"Maybe you should take them off, Harry."

He feigned offence, sat back down and pulled her against him. "It's not that easy to get into my pants, Miss Evershed."

"Could have fooled me," she whispered and pushed him to the ground, following him down and kissing him soundly. Her tongue slipped into his welcoming mouth and brushed against his, teasing them both. She couldn't help but grind against him lightly and he rewarded her by gripping her hips tighter and deepening the kiss.

It took a few seconds to realise but, eventually, a loud mooing noise managed to penetrate the lust induced fog surrounding her brain, and she blinked hard in confusion, eventually registering that the noise was not coming from Harry…unless he had suddenly turned into a cow.

"We appear to have an audience," he said, levelly, and she turned her head to follow his gaze, praying the cows weren't also accompanied by a group of ramblers.

"Oh God! I can't do this in front of them!" she turned back and giggled into his neck, the sight of a herd of cows butted up against the wall to the neighbouring field, watching them, fresh in her mind. Her laughter was infectious and he was soon laughing along with her.

"Bit too voyeuristic, isn't it?" She nodded and he reached up to brush a tear of laughter from her cheek. "Perhaps, you'd like to move then, Ruth?"

She rolled off him, lying on her back to the side of him, chest heaving as she tried to gulp in oxygen between giggles. Her laughter finally subsided and he turned his head so he could look at her.

"I can see how this is going to work from now on," he mused. At her look of quiet confusion, he clarified what he was talking about. "Well, here we are, not even having made love yet but I've already ended up laid in the wet patch!"

"Cheeky sod!"

"You love it," he purred and her stomach flipped at the sound.

"I do."

"Perhaps attempting to eat something would be a safe activity. Provided you can be trusted to behave," he added.

"Me?" she asked, incredulously. "You were the one breaking obscenity laws."

"I'm only warning you, Ruth. The only thing left in the hamper is the chocolate mousse, and we don't have a spoon."

She let out a low groan and closed her eyes. "Fine," she decided, and took the dessert from his hands. She peeled back the lid and curled her index finger inside, scooping out a generous helping of the rich, handmade treat.

Extending her tongue, she brought her finger to her open mouth, tracing circles around the very tip with the lightest flicks of her tongue before slowly sucking the whole finger clean and then letting it run across her full bottom lip.

"Delicious," she approved, running the blade of her tongue across the edge of her top teeth. "You can try some if _you _can behave."

God she could be wicked when she wanted to, he thought. It was taking all his self control not to throw her backwards, strip her top off her and eat the dessert off her bare chest, and here she was, now spooning out another fingerful and offering it to him on the condition he should behave. "You absolute minx!" he growled.

"Ah, ah, ah. Promise. No touching other than hands to mouth, or else we're going to end up in flagrante in the middle of a field."

"A prospect that's more appealing with every passing moment," he murmured as he watched her.

"I'll just have to eat it myself then." He couldn't help but lick his lips as he watched her ease her chocolatey finger past her lips and into her mouth. He could see her tongue flicking over the tip and he felt his trousers get tighter in response to the provocative sight.

He moved quickly and startled her when he gripped her wrist lightly and pulled her hand away from her mouth. Before she could say anything he had replaced her mouth with his and it was his tongue she could feel licking the remnants of the mousse from her sticky fingers. His teeth scraped gently over the digit as he released her, his tongue flicked over the tip one last time and she moaned her appreciation.

"I think we should share it." He was already dipping his finger into the soft dessert and lifting it to her lips, "don't you?"

In lieu of an answer, she opened her mouth and determined to drive him as crazy as he was her. She held his wrist firm in her hand and ran the tip of her tongue the length of his extended finger, feeling it curl involuntarily under her touch. Lightly, she pinched the end third of his finger between her teeth and played with the tip, running her tongue around and around, alternately flicking before she'd take more of his finger into her mouth, releasing it slowly as she pressed down hard with the flat of her tongue.

In response, he took her free hand in his, smearing a smudge of chocolate across the palm, lavishing open mouthed kisses across the flesh and up to her fingertips which he sucked, lightly, each in turn.

"Mm, more chocolate," she murmured as her mouth continued to caress his hand and he replied with a mumbled understanding, and by moving his hand back to the bowl. Her eyes remained closed, appreciating the attention he was paying her whilst she waited for his fingers to return to her lips, but when they did, it was not as she expected. The mousse was smeared across her bottom lip with a delicate touch, but he removed his finger only to replace it with his mouth, her index finger sandwiched between them. She pulled it away, and it was only his lips on hers.

"That's cheating," she sighed, not sounding at all like she cared.

"It was hand to mouth contact until you pulled your hand away," he countered, arching an eyebrow to bait her.

She narrowed one eye and chewed on her lip. "Swine."

"Mule."

"Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Close them."

He did as he was told and, when he opened them, she had her sandals back on and was holding the bowl of mousse.

"If you can't play fair, you can't have anymore," she teased.

"Ruth…" he warned.

"You'll have to catch me.

"That's not fair, I have no shoes on."

"Fine. I'll hide. You have to the count of 100 to get your shoes on. If you find me, you get the mousse back. Time," she said, gathering his shoes, "starts," he extended his hand in anticipation of them being given to him, "now!" she flung them an impressive distance in the opposite direction to which she began running, shrieking with laughter as he cursed her and scrambled after them.

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**Review, and there will be more xx**


	9. Chapter 9

**M rated...very M rated!**

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Harry paused as he entered the woods and willed his libido to calm sufficiently for his brain to work enough to find her. He pushed away the thoughts of what he would do to her as 'punishment', quickly realising that imagining pinning her to a tree and ravaging her were not helping him get to her any sooner. As he scanned the woods, he spotted the best hiding place and smiled to himself.

"Ready or not, here I come," he murmured, and carefully picked his way through the overgrowth.

Ruth smiled as she watched him head for the thick layer of trees that were clumped together opposite her, pleased that he had fallen into her trap. She happily ate the remaining few scoops of mousse as she waited in her hiding place and pondered what her next move was to be. She had lost sight of Harry now, and wondered where he had disappeared to.

"Oh dear, Harry, I think it's back to basic training for you," she whispered, as she scanned the tree line for clues as to his whereabouts.

"I don't think I'm that rusty," a voice growled in her ear as a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind, threatening to topple her from her knees.

She twisted her neck and gave him a sheepish grin. "Where did you come from?"

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you," he whispered in between placing delicate, sucking kisses at the base of her neck.

She reached her hand behind them both, fingers threading into his short hair as her hand rested on the back of his head, holding him to her. "You can take the Spook out of London..." she sighed, feeling a rush of hot hair against her neck as he let out a breathy laugh.

"Precisely, and since I found my target," his arms tightened around her as he spoke in a low, seductive voice, "it must be time for you to be debriefed."

A flat hand gently pushed south across her stomach, unzipping the linen and sliding beneath silk and lace. He smirked against her neck at the feel of the material; this was the type of underwear to be seen, and touched and admired, and it thrilled him to know that she had surely worn these pants for him. The fingers of his right hand rested, tucked into the lace waistband as his thumb caressed her stomach, while his left hand brushed up and underneath her camisole until it met with the lace covered swell of her breast.

Her breath, which had caught in a hitch the instant his hand had met her trousers, seemed to have been suspended, paused in anticipation of what was imminent. His tongue snaked out to a patch of skin behind her ear, tracing a swirling pattern and suddenly a trembling breath of air was set free whilst, in that instant, his left hand located a budded nipple through the delicate material of her bra, tracing in circles around and around until the sensation was so intense writhed beneath his touch and every ounce of desire in her body seemed to pool between her legs as she tried to press herself into the touch of his other, static hand. Obligingly, but not without a growl in her ear and a sharp tweak of her nipple, he moved lower and cupped her , squeezing gently as his middle finger pulled back between her folds, rubbing with delicious friction against her.

He pressed against her more firmly and she could feel his hardened length against her bottom. Her hands fumbled behind her, trying to touch him, to feel his arousal in her hand. "Don't worry about me Ruth, you come first."

"I will at this rate," she gasped before letting out a guttural moan as he chose that moment to push his finger inside her welcoming warmth. She twisted her head to capture his lips, awkwardly kissing him, her tongue licking his lips as he pushed a second finger inside her. Her hand stretched out in front of her and braced against the nearest tree as her body gave in to temptation, every nerve ending sparking, blood thumping through her until she was lost in a sea of sensation, his breath on her ear, his firm yet delicate touch and the danger of being in the open all conspiring against her until she cried out. He held her firmly, anchoring her in reality as she shuddered and trembled in his arms.

"Oh God," she whispered. "Remind me again why we've not done that before."

"Something about playing by the rules," he purred, in a dangerous tone.

"Hmm, I think I preferred do having that to having principles," she laughed.

"Mmm, good girl gone bad. Very, very bad."

"Do I need punishing?" she asked, hopefully, turning in his embrace.

"Definitely," he replied, capturing her lips and pushing her body to the springy, mossy floor with the weight of his own.

His mouth moved past her jaw and down the curve of her neck until he sucked at her collar bone, not caring if he marked her. The response he was getting told him she wasn't overly concerned either, as she ground up towards him and held his head to her chest. He continued lower, until the barrier of her top obstructed him, and he lifted off her slightly to address the issue of her clothing.

"Punishment 1," he announced. "Revoking the right for you to wear any clothes."

She shrieked with laughter as, with a manoeuvre she'd only ever seen in films, he managed to undo all of her blouse buttons in one go, without ripping a single thread. His hands moved to the bottom of her camisole, and she raised her body so she could rid herself of all the material.

She felt the cool moss tickle her bare back as she sank back to the floor, her eyes watching his every expression as he took in her semi-naked form. His fingertips skimmed lightly over her collar bone and down her chest, her breath hitched as he skimmed the curve of her breast as the passed between the mounds of firm, inviting flesh before wrapping around her and unclasping her bra, delicately lifting it from her and moving his fingers back to caress her. Her stomach quivered and she felt the goosebumps rise on her skin as he inched closer to the waistband of her already undone crops.

He tugged on them sharply, sliding them down her legs and out of the way before returning his attention to her pants. He placed kisses across the silken material, moving steadily lower until he could feel how aroused she was, and had been.

"Punishment number 2," he continued, "is letting me find out what else you taste of besides black cherries and chocolate." She let out a shuddering moan. "And, number 3 - you have to be quiet. We don't want to go attracting any ramblers, Ruth."

He hooked an index finger into the lace edge of her underwear and began to inch them down in a tortuously slow fashion, following the path of material with hot, open mouthed kisses.

He discarded the pants to one side, both free hands smoothing up her bare legs and his mouth teasing her as he placed hot, wet kisses on alternate legs. By the time he was nibbling on the sensitive skin of her inner left thigh, she had firmly clamped her lip between her teeth to stop the moans of encouragement and the directions she wanted to utter from being released. There was no doubt in her mind that it would only lead to further teasing from him.

A finger circled her clitoris making her hips buck in response, she felt his chuckle reverberate against her thigh and, far too caught up in her arousal to play games anymore, she laced her fingers through his hair and nudged him in the direction she wanted him to go.

He laughed again but this time she felt it against her sex, his hot breath washing over even hotter flesh. She gave a frustrated moan as he removed his finger which turned into a lustful sigh as it was replaced by his questing tongue. He alternated light flicks with a circling motion, making her writhe beneath him.

He licked and suckled her wet sex, stiffening his tongue and probing inside her until she was incoherent and moving about so much he had to place a firm hand across her hip to still her.

"Harry..." she whispered, "I want you...please."

He stopped and looked at her. There was an overwhelming amount of love and tenderness in her eyes as she held his gaze and beckoned him to her. Without another word, he stood and removed his shirt before reaching down to unbuckle his belt. He was aware of her watching him as he pushed his trousers and boxer shorts down and off in one move.

She raised her arms to him in an open invitation, smiling as he captured her right hand with his left before settling himself over her. He ran his hardened length against her teasing them both until she pushed her hips forward and pulled him against her. His mouth covered hers as he slid the full length of his erection inside her, stifling the loud, long moan she couldn't help but make at the feeling of finally having him inside her. Completing her.

He withdrew completely before burying himself in her again, and the sensation of it had her clawing at his shoulders and rising to meet him as he began to find a rhythm. Her head lolled in the long grass and dew-dropped fern, the movement of their bodies disturbing fresh earth, the scent of it reminding them starkly that they were outdoors and out of bounds in every sense. His lips and teeth grazed the long sweep of exposed neck provided by her tilted head and she managed to stem the moan of delight into a quiet whimper of approval, raising her head and silently asking that he found her mouth instead. His lips locked fleetingly against hers, the rocking of their bodies now so forceful and filled with intent that their snatched breathing and stifled cries drew their mouths apart again.

He could feel her, the tightening grip of her around him, the way the hold of her legs about his body had increased and her nails dug into his back as she tried to pull him in closer still and push herself over the edge. He thrust deeper, harder, angling himself to drive her wild before he was spent, and was rewarded with the rhythmic clench of her walls pulling him to oblivion, and the firm, determined feel of her lips against his as he silenced her cries.

He thrust inside her once, twice more and then she was stifling his cries, holding him tight in her arms as he spilled inside her. Their kisses slowed as their tremors and shudders of pleasure abated, leaving them sated and blissful. He kissed her a final time before slipping out of her and rolling them both onto their side. His hand reached out to brush some foliage from her hair as he spoke. "I'm sorry."

She caught his hand and brought it to her mouth, kissing his knuckles tenderly. "Sorry? For what?"

"For not being able to control myself better," he admitted with a saddened smile. "I wanted it to be perfect and romantic..."

She kissed him softly. "It was you and me Harry; it can't get more perfect than that in my opinion."

"I love you," he murmured, in between kisses.

"I love you too, but I think we'd better get dressed because it would just be my luck for a group of ramblers to come tramping through the woods, catching us and ruining the moment!"

He laughed and nodded his agreement, reluctantly parting from her and reaching for the pile of clothing in a heap on the floor.

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**Please review!! xx**


	10. Chapter 10

**Less M rated...just about :P**

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"Tell me you're not humming Daisy Bell," she laughed, as she snuggled further into his side. It had taken then some time, and several bouts to re-dressing, undressing and more re-dressing, but they were back on their picnic blanket, dozily entwined together.

"I might be," he replied.

"Why on earth? I thought we'd had enough of Tandems."

"Mmmm, maybe," he mused, and launched into a rusty rendition. "Ruthy, Ruthy, give me your answer do, I'm half crazy all of my love for you, it won't be a stylish marriage, I can't afford a carriage, but you'd look sweet upon a seat of a bicycle built for two."

She was well aware of the way he had been looking at her throughout the strange serenade and had to admit that the look in his eyes was something she'd rarely seen before; a powerful combination of seriousness and affection.

"You shouldn't make a girl a false promise, you know," she whispered, suddenly finding fascination with his shirt buttons.

"Would you, though?" he asked. "If I promised there wouldn't be a tandem in sight."

She managed to tear her eyes away from the front of his shirt and look up at him, swallowing hard. "Yes. If you ask me properly."

Reluctantly, he sat up, breaking the connection of their two bodies, and knelt in front of her. "Ruth Evershed, as someone who plans things to the tiniest detail, this could be the most spontaneous crazy thing I've ever done, but I love you…will you marry me?"

"Yes," she laughed, and was suddenly unable to stop laughing, her face aching from smiling as he kissed her and just held her face in his palms as he watched her.

"A ring. Bugger. A ring. This is why I normally plan things out." He jumped up and scurried off to the left of the blanket, fumbling about in the grass and, for a moment, Ruth thought that his "unprepared" speech was a ruse and half expected him to dig a jewellery box from the dirt. When he returned, however, he was gently clutching a chain of two small daisies, fashioned into a small loop. "Be my wife," he whispered, as he took her hand and slipped the ring of flowers onto her finger.

She moved to her knees in front of him, reaching out and pulling him against her until their bodies were flush. "I'd love to be your wife, Harry," she whispered against his mouth seconds before she kissed him. The slow, smouldering kiss left him wanting more and, as it ended, he suggested they headed back to the comfort of their lodgings.

"What about Flo?"

"Bugger Flo!" he growled, as he dragged her to her feet and gathered the blanket up. "We've just got engaged and I want to celebrate properly! In the comfort of a bed! I'm 54 years old not some spotty teenager trying to get his first shag!"

She laughed and shook her head at him. "Is that what you plan on saying to her?!"

He picked the picnic basket up and took her hand, giving her a slightly sheepish look as he did so. "Well, possibly not in those words."

--

Their stroll back to the B & B had been a mixture of comfortable but contemplative silence and soft glances and smiles. It made him smile to see that Ruth kept peering at her daisy chain ring, almost as if she didn't believe that it would be there when she looked properly.

"I will buy you a proper one you know," he murmured into her ear as they reached the guesthouse, and he spotted her looking at it for the umpteenth time.

"You'd better," she teased, leaning up to place a soft kiss on his mouth.

"Are you going to be this demanding when we're married?"

"Probably. Want to change your mind?"

He snaked his free arm around her waist and pulled her closer. "No I bloody well don't," he growled and kissed her, hard; she was looking particularly pleased with herself when he finally pulled away.

"So how do we do this then?"

"Well if the last demonstration wasn't enough for you to grasp the mechanics of it, then we definitely need to get upstairs quick and teach you," he replied, dryly.

"Funny man."

"Haha or weird?"

"Both."

"Charming."

"Come on, I'm serious, how do we get away with this?"

"Can you handle a small amount of embarrassment for an hour over breakfast, safe in the knowledge you'll never see Flo again after that?"

Ruth nodded.

"Then we walk in, hand in hand, ascend the stairs, and lock the door. Bugger what she thinks, this time."

She met his gaze, weighing up what he'd said and trying to ignore his gentle, wandering finger as it traced from her jaw, down her neck and across her décolletage.

"Come on, Mule," he growled, and she slipped her fingers through his.

"Lead on," she whispered.

--

He suppressed a chuckle as she scanned the hallway for signs of Flo before she pulled him across the threshold. "See, it wasn't so bad was it?"

"You say that now but you'll be the one doing the explaining when she knocks on the door and finds us both in here."

He tugged her hand, pulling her close until they were almost touching. He reached out and swept her hair out of her eyes as he murmured, "Is that so?"

"Yes," she whispered, trying her best to sound assertive despite the fact that she was rapidly losing track of their conversation thanks to the look of sheer lust swimming in his eyes.

"Then I think I'll have to make sure we're too busy to answer the door."

She let out a soft moan as he closed the gap between them and pressed his warm body to hers. His soft lips teased her, his tongue tickling her bottom lip as he encouraged her to open his mouth so he could explore further.

"You haven't…locked…it," she mumbled, against his mouth's inquisition, and he acknowledged her by walking them backwards and pressing her to the varnished wood as he turned the key in the lock. His hands dropped to the back of her thighs and, without warning, he lifted her so their hips aligned and her legs went about his waist on instinct.

She pressed herself against the bulge already straining in his trousers, and tilted her neck as he sucked and kissed his way across the creamy flesh. His mouth travelled higher again, locking their lips together in a passionate kiss which stole her breath and had her body pushing against him as he held her firmly around his waist and carried her away from the door to the bed.

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**One more chapter guys, so get reviewing! xx**


	11. Chapter 11

**M Rated, final chapter!!**

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He laid her down, slowly, hovering over her. Her hands fumbled between their bodies as she unzipped the linen crops and shuffled them off.

"Ruth, I did have other ways in mind of making you writhe about," he noted, with amusement, as she struggled to free herself. She laughed, and called him a name he didn't quite catch.

His hands went to her waist as she giggled, and he rolled them over so she lay atop him, body pressed to body. She swung her knees to the side of his hips, straddling him as his arms went to the bottom buttons of her blouse and her hands worked down from the top to meet him, shrugging the garment off so that only the camisole was left. A warm, roughened palm slid up beneath it, across the soft expanse of stomach, and she obligingly removed that too, leaving only her matching underwear. He propped himself on his arms as he leaned up to her and she met him with an open mouthed kiss, laced with the flicker of her tongue and the grind of her hips against his as they fell back to the mattress.

Her hands found his buttons this time, undoing them one by one, at first taking time and attention over each new piece of skin she unveiled, kissing, licking, sucking before simply unfastening the buttons in her increased desperation to get the material off him. Moving lower, her hands finally met the bottom of the shirt and the place where their bodies joined. Unbuttoning the top of his trousers, she momentarily broke the contact of their hips as he raised his slightly, and allowed her to tug the material down.

"Not so easy when you're pinned to the mattress, is it?" she laughed, as he tried to kick his legs out of two layers of clothes, and his response was to make one last bid to free himself, and pull her to him with renewed determination.

He groaned loudly at the feel the hot, damp lace brushing against his arousal as she came to settle over his lower abdomen, and he was overcome with the need to feel that heat against his skin. A hand snaked across her stomach, sliding between flesh and silk and lace before finding its goal. His fingers parted her, teasing her with measured rubbing between her folds before dipping inside her. She fell forward at the sensation, supporting herself above him on her arms, her hair falling in front of her face, and her chest offering itself invitingly to his mouth. His free hand fumbled momentarily behind her back before Ruth was aware of the clasp of her bra being unhooked, and she steadied herself on one arm, and then the other, as it was removed. She cried out as he co-ordinated the curling of his two fingers inside her with the moment his mouth clamped around the peak of her breast, sucking hard as his tongue toyed with her nipple.

The combination was her undoing, as he skilfully continued to concentrate his attentions on her breast as his fingers pressed onwards and the pad of his thumb stroked her into oblivion.

She fell forward fully, this time, head pillowed in the curve of his neck as she panted and gulped in air. She wasted no time, however, in letting him know she was anxious for more, and her kisses travelled up to his jaw before settling, lips parted, on his expectant mouth.

His tongue snaked out, the tip of it flirting with hers, before he drew her bottom lip between his own.

"Are you ever going to remove those fancy pants, Ms Evershed, or did you spend so long deciding which were best to seduce me in, you thought you'd make the most of them?"

"Seduce?! I wasn't going to..." she trailed off at his knowing look and smiled rather bashfully for someone who had just had sex with him in the woods.

"Oh I think you were," he teased, pausing to nibble lightly on her bottom lip as his fingers hooked under the side of her underwear, inching them down on one side. He made as if to roll them over but stopped moving when a firm hand pushed him back to the mattress. He raised his eyebrow at her in question.

"If it's seduction you want, I think you're going to have to stay right where you are, Harry."

His surprised look was quickly replaced with a wide, satisfied smile. "Happy to oblige," he murmured and settled back into the plush quilt, watching her as she rolled off of him, stood at the foot of the bed and dropped her knickers to the floor.

Harry never took his eyes from her as she climbed back onto the bed, crawling slowly upwards, her lips millimetres from his warm skin. Teasing him. He writhed under her, aching for her to touch him, to taste him but she held out. Her breath was warm on his body and as she moved over him and his while body shook as she naughtily blew a puff of air across his straining erection.

"Jesus, are you trying to kill me?!" he growled, causing her to chuckle.

She moved higher still, crawling above his body, so close to being in contact that it drove him crazy. She hovered, perfectly still, as their torsos fell in to alignment, then bent her head to his, soundly kissing him before uprighting herself.

With a teasing glint in her eye, she brushed the wetness of her sex against his tip, promising them both everything but holding it back. His hips bucked at the torture and he grasped her wrist where her hands lay idle about his waist. She didn't need telling twice, slowly, carefully sinking herself onto him as their fingers locked, her grip tightening and her eyes closing as he filled her completely.

Her hands moved to his chest, flattened palms resting against his smooth skin, keeping her balanced as she slowly started to move against him. Harry's hands smoothed along the outside of her thighs, eventually settling on her hips, tightly. His eyes locked with hers and she bit her lip to keep from crying out as he guided her movements, bringing her down on him harder and faster, filling her again and again. He was aware that he wasn't going to last very long at this rate, their earlier activities coupled with the unobstructed and explicit view of her he now had were conspiring against him. Determined to take her with him, his fingers found her clit and he circled his thumb over it, rhythmically.

She swore, quietly and fluently, under her breath as he intensified his touch. She pushed herself further, rising and falling steadily but at a now close-to-frantic pace, her orgasm so close but just beyond her reach. She could feel it, the whole of her insides tightened light a coil, like someone was winding it tighter and tighter and waiting til the moment it would snap, delivering wild, raw energy. She arched her back and forced her body to take him as deeply as she could and, at the first squeeze of her muscles around him, his control shattered and his body jerked upwards. His hands resumed their hold as he pressed up into her tensing, shaking body and shuddered as his own release came.

She fell forward against him, their bodies still joined and hearts beating wildly against their chests as they trembled. After a minute, she raised her head to look at him, his smile as goofy as she knew hers must be. Propping her forearms on his shoulders, her fingers twisted and twined in the hair at the nape of his neck and his own arms reached around to caress the small of her back.

"I don't ever want to move," she whispered, bowing her head to kiss the top of his chest.

He laughed, and returned the kiss with a soft press of his lips against her hair. "Mmmm," he muttered contentedly. "Might be hard to explain in staff meetings though."

She tutted and nipped his skin between her teeth. "Trust you to ruin the moment."

"Actually, I thought that role belonged to Flo," he said, smugly, pulling her roughly up his body, until their mouths were inches apart. "Stop biting me."

She raised an eyebrow. "Or else?"

"You will have to be punished."

His matter of fact tone didn't faze her, in fact, it only encouraged her more. "Really?!"

"Yes, really," he leant forward and pressed his mouth to hers in a brief kiss. "But it'll have to be tomorrow because, as much as I love you, I'm knackered!"

She laughed long and loud, until tears threatened to spill. "God, I love you Harry Pearce."

He shuffled until they were both laid on their sides, arms and legs entwined. "Bloody good job," he growled, good naturedly. "Go to sleep."

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