If science turns Sheldon on, does literature turn Amy on? In which our Shamy get in between a different sort of covers. Companion to my Shamy Book Club; not entirely necessary to read that first but strongly recommended, otherwise some references and plot points may be confusing.

Here we go: what happens after Book Club. Enjoy!

The Gift (takes place after The Eyre Affair)

"Ball and chain, eh?" she said with a smirk. She squeezed his arm and walked away. "I'm going to bed. Are you coming?"

Amy was still smiling as she undressed, after brushing her teeth and hair. Book club always put her in a good mood, and Sheldon had been especially cute tonight. And helping him with his equation had just been icing on the cake. His face!

She thought he would be up late working, so she was surprised when he walked in the bedroom just as she was grabbing a nightgown. "You're not staying up late?"

"No, I think I - well, you - have it to a good stopping place. I'll sleep on it," he answered. Then he smiled at her, her favorite smile, and walked over to kiss her. She was still holding the nightgown in her hand, and he put his hand over hers. "Maybe . . . no nightgown tonight?"

Amy smiled back at him and nodded. She put the nightgown back in the drawer. She felt giddy with excitement. Sheldon had just told her, with words!, what he wanted. This was a first. Well, rather a second, because the very first time he said it, too. But he had not said it since. After the first few times, he had struck upon the idea of just not wearing pajamas, or anything else, to bed. That was his way of asking. She found it charming even if she suspected he also did it so he wouldn't wake up in the middle of the night panicked about his discarded and unfolded pajamas littering the room. As charming as it was, though, she did long for him to someday say the words to her. Just about any variation of "I want you" would do. This felt like the first step.

She threw her panties into the hamper and got into bed. She sat there, watching him undress. She loved this show. She wondered if he knew how intently she was watching, how she always watched. He never acknowledged it, if he did. As with everything he did, there was an order and method. She always wanted to giggle when he folded his clothes before putting them in the hamper. It was so unnecessary and so Sheldon and so she loved it.

At last, it was her slender, naked husband coming to bed. Just thinking that sentence filled her awe. All of those words she thought she would never use.

Sheldon turned off the light, and they rolled toward each other. As always, there were a couple of gentle kisses first, and then Sheldon brought his hand up to her hair and everything deepened. Amy sank into him, his arms, his mouth, his smell. All the years of her life she thought about sex, she never thought it would be like this.

He was nibbling on her shoulder, and her hands were cupping his hind end, when she thought she would ask. She had wanted to, well, since the beginning, but after a few attempts in which Sheldon drew her hand away she had given up. But last week something new had happened, namely that she made her way to the top of their love pile, and it made her realize she could take control, too. She was amazed how empowered it made her feel. She wasn't just taking, she was giving, and Dear Lord! did it feel good.

"Dr. Cooper, may I touch you?" she whispered.

"You are touching me," he whispered back.

"No, I mean, Sheldon -" His head drew away from her. "Sheldon, I want to touch you, really touch you . . . there."

"Oh." She thought she heard him swallow. He whispered, "Uh, if you touch me there, you know I'll probably . . . and then we won't be able to . . . and I may be too tired to . . ."

"I know. That's okay," she replied, bringing her one of her hands up to touch his face. She continued to whisper to him. "Sheldon, if you don't want me to do something because you discover you don't like it or because it is uncomfortable, I always want you tell me right away. But, please, let's agree to never avoid something because we are frightened. Not here."

He didn't answer. Instead, he brought his forehead to hers. She felt his hot breath on her face. Finally, he spoke. "It will be messy."

"It always is." And then she kissed him, gently. This, in fact, had surprised Amy. When she speculated on sex with Sheldon, she assumed it would involve a shower afterwards. But it has not. She thanked the gods of biology, because Sheldon preferred to cuddle groggily until he fell asleep.

As she pulled away, Sheldon reached up for her hand, took it from his cheek, and kissed her palm. Then he nodded.

She reached down and gently caressed just the tip of him. She was rewarded with a short moan. She shifted down the bed slightly; sometimes the height difference was a problem. She knew what to do, but she wanted to investigate him first. His skin felt feverish there; she had noticed this before, in the early morning hours, when Sheldon sometimes woke her by pressing his hot self against her. That, combined with his rubbing of her hip, was his morning signal. His skin there was soft, too, so incredibly soft. The juxtaposition of the soft skin stretched so taut over the hardness beneath was very arousing.

Sheldon's breath came louder and faster as she gently caressed him. When she used just her index finger to follow around his ridge and then swiped the very tip of him again, he let out another moan. His fingers dig into her flesh slightly when she finally took a firm grasp of him. He let out his signature gasp.

And so, in the tight space between them, because he was holding her, she gave to Sheldon. He buried his face in her hair, and she took advantage of the change in position to treat his neck and chest to all the delights to which he usually treated her.

For the second time that night, she was gladdened when she heard him murmur into her hair, the first time he had ever asked for something specific. "Faster."

She sped up, ignoring the mild cramping in her forearm. She felt it, actually felt it, coming before his breath even caught in his throat. Then the deep, low moan she knew well just before the warmth spread on her stomach.

He kissed her on the forehead and then she tilted her head back to look at him. It still held the passive softness she loved. She shifted back up again, so she could look him in the eyes, and he surprised her by pulling her in for a tight hug. She had not thought he would want that mess on himself.

"My wife," he said and then he kissed her. He said it again when he pulled away, "My wife."

It is the first time he has used it as a term of endearment. He has said it in conversation, seeming to effortlessly slip it in where the words "my girlfriend" used to be. She did not understand why this act is what made him use it, but she did not care.

"I love you, too, Sheldon," she said.

"But I didn't say it first."

"Yes, you did." She kissed him this time. "I think maybe tonight a brief shower is in order?"

"Please."

As always, reviews are appreciated. Fair warning for what follows: some chapters are long and some are painfully short. And some are mundane, because, well, married life & sex isn't always steamy.