Author's Note: Here you go. Bedroom shenanigans. M-rated, so if it's not your thing or you're underage, please stop here because I don't want to offend and/or scar you for life. It's not that smutty, though. I went a bit repressed and English about it, so it's basically a big long irrelevant ramble and an exercise in writing a sex scene without using any rude words. Well. There's one rude word. You'll know it when you get there. I hope it's not all a disaster… Enjoy!

Harry often thought that there was something to be said for experience, but right now he wasn't entirely sure what it was. All of his experience seemed to have deserted him. Everything felt new again, in the best possible way. He felt like a beginner, but with Ruth pressed against him and her arms tight around his back as they stood kissing in his hallway, he decided that he was definitely more than willing to learn anew.

One thing he could remember from experience (and age), however, was that the hallway was not the place for this.

He pulled away from her slightly and said, "Upstairs?" His voice shook, but whether it belied his nerves or his excitement, he was entirely sure.

"Yes." Her voice didn't shake at all and the certainty of her answer made his confidence burst free.

He took her hand and drew her towards the stairs, pausing by the front door to flick the security bolt into place in case they didn't make it down again that night. Then he led her up the stairs in much the same way as he had that morning to give her a tour of the upper floor of his house as part of their evidence finding mission. It occurred to him that he still hadn't moved the crumpled shirts from the wardrobe door or the dirty socks from the corner of his room, but they didn't seem as important as they had earlier.

They didn't seem important at all as he and Ruth finally crossed the threshold into his bedroom and she turned to him, giving him a shy smile and a look with such depth of feeling it made him want to cry.

Harry drew her into the room until they stood at the side of the bed. He didn't know what to say so he kissed her instead, cupping her face with one hand and letting the other trail up her side, across her hips, her waist, rib cage… he stopped, remembering something. A promise he had made to himself earlier that day.

He drew back a little and moved his hands in between them, fumbling with the buttons of her cardigan, feeling her hands stroke his back through his shirt and his temperature rising. He finally got the buttons undone and pushed the knitted cardigan off her shoulders. It fell to the floor with a soft shush.

"Don't you get hot?" he murmured, sliding his hands around Ruth's waist until he found the edge of her blouse, teasing his fingers against her skin. "All these layers."

She released a shaky breath as he swept his palms up her sides, under her blouse. "Not really." Her head fell forward until it rested against his collarbone. "Might need to make an exception now, though."

He smiled and then gasped involuntarily as she pressed a kiss against the exposed flesh of his throat, nipping him slightly with her teeth. He held her tighter, hands resting just under her breasts, her pulse thundering against her rib cage.

That was what he'd been looking for: the heartbeat beneath the layers. It felt good.

Another thing that felt good was Ruth undoing the buttons on his shirt, trailing kisses along his sternum as she went. It was cool in the room but it was hard to tell from the sweat that threatened to break out across his skin. He mused in the back of his mind that he wasn't young anymore; if they went on like this, he'd have a heart attack before he'd taken off his socks.

His shirt soon joined Ruth's cardigan on the floor. He made sure her blouse followed thirty seconds after.

It was dim in Harry's bedroom. Ruth couldn't see him properly in the failing light, but part of her was glad that they were both of an age where they didn't need to have the 'lights on or lights off' conversation. They could have them on another time, when the awkward first time nerves were over and done with.

She didn't think they needed lights, anyway. The sensations he was creating in her were making her head rush and when he slid one hand up and over the cup of her bra, she had to hold onto his arm for support. "Christ, Harry."

"Alright, there?" He did it again.

Getting her own back was the only solution. A few inches shorter than him without her shoes on, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him, coaxing his mouth open so she could brush his tongue with hers. Harry responded with enthusiasm, pulling her against him and sweeping his tongue into her mouth.

Bloody hell, he was good at this. She had it in her head to feel a little bit inadequate in comparison, but as soon as the thought occurred to her it flew straight back out into the ether as Harry pushed his hips to hers and she realised that he was enjoying this too. A lot, by the feel of things.

Oh God, she wasn't used to feeling this… desired. She'd gone through most of her adult life feeling a bit of a frump and generally as though this sort of experience was something that happened to other people. Suddenly finding herself in the middle of it was…

Whatever word she was going to use to complete the thought disappeared as Harry unclipped her bra and it fell to join the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

She could feel the bed against the backs of her legs and wondered when they'd taken the couple of steps needed to reach it. Then she decided she didn't care and that she might as well use it to her advantage, pulling Harry further into their kiss and backwards onto the bed at the same time.

They ended up sideways on to the pillows but it didn't matter. Clothes were melting away – her skirt, his trousers, her tights, an awkward moment while he sat up and removed his socks, prompting chuckles from both of them.

"I'd rather stop and take care of them now," he said, when he came back to lie with her, "than have you forever remember me as the man who kept his socks on."

That prompted another laugh and she marvelled at just how fun it could all be.

Ruth propped herself on one elbow and ran her other hand across Harry's chest, feeling little bumps and pockmarks and other markers of age and a hard life lived. His skin was warm and tempting and so she let herself give into temptation, leaning over to press a kiss over his heart before sliding her hand lower down his stomach.

His breathing quickened and then she suddenly found herself on her back as Harry flipped them over.

"I was enjoying that," she said.

"Mmm, so was I. But I want to do this more."

She was about to ask him what he meant when she found out anyway. Harry kissed her quickly and then pulled back to watch her face as he slid his fingers under the seam of her knickers, finding hot, damp flesh and teasing her gently.

"Hello," he murmured, eyes never leaving hers.

Ruth was aware that she was panting a little as he touched her and had he been able to see her properly, she probably would've thought to be embarrassed and if Harry had been anyone else in the world, she would have bolted. As it was, in the relative dark of the evening, with his free hand carefully cupping the back of her head, his warm body over her and the look of astonishing love in his eyes, she gave into it, parting her legs slightly when he pushed a finger inside her and then slowly drew it back out.

"Harry. Fuck."

He smiled, softly. "Not quite, sweetheart. But almost." The low burr of his voice resonated through her.

Almost wasn't enough. "Now." And then, because she didn't want to seem too brazen. "Please."

He looked a little punch drunk, as though surprised that they'd got this far. Ruth thought there was probably a similar expression on her face. Harry snapped out of it first, grasping the waistband of her underwear and sliding it down her legs. She managed to get herself into gear enough to help him with his boxers and then he was back lying over her, still sideways across the bed, looking at her like she was the whole world.

He didn't ask her if she was sure, and she didn't ask him. Instead, she reached for him and drew him to her and then –

She gasped as she felt him start to stretch her.

He paused, holding his weight on his arms. "Okay?"

"Yes. More than." She held him close and tipped her hips up, encouraging him on. "You okay?"

"Oh God, Ruth. Yes." He kissed her gently, not breaking the contact until he was all the way inside her.

They stayed like that for a moment, getting used to the feel of each other.

She felt full and loved and… indulgent, in an extremely good way. The tiny part of her brain not given fully over to sensation mused on the oddness of it; the ability to have someone inside you in such a way. Odd, but - as she saw Harry's arms shaking as he leant over her and his pupils expanded until they blocked out his irises like an eclipse - also rather wonderful. Strangely empowering.

"Oh my God." She was overcome with feeling for him but didn't know quite what to do with it.

He lowered his head until he could kiss her forehead. "You have no idea…"

"Oh, I think I'm starting to."

He smiled against her skin. The drop of moisture she felt land on her forehead might have been either sweat or tears. "Ruth," he said, the rush of breath he let out disturbing strands of her hair.

Harry looked her in the eye then and it seemed to lock them onto each other. He placed his weight on his elbows and slid his hands under her head as he started to move, his head coming to rest right next to hers on the bed. She could feel the rough stubble on his face against her smooth cheek. She moved just enough to be able to buss his cheek with her lips and then held onto him tightly.

The curtains of the bedroom were still open and the failed light of evening cast dim shadows into the room. Ruth could just about see the blur of lights that made up the city if she looked hard enough, but she didn't really want to be looking hard enough. There'd be time later for that. She focused herself solely on Harry, on the strangely blissful tugging sensation where they were joined and the sound of their breathing – increasing in pace, growing shallower as they fought to keep the remnants of control just before they melted away and all that was left behind was abandon.

He pulled himself up so he could watch her face as he felt restraint leave them both. She was gasping with each breath, watching him closely in return and holding onto him so tightly, he'd never felt more wanted in his life.

He wanted to say something to her, something to let her know how much he was feeling, but the words wouldn't come, nothing seeming adequate, his mouth opening and closing twice before he felt her tighten around him and tremble against his chest. She breathed his name quietly and he was touched at the intimacy of it. There was nothing big or showy here. Both of them were quiet – Harry figured that they both knew what this all meant; there was no room for theatrics.

After a long moment, Ruth calmed beneath him and then pushed her lips against his chin, murmuring softly, "Let go, Harry."

He turned his head and let his lips lie against hers as his eyes slid shut of their own volition. No, he thought, they weren't loud, but they were truthful and that was more than he had ever thought he would have in his life.

It was in his head to tell her he loved her when the end came, but the last vestiges of reason told him that he wanted to be fully compos mentis when that event occurred. This, right now, wasn't about words. This was about what the words couldn't say.

When she ran her hand over the back his head and down to his shoulder blade, her touch so light and tender he could hardly feel it, he gave in, and let himself fall.

A short while later, Harry pulled himself away from her and rolled over onto his back, finding Ruth's hand and holding it, wanting to keep some sort of connection. "Here's an algebra thing for you."

She turned her head towards him as they lay sideways across the bed. "What?"

"You plus me equals… an awful lot of fun."

He turned his head just in time to see her smile in response. "I think you're right," she said.

"Stay tonight?"

"Mmm, yes. But only if I can borrow a toothbrush."

"I think I can stretch to that."

"I'll make it worth your while."

"Marvellous."

They both shifted at the same time then as a slight draft blew in from the window frame. Harry pulled down the covers while Ruth plumped the pillows and they both climbed into his bed, lying close together in the middle of the mattress.

"Harry?"

His response was to pull her into him and wrap an arm around her, shivering from the effect of cold bed covers on flushed skin.

"I thought I should tell you. I know the answer."

"Which answer?"

"The reason I want to be with you."

He went very still and stayed that way until she spoke again, stretching up to whisper in his ear, a confession just for him – small words, simple words, but enough for him to be convinced once and for all that the two of them together made a whole, that this was the way they should stay.

He returned the words without hesitation.

THE END.

Apologies for the random lurch to schmaltz there. It was that or a bad joke about socks. I thought you might appreciate the schmaltz more. So… how was it for you? ;)

Thanks for reading! (Oh, and thanks for all the kind offerings of wine. Much appreciated!)