Right, ok, I'm so sorry about the crazy stupid delay, but university has been keeping me very busy. This takes a little leap forwards to after Helen has been taken away (by Edith), I couldn't bringmyself to write her actually going. Also, this is an M.

"Richard. Richard, please."

He kissed her again, his hands still on her waist. Her fingers covered his, pulling at them, trying to make them move away from her middle.

"Are you sure?" he asked her.

He looked at her carefully as she took a shuddering breath. Her skin was flushed, her eyes even darker than their usual deep brown.

"Please. I need this."

He knew she was telling the truth, it was written all over her face, and he thought perhaps he understood; she needed to be told, to be shown, that this would not be taken from her as well. After all, everything else had been, bit by bit. Reginald, Matthew, Helen. Love was written on Isobel's heart like a catalogue of loss. It was a wonder she still kept at it. It seemed she could not help herself. He kissed her. He wanted to show her that it didn't have to be like that any more.

"Alright," he told her, "It's alright, Isobel. Come on," he tugged gently at her hand, leading her towards the stairs, "If you're sure."

She tugged at his hand, overtook him, turned to him at the top of the stairs, her kiss was full of need.

"Shall we go to your room or my room?" he asked against her lips.

He felt her smile a little, and realised what he'd said.

"Do you think of it as your room?" she asked him coyly.

"I suppose I must," he replied, a little bashfully.

"I wish you'd think of my room as your room."

"Isobel-..."

"Come on," she told him, pulling him towards her door.

Of course, he had been in her room many times over the past few weeks, putting Helen to bed in the little basket at the foot of Isobel's bed. It still stood there, sheets pristine white, empty. He saw Isobel deliberately avert her eyes. He lead her to the bed, held her hand as she sat down and sat down beside her.

Her hands rested on his chest, slipping under his jacket, pushing it off as her lips latched back on to his. Still, she kissed hard, fiercely, pulling on the collar of his shirt, pulling his closer to her. Her lips were open, he felt her teeth against his lower lip, her fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt. When he pulled away for a second, her lips refused to leave his face, tracing the corner of his jaw, latching onto his ear.

"Dear God, woman, slow down," he told her.

But as he said it, he saw the way her dress pooled between her legs, fallen open on the bed. Her body was begging for him. He touched her face, making her look at him. Her eyes were wide, and still so dark.

"Alright," he whispered, "Alright, my darling, I'm sorry. Lie down. Just lie down."

She complied immediately, moving deftly back onto the bed, stretching out. Leaning his body over hers, he embraced her. Through her dress their chests touched. She seemed placated, a little, she kissed him more softly now, her hands roaming up and down his back. His hand traced gently up over her breast, drawing a soft mewling noise from her lips. He groaned quietly, repeated his action more firmly. She moaned loudly. He had never known someone else's pleasure to have such a profound effect on him.

He kissed her gently.

"Isobel," he murmured quietly, "Tell me what you want. I want to give you everything you want."

She let out something between a sigh and a sob. He looked down at her in concern. Her eyes were closed, but they opened a second later. Their eyes met, and he felt her body move under his as she took a deep levelling breath.

"Undress me," she told him, "Make love to me. Take me. I want-..." her voice shook a little, "I want to feel you, Richard."

His hand brushed her face, and she leant into his palm, seeking out his touch.

"Will you let me make you come first?" he asked, "Before we-..."

"If you want," she replied, "It doesn't matter."

"It does, Isobel," he replied, "It matters so much. Don't say it doesn't."

"Please, Richard."

He allowed her to draw his lips back down to hers.

"I love you, Isobel," he murmured, kissing his way down her jaw, her neck, down to her collarbone.

"I know," she replied, "I love you too."

Gently, one by one, he pulled the layers of clothing away from her body, kissing her flesh as it became exposed, allowing her to do the same to him, her hands more hurried, her mouth hot and open against his skin.

Pushing the hem of her thin white shift upwards around her hips he slipped his hand inside her underwear, touching her folds. She gasped softly. The frantic pulse of her body seemed to slow for a moment. Their eyes met. And then her hips rolled up to meet his hand, her hand grasped the back of his neck, pulling him down on top of her so their chests were pressed flush together. As best he could, he slipped his other hand between their bodies, touching her breast as his finger moved at her centre.

"Richard!" she gasped, her lips resting on his shoulder as she rocked against him, rutting herself against his fingers.

"Yes, Isobel," he murmured, "That's it."

"I can't, Richard," she moaned.

"Yes, you can. Come for me, Isobel."

Carefully, he pushed a finger inside her, still kneading her with his thumb. She moaned, arched her back a little towards him. He added another finger, increasing his pace.

"Oh, God, Richard!"

"Yes," he murmured, "That's it. That's it, my darling."

"Richard, I can't," she insisted, "I need you inside me. Please."

"But-..."

"It doesn't matter. Richard, I'm begging you."

"Alright," he told her, "Alright, darling."

Pulling her underwear off, her still in her shift, bunched up around her waist, he settled himself over her. He pushed inside her as gently as he could, feeling her legs settle immediately around his waist, holding him in. He sunk inside as deep as he would go. She moaned loudly.

"Are you alright?" he asked, alarmed.

"Yes," she gasped, "Oh, yes. Just move, Richard."

He thrust inside her.

"Oh, yes, harder."

Her hands were clinging to his back, her nails digging in a little but that was the furthest thing from him mind. She moaned, she cried out, she cursed a little as he moved inside her, begging him to go faster. Her hands fell back onto the bed, she writhed under him. His fingers threaded with hers once more, squeezing tightly. He kissed her brow feverishly, he kissed her lips until kissing was too much and all he could do was move. She came explosively, rocking beneath him, clinging on to him, bringing him with her. He spilled himself inside her and she gave a cry of relief as their bodies collapsed together. Her shift was drenched with sweat and the essence of their lovemaking. Settling down beside her, he pulled it off her, tearing it a little, throwing it on the floor and kissing her breasts tenderly as his breathing returned to normal. She gave a quiet moan, pulling him firmly towards her. He wrapped him arms around her, her head resting against his chest.

"That was wonderful," she whispered, "Thank you."

"Isobel," he murmured, "I love you so much."

"I love you too," she replied, "Always."

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