That Fascinating Thing

When you do that little thing

That fascinating thing

I get so fascinated with you, baby

My knees get weak

Every time you speak my name

The way you treat me

Mama, means everything

Come on and do that thing

That fascinating thing

-That Fascinating Thing, Squirrel Nut Zippers

Jack wants to surprise her.

Sitting side by side in his car, they are heading back to her home. She has a self-satisfied grin on her face that she doesn't even bother to hide, and she slides nearer him to rest her head on his shoulder. Her hands are anything but still as she sets to drawing aimless patterns across the thigh of his trousers.

He thinks he knows what she believes of him. Conservative, proper Jack Robinson. She takes extreme delight in scandalizing him, and he knows this new turn in their relationship will be no different. He is relieved that she keeps her movements mostly chaste, for it would do them no good to wreck on the way back to her home.

He has no doubt she is more worldly and well-versed than he in the arts of love. She is also less prone to fits of self-doubt and it is very, very difficult to embarrass her. But he's no wide-eyed virgin himself and he will enjoy the challenge of surprising her.

His first chance comes when the arrive at her home. She offers to clear the staff, to give them some privacy, but he shakes his head. He has no intention of hiding...whatever this is. He feels no actual shame. There is danger in secrets and pretending it isn't happening will only further everyone's eventually shock when it "comes out", as it were. He has no plans to make a bigger deal of his relationship with Phryne than is necessary - it really is nobody else's business. Besides, what they've built is far too precious to be treated as an embarrassment. He doesn't want anyone - not friend or foe - to use his relationship with Phryne as a weapon. The easiest way to avoid that would be to confront things head on.

So when she offers to shuttle Dot and Mr Butler off to bed before he comes in, he shakes his head. "I don't plan to sneak out before dawn, either."

Her pleasure is evidenced by the flush up from her collar and she takes a deep steadying breath.

"Brave boy." She whispers as they head up the stairs to the door.

"Man." Jack reminds her, and if the hand on her back is a little too low for modesty's sake... well.

She's not going to complain.

Phryne is ready to head upstairs the minute they enter the house, but Jack has other plans. He inclines his head to the parlor - where so many of their evenings have begun and ended - and she gives him a pout as she follows him.

This part - this anticipation - is important. Much of their friendship has grown in this parlor, with whiskey-tinged exchanges. He has admitted many of his deepest secrets to her in this room, and she has done the same for him. To skip it would seem sacrilege. He wants to maintain this - ease they've built.

But it doesn't have to be all seriousness, a fact that he makes clear when he takes a seat on the sofa and pats his knee.

Phryne doesn't need to be asked twice before she drapes herself over his lap, looping the arm holding her drink around his neck, letting the glass dangle from her fingers. She brushes her nose against Jack's, one way and then another, gently teasing. He wants to remember this for always, the easy way they slip into this new future. The comfort he feels, with his arms full of Phryne. How familiar her breath is against his cheek, the slightest tickle of her eyelashes against his forehead.

Unsurprisingly, they discuss the case. Low murmurs of earlier disagreements lead them to conclusions and theories that they will investigate come morning. She apologizes without actually issuing the words, promising to behave better in the company of other officers. He swears he did not mean it when he told her she was "playing" at detecting. It is a testament to their faith in each other when that is all it takes. He knows. She knows.

They know.

It is amazing to Jack, even after all this time, the way she can discuss a case so seriously while simultaneously toying with his senses. She has long since abandoned her glass of whiskey and instead plays with the end of his tie, sliding it between her fingers as she looks at him from beneath her lashes. Her eyes are full of the promise of pleasure yet to come, and this time he knows it is not merely a game she is playing. Or, if it is a game, it is one they will both win.

She continues to talk out the case, punctuating her thoughts with kisses placed over all the bare skin she can reach. (Which, thanks to her busy fingers, is more than when he sat down) He finds the dichotomy completely thrilling and, it is on a particularly interesting explanation of her belief in the killer's 'secondary motive' that moves Jack to action. He stalls her words with his lips, gently and searching. She twines her arms around his neck and pulls him close, not missing a beat. This time it is her tongue that begs entrance and he allows it on a (manly, he is sure) whimper. Their previous kisses were hasty, one as a cover the other as a stall in an argument.

This...is slow. He wants to taste every part of her and she seems equally thrilled to do the same. Her touch is lazy, unhurried, and mind-meltingly thorough. When they must finally separate to breathe she grabs at his earlobe with her teeth, nibbling a bit more forcefully than he's used to.

"Tut," He whispers and latches his own lips onto her neck, a spot he had merely grazed earlier that he now showers with attention. Her skin is sweet here, citrus and flowers mixing with a taste that is all Phryne. The hum in her throat sends vibrations through his entire body and he cannot help but pinch his teeth against the softness of her skin. He is rewarded with a groan of pleasure and, he thinks, surprise.

Her hands are at his shoulders, kneading like a cat and her tongue traces along his neck. His hands, curl up her spine and down again, pulling her closer to him. His arousal is no longer merely an emotional thing, and she makes a sound between a giggle and a groan when she feels him beneath her. She starts to pull away, no doubt to lead him up the stairs to her room, but he is in no mood to rush. He holds her still against him with one arm, the other fiddling with the pearl buttons of her blouse.

She shoos his hands away and leans back, giving him a fair view as she slowly unbuttons her blouse. She is rewarded with Jack's undivided attention, gaze caressing each inch of skin as it is revealed. He wonders if she has imagined this - a private performance of seduction - just for him.

When her blouse is completely unbuttoned, he pushes the light silk from her shoulders to pool at her elbows. With exquisite gentleness he brushes the backs of his fingers over her sternum. He feels the noise in her chest rather than hears it, and he knows they are reaching the end of what they should allow here in the parlor.

In the way that only Miss Fisher can, she anticipates his next move and stands. Her fingers reach for his and she walks backwards towards the stairs, the fingers of her free hand curling in come-hither.

He follows her.

(Wouldn't you?)

Yeah, now look at what you've done! I even made artwork to go with this (cover image). Honestly, someone should take the internet away from me. I can't be trusted to behave. Oh well. I'm not sorry. Yeah, there's more to come.

haha. I TOTALLY WENT THERE. I'm well into my thirties and nothing hurts because faaaandommmmmm...