"The course of true love never did run smooth", Jack read, and smiled. He often found phrases in Shakespeare that seemed strangely applicable to real life, but this one was particularly accurate for his relationship with Phryne, he felt. Except for her hair, nothing was ever smooth with Phryne. He didn't mind though – it certainly kept things interesting. He smiled again and lazily turned a page, returning his attention to the book in his hand, a beautiful old leather-bound copy of A Midsummer Night's Dream that he had found in a second-hand book shop. It wasn't his favorite play – he was more fond of the dramas than the comedies – but he had brought it over because he thought Phryne might enjoy it, and while he was waiting for her tonight, he had spotted it on her bedside table and had not been able to resist the temptation of flipping through it again.

He was lying on the bed, relaxed and fully immersed in the story when Phryne entered, softly closing the door behind her.
"Sorry it took so long."
"That's quite alright. I was just rereading. It's interesting how the Bard still manages to include these little gems of wisdom even in an otherwise ludicrous setting."
"I'll take your word for it," she said as she sat down next to him on the bed and kissed him.
"Won't you at least give it a try?" he asked.
"You know I don't have the patience for Shakespeare, darling. Not to read it, anyway. But you can recite it to me anytime you want", she smiled, leaning in for another kiss.
"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind / And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind", Jack quoted promptly in his deep voice, not even looking at the text, but putting the book away to focus exclusively on her.
"Perfect", she whispered, and he pulled her down into his arms and kissed her properly, sighing with the simple pleasure of holding her.
"What took you so long?" he murmured, kissing her neck.
"Well", she started, her eyes sparkling. "I had a little talk with Dot."
"Really? What about?"
"Her wedding night."
"Oh… I see." She had his full attention now.
"Of course, I didn't want to rush it."
"Of course", he echoed. "So… um… how did it go?"
"Quite well, actually. She's not nearly as shy and innocent as she was when I first met her, thank heavens. Though she still looked quite surprised at some of the things I told her, the lamb", she added fondly.
"I'm sure she did", Jack said, amused.
"Well, it's better to be prepared, don't you think?"
"Absolutely", he agreed earnestly. Then something very awkward occurred to him. "Phryne? You don't expect me to… to have the same talk with Hugh now, do you?" He got a squirming feeling of embarrassment just by thinking about talking to the younger man about these kinds of things, but Phryne quickly reassured him.
"Already taken care of", she replied happily. "I loaned him Erotica of the Far East, oh, ages ago. A book which you have found very instructive, I know." She grinned, and he smiled back, too relieved that he was spared an awkward conversation to mind that he was being teased.
"Anyway," Phryne continued. "I offered the same book to Dot, but she wouldn't touch it, so I had to talk to her instead. I'm afraid it was an uncomfortable half hour for her, but at least now she's prepared", she finished with a satisfied air. "I've done my duty."
"Is she scared?" he asked.
"Not my Dot!" Phryne replied proudly. "Although she is slightly nervous, of course, but that's only normal. After all, it's a big event for any young woman."
"Yes, I understand that." Jack looked at her silently for a minute, and when he spoke his tone was serious. "She's very lucky to have you."
"It was nothing", she said, but she seemed pleased nonetheless. Something in his voice seemed to grab her attention though, because she suddenly turned to him. "Is there any particular reason for your concern for Dot, Jack?"
He looked away, avoiding her eye and clearing his throat before he answered. "No, not really. I just think it's important, that's all."
He was aware that she was looking at him closely, and could almost feel her deduce certain things. He rather hoped she wouldn't, but she asked the question anyway, in a tone carefully kept light.
"What was your wedding night like?"
Now that it was out there, he felt that he might as well be honest. He looked up at her with a wry smile.
"Awkward. Very awkward. Look, we were both so young, and nobody had bothered to tell us… well, anything really." He felt a sudden stab of regret. Poor Rosie.
Phryne seemed to have followed his train of thought. "She was your first, I suppose?" she continued, gently.
"Of course", he answered, then rolled onto his back with a sigh, passing a hand over his eyes in a tired gesture. "Phryne, what did I know about women? I had no idea what I was doing, and neither did she. Frankly, I was terrified. We both were."
"I'm sorry", she said, her voice full of empathy.
He forced himself to smile. "It's alright. I suppose it must have been more or less the same for everyone back then. That's why I'm glad you talked to Dot", he continued seriously. "It's important that she knows what to expect."
"Well, she certainly does now", Phryne smiled, bringing the conversation back to a lighter tone. "And I threw in some advice for good measure."
Jack laughed. "I'm sure Hugh will be very grateful for that."
"I think so too", she grinned, then pushed herself up off the bed. "I'm going to change for bed."
But when she had disappeared into the bathroom and he heard water running, Jack's mood turned somber again as his thoughts involuntarily returned to Rosie and that first night, before the War, when they were newly married. Even though he knew he wasn't to blame, it was a painful memory, and as he undressed, he wished for the hundredth time that it could have gone another way. If he had known then what he knew now, everything might have been so different. He got into bed with a sigh, and as he lay there, waiting for Phryne, he let his mind wander.

It was cold in the little room. An early autumn chill had crept in through the window and had not yet been vanquished by the little fire the landlady had lit for them in the hearth. Shivering in his underwear, Jack emerged nervously from the tiny bathroom, hoping that he had given Rosie enough time to change. He had no idea how long women usually took to get ready, but when he entered the bedroom she was already in bed, the covers drawn up to her chin – whether because she was cold or shy was beyond Jack to deduce. At the soft click of the door closing behind him, she sharply turned her head to look at him with eyes that were dark and apprehensive in the scarce light of the fire.
"Can I… Is it okay if I come in?"
"Yes, yes of course", she replied, before returning her gaze to the wooden beams of the ceiling. She looked so forlorn, so small and frightened, alone in the big bed, that he suddenly forgot his nerves and rushed to her so he could hold her, protect her, make her feel warm and loved.

As he drew back the covers and climbed, shivering, into bed with her, she turned her head a little and gave him a fleeting smile that made his heart flutter madly, but then she returned her eyes to the ceiling with a scared but determined expression that made him forget his outburst of chivalry as he was drowned, once again, in nerves. The day had passed in a haze for Jack, a haze of flowers and music and far too many people, but always there had been Rosie's smile, making him feel dizzy with happiness whenever he saw her. There had been moments of dazzling sunlight flashing out from between the clouds, and finally running towards the car in the pouring rain, hand in hand as people behind them waved and cheered, to collapse, panting, soaked and laughing in the car to leave for their honeymoon in the hills.

But in the cold, half-lit gloom of their hotel room, the laughter left them as their situation suddenly became very real. They were awkward and clumsy around each other, not knowing what to say, what to do. Rosie was a brave and strong woman, even then, but she was also a girl, young, inexperienced, taken that morning from the house of her father never to go back there, by this man with whom she had never spent more than a few hours alone. Jack felt for her, he really did, but having come only recently from the Cadet Academy, he knew about as much about women as he knew about giraffes, and he felt it keenly. He was at a loss about what to do with this slender young girl, who had wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to stay warm. His first impulse was to go and comfort her, but he had never been good with spontaneous shows of affection, and she was not inviting him in. Still, he knew that he had to do something, because they couldn't just keep standing there on opposite sides of the room, avoiding each other's eye and dripping on the carpet. In the end, Jack removed his coat and shoes and put them by the fire to dry. Rosie did the same, and when she was standing close to him in the soft glow of the flames, he carefully took her in his arms and pulled her against him. She returned his embrace, but stiffly, and when he leaned in to kiss her, she lowered her face and asked him in a murmur if he would give her a moment to change.

He understood that she was scared and nervous about what they were about to do, but lying beside her in the slowly warming bed, it hurt him to see her so detached from him. He stroked her hair timidly as he wondered if anyone had talked to her and told her what to expect. Rosie's mother had died when Rosie was still a small girl, so Jack suspected that her apprehension was caused at least partially by fear of the unknown. But someone, probably a well-meaning aunt or friend, had apparently told her that it was going to be painful, he could see that from the way she held herself stiffly even as he caressed her. He had heard the stories too, whispered by buddies in the Academy, how it hurt for women, especially the first time, and to be honest, he wasn't at all keen on inflicting her any pain. It seemed like a brutal and cruel thing to do to the vulnerable person lying next to him.

"Rosie…" he whispered, and she finally turned her head and looked at him. "Rosie, if you want, we can wait a few days… you know… until we get used to each other a bit." He was half hoping that she would say yes, because he was scared, too, scared of not doing it right, scared of hurting her. He felt supremely unprepared for this moment, with nothing but some borrowed pictures of scantily clad ladies for education about the female body, and nothing but some advice from equally uninformed peers, half of which he didn't believe anyway. But the life finally seemed to return to her eyes as she firmly shook her head.
"No, I don't want to wait."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Now that we're married, we should properly be like husband and wife."
He got such a strong sense that she just wanted to get it over with already that he began to insist they wait, but at that moment she turned towards him and shifted a bit closer, allowing herself to be taken into his arms, and when he looked into her eyes he was lost. She was so lovely. He bent his head to softly kiss her lips, and felt desire stir within him, a longing for her which was urgent and strong for all that it was undefined. He decided to stop his worrying and to let his body take the lead. As he kissed her more deeply, he finally felt her respond to him. She seemed to relax a little, fitting her body more easily into his, and opening her mouth a little to allow him in. When she timidly stroked his shoulder, he felt brave enough to let his hand wander from her waist, his heart thumping almost painfully in his throat as he gently traced his fingers over the white cotton of her night gown until he reached a breast. She drew back from him, a little breathless, and he was afraid that he had lost her again until he saw her raise a hesitating hand to undo the laces at the front of the night gown. The fabric fell open to reveal a breast and Jack felt his mouth go dry. He touched her, fingers trembling slightly, marveling at how soft her skin was, how perfectly the curve of her breast fit in his hand. When he brushed the small pink nipple, she gasped and he drew back his hand as if he'd touched something hot.
"Did I hurt you?" he whispered, his voice huskier than usual.
"No…" she replied, seeming surprised by her own reaction.
To be on the safe side, though, he didn't do it again, but instead drew her closer and kissed her. Urged on by a tension in his loins that was fast becoming unbearable despite his apprehensions, he slid his hand down over her hips, gently stroking her thigh until he found the hem of her night gown. Receiving her nod of permission, he lifted it as she rolled on to her back. Continuing his kisses on her lips, her cheek, her neck, he let his fingers trace upwards along her inner thigh until he felt soft down, then something warm and soft. She stiffened under him and he immediately withdrew his hand and looked at her. Her lips were pale and her eyes were dark and glittering, whether from excitement or fear he couldn't tell. The determined look had returned to her face.
"Alright," she whispered. "I'm ready."
He wasn't sure she was, but he wanted to hold her so badly that he obeyed her without much thinking and took off his underwear. She kept her eyes fixed firmly on the ceiling, not looking at him as he undressed. He gently placed his weight on her and pushed up her night gown even further so he could lie between her thighs. He felt an awkward mixture of nerves and an overpowering desire that made him shake as he reached down again to feel his way. He had no idea what he was going to encounter there, precisely – the few pictures his friends had given him had shown nothing but emptiness between the legs, but he had a vague idea of what to expect. Still, his mind reeled as his gently probing fingers found warm, soft folds that yielded to his touch and left his fingers just a little damp. His desire for her became almost painful, and he had to clench his jaw to maintain control over his own body.
"Please Jack," she whispered, still lying stiffly under him. "Please just… just do it."
Even though he felt dazed with suppressed desire, he hesitated again, not wanting to do anything that might be unpleasant for her. When she sensed his hesitation, she looked into his eyes. Her expression was unreadable in the dying light of the fire.
"If we don't do it now, it will have to be tomorrow or… or the day after that. It won't be too bad if you're careful." She tried to smile and he felt his heart go out to her. He would do anything she asked of him. He just wanted her to let him love her.

As carefully as he could, he placed himself at what he thought must be the right spot and gently pushed. Nothing happened, and she shifted uncomfortably. He tried again, blindly feeling his way until he found a small opening, then he pushed again and this time he slid inside just a little bit. He encountered resistance and he felt her tense, but she urged him on again with a pleading 'Jack', and as he gently pushed in deeper, the resistance suddenly gave way to an exquisite, throbbing heat that enveloped him and made him gasp for breath. He barely registered her soft little cry, as pleasure such as he had never imagined washed over him and made him moan. He pulled back and pushed back in, as carefully as he could manage, but a soft whimper from her made him stop, trembling, as he gazed concernedly down at her. She was biting her lip, and he wanted to pull back, slightly panicked, but she held him where he was.
"No, don't stop now, it doesn't really hurt much."
As gently as he could, he pushed back in, and again, all the while looking down at her, hoping to get some response from her, but she grasped the sheet and lay unmoving under him. He couldn't take it any more – fire ran through his body as he pushed in one more time, and he uttered a hoarse cry as a new, intense wave of pleasure washed over him. He shuddered and collapsed on top of her, breathless and sweating. Very quickly though, he came to his senses again and lifted himself up on an elbow to get his weight off of her. He looked at her with concern.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes," she whispered back, and he noticed that she seemed relieved that it was over. He rolled off of her and kissed her, stroking her hips and her thighs until he noticed something wet on his fingers.
"Oh God, you're bleeding! I hurt you!"
"It's alright," she calmed him. "It's supposed to bleed a little."
"Are you sure?" He felt a bit panicky. He had heard the same thing, but it had been one of the things he had dismissed as nonsense. If he had known beforehand that he would hurt her until she bled, he would never have done it, he swore to himself. She pushed herself up on an elbow and winced a bit.
"Yes, I'm sure… though I don't know if… if there's supposed to be this much blood…" she looked a bit scared, but quickly regained her composure as she saw him grow pale. "No, it's fine, I'm fine, don't worry about it."
"I'm sorry," he whispered, but she just shook her head and patted him on the arm.
"It's alright, it's normal. It will only bleed once and then it will never hurt again, so I'm glad it's over now. It wasn't so bad. Honestly."

But when she left the bed to go wash herself in the bathroom, he couldn't take his eyes off the dark spot of blood on the sheets and felt a painful, burning sensation of guilt and shame settle in his stomach.

"Jack? Are you alright?"
He was jolted back into the present by Phryne's voice as she emerged from the bathroom in her silver kimono, her hair a little damp and a concerned look on her face. He shook his head to clear it, then tried to smile at her.
"Just a bit lost in thought."
She sat down at her dressing table and began to remove her make-up, and Jack returned to his thoughts. Rosie had seemed fine the next day. She was positively cheerful at breakfast, chatting happily with the landlady, clearly exulting in her new status as a married woman. But it had taken Jack longer to recover from the shock. It had taken him days before he had dared to touch her again, and she seemed quite content with that, certainly never initiating any form of intimacy herself. When he finally did try again, more than anything driven by a desire to feel closer to her, she had not objected but had not encouraged him either, just lying there impassively until he was done. It had not made him feel better.
It was not, Jack reflected now, that Rosie had been unfeeling. He was sure that she had loved him back then, sure that she was happy with him. She had always been a clever, strong woman, and he had loved her for that, but she had lacked warmth, something she never seemed to have learnt to express. She also seemed to lack any desire for physical intimacy other than a simple hug or a kiss now and then. He wondered now if that was simply her way, or if it would have been different if he had known what to do, if he would have been able to awaken that part of her.
It had gotten better of course, over time. While never enthusiastic, she had always accepted his advances graciously – probably out of a sense of wifely duty, he now realized. He had tried not to bother her too often, and for a while, things ran smoothly between them. They were happy. Then she had gotten pregnant, and miscarried almost immediately. Jack had been devastated, heartbroken at the thought of having lost this little life, already so precious to him. He set aside his own sadness, though, to care for her – only to find, to his surprise, that she did not need much comforting. Though she did seem to feel the loss, after the pain had passed she carefully confessed to him that she did not feel a strong desire to have children. If she were to get pregnant again, she would of course be happy, she assured him. But if not… she wouldn't really mind.
After that, he initiated sex even less often, feeling that he had no right to inflict his desire on her for no good reason. Then the War came, and everything changed. When he came back, he was silent, withdrawn, prone to nightmares, while she had actively taken part in the war effort at home and had grown in confidence and ambition. They had returned to live together, strangers in the same house. It quickly became clear to Jack that they were no longer suited for each other. She was incapable of giving him the warmth and love that might have drawn him out of himself and started the healing process, while he was incapable of being the ambitious, decisive man she wanted beside her. They were no longer who they had been, and their marriage had been empty for years before she finally moved out.

Jack started as Phryne slipped out of her kimono and slid naked under the sheets, shivering as she nestled close to him. He made an effort to turn his thoughts back to the present, but his serious mood lingered, and she seemed to notice.
"A penny for your thoughts?" she asked quietly, but he just smiled down at her absent-mindedly and kissed the top of her head. She didn't understand what had come over him, but she could sense that something was wrong. Without words, she traced gentle fingers along his neck, his chin, the tense line of his jaw. After a while, he seemed to shake an unpleasant thought and become aware of her touch, looking as if he was only just now seeing her for the first time. He gazed down at her face, turned up to him with a caring and tender expression, her eyes calm and patient as she stroked his hair, gently bringing his attention back to her. When she noticed that he was present again, she gave him a such a beautiful smile that he was suddenly overcome by gratitude, gratitude that she had found him, that she had let him in and shown him a world of warmth, a world of love and mutual pleasure, the possibility of which he had only been dimly aware of. He turned to take her into his arms and held her tight.
"What's wrong?" she whispered. But instead of answering her he kissed her, slowly, deliberately, a kiss that left her breathless. After a while he broke contact just to look at her, to memorize her face and remember her exactly the way she looked tonight, her eyes dark pools in the half-light of the little lamp on her bedside table, a pink flush on her cheeks and her lips slightly parted after their kiss. He loved her without her make-up, loved how vulnerable she looked without it, as if she had taken off her armor and laid it aside to reveal herself, naked and defenseless, only to his eyes.
A sudden tight feeling in his throat made him break eye contact – alarmed by the unexpected intensity of his own feelings he gripped her tightly and buried his face in her hair until it passed and he felt he could contain his emotions again. She let him, holding him tight in return, offering wordless comfort without understanding why and without asking. When he released her, she reached up silently to kiss him on the cheek, a gesture that was so sweet and caring that he suddenly wanted nothing in the world except to be with her, to focus on her to the exclusion of everything else, to care for her and love her and show her how much she meant to him. He bent his head to lovingly kiss her hair, then her forehead and her eyes, and she allowed him, without moving, to cover her entire face with kisses. He kissed her nose, the curve of her lips, her perfect cheekbones. He realized how well he knew her, how much he loved every inch of her as he pressed his lips softly to the corner of her jaw, to her throat, the soft skin behind her ear.
"Could you turn around? Please?" he whispered, and she obeyed him without questions, moved by the earnestness of his request.
Again, he stopped for a minute to just look at her. He studied the shape of her, the smooth curve of her back, her arms under her head, her face turned away from him, with only a part of a cheek and the hint of her eyelashes visible. Then he bent forwards and kissed the nape of her neck, where the short black hairs made a startling contrast against the ivory glow of her skin. The warmth of his breath made her shiver slightly, and he moved on to kiss the curve between her neck and shoulder, then continued downwards, trailing kisses down her spine. She sighed contentedly and he felt her relax under his touch. He kissed her shoulders. Her shoulder blades. The little dip at the bottom of her spine. He ran his hand over the soft curve of her buttocks, then kissed the sensitive backs of her thighs. The hollow of her knees. Her calves. And very, very carefully, because he knew she was ticklish there, the soles of her feet.
She turned around without him having to ask her.
"Jack…" she started softly, but he closed her mouth with another kiss.
Slowly, he continued his journey down the front of her body, feeling her heartbeat when he pressed his lips to the warm skin of her throat, pressing an extra kiss to the little hollow just above her collarbone. He brushed his lips along her arm, kissed the crook of her elbow, the translucent skin of her wrist, the palm of her hand and each of her fingers, then did the same thing for her other arm. He trailed kisses between her breasts, and he kissed her nipples, but did not linger there. She stirred very slightly under his touch, but otherwise allowed him to continue unhurriedly as he kissed her stomach, her bellybutton and the soft down of her mound. She opened her legs to him, but he only pressed his lips to her an instant before continuing along the delicate skin of her thighs, her knees, her ankles. Finally, he pressed a soft kiss to each of her feet and slowly moved upwards again to take her in his arms.
Her desire for him had quickly been aroused, as always, but she had noticed his mood and, for once, she had not tried to rush him, but had patiently given herself over to the pleasure, the warmth of his lips on her skin, respecting his need for calm deliberation. But her own longing had built to the point where she shuddered when he pressed his mouth to hers, finally truly engaging with her, exploring her with his tongue as if it was the first time he had ever kissed her. She couldn't keep still anymore, but moaned softly as she turned to press herself against him, encouraging him to continue.
Like he did every time they made love, Jack marveled at her readiness, her enthusiasm and her obvious enjoyment. He refused to be rushed though, tracing the tip of his tongue along her lips before engaging in another slow, sensual kiss, sinking into it until he felt that he was drowning in her, so close to her that he was losing his sense of self, a connection that went beyond the physical, beyond words like sex or emotion or even love. Words were meaningless in this undefinable sense of belonging. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to dedicate himself to her body and soul – to please her was his only desire, and when he felt her impatience, he gladly gave in to it as his own body responded in kind.
Kissing her neck he moved downwards until he found a nipple, and she tangled her fingers in his hair as he took it into his mouth and sucked, making her utter little sounds of pleasure that were music to his ears. He took his time, skillfully using his mouth and hands to increase her arousal to the point where she closed her eyes and moaned, shifting her hips in an unconscious rhythm that signaled her desire. Again, he obeyed her without thinking, moving down and kissing the inside of her thighs before pressing his warm mouth to her, and when she gasped loudly, he felt a fierce rush of satisfaction as he began his thorough exploration. He let his tongue run along her folds, eliciting more moans of pleasure from her, and pushed in his tongue, then moved slightly upwards to draw slow circles that were sure to drive her to distraction. Sure enough, when he finally reached the right spot, her reaction was immediate and strong, her breath coming in gasps as she grasped the sheets with both hands and surrendered to him completely. He reveled in the skill he had to make her react like this, knowing what she wanted, what she liked, and how to achieve it. He slightly picked up the pace and held it when her muscles tensed and she began to tremble. He noticed that she held her breath, and suddenly she stilled, then cried out loudly as she convulsed under him, while he slowed down gradually to extend her pleasure as long as possible. He let her recover for a moment or two, then reached up and entered her with two fingers, and she immediately arched her back and inhaled sharply as he pushed upwards, then put his mouth to her again as he continued. Her every breath was a moan now, she threw back her head and shuddered from head to toe as her second climax built quickly and broke over her, leaving her breathless and quivering, but he eased up for only a few seconds before starting again, and she gasped loudly and gripped the sheets convulsively.
"Jack…" she tried to protest weakly, but he didn't let her continue, and she was rendered helpless under his skillful caresses. He was vaguely aware that he was overcompensating, but he didn't pursue the thought as he focused exclusively on her, his own desire unimportant, deriving his pleasure from hers, indulging in the luxury of being able to bring her such enjoyment. When she started shaking under him again and sobbed out his name, it was pure bliss, and it was with a feeling of regret that he finally slowed down and disengaged, pressing one last careful kiss to her that made her shiver and shift away from him, before sitting up to look at her.
She lay, utterly spent, among the rumpled satin sheets, and he realized with a shock that she was crying, tears streaming silently over her cheeks. Alarmed, he rushed to take her in his arms and she clung to him as he comforted her with the warmth of his body and the soothing rumble of his voice.
"Phryne", he whispered, concerned. "What's wrong?"
She shook her head helplessly and he realized that she had probably picked up on his serious mood and responded instinctively with an unusual emotionality that she couldn't quite understand.
"I'm sorry", he murmured, stroking her hair. "Too much?"
"Well… no, but… yes…", she suddenly laughed through her tears. "I don't know what came over me."
"Did I do something wrong?"
"No, of course not! I just… it's just…", she seemed to struggle to put her feelings into words, before hiding her face against his chest. "Oh Jack, I'm just happy."
He felt a warm glow steal through him at those words, mingled with relief. She suddenly looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Though I don't know what possessed you just now. Were you trying to kill me? Honestly."
"Are you okay?" he smiled.
"Well, yes, just give me a week or so to recover", she sighed.
"I hope it won't be quite as long as that", he murmured, nuzzling her neck, finally acknowledging his own desire now that she was calm again. She sniffed huffily, and pretended to turn away from him, but he noticed the smile playing around the corners of her mouth and he pulled her closer.
"Oh, don't you start now", she said in mock indignation as she pushed him away. "I'm exhausted, and it's your own fault."
"Mmm", he rumbled, his lips tantalizingly close to hers. "Are you sure I can't persuade you… somehow?"
She managed to hold off for one more moment before succumbing to him and sinking into his embrace. She moved her hand down to caress him, but he caught her wrist and wouldn't let her. Then she tried to make him lie back, but again, he wouldn't let her, still intent on pleasing her rather than allowing her to please him.
"Jack, what are you doing?" she asked him, gently, but he kissed her to stop her from talking and moved to lie on top of her, careful not to put too much weight on her. She stopped struggling then to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him enthusiastically, pressing her hips against him urgently, showing him that she wanted him. He obeyed the pressure gladly, guiding himself confidently to her opening, his own breath coming fast as his excitement rose sharply, then he thrust inside her with one quick, fluid movement that drew a soft cry of pleasure from her lips. He gasped at the heat and wetness of her, the well-known feeling that was ever new and satisfying, and as he thrust in again, hard and deep, she arched her back to meet him. When she wrapped her legs around him to take him in deeper, he felt a rush of joy at her enthusiasm, and a sudden return of his apprehension that he shouldn't, in his own pleasure, forget her needs. So he shifted his body slightly until he could move his hand between them and placed his thumb on a certain spot between her soft curls. She gasped and stilled, catching his hand and pulling it away, breaking their rhythm.
"Jack, stop it", she said, breathing fast, concern in her eyes. She firmly kept hold of his hand as he tried to pull free. "No, don't. Darling…" She placed a gentle hand against his cheek. "Look at me. You're allowed to enjoy yourself too, you know. Please…" She touched her lips to his. "Please just let go."
She said it so earnestly that he finally felt his resistance break. He allowed her to push him onto his back and surrendered to her as she came to lie on top of him, kissing his chest and his throat. He sighed and encircled her in his arms, holding her close as she guided him in and pressed downwards, making them both moan. He closed his eyes and groaned as he finally allowed pleasure to wash over him, consuming him completely, his mind empty of all thought as he bucked his hips to take her deeper, thrusting in again and again with utter abandon. When he felt the tension build, he did not try to control it, but surrendered to it gladly, allowing it to run its course until everything was fire, and he let go while crying out her name.

For several long moments afterwards, he was barely aware of his surroundings as he tried to catch his breath, his mind gloriously blank and suffused with a pleasant sort of fog. Then he became aware of the slight weight of Phryne's body on his, and he hugged her closely, smiling blissfully as he kissed her hair. She looked up at him and smiled back.
"You're wonderful", he whispered, still basking in the afterglow.
"I know", she replied smugly, then slid off him to nestle her head in the hollow of his shoulder. He stretched luxuriously and happily allowed her to drape an arm over his chest and intertwine a leg with his. When she was comfortable, she allowed him a few moments of peace before looking up at him.
"So… care to tell me what that was all about? Why the sudden need for self-sacrifice?"
He hesitated, not sure of how much he should tell her, what would be appropriate. "It was nothing… just something I was struggling with."
"Yes, I'd figured that out on my own", she replied tartly. Then her demeanor softened. "Darling, you do know I think you're marvelous, don't you?"
He sighed. "Sometimes that's hard to accept. It's difficult to know when to stop, when it's enough…"
"You think too much", she smiled.
"Well, I'm not arguing with that", he smiled back.
"Don't overthink this", she continued softly. "You know so well what to do, you always do. Don't let your worries get in the way of that." She lifted her head to look at him. "You're allowed to be selfish every once in a while. There's nothing wrong with that. Your pleasure is just as important as mine."
He looked back at her, clearly not convinced that that was true. She sighed, knowing that she wouldn't be able to get through to him right now.
"Look," she said, laying her head back down and shifting even closer to him. "You don't have to tell me what suddenly brought on this feeling of inadequacy on your part, I don't need to know. But please just talk to me the next time something's bothering you. I was caught completely off guard. Not that it wasn't very pleasant", she smiled.
He chuckled with a soft rumble in his chest, and they were both silent for a moment or two. Then she suddenly sat up with a purposeful expression on her face, and before he knew it she was on top of him again, sitting astride his stomach, her hands on his chest, an earnest, appealing look in her eyes as she looked into his.
"What are you doing?" he asked, amused.
"Making sure I have your full attention", she replied, unabashed. "Because this is important. For there is one thing you seem not to realize, Jack Robinson, and that is that your pleasure is just as important to me as mine is to you. If you like to make sure I'm satisfied, that is equally true for me. I don't think you've quite thought of that, have you? And if you don't allow me to do anything for you, you're denying me the pleasure of spoiling you, which I love to do", she purred seductively as she leaned forward to kiss him.
He looked at her in wonder as his perspective shifted drastically. Was it really the same for her as it was for him?
"Will you allow me that?" she asked quietly, trailing her fingers through his hair.
"I'll try", he replied earnestly, and she grinned as she slid off him.
"Good", she teased him. "That's really all I'm asking for, you know, that you relax and enjoy yourself every once in a while. I hope you can find it in yourself to fulfill that arduous task whenever you have the strength for it."
He laughed. "I'm sure I'll be able to manage that."
She threw him a tender look, then returned to her usual brisk manner as she stepped out of the bed. "I think I can use another bath. Care to join me?"
"When have I ever said no to that?" he smiled, eagerly getting out of bed to follow her to the bathroom. But he caught her halfway across the room and pulled her close from behind, closing his arms around her stomach and nuzzling her ear.
"Thank you", he whispered. She leaned her head back against his shoulder in a wordless 'you're welcome'. "And you know", he continued, teasing. "If you're very good, I won't move again tonight and you can do whatever you like with me later."
She turned, her eyes bright, to throw him her most seductive look. "I must say I like the sound of that, Inspector."
He smiled again as he kissed her.