"Why are we doing this?" Ichabod whined, in no way pathetically, as Abbie reclined against him on the porch step in the mild warmth of late morning sushine. "Why not just skip it?"

"No," Abbie said in her most resolute tone. "We are not skipping dating, we just . . . accidentally switched up the process a little."

"I stand by my idea." ( still not pouting) "I'd much rather . . . " he pressed a long kiss to the top of her head . . . "simply. . . (kiss) ". . . marry you. Honestly, in our unique circumstance isn't the rest a moot point?"

Abbie chuckled but stayed focused on her notebook, which was filled with notes regarding the Demon of The Week.

Ichabod continued to make his case, undeterred by her lack of response. "The way I understand this 'dating' concept, the point is for two people to get to know one another and test their compatibility. We've done that!" He squirmed out from behind her and moved to the next step down, swiveling to face her as he settled. "Haven't we?"

The tiny woman rested the notebook in her lap and replied with a playful smirk. "In the modern world being an actual couple is a whole different thing, Ichabod. Trust me. No matter how in love you are."

"But you do love me?" He wasn't actually worried at all in regard to her feelings, but at that moment he felt the need for some spoken validation.

"Yes. But but I wanna have more than love on our side for the long haul, okay? Once upon a time I was basically convinced Luke was the perfect guy for me. We'd worked together as friends for years, so I knew him really well when we started dating - and it feels weird to eve say it now, but if he'd asked me to marry him like eight minutes in? I probably would've said yes." She shrugged and snapped her fingers. "Like that. Y'know, gotten caught up in the excitement, and romance, and married him. But in the real world when I started talking about Quantico, deep down I think we both realized I didn't love him enough to pass it up, and he didn't love me enough to leave Sleepy Hollow." She shrugged again. "Whether we wanted to to admit it or not."

Ichabod inched forward to nuzzle her throat. "I still find this caution unnecessary. In our particular case."

Abbie tipped her head back as Ichabod went on with his soft attentions, fully aware that he was using the affections as a further argument in favor of his 'screw caution' strategy.

"You're not gonna let go of this are you?" She sighed.

"Mmmmm," he rumbled against her skin. "I just find it contradictory, dearest. You allowed me inside your body so quickly, yet you won't accept a proposal. You must admit it's rather backward." He made his way to her mouth and kissed.

"Okay," Abbie murmured when he backed away just enough to allow a sliver of space between them. "A compromise. We can . . . I guess . . . truncate the dating thing."

Ichabod leaned back with a broad smile. "Offer accepted. Now -" he snatched the notebook from her hands and picked up the pen by her side. "Let's talk terms. What ground must we cover before you will permit me to at least purchase a ring?"

Abbie shook her head and laughed. "You're so much fun. Um . . . well, I'll go ahead and count all of our time as flirty friends," she winked, "as the equivalent of a first few dates."

"I do so appreciate the concession," said Ichabod as he both wrote down and crossed off 'first dates.' "Done. Continue."

"Meeting the parents is out by default. So next would be . . . a trip away together. Just the two of us day after day, no distractions."

He wrote down 'trip.' And tapped the pen on the pad. "I presume then cohabitation would be the next logical step?"

"Mm - hm." Abbie nodded. "Normally I'd say for at least a year - but," she added before Ichabod could deflate completely, "since you are right about our special circumstances, I'll say . . . three or four months depending on how it goes."

Ichabod wrote it down.

And then you'll let me hunt down a ring beautiful enough for this finger?" He traced his thumb over the unadorned digit and let his voice ooze with shameless flirt. "I believe that task alone could take another year."

The extra effort was not lost on Abbie. "Trying to charm our way to a yes, are we?"

"Absolutely," Ichabod mused as he he ran his free hand up her thigh and pulled her into a long kiss. "May I presume the tactic effective, or shall I descist?"

. . . .

They only made it a few steps into the house before Abbie climbed up Ichabod's lanky body with his assistance and wrapped her legs around his waist. He meanwhile saw no point in traveling all the way to the bedroom when there was a perfectly sturdy, large table in the kitchen area.

"You deserve a thousand engagement rings, Abbie," he panted while she unbuttoned his shirt. "Your pick of the lot for any given day!" He reached beneath her skirt to get rid of her panties, then undid his pants as she leaned back and splayed her legs wide to take him.

From the lust heavy look on his face, she expected him to thrust with swift vigor. Instead he positioned their bodies so that his hardness slid through the full length of her sex rather than enter. Teasing inside only somewhat with each back and forth of his hips.

"How very eager . . . " he purred as she failed to bite back a soft mewling, and his shaft grew harder still, quickly slickEd with their mutual arousal.

He helped Abbie unbutton her shirt. She of the rest, then leaned back again, propped up on her elbows and already suffering through the frustration of a small orgasm as she waited impatiently for more.

"Mean." She rasped. "Really fucking mean."

"If I am to suffer drawn out courtship . . . " Ichabod said as he pulled back and adjusted himself, chuckling low and unabashedly cruel. "You will suffer drawn out satisfaction." He rocked slowly forward, this time taking her halfway. "Not quite so fun as those ridiculous romance films would have you believe . . . is it?" He hissed as another forward rock lead him deeper inside.

Abbie released a long, ragged breath, still waiting for a proper thrust.

"More of a frustration, yes?" He asked, mostly succeeding in disguising his body's own impatience.

She only mewled and nodded in response.

"A proper reply, please." Ichabod ordered, still somehow managing to hold the air of authority in his voice despite the inviting warmth shuddering against the pulse of his sensitive flesh. "Manners and all . . . " he gripped her by the hips and pulled her forward, effectively brining her bit by bit over him.

"Yeah." She panted, her core happily welcoming the fullness of his rigid lust. "Yeah. Kinda sucks -AH!" She cried out as he went to work stroking her clit in a circular motion. "Ah, ah, ah, ah . . ."

The needy chant went on quietly as Ichabod propped himself on the table to keep from pitching down completely and pinning her to the table. Once steadied, he guided her hand between their bodies. "Some assistance, Leftenant." He whispered, struggling to ignore the demands of his straining length just a few seconds longer. But his beautiful Abbie possessed such an awareness, such control of her own pleasure, Ichabod felt the success of her masturbatory touch shivering around him immediately.

Sod it, I am lost! He clutched Abbie's right thigh. Beyond hope . . . He abandoned all thought of restraint and gave in to an aggressive thrust, his pace athletic, somehow loving and forceful in the same moment.

"Abbie! Abbie! Abbie!" He rasped, his whole body lit with the heat of approaching climax.

"Mm! Mm! Mm! Mm! She cried and convulsed as powerful release shivered through her spine and legs, both moving toward her lively sex, ready to collide and explode. "So - AH! So . . . " she bucked wild against him and pressed her clit with an assertive massaging touch. "So! So! Close!" Abbie's words dissolved into a pitchy whine as the wet flesh of her center pressed in to receive the greatest impact of her lover's ardent efforts.

Even the most logical, sturdiest parts of Ichabod's mind crumbled to pure orgasm with the relief of a lost man finding home. "I love you." He whispered breathlessly over and over again as he spilled inside her warm depth and rattled to a finish. "I love you."

The need to make sure Abbie came for as long as possible almost immediately took priority over his urge to rest. So he rallied the energy to lavish her breasts with attention while his fingers slid into her, replacing his spent erection, petting the places inside her that he knew responded especially well to a more focused attention than a man's hardness could generally provide.

"Love you so much," he went on whispering as he kissed and nuzzled the soft, rounded flesh of her breasts and up elegant line of her throat. "My beautiful . . . powerful . . . . . . my Abigail . . . "

He snuggled close and drew his mouth along the contours of her ear, warm breath tickling over her skin. "Ooooooooooh, that such a soul chose me among all men? That alone is wealth enough to shame Kings!"

Abbie bucked and whimpered against the joined skill of both their hands as her throaty mewl built to a single coherent cry. "Crane! Crane! Crane! ICHABOD!"

His whispered speech continued as busy fingers scissored and pushed. "I pity them their poverty, Abbie. . . with their silly, silly coin fortune . . . "

At your eternal service, he thought with what he felt was earned arrogance as the heated 'moment' continued to writhe through her body, sometimes calming down only to rage again. Without fail . . .

He did not withdraw until he was sure her body had settled for the final time, nestled into the clam of afterglow, fully sated.

Abbie moaned quietly and stroked Ichabod's hair as he lifted them upright, her legs dangling off the table on either side of him.

Her touch was soft, and faint smell of sex lingered on her hand.

"We are damn special," she mumbled as her forehead lolled slowly back and forth across the prominent line of his clavicle.

A small frown knit itself to Ichabod's brow. "Honestly? . . . I hope for other's sake we are not so special - at least insofar as our feelings." He gave her small frame a gentle squeeze. "I would hope many thousands of people look at their mates and see someone fitted precisely to them. The one to withstand all quarrels, and squabbles . . . " he traced patterns over her curvy flesh with the back of his hand. ". . . And one day the ultimate test of a partnership."

His hand came to rest at her lower belly, and she understood the inference.

I could be a kickass Mom, she thought with a tiny smile.

"We're still doing the list, Crane." She cajoled with an affectionate giggle.

He tilted her head back and gazed in silence for a moment before descending to meet her mouth in a long series of soft, shallow kisses. "But you could then see us as parents?" He murmured, phrasing the question carefully. He didn't want it to sound as though he took for granted her willingness to bear him children.

She used her legs to hug him close, and nuzzled his nose. "As long as you don't mean a huge litter like they did back in your day. Two is as high as I go."

"Deal." Ichabod declared as he helped her off the table and fetched her clothes from the floor. "Anyhow, large families used to be practical." He stepped into his pants and hoisted them over long legs. "Between disease and injury, it was not uncommon for parents to bury several of their children before dying themselves. Ergo, the more children, the better the chances at least a few may survive to continue the bloodline."

Abbie shuddered as she buttoned her shirt. "I can't imagine."

They wandered back outside, this time opting for the porch swing they'd installed together the previous year. Ichabod fetched their notebook and pen from the top step before settling next to Abbie on the swing. He scribbled several items and addendums down on the list, then handed it to her for approval.

She cleared her throat, and read the full list aloud. "Brief period of dating. Trip away. Cohabitation, three to four months. Engagement. (Overdue) - arent we subtle -" she elbowed him. "Overdue wedding. Honeymoon. Married life of undermined years before -" she smiled at the final item. "Children. Maximum two. Names to be determined."

Ichabod put an arm around her shoulders and drew her close. "I wrote 'undetermined years,' though I meant of course at lest until after we've defeated the forces of darkness."

"Obviously." Abbie curled up and snuggled into his embrace.

"So that caveat notwithstanding, you do find these terms acceptable?"

"Hmmmmmm . . . " Abbie tapped the pen on her chin and pretended to be deeply considering the question. Just for the hell of it. "Well, okay." She drew a line at the bottom of the page, scrawled her signature, then drew another line next to it.

Ichabod grinned as she handed him the pen, signed quickly, and regarded the odd document with deep satisfaction. "How official."

"Naaaaaah," said Abbie as she squirmed her way to a more comfortable position against his lanky body. "That sounds too businesslike." She trailed her fingers over their respective names, in the process smudging the ink a bit. "Let's call it a prophecy."