Author's Note: Thanks to all who patiently awaited for the conclusion. And especially to those who left me little notes of encouragement along the way. You guys are the best!

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MATURE SUBJECT MATTER AND IS NOT SUITABLE FOR YOUNGER AUDIENCES. (I will be upping the rating for this fic to reflect this content.)

FOUR WEEKS LATER...

Nimble, slender little fingers fluttered over Jeff Clarke's bare skin, down his chest and stomach, along the waistband of his flannel bottoms.

"How's your hip?"

"Ouch," he said, and she hastily pulled her hand away.

"I'm sorry." Sarah's brown eyes widened with alarm. "Did I hurt you?"

Jeff chuckled, taking her hand and placing it back on his hip, pulling her down to lie partially on top of him again, placing a quick kiss on her sweet lips.

"Not physically. But you make me sound like an old man," he said. "Bad hip, bad back, grey hair... The other med students all call me 'Pops'..."

"I'm not indulging your Pity Party," she said, brushing a hand over the silver hair along his temples, the sprigs of it at his forehead. His hair was sort of more grey than brown anyway but the lighter grey showed. He was vain enough to notice, but not vain enough to try to hide it. Not to mention it also peppered his five-o'clock shadow, even the hair on his chest and...elsewhere. She kissed his grey-stubbled jaw. "You know I think it's sexy as hell."

"What's the technical psychiatric term for that?" He grabbed her, pulling her body down flush to his, making her laugh as he nuzzled the ticklish spot on her neck, about an inch below her ear. "Grandpa Fetish?"

"Ew! No," she protested, pushing at his chest to get away from the tickling of his nose and prickly unshaven chin against her skin. He let her go, loving how she always took a moment to stare into his eyes, directly into him, before she got seriously amorous with him. She propped herself up with her arms crossed on his chest and looked into his soul.

"Is this an issue for you, our age difference?" she asked. Her face was carefully schooled but her eyes gave everything away. Jesus, she really did like him. A lot.

"Maybe for everyone around us," he said, holding the intensity of her brown gaze. "But not for me." He smiled at her. "I just like to tease, you know."

She smiled back.

"I know." And then she was kissing a line down his chest and stomach, tracing the invading silver, her nimble, slender little fingers fluttering to the waistband of his pants again. "But it's my turn to tease."

She tugged his pants down exposing the hip she'd been worried about, with the neat white patch of gauze taped to the skin. It wasn't strictly necessary anymore, but it kept the rough fabric of his jeans from rubbing against the tender scar tissue.

"May I?" She looked up, her curly hair wild and buoyant about her pretty face. God, she was pretty. Especially from this angle, especially when his body was already anticipating what she was going to do to him, knew how she could make him feel, craved it.

"Please do, doctor," he said, making her blush as if it were a kinky game and not just the fact of the situation. She was a doctor. He'd been injured. Bullet removed from his hip, hairline fracture to his pelvis.

She removed the bandage, ran her finger over the puckered scar tissue, followed it with her soft lips. And then she pressed her thumb into it and the surrounding flesh, making him jerk and hiss.

She kissed it again.

"You're still not healed enough," she said, but there was more mischievousness than disappointment in her eyes. They hadn't done the full deed yet, but he by no means considered their four week old relationship unconsummated, or frustrated for that matter. They made out a lot, and touched and... used their mouths on one another but she'd imposed a ban on pelvic action until she deemed him in full health.

"What's the prescription, then, doctor?" He couldn't resist teasing her for some reason. Maybe it was because she was so fucking cute when she got all flustered. Or that he loved her laugh, especially when it was a reluctant giggle like it was now.

"Rest and relaxation," she announced in her authoritative medical professional tone. And then she was kissing a line from the scar on his hip inward, tugging his flannel bottoms down his thighs.

He tangled his fingers in the blankets, getting a good hold to anchor himself. Because he knew what that mouth of hers could do. And he also knew what she needed in order to give him what he desired. And she didn't like to be taken in that way. She liked to give at her own discretion. And oh, how she could give. It was well worth keeping his hands to himself while she did her thing.

"Strawberry, wait a second," He used his pet name for her when he could manage to breathe again. The first touch of her tongue to his sensitive flesh always took his breath away. She paused, shifting slightly and sweeping her hair back to look at him, a little bit puzzled by his request for her to stop. "Do something for me?"

She raised her eyebrows in disbelief. Really? Wasn't she already doing something for him? He chuckled and smiled at her.

"Do something more for me?" She gave him a fake 'put upon' look. "Tie your hair back. I want to see your face."

She turned a little pink but climbed off the bed and went for a hairband sitting on the nightstand.

"So you like to watch?" Her eyes were both teasing and scrutinizing. He'd realized very early on that she would never stop thinking or analyzing, even in the throes of passion. And she'd never stop dissecting him. He'd always been sort of closed off for the most part, but Jeff found himself quite enjoying her intense interest in him, in who he was, his thoughts and feelings.

"It's half the fun," he said, propping himself up on a couple pillows so he could get a really good view as she mounted the bed and proceeded to swallow him whole.

...

TWO WEEKS LATER...

The wine was sweet. And her lips were tingling. Sarah Reese opted to waken them back up by climbing into Jeff Clarke's lap and kissing him soundly on his own wine-stained lips. His hands immediately flew to her body, one anchoring the back of her head and neck as he deepened their embrace. The other roamed over her back, sliding up and down her spine, stroking her as if he was petting a large cat. And maybe she did purr. Or whatever the human equivalent was.

The man was just so good at touching her, kissing her. He'd likely be just as skillful at fucking her. No. Making love to her. It would be that for her. And she suspected for him, too.

She'd so been looking forward to this evening. They'd messed around a hell of a lot over the past month. They'd been waiting yet not really waiting at all. They'd wound up making out quite heavily, including some solid first and second base action, after their first official "date". Things had only intensified from there. It was interesting how the man could be simultaneously aggressive and respectful as far as amorous encounters were concerned.

Right now, she was straddling his lap as he sat on her couch, but he was the one controlling the kiss, manipulating her body into just the state he wanted her. He'd kiss her, and touch her, his hands now cupping and squeezing her ass, get her extremely stirred up, but he wouldn't push it to the next level. He'd wait for her to grind against him or reach for the hem of his shirt (or her own). Even when he obviously wanted nothing more than to take her, all of her, he only ever followed her cues.

She ran her hands down his chest and stomach, began unbuttoning the dress shirt he'd put on for her. (It was a special occasion, after all. Although she wouldn't have cared what he was wearing, the ultimate goal being to get him naked and have her way with him.)

He stole a few more quick kisses from her lips before he began attacking her dress as well, sliding the straps off her shoulders and down her arms, tugging the bodice down, exposing her naked breasts. She hadn't bothered with a bra, knowing his fascination when her pert nipples showed through her sleep shirts and camisoles when she dressed like she wasn't leaving the house that day. She had, however, worn the purple lacy thong that seemed to render him entirely speechless, and instantly aroused.

Not that it was necessary tonight. She could already feel the hard bulge in his pants between her thighs as he bent to nip at and lave her breasts. She wasn't particularly large in that department and he on occasion had managed to suck nearly half of one of a fleshy mound into his mouth. It had been a little startling and uncomfortable, but also sent jolts of her pleasure straight to the core of her. He didn't appear quite so voracious for her breasts tonight, simply nibbling at the hard buds of her nipples, making her arch her back and dig her fingers into his shoulders, whimpering.

He broke off, claimed her mouth once more, kissed her until she felt like she might be drowning, suffocating, but not caring. There were worse ways to die than being kissed into oblivion in this man's arms.

Ultimately, it was the desire to possess more of him that caused her to break the embrace, rather than the urgent need for oxygen. She went for his neck, kissed a trail partway down his chest, discovered that sitting on her couch wasn't the ideal position for this and extricated herself from his lap.

He growled in protest, reaching for her, but she took a step back. His steel-colored eyes were dark with lust but also held that playful glint the man often possessed. He leaned forward, trying to snag her again, but she hopped back another step and began to peel the clingy jersey sheath dress off the rest of her body, letting it fall to the floor, stepping out of it and continuing to stand beyond his reach, watching with satisfaction and a little smugness as his gaze dropped to the purple-lace thong barely covering the small strip of hair she hadn't had waxed off. (It was a special occasion, after all. Although he probably wouldn't have cared what state her nethers were in, the ultimate goal just being to get her naked and have his way with her.)

"I think it's time we take this to the bedroom," she said. He was jumping off the couch and on her before she could offer him a hand up. Somehow, his kisses were even more urgent as his hands found her waist and lifted her up. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. But maybe this wasn't the wisest move. She didn't want to break him before she'd fully enjoyed him.

"Should you be picking me up like this?" she asked, having to turn her head away to deter his tongue from silencing her mouth.

"It's hardly heavy lifting," he replied, cupping her ass and carrying her into the bedroom. "But if you insist..."

He tossed her on the bed, and before she'd even stopped bouncing on the mattress from the impact, he was going for the purple lace thong, raking it off her hips and down her legs and then he was parting her thighs and -oh, fuck, why was he so goddamned good at that?

Whereas he'd always brought her to climax before with the attentions of his mouth, he stopped this time just shy of getting her off, leaving her wound up tight and humming everywhere and sopping wet.

"Jeff..." she moaned his name in frustration as he paused to discard his clothing, returning to her completely naked, aroused and the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

"You're not going to come until I'm inside of you," he said, explaining why he'd cut his attentions short.

Her body seemed to agree, desire coiling even tighter deep in her belly, her skin tingling and sensitive. Because she'd been anticipating this, wanting this for what seemed an eternity now. It had only been what, a month and a half? And they'd had plenty of fun and physical intimacy. But still, she wanted him inside of her. She wanted to possess and claim him in that primal way. She'd tried to not let her anticipation get out of control. But they'd prepared for this, done the good responsible couple thing; testing for STDs and she'd gone on birth control. They'd waited until he was completely healed up from the gunshot wound, until she'd rebounded mentally from being stalked and assaulted. And she wanted this so badly.

"Jeff, please..." She knew she sounded pathetic but could care less as he mounted the bed and her, engulfing her in the luscious heat of him.

...

The wine hadn't been enough to make Jeff drunk, but Sarah Reese certainly was. She was the most intoxicating, addicting, stimulating woman he'd ever had the pleasure of kissing, touching, caressing, loving. Currently, she was a beautiful naked, writhing, whimpering... angel? goddess? None seemed quite accurate. To him, she was Sarah. And that encompassed everything she was and everything she made him feel.

And right now, she was making him feel bliss and lust so incredibly intense... He wanted this last untasted, untested intimacy. It was the only part of her unknown to him now. And he craved that knowledge of her, of how it felt to be inside of her, how they would fit together, how she might respond, sighing or gasping or moaning like when he used his tongue or fingers on her. And he was dying to know how she liked it.

"Tell me what you want, Sarah."

She stared up at him, her brown eyes dark and bright, pupils dilated large and black. He'd never seen her so intensely aroused before. It only compounded his own pressing need.

"I want you." She slid her leg up his side, her bare thigh like silk against his skin.

He growled. Before Sarah, he never made that sound before. He was quite sure of it. Because it had surprised even him when she'd pointed it out, teasing him before drawing out more than growls from his throat.

"That's pretty clear." He grabbed her thigh, ground his hips against hers, the friction nearly unbearable. A small squeak escaped her as her fingers dug into his arms. Perhaps a preview of things to come? God, he wanted to be inside of her. "But how do you want me?"

"All of you," she said. Well, the feeling was mutual there. He wanted all of her, too; every cell of her body to be his. "I want you as deep inside of me as you can go."

He groaned. Sarah Reese was so fucking hot. From the very beginning, she hadn't been afraid of expressing her desires. He thought that it wasn't because she was particularly bold, but because she'd been timid in the past and she didn't want to fall into that trap with him. Honesty had been a rule she'd set out early for them, and it worked. And it was actually quite the turn-on.

Pulling away from her, he positioned himself to fulfill her request and his dire wish.

"Please don't stop if I flinch," she said, which caused him to hesitate.

"I don't want to hurt you." He wanted her badly, but not at the cost of causing her pain. He didn't want to do this if she wasn't going to enjoy herself as much as he was.

"You won't hurt me, Jeff. It's just been a while." Had she not been intimate with Joey? Not that that was really any of his business. Not that he really cared at this moment.

She smiled at him as she touched his face, caressing his cheek, looking at him with affection. "Kiss me."

He obliged, the sweetness of her mouth, the sinful talent of her tongue doing things to his stirring up his arousal to nearly a throbbing ache once more.

"Now, fill me." She locked her dark eyes on him, rendered almost predatory with large dilated pupils. Yes, she was definitely just as hungry for him as he was for her. And he wasn't entirely sure who was in the dominant position even though his body was hovering over hers. "Fill me deep."

Jeff Clarke, former marine, knew how to follow orders. The satiny flesh between her thighs was rather damp (Sarah always got quite wet for him with the right sort of coaxing). But he still went for some extra lubricant because he really, really didn't want to hurt her while also wanting to give her precisely what she wanted.

Yet, he did have to push a little to sink himself deep into the wet heat of her. Her body felt tight and she did flinch, forcing him to grab a hold of her hip with one hand but she encouraged him with breathless, husky, dirty utterances until he bottomed out. And fuck, they fit together so perfectly. Her body had taken nearly all of him into that wet, silken flesh of hers. Warm and snug and perfect.

He shifted his weight forward and her legs came up to wrap around his waist, embracing him.

"Remember to breathe, Strawberry." She gasped and he swooped in to kiss the moan off her lips, swallowing her pleasure. He found her hands, entwined his fingers with hers, pinned them beside her head and just stared into the depths of her complex eyes. Because he knew what she liked, what she needed to truly enjoy their intimate, amorous experiences.

Her chest heaved, shuddering with uneven breaths as her insides quivered, tightening around him, fighting his invasion of her body and then finally relenting, relaxing their grip on him, stretching to allow him to sink deeper, blissfully deep. Naked flesh sliding against naked flesh.

He moaned. "You feel so good."

"Mmm... so do you, Jeff." He swore that the young woman could literally glow. And she was beginning to as she gave him a sultry look. It wasn't as vibrant as after an orgasm, but it was a clear sign she was already on her way there, just needed a little nudge. "Take me however you need to."

It wasn't as slow or gentle as he wanted their first time to be, but his control over his own body was honestly quite low as instinct and primal urges won out. But Sarah -oh, god, Sarah- she was very obviously thoroughly enjoying herself, matching his rhythm, lively and electric beneath him, her escalating arousal seeming to pour into him and compound his own, building towards a moment of pure ecstasy, a shared bliss that made his entire self hum, body and soul.

...

For some reason, the diagnostician side of Sarah's brain kicked in and tried to analyze what had just happened to her. Because it was a little beyond words to describe the emotional side. The doctor in her was insisting that she might have just died right there, her heart stopping for a moment. Or maybe it was just sensory overload resultant from a level of stimulation her nerves and brain just was not accustomed to. Not that Jeff Clarke hadn't brought her to orgasm before... But this, this she could safely say was the most intense orgasm she'd had in her life.

At first, she'd been nervous. The man always made her feel safe and protected but there was that sort of instinctive almost panic as he entered her. Because the sensation was so long-forgotten to be almost entirely foreign to her body. It had honestly been since she was an undergrad. She'd been so focused on med school, hadn't had time for dating (and she wasn't into flings or one-night-stands). As for Joey, neither of them had seemed to think anything of the slow pace they'd been taking. Probably because he didn't stir her like Jeff did. She felt more aroused just being near the older man than she'd ever felt making out with Joey.

And why was she thinking about anyone but Jeff Clarke as she lay in the afterglow of some truly fantastic sex? He was still on top of her, inside of her, panting against her neck as he came down from the climactic high. His weight was pinning her, pressing her into the mattress, but she still felt like she was floating.

"That... was... amazing." She was breathless herself. And she was honestly not even sure what he'd done to her after a certain point where he'd driven her so deep into ecstasy, she'd lost all contact with reality. It had just been him and her, and then just the pleasure, the bliss. Sort of an out-of-body experience, really.

Apparently incapable of forming words, he only groaned in response, long and low, rumbling from his chest into her breasts and deeper, touching her heart, which if she had to guess, was already in sync with his own. Maybe that's what that out-of-body sensation had been. Maybe that's why it was called La Petit Mort. Maybe that's why a person's heart skipped a beat or stopped for a split-second during climax, so that it could restart in sync with its counterpart, complete the joining with its other half.

He touched his lips to her neck in a gentle kiss, a rather chaste gesture after everything they'd just done. But not an unwelcome one. It was sweet and affectionate in a way her last sexual partner had never been after fucking her. And it softened the bereft feeling that washed over her along with the cool air as he extricated himself from her body to lay beside her. Would she never feel whole again without him lying in her arms, between her thighs, kissing her, filling her?

Was love as much that incomplete feeling when you were parted from the other half of your heart as it was the joy of being with them?

All Sarah Reese knew for certain was that she loved Jeff Clarke. This wasn't just infatuation, gratitude for his rescuing her and caring for her, or even a smitten sort of crush. Those were all part of it. But not the whole of it.

She snuggled up to his side, throwing an arm and a leg over his body that was just as damp with cooling sweat as her own. He felt quite warm, however, compared to how the air was chilling her skin. His arms wrapped about her as she nuzzled his chest and lay her head on his shoulder and she was engulfed in pure contentment. He'd brought so much to her life, had complicated her life (in a good way), adding depth and richness where she'd only had her studies, her work before.

"I love you," she said. He was silent for a moment, but it didn't hurt or worry her. Jeff Clarke never said anything he didn't mean. And he meant everything he said. So, if it took him a few minutes to figure out the truth of his heart, then that was fine by her.

"I think you might be the love of my life, Sarah."

She hadn't expected that profound of a confession from the man. She wriggled, causing him to loosen his grip so she could push herself up and stare down into his face.

"Really?" The insecurity and uncertainty and desire to believe that his confession was true was obvious in her tone, she knew. But she didn't care.

He smiled at her, cupping her face with one hand and stroking her cheek with his thumb. She instinctively leaned into the caress.

"No one has ever been as important to me as you," he said. "I've never loved anyone as much as I love you in my entire life."

His smile turned facetious. "Granted, there really was only Linda and Nat, but..."

"I know what you mean," she said. "I thought I loved someone before. But now I know it wasn't everything it should've been. It wasn't like this."

He pulled her down into a kiss. And it wasn't a lascivious one. Well, not wholly a lascivious embrace, but there was always a bit of that sexual chemistry to their touches. However, this one was mostly affection and joy.

When they broke apart she rested her forehead against his, enjoying the other sort of intimacy they shared, just being happy to be near each other.

"Thank you," she said. He'd saved her life literally and figuratively. He'd given it a meaning she'd been missing, searching for but hadn't been able to find.

"Don't thank me for loving you," he said. "You're the one who saved me, Sarah."

END

A/N: Well, that was a fun diversion. I hope you all enjoyed my little Clarke/Reese fantasy! Now back to writing my novels.

A/N2: If you like my style of writing, you should also try my writing buddy Marjorie K Place's new Chicago Med fic, Shot Through the Heart, a Will/Natalie fic with a little hint of Clarke/Reese.