A/N: This is my M-rated follow-up to Gift Wrapping, Chapter 5: Approval.

Accommodations

Erik pushed open the door of their hotel room and held it for Christine. Their supper at one of Seattle's best seafood restaurants had been much more pleasant than their Chinese food picnic, though he would never dare disparage her father's favorite restaurant.

He gratefully removed his jacket, carefully putting it on a hanger and placing it in the closet. He sighed when he felt her embrace him from behind, her breasts pressing into his back, her arms around his middle, and her head resting between his shoulder blades.

"I'm going to take a shower," she whispered into his shirt, which would, no doubt, prove to have make up stains when he removed it. "Would you like to join me?"

Erik's body went rigid – everywhere – and he heard her chuckle at his reaction. "Uh huh," he rasped, clutching at his necktie to loosen it. He was far too gone to care about the inelegance of his response.

She led the way into their expansive bathroom, which seemed to glow in the soft lights that had been installed every foot and half in the ceiling. The mirror was lit all around, encased in a frame of golden yellow florescent lights. The beige floor tiles and sandstone wall tiles looked peaceful in the soft light, and the black marble counter top and bathtub stood out in contrast.

Christine was headed for the glass-enclosed shower, shedding her shoes, blouse, skirt and underwear along the way. Normally, Erik would be appalled at leaving one's clothes scattered on the floor, but he admired her rush to undress. Rather than taking the time to properly care for his clothes, he compromised by piling them up in one corner of the bathroom. He placed his mask on top of the pile and joined her in the shower.

The shower itself would accommodate two people nicely, and there was a convenient little bench – big enough for one bottom – attached to the floor about a foot away from the far side of the shower. It was made to look like wood, and it was textured as if it had a grain, but Erik could tell that it was a synthetic material that would withstand the ravages of water.

She had already turned it up to a scalding temperature and was clipping her dark curls up in a high bun to keep it from getting wet when he closed the glass door behind him.

He watched the water stream over her bare breasts, past her stomach, into her short dark curls, and down her shapely legs. He joined her under the water, holding her in his arms as he bent for a slow kiss.

Her skin was slippery in his hands as his tongue reacquainted itself with her mouth. He walked her backward until she was pressed against the sandstone tiles, the care she had taken to protect her hair entirely useless now.

Erik gripped her backside while her fingers dug into his damp hair. He slid his member between her thighs and gasped into her mouth as he felt the warm sensation of slowly thrusting against her slick folds.

Christine moaned as one of his hands left her rear end and found its way between their stomachs. His thumb flicked her sensitive nub as his hips stilled. She arched her own hips towards him as he stroked and rubbed.

Erik continued his ministrations and lowered himself on his knees, ignoring the slight discomfort of kneeling on the tile. He gently parted her folds and replaced his thumb with his tongue, causing Christine to gasp and buck towards him. He held onto her hips as he licked and sucked and nipped at her clitoris. She writhed against the shower tiles as his tongue darted in and out, alternating between her warm core and her clitoris.

He brought back a hand and slid a finger inside her.

"Oh, God, Erik!"

He hummed his appreciation as she grasped his hair again, this time a little more roughly. A second finger joined his first, so he could scissor them, which he happened to know drove her wild, all while his tongue massaged her. Her moans grew louder and louder until she shuddered and fell silent. He withdrew his fingers, so he could steady her with both hands.

Erik was beginning to feel desperate for his own release, especially after hearing and feeling hers. She smiled serenely as he rose and took her hand, guiding her to the faux-wood bench. Christine obviously guessed his plan because she bent over, gripping each side of the textured bench.

Her lovely rear now on display, Erik took a moment to cup each cheek, giving them a tender squeeze before administering a quick slap to the left one, causing her gasp and wiggle her bottom. She peeked at him over her shoulder, as if to ask what was taking him so long.

Erik thrust into her warm core, as deeply as he could and held himself there, reveling in the feeling. He was careful to make sure her body was no longer under the water, so it didn't interfere with her natural fluids. He pulled himself out slowly and then thrust himself back in quickly as Christine moaned again, her knees straightening to accommodate the angle he needed.

There was no greater joy, no greater intimacy, than making love to her as he watched every expression on her lovely face…but Erik had to admit that bending her over and taking her from behind was an animalistic thrill. He felt powerful, like a wolf joining with his mate. Primitive, territorial, wild, illogical, but oh, so satisfying.

He held her steady as he pumped in and out, faster and harder. She threw back her head to scream his name over the sound of their flesh coming together. His passionate need was building inside him, and he was so close to finishing. He thrust even harder, panting for it, until, finally, he exploded with pleasure, rocking into her one last time as he rode it out.

Erik pulled out and helped her stand upright.

"I guess I do need to wash my hair now," she panted faintly, embracing him for a moment and planting a light kiss on his chest before taking her hair down. He nodded and kissed lips one more time before grabbing a towel from the faux-wrought iron towel rack. He patted himself dry as she hummed the "Je veux vivre" from Romeo et Juliette a couple of steps down from the original key.

Erik picked up his own pile of discarded clothes and carried them into the bedroom. He started hanging them up, but before he put his trousers on the hanger, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He typed in the passcode and opened his text messages from the jeweler.

He stared at the picture the jeweler had sent of his progress, admiring how well his vision was coming together. He turned off his phone when he heard the water stop running.

Christine came out of the bathroom and threw herself onto the bed, habitually taking the side she slept on when she stayed overnight at his house – their house, he reminded himself. She switched on the flat screen television and found an old movie they had both seen. When he was done taking care of his clothes, she patted the bed beside her.

Erik climbed in and put an arm around her shoulders. She cuddled up next to him as Lauren Bacall told Humphrey Bogart how to whistle. She was asleep before Bogie had finished trying it out.