A/N: So I promised this chapter to TheVelvetDusk a long time ago. It took me way too long to follow through but here it is! The fifth bonus chapter of Up In Smoke.

Be warned this is shameless smut. Highly emotional, shameless smut. (Which honestly these two deserve given what they went through in the previous four chapters.) It warrants a rating change on the story, so this takes it from a questionable T to a firm M. (which dooms it to the tricky FFN filter no man's land but whatevs, Lucy and Wyatt need this.)

Happy reading!

angellwings

PS - please forgive the typos. I have read and reread this till I'm sick of looking at it, but I'm sure I missed some things.

The hardest thing I ever learned was,

You're only gonna know what you've got,

When you know it's not coming back.

You're only gonna know what to say,

When it's too little, too late.

It's me and my heart alone in the dark,

And now you're gone like you said you'd be gone one day,

If I didn't change.

And I learned that the hard way.

-"The Hard Way" by The Shires

The bunker was still the bunker. It still smelled like musty recycled air. It was still drafty in all the strangest places. It still echoed sound no matter how quiet you thought you were being. Like now as it echoed their clumsy footsteps toward Wyatt's room. They had parted for as long as they could stand, which was from the common area to the hall, but they came back together long before they reached his door.

Wyatt was walking her backwards toward his door while he kissed her senseless. She was surprised her legs were still moving. His kisses were too heady. They were like a drug that forced her to focus all her motor skills on her lips. She had none left for walking. With the exception of her white knuckle grip on his cheeks, her limbs felt like jelly.

But this was apparently a problem he was all too happy to resolve for her. He stopped walking, hooked his hands under her ass, and hoisted her up until her legs were wrapped around him and her feet no longer touched the ground. Her clumsy and heavy limbs would no longer impede his progress toward the privacy of his room.

With his hands full of her, he couldn't open the door. He pressed her into the wall next to the door, using it as leverage to hold her against him with one hand. While he reached a hand over to open his door, his lips slipped from hers to kiss a trail down her neck. Her v-neck T-shirt dove down toward her modest cleavage and gave him access to more skin. His hips pushed against her center as his lips skimmed the top of her breast. She gasped out his name in a voice so desperate that she hardly believed it was her own.

Finally the heavy metal door opened and he carried her inside, letting the weight of the door slam loudly behind them.

"Say it again," he pleaded as he lowered her to his cot.

"What?" She asked in a daze as he sat her on the edge of the sad excuse for a bed.

"My name," he said as he ghosted his lips over hers. "Say it again."

Her eyes met his and the longing she found in them nearly knocked her out. She searched his gaze for an explanation. He must have seen the confusion on her face. His endless blue irises slowly scanned her from her hairline to the tip of her chin. One of his hands skimmed across her cheek and brushed her mussed hair out of her face, giving him more of her to observe. While seemingly soaking in every detail of her every feature, he nudged her knees apart with his legs and then knelt in between them. When he spoke next, his eyes were red rimmed and open.

"For months all I've had of you is a ghost," he said in a voice raw with heartbreak. "I've watched you but never once did I hear you speak, and then even before you left I—well we couldn't really talk then without hurting each other. Holding you, kissing you - that's one thing, but I have craved just listening to you talk for longer than you know." His eyes shined with unshed tears as he closed them and pressed his forehead to hers. "I know it might sound crazy, Luce, but god I just want to hear you speak. Even if it's only my name."

This man. Jesus Christ. This amazing caring good man. He missed her voice. He missed her thoughts and her opinions. He missed hearing her say his name. She loved him all the more for it.

"Oh god, do I ever love you, Wyatt Logan," she said as she pulled his lips down to hers again. She kissed him intrusively and then pulled back to look at his closed lids and his lashes that stayed firmly pressed against his cheeks.

"I had a ghost of my own you know," she reminded him. "He mostly smirked at me in an all too familiar yet irritating way." His lips curled into that aforementioned smirk and she quickly kissed the half moon dimple that appeared next to it. "He spoke very little and when he did, there was no sound. Just an empty twitch of his lips."

Her hands traced up and combed through his hair as she continued. "You're not the only one who missed the sound of a voice. My favorite voice. The only voice that sends an involuntary shiver down my spine by uttering a singular syllable."

His nose nudged her cheek as he breathed deeply. He breathed in and then on his exhale he uttered the nickname that caused goosebumps to rise all over her skin.

"Luce."

His voice was so low and full of need that it made her ache for him. It was an ache stronger than she ever expected and it left her with one realization. This may have started light and flirtatious but it was going to end up assaulting every emotion she could possibly feel. 1941 felt like ages ago. It felt like another world, another universe. She wanted him every day since and finally she could have him.

She could have every inch of him. He could overlap and fill her entire being in a way he hadn't in far too long.

She remembered being nervous during their first night together. What she felt for him terrified and thrilled her like nothing else. But now, she wasn't shaking with nerves. She was shaking from deprivation. She had him once. One glorious bygone night where the stars perfectly aligned. But in the span of one night, he slipped into her bloodstream never to be removed. No matter how she fought it she couldn't purge him from her veins. He was there to stay, a necessity she never anticipated.

Denying herself the basic need that he became left her too wanton. She was overcome. Overcome with love, grief, awe. She was feeling it all at one time. The floodgates opened leaving her awash with everything she kept so closely guarded for months on end. Was it possible to want someone too much?

His lips caught her cheek and he pulled back with a startled glance. His eyes bore concern and then tenderness as he brought a hand up to caress the cheek he had just kissed. She didn't understand until he pulled his hand away and she saw the moisture collected on the pads of his fingers. She was crying and she hadn't known it. They had barely begun and already she was an emotional mess.

But how could she help it? He wasn't a figment of her imagination anymore. He was solid and warm and real. More real than he had been the last time they shared this hellhole of a bunker together. More real than he had been since he'd gotten that dreadful text and left her standing alone in his clothes. There was nothing between them now. No lies, no secrets, no formerly dead wives. In fact, the only thing between them at all was clothing.

And that was easily remedied.

She reached out with shaking hands and found buttons on his shirt. As she began to indelicately undo each button, she realized she'd not only seen this particular flannel shirt before...she'd worn it. And she had every intention of wearing it again once they were sated and their body heat wasn't enough to keep away the chill of the bunker.

While she unbuttoned his shirt, Wyatt leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers once again. He caught her bottom lip between his and thoroughly tasted it before drifting lower. He tugged at the neck of her shirt until her shoulder was exposed. Just as she reached the last button on his shirt he nipped at her collar bone. It was a bite so slow and teasing that it caused her to groan involuntarily. The bite was replaced by the seal of his mouth against her skin as she shoved his shirt down his arms. He speedily flung it off and onto the empty cot across from his, never once stopping his siege on her neck.

He was going to leave a mark if he didn't stop soon. She should care. They weren't teenagers. A hickey was hardly appropriate for a grown woman, but good god did the heat of his mouth ever feel heavenly. Although, that wasn't really where she wanted the heat of his mouth, was it? No, his mouth had much better things to do. She reached for the bottom hem of the thin t-shirt he still wore and pulled it up over his head, forcing him to remove his lips from her neck. Once that was done, she didn't give him another chance to waste that mouth of his on a hickey.

Her lips met his in a slow, open mouthed kiss that she hoped would set the pace for everything to come. She had been without him for so long. Now that she had him back, all she wanted to do was slowly sip from his entire being. She wanted to savor every moment despite her instinctual craving for instant gratification.

His arms wrapped around her waist and pressed her flush against him as he gradually led them to stand. Once she was firm on her feet his hands released her to shed himself of his belt and his jeans. Her hands framed his face and slipped back and forth across his scalp. She dropped one hand down to his cheek, eager to feel the prickle of his stubble beneath her palms. It was the little things she missed the most, the textures of him.

The stubble, the softness of his short hair. Her hand continued it's trail across his shoulders and chest to take in the hardened muscle and then lower still to the smooth puckering of his many scars. One on his lower abdomen from their second jump ever, one on his opposite side from a wound he had yet to tell her about, a smattering of smaller ones that spread across the entirety of his chest. He sucked in a breath and pulled back just barely as her hands stopped on each raised mark.

Finally, the jeans and belt joined the flannel on the opposite cot. He grabbed her hand that had been exploring his skin and brought it to his lips for a lingering kiss to her palm.

"You've got a few calluses now, ma'am," he said softly as he opened her palm and stared at the small areas of rough skin.

She'd forgotten about the calluses along the webbing of her hand and the inside of her thumb on her dominant hand, but he noticed. He noticed the difference even if he hadn't felt her touch in too many months.

"It's, um, from the slide of a-"

"Gun," he finished for her with a nod. "I know. You've been practicing?"

Flynn taught her the basics and Deacon helped her keep it fresh, in case she ever needed it. Should she tell him that? Should she bring up Flynn and Deacon now?

"Yes," she answered simply. "Just in case."

She could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew who must have taught her. He put it all together himself. She didn't need to say the names. He kissed the inside curve of her thumb and then the webbing next to it before he spoke in a tone full of regret.

"It should have been me," he told her. "I should have been the one to teach you."

"If I'd stuck around," she said as she matched his regret with her own. "You would have been."

"You wouldn't have had to leave if I'd gotten my head out of my ass a lot sooner," he told her with a shake of his head. "You have no reason to feel badly about that, Lucy."

He threaded his fingers through hers and then placed a gentle kiss to the shell of her ear.

"I'm glad you knew what you needed and acted on it. It's okay to take care of yourself," he said as he kept his lips pressed to her ear. "God knows I wasn't any help with that."

"You had your own set of problems, Wyatt."

"That's no excuse," he told her as he pulled back to meet her eyes. "You've shown me that I'm better than that. Long before 1941, you showed me who I really was and who I wanted to be. The man you've known since Jessica came back is nothing like the man you helped me become. He was a self involved asshole. I don't want to be that man anymore."

"You're not him," she assured him. "That's not the real you. I know that."

He let out a conflicted sigh and shook his head at her. She could feel the melancholy over taking the moment. They were together. The past was forgotten. She couldn't let it swallow them up now.

"Fine," she said with a smirk. She put a hand under his chin and lifted his eyes to hers. She had an idea that might help. Both of them. "You don't need to prove anything to me, but would it help if you had the chance to? The chance to show me that you know how to take care of me?"

A slow heated grin spread across his face as he caught her meaning. His eyes darkened and his hands gripped her hips before he nodded wordlessly. She could see his strategic brain already formulating a plan. She'd seen that look numerous times, but never in this context. Never in the effort of pleasure. He had yet to do a single thing and already warmth was pooling low in her belly.

One look and she was already on her way to the highest of highs.

She took a deep breath to prepare herself for what might come next before stepping out of his arms and beckoning him forward. "Then have at it, Soldier. I'm all yours."

On those last three words his grin turned wolfish and he let out a low chuckle. "All mine, huh?"

She suddenly found it hard to breathe as his sensual gaze met hers. The intensity of what she felt for him bubbled over in her reply. "Always."

His grin fell and his expression turned serious barely a second passed before he grabbed her waist and yanked her against him. She let out a surprised gasp as she collided with his bare chest. One of his hands found her cheek as his eyes crashed into hers.

"Glad to hear it," he said as he took a deep breath. "Because I'm never going to want anyone else for the rest of my life. From now on, there's only you, Luce. Only you."

She anticipated a kiss to her lips to follow that declaration but she was wrong. Instead, he knelt in front of her as his hands gathered her shirt at her waist to expose the lower part of her stomach. She felt off balance at the first touch of his lips and tongue to lower abdomen. It was unexpected. She braced herself with a hand on his shoulder and one on the back of his head. His hands dropped her shirt and she felt them tugging at the waistband of her jeans. She felt the button let go and the slow tortuous slide of the zipper fly and then his hands slipped beneath the denim. They cupped her backside and pulled her tighter against him.

Her jeans were pushed down lower until the waistband rested on top of her thighs. His teeth bit softly at the skin on her hips, one bite on either hip, and then continued their descent. At this point her desire for him was obvious and slick against the fabric of her underwear. He was teasing her to point of insanity. The warmth of his lips and tongue ghosted over the cotton and lace between her legs and no amount of biting her lip could hold back the sound that left her throat. He pulled her jeans down further until they were gathered below her knees and then stood to plant a searing kiss to her lips.

This kiss was not gentle. It was savage with want and need and longing. Tongues explored and teeth nipped. He sucked and nibbled and slowly pushed her back onto the cot until she laid flat and his full weight covered her. The long chain of hungry kisses ended but only so he could return his focus to her lower half. He pulled the jeans down and off the rest of her legs and carelessly tossed them aside.

He reverently swept his fingers over the length of her bare legs, beginning with the arches of her feet and ending with the undersides of her knees.

He placed a singular light kiss on each calf before meeting her eyes.

"I'm sure you have no idea how much I appreciate these legs," he told her with an amused grin. "Considering you refuse to admit to being beautiful which makes no sense to me."

"These?" She asked with a furrowed brow as she tried to wiggle one of his grasp. "These scrawny chicken legs? Seriously?"

His grip tightened and then his thumb trailed a soft line across her skin. He shook his head at her in disbelief. "Scrawny chicken-" he huffed and then pressed his lips to the curve of her calf. She felt his tongue dart out from between his lips. He stopped when he heard her take in a sharp breath in response. "You do not have scrawny chicken legs, Preston. I don't know what you see when you look in the mirror but I can assure you, you do not have an accurate picture of yourself."

"I'm just repeating what I've been told," she replied with a shrug.

"By who?" he asked as an offended ire rose in his eyes. "Give me names because I swear to god I will-"

She chuckled and placed a hand over his mouth. "I think you're getting a little bit sidetracked, Sweetheart. I appreciate your willingness to beat up anyone who doesn't find my legs as attractive as you do, but I think we have better things to do at the moment."

"Fine," he said as she removed her hand. "We're tabling this for later though, Babydoll."

She laughed lightly and threw her head back against his pillow. "Whatever."

He crawled up the length of her until his eyes were even with hers. "You're just going to have to accept it, Luce."

"Accept what?" She asked with a challenging smirk.

"You're goddamn beautiful and that's all there is to it." He stated in a voice so confident, so matter of fact, that she couldn't bring herself to deny it.

But she couldn't confirm it either so she turned her head and pointedly looked away from him. He must have anticipated it because the minute she turned away his lips were on her pulse point. She arched against him and wrapped her arms around him. Her fingers pressed into his back while finding the faint scars left over from the explosion at Mason. The first time she thought she'd lost him forever.

His hands traced her sides, snaking under her shirt. He continued to kiss across her neck and she arched again, this time when arched his hands splayed across her back until they found the clasp of her bra. He made short work of undoing it and then helped her slip her arms out of her short sleeves. The shirt went up and over and the straps of her bra came down and off. They disappeared from between them and then finally they were naked chest to naked chest.

His lips found hers for a series of explosive kisses. Their frenetic energy was renewed by the thrill of skin on skin. His hand gently nudged her knees apart and he settled himself in between her legs. She could feel his desire for her hot and hard through the fabric of his boxers. His hips snapped to hers as he ground himself against her causing her to whine into his mouth. The friction between them was too delicious. He was winding her up very slowly and with deliberate purpose.

His hand slipped below the elastic waist of her underwear and she let out a satisfied sigh as his fingers began to toy with her overheated center. His lips left hers to ghost over collar bone and the glide further down to the dip between her breasts.

"Luce," he whispered as his breathing hitched midway though. "God, you're perfect."

His mouth claimed one hard nipple while his hand continued to claim the bundle of nerves between her thighs. She could feel the tension coiling now. He was pulling her tighter and tighter and like a rubber band under too much strain she could feel her breaking point coming.

Without warning two of his fingers dove inside of her and his name was ripped from her throat. Loud and harsh. He repeated the one syllable nickname that would always be her weakness as his fingers pulsed in and out. She was bucking against his hand with wild abandon and unable to breathe without also releasing a low moan on every exhale. She was close. She was so damn close. She needed one final tug for the rubber band to snap.

As if he could read her mind, he added a third finger to his thrusts. She cried out as she came. Heart thumping against her ribs, toes curling, hands fisting into the sheets. Another murmur of her name from his lips as they pressed against her chest caused one last shudder of an aftershock to ripple through her.

He wanted to prove he could take care of her and good god had he ever managed it spectacularly.

"You okay up there, Luce?" He asked as she felt his smug smile against her skin.

She let out a low chuckle and languidly ran her fingers through his hair. "Oh so much better than okay, Master Sergeant."

"Good because we're not done." His fingers hooked around her underwear and pulled. She felt the wet fabric against her legs as he slipped them off of her and discarded them.

She found the presence of mind in her dazed afterglow to reach down and still his hands over the waist of his boxers.

"My turn," she said as she flashed him a cheeky smile.

He braced his hands against the mattress as she shimmied beneath him. He groaned and shook his head from above her.

"You keep that up and I won't make it much longer."

She rolled her eyes playfully and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "I'm sure you'll survive."

She placed an open mouthed kiss to his shoulder, making sure to taste him. She continued on her journey beneath him, marking him with her lips and tongue. She nipped at his muscular chest the way he'd nipped at her until she reached her intended target. She tenderly kissed his scar from 1865 several times, replaying the image of him from those early missions. The man she'd met who had grown into the man she loved. From there she allowed herself to remember him on that inevitable night in 1941. The support and love and care. With that thought in mind her hand delved into his boxers and wrapped around him.

He hissed and instinctually thrust into her hand. She swept her thumb over the tip of him and felt him jerk against her.

"Lucy," he said in a warning tone. "I'm not kidding. You're going to bring an end to this much sooner than either of us want."

She kissed his scar again and then chuckled against his well toned stomach. "Relax, Logan. I know."

His hips twitched again as her warm breath hit his skin. "Jesus. Just remove the damn boxers and get back up here."

She bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing at him, but did as he asked. She released the solid length of him and then skimmed her hands between the elastic and the skin of his hips until her hands rested on the top curve of his ass.

"You appreciate my legs, but you know what I can't help but appreciate?" She asked as she lightly squeezed. "You've got a great ass. You know that, Logan?"

His moan turned into a deep chuckle. "You're really pushing my limits here, Luce."

"Somebody has to," she said with a light hum of a laugh. "Might as well be me."

Without further ado, she slipped his boxers down and then he kicked them the rest of the way off. She kissed the same trail back up his chest as she had down and then smiled smugly at him as she reached eye level again.

"Was that as fun for you as it was for me?" She asked.

"I'm supposed to be taking care of you, remember? That little stunt you just pulled was completely unfair," he said as he nuzzled his nose and lips against the curve of her neck.

"Had to give you a little tease of next time, didn't I?" She asked in a sultry whisper. "When I get to have all the fun I want with you."

He groaned and buried his face into her neck. "I'm not sure I could survive that. Just the memory of your hand is enough to finish me off."

"I have faith in you," she whispered, kissing the shell of his ear. "You are Delta Force, after all."

"Yeah, there's no training program on Earth that could prepare me for you, Babydoll," he said as he pressed a light awed kiss to her perspiring skin.

She laughed and wrapped her legs around his hips. "I'm not sure if that's flattering or insulting." She thrust upward and ground herself against him now that they were both completely exposed.

The sound that left his throat at the movement was completely foreign to her. It was some mingled version a moan and a whine.

"That good, huh?" She asked with a teasing smile and raised eyebrows.

"Listen," he said with an embarrassed blush and a sheepish grin. "I have been trapped here without you for ninety fucking days. That's three months of wanting to touch you, talk to you, hold you." His hands traced over her neck and then her arms before he spoke again. "And that's just since I got my shit together. I wanted more of you long before that so really we're talking five months. For five months I have wanted this. Your skin against mine, my hands every where I can reach, my lips tasting you all over." He paused and she watched as his gaze darkened to a deep navy. He shook his head as he brought his eyes to hers again. "I mean, Jesus Christ, we're lucky I haven't spontaneously combusted yet."

She smiled brightly at him and nodded. She slowly slipped her hand in between them and wrapped her fingers around him once again. He bit down on his lip and sucked in a breath. She guided him to her and then waited for him to make the next move.

"Then what exactly are you waiting on, Sweetheart? Last I checked, you have me right where you want me," she told him.

"Oh god, I love you," he said as he slowly pushed into her.

Her eyes fell closed and her head tilted back as he sank into her. Perfect. It was perfect. What rang true in 1941 still rang true today. He was her missing piece and no one would fit against her the way he did. No one.

She came back to herself a moment later and framed his face with her hands. She pulled him down for a kiss and then held him there, bumping her nose against his. "I love you too. And I'm never going anywhere again. Not without you, anyway."

"Good," he told her. "I know I've broken promises to you before, Luce, but not anymore. I'm going to make good on all of them. Starting with the most important one."

"What's that?" She asked with a gasp as he moved inside of her. He barely moved at all but she felt the earth shift underneath her.

"You haven't lost me," he whispered as he thrust inside of her. "And you never will."

Tears sprang to her eyes at the conviction in his voice. She believed him. She truly believed him. She had every reason not to, but she did. With each kiss, each thrust, each soft assurance he uttered against her skin she believed him more and more. He loved her. He wanted her. He would never let her down again. Their easy rhythm built and released with Wyatt collapsing against her as her muscles continued to spasm around him. The connection of their bodies held for a moment longer. His eyes landed on the tears she knew covered her cheeks.

"Sorry," she mumbled as she tried to bring a hand up to wipe them away.

He caught her hand before she could and then kissed each wet cheek. "Don't apologize, Lucy. Not for this." His eyes were glittering with his own unshed tears as he continued. "Not to me. I went through this hell with you. My heart broke in perfect time with yours. I get it. I feel it too. But that's over. We're together. A part of me still can't believe you came back but now that you have...I'm damn well not gonna take you for granted ever again. Okay?"

She nodded and caressed a hand over his cheek. "Okay."

"No more ghosts, no more hazy visions, no more living in our imaginations," he promised.

"No more pining for each other," Lucy agreed. "No more learning the hard way."

"Exactly," he told her as pressed a kiss to the to her forehead. "Hold on."

He left the bed for a brief moment and when he came back he held out the flannel she'd removed from him earlier. He smirked and held it up, prepared to help her slip her arms in the sleeves. She smiled warmly at him and blushed as she sat up.

"How did you know?" She asked.

"You don't think the memory of you in this shirt is burned into my memory?" He asked as he watched her put one arm in and then the other. He buttoned it for her as he went on. "I only wore it because it reminded me of you."

He left the top two buttons undone and leaned forward to kiss her deeply.

"You keep it," he told her as he settled back into the bed and pulled her down with him. "Looks better on you."

She chuckled and nestled into his side. "I was going to anyway."

He laughed as she felt him drop a kiss into her hair. "I figured as much."

Sleep was creeping up on her now. She could feel it in the heaviness of her limbs and the drooping of her eyelids.

"Sleep, Lucy," Wyatt told her, warmth and affection dripped from his tone. It threatened to lull her to sleep all on it's own."You've had a long day."

He was right, she knew he was right, but there was still one more thing she wanted to say before sleep claimed her.

She hummed her agreement and nuzzled her face into his neck before she was finally able to speak. "Just so you know, when we talk about sleeping arrangements with the rest of the bunker tomorrow, I'm staying here."

"Yes, ma'am. Whatever you want. After three months of living with your shadow, I would much prefer the real thing. You can trust me on that."

She wanted to agree with him, but sleep was coming much too quickly now and the words died on her lips as she finally succumbed.

Me too.

Now that she had the real thing back, she was never letting him go.