The following material is a speculative fan-fiction based on the characters of the television series "Tarzan", airing on the WB network. It is written purely for entertainment purposes and no copyright infringement is intended.

Honor and love to Travis.

( Author's Note: This story is published at other Tarzan Fan sites under the name or ID "sep". Those are my actual initials. Just so no one thinks I'm ripping someone off, or someone's ripping me off. Enjoy!)

It must have been eighty degrees in the room and as a recurring drip fell in a far corner. The noise of it was at first bothersome, but then became a sort of metronome as she sat, waiting for his return and yet, expecting nothing. If he never came, that was all right too. Nothing made sense anymore, so why should things fall into any logical order tonight? If he did come back to this place, all the better. Let him be surprised by her for a change. There was no other sound than the steady drip, drip, drip among the plants and the overgrowth that had made this very room into a jungle. No central sound system piped in music, no televisions played in the background, nothing but the drip, surrounded by the thick, cushioning humidity in the air. When she had walked out onto the adjoining balcony, there had been the city below with all its confusion and sound, and for an instant she felt an understanding, a sympathy for anyone unaccustomed to the whole mess of modern life. It had been far better to retreat into the lush green warmth of the Atrium and sit with her thoughts that ran in a most unconnected stream, on their way to nowhere. Being here was crazy. Why here of all places? Kathleen had let her in without question. For all the things she might not have been, Kathleen was a woman who knew without saying all that had so suddenly erupted in her life and in her heart. Whether John came back that night or not, she knew she would be free to stay as long as she wished. But why had this place drawn her when nothing else seemed right? The answer echoed around her. Because this was the only place she really felt safe. More to describe, she felt safe, and mixed up and out of breath, and helpless to emotions she could not name. Everything was just out of order in her head, yes, that was it. She should hang a big "Out of Order" sign around her neck. The image of that suddenly made her laugh, low and quiet and the sound seemed to fill the room, startling her own ears.

The air stirred around her as she sat, still once more on that same ledge near the back window, looking out over the lights that lit the sky above the city. She never even heard his footsteps or detected his presence until his hand, firm and warm, touched her shoulder.

"You're here." Was all he said. Was it a statement or a question? It was part of his mystery that you often couldn't distinguish the meaning of his words, though he intended no deceit. His eyes though, they told a different story. Those eyes stared down at her as he stood quietly by her side and moved but one finger, slowly, to barely trace a line along her jaw. Without thinking, without anything but a certain relief, a break in the tension just for seeing him again, she smiled.

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"I'm here." It was all she could say as her legs uncurled and she shifted her weight to face him. " I just needed, I need…"

"You need?" He said with a look that slowly seemed to put a half-mischievous  smile onto his face. "What is it you need?" The way his shirt hung open against his chest was most distracting, as were those loose pants, his hair, his … everything.

She got up and moved past him, not saying anything but thinking over her own voice that moments before had told her why she'd sought out this place. The greater truth was, she had sought out John himself. It was nothing easy to understand and it nearly brought her to tears every time the all too real feelings for him presented in her mind. Lately, night and day, the image of his face, of his body, and most of all, the image or knowledge of the way he felt for her would come when she least expected or needed that distraction. Still, it was the truth, and in it all she was grieving. The whole affair over Michael's death hung in the air around her, calling her to mourn, to feel for him still, to love him even though he was gone, and she did.

"Jane?"  John's voice and John's footsteps coming behind her. Not Michael's. John, here in the present. John, wild and unbroken by the heartbreak of life. "What is wrong? You are not feeling right." This was a statement and not a question as he said it. His senses, aside from anything he felt for her told him such things. She sat down on what he'd evidently been using as a bed and looked up at him. He moved toward her slowly, in the graceful way she'd come to picture, but she wasn't really looking at him. The walls behind him, covered in vines and dampness held her gaze, and all she could do as he approached was shake her head. If only it were easy enough to boil down what she was feeling about everything into some nominal answer that wouldn't only confuse him more. There was no way to say she was thinking about Michael, John's plight with his Uncle, and above all, about him. She could tell him those things, yes, but deep inside she felt that if she did, with no certainties, it might only make him believe that there was a promise and a future contained in her words, and the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him. Strong as he was, there was no doubt in those eyes of his that he could be hurt as deeply as he cared.

"John, I don't want to talk about me. Please. I've had an incredibly long day, a long week even, and I just want something else."

"Something else?" She laughed a little at the way he often repeated her words in question form. Was it because he didn't understand or was he trying to make her think about the meaning of her own statements. That was the cop in her, thinking about his thinking, and she shook her head again. It was oppressively hot in the room tonight, and as she stood, she removed her blazer and sat it aside and noticed the scenery close to her. There were magazines on the mattress he'd laid there, a barely touched tray of food and a portable CD player. Ah yes, his new toy since he'd seen and heard her sister's. It made her smile and she got up to walk out onto the open balcony, high above the city. He followed behind her, still studying her for clues. Finally she turned to him.

"Tell me about your home John. Tell me about how it was to be there with nothing but the jungle. I want to hear what it was to you." He was surprised and showed it in a broader smile as he too stepped out onto the concrete patio and stood with the wind messing his hair. With only one more glance her way, he sprang up to the edge of the balcony and landed in a crouch. She wondered if he was leaving, maybe to let her dwell on those thoughts, or worse, maybe she'd touched on something he didn't want to talk about. Instead of finessing himself down the wall, he turned, and sat with one leg tucked underneath him. He looked as if he might fall off at any moment and as she sat down in one of the iron chairs, she must have looked visibly concerned.

"Don't worry for me. I won't fall. All the time, you see how I move." He laughed.

"Well, yes, but…"

"You want to hear me say about the jungle. What it was like there. It was nothing like the city but you know. It was dark and beautiful. It was green, and wet. All the things I wanted, I had. Food, a place to sleep. Here, there is too much noise, too much …" He gestured, trying to find the right word. "Too much in the air that is not good. Too crowded here. Sometimes I want to run and run and run until I find a place with no one there but me." He went on, and she could see him imagining the scenery in his mind. It was just what she needed to take her own thoughts away and as he spoke she could imagine along with him what it must have been like to live in such conditions. Yet he was so young when his parents plane had crashed. Sure, a man as he was now would have no trouble surviving, but what about when he'd been so small and alone. The thought of that alone was enough to bring tears to her eyes, and she wouldn't have asked him about it for anything. That, she knew, was too much pain for him to easily talk about. Maybe someday they would be there, at a place where he could speak of such things, but it was all too knew to him now, being in a huge Metropolis like this and having so many things to adjust in his life. A thought occurred to her.

"Don't you want to go back John?" She asked and watched his reaction as he came out of his reverie. "With Richard and all of what it's been like so far for you, here, don't you want to just go back and be free again?"

He considered her words and silently jumped down from the ledge. The flash of his eyes as his head turned away was puzzling, and as he strode past her and into his bedroom proper, she followed. She was about to tell him, oh hell, to tell him anything in apology. As she stepped into the room, he had disappeared, but came out from behind the door abruptly, half scaring her to death as had become his fashion.

"I can't go back there now." He said. His head shook with the statement, dropping thick strands of his blonde hair into his face. She moved without taking her eyes from him, yearning for one of the chairs in the far corner of his room. As she started past him, he grabbed her arm. For seconds, he didn't do a thing, he didn't even seem to breathe, and then he let loose in a way that would change her forever.

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He turned away though her arm was still tight in his hand. When he turned back she saw a look in those ice-blue eyes that was almost startling. They shone with unshed tears and once again she was sure she'd gone too far with her question. Perfect, she thought. She was messed up in the head and now she'd gone and upset him. This night was becoming unbearable and she knew it was time to cut her losses and go home where at least she wouldn't bother anyone. When she pushed against him toward the doorway, he pulled her harder. Instinctively she froze. John had never hurt her, but she'd seen what he could do when provoked. He was still a relative stranger to her and what if he was more dangerous than she'd wanted to think? What came from him though was anything but violent.

"I can't ever go back. It was my home Jane. My home!" He let her arm go and backed away. He put his hands on his chest as if the words were painful, or he was pleading with her to understand. "They came, and they took me away. They shot me. Shot me!" He said, disbelieving somehow. Of course she couldn't believe it either when he'd first told her that night in the park.

"John, I…" She started to say, but he was lost to his own emotions. He turned away, again looking to her as if his mind and body were reeling from sudden realizations. When he turned back to her all she could do was stand and watch him with pain shining in her own eyes.

"Then I came here, this city, big and so loud, so loud and crazy." He approached her ever so slowly in halted steps. "Most times, I hate this place, but I can't go back. There is no Jane where I was. I can't go back because there, in my home there is no you. Here, there is you, and I want you. You make me real here. Jane. Real." As he finished his flow of words, she could see his face in the soft light of the room and the clear liquid marks upon his cheeks. Unthinkably, his eyes were even clearer than usual in the brief moment they looked at her before once again he turned away. She was stunned, not just by what he had said, but that he had said it at all. She knew he had feelings for her, but for him to put them into words as he had was simply too much. She went behind him and laid a hand on the smoothness of his loose shirt, feeling the warmth of his back against her hand.

"John, I… I don't know what to say." Her voice cracked and trembled and slowly he turned around, putting himself in the curl of her arm. In all the moments they'd been even half this close, she knew all the unsaid tension would one night come to pass. When he hesitated and then moved in closer, when he took her chin into the warmth of his hand, she knew it was the hour when there could be no more denial . His lips, the lips she had studied in person and in hours long and alone, pressed to hers in the most delicate way. Their gentle question wasn't easy to answer. She wanted him worse, deeper than any man she'd ever known, but it was unexpected even so. She hesitated but didn't move away and that seemed to be enough to tell him yes. His own hesitation came, his lips sought hers in tender passes and then some deeper instinct arose inside of him, and with one strong arm around her back, he brought her to him fully and kissed her long and deep. The smell of him, the hard feeling of his back against her hands that now moved without thought, it was all too much. Sensory overload, but oh how she craved it now that he'd begun. She brought her hands upward and lost them in his hair. She'd longed to do that very thing since the first day she laid eyes on him. A little cry escaped her lips against his and he pulled back. His breathing was deep and hungered but still he stepped back a little to look at her, worried maybe that he'd hurt her. He didn't have much experience at this and couldn't have known that the sound she made was one of relieved passion, of wanting only more after so many nights of trying to push it away.

She searched his eyes with her own and stepped closer to him again to let him know he hadn't committed any offense or injury. He gave a little smile, barely a pull on his lips, but it was a look she'd come to know on him, and in that moment, her heart was full and open to everything he wanted, even if he didn't know what that was. He came to her and once again pulled her close.

"Are you, do you?", He couldn't find the words he wanted, but she answered him anyhow.

"Yes John. Yes." She said, and when she felt his lips once more as they pressed against hers, as they became more insistent, she answered their plea, stretching up and wrapping her arms around his neck. Oh God, at last. Something inside her rang loud and clear, truer than anything she'd heard in weeks. At last here they were in this  moment, this time, together.

She felt his arms strong and firm around her waist, felt him moving her as he walked, his lips never really leaving hers, only lifting gently, seeking again, softly coming together and apart. She felt something press against her legs from behind and pulled away from him long enough to look down behind her. The bed that held John Clayton every night, the bed that saw him through what dreams he had, was just behind her and when she turned back and looked into his heated eyes, there was a whole new question within them.

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While his hand, large and warm, moved upward against the curves of her body, his eyes though gentle, held some deeper, primitive emotion. Without a doubt, she knew what he wanted, and she wanted him too, desperately. She had wanted him physically for what seemed so long a time. In the weeks they'd become involved in one another's lives, incredible events had happened and a bond between them, unspoken, had only been cemented by the chemical attraction they shared. Now, in this instant, it was almost like a living, breathing thing, and her heart beat raced against his chest.

"John, wait…" She said. When she leaned toward him, she couldn't help but to press against him even harder, and that more than likely sent the wrong signal, for his hand moved back down, and then around to pull her close at the small of her back. His lips were light as the air against her cheek, they moved up toward her ear and with a tip of his head, her hair was brushed back to further let him pass over the sensitive areas beneath.  As he held her and moved against her, it was impossible not to feel the hard press of him beneath, and the knowledge that such evidence was separated from her by only the thin material of his pants brought a sudden rush of heat to her face.

"You said you did, Jane." He said, and leaned back to smile at her. That alone was devastating enough. "You don't want us like this?"

"I … " The hesitation was enough for him to step back. "John, yes, I do. I do want us, like this." She moved just a little past him and then turned to face him. He didn't stay in one place, but instead with a half-amused smile on his face, walked right back up to her and put them again in the position she'd just removed herself from. She would have laughed at his insistence, had she not needed just a bit of room to breath. It seemed to fast. It seemed that kiss had opened something inside of him that had just been waiting to spill free, and as his hand once more moved up and easily started to undo the buttons of her already disarranged blouse, she caught it in her own.

"Your skin is soft. I want to touch you." That voice, how it sounded to her ears, at once deep and melodious. "I want to make you feel me."

Her knees shook as if she were a high school girl, and her resolve teetered on the edge of breaking.

"You can, John. I just think we should wait, or.." Her head spun with all she wanted to say to him, and yet it felt like nothing she could have said would have been justified or even logical. Wait? Yes, they should wait – if they even did anything at all intimately. God, there were so many other things to consider. For all she knew he didn't even know how what it was like to be with someone like that. That thought lingered and must have brought an unusual look to her face because in the next moment, he stepped back once again and sat on the edge of the bed. His posture seemed defeated and she immediately went to reassure him, though it wasn't her intent to make any false promises. She just didn't want him thinking he'd done anything wrong. He didn't know how to act in such situations, and despite all the passion she felt for him, there was also some protective element that tugged deeper than anything physical could ever have reached.

"John, listen to me." She said to him. It was her turn to lift his beautiful face in her hands and look into his eyes as she spoke. "I'm not saying to you that I don't want you to touch me."

"You said so. Rules." He said in a sullen voice to remind her of her earlier statement to him about keeping his distance. Silently she cursed the tide of emotions he caused inside.

"Rules, yes. Well rules can be made for all the wrong reasons John, and you've been breaking them all along anyhow." Her smile reassured him that she wasn't scolding. "I want you, I feel things about you in a way that I've never felt before, with anyone, and that scares me. I just, want to take it, I want to be with you slowly. Do you understand?"

He lifted up from the mattress and as  he stood, he pulled her close to him with his arms wrapped around her firmly. Now again, those full and warm lips were inches if even that far, from her own. She could smell his body, a scent unrecognized as anything but male. It was unlike any other pleasure to her senses she could have asked for. Well, there were others, yes, but she couldn't let those thoughts progress just now, and after the barest touch of her mouth on his, she was the one to move backward.

"I understand, Jane." His words seemed broken, halted, and she didn't know whether it was from a lack of language command, or the evident desire within him. His eyes seemed heavy, almost drugged with need. It was as if they confirmed everything she felt, and said to her that there was no question whether it would be fulfilled, only when. His hand trailed out of hers as she made her way to the bedroom door, and those eyes never once wavered.

"Time, John." With a last look at him as he smoothed his hair out of his eyes, she sighed. "Soon."

It was all she could offer as she left him that night.

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When she went downstairs, Jane thanked Kathleen for allowing her to stay and wait for John. She only hoped she didn't appear as flustered as she felt, and though she wasn't upset, she decline the offer to stay and talk.  She felt the overwhelming need for air, and had to get out into the night, maybe to walk until she fell exhausted into sleep. That sounded like a perfect plan, and with a little laugh, she again thanked her hostess and was gone.

Some time later, John came down the stairs, silent in his usual way. Kathleen had finally gotten some time to delve into the novel she'd put off again and again because of work, so she paid him little attention as he made his way into the kitchen. When she heard him actively doing something in there, she looked up and had to stop herself from checking it out. Since he'd been living with her, there had been several comical, if somewhat disastrous kitchen surprises for her nephew. All in all though, he was learning, and she smiled when he came out with a bowl of mixed fruit she'd cut up for him. He liked to eat it in big chunky blocks and had never shown any interest in the canned varieties she'd showed him in the pantry. He smiled at her when he came in, and crawled up into the chair, settling in a crouch as he held the bowl.

"Can I turn it on?" He asked. When he saw the slight raise of her eyebrows, he sat down proper into the chair and with a soft, charming smile, apologized. "Sorry."

"That's all right John, and sure, turn on the TV. I'm reading but it won't bother me. Did you and Jane have a good talk?"

He didn't answer her, but instead moved to the floor, half crouched again and turned on the set. He'd found some fascination in the box that could provide such a multitude of pictures, and most often he would sit up close like a child might, and if he wasn't particularly engrossed in one program, he would use the buttons on the set over the remote control, pushing them incessantly until he found something suitable. He'd found programs of course on the cable channels that led viewers through jungle territory, and on more than  one occasion, she'd walked in to find him with his hand right on the screen, in a caress to his memories, and each of those times nearly brought her to tears with the thought of how it must have been for him, and how he must feel now.

Her eyes went back to the pages of the book, and quickly she was caught up in the written world between the pages. She was aware of John's presence only by the occasional too-loud commercial, or the sound of him sucking a piece of fruit. That made her smile and shake her head as she read. Uncivilized but so wonderful, she thought.

After some time he grew quiet, and settled in to watch some program or another while she sunk lower into the cushions and devoured the book. It was as if nothing in the outside world existed, and she cherished quiet nights like this that almost made up for any chaos his arrival had created. It was only when she heard something noticeable that she looked up. He was studying the picture on the television with a totally different posture and interest. She was surprised by the sounds of a couple, portrayed in obvious and  intense passion, as naked as TV could allow. The book fell slowly to her lap as she watched him, watching them as their hands moved over one another, as the woman moaned softly and the man told her soft words about how beautiful she was, and how good she felt.  From what she could tell as she looked at him from the side, John's expression wasn't anything near shocked, or excited, it seemed soft and interested, and she decided not to say a word. With a little smirk to herself she thumbed to where she'd left off in her book.

"That is how I want to be with Jane." He said softly. His eyes never left the extended love scene, and when Kathleen looked at him again, she wasn't sure he'd said it to her, or just aloud in confirmation to himself. She waited to hear more, if he elected.

He sat still until the couple was climactically finished and then sank back onto the rug, as if he were stunned by the vision and replaying it in his head. When he looked to her, she felt a slight embarrassment.

"Jane wants me to touch her. She says we have to wait. Why do you think she says wait?"

She sat up on the couch, tucking the full robe under and around herself. He amazed her with his utter lack of modesty. He thought nothing of asking her something so intimate and personal, because to him, it was simply a truth. Discretion was not necessary in the world he came from, and when he opened his mouth and spilled such sweet, if perhaps private thoughts, she couldn't help but smile. What to say to him, she wondered. There was so much he didn't know, so much he would have to learn that she couldn't prepare him for. The modern world was a hard place, and harder still for him. Jane was the first woman he'd come in contact with, and it was painfully obvious to her how she made him feel inside. Yet she knew, despite any instinctive human emotions, it had to be difficult for John. This question now made her wonder if the two of them had gone beyond just struggling with their feelings. She called him to sit beside her.

"John, honey," Tenderly she touched his leg as she looked into his captivating eyes. "There is so much about men and women that you don't know. Have you and Jane…" She didn't know how to ask him. "Have you and she been together like what you just saw on the TV?"

"No." He answered with a goofy smile. "But she doesn't have her rules now. She told me she wants me to touch her, but why does she say wait? What is waiting for?"

"Waiting is for a lot of things John." She smiled at him and got up to turn off the TV set. When she came back she took his hand gently and talked to him in a slow and careful way. He might have become confused if she spoke too casually, and that would have only led to problems for any intimacies that came his way, whether with Jane or any other woman. She wasn't blind to her nephew's obvious charms, particularly his looks, that would have women interested in no time as he made his way more out into the world. That she was in this moment and felt a responsibility tonight and to come, to talk to him as his mother might have done was enough to make her eyes mist over with lost love for her sister.

"Jane is a wonderful woman, John. I can tell she has feelings for you, and I know she knows it too. What you need to know is that some women, well, they need more time. Jane's struggling, fighting herself and you know why. It's not just got to do with Michael's death, it's got everything to do with you John. I think she doesn't want to put you in any danger, and she doesn't want her own heart to get broken – again."

"I would never break her. I want to have her here with me."

"Yes, I know you do. I know you care about her and it's all so new to you." Now she really was in danger of crying as she saw his face soften and become almost sad. "It will happen for the both of you when you're ready. She isn't a woman who just rushes into bed with a man, John. I can tell that. She has to be sure. You have to take it slow, and let her know you care. Let her feel protected and loved."

"I do love her." He said those four words almost in a whisper, and turned away.

"I know you do." She said as she put her hand on his shoulder. "She just has to let herself know that you do. I'm sorry it's so confusing for you sweetie."

He turned to look back at her.

"The way those people were, on the TV. That is how it is when people are together? It is real or that was just a show?" His voice was serious and she shouldn't have let out the little laugh it brought. It was just amusing in some way. His naiveté was charming, but she understood how he, having come from a world of what you see is what you get, into the modern day world of "reality shows" even being scripted and fake, was puzzling. She got up and headed to the kitchen. He followed with his fruit bowl in hand.

"Johnny, you have a lot to learn about sex." She said, and for a moment he looked at her in confusion and then when she laughed, he joined in, and what a wonderful sound it made.

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"Sex?" He repeated, as he put his bowl into the sink and followed her around. He obviously wanted her to elaborate on those words. "You mean like that. Mating."

"Well John, don't call it mating. I mean, that's what it is, I guess, but it's not like…" She laughed and walked into the living room again. He was right on her heels and nearly ran into her when she stopped to sit back down. "John, I'm sure you saw a lot of… mating… and that tonight on the television, it was not real, they were actors, you know, pretending to make love. You know pretending, right? What that means?"

"Make believe." He nodded.

"Yes, make believe. But that is usually how men and women do it, like they were showing there. It's just not cut and dried." He looked puzzled. "I can't explain it all to you. There are so many different feelings, different reasons to make love, John."

"You call it make love, not mating?" He laughed and smoothed his hair back as once again he perched himself on the chair.

"Yes, that's what I call it. There are other words people use, and I'm certain you'll hear them, but what I think you want…" She cleared her throat. "What you want to do with Jane, how you feel about her, and making that with your body, well, that would be making love, don't you think?"

He looked down and appeared almost shy for a moment and laughed in agreement. Kathleen paused, again for a moment she felt like a mother to him, and wondered what things he might know instinctively, and how far she should go with her efforts. Some things, she thought, were better left to discover the old-fashioned way. Finally he looked at her.

"I've never felt this way. When I was alone, there was no one else to feel with."

Again the simple truth of his words hit her. She imagined for a second what it must have been like, at once beautiful and full of wonder, and yet horribly lonely. "Now that you have someone, John, you have to be careful. You don't want to hurt her I know. You don't want to hurt yourself either. There's just a lot to consider."

"With Jane I would be careful. I would not make mistakes." He sat up as he said those words, with a kind of soft pride showing in his eyes.

"I know you would John. She's going to be a very lucky woman if you love her half the way I think you do." With a little laugh she got up, sitting her now cold cup of tea on the pass-through to the kitchen. "And don't think so much about your mating. I'm sure it will happen and be wonderful, all on its own." She headed up the stairs while she watched him. It had been a long night for all of them, and she hoped he would stay and not venture out in search of his lady. She needed time, just as he did. She only hoped that the dark clouds that had been  menacing the both of them would hold off or disappear, and allow them to find one another. As she said goodnight, he nodded slowly but was lost to his own thoughts. She went on to bed where she lay for long hours lost in her own.

She heard him downstairs now and then laughing at something on the television. There were no crashing pots and pans, and no yells of surprise like the night he'd discovered the stove. The thought of how he was, vulnerable and yet in his own was so very strong, so ready to love after so long alone, was enough to make the tears come. As she lay awake in the darkness she whispered to the memory of her brother, gone so long now from this boy of his, now grown to a man. "I'm trying," She said to empty blackness of the room. "I swear to you I'll keep him safe. Whatever it takes. I'll show him how to be a good man. I know you are watching him, and I promise, I'll teach him just like you would have done."

She found peace in that statement, for she meant it sincerely. She'd tried tonight to be gentle as his mother would have been, to kindly and humorously tell him a little about his curiosity toward sex, but again she figured he'd be better off letting nature take it's course. After all, he had been living the natural way for so long, how much harder could it be? In his world, he'd probably seen the animals as he put it, mate, all the time. To him it was more than natural to see sex, death and birth as part of his every day existence. For a while she lay there and then that last thought rang awkward in her mind. Sex and birth. Oh, she realized something then that she hadn't even thought of before. He knew nothing about that aspect of intimate relations! The last thing either of them needed was an accident of that magnitude, and though Jane would surely stop him and make sure of such a thing, it seemed only right that she should talk to him about it beforehand. He might find it mighty awkward in the moment to have her stop and explain about sperm and egg and all that sort of thing. Tomorrow she would have to find a way to ease into that level of discussion with him. That was the last thing she confirmed in her mind before sleep took her away.

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The next morning, she was downstairs early. Work, she'd decided, could survive a day without her, or at the very least, wait for a while. There was nothing too pressing at the office, and she wanted to talk to John, but try as she might, she hadn't thought of an easy way to explain the subject to him. Well, she thought she might subconsciously come up with something as she drank her coffee and read the paper, but all the business news gave her was a nagging reminder that she needed to call Richard, which then in turn led back to thoughts of John. It was a vicious circle and as she got up for a refill, she heard the shuffle of his bare feet against the floor. He was up early, and he stopped in surprise as he came into the kitchen.

"I didn't think you would be here." He said as he poured himself a glass of water. Well at least he was using a glass now in habit, and not drinking from the spigot. That made her smile as he stood there, his hair sleep messed, his clothes the same.

"I decided to go in late this morning." She laughed as they went out to the table in the breakfast room. "I guess I'm avoiding one thing for another." When she looked at him she could tell he didn't understand and with a wave of her hand she dismissed the thought. "Truth is John, there's something I wanted to talk to you about. Last night I thought about what we said, remember? I thought maybe there was something I should, well, tell you about."

"What is it? " He asked as he sat down quite properly in the chair across from hers. He took an orange from the bowl in the middle of the table and began an attempt at peeling it.

"Well, it's kind of difficult to talk about, but you need to know if you're going to be with Jane in the way you want." She watched him with amusement as he got a start in the orange and then bit into it wholly. "You know, from being where you were.."

"In the jungle." He interrupted without looking up.

"Yes, there in the jungle, you saw animals, doing what they did."

"Mating."

She wondered if he had the capacity to deliberately make her feel awkward while he spoke so casually, and decided he didn't mean to do it intentionally and that he was indeed listening to her. "Well yes, mating. But when the animals do it John, they do it for a reason you know." At that, he looked up with a pause to think, with orange juice glistening on his chin. She handed him a napkin and he laughed as he wiped it away half-heartedly.

"The animals mate a lot. They have to. Their babies get eaten." When he said that it was her turn to laugh.

"Yes, I'm sure they do. What you need to understand John, is that women, well, when they're with a man, they don't need to… to have a baby each time. They don't want to have a baby each time. Do you see what I'm saying?"

His eyes shifted a little as he sat in thought, and then for a moment he looked downright embarrassed. "When a man, makes love," he emphasized those words, to let her know he'd chosen them specifically, since she'd told him to him. "When he does that, then the woman is going to have a baby each time?"

She shook her head. "No. It doesn't have to be that way. There are, modern ways to make sure that doesn't happen. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. You have to make sure you and Jane are safe about that when the time comes."

"How?" He asked as he pushed the plate of mangled orange away.

"Well, there are a lot of methods. It might seem an odd thing for me to talk to you about John, but, I care about you honey, and your mom and dad aren't here to tell you things like this so I thought I could."

A soft look came into his eyes as he stood up and came to her side. When he took her hand up in his, she smiled at him. "Thank you." He said, and she nodded. She knew he meant it without any pretext or obligation. "Tell me about these things. I don't want, don't want Jane to not want me."

She laughed and got up to lead him by that hand into the front room, under his beloved atrium. "Honey, I don't think you have to worry about that." If there was one assurance she could give him it was that Jane wanted him from head to toe. For the next hour or so, they sat in the dim morning sun and discussed various ways a man and a woman took control of the situation. He seemed genuinely interested, but then he was fascinated by the simplest things so it was no surprise. He had some interesting questions that she tried her best to answer, and it was nearly hysterical when she'd explained the purpose and  use of a condom to him. She actually had to excuse herself to the bathroom where she laughed and laughed at the image of his soft indignation as she explained how it was worn. He'd said with an appropriate gesture, "I would put it on me – there?" As if he couldn't possibly imagine such a horror! She'd assured him that Jane could most likely help him with the task, and that had only made her want to laugh more, for as he had paused with that face full of puzzled thought, she'd seen the spark as he imagined it, and in a flash his expression had gone from mildly aroused to totally flustered with embarrassment. When she had come out of the bathroom, he sat where she'd left him, and made a strange face that looked like a school boy who'd just admitted to doing something wicked, and getting a lecture for the very thing he enjoyed doing in the first place.

She'd bent down to kiss his cheek with a little laugh. "John," She'd said as she gathered her things for the office. "You'll do fine. I'm sorry it was a strange thing for us to talk about, but you were a good listener, sweet boy. You're going to do just fine. Now just give your lady some time to come to you, and let things happen."

That bit of advice made him smile warm and wide, with a soft knowledge that it would happen, not a wonder about the future in that department. She laughed again and told him she would be working late that night to make up for her missed time. She told him to ring the maid if he was hungry and warned him with a shake of one finger not to make any horrible discoveries or messes while she was gone. Then, with a sharp turn on her heels and a shake of her head, she was out the door, amazed and amused at what a day it had been so far.

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For the longest time, John sat quietly in the sun that filtered through the windows, and he thought of the things his Aunt had told him. His mind wandered back to the night before when he'd had Jane in his arms, and when those moments replayed, he wondered if she was scared of him, and the more he thought, the more that insecurity nestled and dug at him in a way he couldn't really name.

"Can I get anything for you Mr. Clayton?" The soft question of the housekeeper broke his concentration. For a moment he looked around, unsure that she was speaking to him. The title was something foreign to his ears. He studied her as he got up from the comfort of the chair, and though there were questions he considered asking, they seemed somehow better saved for another time.

"No. I am going to shower. How late is it in the day?" He asked instead.

"Why, it's three in the afternoon Sir." She informed him with a smile as she went on her way. Three, he thought as he looked around the corner at the hands on the enormous grandfather clock. Though he still had no real sense of time, he knew that until the small arrow was on the number six, Jane would not be home. Well, in the meantime he would shower, get himself dressed, and see if he could think of a way to talk to Jane, and to recreate those moments when she was so close to him. The thought of her lips against his was a sweet, almost unbearable pain and he closed his eyes as he let the memory wash over him. As he moved up the stairs slow and dreamlike, he could see it all over again, the way she had held onto him, that look in her eyes and the way her breathing sounded, small and weak as they had broken from the kiss. It stirred feelings within him that were both emotional and physical in nature, and he couldn't help but to harbor an awkward smile as he got undressed for the shower and noticed the presentation of such arousing thoughts on his body. Animal reaction. That couldn't be helped. He looked in the long mirror and ran one hand up and over his chest, thinking not of how he looked, but rather how Jane might see him, whether she would want him or push him away again. That thought was more than unwelcome as he stepped into the hot water. This was a luxury he was most fond of, despite all he loved about his home in the jungle. Hot water, and the thick towels that he wrapped around the warmth of his body afterward. His Aunt Kathleen had told him, "Leave the towels in the bathroom, John.", but he had gotten into the habit of walking back to his room with one securely held at his waist. They just seemed never to make it back to where she wanted them to live.

So now again with a big blue wrap around his waist, he walked into the bedroom and went about finding himself some clothes. It was getting colder outside, and he made a face as he thought about the way the wind whipped down the streets. He did not like it in this cold city, and wished he could have the warmth all of the time. Even the atrium would soon be colder than he liked, and here he was having to find heavy shirts and pants, and as his Aunt had said, he was going to have to start wearing shoes. His feet hadn't felt shoes since he was a small boy, and when he'd tried a pair on the other night, it was almost enough to make him scream. Horrid and confining, shoes were. Like that other item "men wore" under their pants. No, he decided. He wasn't going to put that on. He made another face full of disdain as he dropped the towel and laid the clothes out on the bed. Why did this place, the modern world he'd been dragged into, need so much on the outside? He sat there and pulled on the  pants. Those he didn't mind, they were dark brown and soft to his fingers. The first shirt he put on was plain white, like those underwear, and then over that he put on a lighter brown sweater. The white shirt showed from the neck of the heavy shirt, but it looked all right.

In the time he'd been getting dressed, he had been thinking of what to do, and whether he should go see Jane, or should he let her come. Once she had told him she didn't want to see him, and she'd come anyhow. She'd made rules, and she'd not followed them. Maybe she would come tonight. He should wait. No, he should go to her place. Yes. He sat for long moments and looked at the shoes and socks set neatly against the doors that held the clothes. With one last smirk, he told himself it wasn't that cold out, yet, and the shoes could wait for some other time. Barefoot, he walked back down to the kitchen, grabbed a piece of chicken from the plate in the cold box, and headed out the front door. He liked to come down the far side of the outside walls, but everyone was telling him he must "adapt" to this world. Front doors. Clothing. Shoes.

Most of the time he liked to stand for a moment and get a sense of the air, to see if there was anything strange, any presence unwelcome or threatening. Like his Uncle, he thought with a passing scowl, or maybe he could smell Jane if she were coming, but he didn't, and she wasn't, so he started off toward her place in no hurry, because it wasn't even a five on the clock when he'd left. He went to the park and sat among the trees. Here, he watched the children that played on the swings. They ran to their mothers and were met with warm arms, and it made him think of his own mother for a minute, and as hard as he tried, he couldn't see her catching him when he ran to her. The memories were too far gone, and with a sigh he got up and walked off. He went down by the police department, within safe distance on the nearby rooftops, but there was no sign of Jane. She was inside with Sam. He liked Sam. Jane's partner. The general confusion he had at times over words made him think as he walked along. Sam was Jane's partner. They worked together. He knew that. There was other meaning to that word somehow though he could not define it, and suddenly he longed for her, wanted her in his arms more than anything at all. He made his way along the familiar roofs, unhurried still, until he arrived at the building next to Jane's. There he sat on the edge of the roof and his bare feet dangled in the cold wind as he waited. He remembered when he'd last seen his Aunt, when she'd left that morning. He wished as he sat on the cold stones of the building that he had a long heavy black wrap like she'd worn. "Coat." He said in a rush of white breath on the cold air, with a smile. Before he could think about how cold he was, a light came on in Jane's window. She was home. It must be past the six, and that alone made him feel warmer.

He watched as she moved, laying something down on the little table with the mirror, and then she walked to the bed and sat down on the edge. She put her hands on her face. She looked very tired to John as he watched, inching closer to the edge of the roof. Eventually he swung downward and landed silently on the fire escape that was opposite and below her window. She couldn't see him even if she'd come to look out, which in short time, she did. He watched as she pressed to the window and looked up at the very spot where he'd just sat. He waited a few more minutes until he saw her back away from the window, and then he made his way effortlessly up and over to the metal grating and stood there until she passed by again. She looked up almost without thought, and gasped when she noticed him standing there. Through the slightly fogged glass, he must have looked like a large blurry figure but he was sure she knew it was him, and she came immediately to open the window once more, half laughing at herself, half giving him that look of scolding he'd come to know on her face.

"John Clayton," She said with that stern look. He knew she wasn't mad, she was just pretending. Make believe. He tried to look make believe mad too. That made her laugh.  "You have to start using the door, boy." She backed away and went on doing the little things she'd been tending to when he showed up. She was putting papers here and there and he watched her move without saying anything as he sat down on her bed.

"I need a coat." He said, thinking aloud more than anything. She turned to him with a little laugh, and said that yes of course, he was going to need a coat and definitely some shoes. Then she saw him shivering. It was warm enough in her room but two hours barefoot on the roof had chilled him to the bone.

"Oh John, I'm sorry! Let's get you some tea, or something warm. You…" Her voice trailed off. "You're really impossible. Yes, you are. Coat and shoes John, tomorrow." He laughed but went with her happily as she led him into the other room. She sat him on the couch and covered him with a thick woven blanket which he pulled tight as he watched her go into the kitchen. Soon he heard the beep of the little cooking box. What was it called again, oh yes, micro-wave. She came in and handed him a small cup that felt very hot in his hands. The liquid inside smelled strong and flowery.

"Drink up while it's warm. Trust me John, the last thing you want is to get sick. You haven't had a cold in God knows how long, and you'll get walloped if it sets in." She settled on the other end of the couch and once she'd kicked off her shoes, she tucked her feet up under the blanket.

"What is it you mean?" He asked as he drank in the warm, soothing tea. She explained to him how it was to be down and out with a cold, and it made him think that indeed he didn't want one at all. "You care about me getting sick." He said with a smile.

"Of course I care about you John, you should know that by now."

"I do." He said. The tea had warmed him enough that he sat up and shook out of the blanket. As he looked into her eyes, that restless feeling stirred within him, and he looked away as he stood up, letting the warmth fall away. He moved to one of her chairs and leaned against the back of it, facing the window and studying the stars that were now filling the sky. As he hoped, she came up behind him.

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"What's the matter?" She asked, and without thought, laid her hand against his arm where it lay crossed with the other against his chest. Her voice was as soft as the wind through the trees, and his thoughts seemed at once miles away, and yet tumbled back to her when she touched him. In his hand, as it came to close around hers, she seemed very small and yet he knew she was very strong. A soft little smile played on his lips as he thought of her but said nothing for a minute.

"I missed you. I wanted to see you but I was, I did not know what you were feeling."

"Oh, John…" She sighed, and instead of pulling back, leaned ever so slightly against him. "I haven't known what to think either. I don't want to confuse you. That's just not fair and yet I want…"

"Yes, you said you wanted." He finished. That did make her back up and the look on her face was everything he'd ever seen in her, passing by in soft changing expression. She looked happy, sad, worried, and too, he thought, there was something more. He ran the edge of his thumb across her cheek, and then lay his palm gently against her there.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing and everything hung in the air between them and he remembered their kiss, he wondered if she was remembering the same moment. He thought of his Aunt's smile when he'd said how he wanted to be with Jane, how she'd sounded so sure it was right. It was right. He felt that deep inside, and it was killing him to hold back as he looked into her eyes. When she stepped toward him, he looked into her eyes with all the questions in his heart. It was then that she answered, with the barest brush of her lips against his face. Closer, yes, his mind raced, and he pulled her to him with one strong arm around her waist. With the hand that had held hers, he led her instinctively, fingers wound in her hair, until her soft lips met his. Yes, oh yes, his thoughts seemed to flow, to race and move so fluidly. Everything was her, everything, and he wanted more.

He could tell this time that she wanted him, and as he moved back to look at her once more,  a study of her eyes told him that Jane was feeling just as he felt, and with a smile, he reached out to her and as she watched him, unbuttoned the top of her blouse slowly and easily. He didn't do this with any intent to seduction. He wanted to touch her, that was all. He wanted to see what was underneath her clothes. He wished she wasn't wearing clothes, or for that matter, that he wasn't, but that could happen.

"John," She hesitated. "If we…"

"If we what?" He smiled, almost a laugh as he progressed downward to the second and third button, then the fourth. Her shirt was wide open and beneath she wore a blue satin brassiere. John's fingers ran over the shiny material, not thinking of the effect it might have upon her. It was pretty, and he noticed that her eyes closed when he touched her there. "If we what, Jane?"

"If we… " She laughed and straightened up, moving against him instead of away.

"Make Love?" He asked. She stared up at him in surprise, moving her mouth to speak but not finding the words.

"I didn't know if you knew, if you had… ever.. "

"I haven't. I watch TV, Jane." He said, and they both laughed. She felt so good and so right to him that he wanted to hold her forever and be safe with her, lost in her world, her arms.

"Yes well, the real thing is a little different than TV, John." She said, and as she moved against him, she did something that got his attention in a way she probably didn't even intend. She inhaled, deep and slow by his neck, and under his hair. She was scenting him as he had done with her, and it struck something deep and primal within his body. His heart raced, and he could feel that part of him harden as it had before when he thought of her, only now it was real, and she was here in his arms, she wanted him.

"Show me." His voice sounded ragged to his own ears. "Show me, please. Let me, please, let me make love to you Jane. I want to be with you so much. I want us to be together that way."

Tears shone in her eyes, and her fingers twirled around the little locket that hung on his chest. "John, I do want you, I can't go on thinking or pretending that I don't.  Everything inside me wants you here with me, in every way I can have you." She stepped back then, and he watched with some concern that she was going to tell him all of that and then say they couldn't move on together. Instead, she walked over and clicked the little knob on her bedroom door to lock it, and on her way back to him, she dimmed the small bedside lamp. The room was quieted in shades of amber-red. Once more, she stood in front of him and as he watched, she finished the last two buttons of her blouse, and let it fall away to the floor. He felt his heart as it thumped inside his head, as he watched her take off the smooth black pants she wore, the ones that felt so nice to touch. Beneath those she wore… the thought of the garment, and what it was called, and that he hadn't put any on, struck him so funny that he nearly laughed, but all he did was smile widely and move to touch her. This time, she wasn't planning to stop him.

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She walked backward into her room, and he followed, trailing the blanket behind him for a moment and smiling all the while, curious as to her movements. In that moment, she loved him from head to toe as his expressions went from child-like to almost a sad, desperate desire.

As they stood there, his hand ran once more over the soft material that held her body. The gentle swell of her breasts was intriguing to him, and most definitely arousing. He didn't feel as if he could stand much more, and there was that instinct, that animal feeling again.  It surged and threatened to overpower any control he had. As he touched her, his hand wandered down, past the little catch in the front of that piece above, down over the softness of her, and around, feeling the softness of her hair against her back as once more he captured her and brought her near. He could again hear his own breath coming slow and deep. It was something utterly new to him and still, when her hand moved up under his shirt, the feeling it stirred within was an ache that demanded attention. He stepped back just enough to lift the shirt off without any hesitation or speech. Her touch was more than any words could give him, and he followed her hand with his own until she was  there, where either one of them could have exposed the unquestionable need beneath.

Of course Jane was not blind to the press of his body, the male evidence that she found at once fascinated and intimidated her. This was John. This was him: John Clayton Jr., and she'd fought herself from the minute she'd laid eyes on him. Now he was here, in her room, almost naked as was she, and there was no question where things were going to wind up. She almost laughed with the joy of finally giving in, of knowing they were going to be together at last. As her hand fell gently on the lip of his pants, she looked up into his eyes. Though he had asked her to show him, she didn't know precisely what to do, or how to go about instructing someone who not only had never made love, but who had been away from all hints of civilization most of his life.

"It's okay." He said, and then, God love him, he laughed. "I don't like clothes anyhow. It feels better out of them."

She took his hand and led him, pulled him with her toward her bed and there she sat down as he stood, his waist almost level to her lips. Oh, she thought, to rest there and smell him, inhale him and touch the perfection of each and every curve. He pulled her head against him there as if reading her very thoughts. Her lips traced the outline of his muscles, honed from all the years he spent doing things she could never imagine, living high in the trees, free and wild. He moaned soft and gentle, and with a gentle insistence, pulled her hand upward enough to where she understood what he wanted. Clothes, yes. Not the best thing to make John happy just now, and she was only a bit less anxious than he was, but still she was trembling as her fingers worked the small button on the pants. To distract herself, she looked up along the rippled plane of his chest, but that was almost worse, for he stood with his head back, his lips slightly parted and his eyes closed, as he waited for that freedom.

"Jane, please…" It was all he could say, and her fingers did the job with no drawn out reluctance. The loose and casual pants fell from him into a puddle on the floor, and she was faced with such a sight that she moved back only to get a better perspective and draw in the whole picture and when she did, oh, when she did, her breath drew in, her bottom lip captured between her teeth, and fresh tears came to her eyes. He watched her and covered himself only barely when he moved. Desire was evident in his eyes as he came beside her, that solid, muscular body of his moving with grace indefinable.

"Jane, I want to know, don't be afraid. I'm not afraid." He shook his head for emphasis, his voice sounding so innocent, while that wild blonde hair fell into his face so perfectly. He mistook the moisture in her eyes for uncertainty. She reached out to touch him and shook her head, indicating that was wrong.

"I'm not afraid, John." She said, and brushed that hair back to reveal his eyes. "You're so … incredibly beautiful. I could look at you…" She got no chance to finish that as he moved, somehow lifting her upward until her head rested on the pillows and he was half above her, once more taking her lips with his own. This time she moved against him, under him, with him, and parted her lips to receive his passion. When she pressed her tongue gently forward into his mouth, he hesitated only a moment, surprised and then she could sense, curious as he returned the move on his own, tasting her, moving breathless and intense against her as his hands moved over her body and made her want only more of him.

"You are beautiful." He said as he pulled back, his breath heavy. "I want more of you." The words echoed her thoughts and she didn't refuse when he moved downward from her lips, over the curve of her neck and to the small rise of her breasts. Without pause for permission, he unfastened the little front clasp as skillfully as any high school boy ever had, and in an instant she was memorizing the way his lips felt against her skin as they spread soft kisses, more the movement of his mouth against her, as if he were tasting, upward and over her nipples, his hand following, exploring the way they hardened beneath his touch. He would kiss one, then the other, and watch. She could almost hear him smiling at the effect he created.

When she felt his fingers slip inside the top edge of her panties, a little moan escaped her lips, and he looked up at her for reassurance. She told him in the smallest of whispers not to stop, and he didn't. He slowly removed the little material, snaking it down her legs and casting it aside. He touched her with all the tenderness she could have imagined, almost too tenderly. She'd have liked to open herself to him, a part of her longed to have him explore her there, taste her, and take her to new heights. There would be time for that later, she knew. Now, yes, now that they were together like this, there would be no turning back for either of them. That thought alone made her long for his weight upon her, and she pulled at him, urging him upward along her body until once again he looked into her eyes.

"John," His name was the barest of sounds in the quiet of the room. He was smiling softly and the warmth in his face was enough to stir those latent tears once more, but she fought against them.

"Jane." He whispered as he lowered himself to nestle in against her neck. "I waited. I waited only for you."

"You don't have to wait anymore John, never again." The tears came despite her struggle. She wanted him in every conceivable way. It seemed there weren't enough places to touch him, to show him how she felt. Her hand moved over his back, the smooth hardness of his muscles as he moved, and lower, to find the hardest part of him as it pressed against her thigh. With her hand around him there, the sound he made was incredible. Soft and deep against her ear he drew in a breath as she held him. He moved, naturally, back from the intensity of her grip, but she didn't remove her hand. While she kissed him in the curve of his neck, and tasted the light sheen of sweat, again she heard him suck in his breath at the feeling it produced, and then naturally, he moved forward once more into her hand. Oh to show him how it could feel! She smiled against his skin, and coaxed him on with a new huskiness to her voice.

"That's it John, feel … Just like that." And when she spoke, she paid attention to the fact that on his own he moved back and forth, lost to a feeling he'd never known before. It was too much for him to contain, to absorb. The sensory overload tripped within him and when she felt him shake against her, when she heard his voice catch as he tried to say her name, she loosened her hold. It wasn't a second later that his hand grabbed hers and put it back to the same place, in a silent objection. That need, the demand he felt inside was too much, and when she took him again, he cried out soft and urgent as he reached his moment, and she took him there with absolute intent and desire. He shook as he rested, half to one side above her, and in his eyes she saw so much. As he struggled to regain his breath she reassured him, and was rewarded with the wonder of his smile.

"It's okay, you couldn't… I understand John. The feeling of that was too much. Believe me, it's all right." She said with a little laugh as another passing look of concern lit upon his face.

"That should not happen?" He asked. There was a not of surprise in his voice as he moved down against her to where the wetness lay against her hip. She felt his fingers there, inspecting, touching and she knew, as part of his instinct, smelling and tasting the substance his body had produced. She wondered silently if when he was so lost to the world he'd ever had moments of arousal, moments when his developing body had seemed new and curious to his hands. A smile suppressed those thoughts, though she made a mental note to ask him some day.

"It should have happened yes. Should have. It's good that it did." She wanted him to feel confident, and in all honesty she hadn't expected him to be able to control the overwhelming sensation for long. He always had tremendous control over his body, but paired with the emotions they both were at last sharing, it was too much to contain. She could think of nothing else to say, but felt that he was not upset. "John, come up here and kiss me. Please. I need you."

He answered in a slow rise to her lips, where in his kiss she could taste him, and all that made her want to do to him aroused her mind past the point of no return. The floodgates of her passion for him had broken wide open and it was all she could do to not lay him down and just ravage him. Another small laugh into their kiss at the picture of such a thing made him pause and lay to her side. He watched her intently and ran his hand over her face as she returned his gaze.

"We're together." He said again, and the most beautiful, devilish look spread over his face. He was like a child finally rewarded, hoarding some barely containable secret.

"Yes, together at last, and I'm so glad John, really. I want you to know that. I want you to know how much I've wanted this."

"Oh, I know. I knew." He tested the words, sensing they were correct. "I knew you did. You knew." His hand moved over her side, along the curve of her hip and back up to caress her breast, with his eyes focusing there and then to her face.

"So we both knew." She laughed. "And now here we are."

"That… it wasn't…"

"Wasn't what?"

"It wasn't," He looked away, almost in an embarrassed way and then back up to her. "It wasn't making love. I didn't do it the right way."

"John, honey…" She didn't laugh, but touched him tenderly. "You will. Trust me. When you say I knew we'd be together, you are right. I've thought about this more than I want to tell  you, and you will. We will. What happened, it was exciting too, to feel you that way, so hard and ready."

"It was?" The look on his face went from bashful into a full smile of half-amused confidence. "Yeah." He nodded. "It was."

"It was!" She laughed.

"But you want to make love?"

"Yes, make love. I want you inside me." Her eyes fixed on his as those words came slowly. She wanted him to understand everything.

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"Inside you." He repeated with a smile.  He inched closer to her and she put her top leg over his backside, pulling him closer still. That surprised him, but he let his hand move over that leg, stroking her up and down. She could feel his nakedness against her, the gentle pulse there, and of course she knew it wouldn't take someone as young and able as John very long before he'd be absolutely ready to prove her words as truth. She was so ready for him it was almost an ache, and to quell the tide, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.

He returned her kiss eagerly yet softly, as he snaked a hand underneath her and pressed it to her back. For long moments there was nothing but the fusion of their mouths, and he tested what she had shown him, offering his tongue to her curiously then fully as she encouraged him with her body and the little sounds she was incapable of stopping. As they pulled apart, she could feel him growing hard once again, and found herself wondering if that was at all strange for him. Things to ask later, she thought with a smile, things to laugh about now that they were together.

"I want to make sure you are safe, Jane." His fingers pushed back a strand of her hair, and in his eyes there was a deep concern. For all they'd been through together in the weeks since he'd come into her life, she understood his statement and why he was saying such a thing to her now in their intimacy. He wanted her in all ways, she knew, just as she felt for him. It was unspoken love and concern, deep and true.

"I think I'm safer with you than with anyone else in the world, you know?" The smile she offered him was soft and meaningful, intended to convey all she understood and felt. She watched his eyes shift back and forth and for a moment a look of strange concentration came over his features.

"Other people?" His look changed into mild confusion as he shifted his weight slightly and propped up onto his elbow, resting his head in that hand. "Other people can make it not safe too? When we …make love, Kathleen said I have to make sure you are safe. Mating," He paused and ran a finger over his lip. "Makes babies." The look in his yes was questioning, even as he said the words. "She said you probably did not want that and I had to make sure…" The look of confusion was still there and Jane couldn't help but to laugh, pressing her lips together and dissolving into a huge smile. Dear God, she thought, his Aunt had that talk with him. Mental note to thank her later. For now, she contained her amusement and turned onto her back. With a sigh, she let out the last of her laughter.

"I'm safe, John. In that way yes, I'm safe. Kathleen told you there are ways a woman can make sure she won't get pregnant, or you know, have a baby, right?"

"Yes." He said, shaking his head. He seemed relieved by her confirmations. "She told me about the ways. It is good then. You don't want to be not safe, do you?"

"Unsafe. No, not just now, John. No babies for Jane just now." She laughed. He came over her again, and she felt his more insistent need press against her once more, and her body naturally responded, her hips moving in a soft roll of encouragement. He looked into her eyes steady and long, asking questions she wanted to answer over and over.

He let his hand fall to her leg as it rose against his hip, and as she moved, he slipped between that leg and the other, so she was able once more to wrap around him. Her calves moved up over his, caressing him as he looked down into her face.  On his elbows he rested and his hands moved on either side of her face, as without words, they studied one another, their bodies moving gently together, speaking all they left to silence. With a slowly spreading smile, John was the first to break the spell.

"Show me… I want to be inside." It was a gentle plea, yet there was an underlying urgency in his words which she felt as well. It was a demand felt deep inside of them that could only be satisfied with physical union. It had been growing between them for so long now, weeks of tension, of denial and longing left unfulfilled. Tonight, now, it would be completed. Her hand inched lower, touching once again on that incredible, strong hardness, the length of him she yearned to feel so deep. Their eyes never parted as she guided him closer, touching him to her, whispering, yes John, inside me, and with a slow, instinctive push of his body, he was there, home, sheathed in her wetness.

They both drew in a deep breath and wore equal expressions in and of the moment; the intensity of that long awaited connection as it filled them fully. When he opened his eyes and looked at her again, he shook his head, his hair threatening to block the wonder and lust in his eyes as he savored the feeling. Her name was a whisper on his lips, and she lifted her hips in encouragement. She wanted all he had to give, each inch, each drop that he would fill her with she suddenly craved beyond measure. He closed those beautiful liquid blue eyes once more and let the feeling carry him. He began a slow rhythm, as he had before, in her hand, and from beneath him, she encouraged him still with soft words of passion. He picked himself up some, steadying on his strong, solid arms, and began to move more swiftly, harder, striving to claim the feeling as it moved through him. Jane could see it all in the way he'd look at her, then close his eyes and let his head fall back. He was immersed in the wholeness of loving her, of giving himself to her and feeling all she gave in return. He lowered himself down onto her once more, letting out a little gasp of pleasured surprise as he moved deeper. When his arms came around her head, encircling her so wonderfully, the look he gave was too complex to decipher.

"This… is so .." The way his voice trailed off, the way he laid his head against the rise of her breasts, left all that he didn't say hanging in the air. She brought her hands up, trailing them over his back slowly to feel those muscles tense and relax. He was nearly still inside her, and she waited in quietness, not wanting to push him over the edge. "Jane…" He was murmuring against her neck, the dampness of his forehead and her own sweat mingling to create a delicious smoothness as his lips moved there. "I don't have words. So good." He looked into her eyes once again and gradually allowed himself to move his hips, pushing forward and then just as slowly retreating. When her hands came to his face, he leaned into her touch in a tender, familiar way and she moved his hair back behind his ear.

"So good John, yes. So very, very good. You don't need words… I know. You feel so incredible baby, so right, so good." To her own ears she sounded half delirious, and she didn't much care if she was ever in her right mind again if derangement felt this wonderful. He captured her hands and raised them over her head, levering his body against them. While she watched him move, she turned herself just slightly.

"Oh, no.. don't." He stuttered, "Jane.."

She smiled and lay still, understanding. He wanted the moment to hold off, to enjoy each new sensation. To her it didn't matter. She could make love to him over and over without much pause, and again she thought of that expression, how the floodgates had been opened. Indeed. She wanted him to flood her, to fill her like no other man before, there was no one now but him. This night he'd claimed so much more than her body. She was his, for good. He found his rhythm once more inside of her, and she couldn't resist lifting her legs around him.

"Jane," In his voice, barely, she heard a little laugh as he looked down. "You, shouldn't. It feels too good, like before." He came down against her easily, kissing his way up to her mouth. That was one thing he had no hesitation to do, and he was absolutely damn good at the task. His voice was soft and low, "I want to … you know, do it right."

"You're doing it perfectly, perfect, perfect, perfectly." She laughed. "We have all the time we want to make love John." She saw that stir a bit of question in his face. "Stay, tonight, with me. I want you to stay."

"And we can do more?" She shook her head. Insatiable male, all the way. Before he could interpret that to mean her refusal she assured him with a nod that if he wanted, he could have seconds, thirds and fourths. She wrapped her arms around his back and caressed slowly until her hands rested on his biceps, so strong and firm. God she could get lost in his body, and she wanted nothing more. She wanted to show him every move she knew, but there was time  now. There was so much time for them.

"More, John… move inside me like you were, deep and hard. Don't be afraid to let it go. Like before, but inside me so good. Let it come John, I want it from you." There was more urgency in her voice than she intended, but she did want him, she wanted to be sore from his weight, to be drenched in his sweat and filled with his release. On one side, she moved her leg and whispered to him to hold her there against his side. He didn't hesitate and as he lifted and held, he moved deeper, the angle of their bodies perfect for this last build to fulfillment. He sucked his breath in, and held it before letting it free in a short, harsh pace… staccato into the air that was filled with the scent of them, before he breathed in again.

The way he was entering her body made her writhe beneath him and she brought her hands to her breasts, craving only the solidity of touch to bring her focus back to the man above her, to look at him with his head back, so damn beautiful, so full of animal hunger as he let out a near growl. His breath in that staggered rhythm caught as the pained sound fell away, and she knew he was ready, his body tensed against her thigh, and again, the deepest sound came free of him as his hips thrust forward. She was literally moved with his forceful moves, and braced herself hard against the headboard, pushing stroke for stroke back against him. The sound he let loose became her name in a cry, then it was gone as soon as she'd heard it, replaced by a sound that was all his strength in one deep moan as he let go, as he filled her so deep, so fully, so intensely. He cried out, overwhelmed as his body shook, his hips rocked and pushed against her with no room to spare. He was buried to the hilt inside of her as he reached his moment, and the rub of his hips, of the wet, soft hair against her there brought her right behind him. She too caught her breath and clutched at him while the tide raced through her, and her muscles pulled around him inside, drawing him impossibly closer. Her pleasure came and came, sweet and hard, wracking her body, draining her strength as she fed him all she had. Long, deep sounds filled the room as they slowly came back to one another, to themselves, and yet, somehow, they didn't. They were still lost in the moment, it hung between them so heavy she could have touched it. He was covered in sweat that smelled to her so rough and masculine, and he leaned away just enough to gather the sheet up and wipe off his face. Then he brought those eyes back over her own which were quickly betraying her and filling with an altogether different moisture.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked, so concerned.

She let out a small noise, and pressed her lips together as she shook her head. "No no, you didn't … hurt me, John. No. Please… Oh please…" She pushed her hips against him and felt him lift, but no, she pulled him in before he could think she wanted him off of her.  "Don't, leave me yet."

He lowered himself back down, and they lay there for a moment regaining some normalcy to their breathing. Again she noticed the heaviness in the air, the scent of them. It made her smile, and her nails played over his back as he moved, leaning again to her side.

"Jane," He paused. "I would like to tell you how it felt, but…" He was struggling with his vocabulary again, but instead of interrupting, she let him find his way. "I have never, never had something like making love. Ever. It was what you said. 'Incredible.' "

"Incredible." She repeated with a smile, "Yes, it was, so much. I don't have to ask you how it felt John. I could see it, and feel it, and you were absolutely… you have nothing to worry about when it comes to doing it the right way, I promise." Her laugh, small and soft brought him to her and he silenced her with a long, slow kiss that seemed to cement everything they'd shared. When he moved off of her at last, and slowly left the warmth of her body, he lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling in silence. She wasn't quite sure whether to leave him to his thoughts, or touch the inviting expanse of his chest. She chose to get up and open the window, and she had to suppress a smile. All he'd left inside of her felt most noticeable as she walked, but she didn't care. This was freedom, this night. He here with her, and what they had done, it was saying to every damnable force that fought against them, every… no, not those thoughts now. The air rushed in cool against her face, spreading past her into the room and she turned back toward the bed.

Adonis lay tangled in pale silver sheets, one hand across his stomach the other carelessly above his head as he breathed slow and even. All she could do was look at him, want him in a thousand ways, want to protect him and love him. Yes, to love him. To finally confess to that truth that had been harbored somewhere secret until he had broken it loose tonight.

She moved up into her bed quietly, and he stirred. His eyes fluttered open and as she settled against the pillows and rested against the headboard, he moved to lay his head just below her breasts, still bare and sensitive to the fragile touch of his hair. He mumbled something but it was incoherent and unimportant to her as she stroked his beautiful messed up mane with a smile. Tomorrow, she planned to take the day off and spend it with him however he wanted, including as he'd asked, "more" of this evening's activities. As the wind blew gently in to soothe them, she closed her eyes and listened to the rise and fall of his breathing, and then of her own, and gradually, those sounds meshed, she and John were together, carried off into her dreams. In the last moment of her waking thoughts, she whispered, "Here, together. Apart no more." The night moved on around them, and the promise of a new day waited, as they had waited, and would never wait again.