Disclaimer: Oh, you thought I owned Tin Man? Silly rabbit! I own nothing, but a box of kleenex and generic OTC drugs.

A/N: Author is sick! Missing school and laying in bed, dying, all day apparently lends itself to writing smut. I blame it on a fevered mind.

Also, plot? What plot?

Day One:

It had been six days since the Royal Family travelled to the Summer House in Finaqua.

It had also been six days of a heat-wave that sucked the breath out of her, made sweat bead and clothes stick to her in places she wasn't even aware could sweat (like the crease of her elbows, the small of her back, the nape of her neck, the backs of her knees, the bow beneath her bottom lip…) and sapped the life right out of her until she was stumbling around like the living dead, desperate for anything that could bring her relief.

DG moaned and pressed her cheek to the cool tile, aware that writhing around on the bathroom floor in nothing but a fluffy towel to preserve her modesty was probably not befitting of someone of her station. Her station being Heir Apparent to the Royal House of Gale.

But goddamnit her station was hot and sticky!

She had tried everything to escape the skin-scorching heat that rose in hazy waves from the ground, that baked the grey stone of the Summer House and was so far, inescapable. Having just emptied her cold tub, she could already feel the heat bearing down on her, ready to settle in against her bones and steal the moisture from her cells, and already the migraine that had abated in the tub of near freezing water was beginning to pound at her temples, a staccato beat that slammed into her skull and made her vision waver.

She whimpered and dreamt of Kansas and air conditioning and fans and walk-in freezers with frozen racks of dead animals. DG would curl up against a slab of beef right now if it would bring relief.

The heat made her grumpy and miserable, and she was sequestering herself from family and friends so she wouldn't snap and say something nasty and undeserved, which she had been doing more and more lately. But six days of this, of not being able to sleep because even in nothing but her panties she was so overheated she could feel sweat pooling beneath her everywhere she made contact with the mattress. She swore her body was giving off steam, she was so uncomfortably hot.

And if one more person cracked ye olde "now an eclipse isn't looking like such a bad idea eh?" joke at her, she was going to start exercising her authority to get some old fashioned heads rolling.

She was also almost entirely certain that at some point, the heat was going to melt her brain into slag and drip out of her ears. At least she would be able to empathize with Glitch.

Some time later, DG peeled herself off the marble tile, groaning as her head swam, and moved into her bed chamber to dig out some clothes.

Thankfully, after many a reasonable, adult discussions with her mother and the Royal Seamstress (and these conversations could in no way be construed as tantrums), DG had managed to wiggle her way out of gowns and constrictive undergarments, and into a wardrobe she was far more equipped to deal with.

Unless she was attending a court function, she generally wore trousers, fitted blouses, tailored jackets, or plain, unadorned dresses. Today she pulled on a simple sheath dress in a very muted yellow, shoved her feet into a pair of comfy flats.

For today she had a plan.

Instead of holing up in her room, flopped on her bed in the artificial darkness created by heavy drapes closed on the sun, or going downstairs to see what company was to be had and just sharing her misery with other people who were just as sticky and uncomfortable and unhappy as she was, she was going to sit by the lake.

DG was going to find the biggest shade-bearing tree she could find, plunk her feet in the water and she was going to spend the day in solitude. She even had her sketchbook and her tin of charcoals and colouring pencils, in case the urge struck her to draw.

With her plan firmly rooted in her mind, DG made quick her escape from the summer house, noting briefly that all the drapes had been pulled shut, and most of the common rooms were empty, as most of the residents were holed up in dark rooms suffering in silence. She had thought, if she had stumbled across them, she would invite her friends to join her, to see if Glitch, Raw, Cain or her sister would enjoy time by the lake with her, but with all of them hidden away, she decided against searching them out. And, quite secretly, DG was happy to spend some time alone. For a girl who had grown up (for the most part) in Kansas, on the Otherside, and had spent most of her free time alone, she found the constant company a little overwhelming at times.

The weight of the heat once she stepped out of the miniature palace was palpable, she felt as if she was being pushed to the dry grass beneath her feet, and it was tempting to give into it and collapse to the ground in a fit of the vapours like some damsel-in-distress. Except, there was no one to be seen, and she suspected she'd be left to rescue her own damn self or bake in the sun like a princess-shaped pastry left too long in the oven. Instead, she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and picked a path through the crunchy, parched grass to the lake.

DG had gotten within a stone's throw of the water's edge when she realized she was not the only one with this particular plan. She also realized several other things in quick succession; one, Cain had decided on an afternoon at the lake, two, he had beaten her there and was already waist-deep in the water, three, he apparently thought (mistakenly, like she had) that he would be alone.

And these next two were the most important; Cain was a skinny-dipper, and he was glistening.

DG made a strangled noise as streams of water carved channels through the muscles of the tin man's back, and terrified the man would turn and spot her and much awkwardness would ensue, she sprinted for the safety of the trees further down the shore. As soon as she broke the tree line, DG dove behind a small white birch and pressed her back to it, gripping her bag of art supplies to her chest, and closed her eyes. That was a mistake.

Tanned shoulders, and water dripping off a defined back and a dip at his lower back that led to... Oh my.

Pressing her fingers to her mouth, DG suddenly fought a highly inappropriate urge to giggle. Even with her best efforts, she found her chest vibrating with sudden, hysterical and mostly silent laughter. Her heart slammed against her ribs and her stomach was twisted in happy, confused knots. There was a heat rising from a very wrong place of her anatomy, and images of a very naked tin man danced on her eyelids.

Her body marshalled its forces in favour of wholly inappropriate urges. She wanted suddenly to run her tongue along Cain's spine, to live in the dimples at his lower back, to grip that ass-

Bad DG, bad! Naughty thoughts are naughty! This is Cain! This is prude, puritan Cain, your friend! Who just happens to be a nudist...

DG put up a valiant effort to fight the urge to turn and sneak another peek at the amazing scene unfolding behind her pathetic hiding spot, and she made it a heroic five and three-quarter seconds before she turned and, gripping the trunk of the tree, snuck her head out from behind its shaded column.

Cain wasn't where she had last spotted him, and DG had a brief moment of sheer panic where she imagined a drippy, scowling tin man sneaking up behind her, ready to pounce and out her as a closet peeping-tom. After whipping her curls around to turn her head and make sure there were no naked men sneaking up on her, she scanned the lake and shoreline and finally caught sight of him.

Full frontal sight of him. DG suddenly started believing in God as she got as good a look at what the man hid beneath a leather vest and immaculately tailored tan pants as she could hope for. He was everything she'd ever- never! never ever!- imagined late at night, or while Tutor rambled on, listing the magical elemental table. He was seamless, graceful muscles, trim and shaped by loving hands. His skin was gleaming and tanned golden by the sun, and the older man put every half-formed crush she'd ever had in her teens to shame. Cain also beat out all the other candidates in the "packing" department, hands down.

Uhn!

He wasn't what she would have picked, he wasn't her 'type' (tall and slender, with messy dark hair and eyes), hell he was almost two decades older than her, but suddenly, incontrovertibly she knew he was everything she'd ever wanted. She burned and she tingled and she lusted.

And, God, he would kill her if he knew. Kill her dead.

He meandered over to a small tree where his clothes were piled and settled himself in the grass, still gloriously nude, and picking up his battered hat, he perched it over his face and proceeded to dry off in the sun.

DG watched him, greedily and unrepentant, for a long time before her fingers began to itch. Without thinking about it, she untied her leather art bag and pulled out her sketchpad and dug around blindly for a charcoal pencil. Leaning against her hiding place, DG began to sketch him. She started with a rough outline, shaping long, lean thighs in repose, his strong, capable hands folded behind his head, the tips of his toes. And then she began to fill in the little details, and the not so little details. DG snorted a little, flushing in happy embarrassment as she worked on a particular part of his anatomy.

Cain was the perfect model, only moving once to pluck a long piece of grass and chew on it meditatively, and was perfectly still. Eventually, she assumed, he dozed off, lulled by the heat. She filled in shadows and flushed out minute details, hands working frantically to capture everything all at once.

For the first time in six days, DG simply wasn't aware of the heat. She didn't notice that her hair was plastered to her forehead, just like she wasn't cognizant of the fact that she had a smudge of charcoal on her cheek running all the way up to her temple.

DG was impressively dismayed when, as she was just finishing up her sketch, Cain shifted and sat up with a long stretch (that part wasn't so dismaying as titillating, and DG had never found a use for that particular word before) and reached for his clothes. When the tin man began to saunter back to the summer house, DG let loose a groan and slid down the birch to her knees. She examined her sketch and noted, unsurprised, that it was the best piece she had ever done.

Guess you just need to be in hot, lusty love with your subject, eh DG?

Once Cain's backside, unfortunately once again clad, disappeared from her view, DG gathered her things and replaced them in her bag carefully. She made her way down to the lake on wobbly legs, so overridden with an odd mixture of guilt and arousal, and washed her charcoal-smudged hands in the cold water. She set her bag down in the grass, greener here by the water, toed off her shoes, and perched on the bank edging the water, dipping her feet in the lake. At this point, she would probably benefit from a full dunking in the cold water. A cold shower would work, too.

DG sat for a long time, staring at nothing, and wondering how in the hell she was ever going to look Cain in the eye again.

I am so very screwed.

Day Two:

DG woke early, if you could call it waking when you technically hadn't slept the entire night, and groaned, pulling her pillow over her head and kicked her feet petulantly. She had spent at least three quarters of the night reliving the previous afternoon, and torturing herself with fantasies where she had joined Cain in the lake. The other quarter of the night had been spent dealing with feelings of tremendous guilt, after all, she had basically spied on her friend (best friend, if she was being honest) at a moment where he was vulnerable and she was sure he would not approve. She was having definitively un-friendly thoughts and feelings towards the man, hell, she was lusting after him like a love-sick teenager with her first crush.

She had also concluded at some point in the night that Cain had made his brazen dip in the lake a routine, after realizing that Cain had been absent for long periods during the heat wave, and he was the only person in their midst who didn't seem affected by the hot spell. In fact, he seemed downright genial compared to the rest of them. When DG worked it out in her head, she became conscious of the fact that the tin man generally didn't make an appearance until well after lunch.

Oh good, you have his schedule now. Are you going to stalk him? Do a little Cain-watching? Perhaps with binoculars?

Telling her subconscious to stuff it, DG dragged herself out of bed lethargically and became aware that it felt even hotter in the room in the early dawn than it had previously, and she let out a string of half-hearted curses that would have made her poor etiquette tutor suffer a stroke. She yanked on the taps to draw herself yet another cold bath with a wrinkle of her nose and thought that maybe this would help cut her sexual frustration a little.

In the end, it did very little, and she came to the conclusion that either the cold shower thing was a myth, and/or only worked for guys. As she towelled off, squeezing water droplets from the ends of her sodden curls, DG could feel the heat working its way into her skin again. She thrust out her bottom lip, pouting and resigned herself to a day spent inside, playing cards with Az, who would be so drowsy with the heat that she would continually forget what game they were playing and inevitably toss all her cards on the floor and declare "52 pickup". DG really wished she had never pulled that old trick on her sister.

DG thought, with an ache, of the lake and tugged on her long skirt with more force than was strictly necessary. Obviously that was out, as Cain had all but claimed it. The more she thought about it, however, the more she thought it was unfair that she had to avoid the only place in Finaqua that would give her some relief at this point.

Cain can't bogart a whole lake, damnit! And it's early, he probably won't be there yet. Not only that, but it's not my fault the man decided he could prance around in the buff.

Struggling not to giggle at the mental image of Cain prancing, DG set her shoulders resolutely and decided to take a second stab at her previous plan. She grabbed her art bag out of habit and left her room with an air of purpose. Yet again, each of the rooms she passed were empty, but as the sun had only barely risen, she wasn't surprised to be the lone early riser. In fact, as it gave her a better chance at gaining sole access to the lake, she was downright chipper about the lack of people.

As she strode through the hall and reached the great entrance, DG thought briefly of the awkwardness of dinner the previous night, and how she had resolutely stared at her peas in order to avoid looking at Cain (who was seated to her right), or anyone else, sure that the whole group could see her glowing an electric red with the force of her blush. When the tin man had asked her quietly if she wanted his eggplant because he hated the stuff, she had reared back from him, blushing wildly at the imagined innuendo. She had had to excuse herself from the meal early and had practically bolted from the room.

Smooth moves, DG.

As she picked her way carefully down the path to the lakefront, she flashed back to later that night when she had sat in the great room, unwinding before bed, braiding Azkadellia's beautiful hair and half-listening to Ahamo's story of a poker game gone awry in the Otherside, confusing half the people in attendance with his explanations of the game. Cain had been sitting in the corner, whittling a piece of ash wood and when Ahamo lost his temper at Glitch's fifth repetition of his question on the mechanics of card counting (in his defence, she was pretty sure he had actually been glitching) she had turned her head to share the joke with Cain, the first unguarded moment she'd had with him all night, and she swore he dropped a lid at her in a slow wink that had set heat unfurling low in her belly.

Deep in thought, DG would have stumbled right into the scene before her were it not for the clear sound of water splashing. She froze and reared her head back, and caught sight of a pair of legs, upended in a reversal of the position she normally saw them in, and that fabulous ass and then she was making yet another headlong dash for the woods in the breaking dawn.

Why? Why, God, Why? Why is he here? Why is he here doing handstands?

DG collapsed beneath her ubiquitous birch and covered her face with her hands, and cursing the world in general and Cain specifically. She now had no way to sneak back to the house without risking being seen, if the tin man hadn't righted himself in time to see her frantic sprint to the trees, and she knew she had no willpower when it came to Wyatt Freakin' Cain. She would peek, she would. She was a weak, weak woman.

This is cruel and unusual punishment! I object!

Resigned, DG plunked herself in the shade of the trees where she could keep an eye on her tin man, without him seeing her, and made herself comfortable. She felt like a horrible, no-good, depraved friend. But then again, it was all Cain's fault, if he'd stop swimming in the lake naked as the day God made him (Good job God! I appreciate the hard work!), she wouldn't be stuck in this position.

With a sigh, DG pulled out her sketchpad and this time she drew out her coloured pencils and began to sketch.

DG spent several hours with Cain, who was unaware he had company, sketching him feverishly and swallowing the butterflies that kept threatening to escape from her stomach. She had a full scene fleshed out, including the lake and the surrounding landscape (although most of the detail had been focused on Cain wading through the shallows, looking for frogs or neat stones or something) when Cain emerged from the water and clambered up a tree that overhung a deeper portion of the lake and did a somersault from a high branch into the water, nearly giving DG a heart attack in the process.

By the time Cain sauntered back to the house, DG was tangled in knots of sexual frustration, and when he crested the hill and disappeared out of view, she marched to the lake and waded in, fully clothed and submerged herself in the blessedly cool water.

She had to sneak back into the house, leaving a muddy trail behind her, and changed in her rooms.

At dinner, DG centered a carrot in the middle of her plate, finalizing her smiley face, constructed wholly of food items and started when she realized that Glitch had asked her a question. Flushing slightly, DG asked him to repeat himself.

"I was just wondering where you'd been getting off to the last couple of afternoons. No one could find our wayward Princess for most of the day," Glitch asked, spearing a piece of neatly segmented meat on his fork and gesturing with it.

Uhh...

DG was uncomfortably aware of Cain's gaze on her and she fumbled for an answer, tripping over her tongue as she spat out the first thing that came to her mind. "Bird-watching. I was bird-watching."

Glitch raised an eyebrow at her and she went several unique shades of red before staring mutinously at the smiling face on her plate. What are you smiling at?

"Since when does bird-watching involve tracking mud from the kitchen entrance all the way to your rooms? Is bird-watching a muddy pasttime?" Azkadellia queried with a slight frown, looking puzzled.

DG spasmed and nearly died, throwing a frantic look at Cain who confounded her by waggling his eyebrows at her. "Pheasants!" DG cried inexplicably, unsure of what defence she was trying to raise and then she scraped her chair back and fled the room.

"Pheasants?" Azkadellia repeated, over the sound of Cain's low rumbling laughter as DG hot-footed it out of the dining room.

Day Three:

DG was up with the sun again, this time she was sitting in bed, propped up on pillows, and studying her sketchbook. Her pieces, which she was tentatively calling "My Private Hell, A Study on Wyatt Cain", were really the best she'd ever done. They were also the only pieces of artwork she had ever done since Anatomy class in high school that she felt should be hidden away under her mattress, and would cause a coronary if her parents (the kind with the gears or motors or the flesh and blood ones) found them.

As she laid in bed, flexing her toes and fending off a fresh wave of lust, she was determined to avoid all temptation. She would find something else to do with her time, the lake was obviously a very. bad. place. And she was tired of feeling tongue tied and mortified around her friend, and self-flagellating herself when she was alone over her unresolved sexual tension (one-sided, of course) with Cain.

Hell, she'd spend all day in a cold tub, if that's what it took. The lake couldn't be the only way to cool down around this place. Maybe she'd ask the Cook if she could spend the day reading in the cold pantry. Or the cellar.

She made it an hour before DG found herself sneaking out of the house, this time taking the long way to the lake, circling around so that she would reach the trees before the lake. DG tip-toed through the underbrush to her trusty white birch and looked for her muse. She spotted Cain swimming circuits in the lake, powerful muscles gliding and tensing as they powered him gracefully through the water.

Maybe you should ask him to teach you to swim. Like, 'Hey Cain, can you teach me how to do a butterfly stroke? Ha! I'm sure that'd go over well.

Today she went switched back to charcoal, making several small sketches of different parts of Cain's anatomy, and several profile studies. She was well on her way to filling her page with small sketches when Cain swam over to the bank near the trees, close enough to her hiding spot that she jumped and struggled to grab all her supplies, trying to shift behind her tree at the same time. She mostly ended up flailing and dropping things, while her heart thumped a staccato beat.

Cain turned his back on her and held himself up on his elbows digging into a natural shelf in the bank. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck and settled himself. After a few minutes he turned his head slightly so she could see his profile.

"I'm gettin' tired of waitin' on you to decide to come on out," he called out casually, loud enough to reach her, crouching in the woods.

DG's heart ratcheted to a whole new level, slamming in her chest wildly and she opened and closed her mouth several times, probably looking vaguely fishlike.

He's not talking to me, is he?

"The water's nice and cool. Perfect for a dip, Princess," he invited, still not turning to face her fully, but she could hear the amusement in his drawl.

"Fuck!" she chirped quietly and palmed her temple anxiously. She thought briefly of not answering him, maybe sneaking away and pretending nothing had ever happened, but with a twinge in her belly, DG discarded the idea and got clumsily to her feet. She approached him reluctantly and cautiously, cheeks flaming and her gaze on her shoes.

When she got close enough, she stopped and bit her lip. "How long'd you know I was there?" She asked quietly, mortified and ashamed.

"Mm, I caught sight of you somewhere around mid-mornin' three days ago, runnin' for the trees," he answered, flipping over to face her, propping his chin in his hands, elbows resting on the bank.

"You knew? All this time?" DG squealed, too horrified to moderate her pitch.

Cain shrugged and gave a slow smile. "Course I did. You can't sneak worth a damn."

"But, you.. And naked! And, oh my God, you were showing off!" DG stammered, flashing back to Cain doing somersaults and leaping off tree branches.

Cain flicked a wet hand at her, spraying a cascade of water droplets in her face. "Maybe," he admitted.

"Cain!" She hollered, cocking a hip and placing her hand on it and gesturing the other at him. DG realized her mistake a moment too late when his eyes focused in on her fingers and she followed his gaze to her own hands, covered in charcoal.

"You been drawin' me?" he inquired with a note of surprise as he studied her black-smudged hands.

"...Maybe," DG murmured stubbornly, repeating his answer of moments before. "That's besides the point."

"The point being you spyin' on me?" Cain clarified with a raised eyebrow and a quirk of his lips.

"...Yes."

Cain gave her a full-blown grin, and she was a little awed at this new side of Cain, the one so quick to tease and smile, and he pushed back off the ledge of the bank and back-peddled in the water until he was no longer hidden from the chest down by dirt and grass. DG squeaked and covered her eyes.

"C'mon Princess, it's nothin' you haven't seen before. Or drawn, come to think of it. Now, are you gonna get in the water or am I gonna have to come after you?" He asked, sounding sincere in his threat, a hint of laughter in his voice.

Dropping her hand DG looked at him warily, keeping her eyes strictly on his face, and with a sigh she toed off her shoes. "I'm not wearing a swimsuit, and if I track mud in again, Az is going to question my pheasant story again."

Cain gave a bark of laughter and cocked his head in challenge. That damnable eyebrow rose again.

DG took a deep breath and stood straight, raising her chin stubbornly. She maintained eye contact as she pulled her dress over her head, and when she dropped it to the grass she shook out her hair and folded her arms over her chest. She stood in her bra and panties, having a ridiculous staring contest with the tin man, before he gave her a winning smile and swam toward her, offering her a magnanimous hand when he got close. DG took it, and as soon as she took a step forward to get into the water, he gave her a sharp tug, pulling her headfirst into the water.

She resurfaced with a splutter and threw the wet tangle of her curls out of her face. "Gah! Asshole!"

He chuckled at her glower until she splashed him, and she was satisfied in her vengeance when he was forced to swallow a mouthful of lakewater with a grimace. He growled at her and swam closer. DG back-peddled, until her back was met with the bank of the shore, and her feet were planted in the smooth sand. The tin man pinned her between his arms, placing his hands on the wall of dirt behind her.

"Uh... Cain?"

"Wyatt," he corrected, his voice low and husky, his blue eyes dark with something she couldn't identify.

"Alright Wy-." He cut her off with his mouth on hers, fierce and hot.

DG gave a keen of surprise that he swallowed greedily, and her hands slipped up and around his shoulders, pulling him closer to her. He complied easily, and her body moulded to his like they belonged together, soft curves against firm muscle. She parted her mouth and Cain took the invitation to tangle his tongue with hers, making her quiver with every strong sweep of his tongue. Kissing had never quite rendered her this weak-kneed before, and heat flared in her belly.

When he pulled back to let them both catch their breath, DG uttered an oath that had him chuckling breathlessly. The sight of him laughing went straight to her head and she pushed forward, running a hand down his slick chest bravely, unthinking. Cain froze and groaned underneath her touch and DG was heady with power. Cain crushed her to him, hands encircling her waist to hold lift her and then with a splash and a ripple, she was sitting on the riverbank, so that she was level with him.

Cain reached up and gently tugged her head down to recapture her lips and DG moaned sharply into his mouth as his strong fingers traced circles on her belly, just below her navel. Her own fingers sunk in the hollows of his collarbones, traced a path down his chest to his abdomen, dipped into the shelves created out of muscle, earning her very own moan from the tin man, and she shaped him with her hands like she had done with charcoals not so long ago.

Cain shifted until he was cradled between her thighs and she locked her knees into his sides, trapping him. His mouth drifted away from her lips and trailed blazing hot kisses along her jaw and mouthed the spot behind her ear that made her writhe against him. When his fingers danced along her ribs, making her giggle and shift away from him, she felt him smile against the pulse point in her throat, but giggles swiftly turned into a low moan when his palms brushed the underside of her breasts.

"Wyatt!" She gasped, breathless and wide-eyed.

At the sound of his name, Cain pulled back and met her gaze, his steely-blue eyes pupil-blown with desire and he deliberately held her eyes as he palmed her breasts. Her eyes threatened to flutter closed, but she resisted, biting her lip as the warmth of his hands burned at her through the wet, flimsy protection of her bra. He watched her reaction with hooded eyes, and she arched under his touch, whimpering when he ran a thumb over and around her over-sensitized nipples, which instantly hardened under his skillful touch.

"Darlin', in the very near future, I want to hear you screamin' that," he murmured, and then bent his head to mouth her breast through the fabric and DG lost all sense.

She gripped at the back of Cain's head, threading her fingers through his short hair and held him in place. "That.. sets- ah! Big expectations, Wyatt," she mumbled teasingly, struggling to maintain her wits as he marked her breast with teeth and tongue.

"Promises, not expectations," he clarified and caught her nipple between his teeth gently, soothing the bite with a tongue.

His answer made DG burn and she moved forward to bump her hips against his, and she was rewarded with both his sharp groan of approval and the proof of his intentions against the inside of her thigh. DG shivered as Cain's hands moved to her back and fumbled with the clasps of her bra. He got it undone a lot quicker than she thought he would, dealing with unfamiliar Othersider technology and all, and she moved away to pull the offending garment off fully.

The urge to cover up under his heated gaze was strong, but instead DG straightened her back and looked him straight in the eye, tossing her wet hair over her shoulder.

"You are so beautiful," he told her with a serious face, eyes moving over her body. He moved in to place a kiss between her breasts. "Perfect. Sexy. Amazing." He punctuated each word with a kiss in a new spot.

DG smiled shyly and pulled his face up, holding it between her hands and she moved in for a real kiss. She ran her tongue along his bottom lip, earning a moan, and kissed him for all she was worth. Cain's hand traced along her right hip and then shifted to her thigh, and he ran his blunt fingernails along the inside. She shuddered delightedly, and the tin man let his fingers creep up to the edge of her panties. He tapped his fingers on a particularly responsive spot on the uppermost portion of her inner thigh, right at the edge of her underwear and waited for permission.

Already impatient, even though her entire body thrummed with nervousness, DG whined into Cain's mouth and gave a sharp nod. Her tin man chuckled and slid his fingers passed the barrier, and when he brushed against her, DG bucked her hips and cried out. Cain moved his mouth to her ear and made a circuit of it with his tongue, holding her at the small of his back while the fingers of his other hand circled the place she wanted him the most.

"Remember that promise?" He whispered in her ear, hot breath brushing the shell of her ear and making her shiver deliciously. DG nodded fiercely.

With that Cain slipped a finger in her and DG mewled and contorted herself, thrusting her hips into his hand. The tin man made an appreciative noise and curved his finger upwards, questing for the spot that would make her..

Uhn!

Another finger joined the first, and they thrusted jointly, brushing that spot that made her feel like there was a feverish wave cresting inside of her, threatening to crash down and undo her. DG dug her fingers into Cain's back and slammed her lips into his, letting her moans and whimpers fill his mouth. He continued to drive his fingers into her, adding a twist at the end that made her entire body go white hot and she felt that wave bearing down on her.

"Close, so close," she gasped into his mouth.

"That's my girl," he answered proudly, and as he pressed a hot kiss to her throat he pressed his thumb against that little knot of nerves as his fingers stretched her and she came undone.

"Wyatt!" DG screamed, fulfilling both of their promises.

Cain pressed her trembling body against his, tucking her head under his chin as she came down from her orgasm, and he mumbled praises into the crown of her head. She gulped down air like it was in short supply and buried her nose into his throat.

"Pheasants," she murmured against his skin, and was rewarded with his riotous laughter.

"I broke you," he choked out, around his deep laughs.

"No," DG denied, circling her hips and pressing them to his. "But I have big expectations for that too."

A/N: Le fin! This is a one-shot unless there is enough demand for more.