"Ready?"

She was giving him an 'out.' Absolutely. If she was reading him wrong (never happened) or thinking with her vagina (always happened), she wanted the priest to have an escape. It was a deceitfully easy moment. He could take the dossier. Or he could take her.

She wasn't accustomed to this nervousness. Or the halting, delicate, intricate slowness. He walked so slowly toward her. They were usually so fast. So eager. So sure and quick to take. Lust in its purest form. Jude should have known this man would be different.

And he was different. She wanted Timothy differently. Deeply. Maybe it was the years of hating him - the exhausting years. Reverend Mother was right. Resentment took its toll. And maybe Jude was tired. Or maybe it was the old dance she'd missed. The decimating attraction. That dastardly desire that had made her so blind to his truth.

But she saw a different man now. Broken. Regretful. Remorseful. Tortured and haunted. By her. It was a powerful, inebriating feeling. It drew her to him the way he seemed drawn to her now.

9 paces? Perhaps 10 and he was within inches of her body. She could smell the fresh, warm cleanness of his skin. Steadied her yearning fingers on the cheap hotel desk. They brushed the leather of the dossier there.

His hands were steadied, too. In his pockets. Under his control. They didn't come out until he was standing nearly against her. "Ready." He murmured.

It was the nearness that made him certain. The heat radiating off the woman. The sound of her panting breaths. She felt so firm beneath his fingers. Just above the flare of her hips. There was muscle there. He pulled.

She gasped. The move was unexpected. It sent a shockwave of want through her that spurred her to action. "Timothy," she whispered. There were tears in the tone. She wondered if he could taste them in the kiss.

Her nails scraped his nape before fingers tangled in his hair. And that felt...insanely good. He grunted into her mouth. She was softer under the flare of hips. Her actual hips. Her rear fit his fingers as if made for them and she surged against him when he squeezed it. Come to find out, he knew exactly what to do with the woman.

The dossier slid to the floor when he perched her on the desk. She arched, giving him her neck as he untied her dress. "Mmm." She hummed under his caresses. "You've done this befar."

"No." He admitted, sucking at her earlobe. "But...I've thought about it a million times."

She pushed at his jaw, made him face her. "With me?"

His thumbs stroked her bottom lip. He studied her eyes. "One of the many ways you've haunted me, Jude."

The words were a confession. His eyes were wet and honest. Her shaky fingers began unbuttoning his shirt. "I'm not a ghost."

"No, you certainly aren't." He kissed her pulse. Bit at her jaw. The lacy edges of her bra tempted him further, inside the silken barrier. He cupped the flesh, fingers working at the hardening nipple.

"Yesssss," she hissed, mouth open against his. She did her own exploring, pushing shirt and jacket from his shoulders together. The Oxford draped over his ass, caught by his still belted pants. Impatient, Jude began working his belt and fly.

"Let's - ugh!" He lurched when her hand slid into his trousers, squeezing his hardness through boxers. "Jude." Helpless under her touch, he rolled his forehead against hers. Flummoxed by her bra, his own hands had drifted down, down, over firm thighs until he cupped a knee and raised it.

Jude tucked her heel on the desk, bringing him close enough to press against her core. "God, Timothy."

He gave a practice thrust in response. They both breathed lust, sweaty and biting at each other's mouths. Her stockings were silky. His palm skimmed the wide band of lace atop them - magically holding them up somehow, on the way to the slip of lace separating her want from his. "Ahh!" She jolted when his fingertips slipped into her panties, clutched arms around his neck. "Oh, that feels -"

"Incredible." He finished her phrase when she whined into his neck. "So hot," he wondered, fingers slipping slickly through her folds.

"Shit." She thrust against him, yelped when two fingers slipped inside her. "Yes!"

"Jude!" He'd not expected her thrust, not expected to be third knuckle deep in the tightest, most burning part of her. "Christ," he spat. His cock ached fiercely, tucked taut against her high as she flexed against him - squeezed his fingers even harder. He gripped her hair, pulled her mouth from his jaw. "I want you, Jude. I'm sorry. I can't -"

"Shut up." She sucked his lip, shoving his boxers over his hips. Her breath was hot in his ear. "Take me here or take me ta bed, but make it quick cuz I've nevah needed this so bad in my life."

He growled, pulled her roughly from the desk. "C'mon."

They shook as they shed attire, eager fingers fudging buttons and clasps. Timothy trod on Jude's bra, stepping quickly out of his loafers. He managed one sock, but the other tangled on his clinging boxer shorts. Jude crab-crawled up the bed, reaching down to help him tug the last attire free while he went straight for her bare breasts. "Here," she whispered, arching. "Help me." She was shoving her panties down. He pulled them swiftly over her stockinged legs. "Now."

"Now?" Now sounded fantastic, but he didn't want to disappoint her. "But -"

"Shhhh." Her legs wrapped his waist.

"Oh..." Her molten core against his naked erection made him weak. "Oh, Jude." Some slight adjustment and the tip of him was sliding into the heat of her. "God, that's..."

"Yeah," she panted. "More!" Her legs tightened. Her fingers curled over his shoulders and he was devoured.

He groaned. Froze at the overwhelming sensation. His forehead fell to hers, eyes squeezed shut to resist the drowning pleasure. "Jude, this is -"

"I know. Look at me, Timothy." When his eyes opened, hers were slits encouraging him. "Just move. You feel - you feel very good, and I promise we can take our time next time but this time - Ah!" She cried out on an experimental thrust, smiled at his effort. "This time just fuck me, kay?"

He nodded. That was fine. This was fine. He cupped her head in one hand, elbow stabilizing him beneath the cool pillows. In his other arm, he held her. Felt the tensing and relaxing of her back muscles in his elbow, the curve of her spine, her nails gouging his shoulders. Perhaps if he held his breath he could stave off the rope burn of lust scraping from his abdomen to his brain. He tried it, burying his face in her neck.

No, that definitely didn't work. If anything the burn was worse. He rose gasping like a drowning man. Her little pants and moans and mewl weren't helping. Perhaps if he covered her mouth... He tried it.

No, that definitely made it worse. She growled behind his fingers, licked his palm, bit and sucked at the digits. "Fuck!" He put his hand back under her head. "Jude. Please." Begging. Perhaps begging would help.

"Faster," she gasped. "So close!"

"Me, too!" His body listened to her - not him. Frustrating the way that worked. But his hips snapped in the impossible grip of her thighs and the burn turned to flame. Her head was sweaty in his grip. Her lips were swollen. Her eyes were hazily watching his. She was beautiful. "You're so beautiful," he murmured.

She responded bodily. He'd only seen contortions like that in severe possessions. She arched so drastically he worried she might break. But the worry crystallized and shattered in less than a second when he felt her more internal contortions. He swallowed her cries, less kiss and more prayer. And when the pleasure transferred to him - caught him up in the melée - he grunted like an animal against her cheek, her jaw, into her neck. She milked his very soul dry.

Their breathing seemed to sync. His chest rose when hers fell. Convenient, because they were stuck together with sweat. He moaned, lips caressing her collar bone.

She kissed his head. "Timothy."

"Uh."

"I think we're gonna make a pretty good team."

He couldn't stop the grin spreading. When he looked up at last, she was smiling too. "We might manage to develop a rapport."

"My toes are cramping."

"My brain is cramping."

She laughed aloud. He felt the chuckle against his belly. "Mm." Her thighs made a suction sound when she disconnected them from his hips. She sighed when she managed to fully stretch her legs. "Oh, hell. That was...that was a really nice workout."

He wasn't certain as to the mechanics of pulling out of her. It seemed there was only one way, and as graceless as it was, he had to take it. A moue of distaste pouted his mouth. "Ah. Bit of a mess."

She patted his shoulders. "That's normal." Free of her body, he felt oddly bereft. "Here." Her pelvis nudged at his and he rolled. She followed, tucked against him. A quick kiss. "I'm gonna clean up a bit. And...I'll be back. Yeah?"

"Yeah." She was leaving the bed. He watched her stretch, heard a few bones crack. She made her way to the bathroom with a hand in her hair, ruffling it. Timothy scrambled with the duvet and pillows, turning down the bed they would be...sharing? Uncertainty again. He stared at the ceiling, cooled sweat warming under the blankets. In the loo, the toilet flushed. Water ran. Jude was humming when she emerged. Cool and collected, she rummaged in her purse by the bed. He chewed at his lip.

"Hm?" She held out a cigarette. He took it. Watched her back when she sat on the bed's edge. "Thought I had a lighter."

"Er. In my trouser pocket."

"Oh." She crawled across the foot of the bed, flopping onto her stomach to fish his pants from the floor. He smiled at her shapely arse. "Finally." Her cigarette flared to life. She took a drag before scuffling up into the bed beside him. "Here." He took the lit cigarette and she took his, lighting it before setting the lighter on the nightstand. She propped the ashtray on her knee, seemed content to be quiet.

He was not.

He huffed to a seating position in the pillows. "Jude."

"What?"

His hands began to talk with his mouth. "I think - perhaps we should discuss what's occurred. How it stands to...change the dynamics of our partnership."

Jude shrugged, turning toward him openly. "It's just sex, Timothy."

He tried not to let those words hurt. She wasn't being hurtful. This was the type of woman she was. Pragmatic. Passionate. "I'm - I'm not certain I feel that way."

She seemed resigned to a conversation. Propped an elbow atop the pillows. "How do you feel, exactly?"

"Well." He thought. Ran through the current gamut of emotions and awarenesses flooding his taxed neurons. "Other than a bit tired?"

She chuckled. "Other than a bit tired."

"I suppose...I rather hope that...you found our...exchange...rewarding."

She bit her lips to hold a deeper chuckle. "Our exchange?" He nodded. "I found it quite rewarding."

"Excellent." He sighed deep relief. "I was nervous."

"It didn't show."

"I felt...I suppose...a connection to you."

"We were connected." She looked at her cigarette. "What else did you feel, Timothy? What are you feeling now? Say it."

"I would like for this to mean something...more than just sex, Jude."

"I didn't say what I thought it meant." She pointed at him. "I said what it was. There's a difference."

"So what did it mean?"

"I told you that, too." She reminded gently. "I said that I thought we would make a really good team."

"You were being facetious."

"I'm nevah facetious."

"I assumed you were making light."

"You assumed I was making light...of our making love?" She nodded, grinning over his processing. "Timothy. Do you know what happens when you assume?"

Something was falling into place. He was waiting for the puzzle piece to lock in, trying to force a round peg into a square hole. "What happens?"

"You make an 'ass' out of 'u' and 'me' both."

"Ah." He smirked. "I see." And then he did see. Quite suddenly. He looked at her. "You said...making...making love."

"When?"

"Just then."

"Did I?"

Incredulous, he sat up straighter, insisting. "When I said you were making light, you said -"

"Timothy." She took his cigarette. Tamped it in the ashtray with hers and set the ashtray on the table. He watched her, trying to stifle his frustration. Turning back to him, she slithered into his space. "Let's not argue."

"I'm not -"

She kissed him. Pressed her body to his until he embraced her, kissing her back. "D'you want ta make love again?"

"Yes!" He said firmly, completely flustered now.

"Good." She pulled him deeper into the bedding, hands wandering over his body. "Slowah this time."

"That - that sounds wonderful."

"Mmhm," she hummed, climbing atop him.

It was.