Time: Present Day
Location: Vatican City

Peter remembered how relieved he'd been when he returned in the late afternoon. She was cooking! His favourite! Lamb cutlets, the way her father had taught her! They were probably the most delicious meal Peter had ever had. Amelia's Dad had been so proud of her when she made his dish. She followed his instructions exactly. Hers turned out better than his, but he wasn't angry, he was elated. He said it was because she must have put even more love on the plate than he did. That's how it had been that night, she had surpassed herself. She said that she wanted to make it up to Peter. That she realised that she was being a bitch but couldn't seem to help it. She wasn't feeling herself. She now believed maybe she was not recovering as fast as she had thought. She wanted to put more love on the plate than he did.

Peter was enjoying the remembering. He remembered how they had eaten their meal. Started sharing the champagne. She had led him upstairs. She had candles burning. Fragrant incense filled the room but he could still smell her. He could always smell her even when she wasn't there. She took her dress off, she wasn't wearing anything underneath. She took his hands and placed them gently on her breasts, she let out a little groan. He tweaked her nipples, rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers in unison. She moaned. She touched him with her mouth. It was the first time she had done that. It was the first time anyone had done that, to him at least!

He held her head lovingly as she worked on him. She rolled her tongue all over him. He looked for a condom, quickly placed it on. His hormones were screaming. He told himself hold on, hold back. She threw herself backwards onto the bed pulling him with her.

He couldn't stand it any longer. Peter remembered how he came with a rebel yell. She had grabbed his hips and drew every last drop from him. Loud, happy - complete. He stayed inside her for a long time, between heaven and earth. He finally pulled free. Peter remembered now, how the condom had come off. He had expected her to be angry. She giggled and propped her legs in the air and said cheekily, "Well, don't you want to go fishing?"

He found the condom, fished it out and threw it on the floor.

He went down on her. She moaned. He brought her to a shuddering climax. She grabbed him by the ears and brought his head up to hers. He hesitated. He had cum all over his mouth. She didn't care.

She sat bolt upright, Peter nearly came with the pressure as she squeezed with her muscles. She built up the pressure alternating between squeezing him out and relaxing letting him in deeper. He rolled her over, deeper he went until he thought he would burst her and drive all the way into the bed. She screamed; he went and was spent.

Peter came in his chair, staining his white cassock as it had done so many times before.

She had cupped his face in her hands and kissed him long and hard. She had said she was so happy she could die. It wouldn't matter now she was complete. They rested for what seemed like a long time. Her play list had finished with 'Every Breath You Take' by The Police. They drifted in and out of consciousness facing each other, breathing in and out so rhythmically they seemed to be one entity.

After a while she reached down and was happy to find that he was already hard again. She had whispered playfully, "Let's play a little game. I'm going to roll on my side. You're going to come into me from behind. But, here's the kicker, you're going to stay perfectly still. We're going to see how long you can stay hard but not move. That's going to tell me how much you love me! Ready?" Peter remembered how he had said but what about another condom. She had said, "My brother only had two in his draw, anyway, you do love me don't you? Right, then it doesn't matter does it?"

Peter remembered that he had never felt anything like he felt that night. Exquisite pleasure and excruciating pain at the same time. Cuddling her naked back, being buried in her, bodily and emotionally. . . silent. . . not moving . . . hard as a rock . . . resisting the irresistible . . . trying not to pump her 'till he came . . . this was heaven . . . nothing would ever be the same . . . God he adored her!

Music: Lost In Love - Air Supply

: Every Breath You Take - The Police