#for jimmy squeaks and meows see this tag ->

[bimmyjimmy]

The Bimmy boy gives me the boost of seratonin I need! I just have to know out of curiosity: is he a vocal boy or is he more the strong, silent type?

very silent, debatable strong lol

honestly jimmy mostly squeaks and stares

[lastbluetardis]

Chemical Reaction (20/22)

Summary: Though their chemistry class is now over, the chemistry between James and Rose is just getting started. Together, they navigate the highs of new love and the lows of coping with past trauma to forge deep and unbreakable bonds of love and commitment. Part 2 in the Catalysis series. Tagging @doctorroseprompts

This chapter: ~8000 words, explicit

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AO3 | FF | TSP

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14 | Ch15 | Ch16 | Ch17 | Ch18 | Ch19 | Ch20 | Ch21 | epilogue

James awoke slowly, groggily. His head was pounding and his eyes were scratchy and blurry. He had slept deeply and dreamlessly, and now that he was drifting towards consciousness, he had absolutely no idea where he was or what day it was. If he’d had to give the year or month, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to do it.

He would have been perfectly content to close his eyes and try to fall back to sleep; however, the cat yowling at the foot of the bed was making that impossible, as was the sharp, pulsing ache in his bladder. Had he gone out drinking the night before? That might explain his throbbing head, his desperate need for the toilet, and the reason he was asleep in a strange bed.

“Pippin, shut it.”

James blinked through the haze of his vision. Rose lay next to him, but they weren’t in his bed. And they definitely weren’t in Rose’s bed; he had way too much room to splay his legs without them falling off the mattress. But the room was familiar. They were… in his guest room?

The events of the past night finally clicked. Rose was here. Rose was here after they’d made up from their awful fight, and she’d stayed the night with him.

His chest warmed with love and gratitude at the sight of Rose pulling a pillow over her head as Pippin began meowing more earnestly upon realizing both humans were awake.

“I hate your cat,” Rose mumbled, her voice nearly inaudible.

“You love him,” he cooed. Pippin paced in the thin strip of space between their bodies, then stepped onto James’s lower belly. James yelped and swiped his cat to the floor, ignoring Pippin’s cry.

Rose snorted. “All right?”

“I really need a wee,” he squeaked. He vaulted out of bed and sprinted across the hall to the guest bathroom, ignoring Rose’s laughter behind him.

After attending to his over-full bladder, James stumbled to the kitchen—noticing with a grumble it was only seven in the morning—and he filled Pippin and Merry’s food dishes. Preemptively, he went into the basement and placed their bowls down there, knowing he would start painting before too long. Neither cat realized what he intended to do until he trekked up the stairs and closed the door behind him. He heard the frantic sounds of racing feet, then the scratching of paws and claws at the door, followed by the most piteous mewl he’d ever heard.

“Oh, you’re fine,” he said. “Go eat your breakfast, bud.”

Not particularly wanting to stand there arguing with his cat, James turned away from the basement door and went into his guest room. Rose was snoring lightly, her chest rising and falling with her even breaths.

He hadn’t been sure if he would see this sight again, and he knew he would never take it for granted. Though wide awake, thanks to his stupid cat, James instead slipped beneath the sheets once more, nestling deep into the mattress. It wasn’t as cozy as his mattress, a little too firm for his liking. He suddenly wondered whether Rose liked his other bed or favored this one; in all the months they’d been sharing a bed, he never once thought to ask if she preferred firmer or softer mattresses. Maybe they could invest in one of those fancy, dual-firmness mattresses he was always seeing commercials for on the television.

James began getting antsy after only a few minutes of lying beside Rose. He tried to ignore it, to take advantage of snuggling with her, but his mind was awake and itching to do something. Plus, they weren’t really snuggling. He was on his side, watching her sleep.

Not creepy at all, he muttered to himself.

Noticing that he was beginning to fidget, James relented with a sigh. Pecking a soft, barely-there kiss to her forehead, he slipped out of bed again and padded into his kitchen to start coffee and clean up the dishes from the night before.

Quietly as he could, he emptied the dishwasher and hand-washed the few dirty dishes in his sink while his coffee brewed. He had the belated realization that the scent of coffee might be enough to disturb and wake Rose. Oops.

Well, there was nothing he could do about it now. He grabbed his hazelnut-flavored creamer from the fridge and poured a healthy dollop into the bottom of his caffeine molecule mug. He took his coffee to the kitchen table and grabbed a crossword puzzle book to keep himself busy; he didn’t want to start painting yet, since the fumes and the noise would probably wake Rose, if she wasn’t already awake.

Surprisingly, it was another hour before Rose joined him. James was deeply engrossed in his crossword and didn’t hear her soft footsteps; he jumped when she linked her arms around his neck and rested her chin on the top of his head.

“Morning,” she murmured, voice gravelly.

“Morning.” He tilted his head up, accepting her kiss.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked.

“Mhm. Like a rock. Which is nice, since I slept for maybe four hours last night. Well. Last morning. I didn’t actually try to go to bed until six, and I didn’t really sleep. Just sorta dozed on and off and…”

“You went to bed at six?” Rose interrupted, a frown evident in her voice. 

“I was busy,” he said, a little defensively. “Gollum wee’d on my bed and the guest bed, so I had to wash all the sheets and duvets. D’you know how long it takes those things to dry? Oh, by the way, Gollum’s got a UTI. He’s at the vet. I should be able to pick him up today or tomorrow. But I was busy washing all of the blankets and sheets, and then I figured I would vacuum and wash my bathrooms between loads, and then I realized I hadn’t dusted in a while, so I—”

Rose leaned down and silenced him with a swift, hard kiss. His mind went blank as he cupped his hand around the back of her neck to hold her in place. She pulled away too soon for his liking and utterly ignored his pout.

“I love you, but blimey, you need to work on not talkin’ so much before I’ve had my first cuppa tea,” she drawled, ruffling his hair.

She moved away from him to start the kettle and to grab a mug and tea bag. James stood and refilled his mug with his third cup of coffee.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, filling the mug to the brim to finish off the coffee in the pot.

“Not really,” she admitted.

James’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. Was it the mattress?”

Rose blinked. “What? No.”

“Is that mattress too firm?”

“No, it…”

“Do you like the mattress in my bedroom? I was thinking this morning that I never really considered the type of mattress you like, and if you don’t like what I have we can go shopping together for something you and I can both comfortably sleep on and…”

“Jesus Christ,” Rose muttered under her breath, rubbing the heels of her hands into her eyes.

James abruptly stopped speaking, his ears and cheeks burning. “Er, sorry.”

“Your mattresses are fine,” she said. “If you would’ve let me finish, I was about to say I had weird dreams that kept waking me up. I dreamt Jimmy showed up. In one of the dreams, you and him became best friends…”

“Fat fucking chance,” James blurted, irrationally irritated at his dream self. “Rose you know I would never…” 

Rose rolled her eyes. “I know. Didn’t keep my subconscious from dreamin’ about it though. And in another, Jimmy kept shoutin’ at me for the most ridiculous things that I can’t really remember. I didn’t want to keep dreaming about him, so I figured I’d get up and we could start painting your bedroom.”

James stepped up to her, arms outstretched for a hug, if she wanted it. She did, and tucked her head beneath his chin, linking her arms around his hips.

“I haven’t responded to Jimmy yet,” she said quietly. “I didn’t tell him I got his letter. I don’t know what to say to him. Or if I even should say anything.”

James gave her a tight squeeze. He wanted to tell her to block his number and burn his letter, but ultimately the decision was hers. He would simply be there for comfort and support, a shoulder to lean on, an ear to vent to.

“I’m proud of you,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. “So proud. I’ll be here for you no matter what.”

She tightened her hold around him, nearly clinging to him and ignoring the beeping of the kettle.

“Thanks.” She sighed and pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “I’m gonna make an effort to tell you when I talk to Jimmy. If I talk to him.”

James ran his fingers through her hair. “I’ll be here to listen when you’re ready.” He kissed her gently. “Can I make you some tea and toast?”

She nodded and loosened her arms from around his hips, then allowed herself to be guided to an empty kitchen chair.

They ate a meager breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs while they sipped their respective hot beverages. When they’d finished eating and their plates and mugs were in the sink, James led Rose to the guest bedroom and found some old, ratty clothes she could borrow. He donned the shorts and paint-splattered t-shirt he’d worn the day before, and gave Rose a pair of mesh shorts and a frayed, stained t-shirt he often wore to do yard work.

“Right! Ready to get painty?” he crowed, clapping his hands together,

Rose giggled and nodded, but paused and asked, “Are Merry and Pippin gonna get in our way?”

“Locked ‘em in the basement,” he assured. As though to alert the world of his displeasure, Pippin began meowing very loudly from the basement door.

Ignoring his wailing cat, James took his phone with him in case the vet called, then he walked down the hall and flung open his bedroom door. The paint smell had dissipated somewhat overnight, and to his delight, all the walls looked dry enough for a second coat of paint.

They took a few minutes to discuss a plan of attack, wherein it was decided James would put the second coat on the ceiling while Rose started on the walls. That was how the next few hours passed, with James climbing up and down the ladder and working around Rose.

When the ceiling was completed, James opened up the can of glossy white paint to get started on the crown molding. Rose had finished two of the four walls, and they looked beautiful; the paint was even, with no brush or roller marks left behind.

His legs and core were getting sore from balancing on the ladder, and he wanted to say sod it to the crown molding. But he hadn’t been particularly careful when applying the paint to his walls and ceiling; as a result, the trim work was speckled with blue-gray paint. With a sigh, James dipped one of his smaller brushes and began the arduous, painstaking task of painting the trim around the ceiling.

After about an hour of scaling up and down the ladder, of reaching up and out to apply the paint, his back and shoulders were nearly burning with exertion. While he wanted nothing more than to stop for the day, he was eager to have this damn project finished. He was tired of his house smelling like paint and of needing to keep his poor cats sequestered in the basement.

He climbed down the ladder and returned the lid to the paint can, figuring they were due for a lunch break. With a groan, James leaned down and touched his toes, twisting slightly. It crackled like a bag of crisps. He exhaled as he straightened, then lifted his arms up and over his head. His back popped loudly, spreading relief through his entire spine.

“God that felt good,” he sighed, raking his hands through his hair. It felt a little damp with supposed perspiration.

“You’re covered in paint.”

James glanced over to where Rose was working the paint roller up and down the walls to apply a clean, even coat. His focus narrowed to the flex of her shoulders, visible even through the over-large t-shirt she was wearing. His mind’s eye could easily see the soft, smooth expanse of her back, the jut of her shoulder blades, the flesh on either side of the valley of her spine, the subtle dimples that peeked just above the waistband of her trousers. His fingers itched to push her shirt up, to map out her back and her belly, to press himself against her and kiss the side of her neck and her shoulder and… 

He forgot she had spoken until she glanced over her shoulder at him expectantly.

He cleared his throat. “Well, you’re one to talk. You’re covered in paint too.” She’d pulled her hair up into a messy bun at the beginning of their venture, and several strands had escaped over the course of the morning, billowing around her face. Small streaks of paint adorned her forehead and cheeks from where she no doubt impatiently pushed her hair aside. “Besides, we’re painting. By default, that means we’re going to end up covered in it.”

Rose grinned, her tongue poking out of the side of her mouth. His stomach gave a funny little lurch, and he wanted to chase her tongue with his.

“Your hair is practically white,” she teased.

“No, it’s not,” he said, rolling his eyes fondly. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“Oh yeah?” she challenged. “Look at your hands.”

He blinked at her, then glanced down. To his horror, he saw that most of his right palm was coated in paint. He looked to the ladder: the brush he’d been using had wet, sticky paint all along the handle.

“Oh, no,” he moaned. He raced into his en suite and saw that Rose was right: paint was streaked and clumped in with his hair.

He groaned.

“Told ya.”

Rose stood behind him and linked her arms loosely around his middle. She rested her palms on his stomach and began to rub long, lazy lines up and down his torso. Goosebumps rippled across his skin and he tried to keep himself from shuddering at her touch.

“You ought to be more careful about where you set your brush,” she murmured, stretching onto her tiptoes to plant a kiss to the nape of his neck, right above his shirt collar. “Want some help washing it out?”

“My beautiful hair,” he whined, mostly to hear her laugh.

He succeeded; she giggled and reached up to ruffle his poor, paint-splattered hair. He could feel how stiff it had gotten with paint.

“C’mere.”

Rose dropped her arms from around his middle and skipped into the bedroom for the roll of paper towel they’d been using to try to keep their hands relatively clean. Clearly he had failed in that regard, and his hair had paid the price.

While she did that, James washed his hands, scratching at the dried paint with his nails until his hands were spotless and pink once more. He then angled his head at Rose when she finally joined him in the en suite. But she shook her head and boosted herself up onto the vanity countertop instead. She ripped off a few sheets of paper towels and ran them under warm water to moisten them.

She gestured for him to step closer, and he readily did. He was not expecting, however, for Rose to link her legs around his hips. She hooked her ankles over one another behind his thighs and pulled him even closer. He sucked in a sharp breath as the front of his hips met with hers.

Automatically, he rested his hands on her thighs. Her borrowed shorts had ridden up, and he couldn’t help but touch her bare skin. Her legs tensed, drawing him in, before they relaxed again.

“C’mere,” she repeated, and he leaned into her.

He dropped his head so it was in easier reach for her; his new vantage gave him a teasing view down the front of her shirt, which had gaped low in front as she leaned forward and up. He couldn’t see anything beyond the soft swell of the tops of her breasts and he had the ridiculous urge to rip the front of her shirt open.

Rose sank her fingers into his hair as she began to scrub the damp paper towel through it. He bit his lip as sparks of pleasure shot across his scalp whenever she used her nails to scratch at a particularly stubborn bit of paint.

“God, you really worked it in deep,” Rose muttered, voice an octave lower than normal.

“What can I say? I’m very thorough.” His voice cracked, and he cleared it impatiently.

Rose’s hands gradually stilled in his hair. She set the damp cloth to the side and he took that to mean she had given up on his hair. He lifted his head and met her gaze, as dark and hungry as the desire churning in his gut.

He wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly their lips met, softly at first them more urgently as Rose flung her arms around his neck to pull him closer. Not knowing where to put his hands, he cradled them at her lower back, splaying his palms across her spine. James groaned and shuddered as her tongue slid against his, mapping out the contours of his mouth. She flicked her tongue along the roof of his mouth, then the backs of his teeth, then his upper lip. Next she sucked his lower lip into her mouth and bit it gently, scraping her teeth across it before she released it.

Heat unfurled low in his stomach, twisting and tightening his guts as it concentrated into a steady, dull ache in his groin. He could feel himself getting hard as Rose tightened her legs around his waist, pulling him in, in, in. 

God, he wanted her. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her, body, mind, and soul. He wanted to make love with her, to hold her tightly as he pleasured her. He wanted to make her forget all about the heartbreak of the last twenty-four hours and to simply feel.

But after what she’d told him about makeup sex with Jimmy, would she even want to have makeup sex with him? He didn’t know, and so he would be perfectly satisfied to simply lose himself in her kisses for the rest of the afternoon. It would be enough to cradle her in his arms and let their breaths mingle in the same space as they shared kiss after kiss.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Rose mumbled into his mouth, reluctantly pulling away. Her lips were red and slightly swollen, her eyes dark and hooded. He recognized that expression, and his stomach clenched with anticipation.

“Sorry,” he said, leaning in to kiss her.

However, she pressed her hand to his chest. “Wait. Do you want to be doing this?”

“You can’t feel my interest in this?” he drawled, smirking. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but was hard enough that there was no way Rose couldn’t feel it. Even so, he pressed himself lazily into her.

“There’s a difference in you wanting it versus your body reacting to it,” Rose said with a shrug. “If you’re not into this…”

“I am,” he promised. After a moment’s hesitation, he decided to share with her what had been going on in his head. “I was just wondering if maybe you weren’t. What you said yesterday about makeup sex with Jimmy…”

He trailed off with a small shrug. Rose’s expression softened, and she leaned forward to press a gentle, brief kiss to his mouth.

“We used to have angry sex instead of talking,” she said. “You and I spent an hour last night talking things out and apologizing. You opened yourself up to me and made me feel comfortable to open myself to you. You let me know how I hurt you without raising your voice, calling me any rude names, or swearing at me. And you let me tell you how you hurt me without getting all defensive or dismissive about it.”

James’s blood began to boil as his hatred of Jimmy Stone was rekindled. He pushed it aside, however, to stay in this moment with Rose. Jimmy didn’t get to take up space between him and Rose, especially when they were sharing such intimacy together.

“That’s what I want from a relationship,” Rose concluded. “And now I would like to make love with my best friend because I want to make him feel good and show him how much I love him. And I want to forget about anything else because nothing else will ever be more important than him and me and what we share together.”

James’s chest tightened and he swore he had never and would never love anyone more than he loved Rose. He covered her lips in a frantic, hungry kiss, feeling as though he couldn’t get close enough to her. She moaned into his mouth and slipped her hands beneath his shirt, mapping out the planes of his stomach, his obliques, his chest. He shivered at her touch, nerves sparking.

He stuck one of his hands under her shirt, walking it up to her breast, while his other dipped into the front of her borrowed shorts. They were loose, giving him plenty of room to work. He groaned when his fingers met with her wet heat.

“Got hot and bothered watchin’ you,” she gasped as his fingers teased her, tracing long, slow lines through her. “Was gonna snog you on the ladder but figured that probably wouldn’t end well. Don’t really want you breaking your back falling off the ladder ‘cos I couldn’t keep my hands to myself.”

James snorted lightly. “I was getting distracted watching you too. I love seeing you in my clothes.”

“Good thing I like wearing your clothes. God.” She hissed when his fingers circled that wonderfully sensitive bundle of nerves. Her hips arched into him, urging him on.

He eagerly complied, keeping his touch light and unhurried, relishing the variety of sounds she made. From the low moans to sharp inhalations, the noises she let out tightened the coil in his belly. He was so hard and desperate to rub against something, or to shift aside their clothes and enter her. But he also wanted to continue pleasuring her, so he worked to ignore the demands of his body.

Rose, however, was as in tune with his body as he was, and must have sensed how tense he’d become. She stuck a hand down the front of his shorts and wrapped her fingers around his hard length. He groaned at the sensation, at the friction of her hand moving lazily up and down. Her rhythm was as slow as his, mirroring the motion of his fingers against her.

All the while, James kissed her. Their kisses grew clumsier as their breathing turned ragged. He gave up on kissing her and instead lavished attention to the side of her neck, concentrating his efforts on the sensitive skin beneath her ear and where her neck joined her shoulder. 

“Rose, I want you,” he rasped, his belly clenching impatiently. “I want to be inside you. Let me make love to you. Let me make you feel good.”

She let out a whimper, her fingers tightening around him. He arched his hips greedily, urging her to continue even as he fumbled with the best way to shift her clothes.

Sensing his deliberation, she reluctantly took her hand out of his pants. She moved them to the edge of the vanity on either side of her hips.

“Here,” she panted.

She unhooked her legs from around his waist, then tightened her abdominal muscles and arms as she lifted her bum off the counter. Wasting no time, James hooked his fingers in the waistband of her shorts, grabbing them and her knickers. He slipped them down her hips and thighs in one smooth motion. She impatiently wiggled her legs, helping him remove her cumbersome clothes, before he finally got them free of her feet. He threw them to the floor, then made to drop to his knees in front of her.

“No,” she said, grabbing the front of his shirt to halt his movements.

He blinked. She loved oral, just as he liked giving it. “But…”

“Later.”

“Promise?” he asked with a pout.

She grinned. “You can go down on me for as long as you like later. But for now…” She cupped her hand around his erection through his shorts, stroking him slowly. He shuddered as his breath escaped him in a low groan. “I want you inside me. Right now.”

Carefully, she lowered his shorts to free his erection. He worked them all the way down his legs and kicked them off behind him. He next grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Rose scrabbled with her shirt as well. She threw it to the floor, then reached behind herself to unclasp her bra.

The heat in James’s belly tightened as her breasts were revealed. In his (totally unbiased) opinion, they were the most beautiful pair of beasts in the world.

Now that they were both naked, it dawned on James that there were far comfier places to do this. 

“Let’s move to a bed, love,” he said, even though it was so, so tempting to stay right as they were. It would be easy to step between Rose’s legs and push himself into her wet heat; it would feel incredible, being surrounded by her, making her moan, feeling her clenching and throbbing around him. 

He shuddered violently as his need spiked, but Rose was already hopping down from the vanity countertop in all of her naked glory. He couldn’t help but catch her in his arms and kiss her. He hissed when his erection pressed to her hip. He grabbed her arse and pulled her into him.

“Y’know, standing-up sex is much more difficult and uncomfortable than countertop sex,” Rose drawled, though her words died on a gasp when he covered her breast with his mouth. He flicked his tongue against her nipple and scraped his teeth across it.

It became too awkward to keep his neck bent like that, so he instead replaced his mouth with his hand and moved his lips to the side of her neck.

“You are utterly irresistible,” he breathed, repositioning his hips so his erection was stimulating her as well. He flexed and arched his into her, ignoring that primal urge to enter her, to make hard and fast love with her.

“Counter’s right there,” she sighed, threading her fingers through his hair and hooking a leg around his waist.

Oh, God, that was the angle he needed. On his next forward grind, the tip of his cock slipped through her folds, teasing him with a hint of heightened pleasure. Fire blazed through him, a desperate, aching, burning heat as his body exploded with sensations.

He thought he would never again get to do this with her, yet here he was, mere seconds from joining with her in that most intimate way that belonged just to them. She was the only one he would ever share this with, the only one he wanted to share this with.

“Rose,” he gasped helplessly, grinding into her harder and faster.

Raw desire overwhelmed him, and he could hardly do anything but cling to her.

“Bed.”

Rose lowered her leg from around him, causing him to slip away from her. He grunted in displeasure as his cock was met with the cooler air of the en suite.

A small, soft hand slipped through his, pulling him into the bedroom. The smell of paint was all around them. Brushes and rollers and paint cans were strewn around the room, but in the center of the room was a beautiful, glorious, comfortable bed. It was covered in a protective cloth canvas, but it would be a simple matter to shift the canvas aside. 

Rose, evidently, had the same idea. She grabbed the edge of the canvas and shoved it to the foot of the bed, leaving them enough space to crawl onto the mattress.

They moved in perfect synchronicity, with Rose settling on her back, legs fallen to the sides, and James hovering atop her, his hips cradled in hers.

Rose wasted no time; she took him in hand, lined him up, and guided him inside of herself. He couldn’t help the soft cry as he was surrounded by her. She echoed his moan, locking her legs around his hips and digging her nails into his shoulder blades.

James began to shake. Hot shivers pricked across his body, and he had the mortifying dread that he was about to come any second. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think about anything other than how good it felt to be inside Rose, how safe and loved he felt, how relieved he was to be making love with the love of his life when, for a long, exhausting, harrowing day, he thought he’d lost her and broken this beautiful life they shared.

It was then that he realized his body had been telling him he was about to start crying. Hot tears slipped down his cheeks, before they were brushed away by gentle hands.

“James.” Rose caressed her thumbs beneath his eyelids, a silent request. He opened his eyes and saw that hers, too, were glistening with tears. “I love you. More than I can say. More than you’ll know. More than I thought I could ever love someone. You are my happy ending, the happy ending I never thought I’d have, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you and laughing with you and crying with you.” 

A choked sob bubbled up his throat and he spared a thought for how ridiculous they must look, lying on a bed in a paint-strewn room, connected as intimately as two people could physically be, and yet they were both crying.

“I love you, Rose,” he answered, voice raw. “Thank you for…” For what? For loving him and letting him love her? For letting him apologize and giving him an apology in return? For being patient, kind, and loving? For making him feel at home for the first time in a long, long time? “For everything.”

She brought his face closer to hers and brushed a ghost of a kiss to his cheeks overtop the tear tracks, then to his lips. She planted kiss after kiss to his lips, gently at first, then more frantic as he slid his arms under her shoulders to hold her closer. Their mouths moved greedily together, falling into a rhythm they each knew well as James began to move atop her.

Rose broke the kiss with a sigh, arching her hips into his. Their kisses grew more sporadic, with James concentrating his efforts on her neck and collarbone. She felt amazing, the slick drag of her tightening muscles around his cock sending frissons of pleasure across his entire body, head to toes.

He gathered her impossibly closer, burying his face into her neck as he breathed her in, her scent overpowering the smell of paint in the room. He was surrounded by her, by her warmth, her body, her love. With every thrust of himself into her, he was being consumed, giving himself willingly to her and receiving all of her in return. 

Rose began trembling, clenching around him as her breathing hitched. Shifting his weight and balance, he took one of his arms away from her to slip his hand between their bodies to rub the place they were joined. Her back arched, thrusting into him as she squeezed him tighter, tighter, tighter…

She cried out his name, the sound full of pleasure and relief as she was swept away by the force of her orgasm. Shuddering and shaking, her nails dug hard into his spine as she clung to him. He could feel his own pleasure mounting, feel the urgency building within him as he quickened his pace. 

His body was too small to contain the maelstrom brewing inside of him. His lungs constricted, leaving him panting raggedly at her shoulder as he moved within her. Rose had stopped pulsing around him, so he returned his arm to the mattress, bracing himself as he snapped his hips harder and faster, chasing his release.

Rose scraped her nails up and down his back, raising goosebumps across his skin and pulling a low groan from deep in his throat. Fuck, she felt incredible. He never wanted to leave this moment, yet he was desperate to reach his climax, to join her in that overpowering ecstasy.

Her lips were at his ear, her hot breath tickling it deliciously as she whispered, “I love you, James. My James. I love you.”

He cursed and cried out as the tension in his belly flared sharply, then rolled outwards, boiling his blood and leaving pleasure in its wake. He’d never felt so good and was sure nothing else would ever feel as amazing as this, despite the past four months proving to him that making love with Rose would always be addicting and overwhelming.

He was thoroughly exhausted when the tide receded and he slumped bonelessly into Rose. He could hardly catch his breath and he was sure his arms would never stop shaking.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Rose mumbled, sounding as worn out as he felt, “but if makeup sex with you is always going to be that intense, we’re gonna need to find things to argue about at least weekly.”

James snorted, then giggled, before he was full-on belly laughing. Rose was laughing just as hard beneath him, her shoulders shaking as she gasped for breath. His abdominals ached by the time he managed to pull himself together.

“Your hair is still a mess,” Rose said, running her fingers through it.

Shivers prickled across his scalp. He moaned and pressed closer.

“I think a shower is gonna be the only way to get all the paint out,” she continued.

“Mmm. I could use a bit of help. To make sure my hair is utterly paint-free.”

She grinned. “I s’pose I could be persuaded to join you. After all, I might’ve gotten paint in my hair and need someone to check it out for me.”

“See? I’m doing you a huge favor,” he said.

Rose pinched him, then sighed and melted into the mattress and pillows. “We probably ought to get more painting done before we shower though.”

“I dunno about you, but it would take an act of God to move me from this bed right now.”

At that moment, James’s phone began to trill with an incoming call. He grunted in annoyance, unsure where he’d left his phone, and figured whoever was calling couldn’t be more important than his post-coital cuddle with Rose.

“Aren’t you gonna get that?” she asked, trailing her nails lightly up and down his spine.

He huffed. “Unless God is calling, no.”

“It could be the vet,” Rose said as his phone continued to ring. “Didn’t you say Gollum could come home today or tomorrow?”

With a displeased groan, James pushed himself up to his forearms, then carefully rolled off of her. His muscles complained at the movement; his legs barely held his weight as he stumbled around the room, searching for his phone. The call had ended by the time he found it sitting precariously top of the canvas-covered nightstand. Rose had been right: it was the vet. He learned upon listening to the voicemail message that he could pick Gollum up any time that afternoon before six o’clock.

“Let’s shower then fetch him,” Rose suggested. “We got a lot done today and can finish up tomorrow, if that’s all right.”

James was sure he would be even sorer tomorrow, but he absolutely did not want to do any more painting today. He enthusiastically agreed, and then waggled his eyebrows and said, “Shower time?”

Rose rolled her eyes but a small smile crossed her lips. She shifted off of the bed, looking as stiff as he felt; hopefully the warm water would help loosen their muscles.

James should have known it would be impossible for their shared shower to be purely functional. As they washed themselves and helped each other scrub off stubborn flecks of paint, they found any excuse to stand closer than necessary. Their damp, soapy bodies rubbed together deliciously and James couldn’t help but trail wet kisses across her skin as his body thrummed with renewed desire. When Rose shampooed his hair and dug her nails deep into his scalp to scrape away all of the paint, James thought he was going to combust on the spot. All of his blood pulsed into his cock with dizzying intensity; by the time Rose rinsed the suds from his hair, he was grinding himself firmly into her hip.

“Again?” she asked with a smirk.

“Please,” he rasped. “I want you.”

“Shower sex requires more balance and strength than I currently have,” she said, sliding her palm down his belly to take him in hand. “But I can think of something else I can do with this.”

With that, she dropped to her knees before him and wasted no time in slotting her mouth over him. Pleasure sparked up his spine and goosebumps prickled across his skin despite standing beneath the warm spray of water. Her tongue drummed across his cock while her hand stroked the base of him.

She built him up with a steady rhythm, and James let himself be lost in her ministrations, for once unbothered that he wasn’t going to last very long. He couldn’t bring himself to care, not when the friction of her hand and the suction of her mouth felt so bloody good.

He grunted out a warning when the heat in his belly coiled in on itself. Smirking, she took her mouth off of him and pumped her hand harder and faster down his cock. She arched her chest closer, the overhead lights shimmering off her wet, flushed skin as the head of his cock brushed the swell of her breasts, and oh God, he was done for.  

The tension unsnapped in a sharp wave of pleasure and relief that left him moaning and curling his toes into the wet, textured floor of his shower. He thrust into the sensations rocking through his body as her hand continued moving on him, drawing out his orgasm for as long as she could.

He cursed when his ears stopped roaring and his head stopped swimming. Rose was still crouched in front of him, evidence of his pleasure spattered across her breasts as she lazily stroked his softening cock. He shivered.

“Thanks,” he croaked a bit stupidly.

She grinned. “My pleasure.”

“Pretty sure the pleasure was all mine, actually.” He helped haul her to her feet, and he crashed his mouth to hers. Between kisses, he murmured, “That felt incredible. Thank you.”

“I love doing that to you,” she replied, sighing when he tilted her head back to kiss her neck.

“Looks like you got all covered in paint again,” he drawled, trailing his fingertips across her breasts.

“Really? That’s your line?” she snorted.

He pouted. “What’s wrong with my line? That was a brilliant line.”

She simply rolled her eyes, but another smile tugged at her lips. “That was a terrible line and so cheesy and so dorky.” Before he could splutter out a rebuttal, she kissed him and said, “But you’re my cheesy dork.”

His blood warmed and he hummed, his body overflowing with love and appreciation for her. He kissed her softly and whispered, “Since I got you messy, it’s only fair that I wash it all off.”

“Hmmm?”

James trailed his fingers up and down her sides, from her breasts to her hips, in long, slow strokes. Her nipples pebbled and tightened so invitingly, and he couldn’t keep himself from taking one into his mouth. She arched into his touch, fisting her fingers through his hair to hold him in place. As if he would ever want to move.

Time ceased to mean anything as he lavished attention to her breasts, letting his tongue and the spray of the shower rinse her chest clean. Her breathing turned ragged the longer he allowed his teeth and tongue to tease her nipples and the curve of her breasts. When his back and neck grew too sore to remain hunched as he was, he dropped to his knees before her and gave the same attention to her hips and lower belly.

She thrust closer to his touch, trying to get him where she wanted him, but he smiled to himself and grabbed her hips, halting their impatient movements.

“James,” she whined, tugging at his hair. “I didn’t make you wait.”

“As I recall, earlier you told me, and I quote, You can go down on me for as long as you like later. It’s later, isn’t it? And I am nowhere near satisfied yet.”

“James, please,” she begged, and fuck, if she didn’t know what that did to him.

He shivered and tried to continue kissing her hips and thighs, but he was desperate to taste her, to hear her sounds of pleasure.

“C’mere.” He tapped one of her legs, encouraging her to drape it over his shoulder. “I won’t let you fall.”

Rose obeyed, bracing her back on the shower wall for balance and leverage. She gripped his hair tightly with one hand while her other shot to the washcloth holder. Her knuckles went white from how hard she clung to it.

“Relax,” he breathed, planting barely-there kisses right above where he knew she wanted him.

She growled in frustration and arched into him. He caressed her leg, then finally lowered his mouth and lick a long, slow line through her folds. She cursed and squeezed his hair, before loosening her hold.

He feasted on her as though he were a starving man. He couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t taste enough of her. Her urgent moans spurred him on, and he redoubled his efforts.

“James. I’m gonna…”

He hummed into her, loving her sharp cry as she trembled apart around him. Her thighs shook and he made sure to brace himself to take on more of her weight in case she lost her balance. Rose dug her heel into his spine, pressing him closer to her as she sighed his name and a string of curses.

Many long moments later, Rose shakily unhooked her leg from his shoulder and urged him to his feet. He held her to him trailing his fingers up and down her spine as she worked to slow her breathing.

“I love you,” she mumbled, face buried in the side of his neck. “You are so good at that.”

He puffed up with pride. “You deserve nothing less. Besides, I love doing that to you. Though I’m miffed you wouldn’t let me go on for longer.”

As though to contradict him, their hot water turned lukewarm, then went suddenly frigid. James, who had his back to the spray, yelped and leapt out of the water’s path, knocking Rose into the wall.

“Christ that’s cold!”

Rose cackled and ruffled his wet hair before she reached around him and turned the water off. “See. It’s a good thing I didn’t let you carry on. I would’ve been furious if a jet of cold water interrupted that.”

James sighed, then grudgingly stepped away from Rose to exit the shower.

“Dunno about you, but I’m starving,” Rose said while they towel dried themselves.

“Worked up quite an appetite, did you?” he asked, winking.

“Nah, I think it’s just ‘cos it’s way past lunch time,” she replied sweetly.

When they were dried and dressed once more, they exited the bedroom and closed the door behind them, then released Merry and Pippin from the basement. 

They inhaled a quick lunch of turkey sandwiches and sour cream and cheddar crisps, with half of a cupcake for dessert. As James cut the cupcake in half—horizontally between “happy” and “birthday”—he remembered the gift he’d had stashed away in his backpack all month long.

“Oh, bugger,” he muttered to himself, ignoring Rose’s look of confusion as he abruptly dropped the knife and rushed to the front door where his bag hung from a peg on the coat rack.

He rifled through it until he found the thin, rectangular velvet box. He had nearly decided on a thicker square box until he realized the box looked like it might hold a ring, and he hadn’t wanted to send mixed messages. If—when, he thought hopefully—he proposed to Rose, he wanted that to be the first and only time she thought a proposal was coming. He didn’t want to tease it in front of her without following through.

Necklace box in tow, he returned to Rose and held it out to her. “Happy birthday. I’ve been carrying it around all month to give to you whenever you told me it was your birthday. It slipped my mind last night.”

Rose’s cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink as she accepted the box from him with a mumbled, “Thanks,” and a brief kiss. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked on his toes and heels as she took the lid off of the box.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” she breathed, running her fingertips delicately across the silver chain and pendant. She looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you. I love it.”

He exhaled in relief; he hadn’t been sure what her response would be, since she had an aversion to gifts. But he’d seen the infinity heart design and hadn’t been able to resist.

Rose must have noticed his reaction, and she smiled sheepishly. “I’m trying to be better about accepting gifts. Especially since you enjoy giving them. I really love it, James. Thank you. Will you put it on me?”

She took the necklace out of the box and handed it to him. He draped it around her neck then clasped it, brushing a kiss to her nape to sign off on a job well done.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, unable to resist kissing her again. 

She hummed and melted into him, resting her head on his shoulder. He leaned forward to press a kiss to her lips as she said, “Let’s finish lunch then we can collect Gollum.”

“I’d rather continue kissing you,” he countered, leaving kisses along the side of her neck.

“We can keep kissing when we get home,” she answered, though with how she threaded her fingers through his hair, she was in no rush to put an end to their activities either.

“Or… we can kiss now.”

Rose breathed out a laugh. “You should be a responsible pet owner. Let’s fetch Gollum, then when we get back, we can snog on the couch for the rest of the night.”

“Hmmm, you drive a hard bargain.” He planted a final kiss to the patch of skin right below her ear, enjoying her slight shudder, then pulled away to guide her to the kitchen and their shared, halved cupcake.