This story copyright © 2003, 2004 Mia McCroskey
Characters from The Avengers and other sources are the property of their respective owners.
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Steed Takes a Risk
Emma Throws a Tantrum
Chapter 2
"Mrs. Peel?" Steed tapped on her door with one hand, holding a tray against his hip with the other. It was nine o'clock Saturday morning. Steed had procured coffee, thick slabs of buttered toast, and the morning paper, using flattery and a five-Pound note to have it placed on the tray so he could deliver it himself. There was no answer. He was confident that she had not been so drunk last night that she'd need a more specialized hangover remedy. But she could still be asleep. He put her key in the lock and opened the door.
She was sitting on the floor with her back to the door, cross-legged on a towel in the square of sunshine coming through the window. She was wearing a light blue catsuit, the color contrasting brightly with her hair where its curl brushed her shoulders. Her hands were resting palm up on her knees, index fingers and thumbs forming circles.
Steed stepped in and closed the door, setting the tray on a side table. Eyeing her still form, he poured himself a cup of coffee, then carried the cup and saucer around the room to lean against the wall next to the window. Emma slowly inhaled a long breath, let it out, and opened her eyes. Her smile was radiant.
"Good morning," he said, raising his cup to her. She untangled her legs from the lotus position and stood up, picking up the towel. Tossing it on the same chair with the coverlet she crossed to Steed's tray to pour her coffee.
"Good morning," she said. "And thank you." She took a long sip of coffee, eyes smiling at him over the rim of her cup. Steed could see that she was not in the least hung over. He wondered how long she'd been awake.
"There's toast, too. Or we can go downstairs for something else," he said, pushing away from the wall and crossing back to the tray.
"What's on for today?" she asked. "By the way, did you ever call the ministry about the jewel?"
Steed smiled as he selected a piece of toast.
"This morning," he said with a guilty shrug. She set her cup down to take a piece of toast too. He didn't want to tell her how angry they'd been when he admitted having the missing jewel, so he changed the subject. "The scenery along this stretch of coast is magnificent -- we could drive a bit, stop for lunch, find a stretch we like and walk…"
Emma was nodding enthusiastically so he let his suggestions trail off. "Only if you promise to bring something to swim in --," she pressed an index finger against his lips before he could voice his objection, "Just a quick dip somewhere. People do it, you know."
He sighed, reminding himself of his personal promise last night not to be rigid. "A dip it is, then, Mrs. Peel," he agreed. He was rewarded with a spectacular smile followed by a kiss, complete with toast crumbs.
They drove along the coast on a the two-lane road that dipped down and ran along the beach, then climbed up to meander along hilltops and through pastures with the ocean an azure carpet to their left. There were whitecaps out on the sea, but nearer shore the waters were calmer, sending tame-looking rollers to break listlessly on the beach. An hour or so along at a place where the road ran along a built-up embankment with a hundred yards of beach and the sea just beyond it Emma urged Steed to stop. He pulled the Bentley over along the generous shoulder where litter indicated that it was common practice to park. Emma hopped over the car door and stood on the running board to reach into the back seat for her woven straw tote bag. Steed watched her suspiciously. She cocked an eyebrow at him as she unbuttoned her blouse to reveal an aquamarine tank suit.
"You did agree to a swim," she pointed out, covering the car seat with her blouse to shade it from the hot sun. "Come on then."
"Here, Mrs. Peel?"
Emma turned to look at the stretch of beach. There was one other car parked a quarter mile further along, its owners a family who'd set up umbrellas and chairs near it. There were no facilities -- which Emma realized was probably why Steed hesitated. She did have to agree that a rinse off would be nice afterwards, but she'd brought a couple liters of water that would serve.
"For a man of your experience, your reluctance is certainly amusing," she said.
Steed opened his door, glancing in the rearview mirror for traffic first, and got out. He pulled a towel out of the back seat and came around to her side of the car.
"I am a man of my experience because I am extremely cautious, Mrs. Peel," he said as he removed his shoes, socks, trousers, and finally his shirt. Emma was pleased and a little surprised to see that he was wearing a clinging, navy blue, European swimsuit. She'd had him pegged for baggier swim trunks, although the sleek euro look was extremely flattering on his smoothly muscled 38-year-old figure.
Half way to the water Emma stopped to spread out her towel and put her bag on top of it. Then she slipped off her shorts and sandals and headed for the sea. Steed spread his towel next to hers, just touching along one long edge, and followed her.
She knew it was chilly, but she believed a short swim would be refreshing. She waded in quickly, feeling her way as the sand turned to gravel, then back to sand and the little wavelets crashed around her ankles then her knees. She was making good progress, she thought, until Steed came barreling in past her. He roared out a howling laugh as he plunged headfirst into the next small wave. Surprised, Emma turned sideways to take the wave, then plunged in after him.
She'd hoped to reach Steed's playful side and the tactic had worked. They played in the water, splashing and chasing one another and trying to bodysurf the too-small waves. Steed would disappear beneath a wave, then surface under her, heaving her up to splash into the next rushing wave.
They staggered up the beach and flopped down side-by-side on their towels, Emma on her stomach and Steed leaning back on his elbows to watch the sea.
"Ummm, this feels delicious," Emma sighed. "That was just what I needed to clear my head."
Steed looked at her in surprise -- he'd been certain she wasn't hung over at all. "You're not going to be able to lay there for too long in this sun," he pointed out, admiring the clear, alabaster skin of her back. She reached into her bag and pulled out a plastic bottle.
"Would you mind?" she asked, holding the sunscreen out to him. He took it, smiling as he rose up onto his knees and unscrewed the cap. She pulled her wet hair to one side and he drew a line of the cool, white cream from the nape of her neck to the edge of her swimsuit at the small of her back. She sighed with pleasure as he rubbed the lotion into her skin, slipping his fingers under the straps of her swimsuit, then smoothing more down the backs of her arms. He moved to her legs, applying lotion to the backs of her thighs and on down her calves to where sand was clinging to them. Knowing it was completely acceptable there on the beach to touch her in this way gave him a flutter of excitement. He placed a kiss at the nape of her neck, then sat back on his towel and spread more lotion on his own legs and chest.
"Tell me about your family, Steed. And I don't mean your miscellaneous aunties," she said, turning her head to face him and resting it on her folded arms. He screwed the cap on the sunscreen bottle and leaned back on his elbows again, glancing at her then looking out at the sea. This was uncharted territory and she knew it. But he reckoned that he owed her, after last night. "How many do you really have?" she added, smiling teasingly.
"I really have nine," he said. "My mother's five sisters and my father's four. I don't make these things up, Mrs. Peel."
"And what about your siblings?" Emma prodded, seeing that he was going to try to stop there. She knew he had a sister, but that was all.
"Caroline. She just had her sixth child, a boy. Says he's to be the last, although she's said that at least four times before. Her husband Harry manages a copper mine -- doing rather well on the financial management side, I understand. They have a sprawling old house full of second-rate antiques, children, dogs, a couple horses and cows out in the barn, and Harry's collection of cars. Last time I asked he was working on two and had three fully restored."
"I'll bet you enjoy visiting," Emma said, visualizing Steed amid what sounded like homey chaos. He nodded, smiling.
"I get to be the generous uncle. And I enjoy tinkering on the cars with Harry. He's worked out a few problems with mine over the years, too."
"I'll bet," Emma lifted her head to look at the stately vehicle, wondering idly about how much it took the place of a family of his own. "And I'll bet you enjoy returning to your flat, too," she added.
He settled back, rolling onto his side with his head propped on one arm. His face was inches from hers.
"I do. I think I've become rather set in my ways. Years ago I imagined that sort of life for myself, but things changed, my choices took me along a different path."
Their eyes locked, but Emma was unable to read his. "Any regrets?" She asked softly, regretting it as soon as she said it. He stared at her for a long time, then reached up to remove a stray lock of hair from across her face.
"Not at the moment, no," he replied at last, brushing his thumb across her lips, inadvertently leaving sand behind. She was sure he could hear her heart beating as it fluttered with joy at his simple statement.
"Good," was all she could say, barely more than a whisper. His lips curled in a little smile, his eyes joining in so that the skin around them crinkled into the familiar little crow's feet. "I think I'm hungry," she said, rolling over and sitting up. "Yes," she added, "definitely hungry."
"Shall we see what we can find in the next village? After lunch there's a marked hiking trail over the hills near here -- nothing too strenuous, but beautiful scenery."
"Sounds lovely Steed," she agreed, picking up the sunscreen and dropping it in her bag.
At the car she produced a bottle of water to rinse the sand off their ankles and feet. Steed drove them into the next village where a café had tables in its garden. They enjoyed sandwiches and lemonade, Emma still staying away from anything stronger and Steed deciding to keep at her pace since he was driving. They each slipped into the café's toilets to change out of their swimsuits, which might become uncomfortable walking, then they set out to find the trail Steed remembered.
They found it, and walked for hours across the countryside, stopping to admire views of the sea and coastal villages, pausing to watch hawks circle on the air currents high above, and standing still in the shadows of trees as a timid doe and fawn walked across the path ahead.
They returned to the Inn late in the afternoon, tired and in need of baths. Opening the door to his room, Steed paused and turned to her as she opened hers. "I'll meet you in the bar in an hour -- is that enough time?" he asked.
"Perfect. I'll look for something tall and cool, holding on to something equally tall and cool for me to drink," she said, winking at him as she disappeared into her room.
They enjoyed a surprisingly romantic candlelit dinner in one of the inn's smaller dining rooms. Emma realized that the friendly intimacy that they'd shared all day probably had a great deal to do with the romantic mood. Steed had opened up to her about one of his most private personal relationships, and he'd dove into the sea with her just because she had wished it. She felt certain that whatever affection he felt toward her, it was different from what he felt for his other lady friends. And if she couldn't have love, she must at least demand distinctiveness.
Emma was enjoying sipping the last of her wine and smiling into Steed's eyes, but she could see that he didn't wish to linger once their coffee was gone and the check signed.
"I get the distinct impression you have more plans for the evening," she said, offering him her most winsome smile. He leaned back in his chair and smiled back, his expression the essence of patience. She wasn't fooled. "Shall we go upstairs?" she asked.
"If you like," he replied, rising immediately. She joined him.
Steed opened the door to his room and she entered, wandering toward the loveseat in the little seating area. Steed went to his bag and produced a bottle of his favorite brandy and two snifters. She grinned appreciatively at his penchant for being ready for every occasion as he poured the drinks and brought them to her. He settled in beside her, the loveseat offering them just enough room to sit cozily. He crossed his legs, leaning toward her with one arm behind her shoulders on the back of the seat.
"This has been a wonderful day, Steed," she said, sipping her brandy, then allowing herself to meet his gaze. His eyes were smoldering darkly with restrained desire. She placed her free hand on his thigh, watching his reaction. His nostrils flared and the corners of his mouth curled slightly. The hand on the back of the loveseat drifted down to her shoulder and he drew a line along her collarbone.
"There's something I've been wanting to do," he said, his voice husky. Emma's imagination started to drift, and she raised one eyebrow in inquiry. He let his smile deepen as his fingers traced up her neck to her jaw. "I want to kiss you."
Now she smiled, knowing there must be more. He ran his finger back to her neck, pausing at the sensitive spot just below her ear. She half closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation as his touch tingled through her body. "And?" she finally asked.
"Like all those evenings before last week," he said. "When we kissed and kissed." He illustrated his point by leaning in to lightly kiss the side of her mouth, his hand sliding to the back of her neck as he did so. "But tonight I don't want to stop." His breath caressed her face, followed by his lips as he kissed her again. This time she turned her face into it, parting her lips to his and drawing her hand from his thigh up to his waist inside of his jacket. His kiss grew more demanding, his hand on her neck slipping up into her hair possessively. She responded in kind, caressing his tongue with hers and sucking hungrily at his lower lip.
Steed came up for a breath, and another sip of brandy, drawing his fingers back along her collarbone. Emma sipped her brandy as well, at the same time letting her other hand wander up his waistcoat to his chest.
"Is this what you mean?" she asked, rubbing circles over his breast, knowing that although the fabric of his shirt and vest concealed it, she was teasing his very sensitive nipple. His fingers in turn slipped down the front of her dress to pause on her breast.
"Yes," he breathed, eyes half closed as he enjoyed her touch, "to follow through with what was once forbidden. To finally live out a thousand fantasies, endured after you left me, or I left you."
"Slow," she said, willing him to move his hand on her, to caress her, "careful," she added as he complied, his fingers rubbing the small protrusion of her nipple, "delicious," she sighed.
She was barely aware of Steed taking her glass from her hand, but noticed when he leaned forward to place it with his on the table in front of the loveseat. He came back, slipping his newly freed hand around her waist and returning his lips to hers. She replaced her hand on his chest, inching toward the buttons of his vest as he explored her face with his kisses. She drew her other hand up his thigh, stopping at his hip tantalizingly close to the swelling evidence of his arousal.
He nibbled on her earlobe, whispering his need for her with tingly breaths. It was intensely erotic, all the more so because he had never done it before -- never pressured her for more before she offered it. But now he could. They had crossed that line and, as she'd said last night, knowing how good it would be made the desire even stronger.
She responded in kind, telling him how she wanted him to touch her, and how she wanted to touch him. He moaned as she allowed her hand to brush across his groin, the solid feel of him exciting her as much as her touch did him. He brought both hands to the back of her neck, groping with the zipper of her dress, then pulling it half way down her back. He ran his fingers lightly up the wedge of exposed skin, one hand pausing on the clasp of her bra. She redoubled her efforts on the buttons of his vest, using both hands to open the last of them. Then she ran her hands over his chest to feel his hardened nipples through his shirt.
He traced his finger along her collarbone again, following his hand with a trail of kisses and drawing her dress down her arm to expose the top of her breast to his searching mouth. Her head fell back, her lips parted, as he slid her bra strap off her shoulder as well, exposing more of her heaving breast to his lips. She buried one hand in his hair, gently urging him to go on. His other hand started at her knee, inching up her thigh to find the tops of her stockings under the hem of her short dress. He stroked the bare skin of her upper thigh, fingers temptingly close to her moist, burning center. She dropped her face to the back of his neck, planting light kisses just above his collar as his tongue slid into her bra to tickle her nipple.
"Fewer clothes," she breathed against his neck, feeling the short hairs there stand on end under her light touch. He kissed his way up her neck and along her jaw, eventually finding her mouth and filling it with his demanding tongue. She brought her hand to his face, feeling the muscles of his jaw work as he kissed her aggressively. He was all hardness and angles and restrained animal desire. She wanted to release the animal and feel him enter her and fill her. She moaned into him and he released her mouth, turning his face to place a sucking kiss on her palm.
"Let's move to the bed," he said, his eyes searching hers, but brooking no argument. They rose, Steed's arms firmly around her waist as they started across the room. They paused part way as he pulled her to him, his fingers sliding into her hair to bring her face to his. She pressed against him, his erection against her belly sending flames of need through her, her breasts against his chest burning for the touch of his bare flesh. Still kissing her, he groped again for her zipper, lowering it the rest of the way. Then he drew her dress up her back, gathering it around her waist as he stroked her buttocks through her silk panties. She parted her legs, wanting him to reach between them, to touch her, to enter her.
Abruptly he released her lips and pulled her dress off over her head. He took a moment to look at her, unashamed to admire her as she stood in her bra and stockings that were held up by a black garter belt under her panties. It pleased him to know she'd dressed for him, her discrete white dress concealing tempting, sexy lingerie.
"Sit down," she said, nodding toward the bed. He cocked one eyebrow, then complied, pulling back the covers before turning to sit facing her. She crouched before him, unlacing his shoes and removing them, then rolling down his socks. While she worked, he shrugged off his jacket and vest and took of his tie. She parted his legs enough to press between them, reaching to his neck to begin unbuttoning his shirt. Remembering previous awkward moments, he raised his arms above her head to remove his cufflinks and tuck them into the pocket. Then he lowered his hands to her bare shoulders just as she undid the last button she could reach -- the rest were inside his trousers.
She placed her hands on his chest, pushing him back so that he had to put his hands behind him on the bed for support. Then she drew a finger from his Adam's apple down his chest and stomach, over his belt buckle to the tented fabric of his trousers. He closed his eyes as she kept drawing over his solid penis and down between his legs to where his balls were concealed in his pants. Then she did it again, her finger tracing the same path, making no moved to unfasten his belt or open his trousers. He heard himself moan, but was powerless to move. He felt her shift, realized she had risen up to lean over him and place a kiss on his throat. Then she licked him, just as slowly as she'd drawn her finger, from Adam's apple all the way down to his belt buckle. Her tongue left a burning trail.
"Do it again," he pleaded, shivering in anticipation.
"No," she replied, her hands on his belt. He opened his eyes to watch her unbuckle it, her face a mask of concentration.
"Vixen," he hissed as she unbuttoned his fly.
"You love it," she replied, eyes flicking to his face, then away. In that glance he'd seen something unexpected -- a flash of uncertainty. He leaned his weight on one hand and brought the other around to caress her face.
"Yes I do," he said, tilting her chin up to look into her eyes. There it is, she's still not sure. How do I reassure her? The answer was obvious, but he couldn't do it, couldn't simply tell her that what he loved was not just her sexual playfulness, but her -- all of her, everything about her. He passed his thumb over her lips and she caught it, sucking on it for a moment then releasing it. The uncertainty was gone from her eyes, but he wasn't sure if she had just concealed it, or had understood the real meaning of his words.
"Lay back," she ordered, and he complied, leaning back on his elbows so that he could watch her. She pulled his trousers off, then slipped her fingers inside the waistband of his briefs, caressing his pelvis with the backs of her hands as she lifted them over his erection. She removed them, then rose to bend over him again, kissing his throat once more. He shuddered as she once again drew her tongue down his chest, deviating this time to flick it over first one solid little nipple, then the other.
"Oh God," he moaned, "Emma please."
"Emma please what?" she asked, sucking at his nipple until she felt his penis stiffen against her belly. Her loins burned with an urgent desire to climb up on him and take his enormous, solid erection inside herself.
"Please never stop," he moaned. She smiled, regaining the discipline to continue with her game. The longer they held out, the better it would ultimately be. She returned her tongue to its original course, drawing a line down over his belly. As her chin touched his erection, she slid her lips wetly up and over it, sucking the bit of semen on its head and kissing her way down the other side like it was a dripping ice cream cone. She pressed light kisses on his engorged balls, taking one gently into her mouth as he drew his foot up onto the edge of the bed to open himself more fully to her. She slid her tongue back up, then took his penis into her mouth. It didn't all fit, she felt the head tickle the back of her throat and pulled back a little to avoid an instinctive gag. She tightened her lips around him and sucked gently, pulling her mouth off like she was milking him. She was rewarded with the musky flavor of his semen.
"Stop, or I'll come," he said with tense urgency. She looked at his flushed, glistening genitals, once again fighting the urge to rise up and impale herself. He sucked in a deep, ragged breath and sat up, reaching out to her. "Come here," he said.
She climbed up onto the bed beside him, stretching out on her back as he loomed over her. He removed his shirt, tossing it aside to land on the floor near the rest of his clothes. Then he pressed kisses on her stomach and over her bra, sucking her nipples through it until they strained against the moist lace. Then he worked his way down tracing a fiery line to her navel. Abruptly he slipped off her panties, leaving the garter belt and stockings framing her enticing thatch of auburn curls.
She opened her legs, silently begging him to fill her, but not voicing her need for fear that he would and it would be over too soon. He pressed his face to the inside of her thighs, breathing, kissing, and licking the bare skin above her stockings. She groaned, reaching down to tangle her fingers in his hair. With one finger he parted and stroked her, his mere touch releasing the pent-up desire in a shivering orgasm. She inhaled deeply, savoring it as he went on caressing her thighs and labia, one hand pressing lightly on her pelvis as if to contain her. She came again, her warm essence drenching his fingers. Peering down at him from under hooded eyes she saw a proud look on his face. It pleased him to pleasure her.
He kissed along one thigh through her stockings down to her knee, caressing the other thigh as he went. Finally he sat between her legs, lifting her right leg over his left and his right over her left so that they were scissored together.
"Take my hand," he instructed, reaching out with his left hand. She took it and he used her grip to pull himself closer to her, directing his penis into her with his other hand.
"Oh God," she wailed as he slowly filled her, pressing himself in more deeply than ever before. It felt as if he were cramming himself into her, subsuming her with his powerful maleness. She had never felt so fulfilled, so complete. He brushed his toes over her breasts, slowly rotating his hips. "Oh God John," she cried again and he felt a welling heat as she came once more. The slightest movement brought exquisite pleasure, and simply holding still extended the moment before orgasm indefinitely. "Where did you learn this?" she asked as he caressed her stockinged calf with his free hand.
"Read it in a book," he said, barely able to form the words.
"That's some book," she hissed as he wiggled his hips again and she tightened around him in a powerful spasm. He moaned and held still to prolong the effect, his penis throbbing, his balls crushed against her. "I want to go on like this forever," she sighed as the spasm passed.
And they did go on, the minutes lengthening, their bodies alternately rigid, then limp, the sexual tension never subsiding, but repeatedly building to the edge of utter climax before slipping back to the low thrum of excitement. Eventually the were riding the edge, both clinging to reason, hardly breathing with the effort of keeping their bodies from total, crashing climax.
"Emma, I can't --," Steed gasped, his pelvis thrusting against her of its own volition.
"I know," she wailed as his movement exploded inside her, stripping her of all thought for anything but her own overheated center. Their mutual orgasm went on and on, one shuddering and the other reacting with a desperate spasm until they were limp and aching, their legs and torsos a tangle on the sweat-dampened sheets.
For as long as they had maintained intercourse, they lay still, hearts thumping, breath slowing, for even longer. His erection subsided, slipping out of her, as limp as the rest of his body. Finally Emma raised her shoulders up and pulled herself up on the bed to rest her head on the cool pillows. Steed untangled his legs from hers, then crawled up to stretch out beside her, twining his fingers with hers.
"Let's do that again sometime," she said softly, turning her head to face him, the rest of her body still too spent to move, "but not right away."
He turned his head too, a satisfied smile filling his face. "Only once a night for that, I'm afraid," he agreed and she wondered if he was serious. Once a month, maybe . . .