Note: There's a bit of book canon here and a bit of theorized show canon. Basically, it starts off with one little line from the book's kiss, but takes a slightly different argumentative (and horny) turn. ;)

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June, 1815

Colin tilted his head, slanting his mouth over hers, breathing in Penelope's shocked gasp.

She had no right to be shocked. This was all her doing! He certainly hadn't come here with the intention of kissing her. But she'd gone and practically forced him into it and now he couldn't stop if his life depended upon it. And it had all come out of practically nowhere. 

He'd simply visited to discuss the possibility of Eloise's secret life as Lady Whistledown and made a silly offhanded comment about rumors and how they took on a life of their own. And yes, he might have mentioned kissing first, but it was only to illustrate that he and Penelope hadn't kissed, not that they should.

"Suppose I told everyone that I had seduced you," he'd said, and not with seductive intentions, though he had been kneeling before her sofa, gripping her shoulders and staring deeply into her eyes. But that was for emphasis only. "You would be ruined forever. It wouldn't even matter that we had never even kissed. That, my dear Penelope, is the power of the word."

There. Nothing about that should have led to kissing. He might have glanced at her lips a time or two — or six — in the awkward silence that followed, but that didn't mean he would have done it. He'd taken great pains, all season so far and through the end of the last, to ensure that Penelope Featherington remained unkissed on the whole, and especially by him. He'd sacrificed a lot for her!

He'd avoided sitting across from her at meals they both happened to be attending. At Anthony's wedding to the wrong Miss Sharma, he'd been armed with a flask, which he indulged in frequently rather than indulging in other ways, such as feasting his eyes on certain parts of her. And that was really for the best as his study of her necklace, studiously avoiding parts below it, had led to his definitive investigation into her cousin's schemes... which he had exposed, saving her family from ruin. After that, he'd very emphatically stopped Fife from making leering comments about their friendship — something he still insisted was for her own good, no matter how she'd misconstrued it. When she insisted on putting herself on the marriage mart in earnest, he'd been there to counsel her and be sure nothing untoward happened.

And when he'd locked her and Eloise in a closet for three hours last week — which led to their renewed friendship, all thanks to him — he'd simply shook Pen's hand in congratulations rather than embrace her as he'd started to. And he could have done with a hug. Eloise had punched him right in the gut twice when he released them. On the whole, he'd stopped touching her so damned much. 

Outside of dancing, he'd barely touched her in a year until now!

Really, Benedict had been the one to put a stop to that when Colin had, in a fit of guilt and gallantry, asked his brother if it was possible that his very innocent touches involving Penelope had been possibly misconstrued by people who certainly didn't understand their friendship and the... well, the generally demonstrative nature of the Bridgerton family. Surely, it was all very innocent and Fife was mad in his assessment that Colin was "always touching" Pen when Colin had taken him aside at Mondrich's and asked where he got such a notion. Colin very pointedly told Fife that he had the wrong idea, that he and Penelope were just very close friends.

"If you say so," Fife had said with a wink. He always tried to skew things in that way, lech that he was, but he was sure no one else saw anything untoward about it.

Unfortunately, Benedict seemed to have the wrong idea as well. "Now that I think of it... You do touch her a bit much," his brother had said. It hadn't been the reply Colin had been seeking in the first place, and then Ben went on... "Come now, it does look a bit odd, the way you seek her out at every ball and grasp her hands and speak so closely and, now that I think of it, gaze at her for far longer than--"

"But those are all for very good reasons." Colin had tried to explain his reasons, but Ben didn't seem to think they washed, not even the ones involving saving her family from ruin.

"You could have done it in a less obvious way than grasping her hand and hauling her from the room in front of everyone!" And even though Colin tried to explain he'd not considered that would be a problem, Ben had said, "Well, now you know it is. So take care."

"I have been taking care," Colin had protested. "No one has taken more care of Penelope Featherington than me!"

"Clearly," Ben had said on a laugh. "You've been very diligent." He'd been smirking and raising an eyebrow at Colin nearly every time he approached Penelope since.

And even though Colin sorely disagreed that he'd done anything wrong, he was a very circumspect sort of man. He'd taken great care with Penelope in the year that followed. No hand-holding, no little touches on the ungloved part of her arm, no matter how soft and tempting it looked, no leading her from the ballroom into other rooms, no gazing overlong, not even when her necklines lowered or her hair was temptingly tossed into styles that had his fingers itching to undo them.

And then, on an otherwise unremarkable Friday afternoon, in the heart of Mayfair, in a quiet drawing room on Mount Street, Penelope Featherington had gone and ruined all that effort by forcing him to kiss her, starting with one fateful question.

"W-would..."

Colin's eyes had widened as Penelope formed the words. Dear God, she was going to do it. She was going to ask him to kiss her and he'd have no choice but to do it and their precarious friendship would be ruined again. He told himself he could just not do it, but who was he fooling? He was already leaning forward.

Yet she seemed to hesitate before she asked. "Would you..." She dropped her eyes from his.

"Yes?"

She seemed to steel herself, meeting his gaze again. "Would you really think it so scandalous, if I were to be kissed before marrying?"

He drew back, dropping his hands. "What?"

"I've heard other girls talking and... Well, I'm thinking it might be better than not to kiss a person before letting courting go any further."

He stood and backed away from her. "What kind of girls are you talking to? Is El saying something like—"

"No, of course not. Eloise thinks my aim to marry is mad to start with and she never wants to talk about that sort of thing."

"Good! And you shouldn't either."

"Which is precisely why she couldn't be Lady Whistledown," Pen had to point out.

"Very well, then. Never mind that." Really, the conversation had taken such a turn, he barely recalled where it started. "I think your behavior is more concerning at the moment."

"I've not done a thing. I am only saying that one hears things. The new Mrs. Rushworth, for instance, says she adores kissing her husband, yet her friend, Countess Grassley, says she despises it and likens it to having a slimy slug in her mouth. And I think, perhaps, it's not kissing that is the problem, but rather who one kisses."

Being around her so much, he'd started to notice her penchant for gossip... and quite a lot of it improper. "What precisely are you getting at?" Colin huffed.

"That perhaps one should try kissing a suitor before tying themselves to them for life. One should know if one enjoys it, at the very least."

"Penelope! That is the most scandalous thing I have ever... I... I shall pretend you never said it."

"But how is it scandalous? One cannot get with child from kissing, so it's surely not as risqué as seduction."

"You're still talking about it," he said, rubbing his temples.

"When you offered your help, you said you could answer any question I had."

He threw up his hands. "Not ones like this! Where is this even coming from?"

"You brought up kissing and it got me thinking—"

"God, I wish I hadn't! Do you have some suitor you are considering for this madness?"

"No. I wouldn't call anyone my suitor, not yet."

"As you shouldn't," he said, not missing an opportunity to hammer that in. "Haven't I stressed the importance of not showing preference to one so early? You'll discourage any others and your choices shall be limited by—"

"I know. I have not forgotten your lessons."

"Well... good. Really, I think I've taken great pains to aid you this season and I'd rather not see you go ruining everything for some... whim about kissing."

"But I've not been allowed to do anything else with them," she said — suddenly and loudly. "You say flirting is too forward and they won't respect me. And asking them about the future will scare them away. And being too interested in their pursuits is too cloying and—"

"And? It's working! You are now mysterious, aloof, intriguing, an enigma to them!"

"As they are to me. I don't even know if I like them!"

"And you think kissing is the answer to that?"

"I am only saying that perhaps methods of courtship should be amended slightly to include such a thing. It would certainly help to eliminate a suitor that doesn't suit. Say, I was on a promenade with Lord Debling, for example."

"Has he done something? That little sneak!" Colin paced away. He'd actually thought Debling the least worrisome of her sudden swains. He seemed more interested in wildlife than anything else. "I just knew it was all an act. No one is that honorable without—"

"He has done nothing! But if he did, as long as no one saw, what would be the harm in such an experiment?"

"The harm would be to your reputation. I don't know what you're getting up to, but it stops now!"

"I'm not getting up to anything! No one has kissed me!" She looked quite angry now. "No one has even come close!"

"Good!"

"No one ever will," she muttered under her breath, crossing her arms and sitting back. "Not until my wedding day, I suppose. Ridiculous."

"I heard that." He quickly looked away.

With her arms crossed like that, her décolletage, which had seemed respectable a moment ago, now looked positively indecent. He'd noted that her bodices had been getting lower and lower this season and, while he had a mind to say something about it, he had stopped himself. Commenting upon a lady's figure was very disrespectful. And he was working so hard to be respectful to her this year, damn it all! Even now, he was averting his eyes when he could be happily looking his fill. He'd think she'd appreciate the sacrifices he was making for her.

"You know, I-I-I wonder why you accepted my advice at all if you find it so ridiculous." She'd been like this lately, questioning him constantly, and it was unnerving. He'd thought she'd be a much more biddable student or perhaps he a more patient teacher, but it was not working out that way. It was as if, the more time they spent in each other's company, the more frustrated they became. And something needed to be done about it... something like... like... like putting her nonsense to bed once and for all. "Kissing a man one barely knows is not an option for a gently bred young lady and that's all there is to it," he exploded.

"And you don't think it's even a little unfair that men can place their lips wherever they like?"

"Penelope, I simply cannot continue this discussion," he said dazed, thinking of several places where he might put his lips. God, did she even know that the images she was calling forth were absolutely filthy? He must correct her. "I can't believe I even have to say this, but young ladies do not go about kissing every man they fancy until they find one they like doing it with."

"Why not? It's what men do!"

Why did she have to go and say things that were so... damned true? He tore at his cravat, since it was choking him. "I must say, this is a bit of a surprise, after everything." He'd done nothing but give her sage advice, out of the goodness of his heart and with no ulterior motives at all, and look where it had got him! Disrespected, practically disobeyed, and definitely discomfited. "If my lessons are so faulty, then—"

"I didn't say that," she said, staring at his neck. "But why must all the rules apply to me and not to you?"

"Me? What have I done to—"

"I mean men on the whole, not you personally," she said, her eyes still glaring at his bare neck, as if annoyed at the sight of it.

Well, it was too bad for her. He'd not be choked any longer. "And yet I am the one tortured with this nonsense when I haven't even had lunch!"

"Then, by all means, eat," she said peevishly, gesturing to the long-forgotten repast Briarly had laid out for them ages ago.

"Gladly." He took his seat again, happy he could breathe now, happy this nonsense was over, happily putting some cheese on his plate. "Aren't you going to—"

"I'm not hungry," she said, sitting back on the sofa, crossing her arms again.

"Nonsense." He put his eyes on his cheese. "No wonder you're so contrary today. Have a sandwich, at least."

"I do not want a sandwich."

He glanced up again at her pouty little tone. It matched her pouty little lips. He stared at her forehead resolutely. "If you're on that reducing diet again, I shall inform Eloise—"

"I am not. But very well. I shall have some fruit, if you insist."

And that was what when she did it.

It couldn't have been more than a few seconds, but time seemed to have slowed as she bent, giving him a completely unencumbered view down her entirely-too-low bodice as she leaned even further forward. Her fingers dangled over some grapes, then some orange slices and then she, he swore, caressed a strawberry to torture him personally before plucking up a peach... a peach, of all things!

He'd once vowed he would never watch her eat again — and certainly not fruit. But he had no plan of escape. He could only stare in horror as she lifted it to her mouth, lips opening to gently catch on the skin before she bit down and...

Really, there was only so much a man could take!

"Damn it all!"

The peach probably rolled somewhere across the room as he pulled her to her feet, then against him, taking her lips with a moan of surrender. He'd been defeated, after all. She'd left him absolutely no choice but to kiss her.

He wasn't sure how long it had been, but after what could have been the first five seconds or hours, he realized she hadn't made a noise since her delicious little gasp and he started to think this was a terrible mistake and perhaps he shouldn't have dragged Penelope from her seat and mauled her because she dared eat a peach.

He started to pull away... But then her fingers were raking through his hair and he was gone, his own sliding down her back to her bottom, lifting her against him until the both of them lost their footing and dropped to the sofa. Once that happened, it wasn't long before he had her bare thigh in his hand, lifting it over his own as he continued tasting her lips, then her jaw, then her neck and then that tantalizing skin over her bodice and... then nothing.

Colin pulled himself away - and quite heroically, he thought - standing and straightening his waistcoat, which had had ended up half-off. He didn't even know where his cravat had landed. Today's lesson had certainly gotten out of hand... that or very well in-hand.

He gestured to her, still sprawled on the sofa and looking a bit dazed. "So, there! That's a kiss and you... you've had one now. So you can stop talking about it. Lesson over." He tried to cross his arms, then gave that up, putting a hand on his hip before also abandoning that. He couldn't seem to find a way to stand at the moment since he'd much rather not be standing, actually. He'd rather be sprawled on top of her again, to be quite honest.

She stared up at him, her eyes clearing as she pulled herself to a sitting position, squaring her shoulders and adjusting her dress. "I wasn't aware that was part of the lesson plan. And I'm afraid that doesn't satisfy my curiosity," she said, so primly, as if she hadn't just been writhing under him as he kissed her neck... and parts below. "I'd wanted to kiss a suitor," she said, meeting his eyes with a challenging sort of stare, "and you are certainly not that."

"Yes, you made that clear from the start, didn't you?" Colin couldn't help but approach her again. "I'm just a means to an end, someone to practice your wiles on until you find some other man to enjoy them."

"Me?" She scoffed loudly. "How dare you pretend I'm the one practicing wiles when you know very well I've been pining after you since we met," she said, before she covered her mouth, turning absolutely beetroot red.

He stared at her, wondering what color his face was as he was torn between saying he knew it all along and saying it was a ridiculous claim, demanding she elaborate at once. Yes, he might have, at times, suspected Penelope carried a bit of a tendre for him. But in these last months, he'd started to think it was all wishful thinking on his part. But if it wasn't... If she wanted him half as much as he wanted her...

He scoffed, and much louder than she had, for good measure. "If you wanted me, then you wouldn't have tortured me like this," he said, leaning over her, hoping she'd say it again.

"I'll have you know that I've been the one tormented!"

"Yes, and that's why you tortured me, for your revenge. I'm glad you finally admit it," he started, hiding a smile, "that this entire scheme was your way of drawing me in..."

"I did no such-"

"... pretending you needed my help when you obviously know precisely what you're doing with your lips, your sighs, your skin, your... scandalous way of eating fruit."

"Oh, no. You cannot turn that around on me," she said softly, eyes dropping to his lips. "You insisted upon teaching me. I said 'no' for ages before—"

"Just another part of your little plan, making me think it was all my idea. You duplicitous, delicious, scandalous-"

"You're the scandalous one," she broke in, "constantly tempting me with your... bare neck." She was staring at it, even now, hungrily. He wanted her to bite it.

"Says the girl with the bodice that dips into the very depths of hell." He planted a hand on either side of her, fisting the sofa cushions as she gasped at the word. "Just look at you. You've learned your lessons too well. You must be stopped."

"I was just about to say the same about you." She laid back, even as her words gained force. "I shudder to think of you imparting teachings such as yours on any other unsuspecting girls."

"Then we are agreed." He settled his body over hers quite firmly. "This foolish endeavor of yours is at an end."

"You mean your-"

"No more husband-hunting. No more talk of kissing endless suitors. In fact, no more talk of kissing. It's much more efficient to—"

"Yes, I agree." She pulled him down by his neck, stopping him from speaking — intelligibly, that is — for at least the half-hour it took until her mother and Prudence arrived home.

After that, they made a hasty effort at righting themselves as they heard them bicker their way up to the drawing room, after which Colin had made an even hastier exit, rushing past the pair on the stairs and tossing a "Good day, Fady Leatherington!" over his shoulder.

Even if he could form proper words, he wasn't about to make chatter with Penelope's mother in his state. He was sure Penelope looked even more unkempt, but at least she could hide certain conditions that he could not.

He didn't even realize, until he'd walked halfway home, that he'd left his hat and coat behind, also his carriage, also he was pretty certain he'd neglected to actually propose.

And he hadn't even eaten... not lunch, at least.

TBC