A/N: Hellllllll-ooooooooo. That is all.

What do you do when the man you’ve been in love with for five years tells you that he has been waiting for you that entire time? You kiss him silly.  You lose your mind and then you kiss him silly. 

Words fail me.  More than usual.  But what’s the point of talking when you can say everything with a kiss? With a sigh? I take Tom’s hands and press them against my chest, holding him to me.  I’m afraid my heart is going to burst out of my chest, and I need him there to catch it, just in case. 

When I kiss him, I feel a deep, urgent need to have him as close as possible.  Tom presses me into the trunk of the tree, and I feel the rough bark scrape against my skin.  His arms come up, hard and unyielding on either side of me and we lock eyes for a moment before we both rush forward. 

How can I describe a kiss that I don’t even totally understand?  Everything is happening all at once, and it’s an overload of senses.  I can feel the hard, rough bark behind me.  The tree is warm with the summer air.  The air crackles with electricity.  I can hear the rain thrashing to the ground around us, making the air cool and wet.  Rain seeps through the canopy of leaves, and every once in awhile a drop falls on my hot skin.   Thunder rolls above us, and I swear it’s my heart. 

I am starving for Tom.  I have never felt so desperately in need of another person.  From the moment I met him, I knew I needed him in my life, no matter the capacity.  I convinced myself for five years that having him as my friend was good enough.  That having him as my friend was all I was good enough for.  And now, now…I need so much more than that.  If I could put into words the love I feel for this man, I would.  But now, in this moment, it is coming out in nearly tangible waves.  Physical, aching waves that I cannot stop. 

We kiss and kiss, and he has me pinned against the tree.  I grab at his shirt, his shoulders, his arms.  I can feel the muscle under the material, bunching and tensing as he holds me.  I breathe him in, and wish I could hold him there forever.  No one has ever made me feel like he makes me feel.  I trust him completely.  There are parts of him I don’t know, and perhaps don’t completely understand, but it doesn’t matter to me.  It is those spaces that make me want to be closer, that make me so comfortable around him.  Those spaces don’t scare me, for I trust that he would never hurt me.

There have been times where I wished I were someone else.  Someone prettier, someone more elegant and eloquent, someone better.  But now, in this moment, I am so happy to be me.  Because it is me that he is kissing.  It is me that has lived the past 29 years and managed to still, somehow, be blessed with knowing this man, and having him want to know me.  The emotion overwhelms me, and I push my hands through Tom’s hair, holding him to me.  I move my mouth to his jaw, and then slide down his neck.  He braces against me, his head pressed against my shoulder, letting me kiss and suck gently on his neck.  I can hear him breathing, hard and panting.  He only holds still for a second before he’s moving again, as if he can’t stay still.  He kisses me hungrily, and his hands slide up my sides, slipping under my shirt.  I arch against him, offering him whatever he wants.  Whatever he wants and it’s his.

We both freeze for a half second when his hands move up my ribs.  I can’t help but giggle, his feather light touch tickling my sensitive skin.  He grins and runs his fingers across my ribs again, making me laugh.  I grab at his hands, and press them hard against me, to stop from making me laugh.

“You’re so ticklish.” He smiles against my neck and starts kissing me again.  His hands press against my skin, and then he pulls them out from under my shirt.  Tom moves his mouth along my shoulder, and his hand comes up, tugging down the neckline of my shirt.  He trails kisses down my collar bone and stops just above where my bra starts, the lace edge peeking over the top of my shirt.  Tom slowly trails a wet, tingling line with his tongue across the swell of my breast.

I moan, my head lolling back as I push my hands through his soft, damp hair.  Whether he’s waiting for permission or not, he most undoubtedly has it.  I push against him, grabbing his hands over my shirt and moving them up.  We move in a frenzy and blur of kisses, rocking against each other.  He slips his hands under my bra, pushing my shirt to the side.  My bra slides down and I’m suddenly bare and in his hands.  We both groan and I pull his lower lip into my mouth as he runs his thumbs over my nipples.  Oh flying forks. Oh god. I can’t make sense of anything. 

I grab at him, pulling his shirt out from his pants.  I don’t even care that we are standing in the middle of a field, pressed up against a tree.  It’s dark out, the rain around us acts like a curtain, and I need him, desperately.  I can’t wait any longer.  I’ve waited for years and now I am alive, finally.  All of my sense are a blaze.  It as if the volume has finally been turned all the way up.  The music is beautiful.

Tom leans his head down, grabs my hands, which are fumbling at his belt and pushes them up against the tree, raising them above my head.  I gasp as he kisses me deep, and then he leans down lower and releases my hands so he can pull the neckline of my shirt down again, and start kissing my breasts.  I moan, feeling his hot mouth come down around my nipple, and then the cool, damp night air brush past my flushed, bare skin.  If things have been crazy in the last few moments, they suddenly rush forward at top speed.  It’s like we are running down a hill, and moving so fast that we fall and just end up rolling and rolling and crashing into each other.

I run my hands up his stomach, over his abs and then back down again.  I slip my hands under the waist band of his jeans, and I swear he nearly jumps and then sort of surges against me when I touch him.  He has both hands and arms braced up by my head, and when I take him in my hand, hot and hard, we both dissolve.  He does this growling noise into the side of my neck, which makes me quiver against him. 

Tom grabs me, hoisting me up by the waist, and I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist.  He slips a hand between our bodies, pushes my skirt up roughly around my hips, and dips a hand between my legs.  When he touches me, I bite my lip, suppressing a moan.

“Don’t do that. Let me hear you.” He groans into my ear.  “Dear god, let me hear you.” He begs as he runs his hands up my thighs. I feel him push my panties to the side and truly touch me.  I couldn’t hold in my cries if I wanted to anymore.  I waver against him and Tom groans and sets me back down on the ground for a moment.  My knees buckle, and I lean against the tree to keep from falling.  He starts fumbling with his belt, and I reach forward and yank him toward me, grabbing the belt buckle and tearing it open as fast as I can.  It only takes a few seconds, and then he’s on me again and picking me up. 

I brace myself against his wide, strong shoulders, my arms surrounding his head.  I kiss him, and he moves, pressing against me, and then he’s suddenly there, pushing into me.  I groan into Tom’s mouth and he stills, then bites down on my lip, gently but firmly.  We don’t move for what seems like a full minute.  He stays torturously still, and I can’t even breathe.  It is almost painful, in the most delicious, glorious, amazing way possible. 

He starts moving after a moment, as if he needed a second to gather his thoughts and pull it together.  I am so far gone, that I may just start speaking tongues in a minute.  We start to move, and I have to admit that it’s mostly Tom doing the work.  He’s holding me, using the tree as leverage at my back, and he starts thrusting into me.  He goes slow at first, moving with an intensity and control and power that makes me shake.  I feel every inch of him, and I have never felt so utterly complete.  I’ve needed him, and only him, and now there are no questions in my mind.  None at all.

“Please, please, please.” I beg as if it’s the only word I know.  That and his name.  I’m pleading for him to either give me life or take it.  Either way, I would be happy.  Tom kisses my neck, and then my mouth and I roll my hips against him.  We start moving faster, and then we lose all control. 

We are frantic, kissing and moving.  Hands are everywhere, and I’m crying out, my moans mixing with the sound of thunder rolling in the distance.  Tom moves faster, harder, and I focus on holding onto him, kissing his face everywhere I can reach and then biting into his shoulder when I feel I can’t possibly take it anymore.  I press my hands into his back, and with the next crash of thunder around us, I feel a wave of intense, overwhelming pleasure tear through me.  My legs shake and clench around his narrow hips, and Tom groans when he feels me tighten around him.  I clench around him, my whole body dependent on him to keep us from just exploding into a thousand pieces.  He holds on for about thirty more seconds, before I feel and hear him, his pace picked up, driving into me fast and hard.  I shake, feeling a second wave come on as he comes.  He’s so strong and certain around me as he crushes against me.  I can feel his hands around my hips, his fingers digging into me.  His breath is choppy and strained, and I’m nearly oblivious to the fact that I’m making small, breathless noises.  If there were only one moment in my life that I could keep and remember forever, it would be this one.

Sweet god, I love this man so much.  It nearly kills me.  I wrap my arms around his neck and try to bury myself against him as we both come down from our high.  My eyes water and I feel a hard rush of emotions like nothing I’ve ever felt before.  It is unstoppable.  I squeeze my eyes shut and feel tears push out.  I’m not sad--I’m overwhelmingly, breathtakingly happy.  I quickly brush my tears away before he can see them and interpret them as anything else. 

He sets me down, gently, against the tree, and my legs nearly give out.  I am shaking so hard that he has to hold me against him.  The rain is still pouring down around us, our little sanctuary of tree leaves keeping us mostly dry.  Still, my skin is wet with rain, and Tom’s hair and shoulders are damp. We pull back, and he looks at me.  His eyes are amazing, stormy and intense.  I see a depth of emotion there, and I’m hardly able to read what going on in his head.  He reaches down and gets himself back in order, tucking things in and zipping up his jeans.  I turn my back slightly, doing the same, moving my bra back down to where it should be.  My shirt has ridden up my back and my skirt is still up around hips.  I pull it down, and reach up to pull my shirt down over my back.

“God, Charlie.” He gathers me in his arms, and presses his forehead against mine.  I hold onto him.   I can’t speak, not quite yet. “I’m such an ass. I’m sorry.” He shakes his head just a tiny bit, and I hear regret and sadness in his voice.  My breath halters, and I feel my heart sink.  He regrets it.  He thinks it was a mistake. 

I pull back, and brace myself.

“What?” I whisper.

“I’m sorry, sweet. You deserved better than that. It should have been…somewhere comfortable, and not up against a bloody tree in a field.” He sounds mad at himself, his jaw set. 

“Shut up.  Do you hear me complaining, you potato?” I pull him toward me and kiss his neck and then his mouth.  He kisses me back, hungrily, and for a second I think we could nearly go again.  I pull back before we can get going and I press my lips by his ear.

 “I would not wish any companion in the world but you.” I whisper to him.  I feel him grin, and he pulls me into a hug. 

“Nor can imagination form a shape besides yourself to like of.” He takes my hand, smiling. And then we turn and go dashing out from under the cover of the tree and into the pouring rain. 

We run the rest of the way back to the cottage, and arrive completely soaked through.  We take our time, undressing each other, touching and memorizing, and doing all the things that we couldn’t be bothered with earlier.  The storm rages outside and continues on through the night, as we do.  We bury ourselves in the magic bed, in the tiny hobbit hole, and I have never, ever been happier.