[For Peter Carlisle]

[tardistraveller]

A time for everything and to everything its place. Rubbish, in some manner of speaking, but it was time. In fact, it was long past time, but Sarah Jane had been very patient and had pushed down all those whims every time she had kissed Peter or just seen him and reminded herself with a deep 'woof' of frustration that there would be a time

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[tardistraveller]

Well, she'd deal with the complexities of awkwardness inherent in his reply later because she wasn't sure her mind was up for that just yet. And really, the kissing was a degree of pleasant she'd not experienced in a very long time. Kisses, she knew now, were different when it wasn't just a physical tumble in the sheets.

Her torso pushed into his, the effect of gravity helpful as one hand rested on his chest, the other upon his hip. Where was the bed? she thought to herself. Where is it so we don't...damn it, don't stumble...

[vegas_never]

Her boots were rather impressive, Peter had to admit, but not terribly good for walking in. It was no great surprise that she began to stumble a bit in their enthusiasm, but she wasn't afforded the opportunity to actually fall, as Peter had swept her up into strong arms before it could happen.

Even with his hair a mess and in reading glasses he painted quite the romantic figure as he carried her across the room to the bed, although it wasn't purposely done. Never once did his eyes leave Sarah Jane's, and when he laid her gently upon the bed, his body immediately followed, curving warm over hers as his lips found the pale length of her throat.

[tardistraveller]

It was so very much like all those scenes she had studied in order to write her novels and staring up at him was a sight for sore eyes, indeed. Rather like water in the desert, and even though Sarah Jane didn't precisely experience desert-like conditions, she knew this was different than James and the Doctor.

She stretched the length of her neck, the benefits twofold (in that he could traverse his lips further and it smoothed out any trouble spots) and twirled the rings upon her fingers so that when she pushed her hands under his shirt, they smoothly ran over his warm skin.

"You're quite the sight," she commended, but it was genuine and accompanied by an encouraging smile.

[vegas_never]

A warm chuckle sounded at the back of Peter's throat. "And you, as well," he murmured against her neck, and then purred contentedly when her fingers smoothed over his skin. He stopped, then, and leaned up on an elbow to look down at the play of candlelight across her face. They were so close, he swore he could count her eyelashes.

"Sarah," he began, free hand lifting to gently brush the hair from her face. "I love you." The words were steady, sincere, no hint of trepidation or uncertainty within them. It was important to say it now, Peter thought. To make certain she understood it on no uncertain terms, that she couldn't write it off as post-coital hormones.

[tardistraveller]

Thirty-three years.

That was how long it had been since the last time someone had said those three words romantically to her and hadn't just been her Aunt Lavinia clicking off on the phone or the Doctor rambling about how he loved the way she thought of things or Harry's careless, 'of course I love you, old girl, you're a good friend! One of the chaps, even'. And nothing said 'I love you' like one of the Brigadier and Doris' cards from UNIT.

So, 'shocked' was a kind word to describe how Sarah Jane Smith felt right then and she started to laugh, a surprised and giddy sort of laugh as she moved her hands down his back and out, cupping her mouth with the both to conceal the sound.

When it passed, she stared at Peter with wonder. "Oh, you silly, silly man," she chastised, though it was done with great affection. "You didn't need to say such a thing." And yet, it made her feel better that she might just be falling and falling yet, down further as though there was no ground, this strange, constant falling in love.