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"They had that in Victorian England?" Mac asks, slightly confused. "The more you know, I guess."

"They have it here," he says, stretching his back and watching her. "In ample amounts, as it turns out. We had...different things, back home."

"Oh, well. I guess there's that, then," Mac says, inexplicably nervous about that. "But you didn't like that as much as me?"

"You see me going back there or staying here?" he asks her, rolling his shoulders in a lazy shrug. "Figure it should be fairly obvious what I prefer, darlin'."

"I'm hardly a professional," Mac says, laughing a little as she slides her hand down lower. "But I try all the same."

"Had my fair share of professionals," he says, eyes tracking the movement of her hand. He reaches out for an ice-cube, rubs it along the back of his neck. "You're somethin' else, darlin'."

"Am I very beautiful?" Mac knows she's baiting him but it helps her bring herself off if he's somewhat involved in the process. "When I'm touching myself like this?"

"You're so fuckin' beautiful," he says, his eyes fixed on her. "When you're doin' that. Rest of the time, too. You're the apple of my eye, darlin'."

"Hmm, I do try," Mac says, sucking on two fingers to get them nice and slick before sliding them down between her legs. "Don't know that I'm always successful but damn, do I give it a shot."

"You're enough for me," he says. He's stopped trying to puzzle out exactly how he feels about her - everything will fall into place. Right now, he's happy. It's enough. "Even if you are a brat."

"You made me this way," Mac reminds him smugly, teasing her fingers around her clit lightly and keeping herself spread wide so he can see.

"Oh, no," he says, shaking his head emphatically. "You ain't layin' all of this at my door, darlin. You were always like this - I just gave you an outlet."

"It's true," she says, sliding her fingers in deep and working them in and out before crooking her fingers at him. "Come help me? It's less fun to do it by myself."

There's a smart comment on the tip of his tongue but, in the end, he just goes to her, stretching out alongside her, his hand sliding down her belly.

"What do you need, darlin'?"

"I like your hands better," Mac admits slyly, biting her lip a little. "Mine are just so slender, hardly feels like I'm getting fucked at all. Yours, though, well. That's much better."

Shaking his head at that, he bends to kiss her, his hand slipping between her legs, one finger slipping into her without so much as a pause.

Mac gasps against his mouth. "Oh, mmhmm," she murmurs, squeezing around his finger. "Much better, Jackson."

He's known how to do this part, known how to do it well, since boyhood and he doesn't hesitate before slipping another finger into her, fucking her slowly, not wanting to bring her too quickly as they kiss.

God, he's good at it. It's like he knows her body better than she does and she cries out a little, rocking her hips up.

By now, he's pretty sure of exactly what Mac likes. He works his fingers over her, into her, nudging the kiss deeper, swallowing all of the little sounds that she makes.

When Mac comes, it's a little bit of a surprise because she wasn't quite ready yet and she makes a soft little noise, nipping at his lower lip as she kisses him.

She comes, his feels it while he's kissing her, feels the way she tightens around his fingers. He keeps them moving, keeps moving them slowly as they kiss.

Mac kisses him harder, trying not to cry out, and she possibly thinks this is the quietest she's ever been during an orgasm in her life. Jesus fuck.

They've done all kinds of things between them and he thinks that this might actually be one of the most intense thing that's passed between them. He breaks the kiss so that he can look at her as he touches her.

Mac breathes heavily for a moment, just watching him, and then she smiles softly. "I love you. So much more than I expected to."