After going through boxes and closets full of clothing donated to the 
convent, John, Monica, and Gibson moved to the caretaker's cottage. 
It was a small adobe house, in a similar style to the main 
monastery. Red clay tiles graced the gently sloping roof, and the 
warm earth tones of the mud walls blended into the desert landscape. 
The two bedrooms occupied opposite ends of the house, much to 
Gibson's relief, and the main living area in the center included an 
old-fashioned kitchen, a living room with a wood-burning fireplace, 
and a dining area filled with storage boxes. Martha assured them the 
boxes would be moved in the morning.

Gibson's room faced away from the road and the monastery, and in the 
starlight he could see the outline of the mountains in the distance. 
John and Monica hung their "new" clothes and together made the bed, 
grinning to each other as they lifted up the sheet and watched it 
parachute to the mattress. As they were finishing Gibson knocked at 
the door and said loudly "Goodnight. Don't worry about me. You 
won't be doing anything you haven't been thinking about for the past 
hour anyway."

"Goodnight, Gibson," John shouted, somewhat annoyed.

Monica went to the door and opened it a few inches. "Don't worry," 
she assured him in a whisper. "You'll learn how to ignore it."

*~*~*~*~*~*~ SMUT ALERT *~*~*~*~*~*~

After Monica shut the door she turned around and beamed in John's 
direction. "It's just us now... in our own room... together" she 
purred as she approached him.

They went to each other as if they'd been separated for years. 
Monica hurriedly started pulling on John's T-Shirt as he clumsily 
tried to unbutton her blouse. 

John paused and said, "I don't know why, but I'm a little nervous..."

"Exciting, isn't it?" Monica rubbed her hands over his bare 
chest. "A place of our own, for now anyway..." She patted the 
mattress, then sat down and reached for his hands. "and this is OUR 
bed...," she said seductively.

He let her pull him down onto the bed, then he rolled to her 
side. "You didn't like staying over?"

"I love your house, John," Monica said comfortingly. "But it was 
yours. I felt like a guest there."

"A very welcome guest," he said, smoothing her hair. "And I thought 
you were starting to feel at home there."

She put an arm over his chest and nuzzled his neck, then pulled away 
and gazed into his eyes. "Anywhere you are is home for me," she 
whispered. She brought her lips to his and he returned her kiss.

His kiss was warm and passionate, yet at the same time comforting and 
gentle. Monica felt herself melting as he wrapped her in his strong 
arms and rolled her onto her back. He pulled away and smiled, his 
eyes sparkling from the starlight streaming in through the 
window. "I love you," he whispered hoarsely. "My home is where you 
are too."

She smiled her response, speechless for the moment, as his hand made 
its way from her chin to her breasts then started undoing her jeans. 
Monica felt tingles throughout her body, as much from his words as 
from his actions. He walked on his knees as he pulled her jeans down 
and over her feet. He then stood and undid his own pants as she 
watched. He kept his eyes on hers, watching her reaction as he 
peeled off the layers between them, and when he was ready for her he 
stood for a moment at the foot of the bed, drinking in the sight of 
her naked and ready body, which was glowing faintly in the bluish 
starlight. "You're so beautiful," he said, crawling back to her. He 
kissed her then stroked her hair and said, "Whatever I did to deserve 
you, I'm glad I did it."

"Just being you is enough," Monica whispered. "I love you too," she 
added after a moment's hesitation.

They kissed again, lips exploring lips, their breathing loud but 
steady, as they each caressed the other with a deepened sense of 
trust and affection. John broke away to trail tender kisses down her 
neck, then his tongue teased her skin as it made its way through the 
valley between her breasts, and then down her body until he heard her 
throw her head back in a deep sigh. She opened her legs for him as he 
licked, sucked and caressed all her favorite places and searched for 
more. He pushed first one, then two, fingers deep inside her, 
finding the places and the motions that he'd so recently reawakened 
for her, then probed futher, reaching an undiscovered source of 
passion and pleasure. She gasped in surprise, but her hips invited 
him to linger, and he listened to her hips. Over, around, back, 
over, around, back, over, around, back... always slightly slower than 
she begged for yet increasing in speed until her gyrations and his 
motions brought her to a shuddering climax that made her cry out.

He kept his nose buried in her curly hairs, enjoying the scents of 
her pleasure, until she pulled on his hair, urging him to blanket her 
with his body as she recovered. The feeling of her skin against his, 
and her hair intertwining with his, built his desire even as hers was 
waning. "I love you," he whispered huskily, close to her ear.

"I love you," she sighed, wrapping her arms around his ribcage. He 
responded by pulling away, raising himself up on his well-developed 
arms, and smiling into her smiling face.

"I want you," he gasped. "You're driving me crazy."

Although the look in his eyes was unmistakeable, Monica reached below 
to check how crazy he was. He was more ready for her than she had 
ever known him to be, and just touching the girth and stiffness of 
his readiness awoke new readiness in her. "Oh, yeah?" she teased, 
then guided him just to the edge of her slick opening, teasing him 
until his eyes closed and a gutteral groan escaped his throat. "You 
want what?" she asked.

Panting now, he opened his eyes, begging her to let him enter. She 
opened herself to him, and let him ease into her. Slowly, carefully, 
he pushed in, feeling her expand and then relax around him until he 
was fully inside. They rested a moment, delighting in their union, 
not wanting to upset the balance John had so expertly achieved. But 
soon the biological imperative took over, and he slid out slowly, 
then in, out, in... as she writhed underneath him. His arms 
outstretched, holding his head high above hers, he was able to watch 
as her face contorted in rhythm to his motions. Watching her, and 
hearing her moans and cries, intensified his feelings to the point 
where he was afraid of losing control. He pulled out, and her hips 
continued to thrust, searching for him in the darkness. "I want to 
make this last," he explained when her eyes searched his. "I want 
you to feel like you've never felt before."

She pushed her hands against his ribcage and knocked him onto his 
back next to her, then she straddled him and guided him into her 
again. This time there was no slow beginning, as both bucked madly 
the moment she had accepted him. She watched him watching her, and 
her pleaure built exponentially with every thrust. He held onto her 
hips as she bounced on top of him, the swaying of her breasts adding 
to his pleasure until he felt he had to close his eyes. Her orgasm 
was like none she'd ever felt before, making her groan as wave after 
wave threw her body into a serpentine dance. His own release 
followed, and to the accompaniment of a loud, low, groan, the waves 
of his pleasure spilled into her still-writhing body.

Monica collapsed on her side of the bed, panting gently, her breath 
cooling the beads of sweat that were collecting on her chest.

"You okay?" John whispered, rolling to his side and brushing the hair 
from her face. "Was it good?"

"Oh, yeah!" she said enthusiastically. "You're incredible, John," 
she assured him.

He flopped onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. "Good," he 
said. "Cause you knocked the wind outta me!" he chuckled.

Monica rolled to her side and draped an arm across his chest, then 
rested her head on his shoulder. "Every time it's gotten better and 
better..." she said, stroking his chest with the tips of her 
fingernails. "You surprise me every time."

"Hmmmmm," John mumbled, then the next sound Monica heard was a 
gentle, satisfied, snore.

They awoke to the sound of a soft but insistent knock on their door. 
John groggily padded to the door and opened it a crack. "Yeah, 
Gibson?" he croaked.

"I'm going to get breakfast. And play chess with Sister Martha," 
Gibson announced. John nodded, then Gibson added, an awkward 
hopefulness in his face, "I didn't want you to worry."

"Thanks, Gibson," John acknowledged. "We would have."

Gibson smiled and stepped away from the door. "See you later," he 
smirked, knowing what thoughts had just jumped to John's mind. "Have 
fun!"

"Gibson..." John started, but Gibson raced to the door and was gone 
before John could scold him.

John shut the door quietly and returned to bed, where Monica was 
stirring, half-awake. He pulled the covers over his naked body and 
stroked her cheek. "Good morning, beautiful," he purred.

She stretched and opened her eyes. "Morning," her voice was 
gravelly, as if it too was not yet awake. She looked around the room 
for a moment before sighing in recognition. "I forgot where we 
were," she said. "I was dreaming we were at your house."

He stroked her hair and sighed, "No, we're at *our* house," he 
whispered. "At least it's ours for awhile."

She smiled, "I remember now...." She wrapped an arm around his 
waist, and said seductively, "I remember everything."

He leaned over and kissed her, his tongue darting into her mouth, 
telling her that he was ready for more lovemaking. She responded 
eagerly, pulling him onto her, moving her body underneath his and 
letting the fabric of the bed linens bunch into a mound that 
stimulated them both. "Hmmmmm," he hummed into her ear. "I remember 
too. You were magnificent."

"So were you," she growled, pulling the bed linens down so that their 
chests could rub together.

At the feel of her breasts smashing against his chest, Doggett 
grunted, then grabbed the linens and jerked them out from between 
their bodies, tossing them to the floor. The two bodies now 
unhindered on the wide mattress began to writhe against each other, 
each seeking the other until they merged in a rocking motion that 
gradually quickened to the accompaniment of excited grunts, moans, 
shouts and whimpers.

At his final exclamation of joy, John's head fell forward and nestled 
itself in the damp tresses of her dark hair. Spent, he sighed deeply 
and resisted the urge to go limp on top of her. Monica's breathing 
slowed and she reached to the back of his neck, then massaged him 
gently. "I love you," he sighed into her ear. "More than life," he 
added.

"I love you too," she whispered. "You've made me so happy..." They 
kissed tenderly, each proving to the other the truth of their words, 
until Monica broke the kiss, saying, "Whatever happens, I want us to 
stay together."

John nodded. "I understand." He kissed her one more time then 
said, "We're missing breakfast..."

"I'm not hungry," she insisted. "I just want to stay here with you 
all morning."

He smiled. "We could do that... but we have our obligations." He 
kissed her cheek then added, "We need to get going..." Then he had a 
thought, "Join me in the shower?"

She grinned, and when he leapt from the bed and ran to the bathroom 
door, she followed eagerly.

The shower had disappointingly low water pressure, making Monica 
rethink her dream of a sensual experience with her lover. John stood 
under the shower, letting its pathetic stream wet his short hair then 
separate into rivulets over his body. Monica laughed and 
said "Nevermind, I can see this isn't meant for two." She turned to 
leave and felt a wet hand grasp her arm, pulling her backwards a few 
steps.

"Are you sure about that? Maybe we just need to be very," he 
continued pulling her backwards as she laughed. "....very," he 
pulled her to the tub's edge. "...close." Wrapping his arms around 
her waist, he nuzzled her neck until she stepped backwards into the 
tub.

She turned around in his arms. "Like this?" she joked, wrapping her 
arms around him then lowering her hands to grab his asscheeks. She 
pulled his hips closer to hers and smiled, saying, "Or like this?"

"Something like that," he grinned, pulling her in for a deep, wet 
kiss. 

She could feel him growing between them, and pulled away. "Again? " 
she purred. "You're insatiable!"

"Is that a problem?" he growled. "You didn't seem to be complaining 
before..."

She kissed his lips, then his chin, then trailed kisses down his 
body, in between saying, "I... do... when... we... miss... 
breakfast..." She took him in her mouth, water from the shower 
flowing onto the back of her head as he leaned against the stall wall.

"Monica," he groaned. "What are you doing.... ahhhhh" His answer 
was a tongue bath followed by the deepest deep throat he'd ever 
experienced. "Monica... I .... want..." He wanted to be inside 
her, but she had other ideas, and she stroked his member with her 
tongue, and his balls with her hand, until he spilled into her mouth 
with a loud groan. She drank in every drop then stood and kissed him.

"Now that I've had breakfast..." she giggled, grabbing the 
soap. "I'm ready for my shower.

They cleaned each other thoroughly, paying special attention to 
sensitive areas, then toweled each other dry. As Monica ran the 
threadbare towel over John's chest she looked at his sleek muscles 
admiringly. "You are something else, John Doggett," she murmured, 
studying his body with almost scientific curiosity.

He smiled, proud that this younger woman could find him attractive at 
his age. "I'll need to keep up my exercise routine if I want to be 
worthy of such a gorgeous woman," he said, hugging her close. He 
whispered close to her ear, "And you *are* gorgeous, Monica Reyes... 
and I love you."

Her heart skipped a beat when she heard these words, as it did every 
time he said them. She brought her lips close to his and 
whispered "I love you too." They kissed, letting their towels fall 
to the floor as they started their lovers' dance again.

Suddenly, they heard a loud knock at the door.