Author's Note: Yuletide pinch hit for mokuyoubi, who wanted first time Phryne/Jack pretending to be married. This is set after series 3 and only has the weakest excuse for a plot.
***
“Phryne, this really isn’t necessary,” Jack Robinson groused under his breath, admittedly sounding less convincing than he might have hoped. As expected, the only reaction he got from the woman standing next to him was a brilliant smile and a patronising pat on the cheek. Then Phryne turned back to the proprietor of the small hotel she’d been talking to and finished checking them in. Jack bit back a sigh and decided it was useless to disrupt her plans once set in motion. After all, more often than not Phryne’s plans turned out for the best.
He was so lost in thought, he almost missed the hotel owner coming out from behind the counter and leading them towards the stairs, his voice so polite as to be almost fawning: “I have put you into our nicest room, with a rather lovely view towards the mountains. You might have noticed that we’re not very busy, I’m afraid it’s almost the end of the season, which is also why we’re short-staffed. But please, let me carry your suitcase as well, Mr. Fisher.”
It took Jack a moment to realise he’d been addressed, and as he handed over his luggage, he shot Phryne a dark look that she returned with an unapologetic smile, amusement dancing in her green eyes. As always he found himself captivated by their gleam, and despite himself his lips twitched in a smile of their own.
They walked the rest of the way to their room in silence, until the hotel owner left them with more polite clichés regarding his hopes for their stay. Once the door had swung shut behind him, Phryne stepped up to Jack and slung her arms around his neck, smiling with her red, red lips only a few inches from Jack’s: “So, Mr. Fisher, whatever shall we do until it’s time to go down for dinner?”
She was very distracting, but Jack managed to gently disentangle himself, although admittedly his hands lingered on Phryne’s shoulders, feeling the smooth silk of her beautiful green suit, his voice a bit lower than normal: “I suggest, Mrs. Fisher, that you call Dot before it’s too late in Melbourne. You know she worries when she can’t keep an eye on you herself.”
“Oh, but that’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?” Phryne said teasingly, but she did walk over to the telephone and asked the operator for a line to Australia. Jack walked over to their luggage and began taking out his toiletries and everything else he would need for their stay. Still, he could hear everything Phryne was saying once she got put through, and the warmth in her voice as she talked made him smile.
“Well, I’m sorry to disturb you so late, Dot, my dear, but Jack insisted you were sick with worry. Yes, I know, and I told him so. After all, you should be enjoying your first months of married life.” She paused occasionally to listen to Dot’s replies, smiling at whatever it was her former companion was saying before answering: “Oh, we’re in Italy, in a small village in the Alps, still after that horrible gigolo who stole Mother’s diamond necklace. I dare say we’ll have it back by tomorrow, maybe even tonight, and then Jack and I can finally… relax.”
Her laugh was throaty and sent a delicious shiver down Jack’s spine, even as he blushed at the thought of Dot’s reaction. Phryne, of course, was not phased at all: “Yeah well, our reunion in London was rather more rushed than either one of us had hoped for and it’s been a madcap dash all over Europe ever since. But now we’ve caught up with our quarry - and I checked us in as husband and wife, so there won’t be any wagging of Italian tongues to worry our dear Inspector’s sense of propriety.”
Another laugh, this one directed at Jack, who tried to look busy but knew he was fooling no one, then Phryne signed off: “I won’t keep you any longer, Dot, after all you’ve got a dashing policeman of your own to keep you entertained. And it’s Mr. and Mrs. Fisher to you. I know, I miss you and the others, too.”
Unable to stop himself from laughing as well, Jack stopped pretending to unpack and sat down on the big bed that took up the majority of the room. It might be the best room the hotel had to offer, but it certainly was no Ritz. Still, it was warm and cozy, and Phryne was crossing it towards him, smiling at him from under her dark lashes, and Jack had to lick his suddenly dry lips. Still, he managed to keep his voice even: “What happened to ‘it’ll keep until after we’ve caught the bastard, Jack’?”
“Are you saying you want to wait until after we’ve cornered him at dinner tonight? Because we can certainly do that, husband,” Phryne grinned, unrepentant, and straddled him, her hair falling forward like black silk, trailing over Jack’s cheeks, and Jack couldn’t do anything except shake his head, all words trapped in his throat.
Then her lips covered his, and he was lost.
They had kissed before - in Australia, in London, and several times during their chase when impulse had overcome their good intentions - but never like this, never with the intent to go further. And going further was everything Jack could think of right now, with Phryne’s small, perky breasts pressed against his chest, her strong thighs bracketing his, her hands doing their best to free his hair from the constraints of brylcream.
The curves of her hips fit perfectly beneath his palms, and Jack greedily swallowed the small gasp Phryne made when he cupped her butt firmly and squeezed. She retaliated by pushing closer to him, into him, the V of her legs coming to rest where there could be no doubt as to his intentions. It was his turn to groan into the air they shared, but neither one of them backed down, instead they began to rock back and forth rhythmically, simulating what their bodies wanted to be doing, what they hopefully would be doing very soon.
The image sent more of Jack’s blood rushing down, and he let his hands travel over Phryne’s back, felt the muscles flex under his touch. Her head fell back, her neck an elegant invitation that Jack’s mouth couldn’t help but follow, kissing gentle bites down where her collar bone was peeking out from her cream-coloured blouse. The sounds she was making were definitely encouraging, becoming louder when he sucked harder, then soothed the mark with his tongue.
She tasted clean despite the day’s traveling, a hint of her freesia soap mingling with the sweet bitterness of her rose perfume. It probably said something embarrassing about his preoccupation with Phryne that he knew exactly what toiletries she used, but Jack didn’t give two figs about that, not when she was wrapped around him, clever fingers traveling down his chest, unbuttoning as she went along. Her tongue was just as clever, teasing and seducing, moving from his lips to cheeks, ears, neck, until he cradled her delicate skull with one hand, fingers digging into the silk of her hair, and recaptured her mouth with a deep hunger Jack reckoned would never be sated.
Right then Phryne’s hand reached its destination, cupping his erection through the thick fabric of his trousers, and Jack groaned, a sound that turned into what was undoubtedly a moan when Phryne caught his bottom lip with her teeth. She laughed, but it was a throaty, hungry noise, and her hand never stopped moving, kneading and rubbing until Jack grabbed her wrist, whispering roughly: “Wait, wait.”
She obeyed, but in typical Phryne fashion went further than he’d intended and stopped moving altogether. Her eyes were even more cat-like than normal, glittering down at him, amusement dancing in the corners of her mouth, still red despite her lipstick long ago having turned into nothing more than smears that undoubtedly were at least as visible on Jack’s own face. Despite his unabating arousal Jack laughed in sheer delight, then managed to surprise a laugh out of Phryne, too, by rolling them over until she was spread out on the bed underneath him.
Without hesitation, Jack slipped his jacket and open shirt off his shoulders, a move Phryne watched with open appreciation. When he would have laid back down next to her, she gestured downward with her chin, and with another grin Jack complied, taking off shoes, socks and trousers as smoothly as he could. Phryne followed suite, and a part of Jack regretted the speed with which her clothes disappeared. But there would be time for a more leisurely unwrapping at some later date, he was sure, and for now he let his eyes travel over what seemed to be miles of creamy skin as it was bared.
“Well, inspector?” Phryne finally said in a voice like molasses, and Jack didn’t bother replying - not with words, at least. Instead he rejoined Phryne on the bed, covered her body with his own and let his hands do the talking. Her nipples were already hard peaks, but she shivered when he traced them with his thumbs and arched her back into his touch. Leaning down, Jack followed with his mouth, swirling his tongue around the small nubs, one after the other, lavishing attention on them until Phryne had no words left either. Then he travelled down her body, dipped into her belly button, down to the dark triangle of hair.
“Jack…” With a bone-deep sigh Phryne parted her legs, looking down at him with a sphinx-like smile that was half-invitation, half-challenge. Jack bit her gently in the soft skin of her inner thigh, and she laughed again, a sound that turned into another sigh when Jack slid his tongue between her wet folds. She tasted even better than he’d imagined in too many sleepless nights, and she responded wonderfully to his ministrations, especially when he slipped two fingers alongside his tongue and used his thumb to tease her clitoris. When she came, it was with a keening sound that might have been his name, and Jack moved up her body while she shuddered against him.
His cock lay trapped between his belly and her side, heavy and pulsing with need, but he kept kissing Phryne until she laughed and rolled them over, straddling him and taking him inside her in one quick motion. He gasped a curse, which made her laugh even more, her core clenching hot and moist around him. He bucked upwards half-heartedly, but she was not about to surrender control and, resting his hands on her hips, he was happy to let her set the pace, watched her watching him with rapt eyes, admiring the flush that spread halfway down her chest. He knew it wouldn’t be long, arousal coiling in his stomach like a spring, and when she leaned down and trailed her hair over his chest, its touch cool against the heat of his skin, he gave a hoarse shout and let go, his world disappearing until he returned to his senses, boneless and with the weight of Phryne’s head against his chest, the elegant length of her body pressed against his.
He sighed sleepily and wrapped an arm around her, trailing his fingers down her shoulder and back in a mindless caress, his voice still rough with passion: “I must admit, Phryne, this was a much more pleasurable way of passing the time.”
Her laugh was low and intimate against his neck: “So no more complaints about being Mr. Fisher?”
“I don’t recall actually complaining,” Jack protested half-heartedly, but was distracted when Phryne stretched like a cat, rubbing against his over sensitized skin. He threw a glance at the clock on the wall and pulled her down for a lengthy kiss, the hunger with which she licked him clean of her own juices sending the beginning sparks of renewed pleasure through his veins. Finally they separated long enough for him to murmur ruefully: “I think it’s time to go downstairs and catch our prey, Miss - pardon me, Mrs. Fisher.”
The reluctance with which Phryne sat up was rather gratifying, as was the way her eyes kept traveling up and down his body before she shook her head as if to clear it: “Alright, enough of that for now. More later, though.”
With this promise she got up, and he watched her bend down to gather her discarded clothes for a long moment before following her example. When they were both dressed for dinner and thief catching Phryne’s elegant ensemble included a lovely embroidered handbag containing her trusty gold pistol and Jack had also packed his gun, just in case. It was always better to be prepared when around Phryne Fisher, that was a lesson he’d learned long ago. Before they left the room, however, he pushed Phryne against the wall and kissed her, deep and hungry, his thigh between her legs. When they separated, she scolded him playfully for messing up her lipstick again, but Jack just grinned unrepentantly. Soon they would catch the criminal, get back the necklace, and afterwards… afterwards all of Europe was waiting for them, but most importantly a bed and no interruptions.
With a teasing half-bow, Jack offered Phryne his arm: “Come along now, wife!”
