'Time Out'.

'Go Home'.

'No Way'.

'I Don't Think So'.

... ... Four miniature hearts that were removed from the dish of sweets post haste. There was no way on God's green earth that V was going to risk the wrong one being pulled at just the wrong time.

Others that were more innocuous ... though mildly grating in their obtuseness or lack of eloquence ... were tolerated. -- -- 'Fax Me' seemed horribly out of date; 'ILU' struck him as both rather lazy, and a bit unworthy of his mate; 'Mad 4 U' was simply illiterate; and 'Home Run' did border a bit on lechery, given his knowledge of slang in the former United States of America.

... ... When Evey had dug out 'Much Ado' and 'Romeo', however, the manufacturer was at least partially redeemed in the masked man's eyes. ... ... Shakespeare on a tiny, sugary heart? To be exchanged between he and his beloved? He could hardly find fault with that, now could he?

And still others -- circulating through the glass dish and managing to pop up at just the right time -- had led to some interesting moments that day. ... ...

'Teach Me', when presented by Evey to her mate, seemed almost bookish. She had no idea why, but she half expected him to respond by taking her to the library and hauling out his largest volume of Shakespeare's tragedies. Yet when he returned the same heart to her, and tilted that mask just the right number of degrees ... well ... the library would have been the last place she'd have taken him, and Shakespeare would have been nowhere near the lesson plan.

... ... As for '3 Wishes' -- -- fulfilling that little prophecy had seen one pulling the other into a darkened broom cupboard, for a short yet eventful few minutes.

In the end though, it was the tried-and-true's that stood guard when the couple settled down on the sofa for an evening film. V's collection of 'Kiss Me' hearts sat neatly arranged on the coffee table, having been diligently separated from the rest of the assortment. And those little treasures were guarded jealously, each one worth its weight in gold whenever flashed as a humble request. -- -- Both 'Fawkes' and the man beneath the mask were having quite a fortunate night, all told.

... ...

For their entertainment, Evey had requested something by the title 'Ever After', which V did manage to track down through the interlink. It wasn't exactly his first choice, but then he'd been outnumbered -- -- one of the sugary confections had clearly recommended this exact film.

It was quite charming in the end, he had to admit -- there always being new ways to spin a fairytale. New backdrops against which to set them, and new twists through which to lead the characters. ... ... Someday, he wistfully mused, he might even find a version where the prince wore black, shielded his true identity ... and maybe lived below, rather than within, the castle walls?

One could always dream.

Or maybe he didn't have to.

Maybe he need only extend another 'Kiss Me' heart, and invite the soft press of his mate's lips.

... ... "You know," she teased, curling into his arms while the ending credits rolled. "You're not playing by the rules. Once one of these things is redeemed, you're *supposed* to *eat* it. Or give it to me to eat ... that would work too. But it's a little unfair to both hoard *and* re-use."

V reached for the remote, flashing the television display to a random, talking head. Not that he intended to pay attention ... but to maintain the cozy little setting they'd already created. Evey had no work the next morning, so the night was truly theirs. And sitting in the peaceful solitude of the dimmed sitting room, with his mate resting snug and safe atop his chest, had been the perfect way to spend it thus far. ... ... Yes, they should head to bed soon. But that would mean breaking the spell. Hadn't one of those little confections proudly proclaimed 'Magic'? ... He had to agree with its assessment.

"What you refer to as hoarding, I consider to be appropriate preparedness," he countered politely. "And as for re-using them, I fail to see an alternative. No single bag would contain enough of the particular phrases I would need. Can we be certain enough of the 'Kiss Me's' are even being manufactured?"

Evey's head lifted, a cynical smile cast at her mate. "Well that's a very charming justification. I'll give you that." And before she could debate further, his hand retrieved another of those colourful little hearts -- bringing it close and wiggling it playfully.

... ... Another kiss requested. Another kiss he would surely receive.

A shared chuckle, and she eyed him in subtle warning that he might want to prepare himself. -- -- The film was no longer dividing her attention ... and if this was a challenge on his part, she would not disappoint.

Higher she crept, pushing him back into the corner of the sofa and catching his head into her hands. He expected an impish kiss of a hard, metal grin. Or maybe a kiss to the side of his neck, where stretchy fabric would cover his skin until they retired for the night. -- -- Any of those innocent little kisses they'd been sharing for most of the evening.

... ... Well, except for in the broom cupboard of course.

Instead, it was the tip of his metal nose that received her lips ... backed by a feminine giggle, and followed by another kiss for the rosy blush on Fawkes's cheek.

Her torso lay flat atop his, her knee angling against his leg ... trying for leverage as she inched still higher. His forehead needed a kiss as well ... black eyebrows too. And though they were painted on, she could almost imagine one of them crooking in curious delight at the sudden flood of affection.

"Am I to assume then," V began, "that you no longer have issue with 're-use'?" ... He dropped the heart back to the coffee table, it obviously having fulfilled its role. ... "If this is the generous reward, from but one single sweet?"

"Shhhh, I'm not done yet," she hushed, her fingertips stroking the lines where wig and mask gave way to the lightly covered flesh of her mate. ... ... Warm and familiar to the touch. ... ... It was hers. ... ... And it was where she'd wanted to touch all day, with every single kiss ... but was denied by the nonstop presence of light.

... ... Well, except for in the broom cupboard of course.

... ...

The next kiss was placed just beneath one black eyescreen -- -- where a tear might fall if the mask were ever to cry. Perhaps preventative medicine on her part. Or reminder of the still greater comfort she would always offer to the man beneath.

A breath was released behind the mask -- slow and husky, the first syllable of Evey's name possibly included. Gloved hands dug into her waist; into her lower back; his own body shifting to somehow make this easier. ... To somehow bring her closer, despite her obvious proximity as she already climbed and squirmed atop him.

"Shall we ..." ... he paused, his eyes closing behind the mask. Those sweet kisses of hers had trailed down Fawkes's cheek, skipped along the chin, and landed once -- just once -- feather light atop the lycra that shielded V's very real, very sensitive throat. ... ... "Shall we turn in for the night?"

Oh he knew exactly how things would flow, and exactly how long it would take. That inane babble on the television would be quieted with a flick of V's wrist. Evey would be hauled into his arms. And a hasty trip would be made through the Gallery, until doors closed, lights winked out, and he would claim his mate in ways that the tiny sugar cutouts were far too polite to speak of, in proper, mixed company.

Naturally, however, he would need her cooperation first.

"I'm not done yet," she repeated, as if this man she loved should obviously have known better. Two fingers carefully spread his shirt collar -- -- certainly not suggesting any more buttons be opened, merely searching out the black second skin that covered most of his body. There, at the base of his throat, another kiss was suckled so lightly atop the fabric.

... ... His head went back, purposefully -- or serendipitously -- giving his mate better access. A hitched breath as well, while one gloved hand slid up her back, holding her stationary.

The kiss migrated around the curve of his neck, broken only long enough to announce, "I think your pulse is up."

... ...

Nervous energy was released in his laugh, and he replied, "That seems to be the case quite often today."

Evey giggled too, but held that kiss. He wasn't getting away from her now. ... "It's those hearts," she agreed, playing along. "It's all the fault of those hearts."

... ... And still she did not relent, until he found himself clutching the back of her head ... holding her fast ... part of him determined that they should be moving quickly -- very quickly -- to the bedroom ... the other part completely unable to lose this gentle, slow, yet surprisingly passionate kiss.

"Then again," she murmured, brushing aside strands of black hair, and migrating her lips another inch toward the base of his ear, ... "They do make for a nice game though, don't they?"

"A wonnnnnderful game," he sighed, and mustered just enough coherence to finally lift her head and address her properly. Intense, hidden eyes managed to hold hers, and he warned, "But I hope you realize, I shall be reclaiming the advantage soon." ... One leather-clad fingertip wandered onto her cheek ... across lips that would soon be receiving his own hungry kisses. ... "And as I distinctly recall telling you earlier, to the victor go the spoils."

Evey's eyes widened, and she accepted the challenge. ... "I'm. Not. Done. Yet. Besides, I still get to answer that last heart of yours, with one of my own." ... And did that grin of hers ever grow. ... "Now stop rushing me."

... ...

V laughed again, ending this time in a puff of slightly confused anticipation. And in his palm, her head turned to deliver more kisses to the black leather.

That little confection had been quite clear though. She was to kiss *him*. -- -- Not Fawkes. Not fabric. And limited as she was, she would still do her best. -- -- These gloves she knew she could remove. So back she sat, and carefully tugged the glove, finger by finger, free.

These hands were so familiar to her. As familiar as her own. And her kisses pressed anxiously into the red-mottled, roughened palm. Some of the best kisses of all, directly to his flesh.

And the thing is, once freed, his fingers could never resist a loving caress ... a seductive glide across her skin ... a generous touch reserved for lovers. The bedroom was beginning to feel much too distant by the time the backs of his fingers were tracing the smooth curve of her neck. ... And when she swallowed against his touch ... ...

... ...

Deftly, she recaptured his hand, and coy, playful eyes silently asked to where her next kisses should be delivered. ... ... Did she know, though, that she was running out of time? ... Did she realize he would soon be demanding fuller and far more proper observances of that simple request, 'Kiss Me'? ... Whether here, the bedroom, or even back to that broom cupboard -- -- the best kisses were quite certainly on their way.

"And your reply, love?" he inquired, his fingers cradling her face ... steadying her as if already preparing for a thorough kiss. So near ... so near. ... ... "The tiny words of wisdom you say you must give me?"

... ...

The flow of endearments paused for a moment, while Evey balanced herself -- straddled as she was atop his lap. The small confection she'd intended for him was stored, of all places, in her dress pocket, and it took her a moment to fish it out. "I was going to sneak it under your pillow or something," she admitted. "But what can I say? I'm too impatient."

... ... And what a wry smile she gave him. Almost as if she had something up her sleeve. Something other than puffs of sugar.

It was pale orange, and felt even chalkier than expected within his bare hand. ... "Love Me," he read, then smiled behind the facade. The most affectionate gaze came right through the mask, and his voice turned so smooth and adoring. "Kind is my love to-day," he quoted. "To-morrow kind. Still constant in a wondrous excellence. ... Was there a time I did *not* love you, my dear? Try as I might, I certainly cannot remember it ... if indeed it was ever true."

The little heart-shaped request was held gingerly, between fingers that could pulverize it in one pinch if they chose. V was utterly charmed -- tickled at her coyness in selecting it. ... ... So simple. ... And surely she knew how much he loved her.

Something was in her eyes though, when she leaned closer -- her hand curving around his. Something knowing and mischievous. "Well, I wasn't thinking of it quite like that," she corrected. "I know people always say 'love is a verb'. Technically, it's an action verb." ... The sweet still enclosed, V's hand brushed gently to her cheek. Then a far more seductive path was taken, Evey herself guiding him down her throat; into the moderate dip of her neckline; surreptitiously finding the rise of her bosom. ... "So I just assumed you'd want to 'act' on it."

... ... Did that sound innocent enough?

... ...

A low, almost growl of laughter resonated behind the mask, and V drew nearer to his mate. "What a marvelous request," he hushed, his fingers twining with hers. "You do realize the effect you have, don't you? When you issue such invitations?"

Hard metal pressed delicately to her chest ... his breath warm and personal on her skin. Then a reverent brush of Fawkes's lips across the heel of her thumb. A kiss so light it barely existed, but in which Evey would still recognize her mate's truest admiration and affection -- -- even through the mask.

It was the man beneath who had inspired her request. ... The man she always and actively wanted. The man both humbled and elated by that fact. And the man who knew they never really required intermediaries of compressed, pastel coloured sugar. -- -- Their simplest shared touches spoke more than any words or phrases ever could. ... ... But oh yes, he knew her request was absolutely sincere. And he would absolutely delight in fulfilling it.

"I love you," she whispered atop his head -- sweeter than any 'sweet' ever made. And the man had no will to even delay.

... ...

A deep breath inhaled; a deep breath exhaled; and his arms encircled her. ... Embracing her. Holding her body fervently to his. Removing the second glove so that he could begin to touch her as they both wanted.

The sugary heart landed somewhere on the other end of the sofa, as did the glove. Neither of the couple were really paying attention at that point. Far more important was the glide of strong hands around her sides -- -- snagging, admittedly, once or twice on the finer fabric of her dress, though the soft flesh beneath quite openly welcomed him. Her weight leaned to his; a hitch in her breath; a fervent kiss pressed just behind the mask's upper edge, while her arms wrapped around his head.

... ... The mask had to come off. The dress had to come off. His lips, his kisses, his touch -- all needed to be on her. ... ... **Now**. ... ... Silently agreed by both, but driving especially hard within the man who had just been requested to 'love' his mate.

"We may not be adjourning to the bedroom as quickly as I'd thought," he warned, deftly undoing the dress's zip. His hands were already having a problem ... torn between caressing her, and undressing her so there would *be* more to caress.

"I didn't expect us to," she giggled playfully ... and just a little victoriously ... then paused for an impulsive kiss of inanimate lips. The dress was stripped away -- courtesy of her, and her brassiere was soon unfastened -- courtesy of him.

And when the encumbrances were gone ... all of her outer things ... all of her under things ... V returned to the same dilemma he'd been wrestling with for months. The dilemma that had yet to find a solution. -- -- The light, or his genuine kiss? Which to enjoy next? In which to indulge them both?

There were things to be said for the light. Benefits that -- although he was careful not to take *too* much exclusive advantage, determined that he never steal her sight just to save his own -- still allowed for the most amazing visuals. ... ... The lights had been dimmed, only a nearby lamp and the television remaining on. And what an effect it had on her pale, nude skin. -- -- The lamp's glow warmed it. The occasional flash from the telly almost made it dance -- seductively, no less. And the slight shadow he cast across it all, serenely assured that it was only for him that this image was bared.

When she rose to her knees though ... to her fullest height before him ... the decision was made. Her hips summoned the wrap of his hands, and he eagerly obliged -- his touch beginning a slow, tantalizing journey upward. She smiled at him ... a soft breath released as her body relaxed. Provocative, bedroom eyes caught his, prying his attention away from the flow of his caresses. -- -- Repeating the same request the tiny orange heart had made.

... ... And he was doing exactly that. Merely indulging in the view as his hands began to love her.

... ...

... ... Which was more affirming? The familiar, natural weight of her breast resting within his palm, or the unguarded, trusting, drop of her eyelids, when his thumb swept purposefully across the hardening tip.

... ... Which was more thrilling? Her tiny flinch of surprise when the hard mask pressed impulsively to her midriff, or the hint of feminine laughter that followed, her fingers curving around his head in welcome?

... ... And which would better saturate his dreams tonight? The sight of two mottled, toughened fingers, mere inches away and insinuating themselves between her thighs, or the surrendering, "Ohhh," she loosed in reply, as she pressed herself onto his touch?

Her lips returned to the covering on his neck, mixing kisses and suckles with a hushed gasp, when his fingers entered her properly. Behind the mask, his respiration was shallowing too -- puffing alongside her ear. And she knew even before it happened, the second his touch would move deeper -- -- his other hand had slipped around to brace her; his legs stiffening between her knees. His grip tightened, and his fingers swept carefully into motion.

Every movement she made ... every wiggle, every squirm, every wave of her torso to his, and every kiss powered right through the snug fabric ... drove him to his natural response. -- -- He was anxious to pleasure her. Anxious to confirm his rights to his beloved's body. Anxious for that spent collapse she would soon be making -- tired and satisfied, into his arms.

Evey, however, was going in a different direction. ... ... There was little to compare to her mate's touch. Controlled strength, as exercised by this man, was one of the most powerful yet gentlest sensations on earth. She knew it so well she could even imagine it in his absence. ... ... But his kiss ... that was still beyond even her most vivid memories. -- -- And that was what she wanted.

... ... He had seen. Now she needed to feel.

"You're not kissing me," she complained, the last word interrupted by the rapidly focusing attention of his finger. She collected herself, took a breath, and tried again. ... "After all those 'Kiss Me' hearts, now you're not kissing **me**! Don't make me steal your entire stash." ... And ironically, Fawkes himself did then receive another kiss -- one of dozens he'd been granted that day. But she was quite clear ... it was the man beneath who should be returning it now.

V let out a puff as his hand stilled. Then another puff. All while his smile rose.

Her earlier request was still loud and repeating in his mind -- always able to set his pulse racing. Whether the message was conveyed by a touch, a whisper, or had been etched in sugar ... her heartfelt wish that he make love to her -- explore and possess her body -- was always and instantly counted among those most treasured, most intimate moments with his mate. ... ... And this was even better. When she wanted -- nay, demanded -- *him* too. In every way he might allow.

His answer however, would be a bit wittier ... a bit quippier ... leaving it to his oncoming kisses to reveal the true desire she had just stoked.

"You would use all of those hearts against me?" he teased, his hands leaving her person. He leaned back, reaching far over his shoulder to find that lamp switch. "Oh please do, love," he purred, as his fingers turned the knob. "Please do."

The light behind him winked out, leaving only the glow of the television -- -- and no one could have dove for that remote control faster than Evey did. Two presses of a button -- her first attempt being too haphazard in her haste -- and their surroundings flashed to darkness.

... ...

Her sense of self-orientation was instantly compromised, her hand shooting out for the back of the sofa. Something to balance herself with, as his legs shifted beneath her.

"Only a moment," he reassured from mere inches away. And she could feel every movement he made ... short, quick actions, as if the mask were being untied at significant speed. Then came the clink of its placement on the coffee table.

... ... And at last his arms enfolded her, his hands spanning up her back to anchor her safely and securely against himself. She had no need to clutch for balance anymore, now that he had her. -- -- A surprisingly freeing concept, in something as oppressive as effective blindness.

She even began to laugh, at the sudden, exhilarating sensation of being tilted through the darkness. Little sound escaped though, before his lips found hers.

Of all the kisses she could possibly have hoped for, and all the kisses he could possibly have replied with, by God, this one was the best. ... ... Unequaled. ... ... Powerful enough to rob them both of breath. Gentle enough to convey what truly mattered -- underneath it all. And lasting long enough to elicit a faint sigh of relief from each in turn.

Held securely in her mate's lap -- -- suspended atop him, she sometimes liked to fancy in moments like this -- -- Evey readily gave up all other supports. Her hands wrapped instead around his bared skull, finding all the stability she could possibly need.

The kiss finally paused. But only for a moment, while she gulped some air, and he drug her hips bodily closer. -- -- Closer in every way, was now the goal. Truly, he could imagine no other way to fulfill that tiny heart's instruction.

"Again," she murmured, steering herself through the darkness, back to the safety of his lips. "Again, again."

His agreement -- even more than the kiss he hungrily took -- came as a low growl that surprised and thrilled even him. So many times they'd teased each other that day. So many half-kisses, so many flirtations and titillations. ... Not to mention that broom cupboard. ... ... This was the only possible end. Natural and primal -- -- he needed her. No wonder they'd never had a prayer of making it to the bedroom.

Soon he was shifting her ... lifting her ... gathering her bottom into his hands as he tilted her ... backward toward the other end of the sofa. The kiss would not break though -- would not even be allowed to pause -- while he guided their path through the darkness.

A pillow was grabbed, adjusted by the flurry of four hands, to cushion her head between the arm of the sofa and the deepening kiss. And he ... he likewise buried down into the cradling cushion that was his beloved, resting his weight atop hers. ... ... Her fingers sliding across his shoulders; her legs rising along his hips; the tip of her tongue playfully feigning battle, only to seductively relent when he matched her with all hunger and drive. -- -- This was exactly where both needed to be. Evey's orange pastel heart could never understand the truth it actually spoke.

... ...

Glorious, never-ending minutes commenced, filled with whispers when breath was possible ... whimpers and moans when it was less so. Gradually, she entangled him in her limbs, clinging to him however she could ... clinging to each and every kiss, until they far out-numbered his 'stash' of 'Kiss Me's' on the coffee table. He had never needed them of course, as both lovers were proving remarkably well.

Still though ... they could be put to good use.

Had Evey herself not shown him the way? ... ...

Breaking from her grip was not easy -- -- blissfully difficult, in fact. But he managed to do so, rising just enough so that his kisses could be gifted elsewhere. Her arms relaxed ... her hands relaxed ... her fingers set out on their own slow, sensual paths across his cloth-covered surface.

"You realize love," he began ... a kiss to her neck followed by a kiss to her palm, when her touch drifted close enough. Words were secondary -- -- he barely had time for them, with the sheer number of kisses left to share. "'Kiss' is an action verb as well."

... ... A suckle of her collarbone while she sighed in his ear. Her own lips to his scalp, when his head tilted reverently to her sternum. ... A pause, while his excited breath billowed shallow and warm across her chest; her fingers cradling the base of his head as if it were literally the most valuable object she could ever hold. ... And he managed to continue, trying to remember her earlier plea. ... ... "It too can be acted on -- and acted out -- in so many ways. More plentiful by far, than tiny words could ever describe."

... ... And barely had his voice ceased, before his mouth was closing hot and wet around one breast.

Her body reacted immediately ... reflexively ... never having to temper her strength as he did, and therefore pushing eagerly and wantonly into this latest kiss. An unintelligible exclamation was released into a sigh, and her hands squeezed possessively at his shoulders ... assuring him in no uncertain terms, how thoroughly she craved him, and how willingly she would hand herself over.

He groaned, low and guttural, washing his tongue across flesh that moulded so easily to his lips, it required taste after taste to actually be believed. ... ... Flesh that relaxed so contentedly when under his protection, that he thanked the fates above it had been entrusted to him. Relinquishing it was difficult, even if only to love the rest of her body. ... ... A suckle was finally drawn to the tip, his hand closing around the orb as he moved to its twin.

It made her squirm.

It made her writhe.

And while her fingers clutched anew at the back of his neck, her legs rose again ... tangling loosely around his ... drawing him to herself in every way she could.

... ... For every inch of herself that he would claim; love; and guard ... there was likewise an inch to be found on him. An inch that was hers, even if it still hid self-consciously behind layers of black fabric. It was meant to be protected *by* her -- not *from* her.

Her body opened around him, and almost instantly he felt the heat at her center. Oh yes, she did indeed reach through his coverings -- perhaps in even more ways than she realized. His leg nudged snugly between hers, pausing while the heat increased ... the unmasked man collecting himself before he rose again.

Another kiss was granted to her lips, while her fingers danced feather light across his cheeks. She knew full-well his intentions ... the thoughts filling his mind. She could even predict the 'I love you' that came breathed across her upper lip. Her whisper of the same was just as heartfelt, ending with a nuzzle to his face.

... ... What she did not expect however, were his final words of wisdom, before his kisses journeyed away toward other adventures. Really, how else could she respond but with a surprised laugh, when he murmured, "You've questioned why I have not eaten any of those hearts today, love. Perhaps I was simply anticipating far sweeter delights?"

... ...

V could, of course, always find his mate within the darkness. The path he kissed down the line of her body wasn't actually necessary as a guide. He was only following instructions, right? From both his favourite hearts, and hers. ... ... Not that he would have to argue the point though, while she quivered beneath his lips.

Her hands followed his arms ... his shoulders ... his head ... ... fidgeting as her pulse quickened. She inched further up the pillow ... trying to accommodate him as best she could. Maybe it was good that she couldn't see him, she mused silently and with a smile. -- -- They weren't used to such activities on the sofa, and she almost felt sorry for him -- scrunched up as he'd probably have to be.

... ... Or maybe not. ... ...

His hands slipped beneath her bottom, having apparently little difficulty with positioning as he lifted her hips from the cushions. And maybe he *was* tucked into that niche a bit tightly. But then again, he could always use it to his own advantage, bracing within such tight quarters to press himself eagerly into his mate.

"Oh God," she gasped, when a swipe of his tongue boldly announced his arrival. Then she laughed ... somehow, around her shaky voice. ... "I doubt this is what the people at Bassetts were imagining. In either case."

V paused as well, forming his reply as casually as possible, when in truth it was all he could do not to return ten-fold to this specially shared intimacy. "Well, if you feel it's too inappropriate of an interpretation ... if you consider it a sacrilege to the hearts ... perhaps I could find some other way to express my ..."

"*Nooo*," she interrupted, cutting him off cleanly; reducing him to a low, rumbling chuckle. "I think we've almost cracked their little code. No need to stop now."

... ... She tried to sit up, failing miserably with absolutely no leverage to speak of. And so he placed a gentle kiss to her tummy, allowing her hands to find his head. Then another kiss, simply because he loved her. -- -- As he'd already begun to explain, he could express it in a multitude of ways -- teasing her being just one. It was only a respite though, and his reply was coy and roguish -- not to mention a good bit anxious -- mixed within a renewed trail of kisses. "Well then, viva la Bassetts."

... ...

An entire evening of play had certainly had its effect. As anxious as V was, his mate was equally so ... evidenced plainly when he returned to this uniquely personal kiss. All of those glances and smiles really had been inspired by him, rather than merely being part of the game. And when she'd stowed that orange confection away in her pocket, she'd obviously known exactly what she was doing. That she'd been wanting him ... wanting this ... was already well proven by her body alone.

He pulled her closer, pressing into her tissues with his own pent up vigour. -- -- An amorous return of all those kisses she'd so generously supplied throughout the day. The hearts had not been required for their delivery either, he knew. Not really. And that's what made her bag of sweets all the more meaningful. -- -- To know one might have a kiss, is one thing. To know one's beloved searches out excuses to do so, is even better.

She squirmed within his hands, gasping when his taste went deeper, then whimpering whenever he seemed to retreat. He was going nowhere though ... least of all away from this little corner of heaven. And for every time he sought his breath, a slower, more extensive kiss was given upon his return.

A rhythm was soon set, her flexes and movements countered in equal cadence by his own ... offering just enough resistance to magnify every stroke, every flick, every swirl he made. And once he knew she'd reached her limit -- catching her involuntary reactions nearly as well as those she made purposefully -- he took matters into his own hands. ... Quite literally. ... Tilting her that last degree higher, and offering one entirely out of tune, entirely unexpected, kiss.

... ... Two words. ... 'God' and 'V'. ... Never combined, written, or uttered, as beautifully as when groaned by his mate while in the throes of release. Then hushed again, while he returned her to the cushion. ... ... And yet once more -- his name especially, repeated and pleaded -- as he crawled back into her arms.

He lay just barely atop her, having little room for anything else given the furniture -- -- secretly enjoying the rapid rise and fall of her chest beneath his. Kisses were buried into her neck, across her shoulder ... encouraged by shaky limbs that surrounded and squeezed him as her strength returned.

"God, V," came her words one last time, after a particularly deep breath. Then a kiss to his ear, his cheek, enroute to his lips for a far more proper one.

And V ... ...

... ... V had an interesting thought.

"You know, love, after having read so many cliché and pithy statements today, I believe I can honestly say, *that* is one of the most inspiring, most thought provoking phrases I have yet to encounter. Certainly more worthy of reproduction on a sweet, than some of the other nonsense we've found."

Evey laughed, inspiring him to another kiss of her throat.

"You're insane," she teased, after which it was his turn to chuckle. Who knew? After a day of constant flirtation, having now ended so explosively, she just might be right.

"I must admit I am tempted," he warned in jest. "It would not be difficult. A confectionary company is unlikely to have the highest security on the interlink. 'Twould not be difficult to immortalize those words for all time."

Had she been able to see him, and vice versa, her glare would have been intense. As it was, the best she could do was grip in admonishment around the back of his neck. "Don't. You. Dare," she teased back. "Besides, people would want to know exactly who was being quoted. What ever happened to protecting my honour?"

"Ohh, my dear," he purred. "There is nothing dishonourable about your words." ... ... Playing with her again? Yes, of course. But he could still hear her voice ... and those groans. No wonder he nearly cut off her next words with yet another kiss.

... ... "No," she was at last allowed to reply. "But broadcasting it all over *England*, would be."

... ... "Point taken," he admitted, then forfeited the debate in favour of more kisses for his mate.

And hopefully, if he was fortunate, she couldn't feel the smile now firmly set atop his lips.

... ...

... ...

It really *had* been a good idea.

... ...

... ...

-----------------------------------------------------------
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Epilogue:

"Hey, is this list final?" Arthur Bennet called out through Bassetts Confectionaries' Sheffield office.

Barely two weeks after Valentine's Day, he'd just been handed the list of new phrases and retirees for the next year's batches of conversation hearts. As Bassetts' Director of Production, it was now his job to turn the whimsy of the world's best confectionary writers, into reality.

"Yep," came the reply, from the Vice President's personal assistant. "Officially approved and signed off."

Bennet's finger tapped the piece of paper as he counted the new phrases. "But there are twelve here. Under 'new'."

"Yeah. The last two came down from Bassett himself. Last minute email. And marketing no longer wants to squabble over cutting any of the rest. Don't worry, it's all been approved." ... The assistant smiled pleasantly, returning to his paperwork. He'd been employed by the company for over a decade, and hardly saw such a technicality as cause for concern. Besides, he rather liked Mr. Bassett's contributions. ... Very touching.

"But he's got a new colour here too," Bennet countered, trying not to file his complaint *too* vigorously. He was already calculating by how much this would increase production time. -- -- A year usually gave them a little leeway. But not *that* much.

The assistant just shook his head. "I told ya, it came down from Bassett himself. If you want to be the one to argue with him, be my guest. I'll forward you the email."

... ... A frustrated sigh from Bennet. ... ... "No. Alright," he agreed. The paper was folded roughly, and he headed for the door. "I'll be at the plant for the next two weeks. If anyone needs me."

... ...

And so it went ... millions of hearts, stamped out over hundreds of days, to be enjoyed by the public's sweet tooth, when love was once again in the air.

New catchy phrases. New words of wisdom. A new colour, and a new flavour. -- -- All of which would soon put smiles on the faces of Brits everywhere.

... ... Not to mention two new hearts in particular, that were destined to raise the eyebrow of a certain young lady in London. Words not quite as catchy as 'God, V' -- but they would do. And in a lovely shade of violet. ... ...