Written by Doug Kuhlman
Based on some situations originated by James Cameron.

Rated NC-17 for Content

Giggling with the exhilaration of their run past the startled stokers in the boiler room, Jack and Rose pushed through a thick metal door, which squeaked its protest. The air on the other side was cool, which felt bitterly cold after the heat of the fires.

Rose rubbed her arms to ward off goose pimples as they explored the newest thrill of the ship--a simple cargo hold. Massive netting covered piles of crates, suitcases, and other things being transported across the mighty Atlantic. The imposing piles of cargo formed walls and corridors, lending shape to the mammoth hold.

Through a gap between piles, a beautiful, new Renault caught Jack's eye. He steered Rose toward it, commenting, "Look. What have we here, huh?" The car was exquisite. It had obviously never been driven, as even the tires were completely fresh and spotless. The pair walked up to it jauntily, still flush with the success of their escape and the stimulation of being together--which made even the most mundane magical.

As they neared the car, Rose cleared her throat meaningfully. All communication barriers between the two were down, so he instantly knew exactly what she wanted. Opening the door carefully, he held out his hand to assist her into the vehicle. She took his proffered hand and with a curt "Thank you" stepped daintily into the enclosed portion of the automobile.

He quietly and quickly close the door behind her and stepped smartly forward to clamber into the front seat. He pretended to drive the car, while Rose pushed down the glass separating them.

"Honk-honk." The sound of the horn echoed through the cavernous room. Jack reclined in the luxurious leather of the new car. Continuing the game they'd started, he asked in a poor imitation of a British chauffeur. "Where to, miss?"

The return tone was certainly not one of child-like play. "To the stars." As he looked back at her, trying to assimilate this response, Rose leaned forward to half-haul his more-than-willing body into the back seat to join her. He giggled slightly, but the expression of Rose and his own feelings were not a laughing matter.

As he settled onto the seat beside his love, their eyes met--only briefly, barely a fraction of a second, but the glance communicated more than words ever could. No longer could either of them doubt what was going to happen.

Jack felt a strange feeling of exultation, love, hope, and fear. He asked Rose very seriously, "Nervous?"

Also solemnly, she shook her head. "No."

Well, he was nervous. He was certain she expected him to know what to do. He had seen rather graphic illustrations of intercourse before and knew quite a lot about it from conversations with other people, but he was a complete stranger to doing it himself. He felt his heart rate accelerate even higher and his breath was short. He was afraid of hurting her, of squelching the love that was exploding inside them both. It was also a monstrous step that left no room out--which was uncomfortable for a wanderer like him. However, he was ready to take that step, as long as it was with Rose.

She seemed to sense his disconcertment and took a small initiative. After kissing his fingers individually, she spoke. "Put your hands on me, Jack." Suiting action to words, she took his hand and guided him to her left breast. As he leaned in to kiss her soft, moist, yielding lips, his nervousness was washed away like it had never even existed.

For long minutes, words were unnecessary. Indeed, the only sound coming from the car was the gentle whisper of meeting lips and the imperceptible sloshing of tongues locked together.

Jack was caught up in the momentum of the kiss and their love. Rose's hands stopped caressing his back and tousling his hair to attack the buttons of his shirt. Their mouths, though, stayed locked together like the seams of a ship. Jack's hands were occupied stroking her face and exploring her body through the diaphanous outfit she was now wearing.

Moments later, his shirt succumbed to Rose's fury and slipped off his thin, lithe frame. Jack hesitated to return the favor. He was still vaguely aware of the social differences between them and the seeming impossibility of anything permanent and lasting occurring. But, in the fog of their activities, that part was rapidly getting lost. It barely whimpered as his hands moved to return the favor.

However, Rose's simple-seeming outfit did not succumb as readily as his had. He explored the various seams, seeking buttons or snaps or any simple device that would allow him to loosen it enough to remove it. He fretted away unsuccessfully for several moments, losing concentration on the kiss.

Rose pulled back momentarily, breaking their kiss for the first time in minutes. She gasped huskily, "Let me," before pressing her mouth firmly back against his.

Jack was happy to oblige. He closed his eyes to Rose's slight squirming, letting her do what he could not. As the kiss resumed, Jack could taste the slight saltiness of Rose's mouth, feel the roughness of her teeth, and the smoothness of her lips. Being forced to breathe through his nose opened him to the experience of her soapy, sultry smell, shadowed slight by sweat caused by their run through the fiery furnace room. Underneath him, his bare chest felt her buxom form still gyrating gently. Nearly every part of him was in contact with some part of her, and the other parts seemed to be completely unresponsive.

He thought of how much he loved her and how astounding their relationship was. Something so miraculous and perfect had to be the work of something more than mere chance--which seemed to have been the guiding force for most of his life. Jack knew that he would give anything and everything he had, money, fame, talent, even his life, for the woman he loved and who was so intimately close.

At that moment, she started to push against him, sitting up. Surprised, his eyes opened to watch lavender slip away to reveal peach brilliance, dotted with spots of plum. As Jack watched dry-mouthed, she gave a small shrug, magnified fantastically by the body parts holding his complete attention, and the entire garment fell to the car floor, leaving Rose only her small panties to guard the remaining husk of her virtue.

A quick, questioning look received an even briefer nod of acquiescence. In less time than it takes to tell, both divested themselves of their remaining clothing, and pressed their naked forms closely against each other.

The warmth of Rose's body partially trapped by the large overcoat Jack had been wearing combined with the luxuriance of her skin to overwhelm all the sensors in his brain. He felt like passion personified, love embodied, and lust in human form.

Their lips found each other again, this time with more urgency. Their hands could not be stilled, caressing the other's hair, face, back, legs, and everything else they could reach. Jack moved his kiss down from Rose's lips to graze her throat. He nuzzled his way to her ear to whisper throatily, "Oh, Rose." Then he moved again, to run his mouth sensuously all over her fantastic bosom, hardening her nipples to adamantine and forcing a low groan past her lips.

The intensity of Jack's throbbing grew to be nearly unbearable. He returned to her lips, probing deep and hard with his tongue. As one, their hands moved to guide his manhood toward her eager opening.

Just before contact, he asked "Are you sure?" For an answer, his amour pulled him close and thrust with her hips. He plunged back, through her body's thin wall of resistance before realizing it was even there. Rose stiffened and gasped a little, easing the fury of Jack's desire slightly.

Their pause, however, was brief. A reassuring squeeze encouraged both that all was well. A few gentle thrusts from Jack's loins cleared the remaining obstruction, allowing him to marvel in the tight, moist feeling of actually being inside a woman.

Forgotten at the moment, their mouths remained firmly pressed together, but lips and tongue were quiescent, lost in the tide of what was happening. Slowly but with building confidence, they found a pleasant rhythm that built in speed and intensity. An unbearable pressure was building inside Jack.

A few strokes later, a simultaneous low moan escaped their lips. Jack's toes popped as he unconsciously curled them. Of its own volition, Rose's hand was flung away, to smack against the hard glass of the rear window. Their moans peaked as their bodies erupted.

For Jack, it was an impossibly large explosion--unmatchable by anything, except possibly the one in Rose's body. His entire awareness was trapped in a powerful, glorious grip. Mere words are completely inadequate to describe his feelings at that time.

An eternity later, it ended. Tenuously, Jack opened his eyes to behold Rose's similar action. In awe, they just looked at each other for a moment. Then, slowly, gingerly, they reached out to touch the other's face to make certain the other was real, though the notion that it could have been merely imagination was preposterous. Nevertheless, the touch reassured and comforted them both.

As they lay there recovering their breath and their senses, Rose spoke in a startled, yet lovingly mild voice. "You're trembling." As the import of her words sunk in, Jack realized she was correct. Part of it was the challenge of breathing normally; part the stress of the physical act just completed; very little had to do with the cold.

Drawing a breath, he reassured her as lovingly as possible. "Don't worry. I'll be all right." In fact, he was more than all right, but his mind wasn't exactly working at full capacity at that point. He wanted to tell her how much their love-making meant to him, how it made him feel, but he knew any attempt to do so would only sound foolish.

Looking at her, though, he could sense that she already knew. It had obviously meant as much to her. They kissed again, a short, gentle kiss of love and support. Unwilling to sunder their bodies, Jack eased his head down onto her soft chest and closed his eyes.

They lay there unspeaking, luxuriating in the after-glow warmth of the other's body. They remained pressed tightly together, neither willing to let the momentous moment pass.

Jack could hear the pounding of her heart as he rested on her breast. He felt the inconsistent flutter of Rose's exhalation against his neck. He smelt a new odor, one that could only be the spicy scent of sex itself. Every nerve in his body seemed to be responding to the strong stimuli.

No one had ever told him about this part of lovemaking before. Most men he knew joked about how quickly they left after an affair. For his part, he dreamed of staying forever, locked in Rose's strong embrace. He knew it was unrealistic, but he was determined to stretch time to its limits to allow them to stay as they were.

Suddenly, though, a thought struck him. He bolted upright cursing. "Shit!" Responding to Rose's startled glance, he elaborated, "What if you get pregnant?" He knew it could happen. He'd known people that it had happened to.

She just looked at him calmly. "Does it really matter?" Her eyes held his for a moment, before releasing him to his thoughts.

A brief internal struggle ensued, but the outcome was never in doubt. Amazed, Jack shook his head. "No. I guess it doesn't really." He could scarcely believe, though, that she was so willing to throw away her money, power, and status. Being pregnant with him as a father would certainly destroy her social standing. He shook his head in astonishment. He knew they would do anything for each other. Nothing could stop that, or so he thought.

Still, the possibility of separation nagged at him. As he concentrated, which he was able to do now that other, more interesting activities were over, he realized that Lovejoy would certainly be looking for them--maybe with help from the stewards. The stokers surely knew where they had gone. A glance at the fogged windows and the print of a human hand eliminated any chance of remaining unseen where they were.

"Rose." He got her attention. "We probably need to get out of here. They'll be looking for us."

She sighed languidly, still an impressive sight even with his ardor so recently sated. "I suppose you're right." She smiled lazily. "I guess I'll have to get dressed again."

At that moment, they heard a door open and the sound of the furnaces echoed through the hold. The caught the barest snippets of a distant conversation. "They ran...there."

Jack and Rose stared at each other mutely for a second before either could speak. He found his voice first. "Come on. Let's get out of here and find a more hidden place to put our clothes back on."

As they hastily gathered their clothes, he noticed a large red spot on Rose's garment. He knew instantly what it was and could only hope that it wouldn't show too obviously once she put it back on. She, however, seemed to be almost in a trance, barely remembering to grab her undergarments.

They quickly and quietly slipped out the door and padded their way behind a stack of crates, which had blocked the view of the base of a staircase leading to another door. Filing that information away for later, Jack began to get dressed.

Rose did so, too. To the relief of both, the bloodstain was completely hidden by the layers of her outfit and was completely invisible. She started up the stairs, but Jack stayed her partway. They heard a snap of fingers and looked to see two stewards moving around to open the door to the Renault.

The steward's cry of "Got you!" was shouted at the bare back seat of an empty vehicle. Suppressing the laughter at the facial expressions of the two men, the lovers climbed the last few stairs and slipped out into the cool night air.

The End.

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