While Maris definitely liked to travel, flying wasn't exactly her favorite way to do it. A healthy fear of flying played a factor, but it was mostly the hassles that came with it that really bothered her. There were too many steps, too many things that could go wrong or hold you up even if you did everything right.

Crappy weather delayed their flight by an hour or so, which meant Rory & Maris only had a little bit of time to get settled into their hotel and dressed for dinner if they wanted to make it to the restaurant on time to claim their reservation.

They apparently didn't need to rush. The hostess was so busy, she barely looked up before informing them there was still about a 20 minute wait time. Maris knew that ultimately, this was a good sign, proof that she and Rory had chosen a decent place to eat and that the slightly ridiculous prices she saw when going over the menu a few weeks earlier were probably justified, but their little travel hiccup had used up a good bit of her patience.

She wasn't sure she had it in her to wait any more today, especially when this wasted time could have been much better spent with her wife breaking in their hotel bed.

Maris sighed, giving the waitress a little nod before taking her suggestion and heading toward the bar to get a drink in the meantime.

The air conditioning turned up fairly high, she was slightly grateful she'd worn a long sleeved blouse, tastefully unbuttoned and paired with some nicely tailored black silk trousers. The little initial necklace Rory had gotten her as a wedding present shone at her throat. It was the first time she'd worn it.

"Restaurants and airplanes are homophobic," she muttered, signaling for a bartender once she'd hopped up on the nearest stool.

About once a year, Rory and her mom and sister would make the long journey out to Italy to visit her grandmother. It was tradition really, so much so that flying wasn't something that ever put her off. It made her feel a little bold and oddly needed when she knew Maris didn't particularly like flying. It just really gave her the excuse to hold her hand a little tighter, and kiss her softly to reassure her she was there, and they were fine - without having to say the words.

Though she'd slept a bit on the plane, and not really enough to be fully rested, Rory was hellbent on making sure that they stayed awake so the jetlag didn't completely derail them. Then again, it was hard to think about much of an agenda other than making love to her wife all the time. She smiled at the very idea of it. Her wife.

Fall had begun to descend upon Italy, and so checking the weather, she put on a dress she hadn't worn before. There were several things that she'd brought which would be new to Maris. A thought that made her smirk.

Once at the restaurant, Rory barely paid attention to the exchange between Maris and the hostess, but followed her wife to the bar and took a seat next to her. "I'll lodge a complaint with both. Maybe it's my people who are the assholes in this whole situation." Her eyes twinkled with a mischievous grin, as she reached over and took Maris' hand, running her thumb over her wedding ring. Wedding rings, which had once only signified their engagement. Everything felt sharp, and new -- and even if she was particularly famis

hed, she couldn't be in a bad mood, in fact... Once the bartender made his way over to them, Rory leaned forward and ordered for both of them. It wasn't something she did often, but she knew her wife, and her usual drink order, and so ordered for her and for herself, before arching a brow at the other woman. "I decided to be presumptuous."

"Very presumptuous," she teased with an eyebrow raised. But they both knew Rory had chosen correctly. Maris was a creature of habit, especially on the drink front. She rarely strayed from her usual old fashioned or, if a place didn't have a proper bar, a glass of red wine. She occasionally cycled through other cocktails on occasion, but it usually had to be a special one.

Her eyes widened a bit as she took her first sip, surprised that her drink seemed to be an especially strong one, but wasn't about to complain over getting her money's worth.

In truth, she liked that Rory knew what she liked. Once upon a time that kind of familiarity would have lead to panic, a slow creeping fear that they'd gotten too close after being together a little too long. Maris prided herself on being aloof, something of a mystery, especially in her younger years. She liked it way. She'd been of the opinion that familiarity lead to complacency, boredom and ultimately, contempt.

She used to think that whenever someone learned everything about her, they'd eventually want to walk away, which is probably why she ended up doing it before they got a chance to.

But good things had happened when she let Rory in, especially the second time around. Her wife's new dress didn't go unnoticed or unappreciated. Though the restaurant was obviously crowded with diners, the bar was relatively empty, with only a couple of young men having a beer after work down at the far end.

With the bartender taking advantage of the lull and rinsing out some glasses, Maris & Rory were more or less alone. Which meant Maris felt bold enough to lean closer to Rory, halfway off her narrow barstool but braced against her, shoulder to shoulder as her hand slowly slid up her leg to rest on her thigh. With her wife wearing such a full skirt, it wasn't obvious or visible, but she knew her touch was very keenly felt.

All the setbacks they'd had that day wouldn't have been so bad if they hadn't been so public. If someone had told them their flight or dinner plans were delayed while they were in or near their hotel room (or any place where they could have a bit of privacy for that matter, Maris would have been ecstatic, instantly sure of how she wanted to kill time.

She wanted Rory. She wanted her again and again even though they'd had a few too many rounds in their hotel room earlier that morning, nearly missing their noon checkout time because their bed was obviously still in use.

Eyes locked on Rory's, Maris' thumb slowly slid upward, lightly grazing the outline of Rory's panties, a soft sound escaping her lips as she turned her head and nuzzled her neck, a wordless expression of very strong desire.

When Rory thought of dates ordering for her or vice versa, the whole thing seemed archaic, even if it wasn't coming from a "man orders for woman" perspective. She'd been on a date in college, eons ago, where the one-date-wonder of an art student had ordered for her. Being polite, Rory hadn't corrected her that she actually didn't like pickles, but it was strike one of many. The difference of knowing her wife's drink, and her wife knowing hers was massive.

She beamed at her wife's response, wiggling her eyebrows as she reached for her own drink, a Negroni, and took a sip. The gin burned its way at the back of her throat in a delicious way and yep, Italy certainly knew how to pour. "This was actually the first drink I ever had, Nonna let me sip hers when I was fifteen." She made a look as though it were a particularly scandalous secret. Her grandmother really had given her a rather posh taste of things from the time she was young.

Rory's smile softened as her wife leaned closer to her, her own body language leaning in to meet her halfway. Her fingers however, gripped her glass a little tighter as Maris' hand found her thigh. They'd been several hours of a flight and a full day more or less by this time without truly touching each other, and she felt as though her nerve endings were eager to go into overdrive.

Maybe they should have pushed their dinner, no matter that they'd had to book their reservation far in advance. But if they could have had an hour... maybe two... No, Rory knew them well enough to know if they kicked off their Italian honeymoon in the style they were accustomed, they'd end up foraging from their room mini bar and worrying about actual food later.

Besides, it was a point of pride that Rory loved being out with her wife. She got to proudly hold her wife's hand or kiss her as they walked and everyone would know that they'd chosen each other. That her wife really was hers.

That didn't make this any easier. She exhaled, her gaze locked on her wife's as her hips shifted ever so slightly at the feather light touch of Maris' thumb. "Mar," She hummed her name in a way that should have been a warning, but came off so airy and light that it probably sounded more like an invitation. She pressed a kiss against Maris' cheek as she was nuzzling her neck, her lips dropping by her ear. "You're going to make dinner very difficult, wife of mine."

"Well done, Nonna," Maris teased, making a mental note to bring up the prospect of visiting her before they left Italy to start setting up their new home. She didn't have it in her to even think about sharing her wife just yet. Even interacting with their loved ones at their wedding (as happy as she was to have them there, especially after a year where that almost wasn't possible) had been a bit of a struggle. She wanted all of Rory's attention. She wanted to give her all of hers.

She just wanted her in general.

"If they didn't want me distracted, they should have let us have our dinner when they were supposed to," Maris said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Heart racing a little harder at her wife's response and clearly emboldened by it, Maris' thumb slowly slipped under the fabric of Rory's panties to touch her. It was still featherlight, slightly tentative because she knew it was risky public behavior they'd never really engaged in before, but she felt...different about it now.

Rory was obviously her own person, but since the wedding some sort of invisible boundary faded, she suddenly felt very (or at least increasingly) hers and maybe it was some sort of honeymoon haze talking, but that included having her whenever and wherever she wanted.

"Good thing she didn't make me a little drunkard." Rory chuckled, her own mind wandering off to their wedding and just how wonderful it was to have so much of their family there. She had loved seeing her grandmother, just one of the many women in her life who helped actually shape the woman that Rory had become. Their wedding was pure magic and joy, but now she felt like their honeymoon and marriage was settling into that very same overall mood, with plenty others peppered in. She didn't know how she had gotten so lucky, but hell, she wasn't going to question it.

Rory hummed a soft sound, grinning as she ducked her head in some effort to hide the blush that was burning on her cheeks. "Oh you're right, the Italians are so goddamn rude." Rory smirked, her voice low not because she worried anyone around her would hear some rude American disparaging their people, but because she felt a certain secrecy in their moment. Her forehead bowed against Maris' cheek, a short huff of sound escaping her lips as Maris touched her, that featherlight stroke of her thumb sending a shiver up her spine. "Babe," She warned quietly, though her tone really wasn't forceful at all. Her own heart was racing.

"You're so incorrigible." She giggled, her hand sliding down her wife's arm and holding onto her elbow, but made no attempt to stop her, instead just shifting a little, digging her heel into the low wrung on her chair to slide her thighs just the slightest bit wider.

Maris' teeth sunk into her lower lip as her wife's warmth and wetness greeted her fingertips, but her expression shifted into one of almost awe as she felt Rory's thighs part just that much further.

She didn't really expect Rory to let her do it. They were hardly prudes, but this was new, very public and if the low groan of approval that escaped Maris' lips and the suddenly cocky expression on her face were any indication, something she was very into.

Her eyes a little darker than they had been moments before, Maris pushed Rory's panties further to the side and began to touch her in earnest.

She knew it was important to keep things as subtle as possible, letting her lips brush Rory's neck probably wasn't the wisest choice if she wanted to give off some sort of nothing going on here vibe, but she couldn't help it, her breath occasionally hitched against her wife's skin like she was the one being pleased, keeping the sort of slow, steady pace she knew served them well.

To be honest, Rory kind of surprised herself by how willing she was to let her wife touch her in such a public space, in a way that if anyone stared at them too long, it might be pretty easy to tell what they were doing. But it had been hours since they'd touched each other, and who knew that marrying Maris would make her crave her all the more. Well, Rory wanted her desperately all the time, so that was probably a pretty predictable outcome.

That sound that her wife made just turned her on all the more. She felt the rush of heat through her body like a rocket, her own little huff of breath sounding from her lips.

Rory did her best to sit up straight, but she wanted to lean into her wife. Her teeth caught her lower lip to stifle any other sounds, but it was really difficult. She felt how wet she was, and knew that her wife was greeted with it.

Her lips brushed her wife's jaw, but she managed to press her lips against her cheek to further whatever kind of casual canoodling they were doing. Probably a good thing Italians were pretty used to people just making out wherever, so they didn't look on the surface to be doing much. "Babe," She nearly whined against her ear, her breath hot against her wife's skin as she felt her breath growing a little more shallow.

Maris was warm, her partially unbuttoned shirt (more skin than she usually showed, but her honeymoon was making her even more confident and amorous than usual) doing little to help cool her down. Her body temperature spiked even further as she felt her wife's pulse quicken and heard her plea. She'd tried to avoid kissing, since even the tamest caused her to stop and glance at other people doing the same on the street, if only for a brief moment, but the temptation was too great and if she knew anything about her girl, (and Maris definitely did) she knew she wouldn't be able to stay all that quiet for much longer.

"I got you," she purred, her voice thick as she leaned just a little bit closer. "Just relax."

Their lips brushed lightly, but the kiss turned slow and hungry as she slipped a finger inside her, thumb rubbing slow circles on her clit.

Later, Rory would hardly be able to believe that they had done this, that her desire for her wife tipped over so publicly, that her body had craved Maris so badly that her mind didn't take the reigns at all. She was entirely at the mercy of her wife, and happy to be. God, she was so gone, her whole body burning with heat as she had to fight herself from moving to grind into her wife's hand. Too obvious. She wanted to kiss her, but knew that would draw too much attention, too. So she just kept close, her hands gripping the bar like that would help keep her anchored.

But she didn't need it, because Maris had her. Those words made her feel almost emotional if it weren't for the pleasure taking over everything.

She couldn't exactly relax the moment her wife slid her fingers inside of her. She bit her lower lip so hard she knew it might swell a bit, and it only barely stifled the sharp little squeak that came from the back of her throat. She laughed softly, bowing her head forward.

Rory draped her arm over the back of Maris' chair, her fingers gripping the edge of it as her thumb brushed against Maris' back. She knew she was close, knew that it was going to be a struggle to keep quiet even as her breathing grew more and more ragged. "Kiss me." She said suddenly, her words more of a gasp as she knew her wife was about to make her come.

It was a bit of a conundrum. Maris didn't want to rush. Thrusting faster or even deeper was sure to warrant attention, but she also knew the longer this went on, they'd have an even bigger chance of getting caught.

Not that other people were all that much of a concern. The idea that they could be was part of the turn on. She was vaguely aware that they were still around, the slightly dull, flat bassline of other people's conversation buzzing in her ears, but she mostly heard her wife's increasingly labored breathing, which almost seemed to line up with her own thudding heartbeat.

She knew when Rory was close, which is why she didn't waste any time kissing her harder and deeper than she'd dared moments before, the back of her hand slipping through her hair and rest on the back of her neck as her thumb put a little more pressure on her clit.

Who knew how much time they actually had, but Rory was fairly certain either way, the sheer thrill of them being so public was going to topple her over the edge sooner than she would have otherwise. Maris did have her, no truer words could be spoken that went beyond the physical and the whole rest of it.

They had taken for bolder moments together, but never had they been this bold. That very fact made her shiver, but that was really just the seconds before her hips rocked just ever so slightly and her thighs began to tremble as her orgasm broke through her. She panted against Maris' mouth, a pathetic little whine drowning between their lips.

Everything Maris did drew out the waves of pleasure, her hand flying down to her own lap to brace against Maris' wrist, gripping it but not exactly trying to stop her from what she was doing. It was more keeping her put, the pressure on her clit making her shake through her orgasm. "God dammit, I can't believe we did that." She giggled breathlessly against Maris' lips, kissing her once, twice again quickly before raising a shaky hand to brush her fingertips just under her wife's lips to right any makeup that had been affected.

Maris' hand gripped the back of Rory's neck as she felt her come. It was as much of an effort to steady and reign in herself as it was to keep her wife close and therefore easier to quiet. She hummed a soft sound of approval against Rory's lips, only stopping her fingers once she was sure every shake and tremor had subsided.

"I can't believe you did that," Maris countered. "I'd expect it from me. You're the well behaved one." She rested their foreheads together as she slowly eased her fingers out of her and wiped them against Rory's thigh. There was no denying a certain cocky smirk on Maris' face that hadn't been there moments before. Even though Rory was trying to fix her lipstick, she let her mouth brush her fingertips anyway, nipping her index when it lingered a little too long.

Memories of a certain event (not to mention flashes of the new ones they had just made) were running through her head in deliciously slow motion. She took a sip of her drink before pressing her lips to Rory's ear to share them. "Remember the gala? When you had to go but I pinned you down and licked your pussy anyway?"

Rory couldn't control her ragged breathing, or the laugh that bubbled up from deep in her chest as she braced her hand against Maris' shoulder.

"I think marriage has changed me." She laughed, leaning back a little and shaking her head so her hair fell against her back. Oh that smirk of her wife's, that was trouble. Her body was buzzing with pleasure, a kind of craving settling in the pit of her stomach for her wife like it always did. It was so hard for Rory to ever be content with being pleased, wanting to make sure her wife felt just as good. But their time was thin, even if her mind was spinning with ways to get her wife back for that, and the nips to her fingertips.

A rush of heat spiraled down her spine, a grin on her lips as she nodded, her cheek against her wife's. She kissed her jaw as her fingertips brushed against the back of her neck. "I remember vividly." She grinned, the memory having lost any of the bitter to the sweet that surrounded that time. "If this bar had a drape, I'd be tempted to do just that to you."

"Tempted," Maris teased, eyes narrowed as she tried to catch and fish the cherry out of the bottom of her glass, looking up and smirking at Rory once she'd finally done it. "Still don't think you'd do it."

Someone waved to tell them their table was ready. Since there were only a few drops of whiskey left in her glass, Maris left it where it was, waiting for Rory to hop down and get herself sorted before sliding an arm around her waist and following the hostess into the dining room.

There was a certain possessiveness the way she held her.

A certain smugness certainly played a factor. Maris had just pleased her wife and pleased her well, not to mention very publicly, but keeping her so close was a thrill in and of itself. A necessity, really when her body was buzzing just as much as her wife's, high on desire and whatever invisible, immutable something that buzzed through the air when they were together. She wanted the people they passed along the way to know they were, that not even two days ago they'd laid claim to each other. Part of her even wanted them to know that she'd acted on that claim again not two minutes before.

She settled for a soft thank you as they finally reached their destination. As promised, it was a pretty good table, directly across from a wide window with a breathtaking view of the city. The flame of a glass candle danced between them.

"You do realize you're ordering, right?" Maris said as she wrinkled her nose, unsure why she bothered to rummage around until she found her glasses in the bottom of her purse when the menu was entirely in Italian.

"Excuse me, is that a challenge?" Rory said, feigning an aghast reaction to Maris' doubt in her abilities. Okay yes, she tended to be the one a bit more demure in public, but not by much. And the challenge in her wife's voice, well. That just struck something inside of her she wasn't willing to let go of so easily.

Even as they were called over for their table. She sighed a little, narrowing her eyes playfully before she slid off of her chair and made sure she could actually stand on wobbly legs, thanks to her wife. Her own arm stayed looped around her wife, her own possessive streak matching stride for stride with her wife.

She was still buzzing as they were led to their table, small enough that Rory could sit across from her, but she took the chair that was next to Maris, with her back to the dining room. Rory didn't want to be an inch further away from her wife than she absolutely had to. Even as they sat down, Rory slid her hand into Maris' to give her a squeeze.

"This is beautiful." She murmured, her gaze looking out at the city that had come to life with lights somewhere in the time between their walk there and now. Her gaze gravitated back to Maris, a wide grin stretching across her face. "Si." She replied with a cheeky grin. "What do you feel like having?"

Buonasera, ladies. Their waiter interrupted, clearly ready to wait on them in English. But, well, Rory wanted to flex a little in front of her wife. She took a moment to look at him, her gaze fixed on Maris for a few seconds longer as she began to prattle off in Italian, maybe a little rusty, but hardly stuttered. She answered his question about being their first time in Rome, and proudly announced they were celebrating their honeymoon. Tua moglie?! He exclaimed, a moment later clasping his hand over his heart and then holding up his hand and saying something before he took off. Rory laughed, slipping her hand to her wife's thigh. "He said he's got to get something to celebrate for us. I'm guessing wine."

"Mushroom ravioli?" she mused aloud. It was hardly the most adventurous dish in the world, something Maris could and had ordered a thousand times at their favorite Italian restaurant back home (though she supposed they'd need a new one now that home was London), but it seemed smart to order an old standby in a place that was bound do it better than she'd ever had before.

She watched Rory order with quiet intensity. Her Italian couldn't even be classified as rusty. It was more like a messy patchwork of phrases she'd gleaned from tv, a cheap phrase book hadn't exactly looked over like she meant to before the honeymoon and Rory whenever she had occasion to use her second language. There was something wildly sexy about hearing another language flow off her wife's tongue. Intimidating too. Maris couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit jealous that Rory knew some passionate romance language when the only others she knew (German and the smattering of Hebrew that got her through funerals, bar mitzvahs and the high holy days) were really just a series of dry hacking sounds.

"Keep the Italian up all night if it gets us free stuff," she teased, sliding a hand down on top of Rory's. She leaned in close enough for her hair to brush and tickle the curve of her wife's neck. The scent of Rory's perfume was stronger than usual, proof that her blood had really been pumping moments before, it was another thing to be intoxicated and distracted by, which is why she couldn't resist the urge to let her lips brush her neck too.

"It better be good wine," she murmured, increasingly unsure as to why they'd bothered to leave their room.

"I should have guessed that, damn." Rory made a face, snapping the fingers of her free hand when she did. She'd flexed so much at the bar, ordering a drink she knew her wife loved, she really should have just kept that going -- but she was distracted and her mind wasn't fully returned to her skull yet. It was any wonder she could remember her Italian at all.

Rory could feel her wife's eyes on her as she spoke with their waiter, and frankly, she loved it. She felt herself puffed up a bit in her chest, her back a little straighter as she prattled off enough to get their waiter apparently very excited. Once left alone, she turned her grin to her wife, it only widening when she spoke. "I bet you they'll bring us free desserts, and we're dessert fiends." She grinned, her skin prickling with goosebumps as Maris kissed her neck. She bowed her head against Maris', her hand slipping between her thighs to squeeze her wife's inner thigh, feeling her warm body through her slacks.

"Oh I pretty much guarantee it. They won't half ass it." Sure enough their waiter returned a few moments later with a fine vintage, showing her the label that read celebrazione in fancy curved letters. "Grazie." She grinned, barely sitting up from her half-cuddled position with Maris as he poured for them.

She ordered them a couple of house specialty starters, and then Maris' ravioli and tortellini for herself. As he scooted off, it was Rory's turn to turn to her wife and press a kiss to the side of her neck, a little noisy with it but who cared. "I'm going to really struggle to enjoy any of this when all I want is you." She murmured against her ear, kissing her temple with a smile edging its way to her lips.

Even when they were engaged, Maris had been the sort of person who thought amorous couples should get a room. There was no need to hang all over your lover in public. Even her hormonal, teenage self had managed to keep the urge to paw at the girl she'd first fooled around with under wraps, though Maris supposed that had a little more to do with worry over her dad or grandfather finding out her relationship with Sarah was more than platonic (and thus, probably place restrictions on how often they could be alone together in her room) than anything else.

It wasn't lost on her that she had become what she once scorned in more ways than one. She was married now. She'd spent months (lightly) fretting over flowers and songs and venues. She was starting to long for babies and googled truly mundane, domestic things like recipes and home decor.

But was at her core, herself. And Rory was Rory, which meant her feelings for her were never really going away. They never really had.

They were just stronger now and she knew that logically, once the honeymoon was over she'd have to adjust to this new intensity. Reality, day to day life and the stress of setting up a new house, settling into new jobs and having those babies (whenever that not so little plan came to fruition) might even it out.

But right now she was thriving on it, which is why despite her usual calm, cool, unaffected demeanor when they were in public (well practiced after years working with Rory in a place where they didn't know they were bending each other over desks whenever they could manage it) Maris let out a soft sigh when Rory's hand gripped her thigh, causing the silk covering her legs to slide against her skin in the most delicious sort of way.

"You've already charmed him. Ask him about to go options," she murmured, but it was little more than a tease. Maris had no intention of going anywhere. Even this was intoxicating, the sort of touch that she wouldn't give up even if leaving and heading back to their room would lead to more. That would mean stopping and tearing their attention away from each other, if only for a short time.

"Just think of how good it'll be when we finally get each other home," she countered, picking up her wine glass to take a sip.

They were here in this beautiful city together, the view impeccable, sparkling in a way that felt just for them, and yet Rory couldn't be bothered to take her eyes off of her wife. There had always been a sensitive streak in Rory, even a romantic one from the time she was small. She loved reading romance (thanks, Jane) and watching romantic comedies, even felt horribly dramatic like the end of the world had happened when her first girl-friend had dumped her for a stupid boy after just three weeks of hand holding and occasional kissing. She believed in love in a way she really didn't have much example of, other than her grandmother. Isabella and her husband thrived on their love for one another until his passing when Rory was just barely a teenager.

Rory had no traditional views of marriage however, and sort of had it in the back of her mind like "oh yeah maybe someday", without any real concrete longing for it. Enter Maris, and more specifically, Enter Maris Again. She wasn't even sure when it had happened, but one day it was very clear to her that she couldn't imagine a life where she wouldn't marry this woman beside her. Thank God Maris felt the same way.

"I might wildly insult him, but I'm willing to risk it." Rory grinned a cheeky grin, biting at her lower lip as she squeezed her wife's thigh again, her thumb brushing over her thigh, her fingers sliding up just enough so her fingers brushed against the apex between her thighs. Testing, teasing.

Rory mirrored Maris and sipped at her own wine glass, enjoying the robust taste that coated her tongue. "If we can actually wait that long." She said, a pointed look to her wife before she leaned over and kissed her, quickly. Rory also hadn't been heavy into PDA throughout her life, but something about her wife sitting with her, coupled with what happened at the bar, made it hard for her to stop.

They'd barely eaten all day. Various snacks eaten the airport out of sheer boredom while they waited for a new flight hardly counted as a meal. A nice dinner wouldn't just be a treat, it was needed and yet Maris couldn't shake the feeling that this felt almost...wrong.

Like she and Rory shouldn't have been bothering with dinner plans because they shouldn't have been doing anything but rolling around in bed pleasing each other. Maris' hunger for her wife overrode any other kind.

The wine even tasted better on Rory's tongue, her own slowly slipping past the other woman's lips pretty much the moment she'd been kissed.

She hummed a soft sound as she leaned closer, the plate nearest to her rattling a little against the table with the transference of motion. It startled Maris causing a hitch of breath and a spike of adrenaline, but she didn't so much as look in the direction of the sound to see if everything was okay.

Her thighs parted slowly under Rory's palm as she let their lips brush again, a soft tease that was her way of getting back at her wife for everything she was doing.

They really should make some sort of fuel pills just for people like Rory and Maris, enraptured on their honeymoon and really not in any mood to stop for a silly thing like eating. Though, they were in Italy, with some of the greatest food in the world at their fingertips. They had to, but Rory was already thinking they should get a few desserts to share later ... definitely to-go.

Rory couldn't help the moan that quietly escaped her lips as their tongues met, that rise in body heat creeping up the back of her neck. It had been mere minutes since her wife had made her come so publicly, and the desire to give back was stronger than ever.

She barely even registered the sound of the plates, her wife was all she could focus on. The slight hitch in her breath, the way her lips tasted, the slight move of her thighs parting. Her brows shot up, a slick little smile on her lips as she pulled back to look at her wife's face. "You just had to challenge me, huh?" She whispered quietly, sliding her fingers up until she purposefully began to grind the pads of her fingers into her wife, teasing her pussy through her trousers.

"Oh, now you're just getting cocky," Maris shot back. This was what she wanted. She knew what buttons to push, the right words to say to bring out a wild, almost competitive streak in her wife, but as Rory began to touch her she began to wonder if she'd pushed them both a little too far.

Maris teeth automatically grazed her lower lip, barely muffling a low groan because she was already aroused. She'd thrived on the power she'd had over Rory moments earlier, the idea that her wife would let her do whatever she wanted no matter the time or place. She'd watched her fall apart, a sight that felt more sacred, meant only for her than ever even if there'd never been more of an opportunity for someone else to see it.

With darkened eyes and shallow breathing, it was plain to see that Maris was turned on. Rory knew her tells, but it was increasingly clear that Maris loved this. She'd always gotten an extra thrill out of doing things she shouldn't. Her college years were nothing if not proof of that. Fooling around with Rory right under their co-worker's noses had been another thrill. As much as their affair had been the result of love, she would have been lying if she said the element of danger that buzzed underneath hadn't added a little extra something too.

Maris had kind of been working toward this level of taboo behavior her entire life. She'd just been waiting for the right moment (and the right woman) to give in.

Even if that woman was Rory, Maris' innate (often maddening) urge to play things cool never really went away. She tried to look nonchalant, her fingers idly stroking the stem of her wine glass in an attempt to give herself something to do, but the right amount of pressure (and the fact that she'd worn laughably thin underwear because her honeymoon motto was definitely less is more in the lingerie department) elicited a full body shiver, further proof that might be even more into by their little game than her wife had been.

"You bet I am." Rory smirked, a brow raised with her own challenge as she looked at her wife.

Truthfully, Rory liked knowing how much she got to her wife. It made her replay plenty of moments, not least of all one in a particular hotel room against a particular window and the rush being so bold and bossy gave her. She'd learned to relinquish plenty of control in their relationship, but their balance meant they had learned a kind of perfect give and take. They thrived beside each other, period.

But Rory flashed a grin at Maris' moan, quiet enough for only her to hear, and enough to fuel exactly what she wanted to do. Rory watched her wife with entire focus and intensity, a swell of pride in her chest as she plucked at the fasten of her pants.

Apparently wifing each other up just made Rory abandon all inhibitions.

Rory sipped from her own wine glass, as if her fingers weren't pausing just long enough to slide her hand into her wife's slacks, her palm flat against her skin as she pushed aside her flimsy panties and began to slowly stroke her in earnest. She huffed a harsh sound against her glass, the wet warmth that greeted her sending her own shiver up her spine. She kept her movements slow and her pressure exact so as not to garner any extra attention, but hers was entirely wrapped up in her wife. "Look what you've started." She murmured with a grin as she leaned over and kissed her cheek.

"Shame you can't see them," Maris purred as she felt her wife slide her panties aside. "They're new."

But that didn't mean Rory wouldn't. They'd barely gotten started on her end, but Maris knew that this was only the beginning. She'd let Rory have her, she'd behave long enough to have dinner but that good behavior wouldn't exactly extend to the hotel room. If they were bold enough to go this far here, she could barely imagine what they would get up to when they were alone.

Maris already knew she wanted to push Rory even further or at the very least fuck her in ways she couldn't thanks to their current level of restraint.

"I'm not sorry," she countered, graceful as ever as she sat down her wine glass even though the fact that she was feeling distracted and less than coordinated was the reason she'd opted to make the move in the first place. With her body already buzzing, a spill seemed inevitable.

Maris was a little sorry she hadn't worn a skirt to dinner like she originally planned. It seemed easier on both their parts but after a bit of subtle shifting, they found a position and rhythm that worked for them.

She tilted her head to catch Rory's lips once they brushed her cheek, giving her a slow, tender kiss that quickly turned hungry as her hips gave that first automatic buck, a silent signal that she was ready for more.

"Yet." Rory challenged with an arched brow, a cocky smirk on her lips even though the idea that her wife had worn something new for her struck her in a certain kind of way. But she was already in a certain kind of way, so it all mingled together.

Rory remained entirely focused on her wife, her wine glass forgotten about long before she even had the beginnings of a buzz. She was buzzing with an entirely different kind of high. Her fingers moved as if on their own accord, dragging slow circles over Maris' clit in the way she knew she liked - all to start.

"Good, I'm not either." Rory murmured right back, a delighted smile edging its way onto her lips as Maris reached for her glass. Just because she couldn't help herself, Rory's fingers moved just a little faster, slowly sliding her fingers deeper to run her fingers pointedly over her clit. God, she loved to watch the way Maris reacted to her.

Rory was acutely aware of everything Maris did, as she bucked her hips towards her hand, she knew what that meant. Rory leaned into her, greedy in the way she accepted her kiss, her tongue finding hers just as she slid her palm lower so she could slide two fingers inside of Maris. She hummed a sound against her wife's lips, feeling her wet pussy clamp around her fingers. She moved her hand slowly, pumping her fingers so slowly so as not to draw too much attention to them... but also not really caring.

A soft groan was caught and thankfully muffled between their lips as Rory slipped inside her. Maris liked to think she had a pretty good poker face, but sweat glistened along her collarbone, visible through her open shirt and that wasn't the only way her body was betraying her.

She was so wet she worried she might be audibly so, further proof that there was nothing about this moment that wasn't doing something for her. She whimpered as her clit was touched, but it was a sound she didn't let herself make twice. There was a rare look in her eyes, faint because she sort of had to have a certain level of control and strength so they didn't get caught and subsequently booted from the place they'd waited for access to.

It was total submission. Maris knew that if they were alone she'd give in to Rory completely without a single inhibition between them.

"Darling," she breathed. It was a pet name that only escaped her lips during sex when she was especially in it, but there was more to it than that. Maris was begging, her fingers gripping and curling around the edge of the table as she rocked into her lover's hand as hard as she dared.

Perhaps to anyone else, the pair just looked like a couple absolutely enamored with each other, kissing and remaining close to each other as they gazed out at the city. Truthfully, Rory didn't actually care if anyone knew exactly what they were up to. She was too enraptured in the way Maris reacted every time she slid her fingers deeper inside of her and curled them to thrust inside her just so.

Everything about the restaurant had sort of laid the perfect scene for them. With their table feeling a bit secluded over by the window, the dim lighting, the din of voices around them and some barely-heard music. But Rory didn't notice a bit of it, not when her wife was making that noise and breathing harder. The way she looked at her nearly knocked the breath out of her lungs, so she just leaned in closer, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of her lips.

"You're okay baby," She murmured quietly against her ear, hearing that pet name from her wife sending warmth through her whole body. Her thumb began rolling quickly over her clit even as her fingers thrust gently, slowly, needing to keep her movements slight. "Lean back, let me do the work." Rory would have giggled at how absurd her instructions were, but at present she meant them.

Rory leaned into her a little more, not daring to glance anywhere but her wife's face as she moved a little quicker, keeping her arm as still as she could while her fingers did the work. "Come for me so we can eat and I can have you again." Her voice dropped low as she pressed another kiss beside her ear, feeling a thrill of pride as she wanted to watch her wife become undone.

She let out one of her signature dry laughs, wondering, for a moment if this was a terrible idea because she had never wanted to make noise more, to show Rory just how good she was making her feel.

She didn't even know if she could be quiet as she followed her wife's advice and simply let herself be pleased. Her pulse quickened until she was pretty sure she couldn't hear anything but her labored breathing, slightly paranoid everyone else could hear it too until she came. Even Rory's face blurred as her body began to shake, leaving Maris slightly uncoordinated as she swiped discreetly at her eyelids, her release so intense it had made her eyes water. It didn't happen often, but by now Rory knew it had meant she had done her job especially well.

Still panting ever so slightly as she came down, Maris reached for her glass, but ultimately just ended up shaking her head almost incredulously unable to tear her eyes away from Rory.

Even in the midst of what they were doing, Rory marveled at the way Maris laughed, and the one that came from her in return. Hers came out as more of a purr, encouraging her wife all the while. God, she wished they could have a real When Harry Met Sally moment here but she knew here wife well enough to know exactly what she felt.

Rory felt a thrill of pride race up her spine as she felt Maris come undone for her, the way she shook, how she breathed, the way her eyes watered. All of it was like she was watching the most beautiful thing in the world... and well, she was. Rory was all teeth and grin, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she slowed her movements even further, slowly moving her fingers inside of her. She took great pride in pleasing her wife, even more so when they were so public, and even more so when she was proving that she was up for such a challenge.

Rory kept her hand where it was another moment or two, before slowly sliding her palm out of her wife's pants. She made a point to redo the fasten of her pants and with a smirk on her face, leaned forward into the table. "That's what happens when you challenge me." She grinned, keeping eye contact with her wife as she dragged her fingers that were just inside of her wife over her lips, a soft, breathy kind of moan escaping at the taste of her.

Maris leaned forward, letting her lips brush Rory's, earning a faint taste of herself. "Fuck, I love you," she murmured, completely transfixed by her. Her wife's cockiness after the fact did little to ease her longing to be alone and completely uninhibited.

The kiss was slow and soft, but she didn't let it linger for longer. Their luck couldn't last forever, if no one had noticed them all over each other before, they would eventually.

She let her head rest on Rory's shoulder, leaning into her wife the way she did when they were curled up in bed, soft in a way she usually wasn't, her fingers tracing absent minded patterns along her wife's waist.

"Mm, I love you, Maris." Rory's words were still purred against her wife's lips, her kiss meeting hers in that slow, passionate way which felt like the rest of the world was fading away around them.

Rory couldn't stop grinning as she slid her arm around Maris, holding her close as she dropped a kiss to the top of her head. She so wished they were curling up with each other in bed, naked and touching each other softly in a way that both soothed them and eventually wound them up all over again.

Soon enough, their meals were placed in front of them, and while Rory's voice had taken on a slightly rougher, lazier quality to it, she answered him in Italian that the wine was delicious. Rory was able to mostly master the art of eating with the fork in one hand while her other hand drew patterns along Maris' neck and shoulders, refusing to put any space between them at all where she was able.

If Maris saw two people unable to separate from each other long enough to eat dinner, she would probably assume they were both pathetic or that one needed some sort of help to stay upright. But she had lost most of her inhibitions even though a few were (regrettably) in place. Rory may have been grinning, but Maris was looking at her in awe and total adoration.

Eating was a bit of a struggle one handed and so close to each other but she wouldn't have had it any other way.. Wanting to keep this light, relaxed feeling buzzing through her, Maris didn't eat a ton even though the food was delicious and she had certainly worked up an appetite. She kissed Rory practically the second they left the restaurant. Since it was dark and the streets were pretty sparse, she let it deepen, not coming up for air until her lungs burned for it.

She tapped Rory's chin with her thumb as they parted, murmuring, "I was going to suggest a walk but I'm thinking taxi?"

Rory was an affectionate person, but when it came to flaunting PDA, that had never really been her style. But even before tonight and this blatant boldness, there had always been a thrill to not even caring who the hell saw her and Maris. Holding her hand while walking in the grocery store was as natural as breathing. Pausing to kiss her while out to dinner didn't even register as PDA or attention-grabbing. It was never so much as registering to her that anyone could even see them. She only saw Maris.

Likewise Rory didn't exactly eat a lot of her meal. She was distracted, and a kind of longing had settled in the pit of her stomach which meant that anything else didn't quite seem to sate her in the slightest. When their waiter returned after some time, she asked for boxes, and then asked him to pick four of his favorite desserts and box those up too. Maybe she shouldn't be trusting the judgement of strangers, but she didn't think this place could possibly make a bad dish, and she wasn't sure they'd really get to them either.

Outside came a mercy, the cool air soothing her overly warm skin as she found herself locked in her wife's embrace. She kissed her with abandon, a soft sound squeaking between their lips as she melted into her wife. By the time their lips parted, she was breathing heavily, a little dizzy. "Yes." She answered breathlessly, grinning against her wife's lips. "I can't wait to have you."

Thankfully the busy street meant they were able to find a taxi quickly, and Rory climbed in after Maris, immediately pulling herself closer to her wife. She gave their driver their hotel name, just moments before leaning over and kissing her wife again. She tried to reign it in some but, well, easier said than done.