|Crossing Jordan: Sending Signals
Author: linaerys PM
Nigel and Woody. Not the first time, but soon thereafter.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Drama - Words: 968 - Reviews: 7 - Favs: 2 - Published: 05-05-05 - id: 2380919
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimers: Don't own these characters, more's the pity
Unrequited love for Jordan was a good excuse, wasn't it . . . ?
Wait, this doesn't mean I'm . . . you know, right?
"Sure, love." Woody imagined Nigel saying.
Woody thought he had a good body, but Nigel's stomach was perfectly flat too, with a thin line of hair leading down. Truth was, Woody did love Jordan, but now he was starting to wonder if he'd still want to pursue it if she loved him back.
Just friendly, right? Nigel was good to have along when Woody went into danger's way, better than a lot of police officers, and not hemmed in by the rules, either.
The perp climbs down the fire escape and Woody runs down after him, but the last jump twists his knee and he stumbles. Then Nigel comes running out of the building entrance and cuts the guy off. He's got a gun, Woody can see it glinting the darkness of the alley, but Nigel still manages to trip him down to the ground. The gun falls out of the perp's hand, and Nigel pins him to the ground with his knee, so Woody can cuff him.
"Are you hurt?" Woody asks. Nigel is shaking a little.
"Didn't see he had a gun," Nigel answers with half a grin. "I might not have been quite so hasty." Woody squeezes his shoulder.
"You did good," he says, and there's this moment when Nigel's looking at him that he knows means something, something that will come later.
The cop cars come and take him away and Woody and Nigel go back to the station. Woody questions the guy for a few minutes, but he lawyers up pretty quick.
"Can I drop you back at the office, or home?" Woody asks.
And that's the code—it's been spoken, and Nigel looks down at him for a moment and says, "Home. Sure." Woody keeps his face hard and clenches his jaw, but he sees Nigel shake his head ruefully, and Woody wonders if he's just as much a lapse for Nigel as Nigel is for him.
Woody follows Nigel up the stairs to his apartment. Nigel lives alone, his apartment neat and spare except for the computer deskcovered with parts and pieces and technical looking innards, and the bookshelvescrammed to the breaking point. They don't talk on the ride. They don't talk when they walk up the stairs. And Nigel has to make the first move. That's agreed. Woody made the very first move a few weeks ago, but since then, that's been Nigel's job.
They start kissing and Woody pulls up Nigel's shirt, and now it's his hands that are shaking as he drags his lips down Nigel's flat stomach to the low low edge of his pants, then comes back up. He's slower this time, on purpose, to see if he can stand it. It's been frantic and fast before, but now Woody can deny that this is happening and he'd like to try it a little slower, just a little.
Nigel's lips are very very soft, and so is his hair. This time when Woody pulls away for a moment Nigel takes his shirt all the way off and starts tugging on Woody's. He runs his hands over Woody's back and chest. Nigel undoes Woody's jeans with practiced ease, and pushes him down to sit on the couch then tugs them off his feet.
Nigel sits on the floor, on one hip, with his legs to one side. It could be a feminine poseit would be if a girl was doing it, coy and saucy, but on Nigel it's not feminine, nobut it's not masculine either, and Woody feels both attraction and jealousy. Why should he be able to sit like that, so comfortable, not caring if he always looks tough. Not scared.
Nigel kisses the sensitive spot right above Woody's hip bone, and Woody tries to tense up and let his body go limp at the same time, but it's all a distraction for what Nigel is going to do with his hands. Then he moves his mouth over to where his hands were and gives Woody the best blow job he's ever gotten except maybe the time before. Woody wonders, when he can think at all, if his own measure up.
After, Nigel stands up and gets a glass of water from the kitchen. Now is when Woody would let himself out, and that would be that. Or maybe he'd return the favor, tit for tat, that for this, quid pro quo and back to work. Nigel leans on the doorframe for a moment, and runs a long-fingered hand through his hair.
Woody stands up and goes over to him and kisses him again, then puts his fingers into the waistband of Nigel's pants and starts dragging him toward the bedroom. They've never taken things into there before. Woody won't look up at Nigel, can't imagine what expression he might be wearing, but Nigel isn't resisting the tug.
Nigel caresses the back of Woody's neck with his cool fingertips, and Woody swallows hard. "Show me," he says, and it sounds harsh and choked. "I want you to show me what I'm missing." Then he looks up at Nigel. Nigel licks his lips nervously, the same way he does when Macy puts him on the spot.
"If that's what you want, love."