A/N This fic is a birthday gift to Carolinagirl and an early anniversary gift to SWWoman. Happy birthday and Happy anniversary to you two lovely ladies. This fic is based on and inspired by two songs. One is from Usher named Seduction and the other is from FKA Twigs named Two Weeks. I'd suggest listening to both to kinda get an idea of the reason why it was written this way. Certain situations or dialogue might be slightly OOC for both Reese and Carter, but it's to keep in line with the theme from both songs. Hope you enjoy.

~~Disclaimer. I do not own Person of Interest or any of its characters.


I know it hurts

You know I'd quench that thirst

(I can treat you better than her)

You say you're lonely

I say you'll think about it

~ FKA Twigs, Two Weeks

You'll think about it.

And he was.

His feet were heavy on the pavement, like rocks that wouldn't move. So were his legs. In fact his whole body seemed to not move fast enough for his liking as he crossed the street.

All he could think about…was it.

And nothing else.

It had only been a taste, just a brief taste and that had filled him in a way he couldn't describe. In a matter of minutes, in purple haze and smoke, he'd been dissolved and changed into something that didn't feel like him, but yet it left him wanting more. Of her. Of them. And what could be.


One hour earlier

Club Blur – Midnight

Reese didn't know what he was doing here. He thought that with Ian Murphy out of the picture he'd seen the last of this place, but here he was on a Saturday night seated in a booth with Zoe at his side. Her lovely fingers were curled around the stem of a champagne flute while he put a bottle of beer to his head and took a long pull.

Zoe.

It had been a while since they'd been together, took what the other needed. Talked, laughed, and then parted ways. Tonight she would help him forget about the numbers. Tonight her lips and body promised him something else. She'd tried unsuccessfully to lead him to the dance floor earlier. It wasn't something he did or liked, even in his younger years. Nothing would convince him to do it now. But he liked the feel of her body pressed into his side, her leg as it rested against his. She looked up at him, lips parted and called his name.

The look in her eyes at the moment was as if she was searching for something. Something he couldn't, wouldn't, give. So instead, he bent his head, touching his lips to the sensitive spot behind her ear and slid his hand up her thigh. She gasped as it inched higher and higher. They'd spent about an hour in this place. If he was honest, he was ready to go before they'd been seated.

He was about to suggest just that when above the din of music and the voice of the DJ, he heard an unmistakable laugh. His hand stilled on Zoe's leg and he slowly opened his eyes looking for the source and found it. Amidst a group of women he saw her; Joss.

Immediately his throat went dry and he licked his lips, swallowed hard. She stood tall in heels, her hair down her back and she wore a dress that screamed to be peeled off slowly so that you could gaze at what was beneath.

Joss.

He almost said her name aloud, looking at her, seeing her. Almost as if for the first time. As a woman and not the police officer who'd slowly become his friend. She was bathed in the light of the rotating strobes above. Purple, then pink, then blue stroked her skin, creating a wraithlike image of her that was definitely going to be burned in his mind forever.

"John?"

Beside him, Zoe called his name and followed his gaze. Joss picked that moment to lock eyes with him, and he wondered if from that distance she could see the longing on his face. He felt embarrassed, ashamed for the heated flush that readily came over him at the sight of her. He was confused, puzzled by the magnetic pull that wouldn't allow him to look away. She nodded her head coolly, but instead of coming over, she continued on her way with her friends.

He turned his attention to Zoe again, plastering a smile on his face to mask the gamut of sensations that were running through him. It wasn't all sensory he thought, he felt something, not just physical, but an ache that had been building for a while. An ache to be with someone that saw him, knew him, like Joss did. He shook it off, drank more of his beer and playfully ran his fingers along Zoe's shoulder.

Although he carried on the pretense of conversation with her for the next hour, he knew exactly where Joss was at all times. He saw her from the corner of his eye, watched as she travelled to the second level of the club and saw her sit down with her friends at a table. He saw champagne being poured, witnessed three guys send them a bottle and eventually they came over to talk. She excused herself for a moment and walked to the bar before heading back to her seat.

A few moments later their waiter approached, setting fresh drinks in front of them.

"Uh…we didn't order these," Zoe said, looking at the glass of champagne and Reese' tumbler of scotch.

"I'm sorry, but they're compliments of a friend. She said you'd know who."

The waiter handed him a napkin, and underneath it he felt the touch of a tiny sheet of paper.

"Well, that was nice of Joss, wasn't it?" Zoe said. "And she's got great taste. This is the good stuff."

Reese nodded, pocketing the note, and when Zoe excused herself a few moments later to go to the ladies' room, he took a look at it.

You'll think about it.

Four simple words. He wondered what they meant.

He ran his fingers over the paper while looking up and saw her just a few feet from him. She was on the dance floor with one of the men from their table. The music was fast, an upbeat tempo and she moved in time with it. She seemed to be enjoying herself and till the end of the song she laughed, she grinned, and she focused only on the man in front of her.

You'll think about it.

He watched other hands on her body, other hands caress her back and his jaw tensed. The music slowed, and as a ballad played, she moved her arms around the guy's neck. As they spun round in the sea of couples surrounding them, her eyes met his. He'd been caught. At the curve of her cheek and her knowing gaze he realized she knew. She knew he'd been watching all along.

Zoe still hadn't returned. She would probably be back any minute, but he couldn't stop himself. He got up, walked onto the dance floor and as smoke billowed around them from the fog machine above he walked towards them. She sensed him, almost instinctively, and he held his hand out to her. Without a word to her bewildered dance partner she took it and followed him away from the crowd.

Hands curled around hers he could feel her pulse. It wasn't racing, but it had sped up the minute he touched her. He took a deep breath, the dry feeling in his throat had returned. He found an empty VIP booth. Windowed walls showed the club below them, the lights and smoke surrounded them. The music pulsed through the walls, but they were alone.

"John, what are we doing up here?" she asked as he pulled her inside and faced her.

"Should I say thank you for the drink?" he asked, trying to inject some humor into the room. Suddenly it was charged with something thick. It was loud, louder than the music below. It crackled in his ears.

"Hmph. That wasn't necessary. But you're welcome," she said, returning the smirk. She turned to leave. She was waiting for him to make a move. This was not what she'd had in mind.

"Wait, Joss," he said, taking her hand again. "Wait," he said softly.

They'd danced around each other for long enough. Suppressing what had been growing from day one. She'd made a move. She wanted him to make one too.

"You'll think about it," she said, turning around. This time she was close, right in front of him and the magnetic pull between them was there again.

"Think about what?" he asked.

"How good I'd be."

She let go of his hand and took a step back. She slowly walked over to one of the plush sofas and sat down on it, never taking her eyes off of him.

He was aware of their surroundings again, aware of everything. The music in the club, the vibration of it bouncing off the walls, the energy in the air, the feeling that his heart would come out of his chest. She was sitting, waiting.

"How good we'd be."

He stood in front of her, looking past the glass. "Zoe."

"You'll live without it. The loneliness, the wanting…" He moved closer still, the sound of her voice so hypnotic he had to be nearer. "The longing…you'll live without her. But if you think about this, and what's between us, you won't recognize any of those things again. They'll be nothing but a bad memory."

She wanted him. She wanted them. And so did he.

He moved toward her, kneeling down and with his arms he boxed her in. She was pressed into the back of the sofa and ran her thumb over his mouth. When their lips touched he leaned into her, feeling like he was in a dream that he'd had over and over. He was caught up in her embrace, her hands all over his back, her legs raised onto the back of his thighs. Her tongue slid across his lightly at first and then he pulled on it, sucking it over and over.

He was drunk, he was high, he was intoxicated with her and he felt desire running through his veins. He felt her tiny hands on his face, felt them in the back of his neck, and finally they rested atop his head and she guided his head downwards. He briefly kissed her stomach through her dress and her head fell backwards, a sigh escaping her throat. He looked at her face, pink lights moving over it.

"John."

She called his name as he briefly rested on his thighs while looking at her. He moved his hand over her legs, under her dress, slowly skirting his fingers over the soft area where her thighs met. Her thighs shook when he slid her panties down and he pulled her hips toward him. He lowered his head, raising her leg over his shoulder and tasted her.

"I want you."

He uttered the words between the parting of her labia, between the touching of his tongue to her clit, and as the juices flowed into his mouth he whispered it again. "I want you."

He could feel her nails move over his scalp, feel her thighs shake as she started to reach her peak. He could feel his own hardness, the blood rushing between his legs. Her taste, her smell, her kiss, her pleasure. He wanted it all. Her love, her affection, her attention, her heart. He wanted that too.

The music blared, and around them the night was becoming even livelier than before. The smoke descended again, streams of light slashed over them and with her mouth open, the strangled sound of release finally left her lips.


Joss wasn't home. The lamp she left on at night shone dimly in the living room. The house was silent when he let himself in, the only sound that pierced the quiet were the digits of her alarm as he entered them on the keypad.

You'll think about it.

He walked upstairs to her bedroom going over the image of her in his mind. Her in the dress, her juices on his tongue and even though he'd downed two more tumblers of scotch when he got back to his table, her taste was still faintly there.

Zoe said she'd gone outside for a smoke, but he only halfheartedly listened to her for the rest of the night. He couldn't touch her. Not anymore. The only image he could see was of Joss. After she'd come, she'd kissed him hard, drew him in only to leave him to rejoin her party.

Just a taste. He'd only had a taste. But after that he'd wanted more. He sat on her bed waiting, inhaling the lingering aroma of her perfume, balling his hands into fists beside him, wanting her. So badly.


He was here.

She knew it just as she walked through the door. There'd been something in the last few weeks that had made her so tuned in to him that she could sense him whenever he was near. It was magnetic, electric, a current so strong it sometimes scared her. But tonight, even when she saw he was with another woman, she wasn't afraid anymore.

There was something different on his face, in his eyes. The mutual thirst that they shared for each other was about to swallow them both up whole if she didn't do something. As she climbed the stairs to her bedroom she paused at the door, feeling a rush between her legs as the vision of his head between them earlier flashed through her mind. Her lips parted, throat dry, she licked them.

He was on her bed, seated and still. She wondered how long he'd been there waiting for her. After she left him in the VIP room she wondered with a hint of fear if he'd end up going home with Zoe later on. But something told her that he wouldn't, couldn't. Not anymore. They'd stepped over into new territory, new ground, and there was no going back.

"What took you so long?" he asked. His voice was raspy and low and he got up slowly from the bed.

"I could ask you the same thing," she replied.

Like earlier, she felt her pulse racing, felt her heartbeat quicken the closer he got to her. She could feel her pussy walls opening and closing. Anticipation of him began to overwhelm her. She breathed in heavily as his lips touched the side of her face, slid to her neck and collarbone. She began to gush as his big hands travelled down her butt and pulled her toward him. She could feel his hardness, feel his desire pushing past all pretenses that were no longer necessary between them.

Before, she'd made the first move. Now, he was the instigator.

"How long were you prepared to wait?" she asked, breathily, feeling his hands at her zipper in the back. Hands she'd seen render grown men unconscious were now the gentlest she'd ever felt.

Her dress dropped to the floor.

"As long as I had to," he murmured, claiming her mouth. While he feasted on it, while her mouth opened underneath his, she felt herself open, felt him unfolding with her. Together. She felt passion building, their tongues touching. He nibbled and sucked, tasted her mouth so gently, forcefully, taking his time, and then rushing like he wanted to consume her. She put a gentle hand on his chest, a small distance between them, and he allowed her to catch her breath.

She saw him take a step back and he looked at her. She saw his jaw tense as he shrugged out of his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. As his pants and underwear dropped to the ground, she let her panties fall beside them. They both stepped out of their shoes, and then the last physical barrier between them was gone.

The gentle man was gone.

There was a rush of movement to touch, to kiss to suck and lick. He teased her nipples, twisting them between his fingers. He made her moan at the places that he kissed and caressed. She pressed her mouth to his chest hearing the ragged and breathy reactions to her, feeling him quiver beneath her tongue.

There was no smoke here, no loud music, no rotating hues of light, but inside them both a crescendo was building steadily. Underneath him on the bed, she raised her knees as he lay between them. Balanced on one forearm, she felt him move his hand between them as he positioned himself near her opening. With a smooth stroke he entered her. The snug fit of him inside her stunned them both to stillness momentarily.

Slowly, so slowly, he moved within her and she could feel his teeth sinking into her neck. He felt so good, so achingly good, but she wanted more of him, she wanted more.

He was holding back. She could feel it. He was holding back and she didn't know why. But she wanted it all. She cupped his cheeks, kissed him hard and pushed her hips toward him. She squeezed him tightly within her walls drawing him in.

"Fuck me, John," she said softly against his mouth. "Fuck me."

He let go. And drank her in. Every drop he took in. With each stroke, each heavy thrust she was filled. Their thirst, the drought they'd both had was now being drenched. The force with which he took her was blinding. She was drunk. She was high, intoxicated. With him.

"Yes, John, yes."

"You're mine," he said hoarsely, as he pulled her knees higher. "You're mine," he repeated.

"I'm yours," she promised, as her knees hit the mattress. The moan that followed resonated between them as did his groan that joined it. She caught her bottom lip, biting down hard as his penetration deepened. He put more strength behind his thrusts and she closed her eyes. She'd wanted this. For so long.

She began to float, her whole body shook, and with him desperately moving within her to find his release, she felt waves of pleasure billow over her.

Mouths open, together.

Her orgasm was powerful, and when he finally stilled atop her, when the last of his seed had been spent, she knew neither of them would ever be lonely again.

"I would have waited forever for you, Joss."

He kissed her while she ran a hand over his head, trailed a finger along the edges of his ear. "So it's a good thing I decided to send you that drink then."

Her laughter rumbled in her throat and he laughed too. "Thank goodness you did. What were you doing in the club?"

"Just having a girls' night out with my girls." She shrugged. "I never guessed you'd be there…with a date no less."

"Now's not the time to be jealous after the way you were dancing with that guy tonight. Which you did on purpose."

"I didn't," she said. "Okay I did."

"You know you did."

"And?"

"And…I was jealous." It made her smile.

He buried his face in the side of her neck, kissing her there, soothing the spot that he'd bit into earlier. "I don't want to see you with another man, Joss."

"I don't want to see you with another woman, John. Any woman. In fact, two weeks is all I need."

"Two weeks?"

"Yes," she said kissing him again. "Two weeks of this, of the two of us being together and you won't want anyone else. Ever again."

"That's where you're wrong," he said.

"Oh is that a challenge, John?"

"It's not," he replied, his voice serious. "I don't need that long. I don't. I'm already yours."