Disclaimer: I don't own the characters you read before you. All rights belong to Wolf Films, and all that.
Author's Note: A request themed lemon of sorts for Starfire. Besides, it's been a long while since I last wrote a lemon, and I don't want to be rusty.
Beta: Still looking.
Timeline: Halfway through "American Jihad".
E.A.D.A. McCoy sagged on his beige apartment sofa, massaging his blurry eyes. Cranium tilted backward, he blissfully awaited unconsciousness. His ears perked at the interior sound of a door opening.
"If you're a burglar, I have no money."
"That's a good reason not to take out a prosecutor: why bother, since the take-home pay is not even worth a cup of coffee?" a female Southern drawl ragged.
"I'd rather be broke than dead?"
D.A. Carmichael plopped herself alongside the elder gentleman. "It's too bad people don't figure that out against loan sharks — I had to deal with two today."
He remained immobile. "Please, I'd rather have a good, old-fashioned racketeering than my current case: this upper-class American kid who wants to be a Muslim extremist."
She wiggled her attaché case tiredly onto the floor. "You win, but who has the biggest prick for a new boss right now?"
"Well, Branch is firmly on my back about this. What about you?"
"Praeger's out, so his replacement wants to start things off with a good impression — i.e., working me and my team to death."
"They're going to wear us to a frazzle," he said resignedly.
"All in a day's work, Jack."
He pouted his lower lip. "That may be, but it's still my patriotic duty to complain."
The young woman grinned somewhat. "You're unbelievable."
He snuggled beside her. "You wanted to date me, Abbie, so you get it all."
"The all-or-nothing — my God, we are alike, aren't we?"
"And to think, we have only one more day to go."
She eyeballed Jack vacantly. "I don't get it."
His arm slithered all-around her neckline. "I'm pretending it's Friday, so we can relax on the following night."
"And what would we do, besides sleep?"
"Well, the horny bastard in me always has the second opinion, but he can't vanquish my self-control. Plus, I'm ready to collapse on my feet, anyway."
Abbie's fingernail traced idly his features: the fine Roman nose, the outlandish wooly eyebrows and the salt-and-pepper hair. "Thank God for self-control, or I might have ended up batting for the other team."
His brow was pressed next to hers. "That would be something to see, although, I wouldn't look forward to it."
"I could always ego-stroke you regarding that, but I'm sure you'd prefer it a little downhill."
"See, Abbie, that's why our relationship is meaningless without your special innuendos. To me, it's your perfect combination of sexiness and pissy ness that keeps me going."
She leered mischievously. "Then, we both know which one you're going to get."
He sighed satisfactorily. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
Her pale tan fingers slinked to the collar of his frayed dark green windbreaker. "Just for that, I'm going to go the other way."
"You don't have to; I'm too worn out."
"I'd like to think we have enough energy to at least pet."
He crumpled about. "Can't it wait until after I shower? You know what it's like being in that stuffy courthouse — I'm soaked to the bone."
She undid his striped red tie, eyeing him impishly. "Gee, Jack, for someone who just made a lesbian crack, I thought you'd use your male wiles to set me straight."
"Please, don't pun, and does it mean that I have to stink, too?"
"Well, no, but your old Biology lessons tell us different, for that stink can be a good motivation for a female animal."
"It's hard to say 'no' to you, huh? No pun intended."
She beamed. "See, that's why I'm in charge."
"As much as I'd like to quibble on who's the real boss, I'm going to…stop being an idiot, and kiss you." Jack slanted forward, engaging in an unrestrained kiss.
Her hands trailed southward. "Who needs a shower, anyway?"
"I'd rather have a nap, but I'll take the insomnia."
Abbie's thumb was on his bulging inseam. "Now, who is wielding all the special innuendos and puns?"
Ready to unzip his fly, the phone rang. "Damn," he muttered prior to answering.
"McCoy. Yes, yes, alright, I'm on my way." He slammed the receiver onto the cradle.
"That can't be good."
"That upper-class kid just hired a Muslim lawyer, and the attorney wants to meet me beforehand. I know the man, so the meeting shouldn't take forever."
Her palms were raised. "Don't let male hormones get in the way of justice."
He refastened his tie. "I always seem to have this horrible timing, don't I?"
"I don't mind, for I'll use the time to catch up on my sleep. I think it may be windy tonight, so wear a better…." The firebrand was instantly asleep. He draped his present coat over her like a blanket.
"I'm too tired to drag in a comforter, so this will have to do. Sweet dreams, Love." He kissed lightly her temple, disposed of her indigo low-heels and departed.
Abbie awakened some time later, clutching the makeshift comforter. Following a failed vocal search of Jack, she lingered languidly on the couch. She envisioned both herself and her boyfriend in bed, cuddling one other. Her breathing shallow, she inhaled unexpectedly the scented jacket.
Several more whiffs would distort her vision as the illusory male proceeded to caress her. Her mammalian brain stirred, her eyes widened in alarm at the sensation of her moistening loins.
"I should wait for him, but that won't help me much now. This actually would be a good chance to — oh, stop thinking with your head, Carmichael, and think with your…"
Involuntarily, she stripped off her gray pantsuit ensemble. Swaddled in only his overcoat, she laid facedown on the cushions, the dark eyeliner staining. Her mind's eye had her on top of her aged mate, grating his penis' shaft. In reality, her crotch was rubbing the middle pad.
"Damn it, Jack, hurry home before I drag you in myself."
She waved her jet-black hair rearward with a lustful smile. The moans intensified while she scraped her colored labia against the textile, marking her territory. The various intermixing aromas created a perfect catalyst, for her pelvis shifted in hyperactivity. Soon, she achieved a frenetic routine of thrusting herself upward, rasping her vagina downward and calling out her lover's name.
"Oh, Jack, if you don't show up in the next second, you're never going to sit down here again. Oh, Jack…!"
Her flesh and nostrils ablaze, the animalistic female exploded after a final descent. She collapsed on the drenched wet spot, and blushed like there was no tomorrow.
"Embarrassment aside, I can't wait to see the look on your face, Jack — and in your jacket to boot. Despite yourself, you know you love our unique game of dominance," she uttered, her eyelids drooping.
Jack slogged home with a frustrated look on his face. Nonetheless, his disposition brightened even as he inserted his key into the padlock. Silently allowing himself in, he located his snoozing girlfriend, clad only in his garb.
"Apparently, you started without me," he whispered.
His index finger patted affectionately one of Abbie's flawless cheekbones. "One: I'm going to make that kid pay for this. And, two: judging from the mess, it appears you rather enjoyed yourself, Love. Guess I can't wear that jacket anymore — Diana would be pleased."
He carried her cautiously into the bedroom. "On the other hand," he gaped at the content facade. "Maybe I should be grateful for that."
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