Author's Note: There was really supposed to be more of a plot here, I swear. Calleigh and Eric had other plans. Oops.
She'd almost turned him down when he invited her over for a beer-and-pizza movie night. It was something they'd done with a degree of regularity when Speedle was still alive, but only a handful of times since. There was something sad now about double-cheese-extra-pepperoni pizza – something other than its potential for life-threatening cardiac episodes. There was a hole, a vacuum, an absence of snark as the blonde bimbo in the slasher flicks stumbled inevitably to their doom. Neither Calleigh nor Eric could muster the Tim Speedle wit, and without it, movie night just seemed…. lacking.
But it had been a long day for everyone, and she was feeling tired and edgy and wired and lonely. So she took him up on the offer, against her better judgement. Now they were standing in his kitchen, Eric the loading the heart-attack-in-a-cardboard-box onto plates while Calleigh cracked open the beers.
"Y'know, kidnappings are always rough, but when there's a baby involved…" Eric shook his head, tugged a springy band of cheese until it snapped then shook it off his fingertip before it burned.
"Yeah," Calleigh agreed, swapping a cold bottle for the scorching plate he offered. "Although at least the babies aren't as cognizant of what's really going on as the toddlers, the little kids… Those are the worst." She set her plate on the countertop; Eric bit into his slice immediately and cursed before spitting the entire bite back onto his plate. "Classy. You do this every time."
He was too busy bathing his scalded mouth with icy beer to to more than glare at her. She shrugged, and smirked at him until his lips twitched up in response. He swallowed, slugged another mouthful, held it for a moment and swallowed again. "It's hotter than usual this time."
"I bet." Calleigh pressed a fingertip to the end of her slice, deeming it still too hot for consumption. She dutifully ignored the way Eric licked his lips and swallowed hard when she sucked the little bit of spicy grease off the end of her finger. Maybe putting the two of them alone with alcohol had been a bad idea after all.
"It is." His voice had gone just a little deeper, just a little distracted. Calleigh wondered when they'd last been alone together outside of work, and had to search herself for a moment to come up with the answer: the night Jake left. He'd come over with ice cream and they'd watched movies on the couch. That was before she knew what was written in his file. Before he'd watched her sob herself out on the demolished floor of a safehouse. Before last week's "sexcierge" box had invaded her dreams until she woke up feeling sweaty and itchy and guilty and unsatisfied. Maybe tonight had been a really bad idea.
She took another deep swallow of her beer and watched as Eric picked up his pizza and bit in again, a little more cautiously this time. The moment seemed to have passed, so Calleigh let herself relax. This was Eric, after all. Her best friend. She was safe as houses. "I can't believe the baby was okay. Horatio said the SUV rolled three times and she was still strapped in."
"Yeah," Eric chuckled incredulously. "Remind me to ask the Walshes what kind of car seat that is. I want one when I have kids."
"Right?" Shaking her head slightly, Calleigh leaned against the countertop and picked up her pizza. She bit in gingerly, and when she was certain the gooey cheese wouldn't scald her, she chomped down in earnest, the taste of hot pepperoni exploding over her tongue. She could've died on the spot. After the health kick she'd been on for the last year, pizza suddenly seemed like manna from heaven.
Her bliss was short-lived, however, when a moment later she felt the hot splatter of sauce dripping onto her shirt. Her yellow shirt. Her new yellow shirt. She dropped the pizza back onto the plate with a ripe curse, reaching for the paper towel Eric was already holding out to her and dabbing gently at the glob of sauce. "Damnit, this shirt is new!"
"Little bit of club soda should get it out," he assured her, turning and tugging open the fridge. After years watching him eat, it didn't surprise her in the least that he had a bottle of the fizzy soda tucked in his refrigerator door. "Just take your shirt off. You can borrow one of mine."
Calleigh froze, vaguely aware that she was gaping like a fish, then shook herself out of it. "Not in front of you."
"You don't have anything I've never seen," he tried to shrug nonchalantly, but there was no way either of them could deny that the tension in the room had kicked up a notch or two the moment he made the suggestion. "And the longer you wait, the more likely that will stain."
Calleigh steeled herself and nodded. "Fine. Go get the shirt. But tell me when you're coming back and shut your eyes. You may have seen topless girls before, but you've never seen me topless. And you're like a brother to me; it would be… weird."
It was a low blow, and she knew it, but Calleigh was fully aware of the danger zone they'd be in if she was topless in his kitchen. Still, she felt a pang of guilt when his mouth tightened slightly before he strode out of the kitchen. It's better this way, she reminded herself. At least until you figure out what exactly you want from this…
Her fingers shook just a little as she flipped open the buttons of her shirt and shrugged it off, leaving her standing in his kitchen in her slacks and a lacy pink bra. She reached for the club soda and focused on trying to draw out the stain. If she could do it fast enough, maybe she could get her shirt on before he came back.
It was a testament to her self-control that she didn't shriek in surprise the moment she felt his palms settle on her hips. All she could think of to say over the sudden roar of her pulse was, "I told you to tell me when you were coming back."
"Yeah. I didn't." His hands slid around to her stomach and laced there, pressed just over her navel. "I wanted to see you."
"Eric…" Oh, they were in trouble now. She could feel the warmth of him against her back, against her belly, and she wasn't sure if she felt trapped or soothed or just anxiously aroused.
"Don't." And then his mouth was on her, sucking a wet, insistent kiss just below her ear, and her knees went weak. "And don't tell me I'm like a brother to you; we both know you're lying. I am nothing like a brother to you, and I'm tired of waiting for something to happen between us."
Teeth caught her ear with a sharp, lusty bite, and then he turned her in his arms and crushed his lips to hers. Calleigh wasn't sure exactly what she'd expected when it came to kissing Eric, but she was damned sure this was better than anything she'd imagined. His lips were softer than she'd thought they'd be, but more insistent as they worked against hers; his tongue was every bit as skilled as she'd imagined when it stole access to her mouth during a soft gasp. She wasn't surprised by the way he brought a hand up to tangle into her hair and hold her close, but she was brutally surprised by the sudden aching hunger that surged in her.
She wanted to devour him, every bit of him, right now. One arm shot up, looping around his neck and pulling him closer until she was pinned tightly between his body and the countertop. She met him in the kiss, poured herself into it, and tasted the tang of beer on his tongue, the spice of pepperoni and lusty Cuban. His hands slid south, down, down until he could cup her rear and hoist her up slightly, balancing her carefully against the edge of the countertop as she wrapped her legs around his hips. Calleigh wasn't sure exactly what possessed her, but as they parted just enough for a gasp of much-needed oxygen, she ducked her head back in and nipped at his lower lip.
Fingers squeezed tight against her rear, ground her hard against him until she moaned his name, and Calleigh realized she'd just poured gasoline on a lit fuse. His mouth was tearing down her neck now, sucking and kissing as his breath washed over her in harsh pants. Calleigh tilted her head to give him better access, gasping at a careless scrape of teeth over her pulse and sending one hand back to steady herself against the countertop. Her hand knocked against a bottle of beer, and before she could move to steady it, he had pulled her harder against him and jerked them away from the countertop. She heard the clatter of glass on granite as the bottle toppled over, but she was far too concerned with the kitchen table he'd now plopped her on the end of to care about spilled beer.
As Calleigh set to work on the buttons of Eric's shirt, he sent one arm fanning across the table, sending mail and oranges plummeting to the floor. She only made it through half the buttons before he was kissing her hungrily again, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts eagerly, tugging flimsy lace aside to find hardening peaks and rub and tug and tease until she was crying out softly. She gave up on buttons, gripping the sides of his shirt and yanking. There was something oddly satisfying about the pop-pop-pop of the last three buttons, and the way they scattered onto the table around her, but that was nothing compared to the low growl of pleasure the action seemed to draw from him and the way his mouth careened down her neck, over her collar; her whole body throbbed with anticipatory lust when it became clear where he was headed.
While his hands skirted behind her to expertly release the clasp of her bra – Calleigh didn't want to think about how much practice he'd had at hastily removing women's lingerie – hers shoved at his shirt until it clung around his shoulders. He shrugged out of it when he pulled her bra away, then pulled his tank top over his head as well, and Calleigh took a moment to admire the smooth skin and defined muscles of his bare torso before he urged her flat on her back and found her nipple with his mouth. Oh, sweet Jesus. Teeth nipped gently, followed by a soothing swirl of tongue and Calleigh's hands shot down into the space between them, fumbling blindly with his belt as she arched herself closer to his mouth.
She managed to free the buckle and the button before his hands found hers and pinned them to the table near her hips, then slid up until he was cupping her shoulders, holding them down as his mouth grew more insistent against her. Calleigh had never been one for submission, but she found she didn't mind so much when it was Eric holding her down. Especially when he'd begun to alternate the soft bites and licks with hard sucks and harsher nips. Her legs wound around his waist again, tightening to pull him closer to her and she couldn't fight the sob of pleasure when he ground his hips hard against hers and gave her a firm, slow suck at the same time.
She barely heard his murmured "fuck" before he began a rhythm against her, grinding his hardness against her through too many layers of fabric. It was too much and not enough all at once. "Eric, God, please… I have to…" She fought her hands between them again, but he released her shoulders and stood, pushing her hands away and reaching for the button and zipper of her pants instead, freeing them and nudging her to untangle her legs so he could tug them down and off, leaving her naked on the table. The way he looked at her, all lust and heat with an undercurrent of utter adoration, made her feel powerful and stunning.
She reached for him again, but was thwarted one more time when he dropped to his knees and tugged her hips right to the edge of the table. As his head ducked in toward her center, she sent a hand down to stop him. "Eric, no. Please. I want you in me when I…"
Evading, Eric turned his head and traced his tongue against her thigh, murmuring to her, "Do you know how long I've waited for this? How many times I've imagined doing this to you, imagined what you'd taste like, imagined how you'd sound when you come against my-" And that was more than enough to have Calleigh shifting her grip and tugging his mouth to her sex. If she hadn't been so far gone already, she'd have been mildly offended at the way he chuckled smugly as he brought his tongue to press against her clit, swirling it in a slow circle as his arms wrapped around her thighs and tugged her even closer.
Calleigh felt heat race over her skin, a thin sheen of sweat already blooming as she arched her back and moaned. She white-knuckled the edge of the table when he began to suck, squeezed her thighs against his grip when he nipped oh-so-gently. When he set up a steady rhythm of sucks and licks and sloppy open-mouthed kisses, she began to babble his name, her hands shooting up to fist in her hair, slapping back down to grip the table again, back and forth as the pleasure began to coil tightly in her belly. She was dimly aware that hers wasn't the only voice sounding in the room. In between her cries of pleasure, she could hear him moaning hungrily against her, lapping her up like a cat with cream, like she was delicious, like he loved this, and God, just another… just one more… "Fuck!"
She was gripping the table again when she came, her hips squirming against his firm hold, against the relentless assault of his mouth and just when she thought she might spill over again, he turned his head and pressed his face to her thigh. She sucked in air, stared at the ceiling, and blindly grazed her nails along his scalp. "That was… wow…"
Eric nodded, pressed a kiss to her thigh and pushed to his feet. "Do I need a condom?" he asked, finally tugging down his zipper and shoving his slacks down, stepping out of them.
She wiggled a little closer and wrapped her legs around his waist again, shaking her head. "God no."
One hand was gripping his shaft, nudging the tip against her entrance, while the other cupped the back of her thigh, gave it a slow stroke. "You're fucking incredible, do you know that?"
"Because I'm not making you wear a condom?" she breathed, quirking a brow at him, and lifting one hand to tangle her fingers with his against her thigh.
"No," he murmured before sinking into her and groaning, "'Cause you're you."
Calleigh's body drew tight again, still hovering at the edge of another release, and she squeezed his body closer with her legs, urged him as deep as he could get. Her pulse was hammering, her fingers held tightly in his grip as he shut his eyes and clenched his jaw. "I'm really close," she breathed to him, giving his hand a squeeze. "I won't take long. Don't wait."
"Oh, thank God," he exhaled, beginning to move in her at a quick and eager pace. Calleigh shifted her hand to grip the table again, grunting and gasping at the quick, sharp pleasure between her thighs. Yeah, definitely wouldn't take long. She cried out, arched her back, opened her eyes to watch him again. Green locked with brown and she was lost in him. She watched his eyes go so dark they were almost black, watched the way his jaw worked as he fought to hold out for her, felt the strong, sure thrusts in and out of her, in and out, in and out, fierce, possessive, satisfying. And then his hand landed between her thighs, thumb falling on her clit. All it took was two short rubs and she was a goner.
Pleasure slashed through her again, quick and violent and consuming. She screwed her eyes shut tight and called out his name, louder and louder with each thrust, with each wave of pleasure that swamped her until finally she fell limp and gasping, spent. He followed a moment later, settling onto his elbows over her, his weight sinking against hers and pinning her to the table.
The only sound in the room was their breathing, quick and heavy, and she felt the soft press of his lips against her shoulder once, twice, then a slow, wet kiss in the hollow there. Calleigh felt boneless and brilliant, lifting an arm lazily to cup the back of his head.
Finally, she broke the silence. "Okay… We should have done this weeks ago."
"Years ago," he corrected, and she chuckled, then gasped softly when he pulled out of her, standing fully and stroking his palms along her still-trembling thighs. He was looking at her again, tilting his head slightly and letting his gaze wander slowly across her torso. She hadn't known it was possible to blush while she was still so flushed from sex, but sure enough she felt the heat rise in her cheeks again.
"Eric… stop that," she murmured, and his gaze flicked to her face again as he trailed his fingertip up to circle her navel.
"Staring." She squirmed a little, both from the slow tickle of his fingertip grazing her skin, and from the awkwardness of being so exposed.
"Mm." His lips curved slowly, both palms pressing flat to her skin, then swooping up slowly to cup her breasts. "Absolutely not. You're too pretty to stop looking."
Calleigh rolled her eyes at him, but couldn't help the smile that curved her lips. "Flatterer."
"Mmhmm. You deserve it." Her bent over her again, thumbs brushing over her nipples as their mouths met in a slow kiss. The slow sizzle of pleasure made her gasp softly into the kiss before she murmured his name warningly. "Y'know, I have a bed…" he suggested, nibbling her bottom lip enticingly. "We could do this right."
Calleigh's brows shot up as she scoffed at him. "That wasn't right?" she questioned. "Because it felt pretty right."
Chuckling, he backtracked carefully. "No, I just mean… I want to take my time." His mouth was wandering along her jaw now. "Learn what you like…" Kisses were planted down her throat. "Be inside you for more than three minutes before I come like a kid on prom night."
Ah, there it was. "Oh, I've no doubt your stamina far surpasses a quickie on the kitchen table," she assured, letting her hands wander his back before they looped around his torso and settled there.
"Then let me prove you right."
She might have protested, might have insisted they eat first before the pizza got completely cold, but his lips were teasing around the edge of her nipple now, and suddenly it seemed silly to refuse him. She'd done enough of that already.
Fifteen minutes later, they made it to the bedroom. Two hours after that, they were cocooned beneath his sheets, Calleigh's warm, sweaty body curled against Eric's side. She felt like she was glowing, like every inch of her was humming with sated pleasure. Her hand was resting on his chest, over his heart, and his fingers were tracing lazily over hers, over the back of her hand, down her wrist and back up.
And Calleigh had been proven absolutely, unequivocally correct.