So, I found part of this fic in a file of random ideas... don't even remember writing it, but the idea just took hold and I found myself writing the rest of it. It's... I don't know what it is. Lol. Read and see for yourself ;-)
Disclaimer: We'd have a lot more scenes like this in Lie to Me if I owned it. Which I don't.
He watched her eyes flutter closed as her lips clamped down on the spoon, drawing it further into her mouth then out again with excruciating slowness. A smile spread over her face, and it was several moments before she opened her eyes and looked at him.
"What?" he echoed, incredulously. "Do you have any idea what you look like eating jam like that out the jar?"
"What?" she said again, with a maddeningly cute giggle.
"You... you just..." He gestured to the hand that held the almost empty jar, then at her other hand which held the spoon that seconds before had been sliding seductively into her mouth.
"Well?" she prompted, and he dragged his eyes from the spoon back to her face.
"What do I look like, eating jam out of the jar like this?"
"You... well... I don't know," he finished lamely, and she gave him a satisfied smirk.
"Jam is great just out the jar. And when you've only got a little bit left..." She shrugged. "You'd like it."
"I don't care for jam."
She laughed. "Bet I could make you change your mind." Her voice was low and soft, and he couldn't help silently agreeing. Gillian Foster probably had the power to make him change his mind about anything. Not that he planned on letting her in on that little secret.
"Nah. Jam's too sweet. And... sticky."
"That's what makes it so delicious."
He was about to protest, try to come up with another argument for why he really didn't like eating jam, when he saw her finger sliding into the jar, the spoon now placed back on the kitchen table. She swirled it round the jar, catching the last few globules before looking at Cal with a playful smile on her face. "Come on, Cal," she said, stepping closer to him. "You know you want to try some..." She held her finger to his lips, inviting him to taste it, to taste her.
He hesitated for only half a second before slipping her finger into his mouth, his teeth lightly scraping over her delicate bones, his tongue swirling over her skin, sucking her finger long after every trace of jam had been removed. Eventually he released her finger, and she slowly withdrew it, their eyes still locked on one another.
"So? What do you think?"
"I think that's the best bloody jam I've ever tasted."
She laughed. "Told you so."
"Got any more?"
"Afraid not." She gestured to the empty jar, amused when his face creased into a frown. "But you know, there is one way you could taste some more, Cal," she said huskily, leaning closer to him, licking her lips, which still bore faint traces of the jam.
"Oh yeah?" His eyes were fixed firmly on her mouth, mesmerised by the way her tongue glided every so lightly over her bottom lip. "What's that then?"
She leant even closer, until their lips were millimetres apart, and whispered, "The shop's only half a mile down the road, go and buy another jar."
His face was a mixture of amusement and mild irritation when she drew back, then before she knew what was happening he was pulling on his jacket. "Alright, love," he said, heading towards the door. "On one condition."
"Hmm?" she questioned at his retreating figure, noting the added swagger to his step.
"Yeah," he called back over his shoulder. "I buy it, and you eat it with me."
"That's the kind of deal I like."
"Oh, and Foster?" He stopped at the door, turning back to look at her as he addressed her again.
"There won't be any need for spoons."