Title: Anger Management

Author: tinlizzie82

Fandom: Lie to Me

Pairing: Lightman/Foster

Genre: PWP with a helping of angst

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Cal and Gillian get in each other's faces ... until they decide they'd rather get in each other's pants. The question is: will this be the start of something beautiful or just another roadblock in their relationship?

Disclaimer: Lie to Me and the characters are not mine. I just take them out for a spin now and then.

Gillian stepped out into the hall to find Cal standing in the lobby sidling up to yet another beautiful woman. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him run his hand solicitously up and down her bare arm. When he leaned into her personal space with a feral grin on his face, Gillian felt her gut clench. She told herself it was worry over the way he was ignoring the needs of the firm in favor of chasing yet another helpless conquest. It was not jealousy. It. Was. Not.

"Oi, Foster, are you just gonna stand there or do you want to meet our new client, Madelyn Tremain?" Cal called out.

Gillian shook her head, wondering how he knew she was there even though his eyes had never left the other woman. Sometimes it seemed as though they were connected by some sort of invisible umbilical, each overly attuned to the others existence. Unfortunately, there were also times she wished they weren't so tied. This was one of them. She pasted a false smile on her face and emerged from the shadows.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Gillian Foster, Dr. Lightman's -"

"- parole officer," Call interjected.

"- partner," Gillian finished.

Cal shrugged his shoulders and muttered under his breath, "if the shoe fits ..."

Gillian gave Cal an evil look, then turned back to the now confused client. "I'm afraid Dr. Lightman hasn't told me about your case," she said with a smile that Cal knew meant trouble.

"But I will," Cal said as he quickly insinuated himself between the two women, "just as soon as we've discussed it thoroughly." He took the woman by the arm and guided her towards the door. "Tomorrow, lunch?"

"The same place as today?" Madelyn asked.

"Perfect, luv. I'll see you then."

When Cal turned around, Gillian was still standing there, a disapproving look ingrained on her pretty features.

"What?" Cal said as he brushed past her, his hands spread and his eyes widened in an attempt at innocence.

"You know *what*. Is she even paying us Cal?" Gillian said as she hurried down the hall after him.


"With money?"

"Among other things."

Cal paused for a moment, turning back to her with one eyebrow raised and a lopsided grin on his face, wanting to relish the outrage his last statement produced. Then he pushed through his office door without another backward glance, leaving Gillian facing her reflection in the glass.

God damn the man, thought Gillian, why does he insist on acting this way. Cal had always lived close to the edge, but lately he had spent his time dancing on the precipice. I don't care if he takes the plunge, Gillian told herself, I just don't want him taking the firm over with him. But, in her heart, she knew that was a lie. Somewhere, deep inside, in a little corner that she kept under lock and key, she knew that she would gladly toss the firm off the cliff as long as she could keep Cal near her. I want him near only because the man should have come equipped with a leash, she lied to herself before she pushed open the office door with every intention of continuing their argument.

Cal wasn't there. She heard voices coming from the library so, ignoring the fact that Cal might have retreated there because he wanted privacy, she stalked over to the doorway, only to end up even more pissed than before. There on the couch was Detective Wallowski and seated right next to her was Cal. He was canted across the couch at his usual angle, his arm draped casually along the backrest, his fingers trailing across the back of her neck.

"What is she doing here?" Gillian asked. The question came out in a sharper tone than she intended, causing Wallowski to lift her chin in defiance.

"I guess that means you haven't come to take me up on that group hug?" Cal replied in a mocking tone.

"Seriously, Cal, don't even try to tell me she's helping you with Melanie's -"


"Whatever. Don't tell me you need her help with your latest *case*." As soon as she said it, the confused look on that flashed across Wallowski's face told her she knew nothing about the other woman. The nonchalance that followed told her she really didn't care either, which only confirmed Gillian's opinion that this was not the sort of person Cal needed to be spending time with.

"Just keeping the lines of communication open. You wouldn't want me to lose our private line into the cops, now would you, Foster."

"'Lines of communication?' That's a good one, Cal."

"Just doing my part for the firm, luv."

"Look, why don't I head off," Wallowski said, clearly perceiving the tension between the two partners. She gathered the jacket that was thrown across the sofa arm and turned to Cal. "Will I see you tonight?" she asked, cutting her eyes towards Gillian in a silent addition to her question.

"Don't know. It depends on what our self-appointed Mother Superior here has in mind ... I'll call you."

Wallowski nodded and then squeezed past Gillian who refused to vacate the doorway. Gillian watched her saunter out of the office through narrowed eyes.

"I don't like her Cal. She's so crooked it's a wonder she can walk straight."

"Not bloody likely a straight cop would provide the kind of help she does, now is it, luv? We need her."

"No Cal, let's be honest. You want her."

Cal gave her a lascivious look. "Can you blame me?" he asked.

"Yes ... yes, I can. While I'm trying to keep this firm together, while Torres and Loker are working real cases -"

"That's a right laugh that is, what with Loker spending half his time looking for another job."

"Why shouldn't he, Cal? When you're not chasing danger, you're chasing skirts, and leaving the rest of us to pick up the pieces without so much as a 'thank you' afterward." By now she had followed him around the desk, forcing herself into his space, determined to make him listen. What she didn't expect was that Cal would turn the tables, but before she could move, he swung around and trapped her. He planted one hand against the wall, blocking her escape, and leaned into it, his body only inches from hers, his gaze raking her face.

"You say you want me to be honest, luv? Well, honesty goes two ways, so why don't you tell me what's really bothering you, 'cause it's not the bloody company, and it's not the danger, at least not really. That leaves the skirts. Right, luv? You just can't stand to see me with another woman."

Gillian found she was having trouble concentrating with Cal practically plastered up against her. He was so close she could feel the heat from his body shimmering in waves up and down her own. She took a deep breath and gathered up her outrage like a shield.

"Another woman? Just one Cal? Because it looked like you were chasing two of them today."

"What difference should it make to you. You're the one who drew that bloody line between us, so why should you care who I fuck."

Gillian winced a bit at the profanity and Cal spotted it right away. "See, right there, I saw that. Mother Superior is just a little too interested in who I'm shagging. I think that godforsaken line of yours is strangling you, but you're too much of a coward to admit it."

"Cal, that line is there for our own good. People like us shouldn't ... I mean, we can't ..." Gillian tried to lower her eyes in order to collect her thoughts, but quickly found that because of their relative positions, that left her staring at Cal's crotch. Her eyes flew back up. "It doesn't matter," she said in an attempt to redirect the conversation, "you've already said you think of me as Mother Superior, why would you care what I think of your sexual habits."

A slow smile lifted one corner of Cal's mouth as he replied. "I dunno, luv, maybe I fancy nuns."

"That's enough, Cal. Now you're just being crude." Gillian put her hands on his chest and tried to push him away, but he held his position.

"Oh no, you're not getting off that easy," he said, resisting her efforts to escape. "You started this discussion and now you're not leaving until you explain why you took that line of yours and drew it all the way around me. Why do you refuse to have me but don't want anyone else touching the goods. Tell me that, luv. I want you to bloody well tell me that."

But she couldn't. She tried to gather her thoughts and find her voice, but right now Cal's closeness was taking her breath away. Every inhalation filled her lungs with his scent and she knew her respiration was now much more rapid than normal. Not that it mattered, since she had no idea what she would say to his question that came far too close to the truth for comfort. With a supreme effort, Gillian forced herself to look Cal in the eyes, but what she saw there only made everything more difficult. Yes, he was angry, that showed in his face, but his eyes told a different story, their pupils dilated with lust and longing. Any chance she had of making a scathing reply died in her throat as she felt herself drowning in his gaze.

Finally, it was too much. The psychologist in her knew that anger and attraction were kissing cousins, but right now her blood was running so high there was no way she could disentangle the emotions. Almost of its own volition, her hand relinquished its grip on his shirt and crept up to tangle itself in his hair. Then she leaned forward, her lips parting just a little, and before she could stop herself, she kissed him. This was her answer; she couldn't fight it anymore.

His reaction was instantaneous. No sooner had her lips touched his, than he pressed her back against the wall, his mouth hungrily claiming her own. She felt his tongue demanding entrance and her lips parted. In her head, one part of her was screaming that this was a very bad idea, but it seemed that her body couldn't hear because all it wanted to do was climb inside his clothes.

She quivered as his hand found its way up inside her blouse, fingers playing along her ribs until they found her breast and cupped it, his thumb running across her nipple until it stood up hard against the fabric of her bra. His mouth left hers and trailed a burning path along her neck to her ear.

"Gill, luv, you're the one I really want," he whispered in a husky voice and Gillian came undone.

Suddenly, it seemed there were far too many layers between them when all she wanted was to feel his skin, hot against her own. She pulled his shirt up and off, splaying her hands out along his back, fingers reading each dip and curve of his muscled physique. He followed suit, undoing her blouse and pushing it back off her shoulders before pausing to bring his mouth downward and tease her breasts through the thin fabric of her bra. She moaned as his breath warmed her flesh and the next thing she knew, her bra was gone too and her hands were tangled in his hair as his mouth found her breasts, licking and sucking until her nipples were so hard they almost hurt.

She took advantage of the slight space between them to send her own hands south. He gasped as she cupped the erection that was straining against his jeans, one polished nail running up and down the rough fabric and setting up vibrations that made him moan aloud. Then her nimble fingers undid his belt and buttons, releasing him, and her hand was grasping the solid length of him.

He groaned and then returned the favor, pushing her skirt up until it was bunched around her waist, his fingers stroking the wet satin of her panties. He used one hand to lift her leg up around his hip, giving him better access. Then his fingers pushed aside the crotch of her panties and began exploring her wet folds. She released his cock and grasped his shoulders hard, afraid that the trembling in her legs would make her fall unless she clung to him for support. Her entire being seemed focused on his hand as he found her entrance and slid first one, then another, finger inside her. He dipped his knees a bit to get a better angle and then his fingers were right there, and his thumb was drawing lazy circles around her clit, and Gillian thought she might just die from the feel of it.

She could feel the smile on his lips as she moaned into his mouth, her body quivering under his ministrations. He pulled his mouth away and whispered huskily to her.

"Say it, Gill, I need to hear you say it."

And she was so out of control at this moment that she did. Burying her face in his neck she gasped, "take me Cal. Now, please. Take me now."

It was all he needed. in a flash he had her panties down around her ankles and she had kicked them off to who knew where. He shoved his jeans and boxers further down his hips, grasped her waist and swung her around to rest her ass on his desk. She reached between them, guiding him to her entrance and gasping when he paused there, tantalizing her with the contact.

"Look at me, Gill," he growled.

Then, when she did, her pupils so blown with desire that she could barely focus, he slid into her with one smooth thrust. She gave a little cry as she finally felt the length of him inside her, her hips bucking against him as she tried to draw him even further in. Whatever feeble grasp Cal was still maintaining on his control finally shattered and he started to thrust, his rhythm increasing as she met his every move with abandon.

The rough fabric of the jeans he had not bothered to remove scraped against her thighs, but the burn only added to the heat she felt. He buried his head between her breasts, the stubble on his chin scratching across her sensitive skin, further inflaming her. She threw her head back, her breath escaping in small excited huffs as she neared her climax and tried not to cry out.

"Oh God ... oh God ... oh God," she breathed in tiny little moans as Cal slid a hand between them and found her clit, rubbing it in circles in time to his thrusts. In moments she was over the edge. When he felt her body contract around him, his hips jerked and his rhythm quickened even more. With just a few final thrusts, he collapsed against her as he spilled his seed inside her.

They stayed entwined for a while, their sweat slicked skin slowly cooling as they caught their breath. Rocked to her core, Gillian still felt dizzy as she opened her eyes and let her unfocused gaze wander around the room. It was the sight of her panties, which had come to rest on one of Cal's bookshelves in an oddly appropriate location right next to the volume of Freud's collected works, that brought her to her senses. Oh God, we ... we ... in the office, for God's sake ... oh my God. As her mind ran in frantic circles, she pushed against Cal, suddenly embarrassed by their position.

"Move, Cal. We have to get dressed."

"Mmmm. Why?"

"We're half naked and in the office, for God's sake. Someone could come in."

His movements were slow and satiated, but he complied with her request. She turned away from him collecting her bra from his chair and grabbing her panties off the shelf, a deep flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. I came here to take him to task over his flings and what do I end up doing except acting like one of his floozies. I thought I was better than that; I thought *we* were better than that. Now I'll be lucky if he doesn't treat me like them. She shimmied into her panties, damage control on her mind, as Cal cast an appreciative glance at her wiggling ass.

"Cal, this can never happen again," she said as she slid into her blouse. She was still facing away from him so she didn't see the look of hurt that flashed across his face before he schooled his features into a mask of nonchalance. When she turned around, holding her blouse closed in front of her as she struggled to do up the buttons with shaking fingers, she found him slouched against the wall, his shirt on and his pants pulled up, but his belt dangling and his fly open like some sort of mocking invitation.

"Not the reaction I usually get," he said laconically, secure in the knowledge that whatever bee might be in her bonnet right now, her body hadn't been lying a few minutes ago.

Gillian pushed past him, wanting to put some space between herself and his dangerous charisma before she said what had to be said. Before you lose your nerve, a little voice in her head corrected her.

"This can't happen again, we-"

"You already said that, luv. I take it you're about to tell me why."

"We have to respect the line."

"The line we just bloody well blew to pieces?'" he asked incredulously.

"We have to put it back. We have to go back to just friends and coworkers. People like us, people who can *see* things, we need the line."

He looked at her face, reading the fear there and almost felt sorry for for her. Almost. Unfortunately he could also tell from the set of her jaw that there would be no convincing her otherwise; that no matter how much it hurt him, she was going to go ahead and cut this episode out of their relationship in a vain attempt to protect herself. Well, two could play at that.

"Fine, luv. Whatever you want,'" he said as he moved to gather up his keys and coat. "Lock up when you leave."

"That's it?" Gillian asked, unable to hide her disappointment at the casual way he was handling the incident.

"What else is there to say? 'Thanks for the shag, hope you have a nice night?' Hardly what you want to hear."

Gillian flinched at his words, then her eyes narrowed as she wondered why he was in such a rush to leave. "You're going to see her. Tell me, Cal, are you heading straight for Wallowski?"

"What difference does it make to you? Unless I misheard you, you have no plans to make me a better offer."

"Sometimes, Cal, you truly disgust me."

"Only sometimes, luv?" he said with a bitter note as he turned his back and left her to lick her wounds alone in the office.