Disclaimer: Not mine, don't own, don't sue. Just having fun (OH SO MUCH FUN) with them
All things which are Caesar's
She'd needed the air. Not that she was drunk or anything (though the three quarters – or was it seven eighths? Estimation had never been her strong suit – empty bottle at her side might say something different) after all, Torres had helped her drink all this scotch. And okay, she maybe drank a little bit more, but that was hours before.
She took a deep breath and felt the cool air hit her lungs and she looked up with a tiny smile. Okay maybe she'd drunk a bit more than her fair share. But she wasn't incapable of semi-clear thought, and the night air was making her feel better already.
There were no stars. She felt like there should be stars, but there were only low clouds, reflecting the amber lights of the city back down over it in a mockery of romantic lighting. She could make out the moon, hanging low and hazy, swathed in wisps of burnt orange and slate clouds. Not covered, but not uncovered. It was a bit like a celestial peep show.
She giggled at that thought a little bit, pressing her hand over her mouth as she drank in the peace around her. There was traffic below, but it sounded far away and muted, like some foreign land below her that she couldn't recognize.
She heard the last track of the disc she'd put on repeat start inside and she swayed slightly with a smile. She loved this song. Loved this whole album really – a gift from Cal on the first anniversary of opening their business. They couldn't afford much back then – she laughed, the sound catching in the back of her throat – they couldn't afford much now either. She wondered idly if that's why he'd been playing poker with Johnny in the first place.
She heard his voice, and she straightened up, adjusting her sweater, assuming that he'd found Ria, asleep in the break room, and now would be on the prowl for her. She looked up at the sky one more time – she wished there were stars, and wondered if wishing on lamp lit amber clouds was just as lucky as wishing on a star?
Turning to glance over her shoulder, she saw a light in the hall and she turned to face him, pulling at the shoulder of her sweater nervously. When he rounded the corner, a smile broke across her face involuntarily. He was still in his miner's hat – light on and all. She assumed he must have pilfered that from the mine owner."Hi!" She laughed as she walked toward him and met him in the middle of the balcony.
"You know," she looked up as she spoke, pausing because she could feel herself swaying slightly, "I never realized there were so many stars." She looked back down, waiting for a response to her clearly false statement, waiting to see how she should play this exchange. It was an important one, and she knew this, though he didn't. Or wouldn't, until afterward. She squinted slightly to combat the glare of the light on his hard hat.
"There aren't." His voice was calm and he edged closer to her, putting his hands in his pockets and she swayed away and then back in automatic response. There was always a synchronicity to their movements that she usually appreciated, but tonight should be – no needed to be different. Than everything that came before it. She'd decided that earlier, curled around her crystal tumbler and into his leather armchair. "That's my very expensive scotch talking." She swung her body around to eye the nearly empty bottle behind her. He didn't sound angry, which was good. And more than that – an improvement, so she smiled slightly as she turned back toward him.
"Oh," she faced him fully now and her arms seemed to be moving in a bit slower of a slow motion. "What's mine is mine." She stated and he watched her thoughtfully, she stepped back and caught herself, cursing the (amazingly hot but precariously high) heels she'd chosen to wear that day. They matched her shirt. They'd made her smile that morning, which was reason enough to wear them, screw comfort as a factor. What had she been saying? Oh right. The scotch. "Render unto Caesar, you know..." She lifted her arms in an open gesture, and they hit her legs when she dropped them, and she smiled, marvelling at her own ability to be this drunk and still quote the bible at the man. She was good. "...and all that." She looked at him again, but his face was shadowed by the light on his hat. Probably why he'd kept the damn thing in the first place.
Not that she minded. It was a bit dirty, a different look for him – more Jimmy the Mouth than Cal Lightman and maybe she liked that. Maybe a bit too much, but it didn't matter. She could see his smile though, and hear his oh so quiet chuckle. "Loker's earned his stripes, finally."
His admitting this actually surprised her for a moment, and she took a breath. She never thought Cal would ever validate their young intern's attempts to impress his un-impressible boss. Of course, telling her this and telling Loker were two entirely different beasts. She paused to think about it, but all she could think of was how she couldn't let him deflect her – not this time. And she needed to see, actually see his face for this, so she didn't say anything at all, opting to brace a hand against his shoulder as she reached back and removed one shoe. He was... he was deflecting, and she had a... a... something she wanted to discuss with him and what was that? Not Loker, definitely not. Scotch. And Jimmy. And Johnny, and oh right. "The FBI." She started, leaning to her left and removing that shoe too, "They won't be back." She sank, barefoot onto the cold concrete before him, flexing her toes as she was finally below that glaring light and able to see his eyes, so she waited for a response.
He looked at her for a moment; she could feel his gaze and she curled her toes under her feet at the heavy weight of it. "That scotch was a gift from a very grateful client." He was deflecting again and she looked at him, raising a hand to point a finger at him only to realize she hadn't dropped the second shoe. No matter, she just continued to hold it in her hand as she raised her brows at him.
"Johnny Wheels was a client?" She asked with a repressed smile, knowing she had him now. Deflect your way out of this one.
"You have had a good day, haven't you?" His voice was low and she felt a shiver slide down her spine at how inappropriate he made that sound. He shifted closer as he spoke, she could hear the shuffle of his shoes on the concrete, but she didn't look down, didn't let the tone of his voice distract her (much), and didn't look anywhere but in his eyes.
"And you're gonna thank me for it." She swayed forward in order to emphasize her point, and he smiled down at her as she almost pushed her balance too far forward. She laughed slightly, before looking up at him seriously. This was it. What she'd been trying to lead him to all along on his own, but if she had to force it out of him she would. "You're gonna say thank you," she spread her arms and closed her eyes for a moment, before deciding to keep them closed for the rest of this – it was nice. Dark. And she could feel the cool breeze and the heat from him standing so close. She bit her lip before continuing, opening her eyes and looking down. "And, I'm gonna stand here until you do." She met his gaze then, surprised by the amusement, happiness and arousal she could see in his gaze. She swallowed and he turned to face her squarely, lining his body up with hers, his eyes tracing over the length of her form just once, before he ran his tongue over his lips and he met her eyes. She felt her heartbeat reverberate throughout her body in the second of silence that followed. He just stared at her for a moment, a strange expression on his face and she leaned forward to get a better look, but leaned a bit too far forward and she laughed as she fell into him.
Her face burrowed into his neck, and she inhaled deeply smelling sweat and iron and dirt and under it all, that spicy scent that was uniquely his. He smelled like a hard working man, and it was oddly invigorating, causing her to giggle into his neck more as his hands came up to brace her weight, palms on her shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her, and she pulled her own out from between them to put over his shoulder, wrapping the other one behind him as she buried her face into his shoulder, a small noise escaping from the back of her throat. Her shoe still dangled from her hand, and she felt one of his hands in her hair, stroking there lightly while the other settled at her hip. Seriously, he gave the best hugs. The best, warm, safe, all over her hugs. She could happily hug this man forever, and moreover, it felt like it had been forever since she had. She felt the angry tension drain out of her, displaced by the heat and utter contentment filling her up. He was swaying – or was she swaying? – but either way it was a bit like dancing and he smelled delicious, and she lifted her arm to pat the top of his helmet as his hand in her hair slid down to her neck and stroked her back before sliding back up to her nape. It felt like coming home. It felt amazing, along every inch of her, but she was supposed to be making a point.
And it was a point she needed to make. "I'm waiting," her voice was slow and reluctant, not from the alcohol, but more from the utter content and warmth that she always felt in his arms. She didn't want to leave. It was the same every time they did this – she just never wanted it to end. Reluctantly she dropped her arm, and pulled back slightly. His face was inches from hers and she felt a strange urge to lean forward, but she simply looked at him expectantly instead pulling back more completely. He reached out to touch her face briefly before dropping his hand and looking at her steadily. She nodded in encouragement and he shifted from foot to foot awkwardly before meeting her eyes.
"Thank you, for cleaning up my mess," He slouched slightly to look in her eyes, "Gillian." He smiled slightly at the end, a little bit amused, a little bit proud – of her or him or both of them, she wasn't sure – and still a little bit of arousal, his pupils dark. She stared at him for a moment, so thankful he'd just said it, out loud, and moreover, meant it.
"I can't wait until tomorrow." She smiled at him as she spoke, her mind moving on from these heavier things, now that he was back and they were right where they were supposed to be.
"Why? What's tomorrow?" He asked absent-mindedly, still staring at her in the dim light.
She leaned forward, feeling peaceful as she deadpanned, "I get better looking every day." She reached up and turned off his light, as he looked at her as though seeing her for the first time. His eyes traced her face and she could tell he was amused, but he didn't smile, just stared at her quietly. Finally he looked down, laughing, before stepping closer to her. She looked down, feeling the weight of the moment wrapping itself around them, and she thought for a moment, a half a second that seemed to last an eternity, that he was going to kiss her when his hand slid down her arm until it reached her hand, pushing the shoe there out of her loose grasp until it hit the concrete floor. His hand joined hers, and his other arm wrapped around her waist, as he swayed into her.
She was dimly aware of her arm coming to rest on his shoulder and that the song was changing, the album beginning again – repeated for what seems like the thousandth time that night. He was dancing with her, only this time there was music, and she could hear it as she watched him watching her. "I listen to this whenever I need to feel better, you know." Her voice was a soft whisper, and he leaned closer in order to catch it.
His steps faltered and he caused her to stumble in closer to his frame, feeling the press of his body against her, with no space between them. He swallowed, still looking down at her with that same expression from earlier. "It's every minute, Gill, you get better looking every minute, not every day. I don't think a man could ever get tired of having you to look at, love. Even though some of us may be colossal idiots and not recognize how lucky we are, from time to time." He made no move to pull away as he spoke, his hips pressed into hers and she flushed because she could feel him there, hard and heavy against her stomach and it caused heat to pool within her, rising in her chest and spreading lower until it was an ache between her thighs. Her fingers curled over his collar, scraping the short hairs at the base of his neck and he licked his lips before opening his mouth again. "I'm sorry, Gill. I've been an absolute idiot, and I've hurt you and I'm sorry for that too." His eyes were searching hers, and they seemed more gold than green in the low light. She smiled fully, readjusting her arm to lie across his shoulders and pull him closer as she hummed the tune of the song they were dancing to under her breath.
"I forgive you." She tilted her head back and smiled up at him lazily.
"Just like that?" He sounded slightly disbelieving but her grin only grew as she nodded, moving to lean her head against his shoulder so she didn't feel this new gaze on her anymore. It made her heart feel like it was beating with more force than it possibly could be and her thighs slid against each other under her skirt. She inhaled deeply, over and over, each breath carrying his scent and she felt like she was getting high from the effects.
"Just like that." She shrugged before biting her lip, "Well, not just like that, but I think you've learned your lesson and I've learned mine, and I'm tired of fighting now. I don't like it, Cal." She could feel him turn his head toward her and she peeked up from where her head lay.
"I don't – Gillian, I don't-" He was still looking at her with that soft expression and she pulled away, missing the scent of him immediately.
"You know what you need?" She stopped moving and he did too, his hand tightening on her hip until she could feel every finger pressed in to her. "You need a drink."
He laughed slightly, shaking his head. "Oh? Did you actually save me any?"
"Umm," she held up her hand, squeezing her forefinger and thumb together as she stuck out her tongue in concentration, "Little bit, yeah."
"Little more than this little." She stepped back, feeling the loss of his body head as his hand slid off her hip. She kept her hand in his though, as she turned and skipped over to the ledge where she'd been originally standing. He stepped up behind her, reaching over her shoulder for the bottle and taking a drink. "I had a glass," she apologized, "but it fell, and..." She leaned over the edge and waved to the pavement below them. "Oops."
He moved closer to see over her shoulder and she turned to glance at him, giggling as she did so.
"That was my crystal, Gill! What're you laughing at?" He was grinning too though, taking two, three, four long pulls from the bottle and finishing it off.
"That is a silly hat, Cal." She laughed again; turning in his arms and reaching up to adjust it slightly on his head.
"Oh this? I dunno, kinda got attached to the thing. Plus it has a light, which is always useful. Helps me see in the dark." He waggled his brows at her suggestively and she smiled, feeling her face heat up. "I'll just take it off then, though – no need for it out here." He placed the empty bottle back on the ledge and lifted his arms and she grabbed them, yanking them down.
"No!" She protested quickly, "I like it. It's... different. Kinda dirty –it looks good on you." He stared at her in shock for a moment and she bit her lip before grinning. "You can leave your hat on."
He laughed out loud, looking around before looking back down at her. His hand came up to trace the side of her face and she shivered, licking her lips as she watched his gaze dart down to her mouth. "That all, then?" His voice was a whisper and he was leaning closer and she kept her eyes on his even while his hand slid under her jaw, behind her ear to tangle in her hair.
"What?" Her question was breathy she knew, but she couldn't seem to care as he moved in ever so slowly.
"Just my hat?"
"Depends. Can I wear it later?" Her laughter was smothered by his mouth descending on hers and she brought her hands to his face, pushing up into him with all her might. She could taste the scotch that still coated his tongue as she opened her mouth under his and she thought it may be biased, but it tasted better in his mouth than it had in hers. He groaned and she felt that sound all the way to her core, so she stood on tip toes, trying to press herself fully against him. She moaned in frustration as her hips couldn't seem to reach high enough to relieve the intense pressure she was feeling now, so instead she shifted left until his knee was between her legs, pressing up and taking her skirt with it, but finally she could grind herself against him in the way she wanted – needed to. The pressure felt so sweet and she moaned once more, in satisfaction. His mouth tore from hers and he pressed smaller kisses along her cheeks and jaw, below her ear and further.
"Oh god, Cal," her gasp was pulled out of her as he leaned over, biting down on the column of her neck even as his hands pulled her hips down and he lifted his leg, pressing up. She felt like every nerve ending in her body was on fire, and logically she knew a lot of that had to do with how sensitized she was because of the scotch, but she just didn't give a damn. If it felt this good inebriated, she probably wouldn't have even survived it sober.
Her hands were sliding under his jacket, pushing it up and off until she forced him to move his hands back and let her drag the coat off of him before flinging it to the ground by one of her shoes. "Gill, Gill," His voice was ragged and she ignored him, leaning in so she could pull the collar of his shirt aside, and lick up the length of his throat. He tasted bitter and salty and it made her mouth water as she pressed frenzied kisses there. His hands were on her arms, curled against her biceps like he was going to push her away, but she lifted them instead, pulling her sweater off and letting it join the pile on the ground. His fingers traced the neckline of her sleeveless shirt, skating over her cleavage as she grinned at him, her skin felt flushed, and her eyes felt bright as she leaned forward, kissing him once more. He pulled her away from the small wall and she willingly followed as he turned them around, his hands skating down over her ribcage and toying with the hem of her shirt. He pulled back once more, and now she could hardly see any colour in his eyes at all, just dark, dark, dark and hot and it made her shiver in anticipation.
"Gillian, we shouldn't-" She reached down between them, pulling her own top up and over her head before tossing it behind her. "Oh, Christ." His voice was a moan and she was already unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off of him with a grin. He pulled her closer and they sucked in a breath together as her skin pressed against his. She pulled back, dropping kisses to his shoulders and chest as his hands dropped to the zipper on her skirt. A moment later it pooled around her feet and she stepped out of it deftly, her hands making quick work of his belt buckle and she continued to kiss down his chest until she was kneeling in the pile of clothes in front of him. She undid his pants and pushed his jeans and underwear down past his knees, leaving him to kick out of them and his shoes himself. Hey –she'd taken care of hers.
His cock sprang forward eagerly, and she giggled slightly, running light fingers along the veins as she pressed a kiss to the tip, softly. His hands gripped her shoulders tightly and he groaned. "Gill, you don't have to-"
"I want to." She looked up at him, one hand wrapped around the silky hot solid feel of him and her grip tightened as she met his eyes. "I like to." Her confession was low, and he closed his eyes for a moment and she giggled, because really – he was completely naked in front of her, but still wearing the hard hat. His eyes popped open at the sound, and he followed the line of her gaze, pulling it off with a laugh.
"Not keeping that on, during this." His hair sprung up in disarray and she grinned, because it looked god damn adorable. She could still see the doubt in his eyes though, and she knew he was thinking that they needed to think this through, needed to talk about this and everything it meant. And maybe they did, but she hadn't been lying a minute ago, and her mouth was already watering, so she bypassed any objections he could think of by pulling his cock up and licking straight up, from base to tip before she lowered her mouth over him. He was thick, but not too thick, and she could still swirl her tongue all the way around him while he was in her mouth. His hips jerked forward and his hands slid up into her hair as he let out a sound she'd never heard him make before. She raised her eyes, and watched his face as his eyes fluttered closed, as she sucked, moving her head up and down, never keeping a constant pace. This was foreplay, not the main event.
The sounds he was making caused a rush of dampness between her thighs, adding to the wetness already there. She moaned and hummed, and his hands tightened in her hair in response. She had always enjoyed it, enjoyed the absolute power she could have over a man in this situation, and she pressed her lips around him, forming a tight seal as she moaned and pulled back and moved forward, over and over again- fast and slow and then fast again. She licked and kissed, and when he opened his eyes, her eyes locked with his, heavy lidded and hot with lust. She pressed her knees together, creating her own pressure between her legs and each time she moved, her thighs slid together, and she could feel herself throbbing and aching.
Finally he pulled at her hair – not roughly, but just enough and she let go with a grin, licking her lips. "Oh God, Gillian, bloody sodding hell." His words were gasps and he kneeled down in front of her, reaching around her to pull their clothes into some semblance of an organized pile, stopping to toss her shoes and his further along before pushing her down on the makeshift bed.
It wasn't comfortable, not by a long shot, but his hands were sliding under the elastic of her underwear and sliding them down her legs, and just then, she could have been lying on a bed of god damned nails and she probably wouldn't have noticed. He pressed a kiss to her knees – first one and then the other and she shivered as the cool air it her, and then held her breath as he pressed his face to the inside of her thigh, dragging his lips up, up, up and he paused, hovering over her, his breath hot and the air around them cold and she could see his shoulders rising and falling as he breathed deeply. "Jesus, Gill, you smell amazing." She closed her eyes, lifting her leg and hooking it over his shoulder, opening herself up to him and she heard his intake of breath. "And so wet, you naughty girl, you really do get off on that don't you?"
"Mmmhmmm," she was beyond words now and she arched her hips up slightly and heard his chuckle.
"Want to be touched, do you Gill?" She opened her eyes to see his grinning up at her from between her legs and she shivered, more turned on at the sight of him there, about to do this. "How badly?" His fingertips were tracing patterns on her inner thighs, up and over her hips, driving her insane because he was touching her everywhere except where she needed to be touched. "Tell me Gill, what do you need?"
"I need you to touch me." Her voice was a gasp as he immediately complied, running his fingertips over her slick folds, but no more. "Oh God, Cal – touch me – harder. My clit." His thumb slid up and over, pressing down on the small bundle of nerves sharply and she looked straight up, seeing points of light over her head. "Now one – no, two fingers, inside. Don't be gentle." She was whimpering and he was following instruction quite nicely, his breathing almost as heavy as hers.
"God, you're gorgeous. God – Gill, it's not every minute, it's every fucking second. Every time you move, breathe, stand still, walk, talk – you just get more and more fucking gorgeous. I don't know how that's possible." His fingers were twisting inside of her, hooking and curling and oh – she could feel every god damn skin cell on her body about to burst.
"Now-" Her gasp was high pitched and she thrust her hips up and her hands dug into his hair. "-your mouth – keep the fingers but suck, Cal, suck-" He lowered his head over her and she jumped in shock at the first touch of his tongue against her clit, moist and warm and oh, so gentle. Her hands clenched in his hair and she pulled. "No, hard, Cal, suck hard. Please." His mouth latched over her, drawing her clit into his mouth and sucking, harder and harder as his fingers continued to move, pressing higher and higher and deeper and deeper until finally, she gasped, stilling as her muscles wrapped around his fingers, rippling as the waves of her orgasm washed over her. The moon looked incredibly bright in the sky, blurry around the edges as it bled stars across her vision.
She took one breath, and then another, her lungs burning with oxygen as she pulled at his shoulders, yanking him up until she could cradle his face in her hands, and kiss him ravenously. She could still taste scotch and him and she could taste her own flavour, and it was driving her insane. His tongue wrapped around hers just as she wrapped her legs around his hips, lifting herself up until she could feel him nudging at her entrance. She moaned, her tongue still wrapped around his as her hands moved down to his ass, gripping and pushing him forward eagerly.
They both broke off for air as he slid inside of her and she looked up at him with wonder, his face was shadowed and she felt so incredibly full, it was bliss. Until he began moving, his hips pumping faster and faster as she lifted her legs higher, trying to get him as deep as she could at the moment. His strokes were long and deep and she gasped when he finally hit a spot that made her writhe beneath him, burying her hands in his hair and flinging her head back. She felt it hit the concrete, a bit of a dull sound and a brief flare of pain but it was taken over by the intensity of her oncoming orgasm, and she barely even noticed it. "Harder – harder, oh, Cal, Jesus Christ, please harder. Shit – oh fuck – oh yes right there." She repeated words, and couldn't even think as sensation overtook her and she dug her fingers into his shoulders as the lights grew more intense around her, flaring on her inhales and dimming on her exhales. She could feel every muscle in her body snap and unwind as he surged forward, pressing her into the hard concrete as he buried his face into her neck and found his own release.
Minutes passed, and the music floated over them as the cold air cooled their heated skin quickly. She winced, feeling the bump on the back of her head, and she was pretty sure she'd scraped her back too, because she could feel cold concrete instead of clothes just above her hip. She laughed suddenly; realizing that oh shit they'd just had sex on top of their clothes.
"What?" His voice was lazy, but he was smiling down at her more openly than she'd ever seen him do.
"What in the hell are we gonna wear home, Cal?" Her laughter was contagious and he chuckled before glancing around in confusion. Finally he met her eyes and he grinned.
"Wanna borrow my hat?"