A/N: For Lightwoman, who prompted me with this forever ago and has barely (haha) poked me about it. And for Calculated Artificialty who is always a fabulous sounding board for fic ideas, and an overall fabulous person to know :)

Cause I thought I'd be fine

He liked to pretend that he was a workaholic. Which was a laugh, really – and a good one if you knew him well enough. Because if you knew him, you'd know there was nothing he hated more than being pinned down to one spot for hours on end. Behind his desk wasn't a place most of his employees looked for him, unless they expected to find him much as he was now, feet up on the desk and a half-full glass of scotch sweating a ring onto the glass table top it rested on.

But he liked to pretend. Pretend that he stayed late every evening because there was work to be done, pretend that he was sitting here, working on his book, or case reports, or analyzing data. He pretended because she actually was a workaholic. She sat across the hall doing actual work and writing actual reports and hell, she could probably write the damn book herself too, if she put her mind to it.

Sometimes he liked to sit in his study, because it was that few feet closer to her office. He could sprawl on the sofa there, and stare at the wall hard enough that he was sure she could feel the weight of his gaze, even through two doors and a six foot wide hallway. Sometimes, when she would finally leave and poke her head around his doorframe while he pretended he was just finishing up so they could walk out together, sometimes he thought maybe she had felt the weight of his gaze. Of his thoughts as he sat here idly. Because they were almost always centered on her.

He liked to pretend, when she was looking that was, that they didn't. But as soon as she stopped looking, his eyes rested on her, lingered and his mind turned the problem that was Gillian Foster over and over and over in his mind until he happened upon a solution.

He hadn't, just as of yet, because it was complicated. Or rather he thought he'd grasped a solution. But in his implementation of it, something had gone horribly, terribly wrong.

He thought she'd been too close.

So he'd pushed her back. Shoved and pushed, even though she fought him every step of the way. They'd be less close, and then she wouldn't be such a problem. He'd still have his friend but he wouldn't be subjected to the pain as much, and he'd be fine, and she'd be fine, and their friendship would be... fine.

Their friendship was fine. Finally back on a more even footing, but she remained constant throughout, steady even through the roughest waters. And she seemed fine too. Quieter, and she knocked before entering now, and everything about her seemed a little more... muted now – her smile didn't reach quite as deep and her laugh was a little more quiet and a lot harder to obtain in the first place. But overall, she seemed fine.

He on the other hand, was an absolute wreck. He missed her. How ridiculous was that? He bloody missed her and she was there, no more than twenty feet away, give or take a few. And every time she smiled that not-quite full smile at him, every time he heard that quieter laugh, something in his chest tightened, compressed and felt crushed.

And now his thoughts were on her, or with her more than ever before. And his solution had made everything better for everyone but him. He dropped his feet from his desk, standing and picking up his drink. He drained it quickly, lying to himself and blaming his introspection on the scotch.


Maybe he would leave first tonight. Not wait for her to come by and walk out with him. Because that was the rule now – it always had to be her choosing when they left. Somewhere along the way it became not okay for him to walk over there and stroll into her office, tell her he was heading out. Maybe it was after the third time he'd done that and she'd stayed and he'd left, alone. He was a slow learner, but he did learn.

Maybe he'd just leave without checking. Even as he thought that, he knew it wouldn't happen. Though on particularly bad days, she did that sometimes. It was her way of telling him – he'd fucked up and she needed time and space. It happened more frequently than he'd liked a while back, but she seemed to check in every night now.

A better sign perhaps. But he was more inclined to look at it as a sign that he was now trapped in parameters of his own creation. He'd done this. He was still standing there, when he heard the echo of her footsteps in the hallway. He looked up just as she stood, framed by the doorway and he consciously exhaled.

She looked effortlessly beautiful. She always did, she had a certain air of charm and class that hung around her like a visible aura. She was looking at him with a small, amused smile. "You finished... staring at your desk?" Her voice was warm, a teasing, but it was softer than it used to be and he ached for the bite.

"What? Oh yeah, just let me grab my jacket." Her ran a hand through his hair before forcing himself to move, walk over to the study, pick up his jacket from where he'd tossed it on the stairs a few hours earlier, and walking back out to the office to see her patiently waiting.

They stepped out of his office, and he punched the code into the keypad, listening for the faint swoosh of locks clicking into place. Their walk down the hall was silent until she turned her head toward him and he caught the scent of her perfume in the gust of air that followed in the wake of her movement. "You don't have to always wait for me, you know."

"I know." He responded in a soft voice, but he had to hold back a sigh. As always, she was attributing more altruism to his actions than ever existed in the first place. He waited for himself. To drag out those last few moments when they were together, sharing the same space, sharing the knowledge that there was someone else breathing in the same air.

They exited the office, and he watched as she turned and keyed in the lock sequence, swiping her key card afterward. He'd complained about the system when it got implemented, he'd rather liked the old-fashioned notion of locks and keys. But she'd just ignored him and gently over rode his objection in that way she had, and then presented him with a chipped fob instead of a key card. 'So it can go on you key ring.'

"Sorry, it just seems like you're spending more time at the office than you should. Or maybe more than you normally do? I don't know." They were standing by the bank of the elevators and she was pressing the button, but it wasn't lighting up at all. She frowned. "Are the elevators down?"

"Well, stairs it is then. Lucky we're on the top floor, eh, Foster? Good exercise." He pulled on the steel handle, opening the door and holding it open with a gesture until she'd walked past him. "And it isn't like I've anything to run home to, now is it? Be doing the same thing, just in a different place. Emily never gets home until just before dinner. And sometimes not even then. She's busy you know – girlfriends and her boyfriend. It's hard to believe she'll be at uni next year, really." His voice echoed obscenely once they were in the stairwell, so he lowered his volume to compensate. "It's a bit depressing looking in here, isn't it?"

She laughed, nodding in agreement as they worked their way down, floor by floor. It was all grey concrete, steel doors on every landing with keypads next to them, and giant garish looking floor numbers painted in black block lettering on the grey wall, just in case you'd suddenly forgotten how many flights you'd descended or climbed. "I should call building maintenance when I get home. They probably already know about the elevators, but still..."

"Yeah, I'd bloody hate to do this climb on the way up to the office. I'm an old man now; I'd probably die of a heart attack halfway there. Here lies Cal Lightman; he died on the third and a half floor, about five steps up."

"Well I think you may be under-" Just then the lights abruptly shut off, plunging them into absolute darkness. She made a surprised sound, and then a more scared sound that made him reach out automatically in the direction he'd last seen her. His hands grasped material and what he assumed was her coat, and he was surprised that he had to forcibly pull her back. She gasped, her hand reaching out until it connected with his shoulder and she pulled herself closer, her breathing more rapid. "Sorry – sorry I missed a step."

"Well no bloody wonder; can't see a fucking thing down here." He complained irritably. "Shouldn't there be a generator or something for emergency lights? This isn't very safe." She was inching closer to him as he complained and he reached on of his hands out until it gripped the rail. "Rail's here love, we should go down to the next landing."

"Or up." She suggested, her voice so close he could feel the puff of air across the back of his neck. "I'd be less likely to fall up. Wait a minute. Let me take my shoes off." He felt her weight on his shoulder increase and the sound of what he assumed was her sliding her shoe off before he felt her shift and then heard her remove the other one.

"Shouldn't be walking about on concrete all barefoot, Gill." He said the first thing that popped into his head. He was finding the all-encompassing dark was difficult to adjust to, and he found himself straining too much to see, when logically he knew that wouldn't happen. There was no light source for his eyes to adjust to. "Ready to go up then?" He felt for her arm, trying to slide his hand down it until he could reach for her hand.

"My shoes are in that hand, Cal, and that's not my arm." He could hear suppressed laughter in her and he grinned at her, even though she couldn't see.

"Thought that felt a bit soft. Wanna take pity on me and let me know which part of you I just groped?" She was sliding her hand from his shoulder, moving it slowly down his arm until he felt her warm hand slip into his carefully.

"Nope." She giggled and he cursed the darkness because he'd dearly love to see the expression on her face. "Okay, ready to turn?"

"Yeah." He agreed and then with one hand on the rail and the other being tightly gripped by her, they slowly turned about on the stair and began gingerly walking up the stairs. They both released a sigh when they hit the landing. The dark was throwing off their balance, and it was a damned frightening thought, tumbling headlong down concrete steps in the pitch black. "Okay. We just need to try the door-"

"Find the door you mean." She muttered as he slid his hand along the wall. The door was on the wall kitty-corner to this one he knew, but he wanted to give himself an idea as to the depth of the space around them. "Oh god we're idiots." She exclaimed before moving closer and releasing his hand only to run them over his jacket slowly.

"Oi, oi – just because I accidentally groped you,"

"I'm not groping you." She muttered, as her hands moved under his jacket swiftly.

"Parts of me beg to differ, love."

She sighed and he fancied that he could hear the smile in it, just a bit. "Your phone Cal. We can use your phone."

"Oh. Oh, right you are. How come you're not looking for your phone though? Or just asked me to get it? Not that I mind, mind you, feel free to continue your physical search. Hint, it's in one of my front pockets. That's all I'm gonna say though." He held his hands up and she pinched his side slightly. "Hey!"

"You deserve it. I didn't look for my phone because it's in my purse and that would take forever to find in the dark. And I thought me looking would be quicker. Get it out." He didn't move, a grin on his face as he imagined her glaring at him, an annoyed frown creasing her brow. He loved that face. Even better when he'd pissed her off enough that her upper lip just curled up slightly, and it conversely always made him imagine running his tongue along it, before sucking that curl away.

"Oh no, you started your search, feel free to finish. Besides we both know my phone's better for this anyway. Bigger screen." This was a friendly argument they often had, and he could almost hear the sound of her eyes rolling.

"Fine." She snapped and he held his breath – he often adored how predictably stubborn she could be. Her fingers trailed down, over the bump of his belt under his untucked shirt, and even lower until she found the hem of his shirt and slid her hand up and neatly into his right pocket. The lining of his pocket was thin, and he could feel the heat from her hand as she reached further down – the joys of deep pockets – before finally ascertaining that his phone wasn't there. Then her heard the clatter of something hitting the floor, her shoes, he assumed and surprisingly it was her other hand that slid into his left pocket. Her fingertips wiggled down, and he caught his breath because she was dangerously close to feeling something that most definitely could not make calls, but finally she wrapped her fingers around his phone and pulled it out with a victorious exclamation.

She pressed the button and the display lit up, causing both of them to wince in the seemingly too-bright light. She was grinning triumphantly and he was praying she couldn't see well enough to take in his rather noticeable arousal. He cleared his throat and she looked up in question. "Your other hand, Gill?"

"What? Oh!" She removed her other hand and stepped back a bit, frowning down at his display. "Sorry. No signal, unsurprisingly, but look – the door!" They moved over to the corner of the landing where the door was located and both of them realized their predicament at the same time.

The door had a completely inactive keypad sitting next to it. "Bloody technology!"

"Okay we should try it anyway – maybe they unlock automatically when there's a power loss?" She looked hopeful until she tried the door that wouldn't budge. She sighed.

"Or, maybe they lock automatically for some stupid bloody reason that doesn't make much sense right now?"

"We can't call anyone – I doubt I'm getting a signal, either, but let me check." She handed him the phone and he held it over her purse while she dug through, searching for her phone. Finally she pulled it out, turning it on quickly. "Dammit." She sighed heavily and he glanced up the stairwell.

"Should we bother checking the other doors?" He wondered aloud and she shook her head in response.

"All of the stairwell doors have electronic locks on them – it was one of the new safety features. I sent you an e-mail about it, don't you remember?" She was leaning against the wall, her face illuminated in deep shadow thanks to the bright screen of his phone.

"I may have just deleted that without reading it, love." He shrugged off his overcoat and spread it out in the corner. "We'll just have to wait it out."

"All night, Cal?" She was moving over too, settling down on to the blanket he'd created. He flopped down next to her, shifting until his back was against the concrete wall and his legs were stretched out in front of him and he glanced over at her.

"Maybe not all night love. Power might kick in before then with any luck. Budge up darling, we'll be alright. And if it is all night, well, I've slept in worse spots. And I'll let you use me as a pillow." He grinned at her and she fidgeted, looking down at her hands.

"What if we have to... you know... go?"

"Use the third floor. I've always hated those lawyers; they deserve a good pissing on, if you ask me." She laughed, her hand covering her mouth. "We will have to conserve the phone batteries though. Just in case. That alright, Gill? Not scared of the dark are you?" He waggled his eyebrows, leaning forward suggestively. She didn't move back, simply sat still and smiled at him in response.

"I don't mind it. We should turn it off now, but let me take my coat off first – we can use it." She pulled her arms out of the coat and pulled it off, before pushing his arm. "Get up for a second." He lifted himself slightly while she spread her coat over his and then they settled down again. At her nod, he put his phone in his pocket, leaving them in complete darkness once again. Silence reigned for a moment, but it was a surprisingly comfortable one. He could hear her soft breaths, and feel the warmth of her body pressed against his side. But he was fidgety by nature and could only take the silence for so long.

"What should we do?"

"Do?" Her tone rose slightly as she spoke and he glanced over, wishing again that he could just see her face.

"Yeah do. To pass time. Can't just sit here in silence all night." He heard her release a breath next to him and he could feel the tension seep out of her body.

"We could... I don't know. Play a game?"

"Oh really?" His interest ratcheted up a few notches and he instinctively leaned toward her as she giggled.

"You are such a dirty old man! I meant like... like twenty questions. Or two truths and a lie. Or something." He could hear the residual laughter in her voice and he listened closely, savouring the bubbly effervescence of it. "Actually I'd like either of those games – finally you can't cheat!"

"I am at a bit of a disadvantage, love, but so are you. Don't pretend like you don't read me too, Gill."

"It's like a vital skill needed to deal with you, Cal. You play everything close to your chest. You're secretive." Her voice was calm as she pointed this out and he suddenly realized that in this situation, she had the advantage. She was the voice expert, the one who could tell a lie based on language alone. With her eyes closed, so to speak.

"Well, you have the advantage now, don't you? I can't see you, and you can still read my voice right? So it's not very fair to play those games, is it?"

"You just hate to lose." She was teasing now, and he could picture the corner of her mouth, twitching upward involuntarily.

"You've got me, love." He held his hands up even though he knew she couldn't see them. His fingers brushed against her and she gasped beside him. He immediately stilled, and focussed on the sound of her breathing – rapid and shallow. Under his fingertips he could feel the soft brush of the fabric of her dress, and he was fairly certain what was under that material, judging from her reaction. He was no schoolboy, but for some reason he felt heat crawl up the back of his neck as he remained still for one second longer before dropping his hands. "Sorry, love, did I startle you?" His voice was higher than usual, but he covered this with a lower volume, while giving her an out.

"No, I heard you move it was just- was just- unexpected." He laughed out loud at that, because honestly, given how long he'd been checking her out when she wasn't looking, and even more when she was, he'd have thought she'd have been braced for something like that for months now. Maybe years. "Why is that funny?"

He stopped laughing at her hurt tone and turned his head to face her, even though neither of them could see. "Really? I'd have thought you'd expected me to cop a feel long before now." He'd meant the words as light-hearted, but the tone in which he spoke them was as far from light-hearted as he could possibly get.

"Cal..." Her tone was awkward as she trailed off nervously and he felt her shift slightly next to him. A beat of silence passed and then he heard her exhale softly. "Why would I expect it?" He could hear her curiosity and he stared at her for a moment, his mouth open, before he snapped it shut and shrugged, running his palms down the legs of his jeans as he thought of an answer for her. The fact that they were slightly sweaty was not lost on him. She honestly made him revert back to a fifteen year old boy – pulling pig tails and all.

"I mean – you've-" he paused awkwardly, and took a deep breath, his fingers digging into his jeans as he spoke. "Surely you've noticed, Gill. The way I look at you, the way I... act around you?" She laughed slightly but quieted down when she didn't his accompanying laughter.

"You do that just to wind me up, Cal." She stated emphatically, and he could just picture her hands waving as she spoke. A second later her hand hit his arm and he smiled involuntarily. "To tease me. You're never serious."

"I am. Always have been. As a heart attack, Gill. I just assumed since you brushed it off, that you weren't interested in me in that way. Course, that didn't stop me from keeping on looking – I mean, you're nice to look at, aren't you?" Her breathing pattern was changing even as he spoke, and he could hear small movements, a rustle of fabric so quiet he'd probably never notice the sound if one of his senses weren't deprived.

"Cal," her protest was weak then, her voice small and disbelieving. "I thought – I thought you didn't – that I wasn't – oh my god, are you serious?"

"Do I sound serious?" He questioned back and she let out a small sound, it sounded high – not quite a moan but not a whimper either, it was something in between and the simple sound of it cause a shiver of awareness to slide down his spine, as nerve endings in his skin suddenly came alive, hyper-aware of her next to him.

"I didn't think I was your type." Her voice was muffled now, and he wondered why – were her hands on her face? Her face buried into her knees – had she even raised them? He hated not being able to look at her, but at the same time, it was a bit of a thrill – the unknown.

"You're not." He was bluntly honest, just like he always was. Tact was not something he was known for, and he never would be. "You're not – but then my type hasn't really ever worked out for me, has it? You're – Gill, you're so far above those women, so-" his voice broke for a second and he had to pause, swallowing and taking a moment to compose himself before he could speak again. "You're not my type because that would indicate that you fit into some small neat, preordained space in my life. There's no space, no box large enough Gill. You're just everywhere, spread across every facet of my life. You're everything to me, and I wouldn't have it any other way – even if I'm not the same to you."

"Oh, Cal," her words were a broken whisper, and he thought he could hear tears in her voice and it caused his hands to move toward her, unbidden. He reached out tentatively, feeling his way toward her in the dark. His fingers brushed what he assumed was her shoulder, so he used it as a reference point – his other arm pulling her into him. A moment later he felt her face by his shoulder, and then pressed into his neck. Her face was warm, almost hot against the sensitive skin of his neck, and he could feel wetness.

"Gill, darling, don't cry." He soothed her even as his hands swept over and down her back, smoothing the fabric of her dress and moulding his hands to the rise and fall of her spine and the curves of her back. Her shoulders shook for a moment longer, but she began to breathe deeply, collecting herself, he knew, and so he waited her out patiently. His hands continued to sweep along her shoulders and back, memorizing and mapping the shape and contour of her. She was silent eventually, and he took the opportunity to simply hold her, revel in the weight of her against his side, and the way that her warmth added to his own. Finally her whisper broke the stillness that had settled around them.

"If you felt that way than why have you been... I don't know, Cal, not like this?" He sighed and leaned his head back, releasing tension in his neck and shoulders as he shrugged, because what answer could he give her? He had a million reasons, but every one seemed inadequate and stupid at the moment, with her pressed against his side, waiting for an answer.

"Because I'm an idiot. I was scared, and if we're being honest, I still am Gill. Right this very moment. I'm terrified. I – I can't lose you. I don't know what I'd do if I did, Gill. I just – I can't, do you understand? I almost did and – and – I just – I-" He was struggling to explain something that felt ineffable, but her fingers brushed against his mouth, soft and gentle, they startled him into silence.

"Shh. It's okay, Cal. I understand." He was robbed of speech, because honestly, he barely understood it himself, how could she? "Nothing you do Cal, nothing is going to make you lose me, do you understand? Even if you wanted me to go, I wouldn't. I couldn't. Do you- do you understand?"He nodded in disbelief, even though she couldn't see him in this absolute darkness. He heard a rustle of fabric, and then felt her lips on his, pressing there even as he remained still beneath them. He felt frozen, arrested in motion while his heart galloped in his chest, seemingly unaware that his movement was restricted. Her lips felt soft, and he ached to return the gesture, but his own fears held him back. Just as suddenly as they were there, the pressure disappeared and he felt the loss like a physical pain, lancing through him.

He was grateful for the absolute blackness they were in, just for that moment, because every image in his head he could conjure of her face right now showed it etched with pain. He didn't want to see that reality. "I'm sorry." Her voice was low and tense - he felt that apology like a fist to his sternum. His breath caught for a moment from the shock of it, really. She shouldn't have to apologize – not for expressing her emotions, and he hated himself just that much more for making her ever feel as if she should. He was a complete git for making her feel as if there was anything to apologize for. He searched for words – any words within his grasp of the English language to comfort her, but all he could think of were lame platitudes like 'don't be sorry' or 'don't stop'. So he opted to say nothing at all, pulling her toward him and pressing his mouth to hers.

His lips were slack this time, and she responded to his kiss, opening her mouth when his tongue traced her lips lightly, revelling in the taste of her. When her tongue met his, he felt as if she were stealing the very breath, the very soul from him. Except it wasn't stealing really, he thought, as his tongue wrapped around hers and his hands pulled her closer. It was sacrifice. He would give it up, for her, to her.

He released her, moving a hand up slowly, tracing the planes of her face that he couldn't see. He could feel the fullness of her lips, the point of her chin, the length of her jaw. When his fingers reached the small space between her jawbone and her ear, she giggled softly. "That tickles." Her voice was a breathy whisper and his exploratory fingers paused, pleased to hear how affected she was by the tone of her voice. He continued, tracing her ear before gently ghosting over her cheekbones, and her nose.

"I wish I could see." His voice was soft and reverent and he could feel the heat rush to her cheeks as they warmed under his hand.

"I kind of like it. Why do you wish you could see? So you could read me?"

"No, love." He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, high enough that he could feel her eyelashes brush against his face. He moved along pressing another kiss to her other cheek. "I've just always had a desire to count your freckles." He could feel her nose wrinkle as he pressed a soft kiss there too.

"Maybe next time." She breathed out, putting her hands on his face, her palms warm against his cheeks as she pulled him down, before kissing his mouth again. She kissed him softly at first, small, tentative brushes of her lips against his. He tried to remain calm, his heart thundering loudly as he remained still. His hands twitched with a desire to ease the ache to touch her. He flattened one against her shoulder and the other slid around until it had slipped under her hair to rest at the base of her neck. His fingers traced small circles into her neck even as his tongue brushed against her lips. They both moaned when she opened her mouth and they sank into the kiss fully. His tongue slid into her mouth again, and the taste of her bloomed across his tongue, sweet and bitter tempered with traces of sugar and coffee.

His hand on her shoulder was sliding down her back now, until it hit her hip, taking a moment to lay there, learning the shape of her beneath his palm. The indentation from her waist to hip seemed as though it were created for his hand to fill. She was moving closer, her own hands sliding down to his neck as she moved up and onto her knees so she could slide across the space between them, swinging one leg over until she could settle down onto his lap. He finally broke his mouth away from her, breathing raggedly as he pressed his forehead to her shoulder as she ground against his erection with a whimper of dissatisfaction.

His hands moved down quickly, feeling his way in the dark until he found the hem of her sweater dress and they slipped under deftly, sliding up and along her thighs, over her hips, pausing only to grip them tightly and pulling her against him, eliciting another moan from them both. "God, Cal..."

"Don't." His whisper was harsh and his hands were on the move again, tickling over the soft flesh over her abdomen, his fingers skipping across her ribs as she writhed above him. Her moans were impatient and she reached down, past his arms, pulling the hem of her dress up and over her head quickly. "In a rush are we?" His amusement showed even in his quiet words, and she leaned forward until the tops of her breasts brushed against his chin and nose. He took this as an invitation, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses all along them as his hands reached behind her, struggling with the clasp on her bra. After his third failed attempt she was laughing, even as her fingers were running through his hair, pulling him closer. "Difficult enough in the light, bloody damn near impossible when I can't see a damn thing." His voice was muffled against her cleavage, and she laughed again, clearly the vibrations tickled her and she slipped her hands between them to reach under the hem of his shirt just as he successfully released her bra.

He slid the straps down her arms until she lifted her hands in order to remove the article. She pulled at his shirt until he sat up fully, causing her to press more firmly against his erection, and his hips bucked up involuntarily even as she pulled the shirt over his head. He couldn't see her face, but soon after, her flesh pressed against his and he shivered at the sudden warm sensation. He could feel a shudder pass through her frame as well and his arms wrapped around her, pulling her impossibly closer.

With each movement, she shifted against his strained erection and she would make a small, whimpering sound. Her breasts felt soft against his chest and he could feel her heart over his, echoing the rapid beat in his chest, just a half-beat behind. Suddenly she shifted in his lap, and the warmth of her skin vanished, leaving him grasping at empty air, searching for the feel of her softness under his hands. "Gillian."

"Pants off now." She commanded from somewhere to his left and he thought she sounded like she was standing over him, so he reached up instinctually, feeling her silky skin and sliding his hand up. He felt her kneecap, and he laughed – she was standing over him, so his fingers traced behind her knee and then continued to crawl up her thigh stealthily. "Cal..." her voice was a warning, but her breath hitched halfway through his name, drawing out the end on a moan as his fingers reached the apex and discovered the satin feel of her knickers against his fingertips. He brushed there lightly, one stroke against the outside of the damp satin, and she moaned, a lovely sound that was. Her hands reached forward for the wall, and he sat up straighter, his hand still resting between her thighs. He could feel the swell there and if he laid his palm still against her, cupping her, he could feel the beat of her pulse through the engorged folds below.

It was his moan then, more of a whimper really, as he reached up, hooking four fingers under the waistband of her knickers and sliding them down until she stepped out of them willingly. As soon as they were mid-thigh, the smell of her wrapped around him, warm and musky and he let her take over the removal of her under garments as his hands slid up eagerly. He gripped her hips lightly, realizing that the dark was an advantage really, so he released her, but didn't put his hands back on her. Instead he let the scent of her guide him as he sat up further, snaking out his tongue and touching her with it. She tasted better than she smelled, and she clearly hadn't expected that because she gasped, her knees buckling slightly but he reached behind her, catching her with his hands on her ass as he buried his face in her warm, wet center. He licked along the folds, pressing his face into her until he could feel her respond, grinding down on him, her clit rubbing against the bridge of his nose as his tongue reached downwards and stroked up quickly.

"Cal!" His hands were gripping her ass tightly, and he sucked on her lips gently, then more fiercely as she writhed against him, sitting on his face as he slid his tongue between her folds and dipped it inside, where she was silky smooth, hot and pulsating around him. She was still gasping, still grinding herself against him and he tilted his chin up, allowing his tongue deeper access and the tip of his nose rode along her clit. He licked and suckled until her juices slid down his chin, his pauses to breathe were erratic, causing him to be light-headed from the lack of oxygen. He didn't give a shit, and the fingers on one of his hands loosened before sliding across her ass to dip between her legs, joining his tongue as they slipped inside her from behind and delved in and out before curling against the rough spot inside.

She gasped, emitting a high pitched whine when he slipped his fingers out, wet with her juices and resumed his frantic licks, his tongue dipping in and out as he pressed up against her clit. When his fingers reached behind her, pressing between her ass cheeks against the puckered opening there, she shot straight up, her legs picking up her own weight again. He followed her though, licking up her folds to suck on her clit as his fingers pressed gently against her rear opening. His other hand released her ass and came up between her legs to slip into her folds as he continued to suck on her clit, hard. He drove three fingers into her heat, pulling back only to repeat the motion over and over again as he continued to tease her clit with his lips and tongue while his other hand continued circling her rear, and pressing gently. "Oh God – oh God- oh God-" She was repeating the phrase, muttering unintelligibly before her thighs suddenly locked around his head, and the only sound she made was a short sudden breathing out of his name as she orgasmed, her inner walls gripping his fingers even as her juices poured down around his hand, hot and wet. He rode her out gently, releasing her clit and pressing soft kisses there instead, as his other hand moved to stroke her ass gently. When she finished she collapsed into a heap in his lap. "Oh my God."

He was grinning as she panted, trying to catch her breath. "Stop looking so smug." She gasped the words out and he laughed out loud in surprise.

"You can't prove it." He was smiling a shit-eating grin even as he spoke and she slapped his chest playfully.

"I can now. That tone practically oozed smug. Now I believe I told you to take your pants off, and you failed to comply." She was attempting to be stern, he knew, and a frisson of excitement slid down his spine at the thought. She was entirely too soft about it at the moment, of course, but the notion that at some point she would be – could be serious – well. He tucked that notion away in the back of his mind even as she eased up off his lap, her hands at his belt buckle. Clearly she'd decided that if it needed doing, she'd do it herself.

"Might not be a good idea, love. I'm fairly certain I lost all feeling below the waist about twenty minutes ago." He wasn't lying, really – he'd been so caught up in the taste, smell and feel of her above him, he'd barely given a passing thought to the raging hard on he was currently sporting. She giggled, before swiftly unbuttoning his pants and slipping her hand into his underwear. The minute her small hand wrapped around his hard length, he gasped, his hips bucking up into her while she laughed softly. "Nevermind, feeling's back." He moaned the words and she changed her grip, wrapping her fingers around him tightly as she pumped her fist up and down the length of him slowly.

"I wish I could see." Her voice was breathy against his ear, and she dropped her forehead against where his neck met his shoulder, her breath was coming out in short pants as she gripped him and settled herself above him at the same time, her hips chasing every pump her fist made.

"Turnabout's fair play, love. Oh- Gill," his voice was a warning groan, the combination of her tight little hand around him with the sensation of her hot, wet pussy following closely behind her. "Jesus fuck, Gillian." She was – jesus she was licking his neck, her tongue darting out to trail along his neck, up and down again in time with her hands and her hips. "Gill, Gill, this isn't going to last long if you keep that up, darling." He was loathe to even pant out the protest, but she simply lifted her hips, biting down on his neck as she dropped her hips over him and he found himself encased in her hot, tight, wetness and he nearly blacked out from the sensation. Which was ironic, because weren't they already blacked out?

His hips bucked up to meet her, one of her hands gripping her hip and his jeans still digging painfully into his ass and hips, but he didn't give a shit about that. His other hand reached between them, pinching the bundle of nerves there as he lifted his hips into her, reaching as deep as he could go as she gasped against his shoulder. "Cal!"

His hand on her hip tightened as he guided her up and down, slamming her into his pelvic bone again and again, each time revelling in the sensation of her sliding against him. She fit him perfectly, and was so lovely and god damned fucking perfect, he couldn't even describe how she felt around him. Her breathing was erratic in his ear, and she pushed a hand between them, turning his face to her. "So close, Cal, so close. God you feel so – so – so good. So good." Her breath was on his face and she pressed her mouth against his, and he could still taste her, but she didn't seem to mind as her tongue snaked around his and her thrusts sped up, almost frantic in their pace. All he could feel was her, soft and warm around him, and all he could taste was her, in his mouth – the rough rasp of her taste buds against his and her exhales were his inhales and he'd honestly never ever felt this close to another human being in his life. She broke away to gasp in air, her hips never ceasing their pace and he felt his balls pulling up in anticipation as white began to edge into his vision. Suddenly she gasped, grinding down against him sharply and he saw colours, illuminate and explode across his vision as he climaxed, convulsing into her, his face pressed tightly into her neck while she rode it out with him, her hands in his hair and a smile on her face.

Blinking, he suddenly realized that the lights were on again and she was luminous above him. Their breathing was still erratic and ragged, and she was sweating slightly – the hair at her temples damp and sticking to her face, which was flushed with exertion but, still. "You're gorgeous, do you know that? I mean, are you even aware of how bloody beautiful you are?" She blushed and ducked her head but he slid his hands under her hair, his fingers tangling with the damp strands as he tilted her face up to him. He pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of her nose and he smiled. "And just look at all those lovely freckles. May take some time you know."

"What?" Her brow wrinkled in confusion even as she reached for her dress, pulling it over her head as she stood over him. He braced himself against the wall, standing and tucking himself back in, before doing up his pants and grinning at her.

"I told you earlier," he moved in, stepping into her space and grinning when she stood her ground. He ducked in, putting a hand at her waist, and pressing a soft kiss to her mouth. When he stepped back she was smiling, smoothing hands down over her dress before she bent over, grabbing his shirt and handing it to him. He pulled it on, spotting her knickers on the floor. He grabbed them pushing them into his pocket.

"Hey!" She protested, pulling her coat off of the floor and handing him his. "We'll probably need to get these dry-cleaned. They smell like-" She broke off, blushing again and he grinned.

"Like we just had amazing sex right on top of them? I may never wash it again, darling. Now, only one thing to decide, then."

"And what's that?" She smiled in amusement, picking up her purse, and moving over to the stairs.

"Your place or mine? You've got loads of freckles love, and I've a mind to count every single one of 'em."