Rated T, but it might have hit the M rating at some point. Contains episode tags to "Stand By Your Man" and is my version of what should have happened after Hoffs showed up at Hanson's apartment. :) Obviously, I have a dirty mind. :D
Addicted to Love
Your lights are on, but you're not home. Your mind is not your own.
Officer Judith Marie Hoffs was jolted awake from a sound sleep by the rapping on her apartment door. Still half asleep, she shuffled her way to the offending slab of wood and opened it. Whoever it was would be sor—
All thoughts of going back to sleep vanished as her eyes took in the person standing in the doorway. "Hanson, what are you doing here?"
He smiled in that slow, easy way he had. His brown hair was as messy as always, and despite the late hour, his chocolate-brown eyes were warm as he looked her over. "Aren't you going to let me in, Jude?"
Hoffs sighed and stepped aside, taking the opportunity to discreetly check him out. Like her, Tom Hanson was an officer in the secret undercover Jump Street division. Their youthful looks allowed them to pose as high school students so they could arrest teenage criminals. Judy loved her job, but right now she was more focused on the cop in front of her. She wanted to run a hand through those unruly brown locks, to taste him . . . What's wrong with me? Her mind wasn't her own tonight.
Shaking off her thoughts, she repeated her earlier question. "What are you doing here, Hanson?"
He shuffled his feet and rubbed the back of his neck, a habit he'd developed whenever he was nervous or uncertain about something. "Well, I heard noises in my apartment, as if someone had been prowling around, so I decided to come here."
"Noises in your apartment scared you, so you came here?" Judy repeated doubtfully.
"Well, no, but it's the best I could come up with."
She laughed lightly, then saw the look in his eyes and stopped abruptly. He'd moved closer to her and his scent, his closeness, was doing something to her. Goosebumps formed on suddenly clammy skin and tremors raced up and down her body. If he kissed her . . .
Judy wasn't sure who made the first move, but the next moment his mouth was warm on hers. It lasted no more than a second; then Tom had pulled back. "What did you do that for?"
"Me? I thought you were the one who—"
"Oh, shut up," he murmured as he kissed her again. Hoffs found herself craving more of Tom Hanson.
You can't sleep, you can't eat. There's no doubt, you're in deep.
For the next couple of days, Judy's sleep was troubled. Her dreams were plagued by a certain brown-haired, brown-eyed, incredibly dangerous cop—and it wasn't Doug Penhall. Her stomach had been in such turmoil that it was difficult to eat anything.
"Hey, Jude!" Fingers snapped in front of her face and Tom Hanson swam into focus. "You all right? I called your name three times and you didn't answer. Were you miles away or something?"
Her breath hitched in her throat as she saw the concern in his brown eyes. Judy suddenly found it hard to breathe. Why did he have to be so irresistible?
Hanson was looking at her expectantly, so she said, "Actually, yes, I was." With you, alone, in my bedroom . . .
A corner of his mouth hitched up in what could have been a smile, as if he knew what she was thinking. His chocolate-colored gaze, which had been concerned seconds before, heated up. Hoffs felt as if she were being scorched by flames. All she needed was another kiss . . .
"Yo, Hanson!" Penhall hollered from the other side of the bullpen. "Heads up!" A barrage of paper balls followed the team's practical joker's warning, ruining the moment between Tom and Judy. One of the balls hit Hanson in the head, and with a muttered, "All right, that's it!" he began tossing them back in Doug's direction.
As their fight was well underway, Judy couldn't help but laugh. These two were perfect for the Jump Street division, since they would often act like immature teens even in the office. In order to avoid being hit, Hanson was leaping over other officers' desks and miscellaneous items scattered on the floor, acting as if he were being shot at. It was like a game of one-on-one dodgeball.
Judith Marie Hoffs liked to think that she was immune to Tom Hanson's charms. In reality, it was closer to say that she couldn't have enough of him.
You see the signs, but you can't read. You're runnin' at a different speed.
As she drove through the dark streets away from the hospital, the recently-promoted detective felt disgusted with herself. How could she have let Evan Roberts force himself on her? Even as she thought that, she recalled that she'd fought him the whole time and escaped, and felt slightly better. Right now, though, she needed someone to comfort her, to assure that it would be all right. Without really thinking about it, she headed for Hanson's apartment and knocked on the door when she arrived. A sleepy-looking Tom opened the door, his hair messed up and a pink blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He blinked in surprise. "What're you doing here?"
"I was sleeping in my apartment, and I heard weird noises. They scared me, so I came here. Can I come in?"
"Noises in your apartment scared you, so you came here?" Hanson echoed her question from so long ago.
Tom opened the door further and stepped back. "Come in."
Detective Hoffs went inside and watched as he opened a chest of drawers and brought out a couple of blankets. Taking him in with her eyes, she could feel her mouth start to water as heat coiled and pooled in her lower belly. She needed to forget about what had happened earlier, and she'd always felt pent-up sexual tension between her and Tom. Then there was the kiss . . .
Judy saw all the signs, but didn't quite read what they meant. Hanson, on the other hand, did. He started to ask about the case when she moved closer to him. This near to her, he could feel her heart beating in double time. She murmured, "Kiss me," even as she brought his mouth to hers.
The taste of her immediately woke him up. She was yearning for him, he could tell. With another kiss, she'd be his. You always did have a one track mind, Hanson thought to himself.
You can't be saved. Oblivion is all you crave.
Judy knew she couldn't be saved from the first taste of him, ans he didn't want to be. She craved oblivion, and she wanted Tom Hanson. Now. She needed to forget what Evan Roberts had done to her earlier that night, and from the way Tom was kissing her, she knew he wanted her too.
"What do you say we move this elsewhere?" he rasped, breath warm on her skin.
She nodded. Still entangled, the two made their way into his room. One of his hands buried itself in her curly black hair as Tom deepened the kiss. As his mouth left hers to taste the smooth skin of hr neck, she gasped and ground out, "Take me. Already her hands were slipping under his shirt, bringing it up over his head.
In such a contrast to how she'd been handled earlier, Tom's hands were gentle as he removed her clothing. It was a relief for Judy to have the cloths with which she'd been attacked in off. Then they were falling and landing on the mattress, coming together in more ways than one. She didn't mind helping herself to him until their bodies were slick with sweat and Hanson, spent, had drifted back into sleep. A still-awake Judy was—of course—blaming all this on a physical reaction.
Lying next to him, Judy—although she liked to think she was unsusceptible to Hanson—knew she might as well face that it was closer to the truth that she needed him. He was her obsession, her addiction, her drug—and he was always there for her.
Your lights are on, but you're not home. Your will is not your own.
The sheets rustled as Tom, still asleep, snuggled closer to her. One of his bare hands snaked around her waist and he pressed his nose into the crook of her neck. Judy stiffened, and the arm around her waist pulled her closer against him. "You're not asleep," she accused.
His eyes opened and he smiled at her. "How can I be? Besides . . ." The hand resting flat on her stomach began massaging circles, then traveled up the body that hours before had been violated. Judy hated that her will was not her own tonight, but oh, the way he did those things to her, how could she refuse?
A soft moan escaped her as he pressed his lips to the back of her neck. Her teeth ground together in an effort to keep silent and her heartbeat sped up. Oh, God. Who would have thought she'd ever be this consumed by Tom Hanson? When this addiction started, she certainly hadn't thought so.
Whoa, you like to think that you're immune to the stuff, oh yeah.
It's closer to the truth to say you can't get enough.
You know you're gonna have to face it, you're addicted to love.