Timeline: set around late season 2 =)
A/N: I was bored. So I wrote a little smut ;) which turned into an effing long multi-part story. Oh well. =) Gwah.
His hand was under her skirt on her bare inner thigh, caressing. It felt awkward when her eyes landed on his police badge still attached to his belt and pants. But oh god it was intense even if it was awkward. His other hand cradled her head as he plundered her lips, the fingers under her skirt inching higher and higher.
It seemed hurried and impatient. She did not complain; she wanted this just as much. But stumbling into walls and teeth clashing and fingers digging into her flesh with too much force; it was overwhelming her. There was nothing sweet in this approach; it was just hard and direct.
She palmed him through the material of his pants, no intention so go slow either. She managed to unbelt him and pull the material down; she reached beneath his boxers and grasped him. God, he was hard and pulsing in her hand. Thick. Shit; she hadn't had sex in far too long. Fingers roughly pushed her underwear aside and plunged into her without any further consideration; it hurt. But oh god; it was bliss. She tried to open her legs wider but her skirt was in the way; it felt too tight. It was too much.
His lips left her own and went to her throat; nipping and drawing the sharp edges of his teeth across her pulse point. He growled dirty words into her ear; it was awkward in the context of their professional relationship but for Christ's sake she nearly came right there and then. His voice was like a dark viscous thing that crept under her skin, tingled her nerve endings with its intensity and low timbre. She imagined he could talk her to the tipping point of an orgasm if he set his mind to it; she would not mind.
They pushed his boxers down together, her skirt rode higher and higher up and her legs were finally free. Her underwear fell down with the assistance of his hands and she slipped out of them. He caught her leg, under her knee and lifted her, positioned himself and plunged into her before she could exhale.
Fuck; this was too hurried. This already felt too intense, too overpowering and they had barely exchanged more than a few heated kisses. She wound her leg tighter around him, glad her high heeled shoes left her other leg with some balance on the floor. His hands grasped her ass – rough and hard as he started pounding into her. Her high heeled shoe left the floor and she felt he was thrusting her off balance with every stroke.
She breathed into his neck, his collar tingling her lips as she let her head fall solidly against the crook of his neck; she could not look into his eyes now. It would be too intimate; too awkward. She needed to remind herself it was not Lieutenant Flynn fucking her up against a wall; no, this was just a stranger named Andy. It made it somewhat less awkward if she did not think of him as her lieutenant.
He grunted into her shoulder, bit down – hard. She whimpered, half in pain, half in pleasure. Somehow she had imagined if they ever got together it would be sweet lovemaking in a bed, slow and passionate. This had never occurred to her. She thought she preferred it like this. Like this there was no going back, no stopping. It was something that would continue to surge until they were done. Neither of them could stop now; it was inevitable in its impatient rhythm.
There was no space between them; she wouldn't be able to touch herself. There was no way she would be able to come, she thought. The angle was not entirely right; she felt buzzed and high as if drunk. But the edge; it was something very far away. Would he even care? For all of their grunting and panting she could tell he was close; she could feel the tension in his clothed chest against hers, in the strain in his arms holding her steady.
She lifted her head from his shoulder; needed something to tell her what to expect. His lips captured hers before she could decipher the heavy lidded look in his eyes.
He came in the middle of the kiss; his lips uneven against hers. She felt caught in between surges of overwhelming sensations; suddenly dumped into a strange feeling of inadequacy. She wanted more. She needed more. She couldn't tell him though; any words leaving her lips would dump them back into the real world and they would both be covered in shame. They would be Lieutenant and Captain if she spoke.
His cock feel out, limp and both her legs were on solid ground again.
She whimpered out loud before she caught herself.
His dark eyes were too intense; she let her gaze flicker to the stubble on his jaw instead. It was safer.
She was in the middle of thinking, so this is it – when he growled into her ear.
It was just two words and she obeyed without second thought; surprised but she obeyed. Turning around she felt his clothed chest against her spine backing her further up against the wall; and then his legs pressed against hers, opened her up, his arms wound around her and his fingers were suddenly attached to her.
Shit, this was more awkward and more intense than his cock in her. She found herself wriggling at his touch, her ass backing into his hips, seeking more pressure, more contact. She was glad he had told her to turn around; she would not have been able to let him touch her like this if she could see his eyes. This way; it was not really breaking the rules, it was not too intimate; it was more detached and she could pretend he was a stranger.
His mouth found the side of her throat, bit down and then went to her earlobe, his warm breath tingling.
He growled profanities; his fingers sliding in and out, a thumb twirling her clit into an almost painful knot of ecstasy. She would not last long; she thought almost embarrassed at the little moans escaping her mouth.
This might have been less awkward had they been completely naked. But something about still being half in their work clothes made it that more tantalizing. Something about her underwear lying in a heap somewhere on the floor, his shield on the floor as well and the feel of his fingers inside her; it was blissfully wrong.
Unexpectedly she came when he told her to, his mouth pressed hotly against her ear, his voice hard and unrelenting in its command. It coursed through her, powerful in its intensity, on the verge of feeling too excruciating. She felt briefly embarrassed at having complied with such a command. For a brief second she wondered why she obeyed him, without forethought. She had never liked being submissive in bed; never liked letting go of her control.
His cock twitched behind her, and she wondered whether he was aroused by her submitting to his voice, his request for her to come. She could not think about that though; it would overwhelm her at work then – why her vagina would twitch every time his voice turned the slightest bit authoritative; better to ignore it. It would be too awkward otherwise.
She felt heavy, unstable and she was glad he was still pressed against her. Tumbling to the floor in a heap would be most undignified. Her breathing was irregular and his warm breath against her skin was perturbed as well.
It felt even more awkward now, nothing but their shaky inhalations and exhalations filling the little room. His fingers slipped out of her, wet and cold as they slid up the sides of her abdomen; her own arousal and his semen mixing and leaving traces as he trailed his fingers on her skin, under her bunched up skirt. Briefly she considered telling him off for leaving the sticky stuff on her designer skirt; but it was absurd. He would only laugh. She could smell it; and it made her feel slightly uncomfortable. She was suddenly glad she was staring into a white wall and not his eyes.
His was hard again. She could feel it against her buttocks. He couldn't possibly be hard again already. Fuck, she thought as she felt him enter her again, his fingers spreading her and guiding himself inside. She spread her legs further to accommodate him, tilted her pelvic and trust backwards; not sure she was ready again herself. But her body reacted to him, obeyed.
She whimpered even louder now; she felt so overstimulated, over sensitized that the feeling of him, hard and thick, filling her again made her shudder and twitch. This time though, it was a slow slide. Slow trusts; even more torturous and yet still nothing sweet in the approach. If he did sweet she would break down.
He started whispering in her ear again; and she hung unto his voice, afraid she would fall apart any moment now. Weren't they too old for this crap?
His hands tightened around her thighs; steadied her and made her feel attached to something. She let her forehead rest on the wall, it was cool to her skin and made her feel further grounded. She breathed into the wall, her lips almost touching the concrete.
It was a slow burn; it made her breath hitch and she felt tension stuck somewhere in her chest cavity, it hurt. It was overpowering in its slowness. She could feel herself surrendering to it; without question or thought. God, he rocked up against her – pulled her back – trust in delicious slow strokes; making her feel like a tense, taut ball of electricity. He was determined; she could tell. His thrusts measured in their unhurried pace.
She wondered why it still felt impatient, reckless and awkward. She surmised they were both enveloped by desperation. She could almost taste it in the air; it hung between them. Desperate to fuck each other senseless; desperate to forget this was a direct breach in the command chain; desperate to forget what had led to this. Forget that one of their own lay in the hospital, badly injured and on the verge of slipping away. She felt like crying when she thought about it. Could feel her eyes itch just at the thought of the horrible day that had led to this.
She would cry when she got home. When she was alone. She would weep then, she knew. Weep about what a mess this was. Weep about what desperation and grief led to; this was bound to make things between them awkward, strained even. You could not fuck your colleague and think everything would go back to normal afterwards. She knew this; but in this moment she did not care.
The sensation of him was overwhelming. It kept her from crying, kept her from falling apart. She guessed that was why she had ended up here in the first place. She wondered if he felt the same way. It was a shame, she thought – she liked him, genuinely. They had been on the road to somewhere, somewhere sweet and so different from this, she reflected. But this; it would probably ruin everything.
He kissed her neck, his lips calm against her skin. His hands slid up from her thighs, across her hips, up her abdomen, under her bounced-up skirt, higher until they reached under her shirt and the lace of her bra. And still these slow delicious thrusts. It was driving her insane, she realized with a blissful thought. She tilted her pelvic further, her ass backed further into him – god it was making her dizzy.
She suddenly wanted his lips upon her own. She wanted to turn around and face him; but it would be awkward – it would ruin the dizzying feeling that coursed through her. She kept her head still. His hands left her bra-covered breasts, one reached for her hip to hold them together; the other went along her own arm. His hand intertwined with hers, fingers interlocking, steady against the wall. The gesture seemed almost sweet. She told herself it was for better leverage; she could not handle sweetness, better it be practical. But she tightened her hand around his; almost painfully as she felt herself climaxing. It was like something creeping up on her; like small waves crashing into her steadily only to be replaced suddenly and overwhelmingly by a big surf flooding her. His hand tightened around hers and she felt him come as well, a grunt into her hair.
Her own shaky breaths sounded loud in her head. His hand left hers; nothing to tightly hold her together. They stood unmoving for a brief moment, panting, lower bodies still attached. He slid out of her and her inner muscles quivered at the sudden motion; she felt his warmth backing away from her ass.
Then he stepped completely away from her; she could feel the cold air suddenly assaulting her. She shivered. Was this it? Would they dress themselves, avoid the eyes of each other and then depart, go their separate ways?
She turned around, away from the wall. She was solid, she reminded herself. Steel and hard-edged. She met his eyes, maybe for the first time really looking at him. They were dark and obscure.
He heaved his boxers up; she righted her skirt. He pulled his pants up. She slipped her underwear on again. His police badge was once again on his hip; visible and almost like a solid wall between them. Her own was in her purse; in the office. She adjusted her shirt, pushing it under her skirt – smoothed her hair. Her inner thighs felt sticky but she ignored it. The skin on her stomach where he had trailed his fingers felt sticky but she ignored that as well.
If she spoke she would end up crying, she knew. She kept silent, pressed her lips together till her jaw hurt. He looked just as tightlipped, his dark eyes latched onto her with something she could not discern.
They both looked somewhat presentable, she surmised, giving him a detached look over. She moved towards the locked door; ready to get away, faraway from here. Far away from him.
His hand caught her shoulder as she turned the lock.
His mouth descended upon hers; so gentle and so soft it nearly broke her. He caressed her cheek with a thumb as his lips left hers; he looked almost apologetic now in the depths of his eyes. She wondered if he felt overpowered as well. Whether he felt this was on the brink of ruin and he had to salvage it somehow. She leaned up and caught his lips again; just as slow and soft. It was in ruins and she wasn't sure salvage would do any good.
They broke apart.
"This can never happen again," she told him, her voice steady and sounding like an order. It was an order, a command. It was for his ears as much as it was for hers. It could not, under any circumstance, happen again.
"Yes, ma'am," he replied, his eyes narrowed and his mouth tight-lipped again. He opened the door and excited the little supply room.
She breathed a sigh, stood for just a minute and collected herself.
This was a mess, an awkward mess.