by Melissa Treglia
It was not love that made her want to fuck him like the world would end tomorrow.
She'd always respected and admired him deeply for his seemingly endless fount of wisdom and his patience with her when she was still new to the night shift. She had been young, green and he'd been both bemused and delighted by her energy and the new pair of eyes she provided. And she figured out quickly without ever letting on he was a vampire; she cared too much, valued him too much as a partner to crassly throw it in his face.
And he, in turn, had seen the potential in her before even their captain did, saw that she was more than just model looks and the questionable privilege of nepotism. He saw the frustration and pain in her eyes when having to take out a perp in a fire fight cost her too much.
He hadn't laughed at or shrugged off her pain as she would have expected any hard-boiled detective to do. Instead, he put his arms around her in a way that was more than fraternal, and whispered in her ear that, should she ever need anything...
She'd called him later that night, timidly and tearfully asking him to come over to her apartment. He was there in five minutes.
She didn't know how it happened, but she had suddenly flung herself into his arms, babbling some nonsense about how she just needed so much to be held right now, but she didn't want to be a bother, and she knew she was being silly and...
The insistent yet tender kiss he gave her shocked her into silence. She clung to him like he was her life raft, and she was drowning in a sea that was far too overwhelming and violent to swim in alone. He soothed her with gentle kisses and whispers, helping her shuck off the suddenly unnecessary clothing when her fingers trembled too hard to remove her nightgown or his belt.
He was so strong yet so amazingly gentle she could have wept all the more. It was vilely unfair that her ideal lover showed up in the form of a man she couldn't have, and didn't want a serious relationship with. Her heart had been set on the commitment-shy slackerish Vachon from the beginning, and Nick only had eyes for Dr. Lambert. She knew when his eyes closed momentarily while caught up in the ecstasy that it was Natalie's name that almost reached his lips, and not Tracy's.
That didn't mean though, that they didn't spend enough time together. Being as they were partners riding a beat, such a level of intimacy seemed almost inevitable. They didn't love each other, but there was enough trust and secrecy between them that the intimacy was right even though it was fundamentally wrong.
Besides, it was a good way to blow off steam. And she sincerely doubted Nick had ever fucked Schanke.
They also got a little inventive at times. One memorable occasion involved her wrists being individually cuffed to the metal bar running on either side of her bed's headboard, lying spread-eagle on her stomach as he took her from behind.
They never spoke about their highly unprofessional dalliances; a mutual vow of silence, careful retracings of steps and a shroud of plausible deniability concealed the truth from prying eyes. Nor did they conduct themselves as anything but partners and professionals publicly. (She could just hear her commissioner father now, bellowing about how the "hot shot detective" was corrupting his sweet innocent daughter... all the more reason that covering it up was so essential.)
Tonight was the night. This time, she owed him for saving her ass from getting reamed out by the captain for a major goof. Partners have to stick together, after all, and she fully intended to show him how grateful she was for the show of solidarity when he walked through the door.
He was there, as usual, in a matter of minutes. Almost at the same moment she'd set down the phone after calling him, in fact.
His grin was wide as she swung the door open. She quickly pulled him inside, shutting the door behind him. "You know, I owe you for tonight," she said with a grin that matched his, as her hand shamelessly reached to knead at the telltale bulge at the front of his pants. "Make all that yelling you had to put up with a little more worthwhile."
He chuckled, the sound roughened slightly from arousal as his hands stroked her arms in encouragement. "Well, I'd certainly hope so." Though it had originally begun as a joke, it was now a standard procedure between them: whichever partner screwed up had to give the partner who saved their ass some head in penance. And, vampire or not, he was still a very typical male.
There was no hesitation. She dropped to her knees before him, taking his belt into her hands and pulling the loop out of the buckle. The belt now opened and dangling on either side of his fly, she unbuttoned the top of his jeans and zipped the fly down.
He wasn't wearing anything underneath his jeans. Another typical thing for him.
She reached into his pants and pulled out the length of his cock. The flesh there was a few shades darker than the rest of his pallid skin right now, and his erection was firm enough to stand at attention on its own. Her fingers stroked the length of it gently, as if plotting a course to take. The pad of her thumb brushed against the tip, as her hand gently kneaded at the shaft.
Her other hand followed along the remaining length to slip inside his jeans and cup his balls. She kneaded them slowly, feeling his cock twitch in appreciation. Good.
She teasingly licked the tip, smirking when he shuddered, then began to lick along the length of his shaft oh-so-slowly. She giggled when he growled in frustration, her eyes staring up at him wide with feigned innocence.
Then, finally, she placed her lips over this tip of his cock, taking only the tip into her mouth as she continued to knead his balls and stroke the length of his shaft. On a final stroke, she placed her hand grasping his cock against her other hand stationed against his sac, holding it there at the base as she took more of him into her mouth.
He groaned softly, one of his hands reaching down to touch her face and pull her willful blonde hair - which had grown quite a bit longer and curlier from the straight pixie cut she'd sported for so long - back just enough so it wouldn't interfere. His hand continued to run through the flaxen strands, grasping and combing through gently.
She was glad she let her hair grow, since he seemed to like it long so much.
She began to work his cock in and out of her mouth, slowly at first. Her teeth lightly scraped against the flesh, and she made a humming noise in her throat, sending vibrations into her mouth that he felt as she sucked him off. She heard him give a sharp hiss of inhaled breath; her cue that she was moving in the right direction.
She thrusted her head more quickly, her lips colliding with her index finger and thumb. Then she slowly withdrew and removed the hand at the base of his cock, moving it to clutch at the hand he'd absently placed on his hip. Her other hand began to work at his balls again and, after another slow lick along the length of his shaft, she took him into her mouth again and as much as she could without gagging.
His growl was soft, but as clear as if she were actually giving a blowjob to a lion. A not so subtle reminder that he wasn't really human, but not a thing he could help. Nor did it frighten her. In fact, it would be fairer to say it turned her on.
Encouraged, she took him deep into her mouth, till the tip of his cock passed her gag reflex and touched the back of her throat. He instinctively began to thrust now, his hand now clutching at her hair almost painfully, her head moving in time to the flex of his pelvis.
His snarl and the cool, bitter taste in her mouth let her know he'd come. She swallowed and began to gently knead at his balls again, bringing him down gradually from the height of pleasure. Eventually, she allowed his cock to slip from her mouth, seeming almost deflated now.
He sighed softly, his smooth baritone drifting down to her from whatever cloud he was on. "Thank you, Trace."
She smiled slightly. "Hey, what're partners for?"