The door quietly clicked behind her. It had been a long day of seemingly everyone wanting a piece of her. She just wanted to crash on the nearest soft surface and not hear her name in someone's mouth for all of 5 minutes. Just 5 minutes of peace is all. Abbie silenced her phone and dropped it on the couch in the cabin. Shrugging off her jacket, she reached to pull her shirt from the waistband of her pants when she heard it. Eyes narrowed, she froze in place, ears keen to listen for the sound again. Unghh. A low, muffled grunt. She slipped the firearm from her side and began slowly making her way toward the sound.

Carefully slipping from wall to wall, she cleared the kitchen area, the hall. The noise grew louder, and she knew it was coming from the room Ichabod used. She pressed her lips into a grimace, expecting to find Crane compromised, gagged, under duress, something. The door was open not quite halfway. Using her extended arm, she slowly pushed the door open a bit more, careful not to make a sound. The deep, throaty grunts grew more frequent, as if from a struggle.

The lamp on the far side of the room illuminated the bed, perpendicular to the entry. As she silently moved into the doorway, more of him came into view. Crane lay on the bed, bare feet, bare legs. Eyes adjusting to the dim light, adrenaline pumping, she noticed everything was bare. Crane was sprawled on the covers, legs spread and naked as the day he was born. His head thrown back on a pillow with hair loose and strands sticking to sheen collecting on his temple. Cranes chest, sprinkled with soft hair, rose and fell with labored breaths. The muscles of his stomach tightened. The grunting and groaning continued, the hand opposite her working his thick erection while the other cupped the balls beneath a dark shadow of hair. Without realizing it, her arms had slowly dropped from position and she stood in the doorway silent, eyes wide and mouthing a silent 'ohhh'. Unintelligible words came from Crane's mouth, coarse and desperate. He was working himself up to a brutal pace, his tone rising, words becoming shorter and louder. Instinct was telling her to look away, to leave, but the desperation in his voice made it hard to tear her eyes away.

Then she heard it. After the 'god almightys' and a particularly un-Crane like 'fuuuuck', his mouth contorted and with a hiss let out 'Aba-Abagail'.

No, no no no. Not happening. She has lost her mind, this man did not just say her name. Then with one tight stroke, he let out a strangled ' oh god Abagail' and her hands lost their grip on her gun, sending it clattering to the wooden floor. Ichabod's head jerked toward the sound with eyes wide as he came, hot and hard into his own hand, spilling onto his stomach and covers alike.

Physically spent, his face grew redder as he panted, wanting to catch his breath and try to explain the situation away, however futile it would be. But Abbie, in shock and awe, turned smartly on one heel and bolted.

As she sat in her truck, both hands gripping the wheel, the part that seemed to bother her the most was that she actually wasn't bothered. Surprised? Yeah.

Surprised at finding Crane in the buff, jacking himself off while he grunted out her name. Surprised that even though he looked good for 200, he looked ridiculously do-able laying in bed without a stitch on, damp with sweat and totally uninhibited. Surprised that instead of being embarrassed, her underwear were soaked and the desire to grind herself against something, anything, finally had her pressing her fingers against herself to gain enough relief to drive home.

Yeah, she thought, this was the beginning of a whole new problem.