You hear movement in the bedroom. When you groggily open your eyes, they land on the familiar khaki of Parrish's uniform.
You lift your head up from the mattress. "What time is it?" Your voice scratchy and tired.
He looks up from untying his boots, suprized to see that you're awake. "It's late. Go back to sleep." He whispers.
You obey without saying anything. As you drift back to sleep, you vaguely hear him move around the room and the shower turn on a few seconds later.
The sun is not quite risen yet when you wake up. Apparently once Parrish came to bed you made him your pillow. You spend a few moments looking at him while keeping your chin rested on his chest. Even though he's asleep, you can tell that he's run ragged. You can see the black circles under his eyes. What time did he even get home last night? As your gaze slides down, you notice some bruises and scratches on his chest that weren't there last night.
You decide to make some coffee, but as you shift off him to get out of bed, his hands wrap around your forearm and waist and pull you back to your previous position.
"Where do you think you're going?" He asks, without opening his eyes.
"Coffee." You answer, but you make no attempt to move again.
"Stay." He says quietly, eyes still closed.
You ghost your fingers over some of the new bruises. "What happened?"
"Tough call last night. Got a little rough." Is the only explanation you're granted.
You press your lips to the purpling skin, before starting to trail kisses down his chest. Your lips graze a spot on his stomach, and he finally opens his eyes and looks at you questioningly. You lift your head and offer him a brief smile before sliding your body farther down his and kissing his stomach again.
You hear him sigh and he leans back down on the bed, as his hand snakes it's way into your hair. That sound fuels you, and your kisses go lower and get messier.
You feel the rapid expanding of his chest as he tries, and fails, to keep his breathing under control.
Your lips are at the elastic of his boxers when he says your name.
"Y/N." He says it so low, it's difficult to hear, but you know him well enough to know that he's already close, and you want nothing more than to finish him off and help him relax.
You feel him tighten his hand in your hair, urging you further.
Just as your about to give him what you both want, his work cell rings.
And by God, do you hate that sound.
Apparantly Jordan does too, now, because a strangled, annoyed sound escapes his lips before he picks up the phone.
"Parrish here." He answers.
As he talks on the phone, you get out of bed, knowing he's going to be going back to the station.