Okay, so it's challenge time at the FCG again (a link can be found in my profile) and this here is my contribution. It's random, it has little redeeming value, and it's just a run-and-gun-let's-get-this-done-fic.

The elements: 1) Must appeal to one of the five senses. 2) Must be about the end of any type of relationship. 3) Must follow the theme of passion 4) Must be a minimum rating of PG 13. 5) Must be between 500 and 2,500 words.

There was also a picture we had to use for inspiration.

And thanks to Adorelo for letting me complain at her like... all day, Amanda Ruth for brainstorming the title with me, and LLK for letting me miss the deadline... again.

Enjoy.

Tortured Senses

It was dark. Raining, even; the soft patter of raindrops humming quietly against the window, pulling Eric from a deep sleep. Yawning, he pulled the covers up higher, suddenly feeling a little cold, and reached for the person beside him; he frowned when he realised she wasn't there.

She never had been.

Wondering if she ever would be, he rolled onto his back and released a heavy sigh. He'd be kidding himself if he said he hadn't thought about having Calleigh Duquesne in his bed. Truth be told, he'd thought about it a lot. More than he probably should have done, in fact...

Trying to shake away those thoughts, he took a moment to glance to the window, ears straining to listen to the whispering rain. He'd often found it strange how every sense seemed heightened at night... in the dark. Even sight, in its weakest moment, had that extra fight to it. And if he laid still enough, Eric found he could pinpoint everything that was happening in the darkness around him; he couldn't help but sigh again when he realised that there was one thing that stood out more than anything else.

Her absence.

Deciding to do something about that, he closed his eyes and began to picture everything about her, felt himself smile as he thought about the exchanges they'd shared during the day. It used to be enough - the flirty banter they shared - but now... now he needed more. And he was pretty sure she did, too. Granted, he couldn't deny that the looks they stole still managed to spark fire within his body, the fact that the occasional, accidental touch could still send shivers blazing across his skin; that the mere scent of her perfume just made him so -

The sound of his fist punching the vacant pillow beside him snapped him out of it; the grunt he released at the same time shocked him just a little. He wanted - no, needed - to call her. For what, Delko? To tell her that you're horny? He almost laughed to himself when he imagined her reaction. Resigning himself to the fact that he was just going to have to continue thinking of her in the darkness, he rolled over onto the newly ruffled pillow, face down, and let the coldness of it surround him.

. : : : .

He was busy studying a report in the break-room when she walked in, her perfume leaving a lingering trail of subtle distraction as she passed by his chair. He glanced up momentarily, long enough to catch her eye and offer her a smile, but found himself being caught off guard when she asked, "Hey, Eric? What's your favourite ice cream flavour?"

He eyed her carefully for a moment, not quite sure where she was going with her question. "Vanilla, why?"

"Really?" she countered, head cocked to the side a little as she considered his answer. "Huh."

"What?" he asked, frowning as he tried to follow her logic.

She smiled then, before turning her back to him as she busied herself with the coffee maker. "I just figured you'd pick something a little more... interesting."

"What's wrong with vanilla?"

"Nothing," she told him simply, spinning back around to face him. He watched her move closer, having to fight to keep his eyes open when he heard her whisper something into his ear on her way out of the room; "I prefer chocolate... tastes better."

And he believed her.

. : : : .

Eric found her in the Trace Lab later, his mind still curious as to why she'd asked him the question earlier. He'd tried to figure it out, even going so far as to nearly asking Valera what her favourite flavour was... and then thinking better of it. But every conclusion he'd come to had left him with the image of Calleigh and a tub of chocolate ice cream, and he was pretty sure that wasn't exactly a safe combination; kinky, yes... appropriate, no.

Entering the room, he froze, motionless in the doorway for a moment, the evidence spread out in front of her suddenly making him feel a little nervous. Excited. He continued to watch her in silence, and if she knew he was there - probable - she made no sign to suggest it. As her fingers hovered over the first shiny, metallic object, Eric found himself swallowing and having to force his eyes away from it, up to her face. She was smiling, her eyebrows raised in that suggestive way that she saved only for him. And yet... she wasn't actually looking at him; she was thinking of him.

Suddenly feeling a little cocky, he cleared his throat and stepped further into the lab. "I didn't know you were into that kind of thing?" he teased, a light smile tugging at his lips as he pointed to the fluffy handcuffs in her hand.

Never one to be caught off guard, she found his eyes in a playful challenge and shot back, "You mean you aren't?"

He laughed, nearly choking on his reply when she picked up the whip to the left of where the handcuffs had been, "Let's just say I take the more... traditional stance when it comes to sex." She swallowed then, eyes remaining transfixed on his.

And there was heat kindling in him just like that.

He held her gaze, found himself holding his breath; realised that they were both clearly considering the image of -

"Oh, Eric," Calleigh suddenly said, her flirty stance back, "where's the fun in that?" And then with a final glance at the whip in her hands and a smile in his direction, she moved through the door behind him, taking special care to brush the handcuffs against his arm on her way out.

It was all he could do to remain standing, his mind suddenly firing questions in all directions as he struggled to stop his blood rushing south. Had she? Did she? What?

There was still one conclusion he could come to, however, and that was that he knew exactly where his dreams would take him tonight...

. : : : .

But it wasn't enough. It was never enough.

Rolling over in his bed, Eric tried to will the thoughts away, no longer content to dream about ice cream and handcuffs... and Calleigh. He wanted the real thing; the reality of her here with him.

Not the fantasy.

And as his fingers twitched beside him, his hands aching to touch her; as his nostrils inhaled deeply, desperate to catch a waft of her scent; as his tongue licked his lips, taste buds imagining the sweet taste of chocolate; as his ears pricked up, hoping to hear the twang of her soft, Southern drawl, and as his eyes closed shut, images of her flashing behind his eyelids... he could only hope that one day, the fantasy would end.

That the relationship he had with her in his dreams would be over, and the relationship of his dreams would begin.

- Fin -