A/N: A sort-of short. When you have an hour or so between tasks. Enjoy! More fun for John and Joss. Because Lord knows, after this week's crappy finale (did you see it? Argh!), they need it! Thanks, guys. Wellness!
Daylight. Joss rolled over, awake then, to stare at the back of John's head. He was still asleep, the only sound of life coming from him was the steady, yet surprisingly quiet, snores he made, as well as the rise and fall of his side as he breathed. His broad back, slightly freckled near the shoulders, and moled near his waist, obscured her view of the alarm clock on the night stand. So she continued to stare at the back of his head, at his hair; the soft and downy dark hair, peppered with gray, was unruly and unkempt, testament to the ways she had run her fingers through it and grabbed at it as they worked out their passions the night before.
It was a marvel how strange life could be, how it could throw people of the most disparate circumstances and walks of experience together—and how those people could end up together in a bed like this. There had been little to suggest that this man would land himself in her arms, in her bed, between her thighs, when she'd found him sitting in her interrogation room that night. He was a bum, a man hellbent on killing himself for a life wasted and betrayed, when he came to her, after having ahd a fight with some punks on a subway. He was tight-lipped, secretive and reserved, of course—but not unkind. He had done bad things, yes. But he was not evil. No, not this man.
She'd sensed that right away. She'd also sensed that he was fighting a war inside himself, some intense battle the depths of which she could only stab at. But she knew he was good. She could tell that about people right off the bat. It was probably why she'd become a cop. The good and the bad were easy for her to spot. And the bad needed dealing with so as not to tarnish the good.
But now, he was in her bed, still and snoring. They'd had a heady night in one another's company. An argument about a case turned into something else: sexual passion. She didn't know who made the first move. She couldn't remember. And it hadn't mattered anyway. All that had mattered was the touch of flesh; the tearing of clothes and the buttons flying; the darting and dueling of warm, wet tongues; the slide of lips. All that either of them would remember was the noise, the sounds that threatened to consume them both as they expressed their need out loud; that, and the thrusts of lusty desire that John initiated, but Joss soon begged for.
He was a damn tease in bed, she thought, with a smirk, knowing how much she mewled and cried for his love once that need had been unleashed. But he wanted to control that much, at least, the amount of time he could make her do that before he had to give into his own craving to have her. Neither one of them had the upper hand in the face of such desire. Both of them were stunned at how strong it was, how amazing, and how good. And both were at the mercy of its conclusion, the rush and fury to consummate.
She smiled and slowly reached out to stroke his hair. He had beautiful hair. So thick and soft. She wondered what it would have looked like when he was younger, perhaps in his twenties. Would he have had a mullet like a lot of white boys did back then? Long hair like a hippie? Or was he primed for the military from the start, going for the crew cut and nothing else? She tried to picture him with all three looks, and decided she liked the idea of him with long hair. When she got a chance, she'd ask him. Maybe he might even have a photo of himself somewhere, from that time in his life. Then again, knowing John, that was doubtful. But it couldn't hurt to ask.
As her fingers got lost in the thick hair once again, he stirred, with a groan. Turning over on his back, he gave her the treatment of his face. Such a handsome face. His eyes remained closed, and she could study the hooded lids, long, sooty lashes, and slightly crooked nose. He needed a shave; she could see the stubble taking over his face, the bristles shaded dark and and white, as was the hair on his head. This man, who had killed countless people, who knew all the tricks of the trade for mayhem, death and destruction, was just a man, really. He was a vulnerable, sleeping man, at peace, for only a little while, in her bed with the dandelion sheets and pillow cases. She marveled again at how life was so full of contradictions.
Joss decided she should leave him alone and let him sleep. She was sure it wasn't often that he got to sleep in like this. She didn't have to be at the station for another few hours, so that was all fine. Perhaps when he woke up, he'd stay for coffee and a little breakfast. And she hoped he wouldn't be weirded out by what had happened between them, now that it was the morning after. She certainly wasn't. In fact, if it were never to happen again, she'd be sadder than she ever thought possible.
But she wouldn't pressure. One thing on this earth she'd never do would be to pressure John Reese into doing anything. A lady caught more flies with honey than vinegar.
As she moved to turn away from him and back to her own pillow, a hand slowly reached up to stop her, gently catching her wrist and running his thumb back and forth over it. He refrained from opening his eyes, and he lightly rubbed his belly and chest with the other hand.
"Hey," he exhaled sleepily. "Good morning."
"Good morning, John. Sleep well?"
"Umm hmm...I did. What time is it?"
"Just a little after seven," she replied, now that she could see the clock again.
He let out a deep, silent yawn and stretched. "You know, I had the most amazing dream," he said when he recovered his breath. She felt an electric current shoot through her body at his sleepy voice. It was deep and resonant, not at all the way he sounded during the work day or on the burner phone—though that voice had its own special lilt to it.
"Did you, now? What about?"
His eyes remained closed, but he licked his lips and allowed a toothy smile to creep across his face before he spoke.
"Well...there was...uh...this beautiful black woman with a badge and a gun who I thought was going to arrest me, but she didn't. She just...smiled at me. She had the most amazing smile...and she looked a lot like you. Hmmmm..." he hummed. He continued to smile, but this time he opened his eyes. They twinkled with the mists of dreams and mirth in their sea-green depths.
"Oh, well, I'm glad to have been of service. And you should be glad I didn't shoot you," she grinned.
"Yes, you were. Very much so. Hey, smile for me now?"
Joss not only smiled, she giggled for him, ear to ear, as he pulled her towards him for a kiss. His lips were soft and not demanding at all, and she liked this, liked this easy way about him waking up to her.
"I need to get going, Joss," he said, running fingers through her own messy hair. His eyes were closed again after their kiss, but he kept fooling with her hair.
"Okay," she said softly. "You have time for some coffee before you go? I was going to make a fresh pot."
"You on duty today?"
"Yeah, but it's an evening shift. Not until one."
"Hmm, maybe I should just get out of your hair and let you get some more rest. That'll be a long night, Detective."
"I've had longer, and on less sleep. Don't worry about me."
"Sorry. Sort of a bad habit I've picked up. Worrying about you."
"I'm okay. But thank you."
"I really should get going. Need to get home and take a shower," he said, with a sigh and a rub of his hand across his forehead. He then opened his eyes and looked square at her. "You okay?"
She was disappointed that he wasn't going to stay, but she tried to hide it. Maybe she wasn't doing so good of a job of it.
"Yes, I'm fine," she replied, trying to avoid those sea-green eyes that weren't letting up so easily. John was the perceptive sort, too; he studied her face intently for at least a few more seconds before letting it drop and looking around the room, noticing the curtains, the sunflower-patterned bedding, and the alarm clock.
"Just making sure. Anyway, yeah, I gotta go."
"You'd think I was an ogre or something," she said quietly.
"An ogre? Why?"
"Well, with the way you keep saying you have to go and all," she said with a slight pout. She couldn't help it. They had had great sex, amazing, primal sex the night before—and all he could talk about now, besides his dream, was how he had to get going.
He turned back to her, studying her face again, before raising a hand to stroke her face and tangle his fingers again in her dark hair.
"An ogre? Never, Jocelyn Carter. You are no ogre. What you are...is a beautiful, sexy, passionate woman, who made a normally grumpy man very happy last night."
She stared back at him, demurely. "You sure?"
His expression changed from that of an amused teenaged boy to that of a man—a man who knew what he wanted, and whom.
"Yes, I'm sure," he murmured. "Very happy. Extremely satisfied. In every way."
"Right. Okay. I'm glad. Because you did me too. Made me happy."
"Good. I'm glad too. You know, I wouldn't have thought it mattered to you, Detective."
"What?"
"This. How I might feel about it, react to it. To you."
"Why not," she asked, the crease in her forehead showing.
He chuckled. "Because you aren't like many other women, Joss. The Cosmo magazine types who obsess over what men think. You just keep it moving."
"You'd be surprised, John."
"I am surprised. But it's all right. It's very sweet, actually."
"It is?"
"Yes. And so are you. Very, very sweet..."
He let that one trail off on a kiss to her cheek with ended on her neck. She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes, letting the sensation fully hit her in all the places it would. He did it again, but this time reached up to find her nipple and began to fondle and tease, rolling it back and forth between his fingers. She moaned and tilted her head, arching her back. The soft noises she made emboldened him to dip his head lower to find the other nipple with his mouth. Joss' whole body writhed in a renewal of the passions he'd elicited the night before. He teased on two fronts, his fingers and his mouth, and before she knew it, she was on her back again, against the sunflower pillows, her legs spread and him atop her. John hadn't relented on her nipples, but now he was using his teeth to lightly nip and pinch, which sent her into a tailspin.
"OH!" she cried out. He wasn't going anywhere. She wouldn't let him, not when he did things to her like that. She really would shoot him if he left her there like that.
But she had no worries there. He was as out of control now as she was. When he covered her with his body and her fingers dug into his back, he was done for. With a gasping groan, he pushed her thighs even further apart, her wet sex hot and exposed for him, just for him. And with the grunting roar of the beast, he mounted her in one thrust. She cried out again, her mouth open, the gasps and moans in his ear loud, hot, and sweet. She grabbed at his hair, and their eyes met as he began to move inside her.
When his speed increased and his pelvis slapped into her body, they muttered words of desire to one another, louder, faster, higher until John groaned and grabbed the bed post to drive her fully home. He squeezed his eyes shut, bit down on his lower lip, and scooped her up into his arms as she rode out the last of his release. But they weren't done. John knew that Joss was close, but not there yet. And he wouldn't leave her without the blissful sweetness of her own orgasm.
"Come here," he said breathlessly. Pushing her down backwards on the bed sideways, he hitched her thighs up and buried his head there, latching onto her love bud gently, teasingly before including his tongue, while he ran his hands up and down her body, head to toe. Her legs bent in the air, he fondled what he could reach, which was more than good enough for her.
Joss inhaled sharply before exhaling on a moan. "Ohhmmm, John...you do that so...sooo good...ohhmmm, like that...yes...love my clit...ooohhhh..."
"I do love it, Joss. Every bit of it. You're fabulous," he murmured against her skin.
He continued his attentions, lapping and licking, flicking and circling until she was out of her mind with what he was doing.
And then, with the steady pinch and caress of her nipples, she was soon done. The explosions were like fire lights setting off all over her body. She felt in her hot space, but not only there. She also felt it in her belly, her thighs, her neck. Her hips writhed seductively, the pressure of her movements making the bed creak.
"Oh, yes, John...oh, yesss...yesssssss...oooohh..." she gasped repeatedly, softly, a smile breaking out between gasps. Her head slowly turned side to side as she rode out the sensations in her body.
"Hmmmm," John purred in manly satisfaction. "Very nice. You taste delicious, Detective. You sound delicious, too. It's so good."
"That was...better than good. That was amazing, John..."
"Agreed, Detective." He rose up on his haunches, a look of self-assurance across his face that she found incredibly sexy. He never took his eyes off her as he moved up to her mouth to kiss her. She could taste herself on his tongue and he was right: she did taste delicious.
"Sweetheart...I don't want to, but I really do have to go. And, despite how much of a bad ass detective you are, I don't like the idea of you not being rested for work. You should get some more sleep if you can," he said when he'd finally gotten his pulse under control.
"Right. You're right. It is better if I've been able to sleep. But can you still stay for a cup of coffee? Might help with the drive."
"Okay. One cup."
"Maybe a little toast too?"
He chuckled with a wide-eyed smile. "Toast, too? Oh man. I'm getting the royal treatment, aren't I? And I thought this here was the big prize."
"Well, you've never had my toast, so hold that thought," she said.
He kissed her forehead and nuzzled her neck with his nose. "I never had you either, before last night. But I'm very glad I did. I think the same could be said for your toast."
She grinned again. What was it about him that made her laugh so much? "All right, well, let me get up and get it started. You...get dressed. I don't think I popped too many buttons on your shirt."
"I didn't notice. Well, I can go in my tee-shirt if so. Don't worry."
"Sure, John. Getting up now."
"Joss?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you, lady."
"You're welcome. Hey, maybe we should argue more often?"
"I have better ideas."
She smiled, but didn't reply. She just hoped that she'd get to find out what those 'better ideas' were soon—very soon.
A/N: I tried to make this a drabble, but I don't do those very well (far too many ideas floating around in my head), so forgive me. Any ole way, I hope you enjoyed this one—and the other stories have new chaps coming (just not sure how long they will take to finish). Happy weekend!
