FIRE - By Atheniandream
Rating - HARD T (Verging on M)
"I didn't expect you to be screwing him behind my back!"
"It's none of your business who I happen to be screwing, Harvey!"
"Why him…?"
"Because he offered. Because he's charming. And because I haven't had a date in so long that I-"
"I don't have a problem with you dating someone, Donna; until you're jumping out for a quick fuck at lunch, or calling in late to the office; you work for me!"
"Are you… fucking kidding me? What about Scottie? Huh?"
"Excuse me?"
"You heard. You think I didn't know?"
"When she moved sides I never…"
"That's bullshit. When you came back from Parkville, you knew that I knew. Private jet? I bet she was all over you like a rash."
"He's just using you to get at me, Donna. Can't you see that?"
"You are… such an asshole…"
—
When he locks the door behind him,
She thinks what an awful idea it was for her to flee to somewhere where they've already treaded old ground.
Maybe tomorrow they can turn the Women's bathroom into the janitor's closet, she thinks idly, watching him check every stall as an afterthought; at least that way there would be nowhere for her to run and nowhere private for him to corner her from.
His gaze is dark, darker than she's seen and tainted with the pressure and stress of the past few weeks, hell, and the past fifteen minutes. His shoulders are hunched and he looks dangerous, even to her. She's spent years watching that anger be thrown at people; even in her current state of reeling she's still on the offensive; just in case; waiting for him to strike, to shout or accuse or use that magic talent of anger he's worked up in his gut. His jaw is set; his lips almost mashing together as his nostrils work to vent the pressure.
And really, she thinks, what else could they possibly say to one another? They're on the apex of saying the worst kinds of things, the very worst personal remarks, effective to only each other.
He closes in on her; it's only then that she realises that her eyes are filling, and she's backing away, her back bumping the wall behind her. Her eyes flick to the long mirror beside them; watching his face from the other side as he takes those last few steps.
His face is even harder up close, her head tilting up slightly to look at him.
The idea that he's so much taller runs in her head, the words gathering in her mouth as it opens slightly, to then pause in questioning.
His mouth is hot, and slightly whiskey tinged. The idea of questioning it completely drains from her brain, because he's hard and heavy against her chest, his hand pulling at her waist for the closeness as he sucks her bottom lip into his mouth.
As his hand runs across her partly exposed back, it occurs to her, in a fleeting thought, that for a women who's been - almost single handily – manning a purely 'no-strings-attached' affair for three weeks, that she's is almost completely pliable and completely clueless in the face of him.
She was a seductress, a temptress even…
But in this moment she's just a woman.
And one completely lacking in protest.
When he angles her head, deepening their kiss as her breaths start to come in thready gasps and his hips push against hers. For a second, she's caught off guard by his fervent arousal and completely dead to a reaction, until he tilts her hips and presses the full weight of her against him. She gasps, wrapping a heel around his ankle and grabs at his back. She can feel the shirt slide inside the silk of his suit jacket…
Later he'll tell her it was all her fault…
He gasps into her throat, grabbing at her leg by the back of her thigh and lifting it, his eyes catching hers just for a second.
She thinks she's never look so terrified in her life, because he's smirking, even through the tension.
When his mouth finds hers again, the kisses are quickly becoming frenzied like their time is up, like there is no way back and yet she's not even calling the shots, isn't in control to temper it. She undoes his belt quickly as they gasp again in their own timed rhythm, the smooth leather almost fluid under her fingertips as he nips at her neck, encouraging her as the thin skin there buckles under the weight of his insistent lips and work to mark his claim on her,
Branding her his.
She realises later, He's the only one she'd let do that… She still doesn't know what it means for them…
She's not paying attention as he thrusts into her, the realisation that her lingerie is half way down her legs, only a ghost of a thought, because his lips are full and she's pressed up against the cold painted wall and how can it feel this good when he…there hasn't even been any foreplay… and then he doesn't hold back and she thinks she couldn't possibly take any more of what he has left to give…
"Lick it," He commands, as she looks at his index finger.
In any other moment she would scoff and it would make her laugh, or at the very least double her over at the sheer obscurity of his command. But it's so fast, so primal, that before she's even checked herself her lips glide down his index finger and back up with a pop, her lips ending in a deliberate pout.
It's the best choice she's made all week; and he hasn't forgotten the foreplay…
Her head flicks back, bumping against the wall as his finger plays her like some hungry hippo game out of the eighties. It would be fine, bearable, accept his mouth is only mimicking it on the one place she favours over any other place on her body…
She's on fire, from her hair to her toes. She's sure she's scratched down his back through his suit and left a mark. It only seems fitting, all things considered.
And it's only after she's dulling the ends of her orgasm, teetering close to the edges of her resolve that he finally comes: strangely a gentleman to the end, even if she does feel the stitching in her dress tear ever so slightly as he grips it in his fist.
He stills in her; their foreheads resting as she frowns.
It's the first time she doesn't have a joke for him.
And the first him he's not making excuses not to be close to her…
"You're going to end things with Stephen." It's not even a question. Not even worth a negotiation.
She doesn't look at him, merely nodding vaguely as he slowly withdraws from her.
It's as if time and space and relativity all pass before her eyes. She's staring at his tie, with blue stripes and slightly purple silk – a firm favourite of hers – getting smaller and smaller and smaller…
It's only then, that she realises he's darted out of the bathroom. Leaving her.
And all she can think of,
Is how he didn't kiss her Goodbye.
Her lips are burning…
Possible Second Chapter coming...