Title: As Close As I'll Get
Rating: M- Smut, smut, smut
Synopsis: Gail and Holly find themselves at home... alone... in a kitchen. Whatever will they do to pass the time?
Disclaimer: Rookie Blue is not mine... But I love me some Rookie Blue.
Warning: Gratuitous f/f kitchen sex. You have been warned.
Her hands are reaching,grasping, tugging at your hair. Her mouth is greedy and hot against your own, her tongue bursting through the seam of your lips to find yours and twist against it, sliding. A moan catches in your throat and you try in vain to squelch it, desperately seeking control- or at least some semblance of it in this frenzied situation. A smirk is felt against your lips, the feel of it sending a thrill and a spark of something that feels a little like a challenge down your spine.
'So fucking smug,' you think, your own hands now moving of their own volition, 'but turn about is fair play...'. You feel the gasp before you hear it- the pathologist's lungs filling quickly as the breath catches in her throat, resulting in a sound somewhere between shock and desire. Your hands have moved down to cup her ass, your fingers gripping into the flesh there as you hoist her up, setting her down (admittedly somewhat unceremoniously) onto the cool surface of the kitchen cabinet that you had previously had her pinned against. You pause for a moment, looking at her face and delighting in the shock and haze you find in her eyes. The moment doesn't last long, however, her hands reaching for you, her fists bunching in the fabric of your already work- rumpled uniform and yanking you to her, your ears registering a "get over here" before her lips are crashing onto yours once more.
Your arms envelop her waist, your hands sliding underneath the soft fabric of her shirt to find even softer, warmer skin. You rake your nails down her back and she takes a moment to gasp once more against you only to kiss you harder, your teeth clicking with hers as she devours your mouth, plundering you endlessly with needy, wanton kisses.
"God, Hol..." you mutter, your hands finding the edge of her shirt, dragging the fabric up her body, reveling as the woman's body is fully exposed to you before finally drawing it over her head, loose dark curls cascading down her chest and slight shoulders. Bronze skin as far as the eyes can see- a direct contrast to your own pale complexion as your hand runs across a taut abdomen, the swell of a breast clad only in blue silk. So enraptured are you with the sight before you, you hardly feel it when she begins to work the buttons of your uniform. You splay your hands across her chest, delighting in the ensuing whimper and she tugs at your hair. You explore, your thumbs moving in slow circles across silk covered nipples as she buries her head in the crook of your neck, lightly kissing and tasting the flesh there as her hands grip your arms tightly.
You palm her breasts roughly in your hands, your thumb and forefinger gripping and rolling a nipple through the flimsy fabric. You feel her breath hitch and then the sting of the bite as she latches onto your neck. Your hips buck of their own accord, pleasure and a slight, stinging pain giving way to a new fire. She yanks your hair suddenly, her face now examining yours before your head pulled is to the side, a mouth nipping and sucking down your neck, a tongue tracing intricate patterns onto your collar bone.
You realize you're almost naked from the waist up when you feel a warm hand inside the lace of your bra, touching, feeling, squeezing and you have to remind yourself to breathe when you feel the hand go away only to feel it move to the latch at the back of your bra. She kisses you- hard- her tongue sliding against your teeth- as the fabric slides down your shoulders and lands with a soft thud on the floor. You surge together with renewed vigor, feeling her hands against your breasts once more. What follows next is a blur- her head leaning down, down, down to take a hard, aching nipple into her mouth. Unlatching the brunette's own undergarment, your tongue swirling, your palm pushing as hands grip you hard to her chest.
You're starting to get winded- overly excited, when you feel her hands slipping down into the front of your slacks. It wavers for a moment, just softly stroking the skins there, before moving slowly down. You don't even think- your hand covering her own and pushing down into your own slacks, past the silk of your underwear, your knees nearly buckling as long fingers meet hot slippery heat. She gasps, the sound heady against your own lips just as you do the same, your eyes snapping shut, something glutteral and needy ripping out of your throat.
"God..." you hear, your body thrumming, throbbing with sensation, "You feel so fucking good, Gail."
And then your eyes are open and you're struggling to keep them that way but goddamn it, this is probably the hottest fucking moment of your life and you want to see her, you want to remember what she looks like... and you want to play, too.
The brunette's pants are dropped quickly, helped by shifting her hips up so you can pull them down long, (God, so long), tan legs. You miss the sensation of her skilled fingers between your legs but you're driven by the need- the absolute, maddening need- to hear your name ripped from her lips as she comes. You chance a look up at her, mesmerized by the sight that greets you as your eyes drift up, languidly. She has her head thrown back, breasts having, her hands hooked into the handles of the old kitchen cabinets, the tips of her fingers white as she struggle to hold onto the thin thread of control she has left. A smile finds its way onto your face as your lips begin to ghost up her legs- the inside of her thigh, the hollow bones of her slim hips, the flat of her stomach. Your lips glide along the smooth dips and valleys of her body- memorizing, devouring her, stopping only to suck lightly on an eager breast. A hand comes to tangle in your hair, pushing on the back of your neck, forcing your mouth wider, the sweep of your tongue to become bolder and more frenzied. When she pulls you up by your hair to connect her lips to yours, it's frenzied, sloppy, all tongue and little finesse, but it sends a jolt right down in between your thighs. You pull on her hair, licking a path down her neck and sucking on the place that pulses especially hard when you push the heel of your hand against the hot, damp fabric of her underwear.
Your mouth captures an earlobe and you suck once, twice, three times as your hand moves in slow circles, the sound of Holly's moaning and the light smacking of the one cabinet door she still had a hold of echoing in the small cabinet. You lick up the shell of her ear stopping only to harshly whisper, your voice sounding heady even to your own ears.
"Jesus, Hol," you say, practically panting yourself, "You are so fucking hot. I've been thinking about this all day. When I saw you in the lab earlier... it took all I had not to bend you over the goddamn table."
You punctuate the last work with a heavy hand, grinding slow and hard into the brunette. She moans desperately, mindlessly digging her hands into your hair, grasping your face to her heaving breasts.
"You want me to make you come, Hol?" You pull back to look at her, her eyes glazed, her head nodding repeatedly as you hook your fingers into the sides of her under wear, bending down to take them off. You throw them over your shoulder not giving a fuck where they land and look up from your crouched position, a wicked thought suddenly forming in your head.
"Hol," you say, not moving from your position.
Brown eyes snap to meet the blue of your own and you smirk as the words leave your mouth.
"You're going to look at me when I do this, Holly."
Confusion ghosts over her face briefly before it's replaced by understanding as you drop to your knees, your tongue licking the juncture of her thigh. Her hands find the back of your head for what seems to be the hundredth time that evening as she guides you to where she wants you, any nervousness you might have felt before dissolving as words like "please", "oh God", and "more" start tumbling out of her lips. The linoleum is hard on your knees, your mouth beginning to ache and the fingers wrapped in your pale locks starting to pull a bit too hard, but you can't bring yourself to stop. Your right hand comes up from the spot its been resting on her hip and with a flick of your wrist and a rapid press up from your fingers, you're buried inside of her. You keep up this rhythm for a while- your fingers curling, your mouth working- until her hips begin to work unevenly against you.
She's almost sobbing- the words coming out slurred and half hearted, her eyes long shut as she swims in sensation.
"Harder," she's whispering and her hips are canting to meet your mouth and your hand is aching with the force and she's yelling her affirmation and then- stars. Stars as you name is ripped from her lips, her hips tipped up, her breath hitching as she reaches her climax. You move your mouth to the inside of her thigh, bringing her down gently before removing your fingers.
You wipe your hand against your pants discreetly before rising to meet her, pushing damp hair from in front of her glazed eyes. She greets you with a lazy, dopey smile and leans in to kiss you with a contented sigh.
She pulls away, wipes the side of your mouth and despite yourself, you blush, the realization of what you've just done suddenly hitting. Before you can duck your head, she shakes her own and smooths her hands over your cheeks, the sides of your face, your chin.
"Don't," she whispers, kissing the side of your mouth, "You're... God," she suddenly kisses you, slipping her tongue into your mouth, moaning when she tastes herself on your tongue.
"You're not fucking perfect, Gail," she whispers against your lips, "But you're as close as I will ever get. I- Don't hide from me."
Another kiss- a hand moves to the buckle of a pair of standard issue inform pants. A gasp resounds in the kitchen- and the pathologist and the cop continue on.
Please leave feedback. Hope you enjoyed it. May continue on if enough people like it.
Whit