Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS New Orleans or its characters…
Author's Note: MKP suggested an episode tag for 2x15 No Man's Land with a little bit of Cherri and so of course, once the seed was there… ;-)
WARNING: REFERENCES TO MATURE SUBJECT MATTER (But nothing explicit. Let me know if it needs a higher rating, however.)
"G'on," Chris LaSalle said, his blue eyes flashing with playfulness despite his exasperated yet resigned tone. "I know ya wanna."
"Told you so. Told you so. Told you-" Merri shrieked with laughter when he pounced on her, tickling her sides with his hands and her neck with the tip of his nose. He was being a pretty good sport about the whole thing. But LaSalle didn't seem to have any conceited pride about him, was perfectly willing to admit when he was wrong. And he really was a sucker for a happy ending.
In more ways than one... His teasing touches had transformed into caresses and kisses to her skin. Mm... But the man was intense. There was no middle ground with him. No apathy and half-interest. He was either all-in, or all-out. When he woke in the morning, it was like flipping on a light switch, energy surging and exploding into the room, filling it with light. And at the end of the day, when he finally succumbed to his body's need for rest, he went out like... well, like a light.
And so, should she be surprised that despite a long day of bickering and chasing down terrorists, an evening of 'talking it out' that consisted mostly of a fantastic, and slightly aggressive romp between the sheets (where they still resided), he was still going strong?
It was too soon to dive fully into round two. (He may be younger than her, but he wasn't 19.) Yet that never deterred him from showing her some affection. He seemed to enjoy the kissing and cuddling as much as the sex. Well, maybe not as much as, but definitely a close second, because damn he was good at it.
She lost herself in him. His musky male scent. His delightfully firm body hovering over hers, rubbing against hers in just the right places, his weight shifting, sometimes just teasing her with his presence, sometimes pressing her firmly into the mattress. His sure, skilled hands, smooth in some spots, calloused in others as they glided over her bare skin, caressing, squeezing her gently, until his fingers slid up the nape of her neck, threading into her hair and massaging her scalp, making a shiver of pleasure run down her spine. His delicious lips slid against hers, opening in an invitation she eagerly accepted, their tongues meeting in an expert dance. He tasted earthy, a little bitter and yet a little sweet. Like dark chocolate. She loved dark chocolate.
Mmm... yummy, yummy... so yummy.
He was moaning softly into her mouth, his grip tightening in her hair and on her hip as things inevitably intensified. And it was the way he responded so openly to her touches and kisses that really aroused her. He never stifled any noises he made, even those ones that sounded a lot like girlish giggles, or when he screamed her name mid-climax. He never hesitated to touch her, to ask her how she wanted to be touched, or tell her how he wanted it. There was a connection there. They'd always worked well together, and it had translated into the bedroom, too. Even when they found themselves on polar opposite sides of an argument (like earlier that very day), it simply seemed to create electricity, magnets repulsing each other with such force, before they suddenly turned with a violence that had them slamming inseparably together.
That had been round one... Round two was a nice slow, tender and affectionate embrace that -oh god- it was getting quite heated. She wasn't ready for another- oh, yes. Yes!/
Her heart was racing as she felt heat blossoming low in her belly and washing over her in tidal waves. The pleasure was nearly overwhelming, but not quite enough yet to obliterate the small flare of ironic loathing she had that he could utterly melt her without even specifically touching that certain spot on her body.
His name was a gasp on her lips, the only coherent thought in her mind as her world was consumed by the physical ecstasy born of his affection.
When she regained her wits a little, she realized he was chuckling, obviously pleased with himself that he could so easily undo her. Chris LaSalle had a strange brand of revenge, for certain. She knew he wanted her to lose control to him, to surrender to him, a compensation for his surrendering to her, acknowledging she'd been right about their suspect-victim that day.
He rolled onto his back, taking her with him, stroking her tricep with his fingertips as the endorphin high slowly dissipated from her system. They lay there in comfortable silence for a few minutes, before he broke it, softly asking, "Why'd ya say I was Sonja's work husband?"
His tone held no sign of hurt, defensiveness or anger. Just curiosity and a little bafflement.
"Because you are," Merri said, toying with the sprinkle of soft brown hair across his chest.
"Am not." Now he sounded like a pouting little boy, and she couldn't help laughing a little at the thought, in combination with euphoric light-headedness of the waning orgasm. Her amusement did appear to make him defensive on the subject. "I cert'inly don't think she's my wife."
"That's not what I meant, Chris." She pushed herself up to look down into his blue eyes, gone all sapphire in the white light of her bedroom lamps. "She thinks you're her work husband."
"Really? She say that to ya?" He was taking this much more seriously than she thought he would. Maybe he thought she was hurt by the notion. She wasn't. Sonja Percy didn't seem to hold anything but maybe passing platonic affection for the man. If that. And she knew what Chris thought of the petite, mouthy agent. (She wasn't a team player, and he'd never truly trust or respect her until she accepted the little NCIS family, showed its members some respect.)
"She didn't say anything. She doesn't have to," Merri said, stroking his cheek with her hand. It actually made her a little upset and sad, the lack of respect the younger woman showed the skilled agent. "She treats you like an annoying spouse she never wanted to be saddled with."
"Hm..." His full-blown, boyish, lopsided, charming grin lit up his face. "If that's the criteria, guess that makes ya my work wife, then."
She pinched his nipple, making him yelp and flip her on her back to ravish her once more, with kisses, touches and- Mm...yes! Oh, he was definitely up for round three.
END
A/N: LaSalle seemed quite bewildered and put off by Merri's comment. And that just begged to be Cherri-fied.