On the Big (Red) Comfy Couch
They've been going around in circles on this case for almost 2 days now. There has to be an answer somewhere in this disturbingly immaculate crime scene, if only she could find it. The only reason she'd bothered letting Dr. Cal Lightman tag along was his occasional Sherlockian abilities of deduction and assessment, even if those are usually better served against unreadable faces and not blank walls.
She doesn't know what she was expecting but it definitely isn't him suddenly plopping down on the large luxurious sofa, slack as a discarded suit at the end of a long workday. Thinking maybe her imposing schoolteacher bit can get his ass back in gear, she goes and strikes a disapproving mom pose in front of him, hands on her hips and everything.
As Lightman grasps her lapels and yanks her off her feet, her legs pop open out of instinct (and habit) to rest on either side of his thighs. Where a person of different experience might fall plank straight forward, Wallowski (or at least her body) remembers to shift in midair, straddling him intimately as she lands.
At the surprise on her face, Lightman momentarily abandons his explanation. "What? In the middle of a crime scene?" A what do you take me for? expression appears on his face, somewhat spoiled by the low-lidded run his eyes make over her before he continues. "Foster'd kill me."
An impish look, intense and mildly seductive, plays about her erotically full lips as she counters, "Not if you don't tell her."
The expression of contemplative confusion is priceless, his tone adorable as he squeaks out a "Seriously?"
One well-shaped eyebrow rises as archly as her tone. "Are you smoking crack?" She can swear she spies a note of disappointment in his acknowledgement of the ridiculous, but it's gone before she can truly be sure. "Just… bear with me, all right," he gently pressures, when she resists his sudden attempt to urge her forward. "Jeez, Cal. Don't I always?" But she relaxes.
Resuming his explanation, he grasps her again by the lapels of her off the rack Ann Taylor blazer and draws her close enough to brush her lips with his if he only pressed up a few inches. She becomes aware of her hands on the cushion behind his head. She'd placed them there when he'd drawn her down because they would've ended up pinned between them, resting on his chest if she'd left them. She'd wanted them free, but now they're dangerously close to the slight curling edge of his hair. Her fingers flex into the cushion, itching to run through the dark locks, as she fights the urge to graze her palm with the perpetual stubble along his jaw, grab the back of his neck and pull him forward the requisite few inches to bridge the gap between their lips...
Forcing her mind to the case at hand, he points out the final bit of evidence to support his theory. Having reset the framed photograph again, she offers a small smile with her conclusion and is rewarded with a slightly tensed "Oh my God, you're good" from the good doctor currently nestled between her thighs. She knows he's teasing, but presented with such a harsh edge of arousal and delight, she can't resist. Giving a little wiggle, she leans all the way in, her lips grazing his ear with a hot and sultry whisper. "Damn straight. But it sounds like you could use a reminder of exactly how good I can be."
A/N: everyone always does Callian, and they're great too, but I liked Lightman's interactions with the delightful detective. and yeah I know it's been a while since this aired, but I finally pared it down just right... I think. let me know. reviews are always appreciated. enjoy!