How Did You Get Here {One Shot}

Season three canon compliant until after Abbie's return

For Zee

Freshly showered she descends the staircase lost in her own private scolding.

He risked his life and soul to bring me out of the Catacombs and I still can't open my damn mouth and tell him the truth. The way he held and stroked my hand in the Archives made me want to strip off all my clothes and spread out on the nearest flat surface and offer myself to him like an all you can eat buffet. We belong to each other I only wish I had the courage to claim him.

The light from the fire illuminates the room. Abbie sways to the soulful voice sipping from her glass of rum before easing her heartache by singing along.

How did you get here…nobody's suppose to be here…I tried that love thing for the last time…My heart…

She wipes the tears from her eyes. Damn his beautiful, sexy British ass!

"Lieutenant, are you unwell. Is there some relief I can provide?" Crane asks from the stairs. He has removed his jacket, boots, and stockings clearly prepared to retire for the evening.

She holds up her glass in mock triumph, "Couldn't be better, but thanks for asking," she chuckles dryly.

He descends the remaining three steps in his bare feet and steps with purpose to stand before her. He places his right arm behind his back, palm facing up. He extends his left hand gesturing for the glass.

Abbie exhales a deep, exasperated sigh and places the glass in his hand. Crane examines the rim of the glass until he finds what he is searching for-her lip print. He knows she is observing him. He turns his lusting eyes to her and attaches his mouth to the print and takes a long drag of the rum.

When she gasps he pulls the glass from his mouth and uses his loquacious tongue to lick his lips. "Ms. Mills, if you would be so kind to identify who has taken residence within your heart without your permission. I will most certainly remove them."

Abbie's body betrays her and she clutches the couch to stay upright. "I…what…no…it is not like that," she stammers.

"Are you certain? For I will give you anything you ask of me," he places the glass on the table. He hears the shift in her breathing-short and shallow. Crane dares a glance down at her heaving, ample cleavage. The doorway to heaven begins there.

Abbie waves her free hand dismissively looking at the floor and shaking her head. "I am just having one of those days-or in my case years. I will pull it together," she offers as a means of vague explanation.

"Aww, yes…I have those days often: a day when my desire to demonstrate the love and passion I hold for you cannot be contained; a day when my need to declare my devotion to you nearly robs me of speech; a day when my unbridled lust for you allows me to consider tearing the flesh from my bones," his eyes roam her face and body committing ever micro-expression to his eidetic memory.

This mother fucker is giving me a life altering orgasm with his voice and declaration of love.

Abbie pants, pulls her hair, squeezes the back of her neck and clutches both breasts. She stumbles toward the stairs stripping out of her berry wine t-shirt, unfastening her bra and yanks down her pajama shorts to reveal her dripping, overheated pussy.

She spreads her body open for him against the stairs and props up on her elbows, "I beg of you. Fuck me until there is nothing left," she commands.

Crane arrives before her in three strides: step one, removes his shirt; step two, he steps out of his pants and undergarments; step three, he kneels before her, "I worship at your alter." He places a tender kiss to the center of her forehead.

Crane raises both hands and uses only the fingertip of his long, pornographic hands to touch every inch of flesh. Abbie grasps the stair rails writhing at the erotic, never ending touch, "Dear God…someone save me," she shouts as she squirts her release.

Crane stands and stretches out over her bracing himself with one hand against the step above her. He strokes the underside of his cock and bows his head to her. "As I understand modern medicine will prevent our off spring at this time?"

Abbie is two orgasms in and barely coherent. "What? Yes, no babies," she continues to pant.

"Very well, I only pray that I have the strength and stamina to express the depth of my love for you," he pushes in and claims her parted mouth. God's wounds this more glorious than I imagined.

His kisses and stroke are long, elegant and relentless. Abbie raises one thigh high and tight around his waist and twists their right legs together. When he finally releases her mouth she chants the mantra she held captive in her heart for much too long, "I love you…I adore you…I cannot get enough of you," she whimpers while a tsunami of orgasms take hold of her body.

Her declaration of love unleashes an unrepentant beast. Crane widens his stance, rises up on the balls of his feet, and gripes the stair above with both hands pounding at a manic rate. "Our bond knows not of time, space, realm or form…eternity-our love for eternity," he shouts as wave upon wave of orgasm rushes from him. He collapses from his knees. His jerking body lies upon her.

"Dear God that was everything," she exhales in exhaustion.

He catches his breath, "Lieutenant may I humbly request to remain in your heart?"

Abbie strokes his hair, "Absolutely. I am never letting you go."

Crane and Abbie remained on the stairs talking into the night. She nestles into his lap. They share all that had been left unsaid. Laughing at all the obvious moments they ignored and denied. The doorbell rings and both heads turn slowly. "Treasure, please retire for the evening. I will join you in due time," he directs.

"Crane, why don't…"he raises his hand and halts her request.

"I need to be clear with him from this moment forward," he explains.

Abbie takes his face in her hands and kisses him slowly her tongue leaving a love sonnet in his mouth. She stumbles up the stairs-her body still recovering from her love hangover.

Crane steps into his pants and pulls his shirt back on shaking his chestnut locks into place. He crosses the room and opens the door. He leaves one hand on the inside knob and stands at attention, "Director Reynolds may I inquire why you are at our threshold during an hour identified for rest?"

Danny's mouth falls open and his brows rise in shock. Ichabod Crane stands before him displaying smug satisfaction. "I need to see Abbie," he stutters attempting to step into the house.

"Director Reynolds these are not business hours. Did she request your presence? Did you call and seek her permission? Are you choosing to abuse your power and authority over a subordinate?" he questions rapidly his left brow rising higher with each statement.

"I…no…wanted to check…her well being," Danny stammers.

"Since I and I alone am intimately aware of her activities this evening and every one hereafter I will save you the trouble of falsehoods or disingenuous statements," Crane clarifies.

"Are you calling me a liar," Danny is arrogant and pissed.

"To be clear, I am calling you out completely. There is nothing here for you now or ever. Please respect the sanctity of our bond. Good morrow," Crane shuts the door firmly. He retrieves their clothes strewn about the floor and ascends the stairs at a jaunty pace.

He enters her bedroom, disrobes and climbs in bed. Abbie turns and coils her body around him. "Did you enjoy that," she laughs.

"Immensely," he smiles down at her broadly.

The End