This is me coping with the fact that I miss Linstead. *Patiently* waiting for 3x17.

Post episode 3x11. RATED M

I own nothing.

Jay's POV

The sound of constant chatter and beer glasses clattering at Molly's drowns the noise in my head. Hermann brings me another tall glass of beer and I set it immediately to my lips as if it were aflame and in need of immediate dousing. The frothy liquid slides down my throat, cool and tart. I try not to think about today's events, but it is nearly impossible. Even though everything is okay and Erin is safe, I can't stop thinking about the what ifs. I lower the glass and wave my hand requesting another around. I really hope this wears off – this backwards euphoria I feel from almost losing the one thing that matters to me.

My phone vibrates in my pants pocket. I pull out and see a text from Erin. On my way. I smile and reply, waiting. I take another sip from my beer and stretch my legs under the table, listening to Ruzek complain about apartment hunting. In my opinion, finding an apartment is the least of his concerns right now. If he doesn't get his shit together quick he might lose Burgess, and I know he will be kicking himself if she puts an end to them.

Ruzek continues talking and my mind reluctantly reverts back to Erin – tied and scared, with a knife to her throat. The images play in my head like a horror movie. That idiot deserved more than a bullet in his head. In my opinion he got off easy.

My attention is brought back to Ruzek who is now placing shots on the table.

"Okay, okay…" Ruzek calls everyone's attention. "A toast..." He raises his shot glass and we do the same. "To taking the scum off our streets."

Thinking this might dull the edge I down the shot and it burns on the way down. When I set the shot glass back down I hear Ruzek say, "Lindsay!"

I can't hide the stupid smile on my face when I see her walking our way. She does one of those lovely sweep of her head when she sees me, flashing her beautiful smile. As soon as she get to our table, Ruzek orders another round. She takes a seat next to me and I instinctively circle my arms over her shoulders. I pull her close and kiss her hair. She smells like honey and gunpowder.

The next round of shots arrive and we down them. We don't talk about the day's events and even in my slightly drunken state I can tell Erin is more than okay with that, at least for now. She's as tough as they come and I know she's blaming herself for falling into a trap. However, if she decides to talk, I'll be here for her.

The night rolls on and both, Erin and I, are at a place where we no longer know our beer count. We chase shots with mixed drinks and our faces blush. We laugh and joke and kiss and we hold hands like two teenagers with curfew. At some point I suggest we leave and she happily obliges. We stumble into a cab and then all the way up to her apartment grinning like fools. Once inside, I pin her against the hallway wall and kiss her thoroughly. It's sloppy and inelegant, but it feels a little more intense than it probably should – given our current state.

I pull away for a fraction of a second simply look at her messy hair, red lips, flushed face. A smile pulls at the corner of my lips. I kind of love this girl. I capture her lips again and we clumsily stumble to the bedroom. We fall on the bed and I hover over her as her quick fingers work on the buttons of my shirt. I slide her flannel shirt off her shoulders and yank the tank top above her head. When our shirts are discarded I can't help but nip at the soft skin on her neck.

At some point she winces and her muscles tighten beneath me. I pull back to look in her eyes - the hazel color slightly darkening. Before I can even ask, I see her hand rubbing at the sore spot on her neck. Realization sets in. I gently pull her hand away and see the red line scarring her skin. A sense of understanding flows through an unseen tunnel between us and I just nod and kiss her, letting her know she is safe, he is gone, and I'm here.

Her arms then circle my waist and I feel her finger nails gently scratch down my spine. I then slide my hand underneath her and unclasp the hook of her bra. I slide my fingers under the strap and I ungracefully discard the flimsy fabric to the floor. I begin a trail of kisses, leading from one breast to the other and her back involuntarily arches.

I dig my hands at her waist, trying to keep her still, but she's getting impatient. Her hands find their way to my belt buckle and it takes this girl a second before I hear the clack of the buckle hit the floor. I pull back and raise an eyebrow at her. She smiles cunningly and unbuttons my jeans and slowly pulls the zipper down. Her fingers slide inside my boxers and her fingers does things to me that jumbles all my thoughts and I seep into a blissful haze.

When I feel myself near the edge, I grab her wrist. God knows I want her to finish, but I want to be inside her, the place of my own personal heaven.

"Slow down," I whisper and she narrows her eyes at me.

I need to concentrate on her. I pull away enough so that I can remove her boots and pants. I teasingly remove her underwear and she raises her eyebrows with interest and smiles. I lower my lips to the inswept curve of her waist and to the convexity of her belly, where I feel her muscles tighten. I move lower and kiss her further and she murmurs happily. I love this side of her. I work my way up the flesh of her left thigh, then down the flesh of her right. I make her wait and her hips hitch impatiently. I try to hold her still, but it's almost impossible. I blame the alcohol.

I finally kiss where she wants and she completely melts on the bed – like the happy drunk that she is right now. I kiss her, tongue her, and caress her with my hands and fingertips. I tickle and tease her with the tip of one finger, slyly poking and probing her hot and yielding flesh until she's moaning and my name escapes her lips. I push her legs apart to give myself better access and continue kneading, stroking, letting my fingers and tongue stray where they wish, where I wish – where she wishes. It's doesn't take long before she's withering and squirming in pure delight.

I move up to look at her and she's panting and breathing heavily. She hooks her hand behind my neck, pulls me down, and our lips crash sloppily together. Her hands then goes for my pants and she inelegantly tries to push them down. They don't budge, so I help her shimmy them down my legs. Then it's like I sober up for a half a second and I can't help but just look at her. My girl. I still can't believe how long I was able to go without this – without her.

"You're mine," I say.

"Yes," she rasps.

I position myself at her entrance and she pulls me into her. In one swift motion I flip us, so that she's on top. I need to let her set the rhythm, otherwise, in my inebriated state, I'll certainly disappoint. Her hips begin to move in a lazy rocking motion – churning me, twisting me, drawing me closer and closer to my climax. Her finger nails rake and claw my skin, while our hungry mouths devour each other. I gently nibble at her tender nipples, sucking and twirling them until she moans and whimpers.

I feel like I can't hold on for much longer so I flip us back and begin to piston back and forth, thrusting my urgency against her rolling need. I move back and forth, then, to vary our pleasure, from side to side, around and around. I'm confident in my game and I keep searching for new thrills for her –for me – for both of us. Erin is not like other girls, she keeps me on my toes. Making love to her is like dancing with a skilled partner. Every move I make, she anticipates and responds. She rolls her hips and twists her hips and thrusts her hips – up and back – in perfect counterpoint to my actions. Ardent – but not offensively aggressive. Yielding – but not passive. Suggestive but not demanding; eager but not pushy – this is Erin in bed and dare I say it, I love her for it.

It isn't long before scorching waves of super – heated delight pulse through me as the sliding, exciting, arousing, enticing friction of our bodies intensifies. I feel her release and I manage to delay mine for a half a second of excruciatingly wonderful pleasure before I let go. Our bodies become one as our legs intermingle and our arms lock around each other.

Slowly, very slowly sanity and reason returns. As well as our breath. We feel giddy and slap-happy drunk. I look into her eyes and I see love there – not lust. I know what lust looks like. This isn't it.

"I love you," I say. I have no hesitation in saying those words. I feel it so I say it. After today I know life is too short to hesitant anymore.

She chuckles. "You're just drunk."

I kiss her and it's a bit sloppy. "That might be true," I tell her. "But that doesn't change how I feel."

"Stop," she says smiling, and wiggles away from me.

"I'm serious." I tug her back to me and add, "I was really worried about you today. I don't know what I would've done if—"

Erin silences him with her lips. "Don't get all emotional on me."

"Look, you don't have to say it back. Just know that I love you, okay?"

I can see that she's digesting this. Mulling over what it means – for her and for both of us.

"Are you going to propose next?"

"No, I'm not Ruzek." I run my hand up and down her bare back. "I like us. I don't want to change anything. But I want you to know that I love you."

Erin nods and snuggles up to me, her body molding perfectly into mine. I close my eyes and will sleep to come and take me. I'm mentally and physically exhausted and I'm more than ready for it.

But right as I'm hovering between sleep and awake, I hear Erin murmur into my chest, "Thanks for coming for me. For having my back."

"Always," I say and kiss her hair.

No hesitation.

Thank you for reading. Oh and happy 1 year of #LINSTEAD! Cheers!