Translation: Love Will Find A Way
AN: Set a couple episodes after Eric returns to work from his shooting in season 5. Canon EXCEPT for 1) Walter Simmons is apart of the team because I like him, but he does not play a big role.
She crawled into bed with him in nothing but her own skin and a whole lot of lust and desire. Tonight she felt her sheets rather than his, but it didn't matter one way or another, she didn't feel at home without him anyways. She tossed an arm over his chest, snuggling up to him. His warmth radiated against her skin and he left a soft kiss on her forehead, "I wanna make you feel good," he whispered, his fingers stroking through her hair, playing with the the soft strands between his fingers.
"You already have," she mumbled, kissing his chest and tracing invisible patterns along his warm skin. She loved the feel of him, loved hearing his heartbeat, loved his smell and his warmth, and the way her breathing always seemed to fall in tune with his.
He smiled, though in the dark room she couldn't see it, she could feel his lips curve against her forehead, "I know," he paused reaching for her so their lips could connect, "but I wanna do it over and over and over again."
He tipped her lips to his, one hand holding the back of her head in place, the other skimming down and under the sheets, finding the warm skin of her belly and the hot skin between her thighs. At one brush of his fingers she whimpered his name, "Eric."
He chuckled a little, kissing her deeply while his fingers brushed against her again, in slow, soft circles, teasing her. That was always his favorite part, even at 2AM in the middle of the night when she got up for a glass of water. Even before their relationship went well beyond the physical bounds of friends and coworkers(let's be real here, their emotional connection always blurred the lines between friendship and something more), she knew that Eric Delko was indeed a tease. It's like he got the same pleasure of giving that she did from getting. The way her cheeks flushed, the way her hair fell flustered around her, the way her breathing became ragged, and her eyes darkened with pleasure and eventually closed entirely from the majestic things his fingers could do.
At work he was always meticulous, his hands always swift and careful with evidence, his fingers keeping intact even the smallest of details on fingerprints or DNA or anything he may have been processing. And the first time Calleigh saw the careful and meticulous way he lifted a print from a kicked in door, she had no doubt in her mind that his technique and the careful skills he mastered went far beyond the walls of the crime lab.
He'd shuffle between soft strokes, moving from opening to clit and back down, tracing his path over and over until she was panting. And then he'd run his thumb in circles, hard against her, his index and middle finger finding their way to the deep tunnel inside her. He'd move his fingers with a gentle grace in her, his thumb planted on her center while his lips traced a path down to her breast. And when she'd start to moan, when her eyes began to close and her mouth fell ajar, his fingers would pick up speed and the soft rhythm he'd built would become more and more intense. And when his name fell of her lips, his thumb on her center would work harder, his fingers working faster and faster. He wanted to know how good it felt, wanted to hear her say it.
Pleasure was radiating through her, setting off every nerve ending and running through her veins and it was too much but not enough all at once. He knew she was close, could feel her walls clenching against his fingers, could feel her heartbeat pick up even more. And if anything, he'd take watching her come, knowing he was the one to do that to her, to unravel her and peel down all her layers to see her intimate core, over actually coming himself.
"That's it," he whispered,"you're so beautiful."
A third finger curled inside her and his mouth was on the move, leaving butterfly kisses around her areola, and refusing to indulge her tight peeks until he knew she was about to fall over the edge. His one free hand made its way to her other breast, rolling her nipple and all she could do was moan his name over and over and over again, and that was always enough to make Eric hard as a rock. Yet he somehow always found the strength to push his own desire aside to pleasure her, granted though, he loved seeing her unravel and flood into a puddle of satisfaction, knowing his name was the only one she could remember.
His fingers continued moving in and out of her, curling and hitting her just right and she kept moaning and moaning until she somehow found the capacity to formulate a sentence.
"Eric I want you," and it was always that simple with her, that's all she ever had to say.
His lips were back on hers, soft and languid and he tossed aside the sheet between them to hover over her, one hand knotted in her hair, the other moving from wet folds to a bare breast.
He was always gentle and slow with her, always made sure to take his time, to do things right.
And she'd never expected that from Eric, and sure he is pretty... adorable..., but she'd never expected him to be this tender, this delicate. But he always was, always took the time to ravish her and kiss every patch of skin he could find. And at one point he'd told her that he was saving this kind of love making for someone special.
Calleigh had never been into slow and sensual sex... at least until their first time, which was exactly that. It had been after the shooting when he was released from the hospital. She'd taken him home, refused to let him be alone, and one thing lead to another. His grief for realizing he almost lost his life and followed his sister, plus her blatant fear of almost losing him and how she honestly didn't know what she'd do without him, when mixed lead to a long hug which lead to a kiss followed by touching and feeling and eventually thrusting and moaning. And ever since then, ever since the realization that she could lose him at anytime, she refused to let him go. And making love was one of the many ways they used to stay connected to one another. To be as close as physically possible. Slow and passionate and tender and she would do anything to have him inside her, to be one with him.
He nipped at her lower lip and guided his length to her entrance, brushing against her clit for a moment making her moan that heart clenching, soft, seductive moan that made him dizzy with desire, and entered her, his forearms shaking while he tried to hold out, because every time with Calleigh was different, and it didn't matter how many times he'd been inside her, it was always good, so good and he needed to pace himself so he could last. But she was having none of that, he had already brought her so close to the edge, she was almost there, he was almost there, and the best part of their sex was always coming together; it brought them closer, both physically and emotionally.
Her hands felt down the warm muscles of his toned back, contours she'd memorized. Her fingers found their way to his bottom and she dug her nails there, urging him to go deeper, faster. And he did, taking a breath, his lips back on hers, he pumped in and out, in and out, like he had so many times before but each time was sensual and exquisite and he let his lips fall on hers, kissing her, and when she moaned he moved his tongue swift into the haven of her mouth. And god, he loved everything about this woman. The feel of her skin, the way she moaned his name, the warmth of being inside her, her compassion, her intelligence, every single thing down to the chipped nail polish on her little toe; she was absolute perfection to him. He loved her, and she loved him, it was simple, raw and beautiful. The way it was meant to be. And when he came, her name fell off his lips at the same time his fell off hers. And she loved when he stayed tucked inside her after the waves of their orgasm steadied, loved being connected with him. And when he pulled out, she curled right back up to him, the sheet tossed over them and she whispered that she loved him and he told her he loved her too. It was simple and easy. The way they'd always been with each other.