title: listening
author: neotantrika
fandom: covert affairs
pairing: annie walker/auggie anderson
rating: NC-17 for graphic sex
disclaimer: None of these toys are mine.
"Are you sure about this?" Jai Wilcox's voice sounded concerned. Or sullen. "It's surgery, even if it's minor."
Auggie Anderson shrugged. "No big deal. Like going to the dentist." He ran his fingers over the Braille keyboard, nodded to himself to confirm what his fingers read.
"The dentist doesn't put holes in your scalp," Jai said. "And why does it have to be you and Annie, anyway? I've got more field experience."
Auggie shut down his computer, reached for his laser cane. It was exactly where he had laid it. He turned his head towards Wilcox. "One, our DNA is compatible," he said, raising one finger. He raised a second. "Two, Joan doesn't want to risk an experienced field op, and Annie's our newbie. Three, I told Joan I didn't want you in my head 24/7. Do you want me in yours?" He stood, and heard Wilcox take a step back.
"No," Wilcox said grudgingly. "No, and same goes, right?"
"Damn right," Auggie said. He heard the door open, heard those heels before she spoke. "Annie. Ready?"
Her hand fell lightly on his arm. "Hi. Jai, you still trying to talk him out of this?"
"I'd like to talk you both out of it. This is risky, untried technology."
Auggie grinned. "You say that like it's a bad thing." He laid his hand over Annie's. It was warm; her nails felt smooth. He wondered if she used nail polish, and what color it would be. "Come on, Cybergirl. Let's go get nanoed up."
He felt her move, and he moved with her, a quarter-beat behind her. It felt, like always, as if they were dancing. He loved dancing, loved to move his body with a girl's, feel it move against his. It was almost as good as sex. Almost.
At the last moment, he turned his head in Jai's direction. "Be seeing you," he said.
Annie led him down a hall; his laser cane told him they were in 13 East, heading in the right direction. "Jai's hovering aside," Auggie said in a low voice. "I'll repeat what he said: are you sure about this?"
Her hand patted his. "Of course. Jai's just jealous. This is going to leapfrog me way over him, in terms of opportunity. Joan will want to send me into the field instead of Jai."
"You say that like it's a good thing," Auggie said. They turned a corner (fifteen steps then left), and her body bumped his. She felt soft. He wondered what she was wearing today. Well, he knew one thing she was wearing: he inhaled deeply. "Wow. Damn. Hermes 24 Faubourg? Seriously?"
"I picked it up when I was in Canada," she said. "There was a duty-free store-what? Am I wearing too much? You don't like it?"
He felt a little dizzy. Ylang-ylang, he thought. Jasmine, orange blossom...and ambergris? "God, it's the perfume, not the cologne! You must have paid a month's salary for it!"
"Auggie, you're the only straight man I know who hangs out at perfume counters." She chuckled, and the low, warm sound went through him. Woke things in him. Man-woman things. Involuntarily, his arm pressed against his body, trapping her hand against him.
"I don't," he said, and heard the huskiness in his own voice. "Never been to one in my life."
"Then how-oh. Of course." Her voice sounded embarrassed. "They wear it to bed."
He smiled, flattered. "They?"
"All those women."
"Maybe it's just one, with a wide variety of perfumes?" he teased. A couple-men-passed them, talking about football. One of them had a cold.
"Oh, I doubt that," Annie said. She leaned in to say it, and her breath ghosted across his cheek. "But do you like mine?"
He turned his face towards hers, and felt the slightest warmth, the slightest breath against his mouth and knew his lips had come within a millimeter of hers. He felt her slow, slowed with her. Part of his mind was reminding him they were in the middle of a crowded hallway, at work. His nose (and lower body parts) were telling him he was standing with a sexy, alluring woman who smelled like paradise and had a voice like melted sin. He inhaled again. "Worth every penny," he breathed.
"Thanks," her voice said. He felt her breath against his face again, smiled. Then she turned and started off again. "We don't want to be late."
Auggie let her almost pull him along the corridor. Around him he heard footsteps, conversations, the echo along the walls that told him they were passing other corridors (12 East, then 11 East, he thought). He fought to clear his mind. Was he making a mistake? Maybe he should have chosen Jai instead of Annie. It had seemed so logical, to try out this new tech with the smartest, newest field op in the DPD. Maybe it wasn't. Too late now, he thought. The paperwork required to authorize the anesthetizing of not one but two operatives with their clearance levels had taken weeks. If he backed out now, Joan would be angry. And he'd be angry at himself.
You've drawn tougher assignments, he told himself. You can handle this one. Annie's fun and sweet. This will be a cakewalk.
He was still trying to convince himself when she pushed open the clinic doors and led him through.
The CIA had its own food court, its own Starbuck's, so it stood to reason it had its own doctors. Auggie shook hands with Dr. Surwar, stripped when ordered, suffered the usual probing, poking and cold instrumentation. Finally he heard the doctor putting the stethoscope away.
"Okay, Mr. Anderson. You're good to go. I'm signing off on your medical clearance." Auggie heard the click of a ball point pin, the scribbling sound as the doctor signed the forms on his clipboard. "Do you have any questions?"
Auggie reached for the medical gown, felt the doctor's hands helping him find the armholes. "Will there be any pain, afterward?"
"Not much. About what you'd feel after an immunization-a little soreness. I can give you a prescription, but frankly I think aspirin is all you'll need. Of course, the interface itself may give you some trouble. This is experimental."
Auggie wrapped the gown around himself. He felt cold and exposed, as he always did in hospital gowns. "How long before it activates?"
"After you're healed, we'll bring you in and trigger the bootup. Assuming your DNA and hers interface as they should, things should be fine after that."
Auggie smiled. "My DNA and Annie's. Sounds like we're making a baby."
The doctor chuckled. "Not as much fun, and way more complicated. Do you feel ready now?"
Auggie took a deep breath. "Let's do this."
He woke with the usual mild panic, gasping because it was so dark. Auggie squeezed his eyes shut, counted to thirty. I'm blind. I can handle this. Don't panic. As usual, his breathing came back to normal and he relaxed. This was a hell of a way to wake up every morning, which is why he usually didn't like women staying over. This morning he was alone.
Reaching up, he felt the skin over his right ear. It was sore, tender, and he could feel a couple of stitches. They'd told him not to get his head wet for a couple of days. He wondered if it was to avoid infection or prevent the water from shorting out the very expensive electronics. Auggie was cynical enough to believe the latter explanation. At any rate, after they'd released him last night, he'd skipped his shower and gone straight to bed.
He swung his legs out of bed, felt the carpet under his feet. The carpet was more than a floor covering, it helped his feet define the area around his bed. When his toes felt wood, he knew he was more than one stride away from his bed. His left hand brushed the wall, confirming that the bathroom door was straight ahead. He showered carefully, toweled off, and was reaching for his toothbrush when he heard a woman's voice say, "Ouch!"
Reflex had him turning, putting his back to the wall, ears straining for the sound of an intruder. "Who's there?" he said. His voice sounded harsh.
A breathy shriek. "Who...is someone there? What are you doing in my bathroom?" It was weird; the voice sounded as if it were in the center of his brain, the way headphones made his iTunes sound.
"What are you doing in my..." Then recognition kicked in. "Annie?"
"Auggie? What are you doing here?"
"This is my bathroom," he said. He swept an arm out. "Where are you?"
"Wait." The zing of shower curtain rings. "I'm in my bathroom. At my place. I can hear you but I can't see-Oh, my God."
He came to the same conclusion at the same time. "Okay, Annie, don't panic. Just relax. I'm at my place. You're at yours. You can hear me, right?"
"Like you're right here with me. Or … or in my head."
"Good." His hand found the door. "I think our implants have booted up early. You're in your bathroom? I can hear an echo off the tiles."
"Yeah, I was getting out of the shower and stubbed my toe."
A sudden image of Annie, naked and wet, formed in his mind's eye. And oh, boy, was that a bad image to have in his head right now. "Sorry to hear that," he said. "Okay, looks like we're getting clear reception on both ends, but we don't know if the signal is properly encrypted, all right? So let's not go saying anything we don't want overheard on every cell phone in DC."
"Oh. Right. Right." Annie's voice sounded a little harsh. "I'll … I'm coming into the office right now."
"Meet you there," he said. He found his toothbrush, turned on the tap. He heard someone gargling, and chuckled. "Annie, I can hear that."
Choking sounds. "Oh. Sorry."
"This is sort of like being on a cell phone call you can't disconnect," Auggie said. "I can hear music."
"My bedside radio. I'll turn it down."
"No, that's okay. I like Bruno Mars."
He hummed along as he felt his way out of the bathroom, into his walk-in closet. He heard Annie humming along as well, heard drawers opening and closing in a room clear across town. He felt a smile dawning across his face as he heard all those lovely feminine sounds-zippers, the slide of hose, the snap of elastic. Annie was dressing, and apparently didn't realize-or care-that he could hear her doing it. Probably not fair, he thought. What he could not figure out was why he was feeling so skittish this morning.
He cleared his throat. "So. Annie. What are you wearing?"
Auggie heard the breathy little catch in her throat as she realized he was listening. "Oh. Uh. I thought I'd go with blue today."
Auggie nodded, his fingers "reading" the Braille tags on his clothes. Was she ... uncomfortable? Timid? Why was he sensing shyness in her? She hadn't said anything to lead him to believe she was feeling awkward. Yet he got the unmistakable feeling she was embarrassed. He found a light gray Oxford shirt and slipped it off the hanger. "Prada shoes?" he asked. "Or are you going to stick with the Christian Laboutins?"
Annie giggled. "This is like phone sex."
Auggie's hand clenched involuntarily on his shirt. "Uh. You realize the Company may be listening in?"
An indrawn breath, as close as if she was breathing in his ear, incredibly intimate. Auggie felt his body reacting as if she were in the room, naked. "Oh. Okay," she said breathily.
She didn't say anything else, but Auggie heard her heels click across a wooden floor (the Laboutins, and he could imagine what they made her hips do when she walked) and then a door opening and closing. He heard her greet her sister, heard them chat about her niece over toast, heard a debate between fish and chicken for Friday night dinner. Auggie felt a secret thrill, then a flash of shame - this was turning him into a voyeur, an eavesdropper. He heard a goodbye, and Auggie heard Annie heading for her car.
Auggie cleared his throat, heard Annie gasp as she realized he was listening, had been listening. "Not to butt in or anything," Auggie said softly. "But salmon is on sale at the Maine Avenue Fish Market. Just thought you'd like to know."
A short pause, while a car door opened and closed. "This is going to be ... interesting," Annie said.
"Yeah." Auggie flicked on his cane, locked his door behind him. "Interesting."
The scientists were jazzed, but Auggie drummed his fingers nervously on the arm of the chair. "So how do we shut it off?" he said.
He could smell Annie - she was wearing the Marc Jacobs again - and could feel her anxiety as well. She'd been cool, distant since they met up this morning - but underneath was the curl of apprehension. Auggie didn't know why he knew that, but it felt as real as the sound of her voice. This new tech was far more intrusive than they'd told him it would be.
"Well, Agent Anderson, we're working on that," said one of the men, the one with the basso voice.
Auggie turned his head, knowing his blank gaze would disconcert the man. "What do you mean, working on it?" His voice came out sharp, less disciplined than he liked. Auggie didn't like giving way to his nerves like that. But he was hearing everything in this room in stereo - through his ears, and Annie's. And something else, some weird sense he couldn't put his finger on...
"For some reason, the shutdown isn't working the way it did in beta," the man's voice said.
"What's wrong? Something with the interface?"
"Not at all." This voice was female, mature, almost grandmotherly. 'Your DNA is syncing perfectly, so there are no compatibility issues there. And the beta worked 100%, so this is just some glitch we'll work out. We'll have you both field ready in no time."
Joan's voice was sharp, uncompromising. "You'd better," she snapped. "Agent Walker has an assignment in ten days in which this communication will be critical. If it's not going to work, we need to find a workaround."
"We'll make it work," the man's voice promised.
Auggie gripped his laser cane and wondered.
"We only have to turn off one of the devices," Annie said softly. "Either me or Auggie, it doesn't matter."
It did matter to Auggie, but he would never say so. This forced intimacy with Annie was both disturbing and, he admitted uncomfortably, arousing. Like she said, it was almost phone sex.
"We'll do what we can," the grandmotherly voice says.
"Field test 31," Jai's voice said. His tone was neutral, but Auggie could smell his nervous sweat.
"Ready," Auggie said.
"Ready," Annie said in his head. Because that's how he heard her - in his head, as if he wore headphones. And truth to tell, part of Annie was in his head. The devices weren't just phones, they were more like telepathy. He couldn't read Annie's thoughts, but he could feel a ghostly echo of her feelings, the endorphins cascading through incredibly nuanced variations of emotions, reactions, mental states. And, of course, he could hear everything she could. What nagged at him was the feeling that he was not just hearing Annie, but catching something else, something subtler.
Shakedown nerves, he told himself firmly.
Right now he heard the click of heels, knew Annie was miles away, walking down one of the streets in the training compound. He pictured her with a gun in both hands, muzzle pointed at the ground, walking warily through the Maze.
"Door on the right, five meters," Auggie said, judging the echo of her heels off the concrete. "Window, closed, five and a half meters, on the left."
The echo of her heels changed - the snap and ring of metal. "Staircase, ascending," Auggie said. He felt a sudden jolt of surprise, at second hand. Something had startled Annie. Auggie listened intently, leaning forward in the chair. "Unknown subject, dead ahead!"
The sound of the shots blasted through his head, and he winced. Suddenly he felt a surge of adrenaline and it was not his own. He forced himself to concentrate. "One, no two shots fired! Annie, go left! Left! Open door on your left!"
Quick steps, then running, the sound of Annie panting. A scrape, a bump, a click. "Door's locked behind her," Auggie said. He listened. "No pursuit. Annie, are you okay?"
"Yes," came her whisper, so low he could not have heard it if he was standing next to her. And with it, a wave of feeling went over him, the feeling of ... trust? Auggie didn't understand it.
"You are not to break the subject's silence," Jai's voice said sternly.
"Fuck that," Auggie said evenly. "She's my asset and I'm her control. I will not endanger her unnecessarily."
"The protocols for the test-"
"Are arbitrary and unreasonable," Auggie said. "Annie, there's a window high on your right; I can hear wind whistling through a crack. Try to climb up to it."
Dragging sounds, maybe boxes being stacked. A creak, more panting. Scraping noises, a grunt. And then the sound of heels hitting the ground, walking. "She's out," Auggie said.
He heard Jai taking off the headphones. "Field test 31 complete," he said, and Auggie heard him switch off the recording.
"So, you're going to rewrite the rules anytime you feel like it?" Jai asked.
"Anytime Annie needs it," Auggie said.
"You know she's expendable," Jai said. "Remember that."
Auggie knew better than to argue. He heard Jai leave, knew by the echo of his own breathing in the room that he was alone. He allowed himself a scowl. Screw Jai, he thought. Annie was most certainly not expendable.
"So, you packed?" Auggie swung around in his chair as he heard Annie enter. He heard the glass door swing shut, heard the sounds of the bullpen mute. Her skirt swished - linen, he decided, maybe a rayon/linen blend - as she crossed to him. "Athens is gorgeous this time of year. And don't forget what I told you about loukomades, they're like doughnuts-"
"Hey," she said. Her voice was cool, but he heard - no, he felt - the tension behind it.
"Something on your mind?" Auggie dropped his voice.
"We need to talk," she said. He heard the creak of the chair as she sat, felt her knee bump his. A soft sound - she was fiddling with something, which told Auggie she was nervous.
He reached out and, unerringly, found her hand. He laid his on top of it. Her skin was warm, soft. "What's up?"
"I ... did you have a ... dream last night?" He could almost hear her blush. Why?
"A couple, yeah. Oh." The memory of one dream hit him, and he felt his mouth go dry. "Jesus! Annie, you didn't ... you couldn't ... "
"I ... felt ... something. I know it wasn't, um, me. And I heard you."
Auggie wanted to sink through the floor. It had been the one about the big-breasted blonde cheerleader who had celebrated with him in high school after the first time he won the state wrestling championship. After all these years, it was still an indelible memory, and a favorite replay in his dreams. And this one had been...detailed.
Auggie groaned, covering his face with his hands. "Jesus Christ, Annie..." Should he apologize? For what? A wet dream, that only happened inside his head? "I don't know what to say."
Her hand touched his arm. "It's okay," she said. Her voice was calmer now. "I just wanted to make sure it was, um, you. That I wasn't dreaming something like that, feeling something like that, on my own."
Auggie wanted to laugh and wanted to scream. "You were afraid you were having a lesbian wet dream?"
"Keep your voice down!"
"Sorry. But honestly, Annie, I don't know what to say. Or do. I can't help what I dream about."
"I know. But ... I don't want to tell the techs. Or Joan."
"God, no! No way!"
She patted his hand. "Good. Thanks, Auggie."
"Um." He swallowed. "How much, uh, detail, came through?"
There was a wicked chuckle in her voice. "Not much detail, but a whole lot of feeling. Intense feeling."
"Oh, God."
"And you were moaning."
"Kill me now," Auggie said quietly. "Please."
"It's okay," she said. Her voice was a hushed whisper that in any other moment would have sparked a wholly different response. Right now, it was reassuring. "No one but me will ever know."
He heard her heels clicking away, the soft thump of the closing door. And wondered what would happen if Annie dreamed about Ben.
He could almost smell the exhaust from the taxis in downtown Athens. Concentrating on the sound of Annie's footsteps, he murmured to Joan and Arthur, who sat near him in the comm center at Langley.
"She's walking through a market," he said. "Passing a watermelon stand. Two old women talking about the price. A guy just made a really rude remark about her ass."
Joan fidgeted. "Should you be telling her this?"
"I think she'd rather know the sitrep," Auggie said. He was jacked into Annie, so totally focused on what he was hearing - and feeling - from her it was as if Joan was in another world. "Crossing a street; there's a bus. A taxi. A Mercedes Benz, diesel. Okay, Annie, I hear you entering the building."
Auggie knew Greek, Annie (surprisingly enough) did not, so this was the ideal test for the new communication devices. Auggie sat here in DC, yet it was as if he were walking down Agiou Orous with her. He could even hear the swish of her hair against her collar as she looked for the address.
"She's found it," he told Joan. "Climbing the stair. Knocking. Ah."
He heard the door open, heard a greeting. "Annie, she's saying hello and good morning. Say, 'Ψάχνω για Άνδρο', that means 'I'm searching for Andros'." He listened as she spoke smoothly, not stumbling over the accent. "Okay, she says he's on the second floor," he translated for her. "Thank her and move on. Say 'Ευχαριστώ '."
"How's she doing?" Joan asked.
Auggie turned his head briefly towards his boss. "She's got a good ear for mimicry," he said. "Hardly any fault at all on the accent. She's climbing the stairs to the second floor; they sound like they're old, wooden. You're doing great, Annie."
In his head, Annie said nothing, but he felt a blip of endorphins that said she was glad of his approval. An echo in the stairwell told him Annie had turned a corner. She knocked on the door, and then it creaked open. A rush of something, Auggie wasn't sure what at first, then Annie speaking English.
Then it hit Auggie and he felt his face go hot. She was turned on. In his head, he heard her cool voice giving and returning a password, negotiating for the thumb drive with the intel the Greek asset was selling. He could hear her - calm, possessed, professional. But he also knew, on a most intimate level, that she found this particular asset extremely attractive. She was almost flirting with the man she was talking to.
Auggie shifted in his seat, dismayed to find that he was getting an erection, responding to her arousal with a powerful surge of lust. Oh, hell and damnation, he thought. This was a killer side effect.
"Auggie?" Arthur asked.
Auggie jumped. "What?"
"What's going on?"
"She's wrapping up the deal," Auggie said. "He's trying to get her to go higher. Wait, there's something...Annie! There's someone else in the room!" He sat up straight, fists on the glass table. "Annie, on your right! Someone breath-"
He heard her cry out, heard the thud of something hitting bone, then the thud of something hitting the floor. "Annie!"
"What is it?" He could hear that Joan and Arthur were standing. Arthur's voice was tense. "What happened?"
"I think someone hit her," Auggie said. He felt a wave of nausea go through him, unrelated to his own system. It was Annie, he could tell. "I think she's down. Annie, if you can hear me, make a sound, any sound."
Thumping, dragging noises. A muttered conversation in Greek. Auggie felt the blood draining out of his face and sat abruptly.
"Auggie?" Joan asked.
He ignored her, pulling his Braille keyboard over. He ran his sensitive fingers over the keys, dancing lightly and surely. "I'm calling in the Greek mission," he said. "Annie's down, she's been knocked out, I think. But the implant still works, I can hear them talking about her."
"Can she hear you?"
"I hope not," Auggie muttered. "Because those guys are talking about killing her." He swallowed, feeling the fear - his fear - mount.
A mutter in the corner; Auggie heard Arthur barking orders softly into a landline.
Jai Wilcox burst into the room. "Annie-!"
"Athens station has dispatched a team to the site," Joan said evenly. "ETA ten minutes."
Ripping sounds, tearing noises. Auggie felt sick to his stomach. He wanted to turn off his head. He didn't want to hear this. But he could not abandon her.
A muffled sound. Suddenly he was flooded with panic - Annie's panic. Auggie's fists hit his thighs. "Annie! Are you awake?"
A low moan. Terror and confusion. "She's awake," he said to Arthur. "Joan, tell them to hurry!"
Grunting noises, and a slap. Auggie twitched. What were they doing to her? "Fight back, Annie," he whispered, turning away from Joan and Arthur. "Remember our training sessions. Find a nose, an eye. Use your fingernails."
Now the fear was mixed with pain, anger. More tearing sounds, more slapping sounds, the sound of a solid punch landing on flesh. A grunt and a cry. The cry did not sound like Annie. "That's right, Annie!" he whispered fiercely. "Leverage. Remember what I told you about using your whole body. Don't give in!"
A cry, more noises. Auggie felt sweat break out on his forehead. Despite all his coaching, hand-to-hand combat was not Annie's strong suit. Thumping noises, and Auggie's stomach roiled under the onslaught of emotions from his link: panic, rage, the urge to flee. Then there was a crunching sound, and silence.
"Annie?" Auggie squeezed his eyes shut, not that that would make a difference. "Annie?"
"I'm here." Her voice was breathless. "I'm okay. They had me gagged. They ... they tore my clothes. I kicked one of them on the chin; he's out. The other one ran away. Oh! There are footsteps on the stairs."
"That's your backup," Auggie said, slumping with relief. His hands trembled and he squeezed them together. "Are you tied up?"
Soft sounds, the sounds of effort and strain. "Working on it," she said. "Here they come."
Then his head was full of the sound of men banging on the door, shouted orders in Greek, distant sounds of pursuit. A male voice as close as Annie's asked in heavily accented English if she was Agent Walker.
"They're there," Joan told him.
Auggie sagged back in his chair. "I know," he said, and put his face in his hands.
Annie said little to anyone, after dictating a report to the Athens station. She got on the next flight; Auggie heard the flight attendant asking her in French if she needed anything, then soft snores as Annie slept. He felt her weariness, her lingering aftershock of fear. While she slept, he dozed at his desk in the comm unit.
He heard the taxi driver chatting as he picked her up at Dulles; inside of ten minutes he was in a taxi of his own. So when hers drew up at the curb in front of her place, he was already standing there, cane in one hand, a six-pack of beer in the other.
"Welcome home," he said. "Joan says she got your debriefing from Athens, and you are not to come in tomorrow."
Her silence stretched, and he felt his smile falter. What was she thinking? She was so quiet. "Annie?"
Something tugged at the beer, and he let her take it. Then her elbow touched his arm. "Come on," she said. Her voice was hoarse - from being choked. He wondered if she was bruised, and thought she probably was. He took her elbow and let her lead him up the path, around the side of the house to her little apartment in back. Auggie heard the key in the lock, stepped inside. The room smelled musty, as if it had been shut a long time.
Behind him the lock turned in the door. The beer thumped onto a table. At a loss, Auggie stuck out his hand. "Annie? I - oof!"
Her fierce hug caught him by surprise. "Hey," he said. Her arms were around him, her shoulders shaking.
"They were going to -"
He patted her, smelling exhaustion and sweat and stale deodorant. "I know," he said quietly. "You ... you fought them off, right? You're okay?"
"Yeah." A sniffle. "Auggie, if you hadn't been there - with you talking to me like that, telling me what to do - I kept my head. Thank you. And I remembered what you taught me. I ... thank you."
Lips on his cheek like cool silk. "You're welcome," he choked out. "But we should probably work on some of that hand-to-hand. We could meet in the gym tomor-"
Her mouth on his was warm, silky. Auggie gasped, and then caught the tsunami that pounded through her. Lust, yes, but happiness and gratitude and relief and comfort and a dozen things he could not name. He'd never realized women could be so complicated.
Then her mouth moved on his and he stopped thinking altogether.
I shouldn't. We shouldn't. Oh, Christ, her mouth...
Luscious, perfect, wet and arousing. He felt his knees go weak and his dick go hard, felt himself trembling. He was lost, drowning, he didn't know the geography of her place and didn't even know where he could sit down. Or fall down.
Her hands...
"Annie!"
Her mouth shushed against his lips. His blood pounded in her ears. "Auggie," her breath whispered across his mouth, delicious, wicked, teasing. "You think I don't know what you're feeling? I felt you, back in that hotel room. You weren't just worried about losing an asset."
He swallowed. There was no point in telling anything but the truth, not when each of them was a walking lie detector for the other. "No, I wasn't. I was afraid for you, afraid of losing you." And as he said it, he felt something strong stand up in him, something that had nothing to do with sex or lust or fear.
"Annie..." This time his mouth took hers, diving in and devouring. She tasted of exhaustion and salt tears. Her mouth curved under his into a smile. He brought his hands up to her face, delicately touching, stroking. He felt the butterfly flutter of her eyelashes as he stroked her smooth cheek. Her cheekbones rose under his fingers. When he traced her mouth, she sucked one of his fingers into her mouth and he shook all over. God, what was this woman doing to him? He didn't usually lose control like this.
"Auggie, I need you." Her whisper in his ear, her body pressed up against his.
"We shouldn't," he said weakly. "Bad idea, Annie. We work-"
She shut him up again with another kiss. God, those kisses. Long, deep, slow, voluptuous. She took her time.
Auggie's head swam. He should pull away, go home (if he could walk).
She slid her fingers into his hair, toying with it. Her tongue teased the corners of his mouth. Over it all, the beat beat beat of luxurious desire in her, in him, bouncing back and forth between them in a feedback loop like no other.
Fuck this.
Auggie tossed his laser cane heedlessly to the left and heard it clatter against something. In one swoop, he caught her up against him. He knew exactly where her knees were, hefted her warm, soft weight in arms that he honed daily in the gym. "Where's the bed?" he growled.
She giggled, and his whole soul soared. "Three steps directly in front of you." Her hands on his face, his hair, stroking lines of fire. He felt the tremor that went through her, felt it echoed in him.
When his knees hit the edge of a surface, he bent gently, laid her on a soft mattress. He knew her head was to his left, stroked a palm down her face. He felt the warm wave of happiness from her, felt the animal shimmer of arousal under it.
"Are you sure?" he whispered, still not quite believing this was happening so fast, so- He gasped when her hand cupped him, squeezed.
"You're wasting time," she whispered. "Hurry." She let go of him. He heard the rustle of clothing, the sound of buttons and snaps. His mind's eye drew a vivid picture of skin being bared, of hip and thigh and breast. Slowly, he felt along the edge of the bed, sat down.
He reached out tentatively, and found warm skin. So soft, oh God so soft. He stroked - her waist, he realized. She sighed, and he felt her reaction. Delight, slow pleasure, a kind of purring in his head. It fed his desire like gasoline on a bonfire. He felt her arch, trailed fingers down, found a round, soft belly, a navel. He leaned across the bed and put his lips on her belly.
A gasp, a giggle. "Tickles!" she said. Happiness cycled through her head, her emotions, to his.
Her skin smelled wonderful; Auggie took a deep breath. And moaned.
Her hand on his shirt, unbuttoning. "I can feel you in my head," she said. "I can ... hear you. You want this." A pause, and her voice now held wonder. "You ... always did? Auggie, I didn't know."
He felt his face heating up. "No," he said hoarsely. "Of course not."
She had unbuttoned his shirt to his waist, and now her hand slid up his chest. Auggie felt his stomach tighten, felt the powerful surge of lust filling his whole mind, his body. Her hand was a tease, a delight. "You want me now, I can tell." Her fingers drifted across his pecs, found a nipple, pinched gently.
With a low moan, his control broke. Auggie flung himself across her, feeling that soft yield beneath him, feeling her her her all up against him, naked and hot and alive. She giggled a bit, and squirmed as he tore at shirt, shoes, jeans. She kissed him, going from his mouth down his neck, to his collarbone.
When he threw off his shirt, she ooohed. He felt a little embarrassed, not because he hadn't been told that, but because the feedback from her arousal was making him lust after his own body. It was weird, to be in her head and his. But when his fingers hesitated, hers took over, unzipping him, pushing at the waistband of his clothes.
He wriggled, and then he was naked, and she suddenly pressed herself all up against him.
"Jesus!" he said tightly. "Annie, wow."
She chuckled and he felt her breasts rise and fall against his chest and it was glorious and sweet. Sweet Annie, the girl who smelled so good and laughed like water in sunlight and always, always understood. He buried his face in the angle of her neck, took a deep breath, and let slip the leash he kept on his heart.
She was overwhelming - soft and female, round and sweet. Her nipple was velvet against his mouth, her smell was delicate and feminine, fragile and sexy. Her skin under his tongue rose in goosebumps that drove him higher, filled his head with heat. And her hands roamed - over his chest, his shoulders, trailing fire down his torso, and finally finding him hard and hot against her.
When her hand gripped him, he bit her shoulder gently. "Ah, God, Annie..."
Under and over it all, the beat of her emotions, her reaction driving through him, like being hooked up to some cosmic battery pouring energy into him, into her, feeding back and increasing the feeling, until he was hot enough to explode. His head filled with her taste, her smell, the feel of her skin along his. She slid a thigh up his, he slid a hand between her thighs oh God oh God was that her or him he was feeling but it really didn't matter.
"Auggie," she sighed, and he rolled on top of her. She shifted and he shifted and then she was was warm and wet and tight around him, drawing him down into that sweet darkness, that Nirvana full of warmth and love.
Love.
He plunged, feeling his heart speed up, feeling her heart match his, feeling the two of them lock closer and closer, not just physically but emotionally, mentally, and whatever that link or bond was in their heads. She slid along his length, moaning, clutching at his shoulders, and for one terrifying moment he knew what it felt like to be penetrated, knew that blissful glide and stretch from a different angle altogether.
And it was all right. It was Annie and it was him and oh Christ she was tight and hot. And moving in that delicious, soft way, surrounding him.
Annie. His Annie.
Closer than he'd ever been to a woman in his life, deeper than he'd ever gone, body and soul, Auggie Anderson emptied himself into Annie, hearing her cry out even as he felt the wave go through him. And he knew, through that bond, that it happened for her as it happened for him, more intimately than he'd ever been with a woman, ever.
He lay, exhausted, sated, feeling her breasts rise and fall against his chest. When he could make himself move, he rolled off of her, feeling cold when the air hit his sweaty skin. Tentatively, he opened his mind, listening for her emotions, connecting. Annie was drifting dreamily, happily, satiated beside him.
He drew a hand down her face, felt her turn towards him, felt the flutter of eyelash against his fingers. So delicate. So small. So tough.
"Annie. Why?"
A rustle as she moved, her warm full mouth on his. He opened for her, sharing a long, slow kiss that told him of desire long curbed, affection flaming into something more, trust that held her steady. He read in that wordless communication all the answers he needed, and gave her back her kiss, doubled in passion.
"Because," she whispered, snaking a hand down to drift seductively across his thighs. He heard the smile in her voice, "You hear me, Auggie. You have always heard me, no matter how far away I was."
He felt her hand tapping the place over his right ear, the spot where their implants lay under the skin. "This," she whispered against his mouth. "This lets me hear you better, but even without it, I heard you. Every time you touched me, your hands said my name."
Auggie trailed a hand up her body, that soft warmth, curved and perfect under his hands. "And every time I heard your voice," he said. "I heard 'home'."
THE END