Come at me.
Ps. I don't own Psych, silly.
It started with a knock.
It was a Tuesday night around eight o'clock. Iris was in bed. I put my book down and stretched off of the couch. I padded barefoot across my carpeted living room onto the cool tiles next to my front door. I looked through the peephole, but all I saw was a uniform. I unlocked the door and pulled it open.
"Carlton," I said, looking him up and down. Why was he still in a uniform? "What are you doing here?" He didn't drop his steely gaze for a second.
"Can I come in?" he asked. Something in his voice was off. Something was breaking.
"Of course," I said, moving aside to let him in. I shut the door and urged him into the living room. He stood firmly in the middle of the room. "What's wrong, Carlton?"
"Yell at me," he replied, grasping one of his hands with the other. I was confused. Yell at him?
"Why would I yell at you?" I asked, sitting down on my couch and patting the place next to me. "Also, why are you in a uniform still?"
"For ruining your life. For ruining my life. For ruining the lives of everyone at the damned SBPD, or as some call it nowadays, Hell," he said, giving up his attempt to be still. He started pacing, starting from one end of my coffee table to the other.
"Carlton, sit down," I said. He looked at me oddly, and then sat beside me. "You did not ruin my life. If anything, you made it better. Now, your life is not ruined, either. You've got Marlowe, and in three more months, I think I promised you a promotion. As for the others, everything will be back to its usual disorder as soon as we get Trout out." He gritted his teeth.
"No, Karen. It won't," he said, fisting his hands. I looked at him hopelessly.
"I don't understand what you're wanting from me, Carlton," I said. He growled. And then, in less than a split second, his lips were on mine, hot tongue tracing my mouth.
Push him away, Vick!
I grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt and clung to him, thighs sliding over his. My lips parted, letting him plunder. His hands slid up the back of my tee shirt.
Hey, asshole! He's married!
I popped the two buttons off of his uniform shirt, and tugged it impatiently over his head, reattaching our mouths as soon as it was off. My fingers raked through his liberally salted chest hair. He felt around for my bra snap, failing miserably. I pulled away from his mouth, smiling a little.
Don't tell him!
"It hooks in the front," I whispered, pulling my tee shirt off.
You are a class A bitch, Karen Vick.
He unhooked the front of my bra, and unexpectedly stood up. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he headed toward the staircase. He carried me up the stairs, quietly closing my bedroom door behind us. He dropped me onto my bed, landing on top of me seconds later.
"I'm really sorry you got suspended," he whispered, his hot breath tickling my ear.
"Don't be," I whispered back, tracing the veins in his arm. He leant his head down and dominated my mouth.
Well, it wasn't really much of a fight.
I started on the button of his pants before he stopped me.
"We can't do this," he said suddenly, rolling off of me. I sat up.
"Why the hell not?" I asked. He looked at me like I was missing the huge bill board.
"You're married," he said. I grinned, but it quickly faded.
"I'm not married. But you are," I said. He grimaced.
"Technically I am," he said, putting his head in his hands.
"What do you mean?" I asked. He looked over at me.
"Our wedding was, as Marlowe put it, a "mistake that happened so quickly I didn't have a chance to correct it". She left a week after. The papers haven't finalized," he said.
"I'm sorry, Carlton," I said, stroking his bare back.
"Don't be; it was a rushed mistake. What do you mean you aren't married?"
"I've been divorced for four years," I said. He shook his head.
"Then this is long, long overdue." He kissed me hard, hands sliding my underwear down and off. I went back to getting his pants off, pushing them down with his boxers. He pulled away from my lips.
"Condom," he said hoarsely, panic setting in his eyes. I shook my head.
"Don't worry about it," I said quickly.
"But," he started.
"I trust you. Now, Carlton," I demanded, sinking my fingers into his back. He slid into me and I bit down on his shoulder, trying not to scream. He moved his mouth down my neck and across my breasts, planting hot, open mouth kisses where he went. He fingers wound down our bodies, touching me where I wanted him most.
"Carlton!" I hissed. He recaptured my lips as he brought me careening over the edge. And then again. And a third time. Then a fourth, where he joined me.
I curled up against his side, a leg draped across him. He kissed me over and over again, but I felt suddenly cold, like cool liquid being poured over me.
I woke up in my bathtub, water freezing.