Disclaimer: I don't own CBS's "Zoo". Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: I was watching 1x12 "Wild Things" and wanted to expand the kissing scene between Mitch and Jamie scene the time given on the episode before the plane breaks up.
Warnings: first time, adult language, what could have been if they had more time fic, spoilers up to 1x12, smut, adult content, sexual content, airplane sex, bathroom sex, mile-high club.
Petrichor
"Hi."
"Hi."
"I was just pilfering some of these adorable little bottles that haven't grown up yet."
"Would you like one?"
"I would like nothing more."
"Well..."
"Well, what?"
"How many animals do you think have nearly eaten us?"
"Well, to be fair to them, they wouldn't have eaten us."
"They would have just killed us."
"That's right."
"So...we did pretty good, right?"
"Yeah. Well, considering we didn't have-"
His lips were lax and tasted like vodka.
Tangy and acidic-slippery against hers.
For a moment that was all she registered past her heart hammering in her chest.
High on her own boldness as he exhaled against her lips in fractions.
She'd surprised him, she realized.
Of course she had.
Who was she kidding?
The brush of his nose against hers was a hell of a thing. Precious and almost painfully still before he kissed her back. Hesitant, but still strong and sure in that way he had. Framing the moment as something decisive - something neither of them would be able to go back on or explain away - as his hand cupped her face. Keeping her close. Wanting her close.
And suddenly she was starving for it.
It wasn't like it'd been with Agent Shaffer.
It was better.
Honest.
Real.
It had foundations. Possibilities. Maybe even a future as she traced her tongue across the seam of his lips. Begging entry as she pressed her gentle advantage until his throat dipped through a swallow and he let her in.
He was good at this.
It shouldn't have surprised her, but it did. In fact, he was better than most. Or maybe she'd just been dating some extraordinarily selfish people, because right now she could actually feel him learning her. What she liked. What she needed. His fingers were busy, curling through the waves of her hair. Blunt nails ghosting down her throat as she shivered and pressed close. Feeling the firm of his chest against her breasts as she cheated and opened her eyes. Wanting to see him. Wanting to see what he looked like when-
Oh god, this was the worst.
Timing wise, anyway.
If there was a prize for shitty timing, she was convinced she would have won by default.
They were on a plane and this was all sorts of crazy. But all she really wanted to do was drag him into a corner somewhere, away from passing stewardess and jet-lagged passengers, part his lips and try to swallow what was left of that self-doubt and hesitation she could still see lurking in the back of his eyes.
She wanted to show him everything she wasn't ready to say.
That they weren't ready to say.
Setting the board for whatever happened next.
But the best part was that when their hips brushed – hitching forward as the sharp of his teeth tugged at her lower lip - she stopped caring. And apparently so did he because suddenly he was groping behind him for the latch to the tiny bathroom. Catching sight of the 'wheel chair assessable' sign before she tumbled in after him. Shutting the door with a damning little slam as momentum sent her right into his arms.
"Jamie- Jamie," he whispered, stifling a low sound deep in his throat when she cupped him. Squeezing gently as he hissed in a breath. Glasses sliding down his nose once, twice and again before she rescued them. Setting them in the tiny little cup of a sink before she tipped up her chin and nipped playfully at his lips. Getting his focus back where she wanted it as the curl of his knuckles brushed deliberately over her nipples. Working under her shirt and coaxing the padded bottom of her bra away to roll them between his fingers. Making her mewl and hum with encouragement as the plane changed direction and gravity pressed her into the firm of him.
The plastic interior of the wall popped and warped against his back. But she ignored them in favor of using him as a brace. Hitching her legs up and tangling her fingers in his zipper. Feeling his hardness starting to tighten the material. Pulling it taut and making it that much harder to-
"I know," she whispered back, breathless. Not entirely sure what she knew or what she might be agreeing with. She didn't have to know. As long as it included him, she knew exactly where she wanted to be.
She thumbed open the button of his jeans and easing him out of the slit of his boxers. Making an appreciative sound as the warm, spongy-soft of his crown throbbed in the small of her hand. Already bleeding thick opaque pearls of pre-cum down the shaft as she stole a better look. Taking him in as the next movement of her hand – a slow, experimental up and down - made him tip back his head and groan.
Oh.
Oh, yes.
Oh, god yes.
His hands were indecisive – greedy. Wanting too much to stay in one place as she tried to wriggle out of her jeans and underwear without moving away. Catching a peak of dark chest hair underneath his buttoned shirt. All with the very good possibly of trailing further downwards.
She licked her lips, wanting nothing more than to explore as he tugged on the elastic of her panties. Whispering something that could have been words or maybe just wordless murmurs of encouragement as she thumbed the head of his cock. Smearing the slick doming on the tip as he jerked minutely into her.
'Next time,' she assured herself.
Because there was going to be a next time.
There had to be.
There was no space.
No air.
And no time.
But somehow they made it work.
Her jeans and underwear were still sliding down her calves when his grip on her waist suddenly changed. Hiking her up so that she was momentarily airborne – lips swallowing her squeal of surprise as she wrapped her arms tight around his neck. Feeling the sensation of her ass skimming across the counter before he dropped her there. Angling her up with her thighs spread so that he could lean down and-
She was made of paper.
Lighting up in a flare of dying frequencies and off center color.
Feeling every muscle and nerve ending simultaneously explode outwards.
Her head thunked back against the mirror as she tried to remember how to breathe.
Sucking in great lungfuls of air as his forehead rested against hers.
Because he slid into her like he knew her. Like they'd done this before. Somewhere- somehow- and both of them already knew exactly how devastating it was going to be when he sunk down to the hilt and stalled there. Breathing hard as the muscles in his arms twitched and shuddered on either side of her. Head slung low as she pressed open-mouthed kisses into the jut of his chin. Hands running through his hair, soothing and encouraging, as the world hazed in and out of focus. Feeling him inside her – heavy and warm – as every waver of movement hummed static across her center.
A needy sound warbled out of her when a couple beats passed and he stayed like that.
Savoring the moment?
Trying not to come?
A combination of both?
It didn't matter.
She needed him to move-
Oh god, please.
"Mitch…Mitch, please."
That was all it took.
The hand closest to the tap nearly turned it on when he grabbed her hip and encouraged her to rock forward. Cheeks burning as the slick sound of her own wetness echoed loud in the close space. Feeling him deep as he ground himself against her mound with an exaggerated drag like he wanted to remember. Like he wanted her to feel him, exactly like that. Cramped up against a toilet and a sink. Leaning in for a kiss as she pulled him down, muscles and tendons straining to meet him as the kiss turned sharp and needy.
"Fuck," he uttered, monosyllabled and hyper-focused when she dragged her nails down his sides. Slicking sweaty hair off his forehead as he pistoned into her, hips working.
She laughed, breathy and open as he bared teeth, wavering between a grin and a snarl. Delighting in the realization that she'd done this to him. That she was the reason everything had screeched to a stop in that brilliant brain of his.
Because his wrecked expression only made it better.
Hotter.
More frantic.
He got even with her when his hand ghosted between them and thumbed her clit.
It made her want to arc and stretch out, but there was no space. The soap dispenser was digging into her back and Mitch was half hobbled by the toilet bowl, but somehow they made it work. Settling on what they could do in the limited space as her hand pressed encouragingly against his. Showing him what she liked as his fingers curled against her nub in a steady, hot-flushing rhythm that had her jerking and demanding. Hitching into him harder and faster until-
And oh-
Oh.
His hand covered her mouth at the last second. Slapping over her lips and muffling her cry. Tasting salt-sweat and the tang of her own juices on his fingers before she sank her teeth into his skin instead. Just because she could. Needing to do something as she squeezed around him, riding out the warm, blinding burst of pleasure as his hand clamped down tighter. Finding a self-satisfied pleasure in the grunt that resulted. Baser and wrenched up from the back of his throat as want throbbed low in her belly again.
She watched, lazy-eyed and sated as he rocked forward a handful of times. Eyes closed like he was feeling it. Before shuddering and coming apart inside her. One hand buried in her hair, unconsciously yanking her back and baring her throat as he nuzzled a harsh, open mouthed kiss across the pale of it. Hips hitching - slow like coming down - as the sound of someone knocking on the other side of the door cut through the softness and spiked through her with a sudden surge of adrenaline. Making her hiccup through a muffled giggle as Mitch just snorted and rolled his eyes.
"One minute!" he rasped, voice wrecked and deep in all the best ways as he huffed a negative into her hair. Pulling back slowly like there was nothing on earth he wanted to do less. Sliding out of her with a slick sound before leaning down and tucking himself back into his jeans. Eyes still pupil-wide and slung somewhere below half-mast as he quirked a brow at her and leaned down. Inching her panties and jeans back up her legs until she had to slide off the counter and button herself up. Stretching against him happily before tipping her head up for a kiss he deepened with confidence.
She was about to say something - something smart, something meaningful, something sweet, anything really - before they were rocked by a slam of turbulence. Something that rattled the plastic interior and switched the fasten seatbelt sign on above their heads.
What the hell?
They stumbled out of the bathroom in an awkward jumble. Still not quite ready to let go of each other as they stood in the middle of the crew cabin, non-plussed but on edge. They'd been through too much not to be suspicious or even-
"Uh, ladies and gentlemen this is your captain. We've been informed that due to some unusual migratory behavior this air space has been closed. We've been diverted to Dover airport, approximately-"
"What migratory behavior?" Mitch echoed, frowning. Widening his stance and unobtrusively adjusting himself as they watched the flight attendant doing busy work at the nearest counter.
That was all she remembered hearing for a long time.
A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – This story is now complete.
Reference:
Petrichor: the pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather. The actual smell of rain comes from plants. When plants are in drought they produce oils in replacement for waters. When the time comes and it finally starts raining the plants get their needed water and they release these oils in the air and the smell of that oil is what we call smell of rain.