Title: A whole new look
Rating: M
Category: Plot, what plot? Richard/Camille, AU, Smut
Summary: Set during Series 2 episode 4. Camille comes back to see if the experiment worked and is a little surprised by the look Richard is sporting. AU. Adult themes.
A/N: Isailaway made me do it! Then Willowsticks made me complete it! Works better if you take the treasure hunters episode as episode 4 rather than episode one which was how it was supposed to be broadcast.
When I wrote this, I accidentally changes tense half way through. I ended up keeping the different tense and going back and correcting, however it is not the tense I usually use and if you spot a mistake tell me! Any comments on if you prefer this tense, or think I should have stuck with past perfect, would also be appreciated.
Richard glares at the developer solution waste. One of the disadvantages of setting up a forensics lab in his kitchen was that he has no hazardous chemical disposal options. It would be irresponsible of him to poor a solution containing silver halides down the drain. He will have to bottle it and pray Guadeloupe has a reputable hazardous waste company. He has his back to the door, which is how Camille manages to sneak up on him – well, that and the fact she is generally quite a sneaky person. He sometimes wondered if she'd been taught by the great man Selwyn Patterson himself.
"Did it not work, then?" He jumps, but manages to swallow the little scream in time.
"Oh, back are you?" He says, choosing not to answer her question immediately. He concentrates on getting the waste liquid into the bottle he has found without spilling any.
"Yes, I just went home to get some insect repellent," She looks a tiny bit guilty, and he wonders if that is 100% true. She probably had gone home but then thought better of it.
"I would have thought growing up here you'd be immune to the damn things," he tells her. "And it did work, though I've given the results to Fidel so there isn't really a reason for you to be here anymore."
Having succeeded in his temporary measure to avoid contaminating Saint Marie's water system with heavy metals, he finally turns around to face her, clutching the bottle in his hands with the intention of finding a cool, shady spot to store it in. Camille is wearing a bit of a put out look, probably annoyed that he apparently didn't appreciate her coming all the way back here. Well, what does she expect? It is nearly one in the morning, they could hardly make any more progress on the case now!
She opens her mouth to presumably complain, but stops before she actually says anything, instead looks at him with a mixture of surprise and…something else. A quick glance down confirms he doesn't have any shocking chemical stains on his shirt or trousers, so he doesn't really know what that look is all about.
"What?" he asks. A slow smile has spread across her face and he gets the feeling he is about to be mocked.
"Nothing, I've just never seen you without the tie and jacket before…" He opens his mouth to remind her of the many occasions she has 'accidently' arrived early enough to catch him in his pyjamas, but she cuts him off before he can. "Well, except for your pyjamas. But this, this is a whole new look."
He huffs, "I suppose I should just resign myself to the teasing now."
"No!" She protests. "I actually really think it suits you. I don't know why you don't dress this way more often. I mean, you must be more comfortable…"
It would be stupid of him to try to deny that, but there is no way he is taking her up on her suggestion. At this stage if he changes the way he dresses people would probably think it was some sort of lame attempt to fit in a bit better. Besides, he is never going to have the tanned arms and chest of the other European men who lived on Saint Marie – Camille had probably just said that to be polite.
"It wouldn't be professional," it is the same excuse he had used a hundred times. She normally rolls her eye or mutters something in response, before dropping the subject. This time she does neither, just continues to look at him with a smile that is doing very strange things to his insides. Richard attempts to ignore the butterflies in his stomach and increased pounding of his heart, but his body isn't having any of it. Annoyed at the rebellion and unable to cope with her continued gaze he snaps, "What is it?"
She ignores his frustration and shrugs slowly, taking a step so she is close enough to him that he can feel her body heat. His heart rate is now somewhere in the tachycardia range. She reaches up a hand to fiddle with his collar, "I don't know really, you know, like this you sort of come across…less buttoned up."
"Because I have less buttons done up?" He says lamely, he still isn't sure what she is on about. Richard isn't even sure he wants her to explain fully, is thrilled and terrified by what she might say at once. She is smiling at him, even though he hadn't really meant it as a joke, and suddenly he does want her to explain – he wants that look to mean exactly what he hopes it does.
"Well, yes, actually. And because of that, well, it sort of means I feel like I can do something I've wanted to for a while now," her hand is flat on his chest now, and she has moved her face so close to his her intentions are unmistakable. She hesitates though, doesn't close the distance between them, and he suddenly realises this beautiful, sexy, confident woman is capable of insecurity as well. So it is him who kisses her, closes the gap and presses his lips against her if only for a few seconds. Then he pulls back to gage her reaction and reads only desire in her features.
He wants to speak, he wants to find the words for once in is life and tell her what she means to him. How much he wants her. But she doesn't give him the chance. Suddenly her arms are round his neck and he finds himself participating in a kiss almost aggressive in its intensity. Richard is all for getting closer to her, but realises that a 2L lemonade bottle full of developer solution has become trapped between their bodies during the embrace. It is not something that has ever happened to him before, and he isn't really sure how to broach the matter. Though he is sorely tempted to simply toss it aside, he is simultaneously afraid the bottle will burst and pollute the environment.
"Silver halides!" He gasps out as he wrenches his mouth from hers. Camille, flushed, breathing heavily and more beautiful than he has ever seen her before is now looking at him like he has gone crazy. She certainly is driving him crazy, has since the moment he first met her, but not in the manner that normally leads to sectioning. "Sorry, this bottle, it contains silver halide waste. I just, um, need to put it down safely."
And he does, he turns and puts in on the draining board. Then he turns back to her and hesitantly reaches out a hand to caress her face, before slipping it round to the back of her neck and pulling her in for another kiss. She presses the length of herself against him and he can feel his body responding. The way she is now smiling as she kisses him makes him think she hasn't failed to notice either. He feels her take hold of his hand and she breaks the kiss, holding his gaze as she carefully walks backwards and leads him from the kitchen towards the bed. It is a move he would never have made, and even though her intentions are irrevocably clear as the stops at the foot of his bed and begins to undo the rest of those buttons as she kisses him slowly, some overtly civil part of his brain insists he ensures he has consent.
"Camille," he says against her lips – but it comes out as a whisper, almost reverent, not the tone of somebody who is trying to get her attention. She seems to like the way he says it though, judging by the way she hurriedly pulls the tails of his shirt free from his trousers and pushes it off his shoulders. She seems determined to explore every inch of bare skin she has exposed and conscious thought is almost lost entirely to the haze of pleasure she is inducing. He has to grip her hips hard and force her away. Even though in reality it is mere centimetres it feels too much to him, but he simply must ask her.
"Camille…do you want to? Um, I mean to say, you know, do you want to stay?" Now he has finally said it he feels more confident, his tone is more firm as he continues, "Stay with me, tonight. You can say no."
She is looking at him almost in awe. Her hand comes up to his face and she runs a thumb along his eyebrow, a gesture that felt oddly intimate. "You're so sweet," she tells him. "So very sweet."
"Shh! Don't tell anyone, you'll ruin my reputation," He jokes, but his heart is actually thudding uncomfortably in his chest – he is acutely aware that she hadn't actually answered his question.
Perhaps she can read his anxieties on his face, because the next thing she does is grab his gaze as tells him, "Yes, Richard, I want to be with you. I want to stay."
He needs no further provocation, wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her to him. Her fingers return to exploring his skin. She briefly pushes away to remove her own top and though he knows he should pause and admire the view but he misses her closeness too keenly, has to have her pressed against him again. In his excitement his fingers fumble as he tries to undo her bra, she laughs against his lips, but it is not unkind. When he succeeds in removing the garment her giggles are soon turned to gasps and little moans as he teases her gently. He can't decide what noise he likes best, the sounds of her joy or the sounds of her arousal, but he knows he wants to cause a hell of a lot more of the latter in this moment.
She tugs him down onto the bed. The shuffling backwards and getting caught up in the sheets all feels a bit awkward, especially as she is insisting on trying to undo his belt as they manoeuvre. Not getting anywhere she surprises him by forcing him onto his back and pulling away from his embrace so she can concentrate on the task in hand. She smiles triumphantly when she succeeds in divesting him of the rest of his clothes and then takes him in hand. The shock of pleasure causes him to swear vehemently, and he bangs his head off the headboard.
She laughs, and now her smile seems somehow more dangerous, "Why Richard Poole, I have never heard such language from you…"
She continues to trail her fingers up and down the length of him, watching his reactions with a keen interest. Richard decides this is one arena where he will not be taking the teasing lying down. He takes control again, pushes her onto her back, and eases jeans and panties down and over hips before using his fingers to explore gently between her legs until she too is using rather colourful phrases – albeit in another language. She doesn't need to say anything for him to know she doesn't want him to stop. He watches in fascination as she flushes darker, sweat breaks out on her skin and pupils dilate. Vaguely, he realises it is the first time he has ever done this with the lights on and knows with Camille he will never want it any other way – will always want to see every detail of her. She half sits up, reaching for him so she can kiss him and he can swallow her cries with his mouth as she comes undone.
She hums happily, giving him a long, slow and purposeful kiss before whispering, "I want you," in his ear. It is all the invitation he needs. He gently lays her down on the bed and she shifts to accommodate him. She doesn't take her eyes off his and he enters her, but closes them and lets out a small, satisfied sigh once he is settled inside her. It goes straight to the top of his list of favourite sounds made by Camille. He pauses, aware that this will only happen for the first time with her once and on some other level he knows that he never wants a first time with anyone else again. Her hips twitch though, seemingly involuntarily, and it triggers his body to take over and begin moving rhythmically. He suddenly feels vulnerable, and buries his head in her neck fearful she will read the extent of his devotion on his face and find she does not want to be the recipient.
Richard can feel his own pleasure building rapidly, but can also tell Camille is heading towards the edge again. She seems to have somehow curled herself around him, her legs intertwined with his. He can feel the tension in her muscles, hear the arousal in her voice as she whispers encouragement in his ear. It is all happening to fast and he pauses in his movements, desperate to try to draw things out a little.
"Why have you stopped?" she whispers frantically, the frustration in her tone draws a smile from him.
"I want to make it last longer," he tells her, speaking into her neck. He is still a little afraid to look at her directly.
"Oh Richard, Richard," she half-cries. "Let the first time just be about release, the other times can be lovemaking." She threads a hand into his hair and uses it to force him to look at her and when he does he realises just how much he loves her. He has no idea if he can both satisfy their physical desires and show her that he loves her as well, but he is damn well going to try. "Please move," she whispers, and he knows he can never refuse such a request from her, or probably any request she ever makes of him again.
He presses his forehead against hers and looks into her eyes as he begins to move again. He prays she is as close as he is because his body is crying out for that release she was talking about. She kneads the muscles in the small of his back and he finds himself repeating her name whilst she whispers 'yes, yes' in response. Her own movements, upward thrusts to meet his, become more frantic and he can feel himself losing rhythm as well. Then she lets out a low keen and he knows that is his new favourite sound ever. Her back arches and with a few last, desperate movements he feels his own climax take hold – choking out an incoherent cry from him. Only an exceptional amount of willpower prevents him from collapsing weightlessly on top of her. When he becomes capable of coherent thought again he is almost surprised to find they are kissing, a kiss Camille will not break even as he gently rolls off of her, instead following him around and snuggling into his side as he lays on his back and tries to recover. He can feel his body relaxing, tensions that he feels like he has carried around for years leaving him.
She finally ends the kiss, pulls back and smiles at him – a smile he cannot help but return. He doesn't have any words, not right now, yet he still feels like he managed to say a lot.