Terms of Engagement
Disclaimer: I do not own Person of Interest or its characters.
A/N: I recently joined FF and this is my very first story. It kept pestering me and wouldn't let me focus on my taxes until I put it to paper. Please review. Thanks!
It all comes down to a matter of trust.
Joss sat at the bar, not listening to any of the strands of conversation floating around her. She glanced at the mirror behind the bartender, catching sight of a couple kissing at a table behind her. She sighed, not wanting to watch anything associated with love or lovemaking.
She swirled the amber liquid in her glass swirl around and around as if somehow held the answer to the questions plaguing her. She must be a masochist by selecting the bar in which she'd helped John save a cheating boyfriend from being shot by his girlfriend.
They'd talked about trust that still believed it was the foundation of any healthy relationship. Hadn't they proved it true?
The bartender slapped a frothy glass of beer down on the wooden bar. "This is for you."
She shook her head. "Didn't order it."
He jerked his head to the right. "The gentleman at the end of the bar did. Enjoy."
She shifted her gaze to meet the generous man. Early to mid 40s with olive skin and black hair. Perhaps at some other time in her life, she'd have been flattered. Tonight, she was simply bothered. "Thank you," she mouthed.
He rose from the stool.
Oh great. She didn't need company. She didn't anything. Who are you kidding?
As he slid onto the empty stool to her right, the same one John had occupied that night, he smiled, displaying even, white teeth. "You here alone?"
Guess he didn't see the rather large baggage she carried. "Sometimes I wonder. You?"
"Hoping to meet a beautiful woman. Looks like I found one."
She sipped her drink. "Is that so?"
"I think so."
She finished off her drink before sliding the beer he'd purchased over to him. "Thanks for the compliment, but why don't you save it for a woman who's available?"
"And you aren't?" He stuck his hand out. "Name's Jordan. Jordan Stewart.
Joss regarded him for a second. Despite the fact she wasn't interested, she wasn't raised to be rude. She shook his hand. "Jocelyn Carter."
He grinned. "So, Ms. Carter, I don't see anyone with you."
The man really was nice-looking. He reminded her of a Wall Street type in his navy suit and red and yellow striped power tie. He wore the collar of his wool coat turned up just like...
She slid off the stool. "Despite how things look, Mr. Stewart, your efforts would pay off better with someone else. Have a nice night."
Before he could utter another word, she navigated the throngs of people. Out on the street, she paused as she checked her watch. It was almost eleven. Time to head home.
John closed the door to Zoe's apartment building. She always had her driver ready and waiting for him, but as always, he waved to the guy and opted to walk. He moved at a brisk pace, feeling compelled to put as much distance between him and her home as possible.
What the hell was he doing? After the night with Zoe in the Carleton Hotel's penthouse, he realized he'd made a mistake. Sure the sex was a release, a much needed one, he rationalized to himself. But immediately afterwards, he felt the same as he did when he used his own hand, restless and unfulfilled. Tonight, she'd been willing as always, but he'd managed to put her off. Being with Zoe was far apart from how he'd felt with Jess. Then again, he'd probably never feel that way again.
No matter what he did, he couldn't rid himself of the relentless energy swirling inside him. Usually after he left Zoe's, he'd exercise, shoot a few hoops or hop on the Ducati and ride for miles. But no matter what he did, he never felt relaxed.
He walked aimlessly, not surprised at all when he discovered he'd walked to Joss' street. He stood at the corner, wondering whether or not to head closer to her home when he spotted her walking from the opposite direction. He immediately ducked from view. What was she doing out this late alone?
She wore a dark gray pantsuit with a red blouse and black high heels. She always looked feminine to him - even when she sought to remove her womanly assets from the equation by dressing in what he thought of as her "detective gear." Lately, though, it seemed she was displaying more of her femininity.
At the base of the stairs of her building, she paused, looking around as if to make sure she wasn't being followed.
He clenched his hands at his side. He wanted to approach her, touch her, have her smile at him and invite him in. He needed to hear her voice. He stepped forward then froze. What could he say that she'd want to hear? "Sorry, I was wrong?"
A second later, she climbed the stairs, disappearing behind the door and from his view.
He sighed. It was for the best. He knew that. She knew that. He had to keep reminding himself although he'd already reminded her. She had so much to live for, people who loved her. He couldn't take her life from her. He wouldn't do to her what was done to him.
"'Night, Joss," he whispered as he continued his trek to his own home.
After checking on Taylor, Joss returned to her bedroom. Ever since her son started high school last year, he'd lived on his cell phone. She had to make him stop talking or texting and get some sleep. She chuckled as she slid off her heels. Just like her mom did with her at that age. Guess things never really change from generation to generation.
She undressed, avoiding looking in the mirror. She'd lost nearly ten pounds and knew it was because of the level of stress she carried. She just needed time is all. Time was the great healer, right? She draped the pantsuit and blouse over a chair, making a mental note to stop by the dry cleaners tomorrow.
After a quick shower, she pulled on an Army t-shirt and a pair of panties. She wandered through the darkened living room and into the kitchen. She poured a glass of cranberry juice. She wanted something stronger, but drinking wasn't the answer to her problems. Hadn't John proved that?
John. She gritted her teeth. Damn. Why was she thinking about him? There was no future with him. He'd been more than plain on that front.
She downed the juice, turned off the lights and then returned to her bedroom. Climbing into bed, she lay on her back. Every night she prayed for sleep to come quickly and every night, it took its slow, sweet time to arrive. She toyed with the idea of taking something to help send her to snooze land, but she was too afraid of it becoming habit-forming.
She blew her breath out in a rush, knowing tonight would end the same as it had every day for the last month-lying awake until exhaustion overtook her.
John stood in his kitchen, beer in hand as he surveyed the contents of his refrigerator. Tomorrow, he'd stop by a bodega and grab a gallon of milk and more beer. He'd lost the desire to cook. In the past, cooking helped him think, solve problems. But now, he just stared at the stove as if he didn't know what it was for.
He closed fried door as he allowed the refreshing liquid to slide down his throat. Once empty, he tossed the bottle in the trash.
He slowly climbed the spiral staircase to the secluded bedroom. He stood in the doorway, surveying the king-size bed. Images of her lying on the bed with her back arched, legs around his waist. He swore he'd been blessed with a glimpse of heaven. But maybe a glimpse was all he was allowed. He turned off the light then climbed into bed.
He tossed and turned, fighting the one thing that normally made him sleep like a baby. An hour later, he stopped fighting the inevitable. Within moments he was asleep, and just like every night for the last month, his mind replayed the memory of the last time they were together.
John stayed sitting across from her in the booth as Finch and Fusco rose to leave. After Finch saved his life, the foursome had needed to meet. To regroup, to deal with John's near-demise. Now, he didn't want to go home alone and judging by the way, Carter's hand reached out and tangled with his - neither did she.
"Can I get you two anything else?" The waitress asked, awfully perky for the time of night.
He shook his head, keeping his gaze glued on Carter. "I'm good. You?"
"Yes," she whispered.
After the waitress turned to handle other customers, he leaned forward. "If you're not too tired, I'd like to show you something."
Interest flared in her eyes. She shrugged. "Okay."
He suddenly felt unsure of himself. But this was Carter. She'd risked so much for him. He knew what he wanted her actions to mean, but did they? He straightened then rose to his feet. He fished in his pocket, dropped several bills on the table, and then held his hand out.
Placing her hand in his, she slid from the booth.
Outside, he considered taking a taxi as that would get them to their destination faster. But after the night, he'd had, he wanted to savor her presence.
"You mind if we walk?"
"I guess. You're the only one who knows where we're going."
He chuckled. "You must really trust me."
She glanced at him then looked away. "Seems like."
He wanted to kiss her. Wanted to hold her in his arms and familiarize himself with her curves. He'd held her only briefly the night they spent in Texas, but it'd been long enough to imprint her on his skin.
He slid an arm around her waist. When she didn't protest, he tugged her closer so his left side was pressed against her right.
They walked in silence, not too fast, not too slow. But at exactly the right rate of speed.
Several blocks later, he opened the door to his building.
"What is this place?" She finally broke their companionable silence.
"I live here."
She stopped at that, staring at him. Her expressive face displayed the fact she wanted to ask him 'why now' or at least why he was presuming she wanted to see where he lived.
"You're full of surprises, John."
"Good ones, I hope."
Her gaze raked the length of his body. "We'll see."
His heart raced. He'd been fooling himself. That she hadn't known where he was taking her. That she didn't have the same idea as he.
Somehow he managed to usher them into the elevator. When the doors closed, he wanted to kiss her, but he forced himself to wait. He'd waited this long. What was a few more minutes?
He opened the door to his penthouse apartment.
"Oh, this is nice,' she breathed.
"Let me take your coat."
She slid it off, handing it to him. He breathed in the soft cloud of jasmine. He hung it next to his own.
"Can I have a tour?"
He bit back the words, 'you can have anything you want.' He didn't want to frighten her. Hell, he frightened himself with the emotions she inspired within him.
He showed her the view from his window near the king size bed. She joked about the world watching him sleep. He vowed to himself to watch her sleep soon. He showed her the kitchen where she dared him to cook her something. He vowed he would. He showed her the bathroom with its expansive shower and Jacuzzi tub. She said nothing, but he vowed to have her share them with him. He showed her his more private bedroom upstairs. She marveled at its neatness. He vowed to have her clothes strewn on the floor with his own. He showed her his closet of toys. She trailed her nails down several of his guns, asking to clean them with him. Her request took his breath away and he vowed she would, after she trailed her nails down his body.
He took her hand and led her to the sofa where they sat next to each other.
"Thank you." He wondered how many times he'd said those words to her. He seemed to be forever in her debt.
"You'd have done the same."
He didn't wonder how she knew what he meant. It was weird knowing someone knew you as well or even better than you knew yourself.
He shifted to face her and slid an arm behind her head. "You asked me if it was true."
She nodded.
"Yes." He shrugged. "Some of the details where different, but you know I was talking about Jess, right?"
Again, she nodded.
Despite the late hour, the pressure he'd put on her yet again, she looked perfect to him. Her face, scrubbed free of make-up, looked younger. He reached out, loosening her hair from its confine. Fascinated with the raven-colored strands, he drew his hands through her hair.
She moaned, eyes closing at his touch. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
He stilled his movement. "For what?"
"For…being emotional tonight."
His hands moved to cradle her face. "Open your eyes."
She followed his instruction.
"You have nothing to apologize for."
"But, John I - "
He brushed a thumb over her lips, silencing her. "Don't ever stop...being you. I'd have done the same thing. I told you that."
Tears welled in her eyes, but soldier that she was, she held them back.
He swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew what she meant. From the moment he saw her, he knew she was different. Knew she'd mean something to him. He'd been fooling himself for a long time. Trying to pretend she was just a friend. Just a part of the team. The heart of the team. But she was much more. So much more.
He'd nearly lost his life tonight, but he'd long since lost his heart. He thought it had died with Jess. But somehow, Joss had found it and resuscitated it. Now she held it in her hands and yet she had no clue.
"I didn't bring you here for..." He squeezed his eyes shut then reopened them, determined to make her understand. "I need you," he whispered. "I almost lost..."
She lost her battle against the watery orbs back and they silently marched down her cheeks.
He swiped them away with his thumbs, unwilling to allow them to caress her skin when he wasn't.
"I was so afraid," she whispered.
"I know. I'm sorry to have done that to you."
She shook her head. "It wasn't your fault."
"Joss - "
She turned her head, kissing the palms of each of his hands.
He touched his forehead to hers. "I can't let you go tonight." His eyes bored into hers. "Can you stay?"
"Always."
Moving back, he shifted her so she straddled his lap.
He wrapped his arms around her, pressing his face against her warm breasts as the knowledge he'd almost lost her flowed over him. He thought it was her tears that wet his face, thought it was her shudders that racked his body, but he realized they were his own.
She held him as he emptied his feelings with the one person he knew would not ridicule him or treat him any differently. Murmuring words of comfort, she rubbed his back in circles, bringing him a level of peace he dared not ever wish for.
Finally, his sobs subsided. He leaned back, meeting her tear-stained eyes. "Joss - "
"I'm sure."
Seeing the truth in her eyes, he leaned forward again, this time allowing his lips to touch hers. A spark of awareness ignited him. Her lips were just like he'd fantasized, soft and plush. He groaned, touching his tongue to the seam of her mouth. She invited him in. He wanted to plunder her moist depths, but he also wanted to draw the experience out so he savored every inch of her mouth, familiarizing himself with her taste.
He settled back on the sofa, bringing her with him as he feasted on her. His cock tightened and she moved against him. He'd have begged to be reincarnated for this. For the chance to love her like this.
How long they kissed, he had no idea, but he'd never been so aroused just from kissing since he'd been in high school.
He unbuttoned her blouse, exposing a sheer crimson bra, exposing the top of her breasts, the ginger brown of her skin flushed with arousal.
She shivered against him. "Please," she pleaded.
"I know what you need," he whispered. He pulled the blouse off her, tossing it on the floor. Without removing the bra, he sucked a nipple into his mouth.
She bucked against him, grinding her warm center against him. Pleased with her reaction, he repeated his movement again. He allowed her only a few seconds respite before turning his attention to the other breast.
She held her hands against the back of his head, writhing against him. "John."
Needing more, he removed the bra, tossing it behind the sofa.
When his lips covered her now-bare nipples, she moaned.
He pushed her breasts together so he could lave attention on them at the same time.
"Don't stop. Don't stop," she chanted.
He swiped his tongue across and over the tasty chocolate morsels. First the left, then the right. Then, the right, then the left.
He sucked the right one into this mouth, scraping his teeth gently across the surface. She ground against him as she came.
He kissed her breasts as she undulated with each wave of pleasure.
She slumped against him. "I've never come just from…"
His male ego preened at her words. "I want you open for me."
She nodded.
He rose, holding her against him. She wrapped her legs around his waist. Walking a few steps, he lowered her on the bed.
He unbuttoned his shirt.
Rising to her knees, she stopped him on the third button. "Let me."
She finished removing the shirt, then tossed it on the floor. She removed his t-shirt next. She caressed him with her eyes, as if she'd never seen a man's chest before. Her hands were next, running over his heated skin like a refreshing balm.
He shivered when her lips traced his Adam's apple. He gritted his teeth when her lips introduced themselves to his nipples. He never knew his nipples were sensitive. But each time, she sucked them in her hot mouth, his cock jumped in his pants, eager to be let loose.
She trailed down to the waistband of his pants and he fought against the urge to throw her down and devour her.
She unbuckled his belt then unzipped his pants.
Jolted into action, he reached down and undid hers.
With mutual consent, they divested themselves of their pants and shoes. With torsos bare, their only clothing were his boxers and her panties, each bearing a wet spot from their unleashed passion.
He pushed her back against the bed, following her down until he lay on his stomach between her spread legs. Her scent wafted to his nostrils and his cock throbbed to know what their commingled aroma would smell like.
He ran a finger down the wet crotch. Her legs trembled. He did it again, fascinated by watching her clit move in respond to his touch. Deep in her spell, he lowered his face until it was flush with her sex. He drew his tongue up and down the fabric, enjoying the moans that came from deep within her. He sucked the swollen flesh into his mouth.
She came off the bed. "John," she gasped.
He wrapped his arms around her thighs, controlling her movements. He pushed further against her. His eyes closed, lost in her scent, He felt, rather than saw, her jerk against the cover, pushing herself against his mouth.
"I..I.."
He'd fight to never lose her. Never lose this. To be allowed this privilege forever.
Opening his eyes and driven by the need to know every inch of her, he released her. Hands shaking, he drew the wet panties down her legs. Where they went he had no idea because his tongue was inside of her almost before they landed.
His fingers opened the folds of her pussy, baring her to his gaze. She was so pretty. Pink, plump and oh, so wonderfully wet. He ran his tongue up and down her labia, pausing to stroke inside of her with his tongue as he'd soon do with his cock.
"I'm coming. John. John. John!"
He sucked on her clit, riding the waves of her orgasm as she undulated against him. Her pussy gushed with warm honey that he happily lapped up.
When she finally stopped moving, he rose to rid himself of his boxers. He climbed into bed again, allowing her to pull him closer.
She kissed him, moaning as she tasted herself against his skin, on his tongue, in his mouth. Her sharing of the nectar of his actions made him groan and he pulled her tighter against him as if he could somehow meld
Her small hands reached down, caressing him.
He jerked in her hold. He hoped she would. He prayed she would.
She slid up on the bed then with a naughty grin, took his hand and pulled him toward her. When she stopped him, he was straddling her, his cock bobbing in front of her mouth.
She didn't glance at him, didn't stare at him as if seeking his approval that she was doing it right. Not Joss. She closed her eyes and with one hand on his balls, drew him into her mouth with a moan. This was a woman who knew how to please a man and was confident in her ability.
Her hot lips worked his length. Her tongue swirled up, down and over. She ran her tongue on the ridge underneath, causing his hips to jerk forward each time. She fondled his balls gently in her hand then took him in as far as she could.
He slapped his hands against the wall. He vibrated with the need to come, but it felt so good he wanted to stave off his orgasm as long as possible.
She moaned with the tip of his cock at the back of her throat. He gritted his teeth, his breath coming in pants as he rode the wave of pleasure.
"I'm close, Joss." If she heard him, he didn't know. Frankly, he didn't care.
When she sucked hard on the head of his cock, he curled his hands into fists against the wall. When she did it again, he groaned. When she did it a third time and ran a finger down the crease of his ass…what the hell?
"Joss!" He jerked against her as she accepted his come, accepted him.
He closed his eyes, nearly falling on top of her.
She eased him down, to lie beside her.
He opened his eyes. "Damn, woman."
She grinned like a Cheshire cat and wiped the sweat from his brow with the palm of her hand.
He sucked in a deep breath. He thought he'd need a minute to get himself together, to ready himself for the next step, but his cock hadn't gone down at all. He rose to his knees. Parting her legs, he held his cock against her clit, rubbing it against her in a belated introduction.
At the last second, he remembered. "Open the nightstand drawer and hand me a condom."
She opened the drawer, easing out the box. "These haven't been open."
"Haven't had the need." The unspoken words, haven't been with you, hung between them.
She did the honors, rolling the rubber down his length.
He swept his hands beneath her ass, holding her at an angle as he entered her. He slid into her, only an inch, then stilled. They both gasped at the action, but he recovered before she held himself taut, waiting for her body to begin its adjustment to him.
She nodded and he eased in, taking his time.
When he was finally sheathed inside her, a sense of calm filtered through him. This woman brought him peace and he instinctively knew he'd never find it anywhere else.
"Make love to me," she whispered.
With any other woman, he'd have balked at the words. But with Joss, that was all he could do. Though at some point in the future, she might ask him to fuck her, he might ask her to fuck him, but beneath those requests for hard, fast and quick, he knew the foundation of it would forever be the type of loving a man could only deliver to a woman he loved with every corner of his heart.
She pulled him down to lie on her, and he fell a bit more in love with her. She wanted all of him. The light, the heavy, the good, the bad.
"Remember this," he whispered against her soft lips.
"Always."
She rolled her hips and they settled into the slow strokes that threatened to unravel them both. He stretched out over her, finding her hands and joining their fingers. It was so much better than even he could imagine, than he ever thought. A tear rolled down his cheek. She brushed it away with her thumb, then pulled her digit between her plump lips and sucked it.
They kissed, their tongues thrusting against each other with the same lazy movements. As if they had all the time in the world. And when she stiffened and her pussy gripped him and milked his own orgasm from him, they did.
