/In the Dark/
Summary: Andy acts.
A/N: I don't really have time or inspiration to write at the moment, but I found this short little thing collecting dust, so thought I might as well share. Hope you enjoy. =)
…
The fantasy breathed into life a month ago, came trembling into the world and took its first step inside the pervasive dark of Sharon Raydor's bedroom. It then ruptured into a thousand small tendrils of sensuous promises. Each tendril snaking its way past bed sheets and sweat-slicked skin, crawling through the gap between skin cells to mix with Andy's blood. In his blood, they blossomed as if spring was on a feverous rampage, heat and cold coiling together in a frenzied feeling. Heat ran through him as if he was a conduit, instilling in him a fervent wish to see the fantasy through, to bring the thing into existence.
The thing in itself took little preparation.
What made him pause and stall for a month undecided about a course of action, was the hesitant way the words had been uttered. The implication that it could be a line not meant to be crossed. With Sharon, there were certain limitations to their relationship, always a precarious balance between what was personal and what was work that had to be upheld. Was it merely words whispered in the dark, supposed to be forgotten, supposed to only exist in the reality of midnight? The words, however, spiraled together into an enticing fantasy, warm and hot, and it crept through his brain like a gelatinous being, leaving slick footprints of evocative images.
In the end, he surmised, she wouldn't have told him if she did not mean for it to exist.
So, on a nondescript Friday evening, Andy surprised his girlfriend as she came through the front door, a budget meeting had kept her longer than the rest of the squad.
"It's late," Andy Flynn leaned in and whispered in Sharon's ear, greeting her with a deep kiss.
The only illumination was the flickering of candles he had lit. Their orange hues bathing the apartment in soft light, the shadows they cast dancing in the dark.
"Very late," he mumbled as he alternated between kissing and guiding a surprised Sharon. She hummed in response against his lips, her body moving fluidly with his. Instead of the bedroom, he guided her to the desk in the living room. Once there, he let go of her lips and turned her around, his hands on her hips. She hummed again, the sound of the little melody warm and hot, lost into the dark living room. He stood behind her, his groin pressed against her behind which in turn he pressed against the edge of the desk in front of them.
"As I said, it's very late. We are the only ones left. You've closed the blinds."
She hummed again, a little sound like a protest at the back of her throat, "Andy, what?"
"Close your eyes, it will help," Andy told her.
"Help?"
Sharon liked to be in control, Andy knew, but this time, he wasn't going to allow it.
Andy ignored her question and then laid it out pointedly for her. "It's been a long day, a long case. It's only me and you at work – in your office, at your desk."
He waited for her comprehension.
"Oh…" she breathed out, the tone trembling with a nervous and surprised timbre.
"A little game, for you and me," Andy whispered in her ear, "You just tell me to stop if it's not what you want, okay?"
She slowly nodded and then she whispered back, "Okay."
Andy smiled to himself.
He could tell she held her breath, anticipation slowly beginning to build up in her. With a small caress he touched her cheek before he undid his tie and snaked it around her head, knotting it neatly in the back and effectively blindfolding her.
"How's this? Better?"
"Yes," she answered breathlessly.
"Good," Andy rumbled and then leaned in, leaving a small trail of hot kisses along her neck, his hands resting on the curvature of her hips. "You'll have to be quiet. We don't want to be interrupted."
She nodded again.
"I've been watching you today, you know," Andy told her, letting his hand trail up along her abdomen till he reached the top button of her peach-colored shirt. "That little slit in the back of your skirt. You are real tease, you know that? Strutting around like that. Teasing me. On purpose."
"I don't strut," she replied, a little edge to the tone.
Andy briefly rolled his eyes but ignored the indignant comment. Instead he focused on her shirt and slipped the first button out, waited a breath as he pressed his growing erection into her before he slipped the second button out.
"You've got me hot and bothered," Andy let her know, his groin pressing harder against her. "You've got me rock hard," he added with a little thrust, his hands closing around one clothed breast. "I've been imagining fucking you all day."
She mumbled something incoherent hidden behind a moan.
Andy unbuttoned the third button, letting his finger dip into the crevice of her bosom, slipping the material away from her breasts. It afforded him a nice view over her shoulder. With a grunt he kissed her neck again, this time with an impatient tug on the line between kiss and bite, his teeth scraping against her skin, his hands occupied with her breasts.
When he had her breathless, he went for her skirt, lifting it till it bunched around her mid drift and exposed the black lace of her panties. The sight of her ass in lace surged through him like hot molten metal, stripping away his patience. He massaged her buttocks and quickly pealed the panties away, slipping them down till they reached the floor and she could step out of them.
She spread her legs before he could ask her to.
She was warm at her core, wet when he slipped his finger through her folds.
Andy leaned in, bit her earlobe and pushed the pad of his finger against her clit.
"Is this what you wanted?"
"Yes," she breathed the first syllable like a shudder.
First he had her climax as he stood behind her, his finger working against her clit, slipped through her wet folds, his mouth hot on her neck, his body pressed against her till he was afraid he was pressing all the air out of her; she never uttered one word of protest and so he continued, working her till she panted out her orgasm. The heat of it was palpable, stuck to him like sweat and submerged him in the heady scent of her sex. In the aftermath, in his own haze of desire, he ripped her shirt, the sounds of clothes tearing first becoming clear to him afterwards. She lay splayed out in front of him, half supported on the desk when he entered her and sunk into her heat. It was like being consumed by a bonfire.
They could never truly do this at the office, but the little dark fantasy had slipped from her lips as they had lain in each other's arm, darkness having the ability to bring out honesty and truths, and it had compelled him. In the dark of her living room, they could both pretend it was her office desk.
She came under him, beautiful and warm with pleasure.
Whatever she wanted, however impossible, he wanted to make possible.
…