What if Erics dad didnt step in?
AN: Some of the dialogue is from that episode though
He felt like his entire life was a lie. A part of him knew though, that's why he started asking questions in the first place. His mom had told him when he came here that he'd been born in Key West, but then she'd say it was Key Largo, and then Taveniere and then Kendall or Homestead. So he'd always had questions, but he never thought it would go as far as this. He never thought his questions would lead to answers that lead to an orange jumpsuit and deportation papers. He never thought they'd send him back to Cuba. He didn't even know they could deport him. Wet foot dry foot right? Wrong, not when you're associated with certain threats.
He sat in his cell, his head against the concrete wall, thinking. His mom was just trying to protect him, but being the investigator he was he started digging, started asking too many questions until he dug himself straight into a deportation jail. Part of him hated that specific characteristic of being an investigator; you always want to figure out unanswered questions, find the truth through evidence. But usually you're investigating other people's lives, someone else's murder, someone else's rape, and you want to find the truth for them, you want to bring them justice, you want to bring them closure. But in the context of your own life, you don't realize that some questions need to remain unanswered, need to remain hidden and forgotten for the sake of today. That sometimes ignorance is bliss. But Eric had always been good at his job, to the point Horatio had promised him a job if he'd gone to the academy. Being an investigator ran through his blood, but unfortunately, so did ties to the Russian Mob, and that will always trump everything else, regardless of the fact that it's got nothing to do with him. He didn't even know he was part Russian, that is until he started asking questions. And when he had questions he needed to find answers, so at this point he just decided to stop asking questions entirely.
He lay on his bed, his arm over his eyes. There were so many things he wanted to do, so many things he'd never said. And sure, eventually he'd get the chance to, once he's deported and can start the decade long process to becoming a citizen. But his entire life is in America, if he were to get deported he'd have nothing waiting for him in Cuba except a corrupt, failed attempt at Communism. Karl Marx wouldn't be pleased, in fact, Karl Marx would have a fucking field day if he were alive. He'd probably go and break Eric out of jail himself if he could. But no, Marx is dead, and if Eric were to get sent back to Cuba, he'd probably follow shortly behind.
His name echoed through his cell from one of the CO's telling him he had a visitor. He knew it was either Horatio or Calleigh, though lately he'd been hoping for the latter. He loved Horatio, but there was so much he needed to tell Calleigh, so much he'd neglected to say, even though he had seven years to muster up the courage to do so.
He grunted and was faced with the bright ceiling light before standing up. He eyed the plastic mirror that was plastered to the wall above the sink. He looked exhausted and needed to shave. Which is ironic, the exhaustion, because in jail sleep is really the only thing you can do.
He followed the CO down the hall until his eyes found Calleigh in the visitation room, Horatio standing beside her, which is odd considering there was a one person at a time limit. So this had to either be very very good news, or very very bad news. And knowing how ignorant MDPD (and frankly the state of Florida) is, Eric concluded it was bad. He was going to be deported, after spending virtually 30 years of his life here, after spending 7 years working for the Miami Dade Police Department, after getting shot in the head and almost losing his life in the line of duty, and this was their big thank you.
But both Calleigh and Horatio smiled at him when he took his seat, and it wasn't the "I'm just wearing this to make you feel better" smile. It was real and genuine, from the both of them. His hands laid on the table out of habit, but Calleigh took them into hers.
Eric tilted his head, "what's...?"
Horatio was the one to speak, "DHS is trying to speed up your deportation despite MDPD's request for more time."
Eric shook his head, "what about my mom? My family here?"
"Eric there's one way around this," Calleigh's voice was soft while she squeezed his hands. He tried to read her, and he knew what she was getting at, knew exactly what she was getting at, but he was afraid to actually let himself process the possibility of what she was thinking. Sure, in his few weeks here, he'd had time to think about Calleigh, well, she was really the only thing he couldn't stop thinking about. They'd gotten involved a few months back; he'd took her home after she was discharged from the hospital, and made her soup and tea and sat with her on the couch to watch some stupid lifetime TV movie he wasn't really watching.
And somehow between the stalker boyfriend watching his teenage girlfriend through the window of her bedroom, and her killing him and hiding his body, they'd laid down and spooned, Calleigh's back flush against Eric's chest. And he had let one hand rest on her hip, the other somehow found it's way laced with hers. He had let his head rest on hers, breathing her in, and he was so relaxed just having her in his arms that he could have easily fallen asleep, but after the teenage girl in the movie wound up getting eaten by a tiger after hiding her stalker boyfriends body(because lifetime needed to make the movie that much more dramatic) she twisted to lay on her back, him still on his side, and pulled his lips down to hers. It had been their first real kiss, and that night Calleigh was determined to make love to the man she had in front of her, yet had been neglecting, all these years. And they did, and he told her she was beautiful and he took it extra slow, making sure to give her lungs a break. And at first, he told her no, that he didn't want to hurt her, but she told him that she'd spent so many years drowning her feelings that she wasn't going to waste another minute pretending that what they had wasn't more. Pretending that she didn't love him- though she hadn't told him that, it was something she was trying to come to terms with, had been since the day he woke up in that hospital bed.
So that night they made love, slow and sensual and Eric wanted to devour and taste every tiny piece of her. And he did, and after when they were bundled under the sheets and she was asleep in his arms, he'd found himself grateful for all the tragedy that had happened, because it had only brought the two of them closer.
But now looking at Eric she could see he knew what she'd been getting at, knew she was talking about getting married. And the concern he had in his eyes, for her sake, not his own, made her realize that maybe she didn't express her feelings for him as much as she should have.
"What you said in the hospital," she mumbled, "it goes both ways, I hope you know that."
Processing the situation, he couldn't help but feel a tad guilty. He didn't want her to feel forced, even though they'd been a thing for the past few months, marriage is a big deal, an important part of someone's life, and though they could get divorced in a few years(god he hoped not), he didn't want her to take such a drastic step to keep him here. Sure, they've known each other for seven years, but they'd only been dating(could you even call it dating?), they'd only had this strings attached thing for a few months, and Eric wasn't about to let her make such a life changing move just to keep him here.
But apparently, she wasn't going to take no for an answer. One hand unlaced from his to cup his cheek, "you mean too much to me."
"I don't want you to throw away your first marriage just to keep me in this country."
Calleigh chuckled, "honestly Eric, there's no one I'd rather be married to then you. You mean the world to me, and I've already almost lost you so many times, I can't lose you again."
Eric ducked his head, processing and slightly embarrassed that Horatio was standing a few feet away, and slightly confused at how nonchalant her words were. Had she just asked him to marry her? And pretty much made clear that this wasn't just an immigration marriage? And from the guilt that glistened in his eyes, she could see that she hadn't expressed how much she loved him as often as she should have. She'd always been one to hide her emotions to keep herself safe, but now it seemed those thick walls she'd built around her were as painful as the walls built around the country. Why hadn't she told him? She'd thought they'd have more time, she was waiting for when she was ready, but that was a big mistake.
Ever since the files, ever since her stunt in the hospital, they became a team, and though they'd always been a team, it wasn't like this. Sure, she had looked a little too long and he'd stood a little too close, but their affection for one another had always been obvious, though never blatant. That is, until he'd almost lost her, he wasn't going to sit around and wait for something to happen. So he made sure something did. And after their night together on the couch when she'd been discharged from the hospital, after they'd kissed for the first time and made love for the first time, Eric had asked her to dinner, and she readly accepted, and since that night when she'd invited him in and he kissed her gently, really it'd barely been a kiss, what they had had changed forever. She'd gone back for a second kiss, and a third, and somehow in the mix of tongue and teeth her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, again. And they spent another night in bed, though he'd been able to last longer than the night on the couch, and then another night turned into almost every other night. And though one couldn't say they were dating, there was no way in hell their relationship remained in the awkward limbo between friendship and lovers. They were lovers, without the labels and the awkward conversation of whether or not they were dating, but lovers none the less.
And now, racist border regulations and small fine print regarding wet foot dry foot restrictions that the DHS happened to stumble across once they figured out an MDPD CSI was in custody, was going to tear them apart. And Calleigh wasn't about to have that.
Eric looked at her then glanced to Horatio for a second before settling back on her. He'd missed her eyes, missed her smile, even though she'd made an effort to come visit him every day or every other day, he still missed every moment he'd wasted away from her. Horatio realized they needed some time alone, so he cleared his throat and said something about going to talk to the county clerk.
When he was a few feet away he squeezed her hands, "you don't have to do this."
She smiled and shook her head, "Eric I'm not going to just let what we have disappear because of stupid immigration laws. What you said in the hospital... we do things together now, as a team."
Still, he felt guilty. I mean of course he'd love to not get deported, and of course he'd love to be with Calleigh, but he didn't want her to do it solely for his behalf. They'd spent that last few months together, yet still Eric wanted to make sure she wasn't just settling for him, he still wanted to give her the opportunity to find someone better, because in all honesty he'd never feel like he was good enough for her. But that's where he was so, so wrong, because he's all she's ever wanted.
His apprehension was still obvious, and it broke Calleigh's heart to see him like that, to see him so... defeated... merely because he believed she deserved someone better.
"What you set about settling down," she murmured squeezing his hand, "we can't do that if you're in Havana."
Eric looked over his shoulder to see Horatio signaling for them to follow. Eric nodded and Calleigh turned, then turned back to Eric, squeezing his hands in reassurance, "come on."
They stood up, hands still laced, while Eric studied her face. Studied to make sure that she wasn't feeling forced, that she really wanted this. She smiled a steady, heartwarming smile and pulled him into a hug. He stayed in her embrace a few moments longer than visitation regulations allowed but DHS wasn't trying to start anything with Horatio. It felt so right, having her against him, holding her while her head rested on his chest, while his rested atop her. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she breathed him in, let his smell radiate through her. Her hair was soft against his face, his hands resting on her hips. God he'd missed her.
"You're not going anywhere," she murmured, pulling away to face him with a smile, her fingers interlocked at the tip of his spine, just below his hairline.
"Calleigh, danger has been following me everywhere I-"
She shut him up with a kiss, a soft and beautiful one, and it took Eric a minute to realize he was actually kissing her. How long had it been? Weeks; weeks since he'd felt her lips on his, since he'd tasted her and breathed her in. Weeks since he'd felt her arms around his neck, since he'd held her close to him. It'd been far too long, so it took him a moment to process this, to process her, and she'd only kissed him for a few seconds but he was already dizzy for her. Jesus he missed her, missed them, but still, his priority was her safety. Sure, he may have gotten around being deported, but that only means it's that much more dangerous, and he loved Calleigh too much for that, he couldn't bear anything happening to her, especially if it was because of him.
"Calleigh, I'm serious. I don't want anything to happe-"
Again her lips were back on his, warm and languid, and any doubt he had about her marrying him solely to grant him citizenship vanished. This wasn't just for him, this was for them, for what they have now and what more will grow in the future. The kiss was subtle and couldn't really be classified under PDA, yet she poured everything she had into him, into one simple kiss.
She pulled away and looked at him, her smile soft and her words tender, "I've got the safest house in Miami, do you know how many guns I have?" she laughed a little with him, but then lowered her voice, "and Horatio's posting a uni down the street from my apartment."
Eric chuckled and Calleigh took his hand and pulled him towards Horatio, "You protect me and I'll protect you."
The grin that stretched across Eric's face was nothing short of lovesick. And he wasn't alone in that, Calleigh's smile mirrored the same. He's always been in love with her, whether it be subconsciously or not, he's always wanted her. And it took him getting shot to realize that, took her almost dying of smoke inhalation to tell her, and now took him being at risk for deportation to actually seal their relationship, strings attached and all.
Horatio smiled at them and patted Eric on the shoulder once he entered a room down the hall where a young woman sat behind a desk, her feet up while she played on an Nintendo 3DS. Miami tax dollars at work.
"You got a money ord- fuck fuck fuck!" She was rapidly hitting the X button on her gameboy, and turning the system as if that would be of any use in the actual game. She sighed and closed the gameboy, letting it drop onto the desk. She put her feet down and turned her attention to Eric, Calleigh, and Horatio. And Horatio momentarily wondered how old this girl was, and if she was actually qualified to hand out marriage license. None of the three needed anymore drama regarding citizenship.
As if the young girl could read Horatio's mind she answered his unspoken question that lay on the tip of his tongue, "yes I'm able to do marriage licenses. And no, your tax dollars are not being wasted- I make minimum wage so don't worry, your tax dollars are going straight into corporate greed." She paused and chuckled, "let me stop myself so I don't get fired. Yall got a money order? It's 25 bucks."
"Uhh yes," Calleigh said, searching in her bag to find a folder with all the paperwork, and handed it over to the girl.
"Dope, thanks for being organized," she said with a smile, "so many folks come in here without proper paperwork sometimes. It's a pain."
She flipped through the pages and then fumbled around in the desk drawers to find some other paperwork.
She dropped 2 sheets of paper and 2 pens on the desk, "Imma need yall to fill this out. Is what's in the folder mine or do I needa make copies?"
"It's yours," Calleigh said looking at the application. It was simple and basic and took less than ten minutes to fill out.
The girl eyed the papers, "yall ain't just tryna get married to avoid his deportation correct?"
Calleigh smiled, "no of course not."
"Dope, alright how long have yall been dating?"
"2 years-" "4 months-"
They spoke at the same time, good job guys, way to make this marriage convincing.
"2 years and 4 months," Horatio declared with a smile. And the young girl couldn't have really cared one way or another so she continued.
"Bet, alright so," she paused fumbling around, "Eric Delko, do you take Calleigh dusqui-" she paused awkwardly, "how do you say your name?"
Calleigh chuckled, "Duquesne."
The girl nodded, "right," and again paused to look at them, her hands gesturing at them with a smile, "yall are getting married, at least act like you're excited, face each other, hold hands, look into eachothers eyes with your undying love. Don't gotta be the whole nine yards but yall at least gotta try to look like you're in love."
They both chuckled and she waited for Eric to take both of Calleigh's hands and faced her smiling. This was no where near how he'd imagined it would be, and he'd thought about it plenty. But, it made it that much more special. Sometimes tradition is overrated.
"Alright better. So, Do you, Eric Delko, take Calleigh Duquesne soon to be Delko to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish 'till death do yall part?"
Eric chuckled and squeezed Calleigh's hand, whose cheeks had currently turned a light scarlet, and brought his lips to her knuckles "I do."
"Dope. And do you, Calleigh Duquesne soon to be Delko, take Eric Delko to your wedded lawfully husband? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish 'till death do yall part?"
Calleigh smiled even wider, if that were humanly possible, "I do."
"Dope, I now pronounce yall husband and wife, you may kiss the bride," she paused and glanced to Calleigh, "or you may kiss the groom. Don't matter who go first."
Calleigh chuckled and Eric pecked her on the lips before pulling her into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around her, his head resting atop hers. He kissed the top of her head and murmured that he loved her, the strands of her blonde locks tickling his stubble.
"You know I love you," she said into his chest. They were like that for a moment, holding each other like they were the only ones in the room; as if Horatio had vanished and the young girl had evaporated into some video game wonderland. Right in that moment, all they had were each other, and that was all that mattered. And oddly enough, it wasn't weird, being in front of Horatio, like both Calleigh and Eric had feared. It was natural, and Eric briefly wondered if Horatio knew that this was the first time either had told eachother that they loved each other, and meant it in it's rawest and most tender form; meant it deep inside them, pulsing through their veins like warm electricity.
They hadn't realized how long they'd been holding each other until the young girl spoke, "you know," she smiled, "yall slick better be redoing this wedding. I mean yea, this was you know nice and all, but yall at least gotta get him out that god awful jumpsuit, and you know, if your paycheck agrees, maybe toss in some wedding rings, some dinner, maybe a honeymoon? But ay, that's just me."
Eric cocked an eyebrow and smiled, "don't worry, we'll get you front row seats, and maybe a grammar tutor."
She chuckled, "alright yall, unless yall planning on going out to a celebratory lunch and inviting me along, it's time for my break. You can pick up your personal effects at the front desk, they'll also have paperwork for your discharge. And," she signed two pieces of paper and slid it to them, "these are yall's marriage license. Don't lose it. And congratulations."
She stood up, "and don't forget to send me my invite."
They'd gone to Calleigh's place, yet had barely made it through the door, and she found it quite odd that she was the one pushing Eric up against the wall after they got inside, that she was the one pulling him down for a deep kiss.
And she wasn't really embarrassed about it until he chuckled against her lips while his hands found her hips, "feisty are we?"
She blushed, and normally Calleigh Dusque- no not Duquesne, Delko- doesn't blush, but she found that ever since her and Eric let their relationship spiraled into what it was always meant to be, underneath her thick skin was indeed a blusher, but Eric had always made clear that it was cute.
"I missed you," she murmured, her hands wrapping around his neck, her cheeks still a light crimson, though she was far too gone within his smell, his eyes, the feel of his lips, to let the embarrassment take over.
"Mhhm," he chuckled against her lips, "probably not as much as I missed you."
She quirked her brow, a simple challenge, though the look in her eyes was both playful and seductive.
"I doubt it," she replied, moving her lips to trace barely along his jawline, her breath hot on his skin while she placed soft, open mouth kisses along his jaw, down his neck, and all he could manage to do was let his eyes flutter shut while her lips explored his skin, skin she hadn't felt or tasted in far far too long. Eric let out a slight gasp when she nipped at the bottom of his earlobe, "every night I missed you, I missed not being in your arms, I missed your smell, your voice, your eyes, your touch. I lost my best friend."
He smirked, "your best friend hmm?" A lusty nip left the end of his sentence a breathy gasp, and she thought it was utterly sexy.
"Mhmm," her voice vibrated against him, "my best friend, my partner, the love of my life,"
"You're husband," he pointed out with a smile, deft fingers finding their way to the buttons on her dress shirt.
"Yes," she murmured, latching onto his pulse point, "my husband."
"Calleigh," he whispered, his fingers leaving her shirt to cup her cheek, "I love you," he tipped his lips to her, and though the kiss was still soft, it was slow and filled with more passion, and in the privacy of her own home she let her hands wander over his biceps, down his back, along his chest until she met the top button of his white dress shirt.
"You're not just saying that cuz you get to say?" she murmured playfully, unhooking the first and second button of his shirt.
"No," he smiled, his hands moving down to cup her bottom, "hold on to me."
Before she had a minute to protest he hoisted her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, and she honestly wasn't shocked at how ready he was. It'd been far far too long since he'd been with her, and you can't really... use your imagination while you're in a deportation jail. Still, it turned her on immensely, and the friction his belt buckle made against the ache between her thighs made warm liquid rush south. God, she'd missed him.
Eric got them to her bedroom effortlessly; it was evident that this was most definitely not the first time they'd done this dance in her home. He dropped her on the bed, and she tugged him down with her, her arms around his neck, smiling while their lips met again. He had one knee on the bed, while both his elbows were on either side of her as he cupped both her cheeks, and pulled her close to him, "I missed you," and how many times had he already said that already? It didn't matter though, not really, as far as he was concerned there were no words to describe the ache that he felt spending those few long weeks without her. And it wasn't one sided, Calleigh had been in the exact same boat too, which is why she kept tugging at him, why she wrapped her legs around the one he had kneeling on the bed, why she kissed him hungrily and requested entrance to him with her tongue, which he all too willingly granted, his hands finding the buttons of her shirt where he'd left off.
One hand moved to cup a covered breast, while the other deftly unbuttoned the buttons of her shirt. His thumb circled around a hardened peak, the friction of the shirt against her ignited senses was delicious and left her pulling at his collar trying to get him impossibly closer.
And she moaned into his mouth while she situated her legs now around his waist to grind against him, and he had to stop what he was doing so he could concentrate on not fucking coming in his pants and at least finish unbuttoning her shirt, but when she spoke he knew he'd have no such luck with, at least the latter of those tasks right now.
"Lay down on your back," her voice was thick and playfully seductive.
He looked at her for a moment, debating on whether or not he should let her take control, but he didn't really have much time to think, and she wasn't going to give him more than a few seconds to anyways. She rolled them, pushed his chest until his back hit the mattress and his head hit the pillows. She climbed ontop of him and straddled his waist, her chest falling against his while she captured his lips with hers. His hands roamed her back, tangled in her hair and eventually laced with hers. She sucked on his lower lip before pulling away and sitting up, her core grinding against his erection, making them both moan. His eyes fluttered closed and back open when he felt her unbuttoning his white shirt, and when the top button was finished, he sat up and she pushed the shirt off his shoulders, one unnecessary barrier taken care of. His lips found her pulse point, sucking lightly and she gasped, finding the feel of his whiskers against her skin that much more sexy. She let her hands roam his chest, his biceps, his back, tracing her fingers along the contours she'd missed so much. These past few weeks without him, these past few weeks having to sleep alone were some of the hardest weeks of her life. And she'd rather die than have to go that long without him, that long without knowing whether or not she'd actually be in his arms again. The concept was scary, and she pushed it out of her mind. He was here now, with her, and that's what mattered.
And she also decided there was one thing that needed to be taken care of. Something he'd protest at first, but after would welcome fully. While his lips continued their descent around the silky skin of her jaw and neck, she pushed herself down his thighs a little further, and made reach for the buckle of his pants, her hands trembling just a little because of the magnificent things his tongue and teeth were doing along her throat. But she managed to get the belt undone and surreptitiously unzip his pants, but when her knuckles brushed against him, he moaned against her neck before pulling away to look at her. Caught.
She put a finger over his lips before he could say a word, "stay down," she murmured. And he did -though with only a moment's hesitation- his head fell back on her pillows, her smell leaving him intoxicated. She smiled at him, that seductive smile that always sent chills through his body, and began to tug off his jeans and drawers in one slow move, watching him watch her. And he now lay nude, chewing on his lip which was foreign because he'd never felt so... powerless. To her. He was always the one to take charge, but then he watched her hand stroke him, up and down up and down, until finally he saw where her lips were headed, and jesus she'd already married him, she didn't need to go down on him too(and though she said she liked it, he went with his gut and seriously doubted that anyone women enjoyed giving oral sex).
"Calleigh, you don't have to do that," but his voice came out shaky with desire.
She smirked, "you were in there for what? Three and a half weeks?"
He swallowed and nodded while she continued to speak, "and I'm sure there were certain, uh, needs that couldn't be met while you were surrounded by guards?"
She massaged the head and his breathing hitched while his eyes fluttered shut and nodded. Well, she did have a point, you can't exactly take care of yourself in prison without completely losing your dignity.
She ran her thumb in circles, spreading the precum across him, "and," she continued, "I wasn't surrounded by guards, so I was able to meet said needs as well as possible with my imagination."
Wait, what? Did she.. Oh god. That was quite a visual.
Eric opened his eyes, and they'd gone dark, almost black while she continued to smirk, her fingers teasing and her words seductive, "so I think you might need a hand," she said, stroking him up and down, up and down, agonizingly slow with just the right amount of pressure, "and maybe some tongue too," she added, her head now descending down, and her lips taking the very tip of his aching erection, sucking at the warm flesh. And Eric's eyes crossed, a low groan falling from his throat. He didn't really process what was happening, there were too many things going on and the only thing he managed to do was close his eyes and focus on the feel of her lips, the way they kissed along his length and then licked with quite a skillful tongue back up to the head.
Very rarely did Calleigh ever go down there merely because Eric insisted that she didn't have to, and that even if she did he wouldn't last. And that was exactly what was happening right at this very moment, and he couldn't tell if she just didn't get the message or if she was just trying to torture him, but without a moment's notice she damn near swallowed him, and he groaned again. Maybe... when he hasn't been sex deprived for three weeks... he might let her go down there more often, considering right now he needed her to stop doing the things her lips and tongue were expertly skilled at. But damn, Eric had spent three weeks in a jail cell with absolutely nothing to do except count tiles on the wall, and as much as he loved the feel of her lips over his length, he'd spent three weeks without her, and he wasn't going to come without being inside her. He'd been disconnected from her for far too long.
"Calleigh, baby, you're gonna need to stop that," he breathed his hand reaching for hers, "I need to be inside you." His voice was breathy and needy so she pulled away from him and he pulled her up by the elbows on top of his chest, hastily undoing the remaining buttons of her shirt, tossing it aside, then moving on to her pants, picking one knee up from beside him, and then the other to successfully rid her of the garment and have it follow the path of the rest of their clothing. She leaned back down to kiss him, and he let his hands wander down her back, feeling the warm skin he'd missed so much, dancing his fingers up her spine and along her ribs, just touching and feeling and savoring her. Grateful. He kept touching her and she kept kissing him, it was simple and beautiful and could he be anymore in love with her? Could she be anymore in love with him? No, she was all he ever wanted, and so was she, and so much more.
His fingers unhooked her bra and her hands only left either side of his face to rid her of the lace- and though it was brilliantly sexy- right now he needed her and only her; her skin on his, nothing between the atoms that made up their flesh except protons, neutrons, and electrons.
She grinded against him, her breasts sliding over his while her hand cupped his cheek and his hand tangled in her hair, the other two laced together. She readily accepted his tongue against hers, finally dancing together in a rhythm that'd been neglected for far too long. His tongue against hers, they kept kissing and kissing and kissing and ignoring their need for oxygen, until it became too much and the kiss broke, leaving them both panting, with Calleigh's head tucked in the crook of his neck. He unlaced his one hand from hers and the other from her hair and let them ghost down her back to meet her hips and let deft fingers tuck into the side of her panties and pull them down, far enough down her thighs for her to shimmy out of them. He left one hand gripping her bottom, the other quickly moving between her legs, searching until he met slick skin that was hot like Miami in the middle of July and wet like the streets after a hurricane.
"Look at me," he murmured, turning his head to brush a kiss against his temple, "I wanna see you."
And how could she deny him? It was worth the slight embarrassment, so she tilted her head up, while his fingers brushed against her, moving lazily with no intent to tease, no intent to bring her to a glistening peek, not now, not yet. Right now he just wanted to touch her, wanted to make her feel good and with that he was successful. She arched and he took the opportunity to grasp a breast with his lips, sucking lightly which only made her moans louder and more insistent. And it was when she moaned his name on a sharp gasp that the gears quickly shifted
"You're so wet," he murmured, his current intentions twisting to that of teasing and taunting. He flipped them, so now he was on top, so he was in control. He sucked and nipped and kissed every part of her, sucking and nipping at her breast before kissing at the valley between and moving down, down to where two fingers pulsed hard circles over her heated center. And personally, Calleigh hated being extra loud during sex, hated letting out long groans of pleasure, hated asking for more, yet all the embarrassment that followed every time she accidently let her cries venture a little too far into the wild, did not exist at this moment, not this time.
And when his tongue met her clit, two fingers ventured down to the yellow brick road and all that mattered right now was making sure she endured an expedition of painfully exquisite, sensual teasing until she finally found her way to the blissful Emerald City.
But right now, she sure as hell wasn't about to take that journey without Eric going with her. So between moans and gasps of his name, she somehow found the will to formulate a broken sentence that got across the point that she needed him with her. Now. And he smiled, pressing a final kiss to her core before towering over her, balancing with his forearms on either side of her, and brushing his lips against hers in the sweetest of kisses. And she'd tangle her hands in his hair if she could, but instead she had to settle with soft prickles, which, frankly, she only found sexy on him. So she pulled him closer, kissed him harder, trying to make up for what they lost these past few weeks. And when she wrapped her legs around his waist he groaned, and the kiss once sweet quickly spun to hot and passionate without a breath of air between. She grinded against him, one hand reaching between them to guide him to her. He took a breath, preparing himself, before entering her slowly, trying to keep his breathing steady, and it was obvious by the way his forearms were shaking besider her, that it was taking effort. She grinded against him again, encouraging him to move. He left a chaste kiss on her nose, and then let their foreheads meet, his eyes never leaving hers. And he began to move, making sure to take it slow, making sure his eyes never left her. She gasped slightly when the angle adjusted, so he bent his head back down for a kiss, a simple one, a reap and sow of their lips before he pulled back, intent on watching her the entire time. And her eyes never left his, at least while his thrusts had remained slow.
But he couldn't help pick up pace, and by the way Calleigh had bit her nails into his bottom urging him deeper, she didn't seem to mind. She tried to keep her eyes locked on his, but blissful bubbles of pleasure were beginning to form and she couldn't help letting her head fall back with a roaring moan of bliss leaving her, and Eric wasn't doing any better. His head fell in the crook between her neck and shoulder while he kept thrusting longer and thrusting faster, her nails scraping down his back, and she couldn't stop the cries falling in tune with his grunts if her life had depended on it. It was too good, having him inside her, pulsing long and hard and fast, in and out in and out; she could have died right there and been entirely okay with it.
And she was almost there, close, so close. He managed to slide a hand between their sweaty bodies, down down to the one place that would push her over, and in unison with his thrusts he swiped two fingers over her. And with one, two, three, they were both gone, Eric practically falling on top of her, doing his best to hold up his body weight so he wouldn't crush her tiny frame. He laced their hands, his forehead resting against hers, the both of them attempting to catch their breath, though neither attempting to move from their current position(both because it was quite comfortable and neither knew if they actually could move).
He leaned in for one last kiss before pulling out and situating himself beside her.
"Jesus, I love you Calleigh," he breathed, pulling her into his arms and brushing his lips on her hairline.
He felt her smirk against his chest, "Good. I love you too."
"You know," he smirked back, his voice playful, "I think that was some of the best sex we've ever had."
"Mmmh," she stirred and then chuckled, after glow settling around them, "couldn't agree more."
It was silent for a moment, Eric stroking his fingers along her spine, over each vertebra. They were married now right? Technically? And though it may have been... entertaining, getting married while in an orange jumpsuit in front of Horatio and... a feisty county clerk, Eric still wanted to do it right. Wanted to propose, wanted to have an actual wedding with rings and without the tacky orange jumpsuit. Their marriage was memorable, which he appreciated, but the county clerk was right, they needed a real wedding. But his eyes were drooping shut, and all he could do was let himself follow Calleigh into the wonderful world of sleep. He'd figure it out sometime tomorrow.