AN: Hello J/Z shippers out there! Hello *echoes*. Hello? Is this thing on? Ahem. In an effort to encourage other J/Z shippers to write john/zoe fics, I have pledged to write one J/Z shipper fic a week for the next six weeks in addition to the series of fics I already have in the cue (ie Twins, Landslide, or Risk). I pledge that my fics will NOT malign or besmirch any other characters of the show or call for their demise. In return, I hope to encourage the rest of you out there to write, write, write J/Z fics. I'm sick of reading my fics over and over again. I already know how they end, won't someone throw me a bone and write some j/z? Please, with a cherry on top?
If you feel like you don't want to (or can't, although can't is not a word we use at our house) write, how about showing some support and letting me know that you would like me to continue writing for the j/z ship by leaving a review or a comment, or constructive criticism! If I get a predetermined number of reviews for this fic, I will, will, will write another short one next week!
So what do you say?! Leave a comment, let me know! Heck, leave a comment on any of my fics just to let me know there are others out there besides myself and two other friend/authors of j/z fics that read and enjoy my stories. So far, I think I'm the only obsessed to the gills one. =)
For those that have left me reviews, I thank you for the encouraging words.
AN2: And for all of you J/J, J/F shippers out there that have been kind enough to read and review my fics, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your encouraging words have gotten me past self-doubt, quitting the game, and taking the game ball home and pouting.
The Pledge Series: It is what it is . . . and what was meant to be . . .
It all started when he saved her from being tortured and killed by corporate hit men. He had told her to stay out of trouble. She told him it wasn't going to happen then smiled that knowing smile that reiterated her words. You have my number.
He had her number; that was for sure. So for no apparent reason other than to say hello and check up on her, he called and said bluntly, "I don't want a drink," without even identifying himself, he continued, "invite me over."
There was a pause during which he could feel his heart thudding in his chest and his nether regions tightening with every second, waiting for the invite he knew she wanted to extend, a pause that went on longer than he hoped that he began to think she would say no instead. It was late in the evening, he hadn't seen her in a few days and what did he expect really?
"You know where I live," she said, her voice husky.
What in the world did I just do?
She stared at the phone in her hand. Thinking she had lost her mind. She should have given a polite "no"; instead she'd actually invited him over. Where was the deliberate and methodical woman? The woman who lay down ground rules and boundaries before even a mere touch? Clearly, her sharp mind wasn't on the same page as her body, hell they weren't even in the same book. Her mind was on the bible, and her body was on a trashy romance novel full of smut.
For a split second, she considered calling him back and telling him that it wasn't a good idea or that something had just come up mere seconds after they ended their call. Either way, the end game would be him, somewhere else but here. The few remaining functioning brain cells she had, there were precious few, told her she was off her rocker for getting involved with him, a virtual stranger. It was not logical for her to trust someone she had just met. Regardless of the fact that he did save her life not once but twice.
The baser instincts, she thought long forgotten, were whispering to her, hell they were screaming at her. She wanted him, John, with her, against her, anywhere and everywhere. She wasn't ready to let him walk away. She didn't often ignore her common sense in favor of her gut instincts, but tonight, she was going with her gut.
The rational part of her mind screamed at her, That's NOT your gut you're listening to.
Just on the other side of the door, a similar war was waging in his mind. He had had a long day chasing a former Stasi agent all over the City. He should be hitting the hay, never mind that there might a number he'd have to take care of, but he still felt edgy and restless, tightly coiled with tension.
Home was not an inviting option right now. The efficiency apartment he'd been living in wasn't calling for him. Usually, he looked forward to some alone time. Peace and quiet in which to kick back and watch some baseball or basketball or hell, just read the paper. But not tonight, tonight, he wanted . . . something else.
Who was he kidding? He knew what he wanted, or rather who. Her. The epitome of class and sophistication. Ms. spunky with balls of steel. Zoe Morgan, the fixer. She was easy on the eyes, legs to die for, intelligent yet surprisingly easy to talk to, and if he hadn't completely lost his mind, she was just as attracted to him as he was to her. Their attraction to each other was mutual, not one sided.
When he rang the doorbell, she didn't jump, well not exactly. Her heart beat just a tad faster than normal; something towards her nether regions skipped as well. Taking a deep breath, she walked to the door, and just to be safe, she glanced through to peephole to make sure it was him.
She opened the door wide, and like a scene from an old western movie, they stood facing each other, foes anticipating the other to flinch first. John hadn't changed much from the short time since she'd seen him last. He had taken the tie off since he wasn't acting as a body guard/driver. Being barefoot, hair still wet from her shower and in her pajamas, Zoe was a lot shorter. John towered over her by a good ten inches; the top of her head barely clearing his wide shoulders.
John didn't know what to expect of their first time together; and oh yes, there would definitely be more than just once. He had been physically attracted to her from the moment she walked down her front steps wearing knee high black boots, and certainly as she walked back up those steps, hips swaying, naked legs, and barefoot. But besides the primal sexual attraction, there was something else; something else about her that called to him. The way she made him smile for the first time in a very long time? Yes. Her intelligence as she quickly identified the discrepancy between two files? Yes. Her lack of fear as she faced hired killers while handcuffed to a chair? Yes. Her ability to protect him without gun power or muscle, but the only way she knew how; with a paperclip. Yes.
His gaze roamed over her, his perusal unashamed, without prudence or subtlety or affectation; straightforward, hiding nothing. His gaze meandered up and down, then leisurely back up once more, lingering on the places that interested him the most. Zoe inhaled deeply and stepped back from the doorway, inviting him in. In two steps, he was in the foyer and that much closer to her, her eyes traveled the length of his chest, his neck, his mouth to look directly into his eyes, her head tilted such that her wet hair cascaded down her back.
Eyes hooded and pinned on her face, he palmed the back of her head. "I couldn't stop thinking about you in the most inappropriate places," he said with a rueful smile.
"That's not a good thing . . . clearly you didn't get a bullet in your ass," she said with a grin, her fingers at the back of his neck delving in his salt and pepper hair at the nape of his neck. And still he didn't make a move, just looked at her, glancing up and down once again and lingering on her bare painted toes.
Zoe felt a flutter in her stomach. It had been decades since she'd been worried and apprehensive enough to suffer from the fluttering in her belly, years since she'd purely given into her feelings. "Are you going to stare at my toes all night?"
"No, ma'am," he said roughly, slowly urging her towards him, stopping only when their bodies were pressed together. Instinctively knowing what she wanted, he moved his free hand to her back, down to her bottom, bringing her hips forward until she was firmly nestled against his.
Drawing in a sharp but shaky breath, she reveled in the feel of him. She tipped her head back again and went up on her toes, meeting his lowered lips. Their first kiss, though at first like a flash of lighting, hot and volatile, softened into something gentle and sweet. Maybe it was because they both knew where this was leading, knew there was no holding back, yet had time on their hands; to arouse each other, to titillate each other with their mouths and tongues and teeth. The kiss turned deep and ravenous, tongues dueling, one big hand in her hair, her fingers clasping the back of his strong neck.
The ending of their explosive first kiss marked the beginning of the rest of their firsts together. Bending his knees, he wrapped an arm around her bottom and another around her back, and lifted her off the ground so her head aligned better with his. Instinctively, her legs parted and wrapped around him as he rumbled deep in his throat as his length pushed firm against the softness of her.
"Bedroom?" he queried, growling the words low and rough. His fingers slipped down her back and stealthily snuck inside the loose waistband of her pajama bottoms, and paid special attention to their final destination and stroked over her.
"That-a-way," she said, freeing one hand to indicate the back room. Without hesitation, as if he were soldier commanded into battle, he strode in the direction she indicated even as his touch forged lower and deeper causing her to gasp. What was he- Holy, Christ! Her limbs squeezed his waist as she intuitively lifted herself, whether to escape or grant him further admittance, she didn't know. Her chest chafed against his, her nipples stabbing into him. His ministrations were setting off micro-bursts of pleasure, making her writhe and curve and moan, though still steps away from the bed.
He brought her into her bedroom and placed a knee on the bed, with her killer legs still around him, he brought her down to the bed his weight crushing her. A lamp had been left on; the soft light washed over them as she pushed his jacket off his shoulders and pulled at his shirt; he peeled her tank off over her head and revealed her small yet perfect breasts; his mouth salivating at the thought of sampling them. He reached out and lightly, gently traced a fingertip around both tips, then braced his hands on each side of her and leaned down to kiss each breast; his mouth so gentle that she felt the heat more than the pressure.
Her breathing hitched and her body arched upward wanting more. He stripped her pants down her legs as his mouth covered one nipple, continuing his ministrations, his tongue wreaking havoc as it laved beyond a point which she could bear. Arching her back, she whimpered, her hands fisting at his shoulders, clawing at his shirt.
After joining forces and waging a war against his clothing, they were both finally, undeniably naked. And as if she had been waiting a lifetime, as if the feel of his bare skin against hers was driving her mad, she panted and clung to him, her hips lifting, searching for the movement that would plunge them together.
"Damn," he cursed as he moved away from her and reached for the condoms in his pants pocket. Tossing a couple of them on the bedside table he tore open the one in his hand. Thank God, she thought, appalled that her normally responsible brain hadn't even thought of that basic safety measure. At least one of them had a few working brain cells left. Even though she was on the Pill, a condom was a requirement. Taking the condom from him, she reached down and gently caressed him as she slowly and deliberately sheathed him, not once taking her eyes from his.
He pulled her into position under him, and braced himself on one arm, as he guided himself to her heat. She was waiting in anticipation, so close to the edge she thought she might embarrass herself before he came any closer. Her breath hitched with a grimace as he gently pushed into her.
Not immediately able to recall the last time, Zoe realized that she may not have been quite as ready as she had thought; possibly why the uneasiness was so sharp. Her need however, trumped any other consideration. Fighting back the urge to give a small cry of agony, she dug her nails into his shoulders as he gently pushed himself deeper, his movements slow, easing him deeper inside. She quivered around him, blowing a breath out in an attempt to relax. When he was fully inside her, he let his weight down on her and held her head with both hands, his fingers threaded through her hair. "Okay?" His voice was low, the word a breath across her lips.
"A moment?" she murmured, turning her head to softly brush his lips with hers. How could something feel so magnificent and so distressing at the same time? Though she felt under duress, she didn't want him to stop.
He gave her the moment she'd asked for, and then some. He kissed her, seducing her even though he was already inside her, courting her with his lips and caressing hands, tempting her until her inner muscles eased and began to clasp him, until her breath came in rhythmic pants and her hips responded. "Now," she said, clinging to him and closing her mind to anything but them.
He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her, his tongue mimicking what was about to happen. As he started to move his hips, he felt her hips respond to his. Meeting him thrust for thrust. The rhythmic movements as old as time. Slowly John pulled his hips back almost all the way then pushed back gently into her. Keeping the slow rhythm, he pulled back, and pushed down. Thrusting and pulling. As Zoe's moans began to deepen, he matched his thrusts to them. Increasing the speed of his movements, he thrust, deeper and deeper, faster and faster. It didn't take long for Zoe to climax taking him with her.
As they lay spent, they pulled the sheet and comforter over them. For that night, there was nothing else, just the man and the woman.
A year, a dozen fixes, countless numbers, endless hours of fear that the one they cared for wouldn't come back alive, there was nothing but peace and comfort.
She opened her eyes to complete darkness but for the light coming from the hallway. They slept as they usually did, a tangled heap of limbs, never letting go. She craned her neck slightly and looked up at his face; her partner, her friend, her lover.
His eyes opened, his lashes fluttered as the hallway lights reflected like silver fire in his eyes as a corner of his mouth lifted up, "Hey," he whispered.
"Hi, yourself," she offered back smiling.
"A year huh?" He asked.
"Yeah?" She asked with she quirked a brow, silently adding, so what do you think about that?
"It's wonderful." He declared then deposited a chaste kiss on her head.
No questions, rulings, or blame. No stipulations or rebuffs.
This is what it is and what was meant to be.