Disclaimer: Nope. Still not mine.
A/N: This little nugget jumped into my head immediately after I watched IBSY. Jack and Allison's stereo fibbing about being late to Fargo's meeting got me wondering. They hopped out of bed the minute they got the call from Fargo, so why were they late? Mm-hm. I think we all know why.
It takes all of five minutes for Allison to realize that she's made a mistake. An uncharacteristic error in judgment that she blames solely on the overabundance of endorphins that are still careening around in her body. She supposes that a night of enthusiastic lovemaking with the man that she absolutely adores would do that to a woman, but still…she can't believe that she hadn't known better.
Pulling Jack into the roomy shower stall with her hasn't been one of her more practical ideas, even if it has been with the very noble intention of saving as much time as possible. They have been summoned by the director of Global Dynamics, after all. And it isn't smart to keep her boss waiting—even if it is only Fargo.
Desperately ignoring the urge to reach up and twine her fingers into the deep waves in his wet hair, she quickly runs the soapy pink bath pouf over her body. She's doing her best to hurry, but it's difficult to rush through a shower with a man that makes her heart race with just a look; a man whose body is firm and hard everywhere; a man that she has discovered just last night is a world class lover.
"Jack," Allison chastises, sucking in a deep breath as his body brushes against hers.
Again.
She's begun to suspect that his seemingly accidental touches—pressing his chest against her back as he reaches for the soap, lightly brushing his fingertips across the curve of her ass, crowding her against the cold tile as he rinses the shampoo out of his hair—were less accidents and more a deliberate attempt at seduction.
"Yeah?"
He pulls his head from under the warm spray, and it's all she can do to keep her eyes off the rivulets of water that are running in wet trails down his chest. As he turns and peers down at her, she can clearly see the devilish twinkle in his cornflower-blue eyes.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing," he replies in a voice that is way too innocent to be believable.
She purses her lips. "That would be easier to believe if that wasn't poking me in the back every five seconds." She nods her head at the juncture of his thighs and the sizable erection that is straining towards her with impressive determination.
"What?" His gaze follows hers before he looks back up and gives her a nonchalant shrug. "Oh come on…you really expect me to be naked and wet with you in a shower and not have a hard-on?"
"You're incorrigible."
"Admit it—you'd be offended if I didn't."
Allison's lips twitch, but she fights back the smile that she can feel threatening to bloom. She puts her hands on her hips, and his eyes immediately drop to her breasts and linger covetously. Holding up one hand to ward him off, she quickly takes a step backward and shakes her head. "S.A.R.A.H.'s stall is plenty big enough for us to shower without touching."
"Where's the fun in that?" he grumbles, but manages to keep his hands—and other body parts—to himself for the ten tense minutes that it takes for them to finish.
Despite Jack's admirable restraint, she doesn't breathe properly again until they're out of the shower and she's sliding on her black lace underwear and fastening the matching black bra. As she releases her hair from the sloppy top-knot piled high on the crown of her head, she furtively studies his reflection in the large bathroom mirror and sucks in a deep, silent breath.
He is absolutely gorgeous.
He is standing behind her and a little to one side, still gloriously, marvelously naked. His manhood is semi-erect and small droplets of water are sparkling on his broad shoulders like tiny diamonds as he slowly wipes away the moisture on his arms and chest.
Allison quickly averts her gaze as a heavyweight settles low in her stomach. The delicious feeling blossoms and spreads, sending explosions of heat pulsing through her body in staccato bursts. She makes the tactical mistake of closing her eyes, just for a moment, just long enough to try to wrest back control of her senses from her raging libido.
She's so wrapped up in her lustful thoughts that she doesn't even hear him come up behind her.
Eyes stretching wide, she gasps in shock as the feel of a long, lean body, warm and still slightly damp, presses against her back.
"Surprise," a deep, amused voice rasps close to her ear.
Jack moves closer, and she pulls in another lungful of air as his now rigid shaft nestles possessively in the dip in her lower back.
Her startled eyes meet his in the mirror. "You ambushed me."
"Ally, I have absolutely no problem playing dirty when I have to."
"Jo warned me never to take my eyes off the enemy."
"And I'm the enemy?"
She suppresses a mischievous smirk. "It depends."
"On?"
"On what you're planning to do next."
"You're a smart woman," he says, placing his hands on her hips and holding her in place as she tries to turn in his arms. He lowers his lips to her shoulder and says in a low, rumbling voice against her skin, "I think you can figure it out."
"We probably shouldn't," she replies, the moan that she's been valiantly trying to restrain sneaking past her lips to emerge as a small whimper.
"We definitely should." His hands skim up her sides slowly, as if he's trying to memorize the very texture of her skin.
"But Fargo—"
"Can wait a few extra minutes," he interrupts softly, tracing the gentle arcs of her shoulder blades with the tips of his fingers. In the mirror, his gaze holds hers as he continues to draw invisible patterns into her skin, lulling her, pulling her in with his beautiful, expressive eyes.
Fully under his spell, she doesn't resist as Jack places a large hand in the middle of her back and slowly pushes her forward; he doesn't stop until her hands are resting flat against the surface of the cool, black granite. His gaze never leaves hers as he moves his hands to the waistband of her panties, his eyes almost daring her to stop him.
She doesn't.
He nods in satisfaction then slides the black lace slowly down her trembling legs, gently curving his hand around first one shin and then the other, steadying her as she steps out of them. His hands greedily map her skin as he rises, gliding up her legs, cradling the curves of her hips, dancing along the inward sweep of her waist.
Allison doesn't even realize that she's holding her breath until the first touch of his lips against her skin causes air to rush from her lungs like a punctured balloon. She closes her eyes and moans softly as the tip of his tongue, hot and wet, traces a path of fire from the small of her back all the way up her spine. Just as her brain begins to short-circuit, he drapes himself over her, slipping one of his hands between her legs and the other into her bra. A jolt of electricity shoots through her as his hands begin their sweet torture, plucking and rubbing and pinching her into a moaning, writhing mass of sensitized flesh.
When her legs threaten to give way beneath her, she knows that she can't take anymore.
In a voice that manages to be brazen despite the small quiver lurking just beneath the words, she begs him to end her torment. She nearly sobs in relief when he tightly grips her hips, brings her to her tiptoes and quickly thrusts into her.
Hard.
Allison makes a low sound in the back of her throat, born from a combination of approval and raging lust. Eyes heavy-lidded, she stares at Jack in the mirror. His own eyes are squeezed shut, and he is standing stock still behind her as if he's trying to retain some semblance of his waning control.
But she doesn't want him in control.
She wants him wild and free and completely unrestrained.
"Jack," she whispers, tipping the corners of her mouth into a naughty smile when he opens his eyes and their gazes clash hotly.
It's almost uncanny, the way he can so easily read her, and with a low, deep growl that turns her on as much as it surprises her, he finally begins to move.
As if they've been doing this for years, their bodies immediately fall into perfect, rhythmic sync. His strokes are hard and deep, his movements certain and fluid as their bodies crash into each other over and over and over again. His deep, ragged groans and the sharp sound of flesh striking flesh ratchets her up desire to an almost impossible level.
Allison closes her eyes, her fingers gripping the edge of the countertop so hard that they are actually beginning to ache. Her arms lock, the shaky muscles screaming as she struggles to hold herself upright under such a glorious onslaught.
At Jack's guttural urging she pries her eyes open and fastens her gaze onto the silver surface of the mirror, instantly transfixed by the erotic tableau playing out before her. She looks positively wanton—back arched, lips parted, bra pulled down to expose her breasts—and the almost savage expression on Jack's face as he pounds into her pushes her to the edge of orgasm so abruptly that she cries out sharply in blissful revelation.
As her body involuntarily tightens around him, one of his hands darts between her thighs again, his long fingers parting the dark curls deftly as his thumb zeroes in on the small bundle of electrified nerves at her center. His fingers stroke her rapidly as they rock against each other, the intense pleasure of their coupling shrinking to a pinpoint of space and time that begins and ends where their bodies are joined.
She gasps as she feels the taut pull of tension gather low in her stomach, the flutter of tiny contractions in her womb signaling that the end is near.
Knees finally giving way, Allison throws back her head and screams her pleasure to the heavens. Her voice rips painfully from her throat as her body goes supernova, exploding in a white-hot blast that stretches away into infinity before contracting into a tiny ball of bright, radiant light.
Her body is still pulsing around him when Jack slips out of her, spins her around and plants her on top of the counter all in one swift motion. Without pausing, he aligns their sweat-slick bodies and quickly slides back into her. She can feel the edge of the sink digging uncomfortably into her thigh, but she doesn't care. The long, smooth thrusts that have made her see stars have become frantic and jerky as he greedily chases his own climax with a mindless resolve that throws her over the precipice yet again.
As her body succumbs to him for a second time, she is so weak that she can only groan softly. From some distant, hazy place, she can hear Jack's own shout of rapturous release as he pulls her hips hard against his and pours himself into her.
Limbs trembling, chests heaving, they cling to each other tightly, their harsh breathing loud in the thick silence of the room.
"God, Ally," Jack pants, his voice raw and hoarse, "that was…" As if he can think of no adequate word to describe what has just happened between them, he trails off and tenderly presses a kiss against the soft curve of her neck instead.
"Absolutely amazing," she finishes with a contented sigh.
"Yeah, that sounds about right."
"Oh, damn, we're going to be late," she groans as reality rudely intrudes. "Fargo isn't going to be happy."
Jack pulls back and looks at her, his dazzling smile brighter than ten thousand suns. "But it was so worth it."
Allison only has to think about it for about a tenth of a second before she nods, pulls his mouth to hers and murmurs against his lips, "Yeah, that sounds about right too."