I want to dedicate this to: Josie and Monika. But also to everyone in this goddamn fandom because we go through so many shit and we need some love you feel?
It was playing jazz when she arrived. Her black dress long to the floor, a cleveage's depth not too deep, but not mainstream.
Provocative enough.
To the height of her fifth rib, right where the belt was placed.
The see-through lace formed her short sleeves, barely covering her shoulders, and it tattooed her back, down almost to her butt.
She was stunning.
No one noticed she had her hair longer until that moment, when chocolate-brown messy curls fell down her face.
Not that long, but longer than it was before the last scandal.
Oh, and Peter was there too, standing besides her, like a bodyguard.
Some sighs could've been heard and Peter put his best pitbull's face, cutting his teeth not to bark and growl at the other attorneys.
MALDEF's Awards Gala has never received such a sight seeing since tonight. And the saxophonist made his solo as Alicia walked slowly through the crowd, straight to the second table in the left side of the room. Cary already there, a glass of scotch in hands, it reminded her of Will. He smiled widely at her, raising two fingers, holding his glass with the free ones.
- The Oscars's after party is in the other room.
- I'll take that as a compliment.
- And you should, because it is - Peter.
Peter nodded at the guy, who saw a hint of jealously on the corner of his mouth, but pushed that possibility away, a guy like Mr. Florrick was not the one to be afraid of men.
At least, not any man.
But he could be afraid-no, that was not the word.
Intimidated.
There you go, intimidated by one man only.
And that man, on the other side of the crowded dance floor, that one is the one.
That man right over there, in a black tuxedo and a bow tie, impatiently typing on his phone, as innocent as it seems, takes the big bad Florrick wolf out of his pace.
It throws him off so easily, oh.
Apocalypse is child's play compared to what that eye-fuck from Peter meant, deep down.
- I really dislike the table's arrangement.
- Peter, please...I told you, we just accept the award and we go home.
Oh yeah, they were nominated.
And they've won.
From Lockhart/Gardner and three other law firms of Chicago.
" Outstanding work as Latinos defenders in civil litigation".
It was mostly Cary's, actually, she probably had defended three civil cases. In general.
But it wasn't Agos and associates, it was Florrick/Agos and associates, so she would have to go up there and accept it.
It was good, to slap the whole Chicago like that.
Because that wasn't Peter's connections. That was hard work, late nights highlighting facts and dreaming about words and laws and strategies.
Dreaming about Will.
Dreaming about decision trees and prep rooms, why did everything leads her back to him? I mean, not that it was bad, but in hard cases, like Sweeney's most recent attempt of murder - someone should settle him down, she didn't have the nerve to listen to his voice and sarcastic egocentrism anymore - She caught herself thinking about Will showing her the ways certain judges used to rule, or how Abernathy could be easily biased by the right witness without them having to say a word.
She used to think about how would he react to her sudden and recent overload of work.
Three more clients bringing 15 thousand dollars each, and life couldn't be happier.
Although it was the same, but with more expensive clothes and electronics.
She thought several times of how he was doing, in fact she asked out loud while opening a bottle of wine and reading some files.
Those horrendous pictures of Sweeney's latest victim; that man was getting brutal.
She saw a pattern there, stabbing people to death, killing another innocent dog, the excitement in his eyes when he'd spoken about Tiffany's last words.
She sighed – I need a drink, you want something?
She already stood up, looking down at Peter, her new pair of Louboutins making her taller.
See, top clients gave her two pairs of Louboutins, a black and a beige one.
- Scotch, please.
He didn't even blink or dared to look up, his eyes secretly roaming the room to find any other possible opponent, finding Glenn Childs over there, Wendy Scott-Car ten feet away from him.
- Stop looking at Will damn it, he's not even aware of your presence, it's the Seahawks game tonight…
- Since when do you…-A scotch, Alicia, I want a glass of scotch.
She nodded and nervously walked towards the bar, tawny and transparent liquids calling her attention, a bottle of wine calling her name. A handsome bartender stared at her cleavage before asking her what she wanted.
- A glass of that scotch – pointing out to a 25 years old Bowmore Whiskey – and a shot of tequila, please.
He just nodded; And as soon as she could think of, her shot was there, facing her with a tiny container of salt and two slices of lemon, her mouth salivated. That was what she needed.
A 1 1/3 oz of pure alcohol couldn't taste better, and she drank it all, not even taking the salt nor the lemon. She needed, because it was adventurous for her.
In her innocence, letting the liquid burn her lungs, incinerate her throat, would be as dangerous as bungee jumping.
- One more, please. Oh, I'll be right back, just let me take this to my husband.
Arriving back to her table she found a different Peter friendly chatting with someone so she put her best smile and took her place next to him.
- Oh, Jimmy, this is Alicia-
- Nice to meet you, Mrs. Florrick. It's a pleasure to know such a great attorney.
- Nice to meet you too…-Jimmy,hm- Peter, I'm going back to the bar okay!?
- Yes, fine.
- Okay, bye.
And a second shot came down his organism, followed by the lemon acid juice, that dried her lips. A third one, followed by a fourth. A fifth.
A sixth shot as well, and she was done. World was spinning and she gladly didn't seat on the stool, otherwise she'd might be already on the floor.
Six shots and she sucked in one slice of lemon, and she licked her lips, trying to moisturize them, but no. Too dry.
- Thanks.
- At your service, Ma'am.
Then take me – she rethought and stared at him afraid she might have said it out loud.
Where's the bathroom? Where's the bathroom? Damn it, where is it?
After what she felt like a lifetime roaming around to find the freaking bathroom, there was this door.
A door that looked like a bathroom's door to her, so she went there, her lips really felt dry. Music was loud, people were dancing, and she had crossed the room, realizing it too late to be honest, Peter had always found her there, right behind Will's chair.
But she was just going to the bathroom, goddamn it!
He looked away, and she knew what that meant.
He is going home. Great, terrific. It couldn't get better.
- Alicia.
Oh crap.
She twisted on her heels, she wasn't drunk, she was dizzy. But getting Alicia Florrick drunk coasted more than just some shots.
- David Lee - What a pleasure.
It couldn't have formed any other smile than this one she had it on: Die choking on your own blood, please :)
- You look stunning, how much did that cost? Did you destroy a law firm, so you could steal their clients and buy this dress, it looks god on you…I mean, the dress.
- I'm fine David, and you? How many clients have you already psychologically damaged so you could take their money?
- I have no problem with taking off this pretty smile of your cute face, right now- He came one step closer.
So did she.
- Try me, Mr. Lee.
- Nah, this party has one of the most amazing attics, so I'll let you drink all the wine and sooner or later, you will be kissing Mr. Agos' three times.
Judas. He didn't even have to pronounce.
- Okay, this has been entertaining, but I think people need to pretend they like you so they can undercut you behind your back, enjoy it and have a good night Mr. Lee.
- You too, Alicia.
- Mrs. Florrick, to you.
- Goodbye, Alicia.
It could've been worse, you know? He could've used the almost engagement with her mother to throw her out. Oh man, where is the bathroom?
There, thank god, she found it. A door with a tiny human shape, she could listen to angels singing.
Finally, some place she could stay until Cary was going nuts after her.
The hallway seemed shorter than actually turned out to be. She counted her steps, heels clapping on the marble and she lost herself in 125. Finally, the doorknob.
She opened it fast and disappointment described her at that moment, when she found out that it was not a bathroom, but a cloakroom. Peter's coat wasn't there.
Well, how can it get worse this time, huh!?
- Mrs. Florrick, what a surprise!
She was going to stop asking for it, seriously, this was turning into bullshit.
- No, Will, you'd better just tell me where in the hell is the bathroom, or I might slit your throat right here.
- I see you're doing just fine, huh!?
- I am, yes - Thank you, now with your excuse…
She held her arm, hard, raw contact between them, and she was burning up. His hand never felt so warm, maybe because it was inside his pocket, next to his phone and something else.
Something tasty.
She looked at his hand, running her eyes up to meet his. She didn't have to ask him to let go, because he mentally responded a sarcastic " no" and kept his fingers there, squeezing.
- How it feels? Winning an award for helping stolen clients? It's good? I mean - It's a good sensation, to know you've won over stealing someone?
- I didn't steal anything from you, I've already - Let go, Will.
- No- Not this time.
And they were locked. Surround by warm coats and fur coats, but it was still cold, the AC keep it refrigerated so it wouldn't smell nasty.
- What are you doing?
- Taking it back.
- What?
- You.
His tongue. How much she missed it? She didn't know the answer until he explored her mouth, teeth clenching when it began, her nostrils flaring to catch more of the cold air. The way he explored her, playing with her tongue as he felt her taste, as he claimed her lips of his own property.
As he bit them to kiss her deeply again.
She missed it a lot, and a lot it really means – a lot.
So he pushed her backwards and backwards and-
BAM.
Her back hit the wall, and a table with something that broke when fell to the floor. Instinctively she sat there, fingers holding on the edges and she adjusted herself, leaning her body towards because she just couldn't break that kiss. Giving quick pushes, she found support to her head, as his hips touched her knees and he put himself in between her legs.
Legs snaking around his sides, pulling him closer.
Their gasps were getting louder, his hands were getting shakier, trembling fingers desperately pulled the long black skirt out of the way, air still cold, but sweat drops formed on his forehead, his throat asked him to loosen the bow tie.
Just now she'd noticed he tasted that Bowmore scotch. But Peter did taste like Bowmore sometimes, just not that good. So she drank him in, her tongue tasting every inch of his, her body clenching, aching.
Wanting.
And he gave it, he gave it to her, just the way she wanted it.
His big hands held her back and pulled her harshly, her sigh when his right hand caressed her arm, her fingers, her thigh. He gave it what she wanted when his fingers found her underwear, the lacy one – He let out a devilish, seductive laugh, looking down at his own hand, shoved inside all the black silky fabric, the silky skin of her.
And he touched her.
Slowly, intensely, pressing it, tasting it.
His eyes came back to her face, cheeks reddened and eyes exchanged to a dark green, little brown and golden crystals there. He like when her eyes got like that, lust written all over her, the way her body moved, trying to get even more close than it was already. Her mouth parting and closing, swallowing thickly, her lips parting again, a purring that came out in a whisper.
He like to see how she enjoyed his fingers, his movements. The way she held his wrist, firmly, there, oh, there. He liked to see her eyes rolling, her nostrils flaring, her head tilting.
She was so close to the edge, that she already felt it contracting, hallucinating, her knees shaking and her spine shivering. But he kept touching, he didn't stop his thumb when she let go of his wrist, he just, kept putting pressure on it.
Pressing it down, twisting it in circles, then his index fingers slid down, sliding slowly inside her, sliding deliciously deep inside her, her throat suffocated a loud gasp, she swallowed hard. But his ring finger slid inside her too, that was it. She lost herself there.
A couple more thrusts and she held on his shoulders, suffocating a scream in the crook of his neck. Everything was black, and now it was cold again, the freezing air hit her body.
Then it was hot again, and she was kneeled, in front of him, his zipper fought her back when she tried to open it up. He'd got a fistful on her hair, the other hand on the edge of that thing she was up on it.
She glanced it up at him, his eyes were waiting, expecting. His tongue was licking his lips as she slid his pants down his legs, and still staring at him – She took his underwear off.
Oh.
That what was she was talking about, him.
Her hand felt it first, hard, big and throbbing. Then her tongue felt it, hotter and tastier. And when she sucked it, she found heaven. She sucked it once.
Twice.
And stopped moving, his head inside her mouth and her tongue played there for a while, his hand pushing her head, her teeth just biting it with enough strength to making him gasp. To keep him captivated.
So she sucked him in again, and at that time it was deep, the back of her throat felt it. She swallowed, again, and it pressed his head a little.
Damn it, Alicia.
Why it had to feel so good? He'd always had a lot of good blowjobs, but that one…The way she managed to suck until the very last inch of him, to caress with that pretty tongue of hers, the way she held his thighs when he started pumping it inside her mouth.
It was magical, and he'd never found his orgasm so fast. Within 2 minutes he was coming, the last little sparkling drops she licked it all. And she smiled it, at him. Standing up again, just an inch of his lips. Just waiting for him to be able to actually see her.
When everything was not blurred anymore, he saw her – He couldn't think of anything. Not any moment, any other person.
How
So
Beautiful
?
How it was possible that the only think he could think at the moment was: How does she look at herself in the mirror without falling in love with her own image?
She was like his mermaid – Seducing him straight to death, drowning him into that deep - dark sea of hers. Oh he would drown so deep for her, she couldn't even imagine how deep he would go for her.
To her.
With her.
She was panting, her chest pounding – he could listen to her heart, skipping beating with tiredness, excitement. He could listen to his heart, all shaky and shivering.
His hand floated around to find her fingers, he pulled them up – kissed each one of her fingers' joints, feeling her softness. If this wouldn't meant to last, at least, he would have felt every inch of her for one more time.
Because it felt like the end – it really did.
The air was whispering in his ear "it's not real", or even "go away".
So, if it wasn't to last, he would make worth the dream.
His dream.
That dumb of his, ever since Georgetown, in between final exams and Starbucks cups, sometimes they focused so hard the coffee was forgotten. Drank cold later.
She closed her eyes, this crazy illusional attempt to open them again and find it was everything a lie.
That nothing actually happened – that she was not the cheated woman. She wished she could be the one turning the TV on to find a woman besides that unknown man, found out she wasn't the one who has been hurt.
It would be an exchange she would like to go with now – even if it was too late.
Even if there was no more time.
Or even a timing.
They had nothing, anymore.
Still, they had everything – The desire, the longing.
That sinful need they both hid but it kept burning inside them, there – deep inside them, it kept there, reminding that it was not even close to an end.
Although it had already ended.
She just felt it – his lips, touching, kissing, caressing – Her veins wanting him to kiss them. She smiled at how weird that sounded. Her body wanted him, her back wanted his kisses, his nose roaming up and down her spine, loosen caress, lighting her up again.
And she felt it, when he pushed towards the door, when his hand lifted her left thigh up – when he shoved himself deeply, so deeply, she tilted her had back to cut a scream in the middle of her throat. She felt all that, his fingers captivating her spot, pressing, twisting and pinching her clit once slightly, once hardly.
He was so hard – she felt literally so tight around him, so…Good.
They were so close, so, so, close – Her right arm was holding him, hugging and embracing his shoulders, his forehead on the crook of her neck, he always liked that spot so much.
He said it was his personal spot, that this crook – the right one, of her neck – it was made by God at his order. He loved it there too much not to go back with bites and kisses, sometimes his tongue liked to play there too.
His fingers digging the flesh of her thigh, scratching and marking all the way, when he'd thrust once again, he hit her spot, she moaned slowly, a dragged sound came out of those red parted lips and she smiled, looking up.
Letting go.
Of herself, of reality.
Just, releasing it in that explosion that threw her up to the galaxy and pulled her back to earth, those three seconds that lasted a decade. That small amount of time where she'd got lost inside herself, then she came back quickly, and her blood was already boiling up again.
Because he still kept moving his hips harshly, going inside – this time a little bit faster, a little bit of pressure.
And he lost himself there, on her – in her.
His cloudy mind blurred even more, as he emptied his heart out, his needs out – his frustrations. And he didn't want to back off, he wanted to stay there. With his nose inhaling that scent of perfume and citric shampoo.
She sort of smelled like roses, too.
He didn't want to…
Let go.
So he held her – stronger, closer, and tighter. She felt a bit suffocated when he embraced her with those strong arms and he whispered something that started with "I".
- What did you say?
- I missed you – This close to me.
- I think we should –
- No, we shouldn't.
And they shouldn't. Step back, or go back, or get back – They shouldn't move. They should go away, go home or go hard, they just should stay there.
He would even allow her to definitely end things up later, tell him it was the last thing and that was it – that she was fine.
Because she wouldn't say happy.
He would let her walk in slow motion, away, back to that giant hypocrite politician and goddamn it he would find Tammy, or Isabel or Tania.
He would.
But for now, they shouldn't.
She had to hold herself, back in, not to suddenly attack him and glue herself on his chest.
Damn she had.
He'd changed his cologne, she liked it – the new one. It smelled like…Hate. She drowned her nose there, on the left side of his neck, and smelled him again.
Oh, it smelled so good.
So she smelled it over and over – until her lips left a kiss there.
It started all over again. The rush, the demanding and the hurry. Everything she wanted it, but she didn't say it.
Not out loud – or not when Peter was around. Maybe a few times in the shower, maybe too many times in her bed.
Once or twice in her office.
But not there – not to him.
- We are running out of time, Alicia.
- We are always running out of – Damn it…time…
She cursed, and he felt the urge to shut her up with his teeth. He bit her lower lip, than her chin – Her throat and her sternum, caressed the cleavage with his lips, got to her belt.
He kneeled.
Oh damn he kneeled, she had to find something to hold.
Oh my god – Something to hold…Something to hold.
Where is support when you need it?
Probably hooking up with the bathroom, because she couldn't find any of it.
A doorknob would have to serve.
He kissed her inner tight as his hands ran down her calves, holding the heel of her shoe and lifting her leg up, the pointy heel stabbing the low of his back when she rested her thigh on his shoulder.
Oh, Will – no.
Fingers ran up along the fabric of her dress, slowly being dragged up, his kisses now closer – Closer and closer.
Her underwear wouldn't handle the wetness, she could feel it dripping down, soaking his lips. She pushed his head, her nose on her tummy – she even liked that. He sucked her, her wetness, her everything, he sucked it in.
His tongue played it with her clit, twisting it and his teeth scratched slightly enough to send a shiver up to her spine. His hair felt so good when she grabbed it to push his mouth further, deeper.
Then, he used a finger, once, twice – Then two.
One more, just one more.
She gasped, her back clenched towards and his tongue licked faster, his fingers moved lingerer and her orgasm came louder.
No, unacceptable.
She couldn't leave him like that, she pushed him backwards, his head hit the floor and she sat on his thighs. His hands came to her ribs – But she cuffed them, holding it over his head, that Cheshire cat's smile on her lips.
Because that was not a glance – Nor a smirk.
It was devilish, playful, sinful and fun. It was her smile.
Simply like that.
He tried to kiss her, but she came two inches back and his neck made a "crack" sound – so he rested it back on the floor. Tied up, he nodded, she wouldn't be that bossy on him.
Would she?
He actually couldn't say anymore, he was already too busy feeling her body pressure disappear, her hands supporting her weight on his wrists – oh she would be bossy.
He tried not to melt down when she kissed his forehead, when she kissed his jawline and went down to his throat. He swallowed.
She went all the way up again, her lips just a caress on his recently shaved skin – it still tasted like mint or something. She liked it, so she kissed again.
Over
And over
Again.
When she kissed his lips, shoving her tongue inside his mouth, taking his breath and making him gasp, her ass sat down on his crotch – a little bit of contact and he was fired up.
She didn't let his hands go when he hummed in between the kiss, she kept them tied – taking what she wanted, claiming what she could. His mouth had one of the best flavors she could think of, she just couldn't see herself stopping kissing him.
Devouring him.
Her hips pumped down and up,that light friction on him, too much of that silky fabric – she thought. If only she could rip her dress…
With her left hand, she held both his wrists and with her now free hand, she took off his bow tie, her breasts on his face when she literally tied him using his tie – it wouldn't stop him, but it would be enough for her to take the skirt out of the way.
So she did it – fast like a thunder, she pulled it up, splattering all over his belly – then, with his eyes looking down, she came back to his lips, holding his arms , he was already feeling it numb.
He was hard, so hard, she just slowly sat down, adjusting, throbbing inside her, she felt it –when it hit the limit. When she felt the urge.
When taking was no more capable, she rode him. She loosened his hands, his fingers stabbed her hips and lifted her up, sat down, dragged her down hard – she low pitched. It was too tiring.
This battle of bodies, this hunger of skin.
She was pumping fast, that noise she didn't like that much, skin hitting on skin. The way his hands could cover a huge part of her back, her dress would probably have stains. Not that she could give a shit.
His hand snaked down, found her clit – pressured it.
She moved faster – he moaned on her ear.
She moved slower – he groaned.
She stopped moving, shoved him inside her so deep, staring at him, right in the eyes – demanding him to hold on. When he stopped panting, she moved up.
Down.
Up, down.
It grew fast, just like his orgasm hit him – he bit her shoulder, she smirked on his ear.
They were both so done, curled up in a ball, trying to recover.
To heal – unconsciously.
To stop panting and to be able to walk out the room, one after the other, as strangers.
He would find Diane, she would find the bathroom.
They heard steps – knocks.
- Alicia?
He looked up at her, she wouldn't answer – She would wait for him to go away. Of course she would.
A laugh, steps, then silent.
Damn it, why?
She stood up, gave him help, put his bow tie back – he took a strand of hair out of her face.
It was over, just like it started – cold, frigid, feeling less.
He came out first, just in time to disappear as Cary came back, running all the way up to her. His eyes wide opened, worry all over his now, man's face.
- Where were you? I was looking for you everywhere.
- Do you know where the bathroom is? I am looking for the bathroom.
- Peter left.
- I know, where is it?
- Peter?
- No. Bathroom.
We have to go, you are beautiful, it's time for us to laugh at some idiots.
Oh yes – the award.
When they opened the door, they were already announcing their names, so Alicia had to step up with Cary and go up on the stage. She said thanks and gave a little speech – her eyes on his all the time.
Apologizing.
Contemplating.
They applauded – all of them, some standing up, others from their chairs. But they all cheered for them, even sarcastically, hurt or just because it was what others did it.
She saw his face – pure hatred, honest pain.
He left, she wanted to get out and run away with him.
But she stood there – smiling, hand in hand with Cary.
Yes, it was over, but still
It wasn't.
Three hours later, she was calling the driver to pick her up – Peter was already in bed, he said.
It took five minutes for the hostess to come back from the cloakroom.
- Ma'am, I'm sorry – Something happened with your coat.
- Excuse me?
- There's this…stain.
- What stain?
Oh god – she looked at her skirt.
Nothing.
She knew it would leave a stain.
And when in hell did they get her coa-Oh, she remembered it.
When he tried to hold on something, that moment she pushed him to the floor.
She had to tell him that – he'd marked her outfit.
But she wouldn't – Maybe Owen, Owen could be the one she would tell.
- There's no problem, it's an old coat, but thanks for your concern.
- Are you sure? We can-
- No. Let alone, thanks. Have a good night.
A piano solo was playing when she left – She saw Diane, David Lee. Her head greeted them, up high, Diane gave her that look.
David pretended he didn't see her – oh, but he saw.
His car wasn't there anymore. Her eyes looked for it.
- Ma'am, ready?
- Yes…Sorry, you can go.
And she went back home, eyes closed –
She was still trying to find out it was a dream.
That it would be to come back home.
To him.
I wanted to say I'm sorry Josie, I might write another one because I didn't put Alicia the way you wanted omfg sorry, but I wrote like that and it ended up so perfect I wanna die, I'm sorry. Leave yo thoughts girls.