Title: Turbulence
Rating: M, though maybe mild M
Timeframe: Post-7x18 Flight Risk
Summary: All he wants is to make his dreams a reality, which isn't difficult with her, but an innocent daydream can lead to such dangerous ideas...
Note: This was originally a very innocent idea, and over time it changed into something...not so innocent. I didn't think I could write it because I thought I'd never write M, so I wasn't going to until the end struck me and I had to. Thanks to restless-mess and TexasJen for the beta and encouragement (days, weeks even, of encouragement). If it seems far-fetched, just read on...

Between her blue-green eyes and the blue of the ocean behind her, he can't decide which is more vibrant. Takeoff offers them the most incredible view of the ocean as the plane coasts onto its side for a curve. But just then she turns to him and smiles, eyes almost glowing in the natural light. Her eyes, he decides. Definitely her eyes.

Smiling, Eric lets his hand glide over her wrist so his fingers fill the spaces between hers. She squeezes his hand in response, her palm kissing his as she watches their fingers entwine. When she meets his eyes again, nothing has ever felt so surreal to him – them, here, like this, with the most dreamlike sunlight spilling in through the window.

This is absolute paradise – much needed paradise. And it is every bit as good as his daydreams, which isn't a surprise considering she's involved.

Whenever he begins zoning out and daydreaming at work, he knows it's time for a change. Usually, he takes a long weekend for an adventurous scuba diving trip or a visit with family. His current relationship, however, combined with that case they worked on a plane left him with far different daydreams – wonderful ones that swallowed his subconscious and dragged him quite willingly into a world of creamy, soft skin, piercing green eyes, and silky blonde hair. He had no choice, really; he had to book this trip.

Calleigh inhales deeply, breathing out with an ease he hasn't sensed from her in a while. She looks absolutely gorgeous, all relaxed and casual but pretty, and he can't wait to get to the hotel so he can relax her even further…

"I can't believe you just up and bought plane tickets." She was smiling as she enjoyed the view, but now she is fixing her eyes on their joined hands. "You know this is crazy, right?"

She shifts when she turns towards him more, the movement pulling the sloping v-neckline of her dress down even further and stretching the material taut over her curves. Her eyes flicker to his and she grins, tilting her head questioningly at his obvious distraction. She has to bite her lip, though, because she's feeling a little diabolical and powerful under his stare, and because she knows just what it does to him.

With a frustrated sigh, he rests his free hand on her bare thigh as he leans in to her. Lips brushing the shell of her ear, breath tickling her skin, he whispers, "Know what else is crazy?"

"What's that?" she asks, purposefully soft and coy, the corners of her lips curving upward.

"I really, really want you right now."

Though she expected a playful answer, she definitely didn't expect the husky tone that always proves to be her undoing. Without permission, her body is suddenly aflame, goosebumps prickling along her skin, her thighs aching for his touch to move higher.

Sensing her reaction, his fingers creep just a little higher on her thigh and his lips purposefully brush against her ear. Well, now who was diabolical?

"Eric," she murmurs, obviously affected. "You have to wait."

His thumb moves back and forth across her skin as though entertaining an idea, stilling just about the time a dangerous smirk spreads across his lips.

"Do I?" He grins, hand curving around her thigh to fully touch her. "Remember the rooms…?" His eyes flicker to the cabin pointedly.

"The romper room?" She eyes him, cocking her head to level with him when she realizes he is serious. "No…Eric, no. That's illegal."

"No," he corrects, emphasizing it with a firmer grip on her leg. "The bathroom is illegal 'cause it's public, but the romper room is for the airline crew. It's private."

"And what if one of them catches us?" She shakes her head, unable to even consider it. "We're cops, we can't risk that. I can't risk that."

"They already bumped us up to first class because I just so happened to mention we were with MDPD and solved the murder of their flight attendant." The proud look on his face is nothing compared to the challenging brow he raises. "Plus, we could block the elevator thing."

"Eric," she reprimands, sighing. Her thumb caresses his and she smiles. "What am I gonna do with you?"

"Take me to the romper room and let me get you naked."

Unable to stifle the laughter that is growing within her, she laughs and shakes her head. "Absolutely not."

He is still hopeful, and the playful roll of her eyes that comes next only makes him want her more.

"Okay," he concedes, a heavy sigh slumping his shoulders. He knows she believes he is giving up when he settles in, raising the armrest that separates them and cradling her body against his side. The arm that wraps around her shoulders is purely innocent and loving…for a moment, at least.

Just when she thinks she is safe and they are settled, his fingertips begin a dance over her shoulder. Ducking beneath the material of her dress, his fingers caress her smooth skin, sending a rather distracting tingling throughout her body as a fingertip traces her collarbone. He circles the hollow spot just next to it, his touch brushing her neck before it again sweeps back over her collarbone.

"Comfortable?" His voice is husky again, deep and smooth.

He hasn't shaved in days, and as the stubble brushes against her forehead she can think of nothing but how it might feel against her neck or belly right now – rough yet wonderful, soothed by the kisses he would surely be delivering as he moves down, down, down her body…

She almost has it together again when deft fingers jump over thin lace to smooth over the soft, thin skin beneath her arm. In no time he moves lower, tracing lace again and then gracefully diving below it to outline the swell of her breast.

Words. She knows she needs them, but they are…not possible right now.

"Well," she tries, quickly remembering she has a question to answer. "Yes. Very."

Grinning, he chances a touch to her thigh, fully aware that the disguised shift of her body is really more of a squirm. He is getting to her, and God, he loves when he makes her like this. With her, at the beginning it's as much about how you touch as it is where. He knows just how to push her buttons, knows just how to heighten every sense until a simple brush to her arm can be her undoing.

When her eyes meet his, darker and deeper, he knows he has her. His fingers curve around her thigh, daring to glide higher and higher and –

"Damnit, Eric." Hastily slipping her flats back onto her feet, she leans into him. In a quick role reversal, her lips are now brushing his ear as she whispers heated words to him. "Wait five, meet me upstairs."

And with that she is gone, leaving him hot and bothered, brimming with anticipation.

The wait is excruciating, but it is so obviously worth it the moment he steps off the makeshift elevator. She is standing before him, bright light tinted white by the clouds casting a glow over her skin and hair. Though her eyes reveal she's a little unsure of the setting, she is smiling as her hands travel to the front of her fitted button-up dress, fingers freeing the first button from restraint.

She has his attention – always does, really – and he is extremely disappointed when her hands drop to her sides. But she raises her brow in an offer he can't refuse, and her lips curve further as he closes the distance between them.

Hands picking up where she left off, lips seeking hers, he begins to drown her in a world of determined hands and fulfilling kisses. His cheek brushes hers, just as rough as she knew it would be, and she can't help the urge to draw him impossibly closer.

Calleigh tugs on his belt and he chuckles, trying to keep enough distance for his hands to maneuver the buttons through their respective holes. He's down to her abdomen now, unable to resist the urge to press his warm palm to her creamy skin for a moment.

"Patience, gorgeous," he mumbles against her lips. Hands skirting over her stomach and the curves of her sides, he allows her to pull him close.

"You should know by now I don't have any of that." Her voice is as warm as her body, but full of southern sass, playful with just a hint of coyness.

"I know," Eric assures, grinning as his voice takes on a deeper tone. "That's why I love making you wait."

His hands remain on her, teasingly caressing sensitive skin as his lips begin a slow journey up her neck. As her eyes flutter closed in response, she sees the horizon off in the distance through the window. She suddenly takes into account that they are on a plane, a plane full of passengers and crewmembers…

"We can't do this," she thinks aloud, but her words fall on deaf ears. Her protests work more like provocation as his hands sink deeper into her skin. She lets him kiss her again, lets his hands return to their work on her buttons.

He thanks God for this dress as he slips the last one through and lets the material fall off her shoulders. When she toys with the hem of his t-shirt, he knows that's his cue to lift it where she can't reach – over his head to be discarded carelessly on the floor behind him.

Cradling her face in his hands, he lowers his lips to hers, feeling her smile against his mouth as she slips her fingers through his belt loops and brings his chest to hers. The skin-to-skin contact has him wanting more, and he urges her toward the bed. She obliges, leaving her flats behind as they move forward in a tangle of hurried kisses and unsteady steps.

Before he can push her down, she reaches for his belt buckle and makes quick work of it. His cargo shorts pool on the floor below them. She takes a minute to let her hands glide over the ridges of his abs and up his chest, but he has different plans. He eases her down before she can protest, pinning her with some of his weight.

Lips parting again, she tastes familiar anticipation with a hint of added excitement as his tongue grazes her bottom lip. Their mouths begin a battle of lips and tongue, his teeth gently sinking into her lip as his hand careens down her side, sliding across soft lace before finally, teasingly landing at her hip. With her skin all creamy and glowing in the surreal light, he has no idea where to begin, which is perfectly okay with him because right now he can't get enough of her mouth.

"We so don't have time for teasing," she breathes out, tearing her lips from his.

"No?" He grins, completely contradicting her as his hand skirts over her ribs, thumb gliding over her breast and stilling over the lace.

Calleigh sighs, arching her back and urging herself into his touch to no avail. He isn't giving her what she wants, so she hooks a leg around his and grinds her hips against his, enticing him to pick up the pace. She doesn't mind taking it slow on a leisurely evening or Sunday morning, but she really, really doesn't want to get caught naked on a plane – or anywhere – ever.

"No," she affirms with a confusing nod.

The darkening of his eyes is almost immediate, and soon his lips are exploring the swell of her breast as his hands search for the clasp in back.

"No teasing?" He is grinning again because he knows the question itself is a tease.

"No," she repeats, letting out a frustrated huff of air as she feels the band go lax around her body. He quickly rids her of the material, eyeing her beneath him – an unusual occurrence for this long.

Wanting to take her in with the same reverence and unbridled attraction as always, he lets his eyes trail over her curves, finally working up to her delicate face. He's not sure if the urgency in her eyes is due to desire or their location. Regardless, it reminds him of their time limitations and he smiles.

Finally, he cups her breast fully and draws a slow circle over the pink center with his thumb, eventually reaching her sensitive peak. His thumb swirls over her again as his lips slowly descend down her neck, over her collarbone, and across her chest, stopping just where his hands are on her bringing forth the most exquisite sensations. Quitting completely, he gives her exactly what she asked for: no teasing. He draws his hand away and smiles.

"Okay," he agrees, and suddenly his touch is gliding down her ribs and belly and diving beneath matching, lacy boy shorts. He doesn't hesitate to go where she wants him, giving in and nestling a finger against her center. She arches again and he complies a little too well, delivering a firm stroke that elicits a surprised jolt throughout her body. It's too much and he knows it.

"Eric," she warns, and he eases back, touching her slowly, softly in a way that makes pleasure start to blossom throughout her body. Suddenly her warning tumbles into a heated whisper of his name as his thumb brushes against her, swirling and circling her into a pleasure-laden haze.

He stops only to hook his fingers beneath the lacy material at her hips, his hands gracing smooth skin as he rids her of the last of her clothing. Determined hands returning to her, he starts slow and builds, builds, builds until she's right back where she was – arching her back, hands flitting about his warm skin, the satisfaction his touch brings growing tenfold now that his hand is free.

She squirms beneath him and her hands seek out his shoulders, grasping for control like she always does when she's about to lose it. Grinning, he shifts his hand slightly, applying more pressure to her as he strokes slick skin and gently slips two fingers inside her.

He lowers his lips to hers right on cue, swallowing the soft moan he's coaxed out of her and feeling her erratic breathing wash against his skin. Her hips are grinding against his hand now, body desperate for release, and with an amused chuckle he presses her abdomen down, holding her still, and curls his fingers inside her. She grips the back of his neck, fingers in his short hair as his lips skirt over her skin with kisses to suckle her pulse point.

With his hands working against her in perfected rhythm, pleasure begins to pool in the pit of her belly. His thumb brushes over her harder, faster, and the combination sends her near the edge blindingly fast. He quickens the pace and she buries her face in his shoulder to keep silent as waves of pleasure rock her.

Slowing, he guides her back down to earth with heated kisses and whispered words. He smiles when her eyes finally meet his, fingers stilling against her before the sensation becomes too much.

Laughing at the insanity of them, this, here, she gives herself a moment to regain her breath and reclaim a semi-normal heart rate. She runs a hand through her mussed hair and shifts a little, looking up at him.

"Boxers," she orders, and he playfully chides her with a challenging glance before conceding. She never lets him have the upper hand for long.

She takes the reins in no time, urging him down and straddling his lap with every obvious intention made clear to him. Instead, though, she reaches between them and takes him into her hands. She draws her palm and closed fingers over his length, watching his eyelashes flutter shut as he fights for self-control.

"Cal," he groans, one hand on the mattress to steady himself. His other holds her side, attempting to bring her close, desperate to have her skin closer to his.

"What?" she asks, sweetly, innocently, into his ear, completely playing him.

Sighing, only half in frustration, half in absolute contentment, he pulls her hips toward his. Finally obliging, she rises slightly onto her knees, lifting her hips in a way that has him anticipating the feel of her heat surrounding him.

Instead she smirks and rests her forehead against his, light green colliding with chocolate brown as she kisses the corner of his mouth. Lips brushing against his lightly, she feels his breathing hitch as she lowers herself just enough for his tip to rest at her entrance. She's slick and hot; the sensation is too much and not enough all at once.

Calleigh watches him swallow hard – feels him, actually, since her hand is resting along his neck – and she can't help the light laughter that bubbles up in her throat.

"Oh, but now we have time to tease?" He nips at her bottom lip, fighting her weight playfully as he tries to draw her down.

Grinning, she captures his lips with hers again, a curtain of blonde hair surrounding him as she finally, slowly sinks onto him. The tiny groan that escapes his mouth is lost on her lips as she parts them to taste him again.

His hands glide over her thighs and settle at her hips as she remains still, giving them both a moment to revel in the feel of this. And then she pulls back slightly, rolling her hips against his, and it's so far better than he imagined. Holding her hips, he rocks against her, matching her slow thrust for slow thrust as the pace quickens of its own accord.

"You feel so good." He's whispering against her lips, breathless and throaty, that voice only fueling the already well-lit fire within her.

Fingers delving into her long hair, he pushes it over her shoulders to see her eyes clearly – a deep, deep green focused only on him. The feeling intensifying, she pitches her hips against his, sending him deeper, and grips his firm shoulders for leverage.

"God, Eric," she lets out on a moan, feeling him shift to change the angle.

It feels good – so good – that she loses her rhythm against him and he grins, knowing he's tripped her up a little. She recovers quickly, though, a low, shimmering wave of pleasure beginning to spread outward again.

They've almost regained a quick pace when the plane starts to rumble beneath them. The onset of some turbulence sends her worried eyes to his for a moment – just a moment – because the sensations the vibrating plane is sending throughout their bodies is far too enjoyable to ignore.

"Calleigh." He half sighs, half groans as she rolls against him, the light turbulence providing the most unexpectedly pleasurable stimulation as her body tightens around him in response.

She murmurs his name again and again, her voice fading into the background and returning just as quickly. This time it's louder now, more insistent, and as he blinks his eyes open he realizes the soft glow of daylight has been replaced with the dark of night.

It takes a moment, but his eyes adjust until he can take in the familiar shadows and shapes in Calleigh's bedroom, the feel of her gentle weight beside him.

"Eric," she says again, and the feel of her soft hand on his abdomen suddenly registers in his foggy mind.

He rubs at his temples with a thumb and forefinger and smiles, trying to shake the dusty recesses of sleep and the fading hum of pleasure from both his brain and his body. Blonde hair cascades over his shoulder and he reaches up, running his fingers through the long strands as she hovers over him.

"You were dreaming…" She smiles, and he's not sure if she knows because she's good at covering her tracks, at playing hard-to-get. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," he answers, too quickly. "I'm good." Very good. Excellent, more accurately…

"Okay." Calleigh settles in beside him, on her side so she can study the telltale curve of the corner of his lips. "Good." She gives him enough silence to make him wonder, pressing her lips together to keep from laughing. And then, with the most perfected, somehow seductive glide of her fingers over his and up his arm, she asks, "So what was I doing?"

He grins, recalling the dream he would've told her about anyways. "Terrible, ungodly things to me in the romper room of a Boeing 737."

She laughs – really laughs, from deep in her stomach – and he doesn't have to look to know her eyes are sparkling with amusement, but he does because he loves it. Her fingertips are still gliding over him, her free hand taking his to entwine their fingers.

"Only in your dreams," she replies coyly, giving him false hope as she climbs atop him in the dark. Gathering her hair in one hand, she leans down, slipping a hand beneath his chin just before she presses her lips to his.

His skin is hot and his hands are daring, both remnants of the dream that is now paling in comparison to his reality. She's here right now, all soft skin and hair, all smiles and delicate touches. His hand creeps beneath her silky gown to touch smooth skin and he's positive this is so much better.

"Let's go somewhere," he suddenly whispers against her lips, not just because of the dream, but because he's been wanting to for a while.

"Where?" She pulls back, smiling, questioning.

"Anywhere."

"Okay." She grins, letting him peel the thin gown over her torso. "But I'm not having sex with you on a plane."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he utters in a promise – one he's already good and well broken – as his warm hands return to her skin.