6 July, 2004
She's glowing and panting, shirt rising above her belly, and he can't help but stare quietly as she giggles in delight.
They've been running around the morgue for the better part of an hour, playing with the hockey stick she'd bought him earlier, all the while edging closer to the truth of the case. She'd been bursting with delight at scoring the winning shot, right in the side, after he'd given up the stick to her, and he can still feel where her fingers had brushed his, tingling slightly, as she continues to scamper around the room.
Her messy ponytail slips further and further down her back, until he has to hold his hands shut for fear of tugging the hair tie away and her blue shirt, too, has ridden up, exposing creamy white flesh that he's quite sure hasn't seen the light of day in years. Her cheeks, however, are flushed a deep red, and as she brushes past him, giggling happily, he can't help but hold out a hand, grip her wrist gently, and tug her towards him.
Her chest is heavy quickly, eyes bright with laughter, and as she realises just how close they stand she brings her other hand up to grip his, hockey stick forgotten behind her.
"Thank you, for your help," he manages to say, and the way her legs tip towards his, brushing their knees together, causes him to smile knowingly, betraying any of the cool and professional he had been aiming for.
"You're welcome," she replies, grinning at him. She loosens her grip on his hands slowly, and for a moment he's sure she's going to pull away, but instead her hands slip gently down his wrists, pushing his shirt sleeves down slightly so that her fingers are pressed to his skin.
She's smiling impishly, one moment staring at his hands, the next his mouth, before finally her eyes meet his. They are dark, but clearing rapidly, and as she presses closer to his heat he can't help but flicker them shut, wishing she'd either go away or come much, much closer.
"What are you doing?" he whispers finally, and he's sure that giggle will haunt him for years to come. Two days she's been in his life, and already he's more worked up than he's been in years. Their thighs are pressed together, and she has one hip nestled against his. Ever so slowly her hands make a steady journey down his arms, running over each inch towards his elbow, before up to his shoulders, where they pause.
His breath, too, is caught, until she presses forwards, and all thoughts rush from him.
"I had fun," she murmurs, her hot, quick breath moistening his collarbone. She's on the tips of her toes; balances instead by leaning against his chest, and her breasts pushed to him are the most wonderful feeling.
Everything about her is wonderful, he decides, and finally tugs a hand free.
In an instant he has it clamped around her bare waist, brushing aside her flimsy green cardigan to run around her back, pulling her tighter against him, before running his fingers down her stomach. She arch's up, whimpering quietly, and pushes her face against his neck. His skin is hot there, moist under her breath, and as she brushes her lips once, twice, against him, he groans gently, bunching her cardigan in his hands.
Her lips suck and pull, teasing him relentlessly, and as he falls backwards, leaving a dull ache in his shoulders as he hits the wall, she giggles helplessly and collapses against him too.
"You sure?" he finally manages to whisper, breath heavy and ragged, as she continues to assault his neck wonderfully.
She nods rapidly against him, running a hand down his chest towards his belt, and it's only now he realises that he's shaking.
He really, really wants this, if not just because she's talented, and slightly crazy, and has him wrapped, completely, around her finger, then also because merely the sight of her has been taunting him all day.
From the impish half shrug she'd given when explaining her choice in men, to the way she always manages to interrupt at the worst (and best) times, to the fact that his desk now smells of some fruity concoction that followed him home last night (straight into his dreams).
He's never been one to be proud of fantasising about women he knows, and god knows there's only been a few, but he honestly couldn't help it last night, lying wide awake in bed, imagining not only the smell of her at his desk but wrapped all the way around him, as she would be.
"Harry," she groans, tugging him from his thoughts, and he realises with a gasp that she has her hand pressed to him. With shaking hands he sweeps the cardigan from her shoulders, pushes the thin blue shirt over her head, before finally, delightfully, claiming her lips.
He can feel her smiling against him, feels the vibration as she giggles, and discovers that if he scrapes his fingers gently down her back she'll shiver quickly against him. The kisses have turned hot and slack, and as he lowers his lips to her collarbone, sucking at her skin and the deep, tantalizing concoction of fruit that clings to her, he can't help but wonder if they should really be doing this; especially in the labs where Leo could walk by any second.
He stills a moment, running a hand down to the top of her thighs to tug her upwards, before pressing his lips lightly to her own.
"You really, really sure about this?" he asks once more, feeling her shiver.
He's almost certain she rolls her eyes, and is about to be offended, before she presses herself up to whisper against his ear.
"Harry," and the use of his name nearly tips him over the edge, "By this time tomorrow I'll have figured out my story and you'll never see me again. You really want to waste this?"
He pauses a minute, ponders just how reasonable her proposition sounds (because after tomorrow he will never see her again, and it's not every day that the most fascinating, beautiful woman he's ever met is willing to have sex in the labs) before grinning happily and pushing his lips to her own.
"Just, so you know," he murmurs against her, struggling to unbuckle her belt before giving up, and letting her. "I'm not usually this easy," he teases, watching her rolls her eyes.
"Neither am I," she bites back, gripping his bottom lip between her teeth. He groans gently against her and chuckles, pushing her pants down.
"This is just because I'll never see you again, and you're too gorgeous to let go," he mumbles, and she giggles happily, curling her toes against his calf.
She leans closer, blonde hair shadowing them both, before kissing him softly.
---
Minutes, though they feel like hours, later, he has her pushed gently to the wall, covering her body with his own, as he rapidly tries to slow his pulse and breathing. Her bare chest is heaving against his, and sweat dribbles down the tight crevices between them.
"I've never done that at work," she murmurs, tilting her head to the side, and once again he's caught up in just how crazy she is. She must notice, as she crinkles her brow at him, watching him laugh. The vibration shudders through them both, and with a groan he lets her down to the floor, slipping from her. She keeps him as close as possible however, and doesn't even attempt to get dressed, instead preferring his warmth.
"Thank you," she says finally, giggling, something she does an awful lot, he's discovering, and it saddens him to realise all the things he won't discover about her. This was never about feelings, however; they're both aware of that, even if it does cause he's chest to tighten.
A scuffle from far away breaks the comfortable silence, and with a start he grabs at his jeans, pulling them up roughly as she does the same. With only a jumper to pull on he has time to watch her a moment, and feels a sudden loss as her cardigan finally slips into place. Her blue shirt is still ridden up, however, and he can't help but rest a hand there, running it up to her breast.
She moans, and tilts forwards, still a little sore and tender from the wall, but she's smiling happily and for a fleeting moment he wonders how she'd feel in the morning.
She's pulled away from him all to soon, and as she makes her way towards the door, she turns back to smile.
"Maybe, if you make your way over to the Archaeology Department, you'll bump into me one day."
She grins wickedly and disappears through the doors, leaving him opened mouthed, jumper and hair askew, as her laughter drifts through the hallways.
He knows then, those giggles will never leave him.
