This story is most definitely rated M.

I found the first part of it on a LiveJournal blog by queen_tatiana, and asked if she would mind my adding to it. She had created it with this lead-in:

" Title: Quiet Ride

Fandom: Foyle's War

Pairing: Christopher Foyle/Samantha Stewart

Summary: Sam is tired of waiting for Foyle to make a move, so one quiet night she decides to take action.

Notes: Written for Porn Battle XIII and the prompt Christopher Foyle/Samantha Stewart, quiet… but not actually that smutty (it's het…) I just suddenly remembered that Sam/Foyle = OTP, so I had to write it. :) "

I then continued it so that it was "actually that smutty." Hope you'll enjoy.

Everything was quiet. For once, there was not a sound to be heard around the station. Sam watched with an amused smile how completely lost in thought her boss was. What could he be thinking so deeply about?

Well, there were many possible answers to that, of course, but she wasn't so sure that she wanted to know. They had solved their last case, after all. There was nothing more to do at the moment, and she had other things on her mind than deep thoughts.

"Sir?" she said. "What are you thinking about?"

Christopher Foyle's head jerked up in surprise. Yes, he had been daydreaming, she was certain now. Sam just hoped she hadn't ruined anything nice.

"Oh, it's you, Sam. No, nothing, I'm just… I don't know…"

He waved his hand vaguely with a small sigh, at the same time straightening his back. He had been slumping in his chair. He looked a bit tired, but his glance at her was affectionate.

"If you want, I can take you for a ride, Sir."

"Huh? No, thank you. I don't need to go anywhere…"

Sam smiled and walked closer. Bending down, she whispered into his ear:

"I didn't mean that kind of ride…"

"Sam, what… Have you been drinking?"

She sniffed. She, drinking? Had he forgotten that she was his driver? And anyway, where would she have found anything to make her drunk?

"No," she said, "of course not. I just thought I could help you relax…"

The man began to protest, to push her away, but she put a finger to his lips and shook her head.

"Hush," she said, "don't say anything. Just be quiet."

"But…" he began again, and this time, she put her hand full over his mouth.

"Hush!" she repeated. "Don't try to tell me that you don't want this."

She wanted it. Him. She wanted him, Christopher Foyle, and no one else, but the man was just too stubborn to see it. He kept thinking that they were just friends; that her affection meant nothing because he was her boss and she needed someone younger…

Bah. To hell with that; she knew what she wanted, and she knew what he wanted. He was just too dutiful, too good, to say it out loud, because he thought it was the noble thing—to pretend the attraction between them wasn't there. So, she had to take action.

She could see in his eyes that he wasn't indifferent. Surprised, yes—perhaps even shocked—but there was lust in his eyes and his breath was quickening already.

Slowly, she removed her hand from his mouth and stroked his cheek gently.

"So…" Foyle searched for words. "What are you going to do with me?"

"I told you to be quiet," she said. "If I have to kiss you to silence you, I will."

The sentence was put together like a threat but the words were a promise, and they both knew it. She could see that he was torn. He wanted her, yes, but he also knew a number of reasons why they 'shouldn't'…

Sam knew that if she gave him a moment, he would start talking, and she really didn't want that, not right then.

So she kissed him, still standing. It felt odd to be leaning down to him but it was wonderful, and he kissed her back after only a moment's hesitation. Sam had been so hungry for his kisses, for his touch, and he was so good at kissing, just as she had always suspected.

Of course, she wasn't such a bad kisser herself. He was going to see.

Sam broke the kiss, but maintained their eye contact. He was flustered… but not unhappy. She moved one hand to his braces and he began to open his mouth again, but Sam put a finger to his lips one more time.

Quiet.

He nodded, and both her hands began working to loosen his trouser buttons. His eyes were wide and tentatively, he reached out a hand to the back of her skirt. Sam smiled.

And then, without a word, he rose from his chair—but not to get away from her; no, far from it. He grabbed her waist and pushed her back against the desk.

Yes, it was going to be the ride of their lives.

It was only confirmed for Sam how much she wanted this as it flitted through her head how easily they might be seen or heard—if the night desk sergeant returned right now and heard them, or if Milner were to come get some additional file from his desk and then knock on DCS Foyle's door. She didn't even care. Part of her would be proud to have someone see how this man made her feel, and how she could make him feel…

If Foyle had not been so dazed from the strain of that last case—feeling for all the world like a loosened elastic band after it has been stretched to its limit—he might have had his usual reservations about the mere possibility of what was happening.

He adored this girl; not only thought her beautiful and desirable, but admired her mind and her courage and her attitude. But God, he wanted Sam, too—and the way she was now tempting him was overwhelming everything else like a tidal wave.

Letting his undone trousers fall to his ankles, he hiked up her skirt and slip. It was an awkward maneuver given that he was simultaneously trying to lift her up onto the desk, and they both laughed as he stumbled slightly, but it wasn't an uncomfortable moment. She felt her heart hitch at how lovely it was to see him laugh.

Sam's boss looked deep into her eyes as he gently placed a hand on each knee to spread her legs.

"Mmmm. That may make it harder to get these off," she chastised him in a soft, teasing voice, observing with delight the look on his face as she pressed her fingertips into the damp crotch of her knickers. She made a small gasping moan that caused his pupils to dilate and he began to push together her knees again so that he could tug down her underwear. She let her head fall back and showed him how all he'd really need do was push aside the strip of soaked fabric when he was ready…

"Sweet Christ, Sam…" he shut his eyes to keep himself from lunging at her. Instead he stood between her legs as she perched at the table's edge and he covered her lips with his again. Long, slow, hot, deep kisses that took her breath away and made her writhe with want against the bulge in his shorts.

First his hands were pulling the pins from her hair and then they were caressing her breasts through the material of her jacket. She was busily removing his jacket, and waistcoat and tie. Then she pulled apart his shirt in one decisive motion that immediately divested it of every button.

Her amused but determined man paused to unbutton her clothing in a less destructive way, but Sam was ahead of him and very soon both of them wore only underwear.

Foyle's eyes fluttered closed and he took a deep, ragged breath as Sam reached down to the slit of his trunks and grasped his emerging cock.

Even as she felt him leap in her hand, the young virgin wasn't the least bit daunted. All her alarm had been addressed years before, when she'd found a bit of blood in her pants when she returned from horseback riding at the age of nine. Her mother and the doctor assured her that everything was all right; then on Sam's 18th birthday Mrs Stewart privately explained the marital advantage of it.

So Sam was unafraid, eager, and enchanted as she stroked Christopher and reveled in his low keen of pleasure in response.

The height of the desk was just about right for him to enter her as she lay upon it, but she looked slightly uncomfortable with her bare back on the hard surface. Somehow he still had enough presence of mind to cast about for a possible alternative, and his eyes rested on the comfortable leather chair near the windows.

In the next moment the considerate but indecisive man was wondering if he could he carry out the desire that was clamouring in his brain only by bending his girl over the back of the chair. At the same time he worried that she would be shocked by this, or might find it an unromantic first experience.

All responsibility was taken out of his hands when Sam, whose eyes had followed his, guessed what he was thinking in an instant and saucily approved. She hopped down and led her surprised lover around the chair, then shed her knickers and turned her back to him, her lower abdomen pressed against the chairback. Christopher was stunned for an instant; then he moved close behind her and cupped her breasts in his hands as he kissed and nipped her neck.

Samantha bent her head back with a gasp, and he felt her now-loose hair tickling his shoulders. She tried to get her hands between their bodies and stroke him again, but every touch of his warm lips made her legs weak. She turned quickly and kissed him fervently, running her hands up and down his neck and back as she pressed her body as close to his as she could.

Both were breathing audibly; his tongue played with hers as they moaned into each other's mouths. He couldn't stand this anymore; given her earlier hint that it would be all right, his confidence had increased. He kissed the curve of her neck and then rested his hands on her hips and pivoted her suddenly.

Voluntarily she leaned over the low top of the back of the chair and he gasped at the sight of her vulnerable, stimulating position—she had spread her stance and he could see how flushed and wet her sex had become with their foreplay. It drove him mad but he shut his eyes and quelled it, not wishing to hurt her, wanting to make this last, wanting to give her so much pleasure…

Slowly opening his eyes, he nuzzled her hair so lightly that it seemed as if he wasn't even touching it. His voice was soft as he bent over her.

"Do you want me, Sam?" His breath on her neck and ear made her quiver, and she turned her head enough to look at his eyes, which were smoldering. Somehow conquering the shaking, she put her hands on the arms of the chair before her and bent forward even further.

She whispered urgently, "Oh God, yes…"

Pressing his forehead against her nape, burying his face in her tousled hair, Christopher moved back and then, bracing her, slowly slid forward into her. To his surprise and relief he met no resistance, and it didn't take long for Sam to make it clear by her vocalizations that she was far from in pain.

The sensation of his cock against the ceiling of her vagina was so exquisite that her eyes rolled upward as he began to move out and then so very deeply in again... she gasped and then nearly sobbed at his incredibly pleasurable strokes.

"Shhh..." his tone was gentle. "Someone could…" He felt the squeeze of her muscles along his length and lost all ability to think coherently or even care whether they were heard.

He found a way to be attentive to every most sensitive part of her body, and kept speaking her name or God's softly to her in that deep, sexy voice until she was crazed. One hand secured her hip as the other caressed her hair… he tugged at it gently until he made her arch her neck backward. The moan that escaped from her parted lips made him shiver in pleasure.

Sam urged him on, telling him again and again how glorious he felt inside her.

The begging tone of her voice made him give up his self-control and he started thrusting into her harder and faster. "Oh, dear God, you feel so good," he murmured as he drove into her again. He could hear, he could feel that she was about to come and, when she started to tremble and to moan and cry out, he covered her mouth with his hand to keep her quiet. All the muscles of his body tensed as he gritted his teeth and came hard inside her, stifling his own desire to groan loudly. The exquisite sensation blinded him as he fought to go on thrusting to give her all the pleasure he could.

When he felt her body relax, he leaned forward, over her, spent. He leaned on his arms, supporting his weight, and remained still, inside her, with his cheek against hers as he tried to get back his breath. As soon as he calmed down a little, he covered her neck and shoulders with kisses; then brought her to face him again and whispered in her ear, "I love you, Sam."

The young woman happily nuzzled his nose with hers and echoed his sentiment. After another lengthy kiss she teased him, "You see? Took you for rather a relaxing ride, didn't I?"