The Man of the Hour
He looked so delicious in his tuxedo, she practically ached to get him upstairs.
Upstairs, in his (or her, they had to keep up appearances after all), room, after the awards were handed out and the speeches made and everyone was appropriately buzzed. After he'd accepted on CTU-LAs behalf, and thanked the bigwigs and caught her eye while he delivered his well-rehearsed speech. He wasn't much for speeches and he'd been so nervous he hadn't been able to focus on anything else for days. Part of him wished it was George up there and he was back to being Number 2 instead of Provisional Director. Part of him didn't want all of this to fall on him. He wasn't one for attention. Not this kind of attention.
She shifted anxiously in her seat towards the middle of the ballroom, smoothing her hands over her dress. It was black and lacy but she was appropriately covered. It was still a DOD event. He'd liked it, when she'd come out of her room that evening. He'd told her as much with the look he'd given her when she stepped into his view. He'd all but licked his lips before following her into the elevator.
God, she really couldn't wait to get him alone. To strip that tux off him and kiss the juncture between his neck and his shoulder until he made a little noise that went straight to her core. Things were still so new and they still had so much to learn about each other, but they were definitely nailing one aspect of their relationship right out of the gate. She'd had a few boyfriends and the odd fling before him, but she couldn't ever remember having sex like this from the very beginning. He seemed to know every part of her, ever thrum of her pulse, every inch of her she craved to have touched; it was like they'd been doing it for years instead of a few weeks.
Her official story - to anyone who asked besides her best friend - was that they'd gone on three perfectly respectable dates, starting two days after the bomb went off when they were finally given more than a few hours to themselves. They'd gone out on three dates, held hands, had dinner, talked, laughed, kissed and then slept together at the end of date three and he'd bought her breakfast in the morning. That was her story.
Unofficially, she'd dropped her wallet in the CTU parking lot trying to get her still slightly sedated brother into her car and hadn't even realized it until he showed up at her door six hours later looking utterly exhausted and holding it in his gorgeous hand. That same gorgeous hand that had been buried in her hair mere hours earlier.
She'd thanked him quietly, voice sounding hoarse and scratchy from exhaustion. She was still too tense to sleep and kept waiting to get called in again or for Danny to call her again.
And then he was there. Gorgeous and rumpled and scruffy and the only coherent thought in her mind was the feeling of his lips on hers again and again and the way he'd touched and caressed her and made her whole body shake.
All bets were off when his eyes lowered sexily as she put the wallet on the hall table. He was giving her that look again and her heart practically leapt out of her chest.
"Tony..." she cleared her throat. "I...thank you for everything today. I'm not sure I would've...without you."
Oh god, that had been an awful thing to say. They'd kissed once and she already seemed needy.
He rubbed his cheek and stepped closer to her, eyes never leaving hers.
"It uh..." he rubbed his cheek again. "You should get some rest."
His hand rose up to cup the back of her neck and his thumb brushed her cheek, eyes locked on hers.
And suddenly, all bets were off.
She pulled him inside without another thought, dragging his mouth against hers and gasping when he yanked her body against his. He kicked the door shut and she flipped the deadbolt and fifteen minutes later they were naked and he was inside her. When she awoke the next morning her bed was empty because he'd been called in early, but there was a note. She kept that note.
His voice echoed throughout the ballroom and Michelle snapped back to reality, feeling flushed and ashamed she hadn't focused on what he was saying. He spoke clearly, but she heard the slightest tremble behind his words; she only noticed it because it was the same tremble she heard when he said her name in bed.
After the speech, Ryan Chappelle cornered her to ask her opinion of him as Director. That hadn't been awkward at all given that she was practically ready to have sex with him on a nearby table if they didn't get out of there soon.
She kept an appropriate distance for business colleagues, but managed to talk to him quietly for a few minutes near the bar without molesting him. His eyes kept sliding over her and at one point he told her she looked "nice tonight" with just enough sexual undertone to make her knees buckle.
When the party winded down she made her excuses, saying she was tired and should head up. He was caught in an intense conversation without someone from District when she made a beeline for the elevator.
Her phone vibrated as soon as she got up to her floor. It was a text from him.
15 minutes. I'm taking that dress off you.
She practically fell into her room, pulse racing as she settled on her bed. He knew what he was doing to her tonight. Normally she played the vixen or they were equals but tonight...
Tonight he was going to possess her, and she was more than happy to let him.
He was the man of the hour, after all.