What More Could You Want?

by sss979

I took a break from the drama and relaxed through Face/Tawnia. It's that simple. lol Tasteful graphic adult content.

WHAT MORE COULD YOU WANT?

AUTHOR: sss979
TITLE: What More Could You Want?
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: Face/Tawnia, random sex scene. I needed a break from the drama...
WARNINGS: Sex (het)
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the A-Team.

I saw him across the room and instinct told me not to approach him. If he was in a club like this – flashy and sparkly with loud pop music in the background - he was on the hunt. Had he already found a date, he would be in a ritzy restaurant somewhere. If he was just looking for a comfortable place to enjoy the evening, I would've expected to see him in the bar of a nice hotel. Instead, he was here. But at least he didn't appear to be scrounging the dance club for barely legal girls. I smirked as I considered that, and turned my attention back to my drink.

I wasn't really being fair about that. He wasn't a pervert; he'd never given me any indication that he was. A womanizer, yes. But not one that preyed on young, vulnerable, unsuspecting girls. Any of the women who fell for him were just as guilty as he was of that one-night-stand mentality; he made sure of it. He wasn't exactly subtle about his intentions, even if he wasn't honest about who he was. Besides, who could actually fall for a man that suave and sure of himself? Who could possibly think that it wasn't an act? It screamed "player" even louder than his track record.

"You need another one, Tawnia?" the bartender asked. I loved that he could actually remember my name. I'd given it to him over an hour ago, and quite a few patrons had come and gone from the counter in that time. No one sat down for long in a place like this unless they couldn't get a line. Except for me. I'd come here just because it was the closest place to work where I could get a drink before heading home. It had been a rough day.

I glanced down at my nearly-empty glass and nodded. "Yeah, sure."

"Put it on my tab."

I blinked, startled, as I glanced up. I'd been so lost in my thoughts, I hadn't even heard him approach. The bartender looked to me for confirmation, not wanting to get in the middle of a pickup attempt that wasn't welcome. But I smiled, and nodded in agreement. If Face wanted to buy my drink, I wouldn't argue with him. "How's your batting average holding up?" I smirked.

"Funny," he answered, sliding into the chair next to me at the bar and setting down the glass of amber-colored liquid. "How long have you been here? You weren't even going to say hi, were you?"

The smile remained in place as I answered him. "Well, I didn't want to ruin your chances with someone who might actually fall victim to that adorable face."

He raised a brow, a look that screamed "What's your problem?" even if he didn't say it. I sighed as I finished the last of the vodka-tonic in my glass and pushed it aside. "I'm sorry," I offered, sincerely if not particularly sympathetic. "I've had a really horrible day."

"What happened?" he asked, nursing his drink. He was still perfectly sober and he'd been here almost as long as I had. Clearly, he hadn't come to drink. That was his first, maybe second.

I sighed. "My boss is just being a prick." The bartender returned with another drink, and exchanged it for the empty glass. I thanked him with a polite smile, and wrapped my hands around it. "It's nothing I really care to talk about."

"Well, this isn't typically the kind of bar you'd go to if you want to drown your sorrows," he pointed out. I could feel him watching me out of the corner of his eye, but he was being subtle about it. I decided to ignore him. Almost. It was worth it to lean back a little and cross my legs, letting my skirt ride up a little higher on my thigh, just to see if I could get a reaction. I did: a slight smirk before he turned his head completely away.

"Who said I came to drown my sorrows?" I challenged with a smirk. I loved watching him contemplate these situations, almost as much as I loved initiating them. He wasn't used to being the prey. But he wasn't the only one who'd come here to hunt.

"So what did you come for?" he asked, glancing back. Our eyes met briefly, his charming smile already in place. I made sure that my own expression matched it.

Face and I had been playing this game since day one. I had a feeling we both knew it. If he hadn't figured it out by now, he was a damn fool. But then, I wondered if his ego would even allow for the possibility that he might have met a woman who could not only see right through his game, but play it just as well as he could. Amy could see it… but she didn't like to play. And most of the girls who enjoyed the game didn't understand all the rules.

With my options wide open, I briefly contemplated the direct approach just to see the look on his face. But if I did, it might cost me this round. He considered himself far too sophisticated, and enjoyed the game far too much, to succumb to my initiative.

"You first," I prodded. "I at least have a reason to be on this side of town. I work right down the street, remember?"

"Oh, really? I hadn't noticed."

Liar. He knew exactly where we were. He also knew how many people were in this club, who was with who, how full the bottles were on the back of the bar, and he probably knew exactly how many taxis had passed on the other side of the windowed wall in the past ten minutes. "Unobservant" had never been his problem, best I could tell.

"So you didn't answer me." The only way I'd get an answer was if I pinned him down. "What're you doing in this neck of the woods?"

He sat up a little straighter and flashed that signature smile at me as he readied a response. "I'm actually staying not far from here."

I raised a brow. I knew this area well. There were no hotels. So either he was lying or that was code for something else. I decided to call him on it. Wasn't like we had anything too important to talk about otherwise. "Oh, really? Which hotel?"

"Who said it was a hotel?"

The self-satisfied smirk on his face told me he had a punch line ready, and I was going to walk right into it if I kept going. I let it drop. "So. Anything interesting lately that I should know about?" I turned the chair a little and crossed my legs again. "Good stories you'd care to let me in on? Recent or still in the works?"

"Sorry," he smiled back. "'Fraid not."

"Oh come on," I prodded. "Might loosen my boss up a little if I could find a good bone to throw him."

He finished the last of his drink, but as the bartender returned – right on cue – to refill it, he held up his hand to refuse. I watched as he settled his tab without a word, but he didn't get up to leave. Instead, he turned to me. "This place is a little loud," he remarked. "Care to go someplace a little more... quiet?"

"Such as?"

He shrugged, but there was no lack of confidence or even the slightest bit of uncertainty written on his face. "My place?"

I laughed quietly, leaning back a little with one arm along the bar and the other against the back of the stool. "Face, are you propositioning me?"

It was impossible to read the look that crossed his face, even though I was looking for it. "Suit yourself," he answered offhandedly as he rose to his feet. He waved to the barkeep and winked at a few girls on his way to the door, and I watched him go.

He was waiting just outside the door, leaning back against the brick wall with arms and legs crossed. Damn it, he knew I'd follow. He didn't even bother to revel in his success as I stepped out into the street, heels clicking on the pavement. He just pushed off the wall, stood up straight, and made a sweeping gesture to the cab he'd already hailed. "Shall we?"

Arrogant son of a bitch, wasn't he? It made me smile.

"His place" was, in fact, fairly close. It was only about a mile and a half – hardly worth the cab fare. But I wouldn't have expected him to take the subway, and he wouldn't have expected me to walk that far in six inch heels. As we stepped through the doors of the apartment complex, he waved greetings and exchanged smiles with several people who seemed to think he was a Dr. Pavati. It was amusing to watch. I always knew he was good, but it never ceased to amaze me just how good.

People actually ate this stuff up...

Up the elevator to the top floor, then down the hall, all the way to the end. He opened the door and stepped aside, gesturing for me to step in first. I didn't hesitate, and he walked in behind me, flicking the lights on to reveal a spacious, white-carpeted apartment with a large balcony on the other side of a huge picture window and sliding glass doors. I was actually impressed.

"Dr. Pavati lives pretty large," I observed with a smirk.

"He also goes on a lot of European vacations," Face stated, tossing the keys on the table near the door. He used the door for support as he raised one foot to untie his shoes. "About once every six months, like clockwork."

"He moves out and you move in," I assumed. "I get it. It's clever."

"Clever?" His tone reflected just how indignant he was at the understatement. "It's genius."

I watched as he set his shoe on the tile by the door, then started on the other one. Mine were much easier to slip off. I didn't even have to bend down. I stood aside as I waited for him to finish, and he shot me a look as he passed that I had a little trouble deciphering. All too often, it was too hard to tell what on earth he was thinking. I was careful not to let it unnerve me.

I followed him to the kitchen, and leaned on the island there as I watched him pour two glasses of red wine from a bottle chilling in the fridge. After returning the bottle to the fridge, he offered one to me and I took it with a smile, through the living room and out to the balcony overlooking the city. "Nice view."

He didn't answer, just stepped up to the rail beside me, sliding an arm around my waist. I had to wonder if he did that instinctively, or if it was a conscious effort. "This is one of my favorite places in the city," he admitted. "And one of the few I've been able to keep using."

"What happened to the others?" I asked. It was clear from his tone that there was a reason he could no longer use them.

"Well, you know," he shrugged. "Stuff happens..."

There was an awful lot of "stuff" that could happen when living the kind of life he did. I didn't bother to ask for clarification. "Does it ever bother you?" I asked, glancing at him. "Not having a real place of your own?"

"No," he admitted. "Should it?"

"It would bother most people."

He smiled. "Well, I'm not most people."

"Clearly."

He shrugged, and sipped his wine slowly. I did the same. It was a sweet wine, very different from the drink in the bar. It was a bit of a shock to my taste buds, but I kept myself from reacting outwardly. "I get bored," he continued, unexpectedly. I glanced at him and saw him staring out over the city. "Even before I stopped maintaining a permanent address, I was never able to finish out a six month lease."

"What about your things?"

He glanced at me with a smirk. "What things?"

"Your clothes," I pointed out. He might not have a whole lot of worldly possessions, but he certainly had a wardrobe. An expensive one, at that.

He shrugged. "I keep them with me. Usually in the 'vette. And rotate them out at various dry cleaners. They'll hold onto them forever if you don't come back for them. Especially if it's a thousand dollar suit."

"And that's all you own?" I challenged. "Really?"

He turned slightly toward the suite behind him and gestured. "What else do I need? Anything else, I can rent and borrow."

I could feel the slight smirk crossing my face as I studied him, basking in his own confidence. "Why buy the cow when you can have the milk for free?"

He paused suddenly, and raised a brow as if he were trying to determine if that was an insult or not. It was always amusing to see how he'd react to the reality of what he was and did, and what the world at large would think of it if they knew. "You know, honey," he finally answered with a smirk, "I think your sadistic streak is showing a little more than normal today. Anything in particular I did to piss you off? Or is it just that time of the month?"

I glared at him briefly. "Keep it up, Face, and you'll be wearing this glass of red wine."

He only smiled in response, pleased that he'd gotten his dig in, and sipped from his glass. When he spoke again, after a few moments of silence, the challenge had dropped from his tone. "Seriously, Tawnia," he started. "What's on your mind? Because you're obviously wound up pretty tight."

I considered his words carefully. No man used words like "wound up pretty tight" without the implication that there was a need to unwind. At least, no man like Face. And before going any further, I had to make a decision about how far I was going to take this game. But really, as I thought about it, I'd decided that a long time ago. "I told you," I answered quietly. "My boss is an asshole."

He saw his opportunity as I lowered my head and looked away. A flash of vulnerability. And just like a true predator, he jumped at it, finding a low table behind him to set his glass on before he slid behind me. I felt his hands on my shoulders, through the dress jacket, massaging gently. He was careful, cautious, and almost hesitant. I smiled, glad for my hair in my face to hide it, as I realized that he wasn't really any of those things. It was all part of the act. And he was damn good at it.

"So tell me about it," he urged.

"I put in for this vacation time over a month ago," I sighed. "He says he never got it even though I taped it right to his door. A friend of mine is –" Don't say she's getting married; even just the word might make him think commitment. "- graduating. And I told her I'd be there. It's not like she can reschedule something like that, you know?"

"So he won't give you the time off?"

"No."

The massage grew a little firmer, a little more noticeable. "There's got to be a way around that," he answered confidently. "You just need to figure out how to ask."

"Well, now that I've asked for it off, if I call in sick, he's going to know."

"Can he fire you for that?"

I considered it briefly. "I don't know. I don't think so."

"Then what do you care if he knows?"

"Because he'll make my life a living hell until he forgets about it. If he ever does."

"Hmm..."

I felt his fingers slide around the collar of the jacket and very slowly, he guided it back, off of my shoulders. "Well, what would it take to prove to him you really were sick?" he asked as the jacket slid down my arms. I switched the glass to my other hand and put my arms back one at a time to let him remove the coat.

"I don't know. A doctor's note?"

He chuckled quietly. "That's all?"

I found myself laughing at the irony. "Sorry," I mumbled. "I forgot who I was talking to." A roadblock like this wouldn't even faze a man who could convince someone that not only was it okay for him to steal their vehicle but they really and truly wanted him to take it.

"How long do you need?" he asked, running his hands up my bare arms, back up to my shoulders again. "A week? Two weeks?"

"I put in for a week."

"Hmm... make it two for good measure." He nudged my hair aside, fingers sliding under the sleeves of my shirt until they brushed my bra straps. "I'll take care of it."

"Really?" I feigned surprise, but the gratitude wasn't fake.

"No problem."

His lips were remarkably close to my neck. I knew it because I could feel his breath. But he held off, choosing his moment carefully. With one final smile, I turned to face him. He took a half step back so that he wouldn't be crowding me against the railing, but his arms immediately slid around my waist as I raised my own and circled his neck, holding my glass behind his head. "Thank you."

He smiled. I could feel his fingertips brushing the small of my back. "You're very welcome."

I watched him. This was the moment, this lingering hesitation, where he waited for me to say no. We both knew that I could dump a bucket of ice water on this entire situation with just one mention of the "C" word in any of its various forms. I'd done it once, the first time he'd gotten this close. If I was having second thoughts, this was the time to make them known.

But I wasn't having second thoughts.

Our lips touched lightly, and to my surprise I actually felt him hesitate. As he pulled back, just a little, I opened my eyes and saw him watching me carefully, skeptically. He remembered the last time, too. And he was being careful not to give me the wrong impression. I smiled internally at that. It had just won him a few points, in my book. I knew it was probably not a courtesy he'd extend to every woman. But we were reading out of the same book, if not from the exact same page.

"What's the matter, Face?" I taunted, lips almost brushing his as I spoke. "Lose your nerve?"

The flash across his eyes looked to me like determination. "You forget who you're talking to," he answered, my earlier words coming back to haunt me.

I smirked at his over-confidence, thoroughly amused. "Shut up and kiss me."

He did.

I could feel myself relax, almost involuntarily, into his arms. It was a beautiful feeling, warm and tingling inside. One of the most incredible kisses of my life. It didn't matter that it was a game; it was a game he played very well and one I hardly minded. The day had been long and even if the time off wouldn't be a major problem in the long run, the whole situation still got under my skin. But I felt those thoughts melt away as his lips moved slowly against mine, fingers sliding up and down along my spine.

I took a half-step forward, and he broke the kiss as he put his foot back to catch his balance. But I kept moving, slowly, and he didn't resist the need to walk backwards. As we passed the small table, I set my glass beside his, and he pulled the doors open again as we stepped back inside.

Still walking, his hand slid up underneath my shirt as we kissed again, cool fingertips against warm skin. I shivered slightly as I felt his palms rest against my back, thumbs along my sides, and he moved upward. I pulled back from the kiss and raised my arms as he whisked the shirt above my head and dropped it to the floor as I pushed his sports coat back.

We left a trail of clothes from the balcony to the bed: belts, socks, shirts, and my skirt. The last of the outer clothing to come off was his slacks, and he flicked open the clasp on my bra as he pushed me back onto the bed. Before I'd settled, it was on the floor. There was no need to speak, and neither one of us did. I relaxed, sprawling on the soft blankets and letting him do all the work. I didn't figure he'd want it any other way, and I certainly couldn't complain. His kisses made my nerves fire all sorts of pleasure sensations up to my brain as he slowly travelled over my neck and down along my collarbone.

Goosebumps prickled along my skin as the tip of his tongue brushed lightly over my nipple. I was sensitive there, and it made me writhe involuntarily. He noticed. "You like that?" he smiled, lifting his head to make brief eye contact with me.

"Mmm hmm."

It was all he'd needed to hear. I gasped as he lowered his mouth to my breast again, kissing and licking with just a hint of teeth. It took him several minutes – he was more patient than I – to find just the right amount of insistence, of gentleness, of pressure and teasing. Then, using that same formula, he moved slowly down, trailing kissing along my ribcage to my stomach. I lowered my hands into his hair, holding his head as gently as I could while he trailed along the top edge of the black, translucent panties. He didn't seem to mind. In fact, it didn't faze him in the least.

His hands came to rest on my hips as he moved down further, out of my grasp. Slow, gentle kisses traveled along the inside of my thigh as his fingertips slid under the elastic of the panties. I lifted my hips, allowing him to draw them down. It only took him a second, and our eyes met again as he knelt between my knees, hands slowly running up the inside of my thighs and pushing outward, opening me wide.

I knew the look that was on my face was not half as calm and collected as his. But even in spite of that smile he wore, I could see the fire of pure lust in his eyes. His gaze swept over me slowly, lingering on the warmth and wetness between my legs, and I smiled as I tipped my hips up toward him a little, an open invitation. He liked what he saw, and he was enjoying this immensely. That thought made me want him even more.

As he leaned down over me, he somehow managed to strip away the boxers, and to untuck the blankets from the side of the bed. He'd obviously practiced this a few times. In a tangled mess of arms and legs, kissing and groping, we wrestled our way under the blankets. It was a bit of a power play to see who would come out on top, but as he settled onto his back, letting me pin his wrists, he smirked up at me. "Kind of pushy, aren't you?" he teased.

"Only when I want something."

I didn't have a chance to react. I barely had a chance to let out a squeak of surprise as he broke my grip and suddenly I found myself face down in the pillow with my wrists pinned behind me and his lips against my ear. "Two can play at that game, you know..."

I smiled, and pushed back against him. But he had me adequately trapped. We both knew the only reason I was finally able to break free was because he let me go. Nevertheless, it didn't stop me from grabbing onto his shoulders and trying a second time. He laughed as he flipped me onto my back, effortlessly, and moved on top of me. He interlocked my fingers with his, holding my hands down on either side of my head as he looked down at me. But the laughing, the amusement I saw in his eyes, was genuine. "You don't really think you're going to win this one, do you?" he taunted.

I smiled up at him. "Who cares about winning?" I teased back. "It's the playing that's fun."

"Mmm." He seemed to consider that, but only briefly. His eyes danced as he voiced his conclusion. "No, I like to win."

"You would," I chuckled.

He leaned down, covering my lips with his again and drawing out a low, needful moan from somewhere deep inside of me. My body tensed, arching up against him, oddly reassured by the way he pushed me back down. He didn't look half as strong as he was. Or maybe he just knew how to trap me so I couldn't move.

My breath caught as he deepened the kiss, his tongue continuing the battle for dominance that we'd already started. Releasing my hands, he used one to brace himself as he brought the other down – along my breast, then past my stomach, and down to my thigh where he pushed my legs apart forcefully. I didn't resist him, only smiled into the kiss. I bent my knees, opening to him, and lowered my hands to his bare shoulders, holding him as I felt the tip of his shaft against my opening.

He was watching me. I could feel his eyes on me, even while he kissed me. Slowly, I let my eyes slide open, but they remained half-lidded as I met his gaze. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

I felt a slight smirk cross my face. "If I said no, would you stop?"

He knew by the smile – and probably the tone – that I wasn't serious. He chuckled in response, shaking his head. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."

I felt my breath catch in my throat as he pressed forward slowly, stretching me open. Any reply I might have been considering was lost as he covered my lips again and moved his hips against mine in slow, deep strokes. He was good. He was damn good. It only took him three tries to find that spot, and he knew the instant he hit it – maybe even before I gasped. I held his shoulders tightly, matching his pace as I thrust up against him. Licking my lips one last time, he dropped his head to the side of my neck, kissing and nipping at the soft skin where it met my shoulder. He found all the little pressure points with his tongue, teasing every one of them, one at a time.

I was dizzy, barely able to breathe as I felt the familiar clench and release in my womb. Teetering on the edge of release, I writhed, pushing up against him harder. Every time he thrust into me, it sent an electric pulse through my entire body. As he picked up the pace, it became difficult to tell where one ended and the next began. I shuddered at the overwhelming sensations as they stacked, one on top of the other, building in intensity.

The heavy sound of our breathing filled my ears. I could feel a thin sheen of sweat breaking out on my forehead, and reached one hand to throw the blankets back, letting the cooler air hit our heated bodies. He looked up, and our stares locked instantly. It was a strange and unfamiliar look in his eyes. Intense and desperate... but distant. There was a veil between us that kept his emotions just as separated from mine as they'd ever been. But that was fine with me. In fact, it was the way I wanted it.

"Come on," he urged, lips brushing mine. "Come for me..."

My eyes rolled back, and slid closed as I felt him press in deep and grind his hips on mine. "Face..."

The sharp intake of breath warned him that I was over the edge. All I had left to do was freefall. I arched up as he gave a few more quick desperate thrusts, and our cries melted together as I felt him release inside of me. I could feel my muscles spasming, clenching and releasing around him as he spent the last of his energy. Then, finally, his head fell forward against my shoulder and he stilled, gasping for breath. Eyes sliding closed, I gradually relaxed, drawing slow, deep breaths into my lungs.

We were still for several minutes – long enough for both of us to catch our breath. Then, gently, he withdrew. I watched as he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and stretching. A faint smile crossed my lips as I watched him in the gradually-dimming light coming through the window. "You know, Face, it's your house," I pointed out. "Shouldn't I be the one leaving?"

He glanced back, brows raised as if he wasn't sure what I meant by that. But he knew exactly what I meant. He had to know. Because I knew I wasn't wrong. "Are you afraid I'm going to fall in love with you if you stay a while?" I teased.

He blinked, surprised by the fact that I'd asked that. But blunt and to the point had always worked for me in the past. It was about time he got a taste of it. Besides, I had very little to lose at this point. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, clearly cautious.

I smiled, and turned to my side, posing for him. If it was a little too obvious, well, it was supposed to be. "You're a smart boy," I prodded. "Figure it out."

I wondered, as he sat there staring at me, what was going through his head. What had he thought this was, exactly? It was suddenly a little clearer to me that he was so used to playing his game by his rules that he didn't even recognize when the rules had changed. Or perhaps more appropriately, when the target had. Now he was realizing it, and his head tipped slightly to the side as he studied me. "Why'd you do this?" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity and amusement.

I sat up slowly, bracing myself on one arm behind me as I pressed against his arm, nose to nose with him. "Because like I told you before," I whispered, keeping my lips just out of reach for his. "I like to get what I want." I smiled, touching his mouth with mine but pulling back before he could answer the almost-kiss. "And I do find you... very attractive."

"Heh." He grinned back at me, recalling the words. "As I recall, you were the one that ended that conversation."

"You pissed me off."

He laughed. "I never promised you a story," he reminded.

"That's okay," I shrugged. "I got it anyways." I shifted a little, pressing my breasts up against his biceps. "And I'm not promising you anything either. I just really do... find you attractive."

He watched me for a long moment. Then, slowly, a smile crept over his lips. He raised one hand into my hair, holding me still as he leaned in and kissed my lips lightly. "What more could you want?"

I grinned as I lay back again, holding his shoulders and pulling him down with me.