A/N

Just a little piece of fluffy smut and stuff inspired by the "mirror scene" in episode 4 (I think it was). ^^

"Sometimes, despite your best efforts, you can actually be quite charming," Theresa said, kissing Bernard again. She meant for it to just be a kiss, because she really had to get back to work. She wasn't eager to admit what Bernard had touched upon just a few minutes earlier, but yes, she was stressed. Very stressed. Some horizontal wrestling helped taking her mind off things for the moment, but the work was still there, piling up while she was busy courting a colleague.

Yes, she did mean for it to be one kiss, grammatical number: singular, but it somehow turned into a make-out session that felt just too good to break off. And as much as she had meant it when she told him he gave her what she needed, she realised she needed more. Yeah, she did, needed it desperately, and if she tried to walk away right now, she'd end up having to finish this on her own once she got to her office, which really wasn't an option at all.

"Weren't you going back to work?" he asked between kisses.

"I've got time for a second round if you're up for it," she replied. "Oh, yes you are…" she said when she felt just how up for it he was.

Bernard chuckled and kissed her neck.

"Jesus," she said, "don't give me hickeys, it's too fucking hot to wear turtlenecks."

"Mhm," he mumbled, "I'll show you hot."

"I'm serious, Bernie."

But the words were spoken through a whimper, and she suddenly decided she didn't care if he marked her.

"Oh fuck it," she sighed as he unzipped her dress – which he'd only just zipped up – and peeled it off of her before gently pushing her down on the bed and straddling her. In the midst of kissing and biting and grabbing, underwear was haphazardly tossed to the side.

Theresa arched her back to meet him halfway. Oh, this man knew just… how… to…

Holy shit, that has to be a new record, Theresa thought hazily as her body convulsed and she grabbed the sheets with both hands, almost as if keeping herself anchored in reality.

"Easy," Bernard panted in her ear, "I'm not done with you yet."

That was probably the most he had ever spoken during the act, but then again, her own vocabulary usually didn't extend beyond growled expletives or gasped cries for deities. With former lovers, she'd tended to bark out orders, at least the first times before they learned what she liked, but Bernard seemed to get it intuitively. In fact, he seemed to pick up on penchants she wasn't aware of herself. Like for example how much she liked being kissed. Not just regular kissing, but all over. He'd do it as foreplay, he'd do it during the act, he'd do it afterwards, it really didn't matter when, it was as amazing each time.

And, she realised, that was exactly what he was moving on to doing, slowly moving on top of her – and inside her – while kissing his way down her neck. She held out as long as she could, which wasn't very long at all, but the pleasure rapidly built to a point where she couldn't take it anymore, and when she muffled a cry of satisfaction against his shoulder, he rode the wave of orgasm with her.

"Oh my G…!"

He interrupted her with a kiss before whispering;

"Hush, Tess. I said, I'm not done with you yet."

Quite a while later…

Theresa rolled over on her back, her body feeling like she had just run a marathon.

"Wow. You outdid yourself today, Bernie. I don't think there's one spot on my entire body you haven't kissed."

He propped himself up on one elbow, tracing his fingertips down her stomach, so lightly she broke out in goosebumps.

"Hmmm…" he said. "Yes, I see one spot," he continued, leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on the tip of her nose. "There."

Theresa let out an uncharacteristically girly giggle.

"Come here," she demanded, pulling him closer.

"Again?" he asked, amused.

"No," she chuckled. "Even I have limits. I only want you to hold me."

"I thought you were going back to work." He was just teasing her now.

"I thought so too until I got caught up in something more important." She sighed sleepily and curled up close, resting her head on his chest. "I'm too comfortable to go look in the mirror, so tell me the truth. Will I have to wear scarves the next couple of days?"

"No. But don't wear anything with straps." He placed his fingertips on her right shoulder. "Here's one mark." He moved his hand a bit downward and to the side, almost to her collarbone. "And here."

He did that light caressing motion again, but this time he kept going, feeling his way down her body until he reached her inner thigh, high enough that she was still wet and sticky where he touched her. "And somewhere around here."

"Impressive." She yawned, and her eyes fell closed. She couldn't help it, she was completely wiped out.

"You left a few marks of your own," he said. "I think my back looks like I've been attacked by a cougar."

"You mean to tell me you weren't?"

Theresa opened one eye to look at him. He chuckled and caressed her hair.

"Maybe that's what I was. Why don't we talk like this every time?"

"Because we don't claw each other bloody and bruised every time," Theresa replied and yawned again.

"You know what I mean."

"Maybe it's because it's not necessary for…" but the sentence died out in a light snore that turned into deep, regular breathing. Bernard didn't mind that one bit. Theresa never stayed long enough to fall asleep, and he had wanted her to since the first time they made love, but at the same time he didn't want to push her.

Maybe he had pushed her today. A little bit. But in all fairness, that had been mutual.