Author's Note: I have to say, this was absolutely better in my head than it turned out on paper but I've tinkered around with it and I just about have it at the stage where I don't mind it so I thought I'd post away and at least let you make up your own minds. I would love to hear some feedback on this even more than usual on account of the not turning out so great.
Disclaimer: I neither own these characters nor make a profit from this writing.
Rating: T, but quite a strong T.
Streetlamps
He reviews hours of witness prep mainly because he has to, but it would be a lie to say he doesn't enjoy watching her. Sometimes, when she shifts in her seat or pushes a stray lock of hair out of her eyes, he has to rewind because all he can focus on is the subtle movements of her body and he realises he doesn't have the slightest clue what the witness just said. It requires all his concentration to listen to them the second time.
As he leaned in, he saw that her eyes were black with desire and she was smiling.
It's just as well she's good bordering on brilliant at her job, because he can't resist pushing her forward for things. He puts her forward to represent Stern's daughter because if she does a good job (and he knows she will) it will help her chances in the competition no end. And he really wants her to win.
She tasted of light beer and spearmint gum and the future as he kissed her.
He is mad at her when he first hears about what she's trying to do to Baxter. Later, he realises he should have known there was something more to it by the way Baxter told him to warn her off, but at the time, he's too furious. In his righteousness, he tells himself it's because she's a junior associate and she's accusing his best friend of racism, but he knows it isn't that. He is jealous that she went to Diane about it instead of him. He is other things too, like angry that he didn't see it first, and worried for the firm if Alicia and Diane are trying to take down a judge, and disgusted that someone he thought he knew could do that, but mainly he's jealous.
Her arms wound around his neck and she pressed her lips to his bare chest as he carried her through to the bedroom.
He flirts with Emily on the phone because he has always flirted with Emily, and only a little bit because he sees the reflection of Alicia watching him in the glass. Also, she's a damn good lay and it's been a while. But that's forgotten and a chasm opens at his feet as Duke Roscoe plasters the photo of them at the hotel across the tv screen. The fear that this will wreck the fragile, unspoken something between them paralyses him.
Her hair spread like a fan on the white pillowcase, just as he imagined it would.
He never thought he could bear to put her in danger but when he basically asks her to conceal evidence at Rucker's studio he knows he's doing just that. Of course, it's not actual, real, life threatening danger, but at a push, it could threaten her job, and he knows to her right now that would be almost as bad. The half hour between her hanging up the phone and reappearing in the office is one of the longest of his life. When he puts his hands on her shoulders all he wants to do is pull her into his arms.
She moaned, breathy and light, in his ear as she felt the fit of their bodies.
Peter being home eats away at him. The idea that this stupid, selfish man can sit next to her on the couch at the end of the day with a glass of wine and he can't drives him crazy. He knows he doesn't deserve her, but surely he deserves her more than Peter does? He hopes she will appreciate the break he gives her at work, but he hopes more she'll come and confront him about why. Because then maybe, just maybe, they will have to talk about this.
She arched her back into him and he whispered her name in her ear.
When she says 'use me' a thousand different ways in which he would like to do just that burst into his mind. Her eyes seem to be alight with something that he isn't absolutely sure was there before and he begins to hope. He wants her to be there. He just plain wants her. For the first time, he lets himself remember that she wanted him before and he lets himself believe that she might again.
His hands skimmed over her soft, alabaster skin until she begged him.
He pretty much hates himself by the time she finds him, alone in his office, late that night. Patti is thoroughly under his skin, and he's failed his client, and he's tired. God, he's tired. When she puts her hand on his shoulder and he looks at her he knows there's only one way that this will end. He isn't going to let it end any other way. And when he kisses her, it's perfect.
Her long legs were around his waist and her short nails raking across his back.
She comes back. She runs away but she comes back and he can't believe he missed her. The following day, awkwardness and fear emanate from her but he is determined not to let it matter, which is why he tells her it's fine. He lies; it isn't fine. She is all he can think of, all the time, and he wants her even more than before. He can see her heavy lidded eyes gazing up at him through the mists of the better part of two decades and he knows he can't wait that long again.
He kissed her throat and murmured against her skin but he had long since lost the ability to string together a coherent sentence.
He loves that she is the one to bring up what happened at Georgetown. It was only one night and in the grand scheme of things it doesn't seem like much, except it is. It was then and it is now. He has never quite forgotten the way her body moved against, with, under, above, around his own and he aches to feel her again.
They moved together, pretending that the light from the streetlamp was the moon, and that they would be all right in the morning.