A/N: Hope you enjoy this bit of sexy Christmas fluff.
Christmas Nookie
Women have needs too, said Agent Teresa Lisbon to herself, as she left the FBI satellite office at Austin, Texas. It was after work on a Friday, a cold evening in December, and she knew many of her colleagues met for drinks at the historic Driskill Hotel down the street. This would be the perfect place to satisfy those needs, she thought, in the arms of a sexy man who wanted exactly what she did: sweet, hot oblivion, an escape from the frustrations of a long week. She smiled to herself as she drove in heavy weeknight traffic, past the Capitol building and its beautifully lit Christmas tree, past colorful trees that lined the street, their bare branches wrapped in lights.
In front of the hotel, she allowed herself the luxury of valet parking, handing the keys to her Mustang to the cheerful attendant. She walked into the warmth of the beautiful lobby, and immediately beheld a giant Christmas tree that rose fifteen feet between majestic columns, nearly kissing the stained-glass chandelier. She stopped for a moment to soak up the festive opulence, then, taking a deep breath, headed past the grand staircase in search of the lounge.
Lisbon's pulse beat an excited tattoo beneath her blazer jacket and emerald silk blouse. She hadn't done anything like this in years, not since she'd lived in California and been with the CBI. Her needs then had been similar, but she was older now, in some ways more confident than the young woman who'd unashamedly had her share of one-night stands. Now, she knew exactly what she wanted, and she wasn't willing to settle for less just for the thrill of meaningless sex. These days, she was much more… particular.
The bar was the pinnacle of Texas charm, from the mounted head of the Texas Longhorn that dominated the room, to the brown and white cowhide covered chairs and leather couches arranged in cozy nooks. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light, while a bluesy songstress unobtrusively filled her ears with Christmas standards. It was crowded in the midst of Happy Hour, filled with business people and politicos who'd wandered over from the Capitol building. There was an invigorating energy in the air, coupled with the usual ambiance of the Christmas season, and it added to her anticipation for what the evening might bring.
She felt a gratifying boost of her feminine ego as she caught the appreciative eye of several interested men, and though her cheeks warmed with the attention, she managed to keep a cool smile on her face; none of them was the kind of man she was looking for. She nodded to a couple of acquaintances from the White Collar division, who were sipping their drinks in a dark corner, and went directly to the bar.
"What can I get ya, pretty lady," asked the cute bartender with the sexy Texas drawl.
"Tequila," she answered recklessly, and he grinned in appreciation.
"A girl after my own heart," he said, filling her glass. She downed the shot and nodded for another.
One of her colleagues took the empty chair beside her. She'd seen him around, but couldn't remember his name. Johnson? Johannsson? He was ruggedly handsome, tall and dark-just the kind of man she'd once sought out in those early days in California. He'd only been at the Austin branch a few months.
"Agent Lisbon," he said. "Nice to see you here. We don't usually get many people from Violent Crimes venturing this way."
"Unfortunately, we don't get many evenings off," she said teasingly, downing her second shot. "Our perps don't quit when the markets close."
He chuckled. "Fair enough. Can I buy you another? Looks like you must have had a long day."
The tequila was already making her head buzz pleasantly, but she knew she'd better slow down.
"Sure," she said gamely. "Only I think I'd better settle for a beer this time."
Johnson or Johannsson gestured for the bartender, and soon, an ice cold mug took the place of her shot glass.
"So, how are things in your neck of the woods?" she asked. "You guys must still be celebrating that big bust from yesterday."
"Yeah. A nice Christmas bonus for us, at least as far as tying things up before the holidays…"
He droned on a minute, while Lisbon's attention wandered down the bar. Another chair opened two places away, and a man in an expensive three-piece suit, sans tie, settled in. He was one of the most beautiful men she'd ever seen, his hair thick, blonde and rakishly curly. His firm jaw showed the beginnings of a five o'clock shadow, and she was drawn to the sensually full curve of his bottom lip as he ordered a whiskey, neat. He must have felt her eyes upon him, for he glanced in her direction, and her heart fluttered as she beheld blue-green eyes softened at the corners by laugh lines and twinkling with mischief. He gave a little salute with his newly filled glass before taking a tentative sip.
She was startled to feel a hand on her arm. Her coworker had asked her a question, and apparently she'd been too long in her reply.
"Sorry," she said in embarrassment. "I was woolgathering, I'm afraid."
"Don't worry about it; it wasn't important. I'm sure you came here to unwind. Your division can get pretty intense. I couldn't stand being around all that blood and gore all the time. Too depressing."
"It can be," she said, bringing her beer to her lips. Nearby, the sexy blonde was regarding her with naked interest, his gaze flicking from her eyes to her mouth and back again. She felt a little faint. It was probably the drinks on an empty stomach.
"Will you excuse me?" she said abruptly to Johnson/Johannsson. "I need to find the ladies' room."
"Sure," he said politely, but he was obviously disappointed at the brush off. "I'll see you around the office."
"Hmm," she replied noncommittally. "Nice chatting."
She rose from her chair and moved past Hot Blonde, nearly brushing against him as she passed. He smelled of a familiar, enticing cologne, with a pleasing hint of the outdoors. In the restroom, she stared at her reflection, noting the soft blush that filled her cheeks, both from the alcohol and the spark of attraction she'd felt toward the handsome man at the bar. She patted her heated face with a damp paper towel, then, taking a deep breath, ventured back into the bar.
I can do this, she told herself. This feeling…It's what I came here for, isn't it?
When she returned to her seat, the Hot Blonde had brazenly taken her colleague's place beside her.
"Good evening," he said, his voice rich and full of secrets. "Hope you don't mind, but after your polite rejection, I see your friend has moved on." He glanced toward Johnson/Johannsson, who was already chatting up a pretty redhead from Cyber Crimes.
"Oh, we're just coworkers," she said. "He was being nice."
"I don't think so. I saw the way he was looking at you—sort of like an excited puppy. Clearly he was trying to impress you, and who could blame him, your being such a gorgeous, powerful woman and all."
"What makes you think I'm powerful?" She knew she must sound like she was fishing for compliments, but she was genuinely interested in his opinion.
He gave her a sweeping glance, and she felt very warm in every place he looked. "You have this air about you, the innate attitude of a woman used to giving orders." She made herself eat from the bowl of mixed nuts.
She frowned, not exactly sure what to think of that. "Do you find that off-putting?"
He shook his head, took a sip of his scotch while his eyes met hers over the rim of his glass. "On the contrary, I find it sexy as hell."
She stared into his fathomless eyes a moment, then, shaking herself out of his spell, she said, "It's actually been a while since I was the boss."
"And do you miss it?"
"Not really. It's sort of nice to go into work every day and know I am only responsible for myself and my own work, that when things go wrong, the buck doesn't stop with me."
"Hmmm. Interesting. But I would hazard a guess that there is still one place you are very much in charge. One place where a man would willingly fall to his knees and eagerly obey your every command."
She blushed at his knowing look, and he leaned closer to her. His eyes held a spark of seductive intent, and his voice was like warm velvet across her senses. Could everyone in the room feel what she was feeling? She looked nervously around her.
"Don't worry," he said, eyes still on hers, "no one's paying any attention to us."
"It's a little too public to be talking this way, don't you think?"
"We could go somewhere much more private if you like. I have a room at this hotel."
Her eyes widened. "You're staying here?"
"Yes. I don't live in the city, and I wasn't sure if my business would be finished early enough to drive home tonight. I'm starting to congratulate my own foresight. So, what do you say? Shall we take this conversation upstairs?"
She sat back a little. "Too soon," she proclaimed.
He grinned. "Aw, but isn't this what you came here for? To forget your troubles in the passion of a man's arms?" His words almost exactly echoed her earlier thoughts, but she wasn't about to admit that aloud to him.
"I came here for a drink after work."
He smirked. "Whatever you say. Now see there: you already have complete control of me. I'm willing to believe whatever you want me to, eager to fulfill your every wish."
She smiled and reached again for the nuts. "You're only saying that to get me to go up to your room. All this talk about my power is just a ploy to boost my sexual confidence, to make me believe I hold all the cards."
"And so you do, as every gentlemen knows full well."
"If that's true, you're a dying breed, I'm afraid. I see the truth of that every day in my line of work."
"Then lucky for you I'm here to keep those other bastards away."
She chuckled, then pulled her blazer jacket aside to briefly show her sidearm. "I can take care of myself."
"You're a cop. Now I'm thoroughly vindicated. If your feminine wiles don't give you power, then that little bauble certainly does. And I bet you have some handcuffs too somewhere."
"I do. But those are only for the particularly nasty bastards."
His laugh lines deepened. "I'm not even touching that one."
Her answering grin brought out her dimples, and he couldn't resist reaching out and lightly touching one small indentation with his index finger. His face had softened, but his eyes had grown dark with desire. He lowered his hand and it settled warmly on top of hers on the bar.
"You're an intriguing woman, Miss-?"
"You can call me Teresa," she said, almost breathlessly. His touch did crazy things to her insides, and when his thumb wrapped gently around her wrist, she was sure he could feel her pulse jumping.
"Teresa." He pronounced each syllable. "Lovely. It suits you."
"Thanks. And you are?"
"Patrick, though many of my acquaintance call me by my last name, Jane."
"I get that a lot too. Which do you prefer?"
"If I heard my first name on your honeyed lips, fair lady, I would forever be your servant."
Had anyone else said such a corny line, she would have rolled her eyes and shot back a sarcastic remark. But with him, there was only one thing she could say: "Patrick."
He caught the second syllable of his name with the soft press of his open lips upon hers. They were full and firm, and she tasted the strong flavor of his drink. He lingered on her mouth a moment, not moving, before releasing her and sitting back in his chair. She resisted the impulse to bring her hand to her lips, for they tingled thrillingly. She wanted more of that. More of him.
"You forget I have a gun," she managed.
"No," he said, attempting to cover his own desire by finishing the last of his whiskey. "A man could never forget that."
The singer began a haunting version of "I'll be Home for Christmas," and Lisbon wished with all her heart that the bar had been designed for dancing. She would love to feel his lithe, graceful body pressed against hers, to look up into those sea green eyes and see her own desire reflected there as they moved together.
"Come upstairs with me," he said, when the air between them fairly crackled. "I meant it when I said I'm your servant. If you keep looking at me like that, I'll give you whatever you want."
He reached for her hand again, and she let him take it, let him lace his long fingers with hers. Line or not, she believed every word he was saying, and her stomach clenched with longing.
"Okay," she told him.
Jane gave a small smile of triumph, then tossed a few bills on the bar to pay for their drinks. He kept hold of her hand all the way to the elevator, though when the door slid shut, he didn't pull her to him, as she'd expected and hoped for. He was building up the anticipation, his thumb moving in teasing circles over her sensitive palm, as he hummed along with the Christmas muzak emanating from hidden speakers. She couldn't think of anything to say, her thoughts embroiled with images of the night to come. No matter what he'd said earlier, he was in control at the moment, and the very idea of what was about to happen made her knees tremble and her heart race.
When the elevator stopped, he pulled her gently out into the corridor, then he let her into a corner suite.
"Wow," she said of the spacious room with its wrought iron king bed and separate sitting room. It was charming and luxurious. "You got this room just for yourself?"
He shrugged. "I like to go in style." He released her hand and moved to the mini bar, encased in an antique cupboard. "Would you like a drink?"
"No, thank you. I think I've had more than enough."
He shut the refrigerator door. "That's not the last time you'll say that sentence this evening."
She shook her head at him, unable to hold back her smile. "My, aren't we confident. You realize you're just raising my expectations to an impossible height?"
"I like a challenge."
He joined her in the middle of the room, took her at last into his arms, although he held her like they were dancing. He continued to hum, a sweet song she didn't recognize, and, fulfilling her earlier fantasy, they began to sway to the music he made. She closed her eyes, enjoying the steady pounding of her heart, the faint shivers as his breath stirred her hair.
She didn't know how long they moved like that together, but he had stopped humming, and his hands now moved to her back, sliding beneath her blazer, pulling her blouse out of the waistband of her slacks. He nuzzled until he found the lobe of her ear, and drew it into his mouth, alternatively suckling or gently nipping. Her hands gripped his shoulders for support, and he drew his lips over her smooth skin to her jaw. This was the moment when Lisbon at last lost her patience, and she turned her head to find his mouth. From the strength of his immediate response, she knew he was no longer toying with her. Their passion blazed to life, and desperate hands removed clothes and shoes and gun, replacing each with caresses designed to excite and seduce.
Soon they were both naked on the bed, where he kissed every inch of her aroused body, and she returned the favor in kind. He took her with an intensity she hadn't felt in years, and she moved with him until neither of them could move at all. Spent, they lay on top of the comforter, their damp skin cooling in the still air, their breathing shallow and fast.
"Well," she said when she could finally speak, "I think I've had more than enough."
She felt his body shaking the bed with quiet laughter.
"Are you sure? Because I think in a few minutes, I could go again."
"And it would be just our luck the babysitter would call. I think Max has another tooth coming in. The top this time."
"You showed her where the Orajel is. She's smart enough to figure the rest out on her own."
She turned her head to look at her husband suspiciously. "You paid her double not to call unless he was bleeding from the head, didn't you?"
He rolled onto his side, reached out to brush back her dark hair so he could better see her lovely eyes in the dim lamplight. "It was money well spent. And she's prepared to stay all night too." He dropped a sweet kiss on her swollen lips. "As are you, my love. Your overnight bag is in the closet."
"Weren't you the overconfident one. What would you have done if you hadn't gotten lucky tonight?"
"I hate to break it to you honey, but you were a sure thing."
She punched his arm in annoyance. He rubbed his arm with a grin. At least it wasn't his nose.
"Now now, Lisbon, cool your jets." Jane got off the bed to find his suit coat on the floor, and he rooted around in one of the side pockets. He brought a small box wrapped in silver paper back to the bed and kneeled before her, presenting it with a flourish. "Merry Christmas, sweetheart."
"It's still a week till away," she said, sitting up on the bed. "I didn't bring your gift with me."
"That's okay. Open it." He seemed more excited now than she was. She unwrapped the expensive paper and blue satin ribbon, revealing a velvet jeweler's box. Inside was a small locket of sterling silver, ornate and obviously antique.
"Look inside," he said. She opened the little clasp and felt tears immediately spring to her eyes. On the left side of the locket was a picture of Jane; on the right, their little baby, Max. Jane had taken the snapshot, the boy's dark, baby-fine curls bringing out the bright green of his eyes. His smile was wide and dimpled.
"Oh God, Jane. It's beautiful!" She handed the necklace back to him and turned around, drawing her long hair to one shoulder. "Here, put it on me please."
He fastened the chain round her neck, kissing beneath her hair before she turned back to face him. He looked at the two other pendants she wore—her crucifix that was her mother's and his old wedding band. "You're garnering quite a collection there," he said hoarsely. She touched them all with one hand where they rested just below her collar bone, while she looked into those beloved blue-green eyes of his.
"Each one is very precious to me. Thank you for the newest addition. I love it. I love you." Her soft smile turned mischievous. "And thank you for picking me up tonight. I definitely didn't want to spend the night alone."
"I'm sure Johnston would have obliged."
She snapped her fingers. "Johnston! That's right."
He laughed. "You forgot his name?"
"It was on the tip of my tongue. But wait—how do you know him?"
"We met at Cho's birthday party last month. Since you're still using your maiden name, I guess he didn't make the connection."
She held up her left hand, where her wedding rings sparkled. "I don't have much hope for him in the Bureau if he missed this minor detail."
Jane was busy pulling back the comforter so they could slip beneath its warmth. He drew her to his side, and she rested her head on his chest. "Aw, give the guy a break," said Jane. "He was likely too overwhelmed by your beauty to notice."
She grinned. "You already got me in bed, Patrick; no need to waste any more of your best pickup lines on me."
He gave a dramatic moan and was on top of her in an instant. She could feel how much he wanted her again. "You called me Patrick. You know what that does to me." He smothered her laughter with his kisses.
As for his promise to be her servant, well, she held him to that. Twice. A woman has her needs, you know.
A/N: I admit to loosely stealing the initial premise from "Modern Family," but I hope you don't mind. Merry Christmas everyone, and a very blessed New Year!
PS: If you would like some ghosts of my Christmas fics past, you might check out "Another Mentalist Mistletoe Fic," "Red Garland" or "Scarlet Ribbons" (not the tag). There are also a couple of series sequels, like "Red and Green" and "Red Velvet Box," and a Thanksgiving fic, "Red Ryder."
"