Title: The Broom Closet

Genre: Romance/Humor

Summary: Ummm...No idea where this came from. Actually, this was inspired by series 3, eps 8 and 9. Peter is SO fine, and I'm sure you all can agree. ;P Anyway, this is probably as close to smut as I'm ever going to get, so enjoy plz. x

Disclaimer: If, by any chance, I owned Spooks and Ruth and Harry, I would have made DAMNED sure that this happened. But, since it didn't, I obviously don't own anything.


The broom closet was a lot smaller than it seemed after they had stumbled into it. The wall behind her back was cold and hard like steel, Ruth could feel the metallic iciness through her shirt that was quickly being worked upward by his wandering hand.

"Mmmm, oh...H-Harry, what if someone walks in?" She whispered between kisses. Her mind wandered to several different scenarios, each more embarrassing than the next. What if the custodian came in to get a mop, only to find them going at it amongst the cleaning supplies? Unfortunately, his mouth was doing a damn good job of diffusing all of her doubts and tension.

She began to kiss him with equal fervor, hands clutching frantically at his shoulders and back. Ruth was surprised when Harry pulled back with a startled gasp.

"Ruth! You just grabbed my bum!" She fought hard not to laugh. His exclamation came out in a rarely heard voice that was nearly an octave higher than normal. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again." She apologized, despite not sounding too apologetic at all.

"Why not?" He grinned down at her mischievously, the expression was similar to the one he used whenever he teased her. She formed a mock-pout and planted a light kiss on his closed lips. "Well, my obsession with your bum seems to equal yours with pinning me against walls. So we're even." He chuckled quietly, moving both of his warm hands to grip her waist. His fingers traced sensual patterns over the bare skin of her sides.

The fire inside her was instantly rekindled, and her immediate reaction was to roughly pull his middle closer by wrapping one leg around him. Harry was easily able to raise her up off her feet, soon both of her legs ended up tightly around his waist. Their lips met passionately in a battle for dominance and control, hands soon joined in, pushing her flowing skirt past her thigh. Ruth's increasing need was alarmingly painful. His warm breath on her neck was driving her mad, his hands- oh his hands!- roamed her body shamelessly.

Her hips began to grind forward of their own accord. Despite the barrier of his trousers, she could definitely feel the protruding bulge of his manhood. Just when she thought she was going to die of pleasure, Harry began to speak.

"We can't do this...Not here," He extricated himself from her, hating the cold that resulted from not being near her, and backed up to the closet door. In the semi-darkness, he could see her flushed face, her pink, slightly swollen lips, and her exposed, creamy thighs. Her eyes were brightly lit with arousal and anger. In other words, she looked absolutely ravishing. Harry felt some pride in himself for being able to get her like that, but then realized that thinking those kinds of thoughts were only going to drive him back into her arms.

"You bastard. How am I supposed to be able to get back to work after all that? Why the hell did we even come in here in the first place?" She smoothed her skirt down, glaring at him half-heartedly.

"I'll see you at home Ruth," He shut the door behind him so that she could have a few moments to compose herself. He hurried in the direction of the nearest men's room so he could clean up the residual effects of their afternoon tryst.

End