So, I like a bit o' fluff as much as the next person, but truly, this is what I really feel like the story needs.


No

Gillian opened her mouth to answer, and the words just wouldn't come. She had too much to lose. Cal saw it in her face before she responded, he saw the decision she'd made. Closing her eyes so she wouldn't have to see his reaction, she shook her head.

"Fine," he said in rough voice. And he pulled off her underwear and picked one of her legs up around his waist, slamming into her without another word.

"Fuck!" they said together, her head falling back against the wall and his falling onto her shoulder. He thrust into her again and again, his mouth laving the skin at her neck. Nothing had ever felt so good.

"Fuck, Foster. You're so bloody tight. You feel so fucking good. Is this what you wanted?" he asked. "All those nights you were in that wanker's bed, is this what you wanted?" He pounded into her, absolutely relentless. Not even bothering to take off her bra, he just pushed it up over her breasts and took one in his hand, rolling her nipple in his rough fingers. Her answer came out as a moan.

"Yes. What about you?" she asked, because part of her was still angry at Cal. "When you were in bed with Clara, were you thinking of me?"

"I think about you all the time, Gill. Constantly. Especially when my cock's hard."

"And is this everything you imagined?"

"Almost. And anyway, that was meaningless."

"So is this," Gillian whispered. Cal's movement came to a screeching halt.

"That's a lie," he spat. "Now, you can say whatever you want about this tomorrow. Say it never happened, say it was a mistake, say you didn't feel anything. But you looked me in the eye and told me you loved me tonight. So don't you dare try to tell me this is meaningless. Save the lies for after, but don't belittle this while we're doing it."

She looked away, trying to escape the depth of emotion in his face. "You're right," she said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, love," he said. "Be honest." And his hand dropped to her other leg, bracing her so she could wrap both of them around his waist. Her hands clawed for purchase on his back as he started thrusting into her again. He still had on his shirt, so she pulled it up high enough to get her hands underneath, sinking her nails into his shoulders.

They were both frantic now, such long pent up emotions boiling over. He could feel that he was close, even after such a short time. It was Gillian, for god's sake. It was all he had ever wanted, and all pain aside, it was just exquisite. He picked his head up, watching his face as he shifted her, looking for that perfect angle that would make her see stars. He didn't even need his gifts; when he found it her spine snapped back so hard he was afraid she'd hurt herself.

"Cal!" she moaned. "Cal, I'm so close…"

"So'm I, darling, just let it go. Come on, Gillian. I want to watch your face when you come all over my cock." It was his words, the ragged uncontrolled edge to his voice that sent her over. She screamed, exactly like she had months earlier, screamed and threw her head back as a mind-blowing orgasm shot through her, making all her muscles shake.

The look on her face was all Cal needed, and he was undone too, burying his face in her neck and biting down on the tender flesh there. He knew he was leaving a mark on her, and was glad of it. She might not have been his, but this way he could pretend, at least for a minute. One last thrust and he emptied inside of her, crying out.

They sank to the floor together, neither of them ready to support their own weight. Cal rested his head on her chest, their arms still around each other as they panted, both of them savoring a bittersweet closeness. In far too short a time, the glaze had worn off, and Gillian shifted under his weight. He moved away from her, both of them sticky with sweat as she pulled her bra back down over her breasts and looked around for her underwear. They both avoided looking at each other as Cal stood up, readjusting his shirt and pulling his pants back up. When he was suitably clothed, he held a hand out to her to pull her up too. Still unsteady, she leaned forward into him, and he caught her. He was hurt to see how quickly she pushed away from him, shame all over her face. Shame that tore him up inside too. She turned around, grabbing her dress and pulling it back on, zipping it up hastily.

She picked up her shoes, and was on her way out the door, when Cal called after her. He just couldn't stand to leave it like this.

"Gillian." He was afraid she wouldn't stop, but she did. She stopped, and turned around, and even met his eyes for a second. "I've just got one more thing to ask," he went on. "One more little bit of honesty. You owe me that."

Now she turned squarely to face him. Not backing away, not denying that she did owe him anything he wanted to ask.

"Why? Why are you walking away from this? And don't give me that bollocks about being scared of losing me or my friendship, because I know there's something else. I can see it all over your face."

"Honestly, Cal? It's not you I'm afraid to lose. It's me. I see that look in your eyes and I just know that I could lose myself in you without even thinking. That you could just consume me. You're already my best friend, and my business partner. If I let you into my bed and into my heart, there'll be nothing left of me that isn't you. Without me you'd still have Emily, and your science, and this firm. If I let you into my heart like that and it didn't work out—and I'm sure it wouldn't work out, Cal—then when it was over I'd be left with nothing. And I'm terrified of that."

He could think of nothing to say to this. Instead, he just stared at her, that long, intense stare that she was always afraid to break. But she couldn't let him keep her trapped there like that, so finally she turned away and began walking out the door.

"You're using me, you know," he called after her. This time she didn't turn to face him, but he could still see the regret and shame in her body language.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Until next time, then, love," he said with a flippancy he didn't feel at all.

Gillian turned back when she got to the door, and the look she gave him was one of pity, forced pity covering up deep shame. "There won't be a next time," she said, and shut the door. Cal reached down behind his desk, his fingers closing around a small scrap of black cotton.

"Liar," he said scornfully, and stuffed her panties into his pocket.


Too depressing? On to chapter four!