Another ficlet for the no-safety-pin challenge on LiveJournal. The idea was to think outside of the box and go beyond fluff and romance... so here goes.

Disclaimer: not mine...

I still haven't changed the rating... this chapter could be considered M.


It starts as a joke.

Simple teasing, nothing more than what they do every day. But somehow something escalates and suddenly they are no longer playing. He doesn't miss the flash of emotion clouding her eyes before she shuts down entirely and focuses all of her attention on her computer monitor.

And because he can't leave well enough alone, he pushes at her.

He's in her way, in her space, in her mind. An increasing sense of claustrophobia begins to settle around her like a wet suffocating cloak as he continues to stalk her like prey.

Pushing and prodding and poking and God, why won't he shut the hell up?

But he can't stop himself from taunting her. He needs a reaction, something - anything - to prove to himself that he can still get to her. That he still knows her.

Finally, finally, she blinks and goes incredibly still, her hands utterly frozen in that unsettling way of hers. And he knows the precise instant that she begins ticking like a bomb ready to detonate.

His eyes bore into hers from behind his desk and he can't help the grim sense of satisfaction in this small victory. He sits back and waits for the explosion.

But it never comes.

Until later.


He's hardly surprised when she arrives at his apartment well into the night. Pushing past him without preamble, she looks him up and down and her eyes carry a dangerous glitter he hasn't seen in a long time. He wonders briefly if it is still possible to jam the pin back into the grenade he's thrown in her direction.

But he's sort of too tired to care. Too tired, too angry, too something he can't quite define.

They never make it to his bedroom. She pulls the clothing from her body quickly and methodically while he mimics her actions with much less certainty.

And then she is on him, pushing him to the carpet, riding him, taking him. There's no foreplay, and it's rough and hard and it hurts and she's just not sure who she is punishing; him or herself. But his body reacts, just like hers, and she presses on, faster and harder, desperately trying to get out of her own head.

And because this is going in a direction he never intended, he grips her hip with one hand and reaches for her shoulder with the other trying to slow her down, catch her eye and make sense of what is happening.

But it's too late. The ticking in her mind comes to a screeching halt as she implodes, her face twisting into something dark as she comes. It's too much, too fast, too encompassing and he can't hold himself back, either. His arms snake around her body, dragging her against his chest as he offers a few final thrusts before following her over the edge.

He groans and clutches her tightly against him for a moment before releasing her. He doesn't attempt to stop her as she rolls off of him while he catches his breath.

She's already slipped back into her pants and is pulling on her shirt when it registers with him that she is leaving.

He would ask her where she is going, but he already knows the answer.

He's on his feet in an instant, grabbing for her, because he just can't let her leave. Not like this.

He feels her slipping away and this isn't at all what he intended, so he holds on to her knowing that she can feel the desperation beginning to clog his chest. Placing a palm against his cheek, she kisses him for the first time that evening. Soft, tender and sad.

"I'm sorry," she whispers against his mouth, "I just can't."

And then she is gone and all that is left is shrapnel.


A/N: I'm thinking of writing a second chapter to this ficlet or expanding this into a longer one-shot… I just need to figure out in what direction I want to go. Feedback is much appreciated on this one, folks! Thank you for reading.