Author's Note: Hadn't posted this earlier because I was feeling like it was dull in comparison to the other chapters, but it's a necessary transition point, and I decided trying to force it to be longer and/or more complicated was a bad idea, since it naturally settled out this way, and my writing style is admittedly go with the flow (aka go along with whatever my f***ed up imagination comes up with).

WARNING: COARSE LANGUAGE. REFERENCES TO MATURE SUBJECT MATTER.

The french fry had made the journey across the plate, through the pool of ketchup, skirting the glob of mayonnaise with a bit of lettuce stuck in, and then back again, seven times by G Callen's count. He let his gaze wander back up the fork to the delicate fingers, to Nell Jones' down turned face. He was trying to be patient, to let the young woman take the lead. He wasn't exactly sure what was happening between them, and what she wanted to talk about, what she wanted to happen. He was pretty certain the 'meeting for lunch to talk' thing was pertaining to the whole out-of-control flirtation situation... and the kiss.

He was an idiot. He shouldn't have kissed her. But once her soft lips had been pressed against his, there really was nothing else he could've done but kiss her back, harder, sucking at her bottom lip a little and then probing her mouth with the tip of his tongue. Walking away just hadn't registered as an option. And was it really his fault? She had basically shoved her fucking gorgeous ass in his face, teasing and taunting him and making the most erotic fantasies swirl through his mind, about what exactly to do to that-

Oh, it looked as if Nell was ready to just spit it out already after a somewhat awkward, mostly silent meal.

"Are we going to have sex?" she asked, her eyes large and a little bit terrified. Wow. She was definitely making up for all the hesitation. Bluntness, thy name is Nell Jones.

"Good question," he said. "I was wondering that myself."

She chewed her lip. It was a quirk of hers so commonplace that he'd witnessed it a hundred times while she was tracking down a lead or contemplating a question at one of their briefings. So why the fuck was it so goddamn erotic to him at that very moment? Why did he sort of want to shove her down onto the cracked red vinyl of the booth seat and screw her right then and there in the somewhat busy diner until she screamed for mercy. And by 'sort of' he meant that he had to clench his right hand into a fist so hard beneath the table that his shortly trimmed fingernails cut into his palm, just to will himself not to do precisely that.

"And?" she asked.

"And...?" Her toe brushed against his leg, and he thought it just a fluke until it happened again. Was she really attempting to initiate a game of footsie with him? He studied her, but she didn't seem aware that she was subconsciously running the toes peeping out of her heeled sandal up and down his shin.

"Can we not do this whole awkward, tiptoeing around the other person's feelings thing?" she asked. He felt himself smirking. Definitely blunt.

"I like straightforward," he said, looking her directly in the eye and giving voice to the only reason he hadn't yet done much more intimate, intriguing, satisfyingly dirty things to her. "I'm not sure it's smart for us to get involved."

She nodded, but didn't look so very disappointed, which well, disappointed him a little. He leaned forward, and she mirrored the action, as he lowered his voice. This was rather a public place, after all.

"But I want to fuck you so much it hurts."

Nell licked her lips and it was all he could do not to groan. Why was she destroying him like this? When did she gain such a power over him? It didn't make any sense. She was just Nell Jones... Nell Jones, with the tight yet supple heart-shaped backside, and the round, perky breasts, and the lips so soft and delicious, and the scent of vanilla on her skin...

"I want you to fuck me so much it hurts," she said. "Figuratively. And literally."

Were they really having this conversation? It was a little bit surreal. But god help him, he wanted to give it to her but good. Which was so, so wrong (she was a coworker, and about fifteen years his junior), yet... fuck, he couldn't deny his ridiculous carnal desire for the young woman, the blatantly mutual and unbelievably intense attraction between them, one that needed to be sated or he honestly didn't know what would happen. Maybe his brain would implode. (Although his brain wasn't exactly all that involved in this whole ordeal).

"Okay," he said, pretty much without his brain's consent... "When?"

Her eyes grew wide, but with a decidedly lascivious glint.

"If I said 'right now wouldn't be soon enough', how big of a slut would you think I am?" she asked.

He chuckled, took hold of one of her hands, and played his fingers over her palm, and then looked up into her inquiring gaze.

"I'd think you were only half as desperate for me as I am for you."

Wow. Really, G? The pathetic part was that it was the fucking truth and not just a terribly cheesy line. He wanted her. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd lusted after a woman like this. He'd admired a few bottoms, breasts, figures and faces. He'd been attracted to several very interesting women with charming personalities. But to lose control of his thoughts (and sometimes actions) whenever he touched her... to fantasize about the ways he might be able to get away with fucking her in their workplace... to become more than a little aroused every time he laid eyes on her... He needed to find a solution.

And there he had it. It was only logical to bed Nell Jones. Barring castration of some sort, he was never going to stop thinking about making the young woman's toes curl and back arch.

Nell was laughing at him with her eyes, her lips twitching, as well.

"Well, then. I think we'd better do something about this problem," she said.

"Agreed," Callen said. The logical part of his brain scoffed at his pitiful attempt at rationalization. "It only makes sense for us to have sex."

"Right." She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand. "Eliminate the distraction."

"Exactly." That was indeed a good point. Because thinking about fucking the little pixie to within an inch of her life admittedly had commandeered a lot of his brain power over the past week, whether it was appropriate or not. But why wasn't it? Yes, they worked together. But not in ways that such an intimacy as casual sex could compromise, not like with federal agents who were partners, who spent almost every minute of a twelve-plus hour work day together. Plus, from what he'd observed of the young woman, Callen actually believed she'd be capable of separating her private life from work, maybe even the physical from the emotional. This could work. They were consenting adults. And she was one of the few people in the world who really knew him. So it was obviously an informed decision on her part. And most importantly, he literally ached to have her. He actually found it more amusing than embarrassing that he so often became uncomfortably aroused when he spent more than just a few minutes with Nell Jones. Maybe he'd stop wondering what her naked body felt like beneath his hands so damn much if he had the knowledge of it.

He leaned in and kissed her, much more briefly than before, but not as chastely as he had intended for the public locale. After he broke the short kiss, he didn't pull back right away, instead whispering in her ear.

"You really are a genius, aren't you?"

She laughed lightly.

"Does that hold true-" he began to ask, but she interrupted him in that old quirk of hers.

"For the bedroom? You'll just have to find out."

"Tonight?"

"Tonight." She sat back and studied him with her large, round, gorgeous, lusty hazel eyes. "Provided that we get out of work on time."

He raised an eyebrow. The job barely released them by 8pm on a daily basis. Was she having second thoughts?

"Because I want plenty of time to have my way with you."

He smiled, trying not to think of precisely what that would entail, such as sexual positions... sweat-dampened hair and skin... moans, groans, screams or would she purr... how many orgasms could he tease from her...

"So, bar any emergencies at work...?" he asked.

"My place. At Nine."

Callen paid the check. Nell left the tip for the waitress, who had done her job but thankfully stayed away beyond taking their orders and bringing their food and the bill. He followed Nell out of the diner, allowing himself to rest his hand on the small of her back, feeling like he did possess some small claim on the young woman. After all, they had just made a date... for a sexual encounter.

A/N: Not quite in character, but obviously it's not going to be truly in character, because then they wouldn't be hooking up… And I'm not going to lie, this fic's main function is obviously SMUT. The next chapter will be the climax, and a long one (innuendo intended).