Prompt: can you make one about their time apart in coral palms, like an angst one with they thinking about each other (in sexy ways too jsjs)
Key kinky buzzwords: masturbation, switch!both, gentle femdom, comfort
It had been a month now, and reality had finally started to sink in. That this wasn't just gonna be a couple of weeks. The reality of how indefinite this was.
Maybe he was in denial. They had to go into witness protection cause they were nowhere close to catching Figgis, so it was just tricking himself into believing he'd only be in this hot hell for a week or two before case was solved and he'd get to come home to her.
God he missed her. So much. He just wanted to be back home in bed, snuggled up with Amy under the covers, with her stroking his hair while he curled up into her.
Instead he was lying flat on his stomach in this empty king size bed that didn't even smell like her, staring at the wall and waiting for unconsciousness to take him. Never mind that it was the middle of the day, and sunlight was still streaming in from the windows. He just wanted to sleep for years. Until this was all over. Wake up next to Amy.
Jake's not even sure if he's supposed to feel weird about it or not, but at this point he's so depressed and thinking of Amy is the only thing that makes him happy, and by the time his hand makes it to his cock, he's resigned to it and doing it for the dopamine.
That was something Amy had told him about.
Amy. Beautiful Amy, with the sweet smile and soft lips, who smelled like heaven, who was always warm.
He wondered if she was thinking of him. God, he hoped she was. In like a sexy way. He didn't want her to be as sad as he felt. Fuck, what if she was? Fuck fuck, don't think about it, there's nothing you can do, just let yourself fantasize for a moment about your girlfriend without being such a sad sack and- Amy smiling. Amy laughing, getting that cute little crinkle around her nose when he does something totally charming but she doesn't want to let him know that she thinks he IS charming and adorable.
Amy moaning. Amy begging for more, the way she writhed on the bed, on the countertops, that one time they just fucked on the floor.
The little shiver she gets in her voice when she's turned on.
How she rocks against his hand when he's just rubbing her, the blush on her check the first time she told him "I like it when you just... you know, from behind" she had whispered as he snaked his arms around her midsection, her back against his chest, and she guided his hand lower, to slip under her jeans, how she had practically melted when he fingered her from behind like that.
Panting, her hair all messed up, making those quiet little gasps as he moved over her clit, his digits already slick and covered in her arousal and fuck, the way she said his name, all desperate and wanting, when she got fed up with teasing and just did whatever she wanted with him, tugged his hair, bit his throat, whispered in his ear "you want this, don't you?" And all he could do was nod, a shallow whine building up in the back of his throat.
Amy almost throws her vibrator aside on the bed, she thought she wanted to use it until she laid down and got all her clothes off and no, just screw it, she's using her hands this time.
She groans, completely frustrated, even as she starts the teasing touches on her own skin, thumbing over her nipple before giving it a light tug, even though she didn't really need the foreplay so to say.
She was already wet between the thighs and very turned on, she didn't need to bring out the vibrator as she slips her hand between her thighs, the slick slide of her fingers over her clit already so good.
She's just- she's frustrated. Not sexually. Emotionally. She bites her lip, takes a deep breath, lets it out.
She misses him. Of course she misses him.
It's been surreal. Almost a month now. Over a month. She thought she'd be counting the days, but they just blur together.
She misses his stupid face and his stupid smile and his stupid laugh that she loves so much. She misses the jokes and references to movies she's never seen or ones she only knows exist because of him.
She misses the soft little smile, how shy he gets whenever they're alone and she says something meaningful, really meaningful, and it makes him blush and want to hide his face and also get closer to her. She misses the weight of his head on her chest, when they're lying in bed together as she runs her fingers through his hair, their lungs slowing and hearts beating as one.
She misses his hands, the ones that are always eager to find hers, hold hers, please her.
She misses the way he touches her when they're intimate, how he looks at her like she's his whole world but still extraordinarily present, always in tune to her body's reactions, not just her words, but when she's too far gone to even speak as he wrings another orgasm out of her, drinking her in with his gaze.
She misses the way he folds whenever she starts not directing him, but taking charge. How his eyes widen and his pupils dilate, his breath catching when she gets that smile on her face, gives him a firm push on the chest. How dramatic the rise and fall of his chest is whenever she's controlling him, she doesn't even have to say a word, he just gives in, gives in to her. How he exposes his throat, knowing she's going to bite it, the sharp little gasp that always brings out of him.
She misses the way he shudders when she drags her nails down his scalp, how his lips fall open when she palms him through his pants, sucking on his neck as he grips her hip, squeezing, because he needs to hold onto her to keep him grounded. She misses the whines and the whimpers it's never too hard to draw out of him.
She misses the way he says her name, the way he begs, moans when he's desperate from her teasing.
She misses how satisfying it is, to have his body compliant and under hers. Holding his wrists, pinning him down to the bed, making him squirm, until he's just rubbing against her out of sheer desperation, and he makes the most beautiful sounds.
She misses teasing him something filthy and then kissing him something sweet, how it's like he's breathing his soul into her then.
How it's always fun to do something rough, but it's being soft with Jake Peralta that makes him break down.
She misses holding him afterward, how he'll place kisses on her collarbone down to her belly button until she's giggling and twisting away from him, and he still doesn't let her go. She misses his smile. She misses his smile.
"Did you miss me?" Amy asked with a grin, pushing him against the wall, already panting from their makeout session, flipping her hair back a little so it's not in her eyes anymore, so she can see how delicious he looks all eager and surrendering to her.
"That's not a real question, right?" He didn't know how it could be. They'd made it pretty clear how much they missed each other in the past two weeks he'd been home.
He'd showed her just how much he missed her, many times since then.
Amy smiles, clearly fond of his answer. She moves into him, closes the gap between their bodies, pressing him into the wall with her own.
She leans in, and Jake thinks she's going for a kiss and of course he tries to meet her, but she dips her head, kissing the corner of his mouth instead of his lips, then she presses light little kisses along his jaw and Jake gets the name of this game, sighing and letting his head thunk back against the wall as she littered his skin with kisses, one hand at his throat, her thumb just under the hinge of his jaw to angle him where she wanted to open up for her access, her other hand playing all light and simple with his hair.
"I meant- in this context-" she smiles, lips still pressed against his skin, like she can't stop kissing him even for a moment, won't stop. His Adam's apple bobs. "I meant were you, thinking of me," she murmurs, softly stroking his neck with her thumb, her hand cupping him such a firm and reassuring pressure. "In a sexy way." She punctuated the sentiment with a rather forceful roll of her hips into his that soon turned into slow, torturous grinding on her part.
"Every time I watched a documentary I either got really horny and started masturbating or I got really sad and started crying. Both cause of you."
When she pulls back, he's almost sorry he said it, because the absence of her lips is something he feels acutely. He thinks he's gonna get one of those soft looks from her, maybe an "oh baby," in that soft, sympathetic, loving voice of hers, the one that just makes his heart ache because he can hear how much he means to her, maybe she'll rub his arm, say she loved him and missed him too.
But she doesn't say anything of the sort.
Instead, she gives him a rueful smile, says "I've watched die hard way more times by myself the past 6 months than I've ever watched with you."
It startles a laugh out of him, and then he has his hands on her face, and he's kissing her, cause he just can't help himself.
He's smiling too, and maybe even crying a little, but they're definitely happy tears.
Because he's home. He's really, really home.