This time Olivia opened her eyes immediately, wanting to see if Barba had been affected at all. He seemed so calm, so in control, that she found herself wanting to make him absolutely lose his mind. Strange, but she didn't recall that being one of the effects of the drug.

She untangled her fingers from his hair and released him. He still looked cool and composed, damn him. At least as much as he could be, standing in his apartment in his undershirt, one of his coworkers wrapped around him like a vine. A very needy vine. She was, however, vaguely horrified to note that his hair was completely mussed—had been put that way by HER hands.

Gingerly she dropped her leg. She felt the same relief from the sexual tension as before, but it was almost worse since she knew the lust would return, and soon. She wondered how long he would continue to get her off through her clothes before he finally gave in and fucked her.

Her traitorous body trembled at the thought.

He was standing there, waiting peacefully, while all these thoughts flew through her head. She was having a harder and harder time reigning in her brain, and she hated it. She wished she could simply cede control of this situation and enjoy the hell out of herself, but there was still a small but persistent remnant of sanity that said fucking Rafael Barba's brains out would be a very, very ill-advised idea. No matter that he seemed to be on board.

Wanting to fill the silence, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind: "Can we put the TV on or something? I hate hearing the sounds...I mean, the sound of my own voice."

One corner of his mouth quirked and he turned to cross the room. Olivia felt the rush of cool air on far more skin than she was expecting—and looking down, she let out an embarrassed squeak. Of course she remembered unhooking her bra in the heat of the moment, but when had she stripped off her shirt? Dear god, where was her bra?

Looking frantically around the room, Olivia finally spied it peeking out from under his coffee table. She crept forward, intent on picking it up, and—

And what? Putting it back on?

She stopped, undecided. Maybe the best course would be to just brazen it out. After all—the shirt and bra were already off. His mouth had already been—oh, hell, his mouth had already been on her breasts. All over them except for the one place she wanted his mouth, actually.

No big deal, she told herself. You can DO this. Stand tall.

When he turned back towards her, Olivia did her best to look nonchalant. As if she was regularly nearly naked with friends in the middle of the day. Judging by the expression on his face, she missed nonchalant by a long shot.

"Is the music alright?" he asked.

She hadn't even noticed. But she was noticing now—the heavy, throbbing bass of the Latin music seemed to be pulsing in time with certain parts of her anatomy.

"Not really," she answered, surprised by her own blunt honesty. "It's making things worse."

Barba—no, Rafael, she really needed to separate the two—cocked his head as he observed her. To his credit, his eyes stayed on her face. "The harder you fight this, the harder it will be. It's like being strapped to a speeding train—you just have to embrace it, even though it's completely terrifying."

"Right." She shifted uncertainly, not knowing what to do with herself. Well, that wasn't true—she knew what her body and her brain wanted her to do—with herself, with Rafael, with any available person or object, really.

The thought of masturbating while he watched brought a flush to her whole body.

"That seemed like an interesting thought," he commented, watching her intently.

"It was," she replied. And then, because he didn't press her, and because he hadn't taken his eyes off hers this whole time, she added, "Maybe if you're nice, I'll show you."

It did the trick. His eyes widened before dropping briefly to her breasts, and then shot back to meet her gaze. "I'm always nice," he said, a hopeful plea in his tone.

She laughed, enjoying this. Enjoying them.

"You're rarely nice," she countered, taking a few hesitant steps towards him. "But you're usually fair."

"I'll take it," he answered, his voice gravelly as he watched her come closer.

"Mmm," she hummed in agreement. When she was close enough, she reached for his undershirt and pulled the hem out of his waistband. She paused just long enough to take a breath and then she tugged it up and over his head. He lifted his arms to help her, and then she tossed the plain white cotton over her shoulder to join her own shirt and bra. Rafael swallowed hard several times, patiently waiting. She set her hands on his shoulders, let them slide slowly down over his arms. When she reached his hands, she placed them at her hips and stepped into him.

Her breasts pressed up against his bare chest, and she felt her body respond like an electric shock. Rafael's eyelids dropped as he watched her. The emotions swirling around in their green depths was too much for her to process at the moment, so she tucked her head against his shoulder.

"Please help me," she whispered into his ear. "I need you."

Immediately his arms banded around her, holding her tightly to him. Then he was walking her backwards until they were at the armchair, and he let her go only to press her into the chair. The cool leather on her mostly-bare skin was a delight she could honestly say she'd never before experienced.

Then he knelt in front of her, and the chair was forgotten. Her whole body felt warm and tingly and she had so many visions of where this might be going...

"Panties on or off?" he rasped.

Olivia jolted, her body arching nearly out of the chair. She was so, so ready for whatever he had in mind. In fact, her clitoris felt like it was already most of the way to another orgasm, all from the timbre of his voice while he asked about her panties.

She didn't know how to respond. On or off? It was such a simple question, but the consequences of each answer were so complicated and so varied and she just wasn't sure—

"Too slow," he murmured, and then he grasped her knees and pushed them apart. Olivia gasped, a remote part of her brain thankful for the loud music, and then she moaned out loud when he bent his head and ran his tongue from her knee to the spot where her thigh met her pelvis. He huffed a warm breath in the direction of her still-panty-clad parts, and she melted.

That was the best word. Melted.

And now Rafael took the control she had ceded him, opening her legs even wider and latching his mouth over her mons. He licked her through her panties, the sensation of his tongue blunted by the fabric. It was highly erotic, but she wished now that she'd chosen off. Definitely off.

He chuckled against her and she realized she must have spoken the thought aloud. "That's too bad," he answered, "because I'm going to lick you through these panties until you come and beg me to tear them off."

His words, and the feel of him speaking against the most intimate parts of her, rolled her straight through one orgasm and onto another. As she came down from the high, he slowed his ministrations and then leaned back. "I don't hear any begging," he commented. Then he hooked his fingers into the elastic of her panties and pulled them to the side. As he moved forward again, Olivia felt the last shred of her rational brain succumb to the lust.


A/N: So it's actually my 5th anniversary on tumblr ( haughtyhippogriff) and tumblr is where I really fell into the Benson/Barba fanfic world for the first time. Follow me and check out my anniversary post-I'll write you a 500-word drabble with the prompt and pairing of your choice! Thanks for encouraging me to keep writing these two sass-masters.