Chapter Three Part Two: A Need to be Distracted

AN: this chapter is pure W/C fluff…well as fluffy as this story gets.

Warrick pulled onto his street and risked a glance at Catherine. She was in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead. Her cheeks and shirt were stained with tears; her fists were slowly clenching and unclenching on her pants. In short, she was beautiful.

He shook his head. He should so NOT be thinking about his feelings for her the night she'd lost her daughter. His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he pulled into his driveway.

"We're here, c'mon Catherine." She didn't move. Warrick shut his door and walked around to the passenger side. He opened her door and peered down at her. She wasn't moving.

He reached across her chest and unbuckled her seatbelt. He grasped her arm and pulled her from the car. He shut the door and they headed slowly for his front door. He unlocked it and led Catherine inside. He tugged on her arm and made sure she sat on his couch.

He went to his kitchen and got two MGDs out of the fridge. He returned to the living room and handed one of the long-neck bottles to Catherine. She downed it in under a minute.

He paused, staring at her. He handed her his beer and went to get another one for himself. He sat back down and continued to watch her.

"Why?" she whispered softly, staring at her second empty beer bottle. He didn't reply, figuring she wanted to blow some steam. "Why Lindsey?"

She looked up, but didn't see anything. "Why God damn it?" She threw the beer bottle as hard as she could. It crashed into the wall and shattered. She started to sob.

"I'm sorry, I'll clean it up."

"No," Warrick said, speaking for the first time. "Leave it, it's not going anywhere."

Catherine covered her face. Tears fell from between her fingers. Warrick wasn't quite sure what to do. This woman was the strongest person he knew, and he just wasn't sure how to comfort her…if he could.

She mumbled something into her hands.

"What?" He asked. He hadn't understood her.

She looked up at him, green eyes meeting shimmering blue ones.

"Fuck me."

Warrick's mouth fell open and she took the opportunity to kiss him.

He was frozen in shock as her lips worked his. Her tearstained cheeks pressed against his. She straddled his waist and began to shift her weight around suggestively.

What the hell is she thinking? Warrick thought. He finally broke down and responded ever so slightly to her kisses.

This was so NOT happening.

"Catherine… what?'

"Shut up."

She bit his lower lip, never looking him directly in the eyes. He felt blood gush into his mouth and she licked it up.

He had to get the upper hand here.

He reached up and grabbed her wrists. He flipped over, so she was under him. She moaned and pushed her hips against his.

He closed his eyes tightly. God he wanted this, but not like this.

"Catherine! Catherin-" he stopped talking as she pressed her lips against his again. Damn, this was getting very out of hand.

"Just do it, damn it," she hissed against his lips. He tightened his grip on her wrists and stood up, pulling her with him. She tripped and fell against his chest, a look of shock on her face.

"You want this?" Warrick hissed.

He jerked her wrists again. She kissed him and bit his lip again. He winced as the pain flared. She pulled back and began to ravish his neck.

He shut his eyes in defeat. She only wanted to be distracted. Hell, she'd probably do this if he was Greg, or hell, even Ecklie.

Naw, he hoped she would never sink that low.

He gave in and pulled her back to his bedroom. She wanted it rough, she had already demonstrated that. He moved her wrists into one hand and ripped her blouse off with the other. It tore into shreds and littered the floor.

He flipped her easily onto the bed and crawled on top of her. She quickly pulled his shirt from his body and started to work on his pants. He ripped hers off, ruining the dry clean only slacks.

Maybe he needed distracted too.

Their clothes lay on the floor.

It was so hot.

Images flashed through his mind as she mounted him; when she was attacked at the crime scene, the whole thing with the finger, talking about their high school days, that day in the drain…

Oh God, he was officially screwed when it came to Catherine Willows.

They moved together, friction adding to the heat in the room. Moans, screams, purrs, muffled whispers, all added to the air conditioner's background hum.

Catherine's mind was blank. All that mattered right now was the man underneath her. Her head was flung back, her chest heaving.

It had been a very long time since she had had sex like this. Most men preferred to be on top.

She felt Warrick convulse underneath her. He was near.

He grunted, and his seed spilled into her womb. She gave a muffled scream as she reached her peak and rolled off of him.

She reached down and pulled the covers over both of them.

She was done.

Warrick rolled away from her and curled into the fetal position. What in the hell had he just done? He felt tears well in his eyes and drift onto his pillow.

Good Lord, he loved Catherine, and he felt like he had just taken advantage of her.

He could hear her heavy breathing. The room smelled of sex, and the sheets were soiled with their sweat.

He could not believe what had just happened. He curled into a tighter ball and hugged his knees to his chest, and he let the tears fall.

Catherine lay awake, staring at the ceiling. She felt as if she had a giant hole in her heart where her daughter was supposed to be. She rolled over and faced Warrick, but all she saw was his back.

She frowned when she noticed his shoulders shaking ever so slightly. She reached out and touched him. He had comforted her; it was only fair that she return the favor, even if she didn't understand why he was crying.

He froze under her touch. She spooned against him, their bodies merging together. She buried her face in his neck.

For years she had hid her growing lust for Warrick, and hid it quite well. It had all tumbled down around her when they went down the drain. She realized at that moment that it hadn't been lust.

Be still her heart, she was in love.

She felt a tear roll down her cheek and hit his back and continue until it hit the sheets.

What had started as lust, had turned into love, and was consummated with a need to be distracted.

What irony the gods have.