Hello...
The following chapter is one of the reasons why this piece has a M Rating. So, if you're not interested or can't take the content please feel free to skip onto the next chapter. I promise to give future warnings as well.
Thanks again for reading. Comments welcome.
At 2000 hours the door to Bradford's quarters chirps. He looks around one last time before heading to answer it.
He had handed off the bridge to Banks, after he had met with the Commander. Walking to the mess hall he hoped there would be something halfway decent this evening. Bradford didn't mind himself personally, but he was thinking of her. He had had 20 years to get use to the lack of XCom funding. For the Commander the shift from the mess hall food of HQ to that of the Avenger's stolen supply drops might be a bit jarring.
Earlier that day when Firebrand took a supply team to the Black Market, Bradford joined the run. His presence surprised the squad. Central only put boots down when - well when it was important. If any of the team thought to ask Chief Shen on the platform that day they might have learned that it was actually only when it had to do with the Commander.
Bradford didn't know why he had gone or what he was even looking for. He just knew he wanted to find something for her. What was common in the city centers became a luxury for the crew. It was contraband. ADVENT didn't ship such things as fresh fruit, chocolate or even clothing. To get anything you had to venture into the centers and for the CO of the renegade XCom team it wasn't even as easy as that. Still the simplest thing could make life on the Avenger more bearable.
As the door slides open Bradford finds himself almost eye to eye with the Commander. She is on her feet, much to his dismay. He had spent the day alongside her in that damn chair and though he understood the need for the contraption he hated what it represented - his failure.
Now there is no sign of it. Glancing down he notices she is holding, more than using a cane. He feels himself start to smile and attempts to pull it back drawing a smirk across his lips. The Commander catches this and smiles herself. "Ah- there it is," she says.
"Excuse me?"
"That smirk of yours. I was beginning to think you lost it," she tells him. This has the intended result - he smiles a little more as he steps aside allowing her entry. As she passes he catches her scent. She is wearing the perfume that has haunted him for the past 20 years. The last time he smelt it was the day he packed her things after sneaking into the abandoned HQ. Bradford often wondered if that was the trigger that set on his dark period.
Looking around she sees Central's quarters, while not as large as hers, were quite similar. She assumes that it is a standard layout- bed, workstation, seating area and bathroom. She is glad to see he hasn't punished himself by living in the troop's living quarters like he had at HQ.
She walks over to his desk and leans against it, placing her cane off to the side. It would be more appropriate for her to sit on one of the cushioned bench seats in the center of the room, but she is afraid she might have difficulty getting to her feet again if she did and she doesn't want him to see that.
He glances at the cane and she says, "Shen is very resourceful - I'm quite sure there is some sort of blade or weapon in it but I have yet to find it," she chuckles.
The sound of her laugh is refreshing. There are few people here who remembered how to these days. Perhaps her years away have preserved that part of her as well, when it simply died in so many of those left behind.
"Can I get you a drink?" he asks
"Whatever you're having."
He walks across the room and picks up two bottles of water showing them to her. She nods in approval. Opening them he pours the contents into two glasses, "I took my last drink 16 years ago," he says as he hands her the glass. He looks into the pools of her eyes, "when I finally knew you were out there."
He wants to keep looking at her. In fact he has missed doing it for 20 years but he can't look at her while he tells her this. Taking a sip from his glass he turns away. "When I finally reached control - well you were gone. The others all dead except for Corporal Kelley. Do you remember her? - It had been her first shift in mission control. She was on the ground, under a workstation badly wounded - bleeding out," his voice is low and she can barely hear him. "I told her I would get her out, but needed to know where you were. She cried - saying they took you. Something big but she couldn't tell me what."
"A Muton," she tells him and he glances over at her.
He nods his head and she sees him bite the edge of his lip, "That's what I thought. I picked her up to get her out of there but she- died sometime between mission control and me getting her down the tunnel. After HQ fell I searched for you. Spoke to everyone who I could find that survived. I listened to anyone who would talk and even made a few who were reluctant to. There was nothing. No sign. No word. No trace. You were just gone." He puts the glass on the table and sits down. "Don't know how much of the archive you read, but ADVENT started to hunt us and I went underground. The world changed very quickly."
Looking at him now she can't help but think of the man she once knew. They had spent the night before the attack discussing one of Dr. Vahlen's recent requests. She had wanted a strike team to subdue and capture a Berserker for study. The Commander didn't like the thought of having one of those things in HQ, but Bradford was attempting to see the possible scientific benefits of study. She was watching him talk out the argument not hearing half of what he was saying. She was looking at his body. She had noticed he had been working out. His XCom sweater showed the definition of his arms and she had the strange urge to reach out and feel them - but that would make things awkward.
She already felt things were strained between them. He had become overly protective of her since the security breach, often walking her to her quarters or accompanying her to research or engineering. Not that she minded. She liked spending time with Bradford. She had learned very quickly being the Commander was a very lonely post. His company helped her cope, but she found herself longing for more than pleasant conversation about recruiting. Perhaps if she had been older or married before accepting the position things would have been different. She yearned to be treated like a woman and less like the Commander. She found herself thinking of her CO on those lonely nights in bed.
He clears his throat and she looks up, " I started to give up hope - and that's when I started to drink. Self-loathing in a bottle." He smirks at this painfully.
Looking up at her standing there he realizes she changed her clothes after her shift. She's wearing a skirt like she did back then and a tight knit top. He lets himself look at her body unabashed, liking what he is seeing. She had tilted her head as she listened, letting her chestnut locks fall against her shoulder. He remembers how soft it felt...
"But you came out of it," she tells him.
"Yeah - I lost 4 years in that place, but look who I'm talking to," he gestures to her and she gives him a shrug. The Commander thinks he has lost more than that, maybe as much as she has
When he stops talking she realizes she hears music playing. It is old and she even thinks she hears the unmistakable pop of a phonograph. "Is that music?" She finally asks him.
"Shen found a resistance radio station out there. It plays some real old ones. Reminds me of the stuff my grandfather played in his workshop back home," he says smiling.
She listens for a moment, liking the tune. It is pleasant - nice and slow. She feels her body begin to sway to it. She looks over at him. He is watching her. She decides it's time to throw him off kilter again. "Do I have to give you an order or will you ask me to dance?"
He slowly gets to his feet and makes his way to her. The Commander thinks how striking he has become over their years apart. He is roguishly handsome - no more boyish charm, but a man. His brown hair has darkened and there were hints of gray and white flecks. Gone is the clean shaven soldier, his handsome face now dawning slightly more than a five o'clock shadow.
Standing before her he extends his hand and she takes it with pursed lips knowing in some way she is crossing a possible line. He pulls her off the desk into his arms with enough force to take her breath away. Slipping his arm around her waist he touches the small of her back. She lets her hand rest on his bicep and her other nuzzled in the palm of his hand. She looks up at him shyly. Though she is still technically two years his senior she felt her naiveté in his mature arms.
As they move together to the music she thinks how he had opened up to her. Sharing his flaw had created a new intimacy between them. She can't bring herself to look at him. She can feel his intense gaze on her. She keeps her eyes downcast, staring at his chest. Finding her voice she speaks to him softly, "I told you I saw things when I was in stasis." She doesn't like thinking about it, but being here with him like this seems to make it easier to talk about. "They were always different - not all pleasant." He whispers yes, urging her on. His arms pull her closer to shield her from the possible pain.
"There were also smells," she smiles at this thought. "It was rare but I would get a whiff of something." He feels her fingers playing with the sleeve of his shirt, feeling the fabric. "There was cinnamon, clean laundry and fresh brewed coffee...stuff like that. Those didn't happen often - but..." She stops and seems to be searching his shirt for her next words. He gives her hand a gentle squeeze.
Looking up she gazes into his aged eyes. He gives her a soft smile telling her it was alright. "There was one smell that came more often than the rest - when it did I saw an image or a vision." She watches his face a little afraid to tell him. She swallows hard, "It was you….It was always you," she confesses.
He feels his breath catch in his chest and then he sees a little crinkle come across her brow. It is the one that tells him she is unsure of herself. They stand there like that gazing at each other letting her words hang between them. He has pulled her even closer and there is barely room for them to breath.
Bradford thinks of the first time he had held her in his arms. It was during the breach. Sensors were being tripped all over the perimeter, in fact Bradford himself had been attacked by one of their own mind controlled staff. In the chaos to regain Mission Control he noticed the door to the situation room open. Racing there he heard her in distress. When he got to the room it was in disarray. She was struggling with a recruit. The recruit had his hands around her throat. He had slammed her up against the wall - her face turning red and her eyes watering. She raked her nails across his face. He slammed her again as Bradford yelled "Commander!" Her head hit the wall and she was knocked unconscious.
Taking the butt of the pistol he still gripped he struck her attacker on the back of the skull. Both of them dropped to the floor. She laid there - neck raw red and eyes closed. He sat her up and took her pulse. She was alive. "Oh thank God," the CO whispered. Picking her up he held her close in his arms for a moment. His face buried in her hair. Carefully he carried her to the table and laid her down. Before leaving he touched her cheek- caressing it gently.
"The Commander needs medical attention and I want someone on the situation room now," he barked as he turned to the monitors of control.
"Permission to speak Central," she says looking up at him. His eyes refocus on her - he had been so far away she thinks. He parts his lips but nothing came out except - "Commander".
"If you're going to hold me so tight you should probably call me Maggie," she says with a flirty smile. She doesn't know what he is thinking but she thinks it best to lighten the mood.
He searches her face for a second and then leans in kissing her. Pressing his lips gently to hers afraid he might break her. He feels her mouth open to him, accepting his tongue as it slips inside deepening their kiss before he reluctantly pulls his mouth away.
She clings to him, having felt her legs give way as he kissed her for the first time. She has fantasized about this moment for so long. Slightly breathless she speaks, "I was almost positive I was going to have to give you an order one of these days." He reaches up and caresses her cheek like he had that terrible day.
"I shouldn't have," he says abruptly letting go of her. She won't let him retreat - not now. Grabbing his hand she yanks him back to face her. She doesn't understand why he is running until she sees his face.
"Central?" She whispers.
He looks at her, "I'm sorry." She understands now that his pleas for forgiveness weren't dreams.
"Why? Because of what happened to me? Because you weren't on the bridge that day?" He looks cut by her words. He frees himself from her grasp and moves to the desk, keeping his back to her. "Yes, it could have been different. Very different if you had - but it might have meant you wouldn't have been here to find me now." She goes to him reaching up, placing one of her hands on his shoulder blade.
He knows she's right. It is possible that he would have lain among the dead in control that day, but at least he would have fought - would have tried.
"I never blamed you. I don't - But I will forgive you if that is what you need to hear. I do," her voice has such a tone of desperation. He turns to look at her. There are tears in her eyes. She touches his face and in a soft broken voice says, "But you need to forgive yourself John."
He leans back sitting on the edge of desk as she had. Bending forward he places his hands on his thighs looking down at the floor. He looks so worn - defeated.
The Commander approaches him reaching up and touching his shoulder. He reaches out gripping her hips, pulling her towards him, letting his head rest against her chest. He holds tight to her. "You saved me - each time I saw you in my mind you kept me safe from them," she whispers to him letting her fingers slip up into his hair.
Bradford draws himself up to look at her. She moves closer, standing between his legs. Leaning in she places a soft open mouth kiss on his lips. She lets it linger feeling his stubble against her skin. Her hand begins to explore his chest and arms - finally satisfying her curiosity after all those years. He hears her mutter softly, "I wanted this for so long."
He stands still letting her touch and kiss him, unable to move. There had been so many nights where he had fallen asleep thinking of a moment like this - they had occupied him when they were together at HQ and consumed him when she was gone.
When she had her fill, she pulls away. The intensity of her stare arouses him. She lets a finger slide across his lips and then back to trace the bottom one before tracing the scar on his cheek - the one she meant to ask him about. She kisses it, hoping it would heal it and him. Carefully she unclips his tactical harness, pushing it off his shoulders letting it clatter to the table behind him.
An overwhelming urge takes him and he reaches up grabbing her to take what he has wanted. He kisses her hard - with deep unhinging passion. He needs to - she gives him life and he wonders how he has survived this long without her. There is a new hunger he had never known.
The feeling takes her and she bites at his lip, animal like - then sucking it gently as she pulls away. Taking his hand she tugs him, begging him to follow her to the bed. Bradford's mouth becomes dry, "are you sure, Comm-"
She looks back at him, "if you call me Commander, I swear I'll have you demoted," she scolds with a playful grin.
He is serious, she needs to be sure. "Well you are," his tone is deliberate and respectful, every bit the CO he was.
"Not in here. Not when it's us," she tells him pulling him along and then pushing him down to sit on the bed. He looks up at her as she pulls her top off over her head in one sweeping motion. Seeing the bare skin of her chest makes him think of the buttons of her blouse, open and calling to his younger self. He reaches up letting his fingers feel the silkiness of that patch of skin as he trails them down between her breasts. He has always wondered what she felt like there.
Her hands stretch back and unzip her skirt letting it fall to the floor to pool at her feet. She likes that he is finally allowing himself to look at her, devouring her with those deep brown eyes. Slowly she drops to her knees. He reaches for her and she stops him, placing his hands on the bed. Her hands tracing down his thighs to his calves. She starts to unlace his boots.
How unbelievably sexy she is, he thinks as he looks at her before him in her black bra and panties - sweetly removing his boots. He never imagined her like this. Carefully removing them she places them aside and then sliding closer to him, reaching for the bottom of his shirt. She tugs impatiently attempting to free it from his pants. He helps her, pulling it off and tossing it on the floor. He hears a soft gasp escapes her lips as she looks at his naked chest. He has more scars - one on his abdomen and another down the center of his rib cage. Touching them she frowns before leaning in and placing wet tender kisses on each. "They didn't hurt," he tells her pulling her up to lie down beside him.
He lets his thumb skim her full lips and she tries to take it into her mouth. He pulls it away replacing it with his own. She whimpers softly letting his hands trace her jawline and trail down her neck. Whimpers turn to moans under his touch. It is hard to believe such tenderness could be found in such a rough masculine man and yet she knows it was there all along. In the way he looks at her, speaks to her and respects her.
He takes his time, like a good soldier he needs to know every inch of her before he makes his assault. Moving over her body like surveying the terrain of a sector. Letting his mouth and hands find each ridge, each valley and every plateau. Why had he waited to so long?
Feeling the coarse skin of his fingertips excites her. She rocks her body to meet his touch, feeling the ache when they are not there. Losing herself in him as he makes his way down her. He kisses her scars too as she had kissed his - wounds of a battle that had been lost. Tears come to her eyes, lingering at the corners as his mouth placed a succession of little soft kisses along the scar just above her panties. She feels him hook his finger into the sides of the fabric, gently tugging them as she lifts her hips slightly so he can pull them away exposing herself to him.
He yearns to taste her, craves it. Sensing his need she slowly spreads her legs, granting him access to her. Her hands grip the wool blanket under her, bracing herself for the next sensation. She lets out a premature gasp as she feels the bristles of his five o'clock shadow on her inner thigh, before his tongue takes its initial sweep of her folds. Savoring each lap he lets himself indulge on her sweetness. Coating his lips with her as he feeds his hunger.
She moans quietly. Her fingers let go of the blanket and reach for him sliding into his short greying hair. She grips it, tugging it gently. Her body surrenders to him - writhing under his charge. It has been so long since she felt this way.
Bradford coaxes her further, though he does not speak, his mouth urges her on - telling her to let go and give herself to him. She arches her back as she cries out - not Central, not Bradford, but John before her body shudders, her hips thrusting forward grinding into his mouth as she comes for him.
Her body falls back to the bed trembling. Panting she tries to regain control of herself and just as she thinks she will his tongue enters her sliding up her slit to her engorged clit. She feels a flutter and lets out a soft cry of pleasure. She is his laying there. White flag raised. Anywhere else on the Avenger she is the Commander, but here she is his to command.
Kissing her inner thigh one last time he makes the trek back up to lay beside her. His hand slides up her cheek into her hair as he pulls her to his mouth. His kiss lets her taste herself on his lips. He hears a low throaty growl come from the back of her throat as she starts to grind her body against his. His cold metal belt buckle rubs against her skin. She strains reaching down letting her fingers trace his hardness through the confines of his uniform. It's getting uncomfortable for him as she unclasps his belt and starts to fumble at the button.
They suddenly both become frenzied, neither able to control themselves. Feverishly they devour each other as he struggles to get out of his clothes. Once free she can feel his hardness against her as he hovers over her, leaning down to kiss her. She lets her nails gingerly rake down his biceps. He likes this, she can tell as she feels him smile as he kisses her. Pleading whimpers of pleasure beg for him as he presses himself against her. She has never been so wet, so wanton before - the ache for him is almost too much. He feels it too and enters her in one long slow thrust forward groaning as he fills her.
It is a blinding pleasure as he slips inside her. Her body coursing for him. He stops, biting his lip letting himself get use to the sensation, before she starts to move under him. She is insatiable wanting more of him. He gives her what she needs and strokes in and out of her. Each thrust a little deeper than the last. Her legs encircle his hips allowing him even deeper. Her arm around his neck she pulls him to her as she feels her orgasm start to build. She won't fight it; she lets it wash over her crying out, her nails digging into his bicep.
The Commander quivers under him and he feels her body grip him tightly as she comes. The sensation heightens his arousal. He attempts to gain control, but her body induces him to climax. Her body insists - no commands him. He can do nothing but succumb to her.
With his next thrust they both feel the surge. His body stiffens and she feels him begin to pulse inside her. Another thrust and he holds tight to her, his body shaking as he comes. Before he collapses on to her. Both heaving as they hold one another, feeling the desires of two decades sated.
In the dim light of Central's quarters he pulls the sheets over them and they fall asleep in each other's arms until the early hours of the morning. It was the first night she has slept soundly since her rescue. She knows it is because of him.