A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Hello again! I just wanted to thank everyone for your continued support and endless patience, it's always appreciated! Also, for those of you who read my other stories, Kismet shall be updated next :)
Warning: Strong Sexual Situations & Coarse Language
Please, enjoy!
Two Wolves and A Lady
Chapter V: Part II
Sixty-three hours…
Sixty-three long, harrowing hours had slowly ticked away while Aaron Hotchner remained lost in a deep slumber.
Sleeping. He was only sleeping. Penelope reminded herself. Choosing to use the idea of him resting to ease the constant negative chatter in her mind, as opposed to what the doctors had described as a medically induced coma.
No. She hadn't liked that one bit. That medical jargon had made very little sense three days ago, even after Reid had explained it to her, very patiently, multiple times.
Penelope, though highly intellectual, mainly worked with computers. She analyzed coding and dazzled with her ability to quickly and efficiently hack information. It was her field of expertise. She, however, had not a single clue how to help somebody in an induced coma. It made her feel stupid and helpless, making her spend most of the time cooped up in the bright, sterile room researching every article, blog, or video she could find online. Some of her concerns had been doused, though as the hours continued to slip away and nothing had changed with Aaron's condition, she easily became frustrated.
The battery symbol suddenly flashed red across her tablet screen and she blew out her bangs in an irritated huff. Shifting on the uncomfortable cot, she dropped the tablet into her purse, and rolled over onto her back. Taking off her glasses, she firmly pressed her fingertips above her eyes. Digging into her forehead and pinching the bridge of her nose, carefully hitting the tender pressure points, hoping to alleviate the constant tension headache that had been her difficult companion these last few days.
"You should get some sleep," Derek's rough, scratchy voice jarred her out of those awful thoughts.
"I already slept," she grumbled, dragging her fingers down her cheeks and squeezing over her jaw.
Her eyes briefly flew open, thinking of all the makeup she had just smudged, only to remember she had foregone her normal full face of color for something much more manageable. A simple swipe of mascara and some cheap vanilla gloss was all the energy she could muster. Relieved, she let her eyes drift close once more, hating the burning sandpaper sensation behind her lids.
"Baby, you barely slept last night," she could hear him fiddling with the control to his hospital bed, muttering a few curses, before the loud cranking sound of it being raised filled the room. "And no, that thirty-minute catnap, before lunch, doesn't count."
"But I'm not even-…" poorly stifling a yawn, "…tired."
He chuckled, and she pouted.
"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" she groused, rolling back onto her side to stare up at him as she wrapped the small lavender crocheted blanket tightly around her shoulders.
Ignoring her, he pressed on. "I got drugs to help me sleep," waggling those defined brows. "Got me a full eight hours," an impressive feat for the notorious insomniac. "Slept like a damn bear."
"Well, you sure do snore like one," feeling her face soften as a genuine smile finally broke through. "My little, cute and chunky, grizzly bear."
"Hey, now," he smirked, using the back of his knuckles to gently scratch the stitches above that giant purple knot over his forehead. "I heard you earlier," clearing his throat, he started making soft snoring noises that soon grew into wild snorts.
She giggled, face growing hot with embarrassment. "I do not snore!"
"Hmm," shrugging his good shoulder. "Remind me to ask JJ and Prentiss when they come back."
Pressing her palms together, she tucked them beneath her head and glared. "My girlies, would never rat me out," a lazy smile pulled at her lips. "They know I have oodles and oodles of juicy dirt on them, to ever go against moi."
Shaking his head, he shimmied himself lower into the bed only to grimace when he tweaked his side. What had initially been a few bruised ribs had turned out to be four fractured bones. His open gown revealed the blue ice pack, tucked beneath the sling of his shoulder. It looked stark against the dark bronze of his skin, and she easily became distracted by the small drops of condensation dripping off the cloth, slowly trailing down his tapered waist, and disappearing into the scrunched hem of his boxers.
"You want me to go get your nurse?" arching a brow, worried gaze already drifting towards the door.
"No!" he barked, slamming his head onto the flat pillow. "No, no. I'm good," flashing her a toothy grin, though there was no denying the exhaustion behind those dulled amber eyes.
"Did you finish all your food?" straining her neck as she tried to look over the abandoned tray at the foot of his bed.
"Mmhmm," he nodded, lifting the remote to switch channels; an endless search through twenty random stations that usually left him right back on the original show he had been absently watching.
"Derek!" she griped, kicking her legs over the side of the cot and sitting up. "You need to eat."
"Tastes like shit," he frowned, knitting his brows in disgust. "Baby food tastes better than whatever the hell that is," glaring at the large pink cover over the plastic dish.
She bit her inner cheek, hiding her amusement, for the smooshed peas, runny macaroni and cheese, and tough bits of bland chicken did leave a lot to be desired. Morgan was a die-hard steak and potatoes kinda man. Poor baby was probably starving.
"I can run and go get you something else," twisting around to check the overhead clock. "I think the cafeteria is still open. Or there's a grocery store and some fast food places across the street."
"No, I'm fine," giving her a pointed look. "Really. I'm not that hungry anyway. And besides, I'd rather you get some rest."
She clucked her tongue in disapproval and stood up. "If you don't eat, the medicine is gonna upset your tummy."
"Garcia," dropping the remote on the bed as he awkwardly tried to cross his good arm over his sling. "I'm a big boy. I'll be fine. Stop worrying that pretty, little mind of yours."
Penelope was getting ready to remind him about the bad reaction he had from taking his meds on an empty stomach, that left him with terrible bouts of nausea the night before, when suddenly that distressing shrill alarm went off and that loud robotic message alerted:
Code Blue. ICU.
She froze and whirled around, watching the bustle of nurses instantly roll a crash cart across the hall and through the big grey double doors. Her stomach dropped as her heart plummeted to her feet.
Code Blue. ICU.
Derek called after her, but she was already rushing after them. One good thing about being stuck in a hospital for a few days, was that one didn't tend to wear her super cute high heels, and could move much faster on her sparkling pink Converse instead.
In fact, she was so quick, she had slipped through the doors right before they closed. The nurses veered left and her pace immediately slowed. Self-preservation kicking in, unable to watch CPR being administered on Aaron's lifeless body. Witnessing that three days ago, had been once too many, and she had to rapidly blink away the stinging tears that coursed down her cheeks.
A flurry of red flew past her, and she recognized the tall woman with frizzy copper curls as one of the ICU nurses.
"Is he…" Penelope wheezed, swallowing her parched tongue as her hand flew out to grab the woman's elbow. "H-He okay?"
"Sorry ma'am," tone clipped and professional, expression stern and rather grim. "I need you to wait outside."
The nurse abruptly swept away when a doctor approached them talking about cardiac arrest, leaving Penelope standing there all alone. The dull, beige walls seemed to cave in as she became increasingly breathless and dizzy. Her blood became hot, thick molasses flowing through her veins and she needed to sit down before she passed out. Trembling, her fingers gripped the plastic railing as she slumped against the nearest wall.
"Baby Girl," the familiar dulcet tones of Derek finally reached her and she dazedly blinked a few times until she could focus on his concerned face.
His palm, rough, yet gentle, caressed her cheek and wiped away her tears.
"You're not…supposed to be…out of bed," each word cracking with every shuddering gasp to fill her lungs.
"It's not him."
"W-What?" she squeaked out, hand rubbing over her chest – valiantly trying to ease the constricting grief that boiled in the pit of her gut and got stuck in her throat.
"Garcia! Look, Baby," pointing across the room. "It's not him."
She cinched her eyes shut and shook her head.
"I promise you, it's not him," his voice was low, dripping with such sincerity, she had no choice but to look back up at him. "Aaron, is fine."
The use of their boss' first name – her lover, and friend; the man she was enjoying a whirlwind affair with – felt so endearingly sacred coming from Derek, that her heart burst with fluttering emotions and tore a sob from her quivering lips.
"Shh, Sweetness," he cooed, wrapping her tightly against him – ignoring all his aches and pains to bring her comfort.
"He's okay?" she sobbed into his shoulder.
"Look," twisting her body around, forcing her gaze to stare across the hall where the nurses had shoved themselves inside room 6.
Her eyes immediately darted next door. To room 7. Aaron's room.
A bright smile split her face when she spotted him still sleeping. Chest slowly rising and falling, while the scary machines he was hooked up to remained silent.
"Oh," she wept. "I thought…"
"I know," Derek was pressed so closely behind her, an intimate gesture that let her feel the heat of his skin through her loose knit turquoise sweater.
The alarm stopped as the patient finally stabilized. The nurses then slowly exited one-by-one, while curious visitors went back to stand vigil by their own family members bed side.
The soft grunt from Derek, tickled the hairs on the back of her neck and she turned around. There he stood in those ugly yellow socks, twisted around his feet, so that the white adhesive, meant to grip the linoleum floor, rested on the tops of his feet instead. His hospital gown flapped open, flashing the extra-large boxers she had to go buy for him because his fitted briefs were…a bit revealing. His sling was a little crooked, and he had to roll the heavy portable IV stand next to him to keep up with her, and it was then she realized how much weight he was bearing on the metal pole to keep himself upright.
"You need to be in bed," she admonished, spotting the angry molten purple bruise across his chest and side. She swiftly took the long straps of his gown and tied them into a cute, little bow.
"I needed to make sure…" ragged breath dying off as he came to a halt in front of Aaron's room.
Penelope quickly followed suit, pressing her hands against the cool pane of glass – the only barrier between them and the man doing his best to stay alive on the other side – her inquisitive gaze peered inside, eyes deliberately trailing over him from head to toe, looking for any signs of distress.
"Penelope. Derek," came the soothing voice of Doctor Bahl, or Sonya as the BAU team had fondly been calling her. She was a petite spitfire who didn't beat around the bush. Though it was that lulling maternal energy she effortlessly exuded which made Penelope comfortable with her being in charge of caring for the two most important people in her life.
"I know Derek needs to be in bed resting," Penelope startled, eyes wide like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "But we heard-I heard, the alarm go off and…and I thought…"
"Hey, you don't need to explain. I understand," pulling a tissue packet from her front pocket, she held it out and smiled when Penelope took the whole thing. "That alarm sounds pretty scary when you're not used to it. Especially…" kind brown eyes flitting over the pair to stare at Aaron. "When you have someone you care about in here."
Penelope yanked a few tissues out, and eagerly dabbed her eyes and blew her nose, before grinning sheepishly.
"I just…after last time…I-I…" unable to speak about the horror of watching Hotch receive chest compressions as his body jolted off the bed with each electric shock.
Derek squeezed her shoulder and gave her temple a quick, tender kiss, only to take a deep breath and release a miserable grunt.
"Sit," Sonya pointed to an empty wheelchair next to the nurses station, thin brow arched in warning. "I don't need you tearing your stitches in your hip, and jostling those ribs anymore," tugging her stethoscope around her neck, she flashed those pearly white teeth at Penelope and gave her a teasing wink. "Or giving this poor thing any more grief."
Penelope blew her nose once more, muffling her amusement as Derek hobbled his way to the silver and black wheelchair and carefully eased himself into it.
"Good. Much better," Sonya chirped as she grabbed the thick metal chart off Aaron's door and briefly skimmed through it.
"Is…he…" Penelope mumbled, nervous hands fluttering about as she bounced on her toes. "Getting better?"
Sonya nibbled on her bottom lip, gaze narrowed as she flipped through a few more pink and yellow pages. "His heart stopped for six minutes while in surgery," pulling out a pen, she clicked it, and with a doctor's flourish began signing away. "He also had a rather large contusion on his brain from when he fell after receiving the gunshot wound. The test this afternoon…" flipping back to the front of the chart, she circled a few things, clicked her pen again and shoved it firmly into her front pocket. "Shows that the swelling has decreased dramatically-…"
"Oh!" Penelope gasped, clasping her hands excitedly in front of her. "That's good!" beaming at Derek, before nodding excitedly at Doctor Bahl. "That's good, right?"
"Yes. It's a very good sign," Sonya smiled, putting the chart back. "Though I want to be very clear with you, Penelope, so you know what you're up against. We won't know for certain if there was any loss of brain function, or nerve damage to his arm, until we wake him up."
"Oh…" her shoulders slumped and she couldn't help her bottom lip from jutting out in petulance.
"Hey," Sonya reached forward to gently pat her elbow. "Aaron's test results have been coming back positive, so we've decided it's best to wake him up tomorrow morning."
"You are!" Penelope squealed, only to be drowned out by Derek's resounding shout.
"Is that safe!?" handsome face contorting with that fierce intimidation he only used when questioning suspects.
"Yes. First thing tomorrow morning," giving Penelope a warm smile as she pulled on those long raven locks to tighten her pony tail, before her dark brown eyes, glittering with determination, landed on Derek. "And I gathered the best team of doctors and nurses to handle Mr. Hotchner's care. He's in capable hands."
Derek nodded, jaw sharp with the concerns he was biting back, while Penelope stood there nodding absently over the new information.
"I'm going to look Aaron over now, and I'll bring you a more thorough update in a little bit. For now, how about you take Mr. Morgan, back to his room," Sonya chirped as she meticulously put on blue latex gloves, giving them a quick snap once they were snug on her wrists.
Derek's face fell as he settled more comfortably into the wheelchair. Penelope was already behind him, swiftly unlocking the breaks with her foot, she began to roll him away when Sonya's next words instantly halted her actions.
"Mr. Morgan, you're very lucky to have such a lovely, caring friend at your side," Sonya grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief. "You'll be released tomorrow and with Aaron…" the way she dragged out his name, accompanied with the small knowing wink, had Penelope nearly slamming Derek into the nurse's station. "Still cooped up in here. She's gonna have a lot of work ahead of her taking care of you both," giving a curt nod, before heading into the room.
A long moment passed, while Penelope let the heat vanish from her face, before she bent down and hissed in Derek's ear, "She knows!" thrusting the IV pole into Derek's hand she gripped the handles and zoomed around the corner, right out of the ICU and back to his secluded room down the end of the hall.
Derek got out of the chair, adjusted his sling, and slowly made his way back to his rumpled bed, while Penelope shut the door and yanked the curtain, with the boring nature print, closed around them for total privacy.
"Do you think she knows?" she squeaked, eyes wide as she peered over her frames. "No? Yeah! She totally knows. Did you see her face!?"
"Garcia," he tried, untying his gown and shoving the ice pack beneath his shoulder. "Baby..." though it was no use as she began to frantically pace the cramped confines.
"What if she blabs!" whirling around, he caught the chipped green and yellow polish as she pointed her finger accusingly at him. "Heck, it's probably already written down in her notes with that super fancy cursive she has!"
Derek snorted at that, scooted over, and patted the bed next to him. "Sit."
"Morgan," using his last name for emphasis. "This is serious!"
"I know," grabbing the control again, he flipped through the channels once more. "Your face is all red and your cheeks puff up like a little chipmunk when you get angry."
Her mouth snapped closed and she glared. "Are you saying my face is fat!"
He gave her a pointed look and she immediately felt contrite.
"Sorry, you're right," tucking a loose lock behind her ear. "I'm being all…"
"Totally, one-hundred percent, Garcia," he cheekily finished for her.
She bubbled over with sniffles and he held his good arm out for her. Wiping a tear away, she carefully clambered her way onto the bed and snuggled up next to him. He playfully twirled one of her braided pigtails as they quietly watched some random sitcom on mute. Though it didn't take long before she began to wiggle in his arms.
"Silly Girl," he chastised, kissing the top of her head. "You need to relax."
"I should be on my laptop," she sat up, fiddling with the small chain of her necklace. "It's not fair that they're out there, and I'm just sitting here, doing nothing."
The man who had shot Hotch and Morgan, turned out to be the UnSub's brother. They had discovered this fact two nights ago, when yet another victim had popped up matching the same M.O. By the time the team had connected all the pieces together, they had lost two more victims. This meant that Prentiss, Reid, JJ and Rossi were the only ones available to hunt down the creep who had led them all on a wild goose chase.
"They got another techie helping them out for information."
Her back went stiff and he chuckled.
"No, they're not as good as you. No one is," squeezing her shoulder, before gently rubbing up and down her side. "But right now, we need you here."
She looked up at him, big hazel eyes glistening with unshed tears as she valiantly tried to stop her bottom lip from quivering.
"I need to call Jessica. Maybe Jack is still awake. It's like what…eight or nine there?" shimmying out of his grasp, she jumped out of bed, only to get tangled up in the curtain. Struggling for a moment, she growled, nearly ripping the ugly thing off its hinges, before snatching her bedazzled cellphone off the cot and storming her way into the bathroom
Her vision blurred as she stared at the little numbers on her phone. Giving up she tried to search her contact list when the door opened, revealing her very worried, slightly flustered, Hot Stuff.
"I forgot to call him. I should've called him back today. I-I…I'm the worst auntie ever," and then she groaned, realizing that her recent bedroom activities with Aaron twisted her role in Jack's life. Taking a long, steadying breath, she did her best to square her shoulders and point her chin, only to stare at the floor instead. "B-But how am I supposed to tell him his daddy might have brain damage or…or his arm won't work like it should. He's just a sweet, little boy and he's already been through so much."
And oh, how she loved that little boy and had felt absolutely terrible when she called Jessica that first night and delivered the news. Her heart broke when she heard Jack's wails on the other end. He was such a smart kid, that Jessica had no choice but to be honest with him. After everything that had happened with Haley, Penelope immediately had put herself, JJ, and Reid, on a video conference with him until he calmed down enough to finally fall asleep.
Jack reminded her so much of Aaron. The kind, big-hearted, always inquisitive, boy was so much like his daddy, that she would hate to confuse him and make him angry with her. She couldn't lose him from her life. That thought had her belly knotted with worry, and she suddenly had to fight for breath, only for her downward spiral to be stopped by being thrust up against the wall as Derek kicked the door shut behind him.
A startled gasp got caught in her throat, but before she could object those familiar demanding lips were melded to hers. Dragging his hand over the flare of her hip and the curve of her waist, until he was gripping her neck with just enough pressure to make her head fall back and her own lips part. Giving him exactly what he wanted. What she needed.
She wrapped her arms tightly around him, ignoring the itchy material of his gown and the plastic IV tubing hanging from his arm as she brought him closer. Loving that consuming heat, she happily allowed herself to drown in it.
Her head slammed into the pale pink tile and she bit back a groan as that velvety slick muscle delved into her mouth. Swiping across every crevice and tasting her. Drawing her into him. It was wet, sloppy, teeth-clattering, nose-smooshing, desperation. Of missing each other – having not been able to touch or kiss in days – and stitching their open wounds back together as their hot breath washed over them and their fingers danced across skin. Rediscovering the dips and swells and hard divots of their bodies in a blind frenzy.
"Derek," she panted, eyes fluttering open, only to pull away, needing to stand on her tiptoes – her shoes making her feel so much shorter, tiny, almost fragile in front of him – so she could place hot, open-mouthed kisses across that chiseled jaw she loved so much. Oh, how she missed this. How she had spent the last few days filing away the memories of what this felt like, in fear that her shattered nerves would reveal their newfound intimacy. But this kiss was a simple reminder, and it tore open that beating chasm and flooded her senses with a fiery, deep-seated need to simply feel. Feel the man in front of her. Taste him. Smell him. Love him. "We can't…do this…here," a last, pitiful protest.
"Too late," he gritted out, hand sliding up beneath that soft knitted sweater, enjoying the feel of her cool skin beneath his palm.
She shivered as his fingers grazed satin, and he slowly traced the wide curve of her bra, until he cupped her ample breast in his large hand and tweaked the already puckered nipple shamelessly peeking through. Arching her back, pressing her chest into his hand, she let her own fingers dance up his side, though when she bumped his heavy sling, she froze.
Eyes shooting open, she tried to bat his hand away. "Wait, wait, stop…you're hurt."
"I can smell you from here," his dark, naughty words had her mouth falling open and slick heat pooling between her thighs. "You're gonna need to try a little harder, if you want to convince me to stop."
"B-But…" licking the back of her teeth, desperately trying to wet her parched tongue. "Your ribs. You can't…" casting her furtive gaze downward, unable to hide her smirk at his obvious arousal tenting the thin cotton of those hideous olive green boxers.
"This isn't about me right now," tugging her sweater, he licked a hot path across her collarbone and eagerly used those pearly white teeth to nip up her neck and suck on her plump earlobe. "This is for you."
Oh, of course, he would know the perfect thing to say.
Her manicured brows knit in confusion, only to shoot to her hairline when he made his message loud and clear by lifting her leg and hooking it over the corner of the small porcelain sink. Giving her a heated look, before cupping her center and rubbing his long, deft fingers over her swollen lower lips that had her legs shaking and hands shooting forward.
"Oh, shit!" she moaned, one hand clutching his shoulder as the other grasped the diagonal safety bar next to the shower.
"You want me to stop?" he teased; amber eyes swirling with a challenging glint, she dared not refuse.
Shaking her head, blinking away the stars that dazzled her vision, she let herself get lost in the overwhelming sensations.
He slid his hand further down her thigh and back up to her hip, playing with the soft material of her white floral printed leggings, until he snapped the elastic around her waist and slipped his hand inside.
Somehow through her lust fueled haze she managed to wonder how a man with so many injures could still appear so strong and powerful as he easily took her breath away. And then his fingers played with the tuft of trimmed curls above her dripping core, and she lost all semblance of thought and whimpered, only for him to go completely still and look down on her with hooded eyes.
"Pen," he heavily swallowed, blinking a few times to focus. "Where are your panties?"
She blushed, even as a coy, little grin twisted her full, pouty lips. "I need to do laundry," she shrugged and then wiggled in his grasp. If they were going to do this, then they needed to pick up the pace.
He growled and without giving her any time to adjust he slid those long fingers deep inside of her. Expertly, teasingly, he played with her slick heat. Spreading his fingers, crooking them at the perfect angle and pumping them in-and-out of her with that sweet, tantalizing pressure, that had her biting her lip to smother her heady grunts of approval.
"Oh, my stars and garters!" she shrieked, head thrashing across the cool tile as her body began to overheat and her limbs became lax. And then he did that thing. That oh-so-fucking-amazing-thing he had discovered drove her absolutely crazy their first night together. "Oh, oh fuck…" that dark, knowing smirk crossed his face as he slid his fingers across each other. A scissoring motion that had her breathless pants filling the cramped bathroom. Then he placed his calloused thumb over her swollen clit and slowly circled it. "That feels, so fucking…good."
He only had one good arm and yet he had managed to bring her to the edge in just a few short minutes. Lowering his head, he tugged her bottom lip between his teeth, gnawing on the supple flesh, only to dart his tongue out and quell the biting sting.
Releasing her tight grip on his shoulder she wrapped it around his neck and brought those deliciously filthy lips closer. Nails raking down the sinewy muscles of his neck, she giggled when he pressed himself against her. The stiff, aching member, hard and hot between his thighs, brushed against her lower belly, pulling a husky moan from her kissed-bruised lips. He rocked himself into her, pushing the heel of his palm roughly into her center, chuckling when her eyes rolled back and her hips bucked beneath him.
Feeling brazen or perhaps hearing the guttural need through his quick, panting breath, she reached between them and slipped a hand through the loose fabric of his boxers and found her prize. Wrapping a hand firmly around what felt like rigid steel enveloped in warm velvet, she became giddy with excitement which fueled her own arousal. Squirming as a gush of slick heat pooled between her thighs and all over his fingers buried deep within her. He growled, letting his forehead rest on hers as his eyes drifted close.
"Fuck," he gritted out, brows tightly furrowed as his face creased with concentration.
She fondled his heavy sac, hot within her small palm, before trailing her thumb slowly over them and giving it a generous squeeze. Taking her time, she traced the pulsing vein across his shaft, only to cup the head of his prick and swirl the sticky substance that had already leaked out, until his dark eyes snapped open and she smirked.
"There's my handsome boy," she purred, peppering his jaw with open-mouthed kisses. "Come for Mama," she began stroking him, adding that exquisite flick of the wrist that had him stumbling into her.
Oh, but it was Morgan, and he was never one to be out done. Spreading her legs further apart, he pressed himself deeper into her and found that bumpy patch of nerves and firmly swiped over it. Again, and again, and again. A taunting rhythm he had mastered long ago, which she greedily benefited from.
"Oh, fuck me!" she yelped in surprise, only to let out a slew of expletives, followed by nonsensical babbling. "Please, right there, please, don't stop…"
Not caring that this was perhaps a very inappropriate place to be finger blasted by her best friend-turned-boyfriend – 'one, of your boyfriends!' shouted a derisive voice from the dark recesses of her mind. She cinched her eyes shut and arched her back; opening up for him, letting him in even deeper. Her sharp hiss turned into a feral grunt she hardly recognized as she did her best to turn her mind off and simply feel.
Derek, however, seemed to give two shits that he was fucking her in a hospital bathroom, as he took great pleasure in following her instructions, having not slowed his pace or stopped once.
"Oh, oh-kay…that's it…I'm-oh, shit yep, yep, yep…" she whined as that pinnacle of release swelled in the pit of her gut. A hot, curling heat that quaked with need and as his thumb pressed into her clit and harshly circled, she quickened her own frantic strokes, adding pressure, until a moment later they both toppled head first into bliss.
Her scream was muffled by his tongue delving into her mouth, and her hand clutched his broad shoulder, only for her nails to scratch an angry path down his chest. Leaving behind a vicious looking mark that neither one of them were yet coherent enough to worrying about explaining later.
Their kisses soon turned tender, and the buzzing noise swishing through her limbs hallowed out and left her weak and pleasantly light. Like the weight of the world had been temporarily lifted from her shoulders and she could finally breath freely again.
Derek grunted, using his gown to wipe off the sticky essence covering his thigh and her belly, before tucking himself back inside his boxers. "Damn," was all he could muster as he helped remove her leg from the sink, before running hot water.
Penelope slumped against the wall, briefly wondering why her vision was fuzzy, only to giggle when she had to straighten her skewed glasses.
"Well, I can cross that off…" arching a brow as she adjusted her sweater. "My second bucket list."
Wetting a washcloth, Derek looked up at her and grinned. "You have two bucket lists?"
"Mmhmm," she cooed, gasping when he placed the warm cloth between her legs and tenderly helped clean her up. "One for adventures. And another for…other things."
"I guess we'll have to work on crossing those things off," he quipped, waggling those expressive brows.
She laughed, a full belly laugh, before narrowing her gaze. "Oh, pity, I've crossed most of them off already. I mean…" playfully batting her long lashes. "I guess we could repeat some of them…"
Snapping her pretty leggings securely around her waist, he frowned. "You're a little shit you know that. Cute, but a little shit."
"Only cute?"
"And opinionated," giving her temple a gentle peck. "Stubborn," another one on her nose. "But smart," chuckling when she glared. "Very smart."
Pointing her nose in the air, she huffed in feign annoyance.
"And sexy as hell."
A bright grin covered her face and she gave him a sweet, little smooch on his cheek.
"You're not too shabby yourself, Mocha Thor," leaning in close, so her breath tickled his neck. "Even one handed. You…" pressing a yellow tipped finger into his chest. "Exceed all expectations."
Derek shook his head and took a few wobbly steps back. "You feeling better?"
Patting her hair down, she delicately placed her braids back over her shoulders and nodded with renewed determination.
"Good," checking himself in the mirror. "You think you can settle down now and take a nap."
She was about to retort that she wasn't fond of being treated like a baby, when an abrupt series of knocks echoed around them.
Penelope screeched, throwing her arms out wide, almost knocking Derek over.
"Mr. Morgan," Doctor Bahl's stern voice, clipped with warning, echoed around them. "Ms. Garcia. When you two are finished getting dirty in the bathroom, I would like to speak with you."
'Oh, my God!' Penelope mouthed, before all color drained from her face.
"Do you think she heard us?" she hissed, doing her best to wiggle behind Derek and hide from view.
"Just the tail end," Sonya chirped; obvious amusement lacing her words. "Come on out you two. I have an update for you."
Derek looked a little uncomfortable, and was fumbling with tying his gown, when Penelope yanked the strings out of his hand and pulled it into a messy knot. She then hit the door handle and gave him a good shove forward.
Giving a curt nod, he looked straight ahead as he sat down on the bed. He then pulled the sheet up to his chest and took his time tucking in the edges and brushing off imaginary lint, leaving Penelope awkwardly standing in the doorway bouncing on her toes.
"Hi," giving a little wave, she bumped into the door, only to go and shut it – believing that if she hid the room where the naughty thing happened, then they could act like the naughty thing didn't happen – only for it to slip out of her shaking grasp and slam shut behind her.
"Don't worry you're not in trouble. Seeking pleasure during time of duress is a natural occurrence," Sonya smirked, twirling the ballpoint pen slowly between her lithe fingers. "Though, someone else might catch you next time. So, I wouldn't tempt fate twice."
Hazel eyes wide like a startled deer, Penelope went to stand on the other side of the room – distancing herself from the man who was just knuckles deep inside of her. She gulped and then plopped herself into the stiff plastic chair in the corner.
"What? Who, us?" she cackled with embarrassment. "Oh gosh, no of course not! I mean it was a one-time, hey-let's-forget-you-almost-died, spur-of-the-moment, sorta thing!" cringing as her hand flew over her mouth. "Not that we did that! Because that would be totally crazy and wrong. On oh so many, many levels. But in case we had the thought to do the thing you think we did, then no…we won't…" taking a large gulp of air. "Do that thing…ever again," she prayed the floor would just open up and swallow her whole.
"Breathe, Penelope. Just breathe. In-and-out," Sonya rushed over to gently rub her shoulders and pat her back, and once everything had calmed down, she continued. "During Aaron's examination, I noticed his temperature had spiked significantly," tucking the pen back into her pocket. "He seems to be running a fever. We ran a few tests and as I suspected, he has pericarditis."
"Pericard-what-what?" Penelope's back went rigid. She didn't know what that was, but if she couldn't pronounce it, then it probably meant it was bad. Eyes darting around the room, wishing she had Reid's fount of knowledge to ease her mind with statistics.
"Simply put, during surgery he caught an infection and now the lining around his heart is inflamed and collecting fluid."
"Oh," fingers digging sharply into her thighs, she felt the remnants of her pleasure disappear as that looming dread seeped back into her bones.
"It's nothing that's going to require surgery. Though, we're going to monitor it and hook him up to some antibiotics and it should clear up on its own. But due to the added stress, I'm going to keep him under for another day."
"Oh," seemed to be the only thing Penelope could say.
"Penelope, he's doing fine. It's just a minor hitch that won't impede his recovery," crossing her arms, she set her shoulders and gave them both a wary look. "However, I am very concerned about his arm. It has yet to respond to any of the stimuli we've been administering."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Derek's gruff voice seemed booming in the suddenly claustrophobic room, and Penelope found herself holding her breath – waiting for the next bomb to drop.
"I suspect there may be significant, if not permanent, damage to the muscle," shifting her weight to her other leg, she tucked a loose lock behind her ear. "We won't know for certain until he wakes up. But I need you both, as well as your team, to be prepared for the worse. Aaron is in for a long recovery time, and he's going to need all the help he can get."
"Wait, what are you saying…if he can't use his arm, then what...what about his career?" Penelope stood up, eyes brimming with tears.
"I'm sorry, that's all I can give you right now. We can only wait and see. But I want you both to know that my team and I are doing everything we can for him," giving them a solemn smile, she absently fiddled with her stethoscope as her narrowed gaze flitted carefully over Derek. "Now, please stay in bed, and don't tear those stitches or bang up those ribs anymore. You're on strict bed rest until you're release tomorrow."
He nodded, and her pager went off, letting her have a quick goodbye before rushing back towards the ICU.
Time seemed to freeze and simultaneously speed up all at once, and Penelope found herself ignoring Derek's worried pleas as she mindlessly walked right out of the room and down the hall. Somehow, she ended up back in the Emergency Room, and the panic instantly began to set back in. Turning around a few times only for the flashing red exit sign to catch her attention.
Fumbling her way through the double doors, she took a few deep breaths of that crisp night air, eyes squinting as they took in the whirling flashes of red and blue from an incoming ambulance. Stepping aside, she meandered through the parking lot until she found an abandoned bench, right next to a trash can grossly filled to the rim with cigarette butts.
The ashy smell made her nauseous and she quickly lifted her sweater around her nose and deeply inhaled. Enjoying the soothing smell of fabric softer and her fruity perfume. Looking down she spotted her cellphone and without hesitation, she picked it up and hit number four on her speed dial.
Pick up, pick up, pick up…
Pressing the device against her ear, she tensely waited for that low baritone voice to answer, and when it did she sobbed.
"Dave."
To be continued…