SUPPLY AND DEMAND
RATED M
CHAPTER FIVE
They almost don't make it out of the bullpen, let alone to their closet.
He shoves her against the wall once they're on the fifth floor and fits his leg between hers, and his hands cups her ass, encouraging her to grind against him as he seals his mouth to her neck.
"Don't you dare," she gasps when his teeth scrape against her pulse. It may be autumn, but it's still too warm for her to wear a scarf without getting funny looks, so she has to stop him from marking her in places she can't easily hide.
She has to remind him every time they have sex.
They need to get to the privacy of the supply closet before anyone catches them - not like others frequent the floor, but still - so she begrudgingly disentangles herself from his arms, takes his hand, and leads him to their spot. The spot that, somehow, miraculously, has remained unused and unchanged, save for a roll of paper towels that they'd stored for clean up.
By the time she shuts the door behind them, her boyfriend is shoving his boxers down his legs, his jacket and shirt already draped over the empty file cabinet by the door. She drops her jacket on top of his and lifts her sweater over her head, pauses with her hands on her bra clasp when she hears his sharp inhale and sees the panic in his eyes.
She's about to ask him what's wrong when she hears it.
Voices.
Shit.
She turns the deadbolt slowly, wincing at the soft click as it locks, but when she presses her ear to the door, she doesn't hear anything that would suggest they were heard. She turns back to Rick, intending to motion for him to dress in case they're caught, opens her mouth in surprise when she collides with his bare chest.
She hadn't even heard him move.
He covers her mouth with his hand, silencing her before she can say anything, and his other hand slides down her torso to the button of her jeans. Her eyes widen and she furrows her brows in a silent question, and he just smirks and slants his mouth over hers.
She barely stops herself from moaning when his tongue slips past the seam of her lips, or when his hands quickly shove down her underwear. He grabs her hips and moves her to the wall next to the door, and before she can react, his fingers plunge between her legs.
Her hips buck into his touch, his mouth muffling her gasp, and as the voices outside get louder, Rick cups her breast, takes her nipple between his teeth, and presses his thumb to her clit.
Both of her boyfriend's hands are otherwise occupied, so she bites her own fist, praying to every higher power she can think of that the people outside won't hear her as she comes.
The hand that's on her breast moves to her waist, and he guides her towards the shelves on the opposite wall, the fingers inside her never ceasing. Somehow they manage to shuffle without making too much noise, but knowing that people are nearby, that they could easily get caught, adds to the already erotic situation.
Rick's hands are confident and sure as he turns her around, but she doesn't even have time to miss his fingers before his cock is nudging her entrance. She leans forward at his silent urging, and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from moaning when he enters her.
They spend more time at his apartment than hers, so she's used to being quiet, but this feels different and forbidden. If they're caught, she could get suspended again, perhaps worse. And he could get arrested, although his connections would probably make sure they both had minimal punishments. Community service, probably. But her career would be over.
The taboo nature of their coupling has her pushing back into him, her fingers gripping the shelf in front of her, willing him to deepen his thrusts. But he doesn't; instead, he pauses when the voices stop just outside the door, close enough now that their words are clear.
"What's in here?"
Kate panics when the doorknob rattles, and she feels Rick's grip on her hips tighten.
"It's just an empty supply closet," the other person says, and when Kate recognizes her captain's voice, she steps away from Rick, silently mourning the loss of his cock when it slips out of her.
He shakes his head and crowds her against the shelf, his hand gripping her thigh and lifting it high on his hip. She's so aroused that she barely feels the shelves digging into her back, and he slides all the way in with no hesitation, bends his knees so he can hit her deeper.
She can feel her orgasm approaching again, her breaths becoming more and more shallow, but before she can cry out his hand is over her mouth again, and his eyes lock on hers. He gives a subtle nod and he thrusts as deep as he can, uncontrollable jerks of his hips as he comes.
Her climax follows moments later, and she sinks her teeth into his palm to help muffle any noise she might make. It isn't until the blood stops rushing through her ears that she notices the voices - Captain Gates and her unknown companion - are fading away.
Once they're gone he buries both hands in her hair and pulls her mouth to his, and this time she lets herself moan out loud as their tongues tangle. She loops her arms around his neck, holding him to her, but after a minute their kisses slow in unison, and he nudges her nose when he pulls away.
"Best handshake ever," he husks, repeating his words from just a short time ago in the bullpen, and she can't help but chuckle.
She plays with the soft hair at the nape of his neck. "Yeah, and your hand is still kinda sweaty," she teases, noting his damp fingers against her skin.
He drops his gaze to her mouth. "That's not sweat," he says in a low voice, sending a fresh wave of arousal through her as she remembers how those same fingers had broken her apart just minutes ago.
Oh.
She lunges into him again, sweeps her tongue against his before a noise from his phone has him stepping away. He retrieves his jacket from the top of the file cabinet, shoots her a look of regret as he checks it.
"I do have to go," he tells her, grabbing their clothes.
They dress quickly, but before she unlocks the door, he crowds her against it and kisses her. She loses herself in the long, languid caress of his lips and tongue, but although she's oh so tempted to coax him into another round - judging by the bulge in his pants, it wouldn't take much convincing - he needs to get home, and she needs to work for a little longer before she can leave.
As they part ways on the fourth floor with nothing more than longing looks and shy, knowing smiles, she goes back to her desk, her mind the clearest it's ever been, ready to solve her case.
