Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belong to Timeless and ABC.

Undeniable Desire

Flynn-

Flynn was glad he was so good at hiding his emotions. If he hadn't, he would've choked on the whiskey he'd taken a sip of when Lucy had said she couldn't remove her dress on her own. Although it wasn't said in a remotely sexy way, she was still effectively asking him to help her undress. It was a huge oversight Flynn felt somewhat bad about. If he'd thought this far ahead, they could've asked a maid to help, but he was also playing her husband, so he was the assumed help.

Ah, well, it can't be helped now. Not wanting her to know he rather enjoyed the idea of helping her to take clothes off, just the thought made his skin tingle and blood flow a little faster, Flynn decided to act amused instead, hoping to deflect his true thoughts.

"Well, now, that is a problem, isn't it." He grinned as he spoke. His comment worked more than he'd planned.

Lucy closed her eyes. "Please, Flynn, don't be a jackass about this. It's already an awkward request enough. Please don't make it more uncomfortable." Her voiced pleaded with him as she opened her eyes.

Flynn felt absolutely wretched so he rushed to apologize for his definitely jackass behavior. "You're right, Lucy. I'm sorry." For more than you could ever possibly know! he thought as he got up and walked toward her. Neither saying a word, Lucy turned to him, presenting her back. My god! How could a dress have so many buttons?! And so small? The dress wasn't going to unbutton itself so Flynn got to work. He was frustrated after the very first button.

I just had to get her all of the period appropriate clothes, didn't I? Flynn was a little miffed at himself. Surely there could've been a dress where she could've taken it off herself? His frustration, however, gave way to amusement as he remembered the look on every single person's face they'd passed after landing in Chicago. Her 18th century dress didn't exactly blend well with the fashion of the late 19th century. And it wasn't like they could take her around in jeans, and they never would've found anything appropriate in theirs. Besides, rational thought had given way to irrational and Flynn had wanted to get Lucy a new dress, not just something stolen. And my god, how beautiful she looked in that burgundy dress! Flynn thought as he worked on the accursed buttons on that very dress he liked so much.

His fingers were clumsy. It wasn't because the buttons were small, that certainly didn't help, but because Flynn was simply nervous. This is ridiculous! He thought as he fumbled with the fifth button. I'm a grown man, not some pubescent adolescent! I've been married, for crying out loud!!! It's not like I've never undressed a woman before, either. I took great pleasure helping Lorena. He hoped thinking of Lorena would derail his thoughts, but it wasn't working as he'd hoped. It only served to remind him just how long it'd been since helping a woman undress.

Flynn couldn't believe he was having such a strong reaction to Lucy. She was so close, her subtle perfume was intoxicating, and he could feel her shoulders move with every breath she took. She was practically heaving by the time she stepped away from him to lay the dress on the bed. Flynn was forcefully keeping his breathing steady as he hesitantly began unlacing the corset. He tried to touch her as little as possible, fearing his reaction would only strengthen despite that there would still be a layer of cloth between them.

Finished, Flynn cleared his throat uncomfortably and asked, "Is that all you need?" After her answer in the affirmative, he backed away from Lucy, acting as a skittish animal would from a dangerous situation. For him, this was more dangerous than exchanging bullets with Wyatt. This was true desire he was feeling, something he hadn't felt since Lorena died. He retreated to his chair again. God, I need more whiskey, he thought as he sat down. Flynn rested his left ankle above his knee, picked up his glass and tried to pose himself in a way that would appear wholly unaffected.

He took a sip of whiskey and watched Lucy as she sat on the bed and took her boots off before unclasping her stockings. Flynn nearly spat out the drink he'd just taken when she'd lifted the chemise to reach the clasp. Her long legs were creamy in color and graceful. She then strode to the vanity to remove her earrings and the pins from her hair. She hummed as she worked. Flynn didn't recognize the song specifically, but he could tell it would be considered an oldie. Probably something her mom played when Lucy was young.

Lucy was absolutely alluring as she let her wavy locks loose. He wanted to run his fingers through them so badly. There was little skin bared to him according to their century's standards, but it was enough to get his blood flowing. Flynn could feel his shaft growing with desire. He adjusted himself in the chair, hoping to hide this fact if she happened to look at him. Almost as if she could hear his thoughts, Lucy turned and looked at him.

"Is there something the matter?" Lucy asked. He could clearly see that she didn't expect him to answer with the truth, or that he would be sarcastic. He decided to tell her the truth while still being vague.

"No, not in the general sense of the word." He hoped it would be a good enough answer, but Flynn knew her better than that. He waited, and wasn't wrong in his assumption.

"So, there is something wrong, but not wrong wrong?"

"Precisely." Flynn tipped his glass to her, a congratulations for grasping the fact he wasn't going to tell her exactly what he was thinking. She huffed in annoyance, serving to make him grin at her. Lucy promptly turned on her heel and strode purposefully toward the bed, giving him a generous view of her lovely backside, and the evocative sway of her hips. He took another sip of whiskey, hoping to distract himself. It didn't work all that well. He could never distract himself from the beauty of Lucy, and he secretly didn't want to.

She's my hostage, I'm holding her against her will. I need her to defeat Rittenhouse, that's all! She's my hostage, I'm holding her against her will. I need her to defeat Rittenhouse, that's all!! She's my hostage, I'm holding her against her will. I need her to defeat Rittenhouse, that's all!!! Flynn kept repeating this to himself, once again trying to remind himself why he should mentally keep his distance from her, let alone physically. His body's reaction was hard enough to keep under control. He couldn't deny his desire for her any longer.

Finishing his whiskey, Flynn sat his glass on the table and leaned over to take his shoes and socks off, he hated sleeping with socks on. He figured he could afford to indulge in that luxury, small as it was. Once done, he stretched his legs out and leaned back, getting more comfortable, hoping he could maybe cat-nap throughout the night. He wasn't looking too forward to the stiffness he would feel the next day from being in the chair all night, but he needed to get some rest. He didn't want to kill J.P. Morgan and Thomas Edison, but he had to. He'd hated killing Abraham Lincoln, and all the others he'd killed since all this started, but it was necessary. All of it was necessary...

Lucy's voice from under the covers pulled Flynn from his dark thoughts. "You're not going to stay in the chair all night, are you?"

That confused Flynn a little. Where was he supposed to go? "I can't very well leave the room, can I? Who knows what havoc you could create all alone. You'd probably end up somehow setting the room on fire, thus sending the whole hotel up in flames." Flynn quipped out. There was a long pause. He was surprised Lucy ignored his snarky comment. Half the reason he was so snarky with Lucy was to see/hear her reaction. He loved how she usually responded.

"That's not what I meant." Lucy replied. "I meant that there's room in the bed for...two." She said this so quietly Flynn was sure he'd misheard her. She wants me to share the bed with her? That can't be what she said. Neither Flynn nor Lucy said a word.