Title: Persuasive Hearts
Author: Katie/thewrittennerd
Disclaimer: I own nothing but this story and my original characters.
Show/Movie/Book: FBI: Most Wanted (TV series)/FBI crossover
Couples/Category: Clinton Skye/Abiola "Abby" Valentine (original female character, Carly Pope), with appearances from: Maggie/Jubal, Jess/Sam Burnett (formerly Valentine), and others. Slightly alternate universe (AU).
Rating: M, for the appropriate and future chapters
Summary: AU. Many women have tried and failed to break down the brick-solid walls of Clinton Skye's heart but it isn't until he reconnects with his ex-wife Abby Valentine Skye that he knows he's met his rematch.
Author's Note: So I hadn't intended at all to start writing a third (yes you heard that right, a THIRD) story in this particular universe but here I am anyway working on a story that follows behind Persuasive Tactics (Maggie & Jubal's story) and Persuasive Guidance (Jess & Sam's story).
Note: Abby Valentine Skye, the namesake of her niece Abigail, is played by Carly Pope. I have settled the inner debate of whether or not she and Clint should share a past. If you can come up with how they met, I'd love to hear your thoughts on it!
Note #2: Also heed the mature warning for this chapter, it starts the fan fiction!
Chapter One
FBI Agent Clinton Skye is a man of great talent, a pretty good shot due to his being a sniper. But outside of work, there are very few words. "Are we absolutely sure that she'll even help us?" And then that kind of question emerges from the mouth of Kenny Crosby, a man in the same kind of dilemma slash situation, making Clinton turn in his chair to face the younger agent.
Before Clinton is able to speak up with his response, however, their boss and Clinton's brother in law Jess LaCroix leans forward to look at Kenny. "She'll help. Abby Valentine Skye knew our suspect professionally and by reputation," he tells the others in their five-person task force.
Hana Gibson's head snaps up at the two surnames Jess mentions and, ever on time with her matchmaking, turns in her chair to squint her eyes at Clinton. "Are you okay with her helping us?"
"Why is everyone so worried about mine and Abby's professional relationship? It hasn't changed, and never will," Clinton says with a sigh. No, it's just your personal one that's taken a roller coaster dump, his inner consciousness tells him. "She'll help for the purpose of this case," Clinton goes on to say. "Leave our personal life out of this when we go to interrogate her, are we clear?"
The others nod before gathering their coats, and the tech equipment, in order to head to the hospital where Clint's soon to be ex-wife works. To be honest, Clint was more than a little nervous, considering the fact that he and Abby were only a few weeks away from finalizing their divorce. No, Clint thinks to himself, shaking his head. I'm going to fight. I still want her in my life. He would fight tooth and nail in order to keep Abby from walking out of his life. Down in the parking garage, Clinton pulls Hana and Jess both off to one side, out of Crosby's and Sheryll Barnes' hearing range. "What do you need from us, Clint?" Hana asks, eyes flickering over Clinton's shoulder, just in time to see the lips of her sometimes partner crease into a deep and worried frown.
"Can you find a way to keep Crosby with a level head and Barnes occupied?" Hana nods, her head of shoulder length and tightly wound curls bobbing up and down. "Thanks." Hana nods once more, pauses as if she wants to say something further.
"Good luck." And, with that, Hana heads out with Kenny and Sheryll. Once the trio has left, Clinton smiles to himself and turns to look at Jess. The man that was more than Clinton's boss, he was both a dear friend and he was family.
"Can you find a way to distract my parents?" Clinton asks.
Jess nods and smiles. "I've got just the thing."
Clinton still isn't quite sure how he is able to manage in persuading a very tired Abby into coming to their barn/farmhouse. Maybe it was the rush of adrenaline slowly seeping into his bloodstream, or maybe it was Abby's fingers radiating heat from their tips through the denim covering his thigh. Whatever it seems to be, Clinton is on the edge of his seat with anticipation. Within moments of arriving at the Skye farm, and into the barn slash house, Clinton finds himself pressed up against the wall just inside the front doors. Pressed there, held in place with her slender hands anchoring themselves against his shoulders, Clinton could feel the tingling heat that radiates from Abby's fingertips and palms of her hands. "I've got you right where I want you, cowboy," Abby murmurs, ripping a guttural groan from Clinton's chest and throat, especially when she speaks the nickname she had dubbed him when they were younger.
"Abiola. My sweet Abiola," Clinton murmurs against her temple, his breath ragged and creating havoc by way of sending a warm whoosh of air through the waves of her chestnut brown locks of hair.
Yet somewhere in the space between quick, heavy and soft breaths on the other's cheek, Abiola "Abby" Valentine Skye has the strong sense that Clinton is attempting to maintain the last thread of his control. However, Abby didn't want him to stay in control, she wanted him. Moving her hands up from his shoulders to frame Clinton's cheeks, Abby seeks to bring his face closer to her own, brushing their lips together in brief contact. "No more waiting. No more of this divorce nonsense either, Clinton Skye," Abby murmurs against his lips. "I want us. You, me, our four children," she goes on to say. "I want you here and now, skin to skin with no clothes separating us." With that finally off her chest, Abby seeks to kiss him again, this time harder and putting all of her desire into the kiss. As Abby is kissing him, one set of her fingers seeks to push the thick material of his sweater vest up the length of Clinton's abdomen, the quiver of his muscles from Abby's touch cause her to shiver and moan in response. "This isn't how I imagined our reunion," Abby says, the tone of her voice hoarse, wheither it was from her desire or not unclear to her.
"Tell me how you did imagine it," Clinton tells her, the tone of his voice as hoarse as her own. Strong, muscular hands grip her waist, giving it a light squeeze as Clinton turns her to some extent before walking her around pieces of furniture in the living room. At the bottom step of the stairs, Clinton peels his sweater vest up and over his head, flinging it over the rounded knob at the bottom of the banister before abandoning it to walk Abby up the stairs. His lips attach themselves to the skin of Abby's neck, pressing open mouthed kisses to each inch of it in order to leave a visible mark. "Tell me, Abiola. Did you imagine us having dinner and talking about a second chance?"
Abby simply keens in response, remaining still even though she wants to arch her slender body against his hands as they squeeze the area between Abby's shoulders and neck. Rough meets smooth as Clinton eases his hands in between the sash that keeps Abby's dress around her slender waist, pulling swiftly and parting the silky blue material, his hands delving beneath and pulling her tightly to him. "Do you know I imagined our reunion exactly…like…this?" Between each of the last three words of his sentence, Clinton nips at the skin of Abby's neck some more. "I imagined the two of us, skin to skin…"
"You imagined no such thing," Abby interrupts him, with a slight frown, attempting to pull her dress back together. Clinton stops her, however, pulling the dress apart completely before removing it, leaving it laying on the lower stairs as he guides Abby further up.
"I did, and I'm going to prove it, Abiola," Clinton says in a low, ragged tone against Abby's lips. "Prove it by exploring every inch of you, kiss you everywhere and caress you all over. Remind you what it's like to have your pussy squeezing my cock tight."
A moan flickers outward from Abby's throat at Clinton's words, and the hoarse tone in which he speaks to her is translated into both Mohawk, his native language, and Canadian French. With each kiss, caress and hoarsely-spoken word, Abby and Clinton go back toward the bedroom they once shared up until nearly a year earlier. "I dare you to try proving it, Clinton Skye. I doubt it'll even happen," Abby murmurs.
With a firm but gentle touch, Clinton cups her chin, directing her dark cocoa brown gaze to his own. "I'm going to do more than try, mon amour," he whispers, before claiming her lips in a kiss that could fall somewhere into the categories between hot, sensual and passionate.
He meant business.