WEATHERING THE STORM
POST-4X23
RATED M
It's still storming when he wakes.
When Kate had shown up at his door, drenched with rain and an apology on her lips, he'd had half a mind to shut the door in her face. She'd hurt him; even worse, had turned her back on him so she could run towards sure death.
Her words echo in his mind as he glances at the other side of the bed. It's empty, the comforter thrown back. A look at the clock tells him he slept less than an hour, and he sits up, his heart sinking with disappointment when he realizes she's gone.
Their lovemaking had been frantic, fingers clawing at buttons and zippers, cries of passion echoing across his bedroom, her gasps and moans as he'd driven into her, his own climax rushing through him just moments after hers.
I just want you.
If she'd left so soon after they'd had sex, obviously not.
Maybe she'd told him what he wanted to hear. They gave into their physical desire, and she allowed him to have hope before she crushed his heart for the last time.
Lightning flashes outside, illuminating the room, and he startles when he sees a figure at his office window.
Even if he hadn't seen every inch of her bare skin a short time ago, he's stared at her fully clothed body enough that even the brief glimpse has his chest expanding with hope.
She didn't leave. She's still here.
He slides out of bed, his feet barely making a noise when they touch the floor, and pads into the other room. He doesn't turn on the light, not wanting to startle her or send her running. The next flash of lightning shows him that she's wearing the maroon shirt he'd had on when she came over, which he'd thrown across the room in his desperate rush to be naked.
His cock stirs as he rakes his gaze up her body, her long, perfect legs that disappear under the shirt. The shirt comes down to just below her ass, and his fingers itch to touch her, slide along her skin, and dig into her hips as they make love.
He should have known that one taste - which technically didn't happen, he realizes with a pout - wouldn't be enough. He only felt her shudder around him once.
Unacceptable.
He reaches out to touch her, but when he catches her reflection in the window and sees her wet cheeks, he redirects his hand from her ass to her waist.
Her eyes meet his in the window, and she lifts a hand to swipe across her cheeks.
"What's wrong?" he asks in a low rumble, not wanting to break the silence, but wanting - needing - to comfort her even more.
She shakes her head and offers a slight smile. "Nothing's wrong," she assures him, covering his hands with hers, notching her fingers between his. "Just thinking."
He props his chin on her shoulder and holds her eye contact, even through the continued rain pounding on the window and flashes of lightning.
A damn hurricane couldn't tear his attention from her.
"Care to share?" he asks after a long pause. He turns his head just enough to press his lips to the side of her neck. He won't pressure her to talk, but he won't let her withdraw too far, either. Their argument yesterday - her refusing to back down from the case, his walking away, he thought for the last time - sits heavily between them.
The argument, and some of the things said.
They've fought before. Hell, he's accused her of ignoring her feelings for him to stay in loveless relationships with others. He's sure they'll fight again. But aside from that day in the cemetery, when her life was fading from her eyes, he's never been so honest about his feelings for her.
"You hurt me, Rick."
His eyes widen, and he steps back, intending to inspect every inch of her for signs that he was too rough and gripped her too tight.
She shakes her head and tightens her grip on his hands, holding him to her. "Not physically. I know you'd never do that. But you lied to me, kept something from me, even knowing I'd been struggling." Her jaw hardens. "You should have told me about Smith," she insists. "I've been on edge for a year, thinking I was in somebody's crosshairs, when a few words from you could have stopped all that."
"I didn't know you felt like that," he argues, turning her in his arms.
If they're going to have this talk, they're going to have it face-to-face. No windows, no metaphors, no assumptions. He's ready to dive in, but they'll be on the same page when he does.
"I had no idea how much you were struggling because you never told me." He cups her shoulders, slides his hands down to hers when he feels her stiffen. "You disappeared for two months. Not a damn peep. Not to me, not to anyone. Then you showed up at my book signing, expecting…what, to go back to normal?" He runs a frustrated hand through his hair.
"If you didn't keep to yourself all the damn time, maybe I could have helped," he continues, ignoring the flash of anger in her eyes. "Maybe I could've at least told you that you were safe. I could've done something."
"It wasn't your choice to make," she snaps. "It's my mother's case. Not yours. And none of this would have even happened if you'd just stayed out of it in the first place." She crosses her arms and leans back against the window.
He tries not to notice how the movement pushes her breasts up, how tantalizing her cleavage is.
God, she's such a fucking tease, and she doesn't even know it.
"I'll never apologize for doing what I thought was right to keep you safe," he insists.
Judging by the flare of her nostrils, that's the wrong thing to say.
"I'm not a child, Rick," she snaps. "I'm a fucking homicide detective. I've seen things you can't even imagine. It's not your job to protect me."
"What would you have done if it was me?"
His question seems to stop her in her tracks. She opens and closes her mouth a few times before huffing and shrugging her shoulders.
"It's not about that," she argues.
"Bullshit." He steps forward, crowding her against the window, ignores the way his cock stands at attention at their proximity. God, he wants her. "Look me in my eyes and tell me you wouldn't do anything to keep me out of harm's way."
Her nostrils flare again, but this time her gaze is locked on his mouth, her eyes almost black.
"You lied to me too," he reminds her, lowering his head, their mouths just millimeters apart. "You said you didn't remember the cemetery."
"I didn't." Her voice is little more than a whisper. "Not then. My mind was all jumbled, I couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. I didn't remember until I was out of the city and I could clear my head." She grips his biceps, her fingers digging into his skin, as if she's afraid he'll disappear. "That was about me, Rick. I'm sorry I wasn't more clear from the start that the relationship I was working towards was one with you."
"Kate," he rasps, resting his forehead against hers.
"So can we agree to be honest from here on out?" she continues as if he didn't say anything. One hand trails up his arm to the side of his neck, and she slides her thumb across his bottom lip. "We talk about everything, and we don't make decisions for each other."
He barely nods before her mouth is on his.
She buries her fingers in his hair as she slips her tongue between his lips, holding him to her; not that he's going anywhere, especially when her hips roll against his.
His cock twitches, and she chuckles in his mouth, slicks her tongue against his as her fingers curl around his length.
He bucks into her touch, and he slides his hands down to her ass, tugs her into him. He tears his mouth from hers when she hooks her leg around his, lining his cock up with her entrance. "Wait," he gasps, trailing his mouth down her neck, nipping at her collarbone when she starts to guide him into her.
He steps back, takes her hand in his, and laces their fingers together. He lifts their hands and presses a soft kiss to her knuckles, a deceptively tender gesture, considering the things he wants to do to her are not tender at all.
She lifts a sharp brow, but he doesn't stray from his goal. They'd been so desperate earlier, had consumed each other so quickly, that he hadn't been able to take his time worshiping her, devouring her, giving her the attention she deserves.
"Lean back," he commands in a low voice. When she narrows her eyes, he gently nudges her until her back is against the window. He reaches out and unbuttons her - his - shirt, slides his palms up her sides until his thumbs brush over her breasts.
At her sharp inhale, he smirks, lowers his head, and draws one nipple into his mouth. She buries her fingers in his hair, holding him to her as she arches into him. He swirls his tongue around her nipple and cups her other breast with his hand, rolling that nipple with his thumb, replacing his hand with his mouth when she moans and bucks into him.
His name comes out on a gasp, her fingers tightening in his hair, and he grins against her skin, releases her breast with a loud pop. He lifts his eyes, holds her dark, desperate gaze as he kneels and curls his fingers around her thighs. He drapes one leg over his shoulder and kisses the inside of her thigh, drifts his mouth across her skin, enjoys her whimper when he nears her center.
Her eyes flutter shut when he teases her with his tongue, and he narrows his eyes, nips at the inside of her thigh. She fixes her glare on him, and he smirks and drags his tongue through her arousal.
"Eyes on me," he growls, squeezing her thighs before turning his attention back to her.
He moans when he tastes her again, at her sweetness on his tongue, the arousal that floods his mouth when she gasps and bucks her hips. Her fingers dig into his scalp as she holds him to her, and he closes his eyes, moaning again as he licks his way to her clit.
"God," she breathes, trailing her fingers through his hair. He flicks his tongue against her clit, and she cries out, digs her ankle into his back as she arches with pleasure.
He lets go of her thigh, slides his fingers through her wetness even as he lavishes her clit, her folds, her very essence. One finger teases her entrance, and she gasps when he slips it inside.
A second finger joins, and he strokes her methodically, feels her clench around him, the flutters around his fingers telling him she's close. He fastens his mouth around her clit, his tongue relentless, determined to make her come like this, held up only by the window and him. He hums in pleasure and her fingers clench his hair, the tugs almost painful as she moans his name and spasms around him.
He releases her clit, licking down her folds as she comes, catching her release with his tongue. One more curl and stroke of his fingers has her gasping again, and he withdraws his hand, smiles against her when she whimpers. He slowly lowers her leg to the floor, but when her knees buckle he doesn't let go, simply grabs her hips, trailing his mouth up her torso as he stands.
She meets his gaze, her eyelids heavy, a satisfied smile tugging at her mouth. Her fingers curl around the back of his neck, and she pulls him to her, moans and slicks her tongue through his lips when they kiss.
He wants nothing more than to carry her back to his bed and drive into her until they both see stars - or bend her over his desk, he muses when he remembers they're in his office - but her words from earlier emerge from the back of his mind. And when his hands trail over her ribs and draw a pained gasp from her, he steps back, ignoring his own need.
"You almost died," he gasps, breaking the silence. Her brows furrow in confusion, and he moves further away, leans against his desk. "Earlier. You said you almost died. What happened?"
She scoffs and reaches for his cock, but he shakes his head and grabs her hand, laces his fingers through hers. He tugs, leads her behind his desk, pulls her onto his lap when he sits.
"Talk to me, Kate."
She sighs and wraps her arms around his neck. "We found him," she starts, "the guy who shot me. Cole Maddox. We tracked him to his hotel. He got the drop on us, knocked Espo out, and I followed him to the roof."
He tenses; he doesn't like where this is going. He'd assumed she got into some kind of altercation, a bad one considering the bruises he'd noticed when he'd removed her shirt. But as soon as she says "roof," he gets a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"He beat the shit out of me, Rick," she admits with a long sigh. "I tried. But he was just too strong."
"Kate," he breathes, dropping his cheek to her shoulder.
She trails her fingers through his hair, and he closes his eyes, loses himself in her gentle touch.
"Long story short, he disappeared when I was hanging off the side of the building."
His head snaps up. "He threw you off the roof?"
"Yeah." She presses her hand to his cheek and offers a small smile. "I thought that was the end," she admits, her voice cracking on the last word. Her eyes shimmer, and the tears begin to fall as she blinks. "I wasn't scared, not to die. But all I could think about was what I'd miss."
She lifts her other palm to his cheek, framing his face in her hands. "You," she clarifies, leaning forward to brush her mouth against his. "I am so sorry," she whispers. "I'm sorry that I hurt you, however unintentional. Sorry that I pushed you away. I was so stubborn, so blind with anger, that I refused to look at what you did from any other angle."
She kisses him again, longer this time, teases the seam of his lips with her tongue before pulling away. "As I was hanging there, I realized that I was going to die without telling you that I love you. My last act would have been choosing a case over you and I hated myself for that."
She locks her fingers around the back of his neck and looks deep into his eyes. "As soon as Ryan pulled me up, I knew that I needed to see you. To tell you that you're the most important thing in my life. More than my mom's case, my case, more than my job. So I quit."
Rick blinks, trying to follow everything she just told him. She loves him. She regretted their last interaction. She-
"You quit? What, your job?"
She nods. "Yeah. I don't trust myself not to put my job first again. So I quit."
"You-" He shakes his head in disbelief. "Kate, did you quit for me?"
She lifts a shoulder. "Yes. No. I'm not sure, actually. I wasn't really thinking." Her fingers trail through the fine hairs at the nape of his neck, and she drops her forehead to his. "I just know that if I have to choose between you and the case, any case, I choose you." She leans forward, slants her mouth over his, draws out a low moan with the stroke of her tongue.
"I love you, Rick," she breathes, drifting her mouth across his jaw. She repeats herself over and over again, her mouth leaving a trail of fire on his skin even as he lifts her in his arms.
He carries her to his room, pushes aside the sheets, and lowers her to the bed. He tears himself away from her just long enough to help her tug off her shirt, but as soon as she's bare he pushes her back down, trails his mouth down her neck.
As much as he'd love to taste her again, spend all night exploring every inch of her body, his erection is almost screaming at him for relief. He hovers over her, bracing himself on his elbows, and gazes into her dark eyes.
She presses a palm to his cheek, and lifts her head to brush her mouth against his. Her other hand trails down his torso, and he inhales sharply when her fingers find his cock and stroke.
He grunts and jerks his hips, propping himself on one elbow so he can grip himself, covering her hand with his. "Good?" he husks, hoping she doesn't say no.
It might kill him, but he'll stop if she says no.
Instead, she nods. "Yeah," she whispers. "Please, Rick, I need-"
She cries out when he enters her in one swift thrust, and she arches her back when he immediately pulls out and slams into her again, setting a fast pace.
Her ankles lock at his ass, her heels digging into his flesh as he pistons his hips. He won't last long, not after watching her orgasm once already, writhing and feeling her clench around his fingers. Even their conversation had barely put a dent in his desire.
Judging by her loud moans and the flutters around his cock, she's close too. Her nails dig into his shoulders, and he grunts and jerks his hips, the sharp pain of her nails going straight to his cock. He presses his forehead to hers as he buries himself inside her, pulsing as he comes.
She grips the back of his head and crashes her mouth to his, her teeth sinking into his bottom lips, releasing him as she tenses under him and cries out his name. She spasms around him, her orgasm drawing his out, until finally his arms can't hold him up anymore, and he collapses, somehow managing to shift enough so he doesn't squish her.
Her fingers trail through his hair as they breathe hard, catching their breath, until she slides out from his embrace.
He adjusts the sheets, pulling them up, retrieving the discarded duvet from the floor. He fluffs the pillows, making the bed as comfortable as he can…assuming Kate's even going to stay. Aside from their conversation just a little while ago, they haven't talked much, and he doesn't know if she plans on going home, or staying, or what the rest of the night will look like.
Any worries he has that she'll leave disappear when she emerges from the bathroom, gives him a shy smile, and slides into bed next to him. She leans forward and brushes her lips across his, presses her palm to his cheek.
"I love you," she whispers against his mouth.
He grins, relief flooding his chest and making him feel lighter than a balloon. "I love you too," he murmurs. "Stay?"
She hums and lays down, tugs him down next to her. She snuggles into his side, and he drapes his arm around her back, pulls her in tight. Her lips press against his chest, and he feels the movement almost more than he hears her whispered promise.
"As long as you'll have me."
-FIN-