Author's note: This is a couple centric chapter with sex and some anger/grief. Mild case references move the story along. Also...this one does not tie up in a pretty bow.
…..
Saturday - December 23 - In San Antonio on a Case
Plan: COUPLE AT NIGHT
Days to Friendship: 9
Relationship Status: Hate but only in the best way.
…..
Finally, Luke hears the knock.
Thank. Fuck.
"It's open!"
Luke is on the bed - propped up against the headrest - wearing pyjama pants and no shirt.
The T.V. is on, but muted, so he wouldn't miss the knock.
Hockey players skate across the screen, ramming into each other in a violent parody of a competitive ice ballet.
Frankly, the spectacle matches Luke's mood exactly.
Damn Rossi. Damn Prentiss. And what he wouldn't do for a beer? Even a boring one.
"Hey Handsome-Man-Who-Has-My-Heart. How's it going?"
Luke, who budges over and clicks off the t.v. as she climbs on the bed, looks at her with eyebrows high and his eyes still.
"It's going."
"Rough day?"
Penelope swirls a perfectly manicured finger against his chest. For some reason, he feels like smacking her hand away - and he hates himself for it - so he just engulfs the hand in his and holds it still against his chest.
"Fuck you. Yes, Penelope. Yes. I had a fucking awful day. But so did you. So fuck off. What the fuck did Prentiss fucking want?"
"Language, language, Mr. Alvez? Tut. Tut. Do you kiss your Mama with that mouth?"
"No. I fucking kiss you!"
And he rolls Penelope underneath himself - but even as he brings down his lips on hers for a tight jawed ferocious kiss - he holds himself up off her - apart - his muscles roped - his body scaturient with the frustration, rage and despair of the day. And even though she opens to his kiss - smells delicious - tastes ripe and wanting - none of it soothes but instead washes him in hot self-disgust - so he pushes up and off her…
Fuck. Fuck. Double Fuck. Triple Fuck. Hell.
…the bells of hell go ring-y ding-y ding for you but not for me…
Shut up brain.
Luke paces the room - caged and caustic - his teeth grinding - his hands pull his short hair - scrub down over his eyes and cheeks… like he would if wearing bad carnival makeup or had mud slung in his face… as though he can wipe off all that is unwanted…
Penelope sits on the bed - eyes following his erratic travels - her expression inscrutable. It is unspeakably unsettling being this close to someone who has been sucked into the maelstrom - especially when you yourself are teetering on its edge. Sometimes when Penelope is near Luke, or even just thinks of him, her mouth fills with unshed kisses - but now her mouth is empty and it is her hands that have filled. Each palm itches to hit or slap this man - punch him - punish him. She has had a long day - a fucking long day - a fucking long week… fuck it all. A long life. And he.. and he..
Fuck it.
Penelope launches to her feet - heading for their adjoining door.
She has to leave before she screams or…or…or kisses him… or..or…or… kills him.
Stupid Newbie.
"Luke, I am going to bed! If you want to waste time being an…an…an Anger Ball
… Thank You Playing By Heart and all hail the incredible Gena Rowlands! FINE. …but I don't have time for this shit."
Just as she is reaching for the doorknob…
"Penelope. Grace. Garcia."
His voice brims with warning. But that? She could ignore; it is the three-naming that turns her around.
The. Unmeasurable. Audacity.
"Oh. You. Didn't."
"I did. And next time? Next time, Ms Penelope Grace Garcia?" he brings his stern face right close to hers - his lips just a rough whisper away, "Next time? I'll sing it."
"Promises, promises, Alvez."
Penelope is pressed back against the adjoining door of their rooms. Her words are light but her body and the deliberate way she forms each taunt belie her fury. He slaps his palms down to either side of her - now it is she who is caged - and pushes his knee in between her thighs. Penelope doesn't even flinch - instead something cheeky and punishing inside her makes her press her crotch hard against his knee - taking more than he meant to impose.
Luke hisses as he feels her grind against him - his eyes flair - she is being such a little… MINX.
Minx not Bitch - he corrects himself internally veering away from old uglier language.
Words. With her…It's always about words…
And. He. Loves. It.
But that doesn't mean it doesn't piss him off…
…or that she doesn't deserve a little taunting back for making him so aware of all these words and damn… feelings.
So Luke takes a page out of her book…
And.. like the night after boxing…the night when she slowly oh so slowly bit him…bit him and set in motion a night of mind-bending hissing feral love making… and so now… like she did then… he bares his teeth. He swings slowly upward… tracing the contour of her face up from where he hovers by her perfect pretty pouty lips to the flushed apple of her cheek…sensing how her teeth clench under the softness of her skin…so close but not touching her with anything more than a hot exhale…until…
…until he impudently…agonisingly slowly.. silently opens wide and then fiercely but tortuously gently presses the ridges of his teeth wide against her cheek - and then, as he senses her freeze and suck in a breath - a breath he knows has filled her nostrils with the scent of him and his anger - drags them marklessly closed until he is holding a fold flesh daintily but mercilessly in his bite.
And in that alien moment of almost violence - something even deeper than before settles between these two.
The pain is strangely sweet and familiar to Penelope - a metallic tang of trust flies from the spot he holds between bared teeth through her face - zinging down though her body through heart and lungs - down limbs to fingertips and toes.
If he closed his jaw - bit down - he could - would - scar her - rend her flesh - in one fell swoop mark her as a victim and end anything dear or precious between them.
But somehow - like a baby crocodile in the mouth of a trusted parent - she is not afraid.
She is suddenly aware of just how much she trusts this man and how much of her saying "Yes" to the decoy plan is because she knows Luke will be by her side. So she does not move - just lets her breaths sync with his…
For his part Luke feels like he has been shocked awake. Everything - he - is suddenly crystal clear. The control he feels is absolute as he hold her cheek in his mouth - the slightly bitter taste of her makeup singeing his heavy unmoving tongue - and he is suddenly deeply aware of how he will strive to never hurt this woman or any other lover with carelessness of thought or action ever ever again as long as he lives.
Holding as still as he can - not letting go or clamping down even a hairsbreadth with his teeth - Luke shifts his weight so he is held by the hand closest to her cheek freeing the other hand so that with the skill of a highwire walker he can caress her - careful to press firmly enough not to tickle - over her shoulder - her heart - the swell of her breast still held high and proud by today's bra and dress - down curving around her rib cage and then down and inwards until his hand is splayed protectively across her belly.
Like that - they breathe - still like coiled springs.
Like that - the clamour of their anger does not leave - but it does burn down - smouldering into embers - the emotions still hot but no longer such a conflagration.
Like that - Luke gently lowers his eyelids - releases her cheek and then somehow leans in still closer but not touching - right next to her swinging sexy chandelier earrings - the soft hotel room light glinting off the multi-coloured crystals and asks without any menace in Penelope's ear, "Prentiss wants to use you as bait, doesn't she?"
"Yes."
The word is a breath - a cry - a prayer and Luke answers it the only way he knows how - tightening his grip on her belly, catching her mouth with his in a kiss and letting everything he feels and think pour into her through his wide questing mouth. His tongue brushes hers and suddenly they are fencing, nipping, lolling kisses inside her mouth, around her lips, up over her cheek, laving the skin he had just held hostage and then back back to her mouth.
Oh fuck.
Kissing for them is everything - too much - not enough.
Oh fuck oh fuck.
Penelope catches his face in her hands - his beard rough on her fingertips - and kisses it all back. She drags her tongue across a bristly cheek and then back and hot into his mouth…and then her hands are shaped around his lower skull - pushed into his curls - tugging his head back so that she can suck his throat.
Oh fuck.
She's left a hickey, but she doesn't care, he doesn't care.
oh fuck oh fuck
He pulls down the neck of her dress and the cup of her bra and just below and to the side of the juiciest nipple he has ever known he sucks hard - tongue swirling until she is marked with his hickey.
oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.
"Luke take it off - just rip it. Rip it. Take it all off now. Now!"
Underlining her words Penelope fists the neckline of her dress - it's one of those ones with a panel that runs down the front of the dress - one the seams starts to rip as she yanks desperately at the material. Luke replaces her hands with his and with a sharp long violent motion - and a couple steps back for good measure - the stitches snap and the dress is off of her.
Fuck.
His eyes eat - gobble - up her body and the damn gorgeousness of her under… things. He glares ferociously at the scraps of celestial blue and gold silk and lycra that cling to and shape her body. These scrumptious scandalous sexy skivvies that have been hidden under the respectively staid royal blue dress she wore for work.
He loops a finger into and then runs his knuckle behind the lacey antique gold garter which cuts across her left thigh. Her skin is marked by how tightly the garter was tied to ensure her stockings stayed up - stockings that he had assumed were regular navy pantyhose but are actually delicate thigh-highs decorated with a three inch band of golden embroidery - beauty which has been hidden throughout this very long very horrid day by her modest now destroyed skirt…
The sight somehow makes him both suffused with erotic longing and washed again in unreasonable fury at her temerity…
So he snaps the lace - enjoying a bit too much the sound of it hitting her flesh - the red that spreads from miniature impact.
"How the fuck do you get away with wearing these.. things while on the job?"
"Nobody can see them and I was too busy to notice or even remember what they looked like."
"Until now."
Penelope bites her lip.
Penelope meets his eyes.
"Until now."
Penelope lifts her breasts with her bejewelled hands - her offering them like sacrifices - one is still cupped in the blue and gold bra - the other louchely bare - the red mark he left peeking at him though her fingers - her mountain ring winking at him.
Luke part groans and part growls then falls upon her breasts like a starving man at a feast - tongue and teeth playing across the soft mounds of flesh - nuzzling his rough cheeks across and between as he squeezes handfuls of glorious Penelope flesh - then he sucks one fat nipple deep deep into his mouth - his tongue stroking hard and fast across the underside of her areola - as, on the other breast, he thumbs and tweaks her nipple and then rolls his palm over and around the taught gorgeous nub.
But when she cries out and grabs his hair to pull him closer - leans harder and deeper into his mouth - his hands - his touch?
He fights free and switches sides.
Back and forth.
Penelope wrestling with him for what she wants and Luke sometimes giving in to her direction but often dodging pulling away diving back in where she least expects.
Finally, Luke wins a round of skirmishes and is able to squash Penelope's breasts together so that he can suckle both nipples at the same time - he holds her tight so that she can't pop away - so he can take his time and truly torment her…
First, he tongues the nipples with short tight strokes - feeling - exploring - re-learning every micro fold - every pebble of her teats with his strong quick tongue. He closes his eyes and visualises what a camera would catch inside his mouth as he sucks and fondles and pulls more blush - more tightness - into her hot begging sensitive flesh with his more-than-eager mouth.
Beautiful. Slick. Pebbled. Tight.
Penelope is suddenly convinced her nipples are so erect they could cut glass and she is irrationally terrified that if they engorge any more - and she can feel they are… oh they are… they will burst like berries in his hot wet mouth!
"Stop!!! Oh stop it!"
And Luke does. Absolutely. Completely.
Her breasts swing free from his mouth and hands so quickly that her head swims and she stumbles - catching herself with a hand on his shoulder.
"Penny? You alright? I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry. I am fine. I promise. I am fine."
"You sure? You promise? I…"
"I am fine. I promise. Please?"
Luke's eyes search Penelope's and he finds the reassurance he needs… and then… and then…
… oh fuck …
His hands have come around her breasts again and Luke is somehow carefully but firmly holding her nipples both of them between his teeth - the pinch is almost unbearable but sweet…and the answering tension in he cunt is unspeakably perfect… wanting…
…and now he moves again and swirls his mouth around and over - nipples popping out of their toothy prison - laved slow and wet and sloppy - both nipples still always madly - gloriously - almost too muchly in his mouth and oh she is hot and tight everywhere and - oh fuck - he is now sucking her so hard and so deep?
So deep and so hard that the words aren't big enough for what he is doing - it is everything - the suction is like nothing he has ever done before - it is the vacuum of space - the sweet pain and pressure of a black hole…
Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.
Penelope curses and cries out but is careful not to form the word "no" or the word "stop" for fear that this dark pleasure will end too soon…too soon… too soon…
Her head falls back as the pressure builds and builds until, without thinking clearly about it, her fingernails dig - harsh and deep and sharp - into his shoulders - and that is when he finally lets her nipples free - the cool air of the hotel room clamouring in where before was his hot needy mouth - he whisper howls in triumph and pain - blazing when blood beads…
Penelope pulls her hands away - gasping - guilty - quivering.
Panting shaky spiky breaths burst and heave from her body.
Heart-wrenchingly her fourth grade teacher's - dull Ms Scanttree's - voice arcs in unwelcome sing-song through her brain…
You're just too much, Penelope. Too much. Remember! It's all fun and games, until someone loses an eye, dear.
So she deliberately drives her perfectly manicured apparently-lethal nails into her own palms - willing herself to draw blood - in penance - but also because instinctively she knows that hurting herself will scorch him.
Tonight? Tonight, she is petty enough to want him to burn.
But Luke's hands have caught hers and are gentleling them open. He kisses each palm - then checks each - there are small red soon to be crescents for each finger except one. Her left ring finger - the one with her mountain ring… yes, it pierced the skin and left an almost imperceptible red pearl of blood. He looks up at her - feral and stern - and without breaking his gaze licks up the drop with the lightest tiniest flick of his tongue.
"I didn't say stop, Penelope. Tonight you may pierce me. I will tell you if anything is too much. I promise. But no hurting yourself. Ever. No letting me hurt you more than is exciting and safe and what you enjoy in the moment. I cannot - will not - bear that. Never. Ever. Promise?"
Electricity zings between them.
"Promise."
And Penelope seals the promise by kneeling in front of him and enacts their own personal loving ritual. Tears spiking her eyes - Penelope presses a kiss to one bristly cheek, then the other. Then a sweet kiss to his forehead - the tip of his nose - neither smile the way they sometimes do - a press of lips to lips - solemn, serious - appropriate for a new set of solemn vows.
Next are the kisses to his palms and fingertips and then his mountain ring - every kiss precise and perfect until the promise has been carved into being as if into stone.
"Now you promise."
"I would never hurt myself. I would always tell you if I wanted you to stop. I don't have to promise."
"You should promise.. but no… I want something different. Luke, promise me that whatever happens… on this case or future ones… Whatever. Happens. You will not blame yourself. You will remember that you deserve happiness and take steps to make sure you are not all alone. You have to promise because you are too much of a soft hearted doofus and if something stupid happens you might not hurt yourself - but you will be far far far too hard on yourself - and you might forget that the greatest thing you'll ever learn is to love and be loved in return."
"Alright I will promise - I do promise-"
"Thank you."
"but I am going to tease you for quoting Moulin Rouge in such a serious moment - for the rest of our long lives."
"I hate you, Luke Alvez. But only in the best way."
"I hate you too, Penelope Garcia… but only in the best way… and while this is all lovely and smoochy and serious-"
"Smoochy?"
"Yes. Smoochy and-"
"Did Luke Alvez just use the word smoochy? If only our affair wasn't an open secret I would tell everyone."
"Good thing it is a secret-"
"-an open secret!"
"Are you going to let me finish, Ms Garcia?"
"Yes Sir!"
"Then zip it Little Miss I-wear-the-most-inappropriately-erotic-underwear-while-hunting-serial-killers!!!!"
Luke glares before she can come back at him with one of her trademark smart mouthed retorts. He has no idea why her underwear is making him so furious - it never has before and he fully knows that she is the best technical analyst on the planet regardless of what she is wearing or not wearing - but it's just one more thing too far amidst so much that has gone too far…
So he glares and Penelope mimes locking her lips and throwing away the key - raising her eyebrows to bade him to continue.
"As I was saying...while this is all lovely and smoochy and serious..I am still really fucking pissed at the world because the damn love of my life is very likely going to be used as bait for a serial killer - and I am probably going to help it happen - so if you don't mind… I really really really would like to get back to driving thoughts about that whole situation - and don't get me started on the things I have learned you've had to put up with over the years because people have these ugly little brains which they don't bother scrubbing clean of hate and fear and… " Luke forces himself to breathe - even as he refuses to unclench, "I just… I just… would really really really really like it if we could get back to what we were doing before we got distracted? As long as you don't mind, of course?"
In reply, Penelope deftly places her hands on his shoulders - carefully making sure that her nails are pressed against him in attack formation - and pushes herself to her feet letting her nails spike into his skin - smiling in satisfaction when Luke grins grimly at her and steadiers her with hands to her hips… but before anything else happens she leans down and whispers in his ear, "I don't mind one iota, of course - but Luke… tonight? the safe words - the words that make us stop no matter what? The only two words we stop for this time? Unless it's some sort of tease that is part of all this…"
Penelope waves vaguely at the surroundings.
"Yes?"
"Moulin. Rouge."
And then - before Luke's buzzing brain can fully make sense of what is happening… Penelope bites her annoying, adorable, infuriating, yet amazing lover's earlobe and then stands tall - stepping tighter into his embrace - pushing him down by the shoulders - nails first - down so that he's sitting back on his haunches - down so that - most importantly - his face is exactly even with her panty-clad quim. Exactly even with her panty-clad quim which thrusts just as she feels his hands grip the globes of her ass - thrusts against now Luke's gaping open eager mouth.
Oh fuck yes
Mouth-wet material gets pushed between the lips of her pussy by his newly questing tongue.
Wet meeting wet.
And despite the little entre-actes?
Penelope's cunt is aching and sopping like there was no break. Like Luke's tongue never stopped greedily sucking and lapping and tapping and teasing and nipping her nipples to tandem peaks and now her greedy demanding clit wants it's turn. Her vagina walls are begging for the friction of a finger or two or three shoved up and in and up and in and 'come hither - come hither'. But so far Luke is just fucking teasing her… a bit of a suck.. a little flick…. But not enough..never even close… oh fuck almost… but no… no…
damn him.
Penelope mewls - a reedy needy sound - so Luke finally smashes her thighs tight to his cheeks - finally nuzzles wilder - rougher - pulls her closer - sucks first one thick silk covered pussy lip hard and deep and then the other - finally he bites and she squeals and grinds closer - reaching herself to pull the sodden panties to one side and the run her clit round and well and oh yes oh yes his tongue is battling with her fingers….and then he's won the battle and sweet fuck her clit is in his mouth and he tongues and sucks and she grinds and cries out - and he does not pause at all - his fingers are plunging up and into her wet wide quim - he's twisting up and in and up and in screwing his finger in and out and in and out and she is shimmering panting coiling and his mouth is everything ever on her clit and she is so close so close …almost almost… please oh fuck …so close so please so fuck so fuck so please. Annnnnd….
And just when she almost crashes into glorious magical perfect release from his mouth and and and…
Luke is gone.
Luke, or as Penelope may call him henceforth 'the asshole', can move like lightning and has somehow disengaged just as Penelope was about to…about to…
Luke is lying stretched out on the bed somehow he's lost his pants in his 'oh so clever' manoeuvre - so he is on the bed, stretched out, wearing only a cheeky glinting grin - his cock at full mast - which he bobs cheerfully with a little thrust of his hips when Penelope has enough of her wits back to straighten and fix him with the most unbelieving look a lover may have ever sent or received. He's secretly dying inside - kicking himself - fuck she tasted devine and truthfully if she had cum on his tongue - he probably would have happily spent his load at her feet. But tonight is about more than straight forward pleasures - so he pitches his next words with the tone that always flusters and endearingly enrages his beloved sexy goddess…he just has to hold out a bit longer…
"That looked fun. How about returning the favour Pen-el-o-pe? Wrap that tight smart little mouth around this here pleasure-stick for a bit?"
He's not sure exactly what will happen next but as long as she doesn't actually murder him on the spot - it will probably be magnificently worth his little ploy… to be honest she is gorgeously rumpled in her fury… and the sight of her from this vantage point is almost enough on it's own…
He takes a chance and strokes himself once for her.
Penelope's eyes narrow even further and if looks could kill…
Fuck.
The straps of her midnight blue and gold bra have been pushed off her shoulders - the cups push up under her breasts so they are propped up all pretty - one garter and stocking gathered down around her ankle - the other still high and tight around her thigh.
Luke can't help it - he strokes himself again letting his palm come up and over the tip and then sliding down - working the head of his cock with thumb and forefin gerahhh
Fuck. Not too fast, Luke. Not too much, Luke.
He slows and lightens the touch on his cock and his body bucks in protest. His eyes want to close against the self-pleasuring joy but he won't let them - he has to keep looking at her…looking at him…her eyes which had be lock on his drop and fix on his caressing hand… his cock which is now playing a languorous game of hide and seek with his hand…if she can look…than so can he…
Her panties are wet and wedged to one side so the puffy lips of her pussy are on full show…and then…fuck…a hand…her hand reaches to touch those lips…lips he can still feel the shape of in his mouth…the curl of the hairs on his tongue…as his thumb and forefinger still and tighten - hers splay open - spreading those fat glorious lips wide so that he can see the glistening hidden wetness - her clit is pointing straight out - puffy and flushed red in it's little cloak…
Penelelope deftly switches the job to holding up one side of the fleshy curtain of her cunt to her middle finger…freeing her index so it can twang her angry clit once - twice… her hips flex forward - somehow putting her pussy even more widely on display.
It takes real effort for Luke to not throw himself at her feet - replace her solo hand with both of his - replace her twanging finger with his mouth - pulling her clit and surrounding flesh back into his mouth with his tongue so he can suck it deep - press the long sensitive organ between his strong flat tongue and the roof of his mouth where it belongs - sucking and worshipping at her thrown the way she deserves…
Luke quickly lets go of his cock as his balls tighten threateningly - he runs his palms down his thighs and this time it is his own nails he digs into his skin - distracting himself from the erotic sights both infront of him and playing through his brain. He clenches his jaw for the thousandth time today - stretches his neck to one side then the other - letting it crack - relieving the tension just enough to keep from cumming right there and then - hands free…he swallows hard…this is not ending just yet.
"Penelope. Fair is Fair. Get. Your. Mouth. On. My. Penis. Right. This. Second."
Penelope pouts - swirls her finger around her weeping cunny - coating it in her own juices - letting a satisfied sound pass her lips which then curl into her scariest smile. Thumb and middle finger relax letting the plump outer lips of her pussy fall back over the treasured flesh it is their job to guard…and then...slowly… deliberately… Penelope Grace Garcia pops her sopping finger from where is now being hugged tight by his favourite pussy in the world… and… slowly… deliberately… teasingly.. trails it up over her belly… looping lazily around her navel… and then up between her breasts… then zigzagging over… still so slowly… so deliberately… so teasingly… so erotically… circumnavigating the curve and swell of first one breast then the other… pausing only for a quick firm tweak of each nipple…and then agonising slowly… agonisingly deliberately… agonisingly teasingly… agonisingly erotically… agonisingly perfect…
Oh fuck.
Penelope Grace Garcia traces up her throat - tipping her head back - and then bringing in back to centre just as her finger comes to rest at the corner or her mouth - her pouting expression a parody of one seriously considering a new idea - rolling it over in her brain - as if she is seriously considering the pros and cons of Wrapping her tight smart little mouth around his pleasure-stick for a bit…
…and then as a coup de grâce, apparently without conscious thought, she slips her finger - her finger that he knows tastes just like her pussy - into her mouth and gives it a couple absent minded sucks.
Oh fuck. Oh fuck.
Then, as if it will help her make this very important decision, she plunges it in and out experimentally - suggestively - in and out between pursed lips - her eyes now narrowed as if in thought not fury…
Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck fuck fuck.
….although she can't hide the occasional flash of menace in the blue as she tortures Luke deliciously in return for his crime of abandonment at such a key moment…
Luke's hands are now knotted in the sheets bunched at his sides.
…and she can't hide the furious pride she feels that this man wants her - was angry tonight - because he wants her protected and happy…
Luke's face is flush and his teeth clenched.
…and she can't hide the jolt of joy and power when - in time with her finger disappearing fast and tight between her wet lips - his hips buck once hard and helplessly for her…
…she wants him so badly…
…she hates it all so much…
….so so so much…
…she… she… she..
Oh. Fuck.
And Penelope dissolves into a flood of messy unsexy unrestrained tears - slumping in the least seductive way ever into the armchair she had been meaning to lounge in for the next bit of tonight's show and games.
And Luke's arms are around her in a blink.
And he is muttering comfortable sweet precious nothings.
His poor sweet love.
And Luke holds her tightly - pulling her into his lap -even as tears of his own scorch his cheeks.
And Penelope clings to Luke and Luke clings to Penelope.
And they cry and cry and…then they are kissing and then…and then…
…and then…
…and then the room is shattered by Matt knocking hard on the door.
"Luke? Yo! Alvez? Get up - Prentiss wants everyone downstairs in 10! We think there might be a new victim. And...uh…should I wake up Garcia or...uh... do you want to?"
To be continued…