Gentleman Jack


Jack was going to have to upgrade the sound-proofing in his apartment.

You wouldn't think it to look at her, he thought as he watched her stride across the courtroom to cross-examine a witness, so slight, so demure, but Ms Kincaid is definitely a screamer.

And a howler. And a shrieker.

And she has a decidedly dirty mouth.

Stop thinking about it. The jury was going to see the effect thinking about Claire had on him. Stop thinking about the way she reaches up to grab hold of the bed-head and screams 'please' when she's about to go over the edge, the way she describes exactly what she's doing to me in the filthiest possible terms, the way she describes exactly what I'm doing to her and how it makes her feel – stop thinking about it!

Old Mrs Farr from the apartment to the left of his glared at him when she saw him in the hall-way. Young Ben Kelly from the apartment on the right gave him the thumbs up some mornings. Jack didn't really care about either but he felt vaguely as if the gentlemanly thing to do would be to upgrade the soundproofing.

Problem is, just doing the bedroom won't be enough.

They didn't always make it to the bedroom. Sometimes they barely made it inside the front door before Claire had him pressed against the wall, hands busy at his belt as she urged Fuck me, Jack, fuck me now, come on, come on! Sometimes she'd be pouring herself a cup of coffee and just looking at the line her back made when she turned had Jack taking the cup out of her hand and dropping it in the sink and hoisting her up onto the counter. Sometimes he'd be trying to draft notes for a closing argument or a Rosario motion and he'd look up to see Claire at the other end of the couch, gaze fixed on his face, oh-so-innocently running her fingers through her hair and then she'd moisten her lips with her tongue –

Stop thinking about it!

He managed to turn his thoughts back to the case and keep them there for the remainder of Claire's cross-examination, even when he handed her the exhibits she needed and their fingers touched, even when she leaned across the table and he could smell her perfume. The minute the judge gavelled them into the luncheon recess, however, it was a different matter. McCoy gathered their papers together hastily before Claire even made it back to the bar table.

"You and I have some testimony to review, Miss Kincaid," he said to her.

"Of course, Mr McCoy," she said demurely, the faintest hint of smile twitching her lips.

He led the way to a vacant case-conference room, locked the door behind them and had Claire in his arms two seconds later.

"I think - we need to - have sex more often," he said between kisses.

"When?" Claire demanded, running her fingers through his hair. "When do you and I have a spare minute that isn't – oh god – when we aren't already …" She slipped her knee between his and pressed against his thigh. "Only so many hours in the day, Jack. I mean last night … I didn't even get my witness prep drafted until this morning … oh god, do that again, please do that ... again … god …"

Thinking about last night had been what had got Jack into trouble in the courtroom. Claire reminding him set of a pulse of desire that momentarily robbed him of the power of speech. He seized her ass in both hands and yanked her hard against him. Claire moaned and began to rock against his leg, eyes drifting closed and hands tightening on his shoulders.

"The thing is," Jack whispered in her ear, "I can't stop thinking about you."

Claire murmured a wordless agreement, eyes still closed, cheeks flushed. Jack slid one hand up to the small of her back, to the spot that always got a reaction from her. True to form, Claire gasped and then whimpered, moving more urgently against him.

"I sit in the courtroom," Jack said, "and I can't stop thinking about throwing you down on the bar table and having you right there." He began to unbutton her blouse. "I sit in a case conference and try and work out exactly how many minutes have to go by until I can shut the front door behind us and tear off all your clothes."

"I know," Claire murmured as Jack pushed open her blouse and began to trace the edge of her bra with one finger. "I was in the library - yesterday morning and I started – thinking about those – those big tables they have … got no work done."

"We need to get this out of our system," Jack said hoarsely.

"You think that – will – will help?" Claire asked.

"Worth a try," Jack said. "Don't you think?"

"No thinking," Claire said throatily. "No … thinking. Just do that – again … please. Just – oh, please. Please!"

"A gentleman always obliges a lady," Jack told her, sliding her skirt up around her waist.

"Then let's pretend you're a gentleman," Claire gasped.

It was the last coherent thing either of them said for some time.