Mild spoilers for "Child's Play" and "All in the Family".

Disclaimer: All characters belong to CBS and their creators at CSI:NY.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews and reads, everyone. Here's the next step in the dance.

Follow Your Bliss

Chapter 2

The drive was silent, Flack's right hand twined in Stella's left, lying on the bench seat between them. As they got closer to Stella's apartment, he could feel her anxiety grow. Her breathing became a little lighter and faster; her hand grew cold. She sat looking out the passenger side window as if she needed to navigate, to find her way home.

Flack stopped glancing her way after a while, concentrating on the early morning traffic. Even before dawn, New York was a noisy, busy place; it was easy to pretend that he needed to pay attention. He could still feel her mouth under his, the teasing swipe of a tongue, the heat of her body in his arms. He could feel her quiver when his hand swept over her.

He pulled up in front of her apartment, and turned off the engine. They sat silent, hands still laced together, but they were suddenly miles apart.

"Do you want to come up?" Stella said uneasily.

"Only if you want me to." Flack fought to urge to argue, to beg, to lie at her feet like any supplicant.

Well-brought up. And perhaps a bit of a romantic, he thought, glumly.

"I should go up… You should go home, Don." She ran her free hand over his cheek, her thumb tracing the bone. "You look so tired."

He sighed, and leaned to kiss her. On the cheek, he thought firmly. Like a friend. No more.

Stella turned at the same moment and their noses bumped. She pulled back with a bit of a grin and looked at him, eyes sparkling with the joke. He put his hand on her cheek, mimicking her action of a moment ago and moving closer again.

And then their lips touched.

And the two of them simply ignited.

Time slowed to one single, heavy heartbeat and then stopped.

When Stella pulled back, Flack felt the world begin turning again, a little faster than normal – as if it were trying to make up for the lost time. His breath was suspended in his lungs.

"Wait. What are we doing? Maybe this isn't a good idea." Stella's breath came light and fast. Her eyes were wide in her pale face.

"Yeah. Maybe you're right. We should slow down, maybe." He watched her colour come back, saw the sigh of relief ripple through her.

"Thing is, Stel, I'm wondering …" he said slowly, gauging her reaction, "Exactlywhy is this not a good idea?"

"I don't know – we work together? Have friends in common? I'm older than you? I killed my last boyfriend?" The last was muttered under her breath and Flack ignored it for the moment.

"Okay, but give me one good reason."

When he flashed her that irrepressible grin, she swallowed hard. She was having trouble keeping focused here.

"It crosses a line, Don." She tried to say it gently, to not put too much weight on it.

"Hmm. Yes, I can see that it does." His hand squeezed hers, then moved slowly up her arm and around to her shoulder. She held her breath as a wave of heat flooded through her, as he drew her closer, his mouth hovering over hers.

"The thing is, Stel," he said it quietly, so that she felt it as much as heard it, "I was never very good," his lips nipped hers so gently, so quickly, she nearly cried, "I was never any good at all," his finger traced the high bone of her cheek, then fisted lightly in the curls at the nape of her neck, "At staying in between the lines."

Any cogent argument she might have come up with fled along with what little breath she had left as he took what he wanted, coaxing, begging, finally commanding her to submit.

There was no will left in her to fight it. She opened to him without thought, and was instantly shaken to the core by the sheer overwhelming need he instilled in her.

Much later, Flack actually snuck back down to check and make sure they had closed and locked the doors when they left the car. As they made their way up to Stella's apartment on a wave of lust, though, securing the vehicle was the last thing on their minds. In fact, the only conscious thought Stella was capable of was "More. More. More."

As they hit the door, Flack had a completely inappropriate vision of the blonde and perfect Devon, the socialite who slummed with him for a few weeks until something shinier than a New York cop's badge caught her eye. The thought of all the complications he was about to create crossed his mind, but then Stella moved against him, and all thought simply ceased for a moment.

"Wait. Wait," he gasped as he struggled to get a hold of himself. "This is Stella," he thought crossly. "A guy who wants to keep his balls doesn't just bang a woman like Stella Bonasera up against a wall."

He risked a glance at her face, and nearly revised his opinion: she was flushed and panting, and he was pretty sure he could have her anyway he wanted her at the moment.

So he was choosing not to go at her like a randy teenager. That didn't make him a romantic, did it?

He tightened his grip on her, and swung her into his arms, momentarily surprised by how easily he could lift her, then simply reveling in the feeling. He followed the hall to her bedroom – he had been here before, but pushed the memories of blood and death out of his mind. He wished he understood what kind of strength it had taken her to exorcise the demons in this home.

He wished he had one tenth of that strength.

He laid her gently on the bed, willing himself to slow things down. If, as his heart was already whispering, this was a one-time offer, he was determined to make it last a lifetime.

Struggling to catch her breath, Stella put one hand up cautiously, "Give me a second here, will you, Don?"

He bit his lip and sat beside her, carefully keeping his distance. "Okay. What do you want me to do?"

She ran her hand through her hair frustratedly. "I want you to fuck me blind," she said honestly, "But I've just come off work, and I'm tired and grubby. I need some food. And some sleep. And a shower."

He looked into her face – eyes dark and wary and tired; lips, red and a little swollen from his, firmed against temptation. She was stalling, he knew, and yet waves of need reached out to him: he could feel the heat.

Looking into her confused and irritated face, he couldn't help it. He laughed, a rumbling snort that started at his feet and worked its way up through his body until he was shaking with it. He slid off the bed onto the floor, put his head between his knees and laughed until his stomach hurt.

It didn't take much to set Stella off as well. The worry over Lindsay, the normal stress of a demanding day, the niggling fear she had felt when Davidos had reluctantly tagged her for Flack-duty, then the pent-up tension of the past hour: it all drained out of her as she watched Flack in amazement. When he hit the floor, she began to chuckle. By the time he was gasping for breath, she was hooting with laughter, which just set him off again.

It took them several minutes to finally stop breaking up every time they looked at each other. She held her aching stomach; he wiped his streaming eyes.

"Oh god," she finally breathed. "Would you be insulted if I said that was better than any sex I've had in about five years?"

"As long as you leave out the part where I was two feet from you at the time, no problem," he wheezed.

"Hey! Not many men can say they made me come without even touching me," she teased.

He bit back the obvious retort: that touching her would make it even better for both of them. That small part of him that stood back and observed sighed: it could see the words "Let's just stay friends" in a bubble over Stella's head.

She was lying on her back, her head turned towards him. Sitting on the floor, he was close enough to feel her breath on his cheek. He shut his eyes to keep her from reading his thoughts.

"Don." She said it quietly, insistently. "Don?"

He dropped his head back against the edge of the bed. Maybe she'd let him sleep on the couch – he didn't think he could make it home safely in this state.

"Don." It was a whisper. He felt the bed behind him give, heard her feet hit the floor. The bathroom door opened, and he prepared himself to get to his feet with what dignity he could scrape together.

Then he felt a silky shirt fall about his face, and heard the hesitant offer in her voice, "Come join me."