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 to those watching, reading and reviewing this fic. I always appreciate hearing what people think of the story. At the moment, this is the final chapter.
But you never know what will happen next! (At least, I don't.)
Chapter 3
The water was warm and soothing, pouring down over silken skin.
The steam was fragrant and rich, a heady combination of honey and arousal.
He was lost before he stepped in behind her, his hands aching with the need to touch, to caress, to explore.
It took no time for need to overcome the last, lingering thoughts of common sense and the future. It took little time for them to stumble, slick and wet and wrapped around each other, to the bed, to fall onto it in a tangle of limbs and kisses and sighs.
His fevered mouth on her breasts, trailing after his fingers, delicately traced his passion on her skin.
Her body, responding to his like a cherished instrument played by a master's hand, quivered and bowed under his mouth.
Her gasp as he entered her, his groan as he was surrounded by her heat, merged two into one.
She rolled, taking control unexpectedly, driving him into a frenzy, taking her pleasure, then relinquishing power back to him as he slowed things down to a pulse so deep it resonated to the centre of her being.
The sun streamed in through gauzy curtains, and the sounds of the wakening street became the soundtrack to their journey of exploration. A rise, a peak, a slow tumble in each other's arms into satiated sleep, to rouse again to desire.
It was as if, having denied themselves so long, they could only feed on each other, only be satisfied with each other.
At one point, Flack snuck away from her sleeping arms to lock up the car, to phone in for messages.
At one point, Stella foraged in the kitchen, and they shared fresh fruit and ice cream curled up in the middle of the bed, sucking pulp off fingers and mouths reddened by cold and stung by sharp citrus juices.
They drank each other in, devoured each other, quenched a craving they had refused to acknowledge. They did not talk, did not analyse, did not question.
She woke alone in the bed, sprawled across it on her belly with the duvet loosely caught under her hips. Her muscles ached pleasantly, reminding her of days after dancing, when her whole body felt loose and limber and well-used.
Except her feet weren't bleeding, she thought with satisfaction. That was one definite advantage sex had over dance.
She rolled over, running a hand through her hair and pulling up the quilt. A glance at the clock beside her bed told her it was nearly three o'clock in the afternoon – good thing she was off today, as she had not even thought about phoning in.
There was no sound in the apartment, no sense of anyone else. The clothes that had been dropped on the floor were gone, and she could tell Flack was gone with them.
She indulged in one moment of self-pity, one moment of feeling used and discarded, then pushed back the covers and swung her legs out of bed. She would dress, she told herself, and tidy her apartment, and then go shopping for food to make herself dinner. She would put this day away in a private place to be brought out and enjoyed the next time she was feeling edgy and in need of sex.
Sex, she repeated firmly. Good sex with a friend whom she trusted.
She stretched as she stood up, searching out and easing any lingering sore spots.
Make that great sex, she amended, as she made her way lazily to her kitchen to make coffee.
On the table, in Flack's distinctive left-handed scrawl, was a note:
Stel – sorry. Got called back in. Didn't want to wake you. Talk later –
F.
Coffee was ready to go – just needing to be turned on.
Stella smiled. She hadn't really thought Flack would sneak out. In fact, she seemed to remember a soft kiss on one bare shoulder, a whispered goodbye. But, like any good cop, he knew better than to interfere with a few precious minutes of sleep. Sipping her coffee, she went to the bathroom. Playtime was over. It was time to return to real life.
The scent of her honey shampoo gave her a sharp, pleasurable pang, her hand moving slowly over sensitized skin as she re-traced the paths his hands had taken. She shivered once, then firmly shook herself and stepped out of the shower to dress and move on.
If the day looked a little brighter, if she was a little quicker to smile at the vendors in the market, at the people on the street, if she moved lightly along the crowded streets and reveled in the sunshine, well, who could blame her? A sense of well-being filled her – it was a beautiful day in her favourite city after all. What more needed to be said?
She arrived back at her apartment, juggling bags and a small bouquet of bright spring flowers she had not been able to resist. The sight of a tall dark figure leaning up against the wall by her door gave her such a shock she dropped the flowers, and they scattered across the hall floor.
"Shit, Stel. I'm sorry." Flack bent down to gather up the broken blossoms, staring down at them ruefully. He had passed the flower-seller only a few minutes ago, deliberately squashing his first impulse. And here she was, buying her own flowers. He offered them back to her, but she held up her keys and let them into the apartment.
"You startled me, that's all. Don't worry," Stella tossed the drooping flowers on the table as she took her grocery bags into the kitchen. She glanced at the clock, and turned a burner on under a skillet. It felt a long time since she had eaten, even given that dinner could take place any time between dawn and midnight.
"What are you doing here, Flack?" she said as she began cutting up peppers and tomatoes. "I thought you were called back into work?"
"Yeah. Got a call from ADA Tarrington. She's putting me on the stand at 9 in the morning on the Kristov case."
Stella smiled when she saw him sorting through the flowers she had dropped, choosing the least mashed blooms and carefully jamming them into the vase on the table. "Are you ready for that? I thought they had a continuance?"
Flack caught her amused look at the sorry-looking floral arrangement and flushed, then searched through the pile of leaves and stalks in front of him for the folder he had brought with him. He handed it to her, and carried the discarded greenery into the kitchen to drop into the garbage disposal with the seeds and stalks of pepper. He crammed his hands into his pockets.
"I need to go over the evidence, get it clear in my mind, if that's okay. Some slick lawyer got the case back before the judge to challenge something – I don't know." He sighed, frustrated. "I just got the panic call for tomorrow AM."
Stella put the folder back down on the table, and with a few deft touches made the floral arrangement carelessly graceful. Then she quickly flipped through the folder of documents and reports, frowning thoughtfully. "No problem. I can run you through it all again tonight. I just have to make dinner first – I'm starving. You up for pasta?"
He nodded, and reached for the bottle he had placed on the table beside the flowers. "Something to match a nice Californian merlot?"
She handed him a corkscrew and watched his strong hands open the bottle, filling the two glasses she handed him from the cupboard. She tasted it and smiled at the clean fruity flavour, then reached her hand out for the bottle.
He gave it to her with a bemused look that turned to shock when she poured a generous amount into the bubbling pasta sauce. "Hey! You're supposed to drink that, you know!"
She giggled, a sound which so enchanted him he would have given her the rest of the bottle – hell, the rest of the vintage – just to hear that sound again.
"Trust me, Flack. If it's good to drink, it's even better to cook with. Makes a good sauce perfect." She spooned a little sauce up, blowing over it with pursed lips, tasting it, then offering the rest to him.
His eyes locked on hers, he bent towards her and tasted the sauce from the spoon. Then, with a casual strength, he pulled her closer and tasted the sauce again from her lips.
The kiss went from sweetly exploratory to blazingly passionate in the time it took her to drop the spoon and wrap her arms around his neck.
"Look at that," he murmured, his breath fanning over her trembling mouth. "You're right. It's perfect."