Twice Into The Same Stream

Chapter 6

by Kate04

October 2004

Her dream was intense in a way she had not experienced in many years. Her skin was on fire with the sensation of feather-light touches and questing lips, liquid heat pooling between her legs as soft puffs of hot air met her moist, swollen folds. The electric shock of a tongue flicking over her clit startled her awake with a gasp, which was immediately followed by a drawn out moan as the action was repeated. Blinking slowly to clear her vision, Sharon searched for and found his warm, almost black eyes, watching her from between her thighs, her hands moving into his hair on their own accord. And then he focused on his task again, teasing her with his lips and tongue and teeth, his fingers dancing over the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, brushing through her curls and spreading her for his oral assault. She bucked her hips into him, her nails raking over his scalp, making him hiss against her. When he dipped his first finger into her wetness, spreading it, then lapping it up eagerly only to let the long digit sink into her once again, Sharon let the last coherent thought slip away and simply surrendered to the pleasure he gave her, moaning and crying out her delight and holding nothing back. For once she was not ashamed of her reaction, did not feel the need to control it, trusting him to catch her when she fell.

And fall she did. He seemed to know exactly how to touch her, reading the smallest of whimpers, the tiniest shift of her hips, adjusting the pressure of his mouth or the angle of his strokes accordingly. When he finally found that place inside her that very few before him had taken the time to seek, he picked up the pace, thrusting three fingers into her as his tongue and teeth attacked her bundle of nerves in earnest. Within minutes he had reduced her to an almost mindless vessel for the desire he created, built up until she thought she would burst, unable to contain any more of it. She was all flailing limbs, anguished cries and nearly unbearable heat until he allowed her to break free of it, to tumble over the edge into a sea of colour and sound and sensation.

She had no idea how long it took her to regain some semblance of awareness again. When she did, he was still kneeling between her spread legs, gently stroking her folds with his flat tongue, soothing the overly sensitive skin, a smug smile gracing his lips at every aftershock that went through her, making her tremble. She wanted to make a funny comment to break the emotional mood, to move them away from the frightening intimacy, the ease with which they interacted, but she came up empty, her brain unwilling to cooperate. Instead, she gently tugged at his hair, urging him to move. After one last, defiant nip at her clit that made her thrust her hips into him and ripped a moan from her throat, he slowly kissed his way up along her body until he rested beside her, his head propped up on his elbow as his other hand skirted over her stomach, her breasts, circled her nipples. He brushed a few wayward strands of hair off her face and planted barely there kisses in their place, on her closed eyelids, the tip of her nose, the corner of her mouth, and along the curve of her jaw until he reached her ear and the soft spot just below it. There, he lingered, teasing it with his tongue, scraping at the sensitive skin with his teeth until she whimpered once more.

"I like that place right here." His words reached her ear on soft puffs of warm air, stirring more than just her hair. It was ludicrous, but she wanted him again, her body yearning to feel him inside of her, even though she had not yet fully recovered from that last intense orgasm and the thought of another experience like that was inconceivable. She would not be able to survive it. Turning onto her side to face him, she shifted one of her legs between his, her thigh pressing against his groin, a sly smile creeping over her face at her discovery.

"You shouldn't start anything you're not able to see through. You're clearly not up to it quite yet."

His response was a feral grin, a challenge clear in his eyes and tone, "Wanna bet?" Then he attacked all those spots again, the ones he had found out made her squirm and moan and mindless with desire. It took almost more strength than she had left to push him away from where he had latched onto one of her breasts, and he gave her an adorable pout, which she tried to wipe away with a quick kiss.

"Let me amend that. Don't start something I won't be able to see through, because I am clearly not up to it. You wore me out."

If possible, he looked even more smug than before as he moved to lay beside her again, trailing gentle kisses along her jaw to her mouth, drawing her into another lazy duel of lips and tongues before he let his head sink into the pillow.

He should get up and return to his own room and the overnight bag he had left there. Staying implied more than either of them should be willing to commit to. It should make him experience the familiar feeling of claustrophobia, something that usually happened when one of his casual acquaintances asked him to stay the night. Thoughts of cuddling, of morning breath and shared breakfast usually made him uncomfortable as he was never sure what was expected of him. When Sharon turned around and settled her back against his chest, drawing his arm around her, and lacing her fingers through his, the urge to run was surprisingly absent. Burying his nose in her hair, he breathed in her scent, and a sense of rightness and serenity filled him. He would worry about the implications of all this in the morning.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Sharon woke up slowly to a room filled with early morning light, her body aching pleasantly as she stretched and reached out to the space next to her, finding it empty. As she blinked, trying to adjust to the light, the sound of the shower registered with her. Sitting up, she let her eyes take in the room and she noticed an unfamiliar bag on one of the chairs, her clothes neatly draped over the back of another. For a split second she considered getting dressed and leaving the room until she was sure he would be done and on his way, sparing them both the awkward morning after. When she climbed out of bed, however, her burning muscles and the rather obvious smell of sex made her change her mind. There was no way she could go out there without taking a shower first and that thought made other parts of her burn. Deciding to postpone the awkwardness a little, she changed course and headed towards the bathroom, stepping into the shower with only the slightest hesitation to appreciate his broad, muscular back, letting her eyes roam over him from head to toe, before she wrapped her arms around him from behind.

He must have heard her, because her sudden presence in the shower stall did not startle him. Instead, he turned around and let his hands slide over her wet skin as he captured her mouth in a long kiss. They did not speak. The time for words would come, but for the moment they both were content to enjoy each other. This time they were less hurried, the activities of the night before having taken the edge off their desire, giving them the opportunity to truly appreciate every touch, every kiss, and every tender look. He loved her breasts, his hands returning to them again and again, cupping them, fingers brushing along their sides, teeth and lips teasing her nipples until she moaned, the exquisite pain almost too much to bear. Sharon was equally fascinated with his backside, letting her hands wander from his shoulders all the way down to his thighs and back, never getting enough of the power rippling under soft skin. When he started to move further down her body, making his intention quite clear, she pulled him up again, shaking her head.

"Oh no! It's my turn now," she whispered hoarsely, gently pushing him back against the wall before she slowly sank to her knees in front of him, her eyes only leaving his once she had her goal right in front of her. She teased him mercilessly with feather-light pecks and delicate flicks of her tongue, denying him the firmer contact he craved and drawing a frustrated groan from him. When she thought she had tried his restraint enough, she wrapped her hand around him, stroking his length and enjoying the feel of him, all silk and steel, before she teased his tip with her lips, not quite letting him slip between them. His hands went into her dripping hair without attempting to guide her closer, making her look up at him as her tongue circled him. The sight almost took her breath away. There he was, over six feet of man, well-muscled if not quite as trained as he used to be, but still in great shape and strong enough to take what he wanted and yet he gave up control to her, his head resting against the cold tiles, his eyes closed as he focused on the things she did to him. This was a first for her. Usually, they tried to speed things along at that point, to force her head down on them, but he did neither, letting her set the pace and do whatever she wanted to him. When she gently nipped at him, she saw his body tremble in reaction, his fingers curling into her hair almost painfully, but still not restricting her. Deciding to reward his patience, she finally took him into her mouth, her free hand moving up his inner thigh, nails lightly scratching at the sensitive skin, urging him to move his legs further apart. He complied instantly, groaning when she used the additional space to cup his balls, gently squeezing them until he helplessly thrust into her, his control slipping bit by bit. She let her lips slide along his length, her tongue circling his tip, her hums making him shiver and twitch. Seeing him surrender so completely, trusting her with his body and his pleasure was more fulfilling than any sort of physical gratification could ever be. To have someone willingly give that kind of power to someone else was one of the most beautiful things that could happen between two people.

When he pushed her away from him, just far enough to slip out of her mouth and drag her to her feet, she wasn't surprised. She had felt the rising tension in his grip on her hair, the barely suppressed thrusts of his hips and the increasing urgency of his groans. Had he lost control inside of her mouth, she would not have minded at all, but the thought of being joined with him once more was even more appealing. He pulled her against him, wrapping his arms firmly around her as he took her mouth in a hungry kiss, water sluicing over their bodies, isolating them in their own world of slippery skin and escalating desire.

Sharon was so distracted by his sudden assault that she almost did not notice how he spun her around, captured her hands and pushed them against the wall, held in place by one of his own as he pressed against her back. His other hand brushed her hair to one side to give him access to her neck and shoulder, enabling him to chase water drops along her skin with his tongue, his lips sucking at the spot behind her left ear, leaving a small mark that he knew would be hidden beneath her thick mane. The thought of her wearing a visible reminder of their time together gave him a thrill, a primitive sense of possessiveness. She did not seem to mind, her head tilting to the side, a shiver moving along her spine. He let his free hand lazily wander over her front, teasing her breasts, finding the ticklish area just under her ribs, delighting in her surprised squeal and the way she squirmed against him. When he moved further down, his fingers sliding through her curls and dipping inside of her to test her readiness, she whimpered, pushing her backside into him, grinding it against his hardness.

"Take a step back and spread your legs," he ordered, his words firm, full of quiet authority, as if she had any reason to protest. When she complied with his request, she was instantly rewarded, as he entered her in one long thrust, both hands holding on to her hips. The pace he set was hard and fast, exactly what they both needed, his upper body pressed against her back, his arms sliding around her to hold her close. Sharon kept both hands flat against the tiles, arching her back and meeting each of his frantic moves as they raced towards the abyss together.

"Touch yourself for me," he rasped into her ear, voice close to breaking with his struggle for control. Once again, she did as he asked, letting her hand skim over her chest and stomach until it settled between her legs, fingers brushing against him where he moved inside of her before they found their target, drawing tight circles around it. When one of his hands covered hers lightly, feeling her increasingly hurried motion, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of her shoulder, she lost hold of her control, bucking wildly into him, seeking to prolong the sensation of fire burning in her veins. A few moments later he followed her, his thrusts losing their rhythm, their joined cries of ecstasy echoing off the bathroom walls.

They clung to each other for a long time, letting the water beat down on them until it turned cold. Shivering and laughing at the insanity of their situation, they took their time washing each other's bodies and hair, their touches deteriorating into caresses as they stole an occasional kiss or tasted newly cleaned skin. Once the last trail of foam was washed away, they reluctantly left their little refuge, wrapping each other in soft towels before she stepped into his waiting arms, allowing him to simply hold her once more. They both knew that once they walked out of the bathroom, reality would start to close in on them, making it more and more difficult to push thoughts of what was to come out of their minds. Neither wanted to face the inevitable, but they had lives waiting for them outside these walls, lives that made what they both wanted impossible.

When it could not be postponed any longer they moved away from each other, both going through their usual morning routines without exchanging a word. The silence was heavy between them, weighing them down. With every second they got closer to that unavoidable moment, the lump in her throat grew, tears burning behind her lids, almost impossible to hold back. The thought of more, of romantic dinners, long walks on the beach in the moonlight, countless nights of passion and mornings of waking in the safety of his arms made her ache with longing, the realization that those things were impossible painful beyond words. How could she let go of this, of those magical hours outside of time, when it felt so right? How could she walk away and pretend this never happened, forget that during this one night she had found true happiness and emotional fulfilment in another person after more years than she dared count?

Placing the last of her things into her bag, she closed the zipper and gripped the handles, holding onto them tightly, desperately, as she stared out of the window in front of her. The sun was shining on the city outside, an ordinary California day dawning on an ordinary California town. Nothing out there was in any way special. Nothing out there reflected this special thing she had found in that room, that thing she could not define or understand, that thing she would have to leave behind in this hotel in Berkley.

As the first tears started to run down her cheeks, she felt his strong arms wrap around her and his solid body press against her back. He pulled her close, his face buried in her hair. They both clung to that moment, unwilling to leave their little paradise of togetherness. When the silence became too much to bare, Andy said what they both so desperately wanted to believe.

"It doesn't have to end here, you know."

Sharon let her head fall back against his shoulder, sighing quietly, wistfully. How she wished he were right, that they could make it work out there, that their jobs were no problem, that they could just forget about all those concerns and live happily ever after. Life did not work like that, however. There might not be explicit rules against a relationship between officers, especially considering they were not in the same unit, but it would not look good for either of them. Over the last few years, she had handled most of the complaints against Lieutenant Flynn and if someone wanted to harm one of them, they could use a possible relationship to draw the results of those investigations into question. Besides those obvious objections there was the fact that they did not really get along – or they hadn't until last night - and she was reasonably sure that those issues would come up again and that they wouldn't stay confined to the workplace. Both of them had failed marriages in their past and if the rumours were true, Andy hadn't been in another long-term relationship since. She certainly hadn't been serious about anyone in many years. She hadn't even found the courage to truly cut the ties with her absent addict of a husband. How could she consider entering into another relationship?

Her hands clung to his arms, a shake of her head and a hum her only reply. He thought he knew her reasons for refusing to consider taking this home with them and if he were honest, he would have to admit that she had a point, but he had to try regardless. How could he simply give her up without a fight when every instinct told him that she might very well be the best thing that had happened to him in years?

"We could just… It doesn't have to mean anything."

He almost choked on the words, every fibre of his being protesting against them. The small, unhappy hum, the sadness in her tone and the defeated slump of her shoulders told him she felt the same about his statement.

"You know it would. It already means too much."

Andy couldn't leave it alone. He knew she was right, but he couldn't help himself. A part of him simply refused to accept that they couldn't have it all.

"Is that really so bad?"

Sighing, Sharon turned around, leaning against the desk upon which her bag sat, her arms folded across her chest as a shield against him and her emotions, her eyes only barely able to meet his.

"Andy, it would never work. We are too different. We would end up killing each other, not to mention how it could damage both of us professionally. You'd forever be known as the guy who is sleeping with Darth Raydor. They'd never fully trust you again."

There was a lot she wasn't saying; how it would ruin her own professional standing, how everyone would make jokes about her falling for the resident womanizer, although he had no idea why he had that reputation; like most gossip, it got blown out of proportion over the years. The truth of the matter was that he could dismiss most of her points. He didn't care much about what others thought about him or if someone were to look into those complaints against him again. They would have to clear him eventually, just as Sharon had. They hadn't done anything wrong and as long as they reported it and made sure that she didn't deal with his conduct issues again, they would be all right. Even her argument about them killing each other was questionable. Although they had fought a lot in the past, he was convinced that most of that had nothing to do with dislike and any professional disagreements would cease to exist once someone else handled his file. What he couldn't live with was the thought of her taking a hit to her reputation. A relationship with him would be a black mark on her name. He was an alcoholic, known as a troublemaker, notoriously in conflict with the rules and all too easy to anger and associating with him would do some serious harm to the image she had spent decades crafting. He wouldn't let that happen, no matter how much it hurt.

He released a forceful breath before he nodded, his hand reaching out for her only to be drawn back at the last moment. The need to hold her one last time, to feel her in his arms, to taste her lips once more was almost too strong to resist, but he knew that once would never be enough. It would only make it harder to walk away if that was even possible. Holding her gaze for a long moment, he tried to convey everything he wasn't able to put into words, almost breaking his resolve to respect her wish for a clean cut when he saw her own pain reflected in her eyes. With one final nod he turned around, picked up his bag and started to walk towards the door, only to stop in the middle of the room when he felt a gentle hand on his arm. He almost ignored her, not sure if he could face her again, but in the end he couldn't not look at her. He turned towards her and their lips touched for one last, soft kiss, her fingers brushing against his cheek when she drew away.

"Take care of yourself, Andy," she whispered as she took another step back, her arm falling to her side, hands curling into tight fists. He swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat before he replied, his voice hoarse.

"You too." He wanted to say more, to remind them both that they would probably run into each other soon enough, that it wasn't really goodbye, but that seemed only partly true. The next time they met they would be Captain Raydor and Lieutenant Flynn again and memories of those last few hours would have no place between them anymore. With a last lingering look into her teary eyes, he turned around for the last time and left.

Just before the door closed behind him, he heard the first sob and it was all he could do not to rush to her side and kiss her until neither one of them could remember why it was a bad idea, but he kept walking, away from what could have been a wonderful dream and towards a reality that looked just a little bleaker with every step he took.

- TBC -