A/N: All your lovely and kind reviews made it hard for me to let this one go as a one shot. IDK how far I'll take it but we'll see.
Abbie slammed the empty cup on the kitchen table. "Oh goddd" she groaned, the last bit of spicy liquor tracing a hot line down her throat and into her belly. Flopping face down on the table, she tried to avoid the images that played behind her eyelids everytime she let them close. The drunker she got, the weirder they became; monsters tangled with death and annoying exes and 250 year old gorgeous naked men, and Corbin and Hessian nutjobs conjuring pools of demons. What the fuck was her life becoming? This wasn't working. Getting drunk off her ass was not going to solve anything, least of all the problem of how to work with your partner after you watched them jerk one out with you as their fantasy.
Especially Crane.
Oh man, he was so not good with these kind of things. She could count on one hand the amount of times he'd called her by her name, and 2 of those were during, well...the thing. Admittedly, one of the hottest things she'd ever seen but she truly doubted telling him that would solve the problem. She sat upright, eyesight blurred and tongue feeling too thick to fit in her mouth. 'Okay the deal- here's the deal. You show up like nothing's wrong, tell Crane to forget it happened, no harm done. Get back to work. Problem solved.' It's not like dudes don't do that all the time. She didn't know how many thought about her, but hey, it was flattering. In a weird kind of way.
Stumbling, she crashed on the couch, face into the pillows, her last coherent thought a half hope to wake up tomorrow and be over the whole Crane in bed, looking good enough to eat, with her name in his mouth and that delicious accent of his.
The door clicked softly behind her. She shrugged out of her jacket, dropping her belongings onto the couch. Bending, she made quick work of the laces on her boots and finally peeled off her jeans. She slowly made her way to the half open door at the end of the hall, golden light spilling through into the hallway. She pulled her shirt up and over her head, letting it fall to the floor. Soft, guttural moans grew louder as she approached the door. The sound of his voice made hot butterflies swirl downward inside her stomach, like a slow motion drop on rollercoaster. Her lower body clenched instinctively, the thin material of her underwear already becoming damp with need.
This time the room looked different, the foot of the bed facing the doorway, presenting a whole different view of Crane laying on the bed. Covers askew, his tall, lean frame dominating the mattress. Face flushed and upturned, long pale fingers working their magic on himself, a small bead of sweat making it's way down from the stubble on his throat with every labored breath. She entered undetected, the weight of her body climbing onto the bed finally giving away her presence. Crane stopped, eyes wide and dark, pupil's blown with his approaching orgasm. She straddled him, grinding the dampness of her panties against his erection, his large hands skimming her thighs, the tickling sensation setting off goosebumps over her whole body, her nipples hardening inside her bra. Ichabod's mouth opened, words threatening to spill off his tongue but she placed a finger over them, his eyes growing wide again with excitement. Shhhhh, she murmured softly, shaking her head slowly. Dragging her lips down up his neck, tasting the salty sweat that had gathered there, she directed his hand towards her inner thigh, both their fingers pulling aside the thin material that separated them. The touch of his fingertips on her wet folds elicited a sigh that felt like she had been holding in a lifetime. The groan he let out vibrated through her as she guided his erection into her hot, slick center. She sat back, burying every inch of him inside her and slowly started to ride him, hips bucking and rotating, his hands squeezing her hips so hard she was sure she'd bruise. She pulled loose the clasp on her bra, letting it fall down her arms and tossing it aside. Again, he growled pulling her down onto him as she rode, his mouth suckling at the taut buds of her breasts, his beard tickling the sensitive skin of her chest, his rhythm speeding as he bucked his hips to meet her. She was getting close, her head was swimming and her cries became shorter and louder. She could feel him fast behind her, his erection harder and deeper with each stroke. He tangled a hand in the hair at the nape of her neck and brought her face to his, eye to eye. 'Oh God Abagail.. I'm almost..' The sound of her name in his mouth was enough to send her into the abyss. 'Yes, Crane, do it' she groaned, both of them at their peak, threatening to spill into each other.
Noise, oh god too much noise. Her hands reached out blindly for the the phone, it's shrill alarm echoing into her brain like a dull knife. Her bottoms damp with unsated desire and her core clenching at nothing. The upward spiral threatening to collapse, she pressed her hand hard to her and bucked until she was spent, the ache still there but pacified enough for her to wake up fully.
She grabbed the phone and silenced it as soon as she could see the button clearly. 10:42 am. Already missed calls and voice mails demanded her attention. Struggling to get off the couch, her body felt like it had aged 100 years overnight. First voice mail was the captain. 'Pick up Crane, you two get down here soon, I've got something for you' he says. The complications involved in such a seemingly simple request threatened to send her calling in for a sick day until the second voice mail started.
"Good Morning, Ms Mills. I did not know if to expect your arrival this morning, but the Captain has informed me that we are to meet him at the precinct. However, I understand...if you wish to not be in my company today. I do have a message to share with you, from Katrina. I hope this message finds you well. Your friend, Ichabod Crane."
She leaned over the counter next to the coffeemaker, edges of counter top leaving red indentions on her arms. 'Oh god Crane. You are too sweet for your own damn good sometimes.' She could hear the embarrassment through the phone. Her unfinished wet dream had left her moody and dreading to see him in person. Avoiding him would only make him feel worse though, and honestly, he hadn't earned it. This problem was her's completely.
One hot shower and some clean clothes later, she didn't feel half as old. Slipping on her shades to hide the damage from the drink, she headed for Corbin's cabin.
The thing about an apocalypse is, it tends to put shit on the back burner, she thought.