The Unpredictability of Emotion

Kensi's got the hots for Callen.

It's something she never anticipated. How could she? She works with the man for Pete's sake and she knows better than to get involved with coworkers.

Or, well, she did. Or she does and she's ignoring it, she's not quite sure which way the pendulum swings this time. Point of the matter is that she's definitely got the hots for him. Hell, flirting with Deeks no longer even holds the appeal it once did. It's been an ego boost in the past because she's not as blind as she lets Deeks believe. He totally wants her and she knows it. Which means Callen knows it.

She catches a flash every once in a while, when Deeks says something particularly inappropriate, but he's yet to freak out. And until he does, it's easier to encourage Deeks. It means no one suspects her and Callen. And though they pretend that it's not a big deal, it totally is. All mocking aside, she knows it could be dangerous. Objectivity is so important and how often are they undercover?

But she's discovered that denial doesn't make it go away. She still watches him when they're in the bullpen, still uses how many excuses to lean over his shoulder or into his personal space. And it's totally her initiation, not that she's surprised by it. He's so much more reserved and always has been. She takes no offense and certainly doesn't consider it an indication of what he's not feeling.

She's smarter than that.

Things between them are much too hot for there to be just attraction. They're explosive and still there. All she knows is that it's been months now. Months where they've screwed each other silly and senseless. There's been more than one morning she's come in with her throat a little less than perfect, a brand on her skin just out of sight. The latter always makes her shiver pleasantly. She's as progressive as the next female federal agent, but there's something about being possessed that heats her insides.

Or maybe it's just because it's Callen.

She's been studiously avoiding those thoughts though. She doesn't want to center this on one man. It's so dangerous for her, someone who could be taken away in the blink of an eye. Even if Callen knows it –because, hello, same job – it's not something she feels comfortable doing. Her father did that, left her behind, and so did Jack, so she knows what it feels like. She's long ago vowed to avoid doing the same to someone else.

It's a solitary existence, but a necessary one. She's a big believer in fair and eternal happiness and has long figured that just because she can't have it doesn't mean she should keep others from doing the same. And, of course, with Callen, there's the added aspect of the fact that he could leave her behind. She's been there once, knows it almost destroyed her, and she's definitely nowhere near sure she could handle it again.

So she convinces herself that everything between them is explosive attraction. If they buy each other dinner, make each other coffee, or worry way too much when they're in the field, it's an unrealistic representation and illusionary. It's Callen. He's a nomad. OSP is the closest thing he has to belonging, and that's another thing she won't do.

Because she believes that they'll break. They always do. The pressure, the intensity, the emotions… She's yet to find a man that can handle all of that. And, of course, she's got enough issues for Freud to have a field day. For her and Callen breaking cannot be an option. If they break, they risk ruining the entire team and they rely too much on each other for her to feel comfortable with that. She knows the team wouldn't be the same without Callen and who would keep Deeks in line if she wasn't there? They understand each other's quirks and how to balance those with the job. They've worked together too long and too hard to allow for a switch.

Well, and change isn't something they do well with either. In fact, they all kind of freak out at the mere mention. She's worked with Callen before, but the partner switch threw her off. She'd hated it, and Hunter. She's studiously avoided the inherent hatred that she'd had, merely because Callen had disliked her so completely.

"Were you making dinner?"

Her head shoots up and to the doorway. He's leaning against the frame arms crossed over his chest and she wants to go to him. He senses it, or sees it, and she doesn't really care when he holds out his hand.

"Maybe."

She takes it, feels the warmth infuse her body and pretends it's from the natural attraction to the way his shirt pulls across his chest. It has nothing to do with the simple touch of his hand on her skin that sends goosebumps rioting over her body.

His eyes slide from clear blue to cobalt at the slide of her skin against his and her insides quiver. She pretends it doesn't happen, pretends that this is normal attraction and there's nothing deeper at play, but she also knows it's getting harder and harder to deny that this is more than just 'hots'. This is sliding into dangerous territory because instead of seeking comfort elsewhere after a long day, she's been coming to him.

When her mouth meets hers it's tender. It's a bit of a shock, but then again, she doesn't usually stand over a cutting board of vegetables completely zoned off into her own mind. She likes to think her head is a dangerous place and tries to avoid getting caught up in it. It's against the personality she portrays after all. If she gets caught up in her head things can hurt her, people can hurt her, thoughts can hurt her. So she pretends she's just a one-night girl.

Except months is so much longer than one night. Soon, she's not going to be able to pretend that there isn't something more at play and she's not sure if that's a good or bad thing. She shouldn't let it become too much, but she's also pretty sure she's past the point of no return. There's nothing she can do about what's churning and burning in her chest as his mouth works against hers.

She relaxes and she feels a hand trail up her spine. Her other is still wrapped in his and he brings it up around his neck. His kiss deepens. Her response is instantaneous.

"Didn't know you could cook."

She shivers because the words are mumbled against her mouth and it's in that low voice that makes her hot all over. She wants to say something about how the fact that she doesn't, doesn't mean she can't, but he's already got her. She's putty in his hands. Or against them. Whatever.

He knows it. Or gets it, because he's tugging her backwards. She follows, trying not to shiver when his thumb brushes against the skin at the bottom of her spine. Her shirt's ridden up – or he's pushed it up, but really, that's just semantics – and he can get to skin now. Her spine, her hips, the top of her ass…

So it takes her a moment to realize he's not aiming for his bedroom and the bed she definitely knows he has. Not just an air mattress on the floor or his dusty military-issue. A real bed with a real mattress that is actually sinful, both to sleep on and… well, they don't always sleep when they collapse onto that particular surface. Instead, he's pulling her into the living room and the single chair that is still there. She's pestered him about getting more than one, but not with any strength. It's kind of a draw that they have to share and-

She's actually thankful when he pulls her down onto his lap. Her mind is going dangerous places about a real them and sitting on that chair after a bad day. It's a terrible idea, and a horrible path to follow and she lets her thoughts scatter when his applies his lips to her neck. The room is still dark and there's something alluring about doing this in front of his very open front window when all they'll cast is silhouettes.

And here she'd thought she knew all of her kinks, but between this and their little tryst at the office, she's wondering if he's bringing some out of her. Then his hand slides up her back, taking her shirt with it and she lets him drop it to the floor. She takes her own ponytail out and his hands immediately thread through the dark tresses. It's a control thing, because he uses it to pull her mouth back to his and angle her just right. Her knees are straddling his lap and she shifts forward, pressing every inch of her body against his and when she pushes down with her hips she releases a moan. It feels phenomenal.

His hands slide away from her hair to cup her neck, pressing gently against her trachea. It's not hard enough to do anything but trigger the nerves and she swallows convulsively. His eyes follow his fingers as her skin shifts against his before he slips his hands over her shoulders. Her arms are hooked around his neck for balance as her hips slide against his but his focus is on her, on the way her chest is heaving. She knows because he wastes no time in unhooking her bra.

She whimpers her dislike when his hands drop to her lower spine but she catches on, pushing back against his hands for support as she removes her bra. Then his hands are sliding up her spine, feathering across her sides until he can ghost one over her breast. She presses down, hard, and feels him fit perfectly against her, despite two pairs of jeans.

It's not enough skin though and she rips his shirt over his head. Then she's sliding off his lap to the floor, trailing her hands over his bare chest as she goes. Her fingers are surprisingly agile as she deals with the button and zipper of his jeans, being careful as she peels the fabric away from the hard length of him. She tugs on the pants and snags his underwear when he lifts his hips to help her. By the time his clothes have hit his knees she's been distracted and she leaves them there as she wraps her hand around him.

His head immediately flies back against the headrest as she watches with unholy glee. She has power here, power that makes her arousal pump harder in her veins. She likes bringing him to his knees and she takes the opportunity now. Plus, if she's focusing on how good he feels in her mouth she can ignore the other emotions welling up in her chest.

When his hand wraps gently in her hair, guiding her with strength and pace, she digs her nails into his thighs. He hisses but his hips arch and his hand relaxes. Instead, he nudges her when he wants more, tugs gently when he's close to the edge and uses his grip to pull her away completely when he's seconds from letting go. She lets him slide out of her mouth, getting her tongue under the ridge at the last second. His eyes go feral when she does and he's yanking her up by her shoulders.

She's glad turning him on makes her hot, because she's slick when his fingers slide against her. It means he's inside a split second later and she's moving her hips with everything she's worth until she finds just the right spot. Then she's gasping his name, gripping his shoulders and virtually keening as her back arches. He takes his cue from there, sliding his palm down the center of her body, twisting at the last minute until the tip of his middle finger is against the hot bundle of nerves at her center. She gasps and tightens her grip on his neck, leaning her body back against the palm he's once again planted at the bottom of her spine.

His eyes focus on her, totally and completely and she can't look away from the hot gaze as her body starts to shake with her climax. His finger doesn't stop moving and her hips can't stop pushing and grinding against his until she collapses against him. He leaves his finger against her and starts moving, slow steady pushes that burn her over-sensitive flesh. He's focused, intent and patient as he strokes and thrusts until she flares in his arms. He's learned after a good orgasm it takes persistence and patience to get her over again. He's got both in spades and she has absolutely no idea how he's holding on while her brain is scattering.

He grins when she chokes on her breath, her entire body going taut. It's his cue, the moment she hits her second wind and she knows it's primal pride that makes him look so dangerous. He leans into her neck and bites at her pulse.

"Again," he whispers as his hips speed up and his finger moves more insistently against her. It's all she can do to suck in air as he plays her like a violin. Her world shatters when she hits that peak again and she hears him groan as his own release follows.

In the aftermath, they just sit there, still wrapped around each other. She dozes in and out of consciousness for a while before she finally gets control of her body enough to slowly stand. He groans at the loss and she smiles in feminine pride. Still, she knows they have to clean up, so she just releases a throaty chuckle as she waits for him to open his eyes.

When he does, they roam her body, and against everything she's ever believed about herself, she feels her body react. He arches an eyebrow in surprise and she offers him a rueful smile. She can't help her attraction and they are going to the shower after all.

Then it hits her, like bricks to the face.

This isn't just the 'hots' for Callen. Without the conscious permission of her brain she's segued into something deeper. Something that means she can get hurt.

As the fear sweeps through her, so does the resignation. She's stuck, because things between them feel too good for her to give up, regardless of the fact that she should. That she has to.

Then he's distracting her with a kiss, and a tug on her hand.

Clean up. Right. After that, maybe in the morning, she can totally panic.

For now, it's too good.

The rest, she decides with surprising conviction, considering what 'something more' means, can wait for another day.