A/N: Hello, my naughty monkeys. It appears as though happy-go-lucky smut is everyone's poison and not haunted, sad-eyed angst. Fair enough. As promised, here is the next in the Tango series. We're drawing ever closer to September, people. Season three is on the horizon. As always, reviewing is good for the skin. Hit me.

Trouble

Today was a good day.

Rigsby sat in his research office, buried in pryochemistry articles, reading about the latest breakthroughs from the science geeks in the FBI labs. Rigsby chuckled as he skimmed through a particularly verbose, polysyllabic theory. Nerds who were too jittery to be the pyrotechnics guy for Metallica had to go somewhere. Quantico was it. He perused their findings at a leisurely pace, not letting himself daydream about the last sixteen days and the little fireball that made him overheat just by visualizing her.

Sweet Christ. Who knew that reading dry texts about extreme temperatures and unstable compounds and blast waves would resonate so spookily in his personal life. Grace kept his blood simmering several degrees above normal. He became unstable just knowing she was in the same building as him. And blast waves? He snorted softly. She knocked him over on an hourly basis.

Which was why he needed to get his shit together and finish his work. Today -the good day- was his birthday. He'd mentioned it last night for the first time. Grace, nude except for a pair of bikini panties, had been straddling his equally naked body as he lay face-down on the bed. He moaned in exquisite pleasure as her clever little hands burrowed deep into his shoulder muscles, dispelling the terrible ache caused by hours of boxing. The physical trainers had heard about his sudden (if secretly selfish) agreement to fight younger cadets. He was an excellent offensive player, they noted. Would he mind taking on second years? Other third years? Attacker? Spotter? Boxer? Rigsby hadn't had the heart to say no, nor did he have the honesty to explain why he'd volunteered in the first place. So now, in his spare moments, he took on a kid or two. What was the harm?

"Ssssshhhit!" he moaned again as Grace found a knot just under his shoulder blade and attacked it. He went rigid under her intense massage.

"Wuss," she chided playfully, working the knot with firm- yet careful- pressure.

"Mean girl."

She laughed at the nickname he always gave her when her impish side appeared. He sighed with disgustingly pure happiness and murmured, "You should be nicer to me. It's my birthday in," he lifted his head to check the clock, "three hours."

Her hands stilled on his back and her eyes went round, not that he could see. "Your birthday?"

"Uh-huh." He jerked his shoulders at her. "More, please."

Instead of soft little palms caressing him, her nails dug deep and she raked him from neck to ass. He hissed laughingly.

"Why didn't you tell me before? It's your birthday tomorrow?" She sounded like she was smiling as she said it, but he detected a small note of hurt.

He craned his head over his shoulder to look back at her. "It's no biggie," he replied softly. "I don't do much on them."

Her hands went soft again and she smoothed them over the breadth of his ribs. He purred with relish. "Sweet baby," he praised as he dropped his head back down.

"Wayne..."

"Hmmmm?"

"I don't have a present for you." She sounded slightly mortified. Like she'd forgotten instead of never knowing.

Feeling too sore to twist again, he bucked up under her, indicating she stand on her knees. She did so and he flipped under her, settling down again and pulling her to sit on his groin. He grinned and stroked her legs on either side of him. Lithe and lovely, she sat perched above him, gazing at him earnestly.

"You," he said simply, luxuriating in the feel of her shapely calves. "You're my present. You honestly think a man could ask for more than a naked woman giving him a massage?"

She blushed and dipped her chin. "I mean it. I don't have anything for you."

He grabbed her waist and pulled her down on top of him. Her pert breasts collided into his chest and he nearly OD'd on pleasure as her nipples hardened against him.

"Hush," he rumbled as she settled onto his frame. "You're everything I want. I mean it. Talking to me, walking with me, sleeping with me," he lifted her chin and smiled into her embarrassed expression, "just be with me, Grace. That's the only thing I care about."

She smiled wanly and kissed the thumb holding her chin. "You are getting a present," she disagreed stubbornly. "And you're getting it tomorrow."

Rigsby smiled indulgently and lowered his gaze, deferring to her. "Fine. Just do all that other stuff and anything you get me will be gravy."

She smiled, the impish one he loved so much, and arched into him.

She had done that other stuff, starting with slipping out of her panties and turning him inside-out by making hot, slow love to him.

Now, for the first time in years, he was actually giddy at the thought of getting a present.

Not that he hadn't gotten presents before. Of course he had. Many, in fact. But he lived a relatively lonely life, keeping a small circle of friends and barely on speaking terms with his family. Presents were something he didn't expect. Each one had been a pleasant surprise: CDs of bands he liked, books on law enforcement, meals in nice eateries, and so on. Nice little gestures. He enjoyed them and felt pleased at the giver's thoughtfulness.

But Grace...

God, what couldn't Grace give him that he wouldn't treasure forever? Even if she spelled her name in macaroni on blue construction paper, he'd frame it. No, he'd bronze it. He felt so dopey with anticipation that his reading slipped from his hands, forgotten. He jolted as it hit the floor and he sighed with annoyance. He'd daydreamed again. Dammit. He really, really needed to work so that the rest of the afternoon could be spent chasing more pleasurable pursuits.

He redoubled his efforts to read and had gotten four paragraphs in when a knock on his door startled him once again.

"Yeah?" he called automatically.

The door opened into the tiny room, Grace peeking in from the other side. "Hey," she greeted.

His reading landed on the table without a second glance. "Hey, you," he greeted back, smiling wide at her unexpected appearance. "What are you up to?" His eyes raked over her. Even in a simple purple baby tee and jeans, she looked like his dirtiest wet dream. He felt his mouth water at the sight of her.

She smiled backed and stepped into the limited space (his desk took up one-third of the room), closing the door behind her. She was backed into it so tightly that Rigsby didn't hear the lock as she slid it into place. "Nothing," she shrugged, looking innocent. "Just wanted to see you."

His heart melted in a puddle on the floor. "Then c'mere," her crooked his finger at her from his chair. "Lemme see you."

She chuckled as she took the two steps needed to reach his seat and, without ceremony, crawled onto his lap. She cupped the back of his head in both hands and kissed him like it had been years instead of hours since she'd seen him. He murmured contentedly and returned it, still shocked to encounter such a sweet taste as his tongue danced with hers. "You drive me so nuts," he whispered against her lips. "I can't even do my work without thinking about you."

"I'm sorry," she said contritely, though he detected a pleased note. "And unfortunately, what I have for you isn't going to help."

He broke their kiss and looked up at her hopefully. "You got somethin' for me?"

She grinned and pecked his nose. "You know I do. I promised you a present. I'm here to deliver."

"Ooooooh. Is it a dirt bike?" His eyes went wide like a little boy and he started patting her sides, looking for the bike in her snug-fitting clothes.

She giggled at his tickling probes. "Nope. Try again."

"A Lego village?"

"Strike two."

"Hungry Hungry Hippos?"

She laughed out loud and shook her head. "They were sold out."

"Damn," he rasped, looking disappointed. "I love that game."

"Sorry," she lifted her shoulders at him. "Nope. You can't find my present at Toys 'r' Us.

He bit his lips and gave her a slightly darker look. "Where could you find it?"

She lowered her face and nuzzled him softly. "Probably in the Yellow Pages under Escort Services."

"Niiice," he drawled out, idly nosing at her jaw. "So what you're saying is that you bought me the services of a girl named Sierra for a few hours?"

Grace's nails sank warningly into his scalp and he snorted at her jealousy. So freakin' hot.

"Your present. You want it or not?"

"I want," he answered roughly, nipping at her earlobe.

"Are you expecting anyone in the next twenty-eight minutes?"

He pulled back slightly and gave her a raised eyebrow. "Awfully specific there, cutie. No. No, I'm not planning on visitors." He raised his other brow at her. "Why? What's happening in the next twenty-eight minutes?"

She bit her lower lip, gauging him. When she kissed him again, she whispered so quietly that he was positive he'd misheard. "I'm going to go down on you. One minute for every year, birthday boy."

Rigsby jolted like she'd pressed a frayed wire into his skin. "What?" he rasped dazedly.

"You heard me," she continued to whisper, tiny little kisses accenting her words. "You're going to sit in this chair and let me suck you for twenty-eight minutes."

"Grace," he muttered warningly. "We've been through this. I told you that-,"

"And I told you," she interrupted, shifting on his lap, rubbing against him firmly, "I've wanted this for more than two weeks. I'm not waiting another second." Hazel eyes bore down into blue. They wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. "Unbutton your pants."

"Grace."

"Wayne," she shot back softly. "My clothes. Do you want them on or off?"

"Jesus, Grace," Rigsby twitched tightly underneath her. His eyes were getting darker. His body was getting harder. Her question had broken his voicebox. He stared at her hungrily, but made no answer.

"Ooon?" She took his hands and slid them under her shirt, guiding them until he palmed her bare breasts, pulling a gasp from him at the discovery of her lack of a bra. His fingers trapped her nipples, feathering them until they dragged stiffly against his fingertips. "Or off?" She gave her feline grin.

"Off."

The word gritted harshly over his lust-swollen tongue.

She stood carefully and, in the middle of his locked office, slowly stripped for him. Her shirt went first. She knew how much he loved her breasts. She arched lazily, letting her ribcage elongate and show off her sleek curves. She turned her back to him and unzipped her jeans, pushing them off and bending at the waist, giving him an eyeful of her bare ass as she pulled them and her sandals off. She wanted him to see. No underwear. She'd gone commando just for him. She heard him growl behind her and went instantly wet at the sound. It was crazy, given that they'd made love the night before and twice that morning. Why did they crave each other so constantly?

She looked over her shoulder at him and teased him with a wink. "Wayne? Open your fly or I'll do it for you."

Still staring at her like a dangerous animal, he opened his legs wide, angling his groin upwards until he was slouching low in his seat. Her stare told her exactly what he was thinking. Go on, I dare you.

Grace laughed softly and knelt at his feet. Holding his gaze, she massaged his clothed erection with both hands, feeling him up. He pulsed under her touch and she mewled softly at his size. "I'll have to go slow," she murmured as she flicked the button and drew his zipper down. "You're so big. I might need more than twenty-eight minutes to do this right."

Rigsby groaned harshly. She tugged his pants and boxers down, gasping as his startlingly thick length sprang free. She swallowed and moaned at the sight. Everything feminine in her screamed with lust. Her entire being shrunk down to wanting one thing - sucking the cock in front of her. For hours. Days. Decades. She shivered and made herself wait.

Looking up at him, she barely recognized the man she loved. Molten desire -so hot and frightening- had hardened his features. His jaw was locked. His eyes were glued to her. He pulled high-pressured breaths through his nose. Even sitting, he towered above her kneeling form. Her chest swelled with adoration. This man...God, he was truly a sight to behold.

"Tell me you want it," she ordered him, blowing air gently over his tip. He jolted again. The smallest tip of her tongue eased out and traced the smallest circle on his throbbing shaft. "Tell me."

"Fffffuck," he drew the 'f' out long and heavy. The veins in his penis pulsed visibly as he held himself together by a thread. "Graaace..."

"Wayne," she breathed back softly, smiling at him from his lap. "Tell me."

He broke with a groan. "Suck me."

Grace broke with him. Her restraint. Her calm. All gone.

She swallowed him whole.

"Jesus!" Rigsby bucked as her hot, wet little mouth enveloped so much of him so quickly. He hadn't expected it. Hell, he hadn't expected any of this. "Baby...oh, fuck, baby..."

Grace, never having performed oral sex on a man in her life, moaned wantonly around his length and dragged her mouth back up to his tip, instinctively knowing to suck as she did so. When she got to the head, she pressed her teeth behind her lips, applying pressure through their softness, while her tongue painted him round and round.

"Grace." Her name croaked in a deep, cracked baritone. She looked up at him as she worked. Rigsby was already shaking. Already close.

"Yes," he rasped harshly. "Look at me. Keep your eyes on me."

Her eyes instantly fluttered a little at the flinty command before opening again. She took as much as she could handle again, trying hard to relax her throat and take even more. All of her girly magazines said that men liked it deep. She'd never had a reason to care until today. She felt him hit her tonsils and then sucked hard again, bobbing quickly at that depth.

"Baby," he choked again. "I...I won't make it...long...Christ, you're gorgeous...Please...baby?...Slow down...Lemme...lemme watch you...fuck!"

As much as she didn't want to, she obeyed. She didn't want him coming too quickly. Not this first time. She wanted to savor it. She wanted to drag him through as much devastation as he could handle, and once he was a quivering mass of jelly in a chair, then she'd finish him off. So she slowed her pace and made another achingly pretty noise against his cock.

She broke suction and licked him idly. "Never again," she swore to him, lifting his cock and lapping at his testicles. "You're never stopping me from sucking you again. Are we clear?"

"Yes," he panted deliriously. His blue eyes were clouding over, like cataracts. She was literally sucking him blind. And senseless. "Please," he begged mindlessly. "Don't stop. Fuck, Grace, please don't stop. You're...perfect...Christ, you're so perfect."

She hummed at his praise and slowly fed his dick into her mouth again. His hips were starting to thrust rhythmically up to her lips. She let him, wanting to feel his need. Returning to her Cosmo tips, she blew his mind with words.

"You're making me so wet," she admitted breathlessly as she cupped his balls. "I love how you taste."

He gave a labored hiss and he desperately tried to hold on. He was biting his lower lip, almost hard enough to draw blood.

"I can't decide," she continued, kissing his tip as he came close to exploding, "where I want you to come."

She sucked him deep again while Rigsby tried not to scream in ecstasy. His fingers tangled into her fiery hair, holding on for dear life as she worked him. She pulled up just long enough to ask, "Where do you want it, baby?"

The roaring, rutting, basest animal instinct answered her. "Your tits," he groaned raggedly. "I wanna come on your tits."

Grace rose up slightly, giving him a better view of her beautiful breasts. "Here?" she asked wickedly as she licked and sucked between words.

"Yes!" He was trembling violently now. It was only take a little...

She took him in her hands, holding him close to her chest. Pumping him fast and tight, she moaned to him, "Come for me, Wayne."

Rigbsy roared.

He ejaculated hard; white, hot jets spilling onto her cool skin as she continued to squeeze him. She gasped at the sensation. So soft and slightly tickling. A generous spray had hit exactly where he wanted. Her swollen, aching breasts felt tingly as his semen ran silkily over their curves. Her throat felt tight. Too much emotion created by a frightening moment of intimacy. She swallowed thickly and looked up from her splashed chest.

He was staring.

Sweat glistened on his brow as his eyes pinned her to her spot on the floor. Their intensity made her shiver, all nude and wet at his feet. She returned his gaze, wanting him to see she wasn't embarrassed. She felt nothing but satisfaction, despite the fact that they had lasted nowhere near twenty-eight minutes.

Without a word, Rigsby reached over to his desk and pulled his clean towel out from his gym roll by the phone. He unfurled it and tugged her hand gently. "C'mere."

She crawled up him again, settling herself in his exposed lap. Still silent, he dabbed her breasts, removing each spot of come with tender strokes until she was all clean and dry again. Once done, he tossed his towel to the floor and wrapped her up in his arms. Grace hugged him back and said nothing, curling up tight against him and resting her forehead against his throat. He felt hot. Much hotter than normal. She smiled at that. Her human torch.

"You're killing me." His whisper vibrated against her forehead. It was hollowed-out, devoid of everything but exhaustion and awe.

Her smile didn't waver. "Happy birthday."