A/N: So the latest ep only confirmed something I've noticed, and that's that almost nobody outside of the CBI takes Grace seriously as a cop. Every other suspect hits on her or dismisses her for her hotness. I'm also pretending they're still in an established ship.

Beautiful

It was late in Grace's apartment. She refused to sit down and relax. Her anxiety compelled him to keep standing up as well, watching her as she moved restlessly through her small home.

He bit his lip as Grace scrunched her face and threw her hands up in the air. She was annoyed. He was amused. She punched him softly in the chest, irritated by his badly-hidden smile. He caught her fists in his hands, trapping them gently against him as he tried to cajole her anger away by rubbing circles over her knuckles. It didn't work. His eyes glinted with even more humor at her stubbornness.

"It's not funny," she mumbled, her eyes sparking with indignation.

His smile escaped a little more. "It's a little funny."

She gave him an adorable angry face and huffed loudly. "Easy for you to say. No one accuses you of being so foxy that it's a shame your badge and gun aren't part of a stripper outfit."

Rigsby caved and laughed as Grace continued to scowl at him. Her fists tightened in his hands and he chuckled even harder, feeling her desire to smack the grin right off him.

He pulled her in as she struggled and bear hugged her, his chest rumbling with mirth as she tried to mulishly pull away from him. "No dice," he purred against her hair as he held her close. "You're not getting away until I get a kiss."

"Don't wanna kiss you," she muttered petulantly. "It's not fair. I work so hard for respect, and for what? So suspects can lick me with their eyes and ask then ask for my boss since I'm only here because I'm screwing someone important?" She paused and looked up at him. "Like you? A big, strong archetypal cop?"

Rigsby's grip went somehow softer, yet firmer around her. His playfulness melted and his hands, which desperately wanted to stroke her reassuringly, went still against her. Now wasn't the time for placation. She'd only get angrier if she thought he was trying to calm her down. She was perfectly calm. She was just mad. She always made the point to him that it was perfectly normal to be calm and angry at the same time. To even suggest she was overreacting or emotional would guarantee he'd be sleeping at home. Alone. He gazed down at her evenly.

"You got where you are because of you, Grace. Everyone who matters knows that. You screw me because you choose to, and that makes me the luckiest bastard alive." He smiled softly. "God, you have no idea how lucky that makes me."

The hardness in her eyes softened a tad. The resistance in her body wilted into something more voluntary. Still upset, she chose to stroke his arms instead of hugging him fully and giving in. "I didn't mean that. I'm sorry."

He shook his head, his expression light. "No need. The fact that you screw me makes my head spin, babe. I don't care what word you choose to describe it."

She sneered prettily. "Why won't anyone just...not see me? Why can't they just see the badge and the gun and treat me like a cop? Why?"

He sighed. "Because they're human. They're human and you're a beautiful woman."

She snorted. "Lisbon's a beautiful woman. No one tells her she should segue into stripping."

Even as she spoke, Rigsby had begun to massage along the alluring line of her back and into her gloriously long hair. He saw her point, but at the same time, god damn she was pretty. It was so hard not to admire her oval face, flawless skin or lovely figure, even when she was ranting about other men for doing just that. Grace saw his appraisal simmering just behind his eyes. He couldn't hide it, not when they were this close. She rolled her eyes, but not unkindly so. She waited, knowing he was forming his answer. At length, he gave it.

"Lisbon is beautiful," he conceded. "But Lisbon isn't a woman when she's working."

She frowned. "How so?"

He inhaled slowly, glancing upwards, trying to explain. "Lisbon knows she's very pretty, and like you, she doesn't want it interfering with her work. But unlike you, she makes herself hard in front of others. No kindness. No indecision. Just justice. Almost like the vulnerable part of her is just...gone." One of his hands had wandered up to her jaw, tracing a slow line until he was thumbing her bee-stung lips. He watched, fascinated, as he brushed them back and forth. "You're so full of kindness and humanity that people can't help but respond to it. Good people will cherish it. Scumbags will exploit it. And no one - and I mean no one - will never see the badge before they see this face."

He'd fallen completely under her spell, even as he spoke. Grace had seen enough of him hypnotized to know that it had happened again. He was stone-still, oblivious to everything except the angel in front of him. She ensnared him, every inch of him, without even trying. The only reason she didn't punch him again was because Wayne was the only man who made her feel empowered with his desire instead of victimized. Even now, she felt that punch-drunk sensation washing over her as her man continued to stare at her with open adoration. Her beauty had bewitched him. Her kind heart had enslaved him. It was thrilling, knowing he was so completely within her power.

But his words were sobering. People were human. Humans will always admire beauty, no matter how much the beautiful might pray for neglect.

And even though she'd accused otherwise, people responded to Rigsby as well. Men became instinctively defensive in his presence, sensing a superior male and wanting to prove their own strength. She also felt the eyes of other women following him. Licking him, as she'd described, with their gaze as he moved through a crowd. He was beautiful. He was unusual. People were human. Even women. And women wanted men who looked like Rigsby. She wanted the man who looked like Rigsby.

She stared up into his eyes and let herself become ensnared, too. His looming presence made it easy. His handsome face, so full of lust, Grace felt herself responding, her feminine body registering his masculine proportions. Broad torso. Long arms. Strong jaw. Short, dark hair.

No one would ever see his badge before they saw his face, either.

"You're beautiful," she whispered distractedly, licking him with her gaze.

He felt it. Growling, his arm banded tighter around her waist while his other hand fisted in her hair at her nape. "Beautiful Grace," he praised back. "So fucking lovely."

Her eyes fluttered and her knees went wobbly. His lust always forced his words into staccato rasps, pelting her with their sharp edges and slicing straight into her lower body.

"Hmmmm," she murmured. "Screw me."

He exhaled sharply. "You owe me a kiss first."

The only way stay conscious in such a steely grip was for Grace to plaster herself against him. She rubbed along his front, dragging their clothes over their hot skin. "Screw me," she purred enticingly, still not one to concede a kiss and admit he'd mollified her.

He knew her game, but her sweet little body was making it hard for him to pay attention. "Kiss," he reiterated, bumping her purposefully, corralling her towards the wall. "Me."

Her hands entered the play, sliding down his arms and up his sides before making distracting little circles along his thighs and hips through his pants. She also upped the verbal ante. "Fuck me."

Rigsby slammed her up against the wall, his hands slapped firmly on either side of her head. He arched into her, relishing her touch. His head snapped back and he growled. "Kiss me right goddamn now, Grace."

Grace keened softly as he ground her against the wall, his impressive body bowed back against the pleasure. She split the difference of his demand and leaned forward enough to kiss his chest, his t-shirt feeling soft and warm under her lips. Grabbing his ass, she locked him in place, scattering kisses and leaving lipstick prints on the white cotton.

Grunting, he grabbed her shoulders and shoved her back against the wall, leaning in and taking his kiss, permission be damned. She returned it gladly, opening her mouth to his invasion and letting him tongue her aggressively, just the way she liked it.

"Yes," she moaned hotly. "God, yes."

"So pretty," he rasped against her lips, wanting to rile her up, even after trying to talk her down. "I wanted you the minute I saw you."

Grace made an angry, sexy sound as her indignation and desire mixed together. Rigsby responded by yanking her top off and cupping her breasts through her bra. They swelled over the lace and he placed wet, hungry kisses over their silky softness. "Sexy baby," he muttered, biting her gently. "You make me hard just thinking about you."

"Wayne," she whimpered, trying to fight off the drugging effect of his words. They were objectifying and felt sexist and macho and- oh, god her bra was gone and he was eating her alive. Grace pushed harder against the wall for support as he attacked.

Suddenly she was spun around and she gasped as her hot, wet breasts hit the cold wall. Rigsby loomed behind her, his hands coasting over her naked back, forward to her breasts, and then back until they gripped her ass. He was brazenly feeling her up. Grace exclaimed in pretend outrage. She wasn't about to give into his delicious take on sexual harassment.

"So I'm just a pretty face, Wayne? A piece of ass? A conquest?"

He laughed deep in his throat, yanking her back into him. His t-shirt was gone now. Her back collided with his bare chest and she automatically reached back to hug his neck, her head settling against the hollow of his throat.

"Exactly," he coaxed. "You're a great set of tits and ass, sleeping your way to the top." He cupped her breasts again, molding and shaping them and rumbling with pleasure as her nipples hardened and grazed his palms. "I'm just an asshole superior. You don't care about me at all, in fact you hate me. You fuck me because you're ambitious. Heartless slut that you are."

Grace moaned, opening her pants and sliding them off her legs and kicking them away with her bare feet. The irony of his words only made his true meaning shine through. She let her head drop back further into him, tipping her face closer to his. He nuzzled her temple with his chin, kissing along her hairline. "We don't love each other. Not even a little bit."

Grace reached behind her and massaged his cock through his trousers, reveling in his labored hiss. "You only screw me. You've never made love to me," she whispered softly.

Rigsby's chest tightened noticeably against her back and she smiled. He didn't like those words, not when they came from her and not him.

"All your pretty words," she sighed sadly, fisting him lightly and stroking him up and down. "Just lies. Lies to get me in bed, right? Another notch on your bedpost."

"Grace."

She smiled at her name. She heard his denial in it, even though he knew better. In that single word, he was begging her to know that he would never. Never ever ever. She sighed again.

"Now I need to keep you happy. Keep letting you fuck me. Otherwise you'll tell. Lisbon would fire me. I'll never get a job in this line ever again. The woman never does. Unless I get on my knees and suck your cock."

She spun in his arms and dropped to her knees, yanking his pants and underwear down and swallowing him at lightening speed. Rigsby roared, punching the wall hard enough to leave dents. He buckled just as dramatically.

"I love you," he panted desperately. "Baby, I love you so much, I'd never use you like that I- oh, fuck! You're my angel, you know that. I'd kill myself before- Jesus Christ! Yes, please baby...yes!"

He unclenched his eyes enough to watch as Grace sucked him with spectacular abandon. The sight of his rigid cock, glistening with her saliva, disappearing into her sweet little mouth drove him absolutely crazy. Fuck, she was perfect. Proper and professional and blowing his brains out behind closed doors. He squeezed his eyes shut again and begged. "Why me? God in heaven, baby, why in the hell did you choose me?"

Grace moaned around his length before letting him go with a pop. She rose from her knees, ready for when he grabbed her thighs and hiked her up onto his waist, pushing her back into the wall as he buried himself deep inside her in one sharp thrust. He moaned a long, grateful, agonized sound, wrapping his arms around her and pumping in and out at a desperate pace.

She locked her arms around his neck. Cheek to cheek, she keened as her pulsing core was stretched wide and teased with deliciously firm pressure. "You're beautiful," she repeated longingly, cinching her legs tighter around him. "And you're my angel, too."