He sprinted all the way from the subway station.

Due to today's events, he suffered some serious delays in his reports writing. When she stood up around 7.30pm and started gathering her stuff, he panicked, trying to wrap it up as well even though he knew he needed at least 15 minutes to conclude the file he promised Holt. She leaned her left thigh against the side of his desk as he was desperately fumbling for a better word than 'tits' to describe how he understood the offender was hiding something under his shirt.

"I'm heading home…", she purred.

His brain could not decide whether to focus on her now, thus losing some precious minutes towards the completion of that essay or keep on searching how to call a man's boob.

"We'll meet there.", she deduced.

That made him look up out of surprise.

"You don't want to wait for me?", he shyly attempted. What about the elevator scene he planned? If she could just linger a little…

"I've spent the last hour checking Santiago's reports' punctuation. I'm really out of things to do. I think I'll walk tonight." That'd give him enough time, he thought. "Maybe stop by the grocery store…" She paused, bit her lips, straight arousing him, and lift her eyes. "Can you lend me the keys?"

Of course, he could. This was such a trivial demand, yet it filled him with so much happiness, he could not recall feeling something so warm his whole life. He quickly pulled out the bunch of keys from his jacket inside pocket and threw it in the air where she grabbed them. She smiled, like a pupil who just received praise from her teacher and headed towards the exit. Nipple! That's the correct term. Nipples, he could not see the man's nipples and that's how he suspected the cocaine was wrapped around his chest. He carried on typing.

It took him exactly seventeen minutes to wrap it up, burst into the captain's office, threw the folder on his lap, ran back to his chair, caught his leather and sprinted out. He made a quick calculation on his way downstairs 7 Avenue station: she would need a little more than 30 minutes to go through the park and reach his block, if she stopped by Klein's, that'd give him 10 minutes more, she had left 20 minutes ago, which left him 20 minutes. Tight, but feasible. He heard the door close signal from the middle of the stairs and jumped the other half like he was chasing a nipple-less drug smuggler. His final leap took him through the shutting interstice and bumping into a fat man eating McDonad's fries. Gross. Who does that? On the subway? Anyway, he apologized and now came the longest 20 minutes of his existence. He was trying to tame his mind in a failed attempt to manage his anticipation building up against his will. "Don't mess up, you're gonna mess up, hopefully she's not expecting much, but man you must be impeccable, she's a queen and you're a buffoon, her body…", his own reacted just at he thought, "See? That's exactly what I'm talking about." It went on and on and on, "Parkside Avenue" declared the train voice, he had been unable to settle it down.

As I said, he sprinted all the way from the subway station, beeped his way in and heard the elevator's signal. Seriously, if this is… That's not luck, it's cheating. He took the corridor, turned around the corner and jerked his hand in the 5 cm slot left between the panes. The machine took a second to consider its next command and reopened the door to reveal her. There was no more question he let his brain wonder, he strode over the space between them and let his whole body crash on hers. Their impact made the steel cage wiggle for a moment, but his tongue was already playing with hers. He was firmly holding her face with both hands, she was still taken aback, agreeably it seemed. Their full-on kiss took the six floors ascent to turn into a definite consented and mutual sexual assault. He was now getting prepared, one arm down her side, the other on her back and she was gripping locks of his hair, taking deep breaths of his musk. His cue was the reopening of the doors. He pulled up her thigh and extended his gesture to scoop her butt and lifted her. He couldn't help but notice it was easier than what he had expected. She was petite obviously, no doubt he could hold her above ground, but each one of his muscles was so tense, as if they had been waiting all his life for this, that picking her up felt like what he had been born to do. She accommodated her legs somewhere under his waist and folded her hands around his shoulder plates while he stepped back and out of the elevator. He unwillingly opened his eyes to head towards his apartment. She swiftly searched her pocket for the keys and found her way to his right hand which was letting the other handle all her weight now. He snatched them and found rest pressing her against the wall right next to the lock. By then, he had to get out of her mouth to focus on his motions. She took that opportunity to tilt her head and whisper right into his ear:

"I want you. Now. In me."

His chest jolted under the excitement just when the lock yielded. He plunged in the hall, taking her along, leaving the keys dangling. She caught them in the motion, pushed the door shut just before he turned around and pinned her against the pane, releasing his arm to let her stand again. The keys fell to the floor and there were no more obstacles to overcome. His arms were wrapped around her hips, his shoulders blocking her, their tongues tangling. Her fingers found the way to the first button of his shirt and worked at undoing it. Done. One. He knew just what to do next. He took a break from her mouth and slid along her jawline. Two. He reached her ear, alternating light kisses and soft licks, brushing her flavorful skin. Three. His saliva trailed her neckline. Four. Five. When he made it to the base of her neck, his mind was so playful it threw at him: "if she shivers, she's the one". And man, did she shiver. Like death was swiping her. Under the wide-open kiss he laid there, she lost any ounce of will and unbuttoned the four left in one tug. Proud of his discovery, he kept on tingling her arousal on her sensitive patch of skin. She let out a satisfying exhalation of pleasure as her hands came caressing his defined abs, still left secretive under his undershirt. She yanked it out of his black jeans and resolved to unbutton those as well. So many fucking buttons.

That's when he paused. It was quite sudden, so she froze as well. He brought his face right up, their lips grazing, and they let themselves pant it out for a couple of seconds. He lifted his eyes to hers and in an all too serious expression she did not recognize him, he murmured:

"How did you know for the dirty talk?"

"Your searched porn history."

That made him raise his eyebrows but did not surprise him that much. He kept going:

"I love you Glas.", he hesitated, "And I'm sorry I put your life at risk, you can't imagine how..."

She hushed him with one finger, gently smiling in a nothing but compassionate way. Brushing his chin, she replied:

"I love you too, doofus."

He smirked and brought his hand up her thigh, under her skirt, pulled down her lace panties and resumed engulfing her mouth. She tucked her hands under the cotton of his undershirt and let herself take in the landscape of his muscles. He had done this before. She had, well, watched it before. She waited for her underwear to crash on the floor to bring her leg up and pull him in, leading his groin two layers away from hers. That was enough. He used both arms to lift her up once more and the distance to his couch never seemed that long, but they eventually fell upon the cushions, working hard at keeping their mouths glued. He went back to her shoulders, tracing her collarbone, starting to involve his teeth. That drove her crazy. He felt in full control and that felt good, that always felt good. She zipped his jeans down all the way, not minding the awkward posture that left her in and didn't wait for him to get rid of them at his feet to wrench his boxer out of the way. He wanted nothing more than to discover what laid under her silk top, the colour of her bra, the responsiveness of her tits… no nipples. But she told him before what she wanted, and he intended on letting her word be his command. A clumsy repositioning and he was ready. He gave a sharp blow and entered her. She shrieked under the pain, but it fast gave way to sensations she had never experienced. Since she joined the force, her world was full of new things and Jake filled it with fun and care and home. But this was beyond perception. The signals her body were sending her brain were too strong for her mind to associate with any feelings she had for him. She had loved him since day one really. But that pleasure there, as he moved up and down, biting her in places she was not even aware would provoke such bolts of electricity, rubbing his rough skin against hers, chafing her clitoris with every thrust, it invoked something in her she was not sure she could control. Or wanted to control.

He held it as much as he could. She had not played fair with the dirty talk, but he knew she did not know the rules. To be honest, he did not mind she did not know the rules. Let's face it: even without the dirty talk, he would not have been able to last longer. His hand had ventured underneath her tee, pushed her bra aside and his nails accidentally scraped her areola. That did not have the outcome he expected: she bent her head backwards, let out a deep delighted sigh and unintentionally contracted her muscles. All her muscles. Which made it impossible for him to hold it anymore. In his final momentum, he hit the exact right spot and gave her an orgasm their neighbors would refer to in their next corridor encounter. The endorphins now flowing through her veins made her vision blurry and patches of brightness tainted the dimness of the apartment. They gasped for air several minutes, neither of them daring to make the first move to break their embrace. His head rested on her shoulder, his heavy breathing tingling her flesh. His phone buzzed. No intention to pick it up but that gave him the green light. He tried to roll on his elbows to find the impulsion to get up but that meant facing her, and her eyes were so beautiful, and her nose, and her mouth, those lips, shaped in a… smile? He remembered all those questions and doubts overpowering him in the subway and he discreetly laughed at them.

"What?", she asked, puzzled.

"I should try to have you killed more often."

"Pfffff, every day you do it. You're that bad at your job."

"C'mon, you know I'm the best."

"I am the best. You're only the best at what we just did."

"Sex?"

"Yeah, that." He had the most annoying and cute satisfied grin on his face. She hesitated to point out how scarce her points of comparison were, but she refrained. He looked so pleased with himself. And she was pleased with him too. He leaned in to lay a kiss on the tip of her nose, which made her crinkle it and sheepishly smile, and he got up, getting out of her, and gawkily ran to the bathroom. She suddenly felt naked, which she was, but more in a 'needing-him' kind of way. So, she fought the urge to lay in this ocean of metaphysical soppy love and joined him in the shower already running.