a/n - this chapter contains some mature content. if that's not your thing, feel free to skip.
It's been a week since Patrick's been shot, and the whole living-together situation has impacted their relationship greatly.
He's been healing slowly, the pain lessening with each passing day. He can finally walk without assistance, but certain tasks like reaching the top shelf of Teresa's kitchen cabinet has him gritting his teeth in discomfort.
In order to make up for her called-in sick days, Teresa's picked up more hours at the CBI, meaning she rarely gets home in time to prepare dinner. Theo has been eating pizza and Mac n Cheese, the only things Patrick can make without straining his body too much.
Today is another day where he's left at home with only Theo as company. He doesn't mind it. The kid is great entertainment. He'll sit on the couch and watch him race his cars across the carpet, cheering whenever either car won.
The more time they spend together, the more attached Theo becomes. Tonight, the boy is fast asleep on his lap, cartoons softly blaring from the TV.
The sound of keys jingling causes Patrick's head to snap up, careful not to make any movement that could potentially wake up Theo. As Teresa steps in, clad in her work outfit yet looking as stunning as ever, he puts a finger to his lips to signal silence.
She takes a couple steps into the living room, her eyes falling on the child sleeping in his lap. Immediately a smile ghosts over her lips, the sight too adorable to ignore.
"When did he fall asleep?" She asks softly as she gingerly sits down beside him, eyes still fixated on a sleeping Theo.
"Fifteen minutes ago," he answers in a whisper. "I made him dinner, but he hasn't had a bath."
"That's fine. Do you want me to take him?"
Stroking Theo's shaggy brown hair, he shakes his head. "I'm comfortable like this."
She purses her lips. "Are you sure? He's not pressing too hard on you or anything, is he?"
A chuckle slips past his lips. "He's perfectly fine, Teresa. Now, are you gonna fuss over me like a protective mother or are you gonna kiss me hello?"
She grins, one of his favorite looks on her, and leans in to press her lips to his. They taste of her signature coffee and even though he prefers tea, he can't get enough of the taste lingering on her tongue.
Pulling apart, he whispers, "how was work?"
"Fine," she responds nonchalantly. "My boss is as annoying as ever, but other than that it's typical work. Though I did demand him to let me open a new case."
"What was the case?"
"Yours." Her eyes meet his warily. "We need to find out who shot you. We can't just let this person get away."
He sighs, dropping his eyes to Theo who's shifting on his lap. "Even if you do find the culprit, it's not like they can reverse what happened. What's done is done, and I'm fine now."
"So you just want this guy to walk free?" She stares at him incredulously, trying to keep her voice even. "They shot you. A fucking bullet was stuck in your abdomen!"
"I just don't think it's something to stress over," he murmurs. "If we go after them, it'll just raise hell."
"What if they come after you again, huh? What then? Are you just going to let them kill you this time?" Her voice is much louder than a whisper, but she's too angry to keep it down.
"Of course not. I'd just rather leave it alone."
"I can't believe you." She gets to her feet and retreats to her bedroom—well, their bedroom now—and slams the door.
He heaves another sigh. He knows he needs to go after her, but he can't do it with a sleeping Theo, so he carries him to bed and tucks him in before going to check on Teresa.
She's huddled on the bed, knees pulled to her chest, shoes kicked off. Her dark hair shields her face like a curtain and he makes his way to the bed, brushing the locks behind her ear to reveal her tear-stricken face.
She sniffles, and his heart breaks into a million tiny pieces.
"Teresa," he utters softly, sliding into bed beside her. "Sweetheart. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you upset. Please don't cry."
Another sniffle. She roughly wipes her tears away but refuses to look at him, her eyes locked on her feet instead.
"I know you want to catch this guy," he continues, scooting closer to her, just to see if she'll move away. She doesn't and he thinks that's a good sign. "In a way I do, too. I just don't want things to escalate more than they already have. If you go after them, what if they hurt you, too? I wouldn't be able to handle it if something happened to you."
She scoffs. "Catching criminals is my job, Jane. I can take care of myself."
Jane. Not Patrick. He really fucked up with this one.
"I know it is and I know you can, but things can happen. You could be the best at your job, but that doesn't mean you're invincible."
"Whoever shot you, they want you dead. I can barely sleep with the thought of this guy roaming free, probably planning on what to do next, how to aim his gun so he can shoot you fatally. It could happen at any time and it fucking terrifies me." She finally lifts her head to meet his gaze, her green eyes wet with more tears. "I can't let that happen."
"I understand that," he says softly. "I'd react the same way if I was you. I just don't want you to be thrown in harm's way. If something happened to you..."
"Nothing's going to happen to me, Jane," she interrupts, convinced with her statement.
"You don't know that for sure. And I can't go through that hell again. I won't." He palms her cheek, stroking his thumb along the soft apple. "You mean way too damn much to me."
"And you mean way too damn much to me," she sighs, leaning her cheek into his hand.
"We're not going to lose each other, I promise you."
"You better keep that damn promise," she says, glaring at him through her dark lashes. As serious as the situation he is, he can't help but want to kiss the breath out of her, so that's exactly what he does.
She accepts his mouth without hesitance, allowing him to slip his tongue past her lips and taste her fully. His tongue brushes hers and she softly moans, the vibration shooting all the way down to his cock.
Despite all the time they've spent together, they haven't went all the way yet. They've gotten close—heated make-out sessions, risky touches in the dark, breathy moans only they can hear—but neither has approached the main event.
Maybe it's because sex is too intimate, with every string attached. But while they used to be scared of the commitment, they're not scared anymore. Because it's them.
His hand drops from her cheek onto her clothed breast, the layers of her work clothes separating him from her supple skin. But luckily she knows exactly what he's asking for without him having to say the words.
She shrugs off her blazer and tosses it across the room, uncaring of where it lands. She does the same with her tank top until her torso is left in only a black bra, and his eyes lock on the way her chest rises and falls rapidly with each breath she takes.
Her body is fascinating. He wants to touch every part of her all at once, count every tiny freckle until he can form constellations out of them. But for now he settles on fingering the clasp of her bra, expelling a breath of his own as it falls and exposes her pale breasts.
Her dark nipples have already peaked, asking—no, begging—for his mouth. He obliges her, lowering his head to suck one of the hard buds into his mouth. Immediately she gasps, her back arching just a little.
Swirling his tongue around her nipple, his eyes flick up to her face. She's biting her bottom lip to keep from making a sound, but he can easily tell a moan is threatening to rip from her throat.
Theo is asleep in his room, and while he knows they should be quiet, he can't let this night end without hearing just one of her beautiful moans, so he gently nips the side of her breast.
Just as he'd predicted, a whimper slips past her lips.
"P-Patrick," she pants, her fingers threading through his curls. "Please."
The word please sounds so sweet coming from her, so innocent. Who is he to deny her what she wants?
He'd give her his fucking left arm if she asked.
He doesn't even have to think about it anymore. It's like second nature to him. If she wants something, he'd do anything and everything to get it for her.
He released her nipple from his mouth. "Lay down."
She does as he says, falling back onto the bed almost gracefully. His heart is in his throat, but he can't bring himself to stop now. He's too far gone.
He doesn't want to stop. He wants to see all of her, touch all of her, taste all of her until he's spent.
And to be truthful, it could take all night.
His fingers ghost along the waistband of her black pants, teasing her because he can. She glares up at him as a warning, and while she's not intimidating in the slightest, he still succumbs to her silent demand.
He slowly drags her pants down her legs, peeling them off and tossing them in the pile of clothes they've already created. She ends up clad in only a thong, black, to match her bra.
He sucks in a breath at the sight. He wants to take his time and savor every second of this, but the urge to rip off her underwear and fuck her with his tongue is strong.
His cock is straining against his pants, but he hardly notices. All he can focus on is this beautiful woman lying before him, waiting for him to take her.
Finally, he gives in and pulls her underwear off. Her legs fall open inch by inch and the sight knocks the breath out of his lungs.
"Fucking beautiful," he breathes, not having realized he said anything until he sees her cheeks flush. He trails a finger along her inner thigh and smiles when goosebumps rise on her skin. "Exquisite."
She huffs impatiently. "Patrick, don't tease."
He softly tuts at her. "Just let me look at you for a moment. I need to save this in my memory palace."
A laugh breaks out of her. "You're so dorky."
"I thought you liked it," he grins, scooting back until he's lying on his stomach, his lips a hairsbreadth away from her pink core.
"I do," she says, sounding breathless already. "I love it. I love every part of you."
Whether she says it to rush him or because she genuinely means it, it works. His mouth is on her in seconds, licking a stripe up her core as her head falls back onto the pillow behind her.
"Oh, god," she moans. His tongue flicks her clit and her body jolts. "P-Patrick, yes, just like that."
He keeps working her with his tongue, testing to see what she likes and what spot to hit to elicit more sounds from her. He drags the tip of his tongue over her clit, smiling against her when her hips buck furiously, a strangled moan wretched from her lips.
"Fuck," she curses, gripping the sheets beneath her with all her strength. "God, don't stop."
He couldn't stop even if he wanted to. Her taste is unique and sweet and addicting. He gives her one more long lick before she's toppling over the edge, her scream muffled by her hand.
Her body spasms. When her legs stop shaking, she puffs out a breath. "Wow."
He grins, satisfied with himself. "Was that alright?"
She has enough strength to roll her eyes. "You're so damn cocky."
"Dorky, cocky...what's next? Sexy?" He kisses up her body to plant a deep one on her lips. Her mouth falls open to invite his tongue in. His cock pulses and she seems to notice his state of discomfort because she starts fingering his pants immediately, desperate to get them off his body.
He pulls his mouth away from hers long enough to slip his shirt off. His bare chest is now on display, and her eyes ravage him with lust and hunger.
She finally gets his pants off, his boxers being the last things to go. Her mouth salivates at the sight of him naked before her, all strong and beautiful and glorious.
She pulls him down forcefully. "I need you," she breathes against his lips.
Well, that does him in.
He situates himself between her legs, bracing her hands above her head with his. Their eyes meet for a moment and the world seems to stop.
This is where he's meant to be. With her. With Theo. With them.
Nothing else to him matters except them.
He slowly slides into her, a grunt rumbling in his throat. She whimpers as he goes deeper, her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him even closer. It's paradise, being with her like this, so intimate, so heavenly.
It's everything.
"I love you," he rasps, moving his hips with hers. "So much."
Her back arches with every thrust. She's barely able to get the words out, but she does. "Love you more."
He rests his forehead against his, their breaths mingling. As he closes his eyes, the rest of the world fades away, and all that's left is them and the boy across the hall.
His family.
