Endear You to Me, Ch. 28
Title: Endear You To Me
Part: 28 of many
Fandom, Pairin The Closer, Brenda/Sharon
Rating: M
Summary: It's all the moments in between that endear you to me.
Note: Some emotional fallout.
Brenda was surprised when she arrived home before Sharon; she was even more surprised when 6 pm came and went with no word from the other woman. She sent a single text, not wanting to hover, but it went unanswered. Worried, she put the remains of the casserole from the night before in the oven to warm and went to change her clothes. The table was set and Brenda was contemplating opening a bottle of wine without consulting Sharon when her fiancé came through the door. The brunette looked absolutely wrecked, stiff and exhausted, and she was no longer wearing the pretty suit that Brenda had so admired that morning, instead wearing a pair of gray LAPD sweats and a navy hoodie, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail.
“Hey,” Brenda greeted her softly, and was rewarded with a slight smile, the barest curving of those well loved lips. “Dinner’s almost ready. Can I get you a drink?”
Sharon dropped her purse on the entryway table and hung her suit on the coat rack and took a good look at the woman who was greeting her from the door to the kitchen. Brenda was wearing her version of a security blanket: a shirt that Sharon sometimes slept in, if it was chilly enough, with a pair of black yoga pants so worn as to be a dingy gray - also Sharon’s. She looked concerned, brown eyes wide and lambent, and Sharon knew that if she relaxed her body language even a little, Brenda would wrap her up in a hug that Sharon desperately wanted, but felt weak for needing. Sharon found herself paralyzed in the entryway to her own house, unsure of how to ask for what she needed from the blonde.
It shouldn’t have surprised her when Brenda walked over to cup her cheek, and then slid her arms under Sharon’s to pull them together, but it did, just a little. As she allowed herself to relax against the lithe little woman, it occurred to Sharon that Fritz Howard didn’t know Brenda at all if he thought her selfish.
“You smell like the firin’ range, baby,” Brenda murmured. “Why don’t you go wash up, and I’ll make you a drink.” She rubbed Sharon’s back with just enough pressure that Sharon could feel the pads of her fingers through the thick fabric, then pulled away to kiss Sharon right on the tip of her nose. “Feels like a whiskey night to me. Want yours with soda, water, or on the rocks?”
“Rocks, and a glass of water, please.”
“‘Course. Now go wash your hands, else dinner will taste like cordite.” Sharon watched her go back to the kitchen - she never even asked why Sharon had felt the need to go shoot paper men after work instead of coming straight home; probably, she trusted Sharon to tell her if anything was truly wrong.
Dinner was a quiet affair until Sharon stabbed a piece of squash with her fork and said: “My friend Cole is the director of the FBI’s LAPD office.”
Brenda barked a startled laugh before looking at Sharon with a raised eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Mmmmm,” confirmed Sharon, looking down at her plate rather than at the curious woman at the table with her. “Agent Howard has been made aware that any more misuse of Bureau resources or violations of the code of conduct will result in either the loss of his job or permanent reassignment to the last listening post in Alaska.”
Brenda laughed again. “That’s fantastic.” She laid a gentle hand on Sharon’s that was fiddling with her napkin in her lap. “Hey,” she murmured, prompting Sharon to look up at her. “Thank you, for dealing with this for us - I know it couldn’t have been easy for you,” Brenda acknowledged. “I don’t think that I coulda done what you did - there woulda been bloodshed if I had to handle it, especially after talkin’ to my mama.”
“How did that go, by the way?” Sharon wanted to know. In her misery and anger, she had forgotten Brenda had had to deal with a confused and possibly angry parent, and she was a bit ashamed of herself for failing to remember that it had probably been a rather wretched experience for the other woman.
“All things considered, probably better than it could have. I was on the defensive, and I mighta been a little mean, ‘cuz she was still shillin’ for Fritz!” Sharon gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze. “Though I think I mighta heard the end of that, thank god. But she’s confused, ‘cuz as far as she knows, I haven’t had any female romantic partners, ever. I told her that it wasn’t a surprise for me, but I can’t imagine her knowin’ about Neecie doin’ a bit of good, at this point.”
“Maybe after she’s had some time to process, if she’s still having trouble, you can talk to her about it,” Sharon suggested. “You might not even have to. It may be that knowing about you and I will put some things in to perspective for her.”
Brenda pulled a face, sticking her tongue out a little. “I don’t wanna think about my mama thinkin’ about my sex life.”
“I doubt she’ll ever say anything to you about it, honey,” consoled Sharon.
“Lord, I hope not. Now that would be an awkward conversation.” She shuddered. “You know that really puts my little chat with her this mornin’ into proper perspective. It could be much, much worse.” Shooting Sharon a rueful look, she said: “You know, I still like to think my parents had sex exactly four times. I imagine its probably the same for them, maybe worse, ‘cuz lord knows there’s no procreation going on in this household.”
“Plenty of sex, though,” Sharon retorted, the thought eliciting a slightly naughty grin that Brenda returned.
“You’re ok though, really and truly, Sharon?”
“I’m getting there,” Sharon assured her. And she really was, thanks to Brenda’s sweet concern and the fact that when they were alone together, the rest of the world seemed very far away. “What about you?”
“I’m ok. Honestly,” she asserted at Sharon’s somewhat skeptical expression. “I thought I would be freaked out, but mostly I’m just pissed off at Fritz. And a little sorry that instead of me tellin’ my parents about somethin’ that has made me really happy, I had to defend myself against my ex-husband actin’ like a spoiled baby.”
Sharon didn’t know what to say - she could see no hint of untruth on Brenda’s face, no impending freak out about the fact that their professional lives could possibly come crashing down around their ears.
“You’re really not worried?”
“Maybe a little, but my mama and daddy will eventually come around and we both know that Will Pope is an impotent, self-important jackass, with extra emphasis on the impotent.” With a final squeeze of Sharon’s hand, she pushed back from the table and stood, gathering up her plate and glass. “You have any work that needs doin’ tonight?”
“Not a thing. Elliot has taken over all the FID duties already, unless there’s a real stinker of a case, then I’m pretty much off the hook in the evenings.”
“Then why don’t you go get in the hot tub. I’ll wash the casserole dish and put the plates away and join you in a few minutes.”
“I should help clean up,” Sharon protested. They always worked together to prepare and clean up after dinner; it didn’t seem right that Brenda was doing both, even if Sharon knew she was offering to be sweet and to give Sharon a chance to relax. “It’s not fair for you to do all the work.”
“Sharon, I put the casserole in the oven to warm while I changed my clothes, and then set the table. Not exactly slave labor.” She flapped her hands at Sharon. “Go on now, get. I’ll be along in a few minutes.”
“Are you shooing me?”
“Yes! Now get!”
“Bossy,” Sharon tossed over her shoulder on her way out the door and onto the deck.
“You like it,” retorted Brenda.
A naked Sharon Raydor lounging in the hot tub wasn’t quite what Brenda had expected, but it was what she found when she stepped off the deck and into the chilly, dark December evening. The jets were on and the frothing water, unfortunately, hid most of what Brenda wanted to see, though Sharon’s shape was a svelte, tempting shadow in the glow of the underwater lights in the tub. What the water didn’t hide was the large, red and purple bruise on Sharon’s right shoulder.
“Sharon Marie! What did you do to yourself at the shootin’ range?” Sharon sat up a little from her slumped position and looked down at herself.
“Oh. I didn’t even realize - it doesn’t hurt.” She rotated her shoulder a little, as if to confirm to herself. “I wasn’t braced properly and took a shot anyway, the kickback must have gotten me more than I realized.”
Brenda dropped the towels she was carrying and knelt next to the other woman, probing the bruised flesh with a whisper-light touch. “You shouldn’t be soakin’ that; it’ll make it worse.”
Sharon tilted her head back to look Brenda in the eye. “It’s ok, really. It doesn’t feel like a deep one.” Brenda sighed mightily.
“Shotgun or rifle?”
“Shotgun.”
“And you couldn’t have let the target fly and waited for the next one?”
“Uh, no?”
“Who were you tryin’ to put in their place, then?”
“Some ATF guy was being a punk, talking to his buddies about how they shouldn’t let grannies on the range because it slows everyone down.”
“Oh lord,” Brenda sighed. Sharon could be a little touchy about her marksmanship skills, and Brenda was positive ‘let it go’ hadn’t been in her emotional vocabulary that afternoon. “Did you show ‘em?”
Sharon didn’t answer, only smirked a particularly ridiculous smirk. Sharon was good with a rifle and pistol, but no one beat her with a shotgun. Learning to shoot skeet off the back of a bucking sailboat had a rather particular effect on one’s aim that people who learned in a more sedate settings couldn’t really replicate.
“Well, good for you, baby,” congratulated Brenda, tugging on Sharon’s ponytail jokingly. “Are you sure you don’t want me to get you some ice for that shoulder?”
“Nope,” Sharon said, reaching her arms above her head to stretch, a move that caused her nipples to pop out above the surface of the water. Brenda licked her lips and Sharon smirked again. “What I really, really want is for you to strip off and get your ass in here, Brenda Leigh.”
“Yes m’am,” agreed Brenda, and stood, shucking her pants down her legs as she rose. Sharon watched greedily, eagerly as the blonde pulled her shirt over her head and let it drop to the stone decking. She settled into the seat across from Sharon’s with a sigh, slumping down into the water, eyelids fluttering.
“We should do this more often,” Brenda purred; the relaxation had overtaken her almost immediately as she sank down into the warm water. Sharon only chuckled.
“So are you at all excited about Friday, Captain?” asked Brenda after a few minutes of contented silence. She nearly laughed out loud at the exaggerated wrinkle of Sharon’s nose the question garnered.
“Not really,” she confessed. “I’m looking forward to starting in my new position, for real. But glad-handing it with Pope and the mayor and the rest of the brass? No thank you.”
“It’s only an hour or so - and then we can have cupcakes with our squads and a special guest I invited for you, baby.”
“Special guest?” Sharon repeated, sounding quite dubious, and Brenda gave her a merry smile in return.
“Just a young ‘un with a little bitty crush that’ll get a kick out of seein’ you in your dress blues, is all.”
“You didn’t.” Sharon didn’t sound mad, just surprised, so Brenda continued to smile.
“Yup, I did. And Amelia is gonna take some pictures for us, since we both have to be in uniform. Actually, I got an email from Pope while we were out of town threatening me with hellfire and damnation and a demotion to traffic if I don’t show up.”
“Little does he know, you’ll be leading my cheering section.”
“Mmmmmhmmm. And after work I have special, celebratory plans for the woman of the hour.”
“Brenda, you didn’t have to go to any trouble for me,” Sharon demurred, and Brenda scowled at her.
“Yes, of course I did, and I wanted to. We’re not talkin’ a cocktail party here, I ordered some cupcakes from that bakery you like and made dinner reservations for just you and me.”
Truthfully, Sharon was thrilled that Brenda had planned some special things for a day that was important, but that Sharon wasn’t necessarily going to enjoy. The last time she had been promoted, both her children had been away at college, and it wasn’t like she had any real work friends, thanks to her career path, so that day had passed by with little notice by anyone, beyond a few congratulatory phone calls from friends and friendly acquaintances. But now she had Brenda, who was (a little surprisingly), very proud of Sharon’s accomplishments and supportive of her ambition and wanted to celebrate with her.
Realizing this made Sharon smile, and reach out with a foot to make contact with Brenda’s legs, fluttering her toes against the other woman’s shin. Brenda wrinkled her nose and grinned playfully, and Sharon felt a foot hook around her calf and tug.
“Are you playin’ footsie with me, Ms. Raydor?” Brenda inquired, a naughty little smirk playing on her lips as her foot gently parted Sharon’s knees and lingered.
“And if I am?”
“I’d be wonderin’ why you’re all the way over there, instead of over here, kissin’ on me.”
Sharon was glad to accept her invitation, and sliced through the water, settling over Brenda Leigh, her knees bracketing the other woman’s thighs.
“Hey,” Brenda breathed, the word a faint gust that tickled Sharon’s lips bare millimeters away. As she brought their lips together, it occurred to Sharon that Brenda’s efforts and empathy this evening required a bit of a reward - not that they ever used sex as anything other than a genuine expression of feeling, it’s just that Brenda had a rather particular fondness for making love in the backyard, and it wasn’t something they did often.
Sharon allowed her weight to rest on Brenda’s lap as they kissed, and kissed, and kissed, reveling in her whiskey breath and in the press of her hard nipples into the undersides of Sharon’s breasts. Deliberate and teasing, Sharon’s approach was a bit like the steps of a dance; slow, slow, fast, wherein ‘fast’ was the flick of Sharon’s tongue against Brenda’s lips, or a quick foray into the other woman’s mouth. Her aim wasn’t to ramp Brenda up as quickly as possible - there was a time and a place (many times and many places) for that - she was after the long, slow burn that had Brenda relaxed and sighing contentedly under the ministrations of Sharon’s lips. In fact, Brenda was so relaxed that Sharon didn’t know if this make out session would even turn in to sex, which was fine; turning the usually-a-little-jittery Brenda Leigh in to an overcooked spaghetti noodle with kisses and a hot tub was something of an accomplishment in Sharon’s mind.
Her question was answered when Brenda moaned and the slender hips beneath her rolled, just once. Sharon pulled back a little and chuckled.
“You,” Brenda panted, “are a demon. Unless you want me to spontaneously combust, you’d better stop.”
“Do you want me to stop, really? Or would you like an orgasm?”
“You don’t haveta, Shari.” Her eyes were big and dark in the low light, and her cheeks suffused a darker pink than the rest of her, flush from the warmth of the hot tub.
“Brenda,” chided Sharon gently. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to.” She leaned in to nibble on the prominent line of the blonde’s collar bone. It was too cold for Sharon to lay Brenda down on one of the loungers and fuck her, especially since they were wet, and going inside and drying off would lessen Brenda’s heady need that was very much a thing ‘of the moment’. But Sharon had an idea; she stood, and motioned for Brenda to turn around.
“Turn around and kneel on the bench - and make sure you’re in front of a jet.” Brenda raised an eyebrow at her, but complied, and Sharon moved in behind her, pressing up to Brenda’s back, using the one foot she had planted firmly on the bottom of the tub for leverage. With one hand, she cupped Brenda’s pussy, a finger lightly teasing her hard clit, with the other, she fumbled around for the jet, adjusting it so the water streamed against the back of her knuckles.
“What’re you up to?” Brenda asked breathily, most of her attention on the feeling of Sharon’s hand between her legs. Sharon chuckled again, and much to Brenda’s consternation, and then surprise, dragged her hand away from Brenda’s cunt and up her torso, cupping her breasts and kissing her neck while Brenda processed the feeling of the water pounding against her intimate flesh. This bonus feature of her hot tub was something Sharon had taken advantage of many times while alone and trying to relax after a long day; sharing it with a lover was exciting.
“Oh,” gasped Brenda, falling forward a little to rest her hands on the lip of the tub.
“Does that work for you?” Sharon asked. “Will it make you come?”
Brenda responded with a fervent nod, closing her eyes and tilting her head back in pleasure. The slight motion of her ass in the cradle of Sharon’s hips was intoxicating, putting a tantalizing pressure on Sharon’s clit and causing her to buck forward a little. They set a rhythm, a slow grind, Brenda chasing the sensation of the jet of water against her clit and Sharon bringing herself off against the perfect curve of Brenda Leigh’s rear-end.
They began another sort of dance - more literally this time. Sharon worked Brenda’s breasts, palming their weight and then pinching her nipples as a counterpoint to the movement of their hips, surprised that she was so very close with so little stimulation. The feeling of Brenda moving against her was, as always, indescribable, and the blonde’s almost innocent delight at this new sensation was both adorable and titillating; she cooed and she purred and she moaned, writhing, caught between the solid warmth of Sharon and the pleasure the water was providing her.
When Brenda fell apart in Sharon’s arms, coming with a hand slapped across her own mouth and a sinuous full-body wiggle, of their own accord, Sharon’s hips chased down her own orgasm with a few, firm thrusts, and she melted, sinking down into the water a little, resting a cheek on the bony slope of Brenda’s shoulder.
“Well,” Brenda ventured, rough voiced. “That was nice. You’ve done that before, I presume?”
“Only by myself,” Sharon admitted blissfully, focusing on the rapid-fire thump of Brenda’s heart not far from her ear.
“I would ask if you’d like a turn, but it sounds like you’ve already had your turn, baby.”
“Yup,” Sharon agreed. “That was really nice,” she confirmed.
“Much better than the last bright idea you had, that one in the shower,” Brenda teased.
“Hey,” protested Sharon, standing up fully. “I learned my lesson!”
“I guess you did, since you were the one with a lungful of water!”
Brenda yelped when Sharon grabbed her around the waist and pulled them both back into the water with a splash.
“Jerk,” Sharon growled playfully, supporting the slender body of her lover as they lounged in shallow tub.
“You love me anyway,” Brenda asserted with a contented sigh, and Sharon couldn’t argue with that.
Part: 28 of many
Fandom, Pairin The Closer, Brenda/Sharon
Rating: M
Summary: It's all the moments in between that endear you to me.
Note: Some emotional fallout.
Brenda was surprised when she arrived home before Sharon; she was even more surprised when 6 pm came and went with no word from the other woman. She sent a single text, not wanting to hover, but it went unanswered. Worried, she put the remains of the casserole from the night before in the oven to warm and went to change her clothes. The table was set and Brenda was contemplating opening a bottle of wine without consulting Sharon when her fiancé came through the door. The brunette looked absolutely wrecked, stiff and exhausted, and she was no longer wearing the pretty suit that Brenda had so admired that morning, instead wearing a pair of gray LAPD sweats and a navy hoodie, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail.
“Hey,” Brenda greeted her softly, and was rewarded with a slight smile, the barest curving of those well loved lips. “Dinner’s almost ready. Can I get you a drink?”
Sharon dropped her purse on the entryway table and hung her suit on the coat rack and took a good look at the woman who was greeting her from the door to the kitchen. Brenda was wearing her version of a security blanket: a shirt that Sharon sometimes slept in, if it was chilly enough, with a pair of black yoga pants so worn as to be a dingy gray - also Sharon’s. She looked concerned, brown eyes wide and lambent, and Sharon knew that if she relaxed her body language even a little, Brenda would wrap her up in a hug that Sharon desperately wanted, but felt weak for needing. Sharon found herself paralyzed in the entryway to her own house, unsure of how to ask for what she needed from the blonde.
It shouldn’t have surprised her when Brenda walked over to cup her cheek, and then slid her arms under Sharon’s to pull them together, but it did, just a little. As she allowed herself to relax against the lithe little woman, it occurred to Sharon that Fritz Howard didn’t know Brenda at all if he thought her selfish.
“You smell like the firin’ range, baby,” Brenda murmured. “Why don’t you go wash up, and I’ll make you a drink.” She rubbed Sharon’s back with just enough pressure that Sharon could feel the pads of her fingers through the thick fabric, then pulled away to kiss Sharon right on the tip of her nose. “Feels like a whiskey night to me. Want yours with soda, water, or on the rocks?”
“Rocks, and a glass of water, please.”
“‘Course. Now go wash your hands, else dinner will taste like cordite.” Sharon watched her go back to the kitchen - she never even asked why Sharon had felt the need to go shoot paper men after work instead of coming straight home; probably, she trusted Sharon to tell her if anything was truly wrong.
Dinner was a quiet affair until Sharon stabbed a piece of squash with her fork and said: “My friend Cole is the director of the FBI’s LAPD office.”
Brenda barked a startled laugh before looking at Sharon with a raised eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Mmmmm,” confirmed Sharon, looking down at her plate rather than at the curious woman at the table with her. “Agent Howard has been made aware that any more misuse of Bureau resources or violations of the code of conduct will result in either the loss of his job or permanent reassignment to the last listening post in Alaska.”
Brenda laughed again. “That’s fantastic.” She laid a gentle hand on Sharon’s that was fiddling with her napkin in her lap. “Hey,” she murmured, prompting Sharon to look up at her. “Thank you, for dealing with this for us - I know it couldn’t have been easy for you,” Brenda acknowledged. “I don’t think that I coulda done what you did - there woulda been bloodshed if I had to handle it, especially after talkin’ to my mama.”
“How did that go, by the way?” Sharon wanted to know. In her misery and anger, she had forgotten Brenda had had to deal with a confused and possibly angry parent, and she was a bit ashamed of herself for failing to remember that it had probably been a rather wretched experience for the other woman.
“All things considered, probably better than it could have. I was on the defensive, and I mighta been a little mean, ‘cuz she was still shillin’ for Fritz!” Sharon gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze. “Though I think I mighta heard the end of that, thank god. But she’s confused, ‘cuz as far as she knows, I haven’t had any female romantic partners, ever. I told her that it wasn’t a surprise for me, but I can’t imagine her knowin’ about Neecie doin’ a bit of good, at this point.”
“Maybe after she’s had some time to process, if she’s still having trouble, you can talk to her about it,” Sharon suggested. “You might not even have to. It may be that knowing about you and I will put some things in to perspective for her.”
Brenda pulled a face, sticking her tongue out a little. “I don’t wanna think about my mama thinkin’ about my sex life.”
“I doubt she’ll ever say anything to you about it, honey,” consoled Sharon.
“Lord, I hope not. Now that would be an awkward conversation.” She shuddered. “You know that really puts my little chat with her this mornin’ into proper perspective. It could be much, much worse.” Shooting Sharon a rueful look, she said: “You know, I still like to think my parents had sex exactly four times. I imagine its probably the same for them, maybe worse, ‘cuz lord knows there’s no procreation going on in this household.”
“Plenty of sex, though,” Sharon retorted, the thought eliciting a slightly naughty grin that Brenda returned.
“You’re ok though, really and truly, Sharon?”
“I’m getting there,” Sharon assured her. And she really was, thanks to Brenda’s sweet concern and the fact that when they were alone together, the rest of the world seemed very far away. “What about you?”
“I’m ok. Honestly,” she asserted at Sharon’s somewhat skeptical expression. “I thought I would be freaked out, but mostly I’m just pissed off at Fritz. And a little sorry that instead of me tellin’ my parents about somethin’ that has made me really happy, I had to defend myself against my ex-husband actin’ like a spoiled baby.”
Sharon didn’t know what to say - she could see no hint of untruth on Brenda’s face, no impending freak out about the fact that their professional lives could possibly come crashing down around their ears.
“You’re really not worried?”
“Maybe a little, but my mama and daddy will eventually come around and we both know that Will Pope is an impotent, self-important jackass, with extra emphasis on the impotent.” With a final squeeze of Sharon’s hand, she pushed back from the table and stood, gathering up her plate and glass. “You have any work that needs doin’ tonight?”
“Not a thing. Elliot has taken over all the FID duties already, unless there’s a real stinker of a case, then I’m pretty much off the hook in the evenings.”
“Then why don’t you go get in the hot tub. I’ll wash the casserole dish and put the plates away and join you in a few minutes.”
“I should help clean up,” Sharon protested. They always worked together to prepare and clean up after dinner; it didn’t seem right that Brenda was doing both, even if Sharon knew she was offering to be sweet and to give Sharon a chance to relax. “It’s not fair for you to do all the work.”
“Sharon, I put the casserole in the oven to warm while I changed my clothes, and then set the table. Not exactly slave labor.” She flapped her hands at Sharon. “Go on now, get. I’ll be along in a few minutes.”
“Are you shooing me?”
“Yes! Now get!”
“Bossy,” Sharon tossed over her shoulder on her way out the door and onto the deck.
“You like it,” retorted Brenda.
A naked Sharon Raydor lounging in the hot tub wasn’t quite what Brenda had expected, but it was what she found when she stepped off the deck and into the chilly, dark December evening. The jets were on and the frothing water, unfortunately, hid most of what Brenda wanted to see, though Sharon’s shape was a svelte, tempting shadow in the glow of the underwater lights in the tub. What the water didn’t hide was the large, red and purple bruise on Sharon’s right shoulder.
“Sharon Marie! What did you do to yourself at the shootin’ range?” Sharon sat up a little from her slumped position and looked down at herself.
“Oh. I didn’t even realize - it doesn’t hurt.” She rotated her shoulder a little, as if to confirm to herself. “I wasn’t braced properly and took a shot anyway, the kickback must have gotten me more than I realized.”
Brenda dropped the towels she was carrying and knelt next to the other woman, probing the bruised flesh with a whisper-light touch. “You shouldn’t be soakin’ that; it’ll make it worse.”
Sharon tilted her head back to look Brenda in the eye. “It’s ok, really. It doesn’t feel like a deep one.” Brenda sighed mightily.
“Shotgun or rifle?”
“Shotgun.”
“And you couldn’t have let the target fly and waited for the next one?”
“Uh, no?”
“Who were you tryin’ to put in their place, then?”
“Some ATF guy was being a punk, talking to his buddies about how they shouldn’t let grannies on the range because it slows everyone down.”
“Oh lord,” Brenda sighed. Sharon could be a little touchy about her marksmanship skills, and Brenda was positive ‘let it go’ hadn’t been in her emotional vocabulary that afternoon. “Did you show ‘em?”
Sharon didn’t answer, only smirked a particularly ridiculous smirk. Sharon was good with a rifle and pistol, but no one beat her with a shotgun. Learning to shoot skeet off the back of a bucking sailboat had a rather particular effect on one’s aim that people who learned in a more sedate settings couldn’t really replicate.
“Well, good for you, baby,” congratulated Brenda, tugging on Sharon’s ponytail jokingly. “Are you sure you don’t want me to get you some ice for that shoulder?”
“Nope,” Sharon said, reaching her arms above her head to stretch, a move that caused her nipples to pop out above the surface of the water. Brenda licked her lips and Sharon smirked again. “What I really, really want is for you to strip off and get your ass in here, Brenda Leigh.”
“Yes m’am,” agreed Brenda, and stood, shucking her pants down her legs as she rose. Sharon watched greedily, eagerly as the blonde pulled her shirt over her head and let it drop to the stone decking. She settled into the seat across from Sharon’s with a sigh, slumping down into the water, eyelids fluttering.
“We should do this more often,” Brenda purred; the relaxation had overtaken her almost immediately as she sank down into the warm water. Sharon only chuckled.
“So are you at all excited about Friday, Captain?” asked Brenda after a few minutes of contented silence. She nearly laughed out loud at the exaggerated wrinkle of Sharon’s nose the question garnered.
“Not really,” she confessed. “I’m looking forward to starting in my new position, for real. But glad-handing it with Pope and the mayor and the rest of the brass? No thank you.”
“It’s only an hour or so - and then we can have cupcakes with our squads and a special guest I invited for you, baby.”
“Special guest?” Sharon repeated, sounding quite dubious, and Brenda gave her a merry smile in return.
“Just a young ‘un with a little bitty crush that’ll get a kick out of seein’ you in your dress blues, is all.”
“You didn’t.” Sharon didn’t sound mad, just surprised, so Brenda continued to smile.
“Yup, I did. And Amelia is gonna take some pictures for us, since we both have to be in uniform. Actually, I got an email from Pope while we were out of town threatening me with hellfire and damnation and a demotion to traffic if I don’t show up.”
“Little does he know, you’ll be leading my cheering section.”
“Mmmmmhmmm. And after work I have special, celebratory plans for the woman of the hour.”
“Brenda, you didn’t have to go to any trouble for me,” Sharon demurred, and Brenda scowled at her.
“Yes, of course I did, and I wanted to. We’re not talkin’ a cocktail party here, I ordered some cupcakes from that bakery you like and made dinner reservations for just you and me.”
Truthfully, Sharon was thrilled that Brenda had planned some special things for a day that was important, but that Sharon wasn’t necessarily going to enjoy. The last time she had been promoted, both her children had been away at college, and it wasn’t like she had any real work friends, thanks to her career path, so that day had passed by with little notice by anyone, beyond a few congratulatory phone calls from friends and friendly acquaintances. But now she had Brenda, who was (a little surprisingly), very proud of Sharon’s accomplishments and supportive of her ambition and wanted to celebrate with her.
Realizing this made Sharon smile, and reach out with a foot to make contact with Brenda’s legs, fluttering her toes against the other woman’s shin. Brenda wrinkled her nose and grinned playfully, and Sharon felt a foot hook around her calf and tug.
“Are you playin’ footsie with me, Ms. Raydor?” Brenda inquired, a naughty little smirk playing on her lips as her foot gently parted Sharon’s knees and lingered.
“And if I am?”
“I’d be wonderin’ why you’re all the way over there, instead of over here, kissin’ on me.”
Sharon was glad to accept her invitation, and sliced through the water, settling over Brenda Leigh, her knees bracketing the other woman’s thighs.
“Hey,” Brenda breathed, the word a faint gust that tickled Sharon’s lips bare millimeters away. As she brought their lips together, it occurred to Sharon that Brenda’s efforts and empathy this evening required a bit of a reward - not that they ever used sex as anything other than a genuine expression of feeling, it’s just that Brenda had a rather particular fondness for making love in the backyard, and it wasn’t something they did often.
Sharon allowed her weight to rest on Brenda’s lap as they kissed, and kissed, and kissed, reveling in her whiskey breath and in the press of her hard nipples into the undersides of Sharon’s breasts. Deliberate and teasing, Sharon’s approach was a bit like the steps of a dance; slow, slow, fast, wherein ‘fast’ was the flick of Sharon’s tongue against Brenda’s lips, or a quick foray into the other woman’s mouth. Her aim wasn’t to ramp Brenda up as quickly as possible - there was a time and a place (many times and many places) for that - she was after the long, slow burn that had Brenda relaxed and sighing contentedly under the ministrations of Sharon’s lips. In fact, Brenda was so relaxed that Sharon didn’t know if this make out session would even turn in to sex, which was fine; turning the usually-a-little-jittery Brenda Leigh in to an overcooked spaghetti noodle with kisses and a hot tub was something of an accomplishment in Sharon’s mind.
Her question was answered when Brenda moaned and the slender hips beneath her rolled, just once. Sharon pulled back a little and chuckled.
“You,” Brenda panted, “are a demon. Unless you want me to spontaneously combust, you’d better stop.”
“Do you want me to stop, really? Or would you like an orgasm?”
“You don’t haveta, Shari.” Her eyes were big and dark in the low light, and her cheeks suffused a darker pink than the rest of her, flush from the warmth of the hot tub.
“Brenda,” chided Sharon gently. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to.” She leaned in to nibble on the prominent line of the blonde’s collar bone. It was too cold for Sharon to lay Brenda down on one of the loungers and fuck her, especially since they were wet, and going inside and drying off would lessen Brenda’s heady need that was very much a thing ‘of the moment’. But Sharon had an idea; she stood, and motioned for Brenda to turn around.
“Turn around and kneel on the bench - and make sure you’re in front of a jet.” Brenda raised an eyebrow at her, but complied, and Sharon moved in behind her, pressing up to Brenda’s back, using the one foot she had planted firmly on the bottom of the tub for leverage. With one hand, she cupped Brenda’s pussy, a finger lightly teasing her hard clit, with the other, she fumbled around for the jet, adjusting it so the water streamed against the back of her knuckles.
“What’re you up to?” Brenda asked breathily, most of her attention on the feeling of Sharon’s hand between her legs. Sharon chuckled again, and much to Brenda’s consternation, and then surprise, dragged her hand away from Brenda’s cunt and up her torso, cupping her breasts and kissing her neck while Brenda processed the feeling of the water pounding against her intimate flesh. This bonus feature of her hot tub was something Sharon had taken advantage of many times while alone and trying to relax after a long day; sharing it with a lover was exciting.
“Oh,” gasped Brenda, falling forward a little to rest her hands on the lip of the tub.
“Does that work for you?” Sharon asked. “Will it make you come?”
Brenda responded with a fervent nod, closing her eyes and tilting her head back in pleasure. The slight motion of her ass in the cradle of Sharon’s hips was intoxicating, putting a tantalizing pressure on Sharon’s clit and causing her to buck forward a little. They set a rhythm, a slow grind, Brenda chasing the sensation of the jet of water against her clit and Sharon bringing herself off against the perfect curve of Brenda Leigh’s rear-end.
They began another sort of dance - more literally this time. Sharon worked Brenda’s breasts, palming their weight and then pinching her nipples as a counterpoint to the movement of their hips, surprised that she was so very close with so little stimulation. The feeling of Brenda moving against her was, as always, indescribable, and the blonde’s almost innocent delight at this new sensation was both adorable and titillating; she cooed and she purred and she moaned, writhing, caught between the solid warmth of Sharon and the pleasure the water was providing her.
When Brenda fell apart in Sharon’s arms, coming with a hand slapped across her own mouth and a sinuous full-body wiggle, of their own accord, Sharon’s hips chased down her own orgasm with a few, firm thrusts, and she melted, sinking down into the water a little, resting a cheek on the bony slope of Brenda’s shoulder.
“Well,” Brenda ventured, rough voiced. “That was nice. You’ve done that before, I presume?”
“Only by myself,” Sharon admitted blissfully, focusing on the rapid-fire thump of Brenda’s heart not far from her ear.
“I would ask if you’d like a turn, but it sounds like you’ve already had your turn, baby.”
“Yup,” Sharon agreed. “That was really nice,” she confirmed.
“Much better than the last bright idea you had, that one in the shower,” Brenda teased.
“Hey,” protested Sharon, standing up fully. “I learned my lesson!”
“I guess you did, since you were the one with a lungful of water!”
Brenda yelped when Sharon grabbed her around the waist and pulled them both back into the water with a splash.
“Jerk,” Sharon growled playfully, supporting the slender body of her lover as they lounged in shallow tub.
“You love me anyway,” Brenda asserted with a contented sigh, and Sharon couldn’t argue with that.