Posted to
numb3rs_fic Title: Just My Imagination
Pairing/Characters: Megan/Officer Morris, Amita/OCs, Don/Liz, Billy
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: Seasons 1-3
Summary: With women this hot it's easy to fantasize about them
Notes/Warnings: Read the
disclaimer on my LJ
Megan doesn't usually go in for roleplay, especially law enforcement related, but there's something about the way they play 'Officer Morris takes Ms. Reeves in for questioning' that sets her skin abuzz. It might be the way her lover alternately slaps and caresses the nightstick in her hand as she paces their pretend interrogation room. Maybe the hot breath on her neck as she growls accusations against her tender skin. Or perhaps the shiver of anticipation when the cool metal cuffs click shut against her wrists as she bends over the table. She spreads her legs on command; being frisked never felt so good. She feigns ignorance and is teased. She denies her guilt and is brought to the edge and left hanging. At this point she'd welcome the invasion of the black nightstick, she's in such painful need to be filled. Yet her tormenter merely slides it over her tender parts, slicking it with her wetness as it skims past her clit, just avoiding her need. Aching with want, she's ready to burst when she screams her desperate confession...
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Amita dances in impossibly high heels and what those stilettos do to her long lithe legs is just shy of illegal, especially in the micro mini skirt she's got on. If there were a pole handy, this dance would likely qualify as strip tease, given how quickly she's shedding her scarf and jacket and crop top to dance in just her lacy balconette bra and skirt. It's certainly worthy of having dollar bills thrown at her, preferably twenties. What started as a personal performance turns closer to porn when two shirtless men sandwich her between them. Three bodies rub hot friction, skin on skin, incendiary. Amita's grinding against the guy in front of her as if she's fucking him with a strap-on. The man behind her is inching up her knit skirt on the side and fingering the thin band of her thong at the top of her thigh even as he grinds his own very real hardness against her ass. He could snap that fine fabric with a twist of his finger and she'd be bare to him, ready. He'd only have to release his cock...
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Liz makes a great streetwalker. No one would ever say that aloud, but everything she goes undercover as a prostitute every man - and quite a few women - have to swallow hard to keep down their salivating at her sexiness. Even a classy outfit like a slit skirt and white blouse with one extra button undone is like an invitation to fuck her senseless. Put her in a dark alley and suddenly a brick wall seems like the best place ever to have wild sex. If they have to sell the part to a third party to prove she's not a cop then someone's got to be the John. In the past Don always volunteered himself to nail her to the wall, possibly because they didn't have to fake it - despite the fact that protocol would never allow two agents to have sex in public for any reason. The FBI has excellent night surveillance equipment; anyone could tell the sex was for real and very hot. Mostly that equipment was fought over or sold to the highest bidder. On a boring stake out nothing was better than Bureau sanctioned live porn. So watching Don lift Liz up by the ass so she could wrap her legs around his waist, skirt hiked up and shirt all but torn open? Best reason ever to be in sniper perch privacy with a top notch scope and a hand on your weapon...
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Everybody thinks it's lonely out on the road, but when it comes to women Billy packs plenty to choose from in memory. So when it's just him, all alone, he's got plenty of action to choose from in his imagination.
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