Fic: Surrender Bliss
She knew it was a bad case when he turned up at her door late that night, sweaty and still in his work clothes. Word had trickled down to the labs that they'd have incoming to process, but for tonight she and a couple of the others had the night off. One veteran to supervise, and the rest of the newbies got to sort through the evidence and start the testing. Pam was free to go home and rest up for an early roll-out tomorrow morning.
Resting up didn't seem to be in the cards. She looked through the peephole, caught a glimpse of red-rimmed blue eyes, and scrabbled to open the door. "Cas? Baby, you okay?"
He shook his head.
Pam half-carried him in, eyeing the blood and other stains on his shirt, her mind analyzing the color and pattern already to try and figure out what they were. Trying to remember what kind of incoming they'd had. It was a drug case, she'd remembered that, homicide and narcotics working together to bust some kind of day-care apartment drug... which was when it clicked. Day-care apartment drug dealers. And they weren't dealing the prescription medication, either, they were dealing the hard-core stuff. Around children. No cop liked anything about the cases where children were put in the way of danger, and this was one of the worst.
She didn't ask where the blood was from. It could have been anything, and all the possibilities she could think of were bad. He'd talk about it when he was ready. Right now the best she could do would be, she supposed, to take care of the physical reminders of what happened. Give him something else to think about, something to focus on that didn't involve death and drugs and depravity. Well, maybe one good kind of depravity.
"Cas..." Her fingers curled around his, her hands guided him into the bathroom. It was small, or, small-ish for one person. Definitely small for two people. She managed, standing in the doorway while she stripped him down to the skin. "Hey. Hey, babe."
By the time she got down to his drawers he was more focused, eyes on her hands and her movements rather than on the memory of whatever horrors he had seen. He even smiled a little when she spoke, but his voice was harsh and low and rusty. "Sorry. Pam, I'm sorry, I shouldn't..."
"Stand around yakking while the water gets cold? No, you shouldn't. Waste of a lot of hot water." She started the tub while she was talking, then changed her mind and pulled the curtain, turning on the shower. "On second thought..."
He tilted his head at her, that strange gesture that was so wholly his she could no longer see anyone else with quite that air of calm curiosity. She took his hand, tugged him towards the shower even as she pushed him a bit with an open palm between his shoulder-blades.
"Into the shower," she told him. "I'll be there in a second."
Pam started to peel off her clothes even before she heard the rhythm of the falling water shift as he stepped under the spray. Unhurried movements, even though she was still worried about him. Right now she was more worried that he'd slip and bang something in the tub than anything; he still seemed so out of it. And then she, too, stepped under the water and then she was right up close to his naked body, naked wet body, right up in the scent of him and the dim light through the shower curtain and one hand closed around her shoulder to keep her from falling. She looked up. He looked down, though they were almost the same height. His eyes were still blue, even when the shadows had leeched most of the color away.
Her breathing was coming faster in anticipation, though she couldn't quite name what she thought would happen. He was, if anything, calmer than he had been before. Steadier, just for that small point of contact, she thought.
Between one breath and the next they were kissing. She couldn't tell who started it, not when his fingers closed tighter on her shoulder and she had to put her arms around him quickly to balance. One arm around him and one hand on the back wall, that was easier. And now their bodies were slick with the water and pressed up against each other and what had started out as just a kiss, just a very intense kiss, had become something more lower-down. She felt him stirring. She felt her skin tingling as her mind whirled with all the possibilities. The shower was meant to clean him off, then get him into dry clothes and tucked into bed. If they were going anywhere near the bed by now it wouldn't involve clothes of any kind.
Hands everywhere. Hands and mouths and they couldn't stop touching each other in any way possible. Water got into her ears and up her nose and apart from needing to breathe now and then it didn't matter. They clutched at each other, needing each other. She needed to be a part of his warmth, his solid body, his simple steadiness. She needed that back, and she thought (with the part of her that could still sort of think) that he needed that back, too. If he needed something from her she didn't know what it was, but he seemed to. Pulling her close and kissing her hard enough to make her lips ache when he pulled away again. She meant to pull him back but he dropped down low to one knee under the spray and she stepped back so that the water wouldn't be over his eyes. It flowed down his back instead, smooth, smooth skin that she suddenly wanted to touch.
"Don't..." Still raspy. His fingers on her hips kept her upright, one hand sliding between her legs until she took as wide a stance as she could. He kissed her hipbone, kissed his way lower, and then the first touch of his tongue had her gasping in slight shock at the change in sensation. And as fast and hard as he had been kissing elsewhere he was slow and tender with this. So very slow. So tender.
Words failed her. Her fingers found a grip on the shower curtain and on the handle above the soap tray, gripping tight to keep her balance. Tingles and heat surged and fell back with whatever internal rhythm he moved by, touched and tasted her by. She couldn't tell. Sometimes he would press forward and she would be right on the edge and then he would retreat and she would be whimpering for more. His hand slid up and down along her hip, soothing or reassuring her, it felt like. Keeping her steady. There came a point in the proceedings, some indeterminate time later, when he didn't pull back. Everything seemed to slip sideways at once from the slickness of the surfaces in the shower, from the trembling in her legs, what he was doing to her.
Afterwards she leaned against the shower wall while he stood under the water and leaned his head back, rinsing off or just letting the cooling water pound his skin.
Pam got out when she had regained her balance enough to move, taking one shaky step after another towards the dry towels. He still had that lost look when she pulled the curtain back to turn the water off, but this time it was tempered with a smile and greater focus. Like he was still hurting and vulnerable, but some of the pain was at a greater distance. She smiled back and bundled him up in the towel like a child.
"Come on, then."
Two handed shove towards the bedroom, but he leaned in the doorway instead and watched as she rubbed down quick and balled her hair up in the towel. "Do..." he started, so quietly she hadn't realized he'd started to speak at first.
"Mm?"
"Do all women know how to do that by instinct, or... is it taught from mother to daughter or something?"
Pam blinked at him for just long enough to realize he was talking about her towel turban. Then she laughed. If he could make jokes like that he was going to be all right, even if it took some time. "I'll never tell. It's a mystery, you have to be a woman to understand it."
He laughed. She loved that sound. She loved the way he looked when he laughed, bright-eyed and joyful. He met her in the doorway of her bedroom with a kiss, one arm sliding around her waist and the other undoing the towel. This time they smiled as they kissed, even chuckled a bit softly, passing the sound from lips to lips as they staggered towards the bed. This time she rolled him down, teased him with a glamour shot of pulling that towel off her head and shaking her hair till droplets had spattered all over their bodies, her dresser, the coat over her chair. He muttered something uncomplimentary about romance novel covers and pulled her down for another kiss.
"Oh, shut up," she told him with a grin, when she could. "You like it."
"That's true," he admitted, and then she shifted over him and he gasped, still hard and now slick from what they had started in the shower. Gasps turned to groans. "Now you're just teasing." Words broken by panting. She rocked her hips over him until she felt the pressure of his fingertips against her body. "Pam..."
"Just making sure you want this..." her hands slid down his arms. Tense and solid muscle on those arms, straining to pull her down over him.
"Oh, I want this." There, now. He sounded almost back to normal.
And her voice had gone breathy with anticipation. "Okay..." she murmured, more sound than enunciation, and she shifted one last time to get a better position before sliding herself down over him. And at that, just the feel of him, fitting there, hard and thick between her legs was enough to make her moan all over again. Never mind when he pulled down at her to thrust up, the sensation of his fingers digging into her legs and his cock driving into her wet heat. Head arched back, cool air over her breasts. She wanted this. He wanted. Neither of them needed to say it.
Neither of them needed to say much of anything. Physical cues, the way he touched her, the way she shook and quivered around him. He brought her close and then shifted up, hands sliding along her back and under her still-damp hair, and they rolled. Now she could taste his breath and feel the weight of him over her body but not on her, not with him propping himself up on one hand. The rhythm slowed. He was ready, she could feel he was ready by the little shifts and shivers he made and the noises, whimpers at the back of his throat, but he was waiting. Making it last, somehow. Waiting for something.
Pam slid her hand along his cheek as he rocked closer, brushing lips over hers, and told him.
He mouthed the words, tucked his head to her shoulder.
They both cried out towards the end, a whimper of release on her part and a release of several sorts on his, and she pulled him close as he eased out and collapsed onto the bed beside her. Pulled him close and stroked his hair while he cried, too exhausted to sleep and too drained to move, stroked his hair and told him that it was going to be all right. Somehow, it would be all right.
Resting up didn't seem to be in the cards. She looked through the peephole, caught a glimpse of red-rimmed blue eyes, and scrabbled to open the door. "Cas? Baby, you okay?"
He shook his head.
Pam half-carried him in, eyeing the blood and other stains on his shirt, her mind analyzing the color and pattern already to try and figure out what they were. Trying to remember what kind of incoming they'd had. It was a drug case, she'd remembered that, homicide and narcotics working together to bust some kind of day-care apartment drug... which was when it clicked. Day-care apartment drug dealers. And they weren't dealing the prescription medication, either, they were dealing the hard-core stuff. Around children. No cop liked anything about the cases where children were put in the way of danger, and this was one of the worst.
She didn't ask where the blood was from. It could have been anything, and all the possibilities she could think of were bad. He'd talk about it when he was ready. Right now the best she could do would be, she supposed, to take care of the physical reminders of what happened. Give him something else to think about, something to focus on that didn't involve death and drugs and depravity. Well, maybe one good kind of depravity.
"Cas..." Her fingers curled around his, her hands guided him into the bathroom. It was small, or, small-ish for one person. Definitely small for two people. She managed, standing in the doorway while she stripped him down to the skin. "Hey. Hey, babe."
By the time she got down to his drawers he was more focused, eyes on her hands and her movements rather than on the memory of whatever horrors he had seen. He even smiled a little when she spoke, but his voice was harsh and low and rusty. "Sorry. Pam, I'm sorry, I shouldn't..."
"Stand around yakking while the water gets cold? No, you shouldn't. Waste of a lot of hot water." She started the tub while she was talking, then changed her mind and pulled the curtain, turning on the shower. "On second thought..."
He tilted his head at her, that strange gesture that was so wholly his she could no longer see anyone else with quite that air of calm curiosity. She took his hand, tugged him towards the shower even as she pushed him a bit with an open palm between his shoulder-blades.
"Into the shower," she told him. "I'll be there in a second."
Pam started to peel off her clothes even before she heard the rhythm of the falling water shift as he stepped under the spray. Unhurried movements, even though she was still worried about him. Right now she was more worried that he'd slip and bang something in the tub than anything; he still seemed so out of it. And then she, too, stepped under the water and then she was right up close to his naked body, naked wet body, right up in the scent of him and the dim light through the shower curtain and one hand closed around her shoulder to keep her from falling. She looked up. He looked down, though they were almost the same height. His eyes were still blue, even when the shadows had leeched most of the color away.
Her breathing was coming faster in anticipation, though she couldn't quite name what she thought would happen. He was, if anything, calmer than he had been before. Steadier, just for that small point of contact, she thought.
Between one breath and the next they were kissing. She couldn't tell who started it, not when his fingers closed tighter on her shoulder and she had to put her arms around him quickly to balance. One arm around him and one hand on the back wall, that was easier. And now their bodies were slick with the water and pressed up against each other and what had started out as just a kiss, just a very intense kiss, had become something more lower-down. She felt him stirring. She felt her skin tingling as her mind whirled with all the possibilities. The shower was meant to clean him off, then get him into dry clothes and tucked into bed. If they were going anywhere near the bed by now it wouldn't involve clothes of any kind.
Hands everywhere. Hands and mouths and they couldn't stop touching each other in any way possible. Water got into her ears and up her nose and apart from needing to breathe now and then it didn't matter. They clutched at each other, needing each other. She needed to be a part of his warmth, his solid body, his simple steadiness. She needed that back, and she thought (with the part of her that could still sort of think) that he needed that back, too. If he needed something from her she didn't know what it was, but he seemed to. Pulling her close and kissing her hard enough to make her lips ache when he pulled away again. She meant to pull him back but he dropped down low to one knee under the spray and she stepped back so that the water wouldn't be over his eyes. It flowed down his back instead, smooth, smooth skin that she suddenly wanted to touch.
"Don't..." Still raspy. His fingers on her hips kept her upright, one hand sliding between her legs until she took as wide a stance as she could. He kissed her hipbone, kissed his way lower, and then the first touch of his tongue had her gasping in slight shock at the change in sensation. And as fast and hard as he had been kissing elsewhere he was slow and tender with this. So very slow. So tender.
Words failed her. Her fingers found a grip on the shower curtain and on the handle above the soap tray, gripping tight to keep her balance. Tingles and heat surged and fell back with whatever internal rhythm he moved by, touched and tasted her by. She couldn't tell. Sometimes he would press forward and she would be right on the edge and then he would retreat and she would be whimpering for more. His hand slid up and down along her hip, soothing or reassuring her, it felt like. Keeping her steady. There came a point in the proceedings, some indeterminate time later, when he didn't pull back. Everything seemed to slip sideways at once from the slickness of the surfaces in the shower, from the trembling in her legs, what he was doing to her.
Afterwards she leaned against the shower wall while he stood under the water and leaned his head back, rinsing off or just letting the cooling water pound his skin.
Pam got out when she had regained her balance enough to move, taking one shaky step after another towards the dry towels. He still had that lost look when she pulled the curtain back to turn the water off, but this time it was tempered with a smile and greater focus. Like he was still hurting and vulnerable, but some of the pain was at a greater distance. She smiled back and bundled him up in the towel like a child.
"Come on, then."
Two handed shove towards the bedroom, but he leaned in the doorway instead and watched as she rubbed down quick and balled her hair up in the towel. "Do..." he started, so quietly she hadn't realized he'd started to speak at first.
"Mm?"
"Do all women know how to do that by instinct, or... is it taught from mother to daughter or something?"
Pam blinked at him for just long enough to realize he was talking about her towel turban. Then she laughed. If he could make jokes like that he was going to be all right, even if it took some time. "I'll never tell. It's a mystery, you have to be a woman to understand it."
He laughed. She loved that sound. She loved the way he looked when he laughed, bright-eyed and joyful. He met her in the doorway of her bedroom with a kiss, one arm sliding around her waist and the other undoing the towel. This time they smiled as they kissed, even chuckled a bit softly, passing the sound from lips to lips as they staggered towards the bed. This time she rolled him down, teased him with a glamour shot of pulling that towel off her head and shaking her hair till droplets had spattered all over their bodies, her dresser, the coat over her chair. He muttered something uncomplimentary about romance novel covers and pulled her down for another kiss.
"Oh, shut up," she told him with a grin, when she could. "You like it."
"That's true," he admitted, and then she shifted over him and he gasped, still hard and now slick from what they had started in the shower. Gasps turned to groans. "Now you're just teasing." Words broken by panting. She rocked her hips over him until she felt the pressure of his fingertips against her body. "Pam..."
"Just making sure you want this..." her hands slid down his arms. Tense and solid muscle on those arms, straining to pull her down over him.
"Oh, I want this." There, now. He sounded almost back to normal.
And her voice had gone breathy with anticipation. "Okay..." she murmured, more sound than enunciation, and she shifted one last time to get a better position before sliding herself down over him. And at that, just the feel of him, fitting there, hard and thick between her legs was enough to make her moan all over again. Never mind when he pulled down at her to thrust up, the sensation of his fingers digging into her legs and his cock driving into her wet heat. Head arched back, cool air over her breasts. She wanted this. He wanted. Neither of them needed to say it.
Neither of them needed to say much of anything. Physical cues, the way he touched her, the way she shook and quivered around him. He brought her close and then shifted up, hands sliding along her back and under her still-damp hair, and they rolled. Now she could taste his breath and feel the weight of him over her body but not on her, not with him propping himself up on one hand. The rhythm slowed. He was ready, she could feel he was ready by the little shifts and shivers he made and the noises, whimpers at the back of his throat, but he was waiting. Making it last, somehow. Waiting for something.
Pam slid her hand along his cheek as he rocked closer, brushing lips over hers, and told him.
He mouthed the words, tucked his head to her shoulder.
They both cried out towards the end, a whimper of release on her part and a release of several sorts on his, and she pulled him close as he eased out and collapsed onto the bed beside her. Pulled him close and stroked his hair while he cried, too exhausted to sleep and too drained to move, stroked his hair and told him that it was going to be all right. Somehow, it would be all right.