Reassigned: Part 2 - Denoument
Title: Reassigned: Part 2 - Denoument
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Angel Starr and Miles Edgeworth
Time Period: Six months or so after 3-4
Words: ~3500
Warnings: Let's see, nothing big other than the previous crack couple warning again. This one also has sex in it.
It took barely any time for the three cruisers and the police chief’s car to arrive. The two beaten down men were still groaning when the officers clipped their handcuffs on.
Angel and Edgeworth got some hard looks from the officers, and after they fished their belongings out of the closet, the two of them were chewed out by the Chief, who promised to get the straight story from them later, and then gave the half-cleaned bloodstain an approving gaze.
“Chief,” Angel said, her eyes hard. “We’re going back to the precinct now.”
Edgeworth gave her a surprised look, as if to say ‘we are?’
The chief gave them an irritable glare. “Fine. But we’re all going to have a hard talk, and I want to hear the whole truth.”
Angel smiled sweetly. “Sure. I’ll fill you in.”
“Thank you, Chief,” Edgeworth said with a stiff half-bow. He walked toward the entrance, his heels making a hard clicking noise against the floor.
“Prosecutor…” she said, running to catch up with him.
He gave her an intense glare. “You’ll be leaving part of that out of the report.”
“Will I…?” her voice was dangerous, though it didn’t show at all on her face.
“It would…” he gave a soft groan. “It would look... distasteful.”
“Prosecutor Edgeworth.” Her voice was soft but strong. “That kind of thing means nothing. It was just business. The things you do undercover…”
“We were not undercover. We were doing an investigation.” His fists clenched as he walked, his face burning.
She watched him, and then pursed her lips and said, “What was that about… in that closet…?”
He stopped in his tracks, staring forward. Then he hung his head, and his chest clenched like it always did when someone asked about his past. He pursed his lips
But she knew how to get people to talk… Her guiding principle as the cough-up queen had always been that sometimes you had to use honey to catch the flies of truth. She slid her hand onto his arm and squeezed. His arm was so warm through the cool cotton dress shirt.
He looked over at her sideways, and somehow the tenseness in his chest evaporated. “I… I’m claustrophobic. It was… a traumatic event in my youth.”
Suddenly she felt like she understood everything about him. Von Karma was only a piece of the puzzle and this… this made nearly the entirety of him make perfect sense. The reticence, the constant cold fury, the stuck-up attitude…
At least, so she thought. Until the next moment, when they reached the car and he took hold of her other arm, pinning it gently against the car. He stared into her eyes with that same fierceness that he’d been staring at her while they held the mafia’s ‘cleaners’ at bay. “Please.”
She stared at him, her mind blanking for once in her life. “Please… what…?” she whispered.
For a few moments, he stared silently at her. Then he broke his gaze away, and whispered back, “Please… don’t spread this around.”
She blinked at him with one eye, and then brought her hand up to wipe her hair aside to look at him with both. She knew that wasn’t all. “Of course… It’s my job to pry secrets from people. I know how to keep them.”
“Good.” He released her and turned to the side. “Good…” He ran his fingers through his hair and slung his jacket and cravat onto the top of the car, unlocking the door with the auto-unlock.
Her heart beat… not quickly, but not quite the regular speed. She stared back up at him and pressed her hand to his arm again. “Prosecutor Edgeworth…” She tightened her grip and repeated herself: “It’s my job to pry secrets from people. What do you really want…?”
He stared at her, disarmed. It was as if, with that kiss in the closet, she’d tripped a tumbler in him somewhere. Her hand on his arm had tripped the second tumbler, and with this question, the third one. He surged forward with a stumbling, childish sort of step, and met her lips with a crushing intensity.
She opened her mouth against his, tasting his citrus-scented breath once more. She knew this was coming, and damn her if she didn’t want it too. His eager twenty-year-old body pressed up against hers, hot and cool under the white shirt and black vest. She fumbled for the car door and failed to open it, switching her hands to his shoulders.
His tongue slid smooth into her mouth, he felt her hair. It was a sensory overload, her mouth, her body, the touch of her hands at the nape of his neck. He couldn’t stand it, he pressed her up against the car, rolling his hips into her as she had done to him, relishing the softness of her body and then grinding slowly against her. He froze and stiffened as he heard footsteps in the distance, turning his head with an aroused and agonized look on his face.
She glanced back. “L-let’s go… the bluff… No one will see us…” She tugged at him.
“T-the bluff…. I…” He groaned in frustration. He absolutely did not want to be seen, but… He followed her, glancing around. He spotted a clump of bushes with a small clearing in the middle. “Mn… There--there…!”
They were barely into the clearing before he was on her, reaching behind her with one overeager hand, trying and failing to find the clasp to her dress. The other unbuttoned the buttons of his vest, shrugging out of one side of it with a focused intensity and speed.
"Shh, calm down, little boy." She gave him an amused, half lidded smile.
His eyes flared. "Little b-" But before he got his indignant thought out, she brought her fingers then her mouth to his lips, silencing him again with her tongue. She slid her hands down his chest then up into his shirt, popping the buttons.
As her hands trailed down his sides, his eyes rolled up into his head and he shuddered, turning his head up and pulling away from her kiss. "A…ahhhh…"
"Goood… Good boy." She ran her fingers up over his collarbone and spread her hands over his neck. He trembled beneath her. She'd wondered what it was like, somewhere inside… The neck that he always kept covered. The other detectives had joked that he wore it that high to cover the bruises from the kinky sex he was always having. She pressed her lips to his neck, biting gently, sucking hard... She teased his sensitive flesh with her tongue, feeling his knees buckle.
"Ah… Oh… God." He stumbled. "Please…"
She ignored him until she felt satisfied with the hickey. Marked. She was the one who took… whatever this was. "Lay down." She swung him around by his shoulders, and he fell back into the bushes, panting. He settled onto the ground, pulling up his knees with a the almost-grace of someone just getting used to their adult body. It showed for the first time that the slack in the front of his pants was not quite so slack anymore.
Both of them fumbled for the button on his pants, their hands bumping into one another. Finally he was able to unzip his pants and slide out of them, not caring about the dirty grass, only able to concentrate on the aching in his groin. She slid her fingers into his waistband and slid his underwear down, looping her fingers around his cock.
"Ngh…" he gripped into his bangs as she slid her tongue up the underside of his cock and swirled her tongue around the head, probing the slit. "A…ahh…"
She panted over his cock as she stared up at his dazed face, "Are you a virgin, Miles Edgeworth…?" Her voice was interrogative but not harsh.
He twitched and stared down at her, shocked at her audacity. "N-no… Nnngh. But…"
She stroked him gently, watching a dribble of precum fountain out of him and slide down the side of his cock, onto her hand. "But…?"
"It's… been… a long time."
She laughed. "What's a long time for a twenty something…? A month?"
"F-five years." He winced as she stroked him twice in quick succession, humming desperately under his breath. He hadn't been touched by a woman since he lost his virginity at age 15, and he was struggling to keep control of himself already.
She blinked, although she wasn't terribly surprised. "Mmmm… I'll fix that." She swirled her tongue around his head and took him into her mouth. She felt a jolt of arousal run through her at the tense little gasp he made.
His hands fisted into the grass, the soft noises of the tender shoots ripping up magnified a hundredfold in his ears. He groaned, his face sweating, "Ah… Ah… I…"
She lifted her mouth off him, flicking her tongue and continuing to stroke him. "Yes…?"
"P-please… this… don't… tell anyone about this…"
She gave him a somewhat amused look, though there was an undertone of anger there. "I wouldn't dare, Prosecutor." It would wreck her reputation as much as his, of course, but the idea of him being ashamed of her pissed her off just a little bit.
His hips bucked gently out of desperation for more stimulation. "I… He… would be furious." He was almost apologetic as he shuddered and a grimace crossed his boyish face. It wasn't so much that von Karma would be angry about him having sex... It was the fact that he was having sex outside, on duty, and with a detective that would push his mentor from silent disapproval to out and out rage and possible physical violence. Not that the man had ever hit him... He'd only had to threaten to do so once.
Her expression fell slightly as she realized who he was talking about, her hands moving just a little bit more slowly. For the briefest of moments she wondered what in the world she was even doing here, feeling the pulse of his heart in her hand, watching his expression fall as he rested back on his locked arms.
Her pace was maddeningly slow, he twisted his neck and gave her a faltering glare, leaning forward to press down on her shoulders with his palms. "Just... Nnn..." Her hand was still curled around his hand, he humped into it and her fingers tightened.
She eyed him, aware that his youthful enthusiasm was possibly a bit too enthusiastic. She loosened her fingers, drawing them away webbed with his precum. "Calm down, little boy. Don't want to miss out on the main event, do you?"
He scowled a little at her use of the diminutive term again, but as before there was truth to her words. He didn't answer her question, trusting she knew. "My... wallet."
She pursed her lips and turned to retrieve his wallet out of his discarded pants, and opened the billfold, raising an eyebrow at the wad of bills he had in there. (Though he was a prosecutor.) Hidden in the second fold, behind the money were two condoms. She glanced at him. "Five years old...?" she said with a raise of the eyebrow.
He flushed hard and shook his head. "It's... I use them... to..." He turned away, pressing a hand marked with grass patterns to his face. "It's cleaner that way."
Her lips twisted in a smirk and she threw them to him, sliding her dress up past her hips and letting it ride up to her waist. She slid her panties off, tossing them somewhere, she didn't even care anymore. All she wanted for the moment was to ride this socially stunted 20-year-old until one of them - probably him - was too exhausted to move.
He hadn't done anything but retrieve the condoms where he let them fall in the grass when his eyes were captured by the sight of her legs up to the hip. He watched her shed her panties. He couldn't stop staring, just mesmerized by the way she looked half-dressed. He took hold of his erection as he let forth another small gout of precum, a nasal moaning escaping him. He hurriedly opened the condom with his teeth and unrolled the latex over his cock, which thankfully cooled his ardor enough that he could concentrate again.
He closed his eyes, trying to ignore for a moment the desperate need that had stolen over him. The logical part of his brain was screaming indignantly, demanding he explain how this happened, what he was going to do about it. A low, sick feeling rose in the pit of his stomach and he swallowed. It had happened like this five years ago, the girl had come on to him and he'd just lost control completely. He didn't really like the feeling: the heady, dizzy feeling of things spinning out of his hands.
She leaned forward, sliding her legs over his, bending her knees to bring him close, possessively. His eyebrows knitted and he leaned forward, the tip of his cock pressing awkwardly up against her slit. He reached his hands toward her, sliding the straps of her dress down aggressively, a distant look in his eyes. It slipped over her nipples and they tightened, she stared at him as he fondled her breast roughly with one hand, reaching down to tease her lips open and guide himself in with the other.
He leaned over her shoulder, a heavy frown of concentration on his face as he thrusted forward and her arms trembled and settled on his shoulders. It was an awkward angle, he leaned back to try to correct it. He slid in another inch, his lip trembling shamefully at the sensation of her hot flesh tunneling around him. Then she pulled her arms back roughly and took hold of his shoulders, slamming herself down, taking in his entirety with no problem as her legs angled up and pressed hard to his back. He gasped aloud, fighting down a moan.
She grinned and relaxed her knees, drawing herself up a bit and then back down, hard. She relished the way his neck twitched to the side, his eyes closed, his brows drawn up slightly, his mouth halfway open with the sheen of saliva on his lower lip. She saw his features tense and then he leaned forward to kiss her, a rough, crushing thing with a bit of a bite to it. She returned the same, digging her fingers into his shoulders.
She matched every one of his bold moves equally. When he snaked around to run his lips and teeth over her neck, nipping at her flesh hard enough to raise a twitch from her, she brought her arms around behind him and clawed down his back with fingernails kept long. He was distracted by the strange form of one-upmanship they were cultivating, confused, trying to decide if it was arousing or infuriating. As her lips brushed his earlobe and then she bit it and tugged gently, the electricity that arced through his scalp and down his chest answered that question for him. He finally let go again, feeling a distant shame that he ignored as he moaned, "Ohhh... God... yes..."
She grinned, though she wasn't quite sure what game they'd been playing, and twisted her hips just slightly. Her smile took on a cruel twist as he writhed, his hands settling on her shoulders as his features trembled. She took one of them and guided it down to her breast, he flicked the nipple with his thumb distractedly, and then she slid his hand down to the junction between them. He didn’t seem to be sure what she was after until she pressed his fingertips to the flesh just above their joined bodies.
At that, he spread his hand over her waist and rubbed her clit clumsily with his thumb, working his hips against her with a groan. He was vaguely cognizant that this was the way to make a woman orgasm, from research he’d surreptitiously done on the internet, but he wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing. The polite - correct - way was to make the woman come,according to what he’d read. So he kept the pressure and rhythm, though he twitched away without meaning to when she squeezed her thighs together and threw her head back.
"N-no, keep it up, dammit." She pressed her palm flat to the back of his hand, and he started again, sending a trembling through her abdominal muscles that she had to fight to control. She felt the wave of her orgasm crest and then threw her body into high gear, pounding against him as it crashed down over her. "Aaaaaahhh!! F-Fuck...!" she shouted.
He winced at the volume, not to mention the fact that it was directly in his ear, but his hearing was distant as he felt the absolutely mesmerizing sensation of her coming while he was inside her. He didn't seem to see it coming when he arched his back with a choked noise and dug his heels into the dirt, spasming into her, feeling nothing but overwhelming and deafening ecstasy.
She watched his face with a vague pleased expression as she slowed her rocking to a stop. His eyes were closed, mouth open as he panted quietly and he grimaced as another wave hit him, his hips rolling up. His hand on her shoulder slid down and he relaxed bonelessly back onto the grass, bringing his hands up to cover his face as he slowly exhaled.
He bucked his hips up irritably: her presence enveloping him was now maddening, almost painful. She slid him out of herself, slowly, and he felt her fingers draw the condom away from his hot flesh. As he lie there in the grass, his mind coming back to him after the absolutely foreign spillover of lust, the feeling that rose in him was closer to disgust, fear, and anger. At himself, of course, for losing control. He gritted his teeth, hating himself silently for a moment.
She tied a knot in the condom, tossing it into the bushes and brushing her hands together. She rolled her skirt back down and then brought up the straps of her dress, adjusting her breasts quickly. She was hardly surprised at all that as she slid her panties back on, he sat up and drew his knees in, reaching almost vengefully for his pants and sliding them back on with precision and speed. She met his glare with a cool raise of her eyebrow.
He was silent, trying to ignore the tremble of his arms as he buttoned the buttons that were still there on his dress shirt and covered the rest by buttoning his vest. He was irrationally angry about his lost buttons; infuriated, actually. He didn't know what to say to convey that to her, so he just angrily put his shoes on, the prickle of dirt between his socks and shoes just sparking off more fury. He stood and scuffed them against the ground, trying to regain any sort of feeling of comfort.
She watched him throw his little noiseless tantrum, her hand resting delicately under her chin. He turned and stared at her, eyes blazing with rage. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but stopped, pressed his fingertips to his forehead, and actually stomped off. She was darkly amused, she stood and brushed off her legs, following behind him. “Something wrong, Prosecutor?” she asked, sweetly.
“No.” His voice was harsh and edged with panic.
Her voice turned harsh in return. “Yes. There is. Tell me.”
He whirled, taking her by the shoulder roughly. He stared into her eyes, just barely able to see the her other eye through her bangs. Some part of him remarked that her eyes were two different colors, but it was clouded over by a surge of panicked rage. “This never happened,” he insisted desperately.
She plucked his hand off her shoulder distastefully. “Fine by me. No need to be so worked up, Prosecutor. It’s just sex.”
He gritted his teeth and turned away, starting to walk again. “This never happened. And it’s never happening again.”
She shrugged, a bit irritated, though she still felt the sense that she understood him enough now to comprehend exactly why he was behaving like this. He was a very frustrated child. Not her problem, though. “Let’s get back to the precinct, I have work to do.”
Her clinical distance put him more at ease. His shoulders relaxed a bit as he reached the car, seized his jacket and unlocked the doors, throwing his jacket and cravat in and sitting in the car, relying on the tinted windows to hide his pained and desperate stare at her through them until she got in the car and he started it up. The two of them drove in complete silence the entire way back, and parted ways without a word as they arrived at the Criminal Affairs department. His shoulders tensed with the effort it took not to turn around and eye her suspiciously as she walked away, but she was utterly unconcerned, her mind now focused on the trial to come, wondering vaguely if she could get him to react to her teasing from the witness stand.
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Angel Starr and Miles Edgeworth
Time Period: Six months or so after 3-4
Words: ~3500
Warnings: Let's see, nothing big other than the previous crack couple warning again. This one also has sex in it.
It took barely any time for the three cruisers and the police chief’s car to arrive. The two beaten down men were still groaning when the officers clipped their handcuffs on.
Angel and Edgeworth got some hard looks from the officers, and after they fished their belongings out of the closet, the two of them were chewed out by the Chief, who promised to get the straight story from them later, and then gave the half-cleaned bloodstain an approving gaze.
“Chief,” Angel said, her eyes hard. “We’re going back to the precinct now.”
Edgeworth gave her a surprised look, as if to say ‘we are?’
The chief gave them an irritable glare. “Fine. But we’re all going to have a hard talk, and I want to hear the whole truth.”
Angel smiled sweetly. “Sure. I’ll fill you in.”
“Thank you, Chief,” Edgeworth said with a stiff half-bow. He walked toward the entrance, his heels making a hard clicking noise against the floor.
“Prosecutor…” she said, running to catch up with him.
He gave her an intense glare. “You’ll be leaving part of that out of the report.”
“Will I…?” her voice was dangerous, though it didn’t show at all on her face.
“It would…” he gave a soft groan. “It would look... distasteful.”
“Prosecutor Edgeworth.” Her voice was soft but strong. “That kind of thing means nothing. It was just business. The things you do undercover…”
“We were not undercover. We were doing an investigation.” His fists clenched as he walked, his face burning.
She watched him, and then pursed her lips and said, “What was that about… in that closet…?”
He stopped in his tracks, staring forward. Then he hung his head, and his chest clenched like it always did when someone asked about his past. He pursed his lips
But she knew how to get people to talk… Her guiding principle as the cough-up queen had always been that sometimes you had to use honey to catch the flies of truth. She slid her hand onto his arm and squeezed. His arm was so warm through the cool cotton dress shirt.
He looked over at her sideways, and somehow the tenseness in his chest evaporated. “I… I’m claustrophobic. It was… a traumatic event in my youth.”
Suddenly she felt like she understood everything about him. Von Karma was only a piece of the puzzle and this… this made nearly the entirety of him make perfect sense. The reticence, the constant cold fury, the stuck-up attitude…
At least, so she thought. Until the next moment, when they reached the car and he took hold of her other arm, pinning it gently against the car. He stared into her eyes with that same fierceness that he’d been staring at her while they held the mafia’s ‘cleaners’ at bay. “Please.”
She stared at him, her mind blanking for once in her life. “Please… what…?” she whispered.
For a few moments, he stared silently at her. Then he broke his gaze away, and whispered back, “Please… don’t spread this around.”
She blinked at him with one eye, and then brought her hand up to wipe her hair aside to look at him with both. She knew that wasn’t all. “Of course… It’s my job to pry secrets from people. I know how to keep them.”
“Good.” He released her and turned to the side. “Good…” He ran his fingers through his hair and slung his jacket and cravat onto the top of the car, unlocking the door with the auto-unlock.
Her heart beat… not quickly, but not quite the regular speed. She stared back up at him and pressed her hand to his arm again. “Prosecutor Edgeworth…” She tightened her grip and repeated herself: “It’s my job to pry secrets from people. What do you really want…?”
He stared at her, disarmed. It was as if, with that kiss in the closet, she’d tripped a tumbler in him somewhere. Her hand on his arm had tripped the second tumbler, and with this question, the third one. He surged forward with a stumbling, childish sort of step, and met her lips with a crushing intensity.
She opened her mouth against his, tasting his citrus-scented breath once more. She knew this was coming, and damn her if she didn’t want it too. His eager twenty-year-old body pressed up against hers, hot and cool under the white shirt and black vest. She fumbled for the car door and failed to open it, switching her hands to his shoulders.
His tongue slid smooth into her mouth, he felt her hair. It was a sensory overload, her mouth, her body, the touch of her hands at the nape of his neck. He couldn’t stand it, he pressed her up against the car, rolling his hips into her as she had done to him, relishing the softness of her body and then grinding slowly against her. He froze and stiffened as he heard footsteps in the distance, turning his head with an aroused and agonized look on his face.
She glanced back. “L-let’s go… the bluff… No one will see us…” She tugged at him.
“T-the bluff…. I…” He groaned in frustration. He absolutely did not want to be seen, but… He followed her, glancing around. He spotted a clump of bushes with a small clearing in the middle. “Mn… There--there…!”
They were barely into the clearing before he was on her, reaching behind her with one overeager hand, trying and failing to find the clasp to her dress. The other unbuttoned the buttons of his vest, shrugging out of one side of it with a focused intensity and speed.
"Shh, calm down, little boy." She gave him an amused, half lidded smile.
His eyes flared. "Little b-" But before he got his indignant thought out, she brought her fingers then her mouth to his lips, silencing him again with her tongue. She slid her hands down his chest then up into his shirt, popping the buttons.
As her hands trailed down his sides, his eyes rolled up into his head and he shuddered, turning his head up and pulling away from her kiss. "A…ahhhh…"
"Goood… Good boy." She ran her fingers up over his collarbone and spread her hands over his neck. He trembled beneath her. She'd wondered what it was like, somewhere inside… The neck that he always kept covered. The other detectives had joked that he wore it that high to cover the bruises from the kinky sex he was always having. She pressed her lips to his neck, biting gently, sucking hard... She teased his sensitive flesh with her tongue, feeling his knees buckle.
"Ah… Oh… God." He stumbled. "Please…"
She ignored him until she felt satisfied with the hickey. Marked. She was the one who took… whatever this was. "Lay down." She swung him around by his shoulders, and he fell back into the bushes, panting. He settled onto the ground, pulling up his knees with a the almost-grace of someone just getting used to their adult body. It showed for the first time that the slack in the front of his pants was not quite so slack anymore.
Both of them fumbled for the button on his pants, their hands bumping into one another. Finally he was able to unzip his pants and slide out of them, not caring about the dirty grass, only able to concentrate on the aching in his groin. She slid her fingers into his waistband and slid his underwear down, looping her fingers around his cock.
"Ngh…" he gripped into his bangs as she slid her tongue up the underside of his cock and swirled her tongue around the head, probing the slit. "A…ahh…"
She panted over his cock as she stared up at his dazed face, "Are you a virgin, Miles Edgeworth…?" Her voice was interrogative but not harsh.
He twitched and stared down at her, shocked at her audacity. "N-no… Nnngh. But…"
She stroked him gently, watching a dribble of precum fountain out of him and slide down the side of his cock, onto her hand. "But…?"
"It's… been… a long time."
She laughed. "What's a long time for a twenty something…? A month?"
"F-five years." He winced as she stroked him twice in quick succession, humming desperately under his breath. He hadn't been touched by a woman since he lost his virginity at age 15, and he was struggling to keep control of himself already.
She blinked, although she wasn't terribly surprised. "Mmmm… I'll fix that." She swirled her tongue around his head and took him into her mouth. She felt a jolt of arousal run through her at the tense little gasp he made.
His hands fisted into the grass, the soft noises of the tender shoots ripping up magnified a hundredfold in his ears. He groaned, his face sweating, "Ah… Ah… I…"
She lifted her mouth off him, flicking her tongue and continuing to stroke him. "Yes…?"
"P-please… this… don't… tell anyone about this…"
She gave him a somewhat amused look, though there was an undertone of anger there. "I wouldn't dare, Prosecutor." It would wreck her reputation as much as his, of course, but the idea of him being ashamed of her pissed her off just a little bit.
His hips bucked gently out of desperation for more stimulation. "I… He… would be furious." He was almost apologetic as he shuddered and a grimace crossed his boyish face. It wasn't so much that von Karma would be angry about him having sex... It was the fact that he was having sex outside, on duty, and with a detective that would push his mentor from silent disapproval to out and out rage and possible physical violence. Not that the man had ever hit him... He'd only had to threaten to do so once.
Her expression fell slightly as she realized who he was talking about, her hands moving just a little bit more slowly. For the briefest of moments she wondered what in the world she was even doing here, feeling the pulse of his heart in her hand, watching his expression fall as he rested back on his locked arms.
Her pace was maddeningly slow, he twisted his neck and gave her a faltering glare, leaning forward to press down on her shoulders with his palms. "Just... Nnn..." Her hand was still curled around his hand, he humped into it and her fingers tightened.
She eyed him, aware that his youthful enthusiasm was possibly a bit too enthusiastic. She loosened her fingers, drawing them away webbed with his precum. "Calm down, little boy. Don't want to miss out on the main event, do you?"
He scowled a little at her use of the diminutive term again, but as before there was truth to her words. He didn't answer her question, trusting she knew. "My... wallet."
She pursed her lips and turned to retrieve his wallet out of his discarded pants, and opened the billfold, raising an eyebrow at the wad of bills he had in there. (Though he was a prosecutor.) Hidden in the second fold, behind the money were two condoms. She glanced at him. "Five years old...?" she said with a raise of the eyebrow.
He flushed hard and shook his head. "It's... I use them... to..." He turned away, pressing a hand marked with grass patterns to his face. "It's cleaner that way."
Her lips twisted in a smirk and she threw them to him, sliding her dress up past her hips and letting it ride up to her waist. She slid her panties off, tossing them somewhere, she didn't even care anymore. All she wanted for the moment was to ride this socially stunted 20-year-old until one of them - probably him - was too exhausted to move.
He hadn't done anything but retrieve the condoms where he let them fall in the grass when his eyes were captured by the sight of her legs up to the hip. He watched her shed her panties. He couldn't stop staring, just mesmerized by the way she looked half-dressed. He took hold of his erection as he let forth another small gout of precum, a nasal moaning escaping him. He hurriedly opened the condom with his teeth and unrolled the latex over his cock, which thankfully cooled his ardor enough that he could concentrate again.
He closed his eyes, trying to ignore for a moment the desperate need that had stolen over him. The logical part of his brain was screaming indignantly, demanding he explain how this happened, what he was going to do about it. A low, sick feeling rose in the pit of his stomach and he swallowed. It had happened like this five years ago, the girl had come on to him and he'd just lost control completely. He didn't really like the feeling: the heady, dizzy feeling of things spinning out of his hands.
She leaned forward, sliding her legs over his, bending her knees to bring him close, possessively. His eyebrows knitted and he leaned forward, the tip of his cock pressing awkwardly up against her slit. He reached his hands toward her, sliding the straps of her dress down aggressively, a distant look in his eyes. It slipped over her nipples and they tightened, she stared at him as he fondled her breast roughly with one hand, reaching down to tease her lips open and guide himself in with the other.
He leaned over her shoulder, a heavy frown of concentration on his face as he thrusted forward and her arms trembled and settled on his shoulders. It was an awkward angle, he leaned back to try to correct it. He slid in another inch, his lip trembling shamefully at the sensation of her hot flesh tunneling around him. Then she pulled her arms back roughly and took hold of his shoulders, slamming herself down, taking in his entirety with no problem as her legs angled up and pressed hard to his back. He gasped aloud, fighting down a moan.
She grinned and relaxed her knees, drawing herself up a bit and then back down, hard. She relished the way his neck twitched to the side, his eyes closed, his brows drawn up slightly, his mouth halfway open with the sheen of saliva on his lower lip. She saw his features tense and then he leaned forward to kiss her, a rough, crushing thing with a bit of a bite to it. She returned the same, digging her fingers into his shoulders.
She matched every one of his bold moves equally. When he snaked around to run his lips and teeth over her neck, nipping at her flesh hard enough to raise a twitch from her, she brought her arms around behind him and clawed down his back with fingernails kept long. He was distracted by the strange form of one-upmanship they were cultivating, confused, trying to decide if it was arousing or infuriating. As her lips brushed his earlobe and then she bit it and tugged gently, the electricity that arced through his scalp and down his chest answered that question for him. He finally let go again, feeling a distant shame that he ignored as he moaned, "Ohhh... God... yes..."
She grinned, though she wasn't quite sure what game they'd been playing, and twisted her hips just slightly. Her smile took on a cruel twist as he writhed, his hands settling on her shoulders as his features trembled. She took one of them and guided it down to her breast, he flicked the nipple with his thumb distractedly, and then she slid his hand down to the junction between them. He didn’t seem to be sure what she was after until she pressed his fingertips to the flesh just above their joined bodies.
At that, he spread his hand over her waist and rubbed her clit clumsily with his thumb, working his hips against her with a groan. He was vaguely cognizant that this was the way to make a woman orgasm, from research he’d surreptitiously done on the internet, but he wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing. The polite - correct - way was to make the woman come,according to what he’d read. So he kept the pressure and rhythm, though he twitched away without meaning to when she squeezed her thighs together and threw her head back.
"N-no, keep it up, dammit." She pressed her palm flat to the back of his hand, and he started again, sending a trembling through her abdominal muscles that she had to fight to control. She felt the wave of her orgasm crest and then threw her body into high gear, pounding against him as it crashed down over her. "Aaaaaahhh!! F-Fuck...!" she shouted.
He winced at the volume, not to mention the fact that it was directly in his ear, but his hearing was distant as he felt the absolutely mesmerizing sensation of her coming while he was inside her. He didn't seem to see it coming when he arched his back with a choked noise and dug his heels into the dirt, spasming into her, feeling nothing but overwhelming and deafening ecstasy.
She watched his face with a vague pleased expression as she slowed her rocking to a stop. His eyes were closed, mouth open as he panted quietly and he grimaced as another wave hit him, his hips rolling up. His hand on her shoulder slid down and he relaxed bonelessly back onto the grass, bringing his hands up to cover his face as he slowly exhaled.
He bucked his hips up irritably: her presence enveloping him was now maddening, almost painful. She slid him out of herself, slowly, and he felt her fingers draw the condom away from his hot flesh. As he lie there in the grass, his mind coming back to him after the absolutely foreign spillover of lust, the feeling that rose in him was closer to disgust, fear, and anger. At himself, of course, for losing control. He gritted his teeth, hating himself silently for a moment.
She tied a knot in the condom, tossing it into the bushes and brushing her hands together. She rolled her skirt back down and then brought up the straps of her dress, adjusting her breasts quickly. She was hardly surprised at all that as she slid her panties back on, he sat up and drew his knees in, reaching almost vengefully for his pants and sliding them back on with precision and speed. She met his glare with a cool raise of her eyebrow.
He was silent, trying to ignore the tremble of his arms as he buttoned the buttons that were still there on his dress shirt and covered the rest by buttoning his vest. He was irrationally angry about his lost buttons; infuriated, actually. He didn't know what to say to convey that to her, so he just angrily put his shoes on, the prickle of dirt between his socks and shoes just sparking off more fury. He stood and scuffed them against the ground, trying to regain any sort of feeling of comfort.
She watched him throw his little noiseless tantrum, her hand resting delicately under her chin. He turned and stared at her, eyes blazing with rage. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but stopped, pressed his fingertips to his forehead, and actually stomped off. She was darkly amused, she stood and brushed off her legs, following behind him. “Something wrong, Prosecutor?” she asked, sweetly.
“No.” His voice was harsh and edged with panic.
Her voice turned harsh in return. “Yes. There is. Tell me.”
He whirled, taking her by the shoulder roughly. He stared into her eyes, just barely able to see the her other eye through her bangs. Some part of him remarked that her eyes were two different colors, but it was clouded over by a surge of panicked rage. “This never happened,” he insisted desperately.
She plucked his hand off her shoulder distastefully. “Fine by me. No need to be so worked up, Prosecutor. It’s just sex.”
He gritted his teeth and turned away, starting to walk again. “This never happened. And it’s never happening again.”
She shrugged, a bit irritated, though she still felt the sense that she understood him enough now to comprehend exactly why he was behaving like this. He was a very frustrated child. Not her problem, though. “Let’s get back to the precinct, I have work to do.”
Her clinical distance put him more at ease. His shoulders relaxed a bit as he reached the car, seized his jacket and unlocked the doors, throwing his jacket and cravat in and sitting in the car, relying on the tinted windows to hide his pained and desperate stare at her through them until she got in the car and he started it up. The two of them drove in complete silence the entire way back, and parted ways without a word as they arrived at the Criminal Affairs department. His shoulders tensed with the effort it took not to turn around and eye her suspiciously as she walked away, but she was utterly unconcerned, her mind now focused on the trial to come, wondering vaguely if she could get him to react to her teasing from the witness stand.