Parks Fic: Not That Sneaky (4/7)
Title: Not That Sneaky
Pairing: Ben/Leslie, ensemble
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Originally posted on the kinkmeme: 5 times Ben and Leslie get caught/interrupted during sex.
Part Three
Given everything that's happened already, Dave really doesn't think the night can get any worse. It's a sad consolation given that his plan for the rest of the evening is to go back to his buddy's house, drink a beer and maybe get a few hours of sleep before he has to head to the airport. Like most silver linings, it's not ideal, but at least it's something positive to focus on. You've reached the low point tonight, buddy; can't screw things up any worse than you already have.
It's a pep talk that doesn't even last the entire walk to his rental car.
A more unobservant person wouldn't have even noticed. On a dark, cloudy night in a parking lot that isn't properly lit, anyone else would have walked by, luckily oblivious. But Dave isn't unobservant or oblivious and that is definitely Leslie's car with the windows kind of fogged up, ever so slightly rocking (though, thank goodness, not with any kind of rhythm or regularity). He rubs his forehead and sighs because jeez, what the hell is Leslie thinking doing this at all, let alone at a place where practically the whole police force lies in wait? It's foolish and impulsive and crazy and passionate, pretty much a summary of why he fell for Leslie in the first place, and so, yeah, maybe it does make sense.
But it also...well, it also fucking sucks, if Dave's completely honest. Because of course he's the one to notice. And of course he's not just going to walk away and leave her like bait for a trap. He still cares too much to consciously let anything bad happen to her.
He'd like to, though. Man, he'd really like to just be the guy who can walk away right now.
It takes a minute to steel his resolve. He shoves his hands in his coat pockets and takes a couple of deep breaths, letting the cold winter air bite his lungs. Tries--and fails--to think of this as any of the dozens of couples he's interrupted in all of his years of being a cop. Reminds himself that on a long list of shit he's messed up tonight, including how Leslie remembers him, this isn't even going to make the top ten. It won't even hurt the worst.
He walks toward the car briskly, faking an authority he doesn't actually feel. His footsteps seem unnaturally loud against the asphalt, and on some level, he almost expects Leslie to hear him coming, pop her head out the window, and make up some terrible lie about looking for a contact lens. That's not what happens, though. Instead, he gets within a few feet of the car and freezes.
He can see her.
It shouldn't be possible, given that the windows aren't only kind of steamy but also bitten by frost, but it's not like the universe has thrown him one bone tonight. Why start now? And it's worse, so much worse than he thought it would be, that he wants to turn around and run.
Leslie is a tiny woman. It's easy to forget sometimes because her personality is huge, but for Dave, the one place it was always obvious was the bedroom. He loved being with her--loved running his hands over her soft skin, loved kissing her, loved being inside of her--but every time they were together, he also felt overwhelmed by how small she was. At times his body felt cumbersome next to hers. He always felt compelled to be as gentle as possible. It just...It was always jarring to see her that way. Vulnerable, he used to think, though he never said it because Leslie would hate it, even if he didn't.
To tell the truth, he kind of liked the idea of taking care of her.
And, as he's seeing at this moment, there are definitely some other advantages to her size.
Somehow, Leslie has maneuvered herself onto the floor of the back seat so she's kneeling in front of Ben, and you'd have to be dumb as rocks not to realize what's going on. Ben leans back against the seat with his legs spread wide, and his hands are tangled in Leslie's hair, obstructing, but not eliminating Dave's view of what Leslie's doing.
What Leslie is doing with vigorous enthusiasm, to be accurate.
He shouldn't be watching this. Absolutely should not...And, he really, really shouldn't be remembering how he felt when Leslie used to do that to him. But it's easier than it should be, easier than it has been, after spending the whole night around her and smelling her perfume and hearing her voice and now, fuck, now seeing her doing that.
Yeah. It's way too easy to imagine himself in Ben's place.
She pulls her mouth back from the base of his cock and pumps him with her hand, leaving her lips wrapped tightly around the tip. Her tongue is soft and strong as it runs around the ridge, teasing before it presses to the underside of the head with a pressure that makes his hips buck involuntarily. She grins against him, pleased with herself, and lets him go with a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. "Does that feel good?" she asks coyly, brushing his shaft against her cheek and then back to her lips. Without giving him time to do more than groan, she's pulls him up against his stomach and licks the underside from base to tip. One of her hands digs into his thigh, a strange mix of pleasure and pain, and she continues to kiss and lick every inch of his cock. He moans, begins to beg because every sensation is just too much, and then she leans down and puts her lips against his balls, sucking one and then the other into her mouth, her other hand now stroking him harder and faster. And he knows, he knows he's going to cum, and she knows it too, so she pulls back and takes his cock back into her mouth, pressing down all the way to the base so the tip slides past that soft palate at the back of her throat, her tongue still working slightly against him, and it's all too much...He gives in, shooting into her mouth-
Except that's not what's happening. Not at all. Leslie's still moving her mouth up and down, her hand playing with his balls, and then without warning, Ben pulls her off of him almost roughly, grips her arms and hoists her off of the floor into his lap. It's not entirely graceful, given the confined space, but neither of them seems to care. Leslie is practically devouring him with her kiss, rubbing herself against his erection and gripping his hair tightly. Ben's hands are groping her--thighs, breasts, ass--rubbing and stroking and pinching--and Leslie looks overwhelmed in the best way. He's never seen her so debauched, so thoroughly turned on and desperate; it's beautiful, stunning, gorgeous...but it's also nothing he remembers.
She reaches down to the pull her skirt up around waist, and Dave suddenly comes to his senses.
He can't...He can't watch anymore.
Hastily averting his eyes, Dave taps on the window and waits for Leslie to compose herself. The moon is out now, peering through the black clouds like a ghost, but Dave wishes it was raining again. A torrential downpour that would have everyone running to their cars, including him, and he could take back this terrible punctuation to the end of this terrible night.
The window rolls down and Leslie pops her head out, shaking her hair out of her face with affected casualness. "Hey Dave, what's up?"
God, for once he just wishes Leslie wouldn't be so damn...Leslie.
"Leslie," he says, trying desperately to ignore how she looks in the moonlight. He fails, of course, because her hair is wild and her eyes are bright and hazy with lust and her face and neck are flushed, a tinge of pink that he knows runs down her chest as well, and it's all too much. "It's pretty obvious, uh, well...You know you shouldn't...do that...here...right?"
Do what here? he practically hears her voice ringing in his ears, and please, he wants to beg her, don't make me say it. But she surprises him, just as she's always surprises him, by biting her lip and dropping her eyes the tiniest bit. "Yes...You...You're right...We should really...really go home."
Dave nods and taps his fingers against the roof of the car, still not able to look away from her even though he can actually feel his chest aching. It hurts worse now than it did before--worse than it did when he left, really--because this is the end, truly the end, of something he never knew he lost. She really is Ben's now, at least as much as she can be, seeing that she gives her heart to the world.
"I guess..." he stutters, not quite sure how to end this, "I guess maybe I'll see you around sometime, Leslie."
"Yeah. I'll definitely see you around."
She smiles, and his heart breaks.
Part Four