Teen Wolf fic: starts another big riot
Pairing: Melissa McCall/Sheriff Stilinski
Rating: explicit
Warnings: no warnings apply
Word count: 3214
AN: written for Porn Battle XV, prompts were 'date' and 'handcuffs'. Title taken from Björk's It's Oh So Quiet. I couldn't avoid the first name issue with Sheriff Stilinski (*shakes fist at Jeff Davis*) so until he gets a canon name, it will be John.
Summary: In which Melissa intends to surprise her Valentine's date and Sheriff Stilinski plays fast and loose with the Miranda Rights.
She's juggling the food and bottle of red wine from Dana's Deli, groping around for the keys in her purse when suddenly everything's bathed in flashing blue lights. The aborted wail of a siren drowns out her startled curse while she fumbles in an attempt to keep the bags slipping from her hands.
"Put your hands in the air and turn around slowly," a familiar but stern voice calls out.
The adrenaline ebbs away as quickly as it came and she puts the bags down before doing as she's told. She has to squint against the lights until he reaches into the car and turns them off.
"Ms. McCall."
"Sheriff Stilinski," she mimics his official tone but lowers her arms when he comes up to lean against the hood of the car.
"I seem to recall you living five blocks away. Care to explain what you're doing here, loitering around my place this late at night?" He crosses his arms, all business-like, but in the distant rays of the light above the front door she catches his sly grin. She's seen it before but never directed at her like this and it releases a burst of butterflies in her stomach.
"Well, Sheriff. My date had to cancel our plans for Valentine's Day because some of his colleagues are out with the flu. So I thought I'd surprise him when he got home."
He raises an eyebrow. "With attempted breaking and entering?"
"Yes, with the spare key he gave me for emergencies."
"Hmm," he says, managing to pack all the jaded skepticism in that one word like only an officer of the law can.
She bites back a grin and takes a few steps towards him, adding a little sway to her hips. "What? You think I'd go out breaking and entering dressed like this?" She opens her coat to reveal what she's wearing underneath.
His gaze lingers as he takes in her high heels and tight red dress and the flash of pure want on his face sparks heat all through her body. His eyes find hers again and she thinks that if he continues to look at her like he wants to take her right here, right now she won't be able to hold this playful charade up much longer. She'll jump him first.
Then he visibly shakes himself. "It , uh. It'd be a good cover story."
"Or maybe I just wanted to do something for Valentine's Day because I really, really, like this man I've been going out with and-" God, she loves that she can make him smile like that; genuine and just a little bit shy. "And the last time I had a Valentine's date was when my son was young enough to give me paper hearts."
"That-,"
"Everything all right, Sheriff?" a concerned woman's voice suddenly calls out, startling them both. They look down the driveway where she can just make out that old lady neighbor - the nosy but sweet one she sees doing volunteer work at the hospital sometimes - standing on the sidewalk with her poodle.
"Yeah. Everything's just fine, Mrs. Morrisson," he calls back but despite the obvious dismissal in his voice, she lingers for a minute. Very obviously not reassured.
"Come on, Noodle," she chides then, as if the dog hadn't been pulling the leash taut all this time, ready to go.
John wipes a hand over his face in exasperation until he looks over at her.
"Noodle?!" she mouths at him.
"Uh-huh," he says and they're both trying not to laugh until Mrs. Morrisson should be well out of earshot.
"Maybe you shouldn't have used the siren," she says. Quietly, just in case.
He shrugs. "Probably wouldn't have mattered. Either Noodle's developed a serious condition she should see Deaton about or she's keeping tabs on me because it's like she's walking that dog every damn time I step foot outside the door."
"You think maybe she's one of Stiles's 'spies'?" she suggests. She knows from firsthand experience how he dealt with his anxiety about leaving his dad when he went to college last summer.
"I think he'd probably prefer the term 'informant'," he says with wry resignation. "She was always a bit nosy… But I did see him talking to her a couple of times over winter break."
He shakes his head in that familiar-to-parents-everywhere way. The one that says "my kid, seriously!" and she nods in commiseration.
"Now, speaking of suspicious behavior." He narrows his eyes at her and crooks his finger. "I'm gonna have to ask you to come over here."
"Uh-oh," she says and with the way he's looking at her now, she's only half joking. She goes all out on the fake innocence though as she walks towards him, eyes wide. "Do I really look like a criminal to you?"
"I don't know," he considers, meeting her halfway. "Over the years I've seen you do some - and I quote the kids - 'total fucking badass' things."
She grins at the reminder of that night; the boisterous gathering in her kitchen, with everyone still high on adrenaline and relief, and Isaac telling Chris how exactly she'd saved the day.
"And." His expression is cheeky all of a sudden. "There was that protest at City Hall in '97."
"Hey! You wrongfully arrested me!" She pokes a finger at his chest. "And I so was not the criminal there." They've had this conversation before but she can't help rising to the bait.
He laughs at her, dodging her finger before he catches her hand in his and concedes: "The mayor was an asshole."
"A corrupt asshole."
"Yeah." He squeezes her hand, pulls her closer. "But to answer your question: no, actually I think you look incredibly beautiful."
"Good answer," she breathes in the quiet space between them when he bends down and kisses her. She falls into it and his arms wrap around her, strong and secure, to lift her up to her toes.
It's nothing like their first kiss after their first date a few weeks ago any more, when they'd both been wanting but tentative and awkward like teenagers.. This is no holds barred, filthy and full of promise.
"I'm afraid I'm still gonna have to take you in though," he says a while later, voice against her neck as unsteady as she feels and laughter bubbles up and out of her.
"Yeah?" Her fingers tighten in his hair. "Are you going to break out the cuffs again?"
He stills perceptibly against her for a few seconds and then pulls back to peer at her. His messy hair and the lipstick smear on his face are making his serious expression somewhat comical, still charming.
"Well…" He flounders and tucks a curl behind her ear.
"As I recall from when you arrested me, you liked slapping those on me pretty quick," she teases, wiping at the lipstick near his mouth.
"And as I recall you resisted pretty hard," he counters.
"I'm not resisting anything right now."
"Is that so?"
His hands brushing up her sides, thumbs just shy of touching the curve of her breasts, distract her for a moment and she leans up to brush her mouth against his.
"Yes. So what are you going to do?" she challenges. "Or have you gone soft in your old age?"
He looks straight at her when he tightens his arms around and presses her firmly against him. "Not so much."
He's hard against her stomach and she wants. They've fooled around during long nights on the couch - talking, laughing, learning new things about each other and not just how he's got talented fingers or how he looks when he comes with her hands on him - and she craves more. Wants everything with him. She pulls his head down, kissing him deep and long until they're both panting and she's frustrated with her dress being too tight to get her the right friction against his thigh.
"Are you sure? About the cuffs?" he asks, breath ragged in her ear.
And she thought a neon sign couldn't have been more obvious at this point but she loves him for making sure so she nods. Realizes he probably needs more than that when he pulls away completely, regarding her seriously.
"Very very sure."
"Oh, boy!" he says under his breath. "Okay then, turn around and put your hands behind your back, ma'am."
And she's barely got them there before he's cuffing her, not nearly as tight as he once did but it's just enough. She turns back around to find him watching her with a satisfied grin, hands on his hips.
"Now, you have the right to remain silent," he says after a minute, picking up the bags and guiding her to the door. "But I don't think you're gonna want to be."
"Oh really? Why is that?" she asks when he ushers her inside the warm, softly lit hallway where he drops her things on the side table.
"Because with the super hearing - or in my case, super nosy - kids away, I'm determined to get you to make some noise." He takes off his coat and stalks towards her, crowding her against the door.
"I'd like to see you try, Sheriff."
"Don't worry, it won't be used against you."
He grins and she can't hold back the giggle, feeling a little silly. And then they're both laughing until he kisses her, slow and unexpectedly tender, overwhelming.
"Safe word?" he asks softly after he pulls back.
It's hard to focus with his hands trailing up the hem of her dress and his chest right in front of her. She noses against the skin above his uniform shirt, wishes it was unbuttoned a little further.
"Noodle," she says, because right now it's the only thing that comes to mind.
He snorts, face buried in her hair. "Yup, that oughta do it." Then, "God, you smell good."
"So do you." She tilts her head to brush her cheek against his, against the rasp of his five o'clock shadow to catch a whiff of his cologne. It's something popular but she already knows she won't ever be able to smell it again without thinking immediately of him, bear hugs that make her feel safe and warm, and kisses that make her toes curl. Just like they do now when he licks hungrily into her mouth and tugs her coat down to her wrists.
His body is strong and solid against her as he presses her back against the door, their breaths loud and uneven in the quiet of the house. His hands are sure, finding even long untouched places, as his tongue all but fucks into her mouth and she curls a leg around his to get him where she feels empty, wants him most now.
"This still okay?" He breathes against her mouth and she needs a moment to figure out what he means until he tugs gently on the cuffs.
"Yes," she gasps. "Much better than last time."
"Hmm, didn't do this then," he agrees. "Didn't do this either," he says and brushes a hand over her panties, making her swear at the unexpected touch.
By the time he's got the top of her dress and bra tugged down, skirt hiked up somewhere around her waist, she's begging. His mouth and hand on her nipples are sending shooting sparks straight down to where his fingers keep skimming over her with mostly teasing pressure and she's about to maybe reconsider being restrained.
Then he goes down on his knees.
He tugs down her panties, following their path down her thighs with open-mouthed kisses, brushes a finger over her painted red nails when she kicks off her shoes. He looks up at her with dark eyes and he's gorgeous; hair messy, lips swollen and red, shirt creased and half untucked. She slides her foot up his thigh to where his cock is straining against his pants, finally able to touch him in some way. His eyes fall closed and he groans when she rubs over him again and again until he catches her foot.
"Wait, Mel. Stop." His fingers press deliciously against the arch of her foot. "I want- I want to be inside you."
"So be inside me already," she says because that's what she wants too, more than anything right now.
"Later," he promises, opening his eyes to watch her as he leans forward. "First, I want this."
It's just a gentle kiss above her clit but it sets her on fire and yes, she wants that too. His tongue slides slick and hot over her, opening her up, over and over again. She's had this fantasy, when she finally allowed herself to want him, but as good as it was it never came close to actually feeling his soft, wet tongue on her. Her fingers are clawing at the door that's digging into her shoulder blades and she's desperately riding his mouth by the time he slips a finger inside her. It's the perfect pressure of his lips around her clit and the thrill of his moan against her that eventually make her come undone.
He gathers her in his lap when she slides down the door with shaky legs and takes off the handcuffs before she can even think to ask.
"Best arrest I've made this year." He grins, eyes crinkling, while he rubs her wrists.
She laughs and grabs his face to pull him in for a hungry kiss. She'd forgotten what it could be like, to be with someone when everything is familiar and new all at once. And good, so good that she can't seem to get enough. She wastes no time loosening his belt and taking him out of his pants.
"Condom," she reminds herself just when she's about to lift up and guide him inside her.
"I've got some upstairs," he says, voice tight.
"I've got some in my purse." She eyes it on the side table, where it's just out of reach.
"I've got a bed upstairs, too. And I tell you, I think I'm getting too old to be doing this on the floor."
"Are your knees hurting, old man?" she can't help but tease.
He narrows his eyes at her and pinches her butt, making her squeak.
"As a nurse, shouldn't you be a little more compassionate about that sort of thing?" he asks with an exaggerated scowl as they untangle themselves enough to get up.
"I probably should," she says, doing her best to look chastised. She walks him back towards the stairs. "Come with me and let me make you feel better, Sheriff Stilinski."
She can see the flush on his face deepen delightfully just before he turns and tugs her up the stairs behind him.
* * *
They fall into bed and it's exhilarating to see him naked, feel him pressed up against her, skin to skin, at last.
"Sorry," he says with a self-deprecating laugh after he's leaned on her hair, reaching for the condom on the nightstand, and fumbles with the wrapper. "It's been a while."
Her heart clenches because she knows and she nuzzles up against him for a moment before taking the condom from him and swiftly sliding it over his cock.
"Don't worry," she says easily, pulling back to grin at him. "It's just like riding a bike."
"I don't know," he says as she tumbles him onto his back and straddles him. "I've never felt-" And then his eyes roll back when she sinks down on him.
For a moment she just relishes the feeling of him inside her, the way he looks underneath her before she starts up a slow rhythm, his hands on her hips helping her find the right angle and pace.
She scratches a careful nail over his nipple and he bucks up into her, making her clench wetly around him. His hand, rough and suntanned except for the white band on his ring finger, brushes over her breast and the memory of a few weeks ago flashes in her mind through the haze of pleasure.
"Hey, you want to go out for drinks later?" he'd asked, lingering at the nurse's station after checking up on a DUI victim.
"Sure," she'd said, distracted with reorganizing the charts. "The Oak Barrel at eight?" Because that was their usual hang-out these days but then he'd cleared his throat.
"No. I mean, would you like to go out for drinks with me? Maybe dinner? And I'll come pick you up." And she'd looked up to find his hands gripping the desk, knuckles white and that band where his ring used to be and oh.Oh. She felt a surge of pure joy that was just for him and then her stomach started doing flip-flops, just like it does now at the wild look in his eyes when he hauls her down for a fierce kiss.
It changes the angle of his cock, dragging over just the right spot, and the pressure on her clit and her nipples brushing against his chest have her moving feverishly.
"God, John. You're-You feel so good."
"You too," he stutters on a groan when she mouths and bites at his throat. "Amazing."
She wants to draw this out but can't help grinding down against him frantically until she feels that familiar hot rush spreading all the way through her body, and back to her core before she comes long and hard for the second time tonight.
She's still just barely aware, breathing fast when he flips her on her back and thrusts fast and deep inside her, sending aftershocks of pleasure through her.
She runs her hands over him, finds his damp hair at the back of his neck, the scar on his side where she patched him up a couple of years ago. His pace falters and she opens her eyes because she wants to see him come, only to find his eyes screwed tight, face a grimace.
She touches his cheek. "Come on, John."
He opens his eyes, and the intensity in them when he looks straight at her is breathtaking.
"Come on," she says again. "Let go." And again, until his thrusts get erratic and he comes with a groan that almost sounds like a sob.
"Are you okay?" she asks when he stays still against her, nose buried in her hair.
"Yeah," he pulls out carefully and then lifts his head. His eyes are shiny but his smile is beaming. "Just happy."
She wraps her arms and legs around him and laughs.
* * *
John's making breakfast while she's smelling the roses that'd been left and forgotten on the kitchen counter yesterday, when he starts making frustrated noises at his phone.
"Oh, for crying…" He trails off, holding the phone up for her so she can read the text message:
"dad. ur not answering ur phone. word on the street is that you arrested melissa last night! what's going on?!"
She checks her own phone to find several missed calls and a similar message from Scott.
In the end they send them a three second snapchat; a picture of them grinning widely with the roses and bottle of wine just visible in the background. The caption reads: 'we're fine'.
They'll figure it out.
Rating: explicit
Warnings: no warnings apply
Word count: 3214
AN: written for Porn Battle XV, prompts were 'date' and 'handcuffs'. Title taken from Björk's It's Oh So Quiet. I couldn't avoid the first name issue with Sheriff Stilinski (*shakes fist at Jeff Davis*) so until he gets a canon name, it will be John.
Summary: In which Melissa intends to surprise her Valentine's date and Sheriff Stilinski plays fast and loose with the Miranda Rights.
She's juggling the food and bottle of red wine from Dana's Deli, groping around for the keys in her purse when suddenly everything's bathed in flashing blue lights. The aborted wail of a siren drowns out her startled curse while she fumbles in an attempt to keep the bags slipping from her hands.
"Put your hands in the air and turn around slowly," a familiar but stern voice calls out.
The adrenaline ebbs away as quickly as it came and she puts the bags down before doing as she's told. She has to squint against the lights until he reaches into the car and turns them off.
"Ms. McCall."
"Sheriff Stilinski," she mimics his official tone but lowers her arms when he comes up to lean against the hood of the car.
"I seem to recall you living five blocks away. Care to explain what you're doing here, loitering around my place this late at night?" He crosses his arms, all business-like, but in the distant rays of the light above the front door she catches his sly grin. She's seen it before but never directed at her like this and it releases a burst of butterflies in her stomach.
"Well, Sheriff. My date had to cancel our plans for Valentine's Day because some of his colleagues are out with the flu. So I thought I'd surprise him when he got home."
He raises an eyebrow. "With attempted breaking and entering?"
"Yes, with the spare key he gave me for emergencies."
"Hmm," he says, managing to pack all the jaded skepticism in that one word like only an officer of the law can.
She bites back a grin and takes a few steps towards him, adding a little sway to her hips. "What? You think I'd go out breaking and entering dressed like this?" She opens her coat to reveal what she's wearing underneath.
His gaze lingers as he takes in her high heels and tight red dress and the flash of pure want on his face sparks heat all through her body. His eyes find hers again and she thinks that if he continues to look at her like he wants to take her right here, right now she won't be able to hold this playful charade up much longer. She'll jump him first.
Then he visibly shakes himself. "It , uh. It'd be a good cover story."
"Or maybe I just wanted to do something for Valentine's Day because I really, really, like this man I've been going out with and-" God, she loves that she can make him smile like that; genuine and just a little bit shy. "And the last time I had a Valentine's date was when my son was young enough to give me paper hearts."
"That-,"
"Everything all right, Sheriff?" a concerned woman's voice suddenly calls out, startling them both. They look down the driveway where she can just make out that old lady neighbor - the nosy but sweet one she sees doing volunteer work at the hospital sometimes - standing on the sidewalk with her poodle.
"Yeah. Everything's just fine, Mrs. Morrisson," he calls back but despite the obvious dismissal in his voice, she lingers for a minute. Very obviously not reassured.
"Come on, Noodle," she chides then, as if the dog hadn't been pulling the leash taut all this time, ready to go.
John wipes a hand over his face in exasperation until he looks over at her.
"Noodle?!" she mouths at him.
"Uh-huh," he says and they're both trying not to laugh until Mrs. Morrisson should be well out of earshot.
"Maybe you shouldn't have used the siren," she says. Quietly, just in case.
He shrugs. "Probably wouldn't have mattered. Either Noodle's developed a serious condition she should see Deaton about or she's keeping tabs on me because it's like she's walking that dog every damn time I step foot outside the door."
"You think maybe she's one of Stiles's 'spies'?" she suggests. She knows from firsthand experience how he dealt with his anxiety about leaving his dad when he went to college last summer.
"I think he'd probably prefer the term 'informant'," he says with wry resignation. "She was always a bit nosy… But I did see him talking to her a couple of times over winter break."
He shakes his head in that familiar-to-parents-everywhere way. The one that says "my kid, seriously!" and she nods in commiseration.
"Now, speaking of suspicious behavior." He narrows his eyes at her and crooks his finger. "I'm gonna have to ask you to come over here."
"Uh-oh," she says and with the way he's looking at her now, she's only half joking. She goes all out on the fake innocence though as she walks towards him, eyes wide. "Do I really look like a criminal to you?"
"I don't know," he considers, meeting her halfway. "Over the years I've seen you do some - and I quote the kids - 'total fucking badass' things."
She grins at the reminder of that night; the boisterous gathering in her kitchen, with everyone still high on adrenaline and relief, and Isaac telling Chris how exactly she'd saved the day.
"And." His expression is cheeky all of a sudden. "There was that protest at City Hall in '97."
"Hey! You wrongfully arrested me!" She pokes a finger at his chest. "And I so was not the criminal there." They've had this conversation before but she can't help rising to the bait.
He laughs at her, dodging her finger before he catches her hand in his and concedes: "The mayor was an asshole."
"A corrupt asshole."
"Yeah." He squeezes her hand, pulls her closer. "But to answer your question: no, actually I think you look incredibly beautiful."
"Good answer," she breathes in the quiet space between them when he bends down and kisses her. She falls into it and his arms wrap around her, strong and secure, to lift her up to her toes.
It's nothing like their first kiss after their first date a few weeks ago any more, when they'd both been wanting but tentative and awkward like teenagers.. This is no holds barred, filthy and full of promise.
"I'm afraid I'm still gonna have to take you in though," he says a while later, voice against her neck as unsteady as she feels and laughter bubbles up and out of her.
"Yeah?" Her fingers tighten in his hair. "Are you going to break out the cuffs again?"
He stills perceptibly against her for a few seconds and then pulls back to peer at her. His messy hair and the lipstick smear on his face are making his serious expression somewhat comical, still charming.
"Well…" He flounders and tucks a curl behind her ear.
"As I recall from when you arrested me, you liked slapping those on me pretty quick," she teases, wiping at the lipstick near his mouth.
"And as I recall you resisted pretty hard," he counters.
"I'm not resisting anything right now."
"Is that so?"
His hands brushing up her sides, thumbs just shy of touching the curve of her breasts, distract her for a moment and she leans up to brush her mouth against his.
"Yes. So what are you going to do?" she challenges. "Or have you gone soft in your old age?"
He looks straight at her when he tightens his arms around and presses her firmly against him. "Not so much."
He's hard against her stomach and she wants. They've fooled around during long nights on the couch - talking, laughing, learning new things about each other and not just how he's got talented fingers or how he looks when he comes with her hands on him - and she craves more. Wants everything with him. She pulls his head down, kissing him deep and long until they're both panting and she's frustrated with her dress being too tight to get her the right friction against his thigh.
"Are you sure? About the cuffs?" he asks, breath ragged in her ear.
And she thought a neon sign couldn't have been more obvious at this point but she loves him for making sure so she nods. Realizes he probably needs more than that when he pulls away completely, regarding her seriously.
"Very very sure."
"Oh, boy!" he says under his breath. "Okay then, turn around and put your hands behind your back, ma'am."
And she's barely got them there before he's cuffing her, not nearly as tight as he once did but it's just enough. She turns back around to find him watching her with a satisfied grin, hands on his hips.
"Now, you have the right to remain silent," he says after a minute, picking up the bags and guiding her to the door. "But I don't think you're gonna want to be."
"Oh really? Why is that?" she asks when he ushers her inside the warm, softly lit hallway where he drops her things on the side table.
"Because with the super hearing - or in my case, super nosy - kids away, I'm determined to get you to make some noise." He takes off his coat and stalks towards her, crowding her against the door.
"I'd like to see you try, Sheriff."
"Don't worry, it won't be used against you."
He grins and she can't hold back the giggle, feeling a little silly. And then they're both laughing until he kisses her, slow and unexpectedly tender, overwhelming.
"Safe word?" he asks softly after he pulls back.
It's hard to focus with his hands trailing up the hem of her dress and his chest right in front of her. She noses against the skin above his uniform shirt, wishes it was unbuttoned a little further.
"Noodle," she says, because right now it's the only thing that comes to mind.
He snorts, face buried in her hair. "Yup, that oughta do it." Then, "God, you smell good."
"So do you." She tilts her head to brush her cheek against his, against the rasp of his five o'clock shadow to catch a whiff of his cologne. It's something popular but she already knows she won't ever be able to smell it again without thinking immediately of him, bear hugs that make her feel safe and warm, and kisses that make her toes curl. Just like they do now when he licks hungrily into her mouth and tugs her coat down to her wrists.
His body is strong and solid against her as he presses her back against the door, their breaths loud and uneven in the quiet of the house. His hands are sure, finding even long untouched places, as his tongue all but fucks into her mouth and she curls a leg around his to get him where she feels empty, wants him most now.
"This still okay?" He breathes against her mouth and she needs a moment to figure out what he means until he tugs gently on the cuffs.
"Yes," she gasps. "Much better than last time."
"Hmm, didn't do this then," he agrees. "Didn't do this either," he says and brushes a hand over her panties, making her swear at the unexpected touch.
By the time he's got the top of her dress and bra tugged down, skirt hiked up somewhere around her waist, she's begging. His mouth and hand on her nipples are sending shooting sparks straight down to where his fingers keep skimming over her with mostly teasing pressure and she's about to maybe reconsider being restrained.
Then he goes down on his knees.
He tugs down her panties, following their path down her thighs with open-mouthed kisses, brushes a finger over her painted red nails when she kicks off her shoes. He looks up at her with dark eyes and he's gorgeous; hair messy, lips swollen and red, shirt creased and half untucked. She slides her foot up his thigh to where his cock is straining against his pants, finally able to touch him in some way. His eyes fall closed and he groans when she rubs over him again and again until he catches her foot.
"Wait, Mel. Stop." His fingers press deliciously against the arch of her foot. "I want- I want to be inside you."
"So be inside me already," she says because that's what she wants too, more than anything right now.
"Later," he promises, opening his eyes to watch her as he leans forward. "First, I want this."
It's just a gentle kiss above her clit but it sets her on fire and yes, she wants that too. His tongue slides slick and hot over her, opening her up, over and over again. She's had this fantasy, when she finally allowed herself to want him, but as good as it was it never came close to actually feeling his soft, wet tongue on her. Her fingers are clawing at the door that's digging into her shoulder blades and she's desperately riding his mouth by the time he slips a finger inside her. It's the perfect pressure of his lips around her clit and the thrill of his moan against her that eventually make her come undone.
He gathers her in his lap when she slides down the door with shaky legs and takes off the handcuffs before she can even think to ask.
"Best arrest I've made this year." He grins, eyes crinkling, while he rubs her wrists.
She laughs and grabs his face to pull him in for a hungry kiss. She'd forgotten what it could be like, to be with someone when everything is familiar and new all at once. And good, so good that she can't seem to get enough. She wastes no time loosening his belt and taking him out of his pants.
"Condom," she reminds herself just when she's about to lift up and guide him inside her.
"I've got some upstairs," he says, voice tight.
"I've got some in my purse." She eyes it on the side table, where it's just out of reach.
"I've got a bed upstairs, too. And I tell you, I think I'm getting too old to be doing this on the floor."
"Are your knees hurting, old man?" she can't help but tease.
He narrows his eyes at her and pinches her butt, making her squeak.
"As a nurse, shouldn't you be a little more compassionate about that sort of thing?" he asks with an exaggerated scowl as they untangle themselves enough to get up.
"I probably should," she says, doing her best to look chastised. She walks him back towards the stairs. "Come with me and let me make you feel better, Sheriff Stilinski."
She can see the flush on his face deepen delightfully just before he turns and tugs her up the stairs behind him.
* * *
They fall into bed and it's exhilarating to see him naked, feel him pressed up against her, skin to skin, at last.
"Sorry," he says with a self-deprecating laugh after he's leaned on her hair, reaching for the condom on the nightstand, and fumbles with the wrapper. "It's been a while."
Her heart clenches because she knows and she nuzzles up against him for a moment before taking the condom from him and swiftly sliding it over his cock.
"Don't worry," she says easily, pulling back to grin at him. "It's just like riding a bike."
"I don't know," he says as she tumbles him onto his back and straddles him. "I've never felt-" And then his eyes roll back when she sinks down on him.
For a moment she just relishes the feeling of him inside her, the way he looks underneath her before she starts up a slow rhythm, his hands on her hips helping her find the right angle and pace.
She scratches a careful nail over his nipple and he bucks up into her, making her clench wetly around him. His hand, rough and suntanned except for the white band on his ring finger, brushes over her breast and the memory of a few weeks ago flashes in her mind through the haze of pleasure.
"Hey, you want to go out for drinks later?" he'd asked, lingering at the nurse's station after checking up on a DUI victim.
"Sure," she'd said, distracted with reorganizing the charts. "The Oak Barrel at eight?" Because that was their usual hang-out these days but then he'd cleared his throat.
"No. I mean, would you like to go out for drinks with me? Maybe dinner? And I'll come pick you up." And she'd looked up to find his hands gripping the desk, knuckles white and that band where his ring used to be and oh.Oh. She felt a surge of pure joy that was just for him and then her stomach started doing flip-flops, just like it does now at the wild look in his eyes when he hauls her down for a fierce kiss.
It changes the angle of his cock, dragging over just the right spot, and the pressure on her clit and her nipples brushing against his chest have her moving feverishly.
"God, John. You're-You feel so good."
"You too," he stutters on a groan when she mouths and bites at his throat. "Amazing."
She wants to draw this out but can't help grinding down against him frantically until she feels that familiar hot rush spreading all the way through her body, and back to her core before she comes long and hard for the second time tonight.
She's still just barely aware, breathing fast when he flips her on her back and thrusts fast and deep inside her, sending aftershocks of pleasure through her.
She runs her hands over him, finds his damp hair at the back of his neck, the scar on his side where she patched him up a couple of years ago. His pace falters and she opens her eyes because she wants to see him come, only to find his eyes screwed tight, face a grimace.
She touches his cheek. "Come on, John."
He opens his eyes, and the intensity in them when he looks straight at her is breathtaking.
"Come on," she says again. "Let go." And again, until his thrusts get erratic and he comes with a groan that almost sounds like a sob.
"Are you okay?" she asks when he stays still against her, nose buried in her hair.
"Yeah," he pulls out carefully and then lifts his head. His eyes are shiny but his smile is beaming. "Just happy."
She wraps her arms and legs around him and laughs.
* * *
John's making breakfast while she's smelling the roses that'd been left and forgotten on the kitchen counter yesterday, when he starts making frustrated noises at his phone.
"Oh, for crying…" He trails off, holding the phone up for her so she can read the text message:
"dad. ur not answering ur phone. word on the street is that you arrested melissa last night! what's going on?!"
She checks her own phone to find several missed calls and a similar message from Scott.
In the end they send them a three second snapchat; a picture of them grinning widely with the roses and bottle of wine just visible in the background. The caption reads: 'we're fine'.
They'll figure it out.