I Was Blind But Now I See [Taylor/Wash]
Title: I Was Blind But Now I See
Character/Pairing: Nathaniel Taylor/Alicia Washington
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4112
Genre: Romance/Angst/Drama
Summary: Wash had a bad day (Sixers) and her night doesn't look better (paperwork) but then Taylor, who is supposed to be OTG, shows up but something must have happened to him because he's definitely not acting like usually. (mid-season one)
Author's Note: I started this when 'The Runaway' aired and then it got kinda lost but last week, it reappeared. Our awesome BAMFs being tough and angsty with a smidge of hotness. I think. :D
Archives: FF.Net | AO3 | Writing LJ
Sitting at the long table in the main office of the command building, surrounded by at least a few dozens plexpads and the night lamps as her only light source, Alicia does what is still called paperwork - despite all the bits and bytes. It is tedious and the exact opposite of exiting but it has to be done and the sooner she is finished, the sooner she can go home. With a sigh she sets down Sergeant Johnson's latest request, picks up the next and immediately groans as she sees it's from Dr. Braxton (that man is as annoying as a Nyko), her mouth twisting into a scowl.
“Damn,” she winces, carefully touching her fingertips to her lips and when they come away with blood, she sighs. The cut has opened up again.
Somehow word had gotten out that Taylor and Shannon were on one of their fishing trips while she and Reynolds went to check out a disruption at the power station near the valley. And had run right into a trap set by Carter.
Alicia places the pad next to the others and thoughtfully stares at her own blood, rubbing it between her fingers. She had been lucky. Damn lucky. The fight, while quick and dirty, could have ended badly for her if it hadn't been for Reynolds, who pulled one of Shannon's not-so-legal cop moves and prevented the knife from entering her body. Instead it just graced her side and left her with a nasty but non-fatal scratch.
Her mind begins to drift to a what-if scenario but she cuts that line of thought almost immediately. It didn't happen and there is no reason to dwell on it. Although, once the Commander is back she will have to address the recent changes in the Sixers' attacks. They've become more daring, their intentions bordering on deadly if today's encounter is any indication.
Blowing a strand of hair out of her face (she lost another one of her hair ties to those bastards in the fight), she turns back to the pads but a rustle outside stops her mid-movement and her left hand instinctively goes to the knife at her side, all her senses reaching out but coming up with nothing. ”Must be the shift change,” she concludes, glancing at the clock on the wall. Nearly midnight and there are still more than half of the pads left. If she weren't such a perfect soldier, she would let her head hit the table surface repeatedly. Smirking at the ridiculous image, she decides that it's time to head home because in this state she won't get any work done.
Shuffling the pads into two piles, the small one she's finished with, the bigger one she's going to tackle tomorrow, Alicia stands up and prepares to leave.
Suddenly, the tiny hairs on her nape raise and she knows she is no longer alone but before she has the chance to face the person behind her, a heavy weight crashes into her and pins her to the edge of the table. A warm but firm hand curves around her hip and a strong arm locks across her chest, dragging her back into a hard chest. For a split second she freezes, then starts to struggle, tries to reach for her knife again, but is stopped halfway and finds her hand engulfed by a much larger one.
“Easy there, Wash. It's me,” her attacker whispers hoarsely, face hidden in her long hair, his hand squeezing hers in an almost painful grip and she ceases her attempt to free herself, going completely still.
Taylor.
But something is...wrong with him.
Only twice before she heard this undertone in his voice, a hint of darkness to it, of despair and grief, paired with need and something else she can't identify. The first time when he found her, pierced by bullets and chocking on her own blood, lying in front of the compound deep in Somali territory, where she had tried to stop the enemy from taking his wife and son. And failed. When Taylor told her he would make them pay, he sounded just as desperate, his fingers trembling as he caressed her bruised cheek.
Then weeks later, on a gray and cold winter day as he buried his wife in New Texas. Alicia shouldn't have been there, should have been at the hospital, recovering, but she just couldn't let him do it alone. The long look he gave her when she arrived at the cemetery had been filled with so many emotions, it had nearly overwhelmed her. That hadn't been the powerful and tough man she had known since her days as a recruit. Hearing him say his final goodbye to his wife in the same broken voice from her dreams (nightmares), tore her apart all over again and she had never felt more helpless than she did back then.
They never spoke about it, not once, and until tonight she never saw that side of him again. Whatever happened to him, wherever his mind is right now, she has to get him back from that horrible place.
“Com-”
“Shhh, Wash,” he cuts her off, his body pressing closer until there's no inch left between them. It certainly does nothing to reassure her and her entire body tenses but before she has the chance to act, his hand releases hers and slides beneath the hem of her black tank.
The sensation of his calloused fingers, curling against her soft skin, followed by the rough textures of his gloves, hits her like a sonic blast and she jerks, her eyes going wide as all her nerve endings come alive with burning, white heat, rushing through her, settling low in her belly. Tightening his arms around her in response to her reaction, Taylor brings his mouth next to her ear, his hot breath ghosting over her skin and she fights a shiver.
“Bastard said, he got you at last.” He splays his left hand low on her stomach, in an almost possessive manner, and his thumb comes to a rest just underneath her bandaged wound. Alicia tries to stay focused but despite all her military training, it's a losing battle, her treacherous body overruling her mind, and for the first time in a long while the quiet moan escaping her has got nothing to do with pain.
“Had your hair tie wrapped around his knife like a damn trophy,” he growls and her heart rate increases, blood thundering through her veins. “I thought you were dead, Wash. Dead.” The last word rips through her like that knife earlier did, and she finally understands what this all is about. She wants to tell him it's nothing to worry about, just a scratch, that she is okay, alive, but instead her breath hitches as he digs his fingers into her skin, grazing the wound, blurring the line between pleasure and pain.
It takes her to her tiptoes, and she arches into him sharply, her head falling back against his shoulder. Blazing arousal wars with cold military discipline inside her, and for a moment there's a flicker of doubt that it's not the same for him as it is for her but then she becomes aware of his harsh, erratic breathing near her cheek and it sends another rush of desire through her when she realizes Taylor is just as affected as she is.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows she should put a stop to this before they irrevocably cross the line they've drawn so many years ago. There have been moments when they came close, when the usual concern of a friend for another, of a commander for his subordinate and vice versa, went further than that and almost turned into something more. Especially in recent months.
It's not too late. Not yet. All she has to do is dislodge his hold on her and put some distance between them to get back on neutral ground but something holds her back. Maybe it's the years of suppressing her far from platonic feelings for her commanding officer finally taking its toll on her, maybe it is her heart telling her that she waited long enough for her second chance, maybe it's the certainty stemming from his actions that his own feelings for her run deeper than just friendship, maybe it is the reality of how close she came to die today and never be able to tell him how much he means to her, maybe it's all of that, because Alicia decides to leave the soldier in her behind and let the woman take the reins.
Leaning back against him, she surrenders to him in every sense of the word, her body going pliant as she melts back into his arms. It's not something she would do for any man, only for Taylor she is willingly to give up control. She trusts him with her life, unconditionally, and now she is offering him her heart as well. Turning her head, her cheek brushes against his chin, her eyes fluttering as his bristles scratch against her skin, and his name, his given name, is barely more than a sigh on her lips.
“Nathaniel...”
It's enough to spur him into action and his hands move down to her waist, spinning her around until they're pressed flush against each other, chest to chest, hips to hips, the edge of the table digging into the back of her thighs.
In the dim light he looks exactly like she expected, his appearance matching his voice. His trademark gun holster and jacket are both missing, his clothes are torn and dirty, and he's clenching his jaw but it's his eyes that tell her he's been through hell. Usually a bright gray, almost silver sometimes, his eyes are now overcast with a cold fire that promises endless torture and pain but underneath it, there are shades of anguish and sorrow. His gaze darkens even further when they land on her split lip and she gives into the urge to touch him, placing her hands on his chest. She feels him shudder, his eyes closing for a moment before he lifts them back to her own.
“I'm okay,” she whispers softly and that's all it takes to crack his stony facade. “It nearly drove me insane...” Taylor reaches up, his fingertips lightly grazing her skin as he follows the contour of her face, brushing along her jawbone until his thumb comes to rest close to the bruise Carter gave her. “The very thought of losing you, of you dying again because of me, it- I can't-” His voice breaks and with it her heart. Alicia slips one hand up, over his shoulder to the back of his head, and gently grasps his nape to pull him down to her, touching her forehead to his. “It's not your fault.”
“Yes, it is.” Letting out a ragged breath, he tightens the hold on her waist and slides his other hand into her hair, anchoring her to him. “Terra Nova was supposed to be our second chance. Here, by my side, with me, I wanted you to be finally safe, far away from war and bloodshed.” His fingers find their way beneath her tank once more, tracing the bandage, carefully this time, but it still causes her to shiver and she curls her hand in the edge of his shirt involuntarily. “I failed you and I can never forgive myself for that. You...” He draws her head back a fraction, his mouth hovering over hers and his lips brush hers with every one of his next words. “You are the one thing that makes my life worth living, Wash. I-”
love you is lost between them as Alicia presses her lips to his in a bruising kiss, stealing the words and his breath with its force. Taylor groans, his fingers flexing against her bandaged side but the sudden flash of pain from her wound does nothing to stop her. Instead her body arches into his touch without her permission, and the throbbing turns into that of a different sort again, arousal and desire returning with vigor, pulsing low in her belly. Moaning into his mouth, she digs her nails into his skin and he roughly thrusts against her in response, his own body tense with need and passion.
He does it again, more insistent, and she tears out of the kiss, gasping his name in a tone he has never heard from her before, husky, breathless, and his eyes are blazing with heated possession as he takes in her glazed eyes and swollen lips. Guiding her head back, he lowers his own and drags his lips down the arch of her throat, his tongue darting out as reaches the place where her throat meets her shoulder.
“Wash,” he breathes against her skin and Alicia whimpers at the dark longing in his voice. It turns into a stifled cry as Taylor pulls away the strap of her tank, teeth grazing her shoulder before he bites down. There's going to be a bruise, his mark, in plain sight for everyone to see but neither of them finds it in them to care. If anything, the display of pure dominance and ownership only fuels the fire racing through her veins and she brings his mouth back to hers, nipping at his bottom lip before soothing it with her tongue.
(For them, pleasure and pain always comes hand in hand. Ripped flesh stitched up by soft and healing hands, sitting side by side as they mourn the loss of another of their 'kids' over a bottle of scotch, sensing the other's presence close by but never close enough to touch.)
The kiss deepens gradually and gains in heat with every passing second but it is not enough, she wants more, needs more, and she runs her hands down his chest to his belt, opening it with a flick of her wrist, then the button before she drags down the zipper, snaking one hand inside his trousers. Now it is him who chokes on air, gritting his teeth as her hot fingers wrap around him, his hold on her loosening and she uses his momentarily distraction to flip their positions, smirking at his grunt of surprise.
Taylor watches from under hooded eyes, a dangerous glint in them, as she gracefully drops to her knees and his hand currently not tangled in her tresses falls down to the table. It curls around its edge in a tight grip as she takes him in her mouth and he hisses low, his hips bucking forward of their own accord.
His reaction makes her desire flare up and she slides him further down her throat, humming as she does so, and his fingers in her hair clench and release as he fights for control. When she catches his gaze, dark and intense, she knows the power she holds over him right now had no one else before her - not even his wife.
Alicia brings him close to the edge fast, drives him out of his mind with every glide of her lips, with every hint of teeth, and when she gets her tongue under the ridge, he growls low, his eyes going feral, and he yanks her up by her shoulder, covering her mouth with his again. He runs his hands over her body, grazes the underside of her breasts before he cups them to rub the pads of his thumbs over her nipples and her eyes close as she jerks at the bolt of pleasure, her own hands fisting into the sleeves of his shirt and their kiss becomes more raw, more demanding
He shifts them around until their positions are reversed, pinning her between the table and his body again, giving her bottom lip a nip before he pulls back. “Turn around, Lieutenant,” Taylor murmurs quietly against her lips as his hands settle on her hips, squeezing them gently, and Alicia doesn't know if it's his raspy voice or his use of her rank that sends a thrill through her.
As soon as her back his pressed against his chest, he slips his right hand to her pants to unfasten them, taking his time, and he smiles as he feels her muscles quiver. When the back of his warm fingers and the cool material of his gloves brush against her delicate skin, her pulse starts to quicken and her breath speeds up.
Nudging her pants down, Taylor trails his hand down to her wetness and slides a finger against the bundle of nerves, finding her hot and slick. Alicia whimpers, leaning back into him as he pulls away too quickly, and her lips feel like fire against the stubble of his jaw as she turns her head, her tongue peeking out to taste him.
Placing a hand between her shoulder blades, her urges her to bend over, and she follows his silent command until she's supporting her weight on her forearms atop the table. She moans as his hands roam down her back, along her sides, teasing her with feather-light touches, drawing out her pleasure until she can't take it anymore.
“Please,” she pleads throatily, pressing back into him, and when Taylor chuckles, she looks over her shoulder at him, about to tell him to stop torturing her but that's what he's been waiting for. Before Alicia can get any word out, he grips her waist and thrusts forward, burying himself inside her, hitting all her right spots, and she suddenly tumbles over the edge with a chocked cry, her mind shattering into a thousand pieces.
She drops her forehead to the cool table's surface, eyes falling shut, her whole body trembling as she gasps for air, trying to get used to the feel of him. He isn't faring much better, panting harshly, fingers digging into her skin as he forces his body to stay still, shocked and yet not by her reaction to him. There are no words to describe how incredible it feels, him stretching her, almost splitting in half, her squeezing him tightly, shaking with tiny aftershocks.
“Alicia...” The way Taylor says her name, almost growls it, sends a ripple of desire through her and it is enough to snap his control. Leaning over her, bracing a hand beside her head, he pushes himself even deeper before he slowly withdraws only to thrust back into her hard and her eyes fly open, her back arching.
And so he does it again. And again.
His movements aren't slow, they border on the edge of pain, sharp and fierce, and Alicia welcomes it, tightens her muscles around him every time he pushes into her. Heat curls in her stomach again, spreading through her in waves, and she surrenders to them. There will be a time for slow and tender later.
Shivering as his hot breath hits the exposed skin of her neck and shoulders, she tilts her head to press her mouth against his arm, muffling her whimpers and he threads his fingers through her hair to pull her up, back to his chest. He wants to hear her, wants to hear the sound of her falling apart in his arms, coming undone because of him. Some primal instinct, buried underneath his stoic Commander exterior, found its way to the surface tonight and for once he's not going to restrain it.
Alicia knows exactly what he's doing, the mark on her shoulder just the first sign, and she would be lying if she said she wasn't thrilled by it. And yet she doesn't give in easily and, ignoring the slight twinge from the cut, she bites her bottom lip to hold back her moans as the new angle drives him in deeper. Taylor smirks, her openly defying him, fighting the inevitable, was something he should have expected, and he takes her up on the challenge.
Closing his hand around hers, he slides them down to where they are joined, linked fingers stroking lightly at first but then he moves them in circles of increasing pressure until she loses her rhythm, no longer able to keep silent, her soft cries filling the air around them.
“Damn...you...” It comes out as a breathless moan but the sensation of his touch, inside her and outside, scatters that thought almost immediately and she doesn't have to see his face to know he's wearing a look of smug satisfaction. But she is not above fighting dirty and so she turns her head, her temple brushing his cheek, her lips curving into a wicked smile as her free hand comes up to cup her breast, pinching the nipple, and then she breathes his name against his skin, “Nathaniel...”
The word sizzles along his nerves and Taylor groans hoarsely, his own rhythm faltering as he sees her teasing herself. He hauls her close, rocks his hips harder, faster and Alicia meets him thrust for thrust, their entwined fingers rubbing against her slick flesh. They are lost in a haze of need, desire and love, surrendering to each other and those feelings they've hidden for so long. Her body goes taut as she feels the first sparks of her climax and he's there with her, his own orgasm licking at the small of his back.
His hand slides away from her hair, down to her neck, just a little pressure on the still-tender bite mark, and he has barely time to turn her head up to his to swallow her scream with his mouth as her release tears through her, icy-hot bursts of almost painful pleasure. It triggers his own and then she's doing the same to him, keeping him silent with her kiss if his low growl is any indication.
When reality returns, it finds Taylor sprawled out in the chair, Alicia sitting sideways on his lap, her head resting on his shoulder and his fingers drawing random patterns on her skin underneath her tank. For the first time in years they are at peace, content, and simply enjoy being with each other, not as a commander and subordinate, but as man and woman. As lovers. Unconsciously they match their breathing, exhaustion starting to sneak up on them but then his caress tickles her unexpectedly and she twitches, causing her wound to ache, and she sucks in her breath sharply.
He stills immediately, not daring to move another muscle, not wanting to cause her any further pain. “Are you alright?”
“Just a bit sore. Nothing to worry about,” she assures him but she should have know that when it comes to her, he's well aware of her downplaying injuries.
“I didn't hurt you, did I? Damn, Wash, you should have-” Placing a finger against his lips, effectively cutting him off, she lifts her head to watch him with a small but clearly satisfied smirk on her lips. “I barely feel my wound. Sore are other parts of me. The very good kind of sore.”
His gaze darkens and he groans, his mind torn between being turned on and concerned but in the end it is worry that wins. Nudging her, he helps her to stand and gently raises the tank to inspect her injury with a critical eye, his touch light as he brushes along the bandage.
“Let's get you to Doc Shannon to check it out. Just in case.” When he looks up at her and watches her with such an intense emotion in his eyes no other man ever has, Alicia knows that there is nothing she wouldn't do for this man, even if it means to subject herself to more probing and prodding. She weaves her fingers through his, smiling softly, and tugs him into a standing position. “Okay.”
Taylor studies her for a moment, searches her face and then he seems to find what he's been looking for because he pulls her close to his body, slides his arm around her, his hand carefully settling on her waist and he smooths a thumb over her skin before slipping it beneath her waistband. Bending his head, his lips graze her temple as he whispers quietly, “I love you, Wash.”
When she kisses him this time, it is slow but still thorough. They are in this together, from the beginning to the end (and probably beyond), and now that he has finally taken the leap, she is no longer scared to follow him.
“I love you too, Nathaniel.”
- END -
Character/Pairing: Nathaniel Taylor/Alicia Washington
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4112
Genre: Romance/Angst/Drama
Summary: Wash had a bad day (Sixers) and her night doesn't look better (paperwork) but then Taylor, who is supposed to be OTG, shows up but something must have happened to him because he's definitely not acting like usually. (mid-season one)
Author's Note: I started this when 'The Runaway' aired and then it got kinda lost but last week, it reappeared. Our awesome BAMFs being tough and angsty with a smidge of hotness. I think. :D
Archives: FF.Net | AO3 | Writing LJ
Sitting at the long table in the main office of the command building, surrounded by at least a few dozens plexpads and the night lamps as her only light source, Alicia does what is still called paperwork - despite all the bits and bytes. It is tedious and the exact opposite of exiting but it has to be done and the sooner she is finished, the sooner she can go home. With a sigh she sets down Sergeant Johnson's latest request, picks up the next and immediately groans as she sees it's from Dr. Braxton (that man is as annoying as a Nyko), her mouth twisting into a scowl.
“Damn,” she winces, carefully touching her fingertips to her lips and when they come away with blood, she sighs. The cut has opened up again.
Somehow word had gotten out that Taylor and Shannon were on one of their fishing trips while she and Reynolds went to check out a disruption at the power station near the valley. And had run right into a trap set by Carter.
Alicia places the pad next to the others and thoughtfully stares at her own blood, rubbing it between her fingers. She had been lucky. Damn lucky. The fight, while quick and dirty, could have ended badly for her if it hadn't been for Reynolds, who pulled one of Shannon's not-so-legal cop moves and prevented the knife from entering her body. Instead it just graced her side and left her with a nasty but non-fatal scratch.
Her mind begins to drift to a what-if scenario but she cuts that line of thought almost immediately. It didn't happen and there is no reason to dwell on it. Although, once the Commander is back she will have to address the recent changes in the Sixers' attacks. They've become more daring, their intentions bordering on deadly if today's encounter is any indication.
Blowing a strand of hair out of her face (she lost another one of her hair ties to those bastards in the fight), she turns back to the pads but a rustle outside stops her mid-movement and her left hand instinctively goes to the knife at her side, all her senses reaching out but coming up with nothing. ”Must be the shift change,” she concludes, glancing at the clock on the wall. Nearly midnight and there are still more than half of the pads left. If she weren't such a perfect soldier, she would let her head hit the table surface repeatedly. Smirking at the ridiculous image, she decides that it's time to head home because in this state she won't get any work done.
Shuffling the pads into two piles, the small one she's finished with, the bigger one she's going to tackle tomorrow, Alicia stands up and prepares to leave.
Suddenly, the tiny hairs on her nape raise and she knows she is no longer alone but before she has the chance to face the person behind her, a heavy weight crashes into her and pins her to the edge of the table. A warm but firm hand curves around her hip and a strong arm locks across her chest, dragging her back into a hard chest. For a split second she freezes, then starts to struggle, tries to reach for her knife again, but is stopped halfway and finds her hand engulfed by a much larger one.
“Easy there, Wash. It's me,” her attacker whispers hoarsely, face hidden in her long hair, his hand squeezing hers in an almost painful grip and she ceases her attempt to free herself, going completely still.
Taylor.
But something is...wrong with him.
Only twice before she heard this undertone in his voice, a hint of darkness to it, of despair and grief, paired with need and something else she can't identify. The first time when he found her, pierced by bullets and chocking on her own blood, lying in front of the compound deep in Somali territory, where she had tried to stop the enemy from taking his wife and son. And failed. When Taylor told her he would make them pay, he sounded just as desperate, his fingers trembling as he caressed her bruised cheek.
Then weeks later, on a gray and cold winter day as he buried his wife in New Texas. Alicia shouldn't have been there, should have been at the hospital, recovering, but she just couldn't let him do it alone. The long look he gave her when she arrived at the cemetery had been filled with so many emotions, it had nearly overwhelmed her. That hadn't been the powerful and tough man she had known since her days as a recruit. Hearing him say his final goodbye to his wife in the same broken voice from her dreams (nightmares), tore her apart all over again and she had never felt more helpless than she did back then.
They never spoke about it, not once, and until tonight she never saw that side of him again. Whatever happened to him, wherever his mind is right now, she has to get him back from that horrible place.
“Com-”
“Shhh, Wash,” he cuts her off, his body pressing closer until there's no inch left between them. It certainly does nothing to reassure her and her entire body tenses but before she has the chance to act, his hand releases hers and slides beneath the hem of her black tank.
The sensation of his calloused fingers, curling against her soft skin, followed by the rough textures of his gloves, hits her like a sonic blast and she jerks, her eyes going wide as all her nerve endings come alive with burning, white heat, rushing through her, settling low in her belly. Tightening his arms around her in response to her reaction, Taylor brings his mouth next to her ear, his hot breath ghosting over her skin and she fights a shiver.
“Bastard said, he got you at last.” He splays his left hand low on her stomach, in an almost possessive manner, and his thumb comes to a rest just underneath her bandaged wound. Alicia tries to stay focused but despite all her military training, it's a losing battle, her treacherous body overruling her mind, and for the first time in a long while the quiet moan escaping her has got nothing to do with pain.
“Had your hair tie wrapped around his knife like a damn trophy,” he growls and her heart rate increases, blood thundering through her veins. “I thought you were dead, Wash. Dead.” The last word rips through her like that knife earlier did, and she finally understands what this all is about. She wants to tell him it's nothing to worry about, just a scratch, that she is okay, alive, but instead her breath hitches as he digs his fingers into her skin, grazing the wound, blurring the line between pleasure and pain.
It takes her to her tiptoes, and she arches into him sharply, her head falling back against his shoulder. Blazing arousal wars with cold military discipline inside her, and for a moment there's a flicker of doubt that it's not the same for him as it is for her but then she becomes aware of his harsh, erratic breathing near her cheek and it sends another rush of desire through her when she realizes Taylor is just as affected as she is.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows she should put a stop to this before they irrevocably cross the line they've drawn so many years ago. There have been moments when they came close, when the usual concern of a friend for another, of a commander for his subordinate and vice versa, went further than that and almost turned into something more. Especially in recent months.
It's not too late. Not yet. All she has to do is dislodge his hold on her and put some distance between them to get back on neutral ground but something holds her back. Maybe it's the years of suppressing her far from platonic feelings for her commanding officer finally taking its toll on her, maybe it is her heart telling her that she waited long enough for her second chance, maybe it's the certainty stemming from his actions that his own feelings for her run deeper than just friendship, maybe it is the reality of how close she came to die today and never be able to tell him how much he means to her, maybe it's all of that, because Alicia decides to leave the soldier in her behind and let the woman take the reins.
Leaning back against him, she surrenders to him in every sense of the word, her body going pliant as she melts back into his arms. It's not something she would do for any man, only for Taylor she is willingly to give up control. She trusts him with her life, unconditionally, and now she is offering him her heart as well. Turning her head, her cheek brushes against his chin, her eyes fluttering as his bristles scratch against her skin, and his name, his given name, is barely more than a sigh on her lips.
“Nathaniel...”
It's enough to spur him into action and his hands move down to her waist, spinning her around until they're pressed flush against each other, chest to chest, hips to hips, the edge of the table digging into the back of her thighs.
In the dim light he looks exactly like she expected, his appearance matching his voice. His trademark gun holster and jacket are both missing, his clothes are torn and dirty, and he's clenching his jaw but it's his eyes that tell her he's been through hell. Usually a bright gray, almost silver sometimes, his eyes are now overcast with a cold fire that promises endless torture and pain but underneath it, there are shades of anguish and sorrow. His gaze darkens even further when they land on her split lip and she gives into the urge to touch him, placing her hands on his chest. She feels him shudder, his eyes closing for a moment before he lifts them back to her own.
“I'm okay,” she whispers softly and that's all it takes to crack his stony facade. “It nearly drove me insane...” Taylor reaches up, his fingertips lightly grazing her skin as he follows the contour of her face, brushing along her jawbone until his thumb comes to rest close to the bruise Carter gave her. “The very thought of losing you, of you dying again because of me, it- I can't-” His voice breaks and with it her heart. Alicia slips one hand up, over his shoulder to the back of his head, and gently grasps his nape to pull him down to her, touching her forehead to his. “It's not your fault.”
“Yes, it is.” Letting out a ragged breath, he tightens the hold on her waist and slides his other hand into her hair, anchoring her to him. “Terra Nova was supposed to be our second chance. Here, by my side, with me, I wanted you to be finally safe, far away from war and bloodshed.” His fingers find their way beneath her tank once more, tracing the bandage, carefully this time, but it still causes her to shiver and she curls her hand in the edge of his shirt involuntarily. “I failed you and I can never forgive myself for that. You...” He draws her head back a fraction, his mouth hovering over hers and his lips brush hers with every one of his next words. “You are the one thing that makes my life worth living, Wash. I-”
love you is lost between them as Alicia presses her lips to his in a bruising kiss, stealing the words and his breath with its force. Taylor groans, his fingers flexing against her bandaged side but the sudden flash of pain from her wound does nothing to stop her. Instead her body arches into his touch without her permission, and the throbbing turns into that of a different sort again, arousal and desire returning with vigor, pulsing low in her belly. Moaning into his mouth, she digs her nails into his skin and he roughly thrusts against her in response, his own body tense with need and passion.
He does it again, more insistent, and she tears out of the kiss, gasping his name in a tone he has never heard from her before, husky, breathless, and his eyes are blazing with heated possession as he takes in her glazed eyes and swollen lips. Guiding her head back, he lowers his own and drags his lips down the arch of her throat, his tongue darting out as reaches the place where her throat meets her shoulder.
“Wash,” he breathes against her skin and Alicia whimpers at the dark longing in his voice. It turns into a stifled cry as Taylor pulls away the strap of her tank, teeth grazing her shoulder before he bites down. There's going to be a bruise, his mark, in plain sight for everyone to see but neither of them finds it in them to care. If anything, the display of pure dominance and ownership only fuels the fire racing through her veins and she brings his mouth back to hers, nipping at his bottom lip before soothing it with her tongue.
(For them, pleasure and pain always comes hand in hand. Ripped flesh stitched up by soft and healing hands, sitting side by side as they mourn the loss of another of their 'kids' over a bottle of scotch, sensing the other's presence close by but never close enough to touch.)
The kiss deepens gradually and gains in heat with every passing second but it is not enough, she wants more, needs more, and she runs her hands down his chest to his belt, opening it with a flick of her wrist, then the button before she drags down the zipper, snaking one hand inside his trousers. Now it is him who chokes on air, gritting his teeth as her hot fingers wrap around him, his hold on her loosening and she uses his momentarily distraction to flip their positions, smirking at his grunt of surprise.
Taylor watches from under hooded eyes, a dangerous glint in them, as she gracefully drops to her knees and his hand currently not tangled in her tresses falls down to the table. It curls around its edge in a tight grip as she takes him in her mouth and he hisses low, his hips bucking forward of their own accord.
His reaction makes her desire flare up and she slides him further down her throat, humming as she does so, and his fingers in her hair clench and release as he fights for control. When she catches his gaze, dark and intense, she knows the power she holds over him right now had no one else before her - not even his wife.
Alicia brings him close to the edge fast, drives him out of his mind with every glide of her lips, with every hint of teeth, and when she gets her tongue under the ridge, he growls low, his eyes going feral, and he yanks her up by her shoulder, covering her mouth with his again. He runs his hands over her body, grazes the underside of her breasts before he cups them to rub the pads of his thumbs over her nipples and her eyes close as she jerks at the bolt of pleasure, her own hands fisting into the sleeves of his shirt and their kiss becomes more raw, more demanding
He shifts them around until their positions are reversed, pinning her between the table and his body again, giving her bottom lip a nip before he pulls back. “Turn around, Lieutenant,” Taylor murmurs quietly against her lips as his hands settle on her hips, squeezing them gently, and Alicia doesn't know if it's his raspy voice or his use of her rank that sends a thrill through her.
As soon as her back his pressed against his chest, he slips his right hand to her pants to unfasten them, taking his time, and he smiles as he feels her muscles quiver. When the back of his warm fingers and the cool material of his gloves brush against her delicate skin, her pulse starts to quicken and her breath speeds up.
Nudging her pants down, Taylor trails his hand down to her wetness and slides a finger against the bundle of nerves, finding her hot and slick. Alicia whimpers, leaning back into him as he pulls away too quickly, and her lips feel like fire against the stubble of his jaw as she turns her head, her tongue peeking out to taste him.
Placing a hand between her shoulder blades, her urges her to bend over, and she follows his silent command until she's supporting her weight on her forearms atop the table. She moans as his hands roam down her back, along her sides, teasing her with feather-light touches, drawing out her pleasure until she can't take it anymore.
“Please,” she pleads throatily, pressing back into him, and when Taylor chuckles, she looks over her shoulder at him, about to tell him to stop torturing her but that's what he's been waiting for. Before Alicia can get any word out, he grips her waist and thrusts forward, burying himself inside her, hitting all her right spots, and she suddenly tumbles over the edge with a chocked cry, her mind shattering into a thousand pieces.
She drops her forehead to the cool table's surface, eyes falling shut, her whole body trembling as she gasps for air, trying to get used to the feel of him. He isn't faring much better, panting harshly, fingers digging into her skin as he forces his body to stay still, shocked and yet not by her reaction to him. There are no words to describe how incredible it feels, him stretching her, almost splitting in half, her squeezing him tightly, shaking with tiny aftershocks.
“Alicia...” The way Taylor says her name, almost growls it, sends a ripple of desire through her and it is enough to snap his control. Leaning over her, bracing a hand beside her head, he pushes himself even deeper before he slowly withdraws only to thrust back into her hard and her eyes fly open, her back arching.
And so he does it again. And again.
His movements aren't slow, they border on the edge of pain, sharp and fierce, and Alicia welcomes it, tightens her muscles around him every time he pushes into her. Heat curls in her stomach again, spreading through her in waves, and she surrenders to them. There will be a time for slow and tender later.
Shivering as his hot breath hits the exposed skin of her neck and shoulders, she tilts her head to press her mouth against his arm, muffling her whimpers and he threads his fingers through her hair to pull her up, back to his chest. He wants to hear her, wants to hear the sound of her falling apart in his arms, coming undone because of him. Some primal instinct, buried underneath his stoic Commander exterior, found its way to the surface tonight and for once he's not going to restrain it.
Alicia knows exactly what he's doing, the mark on her shoulder just the first sign, and she would be lying if she said she wasn't thrilled by it. And yet she doesn't give in easily and, ignoring the slight twinge from the cut, she bites her bottom lip to hold back her moans as the new angle drives him in deeper. Taylor smirks, her openly defying him, fighting the inevitable, was something he should have expected, and he takes her up on the challenge.
Closing his hand around hers, he slides them down to where they are joined, linked fingers stroking lightly at first but then he moves them in circles of increasing pressure until she loses her rhythm, no longer able to keep silent, her soft cries filling the air around them.
“Damn...you...” It comes out as a breathless moan but the sensation of his touch, inside her and outside, scatters that thought almost immediately and she doesn't have to see his face to know he's wearing a look of smug satisfaction. But she is not above fighting dirty and so she turns her head, her temple brushing his cheek, her lips curving into a wicked smile as her free hand comes up to cup her breast, pinching the nipple, and then she breathes his name against his skin, “Nathaniel...”
The word sizzles along his nerves and Taylor groans hoarsely, his own rhythm faltering as he sees her teasing herself. He hauls her close, rocks his hips harder, faster and Alicia meets him thrust for thrust, their entwined fingers rubbing against her slick flesh. They are lost in a haze of need, desire and love, surrendering to each other and those feelings they've hidden for so long. Her body goes taut as she feels the first sparks of her climax and he's there with her, his own orgasm licking at the small of his back.
His hand slides away from her hair, down to her neck, just a little pressure on the still-tender bite mark, and he has barely time to turn her head up to his to swallow her scream with his mouth as her release tears through her, icy-hot bursts of almost painful pleasure. It triggers his own and then she's doing the same to him, keeping him silent with her kiss if his low growl is any indication.
When reality returns, it finds Taylor sprawled out in the chair, Alicia sitting sideways on his lap, her head resting on his shoulder and his fingers drawing random patterns on her skin underneath her tank. For the first time in years they are at peace, content, and simply enjoy being with each other, not as a commander and subordinate, but as man and woman. As lovers. Unconsciously they match their breathing, exhaustion starting to sneak up on them but then his caress tickles her unexpectedly and she twitches, causing her wound to ache, and she sucks in her breath sharply.
He stills immediately, not daring to move another muscle, not wanting to cause her any further pain. “Are you alright?”
“Just a bit sore. Nothing to worry about,” she assures him but she should have know that when it comes to her, he's well aware of her downplaying injuries.
“I didn't hurt you, did I? Damn, Wash, you should have-” Placing a finger against his lips, effectively cutting him off, she lifts her head to watch him with a small but clearly satisfied smirk on her lips. “I barely feel my wound. Sore are other parts of me. The very good kind of sore.”
His gaze darkens and he groans, his mind torn between being turned on and concerned but in the end it is worry that wins. Nudging her, he helps her to stand and gently raises the tank to inspect her injury with a critical eye, his touch light as he brushes along the bandage.
“Let's get you to Doc Shannon to check it out. Just in case.” When he looks up at her and watches her with such an intense emotion in his eyes no other man ever has, Alicia knows that there is nothing she wouldn't do for this man, even if it means to subject herself to more probing and prodding. She weaves her fingers through his, smiling softly, and tugs him into a standing position. “Okay.”
Taylor studies her for a moment, searches her face and then he seems to find what he's been looking for because he pulls her close to his body, slides his arm around her, his hand carefully settling on her waist and he smooths a thumb over her skin before slipping it beneath her waistband. Bending his head, his lips graze her temple as he whispers quietly, “I love you, Wash.”
When she kisses him this time, it is slow but still thorough. They are in this together, from the beginning to the end (and probably beyond), and now that he has finally taken the leap, she is no longer scared to follow him.
“I love you too, Nathaniel.”
- END -