Measure of Thy Desire [Criminal Minds, Derek Morgan/Penelope Garcia, NC-17]
Title: Measure of Thy Desire
Author/Artist: sandersyager
Rating: NC-17/Explicit
Warnings: Vague spoilers for episodes "Lucky" and "Penelope" (3.08 & 3.09). Very mild kink.
Word count: 1721
Summary: They did everything they could, and tomorrow they'll do it all over again. Tonight, they'll be together. [2/5-Criminal Minds, Morgan/Garcia: sleepy/tired sex - wishing to be the friction in your jeans]
Author's Note: Test reads by blueraccoon & kelly_girl, but all mistakes are mine.
An Arabian proverb says, "Dwell not upon thy weariness, thy strength shall be according to the measure of thy desire."
Garcia's waiting at the door, barely home herself, and she just holds her arms out to him. Morgan buries his face in the crook of her neck and corrects his timeline. She's been home at least long enough to shower, if not take a long bath; her hair's still damp but not wet and her skin smells like the lavender soaps she uses when it's been a bad day. It's the kind of small detail he needs right now, and he holds onto her for a long moment, just breathing her in.
"Come to bed," she says after a few minutes, taking his hands as she steps back. "Just... come to bed."
Her hands seem so small inside his and he knows it's just a trick his mind is playing. His palm is broader than hers, she has the longer fingers, and they wear the same ring size. Rationally, he knows these things. "Rational isn't tiny hands nailed to a cross."
Garcia's shudder lets him know he's spoken out loud and he squeezes her fingers, one part apology and one part understanding. "It's never rational," she whispers, meeting his eyes. "The things we see, they're never rational. They're horrible and ugly and fucked up, but they're never rational."
There's nothing he can say to that, nothing he can add, so he does the next best thing and leads her to the bedroom, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Garcia moves to stand between his knees, hands resting on his shoulders and rubbing gently. His own hands go to the curves of her hips, tracing idle patterns over the soft fabric of her nightgown.
"You didn't wear anything like this the first time I slept over," he says, mostly just to say something, and it's out before he realizes how stupid it sounds.
"Yeah, well, it wasn't like I felt all that sexy after taking a bullet," Garcia says, giving him one of those quirked half-smiles she saves for talking about the shooting.
"You're always sexy to me," Morgan says, following the seam down past the top of her thigh and along the side slit in the material to bare skin. "Don't think I could have been so... focused if I'd seen you like this before." No, and it's one of the nightmares he still has, not paying enough attention and having to watch that bastard... He takes a breath and leans his head against her arm, feeling the faint press of her pulse against his skin.
"Baby, it's been a long day," she says quietly, palm warm against his cheek and her eyes searching his. "You did good work out there and I was amazing here, but we can't change what happened. We did everything we could, and tomorrow we'll do it all again."
He nods, turning to press a kiss against her fingers. "I know," he says. "You never think about doing anything else, do you?"
"All the time, but I'm not ready to give up, even after all of this," Garcia says. "It all happens for a reason and we'll know when it's time to move on. Just like we both know it's time to let go of the case for a few hours."
"Yeah," he agrees, looking up at her as he reaches up to cup her face. She meets him half-way, leaning her forehead against his for a moment before kissing him, slow and sweet.
"I need... I've been thinking about this all day," she whispers, lips against his cheek. "You coming home safe and just being together." She runs her hands along the side of his neck and he shivers a little when her fingers brush just behind his jaw.
"Me, too, baby," Morgan murmurs, mirroring her motion and sliding his hands into her hair. When they kiss this time, it builds, turning from sweetly gentle to aggressive with tongue and teeth as Garcia moves to lie on the bed, pulling Morgan with her. For all their banter, this is the place they don't need to talk, and Morgan welcomes the silence in his head and in the room, the only sounds being the ones they share.
Any other time, it'd be feather light kisses and seduction, teasing and candles and making love, Garcia laughing at his choice of music but slow dancing in the living room with him anyway. In other words, there'd be foreplay instead of Garcia's hands shoving his shirt up, short nails raking over his skin in sharp little points, and his fingers stroking her nipples until they strain against the fabric covering them.
Days like this, they don't kid themselves, and Morgan needs hard and fast and rough and Garcia won't let him give her anything else. He wonders, not for the first time, what the team would make of it if they had any idea. He can almost hear Reid or Hotch or Elle, if she was still around, rationalizing it, "The need to affirm life with sex goes back to ancient cultures, the natural drive to procreate after witnessing so much death."
He'd probably say the same thing if Garcia wore anything beneath the nightgown and he wasn't sliding his fingers between her legs. She's hot, slick, soft beneath his hand, shaved bare and that's new. "When?" he asks, voice gone just a little raspy.
"This--oh--this morning," she says with a whimper and a roll of her hips as he brushes his thumb across her clit. "Derek, don't tease me."
"What is it you want, Penelope?" he asks, and that's how it goes. Last names until there's a clear break from the day, until his fingers ease inside her or until she has hers curled around his dick, then it's Derek and Penelope because anything else would just be weird.
"You. I want you, fucking me." Garcia teases and Penelope has a filthy mouth. "I want your damned jeans and your shirt to go away and I want you to fuck me." She's also demanding, and he grins with no intent to give in just yet, even if his jeans are feeling a little too tight, just like her cunt around his fingers. He twists them, reaching for her sweet spot, and her next words are cut off by a keening moan.
"Yeah, baby, I think that's what you need," he murmurs, sliding his mouth over the arch of her neck and shifting to his knees to continue a path downward. He catches her nipple between his teeth, dampening the fabric with his tongue, his fingers working in a steady rhythm against her G-spot, and her hands scrabble for purchase against his shoulders as she arches up from the bed.
He's decidedly hard by the time he kneels between her thighs, and he flicks open the button fly of his jeans to relieve the pressure. Morgan doesn't touch himself, that's for her, but it's damned tempting as he parts her labia, licking her from where his fingers enter her to her swollen little clit. He watches her hands fist in the sheets, feels her thighs tightening against his shoulders and he knows she's close. A delicate graze of his teeth and she explodes, clenching around his fingers and rocking against his mouth as she cries out.
It's one of the most beautiful things he's seen, and certainly the most beautiful one in his day.
A patient man would let her come down, soothe her through the aftershocks with gentle fingers deep inside her, but Morgan's control is slipping and it's all he can do to lean up and fumble in the nightstand for a condom. Besides, she knows how to take care of herself, and his cock twitches at the sight of her hand taking over where he left off.
He takes the time to get rid of his shirt but the jeans stay on and he gives himself a firm squeeze just to keep from coming with her as she whimpers and shudders again. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," he murmurs, crawling over her and seeking her mouth. She wraps one leg around his hips, pulling him closer and he can feel her hot and pulsing as he thrusts against her.
"Please, Derek," she says, whispering against his lips. He reaches down to line himself up and presses slowly inside, burying his face against her shoulder and groaning at the way she feels around him. He stops when he's balls-deep inside her, no longer able to separate their gasping breaths, and he has to move.
"Feels so fucking good," he says softly, pulling nearly all the way out before pushing deep again. Her nails sink into his shoulders again, leaving hot lines behind this time, and she rocks her hips, twisting against him each time he sinks into her. All of it feels too good and he can't hold on, his thrusts coming faster and harder until they're slamming into each other, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the room.
"Come for me, oh, god, Derek, come for me," Garcia pleads, whispering it over and over as she moves with him, tightening around him. She holds him close, lifting her head to kiss him, mouths mashing together just this side of painful and he feels the familiar coiling begin in his belly. The press of her teeth at the join of shoulder and neck is what pushes him over the edge and his rhythm stutters and freezes as his orgasm rips through his body.
When he can move, breathe, think, again, Morgan pulls out carefully and gets up to toss the used condom into the trash, shedding his jeans on his way back to the bed. Garcia gives him a sleepy smile, dragging the blankets up to curl into them. He takes his place beside her, smoothing damp hair back from her forehead and kissing her lightly.
"Think you'll sleep?" she asks, fingers stroking his arm, tracing the lines of his tattoo.
"Yeah," he whispers back and she nods, turning her head to yawn against his shoulder.
"We'll do it all again tomorrow, and the day after, and the one after that," she says softly. "And then you'll come back here, and we'll... we'll be okay, sugar."
He murmurs agreement, stealing one last kiss, lazy and sweet, before settling in to sleep.
Author/Artist: sandersyager
Rating: NC-17/Explicit
Warnings: Vague spoilers for episodes "Lucky" and "Penelope" (3.08 & 3.09). Very mild kink.
Word count: 1721
Summary: They did everything they could, and tomorrow they'll do it all over again. Tonight, they'll be together. [2/5-Criminal Minds, Morgan/Garcia: sleepy/tired sex - wishing to be the friction in your jeans]
Author's Note: Test reads by blueraccoon & kelly_girl, but all mistakes are mine.
An Arabian proverb says, "Dwell not upon thy weariness, thy strength shall be according to the measure of thy desire."
Garcia's waiting at the door, barely home herself, and she just holds her arms out to him. Morgan buries his face in the crook of her neck and corrects his timeline. She's been home at least long enough to shower, if not take a long bath; her hair's still damp but not wet and her skin smells like the lavender soaps she uses when it's been a bad day. It's the kind of small detail he needs right now, and he holds onto her for a long moment, just breathing her in.
"Come to bed," she says after a few minutes, taking his hands as she steps back. "Just... come to bed."
Her hands seem so small inside his and he knows it's just a trick his mind is playing. His palm is broader than hers, she has the longer fingers, and they wear the same ring size. Rationally, he knows these things. "Rational isn't tiny hands nailed to a cross."
Garcia's shudder lets him know he's spoken out loud and he squeezes her fingers, one part apology and one part understanding. "It's never rational," she whispers, meeting his eyes. "The things we see, they're never rational. They're horrible and ugly and fucked up, but they're never rational."
There's nothing he can say to that, nothing he can add, so he does the next best thing and leads her to the bedroom, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Garcia moves to stand between his knees, hands resting on his shoulders and rubbing gently. His own hands go to the curves of her hips, tracing idle patterns over the soft fabric of her nightgown.
"You didn't wear anything like this the first time I slept over," he says, mostly just to say something, and it's out before he realizes how stupid it sounds.
"Yeah, well, it wasn't like I felt all that sexy after taking a bullet," Garcia says, giving him one of those quirked half-smiles she saves for talking about the shooting.
"You're always sexy to me," Morgan says, following the seam down past the top of her thigh and along the side slit in the material to bare skin. "Don't think I could have been so... focused if I'd seen you like this before." No, and it's one of the nightmares he still has, not paying enough attention and having to watch that bastard... He takes a breath and leans his head against her arm, feeling the faint press of her pulse against his skin.
"Baby, it's been a long day," she says quietly, palm warm against his cheek and her eyes searching his. "You did good work out there and I was amazing here, but we can't change what happened. We did everything we could, and tomorrow we'll do it all again."
He nods, turning to press a kiss against her fingers. "I know," he says. "You never think about doing anything else, do you?"
"All the time, but I'm not ready to give up, even after all of this," Garcia says. "It all happens for a reason and we'll know when it's time to move on. Just like we both know it's time to let go of the case for a few hours."
"Yeah," he agrees, looking up at her as he reaches up to cup her face. She meets him half-way, leaning her forehead against his for a moment before kissing him, slow and sweet.
"I need... I've been thinking about this all day," she whispers, lips against his cheek. "You coming home safe and just being together." She runs her hands along the side of his neck and he shivers a little when her fingers brush just behind his jaw.
"Me, too, baby," Morgan murmurs, mirroring her motion and sliding his hands into her hair. When they kiss this time, it builds, turning from sweetly gentle to aggressive with tongue and teeth as Garcia moves to lie on the bed, pulling Morgan with her. For all their banter, this is the place they don't need to talk, and Morgan welcomes the silence in his head and in the room, the only sounds being the ones they share.
Any other time, it'd be feather light kisses and seduction, teasing and candles and making love, Garcia laughing at his choice of music but slow dancing in the living room with him anyway. In other words, there'd be foreplay instead of Garcia's hands shoving his shirt up, short nails raking over his skin in sharp little points, and his fingers stroking her nipples until they strain against the fabric covering them.
Days like this, they don't kid themselves, and Morgan needs hard and fast and rough and Garcia won't let him give her anything else. He wonders, not for the first time, what the team would make of it if they had any idea. He can almost hear Reid or Hotch or Elle, if she was still around, rationalizing it, "The need to affirm life with sex goes back to ancient cultures, the natural drive to procreate after witnessing so much death."
He'd probably say the same thing if Garcia wore anything beneath the nightgown and he wasn't sliding his fingers between her legs. She's hot, slick, soft beneath his hand, shaved bare and that's new. "When?" he asks, voice gone just a little raspy.
"This--oh--this morning," she says with a whimper and a roll of her hips as he brushes his thumb across her clit. "Derek, don't tease me."
"What is it you want, Penelope?" he asks, and that's how it goes. Last names until there's a clear break from the day, until his fingers ease inside her or until she has hers curled around his dick, then it's Derek and Penelope because anything else would just be weird.
"You. I want you, fucking me." Garcia teases and Penelope has a filthy mouth. "I want your damned jeans and your shirt to go away and I want you to fuck me." She's also demanding, and he grins with no intent to give in just yet, even if his jeans are feeling a little too tight, just like her cunt around his fingers. He twists them, reaching for her sweet spot, and her next words are cut off by a keening moan.
"Yeah, baby, I think that's what you need," he murmurs, sliding his mouth over the arch of her neck and shifting to his knees to continue a path downward. He catches her nipple between his teeth, dampening the fabric with his tongue, his fingers working in a steady rhythm against her G-spot, and her hands scrabble for purchase against his shoulders as she arches up from the bed.
He's decidedly hard by the time he kneels between her thighs, and he flicks open the button fly of his jeans to relieve the pressure. Morgan doesn't touch himself, that's for her, but it's damned tempting as he parts her labia, licking her from where his fingers enter her to her swollen little clit. He watches her hands fist in the sheets, feels her thighs tightening against his shoulders and he knows she's close. A delicate graze of his teeth and she explodes, clenching around his fingers and rocking against his mouth as she cries out.
It's one of the most beautiful things he's seen, and certainly the most beautiful one in his day.
A patient man would let her come down, soothe her through the aftershocks with gentle fingers deep inside her, but Morgan's control is slipping and it's all he can do to lean up and fumble in the nightstand for a condom. Besides, she knows how to take care of herself, and his cock twitches at the sight of her hand taking over where he left off.
He takes the time to get rid of his shirt but the jeans stay on and he gives himself a firm squeeze just to keep from coming with her as she whimpers and shudders again. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," he murmurs, crawling over her and seeking her mouth. She wraps one leg around his hips, pulling him closer and he can feel her hot and pulsing as he thrusts against her.
"Please, Derek," she says, whispering against his lips. He reaches down to line himself up and presses slowly inside, burying his face against her shoulder and groaning at the way she feels around him. He stops when he's balls-deep inside her, no longer able to separate their gasping breaths, and he has to move.
"Feels so fucking good," he says softly, pulling nearly all the way out before pushing deep again. Her nails sink into his shoulders again, leaving hot lines behind this time, and she rocks her hips, twisting against him each time he sinks into her. All of it feels too good and he can't hold on, his thrusts coming faster and harder until they're slamming into each other, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the room.
"Come for me, oh, god, Derek, come for me," Garcia pleads, whispering it over and over as she moves with him, tightening around him. She holds him close, lifting her head to kiss him, mouths mashing together just this side of painful and he feels the familiar coiling begin in his belly. The press of her teeth at the join of shoulder and neck is what pushes him over the edge and his rhythm stutters and freezes as his orgasm rips through his body.
When he can move, breathe, think, again, Morgan pulls out carefully and gets up to toss the used condom into the trash, shedding his jeans on his way back to the bed. Garcia gives him a sleepy smile, dragging the blankets up to curl into them. He takes his place beside her, smoothing damp hair back from her forehead and kissing her lightly.
"Think you'll sleep?" she asks, fingers stroking his arm, tracing the lines of his tattoo.
"Yeah," he whispers back and she nods, turning her head to yawn against his shoulder.
"We'll do it all again tomorrow, and the day after, and the one after that," she says softly. "And then you'll come back here, and we'll... we'll be okay, sugar."
He murmurs agreement, stealing one last kiss, lazy and sweet, before settling in to sleep.