fic: close to the telling (Rookie Blue, Andy/Sam)
Title: close to the telling
Authors: threeguesses and lowriseflare
Fandom/ Pairing: Rookie Blue, Andy/Sam
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: 7400+
Summary: The one where they sneak around.
A/N: Part One of the Sam and Andy Get Back Together and Do Filthy Stuff Trilogy!
The morning after Andy and Sam get back together, Nick rings her bell for a 7:30 gym date.
"Shit," Andy hisses, scrambling up out of bed stark naked. The sun is streaming in through her window, cheerful and merciless; she totally forgot to set her alarm last night, what with everything that-- "Shit."
"Tell me that's coffee delivery," Sam slurs into the pillow, blinking awake. She forgot how much she likes how he looks in the morning, all bunched freckly shoulders and the creases at the corners of his dark dark eyes. At the second ring, longer this time: "McNally."
"It's Collins," Andy tells him, looking desperately around for last night's bra. Then, and she honestly could not say why this is her first and most animal instinct: "You need to hide."
Sam raises his eyebrows, obviously less than impressed with her gut response. "Hide?" He rolls all the way over onto his back, no clothes anywhere on him either. Andy has, uh. Missed the front-view too. "What are you, sixteen?"
But now that she's said it, it feels hugely important that that's what actually takes place. "No, listen." She hooks the bra on backwards and spins it around, starts looking for her underwear. "We just worked this out. I don't want to mess it up by telling people."
"Mess it up by telling people?" Apparently all Sam can do this morning is parrot her.
"Yes," Andy hisses, dragging on last night's panties. She drags them off again just as fast, going to hunt for a new pair in the dresser; it is super-possible they are still a little damp. "Now go and, like. Stand inside the closet or something."
"Okay." Sam snorts and reaches down to scratch at his stomach, the cut of muscle there a little more defined than she remembers it being. Last night it felt like learning him all over again. "I am not going to stand inside your--"
"Shh," Andy says frantically, yanking a t-shirt on over her head. There's another piece to it too, maybe, all the dirty details she told Nick about Sam while they were under and how it feels kind of weird to be like, uh, just kidding, we totally screwed each other's brains out for like three hours last night. But yeah, she should have known the closet thing probably wasn't going to fly. "Just stay here and be quiet then."
"You shh." Sam's watching her get dressed like he really appreciates the floor show, although possibly he'd rather be viewing it in reverse. "What are you supposed to do, go run? Get rid of him." He grins hard and fast, a little wolfish. "I'll work you out."
"Right." Andy tries to roll her eyes, although it's not really working for her; every time she looks at him she wants to smile a stupid amount. "You're hilarious."
(She, um. Totally uses cramps to beg off, though, like it's high school P.E. and not the same 5K she and Nick have been doing every morning since they got back. Possibly she actually is sixteen. )
She slinks back into the bedroom a little sheepishly, running headlong into Sam's shit-eating grin. "Wow, honey," he says, syrupy-sweet like he's trying out a Ward Cleaver impression. "Time of the month sure came on fast."
"Shut up," Andy mutters, shucking off her jeans and throwing them at his face. She's actually blushing a bit, though god knows why. After all the apologizing they did last night (not to mention begging; there was definitely, definitely some begging) she's pretty sure playing it cool is right out. "We just got back together," is the best she's got for him. She strips her t-shirt off and climbs back onto the bed, hoping for some cleavage-related distraction.
No go: "We did," Sam agrees, pulling at her hips. She expects him to look even more smug but instead his smile goes wide and stays there, sincere like she hardly ever sees. "Guess we have some time to make up."
Well, okay. Now Andy's just grinning like a sappy idiot. "I love you," she says, and is delighted all over again when he says it back immediately. She tried that trick out a lot last night--like, a lot--but it has in no way gotten old yet.
"So," she says conversationally, grabbing for his cock and shoving the crotch of her panties to one side. "You promised to work me out?"
Sam does. And then does again in the shower, when Andy accidentally-on-purpose soaps up between her legs for a little too long. After they're both finished towelling off, though, he throws her a bit of a curveball: "So I'll see you later then?" he asks, pulling on his Levis.
Wow. That feels way, way too familiar. "What do you mean?" Andy demands. It sounds stupidly shrill, even to her own ears.
Sam gets up in her space right away, one hand on either side of her face. "It's time for work," he says, gentle. "If you're serious about keeping this a secret, then we need to go in separate cars."
Which--oh. "Crafty," Andy says, grinning, letting him tip her face up for a kiss. He smells like toothpaste and like Sam. "What do you, like, got a bunch of UC experience or something?"
"Not just me," Sam reminds her, smiling against her mouth. ("Task force guys all said you knocked it out of the park," he told her right when she first got back, both of them at the coffee machine and him just tossing it out kind of casually. Andy had to walk away so he wouldn't see her blush.) "We could make people think whatever the hell we want them to think for as long as we want them to think it, probably."
"Not forever," Andy tells him, slipping her arms around his back. She feels weirdly sensitive though, like her ribs have busted wide and her heart's beating out in the open, like the new skin under a scab. She really, really doesn't hate the idea of them getting used to each other again before everybody knows. "Just like. Until we get the kinks worked out, or whatever."
"Show you kinks," Sam murmurs, but he's got his arms wrapped around her too now. His breath is warm against her temple. "It's fine, sweetheart. Whatever you want to do."
Andy shivers a little, snuggles closer. Closes her eyes and breathes him in. She thinks she might be the new boss in this relationship, at least for a little while. It's scary and thrilling in equal amounts.
(In the end they go in separately, don't even make eye contact.
But.
They're definitely both late.)
"You okay?" Nick asks quietly, when she slides into her seat beside him in Parade. "How's your lady parts?"
Andy snorts. "Better," she tells him quickly, and busies herself digging her notebook out of her pants pocket.
It's gang initiation season, so Best wants their street presence beefed up, extra foot patrols through the parks. Andy tries to listen as he explains what they're on the lookout for--graffiti tagging, mostly, maybe some petty theft--but it's surprisingly hard to concentrate. Happiness has got her thrumming.
"We're walking Allan Gardens," Nick informs her as the chairs start to scrape back, which--yep. Andy had one hundred percent missed Frank say that. She smiles gratefully, shoving herself to her feet.
"Great. You and me and a bunch of dandelion chains." She's glad, actually. Maybe the fresh air will clear her head. "Lead the way, Collins." Only now does she chance a look at the back of the room, Sam still propping up the wall as everyone else files past. All through Best's spiel Andy imagined she could feel his eyes on the back of her neck, warm and heavy like a caress. She's pretty sure he wasn't actually looking, UC method acting and 'we'll make them think what we want', but like. Still.
(There's a mark there from last night, right underneath the hairline. Andy had to fix her braid good and low so it was covered.)
Instead of heading for the door Nick starts nudging her in Sam's direction, no warning whatsoever. "Shaw and Swarek are our ride over," he explains apologetically, just in time to head Andy’s mini panic-attack off at the pass. "Not enough cruisers for foot patrols."
Ah. "That fine," she says breezily, watching Sam watch her approach. His face stays dead still but it feels like flirting anyway, how both of them hold the eye contact. Andy has to look away first.
"Collins. McNally." Sam salutes them each with his coffee cup, but she's pretty sure he's having trouble holding onto that neutral expression. God, Andy has no idea why they thought they could pull this off--two seconds in, and already a smile is tugging at the corners of her mouth like it's got actual hooks.
"Sir," she answers, just like brokenhearted-but-professional Andy would. It has some different connotations coming from non-brokenhearted Andy, sure, but that isn't her fault. Sam hides a grin behind his styrofoam lid.
Outside it's warm and smells like summer; Andy shivers a little at the heat, like all her nerve endings have been rubbed wide open. She bites the inside of her cheek to keep serious, trying to concentrate on something besides the memory of Sam pushing himself inside her for the first time in months and months. Still, she glances at him over the top of the cruiser before she slides in back next to Nick.
(There's a mark on his neck too, down low next to his collarbone. Andy...really does not hate knowing that it's there.)
"Don't go kicking the cage now, Rooks," Oliver says cheerfully, pulling out onto the street in the direction of the park. Andy smiles gamely and lets Nick answer for both of them, tips her face up at the window to feel the sun. Maybe if they can both get the time off they can take a trip, lie on a beach someplace for a couple of days. True, Sam wasn't thrilled with the idea when they were talking about doing it for Traci and Jerry's wedding, but. Andy bets she could probably convince him with a couple of really tiny bathing suits. Or maybe they could skip the beach altogether and go camping somewhere out East, make a fire and drink beers and look at the st--
"McNally," Shaw says, this voice like possibly it's not the first time he's said her name here. "That work okay for you?"
"Um." Andy's eyes flick over to Nick for help; he nods slightly, looking a little concerned. "Yeah, absolutely," she says quickly. "Sounds like a plan to me." She can see Sam's jaw twitching in the rearview.
"Splitting up to cover the perimeter," Nick whispers, ducking his head down close to hers so neither of the TOs can hear him. Then: "You sure you feel okay?"
Andy thanks her lucky stars she picked the one excuse that keeps on giving. "Yeah, just." She grimaces, trying to look like a brave girl in a lot of uterus pain. "Comes and goes, y'know?"
Nick nods back very seriously, shoulder brushing hers as he leans closer. "Okay. But like, if you aren't going to be comfortable on walking duty, maybe we should tell the--"
"Oy!" That's Sam tapping at the cage, turned full around in his seat and the cruiser on idle alongside Sherborne. Andy didn't even notice it slowing down. "If you two are about done." His annoyed TO expression is letter-perfect, and for a moment Andy seriously can't tell whether or not it's the real deal--he didn’t exactly love the way her and Nick got close before, is something she now knows for a fact. "Collins, this is your stop. Out."
One more worried look and Nick obeys, slinking off to man the east perimeter. Sam merges back into traffic, circling around to Jarvis so Andy can patrol the west; two cops for the Gardens seems excessive, honestly, but maybe Best has a tip. Sometimes crews come around to mess with the greenhouses.
"If you need us, we'll be at Harvey's," Oliver declares gleefully once she's on the curb. Behind his shoulder Sam widens his eyes a bit in salute, visible only to Andy. She fights down the urge to grin.
Foot patrol is nice, as it turns out. Andy walks around on the bright green grass under the trees and tries to concentrate on crime, but half of her brain is still daydreaming about that camping trip. About an hour in she startles a couple of teenagers off a park bench completely by accident, the smell of weed lingering after they dart away. Which is good enough, she guesses, sitting down herself. At least she's visible.
"Smoking up, Officer McNally?"
That scares the crap out of her, head whipping around so fast she actually hurts her neck. "Jesus, Sam," she gasps, but already a smile is forming at the sight of him, bright and automatic. It would be nice if her facial muscles could play it cool. "Aren't you guys supposed be driving up and down Sherborne?"
Sam shrugs, grinning back. "Looked all clear to me," he says. "Anyway, Ollie wasn't kidding about lunch. Told him to drop me, I'd make sure neither of you rooks had injured yourselves in the sandbox."
Andy rolls her eyes. "You did, did you." She likes that though, that he was thinking about her the same way she was thinking about him. She likes it a lot. She tips her head in the direction he came from.
"Well, Nick's probably back that way, you want to go see what he's up to."
"Tempting." Sam braces his hands on the back of the bench, one on either side of her. Looms a little. "Think I'd rather stay here."
Andy swallows. God, from the way her heart kicks up just at the proximity you'd think she'd had a lot less sex in the past twelve hours than she actually has. "Oh yeah?" she asks. When she tilts her face up to look at him they're so close they might as well be kissing. Anybody who walked by would be able to tell in a second that they're sure as shit not two buddy cops talking doughnuts. "Why's that?"
(And--okay. Possibly that's also part of the thrill of it, the idea that they could get caught any second. They may or may not have screwed around in the truck a bunch for that exact reason, first time around.)
"You tell me." Sam tips his mouth down even closer, then feints and looks over her shoulder instead. "Coast's clear, McNally," he murmurs in her ear.
Andy exhales, shivering a little. Her bench is deep in the shade. "Clear for what?" she taunts, and apparently that's enough. Sam opens his mouth against the thin skin behind her ear, one hand coming around to catch her chin. But instead of tilting it up he turns her all the way forward, so she's facing fully away from him. Andy stares unseeingly at the path in front of them as he noses down her neck.
"Keep watch, rook," Sam instructs, sucking lightly. His mouth is warm and wet.
Andy curls her fingers around the wooden slats, trying not to make any completely untoward noises. "Sa-am." He's lifted her braid out of the way to make more room, rolling down her stiff uniform collar a bit. Two seconds in and already she's shifting in her seat. "Probably we should, uh. Cut it out."
Sam hmms. "You sure?" He cups her neck, kissing the side of her face lightly. A bird calls out somewhere nearby, startlingly loud, and he straightens up. "Yeah, yeah. Okay."
But Andy is... kind of not sure, actually. She shifts against the bench again. "Um. The greenhouse has a bathroom."
Sam's eyebrows shoot up so fast it looks like they might be in danger of springing off his face altogether. Then he grins. "That so?" he asks, glancing in that general direction like he's sizing up the vantage points for a meetup. He kneads hard at the back of his neck. "Been thinking about it, huh?"
Andy feels herself blush, although in theory she guesses that could be from the kissing. There's a breeze, and the places on her skin where his mouth was feel tingly and cold. "No," she protests indignantly. Then, a second later: "Maybe."
"Maybe," Sam echoes. "Jesus, McNally." There's a different look on his face now, intent; he's considering it, definitely, working the details out in his mind. Andy squirms. "I missed you, you know that?"
(And Andy--yeah. Andy knows. She missed him, too.)
"I'll go first," he tells her quietly; the realization that they're actually going to do it sends sparks all through her body, a flare of anticipation at the base of her spine. She can feel her nipples tightening up inside her uniform. "Count to a hundred, make sure nobody sees you. Meet me in there."
Andy nods. Sam grins at her one more time, shaking his head a little like maybe she's not the only one getting a kick out of sneaking around here. He knocks her boot with his before he goes. He's a quarter of the way toward the greenhouse before Andy remembers: "Wait!" she hisses frantically. When he turns around, alarmed: "Men's or ladies?"
“I--” Sam looks at her like she's insane. "Men's."
"Okay." Andy relaxes back against the bench, satisfied. "Right, sorry. Go ahead." Thank god it's a school day, absolutely no one else around. Those teenagers plus an elderly woman in a flowered kerchief, that's the level of crime they're working with here.
Sam shakes his head again, one hand coming up to rub at his jaw. "Right." It takes Andy a minute to realize he's hiding a smile. She grins back hugely, crossing her legs on the bench like she's at a cocktail party instead of sweating it out in polyester, the flirtiest body language she can manage with a TPS-issue tie around her neck. Sam actually laughs aloud in reply--like, a real live chuckle, good and seriously. Andy feels like a comedic genius.
(He looks back on his way to the greenhouse.
Twice.)
Andy counts to two hundred, as a matter of fact, doing about a million perimeter checks before she darts across the lawn. She's always loved Allan Gardens, actually, the frothy glass domes and the smell of green things everywhere--inside the first set of double doors it's about ten degrees warmer already, although that could always just be the adrenaline. She can hear the watermills from far off, this soothing lull under everything.
"Hey," she murmurs to Sam, slipping inside the empty men's. "Remember that time we got suspended for conduct unbecoming?"
Sam smirks. "I do." He curls one hand around her braid immediately, pulling until her face tilts up. "And I remember it being worth it that time too."
Well. When he puts it that way. Andy's smiling before he even gets his mouth on her, the curve of her wild grin making it hard to kiss back properly. Sam keeps his hand in her hair and does most of the work. He's a good kisser, warm tongue and the nip of his teeth at her bottom lip; it's one of the things she'd forgotten about him, or tried to. Barely a minute in and he's got her gasping.
"Okay," she breathes, Sam biting along her jaw and his hands all up and down her body--untucking her uniform shirt and sliding his palms across her stomach, thumbing inside the waistband of her pants. Andy scritches her nails at the back of his neck. He's being kind of rough with her, honestly, hurrying in a way she doesn't entirely hate: somebody could come in here any minute and catch them, yeah, but also--well. It's possible him taking charge is a thing she missed a little bit. "How do we--"
"In a stall," he tells her, nudging her back in that direction. He's hard, his cock pressing against her hip insistently; Andy slides a hand down to cup him through his uniform pants, and he lets out a gratifying hiss.
Jesus. That works for her all right (all of it is working for her, honestly; she's already totally wet and sticky down between her legs. Andy can't say for a hundred percent certain, but she's pretty sure it's just, like, having him back more than anything else. She wants to do the filthiest, most obscene shit to him. Wants to let him--yeah). "Okay," she says, once he's manhandled her in there. Her head thuds back against the metal door as he slides the lock shut with a click. "Hi."
Sam widens his stance a bit, leans in. "Hi," he says.
Just that sends her to grinning all over again. "We're ridiculous," Andy announces mock seriously, trying to check herself a little. She feels like someone poured helium inside her chest cavity. "Unprofessional. We're a disgrace to the good men and women of TPS." Their holsters click together obnoxiously, as if to underscore her point. Which is a valid one, absolutely, but still, it is possible that Andy is less interested in making it than she is in finding excuses to say 'we'. It feels good in her mouth, the same way 'mine' did last night.
Sam's smile suggests he's aware.
"So?" He drops his belt with a thunk and sets to work on hers, unbuttoning the stiff blue buttons at her fly. "We'll hurry." He slides a hand underneath to cup her tacky underwear, pressing up deliberately to get it wetter.
"Sa-am." Andy knocks her head off his shoulder, biting hard on his collar because she doesn't trust herself with his neck. "M'gonna be messy all day now."
Sam huffs a laugh. "So be messy." He's into the idea though, Andy can tell, how he's sliding a curious thumb around to check how much of the fabric is soaked. Andy mewls when he skirts over her clit.
"That's not hurrying," she protests, up on her tiptoes trying to angle for more concentrated pressure. It is rough though, how he's flipped his hand over to let her grind on his knuckles; Andy rocks herself into the touch. "We should take a vacation," she tells him, a little breathless. Her hands open and close against the scratchy fabric of his uniform. "Then we can do this all day and like--" She breaks off as Sam pushes two fingers deep inside her, no warning. "Shit."
Sam smirks at her shocked, needy whine. "Oh yeah?" he teases, pumping them in and out a bit. He crooks them forward, rubbing at this one spot that always makes her crazy (he remembered everything, Andy realized last night, all of her tells and her shudders; months and months since they'd had a civil word to say to each other and as soon as he touched her it felt like they hadn't skipped a step). "Hurrying not working for you?"
Andy makes a face, squirming. "It's working," she gasps, fucking herself onto his fingers. "It's really---" They don't have the time but she wants to get closer to him anyhow, slips the buttons on her shirt through their corresponding holes with two shaky hands. Reaches up and does his, too. She yanks his undershirt up out of the way and pulls him even closer, their stomachs right up against one another. The motion shoves his fingers deeper, and Andy whimpers.
"Shh, sweetheart." Sam eases out slowly, tugs the cup of her bra down and ducks his head so he can get his teeth around her nipple. His body is so, so warm. She can smell herself mixed with the damp, mildewy smell of the bathroom and the salt at the slope of his neck; Sam straightens up a bit, slides his fingers into her mouth for her to lick clean.
"I'll take you on vacation," he murmurs as she sucks the taste off obediently, kissing her temple. "I'll take you wherever you want to go." He nudges his nose against hers, like he's promising. "Turn around for me first, though."
Andy grins. "Okay." She smacks a bossy kiss off his mouth, laughing as he holds her there for an extra second to sneak some tongue. Probably she tastes the same as his fingers now. "Off," she giggles finally, pivoting to face the door. "Fast, remember?"
Both Sam's hands come up to frame her hips, tugging her back against him roughly. "I remember." Only okay--it doesn't sound as if he's talking about the relative speed of this particular quickie so much as, like, other places and occasions she's bent over for him. Andy shivers, planting both hands. Arches her back a bit.
Sam hisses.
(Oh yeah. He remembers.)
Her pants hit the ground in a blur, Sam barely backing off long enough to get them down. But as soon as his thumbs hook around the waistband of her boy-shorts everything shifts down a big gear, both of them suddenly dipped in molasses. Andy muffles a whimper as he crouches to bite at the backs of her thighs, soft toothed. There's barely enough room in the stall for him to hold the position.
"Sam," she pants, those teeth nipping a little higher. "I want--" She arches even more, taking her stance as wide as it can go with so much fabric tripping up her ankles.
“What's that, sweetheart?" Sam pulls at her thigh so she's spread even further, knocking her just enough off-balance that she has to curl her fingers over the top of the door to keep from bringing both of them down. He bites again, harder this time, right where her ass rounds out. Andy whines. "What do you want?"
Ugh, he has totally not gotten any less mean since the last time. "Sam," she pleads, sort of desperate. She pushes herself back at him anxiously, hoping that will be enough--somebody could really walk in any second, and at this point she's almost more worried about not getting to come than being caught. Her palms are slick against the door. "Seriously."
Yeah, no dice. "We're hurrying, McNally," he murmurs. Andy can feel the vibration of it all through her middle. He reaches around to spread her open, and then absolutely doesn't follow through. "You gotta tell me."
God. "Just--" Andy closes her eyes, leans her forehead against the chilly metal. Fidgets. Fuck, this is not by any means the first time he's made her say it, and she still hasn't found a way that doesn't make her blush like she's twelve. "Use your mouth, okay, just--"
She's about to throw in a please for good measure (she owes him one, anyway; she made him beg her for a good minute and a half last night before she finally sank down onto his cock), but Sam's not waiting on politeness: before it's even out he's curling an arm around her thigh to keep her steady, licking a long stripe up between her legs and like, everywhere, and oh god. Andy bites her upper arm to keep from moaning.
"Sam," she whispers, shocked. He does it again and she wobbles, shamelessly going up on her toes to keep his mouth on her longer. And yeah, okay, he is definitely licking further back than-- "Sam, please." Crap, she's gonna get loud. He keeps doing that, and she's gonna get loud.
Sam pulls away for a second so he can feed two fingers inside her. Reconsiders, and adds a third. "You're fine," he tells her quietly, bending his head again. Even at this angle he finds the spot inside that makes her crazy. Andy shivers hot, then cold as his tongue paints a star somewhere she's one-hundred-percent not used to feeling it.
"Okay," she gasps finally, reaching down to clutch at the arm he's using to steady her out. She's dangerously close to keening. "I want--"
But Sam isn't listening. He takes her hand and moves it a couple inches to the left. "Come on, sweetheart," he says, encouraging her fingers to press against her clit.
Andy whimpers. God, they don't have time for this--their radios are going to be blowing up any second now, Oliver back with lunch or Nick wanting to know where the heck she disappeared to. Sam's not taking no for an answer, though: "Andy," he prods once he's got her fingers where he wants them, in what is pretty undeniably his TO voice even if it is only a murmur.
(She does it, obviously. Of course she does it.)
She's so absurdly slippery she can hardly even get the friction that she wants, winds up working herself way harder than normal. That, plus the crazy pressure of his fingers inside her and how insanely dirty and good his tongue feels, all these new nerve endings lighting up, and--yeah. Basically Andy was right about making noise.
The sound echoes loudly in the empty bathroom, orgasm hitting so hard and deep it's all Andy can do to keep her free hand curled around the door, going totally boneless with the feeling of it deep in her spine and everywhere. Sam keeps right on doing what he's doing. She's hardly even done before he's pulling his fingers out and standing, though, pants and boxers yanked down around his thighs and his cock lined up just right. "I'm gonna want to do that to you again," he warns her, right before he pushes himself inside.
Andy whines, shoving herself back against him on legs that are really still too unsteady to manage it. "Um. O-okay?" she gasps, trying for politely curious and then undercutting herself by nodding repeatedly. Even now that he's stopped it still feels different, humming and sticky in new places. "But right now we have to--"
"Yeah." Sam laces his fingers through hers on the door, wrapping his free hand around her hips. The way he's moving inside her is just a bit desperate, jerky and rhythmless like he can't afford to wait another second. "We're hurrying." It sounds as if he's clenching his teeth.
Andy thinks about that (about how hard it got him, how much he must--) and shivers everywhere over her body. There’s not much she wouldn't do right now if she thought it’d help get him there.
Which--
All of a sudden she’s grinning against her bent forearm, wicked. "So, um. Does that mean I can do it to you?"
Sam groans, this dense desperate sound that sets Andy's skin buzzing. "Jesus, McNally," he says. He sinks his teeth into the back of her neck, stinging; reaches around and shoves her bra up out of the way with one clumsy hand. He palms a breast roughly, and Andy gasps.
"I'm serious," she says, once she's got breath enough to make the words. He's still rocking himself in and out of her, fast and unsteady. The lock on the door rattles with every thrust. "Wanna try."
"Oh yeah?" Sam twists her nipple as he shoves himself deep and then just stays there, this incredible stretch that's just this side of painful. Andy squirms a bit on his cock. It's bossy, how he's got her pinned and sort of helpless, like possibly he’s trying to assert something with her here.
(But. He's not saying no.)
Andy pushes her ass back against him hard and demanding, uses the door for leverage. "Mm-hmm," she tells him confidently, tipping her face back for a sloppy kiss. She's imagining it now, the taste of him; that open, wrecked expression he gets on his face whenever she convinces him to finish in her mouth. "Feels so good, Sam, god, soon's we get back to the apartment I'm gonna get on my knees and--"
"Fuck," Sam grinds out, interrupting with a voice like a handful of gravel. It is, um. Possible Andy doesn't totally want to wait until they get home.
"Let me?" Right until the second it leaves her mouth, she honestly doesn't know if she means now or later. But Sam is hot and restless in her, fingers plucking sort of uselessly at her nipple like he's distracted as all get out (like maybe he's picturing--), and Andy means now. She definitely, definitely means now. "S'so good, I promise," she croons, lowering her voice. "Want you to feel it. Sam Sam Sam, you gotta let me."
Sam's gone completely still behind her, unsure. When she taps his hip insistently to get him to pull out, though, he catches up in a big hurry: "I don't--fuck, Andy." And god, she'd beg him, she would, but. It honestly doesn't sound like it's going to be necessary.
"That's right," she says instead, giddy. She turns in his arms, muscling them around to switch places until Sam's back is up against the cold metal door. He looks a little stunned. "Relax," she instructs, pulling up her uniform pants hastily and dropping to her knees; they need to do this fast, or not at all. But then his cock is already right there, already slick with her, and the look on his face is just--yeah. Andy ends up sucking it nicely for a minute while they both get used to the idea, careful to let Sam control the pace. Which he definitely does: he literally makes fists in her hair and shoves. And yes, bossy, definitely, but like--
Andy is pretty sure she's the boss.
"Okay, now." She pulls off, looking up at his face. He's been leaking all over the place since she got down here. "Turn around."
"McNally." There's an edge to his voice, like possibly he's still freaking out a little bit at the idea. Which Andy gets--it's the dirtiest thing they've ever done, probably, not to mention the fact that they're in a public bathroom and have only been back together for like half a day after arguably the ugliest breakup of her entire life.
Still, though: she really, really wants to see what it does to him.
"You trust me?" she asks, sitting back on her haunches and looking up. She's still got her fist around his cock, jacking slowly, but she reaches for his hand with her free one. Her braid's a disaster, she can feel it, unraveling all down her back. "Hey. Do you trust me?"
Sam's skull thunks back against the metal. "Of course I trust you," he promises, no hesitation at all. He squeezes her hand like he's trying to make the point. "I just--"
Well then. "You started it," she points out, totally not above using playground logic. God, he's still so hard; there's a soft but unmistakable smacking sound as Andy works her palm over the slippery head. "Sam," she says, very quietly. "Turn around."
Sam looks at her for another second before he does it. Andy grins.
(Oh yeah. She's the boss, all right.)
Andy tugs his boxers down a little lower, for better access; he's got a fantastic ass, Sam does ("Seriously, it's Beyonce-caliber," she told him once, which she meant as a compliment but which he did not totally take as one). She scrapes her nails whisper-light across his skin. She knows him well enough to know that bend over is not a piece of instruction that's going to work for him, particularly, so instead she grabs his hips and moves him how she wants him, widens his stance a bit. "Just like that," Andy says softly, reaching around and wrapping his own hand around his cock. Her heart is beating crazily in her throat.
He groans the second she opens her mouth against his thighs, sharp and desperate. Andy actually pauses for a beat, how weird it is to have him making that kind of noise. God, okay, so this is really something that's going to--yeah.
"Shh," she murmurs, pressing in close with her shoulders, all this body contact meant to soothe. "Easy." His hips are jumpy but he's slowed down the pace on his cock, she can tell just by the sound; he's close, no question, how tight and corded all his muscles have gone. When she tries biting, tilting her head a little to reach his inner thigh, he jolts forward like a spooked horse. Andy grins.
"Yeah," she says, muscling his hips back where she needs them. "Don't do that again."
Then she starts licking.
"Fuck," Sam gasps, this choked, shocked sound like he didn't really believe she was gonna do it until right this second. "Andy--" His entire body has frozen up, even the hand on his cock. It takes Andy a second to realize it's a good kind of freeze.
Like. A really good kind of freeze.
She reaches around blindly and closes her fingers over his fist, making him squeeze down good and hard. It tears a sound out of his throat, not entirely human, and then all of a sudden everything is happening at once. Sam's hand is moving in a blur, cock jerking, then pulsing, and then Andy's fingers are getting wet and warm and he's making a hell of a lot of noise and god. God. Andy presses her thighs together, whimpering a little herself. Keeps licking until he finishes.
For a second neither one of them says anything, Sam breathing hard and an audible swallow, one palm still braced against the door. Andy kisses the back of his thigh and he flinches. "Hey," she says softly, curling her clean hand around his hip. She means to reassure him--he's shaking like a fucking palm tree in a hurricane, jesus--but all of a sudden he's hauling her up and pushing her back against the wall, wrapping his arms around tight enough to knock the breath out. Andy is...not entirely sure which one of them it is he's trying to calm down.
"Easy," she murmurs again, holding her sloppy fingers away from him so she doesn't get the mess on his uniform. She presses her mouth against the cliff of his cheek. She's nervous for a second, like maybe she pushed him too far too soon or something (that was a thing that would happen when they crossed lines, first time around, him getting weird afterward like he was worried he'd showed her more than he meant to) but Sam surprises her by turning his head and kissing her hard, licking his way into her mouth like--like--
jesus.
(Andy, um. Really does not hate what just happened.)
"You're hot," she gasps a minute later, his sticky cock pressed against her stomach and one hand clutching at the back of his neck. "Seriously, Sam, jesus. Gonna want to do that to you again."
Sam doesn't answer with words, just this quick hard grin and a shake of his head like he can't quite believe he just let her do that. In the tepid light of the bathroom it looks like--that is, he's definitely--
oh yeah. He's blushing.
Andy grins back hugely. There's no room but she hops up on her toes and launches herself at him anyway, a rough joyful hug that knocks them both back against the door. "Missed you," she tells his sheepish red ear, just quiet. She loves him stupid.
Sam huffs a laugh into her shoulder, holding on tight. It kind of feels like he loves her stupid, too.
"Need to get you cleaned up," he says finally, picking up her messy hand. Andy leans back against the wall and lets him wipe it clean with a square of gritty toilet paper, tickling between the webbing of her fingers, then holds still while he sets her uniform to order piece by careful piece. He takes his time, buttoning her shirt up and tucking it in all the way around, retrieving her holster off the floor. Andy doesn't know if this is her 'thank you' or apology or what, but it definitely feels nice.
"Professional?" she asks when he finishes, grinning up at him impishly. He stills looks completely wrecked, and she's pretty sure she does too. She tucks his cock back into his boxers gently, tugging the waistband back into place--she'd really love to get back on her knees and lick it clean for him, but. Time is of the essence.
Sam chuckles. "Yeah," he says, tucking her mussed hair behind her ears. "I don't know how great we're gonna be at this sneaking around thing, sweetheart." He looks pretty pleased with her though, all told.
"Are you kidding?" Andy smiles. "'Cause, like. I think we're super awesome at it so far."
She rebraids her hair as fast as she can in the foggy mirror above the sink, then follows Sam out into the greenhouse and the bright, sunny park beyond. Andy really, really hopes she's not going to need to chase anybody down before this shift is over. Her whole body feels sort of loose and noodle-y; also, she was really not kidding when she told him she was going to be messy all day.
(She's, uh. Pretty sure Sam's got the same exact problem.)
They've barely gotten fifty yards when Nick comes trotting around the bend in the path, gaze cutting to Andy right away when he sees them together. His eyebrows shoot up just the slightest bit. And okay, she feels a little guilty just then, what a good breakup buddy he was and all the time they spent deconstructing their respective relationships in the cover apartment, how she'd probably be kind of annoyed if she found out he was getting in on with Gail and hadn't told her.
But. Not that guilty.
"Collins," Sam says, totally deadpan, all bored TO on a candy-ass detail. "How'd you do?"
Nick shrugs slowly, this expression like he's trying to puzzle out the trick. In the end he's too well-behaved to say anything, though, or even ask why Sam's there. "No problems." He looks over at Andy again, question implicit.
Andy picks the easy answer: "Yeah, we--I didn't see anything." For god's sake, McNally. She smiles big at Nick to cover, careful not to even so much as glance at Sam in her peripheral vision. Her spine feels like someone replaced all the bones with Jello-O. "There was this one old lady who looked pretty shifty, though."
Nick keeps looking for one more second. Andy can see the exact second he decides to let it go, six months together and all his tells like her own. "Yeah, I got her too," he says, grinning and stepping in closer. "I think she thought I was gonna vandalize something."
Sam drifts away to fiddle with his radio while they chat, something about Ollie and sandwich orders. Andy talks to Nick about all the imaginary people-watching she did, trying to be as upbeat as possible to cover up the blatant lies. It's surprisingly hard; her body is still buzzing along on an endorphin high, the afterglow making her hyper-conscious of her breasts and her thighs and her everything, this ridiculous jolt each time she shifts her weight. It would be lovely if it were happening basically anyplace else.
She's just starting to describe an imaginary mom and baby in desperation ("A watermelon hat," she tells Nick, who looks delighted), when Sam finishes up. "You rooks want lunch?" he asks, voice like he couldn't be fucked. Up close, his cheeks are still the slightest bit pink. "Ollie's buying."
"Sounds great," Andy says brightly, playing it as if she's super psyched about the idea of Shaw springing for a four-dollar burger. Sam shoots her a look like possibly she's spent too much time in the sun. He hangs back as Collins leads the way down the path toward the street, though, slips his finger into her belt loop and tugs, just barely. Andy grins up at the sky.
Authors: threeguesses and lowriseflare
Fandom/ Pairing: Rookie Blue, Andy/Sam
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: 7400+
Summary: The one where they sneak around.
A/N: Part One of the Sam and Andy Get Back Together and Do Filthy Stuff Trilogy!
The morning after Andy and Sam get back together, Nick rings her bell for a 7:30 gym date.
"Shit," Andy hisses, scrambling up out of bed stark naked. The sun is streaming in through her window, cheerful and merciless; she totally forgot to set her alarm last night, what with everything that-- "Shit."
"Tell me that's coffee delivery," Sam slurs into the pillow, blinking awake. She forgot how much she likes how he looks in the morning, all bunched freckly shoulders and the creases at the corners of his dark dark eyes. At the second ring, longer this time: "McNally."
"It's Collins," Andy tells him, looking desperately around for last night's bra. Then, and she honestly could not say why this is her first and most animal instinct: "You need to hide."
Sam raises his eyebrows, obviously less than impressed with her gut response. "Hide?" He rolls all the way over onto his back, no clothes anywhere on him either. Andy has, uh. Missed the front-view too. "What are you, sixteen?"
But now that she's said it, it feels hugely important that that's what actually takes place. "No, listen." She hooks the bra on backwards and spins it around, starts looking for her underwear. "We just worked this out. I don't want to mess it up by telling people."
"Mess it up by telling people?" Apparently all Sam can do this morning is parrot her.
"Yes," Andy hisses, dragging on last night's panties. She drags them off again just as fast, going to hunt for a new pair in the dresser; it is super-possible they are still a little damp. "Now go and, like. Stand inside the closet or something."
"Okay." Sam snorts and reaches down to scratch at his stomach, the cut of muscle there a little more defined than she remembers it being. Last night it felt like learning him all over again. "I am not going to stand inside your--"
"Shh," Andy says frantically, yanking a t-shirt on over her head. There's another piece to it too, maybe, all the dirty details she told Nick about Sam while they were under and how it feels kind of weird to be like, uh, just kidding, we totally screwed each other's brains out for like three hours last night. But yeah, she should have known the closet thing probably wasn't going to fly. "Just stay here and be quiet then."
"You shh." Sam's watching her get dressed like he really appreciates the floor show, although possibly he'd rather be viewing it in reverse. "What are you supposed to do, go run? Get rid of him." He grins hard and fast, a little wolfish. "I'll work you out."
"Right." Andy tries to roll her eyes, although it's not really working for her; every time she looks at him she wants to smile a stupid amount. "You're hilarious."
(She, um. Totally uses cramps to beg off, though, like it's high school P.E. and not the same 5K she and Nick have been doing every morning since they got back. Possibly she actually is sixteen. )
She slinks back into the bedroom a little sheepishly, running headlong into Sam's shit-eating grin. "Wow, honey," he says, syrupy-sweet like he's trying out a Ward Cleaver impression. "Time of the month sure came on fast."
"Shut up," Andy mutters, shucking off her jeans and throwing them at his face. She's actually blushing a bit, though god knows why. After all the apologizing they did last night (not to mention begging; there was definitely, definitely some begging) she's pretty sure playing it cool is right out. "We just got back together," is the best she's got for him. She strips her t-shirt off and climbs back onto the bed, hoping for some cleavage-related distraction.
No go: "We did," Sam agrees, pulling at her hips. She expects him to look even more smug but instead his smile goes wide and stays there, sincere like she hardly ever sees. "Guess we have some time to make up."
Well, okay. Now Andy's just grinning like a sappy idiot. "I love you," she says, and is delighted all over again when he says it back immediately. She tried that trick out a lot last night--like, a lot--but it has in no way gotten old yet.
"So," she says conversationally, grabbing for his cock and shoving the crotch of her panties to one side. "You promised to work me out?"
Sam does. And then does again in the shower, when Andy accidentally-on-purpose soaps up between her legs for a little too long. After they're both finished towelling off, though, he throws her a bit of a curveball: "So I'll see you later then?" he asks, pulling on his Levis.
Wow. That feels way, way too familiar. "What do you mean?" Andy demands. It sounds stupidly shrill, even to her own ears.
Sam gets up in her space right away, one hand on either side of her face. "It's time for work," he says, gentle. "If you're serious about keeping this a secret, then we need to go in separate cars."
Which--oh. "Crafty," Andy says, grinning, letting him tip her face up for a kiss. He smells like toothpaste and like Sam. "What do you, like, got a bunch of UC experience or something?"
"Not just me," Sam reminds her, smiling against her mouth. ("Task force guys all said you knocked it out of the park," he told her right when she first got back, both of them at the coffee machine and him just tossing it out kind of casually. Andy had to walk away so he wouldn't see her blush.) "We could make people think whatever the hell we want them to think for as long as we want them to think it, probably."
"Not forever," Andy tells him, slipping her arms around his back. She feels weirdly sensitive though, like her ribs have busted wide and her heart's beating out in the open, like the new skin under a scab. She really, really doesn't hate the idea of them getting used to each other again before everybody knows. "Just like. Until we get the kinks worked out, or whatever."
"Show you kinks," Sam murmurs, but he's got his arms wrapped around her too now. His breath is warm against her temple. "It's fine, sweetheart. Whatever you want to do."
Andy shivers a little, snuggles closer. Closes her eyes and breathes him in. She thinks she might be the new boss in this relationship, at least for a little while. It's scary and thrilling in equal amounts.
(In the end they go in separately, don't even make eye contact.
But.
They're definitely both late.)
"You okay?" Nick asks quietly, when she slides into her seat beside him in Parade. "How's your lady parts?"
Andy snorts. "Better," she tells him quickly, and busies herself digging her notebook out of her pants pocket.
It's gang initiation season, so Best wants their street presence beefed up, extra foot patrols through the parks. Andy tries to listen as he explains what they're on the lookout for--graffiti tagging, mostly, maybe some petty theft--but it's surprisingly hard to concentrate. Happiness has got her thrumming.
"We're walking Allan Gardens," Nick informs her as the chairs start to scrape back, which--yep. Andy had one hundred percent missed Frank say that. She smiles gratefully, shoving herself to her feet.
"Great. You and me and a bunch of dandelion chains." She's glad, actually. Maybe the fresh air will clear her head. "Lead the way, Collins." Only now does she chance a look at the back of the room, Sam still propping up the wall as everyone else files past. All through Best's spiel Andy imagined she could feel his eyes on the back of her neck, warm and heavy like a caress. She's pretty sure he wasn't actually looking, UC method acting and 'we'll make them think what we want', but like. Still.
(There's a mark there from last night, right underneath the hairline. Andy had to fix her braid good and low so it was covered.)
Instead of heading for the door Nick starts nudging her in Sam's direction, no warning whatsoever. "Shaw and Swarek are our ride over," he explains apologetically, just in time to head Andy’s mini panic-attack off at the pass. "Not enough cruisers for foot patrols."
Ah. "That fine," she says breezily, watching Sam watch her approach. His face stays dead still but it feels like flirting anyway, how both of them hold the eye contact. Andy has to look away first.
"Collins. McNally." Sam salutes them each with his coffee cup, but she's pretty sure he's having trouble holding onto that neutral expression. God, Andy has no idea why they thought they could pull this off--two seconds in, and already a smile is tugging at the corners of her mouth like it's got actual hooks.
"Sir," she answers, just like brokenhearted-but-professional Andy would. It has some different connotations coming from non-brokenhearted Andy, sure, but that isn't her fault. Sam hides a grin behind his styrofoam lid.
Outside it's warm and smells like summer; Andy shivers a little at the heat, like all her nerve endings have been rubbed wide open. She bites the inside of her cheek to keep serious, trying to concentrate on something besides the memory of Sam pushing himself inside her for the first time in months and months. Still, she glances at him over the top of the cruiser before she slides in back next to Nick.
(There's a mark on his neck too, down low next to his collarbone. Andy...really does not hate knowing that it's there.)
"Don't go kicking the cage now, Rooks," Oliver says cheerfully, pulling out onto the street in the direction of the park. Andy smiles gamely and lets Nick answer for both of them, tips her face up at the window to feel the sun. Maybe if they can both get the time off they can take a trip, lie on a beach someplace for a couple of days. True, Sam wasn't thrilled with the idea when they were talking about doing it for Traci and Jerry's wedding, but. Andy bets she could probably convince him with a couple of really tiny bathing suits. Or maybe they could skip the beach altogether and go camping somewhere out East, make a fire and drink beers and look at the st--
"McNally," Shaw says, this voice like possibly it's not the first time he's said her name here. "That work okay for you?"
"Um." Andy's eyes flick over to Nick for help; he nods slightly, looking a little concerned. "Yeah, absolutely," she says quickly. "Sounds like a plan to me." She can see Sam's jaw twitching in the rearview.
"Splitting up to cover the perimeter," Nick whispers, ducking his head down close to hers so neither of the TOs can hear him. Then: "You sure you feel okay?"
Andy thanks her lucky stars she picked the one excuse that keeps on giving. "Yeah, just." She grimaces, trying to look like a brave girl in a lot of uterus pain. "Comes and goes, y'know?"
Nick nods back very seriously, shoulder brushing hers as he leans closer. "Okay. But like, if you aren't going to be comfortable on walking duty, maybe we should tell the--"
"Oy!" That's Sam tapping at the cage, turned full around in his seat and the cruiser on idle alongside Sherborne. Andy didn't even notice it slowing down. "If you two are about done." His annoyed TO expression is letter-perfect, and for a moment Andy seriously can't tell whether or not it's the real deal--he didn’t exactly love the way her and Nick got close before, is something she now knows for a fact. "Collins, this is your stop. Out."
One more worried look and Nick obeys, slinking off to man the east perimeter. Sam merges back into traffic, circling around to Jarvis so Andy can patrol the west; two cops for the Gardens seems excessive, honestly, but maybe Best has a tip. Sometimes crews come around to mess with the greenhouses.
"If you need us, we'll be at Harvey's," Oliver declares gleefully once she's on the curb. Behind his shoulder Sam widens his eyes a bit in salute, visible only to Andy. She fights down the urge to grin.
Foot patrol is nice, as it turns out. Andy walks around on the bright green grass under the trees and tries to concentrate on crime, but half of her brain is still daydreaming about that camping trip. About an hour in she startles a couple of teenagers off a park bench completely by accident, the smell of weed lingering after they dart away. Which is good enough, she guesses, sitting down herself. At least she's visible.
"Smoking up, Officer McNally?"
That scares the crap out of her, head whipping around so fast she actually hurts her neck. "Jesus, Sam," she gasps, but already a smile is forming at the sight of him, bright and automatic. It would be nice if her facial muscles could play it cool. "Aren't you guys supposed be driving up and down Sherborne?"
Sam shrugs, grinning back. "Looked all clear to me," he says. "Anyway, Ollie wasn't kidding about lunch. Told him to drop me, I'd make sure neither of you rooks had injured yourselves in the sandbox."
Andy rolls her eyes. "You did, did you." She likes that though, that he was thinking about her the same way she was thinking about him. She likes it a lot. She tips her head in the direction he came from.
"Well, Nick's probably back that way, you want to go see what he's up to."
"Tempting." Sam braces his hands on the back of the bench, one on either side of her. Looms a little. "Think I'd rather stay here."
Andy swallows. God, from the way her heart kicks up just at the proximity you'd think she'd had a lot less sex in the past twelve hours than she actually has. "Oh yeah?" she asks. When she tilts her face up to look at him they're so close they might as well be kissing. Anybody who walked by would be able to tell in a second that they're sure as shit not two buddy cops talking doughnuts. "Why's that?"
(And--okay. Possibly that's also part of the thrill of it, the idea that they could get caught any second. They may or may not have screwed around in the truck a bunch for that exact reason, first time around.)
"You tell me." Sam tips his mouth down even closer, then feints and looks over her shoulder instead. "Coast's clear, McNally," he murmurs in her ear.
Andy exhales, shivering a little. Her bench is deep in the shade. "Clear for what?" she taunts, and apparently that's enough. Sam opens his mouth against the thin skin behind her ear, one hand coming around to catch her chin. But instead of tilting it up he turns her all the way forward, so she's facing fully away from him. Andy stares unseeingly at the path in front of them as he noses down her neck.
"Keep watch, rook," Sam instructs, sucking lightly. His mouth is warm and wet.
Andy curls her fingers around the wooden slats, trying not to make any completely untoward noises. "Sa-am." He's lifted her braid out of the way to make more room, rolling down her stiff uniform collar a bit. Two seconds in and already she's shifting in her seat. "Probably we should, uh. Cut it out."
Sam hmms. "You sure?" He cups her neck, kissing the side of her face lightly. A bird calls out somewhere nearby, startlingly loud, and he straightens up. "Yeah, yeah. Okay."
But Andy is... kind of not sure, actually. She shifts against the bench again. "Um. The greenhouse has a bathroom."
Sam's eyebrows shoot up so fast it looks like they might be in danger of springing off his face altogether. Then he grins. "That so?" he asks, glancing in that general direction like he's sizing up the vantage points for a meetup. He kneads hard at the back of his neck. "Been thinking about it, huh?"
Andy feels herself blush, although in theory she guesses that could be from the kissing. There's a breeze, and the places on her skin where his mouth was feel tingly and cold. "No," she protests indignantly. Then, a second later: "Maybe."
"Maybe," Sam echoes. "Jesus, McNally." There's a different look on his face now, intent; he's considering it, definitely, working the details out in his mind. Andy squirms. "I missed you, you know that?"
(And Andy--yeah. Andy knows. She missed him, too.)
"I'll go first," he tells her quietly; the realization that they're actually going to do it sends sparks all through her body, a flare of anticipation at the base of her spine. She can feel her nipples tightening up inside her uniform. "Count to a hundred, make sure nobody sees you. Meet me in there."
Andy nods. Sam grins at her one more time, shaking his head a little like maybe she's not the only one getting a kick out of sneaking around here. He knocks her boot with his before he goes. He's a quarter of the way toward the greenhouse before Andy remembers: "Wait!" she hisses frantically. When he turns around, alarmed: "Men's or ladies?"
“I--” Sam looks at her like she's insane. "Men's."
"Okay." Andy relaxes back against the bench, satisfied. "Right, sorry. Go ahead." Thank god it's a school day, absolutely no one else around. Those teenagers plus an elderly woman in a flowered kerchief, that's the level of crime they're working with here.
Sam shakes his head again, one hand coming up to rub at his jaw. "Right." It takes Andy a minute to realize he's hiding a smile. She grins back hugely, crossing her legs on the bench like she's at a cocktail party instead of sweating it out in polyester, the flirtiest body language she can manage with a TPS-issue tie around her neck. Sam actually laughs aloud in reply--like, a real live chuckle, good and seriously. Andy feels like a comedic genius.
(He looks back on his way to the greenhouse.
Twice.)
Andy counts to two hundred, as a matter of fact, doing about a million perimeter checks before she darts across the lawn. She's always loved Allan Gardens, actually, the frothy glass domes and the smell of green things everywhere--inside the first set of double doors it's about ten degrees warmer already, although that could always just be the adrenaline. She can hear the watermills from far off, this soothing lull under everything.
"Hey," she murmurs to Sam, slipping inside the empty men's. "Remember that time we got suspended for conduct unbecoming?"
Sam smirks. "I do." He curls one hand around her braid immediately, pulling until her face tilts up. "And I remember it being worth it that time too."
Well. When he puts it that way. Andy's smiling before he even gets his mouth on her, the curve of her wild grin making it hard to kiss back properly. Sam keeps his hand in her hair and does most of the work. He's a good kisser, warm tongue and the nip of his teeth at her bottom lip; it's one of the things she'd forgotten about him, or tried to. Barely a minute in and he's got her gasping.
"Okay," she breathes, Sam biting along her jaw and his hands all up and down her body--untucking her uniform shirt and sliding his palms across her stomach, thumbing inside the waistband of her pants. Andy scritches her nails at the back of his neck. He's being kind of rough with her, honestly, hurrying in a way she doesn't entirely hate: somebody could come in here any minute and catch them, yeah, but also--well. It's possible him taking charge is a thing she missed a little bit. "How do we--"
"In a stall," he tells her, nudging her back in that direction. He's hard, his cock pressing against her hip insistently; Andy slides a hand down to cup him through his uniform pants, and he lets out a gratifying hiss.
Jesus. That works for her all right (all of it is working for her, honestly; she's already totally wet and sticky down between her legs. Andy can't say for a hundred percent certain, but she's pretty sure it's just, like, having him back more than anything else. She wants to do the filthiest, most obscene shit to him. Wants to let him--yeah). "Okay," she says, once he's manhandled her in there. Her head thuds back against the metal door as he slides the lock shut with a click. "Hi."
Sam widens his stance a bit, leans in. "Hi," he says.
Just that sends her to grinning all over again. "We're ridiculous," Andy announces mock seriously, trying to check herself a little. She feels like someone poured helium inside her chest cavity. "Unprofessional. We're a disgrace to the good men and women of TPS." Their holsters click together obnoxiously, as if to underscore her point. Which is a valid one, absolutely, but still, it is possible that Andy is less interested in making it than she is in finding excuses to say 'we'. It feels good in her mouth, the same way 'mine' did last night.
Sam's smile suggests he's aware.
"So?" He drops his belt with a thunk and sets to work on hers, unbuttoning the stiff blue buttons at her fly. "We'll hurry." He slides a hand underneath to cup her tacky underwear, pressing up deliberately to get it wetter.
"Sa-am." Andy knocks her head off his shoulder, biting hard on his collar because she doesn't trust herself with his neck. "M'gonna be messy all day now."
Sam huffs a laugh. "So be messy." He's into the idea though, Andy can tell, how he's sliding a curious thumb around to check how much of the fabric is soaked. Andy mewls when he skirts over her clit.
"That's not hurrying," she protests, up on her tiptoes trying to angle for more concentrated pressure. It is rough though, how he's flipped his hand over to let her grind on his knuckles; Andy rocks herself into the touch. "We should take a vacation," she tells him, a little breathless. Her hands open and close against the scratchy fabric of his uniform. "Then we can do this all day and like--" She breaks off as Sam pushes two fingers deep inside her, no warning. "Shit."
Sam smirks at her shocked, needy whine. "Oh yeah?" he teases, pumping them in and out a bit. He crooks them forward, rubbing at this one spot that always makes her crazy (he remembered everything, Andy realized last night, all of her tells and her shudders; months and months since they'd had a civil word to say to each other and as soon as he touched her it felt like they hadn't skipped a step). "Hurrying not working for you?"
Andy makes a face, squirming. "It's working," she gasps, fucking herself onto his fingers. "It's really---" They don't have the time but she wants to get closer to him anyhow, slips the buttons on her shirt through their corresponding holes with two shaky hands. Reaches up and does his, too. She yanks his undershirt up out of the way and pulls him even closer, their stomachs right up against one another. The motion shoves his fingers deeper, and Andy whimpers.
"Shh, sweetheart." Sam eases out slowly, tugs the cup of her bra down and ducks his head so he can get his teeth around her nipple. His body is so, so warm. She can smell herself mixed with the damp, mildewy smell of the bathroom and the salt at the slope of his neck; Sam straightens up a bit, slides his fingers into her mouth for her to lick clean.
"I'll take you on vacation," he murmurs as she sucks the taste off obediently, kissing her temple. "I'll take you wherever you want to go." He nudges his nose against hers, like he's promising. "Turn around for me first, though."
Andy grins. "Okay." She smacks a bossy kiss off his mouth, laughing as he holds her there for an extra second to sneak some tongue. Probably she tastes the same as his fingers now. "Off," she giggles finally, pivoting to face the door. "Fast, remember?"
Both Sam's hands come up to frame her hips, tugging her back against him roughly. "I remember." Only okay--it doesn't sound as if he's talking about the relative speed of this particular quickie so much as, like, other places and occasions she's bent over for him. Andy shivers, planting both hands. Arches her back a bit.
Sam hisses.
(Oh yeah. He remembers.)
Her pants hit the ground in a blur, Sam barely backing off long enough to get them down. But as soon as his thumbs hook around the waistband of her boy-shorts everything shifts down a big gear, both of them suddenly dipped in molasses. Andy muffles a whimper as he crouches to bite at the backs of her thighs, soft toothed. There's barely enough room in the stall for him to hold the position.
"Sam," she pants, those teeth nipping a little higher. "I want--" She arches even more, taking her stance as wide as it can go with so much fabric tripping up her ankles.
“What's that, sweetheart?" Sam pulls at her thigh so she's spread even further, knocking her just enough off-balance that she has to curl her fingers over the top of the door to keep from bringing both of them down. He bites again, harder this time, right where her ass rounds out. Andy whines. "What do you want?"
Ugh, he has totally not gotten any less mean since the last time. "Sam," she pleads, sort of desperate. She pushes herself back at him anxiously, hoping that will be enough--somebody could really walk in any second, and at this point she's almost more worried about not getting to come than being caught. Her palms are slick against the door. "Seriously."
Yeah, no dice. "We're hurrying, McNally," he murmurs. Andy can feel the vibration of it all through her middle. He reaches around to spread her open, and then absolutely doesn't follow through. "You gotta tell me."
God. "Just--" Andy closes her eyes, leans her forehead against the chilly metal. Fidgets. Fuck, this is not by any means the first time he's made her say it, and she still hasn't found a way that doesn't make her blush like she's twelve. "Use your mouth, okay, just--"
She's about to throw in a please for good measure (she owes him one, anyway; she made him beg her for a good minute and a half last night before she finally sank down onto his cock), but Sam's not waiting on politeness: before it's even out he's curling an arm around her thigh to keep her steady, licking a long stripe up between her legs and like, everywhere, and oh god. Andy bites her upper arm to keep from moaning.
"Sam," she whispers, shocked. He does it again and she wobbles, shamelessly going up on her toes to keep his mouth on her longer. And yeah, okay, he is definitely licking further back than-- "Sam, please." Crap, she's gonna get loud. He keeps doing that, and she's gonna get loud.
Sam pulls away for a second so he can feed two fingers inside her. Reconsiders, and adds a third. "You're fine," he tells her quietly, bending his head again. Even at this angle he finds the spot inside that makes her crazy. Andy shivers hot, then cold as his tongue paints a star somewhere she's one-hundred-percent not used to feeling it.
"Okay," she gasps finally, reaching down to clutch at the arm he's using to steady her out. She's dangerously close to keening. "I want--"
But Sam isn't listening. He takes her hand and moves it a couple inches to the left. "Come on, sweetheart," he says, encouraging her fingers to press against her clit.
Andy whimpers. God, they don't have time for this--their radios are going to be blowing up any second now, Oliver back with lunch or Nick wanting to know where the heck she disappeared to. Sam's not taking no for an answer, though: "Andy," he prods once he's got her fingers where he wants them, in what is pretty undeniably his TO voice even if it is only a murmur.
(She does it, obviously. Of course she does it.)
She's so absurdly slippery she can hardly even get the friction that she wants, winds up working herself way harder than normal. That, plus the crazy pressure of his fingers inside her and how insanely dirty and good his tongue feels, all these new nerve endings lighting up, and--yeah. Basically Andy was right about making noise.
The sound echoes loudly in the empty bathroom, orgasm hitting so hard and deep it's all Andy can do to keep her free hand curled around the door, going totally boneless with the feeling of it deep in her spine and everywhere. Sam keeps right on doing what he's doing. She's hardly even done before he's pulling his fingers out and standing, though, pants and boxers yanked down around his thighs and his cock lined up just right. "I'm gonna want to do that to you again," he warns her, right before he pushes himself inside.
Andy whines, shoving herself back against him on legs that are really still too unsteady to manage it. "Um. O-okay?" she gasps, trying for politely curious and then undercutting herself by nodding repeatedly. Even now that he's stopped it still feels different, humming and sticky in new places. "But right now we have to--"
"Yeah." Sam laces his fingers through hers on the door, wrapping his free hand around her hips. The way he's moving inside her is just a bit desperate, jerky and rhythmless like he can't afford to wait another second. "We're hurrying." It sounds as if he's clenching his teeth.
Andy thinks about that (about how hard it got him, how much he must--) and shivers everywhere over her body. There’s not much she wouldn't do right now if she thought it’d help get him there.
Which--
All of a sudden she’s grinning against her bent forearm, wicked. "So, um. Does that mean I can do it to you?"
Sam groans, this dense desperate sound that sets Andy's skin buzzing. "Jesus, McNally," he says. He sinks his teeth into the back of her neck, stinging; reaches around and shoves her bra up out of the way with one clumsy hand. He palms a breast roughly, and Andy gasps.
"I'm serious," she says, once she's got breath enough to make the words. He's still rocking himself in and out of her, fast and unsteady. The lock on the door rattles with every thrust. "Wanna try."
"Oh yeah?" Sam twists her nipple as he shoves himself deep and then just stays there, this incredible stretch that's just this side of painful. Andy squirms a bit on his cock. It's bossy, how he's got her pinned and sort of helpless, like possibly he’s trying to assert something with her here.
(But. He's not saying no.)
Andy pushes her ass back against him hard and demanding, uses the door for leverage. "Mm-hmm," she tells him confidently, tipping her face back for a sloppy kiss. She's imagining it now, the taste of him; that open, wrecked expression he gets on his face whenever she convinces him to finish in her mouth. "Feels so good, Sam, god, soon's we get back to the apartment I'm gonna get on my knees and--"
"Fuck," Sam grinds out, interrupting with a voice like a handful of gravel. It is, um. Possible Andy doesn't totally want to wait until they get home.
"Let me?" Right until the second it leaves her mouth, she honestly doesn't know if she means now or later. But Sam is hot and restless in her, fingers plucking sort of uselessly at her nipple like he's distracted as all get out (like maybe he's picturing--), and Andy means now. She definitely, definitely means now. "S'so good, I promise," she croons, lowering her voice. "Want you to feel it. Sam Sam Sam, you gotta let me."
Sam's gone completely still behind her, unsure. When she taps his hip insistently to get him to pull out, though, he catches up in a big hurry: "I don't--fuck, Andy." And god, she'd beg him, she would, but. It honestly doesn't sound like it's going to be necessary.
"That's right," she says instead, giddy. She turns in his arms, muscling them around to switch places until Sam's back is up against the cold metal door. He looks a little stunned. "Relax," she instructs, pulling up her uniform pants hastily and dropping to her knees; they need to do this fast, or not at all. But then his cock is already right there, already slick with her, and the look on his face is just--yeah. Andy ends up sucking it nicely for a minute while they both get used to the idea, careful to let Sam control the pace. Which he definitely does: he literally makes fists in her hair and shoves. And yes, bossy, definitely, but like--
Andy is pretty sure she's the boss.
"Okay, now." She pulls off, looking up at his face. He's been leaking all over the place since she got down here. "Turn around."
"McNally." There's an edge to his voice, like possibly he's still freaking out a little bit at the idea. Which Andy gets--it's the dirtiest thing they've ever done, probably, not to mention the fact that they're in a public bathroom and have only been back together for like half a day after arguably the ugliest breakup of her entire life.
Still, though: she really, really wants to see what it does to him.
"You trust me?" she asks, sitting back on her haunches and looking up. She's still got her fist around his cock, jacking slowly, but she reaches for his hand with her free one. Her braid's a disaster, she can feel it, unraveling all down her back. "Hey. Do you trust me?"
Sam's skull thunks back against the metal. "Of course I trust you," he promises, no hesitation at all. He squeezes her hand like he's trying to make the point. "I just--"
Well then. "You started it," she points out, totally not above using playground logic. God, he's still so hard; there's a soft but unmistakable smacking sound as Andy works her palm over the slippery head. "Sam," she says, very quietly. "Turn around."
Sam looks at her for another second before he does it. Andy grins.
(Oh yeah. She's the boss, all right.)
Andy tugs his boxers down a little lower, for better access; he's got a fantastic ass, Sam does ("Seriously, it's Beyonce-caliber," she told him once, which she meant as a compliment but which he did not totally take as one). She scrapes her nails whisper-light across his skin. She knows him well enough to know that bend over is not a piece of instruction that's going to work for him, particularly, so instead she grabs his hips and moves him how she wants him, widens his stance a bit. "Just like that," Andy says softly, reaching around and wrapping his own hand around his cock. Her heart is beating crazily in her throat.
He groans the second she opens her mouth against his thighs, sharp and desperate. Andy actually pauses for a beat, how weird it is to have him making that kind of noise. God, okay, so this is really something that's going to--yeah.
"Shh," she murmurs, pressing in close with her shoulders, all this body contact meant to soothe. "Easy." His hips are jumpy but he's slowed down the pace on his cock, she can tell just by the sound; he's close, no question, how tight and corded all his muscles have gone. When she tries biting, tilting her head a little to reach his inner thigh, he jolts forward like a spooked horse. Andy grins.
"Yeah," she says, muscling his hips back where she needs them. "Don't do that again."
Then she starts licking.
"Fuck," Sam gasps, this choked, shocked sound like he didn't really believe she was gonna do it until right this second. "Andy--" His entire body has frozen up, even the hand on his cock. It takes Andy a second to realize it's a good kind of freeze.
Like. A really good kind of freeze.
She reaches around blindly and closes her fingers over his fist, making him squeeze down good and hard. It tears a sound out of his throat, not entirely human, and then all of a sudden everything is happening at once. Sam's hand is moving in a blur, cock jerking, then pulsing, and then Andy's fingers are getting wet and warm and he's making a hell of a lot of noise and god. God. Andy presses her thighs together, whimpering a little herself. Keeps licking until he finishes.
For a second neither one of them says anything, Sam breathing hard and an audible swallow, one palm still braced against the door. Andy kisses the back of his thigh and he flinches. "Hey," she says softly, curling her clean hand around his hip. She means to reassure him--he's shaking like a fucking palm tree in a hurricane, jesus--but all of a sudden he's hauling her up and pushing her back against the wall, wrapping his arms around tight enough to knock the breath out. Andy is...not entirely sure which one of them it is he's trying to calm down.
"Easy," she murmurs again, holding her sloppy fingers away from him so she doesn't get the mess on his uniform. She presses her mouth against the cliff of his cheek. She's nervous for a second, like maybe she pushed him too far too soon or something (that was a thing that would happen when they crossed lines, first time around, him getting weird afterward like he was worried he'd showed her more than he meant to) but Sam surprises her by turning his head and kissing her hard, licking his way into her mouth like--like--
jesus.
(Andy, um. Really does not hate what just happened.)
"You're hot," she gasps a minute later, his sticky cock pressed against her stomach and one hand clutching at the back of his neck. "Seriously, Sam, jesus. Gonna want to do that to you again."
Sam doesn't answer with words, just this quick hard grin and a shake of his head like he can't quite believe he just let her do that. In the tepid light of the bathroom it looks like--that is, he's definitely--
oh yeah. He's blushing.
Andy grins back hugely. There's no room but she hops up on her toes and launches herself at him anyway, a rough joyful hug that knocks them both back against the door. "Missed you," she tells his sheepish red ear, just quiet. She loves him stupid.
Sam huffs a laugh into her shoulder, holding on tight. It kind of feels like he loves her stupid, too.
"Need to get you cleaned up," he says finally, picking up her messy hand. Andy leans back against the wall and lets him wipe it clean with a square of gritty toilet paper, tickling between the webbing of her fingers, then holds still while he sets her uniform to order piece by careful piece. He takes his time, buttoning her shirt up and tucking it in all the way around, retrieving her holster off the floor. Andy doesn't know if this is her 'thank you' or apology or what, but it definitely feels nice.
"Professional?" she asks when he finishes, grinning up at him impishly. He stills looks completely wrecked, and she's pretty sure she does too. She tucks his cock back into his boxers gently, tugging the waistband back into place--she'd really love to get back on her knees and lick it clean for him, but. Time is of the essence.
Sam chuckles. "Yeah," he says, tucking her mussed hair behind her ears. "I don't know how great we're gonna be at this sneaking around thing, sweetheart." He looks pretty pleased with her though, all told.
"Are you kidding?" Andy smiles. "'Cause, like. I think we're super awesome at it so far."
She rebraids her hair as fast as she can in the foggy mirror above the sink, then follows Sam out into the greenhouse and the bright, sunny park beyond. Andy really, really hopes she's not going to need to chase anybody down before this shift is over. Her whole body feels sort of loose and noodle-y; also, she was really not kidding when she told him she was going to be messy all day.
(She's, uh. Pretty sure Sam's got the same exact problem.)
They've barely gotten fifty yards when Nick comes trotting around the bend in the path, gaze cutting to Andy right away when he sees them together. His eyebrows shoot up just the slightest bit. And okay, she feels a little guilty just then, what a good breakup buddy he was and all the time they spent deconstructing their respective relationships in the cover apartment, how she'd probably be kind of annoyed if she found out he was getting in on with Gail and hadn't told her.
But. Not that guilty.
"Collins," Sam says, totally deadpan, all bored TO on a candy-ass detail. "How'd you do?"
Nick shrugs slowly, this expression like he's trying to puzzle out the trick. In the end he's too well-behaved to say anything, though, or even ask why Sam's there. "No problems." He looks over at Andy again, question implicit.
Andy picks the easy answer: "Yeah, we--I didn't see anything." For god's sake, McNally. She smiles big at Nick to cover, careful not to even so much as glance at Sam in her peripheral vision. Her spine feels like someone replaced all the bones with Jello-O. "There was this one old lady who looked pretty shifty, though."
Nick keeps looking for one more second. Andy can see the exact second he decides to let it go, six months together and all his tells like her own. "Yeah, I got her too," he says, grinning and stepping in closer. "I think she thought I was gonna vandalize something."
Sam drifts away to fiddle with his radio while they chat, something about Ollie and sandwich orders. Andy talks to Nick about all the imaginary people-watching she did, trying to be as upbeat as possible to cover up the blatant lies. It's surprisingly hard; her body is still buzzing along on an endorphin high, the afterglow making her hyper-conscious of her breasts and her thighs and her everything, this ridiculous jolt each time she shifts her weight. It would be lovely if it were happening basically anyplace else.
She's just starting to describe an imaginary mom and baby in desperation ("A watermelon hat," she tells Nick, who looks delighted), when Sam finishes up. "You rooks want lunch?" he asks, voice like he couldn't be fucked. Up close, his cheeks are still the slightest bit pink. "Ollie's buying."
"Sounds great," Andy says brightly, playing it as if she's super psyched about the idea of Shaw springing for a four-dollar burger. Sam shoots her a look like possibly she's spent too much time in the sun. He hangs back as Collins leads the way down the path toward the street, though, slips his finger into her belt loop and tugs, just barely. Andy grins up at the sky.