I ficced!
Title: Light, Heat, and Breath
Author: slick-puppy
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Charlie/Amita
Warnings: Het, Charmita.
Disclaimer: Not my toys, I just borrow them from Heuton/Falacci and CBS.
Feedback: Yes please! Constructive criticism is welcome.
Summary: He knows he owes her an apology...
A/N: Dedicated to raeyashi for her birthday. Thank you to emmademarais for her support and suggestions. You are the Best. Mentor. Ever. I'm also grateful to gyen_gaoltosing for the beta, and to raeyashi and penguingal for cheerleading. I swear I am the luckiest girl in the world because of you all.
Amita had given up on their dinner reservations while watching Charlie arrange dozens of candles around the garage.
"Dr. Keppler's covering for Larry. Why are you preparing a physics experiment?"
"I have a personal interest in it."
"You have a personal interest in everything," she snapped as she lit the last candle. She bristled when he moved close behind her. "Except me."
He sighed and moved even closer, pressing his cheek to her hair. "Amita, I want to apologize," he murmured. "I hate that my work messes things up for us."
"I don't begrudge the FBI, Charlie." She watched shadows throw themselves at the walls and wished for the bond she felt when they tackled some project, his leaps of intuition driving her. "But elementary Physics?"
He pushed her hair aside to kiss her neck, and slid his other hand around her waist. "Actually I was hoping to test a theory about the effect of candlelight on you, Dr. Ramanujan." He pulled her against him, tilting her head for his kisses.
Resting against his body, she turned her head and watched him through a tumble of bangs. "In that case, Dr. Eppes, I can't wait for the rest of the experiment."
He felt a blush creeping up the back of his neck, and resisted the urge to shrug as he walked her backwards to the old wicker sofa. He turned her in his arms and coaxed her down, kneeling when she sat. He kissed her until she was stubble-burned and breathless, then sat back to unbuckle her shoes. "What I need you to understand is that I made myself ignore you for years," he said as he pulled off her right shoe and kissed her instep. He painted a line of kisses from the inside of her ankle to her knee. "I had to." he said, releasing her foot to remove the other shoe and paint a line of kisses up to her left knee, dropping that foot on his other side. He raised himself to his knees again and looked into her eyes, stroking his thumbs once across her kneecaps where they emerged from her skirt. "It's a habit I'm going to break."
She bent forward to capture his bottom lip, and tug it sharply with her teeth. "How can I help you with that?" she grabbed his hands and dragged them over the skirt to her hips.
"You fascinate me, Amita. I'm a mess in department meetings, half-hard at the conference table watching you suck on the cap from your pen," He said, and leaned in to kiss her again. "God help me when you start talking in those things."
Smirking, she called to mind a long expression from her latest lecture, and breathed it into his ear while she slipped her arms around him, working her hands under his jacket and dress shirt to scratch lightly at his lower back.
"I'm going to regret telling you that," he said. He pulled her hips forward, forcing her to clutch at him to stay sitting upright. He shrugged out of his jacket, thankful that for once it cooperated, whooshing to the floor as he kissed her neck.
"You might, but maybe you won't need six reminders every time there's a meeting," she said. She stroked the small of his back with her palms, then trailed her nails over the sensitive skin.
A prickle of gooseflesh flowed along his spine, and in its wake an image flashed in his mind, of fucking her right here hanging halfway off the couch while she wrote her passion into his skin with those tantalizing nails. His cock jumped inside his jeans, and he bit his lip hard, running a few permutations of a compound Pythagorean function as he gathered his control. "A useful distraction is a beautiful thing," he said, as he slid his hands along her arms to her wrists, and peeled her hands away from his skin. "But sometimes I need to focus on the task at hand." He pulled her hands up and kissed each palm softly, before setting them to either side and pressing her fingers into the cushion. One look into her flushed face told him her hands would stay put. He kissed her again, leaning forward so that she sprawled against the back of the couch with her skirt bunched around her hips and her shapely legs glowing golden in the candlelight.
Watching her eyes, he straightened, and slid his hands along the outsides of her thighs. He curled his fingers under her knees and stroked the creases underneath, as he shifted his focus to her mouth, then back up. Slowly he sat back again, sliding his gaze over her cleavage, the silky blouse and crumpled business skirt, to land briefly at the luminous white lace of her panties. He heard her inhale sharply and, smiling, turned to taste the soft skin at the inside of her knee. Her breath caught, so he nibbled the other knee and heard a small whimper. "Interesting," he crooned, delighted with the increased pace of her breathing. "We'll have to thoroughly test that result." He alternated wet kisses up the inside of her thighs, willing himself to go slowly even as his cock throbbed with every little gasp and sigh.
By the time he felt the scratch of wool against his cheek, heat was pouring off of her and he paused to savor her warm, rich scent. She wriggled slightly, and he lifted his head, surprised when her hips lifted too. He turned to look at her face and gasped as a wave of arousal swamped him. Her blouse was open, revealing a swath of snowy lace against the satiny caramel of her breasts. As he watched, the skirt loosened from the back and she pushed at it with both hands. He leaned back and helped her work it down until she could kick free, his blood pounding.
"I think it's time to move to the next phase of the experiment," she said, sitting up and plucking at his shirt buttons.
He drank in the sight of her, of gracefully curved strands of hair clinging to her face as her brow knit with the effort of loosening his cuffs. Her "concentration face" melted his heart as it always had, and he tipped her chin up with his free hand. "Patience, doctor," he said, "There are some additional variables to consider in phase one." Kneeling up, he stripped his shirt and slid his mouth across hers as he slid his thumbs along the creases where her thighs met her body, stopping just short of the lacy triangle of panties. The motion of his hands made her shift and whisper, "Please, please," against his lips. He repeated the motion, and let his thumbs feather over the lace again and again. With each pass he increased the pressure until she shifted again, pressing herself into his hands. He hooked his fingers into the straps, and she lifted up to let him pull the panties off her hips.
He climbed up to sit beside her while she got the panties the rest of the way off. When he sat she reached to unbutton his jeans, but he caught her hands and set them on the cushions again. One touch from her now, as the candlelight played over the white blouse against the burnished curves and planes of her body, would be too much. He kissed her deeply in apology, slipping one bra strap from her shoulder, and moved down to pull her hard brown nipple into his mouth. His free hand ghosted over the skin of her stomach and down, brushing just so lightly over her soft pubic hair and cupping the moist heat below. She gasped and wiggled, trying to get his fingers where she wanted them. He obliged, just lightly grazing the firm bud and then circling it once.
"God, Charlie, Please!" she sobbed, and her fingers tangled with his, urging him to move.
His hips snapped at her wanton reaction, and he pulled her nipple between his teeth. Together their slick fingers stroked the hot folds of her, and she writhed with a sinuous grace that made his body scream at him to end this torture and bury himself inside her. Desperate to gather his shredded control, he kept up with the motion of her hand while he eased himself off the couch to his knees. Panting, he reached for his numbers again, and set his lips to the skin below her navel.
Her throaty whines soared to a new, higher pitch, and he realized she was reacting to the heat of his breath on her skin. He moved just enough to get between her knees again and dipped lower, letting his ragged breath flow over her while lapping at the line of paler skin just above the short, glossy curls. He lifted her hand away and pressed his mouth there, curling his tongue against her, as he pressed two fingers of his free hand inside her body. She thrummed with tension as he sucked and nuzzled her, and shuddered when he curled his fingers upward to stroke the slick, muscular wall a few inches inside. He relished the salty richness of her on his tongue, and couldn't hold back a moan when her other hand gripped his hair. The vibration pushed her over the edge with a broken cry, and her muscles fluttered against his fingers maddeningly. He turned his head to murmur into the fragile skin at the hollow of her hip, and waited for the tension to drain out of her.
He slipped his fingers from her gently, and her body bowed in a fierce, shivering aftershock. He petted her thighs and stomach soothingly before moving up to sit beside her and smooth sticky tendrils of hair away from her face. He slowly leaned sideways on the couch, pulling her on top of him as he settled against the cushions. "So amazing," he whispered, wrapping her in his arms and stroking her shoulders lightly as her heartbeat slowed and her eyelids drooped. The heat and weight of her body tempted him, and he pressed against her, seeking friction against the yielding flesh of her hip.
She stretched against him slowly, exaggerating the feline ripple of her body against his. He rumbled approval into the nape of her neck, and would have set his hands on her hips, but she rolled to a stand and twisted her hair into a loose knot. "I appreciate your tireless experimentation, Dr. Eppes," she said, finally shedding the blouse and lacy bra, "but there are still data points to explore." She folded languidly to her knees and mouthed the strip of furred belly just above his jeans. "Thankfully, you aren't the only gifted scientist in the room."
Author: slick-puppy
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Charlie/Amita
Warnings: Het, Charmita.
Disclaimer: Not my toys, I just borrow them from Heuton/Falacci and CBS.
Feedback: Yes please! Constructive criticism is welcome.
Summary: He knows he owes her an apology...
A/N: Dedicated to raeyashi for her birthday. Thank you to emmademarais for her support and suggestions. You are the Best. Mentor. Ever. I'm also grateful to gyen_gaoltosing for the beta, and to raeyashi and penguingal for cheerleading. I swear I am the luckiest girl in the world because of you all.
Amita had given up on their dinner reservations while watching Charlie arrange dozens of candles around the garage.
"Dr. Keppler's covering for Larry. Why are you preparing a physics experiment?"
"I have a personal interest in it."
"You have a personal interest in everything," she snapped as she lit the last candle. She bristled when he moved close behind her. "Except me."
He sighed and moved even closer, pressing his cheek to her hair. "Amita, I want to apologize," he murmured. "I hate that my work messes things up for us."
"I don't begrudge the FBI, Charlie." She watched shadows throw themselves at the walls and wished for the bond she felt when they tackled some project, his leaps of intuition driving her. "But elementary Physics?"
He pushed her hair aside to kiss her neck, and slid his other hand around her waist. "Actually I was hoping to test a theory about the effect of candlelight on you, Dr. Ramanujan." He pulled her against him, tilting her head for his kisses.
Resting against his body, she turned her head and watched him through a tumble of bangs. "In that case, Dr. Eppes, I can't wait for the rest of the experiment."
He felt a blush creeping up the back of his neck, and resisted the urge to shrug as he walked her backwards to the old wicker sofa. He turned her in his arms and coaxed her down, kneeling when she sat. He kissed her until she was stubble-burned and breathless, then sat back to unbuckle her shoes. "What I need you to understand is that I made myself ignore you for years," he said as he pulled off her right shoe and kissed her instep. He painted a line of kisses from the inside of her ankle to her knee. "I had to." he said, releasing her foot to remove the other shoe and paint a line of kisses up to her left knee, dropping that foot on his other side. He raised himself to his knees again and looked into her eyes, stroking his thumbs once across her kneecaps where they emerged from her skirt. "It's a habit I'm going to break."
She bent forward to capture his bottom lip, and tug it sharply with her teeth. "How can I help you with that?" she grabbed his hands and dragged them over the skirt to her hips.
"You fascinate me, Amita. I'm a mess in department meetings, half-hard at the conference table watching you suck on the cap from your pen," He said, and leaned in to kiss her again. "God help me when you start talking in those things."
Smirking, she called to mind a long expression from her latest lecture, and breathed it into his ear while she slipped her arms around him, working her hands under his jacket and dress shirt to scratch lightly at his lower back.
"I'm going to regret telling you that," he said. He pulled her hips forward, forcing her to clutch at him to stay sitting upright. He shrugged out of his jacket, thankful that for once it cooperated, whooshing to the floor as he kissed her neck.
"You might, but maybe you won't need six reminders every time there's a meeting," she said. She stroked the small of his back with her palms, then trailed her nails over the sensitive skin.
A prickle of gooseflesh flowed along his spine, and in its wake an image flashed in his mind, of fucking her right here hanging halfway off the couch while she wrote her passion into his skin with those tantalizing nails. His cock jumped inside his jeans, and he bit his lip hard, running a few permutations of a compound Pythagorean function as he gathered his control. "A useful distraction is a beautiful thing," he said, as he slid his hands along her arms to her wrists, and peeled her hands away from his skin. "But sometimes I need to focus on the task at hand." He pulled her hands up and kissed each palm softly, before setting them to either side and pressing her fingers into the cushion. One look into her flushed face told him her hands would stay put. He kissed her again, leaning forward so that she sprawled against the back of the couch with her skirt bunched around her hips and her shapely legs glowing golden in the candlelight.
Watching her eyes, he straightened, and slid his hands along the outsides of her thighs. He curled his fingers under her knees and stroked the creases underneath, as he shifted his focus to her mouth, then back up. Slowly he sat back again, sliding his gaze over her cleavage, the silky blouse and crumpled business skirt, to land briefly at the luminous white lace of her panties. He heard her inhale sharply and, smiling, turned to taste the soft skin at the inside of her knee. Her breath caught, so he nibbled the other knee and heard a small whimper. "Interesting," he crooned, delighted with the increased pace of her breathing. "We'll have to thoroughly test that result." He alternated wet kisses up the inside of her thighs, willing himself to go slowly even as his cock throbbed with every little gasp and sigh.
By the time he felt the scratch of wool against his cheek, heat was pouring off of her and he paused to savor her warm, rich scent. She wriggled slightly, and he lifted his head, surprised when her hips lifted too. He turned to look at her face and gasped as a wave of arousal swamped him. Her blouse was open, revealing a swath of snowy lace against the satiny caramel of her breasts. As he watched, the skirt loosened from the back and she pushed at it with both hands. He leaned back and helped her work it down until she could kick free, his blood pounding.
"I think it's time to move to the next phase of the experiment," she said, sitting up and plucking at his shirt buttons.
He drank in the sight of her, of gracefully curved strands of hair clinging to her face as her brow knit with the effort of loosening his cuffs. Her "concentration face" melted his heart as it always had, and he tipped her chin up with his free hand. "Patience, doctor," he said, "There are some additional variables to consider in phase one." Kneeling up, he stripped his shirt and slid his mouth across hers as he slid his thumbs along the creases where her thighs met her body, stopping just short of the lacy triangle of panties. The motion of his hands made her shift and whisper, "Please, please," against his lips. He repeated the motion, and let his thumbs feather over the lace again and again. With each pass he increased the pressure until she shifted again, pressing herself into his hands. He hooked his fingers into the straps, and she lifted up to let him pull the panties off her hips.
He climbed up to sit beside her while she got the panties the rest of the way off. When he sat she reached to unbutton his jeans, but he caught her hands and set them on the cushions again. One touch from her now, as the candlelight played over the white blouse against the burnished curves and planes of her body, would be too much. He kissed her deeply in apology, slipping one bra strap from her shoulder, and moved down to pull her hard brown nipple into his mouth. His free hand ghosted over the skin of her stomach and down, brushing just so lightly over her soft pubic hair and cupping the moist heat below. She gasped and wiggled, trying to get his fingers where she wanted them. He obliged, just lightly grazing the firm bud and then circling it once.
"God, Charlie, Please!" she sobbed, and her fingers tangled with his, urging him to move.
His hips snapped at her wanton reaction, and he pulled her nipple between his teeth. Together their slick fingers stroked the hot folds of her, and she writhed with a sinuous grace that made his body scream at him to end this torture and bury himself inside her. Desperate to gather his shredded control, he kept up with the motion of her hand while he eased himself off the couch to his knees. Panting, he reached for his numbers again, and set his lips to the skin below her navel.
Her throaty whines soared to a new, higher pitch, and he realized she was reacting to the heat of his breath on her skin. He moved just enough to get between her knees again and dipped lower, letting his ragged breath flow over her while lapping at the line of paler skin just above the short, glossy curls. He lifted her hand away and pressed his mouth there, curling his tongue against her, as he pressed two fingers of his free hand inside her body. She thrummed with tension as he sucked and nuzzled her, and shuddered when he curled his fingers upward to stroke the slick, muscular wall a few inches inside. He relished the salty richness of her on his tongue, and couldn't hold back a moan when her other hand gripped his hair. The vibration pushed her over the edge with a broken cry, and her muscles fluttered against his fingers maddeningly. He turned his head to murmur into the fragile skin at the hollow of her hip, and waited for the tension to drain out of her.
He slipped his fingers from her gently, and her body bowed in a fierce, shivering aftershock. He petted her thighs and stomach soothingly before moving up to sit beside her and smooth sticky tendrils of hair away from her face. He slowly leaned sideways on the couch, pulling her on top of him as he settled against the cushions. "So amazing," he whispered, wrapping her in his arms and stroking her shoulders lightly as her heartbeat slowed and her eyelids drooped. The heat and weight of her body tempted him, and he pressed against her, seeking friction against the yielding flesh of her hip.
She stretched against him slowly, exaggerating the feline ripple of her body against his. He rumbled approval into the nape of her neck, and would have set his hands on her hips, but she rolled to a stand and twisted her hair into a loose knot. "I appreciate your tireless experimentation, Dr. Eppes," she said, finally shedding the blouse and lacy bra, "but there are still data points to explore." She folded languidly to her knees and mouthed the strip of furred belly just above his jeans. "Thankfully, you aren't the only gifted scientist in the room."