Rated: NC-17                                     
Spoilers: No, Sir.
Summary: 2 pages of smut at the request of MelMooney.  What can I say?  
She's a junkie.



Eyes Shut
MD1016




The smell of soap, heat on her neck and cheeks, her racing heart, 
pulsing, throbbing, aching pleasure.  Too much, but more...please 
more...

She can't open her eyes.  She won't.  If she does he might disappear, 
he might be nothing more than a dream.  An amazing dream with ten 
beautiful fingers smoothing the tight flesh of her upper thighs, 
wandering to the outer rim of where she wants them to go, ever so 
gently combing through...but not quite...not quite...

She has to open her mouth, she isn't getting enough oxygen.  Her head 
is too light, buzzing and soaring somewhere near the overhead bathroom 
light fixture, looking down, seeing him looking at her.  Watching her 
as he slowly drives her mad.  The sleeves of his blue dress shirt are 
rolled up past his elbow, his tie lays forgotten on the tile floor 
beside the toilet.  From her out-of-body perspective she can see him 
licking his dry lips, the muscles of his arms working as he delicately 
traces a crease in her flesh.  

No, back in the body, back to his touch.  She doesn't want to watch, 
she wants to live it.  She's watched for too long.  Just breathe, she 
tells herself.  Breathe and love the way he's loving you.  Because this 
is love.  Not friendship.  Not fondness.  This is devotion and worship.  
His prayer is in his fingers as they part her sensitive folds, in his 
thumb as he tentatively probes.

A puff of his warm breath against her cheek jars her, and her eyes 
flutter open.  His gaze is locked with hers.  His hand stops, as does 
her breathing.  Even the soapy water is still.  Reality crashes in on 
them with a deafening silence. 

Her partner is kneeling in the motel bathroom, one hand bracing himself 
against the side of the tub, the other between her legs, two fingers 
inside her body.  The look in his eyes is a mixture of arousal and 
fear.  And something else that makes her inner muscles contract and her 
stomach clench.  His pupils are so dilated there's almost no color left 
in his irises.  His cheeks are flush from the heat under the dark 
shadow of a full day's growth.  He's hot and excited, and it scares the 
shit out of him.  It scares the shit out of her, too. 

When she looks at him, it's hard not to see the man she works beside 
day in and day out.  She sees her partner.  Her partner who's trying to 
get her off.  The thrill she felt a moment before drains away, and is 
replaced by a sickly awareness of consequence.  There's no going back.  
The innocent flirting is dead.  From now on it will be impossible to 
dismiss his suggestive comments and brief un-partner-like touches.  
There is nothing brief about what he is doing inside her.

She feels his fingers adjust, twist in her narrow opening, and the 
instant pleasure slams her eyes shut.  Her arms slip inside the tub, 
under the water, and her fists press on the porcelain beneath her to 
support the arch in her back.  Her thighs press outward, she can't help 
it, and at this point she doesn't want to.  She doesn't want to think.  
All she wants to do is give herself over to the fingers rubbing at that 
one perfect spot within her, and the slick thumb working back and forth 
across her clit.  And the feather-light brush of his lips and breath at 
her temple.

She bites her lips and clenches as the build begins.  It comes much 
faster than she's used to.  The roar in her ears, the strain in her 
pelvis, the guttural growl that she releases as the waves of pleasure 
crash over her become her entire world, colored by red pin-pricks of 
light that explode behind her eyelids.  

When she blinks, the light of the bathroom startles her, but no more 
than the realization that in her ecstacy she'd flung an arm over his 
neck, and dug her nails into his shoulder.  He's much closer than she 
was prepared for, his lips are mere inches from hers.  And the look in 
his eyes tells her he has every intention of kissing her.  His slender 
fingers slip out of her, and smooth through her thick curls up to the 
dying suds floating on her belly.  He caresses her.  He loves her.   
His lips meet hers, and she closes her eyes. 

It's simple that way.

End.
	 

    Source: geocities.com/mdsfanfic