Chapter 2
Strange Animals
Neagley promptly replied with an "eyeroll" face. For the last time, I want to do this. Book it . Realizing that came across exactly as harsh as it sounded she sent a stand-alone "wink" face a solid forty-five seconds later. It had the intended effect. If she'd been standing there beside him and able to summon up the desire for a kiss—she still couldn't—it would have been one.
He sent her a wink right back, following up a few minutes later with, We're penned in @2pm Saturday . He debated adding, Don't feel like you can't call it off. If your mind changes, I'll cancel, but decided against it. He had a feeling this was one of those times he had to take her at her word. Besides, she knew she could call it off and he'd turn around at the dungeon door if her feet went cold.
~~~
The entry bell to the shop rang loud above their heads as they stepped inside. They were a bit early. Had twenty or so minutes to kill. Neagley had insisted on browsing ahead of time. Likely also trying to get a feel for the place and shop keeper. The boutique openly, proudly, catered to the LGBTQIA+ community. The other couple in the store were men. Neagley clocked it with a minute narrowing of her eyes. Her hands went into her coat pockets.
Making sure he stood between her and the other shoppers, he explained, "There isn't any other store in town that offers this. Lucky for us, gay guys have exacting quality expectations for their dildos."
"Not surprising." Neagley smiled, laughing quietly as she dropped her head bashfully. Her laughter stopped momentarily when her eyes came to rest on a pair of hand cuffs.
Hudson sucked in a reluctant breath through his teeth. "Nope. Can't do it."
She looked up at him, wide-eyed, eyebrows up, asking, "Why?" without having to utter a word.
"Yeah, I've, uh…" He cleared his throat, clearly disturbed by his memories. "…seen one too many people beaten half to death cuffed to something or other. Back when. That, or cuffed to a bedframe by their partner or rapist and murdered."
He'd witnessed his father doing unspeakable things to victims in the name of criminal enterprise as a child and teenager, except in his case, he'd seen it and never forgotten a single moment. Add to that mix what he did for work…
Expression softening instantly, she nodded, eyes immediately roaming, looking for the next implement or silicone oddity that might catch their eyes.
Her hand drifted up out of her pocket, fingertips dancing over the silky-soft black feathers of something resembling a feather duster. A remarkably full head of genuine plumage, the handle wrapped in intricately woven, real suede. A very high quality sensory stim. Before her hand could fall onto a boxed piece, Hudson snatched one up in hand. She looked back at him, wide-eyed with surprise. A tiny smile appeared on his lips for a moment before his poker face came back, his gaze returning to the shelf.
Next to it stood something a little… harsher. One foot or slightly more of dozens of true suede lace strings, black, bound tightly inside a varnished walnut handle. The wood glowed. It had been polished to a glass-like shine. By the way he eyed it, it wasn't lack of interest or money that was the reason for his hesitation.
"Ask me about that next time."
One eyebrow shooting up, intrigued, Neagley nodded—it was a silent promise. She would. A smile started on her lips. It hadn't been, "if there's a next time." Next time . A foregone conclusion. She was certain he could see the heat rising in her cheeks.
Curiously absent from the shelves was any kind of kit for creating a silicone replica of a sexual partner. Hudson realized, without a word said between them, that was what she was searching for. He tucked his hands in his dress pants pockets as he stepped in a little closer so he didn't have to speak so loudly as to be heard by anyone else. Half because he didn't want to make the mistake of unconsciously giving in to the temptation to put a hand on her back, half because it helped her know he wanted the proximity for something other than touch.
"They don't sell 'em. Not exactly a service they advertise, either. Gent who owns the place helped me out with a case a while back. Advertising a service like that, you get some asshats who get off on having a stranger handle their family jewels, and come in for that without actually paying for the product in the end. They quickly started charging up front, but it still doesn't weed them all out. They've had to call in uniform once or twice. I told him I was coming in for something special for someone special, and he knows me well enough to know I'm being straight with him."
"'Special', huh?"
He stood firm in place, fixing her with a sarcastically questioning look and an impish smile. "Yeah. What? You're not ?"
Her expression turned unseriously aloof as she moved along the aisle. "I guess I am," she said, one eyebrow going up in brattish emphasis, a mischievous smile forming on her lips.
Grinning and chuckling, he gave her a tolerantly loving wink. He looked past his shoulder to make sure he was still well-positioned between Neagley and the other two customers as they exited the store. Within seconds another couple—lesbians—walked in going straight to the counter.
"So, what do they… do?"
Hudson swallowed nervously. "Well, they…" If they were going to have this done, there was no point in talking around it. "You have to be clean shaven—baby's-bottom smooth—penis, sack, and a few inches out from the bottom all 'round. The base is gonna be shaped exactly like my pelvis, apparently. It has to be fresh so skin isn't irritated or bumpy. Skin has to be moisturized. Something that keeps me from being glued to the silicone applied. And, well, I'll have to be hard once the moulding process starts and throughout." The alarm on her face was almost immediate. "You don't have to do anything ," he quickly assured her. "I took Viagra before we left. Have another one on me. Between that, fantasies, and memories, I oughta be able to make it happen. Hopefully."
His fondness for the way she smiled so subtly in appreciation for the consideration sent a smattering of colour into his cheeks.
"The studio they use for it is pretty damn clinical. Leather seat. Looks like a hybrid masseuse table and tattooist's station—"
"Detective?"
Hudson snapped his gaze up, standing attention-straight, like someone had stuck a shock prod into his side. The store was empty of all other visitors. He hadn't even heard the bell when the last couple left.
"Our technician's ready for you." Neagley quickly made her way to a spot at the end of the aisle where Hudson could get by without making contact. "It's good to see you again, Detective, under considerably better circumstances," the owner said, accepting the "duster" and setting it aside behind the counter. The gentleman's Russian accent was real. Neagley laid eyes on the business cards on the counter by the register. Alexei Asimov. Quite the last name.
Hudson smiled gratefully, extending a handshake. "Thank you for doing this for us. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."
"My pleasure," Alexei emphasized, taking a slightly firmer and longer hold of Hudson's hand and upper arm than she knew was socially usual. One corner of her lips turned up. Man apparently couldn't help himself. For her part, her heart didn't hold it against him. She was fighting a potent, lifelong phobia for the chance to touch and be touched by the same man. Turning his attention to her, Alexei bowed his head slightly in genuine respect. "You must be Ms. Neagley." His hand went to his chest as he held his arm up, gesturing demurely for her to move past him. She eyed him hesitantly. "Please, don't be alarmed. Mr. Riley informed us you're not to be touched by reason of a phobia. You're safe here. There's a waiting room ready opposite the studio. Water, alcoholic beverages, appetizers, and fruit are in the fridge and complimentary."
Relieved, nodding, she found her smile was real. Neagley was beginning to get the feeling she didn't want to know what the price tag was for this. "Thank you."
Hudson began shrugging out of his ebon leather jacket as the interior of the moulding room came into view. Gritting her teeth, Neagley reached out, taking hold of him by the arm he'd managed to set free from his coat. He turned toward her, eyes wide in vulnerable surprise. Her gaze fixed on where they touched at first, her touch became a subtle, soothing massage, her thumb moving in gentle circles on the tender underside of his forearm. His skin was… amazingly soft. The sweater he was wearing, somehow even softer. A slight smile found its way onto her lips.
"Frankey…"
Her breathing quickly turned short and shallow, colour rising in her cheeks. The long, loose yet dashingly stylish sweater and breezy slacks he'd worn for the occasion were beyond their capacity to hide the swell of his medically-induced erection. "I'm with you on this," she promised, looking him square in the eyes, her affection for him shining neon bright from her face.
He grinned. Nodding and giving her a long, slow wink. Even though he couldn't physically kiss her, his eyes did, too. He stayed with her touch and gaze until she gently let him go.
A male nurse waited stoically inside the mould room. Neagley kept her eyes on Hudson until the door closed between them with a palpable finality. The luxuriant carpet in the slender hall was decorated with a rich blue design that evoked light dancing on bare skin below tropical water; she stepped over the threshold into the waiting room, leaving the Rubicon's shores behind.
Alexei's soothing voice cut into the silence. "The hall and waiting room are free of surveillance. There are soundless cameras in the moulding room for customer protection and for our staff's wellbeing. The walls and doors are perfectly soundproofed. You're able to speak freely with each other in perfect discretion, if need be. You'll hear three taps from the door knocker once the procedure is finished. If there's anything you need, please let me know. I'll be in the store front."
Neagley surveyed the luxuriously furnished waiting room appreciatively. The kindness in his demeanour was real. She smiled gratefully. "I should be all right. Thank you, very much." He gently closed the door behind her. She heard no locking mechanism activate.
Closing her eyes in the dimly lit room, she took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, and once again. She shed her jacket, throwing it over the back of one of the lounge chairs. Walking the room for a minute, deciding on a bottle of water from the fridge, she plopped gracelessly though not heavily down into the seat. Digging her phone out, she brought up her conversation with Hudson, one leg dancing loosely back and forth on her boot heel. Her heart was beating considerably faster than normal.
Tapping the text field she watched the cursor blink. She had no idea what to say. Eyes watering, a half smile starting on her lips, she tapped one emoji, her thumb slowly finding and hovering over the other.
A wink and a bright red heart. She felt herself breathing in short, stilted breaths.
Within seconds, three bouncing dots popped up.
In quick succession, his answers came back.
Three large red hearts.
A wink and a hug.
Relaxing, she started breathing deep and slow, leaning back in the chair. Holding her now-locked phone against her stomach, elbow propped on the seat arm, she rested her cheek and the side of her mouth and on her curled down fingers, thoughts dwelling on the exhilarating, paradoxically weightless heaviness permeating her heart and nerves.
~~~
At the sound of three solid, metallic knocks on the door she was out of her seat, ripping the door open in three seconds flat. Hudson recoiled, taken aback. As her arms went up over his shoulders he took a hard hold of her hips keeping them apart so as not to make contact at or below the waist. He gladly sagged into her embrace everywhere else. When he trusted she understood he needed the space, he brought one hand up pressing their torsos tight together, burying his face into the crook of her neck. The mould room door was closed behind him.
"How'd it go?"
The warmth of his breathy laughter heated her shirt and the skin underneath. "Turned out great."
There was a rawness to his voice that concerned her. Neagley frowned. "Are you all right?" She withdrew, still keeping him in her arms, getting a good look into his eyes.
Hudson chuckled, bowing and nodding his head. The raw edge to his voice was arousal that had gone on too long, turning pleasure into erotic misery. "I need to get home," he confessed. The Viagra hadn't worn off yet. Turned out he'd rarely needed the help.
Neagley nodded, her expression serious with concern. "I'll drive." Leaving one arm around his neck she held up her palm. Offering up no argument, he dug into his chest jacket pocket for his car keys, setting them in her upturned hand. He held himself up on the door frame when she dove back to the seat for her jacket and phone, putting it on as she came back to him, keys in hand.
Her arms went up around over his shoulders, one hand on the back of his shoulder the other stroking soothing on the nape of his neck. She pressed her cheek hard against his, her voice low right beside his ear. "Thank you." When she looked him in the eyes again, he frowned. The instant before he started to say, "I asked you for this," she shut him down. There was a kindness he hadn't expected to her voice. "Shut up and accept it."
Hudson's smile was slight as he nodded, affection plain in his eyes. "Okay," he whispered. A frown reformed his expression. Like… he wanted to ask her for something but doing so might be wrong.
"What is it?"
"I, uh…"
Neagley stood squarely before him, looking him dead in the eyes. "Whatever it is, ask me."
"Yes, ma'am." He chuckled and shrugged. Fuck it. Here goes … "Can I hold your hand?" He started speaking again almost instantly. "You don't have to—" He cut himself off short when Neagley's severe expression morphed into something much, much softer.
"Sure." She almost whispered it. She reached for his hand intertwining their fingers and holding on hard, her knuckles going white. Almost as though it was a stand-in for so much more than she could do at the moment. He smiled, holding back water from his eyes. He held her back just as firmly, his touch somehow still tender. Her other arm came back up and held him close.
"Give me a couple minutes?" Neagley eased up her grip on him and stayed there for him until he stood straight up as he could, feeling collected, and ready to walk out of the boutique with his shields back up and his erectile predicament effectively obscured.
They emerged into the brighter lights of the shopfront. Alexei stood to one side of the counter so as to make sure customers coming down the aisle had no chance of coming into contact with Neagley on their way out. He glanced down at their entangled hands. "I see you're in good hands."
Accepting the black paper bag discreetly packed with tissue paper Alexei handed him, Hudson nodded, casting a fond glance at Neagley. "I'll be all right."
"You should hear from us in the next four or five business days. Thank you for your patronage." He was the picture of discreet professionalism. Neagley gave him a slight smile and a nod, making straight down the aisle for the door with steady, even pace, keenly aware that Hudson seemed to be needing her hand to keep his awkward gait from showing…
~~~
The moment they were inside the apartment, door bolted behind them, Hudson gave her tender wink, making a fast beeline for the washroom, losing his jacket and sweater along the way, keeping only his off-white v-necked cotton undershirt on. Neagley collected his jacket and shirt, hanging them neatly on their respective hook and hanger. She leaned backward against her kitchen counter, holding up and examining the hand she'd held onto Hudson with all the way home. It was a strange thing, feeling the nerves in her skin remembering a human touch that was no longer there like it had never remembered anything other she could recall. Though the sensation had her on edge, she knew one thing above all else: she wanted it back.
What was more, she didn't want to wait…
The first creak of the bathroom door he dismissed as a draft, keeping his hand hard at work. When the second creak came, he stalled out, suddenly much more concerned about keeping his hard, pre-cum weeping penis out of her sight. He managed to get the hem of his t-shirt over himself just in time. "Frankey…?"
"Hey, yeah…" she trailed off.
Hudson frowned, confused. "Can you give m—?"
She stepped almost all the way into view, out of the darkness in the hallway. "Can I keep you company?"
"You… want to…?"
She nodded, her line of sight dropping to the backs of his legs, climbing up his back. The lust in her eyes so potent, he swore he could feel it every time her gaze touched on something about his body on the way up; the swell of his thighs, the stacked muscles of his ass, his loins showing above the waist of his briefs, the flare of his ribcage, following the side of his body up to the back of his upper arms, his shoulder blades, finally the nape of his neck.
"C'mere." He reached back for her.
She stepped in closer, the hand that held him all the way home coming looking for his. At first, he wasn't sure about this, but the moment her hand found his side, slipping under his arm, around to hold him close to her with a firm press on his stomach, he was finished. He slipped his fingers between hers and held on for dear bloody life. She didn't so much as flinch at the sensation of slick dampness on his hand. He saw her smile behind him in the mirror. Relaxing his shoulders, he leaned back into her and she welcomed it, wrapping herself close around him wherever she could.
"You want to fee—"
Neagley abruptly, violently shook her head twice, squirming in discomfort against his back, but at the same time, refusing to let go. In fact, holding on tighter. Hudson took a series of deep, slow, relaxing breaths, and began rubbing his thumb over her skin on the hand he held against his stomach. You're all right . Nothing's going to happen you don't want . Neagley's body settled against his and the need for release came roaring back to the forefront of his mind.
He felt unsure he could get it done like this, but in the face of her braving her worst fear, he would damned-fucking-well give it his best shot. Bowing his head, not sure he could look her in the eyes, his free hand returned to his penis and started chasing down the orgasm he'd been within sight of when the door opened.
Neagley's chin came up to rest, latched over his shoulder, and he nuzzled his head into hers. Her other hand came up outside his arm and over his shoulder, holding him flush against her. Once, twice, and on the third try he found the nerve to find her eyes in the mirror. Her eyes held his for a brief moment, then fell to his slowly shuttling hand, never looking away.
Maybe… even though she didn't want to touch him, he could still show her, at least for so long as he could take it, how he liked being touched.
Hudson slowed his hand. Drawing this out. He had to be out of his damned mind. Neagley's breathing had turned deep and yet unsteady against his back. The tip of her tongue slipped slowly from between her lips, wetting them down as she took in the sight of him.
For someone with such pale skin otherwise, she hadn't expected him to be so dark. Though, the strikingly deep red, she suspected, had more to do with Viagra's effects than his own natural colour. Thicker than she thought he'd be, though not longer but by no means on the shorter side. She collected his t-shirt up higher under her fingers, until little more than the garment hem separated his skin from hers.
True to Hudson's word, he'd been shaven bare. To the technician's credit he had tried to give the hair he left behind a pleasing taper from the navel to well above where his cock branched out from his trunk or shaved to where Hudson's pelvis ended and his legs began, body hair abruptly reappearing.
Beginning moving his hand, he watched her, watching him, sending his fingers down one side of his cock and balls, taking his sack in hand giving them play that had his eyes drooping closed, and him leaning into Frankey, dropping his head back and nuzzling in against her cheek. She held him a little tighter, hands getting just a little braver about where they stayed. His fingers sliding back up, tickled a nerve beside the root of his cock. It felt like opening a curtain to the bright morning sunshine, light chasing shadows of his doubts and fears about sharing this with Frankey away. He laid his head against her, somehow finding the perfect fit, comfortable as though she were a pillow on his bed and let his mind, while at once intimately focused on her with him now, wander to somewhen in the future where it wasn't his hand, or hers, but her thoroughly aroused body swallowing him whole.
He sent his fingers and palm straight down the length of him, fingertips brushing over and around his head. Up, giving the skin around the roots a light, grazing touch. He nearly never had skin there this bare to feel the pleasure of being touched without the sensation of pubic hair in the way. His touch sank down the length of him again, playing with the head giving his cleft a few pressing strokes from the pad of his middle finger. First… mistake… women often made: how hard to hold a cock. It's not as though sending his penis into a vagina meant he was filling an already-wide-open space. The way into a woman's body was tight. But, a little—or a lot—of lube, and you slipped inside a sensory wonderland through a tight passage.
One that, if she could and would, cinched even tighter . He relaxed his grip, finding it no challenge at all to imagine her going loose to let him squeeze into her, then, when he'd patiently worked his way inside her first few inches, pulling all the way back one last time before sliding into her all the way down to the ground, feeling her close herself tight around his cockbase, like she was trying to hold him deep inside her. Now that she'd lured him inside he was captured, her vagina's happily trapped plaything, free to nuzzle his cockhead up against the slippery, ribbed roof of her down south mouth, to playfully wallow in the slip n' slide waterbed of soft tissues contracting around the hard spine on his dick's underside…
It occured to him there was something he'd forgotten. What it felt like to nuzzle his cleft and the weeping eye of his cock against the swollen bud of her pleasure, feeling her racing heartbeat inside it…!
Folding in on himself, a sudden explosion of pleasure ripped through his body, such that Frankey holding onto him was dragged forward with him.
She watched, a dark, carnal shadow over her eyes, a subdued smile on her lips, as Hudson's hand, holding himself tight, buried his cock to the hilt inside her imaginary double, the length of him not held in hand obscenely wagging and bobbing, ejecting days of unspent, thick semen splashes, the relief coming onto his face between roiling waves of pleasure a beautiful sight to behold.
His nerves' seas calming, he wrapped his hand over his balls and sagging penis, his cockhead slowly putting its jacket back on, cradling them close to his body. There was a sore price to pay for such potent, prolonged arousal and he was paying it now, happily, gladly, and gratefully. He lay back against Frankey—the softness of her chest and stomach, her cheek, her hair—and let go of the tension in his body. Feeling a peace he hadn't for a long, long time, he closed his eyes and basked in it.
"Frankey …" Just the sound of his voice was an aural deep tongued kiss and a passionate embrace. Hudson's breathing juddered with overwhelm, his pride and defenses cast aside.
She held him snugly, an island among rolling seas, on whose beaches he lay washed up under the sun of her affections…
When he started coming to, Frankey brought her hand up, an odd, assessing look on, gaze fixed on the sizeable cum spatters crisscrossing the back of her hand. Thoroughly ready for her to express disgust, Hudson started rinsing his hands so he could attend to hers.
"I'll wash it—" Frankey's expression softening into blushing affection cut him off. Her graceful fingers bowed down so her thumb could reach the cum they wore. He watched as she smeared his semen over her skin her thumb could reach like lotion. She smiled, giving the back of his shoulder a kiss, the expression on one of satisfied curiosity.
"I don't know why I thought it would feel any different than what my body makes. There's just more of it—a lot more." Almost as one they started laughing quietly. She started taking a few deeper breaths in. Getting to know the smell of him, he realized. Nothing offensive, not exactly appetizing—she'd know one day what he tasted like, of that she was sure—but by no means revolting either. She closed her eyes nuzzling her face into him.
Hudson took her hand, bringing her close enough to the tap he could fill a cupped palm and rinse his mess away. The blush in her cheeks turned redder. She was sorry to see it go, and she thought that for the first time in her life, she was feeling what she could only describe as overpowering, observable instinct; her groin, vagina, and the whole reproductive works burned with wanting what he'd spilled all over the sink, counter, the mirror and themselves inside her, serving the purpose for which it was made. Something not sparked by intention but a compulsion so powerful it became intention. She knew in that instant the dildo made for her today was genuinely a first step and she yearned not just for it, but for the very real, whole man from whom it was fashioned.
"I'm glad you're with me, tonight." The deepening colour in his face and neck, and the look in his eyes in the mirror, said it clear and plain; thank you .
Not caring in the slightest whether her hand was dry, she brought it back to his chest, holding him desperately close. Hudson covered her hands and arms with his, holding them snug against his body. Frankey said it with her arms, torso and kiss rather than her voice knowing people could be funny about hearing these three words if they weren't ready.
◇
Riley felt his phone vibrate Neagley's rhythm under his hand on the briefing room table. He turned it up and saw the blank blackness of a video with a play symbol where words or emojis ought to be. One eyebrow going up, making doubly sure the volume was silenced, the screen angled away from anyone else, he pressed play. Her face was half hidden in her pillow, the yellow light of dimmed morning sun on her face. No makeup on. The blinds were mostly closed. There was a bright redness to her cheeks, unless that was something in the saturation of the video. Hard to tell. Shoulders bare. No bra on. She had this—if he didn't know any better—sex-sated heaviness to her eyes. She gave him a long, smiling wink and turned the phone down, ending the recording. She'd come home late and he'd been up and out of the apartment before she woke up. The first thing she'd done when she woke up this morning was make up for not seeing him off. The feeling he'd spent months avoiding naming burned a little hotter in his chest.
He tapped the "wink" face and sent it back just as three typing dots appeared from her end. He locked down his screen, mentally checking back in with the case briefing, making sure he'd missed nothing. His phone vibrated again. Then again almost immediately. He frowned, half of his mouth starting to smile. He gave in to curiosity turning his phone up toward his chest like a poker hand.
A picture of an artfully exacting replica of his own dick positioned to stand arching backward under her bedside table lamp glowed at him on the screen, two words underneath: No lube . His breath stopped. He tapped the picture so it filled the screen. A milky white, beading and smeared liquid sat pooled under his corona, sitting in the wrinkles in his cleft, the swell of the shoulders and spine just below the neck wiped almost clean as they left her body, staying behind only in the lee under his swollen veins. Upward-pointing glistening streaks of clear and white arousal rose up from a pool collected in the valleys between his erection and balls.
His breathing started again and he choked on his own spit, hacking out a violent cough in the midst of the briefing.
"Something to add, Detective?"
Keeping his face stone straight, he shook his head, clearing his throat. He forced out the least-affected, "No, sir. Sorry, sir," he could muster, locking his phone and tucking it away in his jacket's breast pocket—the one over his heart…
Dismissed not long after, he beelined it to the nearest dark, quiet place he could think of: the janitorial closet. The door clicked shut behind him and he roughly took hold himself at the groin, trying to put the brakes on and reverse the arousal trajectory of his inconveniently rebellious yet perfectly honest sex organ. Idiot that he was, he took his phone out of his breast pocket and looked again. He hung his head, laughing, overjoyed, holding himself up with an elbow braced on an industrial strength shoulder-height storage shelf as his leg twitched out underneath him.
He stamped his heel down—hard—hoping the slightly uncomfortable impact could distract his groin long enough for him to get a hold of himself. That did the trick. He registered a pair of heavy footsteps stopping outside the closet door barely in the nick of time. His body instinctively stood itself up as naturally straight as it could before his brain could figure out the rest. The door swung open wide, his Captain standing there with a perplexed look on his face.
"Riley, what are you doing in here?"
Turning around as smoothly as possible, taking his elbow off the shelf, locking his phone screen, expression inscrutable, his hidden hand came into view holding a roll of toilet paper. The Captain's expression quickly turned less severe.
"Looking for this." When the Captain said nothing, he kept going. "Can you… excuse me, sir? I really need to take a piss."
The Captain immediately stepped back out of the way, waving Riley past him. Poor guy looked like he'd stood up from being hunched over like he'd had to piss his pants when he'd opened the door. "Haul ass, Detective."
"Thank you, sir."
His brain was so switched off he had to figure out where the bathroom was the old fashioned way: looking. Down the hall from the kitchenette. Right. Without so much as acknowledging the uniformed officer already in there, he slammed one of only two stalls in the room closed behind him and locked it. The rest were fucking urinals. He set the paper wrapped toilet paper down on top of the already full dispenser. They were topped up almost nightly by the custodial staff.
Getting a hold of his breathing, his arousal well on the way down and in no need of attention, he took his phone out of his pocket, opening it up again.
She sent back a wink and a red heart. Something to brighten up your day.
Hudson smiled, giving his head a disbelieving shake. How, considering the dice he'd been handed at birth, he rolled a woman like Frankey into his life, he had no fuckin' idea. Dinner tonight. Fancy casual. I have a place in mind.
She sent back a pair of question marks.
She sent back a beaming, blushing face. He smiled fondly. She should be damned proud of herself. This case had just gotten a lot worse but this was too important to put off. Having someone to go home to made it bearable. I'll pick you up at 1930?
She sent back a pair of hugs. He tacked a red heart reaction onto her message and left the bathroom without washing his hands, earning him a judgemental eyebrow and headshake from the officer at the sink counter.
◇
Neagley slipped gracefully out of her dress shoes. Tall heels. A surprisingly comfortable woven mesh over her toes. Sleek black short pants that hugged her legs. A soft, v-necked bamboo knit sweater three sizes too big in a shade of light green that suited her immensely. His. Her jet black shoulder strap and the upper edge of her satiny bra showed above the neck line that dropped off her shoulder. She'd taken to wearing his clothes. It felt like wearing a hug that never ended until she had to undress. Or so she'd told him.
Her eyes found his. Then, they found his lips and shamelessly glommed onto them like he'd never seen from her before. She moved forward slowly.
"Frankey--" he quietly started asking her what she was thinking. That was as far as he got.
Across the kitchen, she put one finger to her lips, her open hand remaining raised to ward off anymore sound as she came nearer, gaze dropping from his mouth, to down lower , both regions locked in a tug of war for her interest.
Shocked, he blinked hard. Oookay … he had a feeling this was one of those, just let it happen, whatever it was, kind of moments. Her hand came up to his face, fingertips touching his cheek, then facial hair, then finding their way up onto the bridge over his lips. He stopped breathing, his heart revving up beating. A small smile started forming on her lips. Her fore and middle finger slipped gently onto his mouth, tracing the ridges, top and bottom, where his skin turned from one colour to the other. He stamped the gentlest of butterfly kisses onto her fingertips. The smile and the lust-clouded look in her eyes he received in return was worth it, even if she didn't end up kissing him.
Closing his eyes he let himself be explored and watched, focusing all his attention on wherever her fingertips touched. He took in a gasp of breath through his nose in anticipation when the sensation of the tip of her nose touching his, appeared. Sliding to one side, figuring out how to fit them together, meant she was coming closer. Her forehead touched his. His eyes shot open, awed. Hers were closed. She withdrew in the slightest of ways, a grimace twisting up her features for a second. His beard hair had tickled her lips. His heart did a flip in his chest when, seconds later, her lips did a tiny, amused shimmy in front of his then touched. It wasn't really a kiss, though. She just made contact.
His heart was thumping out long, hard beats in his chest. "Franke—" he breathed, eyes darting frantically over her face.
"Kiss me."
Thank merciful God in Heaven. He let himself fall into her, lips reaching for hers, gently finding, pressing, and relaxing, hearing the tick of breaking suction, mouth falling ajar in the slightest, slowly taking in shaky breath he sorely needed. He stayed there, his lips shivering against hers, nervously unsure. More? Enough? He wasn't sure that if he started all-out kissing her, he'd stop if she told him to, and he'd sooner kiss a stinking yak than barge beyond her comfort.
Her smile was slow and small but, without question, it was there. She nudged him with her nose and lips, asking, and he broke down.
The grateful laugh he chuffed out was one quarter a joyful sob. He dove into the kiss such that there was no way to abort. Everything or nothing, and everything it was. Almost six months of wanting, never taking, over in an electric instant. The way she fell into him in kind only left him sinking deeper into her. Tasted her lips with a slight but firm graze of his tongue and letting himself make a moaning sound he was none too proud of, but beyond caring as he poured months of needing this with her into holding onto her lips with his own, the fireworks of pleasure going off in his head, heart, and hopeful groin burning blinding white hot.
He gasped, surprised when her hands found his wrists, thumbs drawing soothing rounds on his skin. Suddenly, there was a nervous tongue, not his, on the underside of his top lip. Closing their mouths together, he sent his to coax her deeper inside. Withdrawing in surprise at first, she quickly came back, following his retreating tongue inside. He closed his lips loosely around her, giving her tongue a gentle stroke with his own. Deciding she liked it, she came back for more, deeper still. The tip of his tongue, grazed the underside of hers such that she let out an involuntary, explosive laugh, turning her face away, putting a hand over her mouth to contain the rest. All from the delicate membrane under her tongue having been tickled.
Wearing a shit-eating grin, Hudson wiped the spit-spatter away from around his mouth with the back of his fingers. "Sorry. I'll lay off the mischief. I think we started out all right, though."
Smiling, Frankey came back in hot. "I think it's too early to tell." Eyes narrowing, she hovered against his mouth. "I'm going to need a larger sample size." It had to be nearly impossible that those words had ever left a human mouth sounding any more sensual than they did leaving hers. Or maybe he wanted this so badly she could have recited the periodic table and he'd feel the same way.
This kiss was a whole different animal. Her lips and tongue came looking for his and both well and truly kissed, holding on to each other. Hotly diving back in deeper and closer when things began to slip. Then, she gave his tongue a teasing flick, retreating. He gave chase, rewarded with her mouth and tongue around his, giving him a savouring caress. Taking a moment to regain her breath, her hands fell to the sides of his waist and brought them together. She reached up, giving him an adoring peck on the lips.
"I love you." Neagley backed her face away, wearing what he could only describing as loving surprise, still at somewhat of a loss for what to say. He knew what was coming back at him, he just had no fucking clue when or how. Whatever it was, her face started changing, seeming like it might be funny. "I swear, if you say, 'I know'…"
Neagley laughed at being warned off the Star Wars reference. The thought had occurred to her, but only ever that. She needed something better. Still, she had known, for a while. Thinking back, she smiled, kissing Hudson with a heat that left him feeling high as a kite and weak. "We're in love." Said another way; "I know. I have for a while now." Leave it to Frances Neagley to find a way to slip that over-used nerd reference in there anyway.
"I love you, so much, I don't know what to do with it all." He said it with a heart-wrenching helplessness. A sudden, potent tension rolled through his body starting in his hands born from emotion he usually expressed throwing himself head-first into recklessly passionate lovemaking. Grimacing, he held himself at bay.
She gulped down the lump in her throat. "Same for me." She reached out to him, sliding her tentative hands up to his neck, resting her fiery hot palms behind his jaw, middle fingers meeting on the nape of his neck, thumbs settling in behind his ears.
Sagging against her when, at long last, the riptide of physical need with nowhere to go let him be, Hudson bowed his head into the crook of her shoulder and neck, hand going up onto her shoulder blade holding her close.
They were two people who loved one another alike, kept apart by a psychological blockade. Knowing that made it easier to bear and had them leaning and holding onto each other ever tighter. He kissed her and this time it was her need for it that was on fire, her lips holding onto his reaching tongue, her tongue sliding up under his. Receiving her caress on a membrane that tender sent a dizzying pleasure through him.
She slipped away, keeping their foreheads pressed together, expression playing out her discovery of a sensation she wanted more of.
Hudson opened his mouth and took a quick breath in like he was about to speak, abruptly deciding against it. Eyes on his lips, Frankey smiled blissfully. "What…?"
He leaned into her forehead, his head wobbling slightly, taking a few deep breaths to help him gather his wits and nerve.
"You… liked it?"
There was a vulnerability in his eyes that took her by surprise. There was only one thing he could possibly mean that carried that kind of weight for him. "Test of any choice being having to make it again…" Hudson started grinning when he remembered what came next. Neagley started grinning and laughing. "I feel really… really fuckin' good about it." She leaned into him for a kiss that left him no choice but to wrap his arms around her if he wanted to hold her in any way. He did, hauling her up tight against his chest. The counter made a slight cracking noise under the unaccustomed weight. Laughter didn't keep their mouths apart long.
When their lips parted again for want of breath, they gave in to the need to go easy for a minute, laying against each other, cheek to cheek, giving one another a nuzzle every now and then, as need in their flesh demanded.
He watched her face as she started to pull away. Her eyes left his lips, wandering along his jaw, tracing down his neck to linger on his shirt buttons. He frowned slightly. There was no way—serving in the military—she hadn't seen a man's naked upper body before… but it was true she'd never seen him with anything less than a t-shirt on. He glanced from her face down to her hands coming up to the front of his shirt and back. She got the first button… then the second. Untucking his shirt as she worked, by button four, he held his arms up behind her undoing his cuffs. That was the last piece of the puzzle he needed. Tugging his shirt off over his head with a grip on the turned-down collar, he let it fall away onto the counter.
Neagley leaned her torso back, staying with him at the hips, seemingly bashful about even touching him with her gaze. He was by no means worried about what she'd think. He wasn't a Special Forces trained, six-foot-five stack of walnuts stuffed into an ultrathin condom, but he spent more than his fair share of time on keeping himself dangerous enough to come through the back alleys and mean streets of Chicago in one piece over a thirty year career. Even more lately, since he'd come to blows with one of his brothers in blue and been confronted with the unpleasant reality he had to be formidable enough to be confident he could overcome even the best of them, too.
Hudson reached out to her with both arms, taking hold of her underneath her elbows. By the look on her face she hadn't expected his chest hair. Her gaze trickled down his chest, lingering below his belt. Mischief curled up one side of his lips. "It's grown back in, if you're curious…" She smiled. Her expression changed, having landed on deciding she liked what she saw. Still, she couldn't seem to get her hands to leave where they rested, wrapped over his forearms. Letting go of one of her arms he gently rested a soothing hand over hers. If she didn't want to do anything other than look that was thoroughly fine by him.
"You wanna know what the differences between this morning and the real thing are gonna be?"
Neagley nodded slowly, squirming a little. She could imagine, and anatomically she knew enough about both their bodies—she'd also seen enough pornography—to have no real questions, but she wanted to hear him say it anyway. "Sure."
"Heating silicone under hot water doesn't do it justice. It'll be a lot hotter." He took hold of her by the wrist putting her hand over his heart. She could feel his hard, fast thrumming pulse clear as glass through the skin, muscle and bone between them. The heat there was already unreal. The prospect of how hot so much blood under such thin, taut skin would feel had anticipation dancing through the nerves inside her groin. "At first, I'll be much, much softer. If you feel like giving me… a hand with changing that, I'd love it," he asked, running his massaging thumb and forefinger along and over each of her graceful, slender fingers splayed on his chest. Wasn't hard to imagine what it'd feel like, having them wrapped around him, taking him past the point of no return. Hoping for it had him genuinely red in the face. He sent his other hand around behind her lower back, that little bit of extra weight holding their pelvises together a little heavier. Frankey's breathing turned shallower and uneven. He was speaking from close enough to kiss but didn't look like he would.
"When… I'm inside you… it'll have a heartbeat. This one, right here." He gave the back of her hand a firm tap, holding it tightly against his chest, over his heart. As hard as the organ was beating, there was a nervous flutter to it, too. The colour rising in her cheeks was obvious even in the dim light. She nodded, shivering, the same way she had that first night on the couch. Her fingers started moving slightly underneath his, getting a feel for the short hairs under her touch; a feeling she plainly liked. "When it's real, it's part of a whole person who wants to spend all goddamn night touching you… holding you… kissing you, wherever he can, for as long as he can…" Just the tips of his fingers slipped between her pants waist and her skin, pulling her pelvis snug up against the swell growing on his. "However you'd like. Even down here—if you want me to." There was hardly any space between their mouths now, but he had no intention of closing the distance. Lips curling into a mischievous grin, he gave her lower stomach a solid, unexpected, teasing tap with the flat of one fingernail. The guttural, shocked, high-pitched moan she let out was one of the stranger sounds he'd ever heard a woman make, but it spoke to her hopes better than any word she could ever utter.
He let out a quiet laugh, giving her a playful wink. "How does that sound?"
It was way, way too much, but it also sounded like something she'd really like to know what it felt like.
"It sounds like… a lot ." Voice wavering, she was tense and shuddering in his arms, her body writhing uneasily now, one shoulder shrugging up high out of his sweater's neckline.
Enough playin' around; she was done for the night. Hudson smiled taking a deep, levelling breath, surfacing from under the haze of carnal want between them. Bringing his hands up to her face, he stroked his thumbs soothingly over her cheek bones, helping her know he wasn't going to push any further. He waited until she found the courage to look him in the eyes. He kissed her, closed-lipped, loading all the loving into it he could. "The first time always is." The way he said it carried a whole lot more meaning than the words alone. No matter who it is, what your mind is like—haphephobia or not—it's always an overwhelming experience. Always .
The act would be even more raw and potent for her.
Her eyes started watering as her hands left his and started to drift down to hold him around the waist. He gently caught her hand, stopping her mid-air before she touched his bare skin, shaking his head. "Not tonight… or tomorrow. Or even anytime in the next week. When you feel the same way you did about kissing tonight? Maybe even stronger? That's when. Not a minute sooner. Want to snuggle in my bed until your nerves calm down?" Neagley looked hesitant. "More comfortable than the couch…" he reminded her.
She nodded, smiling gratefully, suddenly looking dead tired, but still, somehow, radiantly beautiful.
"I'll be in your room," she promised.
"I'll be there soon. Gotta take care of… something," he said with a slightly silly smile, pointing his eyes toward the bathroom. Felt a little odd to be talking in metaphors at this point, but he had a feeling that wouldn't last much longer.
There, again, was that drowsy-with-love smile he loved so well. Neagley nodded slowly, feeling the tension she held all through her body leave. It was his rule; one he never broke. He refused to share a bed with her unless he'd gotten off first, so any erotic urge was quiet as it possibly could be…
His routine was quickly becoming her lullaby. The subtle, restrained sounds of his ecstasy a counterpoint to the hum of running water. Water splashing in a chaotic rhythm with hands underneath the stream. Sounds of water running changing as he wiped the counter, sink, maybe even his own body, down. The brushing of teeth, a good rinse, flip of the light switch, then, in the near-darkness save for a hallway night light, the steady, hasteless, heavy beat of footsteps crossing the hall's wooden floor boards and at long last, into the room with her. She knew, by the sound of his foot falls alone if it was him in the apartment with her, or someone other.
His sweater and her bra and pants lay on the dresser neatly folded. She'd never shared a bed with him without her clothes on. "Frankey…" he whispered. He had to know she was sure about this.
Though groggy, she opened her eyes immediately, a tiny, contented smile moving her lips at the sight of moonlight from the window on his bare skin. He reached out, wordlessly asking for her hand and she gave it to him. He stood there leaning across the bed, shirtless, nothing but loose white boxer shorts on. They were fresh. Not the ones he'd been wearing before. She smiled, pulling him into bed with her. He rolled back the sheets only so far as he needed to get underneath. The room was cold. They kept it that way so they could sleep under the same covers and not sweat through the sheets.
They both ran hot. Go figure.
She never let go of his hand, pulling him closer with it, slipping closer under the sheets herself. She slipped her leg under his, eager for his warmth even if it was too much. She put her hand on his cheek, beginning to shake again but ever so slightly this time. His hand came up and laid down over hers, soothing away her tremors. She snuggled in close, both of them laying on their sides, until their foreheads and noses lay touching with no effort at all.
Laying there, he enjoyed her nuzzling her face into his, kissing his refreshed, mint-scented mouth, her lips and mouth still smelling of vanilla ice cream, strawberry syrup and sweet wine, her hand holding onto his cheek, until sleep's inevitability became apparent…
~~~
He woke the next morning to her angelic sleeping face for the first time.
