This story is written for the private entertainment of fans. No infringement of any copyrights held by Due South c/o Alliance is intended. This story is not published for profit, and the author does not give permission for this story to be reproduced for profit. The author makes no claims on the characters or their portrayal by the creation of this story.
Rated R - m/f - Erotica / PWP
Dark, Enclosed Spaces
(by Catalina Dudka - Copyright 1998)
"Oh dear!" was all he could say when the door shut, lock clicked into place, and the dark enveloped him.
Oh dear, was all he could think when she stepped closer, stopping mere centimeters away. Her warmth radiated up to him, and he couldn't help but inhale deeply of her scent. A scent both familiar and new. A scent he thought he knew, but now proved to be more than intriguing. Intriguing?! Before he had time to analyse this reaction, she took one more step so that the soft curves of her body pressed against his side, and he was assailed by a whole new set of reactions to deal with.
"Fransc--" he was silenced by a shush and a dainty finger that first pressed against his lips, then traced down his chin, along jaw and back, then outlined the suddenly too stiff collar of his uniform. Force of habit made him step back, only to be reminded by the odds and ends sticking into his back that there was no place to go.
A husky laugh caused a wave of heat to rush up his face. Heat that was not solely embarassment, but also something else. Something he had not been ready to acknowledge, yet.
He swallowed as her fingers unfastened the top few buttons of the red serge tunic and slipped inside to caress his throat. His own hands rose, his every intention to push her away, but when they encountered the bare skin of her midriff, they developed a mind of their own and splayed to touch as much of her velvety skin as they could. To his chagrin, other parts of his body also chose this particular moment to stage a coup against his will.
Her deft fingers dispensed quickly with the rest of the buttons and buckles that comprised his tunic, and reached inside to work their way up his torso to his shoulders. At the same time she pressed closer, burrowing her face against his chest, mouth open, as if to inhale his very soul.
God help him.
God help him, because this was more wonderful than he could have imagined. But it had to stop. Now.
His hands went to her shoulders, again to push her away, and again they betrayed him by cupping her face and tilting it up so that his equally treacherous lips could close over hers with a sigh.
The first touch of mouth upon mouth was anything but tentative, the second of tongue upon tongue was sweet, and wild, like too much sun and too much wind, and ...
"No!" he tore his mouth away, his arms straightened holding her at bay, and something inside squeezed painfully at the frustrated sob that escaped Francesca's throat.
Her question didn't surprise him, but its bitter tone did.
"You're not gonna tell me you don't want this, are you?"
He couldn't see her face, the faint light sneaking in under the door was of little help, but he could feel the tension of her shoulders that, before he could stop himself, his fingers attempted to knead away.
"I'm sorry...," he begun to explain, trying to come up with at least one of the thousand and one reasons they should not be in this place, in this situation, but every single one was wiped completely from his mind as he felt her hand cup him, and rub him just so.
"See, that's not so bad, is it Fraser?"
Her whisper breezed against his heated throat. His heart raced, and he swallowed the groans her touch ellicited.
"If you don't want this, just stop me."
Her voice mocked him. And her darkly, quiet laugh even more so when the hand that was supposed to put an end to her seductive caress only served to press hers harder against the growing bulge in his jodhpurs.
Not being able to take the bitterness of her mirth, he buried his fingers in her hair and pulled back so that he could shut her up with his mouth. Could devour away the harshness in her with his lips and tongue. At the same time he pulled her closer and closer still, so that he could feel the rapid beat of her heart and the rhythm of her breath as if they were his own.
Her body melted within his arms, moving against him like Salome must have moved in the same ancient dance. But instead of removing her own veils, she stripped away his, with every touch, every moan, every sigh, reducing, no, elevating him to reach for the primal, most basic center of his being. That part he had kept buried much too deep, much too long.
His skin sang in exquisite pain as her hands slipped under his shirt to drag perfectly manicured nails over his stiffened nipples and clenched abdomen to pause at his belt long enough to unbuckle it and unfasten the zipper there.
Throwing his head back with a gasp, he drowned in sensations long forgotten as her fingers wrapped tightly round his erection.
"You like this, don't you Fraser?"
"Yes," he hissed as he felt Francesca's mouth taste the bare skin of his chest, her small teeth tease a hard male nipple, and her other hand knead a tightned buttock muscle.
"Yes," as her lips traced a wet path from belly to groin.
"Oh God! Yes!" as he felt the flick of her tongue once, twice, before her mouth took him in. Into a heat, a moistness, like liquid fire, like nothing he ever felt before.
Unreleting, she brought him to the brink over, and over, torturing him with pleasure, hurting him with hunger, until he couldn't take it anymore. His body arched, and his every muscle clenched in anticipation, as her mouth suckled at him one more time hurtling him into an ecstasy so sharp, so bright it sliced him, and cut him, and pierced him with a thousand lances.
Suddenly he remembered to breathe again and inhaled deep, ragged breaths as if he'd run the length and breadth of the Tundra. Reaching down, he pulled Francesca up to kiss her again and again, his hands roaming over her body, wanting nothing more than to make her feel this same pain, this same ecstasy. But to his surprise she pushed away from him. As he reached out for her again, he felt the weight of a bunch of files on his arms.
"You'd better figure out how you're gonna sneak these out to Ray," was her matter of fact answer to his silent question as she exited the precinct closet.
With a sigh Fraser turned onto his side and reached under the far-from-comfortable cot for the towel he kept for these occasions, and procceded to tidy up, then with another heart-felt sigh he closed his eyes and once again tried to get some sleep. Maybe this time, he thought, I'll get it right.
<yeah, right ;)>