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

Contact
(by Catalina Dudka - copyright 1997)

He opened the door and allowed her to precede him into the sparsely furnished apartment she remembered so well. She had only been here once before, but every detail was etched in her memory, as if with acid. The worn, grey walls, the beat up cupboards, the bricked-in fireplace, the narrow bed with its precise corners. Meticulous, clean, orderly, on the surface so much like him, but that's where the similarities ended, for there was so much more to Ben ... so much more.

Closing her eyes, she listened for the quiet movements behind her, and pictured him as he closed the door, removed his stetson. The creak of leather was followed by the warmth of skin as he placed hands on her shoulders to slide her coat down. Stiffening slightly when calloused fingers trailed down her bare arms, she tried to contain the sudden desire this simple touch evoked. And failed.

She spun about. Grabbing fistfuls of his leather jacket, she shoved him back against the wall, and covered his mouth with hers. With a moan that spoke of all her waiting, all her hunger, she savoured the heat, the sun, the strength of him so long denied.

His surprised hesitation lasted no more than the moment necessary for his lips to curve into a smile. Those same lips that now took charge of her eager kiss, while large hands stroked her from shoulder to waist, firmly pressing their bodies together every inch along the way. The hardness of him against her belly sent a jolt of want through her, and the velvet of his tongue pushed all thoughts of propriety, rank, duty beyond reach. Only the hunger remained, the hunger and the resentment. Why? Why did he have this power over her? When had she allowed him into her heart?

Pulling away from his drugging kiss, she allowed herself to meet his eyes. Eyes usually as clear as the skies above, now the dark indigo of night, a night she wanted to forever lose herself in. Slowly she smoothed her hands down his arms (everything about him was so big, so strong) until his palms were flat against the wall, and watched as understanding gleamed in his gaze. An understanding that said "Whatever you want, I want."

Her mouth twisted slightly accepting the challenge. Reaching round his waist, she yanked the denim shirt from his jeans, pushed her hands up under it to score her nails down his broad back. A groan from deep in his chest rewarded her, as did the arching of his body against hers.

Though keeping his unspoken promise, his head darted down so that he could capture her mouth with his once more. She permitted this liberty, at a price. Her long fingers plunged beneath the waistband of his jeans to dig into the firm flesh of his backside, then slid round his waist to entangle with the wiry curls at the base of his belly.

She pulled her mouth away again, and smiled with satisfaction as her name fell from his lips in a plea.

"Meg..."

Licking kiss-bruised lips, she unceremoniously pulled his shirt open with a hard tug, which sent buttons in all directions, and pushed the garment aside, exposing his well-formed chest to her ravenous gaze. She satiated herself with the longed-for sight of him, of his body only imagined until now. Eagerly, greedily, her fingers explored his tight abdomen, which clenched beneath her touch. Roughly, she rubbed his nipples, twisted the hard nubs between thumb and forefinger evoking another heart-felt groan, then soothed her assault with mouth and tongue.

For the first time since she had first set eyes on him she felt truly in control. And the power was heady. It coursed through her veins like an elixir each time he responded to her touch. This was far better than having him pick up her dry- cleaning, or ordering him on sentry duty, or even her favourite, giving him a good dressing down. Favourite until now, that is.

Moving one hand to cup a firm buttock, she stroked the bulge of his arousal with the other, drinking in the play of emotions on his normally serene face. The way his brow furrowed, his eyes closed, and his throat swallowed the moans she so much wanted to hear.

"Do you like this, Ben?" She asked huskily tasting the saltiness of his skin.

"Yes..." he breathed, his hips pushing against her hand. "Please ..." he begged.

The core of her melted at the sound of his voice, at the thrall she held him in. She trailed a hot, wet path with her mouth down his torso to his navel while her hands undid his jeans. Sitting back on her heels, her gaze ensnared his. Without warning, she yanked jeans and boxers down hard, all the way to his ankles. His eyes widened in surprise, and he inhaled sharply at the sudden release of his arousal from the confines of his clothes.

The beauty of his hardness filled her eyes. The hard angles, the defined strength of his body. Taking her time, enjoying him as she was never able to before, Meg scraped her nails lightly up his toned calves, the sensitive inside of his knees, the back of muscular thighs, over the firmly rounded buttocks she had spent hours dreaming about. Fascinated, she watched him rise further at her teasing caress.

"Please..." he pleaded again.

"Do you want this?" She asked with an edge to her voice. An edge that was mirrored by the hunger and trust in his eyes (Everything you want, I want.) Eyes that closed in delight as she trailed a fingertip ever so lightly along the underside of his erection.

"Yes, Meg. Oh, yes..."

Unable to resist any longer, she took him in her mouth.

"Oh, God... Meg.. "

Her name was torn from his throat as her mouth suckled him slowly. She took her sweet time, savouring, lapping, biting, eliciting sounds of male pleasure that stabbed right through her. Her hands reached up to grip his backside, while his own clenched into fists in vain attempts to dig into the wall behind him.

What she was doing to him, with her mouth, with her tongue, was everything he had imagined and more. His heart raced and his body trembled on the edge of a pleasure he dreamed of. He wanted it. He wanted it so bad, but not like this. He wanted her to join with him, to break all the rules, to shatter any limits.

Calling forth all his will, Ben gently pushed her away, and dropped to his knees. Gathering her in his arms, he smothered her mouth with his, silencing any protests she might have made. He lay her down on the wooden floor, and his heart gladdened at the small moan of disappointment she uttered when he didn't follow.

As he tore off jacket and shirt, his eyes ate up the vision of her, the intensity, the vulnerability of her. How her eyes darkened to the colour of ebony, her skin flushed to the hue of a rose, her mouth parted allowing glimpses of her sweet tongue. A tongue that could be as sharp as the keenest blade, that she wielded as expertly as any weapon. A tempting morsel that, along with her eyes, beckoned to him. Ben almost gave in, but resisted, for first he wanted to torture her with the same pleasure, to punish her with the same delight she had inflicted upon him, to pay her back in kind, for he was a fair man.

His gaze continued to feast, over the dark silky hair fanned into a halo round her face, the fine column of her throat, the outline of stiff nipples pushing against the cloth of her dress, the narrow waist, the shapely legs he took every opportunity to admire.

Ah... those legs... Daily they drove him to distraction. The way they would stand straight and strong, a foot tapping impatiently, or stride back and forth with indignation, usually at something he had done. He smiled at the memory of more than one instance when he had instigated a situation to elicit precisely that reaction in her, just so he could watch these legs in action. However, he had to admit the way one of them rubbed sensuously against his thigh at this very moment was more distracting than any other occasion he could care to recall.

Cradling her thighs, Ben pushed her skirt up, then slowly pulled off the scrap of satin and lace that served as her undergarment. Tossing it aside, he smoothed his hands up her body and begun to undo the many pearls that buttoned her tasteful dress. So many buttons, he almost lost patience, and took a deep breath of frustration. What sounded suspiciously like a giggle brought his attention to the small smile that played round the corners of her mouth, as if she found his consternation amusing. He'd show her!

With a mighty tug, he ripped the dress open. The surprise was his, however, as the lusciousness of her beauty stole his breath away. All soft curves and pale mounds that made his mouth water in anticipation. A groan rumbled through him as he dealt with the front (thank God!) closure of her bra so he could finally admire the whole of her, and he found that the reality of Meg surpassed his imagination tenfold.

Reverently he cupped her breasts with warm, rough hands. And just as reverently he took a pebble-hard nipple in his mouth. The little sighs of pleasure she allowed drove him crazy. It wasn't enough. He wanted more. He wanted to hear his name in her mouth. He wanted to see, to feel her fulfilment at his hand.

Opening his mouth wide, he took in as much of her breast as he could, suckling it with long, hot pulls. His hands moved to support her arching back so that his mouth could continue to devour one breast, then the other. Her ragged breaths echoed his own and sent a tide of heat through him. And the stab of pain as her nails dug into the muscles of his back added to the intensity of his hunger.

He memorized the shape, texture, flavour of her with his mouth, with his tongue, with his teeth. He delighted as she gasped his name in an unending mantra that faded in and out with each breath. Her voice shimmered over his damp skin arousing him more and more. His hands slid down to cup her delectable bottom.

A moan, a sigh, then another moan flowed from her as he settled his body between her thighs.

A groan, a breath, then another groan escaped from him as he entered the moist core of her with a hard thrust.

Her fingers entangled in his hair.

His mouth claimed hers once again.

Moans mingled, hunger merged until neither could tell where one ended and the other begun.

His hips surged.

And hers answered in kind.

An urgency grew between them. A rhythm that took them past petty rules, beyond self-imposed limits, to where they hung in space, floated in timelessness until they knew each other as one. A place that lasted no more than a moment, but would exist forever and a day in their hearts. Then, with a moan, a sigh, a breath, they fell back to each others arms.

His mouth caressed hers lightly, tentatively, as he watched her return to the here and now. Wrapping his arms round her quivering body, he rolled onto his back carrying her with him. Cradling her tenderly, he watched her eyes, and dreaded the re-establishment of former walls, but all he saw was the flutter of dark lashes against velvety cheeks as she fell into a liquid, feline-like slumber.

Reaching behind him, he pulled the blanket from his bed and covered their bodies. Settling back, he listened to her quiet breath and waited.

The End.