Another Day on the Job. (AutumnDreaming/Rekoj)

Her body was on fire, and his fiery touch was only electrifying it further. Yet, it was his touch that she craved, her antidote. She was addicted to him like a medicine, a prescription drug that could make all the ailments go away. Her form simply couldn't be close enough to his so when she felt the very tip of his manhood teasing at her entrance, she cried out in anticipation. At last, she felt him burrow into her to penetrate her with success. Her lungs exhaled a sigh of relief, her mind and body satisfied for the moment.

Hips rolled up to him, meeting his thrust even as his arms somewhat cradled her into his torso. Her legs lifted to drape tightly across his lower back, holding him there on top of her as if she would never let him break free. Hands clapped to his shoulder blades, fingers flexing so that her nails lightly dug into the flesh. She dragged her hands downward, drawing visible trail marks into his skin. When his lips attacked hers, she kissed back feverishly with passion and determination. She was sealing some kind of pact between the pair, though she didn't exactly know the terms. Maybe she was committing to him on some level, offering her devotion. Or maybe all she was telling him was that this was his single free pass, but she could make no promises about the future. Everything was undetermined, but all she knew was that nothing had felt more natural to her in her entire lifetime.

She was being consumed by heat, his increase in pace only serving to amplify it. Though she didn't want to, her lips tore from his. Face tilted upward, burying itself into the curve of his shoulder. Her mouth parted, teeth baring to graze over the delicate skin. One hand left his back, falling behind her to press against the headboard as a brace for herself so that his rough jolting didn't slam her body into the wood. Her throat emit soft purrs, sending them right into the opening of his ear. Changing her actions slightly, she exchanged her gentle bites for sucking against the side of his neck.

What had driven him to meet this woman on that fateful evening at the museum, he had not stepped into his job and been given a time and place to meet her- no, it had been hard work that had driven him to her. Never in his life had he been more committed to something when he was given her case- he stayed up late many nights sitting on the computer, and when he wasn't researching he'd be standing in the cold in an alley dressed in a disguise. He'd given up months of his life to find this woman, with the intention of bringing her to justice to have her locked and the key thrown away- and now he wouldn't give her for the world.

Long had his chestnut blond hair faded into his natural dark brown hair, as his short bangs that seemed to always be lifted were now draping over his forehead. When his green eyes couldn't find her wonderful blue hues to scan her crystalline eyes for every thought and emotion that ran through her mind, they closed with determination as he focused on the near impossible task of making his hips move faster. Patrick was never one to do things the easy way, and there was no gunshot wound hindering his strength in this moment so with every thrust he worked all of the strength he had in his body into the firm movement. After all, it was her who said she liked her man at full strength, no?

There was a fire somewhere and he couldn't tell if it was burning inside of him, or her, or if the whole damn bed was burning; but there simply had to be a fire burning, every moment was so heated and it only seemed to be getting hotter. Every soft purr that emitted from her throat, every mark she left on his strong back with her nails, and every soft bite he felt against his skin was adding fuel to the burning. His determination only increased, as he felt a need within him to change those purrs into a call of his name, as he knew by the end of the night the strength of her arm against the backboard would be tested. There was no slowing him down anymore, he was as committed to this moment as he had been in catching the woman, as committed as he had been when he had slept in a car for nearly a week to watch over her, and as committed as he had been every morning when he grabbed the strong cup of coffee and went back to his work on the computer. For him, on that bed, his very existence relied on him giving Dianna the most unforgettable pleasure she had ever experienced.

There was so much more than a physical connection being exchanged between them. Each action represented an emotion, though she wasn't going to pretend she was an expert at discerning it. All she knew was that any previous encounters of intimacy between her and a past partner had always seemed so poised and calculated. Yes, the man had always poured his heart out to her, believing he was in love with whatever alias she had shown him. He had exuded passion, but her body had never burned in such a response. It had been completely devoid of affection and emotion, but this. . . this was exhilarating. And confusing. But Patrick knew her. Not just that, he knew her. From the moment she had met him, he knew exactly who he was encountering. There had been no pretenses, just two people on the opposite side of the legal system. He was there for Dianna, not a fictional person she had assumed for the betterment of her career.

Perhaps that's why there was such a great display of feelings between them. Maybe he was attuned to her longing for him, but whatever it was he certainly had to feel the fire that was consuming them; she was certain anyone could. It was nothing short of a phenomenon, but she wished it could be explained. As it stood, though, it simply couldn't. It was evident that her lips grazing against his neck was so much more than just her mouth on his flesh just like each rough thrust into her body was more than the physical desire to make her feel him. No, it held a deeper meaning; a symbol that could not be comprehended.

But Dianna couldn't truly defy her own nature. Though she was content to be in this moment with him, she had a need for more control. Her hand removed itself from the headboard, falling to the bed beside them. Slowly, using her legs as leverage and without breaking their connection, she started to turn them over. Face pulled back to settle on his jade irises, reading his expression to see if he would protest to the sudden change of their positions.

He was caught in the moment, his eyes closed with determination as his ears were attuned to pay attention to the subtleties in every breath that floated past her lips. He paid attention to the little gasps within each inhale, the hints of a purr, and used those to determine every action with his hips. He was only thinking of Dianna, and her pleasure, which is why he was very confused when her hand left the headboard and he felt her legs and hand start to guide them over.

His jade eyes popped open and were very confused until he looked into hers and he felt her hand pressing both of them over more- then he understood. She wanted control, she wanted to give him some pleasure and he knew from the way his lungs burned and his heavy breaths drew in hot hair that he was beginning to feel exhausted. Perhaps it would be best to let her have control- if only for a little while.

But his eyes never broke from hers, and as he started to roll on his side, he changed his mind. His hand found hers, and his fingers intertwined with hers. He bent his wrist forwards, breaking hers backwards, and pushing his arm against hers. His other hand soon found her free one, and did the same, as he used his strength to deny her rolling over, placing himself back on top. Their connection, never broken, every movement seemed to flow into their natural rhythm and after his chest was on top of hers again and his eyes were looking into hers; he flashed her a little grin. He was not pinning her, restraining her, but the little smile and the grip with his hand was firm- letting her know that simply, if she wanted on top that she would have to earn it. They needed a little conflict, as much as they needed each other and the air they breathed he couldn't let her simply take control. It wouldn't be right for either of them, and the small grin was that of a challenge, as a single eyebrow raised before he kept his rhythm with his hips, daring and wondering what she would do next.

Dianna's eyes were watching his, content that he was letting her turn them. However, she saw a flash in his pupils that warned her he reconsidered his act of slight submission. His fingers interlaced with hers in a tender manner, though there was nothing sensual about it. She understood his intentions now, though she didn't think him malicious. His grin was very much a challenge, daring her to try to take from him what he thought was rightfully his. It was unfair that he was a man, naturally stronger than her. It mattered little that there was hardly anyone in the world more feisty than her; she was still not a direct match to him physically.

Oh, but how much she would try. With a curl to her lips, she accepted his challenge. Prying her hands from his, she used them as leverage to force herself up to his chest. Her toned legs were still gripping him strongly, unrelenting as they squeezed across his backside. Teeth sank into his shoulder, biting him teasingly as she playfully growled into his ear. "Come on, Rookie, give in to me." Unlike when she had said it before, her words were not an insult. She was commanding him, though she didn't exactly expect him to give in to her demands. He wanted her to work for it, to show him that she was still the ill-tempered woman he had encountered in the museum. She needed to prove herself to him, to show him she hadn't completely given up on herself.

Arms lifted to drape across his shoulders. She was embracing him now, clinging to him like she would never let go. The woman had molded herself to his chest- her body no longer touching the bed- so that he was fully supporting her light weight. Gravity was going to pull them down, but as she urged her chest to push against his, she had regained the upper hand for the moment. This should cause him to be off balance, to have no choice but to either roll onto his back or risk crushing her beneath him. As further encouragement, her lips enveloped his earlobe, her tongue gently caressing it.

His green eyes burned into hers, as he felt her body lift off of the soft mattress and pull herself up against him. Her chest was clutched up against his, and his hands were suddenly confused as to where they would go. He was taking the moment to catch his breath, his length remained deep inside of her and his eyes remained burning into hers before he heard her tempt him- and her tongue against his earlobe felt so good to him. She was a siren and though there was no music to the song she was singing, her body was singing and lips were calling to him.

He was tempted, he was tired, and he knew he could fight back if he gave up the control... oh it was such a tough decision. Her physical song was being sung, and he knew he was ready to give into her seductive ways. his core was aching from having to keep both of their weight up, and it would oh so very easy to roll over. He knew it would, all he'd have to do is roll, she could take control for a while and he could fight back later...

"I'm not giving you anything, you're going to have to take it from me, thief," were the words that escaped past his lips. Again, it wasn't an insult- it was simply the way it was, if anything there was only a hint of affection in his voice. He couldn't, he simply couldn't give into her; he still remembered the Dianna that promised him that in this moment... she was his. And he was still secure in that thought, and the only thing he wanted to do was make her feel unlike she had ever before in her life. He risked squishing her, he figured there was a soft mattress beneath her- and he dropped on top of her, before returning to his feverish pace with driving his full shaft in and out of her, thrusting as if this was final moment on the face of the planet.

He called her a thief, which would in turn get the exact reaction he wanted from her. Though she grinned, there was nothing innocent about the way her mouth upturned at the corners. Blue eyes flashed mischief at him, her laughter rumbling in the pit of her throat. He was enticing her, luring out the part of the woman that perhaps he was the most and least attracted to. He seemed like he wanted her to burn like a wildfire, to show that fiery spirited that didn't like to be contained. He would know that she hated losing control, that she was going to fight him tooth and nail to regain it. On her back and helpless was not the Dianna he knew.

When he dropped down on top of her, thrusting her body into the softness of the mattress, she growled at him. It was so unfair, but both of them probably recognized that as much as he didn't want to give it to her, she didn't it to be given so easily either. Dianna needed conflict and confrontation, even behind closed bedroom doors. Though her body almost relented, almost gave into the undeniable pleasure he was bringing her, she wasn't going to submit now. He was jarring her again, forcing her head to bump into the harshness of the headboard. "I will because that's what I do best." She promised him, winking playfully.

Hands lifted to his shoulders, thumbs pressing into the pressure point at his collarbone. This was meant to weaken him, to cause him to slow for just a moment. Legs unwrapped themselves from his body, planting firmly on each side of his hips. Arching upward, she started to sit upright as her chest forced itself against his. Though he weighed more than her, she used herself as a lever, plowing her shoulders into his as her arms pushed him backward with all of her strength.

Was it an act of making love they were involved in, or some form of combat? He couldn't tell anymore, the lines had been far too blurred and his body was caught between very different mixed emotions. Sweat was beating on his forehead from the effort he put into each rough thrust of his hips, and his eyes dared not leave hers. Hers spoke of mischeif, and an accepted challenge- while his were full of grit and effort. He had been exhausting himself with the way he had committed every muscle in his body to work towards pleasing Dianna. The pace of the seemingly neverending rhythm between their bodies came to a halt as he felt two fingers dig into the pressure point at his collarbone.

It was only a second, just a second that he relented and slowed the desperate pace of the rhythm of their hips- and it was all she needed. Suddenly he could feel her slick chest press up against his, and he It shouldn't have been too difficult, he was stronger than her and had already claimed the dominant position, but damnit could this woman put up a fight. The motion of his hips slowly wound down until he was simply remaining deep inside of her, pressing forward with his hips as he tried his damndest to keep the fiery redhead down.

There was no friction, the thin layer of sweat appearing on his skin was stopping him from using all of his strength to pin her down, every time he tried her shoulders would start to slip upwards- giving her more leverage with which to use against him. His eyes were no longer filled with mischeif and fun, instead there was nothing but strain and effort. It was taking all of his strength to keep her down, and no matter how much he tried to push his chest down into hers it did nothing but slide and grind against hers. He knew he was losing this battle, though he tried to keep his best pokerface on to not show that weakness, it was difficult when his irises continued to burn into hers.

Though he had tried his best to please Dianna with her flat on her back, he didn't understand how alluring this conflict was to her. Each time he fought against her, forcing her to strive even harder to gain control, he was arousing her further. Strange as it may seem, the very core of this woman was built on confrontation. She needed it to survive, which she had proven to him time and time again. Sure, she had her moments of vulnerability, but that was when she was betraying herself the most. The redhead struggling beneath him, pushing and straining against him, was the true form of the woman. And, yet, with all her battling capabilities, she was still somehow graceful and poised enough to keep that physical connection between their bodies.

It was not an easy feat, that was for certain. They were both slippery from the perspiration that had formed between their bodies. Her shoulders were slipping, causing his to roughly grind into the delicacy of her chest. She was panting now, her chest heaving to force the swells of her breasts into the ridges of his taut muscles. Brow was tugged down lowly over her bright eyes, showing nothing but sheer concentration. She grunted against him as she fought tooth and nail. Yet, she could see it in his expression. He didn't seem to be enjoying it like she was, yet she understood not everyone was built the same way as she was. He was losing the battle against the smaller woman, his stamina fading quickly.

That was when Dianna did something completely unpredictable. Her lips ensnared his for a quick kiss, lingering only a moment, before she resigned in attempting to gain control. She fell back on the bed beneath him, letting him keep his position atop her. It was a moment in which she showed emotion to him, a simple act that spoke in volumes about how much she really cared for him. If she didn't, there was no way she would have relented in her task to flip them over. Grinning up at him, she lifted her hands to stroke through his wet hair. pulled back farther, hips rolling up to encourage him to resume in their coupling. In her own way, Dianna had just spoken three words to him that he may never hear her say out loud.

Patrick wasn't surprised at the amount of fight she put up, he should've been expecting it- he was just surprised at how hard he found himself fighting. He'd been looking forwards to the conflict, and despite the lack of a grin on his face he was enjoying every second of it. He was enjoying every moment of their battle but... he didn't want to lose. That stubborn pride that had driven him through the months of studying and physical exercise to become a cop, the one that fought with every ounce of energy he had to stay alive through all of the tough times, was the same one that hated to lose. All of his energy had been focused on that, to be able to 'win' this confrontation with Dianna, and prove to her that he was capable of giving her unbelievable pleasure after he won the battle for position.

But, winning wasn't coming easy for him, and he had been straining and fighting when... he felt her lips kiss his again. For a moment he focused on the kiss, subconsciously suspicious of it, wondering if it was just another distraction tactic to gain the dominant position. But when her lips met his he couldn't help but give into the pleasure of it. He closed his eyes and softened for the moment, catching her lips once more as she pulled away slowly, not wanting the kiss to break. His eyes slowly opened and he realized he was no longer pressing down hard against her chest, because he didn't have to, she had relented in the struggle and given way to him, even going as far as to flash him a grin.

He was confused for a moment for he had not expected her to relent at all, nevermind this easily and to be smiling about it. Her wonderful hand stroking his hair and loving roll of her hips brought him back to the task at hand. He was going to reward her for relenting in the battle, the pressure and pleasure was building inside of him and he knew he didn't have much longer before he would hit his peak. Before he did though, he had a reward to give, and he found another wind, another gear with which to force the stiff muscles in his body to send his length in and out of her at a near reckless place now. Desperation had kicked in, time was against him now and every second was focused on nothing but giving Dianna the best memory of her life. His breaths turned into heavy pants, his heart was beating up into his throat and a low groan of pleasure escaped past his lips as he gave every last bit of energy he had and more into his thrusts.

Though she had relinquished that part of her that desperately needed control of the situation, she would deny it to her grave if he should ever bring it up to her attention. The act of kindness was meant to go unspoken and never be acknowledged. It wasn't in her genetic makeup to be soft and forgiving, which were characteristics about her that she hoped would never be defined. It was the closest thing she had to experience real, raw human affection. In some ways, she didn't know how to express it. So accustomed to being hardened to circumstance, reacting to him with her true personality was almost like asking her to commit murder. No, no, she had already done that. And, she knew for certain that shooting one of the perpetrators that had been involved in attempting to murder both she and Roxie had been a gentle breeze compared to this.

There was a vast difference between doing and feeling. What she was doing was simple biology, a natural interaction with another human being based on lust and necessity. Humans and creatures of all kind had been mating since the very beginning of time; it was easy and instinctual. But what she was feeling was on a whole other level. The way her hands tenderly stroked through his hair was an example of feeling, just like the expression that was written all over her face. He could simply observe the way she bit into her lip to suppress the urge to cry out in ecstasy to know that she was feeling something. Pleasure, lust, incredible peace. . . those were abstract and not something she could easily identify.

Her legs pulled back, knees almost parallel to her chest, so that he could access her more deeply than before. His powerful thrusting was causing her to bump into the bed again, though she did little to stop it. Concentrating on the motions of him moving back and forth, acknowledging the friction building in her body, she heard a whimper of approval escape her tightly sealed mouth. Her skin was flushed, heat consuming her. Hands left his body, falling to grip the sheets tightly between her fingers. Turning her head to the side, red hair falling over her face, she allowed her jaws to part. Her breaths were uneven and audible as she dragged them inward. "Patrick. . . " She whispered his name, tugging up on the linens.

He supposed he should've expected this moment to occur at some point, from the moment they had met there was so much friction between the cop and the thief there was bound to be sparks. But why now, at this most inexplicable of moments? Before this there had been so much doubt, uncertainty, and a fear between them. They had been so afraid, afraid for their lost comrade in Roxie, afraid of the unknown enemy, and... had they been afraid of this? Now there was nothing, they had been found in their hiding spot and it was either only a matter of time until they fought and scrapped their ways against an enemy far more powerful than they could imagine to find a missing friend. Either way, this could be it for either or both of them, it was seemingly now or never.. and they had chosen now instead of never.

And with that in mind, that very soon their little existences on the planet could come to an end in an effort to save the woman they both knew neither of them would give up on. Patrick, for his loyal ways and the knowledge that he owed Roxie his life when he had shown up bleeding on her front porch, and Dianna for her years of a near sisterhood with Roxie- both of them would rather die trying to save her than give up on her. With that lingering thought of his life being at risk, and with nothing left to lose he took advantage of the adjustment she made with her legs to send himself further inside of her.

He felt a heart beating rapidly, throbbing through each of their bodies, and it was throbbing so hard he wasn't sure if it was his or hers. He was aware of the ragged, rhythmless and desperately heavy breathing filling the room, but he again wasn't sure who's lips it was coming from. He moved his hips in short but powerful thrusts, that found a way to work himself deeper and deeper inside of her. The pressure was building up inside of him, and he sucked in air desperately knowing he was on the verge of his climax. But the whimper that escaped her lips and the look that was in her eyes told him he needed to keep going, and make sure he used up every ounce of energy he had in his body.

Through the thick clouds of haze in her mind, she breached that point when all became still and nothing but pure clarity engulfed her. There was so much chaos amidst them, so much turmoil and uncertainty lingering in the air, but the picture-perfect vision of him was enough to grant her serenity for the moment. A hush fell over the worries and doubt, silencing them so that she focused solely on what was immediately occurring. There was a booming in her ears that was ignored, a desperation to her burning lungs that she would not acknowledge. Her heart very well may explode within her chest in the next few seconds, but she was certain these moments were the most content of her life. Nevermind that her life had been turned upside down or that her best friend was in severe danger. As much as all of that mattered, absolutely none of it was deemed important during these few precious moments she had with him. For, surely, as soon as it was over all would be forgotten.

So she wanted it to last. Forever and ever until the very end of time where neither one of them would ever budge from this room or this position. It wasn't about the physical union or the satisfaction of a lusty hunger. No, this was about another kind of need that only these two people could understand. Their time was literally ticking away, nearing the edge of the cliff that would end the only peace she had ever found. Neither Patrick nor Dianna could deny who she was, and she knew he understood just as well as she did that this new found vulnerability of hers was an invaluable rarity that would soon completely dissipate. Who knew, this may as well have been their very last moment on Earth together.

Her fingers were so tightly wound around the sheets that her knuckles were turning a stark white. Wrists flicked upward to tug the sheets away from the mattress, the force nearly ripping them. Turning her cheek sharply so that her eyes were staring into his again, she allowed him to read what her mouth couldn't say. "Patrick. . ." she muttered again, his name barely audible as it left her lips. Her body trembled beneath him, her chest rising up to press to his. Hands let go to the linens, wrapping around his wrists instead as her nails dug into his flesh. Tilting her head upward, she released everything that was building inside her. Quivering violently beneath him, she purred relentlessly, assuring him that whatever his goals of pleasuring her had been, he had reached them.