Lucy wakes up the same way she does every morning. She lets a small smile grace her lips as she slowly blinks, taking in the light and—
Her eyes shoot open suddenly.
This isn't her room. This isn't anywhere she recognizes.
She realizes quickly that she's also very much underdressed. As in, definitely naked. And, based on the warmth beside her, slowly shifting, she is not alone in this bed.
Now, Lucy doesn't do one-night stands. The only time she'd gotten so drunk as to almost hook up with a guy, before anything had gone too far, she had vehemently pulled away, and immediately called a cab home. (She doesn't even remember it, but the guy's roommate did, and had reported the whole situation to a mutual friend.)
She's just never found it in herself to trust anyone like that—and that feeling had only amplified after everything with Caleb a few months ago.
Too terrified to move, she stays completely still and tries to recall what the hell happened last night.
Angela's wedding.
Right.
Her head is pounding like crazy, which makes sense with the lack of memory. She must've gotten really drunk at the open bar, which is...not really something she does anymore. Also because of the Caleb situation.
Then again, she'd been surrounded by friends and cops; if she's gonna get drunk somewhere, it's probably the safest place.
Except, well, she's ended up in some random bed. How had that happened?
She remembers, now, a plethora of drinking. She'd been hesitant at first, but then Angela had convinced Tim to do a tequila shot, and it had been totally worth it to see him suck on a lime. Plus, she couldn't disappoint the bride, and no one would've let anything bad happen to her. So, she had taken the shot glass, and joined in. Then, another. And another.
She remembers dancing. And laughing. And drinking. Some more dancing.
The body shifts next to her, and a hand moves against her hip. Whoever it is, they're so warm, and the touch of skin is sending goosebumps throughout her body.
It's sore between her legs, and she starts remembering flashes of why.
A hard body pushing her into a wall, warm hands pulling up her dress, heated kisses at the junction in between her neck and her shoulder, fingers finding her hot cunt. It feels so good, so familiar—
There's a little jingle that quickly moves from a distance, right to the doorway, and suddenly, there's a very good dog, sitting and staring at her with a curious expression.
"Kojo?" she whispers, completely confused.
What's he doing here?
Unless...
If the idea of a drunken one-night stand with a stranger had been dreadful, well, this is objectively about ten times worse.
"Oh my god!" she yells out loud before her brain can stop her.
"Wassit?" a male voice, which most definitely belongs to the one and only Tim Bradford, mumbles as he shifts besides her.
Leaning into Tim's arms as they sway on the dance floor, his mouth almost touching her ear as he talks. His hand low on her hip. How it sends shivers through her entire body. She wants him.
Just like she had, Tim seems to completely startle upon blinking his eyes open.
"Lucy?" he murmurs, dazed, his voice rough with sleep. It absolutely does not do anything to her. Nothing at all.
"Um."
He seems to realize the predicament they're in, and he jumps away from her. "The hell are you doing here, Chen?"
"Morning to you, too," Lucy mutters unhappily. But she has a similar question running through her mind.
How the hell had she ended up in bed with Tim?
He's her training officer—well, at least, he was. He might not be that anymore, after she'd graduated, but this is still...unexpected. He's still the man she's spent thirteen months in the shop with.
Just a month ago, she was watching him visibly panic over the idea of her confessing feelings for him. How had they gotten here, even with alcohol?
She's never really thought about it beyond the fact that he's hot and that she trusts him with her life and—
Well, that's all it would take for her drunken mind to be fine with this, she supposes.
Because Tim isn't her supervisor anymore; he's just a coworker that's slightly higher up the ranks. And he's hot; she's never denied that fact.
There's no real reason her brain would yell at her to stop. There's no external repercussions for what they did, only the extreme awkwardness she knows she's going to have to endure. And from the way he's pointedly looking at the ceiling, she has a feeling it's going to be a lot of awkwardness.
She's seen women flirt with him. She's seen how flustered he gets. This is going to be just...great.
"So. That happened," Tim says. He must be remembering it all by now.
"Apparently."
Her vision hazy, she hops into a yellow taxi, her fingers intertwined with Tim's. His hand is on her thigh the whole car ride. His lips fuse to her neck, unable to resist. Both of them giggling as they stumble through his door, Lucy's heels abandoned somewhere in the yard.
Lucy carefully grabs her dress from the ground without leaving the covers. Tim's head is pointedly not looking in her direction as she shifts uncomfortably, trying to cover herself appropriately before leaving the bed. When she finally manages to get the dress on, she escapes, glancing around the room for other articles of clothing.
She doesn't see anything of hers, and quickly leaves the room, patting Kojo on the head briefly. She knows her bralet is somewhere in the hallway. At least, she's fairly sure.
She's right. She stumbles across it on her way to the living room.
But she cannot find her underwear, and there is no way she's asking Tim where it ended up.
Maybe she should? She's not sure which scenario is worse: Her asking him where he threw her panties after taking them off her, or him discovering them somewhere in his house later.
Well, at least one of those options means she doesn't have to directly deal with it. What she doesn't know can't hurt her. She can just imagine the garment disappeared into the void, never to be seen again.
Lucy doesn't even have any more time to search anyway, because Tim is strolling into the living room anyway, now fully dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie.
Why does he look so good in such casual clothes? And why does she have to be cursed with the knowledge of how he looks underneath all that, and how his body feels against hers?
"Do you want to borrow any clothes, so you don't have to—"
"Do the walk of shame?" she finishes off, her eyebrow raised. He shrugs, looking slightly sheepish. She glances down at her wrinkled-up dress and sighs. "I'm just going to take an Uber straight home. It'll be fine."
Lucy grabs for her purse, which is dumped on the ground near Tim's shoes by the front door—they'd obviously been in a hurry last night. She stuffs her bralet inside, plucks her phone out, ignores her notifications, and sees she has at least enough battery to make it home. She types in her address for an Uber.
Tim's just staring at her, expression undecipherable.
She's pressed into a wall, her dress hiked up to her waist, and he's entering into her from behind...
"I think your shoes are in the—"
"Front yard. Yup. I'll get them on the way out."
They both stand there, avoiding eye contact.
"I, uh," he starts, looking up at the ceiling like he's cursing his whole existence. "Do you need Plan B or something?"
Lucy's eyes shut from the painful awkwardness. "No, I'm—I'm covered," she gets out. "And we're tested regularly for work, so I'm...assuming we're, uh, good?"
"Good," he echoes. "That's good."
She purses her lips and swings her purse as she looks anywhere except him. HIs couch is rather nice, really, she notices. Worn in. Good quality. Tim probably spends a lot of time watching sports there. Oh, he has a nice TV too. Large. Modern.
Kojo stumbles in. He walks up to her, which is a relief, because now, she can distract herself by burying her hands in his fur. Tim's still just standing there.
She almost sobs with relief when her phone buzzes and she sees a little notification that she can escape this incredibly awkward scene.
"My ride's almost here," Lucy states. He nods, and she points a finger at him. "See you later."
Then, she immediately cringes at such a weird goodbye. What else is she supposed to do, though? Shake his hand?
"I'm sorry, I've never done this before," she rushes out.
"Me neither," Tim admits. "I mean, at least, not like this. With someone I..."
He trails off, but she knows what he means. A coworker, a friend, someone he actually knows.
Lucy bites her lip, swaying her purse a little. "So, we probably just shouldn't discuss this again," she mentions.
He nods. "Probably not."
She sees stars when she comes. She's crying out, his teeth are biting at her neck, and it doesn't matter how uncoordinated they are. She feels so damn good.
She can't believe that the most drunken, uncoordinated sex she's ever had was also probably the best of her life. With her ex-boss. And now it'll never happen again. It's really goddamn annoying, actually.
Summing up all her courage, Lucy flashes Tim a smile. "It was a great night, though."
"Yeah?" A cocky grin forms on his lips, his eyes lighting up slightly.
She nods in confirmation—everything she can remember is amazing. She wishes she could remember all of it. "Yeah. See you at work."
"So," Jackson immediately starts as soon as she stumbles through the front door, sitting on the couch with a mug in his hands, "how was last night?"
Lucy freezes, totally unsure of how much Jackson knows. He doesn't look like he's been worried, which probably means he knows something, because she doesn't think he'd jump to conclusions if she hadn't at least checked in with him before leaving.
"Um."
"Come on, spill!" Jackson teases. "Who was it? Angela might kill you if it was one of her brothers, but I wouldn't blame you. They're all super hot."
She almost sighs in relief. So, Jackson doesn't know. Which probably means no one knows.
"Not one of her brothers," she clears up slowly.
"One of Wesley's lawyer friends that were hitting on you?" he digs. "That dude with the shaggy hair? That super rich venture capitalist who was a major dick?"
"It was just a very drunken one night stand," Lucy waves off. "I barely even remember it."
"Well, I do," Jackson states with a grin. "You left me some very interesting messages."
"Oh, no," she groans, pulling her phone out of her pocket. She's already dreading what she might have said—she gets a little, well, feisty when she's drunk.
Lucy Chen [10:34 PM]
Tims an asshole. Whrre are you?
Lucy Chen [10:36 PM]
Nvm I see you
Jackson West [11:01 PM]
dude you ran off so quick after that waiter and now I can't find you
Lucy Chen [11:22 PM]
I'm gonna do something stypid
Lucy Chen [11:37 PM]
Dont wait uo fir me. Im getting laid tonoghttttt
Jackson West [11:41 PM]
lmao get it girl
Jackson West [11:41 PM]
check in with me before you leave? or nolan
Lucy Chen [11:48 PM]
Were in the uber alreadyy
Jackson West [11:48 PM]
imma call
She quickly glances at her recent history, and is relieved when she sees there are no other texts. Or calls, apart from the one from Jackson.
"So. Um. The phonecall..."
"You said, and I quote, 'if he does it right' you 'won't even remember where you live when it's over'," he informs her, trying his best not to laugh. He fails. Then, he makes a face. "And then I heard some noises from you I really want to erase from my brain."
"Oh my god!" she cries out, her hands coming over her face as he's bursting into loud laughter.
Jackson sips his coffee again when he calms down. "So, it was good then?"
"Yes," she says with a wistful sigh.
His eyebrow raises. "Oh? That good?"
"Shut up," Lucy mutters. "And get me some coffee if you're gonna ask me any other questions."
Jackson grins as he gets up. "Yes, ma'am." He makes his way over to the kitchen and gets the coffee maker ready, downing the rest of his own mug. He pulls out a second from the cabinet. "Speaking of drunken tales... I ended up leaving cleanup early because I almost ended up going back to Sterling's. I definitely caught myself, and redirected here, but..."
Shit.
The wedding party and planners were invited to stay over at Patrice's mansion since they expected cleanup to run into the early hours.
Tim was part of the wedding party, and he missed cleanup. To have sex with his ex-rookie. Did anyone wonder where he ended up? Did he tell someone?
This is a nightmare. She groans.
Jackson mistakes her groan for his own story. "I know. It would've been a terrible idea."
"Let's never get drunk again," Lucy decides.
Jackson shrugs as he grabs the pot and pours into his empty mug. Then, he grabs for the second mug. "Are you going to see him again? Or her."
"Him. And no. Probably not."
"Oh, come on!" he cries out, a little exasperated. "You're always whining about not being able to find people to date—"
"I do not whine!"
"—and then you have great sex with someone and...never want to see him again?"
She glares at him. "Look. I've never had a one-night stand before. But just because we had a great night does not mean we're suited for a relationship."
Jackson's face wrinkles. "Fair enough."
Because a relationship with Tim Bradford is an absolutely ridiculous notion, even without all the barriers. Even if he hadn't tortured her for over a year, even if he hadn't been single-handedly in charge of her career, even if he wasn't her coworker... They just wouldn't mix. She can't believe Jackson is even suggesting it—even if he doesn't know who they're talking about. She can already picture the horror on his face if he knew.
"I don't want to talk about this anymore," she declares. "Can we please change the subject?"
Jackson hands her the coffee mug, and she sips the drink immediately. The warmth floods through her body, energizing her—though, the surprise this morning may have been the most efficient way to wake her up.
"So, what did Tim do?" he asks, and Lucy stops breathing.
Fingers pumping inside her, thumb swiping at her clit, head falling back onto his shoulder.
"Um."
"You were really pissed at him when you came to find me," Jackson reveals. "You guys seemed to be getting along so well while dancing."
He looks visibly disappointed, which tells Lucy that he doesn't suspect that the mystery guy and Tim are the same person.
"Honestly, I don't remember."
She really doesn't recall what the argument was about, she only remembers how it got her all fired up.
Rushing to confront him in the empty entrance hall of the building, moving towards him until she's poking at his chest and his hand catches her wrist and tugs her into him, their mouths catching together.
"He probably started evaluating my dance moves or something," she jests, but knowing her drunk self and Tim, that actually could have very well been the start of their argument.
There's no use dwelling on any of it, Lucy decides. It's firmly in the rear view. She'll forget about it, and surely Tim will too. It's not like they ride together anymore. It'll be fine.
Lucy would like to think it's her parting words, but by the time they're back at work, things are barely awkward between them.
There's a weird little moment when they first run into each other, but he doesn't say anything, and she doesn't say anything and—
He's too drunk, so the orgasm doesn't come quickly. But she's nothing if not determined. They make it to the bed eventually, and she kicks off her socks and shimmies off the rest of her dress while he pumps himself. She swats his hand away, and her fingers curl around his length.
Well, that's that. They're fine. They're never going to talk about it again, and they don't ride together anymore. He's not her TO anymore. She's not his rookie.
Until roll call announces that Chen and Bradford would be riding together. Because of course.
With Nolan now a graduated P2, there's an odd number out. Pairing him with Tim or Harper wouldn't really feel like a step up, so Grey informs them of his plan to rotate between pairing the three up, with the odd one out going to some other available officer.
So, of course, in the first shift after the wedding, just a little over twenty-four hours after waking up in Tim's bed, she finds herself stuck in a shop with him.
"Well. This is awkward," Lucy states.
Tim glares at her, like it's her fault that they got paired together. "Only if you say stuff like that," he shoots back.
She shrugs. "Fair enough."
She tries extremely hard not to think about it for the entire shift. She fails. And, based on the glances he keeps sending her when he thinks she isn't looking, he's in the same predicament.
But, they make it work. They're nothing if not professionals, and while the tension suffocates her in the shop, as soon as they're on a call, it melts away, and their practiced partnership takes the reigns.
It's fine. Everything's fine.
Until Tim gets into a little brawl—to be fair, it isn't his fault, and he's tackled before either of them even notices the second suspect on higher ground, and it's over the second Lucy draws her gun. After cuffing the guy, she reaches a hand out to help Tim up, and as she drags him back into a standing position, they're standing extremely close, her front pressed into his side as he balances himself.
But apparently, even the split-second brawl is enough to mess up his clothing, and the collar of his shirts drag down just enough for Lucy to make out a small bruise right at her eyeline.
When her eyes flicker up at Tim's, trying to gauge his reaction, he's staring down at her with a heated expression.
His fingers are probably leaving bruises on her thighs. She doesn't care. She wants more. She wants him to mark her. She sucks sloppily against his collarbone until she sees purple.
In an instant, Tim blinks, stepping back suddenly.
Yeah. Lucy doesn't know what she was thinking. This is not fine.
Lucy gets two shifts of peace—one shift riding with Harper, another with Nolan—before she's paired with Tim again.
They get through almost the entire shift without incident. Neither of them bring up what happened after the wedding a week ago, and they stay an arm's length away from each other.
It's the last hour of their shift, when they get a call. It's a domestic, which means anything could happen. They're both on guard when they knock on the door, and good thing too, because the second it opens, someone is lunging at them.
Tim's instincts kick in, and before Lucy can even process there's a man twice her size headed her way, he's dragging her backwards, arm slung around her stomach, his other outstretched with the taser, rendering the attacker unconscious.
Even after the man falls, Tim holds her tightly, both of them breathing heavily from the adrenaline. His breath is hot against her ear.
He tastes of an odd mix of tequila and whisky and beer as his tongue slides against hers. She wonders how he tastes sober. She wonders if he's thinking the same about her. She wonders about a lot of things. Mostly, she wonders if she'll get to taste him again.
Lucy pulls away from his grasp.
Just like last time, they don't address it.
It's almost a full week before her and Tim are stuck in the shop together again. Lucy thought that time would help simmer the thick tension between them, but, after two weeks since that night, it only seems to grow.
But, as it happens, the inciting incident actually isn't when they're patrolling together—it's the next day, when she's paired with Nyla and Tim's riding solo, that they both end up wandering into the filing storage room to pull up some old cases.
Well, trying to pull. Lucy's trying to pull some old cases, but some of the shelves are so high. She grabs the one that's in the middle shelf without an issue, and sets it down on the table. But the second one is all the way up top, and as she stands on her tippie-toes, fumbling to inch the box off the edge, Tim watches her with a mix of amusement and irritation.
"You're so short," he grumbles, and she hears heavy footsteps.
She huffs, exasperated. "Well, it's not my fault."
Tim presses into her side as he reaches above her and grabs the box of files fairly easily. Her breath hitches at the feeling, and she makes the most fatal mistake she can:
She looks at him.
He's staring back at her, the files forgotten, his face far too close to hers to be a normal level of appropriate. She can see her reflection in his blue eyes and how they flicker down to her lips, and she finds herself gazing to his as well, watching as his mouth pops open lightly to exhale sharply.
Her body slides above his, and his mouth pops open as his eyelids close. She never thought he could look so beautiful. When his eyes flutter open again, he stares at her like she's the universe.
Lucy doesn't know who moves first—truly, she just doesn't—but suddenly, their lips are crashing together.
They stumble for only a second before settling in, her fingers framing his face, his arms wrapping around her back. She slides her hands down his chest as his reach up to the back of her neck, crushing her even closer.
She feels his tongue swipe against her lower lip and she obliges him, opening her mouth slightly to invite him in. His lips slant against hers widely, coaxing her mouth wider so he can slide his tongue against hers. She moans softly at the feeling.
Then, it's escalating far quicker than she could've anticipated.
His hands reach under her ass, and she yelps as he lifts her unexpectedly, propping her up onto the table next to the shelf. Her legs come up around him, and he's grabbing at her thighs, pulling her even more into him.
She's not a fan of how her thighs are basically squeezing his duty belt into his waist, and how her own is digging uncomfortably into her skin. She breaks the kiss and leans her head against his as reaches to undo his belt, plopping it onto the table next to her, and he follows suit, taking hers off as well. Their hot breaths puff between them before Tim catches her lips again.
When her legs tighten around him this time, bringing him forward, his hard cock presses firm against her core, and even through the layers of thick wool they're wearing, she can feel him. And she wants more.
She rolls her hips, and he groans into her mouth before ripping away from the kiss. She trails her lips against his cheek, nipping at his ear as she passes it, and his face dips into her throat, licking at the skin there.
He ruts against her, kissing and nibbling her neck, and she bites the fabric covering his shoulder. Her hips grind against his hardness involuntarily, desperate for the friction. She just keeps remembering how he felt inside of her, and god, does she want to feel that again.
Her lips find his again, and he wastes no time sliding his tongue back in.
Her hands fist against his uniform shirt, tugging it out of the confines of his pants. As soon as it's free, she runs her hands underneath, disappointed as she's reminded about the vest and undershirt.
Why do they have to wear so many layers?
Her next task is working on the buttons. A part of her considers just tearing it apart, but then she knows there'll be too many questions about why Officer Bradford's shirt is missing buttons—
Oh.
They really shouldn't be doing this.
Lucy breaks apart from the kiss with a gasp, clarity beginning to tug at her mind. But then Tim's lips are on her jaw, his hand pushing her head up and baring her neck to him, and he nips and suckles at the skin there.
What had she been worried about, again?
She whimpers as his hand traces firmly up her inner thigh, before his hand palms her aching cunt over the wool.
Oh.
Almost involuntarily, her hips move of their own accord, leaning into his touch, rolling against his hand as her head falls back even further. Her hands clutch at his shirt where she'd last left off at the buttons, her mission forgotten.
As his lips explore under her jaw, Tim deftly unbuttons and unzips her pants in a coordinated move. His hand wedges in tightly, gaining access to right where she wants his touch most, her hips pushing back and forth to wiggle him in quicker—
There's a loud bang as something crashes to the ground, and both of them spring apart in record time. Tim is several feet away before she can even blink.
For a second, through the haze of her arousal, Lucy isn't sure what happened. She thinks, for one horrifying moment, that maybe they've been caught, and Tim's expression seems to reflect a similar worry. But as she moves her head to the side, she spots the large box of folders they'd set aside earlier, now scattered to the ground.
They hadn't been walked in on. They're safe.
But, the spell is broken.
"Oh my god," she gasps, eyes wide. She stares at Tim, who's expression stands between lustful and panicked and ashamed. "Oh my god. Oh my god."
They'd almost just fucked. At work. On duty.
And she knows that if she's freaking out—when she's the one who gets off on forbidden secrecy (Nolan, in her rookie year, sneaking around), and has gotten off in a hidden storage closet before (Emmett, in the hospital, when she'd been on a 'break'), and is generally up for some pretty adventurous things with the right partner—then Tim is definitely freaking out. He's so uptight and to-the rules and control-obsessed and definitely not the kind of person to fuck his ex-rookie in the station. He's likely kicking himself mentally. And probably going to lash out soon enough.
But, "That...shouldn't have happened," is all he says, clearly still a little dumbstruck as he stares at her. And, oh god, he's still got an erection; she can see how his pants tent. She scrunches her eyes closed and presses her fingers to the bridge of her nose, willing the situation away.
They had spent a whole year riding together without even a near miss. Suddenly, one drunken night together and they have two extremely tense, sexually-charged moments, and then this?
She curses lightly as she finally blinks her eyes back open, seeing stars for a moment with how hard she had shut them. Tim is still frozen, unsure.
In an instant, she reaches down and fixes her shirt into her wool pants, and zips it back up. Tim grabs his duty belt—no, it's hers—and hands it over to her. Apprehensively, she takes it from his grasp, carefully, as if touching his skin is akin to setting off a bomb.
Maybe, after what just happened, it's a fair comparison.
"We should, uh, probably talk about this," she mutters as she fastens on her belt properly.
Tim blinks, then narrows his eyes. "There's nothing to talk about."
" This is nothing?" she fires back, irritated. It's not like she wants to be in this situation any more than he does. "We almost just defiled the filing room. What are we supposed to do?"
"Easy," he huffs out. "We just don't patrol together anymore."
"We're not patrolling together today," she points out. "What are we gonna do, just never spend time alone together?"
He shrugs, not denying the plan, and—
Well, that hurts.
She blinks away tears. "Well, forgive me for not wanting to lose my friend," she mutters.
Tim hesitates at her words. He doesn't seem to know what to say to that.
Under her breath, Lucy mumbles, "Great. And now I'm way too fired up and I have five hours before I can get to a vibrator. Just great."
His eyes flash hotly.
She's probably said too much, but she's already slept with him, and he's the reason she's going to spend the rest of her shift feeling sticky and uncomfortable and turned on. With a huff, she pushes past him.
Tim grabs her by the wrist before she makes it to the door. "Come to my place after work," he rasps.
Lucy pauses, uncertain. This could just be to talk about their situation, like she'd suggested. She would have proposed a more neutral place, and not right after she had alluded to her horniness, and wouldn't be grasping onto his wrist like a lifeline, but it could just be an innocent gesture. Surely, he doesn't mean...
But she looks at his eyes, which are filled with a certain heat. His gaze bores into hers, and just like that, her knees feel just as weak as her resolve.
"Okay," she agrees.
After shift, Lucy rushes home to freshen up. There's a chance she may have misread Tim's intentions, but she's not risking it. She wears her matching lace bra and underwear—it's not her sexiest, but she doesn't want to look too desperate.
She doubts everything the entire drive there. Surely, this is a bad idea.
But... It's not the worst idea.
Because she doesn't do one-night stands, but she does do casual. She's less familiar with friends with benefits, unless becoming friends with them because of the sex counts, but she's done it. That's essentially how she and Nolan started out. She's all good with the idea of no-strings attached, as long as there's a mutual trust and agreement.
Tim isn't her supervising officer anymore. He's not in her chain of command—he just has a little seniority. Really, this wouldn't set off anything in IA's reviews if it weren't for the fact that he used to be her TO. If it were just about any other P3, they'd be solid.
Except for the stigma.
Really, that's what makes this an awful idea. Before becoming a cop, Lucy had never felt that strongly about not dating coworkers. It's a rule her friends always claimed, but she's never cared. She knows how to be professional, and she's good about setting her boundaries and making things clear.
But being a cop is different. Women have to triple their effort to earn the respect of others within the LAPD, and it's reduced into ash the second they hear that they may have slept with someone. Lucy hadn't really taken Talia's advice to heart at the time, but since then, she's heard the workplace gossip. Never from any of the officers she'd call a friend, of course, but she knows if her night with Tim got out, she'd have people everywhere thinking she slept her way through her rookie year.
She rides him unceremoniously, fingers scratching down his chest. She takes and takes and takes until she feels him spill inside her, and then she reaches down and rubs her clit until the white hot heat consumes her—
Lucy parks in front of Tim's house anyway.
They've already slept together, and she thinks the extremely obvious tension during work is a lot riskier than just one more night with him. She just needs one sober night, and then she thinks she'll be fine. She'll forget about him. Their work partnership will be restored. The unresolved will be resolved, and her blood will stop singing every time they stand a little too close.
As she walks up to the front of the house, she starts to worry. What if Tim really just invited her over to talk? To end their friendship? To tell her never to look at him again?
In the end, she doesn't have to wonder for long. Because the second she knocks on the door, she's being dragged inside, and Tim's lips crash against hers the second the door slams back shut.
Lucy gasps into his mouth as she's slammed against the wall. She tangles her hand into his hair, sinking into the kiss, already feeling her body rejoice in what's to come. This is already escalating too quickly.
She tears her mouth away from his. "Wait, Tim—"
"You always want to talk," he growls, his lips chasing hers again.
"We should," she urges, pressing on his chest lightly. Seeing that she means it, Tim pulls back, eyes blown wide, lips plump. "What are we doing?"
"I haven't been able to stop thinking about that night," he admits huskily. "I don't like when things affect me on the job—but somehow, this has. It's all I think about when you're around."
He presses his lips to her throat, sucking lightly, and she hums. "So, what? Are we just gonna fuck it out of our systems?"
"Something like that, yeah," he says roughly against her skin.
"Look, I just need to say one thing, and then we can continue," she says, pushing back at his shoulders until he is looking at her.
He laughs wryly. "One thing? Doubtful."
"No one finds out about this," she orders. "I'm serious. No one can know."
Tim tilts his head, a little taken aback. "I figured that was a given."
She lets out a relieved breath. "Just making it clear. Cops talk and I refuse to let this affect my career."
"I don't think sleeping with someone who was my rookie just a month ago is going to reflect very well on me either," he points out. "It's not against the rules for a P2 and a P3 to mix, but with me being your old TO—"
"We'd be screwed," Lucy breathes out. "God, this is such a bad idea."
She kisses him anyway.
There's no more wasting time after that. Their mouths fuse together as she kicks off her shoes and socks, fumbling slightly even as Tim's grip steadies her. Her hands work at the buttons of his shirt, desperate to successfully undress him this time. He helps, and before she knows it, there's skin everywhere, and she's reveling in it.
Then, it's her turn, and their lips part as he tugs her shirt over her head and throws it across the living room. His eyes darken at the view of her nearly topless, his mouth immediately descending on her newly visible skin. He sucks at her collarbone, his hands reaching up to cup her breasts over her bra. His mouth moves lower, licking a stripe down between her tits as his hands tug the bra down. The straps fall down her shoulders, and it frees up space for him to move them totally out of the way, until they're settled below her breasts.
Tim pulls back, momentarily admiring her chest.
"Men," she mutters, before tugging him by the hair back where she wants him. Easily, he latches onto her nipple, his tongue swirling around it, and she arches up into him, scratching his scalp. He twists her other nipple between two fingers and she keens sharply.
He's practically worshiping her breasts, and she loves it.
She's almost too distracted by that to notice he's been working her skirt up her legs, until suddenly, his fingers are tapping on her upper thigh. Her leg lifts slightly against his hip.
"Fuck, you're soaked," he hisses as he runs his fingers inside her folds. She whines desperately, her hands gripping his biceps. "Is this what you meant earlier?"
"Yes," she gasps out. She whimpers as he thrusts a finger inside her, then a second one immediately after determining she's ready for it. "Oh."
Tim drives his fingers in and out of her, his thumb pressing at her clit, but it's not enough. He's doing it just fast enough to keep her satisfied, but knows just where to keep the rhythm so that she can't get off easily like this.
Based on the way he's smirking at her, he's doing it on purpose.
"Tim," she pants. "Stop. Teasing."
He pulls away, his hand leaving her cunt. He reaches up to his mouth, and sucks the wetness off of his fingertips. She blinks, feeling a new pulse of heat at the vision. She finds herself leaning in, unable to resist.
"Meet me in the bedroom," he murmurs against her lips before she can kiss him, shoving her in the direction. "I'll be right there."
He sprints over towards the bathroom, presumably where he keeps his condoms.
She's glad she didn't even have to ask, because while she's fairly certain they didn't use a condom last time, and she may have a IUD in, she doesn't particularly want to get in the habit. They're not in some committed relationship.
Lucy is just barely getting to sit on the bed when Tim is rushing back in.
She's surely an image to behold, sweaty, half-dressed, with her bra messily shoved below her breasts and her skirt bunched up halfway up her thighs. Yet, he eyes her hungrily, looking like he's ready to devour her.
Before she knows it, Tim kneels in front of her, stepping in between her legs. She grabs his face and leans down to kiss him, a little slower than before. She takes her time to slowly explore his mouth as his hands reach up her skirt again, trailing along the outside of her thighs. He pulls his body back slightly to make room to push her legs closer together, his lips not leaving hers, as he tugs off her panties. She lifts her butt to help him get them off, letting them drop to the floor.
Then, his fingers are back against her cunt. He circles around her clit expertly until she's gasping against his lips, arching against him. He takes the opportunity to use his mouth to explore other parts of her body, kissing her neck, then back at her tits. His lips closing around her nipple at the same time his fingers tease her below causes her to cry out.
Then, his hand leaves her core, sliding back down her thigh as he uses both hands to spread her knees further out.
"Tim," she whines as he plays with her knee instead of her pussy. His head ducks down to her belly and he smirks. "I've been ready since the storage closet, just fuck me already!"
"Next time," he promises as his mouth leaves her abdomen, but the chill of the air is overcome with the new heat of the idea that this will happen again. He shoves her knees upward gently. "Get on the bed."
She almost wants to retort that he's the one not on the bed, but the demanding tone sends shivers down her spine. So, she nods and turns. She crawls up the mattress, already feeling overwhelmed with pleasure, and before she can make it up to the top, the mattress dips next to her, and suddenly, her hips are being scooped up.
Oh, he wants to play it that way, does he?
Lucy obliges easily, wiggling her butt higher up as she spreads her legs, and planting her hands on the top of the bed.
His hand begins to hike her skirt up her thighs before pausing.
"You sure about this?" Tim asks lowly.
In answer, she pushes back, grinding her ass against his front. He groans before firmly pushing her back into place, and she hears the unmistakable sound of unzipping, then foil.
She looks back, her eyes zeroing in on how he shoves his pants and boxers down to his knees before rolling the condom over his cock. He raises an eyebrow at her, and she stares back at him challengingly, and he pulls at her hips harshly until her pussy is pressed up against him.
The second his length teases along her folds, she inhales sharply, her head lulling back in front of her, hair cascading around her.
She holds her breath as he finally enters her, slowly, stretching her. Tim's own breath hitches, and he hisses air through his teeth as he fully sinks in. She remembers most of their drunken night, but it doesn't quite prepare her for how right he feels as he's buried to the hilt.
"Shit," he groans, his fingers digging hard into the skin of her hips. "Damn, Chen, you feel so good."
Lucy rocks back and forth slightly, feeling his dick shallowly slip in and out as his fingertips press into her even harder. "Move," she urges.
With her permission, he pulls back, simultaneously pushing her forward, until he's almost slipping out, before slamming back into her in full force. She cries out.
Yes. This is what she's been missing.
Tim does it again, and she tangles her fingers into the bedsheets below her hands. The force of his few thrusts is forcing her closer to the mattress until her forehead is making contact, but his hands firmly hold her middle in the air. After one last forceful jolt, he falls into a steady rhythm of less intense pumping, but at a cadenced pace that drives her insane.
She bounces her knees up and down to match his pace, sticking to it even as he speeds up, slamming their bodies together.
Rougher.
She wants this even rougher.
"My hair," she gasps out, barely able to get the words out with how scrambled her brain feels. "You..."
Luckily, Tim seems to understand what she needs, because as he slows down, one of his hands slides up her back until he reaches her head, grabbing a fistful of hair. He tugs lightly—just enough to pull, but not enough to hurt.
"Yes!" she pants as he slips deeper inside her. "Fuck."
He readjusts the positioning of the hand on her ass that's been guiding her, and moving it to get a better position with his arm across her abdomen, and he pushes her head down further. There's a few experimental pumps in the position, and then, without much else warning, he begins to thrust into her without abandon.
She presses her face into the pillow as he hammers into her from behind. She grasps the bedsheets below her fingers for dear life. He fucks into her cunt and tugs at her hair and if this isn't the hottest sex she's ever had, she doesn't know what is. She's crying out, moving her hips, her breasts bouncing, pulling against his grasp.
Desperation clouding her brain, she reaches a hand behind her, finding purchase on his ass, digging her fingernails into the flesh there as she pulls him into her as deep as he can go.
"Chen," he grunts as a scold, tugging on her hair until her head is thrown back. He pauses as he rearranges the positioning of his knees, pulling her hair up even more, and she follows, standing up on her knees and his warm body presses into her back.
His hand leaves her hair, and his whole arm comes around her front, across her breasts, his hand resting on her shoulder, pinning her in place.
Then, he begins to move again. He mouths at her neck, now open and free to him. She gasps and moans and cries out next to his ear as her head rests on his shoulder, and it only seems to spur him into going faster and deeper.
She presses her fingers against her clit and rubs furiously. She's so goddamn close. With a growl, he swats her hand away, taking over, circling the bundle of nerves over and over again as he pounds into her until she's falling apart.
The tightness releases, and Lucy feels the world explode behind her eyelids as her mouth opens soundlessly. She feels like she's coming for ages, his touch against her unrelenting. White heat spreads throughout her body over and over again, beginning at a pulse from her core, spreading down to her clenched toes.
When she finally comes down, she feels like putty in Tim's hands. His pace slows, he loosens his grip, and she practically collapses face-first onto the mattress in front of her.
She sags into the bed, sated and sensitive, as Tim continues pulling her hips back and forth as he thrusts into her. She's too overstimulated to have any functional rhythm, but she clenches her core around him and—
"Oh, fuck!" he grunts loudly, his hips jolting into hers harder than before. He collapses, barely catching himself as his hand slams onto the bed near her head, his body hard against her back. The new angle almost has her eyes rolling back all over again.
His hips stutter a few more desperate times, and she feels him pulsing inside her as he's groaning until he slumps on top of her.
His weight pins her into the mattress. Lucy feels his chest heave against her back. It's warm, it's comforting—
It's also a bit suffocating, actually. She's forced to breathe shallowly, her chest not getting much room to expand. But the pros outweigh the cons.
He pushes himself off, landing in a heap on his back on the pillow next to her. She slowly turns over, gasping just as deeply as he is, and by the time she's on her back, Tim's already got the condom tied up and he lazily chucks it into his bedroom trash.
"Goddamn," he rasps out.
"That was so much better than when we were wasted," she breathes.
The look he sends her is almost offended. "I thought you said it was great."
"It was great," she agrees, "but this was amazing."
Lucy laughs, and he chuckles along with her. "Can't say you're wrong there, Chen."
"You know, you are allowed to call me Lucy when we're in bed together," she tells him, amused.
Tim glances at her.
The room settles into a silence, and it's not awkward yet, but Lucy can tell it's going to be if one of them doesn't say something else soon. The stench of sex permeates in the air, and they're both half-naked. Her bra is still bunched up across her ribs, her skirt gathered at her hips, exposing her to the cool air.
She sits suddenly, pushing the bra cups back up where it's meant to be, adjusting the straps back onto her shoulders. Then, she stands, grabbing her panties from the floor at the foot of the bed and slipping them back on—thankful for the barrier of her skirt as she feels eyes on her. She glances back at Tim, who's staring at her with a ruffled brow, unsure, slowly shimmying his pants back over his cock. She pins her eyes to his face.
"Do you know where my shirt is?" she asks.
Tim clears his throat a little. "Think it's in the living room."
She hums, now remembering when he had chucked it off her.
"Well, uh, I'll see you tomorrow, then."
Something flashes in his eyes, but before she can read it, he masks it behind his regular impassive expression. Had he expected her to stay? She's not really sure what the protocol is behind no-strings-attached sex with friends.
"Yeah."
"This was fun," Lucy offers, emboldened by the memory of him insinuating there'd be a next time. "We should do it again."
Before she can see or hear Tim's reaction to that, she beelines out of the room, feeling satisfied and full.