Author: Roxy Bisquaint
Characters: Sarah and Derek, minor appearance by Cameron
Word Count: ~500
Summary: He wanted it. She gave it to him.
Notes: I hope you don't hate me for his one.
Movement in the mirror caught her eye for a split second before he was behind her. Sarah tensed, expecting another fight over the list of names she'd confiscated from him. But when the heat of his body pressed against her and the warmth of his breath hit her shoulder, she knew he wasn't there to argue.
They weren't exactly a couple, just two soldiers filling the void together on occasion, even when they were at odds — like right now. But right now Sarah wanted to stay angry. She wanted to beat the shit out of him for plotting more killings. And for doing it on her watch. Then his lips made contact with her skin. She felt it everywhere.
God damn it.
He brushed her hair aside and the bullet in her grasp dropped back into its box. The partially loaded magazine in her hand clanked to the dresser as his mouth skimmed along her neck. She tried to suppress her desire—wanted to walk away. Then his hand slipped across her chest and through the scoop line of her shirt. And her feet wouldn't cooperate. When his fingers found her breast, traced the curve of her nipple, Sarah couldn't think. She could only react.
She leaned back into him, her hands roaming down along his thighs—strong thighs. God she loved the feel of his thighs. And while he caressed inside her bra, her body began moving against his with a slow, sensual rhythm. Fingers stroked lightly down her shoulder, then crossing to her stomach and down... crinkling at the slip of paper in her pocket.
Her eyes popped instantly open and she spun around with a readiness to strike. "Oh you better be fucking kidding me."
Derek said nothing. He just stared blankly, the way he did whenever she caught him in a lie.
Sarah couldn't think. She could only react.
Her fingers dug deep into his shoulders and she rammed a knee to his groin. There was a sound, like a quick suck of air and the start a groan. But before it could journey from throat to mouth, she kneed him again harder. Struggling for breath, he doubled-over, holding his crotch. She grabbed the back of his head, pivoted aside and slammed him down until his nose impacted her rising knee. A muffled yelp escaped his lips as he collapsed barely conscious to the floor.
Cameron appeared in the doorway. "What are you doing?"
With a boot planted on his chest, Sarah ripped the paper from her pocket, crumpled it in a fist and threw it down on him. "It's a grocery list, asshole. It's not your fucking hit list."
She huffed for a moment, rubbed her knee—fuck, that's gonna be a bruise—then hooked his armpits and dragged him to the door.
"Did you kill Derek?"
"Put him in the living room," she barked at the metal, "and make sure he doesn't come near my room again."