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i'll know my name as it's called again

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The first time Jake ate a woman out, he had been 19 and it had been an accident, sort of. Unexpected.

They'd moved from the couch to her bed and were going hot and heavy, undressed and pressed against one another, when Dana had surprised him by straddling his chest and taking his cock in her mouth. (See? Unexpected.)

When faced with an unfamiliar situation, Jake did what he always did: improvised. So he'd run his hands up the back of her thighs until they were over her hips and his fingers found purchase in her ass. He pressed a chaste kiss against the seam of her sex and felt her mouth close a little tighter around him.

In the end, he had a numb tongue and the reward of her reaction when his efforts yielded results. He hasn't been able to suppress the satisfied smile he'd pressed into the taut skin of her inner thigh as she came apart, her entire body seizing.

"You're so good at that," she had marveled, later, tone a little inquisitive and a touch surprised.

"It's a gift," he had replied, a little smug, and kissed her, feeling his body flare to life once more.


It kind of became a thing. See, his mother had, back when awkwardly giving him The Talk (rather than trusting the public schools or, god forbid, Gina) emphasized that sex was meant to be mutual, and that he should give pleasure as well as receive. And then his mother, uncomfortable despite being an E.R. nurse, had muttered something about taking care of a girl first because it made everything easier.

Gina, of course, had no discomfort in informing Jake that getting a girl off first was not just good manners but also a tactical advantage. "We'll basically do anything after that," Gina had stated frankly, twirling a lock of her hair around a finger and snapping her gum.

"Wait, really?" Jake ignored the plate of French fries in front of him (and Gina slowly stealing half the basket) in the wake of this new information that his mom hadn't spelled out for him the night before.

"Pretty much. Get her off first, kiddo."

Jake scrunched up his face. "Gina, we're the same age."

"Whatever, kiddo." She waved a stolen French fry imperiously. She had then launched into an explicit lecture that amounted to, for lack of a better term, a how-to for touching a girl. In the course of this, Gina polished off the rest of his fries and helped herself to his drink.

"And that's how you find the g-spot," she finished, taking a long pull of his soda. The straw made a slurping sound that was loud in the relative quiet of the burger joint. She set the drink down, the ice rattling. "You don't need a hands-on demo, do you? My mom's not at work today, and I've seen your room. PS, never bring a girl back to your room, it's terrifying."

"I'm good," Jake replied, holding up his hands. "I think I got it."


People always forgot that Jake liked solving puzzles. It's why he was the youngest detective in the Nine-Nine; piecing together clues and intuiting conclusions came naturally to him. Not to mention taking a different tack to solve a case.

Here's the thing: every woman is different, right? The parts are fairly similar, but figuring out what each one likes or responds to, well, that's part and parcel of what makes Jake tick as a human being.

With the next woman, he tongued her clit in lazy circles until she bucked against his mouth, because kissing and nipping was doing nothing for her. The woman after that preferred fingers in addition to tongue, and yet another came apart magnificently when he found her g-spot and worked it until the sensation was too much for her.

The medical examiner had him eat her out with an ice cube held in his mouth, a challenge Jake was all too willing to rise up for. Less arousing was when she got her own ice cube and tried to blow him. (Suffice to say, not one of Jake's most impressive moments -- either the high-pitched squeal he made or the awkward waddle to get away from her cold tongue.)


Sophia, on the other hand, had been all heat. Her kisses had felt like his whole body was alight, and her hands left scorch marks on his skin, her nails dragging up his spine. She broke the kiss and asked him, "How's your penmanship?"

Jake's answer had been honest. "Not….great. My boss says it looks like the top of a Hostess cupcake."

She laughed and wiggled out from under him, shifting up until his mouth was near her belly button. "Well then," she said, voice turning seductive. "Maybe you should practice." And she shifted her hips so that they bumped into his chest, intention clear.

Jake pressed a kiss to the flat plane of her abdomen, tongue tracing the bottom edge of her belly button. "They say practice makes perfect," he joked.

"Cursive," she commanded. "And lowercase letters, none of that block letters bullshit." She reached behind her and pulled some pillows against her back, propping herself up slightly so she could watch him. Jake felt his body flush.

He took his time, pressing kisses up the inside of her leg and running his hands up her legs. She hummed in pleasure at his attentiveness, skimming her nails up between the valley of her breasts. He smiled into the soft skin of the inside of her upper thigh and felt her shiver. Pushing her knees apart, he kissed her mons before pressing a kiss to the seam of her sex, tongue pushing past her labia to trace the ridges and folds. He heard her sigh, pleased, as he licked a stripe from bottom to top, then pressed the firm tip of his tongue between the smaller folds that led to her clitoris, tongue tangling with it in lazy circles.

He felt her nails scratch his scalp, fingers knotting in his hair and tugging roughly once before pushing down, bringing his mouth more firmly against her. He bit back a smile and licked in earnest, following her directions and tracing the alphabet against her clit, stopping every so often to press his tongue inside her and then dragging his tongue back up to her clit.

When he reached Z, he swirled his tongue around the bud of nerves and sucked it into his mouth, his hands dragging under her bum and over her hips, holding her her hips down and flush against his mouth as he licked her more ardently, faster and with more force. Sophia's hands tufted in his hair and pulled him closer, and he felt her begin to crest before she gasped and arched her back, coming apart with a cry and a full-body shudder.

He continued to lick and suck at her until her inner muscles stopped quivering and her deathgrip in his hair slackened, giving way to her gently running her nails against his scalp. It made him hum in pleasure, and her hips shifted, the vibration of his throat buzzing against the sensitive inside of her leg.

"That was nice," she said, after a long sigh of contentment, nails still scoring his scalp lightly.

He pressed a kiss to her mons, to her hip, to the flat plane of her abdomen, to the valley of her breasts, to the column of her neck, then finally to her mouth. "Just nice?" he murmured against her lips.

"I give it a B+ overall," she replied, grinning. "C'mere," she commanded, and pulled him into her.


Amy was….different. Different and distracting.

They were on stakeout and it was Jake's turn to keep an eye out, the fake leather of the car seats creaking as he shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. In the passenger seat, Amy dozed, trying to get rest while she could. Two years on patrol meant most cops could basically sleep standing up if need be, which, his mother pointed out to him, was terrifying.

Jake surveyed the area with binoculars, the warehouses all bland and weirdly lit by old sodium lights, before his gaze finally settled on his partner, because what else was he going to look at?

Her mouth was parted in sleep, her lower lip looking fuller in the low light. That same light made her eyelashes look longer than usual, the fan of them resting on her cheekbones. Her breathing was slow and deep, and stray locks escaped her pony tail, brushing against her throat. The top buttons of her shirt were undone, and if she exhaled just right, he could see the tops of the cups of her bra, lined with some kind of lacy thing that he tried to not remember. (He failed.) Her legs were crossed at the ankle, her knees bent slightly apart.

Jake was hit by a sudden desire to vault the center console and push her seat in the Crown Vic as far back as it could go, kneel in the footwell, and push her knees further apart; to run his hands up her leg, knee to hip, his thumb tracing the seam on the inside of her leg all the way until they press against the apex, his thumbs pressed against her sex.

She made a soft, contented sound and shifted in her sleep, the seat creaking. In his fantasy, she made the same sound, biting her lip and looking down at him with her large, dark eyes. Her legs felt both solid and soft under his hands, the blend fabric of her pants bunching as his palms rubbed up and down the length. Her legs spread apart further, hips sliding forward, and Jake pressed his mouth into the inside seam of her pant leg and smiled into her inner thigh, enjoying the way she shivered above and around his shoulders. He imagined the ghost of her fingers scraping his scalp, running through his short hair.

In real life, Amy made a frustrated sound and shifted, face turning away from his to face out the passenger window, body canting away from his. Jake took a long, slow breath and exhaled with his mouth rounded, the whoosh sound low and eerie like wind. After a long beat of silence, when his skin stopped feeling too tight and his blood too hot, he picked up the binoculars and surveyed the warehouse once more.


When it finally happened, it went like this:

They were making out, languid and slow and hot enough to burn, her mouth open and wet, her tongue pressing against his fervently. His body pushed hers against the vanity of her bath, the counter digging into her back, and his hands roamed freely over her skin, her shirt somewhere beyond the door of her bath along with his.

Her fingers gave a tug at his hair, and he remembered that mental image of her, legs spread and eyes dark, from the stakeout car. He broke the kiss gently, trailing kisses down her neck, between her breasts, down her stomach until he fell to his knees and pulled her forward by her hips slightly, so that she leaned against the vanity rather than being seated on it. He slid one finger into the waistband of her sweats and tugged gently.

"Yeah?" he asked, tipping his head back to look at her.

"Yeah," she replied, no hesitance, and braced her elbows so that she could push her hips forward, and he could tug the sweats and her underwear off in one smooth pull. He places his palm flat on her hipbone and curls his fingers back over her hip, gently pushes her back until the vanity is once more holding most of her weight.

He presses a march of wet, hot kisses up her thigh before lifting the leg over his shoulder. This has the double effect of giving him more room and opening her up for him, the wet folds of her sex parted in invitation. He wetted his tongue and leaned forward, hands going outside her legs to curl over her hips.

The first lick was exploratory, running the length of her sex and teasing the edges of her labia the entire time. The second lick was more intent, the hard, flexible tip of his tongue dipping inside to caress her entrance, the folds inside, and finally to circle her clit with a deft swirl.

"Ah, Jake," she sighed, fingers brushing up his shoulder to fist in his hair. He hummed his approval and she bucked her hips into his mouth. His tongue ran along the length of her, his lips pursing and nudging and teasing her, his nose and brow against her mons. She tightened her fingers in his hair and tilted her head back with a groan, her whole body rolling, and Jake tightened his grip on her body, making sure she didn't fall.

He sucked her clit between his lips, tongue tangling with it like he was French kissing her sex, and she pulled him closer into her, demanding more. Her breathing grew more erratic as her muscles grew taut, and she babbled encouragement, a lot of, "Yes, there, yes," and a lot of saying his name, and a lot of, "Oh god," and sometimes all three together.

Jake pushed two fingers into her, his other hand coming up to lie on her abdomen, and he pulled her clit between his teeth gently. He thrust and curled the two fingers into her while also swirling his tongue wetly around her clit with more pressure than he had used up until that point, and it sent her over the edge. Jake felt her muscles contract around his fingers, felt the way her body went taut, heard the series of gasping, half-sobbing sounds she made as her hips bucked against his mouth, his lips and tongue working her, coaxing her reaction as far as it would go until he felt her start to slip, boneless, off the vanity and onto the cool tile floor. He helped her come down, half-holding her in his lap, adjusting her so that she didn't crush him or his erection, straining against his boxers, and enjoyed the blissed-out expression on her face.

When she saw him again, she beamed, dark eyes creasing slightly at the corners. "Jake," she breathed, her hands roaming over her shoulders.

"You liked that, huh," he said, mouth quirking up in a smile. "I'm pretty good."

She rolled her eyes. "I knew your mouth had to be good for something." She reached for his hand, the one that had curled inside of her, still a little sticky from her release, and took the two digits he'd curled inside her, against her g-spot, into her mouth. He felt the rough sweep of her tongue against the pads of his fingers, and then the tight constricting feeling of her mouth as she sucked.

His chest tightened, and he pulled his fingers out of her mouth and threaded his hand in her hair and kissed her, wet and obscene, lips and tongue sore and half-numb from his exertions. Amy's response was immediate and enthusiastic, and her hand curled into the nape of her neck, her other fingers digging into her shoulder, while her hips and sex rubbed against his hard cock. He groaned into her mouth, and she broke the kiss, pressing her forehead into his and smiling.

"How about we take this somewhere more comfortable?" she asked, in her best seductive voice. Jake knew how it sounded by this point, and he kissed her chastely for her trouble.

"What, the bathroom floor isn't comfortable enough for you?"

"Tsk," she clucked and rose, pulling him up. He admired the way her muscles bunched and tightened and flexed as she rose, legs and abdomen and chest and shoulders in turn.

"Gosh, you're pretty," he said softly.

"You're not so bad yourself," she replied, and hooked her pinky with his, pulling him out and into her bedroom. He hit the lightswitch on his way out, the sudden change in brightness making him see stars in her dark eyes.