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The Intermittences of Love

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After seven hours of relentless work fueled solely by caffeine, Conrad has one very precious hour to rest and intends to take full advantage of it in an on-call room. His eyelids grow heavy as time goes by so there is no point anymore in fighting against the wave of exhaustion that is creeping over him. On the edge of well-earned sleep, he vaguely registers the door opening and closing, followed by the click of the lock. The mattress sags with the weight of a body that can only belong to Nic and he does not bother to open his eyes. Her scent is all around, pleasantly luring him into a relaxed state of mind that only she can provide.

They make the same intimate dance in the cover of darkness that is altogether too familiar to them. Conrad shifts and Nic molds herself to him, laying on her side while he holds her from behind. They finally settle down when he pulls her closer with one arm before she falls asleep, entirely tired herself.

Sometime later, a faint disturbance in the silence draws Conrad back to consciousness and he wakes up to the same darkness. There is a sigh at first, low and almost imperceptible, and any trace of sleep vanishes from him at once. Even though his eyes adjust rapidly to the absence of light, Conrad can only distinguish the outline of her body when her back arches, pushing her breast forward.

His mind is fully alert and his body so in tune with hers that when she releases a long moan in the form of his name, his eyes widen in recognition, mouth opens in shock. He contemplates the logistics of abandoning the bed, if only for a few seconds, to turn on the light and watch the vision that is Nic having a sex dream that features him while he is quite literally pressed flush against her. It does not matter in the end, he has neither will nor room to move since Nic has him firmly trapped between the wall and her hips, so he stays and for a while only takes short breaths, fearful of disturbing the dream.

Conrad is well acquainted with her pleasure expressions and his memory is all too eager to provide the clarity that darkness does not allow him to witness. To him, she is a glorious sight, even without seeing her, and he forgets all else when her legs press together as if trying to relieve the pressure building between them.

She goes on with soft moans that fluctuate both in intensity and pitch, Conrad is suddenly torn between allowing the dream to unfold and eventually fade away into the recesses of her mind or providing a layer of realism to whatever images of him her mind is conjuring.

It is not surprising when his own body voluntarily reacts to her sounds, blood rushes downwards making his pants feel uncomfortably tight against the curve of her ass. The novelty of Nic dreaming about him so vocally renders him briefly paralyzed, then he shudders all over when she presses against his erection, yet it does very little to alleviate the tension.

Unable to maintain self-control any longer, Conrad removes the ring from his index finger and lets it fall somewhere between their bodies. The tips of his fingers have been yearning for her since he woke up and he tentatively brushes the patch of skin that is exposed on her belly. At the lightness of his touch, he is immediately rewarded with a deep sigh and goosebumps erupting across her skin.

“Wake up baby, reality is much better,” he whispers hotly in her ear while his hand disappears under the waistband of the scrubs.

An indistinguishable murmur of voices passes by outside the room but he carries on safe in the knowledge that even nearly taken by fatigue Nic still had the presence of mind to lock the door when she arrived.

His fingers trace the lace trim of her panties and she finds the voice to urge him on.

"Please, Conrad," she breathes out heavily with desire. “Don’t stop.”

Obedient to her needs and always finding his own pleasure in hers, his hand travels lower between her legs to find her already aroused and wet, and he silently thanks dream Conrad for the head start. Nic yelps when his fingers press on the most sensitive spot, undoubtedly in contrast with the intangible dream, but eventually relaxes as soon as he starts to move them languidly. In that moment, locked inside a pocket of dark solitude inside the hospital chaos, there is only them connected by his hand.

A string of breathless profanities fall from her lips and the only part of his brain that is not yet fully consumed by blind desire takes smug satisfaction in the fact that he’s the only one able to make her lose composure in that way. Of all versions of Nic, the one that completely loses control in his arms is perhaps the one he loves the most.

Nic rolls towards him and her legs open wider, giving him nearly unrestrained access. The new angle makes her whimper and allows her to grasps a handful of his shirt to bring him closer. Their mouths clash clumsily, tongues brush along one another while his fingers move on her wet folds with ease, drawing skillful circles, just as she likes.

Conrad sucks gently on her lower lip and tastes the highs and lows of her moans, the high pitch when his fingers slide inside her while the thumb applies pressure to her clit, the low mumbles of a desperate need for release. In the darkness, those often-subtle inflections of her voice are the only cues that guide his hand and they all form a wonderful symphony that will soon culminate with biting her lip, clenching her fists and calling the divine until her voice fades away.

"Faster, yes, right there." She demands against his lips, gasping for air.

Her heartbeat is palpable in the way she clenches around his fingers, already close to release, and her whole body vibrates. But it’s not her at all. The right pocket of his pants vibrates again between them with a loud noise that cuts through their heavy breathing and he stops, fingers deep inside her, heart pounding.

Nic flinches away from the offending pager and deflates against the bed. All pleasure-induced frenzy is about to evaporate into the air, so she draws her knees together, trapping his hand in between and silently begging him not to leave. The pager beeps relentlessly, disregarding their immediate need for each other, until it eventually reaches the familiar 911 tone that cannot be ignored any longer.

Conrad curses loudly, reluctantly withdraws his hand from the warm pool between her legs and places a lingering kiss on her forehead by way of apology. Then he runs out of the room in a flash, leaving the door open and her body experiencing the most cruel absence of his touch.

"Rude." Nic mumbles under her breath, completely awake and unsatisfied.

To shield against the bright light that is now flooding the room and muffle a frustrated groan, Nic pulls the pillow over her face. There is a sharp pressure against her back and with blind fingers she finds his forgotten ring. Closing her hand around it, she runs her thumb over the smooth metal edges polished by years of constant nervous handling and hopes the repetitive motion sends her back to a dream where Conrad will not be interrupted.

Chapter Text

By the time they arrive at her house it is well past midnight and Nic makes a silent beeline to the bathroom. Since then, Conrad has been laying on her bed, legs crossed along the cover, head resting on a stack of pillows. Conrad spends twenty minutes anxiously refreshing the news feed on his phone expecting updates on Lane’s arrest, his thumb grows tired of the repetitive motion. While he hoped for that outcome, he still feels an acute disappointment towards the woman he once regarded as a mentor, yet there is neither sympathy nor forgiveness left in him.

Nic emerges from the steam of the bathroom and walks across the hallway into the bedroom wearing only a pink set of top and shorts, bringing with her a cloud of berries, the scent of her favorite shower gel. A towel partially covers her head while she tries to dry her hair. She sits on the bed with a deep sigh.

“Best shower ever?” Conrad asks and puts away his phone, no longer concerned with anything but the way Nic looks right now. Without makeup the dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks are exposed, her skin is tainted red from the hot shower and she looks much younger, even with faint dark circles under her eyes. The past days have not been easy, rest did not come often for her, but an immense weight was lifted off her shoulders today and there is only one thing left for complete peace of mind.

She folds the wet towel neatly, places it at the foot of the bed and turns to him.

“You bet, I’m really glad to be home. I don’t want to repeat the jail experience ever again.” Nic regards him with relief which quickly changes into a mocking expression that travels the length of his body, a thin eyebrow rises in challenge. “Well, you sure didn’t waste any time making yourself comfortable again in my bed.”

Conrad laughs then and the tension accumulated since yesterday fades entirely. “What can I say? You have a very soft bed and I missed it.”

Not the bed per se, though it stores plenty of their intimate memories in the purple sheets, he only truly missed her. Ever since she gave him a second chance at whatever they currently are, labels could wait, he cannot simply go back to an empty bed.

“I suppose I owe you 100 grand. Can I pay you over the next five years without interest?” She says with a chuckle.

It is meant as a joke, yet he knows her well enough to recognize that this debt to him will weight on her mind for a while, and on his as well.

“You don’t owe me anything, Nic.”

Her face is all seriousness at once, eyebrows drawn together reflecting the inner workings of her brain around a question to which she cannot find a reasonable answer. “Where did you get the money for bail?”

“Just as you said, I robbed a bank.” He grins smugly and folds both hands behind his head.

“Conrad, be serious. Tell me the truth.”

“Fine,” he says with a sigh. “I asked my father for part of the money but he paid the bail in full, no questions asked. Believe me, he has plenty of it and this time he’s not expecting either of us to pay him back.”

With wide eyes and mouth agape, Nic stares at him as the gravity of his words sink in. She knows just enough of his past to correctly determine how difficult must have been to call his father groveling for a sizeable portion of the same money he swore not to need a decade ago. But for her, Conrad would rob that particular bank over and over again and swallow his pride every single time.

Her eyes well up and shine in the warm light of the bedside lamp. “You asked your father for a favor? For me?”

“Of course, I would do anything for you, Nic.” The smug smile is gone, replaced by a gentler one.

There is a subtle shift in the air, one he recognizes as a spark being ignited within her and she is on her hands and knees crawling across the bed towards him. Her lips collide with his and she kisses him with a voracity that intends to show everything that cannot be said at the moment. In her lips he tastes relief, gratitude and above all, an abundance of love.

One elegant leg moves to straddle him, she lands on his lap and pins him down to the bed. The satin fabric of her top is soft on his fingers but he does not mourn its absence when he pulls the flimsy piece over her head and discards it aside. His shirt follows suit.

With an efficiency that comes naturally to her, Nic takes off her shorts, slides his zipper open and pulls his pants down, socks and all. And when she returns to his lap Conrad sits up to welcome her. There is only underwear between them now. His vision is suddenly flooded by her breast and he captures one nipple in his mouth, sucking diligently until it hardens in his tongue. He feels her hand on the back of his head, long fingers sliding over the short hair there and pulling him closer.

Nic rolls her hips hard against his erection, both painful and pleasant in equal measure, and they moan each other’s name. Even through the fabric layers that separate them, Conrad can feel liquid heat burning between her legs. His hands travel over her body with greed, each inch of exposed skin aching to be touched, and she dissolves with moans in his ear.

Drops of water fall occasionally from her wet hair, they land on his chest and roll down the heated skin until eventually disappearing. The sensation turns him on even more and all he wants with blind certainty is to remove the last pieces of clothing and burry himself deep in her.

And he is about to do so when soft music with a vibrating buzz starts playing somewhere in the room. Conrad cannot place the source immediately, nor does he bother to when his body and mind are engaged elsewhere. The song eventually stops and their breaths come out heavy as the only sound in the room again. Then his lips move to her neck, a hand closes around her breast and she gasps when he squeezes tenderly.

It is only when the song starts again that his mind finally realizes it comes from her phone ringing persistently on the nightstand.

“Ignore it.” He demands against her skin.

“Then don’t stop.”

Already impatient, Nic rises to her knees and he takes the opportunity to kiss her navel while she reaches for the trim of her panties. But before she can push them down even an inch, the song resumes a third time and she dives across the bed reaching for the phone that is dangerously close to the edge, and picks up the call.

“Hello? Yes, this is Nicolette. Who’s speaking?”

Conrad makes an effort, albeit mild, to control himself but he cannot resist when she is laying on her stomach, breasts pressed against the bed, and wearing nothing but a lacy piece of fabric covering her hips, so he straddles her from behind and presses his covered erection into the perfect curve of her ass. A stifled whimper is all the vocal reaction he gets in return, for Nic is summoning all her strength to remain focused on the call. His hand closes around her thigh then he dives onto her back and burns a trail up her spine with his tongue, tasting her milky skin along with the shivers on her body. It is only at her neck that he encounters resistance when she uses her free hand to push his face away.

“I understand, thank you for calling.” The phone goes silent again.

Nic turns over, spreading gold strands of hair all over the pillow, and he hovers above her.

“What is it?” He asks.

“I got my job back.” Her cheeks are flushed with excitement, her eyes dance merrily all over his face and her smile is brighter than it had been in days.

“That's great news! We have to celebrate.” Conrad covers her lips and she laughs into the kiss. The moment is short lived because she holds his cheeks between her hands and detaches him from her mouth.

“Effective immediately.” She tells him pointedly with both eyebrows raised.

Conrad grunts in protest on behalf of the desire that boils in his veins and the unattended pressure in his groin, then falls back onto the bed beside Nic. Their eyes lock, her hand reaches over to caress his cheek before she gets up to dress and go back to the hospital. The frustration he feels pales in comparison with the joy that swells in his chest. Nic is back and that is all that really matters to him, the celebrations can wait.

Chapter Text

The brightness of morning meets Nic when she risks opening an eye to glance at the clock on the nightstand. The numbers reveal that it’s still early so she shuts it again to indulge in the peaceful silence for a little longer before one of them has to get up and feed their family, chickens included.

Years ago, Sunday mornings were spent lazily between the sheets and time passed with the natural latency perceived by those in love, when nothing else matters except the other. Back then, the hours stretched as if infinite while they fed on each other's pleasure until all senses were overwhelmed, their bodies spent.

Nowadays, moments alone are fewer than before. The daily responsibilities fill them with a sense of urgency they didn't have previously and time alone has to be stolen while the younger members of their family sleep. Such are the struggles of parents, but neither would give it up, not even for those Sundays.

There is a rustle in bed and the frame creaks with the sudden movement. An arm envelops her waist as Conrad arranges himself flush against her back, the contact of his skin on hers awakens the rest of her body.

The humid heat of Atlanta in the peak of summer makes her feel miserable every year, reducing her to a clammy, lightheaded state. On those nights when she manages very little sleep and nothing seems enough to cool down the room, Nic prefers to sleep naked. In contrast, the weather never seems to have much effect on Conrad, he falls asleep almost immediately after landing on the bed regardless of temperature. Just when Nic is considering pushing his warm body away, he starts dropping small kisses on her shoulder with a trail leading to her neck, there he sucks on her pulse and she loses all will to resist.

“Good morning,” he murmurs with a voice rough from sleep.

Nic rolls towards him and her reply is in the form of a kiss, languid and reminiscent of those Sunday mornings of days past.

Conrad abandons her lips far too soon, then fixes her with a penetrating stare that seems to reach within her soul to unearth the deepest cravings. The pounding of her heart is loud enough to reach her ears, both cheeks flush under his gaze, and a silent conversation unfolds. There has always been a natural intuition between them, one that recognizes the subtle changes in the undercurrent of desire that binds them together. No words are required, the present yearning is mutual.

When he descends on her lips again it is with an entirely new resolve which sends a shiver down her body, and she meets his kiss with equal enthusiasm. Conrad moves gracefully over her, his lean muscles stretch with each movement, and he descends down the column of her neck.

Time urges on their love bubble but Conrad does not seem to care, for he pours attention on her right breast without hurry, capturing the hard nipple, rolling it with his tongue and sucking hard. He repeats the action on the left one, her most sensitive, and when she moans loudly it is followed by immediate regret.

Something else that changed when they became parents is their volume. Before, she moaned with abandon until it echoed off the walls, now she is more mindful of her reactions, though they are no less intense. And for someone that cannot stand her very vocal enjoyment of food, Conrad was slightly disappointed when the tone of her pleasure lowered once they became parents.

His lips follow the path defined by the scar along her abdomen. Although faded now it will always be a reminder of the worse day of her life. Conrad never avoids that imperfection, instead he lavishes special attention on the scar to normalize its existence, making her feel beautiful in spite of it, and she loves him even more for that.

Her legs part easily and he settles in between, his beard tickles her skin without leaving a mark for his kisses are light on her inner tight. Greedy hands close around her hips pressing them gently to the bed, then his mouth closes around her clit and sucks so avidly that she quivers under him. The sudden throbbing is rapidly soothed by his tongue which sends continuous pleasure shocks to the rest of her body. Even after all these years, sex with him is always fulfilling and it’s nothing short of amazing that her body still reacts just as strongly as it did the first time.

Nic resists closing her eyes even though it would be far too easy to let herself float away in a cloud of passion. Their eyes lock, neither can look way while his tongue circles her clit over and over, and even though she cannot see she feels him grinning proudly. It is only when he inserts two fingers inside that her eyes finally close, her back arches off the bed. She bites her lip to contain a loud moan with his name at the end. From the barely concealed groans forming in his throat, he too is enjoying it immensely.

The room spins into a blur of pastel colors and Nic anchors herself on a handful of his hair, the edge of the release that will make her soar completely boundless is approaching fast.

Mama?”

The question comes from a distance away, though it’s clear enough to make her legs clamp tightly around his head, trapping him in place while her nails dig into his scalp. Time might as well have stopped during the silent moment in which they hold their breaths without daring to move.

Nic loves her daughter more than anything in the world, but at five years old Georgiana is already a voraciously curious child with a desire for adventure burning inside and an innate stubbornness, much like her father, thus continuing the grand family tradition of apples falling directly under the tree.

Despite being very careful, sooner or later one of their daughters would stumble upon them in circumstances not suitable for children, Nic could only hope that when it inevitably happened the moment would not leave a permanent mark on their minds.

“Daddy, wake up! I want pancakes!” Georgiana screams louder this time, her small feet move lightly on the hardwood floors, closer and closer.

His head emerges completely, his eyes shift focus to the door, and they both watch the doorknob turn like a slow-motion scene in a horror movie. With the sharp reflexes of a former soldier, Conrad jumps off the bed before the knob makes a full turn and slams his body against the door, engaging the lock for good measure.

“Good morning sweetheart.” Conrad responds breathlessly while resting his forehead on the door. “Go ahead to the kitchen, daddy will be out soon to make you breakfast.”

Nic covers her mouth with a hand to stop the laughter that shakes her entire body.

“I’m so sorry, Nic.” His eyebrows are drawn together in an apologetic expression.

It is taking him an enormous amount of restraint to not resume his position between her legs, but in spite of the visible struggle the decision is easy to make. She might be his wife, the love of his life, but they have two priorities above each other and the oldest of them is demanding pancakes immediately.

“Oh, don't worry about me. I can take good care of myself,” Nic retorts with a mischievous grin.

Her hand brushes teasingly down her navel until it disappears between the legs, she gasps when it reaches the now faintly throbbing spot.

Conrad grunts loudly while putting on pants and a shirt, and gives her an exasperated glance when his head resurfaces. For a solid minute he stands in front of the closed door taking deep calming breaths. After one last longing look towards her naked body he opens the door and vanishes down the stairs.

Chapter Text

Nic leans over the bathroom sink to bring herself closer to the reflection of her face. The brush on her hand glides smoothly over one eyelid, then the other, and in the end she pauses to survey the handiwork. She is far from a vain creature and is well aware of her natural beauty, yet she takes a certain amount of pride in the result, the way her eyes become larger, the full shape of lips painted red.

Water stops running in her shower but Conrad’s off-key song continues, much to her amusement. A cloud fills the small bathroom when the glass door opens and he emerges from within, the steam clings to her skin and fogs the mirror briefly. As the reflection starts regaining its clarity, Nic is gradually rewarded with his naked body, a lovely sight to see in any circumstance in spite of the few faded scars of a painful past scattered across his skin.

“You don't need makeup, Nic.” Conrad states while pulling a towel around the waist.

She chuckles softly as only a man could have such a naïve perception of beauty standards. “Give it ten more years and you’ll change your mind.”

“Never! Even when we’re both grey, wrinkled and surrounded by our grandchildren, you'll still be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.”

Heat flashes on her cheeks which has little to do with the temperature of the bathroom and so much more with the implication that his words carry. There is a veiled promise for their future in his unwavering stare that keeps her rooted in place.

They have only recently got back together, whatever they currently are is still vulnerable, undefined beyond the inevitability of their love. Somehow, while Nic was too distracted by sorrow, Conrad had burned through her defenses and reached her heart again. A very dangerous achievement on his part. This time she threads carefully around him to avoid being hurt again, even though every day he proves how much he is willing to change. All for her.

Nic feels her blood rushing and pulsing, quick breaths leave her parted lips and a tingling sensation settles on the fingertips. His eyes then travel down the length of her back, her own towel barely covers her tights and he finds a place for his eyes to linger just below the hem. Whatever was on his mind until that moment vanishes entirely, replaced by a flicker of lust.

She flashes a provocative grin with lips of the red shade she only uses for his attention and it is all the invitation Conrad needs. In one stride he is directly behind her, his warmth engulfs her whole body at once.

Slim lips close on the spot below her ear in a tender kiss while his hand tugs at the knot between her breasts to remove the towel. A breath catches somewhere in her throat when his fingers brush the curve of her ass and disappear inside her, the eyeliner falls from her hand into the sink with a splash of black droplets.

"Open up, baby.” he breathes hotly in her ear. “Let me taste you."

Nic complies without resistance and moves her legs apart. His reflection grins at her through the mirror and she watches him disappear behind her. Conrad crawls underneath, kneels on the floor with his back against the vanity and replaces his fingers with his tongue. He takes a long lick of her and she gasps in mingled shock and delight.

For a while she thinks of nothing, is unable to formulate the simplest thought while he goes on in a languid motion around her clit, but gradually her mind recovers to process only the sensations he evokes on her body.

When Nic looks down all she sees is the top of his head between her legs, his mouth is firmly attached to her core with only glimpses of his tongue, rough and marvelous, disappearing inside her. With one hand Nic grips the edge of the marble surface, the other disappears in his short strands of hair and anchors herself to his scalp.

Conrad murmurs something unintelligible, in appreciation perhaps, though its meaning is lost to her fogged mind. His fingers brush her tights before taking hold of both cheeks, digging into the flesh to bring her closer to him. Never before has a man demanded so much nor had she given herself so freely to anyone else, the desire she feels for him is unlike anything else ever experienced and by his own groans of pleasure she knows he feels the same.

During a brief moment of vertigo, Nic wills her legs to stand straight while losing all remaining control over her vocal cords, which are now freely producing a variety of whimpers that she does not care to stop.

The pressure is released without much warning, it is all-consuming in its power, the heat wave travels from where his tongue touches and towards her brain. A shuddering moan that echoes off the tiles is all she can manage while her heartbeat pulses around his mouth and her eyes roll uncontrollably behind closed lids.

In the aftermath she is faintly aware of his short hair between her fingers, his soothing kisses on her inner thigh. Nic catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror and recognizes the well-loved woman that stares back. This is the version of her that only Conrad got to see until now, with deeply flushed cheeks, heaving chest and a blissful smile in the end. Just as he said, Nic feels eternally beautiful in that moment.

Her gaze shifts downwards where he is staring intently back at her, not with the smug smile that any other man would wear, but with a look of open adoration in his lust clouded eyes.

Without much grace Nic slides down when her legs are no longer able to sustain her weight, she collapses on his lap straddling him and rests her forehead against his. Her fingers make quick work of the towel around his waist and push each half aside to expose him. Without surprise Conrad is more than ready, eager for attention.

Her hand closes around his hard length, but before she is able to slide all the way down on him, the doorbell rings effectively halting any further movement.

“Don't you dare getting up, I'm not done with you yet.” His voice is rough, somewhat desperate with yearning, his hands hold her in place.

“It seems like you have to be since you were the one that planned this game night.”

“So, this is my own fault?” Conrad asks as she starts rising from his lap with great effort.

Nic dresses with an automatic precision even though every brain cell is screaming against the motions, all she wants is to ignore the incessant doorbell and lock herself with him in the bathroom for at least another fifteen minutes. By the knocks that join the ringing bell their friends seem to have grown impatient while she ponders the pros and cons of a last-minute cancelation.

“Get dressed, Conrad. We can’t keep them waiting.” Nic shouts from the bedroom.

Conrad only grumbles a rude remark about giving them a show that makes her blush profusely. Then his arms fall to the sides in defeat and she has the distinct belief he is internally cursing his own plans.

Nic kneels down and kisses him soundly on the lips, this time her tone is sweet despite the hint of guilt. “I promise to make it up to you later.”

“I’m definitely counting on that!” His smile is bittersweet.

Nic does not linger, turning on her heel she walks out of the bathroom with light steps and leaves him desolated on the floor with unfulfilled lust running hot in his veins. Conrad will take his revenge during the games, unbeknownst to everyone else, and she will pay again later in the most pleasurable way. Nic shivers in anticipation before opening the front door. Game night cannot be over soon enough.

Chapter Text

His back hits the mattress carrying the kinetic energy of her push, then his body absorbs the impact of hers when she lands on top of him lacking the grace of movement she usually has. The room vanishes briefly when his vision becomes surrounded by a gold curtain of silky hair that catches the morning sun, he drowns in its brightness and the taste of her lips.

The air still has the smell and electrically charged quality of impending lightning despite the sun shining through the grey clouds to reach the wide windows, saturating the apartment in white light.

“You owe me at least one orgasm,” Nic states when their lips part, her expression is both serious and challenging, and for a moment she watches him closely.

“And I promise to deliver, but I thought you were tired.”

Her lips press into a mischievous smirk as she sits straight on his lap. “I can make an exception to finish what you started earlier.”

Evidently aware that their time awake is fragile, she pulls the top over her head and her breasts bounce slightly within a lacy bra. Conrad reaches out for one but she quickly moves away to remove her pants and underwear with swift intent, and the rest of his clothes follow suit to join a trail of mismatched garments that begins at the door. She straddles him again with unhurried elegance this time, her nails brush up and down his erection, the touch is light enough to make him shudder.

“You're such a tease,” he grunts impatiently when a new tide of yearning rises within him almost instantly.

“It's payback for leaving me high and not-so-dry in that shower.”

“Believe me, it was torture to leave you like that. I spent the rest of the shift with visions of your naked body in my head.”

Very few situations in life have the power to pull him away from her, but his job is one of them. Only with great effort was he able to peel his body from hers when the pager could no longer be ignored. In that shower, he had wanted nothing more than to press her, or be pressed - either way was fine with him - against the cold tiles while steam rose in the air and the storm rumbled outside. For the first time in his life thunder did not bother him at all when his sole focus was on her wet skin against his.

During the rest of the shift, and whenever his brain was not spreading thin between the many emergencies that plunged the hospital into chaos, Conrad got intermittent flashes of her curves glistening under the spray, beckoning to be touched and highly distracting.

“Less talk, more sex, before I fall asleep on you, because that won't be exciting for either of us,” she says with a chuckle.

In one fluid motion, Nic leans down until the length of her body is flush against him, from chest to thighs their skins nearly blend into each other, and his already hard erection becomes trapped between their hips. Her tongue sweeps seductively over his lower lip and he captures it, delving deep into a kiss. Nic moans when his hands close around her ass and pull her hips towards him, the full contact of her body is too good to deny himself the pleasure of feeling her so intimately again.

All his senses are consumed by her. Ever since they got back together, her scent seems to be all around him, it became so entangled with his own that he regularly finds himself searching for a presence that is not there.

There’s a shift inside both of them, something animalistic coming from deep within that pushes them beyond the threshold of exhaustion. Nic starts a trail of kisses below his ear and down his neck towards the chest. There she lavishes attention on the tattoo with reverence, the small kisses she lays above his heart never fail to convey admiration for his courage. Then the tip of her tongue sweeps around his nipple, her teeth graze it carefully and he releases a breathy call of her name.

The delicious weight of her breasts press against him while she continues a slow path downwards with her tongue, mapping portions of him that had not been touched by her in a while as if she is acquainting herself with his body all over again now that he is at her mercy. On the way down, her fingers stop to trace his faded scars. Though they have healed long ago, their painful memories are still lurking underneath the tissue, yet she has a gentle way to soothe even those ghostly aches.

The part of him that senses the imminent doom of weariness wants to urge her on when she takes time to kiss his inner thighs, but instead he grasps the sheet underneath in a fist. Even though the times he spent alone longing for her in this bed are far behind, the fragility of this second chance reminds him that these moments should not to be taken for granted as they once were, he now wants to appreciate every single one as if it was the last.

Seemingly blinded by pleasure, Conrad forgets what to do with his hands, they lay limp beside him when her lips close around the tip of his erection. The bolt of electricity that crosses his body once she starts sucking gently is something unconnected to anything else he experienced before meeting her.

The room swirls in a blur of morning light, awareness flees his mind, and all he can feel is himself throbbing inside her warm mouth. Those lips, which have spoken softly at times, angrily in others, now deliver waves of pleasure through him that render him helpless. As a man with a healthy sexual appetite, dominance has always been second nature to him, but he found a match in her and quickly learned how to surrender himself entirely, for only she has the power to provoke such intense reactions and she indulges in that feeling every time.

Conrad stares down at her, his fingers disappear into those soft strands of hair to cradle her head, and he watches her face dissolve into intense pleasure, eyes closed, cheeks flushed. One of her hands, which had been spread open on his navel until then, moves downwards and disappears between her legs. He feels, more than hears, the muffled whimpers she makes while her fingers circle her clit, and it is nearly enough to push him over the edge.

“I can’t hold back anymore, you have to stop…”

She hesitates, though only briefly, and resumes her attention on him by using her free hand to stroke him. The pleasure is so intense that he can’t stop his hips from bucking against her mouth. He tries to keep some semblance of rationality even when spatial awareness is threatening to leave him altogether with each stroke of her hand, each lap of her tongue.

The brick walls echo his groans, blood boils in his veins in a feverish crescendo until pleasure tears through him, flowing out hot as he finally yields to the sweet euphoria of release.

Adrift in a sea of bliss, heart pounding and momentarily blind, he feels weightless.

Through hazy vision, Conrad watches Nic rising slightly and her pink tongue coming out to lick her lips. Her breasts are so dangerously close to completely nestle his erection that he very nearly loses his mind all over again.

Nic crawls above his body to lay on the pillow beside him, her fingers brush his cheek while smiling lazily at him, basking selflessly in his satisfaction. With the last fragments of energy, Conrad rolls over until his weight pins her gently to the mattress, settles between her parted legs but does not move any further.

She blinks several times, her long lashes flicker slowly, her gaze wanders in and out of focus. His own eyes are burning with the effort to stay awake, and if either of them stops now they might very well succumb to sleep.

"I hope you know how badly I want you right now, but I’m so tired…" Her voice is low, rough and already far, far away.

Conrad nods as he watches her eyelids drop and her breathing slow down before he has the chance to fulfill the promise he made earlier.

"I owe you so much more, Nic," he murmurs sincerely against her ear, lays his head on her shoulder and drifts off to sleep as well.