Work Text:
Jon doesn't really dance, but sitting up at the bar is a ticket straight to a few drinks too many, so mostly he just sticks to the edge of the room. The places where the lights are low and the crowd thinner.
That doesn't always stop him from getting approached.
She's tall. Broad in a way that suggests she could push him around.
She introduces herself, but Jon can't hear what she says over the music. He doesn't try to say his name back, just looks at the hand she's got on his shoulder.
Must want to dance then.
It's an awkward thing at first. A near-miss at a stamped on foot. Jon's never had the best sense of rhythm, and apparently his partner isn't much better.
But they make it work. Soon enough Jon's back is plastered against her front, his arms reaching up to wrap around her neck. Women this tall and muscular - the sort that could destroy him one-handed - are rare to come by (but oh so welcome to manhandle Jon when they do appear).
Her hands - well they stay above Jon's clothing and that's all he can really say. He gets given a very thorough exploration. And also an imprint of her teeth into the side of his neck. He suspects that no matter where the night leads them, he’ll have a set of flourishing bruises on his throat to remember her by tomorrow morning. And he’ll be feeling her hands all over him for days.
When she takes his wrist and begins to lead him to the back door, it isn't much of a surprise.
She's made her intentions clear. Jon's the one who's stood there and let her grope him. He’s had more than enough time to protest or to get away from her, and what’s he done? Certainly nothing to stop her.
But what's the harm in letting her take him home? He needs to learn to live a little. And he's the one who let her touch him. Practically been leading her on. So this is on him.
"What was your name again?" Jon asks, once they're far enough from the door to hear.
"Daisy." She says. "You were...?"
"Jon."
"Oh. I thought..." Daisy looks him up and down. Jon knows how he looks - the modestly short skirt. The longer hair. The eyeliner. The chest she’s already had a good feel of.
Jon clears his throat. "I'm non-binary."
Daisy grunts. "Normally only pick up women, but from what I've felt, you'll do." She says.
"Excuse me?"
"Come on."
This is the part of the evening where Jon would expect a taxi to be called. Instead, Daisy pulls him into an alleyway. Narrow, badly lit, but not exactly private.
"Right here?" Jon says.
At least there aren’t any stinking bins around in this one. Although there’s plenty of rubbish - including a discarded condom. Clearly they aren’t the only people to make use of the deep shadows down here.
"What, you want some grand romantic gesture?" Daisy says. "Sorry, I'm not the type."
"Still, we should-" Daisy pushes him up against the brickwork. "Okay. Okay then."
"Bet I can make you squeal." She says. Her nostrils flare like she’s relishing the thought of the challenge.
"Maybe we should slow down a moment." Jon says. He tries to push away, but her grip on his shoulders is too strong.
"Like you weren't in that club trying to get laid." She says.
"I..." Jon wasn't. But if he wasn't trying to get laid, why was he in there in the first place? He wasn’t dancing. Was barely drinking. Just standing around waiting for… company.
Daisy reaches down and tugs his skirt up. "I'm going to get some tonight, whether or not you're in a giving mood."
It's clear she's stronger than him. That she can just force the issue if Jon says no. That she can catch him if he tries to run.
"I can give." Jon says.
"Good."
She pulls down the panties he's wearing. Looks at them around his thighs like she's considering taking a souvenir, before shaking her head.
Then there's a hand between Jon's legs.
"Wait-!" Jon says.
"No waiting." Daisy replies.
Jon expected to be forced to his knees or something similar. To hear a zipper pulled down and his head held firm while his mouth makes good on its promise to give. But what follows is the most brutal fingering of his life. He should be ashamed by how much he loves it.
They're thick fingers (long too), and it takes a moment or so to work him up to three, and Jon's not over the stretch before she's jackhammering. He has toys that are smaller than how much she has shoved into him, and the ones that are larger take more prep work than it’s usually worth.
There's a slight adjustment after he's jabbed in the cervix a few times (and complains) before she finds a deeper spot.
Jon's feet scrabble and his eyes roll back. Daisy's fingers in him must be the only thing holding him up, his whole weight driving his body down onto her hand. The orgasm hits hard and fast and Jon sobs through it.
He knows Daisy felt it. She doesn't stop.
Doesn't stop through the next four either - each one coming on the heels of the last.
It's hard to even whisper out 'stop.' Every muscle in Jon's body is tense. There are wet tracks on his face. Daisy makes him come again, only this time it's more pain than pleasure. There’s no more strength left in his body.
Finally she stops. Jon slides to the floor. Makes no effort to close his legs (asking for more? Offering up more than he can stand to take?)
"Fuck, aren't you a sight." Daisy says. "Suspect you didn't like that too much."
Jon shakes his head as Daisy sticks her hand down the front of her trousers and rubs herself off at a frantic pace.
That was awful. Horrible. Jon's body feels better than it has in a long while.
Daisy's hand reappears. She wipes it on her trousers as she looks down at Jon.
"Christ, I need to stop doing this." She says. "Look, I'm a cop, so don't tell anyone or-"
"Do you want my number?" Jon asks.
"What?"
"My number? So we can try again with less improvisation?"
"You're telling me you enjoyed that?" Daisy says.
Jon shrugs. Enjoyment is beside the point. It’s clear his body got something out of it. He can scarcely imagine what she might manage with time to plan. With access toys and in a place where their encounter isn’t limited by the risk of a passerby.
"You're a strange one, you know."
"Do you want my number or not?" Jon asks. “I’ll let you do that to me again. All of that and more.”
"You know what, fuck it. Sure." Daisy replies.
Jon hands her his phone. “Do you know where to find the number on this? I can never remember, and I don’t know it off by heart.”
“I can manage.” She says.
She keeps his phone for a few moments, tapping through the various menus. Jon takes the time to pick himself off the floor and put himself back together - although it’s laughable to think he can get away with not looking like he’s just been fucked.
Daisy hands the phone back a few minutes later. Jon’s face twists into a frown as a notification pings across the screen - ‘your driver is en route.’
“You called me an uber?” He says.
“I was thinking about all the things I could do to you next time.” She says. “And then I though why wait. Now, are you going to be good for me, or are you going to make this fun and try to run?