This thing with Melissa McCall comes out of nowhere. At first she was just Scott's mom, then a reluctant ally, then a friend. Now...Chris isn't sure. He saves her life, and she saves his right back. He's lost count of how many times. They're building up to something, he knows. He doesn't know what. Something happened with her and the sheriff, the tension that had held between them had fizzled out when he'd reported the body in her kitchen. Chris doesn't want that to happen with them.
She kisses him for the first time in the tunnels, and it almost feels like doing things out of order. He'd have died for her, killed for her long before now. Shouldn't kissing her have come before that? They've shared small touches, brief moments that suggest something more. He's held her hand in his, a small comfort while he'd lain in the hospital bed, hurting and afraid but this, this kiss is more. She tugs him around and takes his face in her hands, kissing him soundly with no hesitation.
Chris kisses her back, as if he could do anything else. His large hand caresses her jaw, and his hand is dirty and grimy and she's so clean and pure. Chris is made of calloused hands and violence, and she's effortless beauty and strength like steel. Too good for him, Chris thinks. But he kisses her anyway because he wants this, wants her. Had they been alone, had there not been a town to save, he'd have pressed her against the tunnel wall and taken her then and there.
She's nothing like his late wife, and he's nothing like her ex-husband.
Chris has had lovers before; he definitely wasn't a virgin when he and Victoria were married, and he knows what he's doing. He knows how to make a woman scream his name and come apart in his hands. He's glad they waited until they were out of the tunnels, until they're in his apartment, in his bed. She looks so lovely here, spread out on the bedspread, dark curls haphazardly haloed around her head.
Chris hovers over Melissa, his larger body bracketing her in, and slips a hand between her legs. Her eyes go wide, her lips part, as he drags a finger down her sensitive slit with light, barely there touches. She shudders as he brushes over her wet entrance, and gasps when he slips a thick finger into her. He kisses her as he moves his hand, her cunt hot and tight around his finger, pressing the heel of his hand against her hard clit.
When he brings Melissa to completion the first time, using just his hand, she looks surprised, almost awed, and when she's recovered enough that her breathing is almost back to normal, she says, "I never knew it could be like that."
It should sound cheesy, like the kind of line from a badly-reviewed romance movie or worse, from porn, but Chris can tell she means it. He's torn; part of him wants to hunt down Rafael McCall and punch him, preferably multiple times. The other part of him wants to bury his face between Melissa's legs and prove to her what sex can be. He wants to show her a partner who cares about their lover's pleasure beyond just getting her wet enough to fuck, like he strongly suspects her ex had done.
Chris is kissing her again, breathing her name against her lips, before kissing his way down her body, dragging lips and teeth down her throat, between the valley of her breasts. He peppers kisses down her torso, over the soft swell of her belly, until he settles between her thighs, dragging his tongue down her mound and pressing a kiss right over her clit.
Chris has always loved to do this, has always loved parting the thighs of a beautiful woman and licking her to completion, and Melissa is one of the most beautiful women he's met. He loves the little twitches and moans she gives him when he hits just the right spot, the way she pushes him away when it's too much, and pulls him closer when she's getting close. He loves the feeling of her thighs around his head and how her skin heats up when she's just about to come.
He teases her back from the edge over and over, wanting her as wet and dripping as possible. She deserves this, to have someone focus solely on her and her pleasure. He finds that she loves to have her labia nibbled, that the left side of her clit is more sensitive than the right, that when he points his tongue and stabs at her opening, she'll call out his name and wrap a hand in his hair.
Melissa's wet enough that he slips two fingers into her easily, opening up her sweet cunt for him. He laves long licks from her opening up to her clit, swirling around the little bundle of nerves before dipping down and repeating the same pattern again. His fingers have a slow, steady rhythm, searching for that spot inside her. He knows he finds it when her legs spasm on either side of his face and she cries out louder than before. She covers her mouth with her hand and Chris tuts against her clit.
He pulls off long enough to tell her, "Let me hear you," before he goes back to her quivering cunt. He speeds up his fingers and focuses all his attention on her clit. Done teasing her, her suckles at her, flicking his tongue over the hard little nub until she's clenching around his fingers, thighs shaking as she comes on his tongue with a rush of sweet liquid.
Melissa's beautiful when she comes, head thrown back in ecstasy. One of her hands is still twisted in Chris' hair and her fingers spasm when she comes, unconsciously pulling his face closer to her. He commits the taste of her and the way she looks as she falls apart to memory, in case he never gets to be like this with her again. She's breathing hard, soft breasts rising and falling rapidly. She tugs at Chris' hair when it's too much, when she gets oversensitive. He pulls back reluctantly, not wanting to give up where he is. The insides of her thighs are red from his beard and he presses soft kisses in apology to each, but she doesn't seem to mind, humming in pleasure when he touches them.
"Come here," Melissa murmurs, reaching for him.
Chris crawls up her, smugly pleased with how she watches his body move, until he's lying at her side, their legs tangled. Melissa kisses him, seeking the taste of herself in his mouth. He lets her dominate the kiss, happy with how her tongue brushes his, how she rests her hand on his jaw and bites at his lower lip. He kisses her back just as fervently, needing her to know how much he wants her, how much he loves having her in his bed. He can't stop touching her, whether it be cradling her face in his hand, or running fingers down the smooth skin of her arm, or pressing a hand over her chest and feeling her heart beat. He wants all of her.
"Condom?" she asks against his lips and Chris thanks fuck that he has one.
Chris gives her one last quick kiss before standing, walking across the room to rifle through his dresser drawer. He's glad he still has these, though the box hasn't been touched in months, not since he last went to a bar on the edge of town for a quick fuck. And this is anything but that. He can feel her watching him and when he looks over his shoulder, her eyes are raking over his back and down to his ass and thighs. He tries not to smirk. He knows what he looks like, he takes care of his body, but he still likes her appreciative gaze.
Finding a condom, he turns back and has to stop and stare at her. Even sweat-soaked from coming twice, her hair messy around her shoulders, she's still gorgeous. He knows he isn't being subtle as he stares at her long, tan legs and soft curves, but he can't help it. It isn't often he has someone like her in his bed.
"Going to fuck me or not, Argent?" she asks with a smirk, letting her thighs fall open, exposing her glistening cunt to his hungry gaze.
"Chris," he says, and her smirk turns into a smile.
"Chris," she says.
Chris can't deny that likes how his name sounds on her lips. The bed dips from his weight as he kneels between her knees, running his hands up her legs and parting them further. Her pussy is soaked and swollen from his mouth, filling him with pride. She watches avidly as he slides the condom down his cock. He's not vain, he knows he's not as thick as some men, but he's long and has a curve that women tend to love. By the way she's watching him, he's assuming she will. He nudges his cock through her folds, notching the head at her opening. He looks at her for permission and she nods quickly.
Sliding into her is pure bliss. She's hot and wet, her perfect cunt tight around him like it doesn't want to let him go. She clutches at his arms as he moves in her, slowly at first, wanting to savor this. She moves her hips with his, helping him find a rhythm. He's gentle with her, almost reverent, running hands up her torso to caress and massage her breasts. Flicking his fingers over her nipples makes her tighten around him and has Melissa letting out a guttural moan. He does it again, harder, and Melissa's nails dig into his arms.
"Don't stop," Melissa moans. "Please don't stop!"
Chris fucks into her faster, wanting to give her everything she needs. Her legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in even deeper. He reaches between them to tease at her clit and she bucks under him, shaking and whimpering. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly, her body trembling as he brings her closer and closer to the edge. Her soaked pussy clenching around his cock is bringing him close to coming, but he needs her to come first, refuses to come before he pulls another orgasm from her. He leans down and sucks a nipple into his mouth, nibbling at the pebbled nub and Melissa screams above him, her cunt spasming around him as she comes. Chris fucks her through it, drawing out her orgasm for as long as possible until he loses it too, stilling deep inside her as he comes.
As much as he hates to, he gently slips out of her, tying off the condom and throwing it away before crawling back onto the bed and pulling her into his arms. She's trembling a bit, so Chris pulls up the blanket around them and tucks her securely against his chest. She nuzzles into him, sighing contentedly.
This is better than any of the bar hookups he's had. They never come to his house and when they're done, Chris never stays with them. He never holds them like he holds Melissa, never wants to be a barrier between them and the outside world like he does for her. Melissa stays with him that night, tucked against his side. She fits there well.
Life moves around them. Scott's gone to college and Allison is gone. Maybe they're lonely. But they don't stop. Chris comes over for breakfast one morning and fucks her over her kitchen table. She rides him in his car a week later while they're parked in the preserve like high school kids. Chris spends an afternoon going down on her for hours, trying to see just how many orgasms he can wring from her before she can't take any more.
Neither of them define it, but Chris will find himself bringing her lunch at the hospital when she has a long shift. Melissa will text him updates throughout the day about the patients coming through the ER, like the man with a deerfoam slipper rolled up and lodged in his anus (she swears she's not kidding and would show him the X-ray if she could). More often than not, their nights are spent together. Chris likes to cook for her, so they often have dinner together. He likes to pamper her, he realizes. He enjoys massaging the aches from her shoulders and feet, running gentle hands down her sore legs. It doesn't always lead to sex, though it often does.
Chris truly realizes he's gone for her when Rafael McCall comes back to town. He's consulting with the sheriff on a case (thankfully not supernatural, so Chris doesn't have to work with the man) and stops by Melissa's house. It's Chris who answers the door, toweling his hands dry from washing their dinner dishes. Rafael doesn't say anything for a moment, apparently too startled to form words. Chris doesn't help him, just finishes drying his hands and slings the hand towel over his shoulder. Recognition sparks in Rafael's eyes, no doubt remembering arresting Chris and Derek over the Silverfinger murder. Rafael notices that Chris is armed, and rests his hand on the grip of his gun. Chris merely raises an eyebrow.
"Who is it?" Melissa calls from deeper in the house.
"It's Rafe!" Rafael, Rafe, calls back, finally finding his voice.
There's a thunk that sounds a lot like her walking into a kitchen chair and Chris wants to grimace, but he's more than content to simply stare at Rafe, watching the other man shift uncomfortably. Rafe is taller and has the air of someone that is used to using their size to get what they want. Chris isn't a physically large man at 5'10", but he's spent his entire life learning how to be powerful and dangerous to creatures much stronger than Rafael McCall. And it shows. Melissa comes around the corner and into sight a few moments later. She takes in the two men, Rafe standing awkwardly on the porch with his hand on his gun, and Chris just staring at him, and rolls her eyes.
"Hi," she says, coming up next to Chris. She leans back into him when he places a hand on her back. Chris tries not to be smug.
"Are you all right?" Rafe asks her, not taking his eyes from Chris.
"Yes?" Melissa says. "Why?"
"I'm making him uncomfortable," Chris says evenly.
"I arrested you for murder," Rafe says.
"A murder that I didn't commit," Chris says. "You're not particularly good at your job, are you?"
"He too dangerous for you," Rafe says, turning his attention to Melissa.
"And yet here I am," Chris says.
"Okay, as amusing as this pissing match is, I actually have things to do tonight, so if you don't mind?" Melissa says. "Why are you here?"
"The sheriff and I are working on a case," Rafe says.
"I know, he told me," Melissa says.
"I just wanted to stop by and see if you wanted to get dinner," Rafe says.
"No thank you," Melissa says. Rafe looks at her expectantly, like he's waiting for an explanation or excuse, but Melissa doesn't give him one. She merely says, "Goodnight," and closes the door.
"I don't like him," Chris says.
"I'd be a bit concerned if you did like my ex-husband, to be honest," Melissa answers lightly, though he can see that Rafe showing up on her front door has rattled her a bit.
"Come here," Chris says, drawing her to him. He wraps his arms around her, hand resting on the back of her neck. She hums, letting the tension drain from her body, relaxing into his hold.
Something dark and possessive rises up inside of him at the thought of her with another, with Rafael. It's not fair and he knows it. They've both had other partners in their lives and he has no right to her, but he still needs her, still needs to remind her what he can to for her, do to her. He presses a kiss behind her ear, something that always makes her shudder and now is no exception.
"Chris," she sighs, tilting her head to let him bury his face in her neck. He nips at her skin, careful not to leave marks, though he wants to. She moans when trails a hand down her body to brush between her legs. "Bedroom," she moans.
"No, here," he says, voice gruff.
Melissa shivers and lets Chris bend her over the kitchen table and tug her pants down to her knees. He can tell that's she's wet already, but he wants her soaked and dripping for him. He kneels behind her, spreading her legs as wide as the jeans around her knees will allow, and spreads her open for him. She makes a small noise at the cold air hitting her wet cunt, but then Chris is there, burying his face between her legs. He mouths at her folds, lickings soft circles over her clit, his nose nudging at her opening.
"Chris," she moans out and he suckles at her harder, needing her to say his name like that again.
She comes quickly, always does when he uses his mouth on her, her body lying limp over the wooden table. Chris unzips his pants and pulls them down just far enough to get his cock free. He rubs a hand over himself a few times but really, he doesn't need it; he's always hard after eating her out. His head parts her wet folds easily and he presses forward, guiding himself into her sensitive cunt. Melissa's hands scrabble at the table, her breath coming short as he bottoms out. His hands are tight on her hips, sure to leave bruises, but she loves that. He catches her pressing her fingers over his marks all the time while she touches herself.
"Come on," she says, pushing her hips back. "Fuck me, please."
"Whatever you need, baby," Chris rumbles.
He fucks into her hard and fast, setting a punishing rhythm that they both love. She pushes back into his thrusts, the wet sounds of skin on skin filling the room. He bites where her neck meets her shoulder, earning a groan and a stutter of her hips.
"Yes," she hisses out.
Chris isn't going to last long, not with how her tight cunt is clinging to him, not with how good she smells and feels and how much he wants her. Her body is always so responsive to him and he wants her to remember that, doesn't want her to ever forget how he can make her feel. He wants to keep her, both in his bed and in his life.
He reaches between her legs and rubs little circles over her sensitive clit, drawing little 'ah ah' noises from her. She's tightening up around him, drawing him closer and closer until she comes with a shout, shaking and chanting his name. He follows soon after, unloading in her twitching cunt.
They collapse to the floor, barely getting their pants up before they're leaning against the cabinets. It takes a few minutes before their breath is back to normal, then they're laughing.
"I thought we said no to table sex after we got pancakes in our hair last time," she says.
Chris shrugs, completely unrepentant.
"I'm not ashamed of our voracious sex life," Chris says.
"You know you have me, right?" she says. "You don't need to posture in front of my ex-husband."
"Do I?" he asks.
"Yes, dumbass," she says, punching him lightly on the shoulder.
"That's not going to stop me wanting to fuck you any chance we get," he tells her.
"Good," she says. "It better not."