He closed his eyes.
Long day. Too much to do, never really time enough to do it all right, even with the best people and equipment. Gil wondered when this compulsion to straighten out the entire universe had begun, this eternally frustrated desire to smooth out the rumpled blanket of life. Probably when he was young, he decided through a yawn. All of his pervasive interests had: bugs, death, roller coasters—
He drifted off, tugging the blanket around him.
The sound came first; the slow cadence of a sultry stride he knew better than he wanted to admit. He KNEW that ‘klickity tap’ very well, had listened for it coming down the halls sometimes. It was a long-legged pace that made his pulse jump a tiny bit although he tried to be impartial and couldn’t always manage it. Gil looked up, expecting her; she rolled around the doorway of the lab, flashing a quick smile.
It wasn’t her, exactly. But close. Frowning, he noticed the kit in her hand, the amused look in those challenging eyes.
“I need a sample of your DNA—“ came her throaty purr. Gil felt a spike of hot interest run through him. Blood? She wasn’t talking about that OR a hair specimen, not with the look in THOSE eyes.
“I haven’t committed a crime.”
“Never said you did. But this is important.”
She pulled on latex gloves in a slow almost slinky fashion, he noted with interest. As if they were clothing rather than essentials to work, a reverse strip tease ending in milky white fingers. Gil looked down, watching in frozen interest as she reached for his fly.
“What are you doing?” he asked slowly and carefully, not stopping her, but intently curious as her fingers gripped the tab and tugged.
“Acquiring evidence, Gil. You know, that stuff that never lies?” she teased, moving close enough that he could smell her cologne, the soft scent of her skin. Still he didn’t move, couldn’t move as her cool gloved fingers slid into his slacks and oh God TOUCHED him—
He jerked, unable to take back the hot flush of response surging through him as those slick fingers slid around him, gripping lightly, the way he’d always fantasized they would. Gil stared into her expressive face, dumbstruck, wondering if he looked anything like how he felt: frozen and stupid. He managed to speak.
“Actually, I could do this myself—“
“I’m sure you could, but I think I’m more impartial and besides, it’s more FUN this way—“
Fun wasn’t the word he would have chosen. Dozens of other, earthier adjectives raced through his mind as he grunted: lascivious, salacious, erotic, oohh, hot. Definitely hot. Her slick strokes caressed him, skimmed over his heated shaft and he gasped a little when she twisted her grip around his proud flesh.
“This is almost a two-handed job—you’ve been holding out on me, Gil—“ her breath puffing on his lips. That close.
“S-sara—“ he croaked, face flushed, beginning to lose himself in the unbelievable pleasure surging between his thighs. She smiled, tightening her hold, eyes luminous and sweet in a way he knew was only for him---
“Give, boss—“ came her low purr—
And he did.
Eyes snapping open, Gill shifted uneasily, feeling a warm wetness across his pajama covered thigh. One exploratory hand confirmed the nocturnal emission, the other ran over his face as if to wipe away his chagrined expression.
Damn it. His heart rate slowly dropped back to normal. He let the image of Sara’s face fade from his thoughts.
Gil sighed and slowly got up, pulling the sheets off the bed—
Preparing to hide the evidence yet again.