Later

I watched his hands most often. They moved at always the right speed, in just the right moment I would be looking. Slow, lingering touches as he pulled a rosemary frond between his thumb and forefinger, enjoying the bristle of the herb. Rapid, decisive strokes along the cutting board, a firm grip on the sharpest blade in his arsenal. Seeing his knuckles flex and watching the tendons along the wrist constrict as he delicately held the morsel; I was never before envious of a cherry tomato.

It was a natural path laid before me, the hand to the wrist, up the length of his arm to the broad expanse of his shoulders. Hm. His beard was normally grown out a few inches, but he had shaven. I could see the angle of his jaw tense with concentration, and then suddenly relax, cheeks rising to set laugh lines around sea blue eyes.

Oh. I had been caught staring.

I averted my eyes to scrutinize that low ceiling and dusted pipes, searching for something that wasn't there. My cheeks burned before I dared a glance back down.

Shit.

Eye contact. Jesus, I knew his eyes were blue, ocean cool and rolling, but I felt the heat behind them, a fire radiating between us. Maybe just the heat lamp? Fuck, I had to get out of there. I turned away, but before I could move past, my wrist was caught in a familiar hand. Calluses cut across my skin and my breath hitched. My heart hammered in my chest as he pulled me a few inches closer.

Warm breath across the curve of my face sent shivers down the nape of the neck.

"Later."

Promises, threats, I genuinely couldn't decide which I hoped more for. Anticipation flooded me as I nodded my understanding, having little trust in my own voice to not break. Until that one command, the exchanges had been flirtatious and friendly. Always a "Hi, beautiful." And "I missed you! Work just isn't the same without you." All true sentiments but this line had never been crossed. The heat pooling in between my legs was screaming "fuck lines".

Before I turned the corner, I caught a glimpse of him smirking down at the cutting board. I wasn't so sure that knife was sharp enough to cut through the tension of the next three hours.

The night was brutal in the most fantastic way, all sweat and smiles. When it was finally through, the last drinks were poured for the staff. The bar stool next to me scraped across the floor and I felt his knee bump against mine. It was always small touches. Pulling a tag from the shirt, fingertips subtly on the waist as we passed behind one another. Electric and teasing, intentional.

He pulled a small bottle from his leather jacket and poured golden liquid over ice, one for us both. Peaches and smoke, the whiskey was divine. Burning it's way past my lips and tongue, I bared my teeth and heard the hard swallow of his throat.

"Do you mind closing up?" The bartender collected the last glasses and shimmied into her cardigan.

Perfect. "Not at all."

The silence had fallen comfortably as all said their goodbyes and the bells on the door jingled gently. I pushed off my stool to do the final inspection, turning off the lights as I moved through. Does whiskey usually make your legs feel so loose? I could feel his eyes on my back as I brushed past to check the locks.

I didn't hear him stand up but I sure as hell felt his hand slide over mine to turn the last lock. He brushed the hair away from my ear and I heard him through rushing water.

"Finally."

I was sure I was going to fall as his hand on my bicep spun me roughly, mercifully there was a door that I could fall back against. His hand traveled down my arm and captured my wrist, pulling it above my head. He stepped closer and I held my breath. For a moment, we just stayed like this, alarmingly close but still too far. I couldn't stop my hips from closing the distance between us and I heard his shaky breath, exposing his calm facade. Thank Christ I was not the only one suffering so delightfully.

I smiled up at him reassuringly and he chuckled breathlessly. How many times had we both pictured this moment and once standing on the precipice of it, afraid to take the leap? I bit down on my lower lip and peered up at him through my eyelashes. He dove in.

The kiss was a mess. Clashing teeth brought about another chuckle with a grimace, but the second one was better. His lips moved gracefully against my own and my head spun as I wrapped my tongue around his, tasting peaches, smoke, the last traces of the joint we had shared on break. The sense that this kiss was to be savored was shattered by the urgency of my body's responsiveness.

The scrape of stubble across my jaw as he traced long lines with his tongue down my throat had me seeing stars.

"Fuck." Was that my voice? Gravelly and desperate, the ache too obvious.

A low growl from his chest as he wrapped his arms around my torso, I brought my legs up to wrap around his waist, and we stumbled our way into the dimly lit kitchen. My teeth nipped at the sensitive dip under his jaw just before he dropped me unceremoniously onto the steel table.

"Sorry-" No time for apologies. Not when I finally had him this fucking close. I grabbed his collar and yanked him down to my lips once again.

My hands fumbled at the large buttons on his coat while his own tangled into my hair, pulling gently at the roots until I had to break away for air. Why were these coats so goddamn thick? I pushed it off his shoulders and let my hands roam over the planes of his chest, down to the dip in his waist. He shuddered as I flicked my fingernails along the waistband of his pants.

"You're too much, and I still can't get enough," he panted as those hands I had admired for so long slipped under my shirt and wandered across my stomach and waist. He groaned upon feeling the lace and elastic covering my breasts. I pulled my shirt over my head and leaned forward to press against him, catching his earlobe between my teeth.

"I know exactly what you mean. I've waited so long to taste you, for you to taste me, please don't make me wait any longer," I husked out, tracing my tongue over the shell of his ear.

He responded by pulling my hips sharply against his so I could feel exactly how hard he was. And fuck, he really was.

"Happy to oblige." He roughly yanked down my bra and caught my nipple in his mouth, I shrieked with surprise and pleasure as he lapped, rolling the other between his fingers tips. I raked my fingernails down his back and he bit down. Arching my back against him, I could feel his heart pounding through his chest. His tongue snaked it's way down my stomach to the curve of my hip. In moments, my pants were around my ankles, tangled over my boots. His palms moved over my silken thighs and I moaned wantonly as he hooked his fingers into the band of my thong.

I was surprised to feel him not pull it down, but upwards, lifting the sides closer to my waist. The fabric pulled against my cunt, spreading the pooling wetness over the thin cotton.

"Jesus Christ, you're fucking soaked," he rasped, the words scraping out against sandpaper.

He pulled them higher, pushing them further and further up, until I was nearly exposed, the fabric catching between my lips. He dipped his head down and licked a long stripe upwards, swindling a jolt directly to my core. He dropped to his knees hard, yanked my pants over my shoes, crooked my knees over his shoulders and looked up at me once more before ravishing my dripping pussy.

His tongue on me was everything I had imagined and more, I cried out, gripping the edges of the table as he moved my underwear aside to spread me apart with two fingers. The sound was obscene, slurping and mewling bouncing off of the metallic walls. His lips found purchase on my clit and I nearly lost it. My legs started to shake over his shoulders and he pushed his fingertips into my thighs, using his weight to pin his wanting mouth against my cunt. He looked up at me over the small mound of dark hair, pupils blown wide enough to convince me the sea blue of his eyes were always black. My head tilted back as I curled my fingers into his hair and ground against his face and the bow of tension that had been strung in me snapped.

Colors blew into galactic dust behind my tightly closed eyes as I came onto his tongue, he greedily drank all that I could give, humming encouragingly against my throbbing clit. My moans faded to sighs as I lay back on the cool steel of the table and he rose up from his kneeling place of worship. The sweat along my shoulder blades was slick as I leaned up onto my elbows to admire him. I smiled groggily at him as he wiped his chin with the back of his forearm.

His tongue peeked out to touch his top lip in a goofy smile, a gestured I had always loved before but would now forever be associating with the image of him savoring my orgasm.

He stood back and reached down for his discarded coat, but I mirrored his earlier action in grabbing his wrist, pulling him close to me as I caught his lips in a deep kiss, swirling my essence over my tongue. He moaned against my mouth before I whispered, "We are not finished here."

He brushed the sticky strands of stray hair away from my forehead to place a tender kiss there. His rough palms cupped my face, moving at the right speed, the right moment. His words were a promise, a threat.

"Later."