Routine Questioning

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He's unsure why he's doing this to her, but he can't stop.
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It's a routine questioning. Just an excuse to get out of the sweltering heat of the local PD, the air conditioning having failed three hours ago and the atmosphere within becoming stifling. Even their boss had looked rueful as he sent them on their way, jealous perhaps of the respite they'd been given.

"You take point," Agent Coiro tells his partner as they step out of the baking sun and onto the relative cool of the porch; his friend and colleague nodding as she brushes her knuckles sharply against the door. Rat tat tat, and they wait impatiently, both picking up the hum of a cooling unit within the building.

The man who opens the door, Corio notes distantly, is smiling calmly, holding a glass glistening with condensation that makes his mouth water, and is subtly handsome in a way that Coiro privately envies. With his too-long brown hair and his permanently crooked tie, he's sorely aware that he'll never quite capture the man's easy confidence, despite the sharp angles of his narrow face and high cheekbones. He wears the look scruffily, where this man wears it comfortably.

"Hello," the man says, beaming at them. "How can I help? Bloody hot out here today."

"Agent Spencer, FBI," Jen says, returning the smile as she flips her credentials open, long blonde hair lank with the heat and cheeks flushed. They're both tall and thin, Coiro an easy six foot, and despite that lankiness, they're both drooping miserably. Even Jen's eyes are muted, their usual blue dulled by the exhaustion brought by the suffocating weather. "You placed a complaint about a neighbour's dogs? May we ask you some questions about the night of the incident?"

Another beaming smile. "Of course!" the man exclaims. "Jack Langur. I'd be happy to help. Come in, come in, far too hot to do this outside."

Relieved, they step into the blissful cool of the hall, following the man into a cosy living room and taking the armchairs he gestures to, opposite each other. "Water? Soda? Something harder?" he asks, winking at them as he ducks into the next room at Jen's polite, "Water, please."

Corio takes the chance to examine the room, as Jen continues chatting to the man through the open doorway; mundanities about his home and the heat and the books on his shelves. There's a plush rug under their feet, blue against the armchairs' grass-green, and the coffee table between them is scattered with magazines and a strange sculpture of a tree. Made of iron with branches that twist and spiral, tiny crystals dangle from the branches instead of leaves, glinting oddly in the light and twining despite the relatively still air of the room. Curious, Corio studies it intently.

Where the light catches them, they're a multitudinous array of colours. Red that curls into green; blue that flashes and fades to yellow; no matter how long he stares at them, he can't name all of the colours before they shift and change again, fading into the depths, ignoring his attempts to note them. They're beautiful though, despite this mystery, and he almost leans forward in his attempt to fathom them all, almost reaches out to touch, his skin tingling slightly at the idea of those colours brushing his fingers, scattering, welcoming...

"Corio!" Jen's voice is sharp, and he blinks and looks up, startled. There's a cup in front of him. He takes it with a hand that shakes and smiles at Langur, embarrassed by his loss of focus and oddly morose, as though something wonderful had been near and was now out of reach forever. A quick glance back at the tree confirms that the crystals are clear, still and unmoving, and entirely on the far side of gaudy.

"Enough about me, tell me about yourself," Langur is saying, and his voice is distant. Corio shakes his head to clear it, sips the cool water and almost groans, parched beyond belief. He hadn't even known how thirsty he was, but now it's all he can think about. Not wanting to appear greedy, he breathes deeply and paces himself, a mouthful every minute, counting in his head.

"We really are here to talk about the case, Mr. Langur," Jen says with another smile, her eyes scanning Corio. He swallows and tries to find his voice, but it's gone, taken away when the thirst hit, and he shrugs. "At what time did you notice the dogs were loose?"

Langur keeps talking, but Corio's glass is empty. He stares at it woefully, hoping it will refill. It doesn't.

"Another?" Langur asks suddenly, his voice shockingly close, and his fingers brush Corio's hand as he takes the glass. They linger. Corio opens his mouth to thank him and finds himself shivering, looking up to meet the man's gaze, noting how dark and endless his eyes are. Skin flushing hot, feeling tight and itchy and on all wrong, he wants to wriggle to escape that gaze, say something, but it pins him and within those dark eyes, there are colours... "Good lad. Thank you."

Corio smiles at the praise, the uncomfortable itchiness lifting and leaving just a warm pleasure. Langur leaves with another quip to Jen, and she doesn't reply.

"Are you okay?" she asks Corio when Langur is gone, voice low, and her cheeks are red and shiny with sweat. It's warm in here. Corio wriggles again, tugging at the collar of his shirt, looking around for the cooling unit. Hadn't it been working two minutes ago?

"I'm fine," he reassures her, voice squeaking slightly, and the heat is back. Pressing on him. Inspiration hits him. "Hey, Jen, what colour are the crystals on that tree?"

She eyes him oddly, half rolling her eyes at the question, glancing at the tree. "Clear," she says. "Why..." She trails off, blinking. "Oh. Or not."

He watches greedily as her expression smooths out, becomes alive with curiosity, mouth parted slightly. It shouldn't feel as good as it does, watching her lose herself in the tree, but it does, oh it does, and he shifts in his seat again and notes distantly, absently, that it's stupidly hot and he's so fucking thirsty.

Langur is back. He moves in front of Jen to bring the water to Corio, and as much as Corio wants the water, he still makes an odd noise of displeasure at his line of sight being broken, because he wants this too. "It's okay," Langur soothes, pressing the glass to Corio's lips, and he gulps it down desperately. "Good boy. Oh, fantastic. Look how well you're doing. Your mind must be something indeed to come to me so quickly... it's always the clever ones who do."

"Jennifer," Corio murmurs, trying to lean around the man, and Langur smiles and perches on the arm of Corio's chair, letting him see her clearly.

"She's fine," Langur says, and she is. Still watching the crystals, still smiling... "While she's busy, how about we talk, AgentCorio? You don't have to stop looking at her. She's beautiful, isn't she?"

"Impossibly so," Corio whispers, flushing at the admission. It leaves his lips like a leaden weight, heavy with the truth.

"Do you think about her?"

Corio frowns. What a question! "Of course, all the time," he answers, glancing up at Langur. "She's my teammate. We're together constantly." The water is gone. When did the water go?

Langur waves one hand lazily, shaking his head. "No, no. Not like that, Agent Corio. Look at her again." Corio does. He wishes Langur would turn the cooling back on. It's hard to breathe in this heat, and Jen is sweating, mouth slack and eyes leaden. "Do you think about taking her to bed? About touching her?"

Corio twitches and almost snarls, what the hell, but instead his mouth betrays him. "Yes."

Why are you saying that? he thinks to himself, but Langur isn't done. "Do you touch yourself while thinking about her?"

Corio shifts in the seat. The heat makes it hard to think, hard to focus on anything but Langur's voice, coiling and looping through him. It pools in his belly and his groin and makes his whole body throb hotly. "I—" he begins, and stops as he shudders and moans with the heat and something else, something darker and hungrier. A cool hand brushes his cheek and he leans into that touch, craving it. "She's married."

Langur laughs. Corio looks up at him. Unlike the two agents, he looks blissfully composed. "Does that matter?" he asks, and Corio nods frantically, guilty and miserable and twisted inside. "I mean, you two travel together. You've never thought to slip into her hotel room when everyone else is asleep—"

Yes.

"—finding her waiting. She's naked, Agent Corio, and ready for you. You've never thought about that?"

Oh god, yes.

"And you fuck her like he never can, make her think of nothing but your name and your pretty mouth on her and your cock inside her—"

Corio whimpers, eyes closing. Yes yes yes. It's all he can see. All he can thinks about. She's wet and twisting and he's so good to her, so fucking good to her, better than Will...

"—and you come in her, fill her with it, and she goes home to her husband still wet and dripping from your come. Is that what you think of when you touch yourself, Agent Corio?"

"Yes," Corio moans, and the heat is throbbing still, pulsing, and he's pulsing with it.

Langur leans closer as Corio opens his eyes to look back at Jen, still lost to them. The other man's voice is a rumble and it shakes him right to his bones. "Just like you're touching yourself now?"

Corio blinks. What?

He looks down. His pants are tented, the light fabric stained dark, and his hand is rubbing in slow, circular patterns of the hard length of his straining cock. Oh, he thinks dully, and wraps his fingers around that material-clad length, pressing down and feeling the heat grow.

"You've already come for her once, Agent Corio," Langur purrs. "And you're still hard. You could come again, couldn't you?"

Corio nods, smiling. Langur's voice is nice. The words are nice. If only it was cooler. If only he could come again. He rocks up into his fist, humming along with the thrilling pleasure that comes with the touch. Langur leans down, closer, closer, and Corio tilts his neck back, an invitation. Lips trail up his throat, finding his ear and nipping gently, hot breath panting. "If I bring her to you," Langur whispers into his ear, and Corio moans, yes anything anything please, "will you give her what she needs? Give her this..."

There's a hand trailing down Corio's stomach, nimble fingers undoing his trouser button and sliding inside, and oh. Corio keens as that hand wraps around him, strokes gently, once, twice, and it's gorgeous, so gorgeous, don't stop.

"Will you fuck her?" that voice whispers and the hand slips down to trail against his balls, and Corio gasps, yes of course, she needs it. "Oh, you're such a good friend, Agent Corio. She does need it. She's nothing without it and you want her to be something, right?"

Corio nods and there's lips on his jaw now, fingers trailing up the shaft of his cock to curl around the head, and he didn't think it was possible to be this hard, he feels like he's going to crack down the middle from the pressure, the need.

"Will you come inside her?" says the voice, and Corio nods eagerly, god yes, she wants it and I love her, I love her, I love...

"Jen," the voice calls, and Corio wants to call out too but he can't, he can't think about anything but his cock and the colours and the voice and coming, why can't he come, please please...

"Tom?" asks a voice, slurred and stunned, and he almost manages to come from just that voice but reels himself back, remembering that he needs to wait, she needs it more, needs him hard and fucking her... "Oh my god, what have you done to him? To... us..."

"Look at her, Agent Corio," says the voice, and Corio listens. "What is she doing? Tell us."

"Tom," Jen moans, a whimper and a groan all at once.

Impossibly, it makes him harder.

"Touching herself," he says, staring at the hard rubbing at the material between her legs, fingers working right where her clit is, knowing he could do better. "She needs me."

"Not until she admits it," the voice commands, and Corio whines at the interruption. Jen just shakes her head, blue eyes wide with something almost like horror even as her body rocks into her hand. "Jen, love, it's terribly warm in here. Take your clothes off, please. Tell us what you need."

Jen stands, slowly. "Let us go," she whispers, fingers nimbly undoing her buttons, sliding her blouse to the floor. Her bra is blue, demure. Her pants follow and she steps neatly out of them. Panties to match. Sky blue and the crotch is dark, wet, and Corio's eyes shutter hungrily. "Oh, oh, oh..." Eyes on Corio's cock, her fingers slip inside the side of the panties, exposing her for a flash, emerging slick. "I... Tom... help..."

"It's okay," the voice soothes, and it's not, it's not, Corio can't think, she's wet she's fucking wet and he's hard and he wants she needs please please please, oh fuck, please. "You don't need to fuck him. But look at you, so wet and horny. You can let him touch you. It's not cheating if you need it so bad. And he's a friend, he wants to help you, and he begs so prettily."

Jen shakes her head, but it's slow, like she's trying to clear her mind, walking forward. Stopping in front of him. Their knees brush and he can smell her. "Just touch," she whispers, and lowers herself onto his knees. He closes them so she can straddle him delicately, the perfect weight, her hands on his thighs. "It's okay if you just touch me, right, Tom?"

"Yes," Corio reassures her, because the voice says it is, and nods eagerly. "Whatever you want. Anything." I love you, he doesn't say, because she hasn't indicated she wants that, but his body throbs with it. From somewhere, he can hear a phone ringing.

"Just touch," she repeats blankly, so he traces his fingers over her belly, her thighs, her endless smooth skin. She scoots forward as he coaxes, rocking on his legs, and he reaches around her to unsnap her bra and slide it from her shoulders. Her mouth twists, confused. "Wait..."

"It's okay," the voice soothes, and they both moan at the gentleness of it. Jen grinds her crotch down, rutting against Corio's thighs, leaving a damp patch on his leg that grows as she gets wetter.

"It's okay," Jen says, so Corio cups her breasts gently, tracing his thumb around her nipple and watching with interest as it hardens and darkens. "Oh, oh, Tom, your mouth... I want..."

"She wants you to use your mouth, Agent Corio," the voice explains, and Corio hesitates, head whirling. "It's fine. You'd kiss your friends, wouldn't you?"

"Not on the mouth," Corio says hazily, is that right?

"Not on the mouth," the voice agrees. "This isn't the mouth though, so it's okay. Isn't it, Jen?"

Jen nods and leans forward, so Corio takes her nipple into his mouth, sweeping his tongue gently around it. Lapping. Switching to the other as she gasps and her hips push down hard against his legs, fast, in a quick, rocking rhythm. They break apart and he looks at her, their faces inches apart, and she's wide eyes and flushed, glazed, and she kisses him. Lips nipping, biting, and she's moaning and he swallows it.

"It's okay," the voice says again, quickly, before they can think about what they're doing. "Your husband would understand. You love your friends, Jen, you love them and you kiss the people you love. And Agent Corio is being so good to you, so loving, you have to make him feel good in return, right?"

"Yes," Jen pants, breaking away and running her mouth along his jaw, his throat, gasping. "Yes, yes, fuck. Oh. Tom, I love you, I love you, don't stop..."

"It's still just touching if you touch his cock," the voice coaxes, and Corio shivers because yes yes it is. I'm so hard Jen, it hurts, I need something. "See how happy it makes him."

Jen nods slowly and reaches down and oh oh oh. Her hands are small, almost obscenely small, but her grip is firm and he fucks it. Every time he slams his hips up into that tight, hot grip, his thigh bumps into her crotch and she presses down. Her grip is slick, getting slicker, and the only thing stopping him from coming is the knowledge that she needs it more.

"This is good," Jen says, smiling. "Oh, look at you. Tom, this is so good for you. So good. Will would understand." She twists her wrist, fingers doing something quick and clever that has his head lolling back and eyes shutting tightly, a strangled, choked groan squeezing from his throat. "Oh my god. That... god, fuck, that makes me so wet. So fucking wet. When you moan like that. I'm making you moan like that. God."

He can't bear it. Needs to know. Sits up, one hand on the small of her back and her hands working between them, and slips his spare hand between her legs. "Just touching," he whispers, and rubs two fingers along the soaked patch of her underwear. She's not lying. She's so fucking wet her panties are sticking to her, he can feel every detail through the thin underwear. "Just touching," he repeats again, shivering, and slides his fingers inside the underwear. Slips them along her folds, finds her clit and caresses it, and she mewls and rubs against him, jerking toward to kiss him again. "Just touching..." One more whisper, and he finds her entrance with his fingers, feels the way the muscles flutter delicately at his touch, trying to draw him in, and rests his fingers against it.

She whispers, her hips bucking against his hand and slipping the fingers inside. He does nothing, just lets her hesitate on the cusp. She does it again. They slip in further.

"What's he doing, Jen?" The voice. They both twitch towards it.

"Just touching," Jen whispers, and sinks down on his hand lower. A few millimetres lower. "Nothing more. It's okay." She pushes down more. Down to the knuckle. He's inside her. They stare at each other, eyes wide and chests heaving. It's okay, she mouths as he adds another finger. It's okay, as she whines and wiggles and presses down harder. It's okay as he curls them inside her and spreads them wide, it's okay as he makes her come on them, a slick damp trickling around his palm and down his arm. She's clenching around him, eyes closed, mouth open, coming.

"What's he doing now?" purrs the voice, and Jen gasps and cries out, making me come.

"Kiss him again." She does. She's limp, boneless and sated against him, eyes sleepy, and every inch of him is pulsing, hurting, needing. "Jen. Love. What would Will think?"

Jen stirs. "Huh?" she says drowsily, blinking, and Corio's fingers are still inside her. She smiles vacantly and wriggles. "He wouldn't mind. You said it's okay."

"I did." That cool hand is back, cupping Corio's chin and tilting it back. "But look at your Tom. Look at your friend. He wants to come so bad, just like you did, and you haven't helped him. Will would be so disappointed."

Jen's mouth falls and Corio wants to cry out no because she'd been so damn happy, he needs that back, the smile and the bliss and he whimpers unhappily. "I can fix it!" she gasps, rising onto her knees over him on the couch, and his back thumps against the chair. "Tom, love, I'm so sorry. I can help."

"Will would want you to help," the voice entices and she nods eagerly. Corio blinks, unsure, mindless with need and the heat and the pulsing. "Show Will how good you are. Such a good friend. A good, good friend."

"A good friend," Jen murmurs, kissing him, whispering it against his lips. "I love you." And she sinks down onto him with one smooth sweep off her hips, her underwear still on, just tugged to the side, and they both cry out as their hips grind together at the speed of her mounting him. He can't move, frozen, she's hot and wet around his cock, hot and wet, and wriggling, and rocking. Moving up and down. Fucking herself on him, like he's a toy, just a toy, just a hard cock, and he chokes. Somehow he's still swelling inside her, hardening, and she whimpers and drags him so close her rhythm is thrown out, moving faster in an erratic beat that suggests she's already turned on again, even if the rippling muscles in her tight, wet hole don't already betray that.

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