The Encounter
by JoyofSox
URL: http://www.bluecatsgraphics.com/pean/fanfics/1/

She looked into his extraordinary pale blue eyes, so informed and intelligent, yet infused with an ineffable sadness born of personal tragedy and emotional isolation. Without thinking, she reached up and lightly stroked his fine blond hair.

He stiffened slightly, gazing at her, his pale cheeks slightly flushed, but he did not stay her hand. She caressed his cheek, marveling at the pale beauty of his features and, when he offered no resistance, lightly stroked his long neck, pressing her lips to his skin, feeling his pulse quicken beneath her lips.

He turned to face her, holding her face in his hands, and then gently bringing his lips to hers. She felt a thrill course through her as the kiss intensified. She sighed and moved closer to him, her breasts pressed against his chest, her legs against his hard thighs. She felt his body tremble in an internal struggle for control and then he gently pushed her away. Separated momentarily, their eyes locked on each other and it was all there before them.

Without a word, he took her hand, kissed it, and led her into the bedroom. He undressed her with languid movements, as if they had all the time in the world, until she stood before him clothed only in her silk bikinis. She gave herself to the experience, moaning softly as his lips found her neck and his slender hands skillfully slid up the sides of her body, lightly brushing her breasts, his fingertips cool against the heat of her naked skin. She loosened his tie, unwrapping the layers of his fine clothing one by one. She felt a stirring deep within as she viewed his beautiful body, surprisingly strong and well-muscled for one so ethereal and catlike in his grace. She touched his chest with tingling fingers, brushing her thumbs over his nipples and then hungrily fastening her mouth on his.

He lowered her to the soft bed and drew her to him. His kisses trailed down her mouth to her throat and came to rest over the swell of her breast. They moaned in unison as he brushed his lips over the taut nipples. His strong hands slid down the length of her legs, sliding her silk bikinis down and off. She cried out at the sensual stroking of his long fingers and then his tongue on the newly exposed and sensitive pink skin.

She pulled him to her and kissed him fiercely and passionately, her hands buried in his blond hair. He kissed her with a need that transcended physical desire, murmuring softly in her ear even as he entered her at last. She gasped with delight as their bodies rocked slowly in a sensual ballet of exquisite timing. She wrapped her body around him, their legs entwining as she positioned herself to gaze down upon his beautiful face. A face that, before this moment, was inscrutable and closed to her, but was now naked and exposed as he surrendered himself to another human being as he had seldom ever done. She would protect that trust and nurture it, if he would allow it.

Ultimately their movements became less languid, more urgent, until they were both wracked by intense paroxysms of pleasure, signaling their release. She felt a sense of loss as he withdrew from her, a physical emptiness matched only by his own loneliness of spirit. Afterwards, as they lay in each other’s arms, she reached out, touching a small scar on the side of his stomach, the wounds of a prior life, and brought her lips to it, kissing it tenderly. She looked at him. He gazed upon her with troubled eyes and she wondered if any living being would ever be able to truly break down the barriers that so isolated him.



The following morning, Margo awoke to find herself alone in the vast bed which she and Pendergast had shared the night before. She slid out from under the covers, her naked skin chilled by the cool morning air, and slipped into the silk robe he had left hanging on the hook of the bathroom door. The fabric was soft and luxurious against her skin, smelling faintly of sandalwood and his essence. Her mind flashed back to their lovemaking of the night before and she tingled with the memory. He had been a skilled and attentive lover, beyond her wildest imaginings. How strange it now seemed to her that they had been friends for years and yet she had never really known him, or the depths of his passion, at all. Even now, she sensed there were greater depths to explore.

The Pendergast she had known had always been a thoughtful and generous man, but inscrutable and aloof. She had always felt somewhat out of her depth around him and that, along with the painful memories his presence evoked, had caused her to distance herself from him. Now she saw in him a fascinating creature of many layers, with painful experiences of his own to bear. Experiences that she had not been there to share, could not share. She had run from him, but she would now stop running.

Rousing from her reverie, she observed her surroundings. Much like its occupant, the bedroom was a study in simplicity and spare elegance, comprising understated antiques and objets d’arts. Margo moved about the room, examining a few of the smaller objects with curiosity, lovingly caressing the elegant fabric of the suit jacket that Pendergast had tossed on a chair the night before.

Stepping outside into the hallway, she heard the low murmur of voices from what she could only assume was Pendergast’s study further down the hall. She peered inside to find Pendergast and Vincent D’Agosta engaged in a low but intense discussion. Margo had heard that the two of them had begun working together again, but she hadn’t seen the burly lieutenant since the aftermath of the subway murders years before. Pendergast was dressed in his customary black, the impeccably tailored suit elegantly framing his slender form. He looked as if he had already been out and back before she awoke.

“Ah, Dr. Green. I trust your repose was, ah, satisfying?” he inquired in his softly honeyed drawl. The tone was impeccably courteous, but Margo thought she saw the hint of a smile on his lips. “At any rate, I’m sure you remember Lieutenant D’Agosta?”

“Of course. How are you, Vinnie? So good to see you. I was sorry to hear that your writing career didn’t work out, but the literary world’s loss is law enforcement’s gain.”

Clearly glad to see his old friend, D’Agosta stared first at her and then at Pendergast, a look of palpable surprise on his face, but Pendergast’s expression offered no answer to the unspoken question on D’Agosta’s face.

Smoothly interjecting himself into the awkward silence, Pendergast relayed to Margo the essence of his discussion with D’Agosta. As was typically the case with Pendergast, it involved a sophisticated plan of attack in connection with their investigation into an ongoing case involving the highest levels of U.S. intelligence. D’Agosta again expressed his lingering doubts about their ability to successfully penetrate the military’s chain of command, a crucial component of the plan that had evidently been the subject of much debate between them.

“Why, Vinnie, it’s been my privilege to witness first-hand Mr. Pendergast’s unique abilities in that area. I dare say that his tongue is his most effective weapon and will serve your plan admirably”, Margo said, stealing a sidelong glance at Pendergast’s slightly flushed face.

“Yeah, right. Well, he can talk circles around anyone...”, Vinnie said, wondering what was going on here. He’d been around the block a few times, but he just couldn’t get his mind around this one. How long had this been going on and what exactly WAS going on?

Keenly aware of her dishabille, Margo pulled the robe more tightly around her and looked questioningly at Pendergast.

“If you’ll excuse us, Vincent, I won’t be but a moment”, he said. “In the meantime, please continue to make yourself at home.”

“Yeah, sure. No problem.”

Pendergast stepped out into the hallway, softly closing the door behind him. He was, as always, impeccably groomed, but his face looked tired and drawn, as if he hadn’t slept.

“Good morning, Margo,” he murmured softly. He kissed her hand and then her lips, wrapping her in the warmth of his embrace.

She looked at him with affection and longing, trembling slightly. She touched his tired face and smiled shyly at him.

“I don’t want to interrupt anything. I’m going to head into the Museum a little later. You know, staff meeting and all...” Her voice trailed off awkwardly. “Anyway, I think I’ll just grab a quick shower and be on my way. Will I see you later?”

He raised an eyebrow, saying nothing for several moments.

“I...”, she began, but stopped when he touched his long fingers to her lips, the same oddly intimate gesture he had made years ago, following that bad business at the Museum. There were so many things she wanted and needed to say to him. He kissed her lightly and disappeared back into the study without another word.



The bath was elegantly appointed, the low ambient lights complementing perfectly the muted tones of the marbled surfaces. The shower was large and stood in the corner. Margo reached in and turned on the jets. Water began to gently patter on to the tiled floor and she slipped off her robe and stepped inside, closing her eyes as she turned her face up to the spray, feeling the warmth course over her. She examined the scented gels and oils that Pendergast had left for her within, smiling as she considered his meticulous pleasure in all things sensual, and coloring as she read the exotic contents on their labels. She stood motionless under the water’s spray for several minutes, feeling the gentle sluicing of the water over her body, until she was temporarily startled by a peripheral movement outside the steamy glass of the shower enclosure.

Pendergast stepped within and she turned to face him, their kiss of greeting deeper and more erotic than the one they had shared that morning. He moved lithely behind her and gently cupped her aching breasts, his fingers moving in unison with the rhythm of the rushing water. His lips were on her shoulder and then softly whispering her name over and over as she felt the quickening exhalation of his warm breath in her ear. He filled the palms of his hands with fragrant oils and moved them in warm slow circles on her skin, massaging the oil over her shoulders, breasts and stomach. She shivered, feeling the hard ache of him behind her. She turned and kissed him deeply, moaning as his tongue parted her trembling lips. She wrapped her arms around his powerful torso, her hands feeling the strong muscle beneath the smooth skin. He lowered himself to the marble bench within the shower stall and drew her to him. Under his gaze, she felt slightly flustered, but he did not seem to notice her discomfort, gazing admiringly at the contours of her body with an utter lack of self-consciousness, appreciating her beauty as a fine work of art. He leaned forward and kissed her breasts, licking the water droplets from her nipples, circling with his tongue and pulling gently with his mouth. Her body felt on fire despite the rain of water and she moaned helplessly. His gentle hands, resting on the small of her back, pulled her ever closer to him and he slid his tongue along the insides of her thighs and over the exquisitely sensitive flesh that lay between. She shuddered uncontrollably, and slowly lowered herself until she was straddling him, kissing his mouth and his face, his shoulders, his chest. Kissing every inch of him and wanting ever more. She guided him into her, the moist recesses of her body enveloping him, and they remained that way in a timeless bond of body and spirit. Afterwards, they moved into the bedroom and made love again and she sighed with deep fulfillment as he filled her up again and again.