Wish
by loxley85
URL: http://www.bluecatsgraphics.com/pean/fanfics/24/

Part 1

By three o’clock in the afternoon, Special Agent Pendergast had been working with Special Agent Anna Cady for approximately seven hours. He had found her to be an instinctive investigator, gifted and perhaps even brilliant. But she gave him pause. “Her methods are a bit unorthodox.” Pendergast sat on the park bench and chose his words with care as he watched the joggers and rollerbladers pass back and forth before him on the path several yards away. “Beyond the gadgets and the wide assortment of weapons she carries, her entire demeanor is unusual.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the connection. “Pendergast,” Mike Decker said somewhat dryly, “You are not the only unusual agent with unorthodox methods in this office. You are not the only one whose behavior elicits complaints. And you are also not the only one I find myself having to, shall we say, shield from time to time.” He sighed. “Okay. The Cliff Notes on Anna, if you want them, include a tendency to be a loner, a tendency to do things her way, and a strong tendency to come out of left field from time to time. She finished law school and passed the bar so that she could figure out how to stay out of real trouble, and that is a direct quote. She’s very good with a gun. She’s more than smart, as you’ve seen for yourself. And her instincts are one-hundred percent. I have my reasons for wanting the two of you on this particular case. But she is different. So the question becomes, can you work with her?”

“Of course.”

“Then one of you should please call me back when you have something to report.” He rang off and Pendergast pocketed his cell phone, satisfied. So Cady was also one of Decker’s fold. He smiled to himself, a grim expression that caused an older woman he passed on the street to give him a wide berth. Pendergast noted it, the way he noted the color and make of the cars parked along the curb, or the clothing and hair color of the pedestrians he passed as he walked swiftly north to the next block.

What he hadn’t mentioned to Decker was exactly what about Cady’s demeanor he had found to be unusual. He replayed the entire day through his mind and came to the same conclusion. Beyond her mocking attitude and her almost abrasive conversation, Cady had been flirting with him. No, not flirting. She had been seducing him. She touched him: on the arm, on the hand, the small of his back, even once on his thigh when trying to get his attention. Normally, Pendergast found any sort of demonstrative behavior directed at him annoying at best, but Cady, for some reason, did not annoy him. He had looked up from their working lunch more than once to find her staring at him, running her finger up and down the length of her pen suggestively. One time their eyes met and she had given him a cool smile.

“May I help you with something?” Pendergast had asked.

“You certainly may,” she had replied, and immediately bowed her head back to her own files. But she had looked up a second later and puckered her lips at him just once before turning away.

Flirting with him was one thing. He had certainly seen the behavior before and had shut it down without a qualm, usually quite successfully. Nothing he did had shut down Cady, and he found that interesting. Nearly as interesting as his own reaction to her. There was something attractive about her. It was not her appearance. Like most successful FBI agents, Cady had cultivated a sort of generic facade; she was not plain but she was not likely to turn heads, either. She wore her dark hair pulled back severely from her face, very little makeup, quiet jewelry. Her clothing was businesslike. She could easily gain entrance to any sort of office building in the city, and just as easily fade into the woodwork. He commended her on that. And yet... The word feral came to mind.

He crossed the street with the stoplight, long legs bringing him back to the apartment that was their base of operations for this particular assignment.

She did not come to the door when he entered, and she didn’t call out to him. Pendergast went into the kitchen and made himself a cup of green tea. It had been a strange day, and was probably going to get stranger, if his own instincts were correct. He wanted to think. He heard her moving around at the other end of the hall and eventually heard her steps heading toward the kitchen. Softer footfalls; she had taken off her pumps.

He stood when she entered, surprised and yet not surprised to see she had loosened her hair and removed pantyhose as well as shoes. Well, they were in for a long night of surveillance; might as well get comfortable.

Sitting down again, he drank his tea in silence and she sat with him in silence. Presently she reached across the table and ran her index finger across the back of his hand several times. Her touch was sure. Pendergast moved his hand and finished his tea without comment, then rose to wash his cup.

“What did Decker say?” she finally asked, stopping him.

“That one of us should call him when we need to report.”

She offered him a half-smile. “And what did he say about me?”

Pendergast looked at her. “That you are unorthodox, engender complaints to his office about your conduct, but are nevertheless an effective agent.”

“Not unlike someone else I could name.”

He watched her carefully. “Agent Cady,” he said.

She looked him up and down, focusing longer on particular aspects, and then again gave him her half-smile. “But could you keep up with me?” she asked quietly.

He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. You’ve heard me all day. I can read you just like you can read me. Quantico will do that for a body.” Her smile broadened. “Any chance you’re actually a man of some kind of action?”

He turned away and turned on the tap.

Special Agent Pendergast. His name was well-known, and here he was, her temporary partner. Cady had never forgotten how fascinated she had been by him the first time she had seen him. She had researched him furtively, learning what she could from his files, listening to and storing away every bit of information she could find about him. He was fascinating. It wasn’t just his pale coloring, which definitely placed him outside the ordinary. It wasn’t his thin build that disguised the amount of muscle he had and the strength she suspected he possessed. And it wasn’t the expensive black suit and handmade shoes. There was something more there, so deep beneath the surface that she wondered if he even realized it himself.

She found him overwhelmingly attractive. There was something caged about the man, something reined in, battened down, cultivated and covered over. Inside, she knew he was wild. She recognized it in him as she knew it within herself. She regarded him thoughtfully, wondering what it would take to set that free... Would it be like starting a prairie fire, raging out of control, threatening, burning, dangerous beyond reason?

She needed to find out for herself. For no reason beyond a hunch, she sensed he was waiting for her opening move.

For a moment she watched him standing at the sink, rinsing out his cup and spoon after his inevitable green tea, and then she rose and went to him, putting her arms around his thin waist and tightening her grip. The black suit was surprisingly smooth and warm against her skin. She could feel the flatness of his abdomen as she squeezed.

He froze for a second within her embrace. “Agent Cady, I do wish you would remove your grasp,” he said, putting the cup and spoon into the rack on the side counter and drying his hands on the dishtowel.

“Liar,” she said.

He turned around within the confines of her arms and looked down at her, eyes glittering dangerously. “What did you say?” he asked, voice soft and silky as down.

“I called you a liar. You knew I was coming up behind you. And I know what you—”

With his left arm he seized her to him, his right hand twining her hair tightly in his grasp. He pulled her head back sharply and put his mouth against hers, silencing her with a series of hard, bruising kisses, each one deeper and warmer than the one before. He tasted of green tea and mint, but it was the intensity of his sudden need, the sheer focus in his kiss, that took her breath away. When at last he stopped she was gasping against him, but he didn’t release his hold. His pupils had dilated, darkening his eyes to a wicked glimmer. “From your somewhat verbally abusive foreplay today, I concluded that you prefer things a bit...rough,” he said quietly, almost coldly. “My sincere apologies if I am mistaken, but that is my assessment.”

She managed to smirk up at him, even in her position of disadvantage. “Why, rightly so,” she replied, mocking his drawl with heavy mimicry.

He answered with a small, somewhat cruel smile.

And then the tussle began in earnest.

She shoved against him, regaining an upright position, and began to work at the knot of his tie. He pushed her hands away and started unbuttoning her blouse, long slender fingers working quickly. She slipped his suit coat off his shoulders and pulled it down, raising an eyebrow at how heavy it was. Then she smiled knowingly and tugged it off of him altogether. He let her, catching it with one hand and draping it across the chair to his left with one swift motion, then adding his shoulder holster as well. As he did that, she sought his mouth again hungrily and he met her, matching her greed with his own. He pulled her blouse open and moved closer, lips moving deliberately from her shoulder to her throat and then down the front of her satin camisole. She took the opportunity to once more grasp at his tie, this time yanking the knot down viciously and then drawing it free of his buttoned-down collar and tossing it away from her.

“I had plans for that tie,” he whispered, momentarily pinning her crossed wrists behind her.

“Oh, well,” she whispered back. She laughed in his face, and at his split-second of surprise tugged free and ran from him, dropping her blouse as she went. He was after her in an instant, cornering her in the short hall, pressing her up against the wall outside the bedroom.

“Agent Pendergast, will you be comfortable working with me?” she asked between kisses.

“If you’re willing to do what it takes to get the job done, Agent Cady.”

“Try me.”

“I fully intend to.”

He slipped his hands up under her camisole and she pushed him away. Undaunted, he began kneading her breasts, running his thumbs back and forth across her nipples. She put the palm of her hand under his chin and began to force him sideways and down, but he was too tall and she didn’t have the leverage she needed. He twisted free and shoved her firmly back against the wall

Barely able to think, she unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it out. Then she unbuckled his belt, undid the button and zipper, and pulled down on the smooth fabric, going to her knees. She nuzzled his thighs, muscles like steel cable just beneath the skin. She ran her palms up and down his legs, moving her hands to the insides, pleased as she felt him beginning to tremble. She rose slowly, rubbing her mouth, her chin, her breasts, against the entire length of his front as she got to her feet. “Step out,” she ordered.

He complied, stepping free of pants, fine cotton boxers, and shoes all at once. As an afterthought, the socks joined the pile of clothing.

She walked a few steps away from the wall and gestured him toward it. “Assume the position.” Again he complied, placing both palms against the wall, and spreading his legs. She moved in close behind him, reached around, stroked him once or twice. “Agent Pendergast,” she said, “I believe I do have to take you in now.”

At that he turned to face her. “Agent Cady, I very much doubt you are as prepared to take me in as you should be.” One brow was arched in challenge, his expression completely cool.

She tilted her chin up at him. “Going to resist, are we?” she asked as she reached behind her for the pair of handcuffs that was still tucked into her waistband.

“Indeed,” he said calmly. With a movement she barely saw, he grabbed her wrist and held it fixed behind her. They struggled fiercely for a time, neither able to gain immediate control, and then Pendergast tossed the handcuffs down the hall. They stopped and stared at each other, breathing hard, and on sudden impulse she pushed past him to make a run for the cuffs. He guessed as much and caught her firmly at her waist, capturing her arms in the process. Stepping away from the discarded clothing, wearing nothing but his unbuttoned shirt, he picked her up easily and carried her, struggling, into the bedroom, yanking off her skirt and thong despite her attempts to stop him. He pushed her firmly down onto the bed, then pressed her flat on her back and spread himself atop her, full-length.

She squirmed sinuously under his weight, enjoying his strength, his hardness. His skin was like silk and she pressed up against him, thrilling to the feel of him, yet still seeking escape. Anything to prolong the chase.

“Mike Decker told me he had reasons for wanting us both on this case,” he said, mouth an inch away from hers, quelling her struggles and yet pulling away every time she craned upward for his kiss. “I rather doubt this is one of them.”

“Shut up.” She worked a hand free and pulled his head down to press her lips against his, working his mouth with her own, penetrating him her own way. After a few moments, she rolled him over onto his back, noting with pleasure that he made her do the work of breaking free and wrestling for the advantage. She kissed him again and then straddled his firm belly. “I think I’ll call you ‘Wish.’”

He stopped, suddenly completely still, and looked at her with those remarkable glittering eyes. “What?”

“Aloysius is too long.” She smiled at his expression. “I’ve been reading up on you. And I am going to call you ‘Wish.’” She got up onto her hands and knees, and began to tease him mercilessly, lowering her hips to slowly brush herself against the length of him, then raising herself up again, out of reach. She bent her elbows and slithered down the length of his torso.

Part 2

He shoved her upright and tugged her camisole slowly over her head, keeping her eyes covered with fabric, arms raised toward the ceiling, as he caressed her from her shoulders to her waist, lingering over her breasts, taking his time freeing her from the warm satin garment. “I have no nickname.”

She arched her back in pleasure at his touch, then lowered herself to him again once the camisole had been tossed aside. She pushed his wrists down to the sheets with her hands and brushed her bare breasts against his chest, slipping as far back toward his waist as she was able. “You do now.”

“No one calls me by any nickname.” He waited for her to slide forward, and managed to mouth her left breast before she pulled away once more to inflict further sweet torment on him below the waist.

“I do,” she said and laughed.

He looked at her, eyes narrowing to pale slits, and for a moment she went cold at what she saw in that glance. Then he blinked and it was gone. He stared at her a moment longer, his hips rising involuntarily to the tease of her thrusts. “Enough,” he said, and the word came from his throat in a growl that made her pause.

Before she realized it he had slipped her hold, rolling her onto her back again, pinning her down with his weight, his arms. The speed and strength with which he moved took her by surprise. She wriggled against him but he refused her struggles easily, languidly almost, nipping at her neck and her ear. “I have you where we want you,” he whispered. “Don’t I?”

She moaned in reply, and he looked at her, deep eye to eye contact, mouth against her mouth, not kissing but brushing his lips gently across hers.

He grasped both her wrists above her head in one hand, holding her fast to the pillow, then trailed his other hand southward to her belly, her waist, her hips, finally slipping long fingers between her thighs, rubbing against her oh, so gently, stopping and starting, circling, stroking. “Do tell me, Agent Cady,” he said softly, teasingly, in that amazing drawl. “Tell me what it is you want.”

“Wish,” she groaned, writhing. “I want—” Her breath caught as his fingers changed their rhythm. Almost. Almost... “I want you...” her voice faded into a sound of pure need.

He eased himself atop her and after a few exploratory and excruciatingly slow rotations, keying her up until she was bucking under him, he moved his hips, found the place, and thrust all the way home. She felt a scream building up; instead she filled her mouth with a series of hard nibbles and nips on his shoulders, his neck, his chest, as he moved with and against her. He tasted of sun, of salt, of that strange, tantalizing combination that recalled spring grass after a soft rain. It was his own scent, she knew, no cologne. No deodorizing soap. Just him. She had been aware of it all day, drinking it in, warmed by it. Now it filled her and she was growing dizzy. She wrapped her legs around his, felt the slipping of his warm skin as he rocked her, felt the soft, welcome irritation from the fine hairs on his thighs. She was at the edge, just at the precipice, but she waited, waited for him in sweet agony, until- “Now,” he whispered, releasing her arms, and she gave herself up to him, to all of him. She opened her mouth to his, sharing his breath, sharing the sounds that came from deep within her. The moment came and passed in an eon. They had been together forever, locked for all time in this embrace, moving just so, as wave upon wave shook her, racked her against the hard muscles of his chest and belly. The world slowed, and slowed, ceasing to exist. Just the two of them. Just them. She closed her eyes and disappeared, dissolved as the pure white heat engulfed them both.

After they were spent, when she came back to herself again long moments later, he raised his head from her shoulder and looked at her, an expression of something close to wonder on his face. “I have never done anything like this before. Not with a colleague,” he said, gently brushing wisps of dark hair away from her damp brow.

“I like to know who I work with,” she said with a mischievous smile. But it faded immediately when he didn’t smile back. So serious again. She touched his face in turn, brushed the nearly invisible stubble on his chin and his cheeks, stroked the soft down of his upper jaw. “I’ve never done this before, either,” she admitted. “But I’ve wanted to since the first time I saw you.”

He raised a pale eyebrow. “At the airport when you picked me up this morning?”

“One and a half years ago in March, at Quantico,” she answered. “I was going into Mike Decker’s office, you were coming out.”

He frowned briefly. “Ah, that would have been upon my return from New York.” He looked at her. “I believe I do remember you, Agent Cady. You were wearing a black skirt and jacket, a pale blue blouse, and a scarf with an unfortunate paisley design.”

“Unfortunate?”

“It was paisley.”

She looked at his expression and laughed. “You know something? I will be really, really good for you the rest of this assignment, Wish.”

“Aloysius,” he corrected. “And why is that?” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingertips.

“Because, Wish, I’m going to teach you how to relax. And instead of ‘Agent Cady’, why don’t you call me—”

“Jemimah?” He smiled at her. “Oh, I know Anna is your name. Your legal name. I read about you as well.” He rolled onto the bed and propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at her.

She grinned up at him. “Fair enough. No one ever called me Jemimah. And lived.”

“Then I will.”

“Okay, Wish. But if this ever gets out—”

“My dear Jemimah, if any of this ever gets out—”

“We’ll have to kill each other,” she said simply.

“Just so.”

“No weapons,” she stipulated, staring hard at him. “Strictly hand to hand. Close quarter combat.”

His smile was both lazy and suggestive. “Agreed.”

They lay together for a few more moments. Then, “I fear we still have about an hour until we can begin surveillance,” he said.

“I was just thinking that.” She looked at him.

He returned her gaze calmly, nearly expressionless. There was no tip-off, no tell in those pale eyes, but she knew instinctively when he was going to move. She was right. His left hand came up, as did her right arm, and in no time at all the wrestling had begun again.