Interrogation
by loxley85
URL: http://www.bluecatsgraphics.com/pean/fanfics/60/

Part 1

“W, we have to meet. —J.”

The message had appeared on the screen of Pendergast’s cell phone that morning, and now, three hours later, was the first time he was able to run it down. She hadn’t given him any kind of meeting time and he assumed it meant he was free to arrive when he could.

Only one person had ever called him anything beginning with W. And only one person would have signed off with the initial J, especially since everyone else knew her by a different name. He had located her very quickly, of course, in a hotel room near the airport under an alias. Oh, what a tangled web, he couldn’t help thinking. He was skirting other thoughts as he took the stairs to the fifth floor and made his way silently down the carpeted hall to her room. It had been a year or more. What did she want of him now? Beyond the obvious. The thought popped unbidden into his head and he pushed it aside.

He reached the door and stopped, checking either side of the hallway before tapping discreetly on the wood. The door opened at his touch, and he stepped back, cautious, one hand already reaching for the Les Baer .45 in his shoulder holster. He slipped the gun into his hand and entered the room slowly, profiling to present as little target as possible.

She sat at the table, back to the door, with her laptop open and a cell phone to her ear. Careful to avoid appearing in her screen, Pendergast stole swiftly up to her and placed his gun against the back of her head. At the same time he heard the room door click shut behind him.

She barely moved. “I will check in with you later,” she said into the cell phone, and snapped it closed. “Agent Pendergast,” she greeted him without turning around. “Is that a gun at my head or are you just very happy to see me?”

“I need to see your other hand,” Pendergast replied.

“Oh, I can’t do that,” she said. “It would ruin my aim. I figure where you are behind me, I could get my two rounds into center mass.”

“Before or after I put two into your head, my dear woman?”

She sighed. “Wish. So untrusting.”

“And you. I assume that is your Glock you’re holding.”

“No other. Shall we disarm or should we have our conversation in this ridiculously uncomfortable stand-off?”

He hesitated a moment. “Both together, then.”

“You got it.” She relaxed, then brought her hand out from beneath the desk slowly, putting her weapon on the table beside her computer.

Pendergast put his gun back into his holster.

She rose and turned around, then, and he was caught unprepared by her eyes and the sardonic smile that curved her lips. “You look good,” she said, never one to mince words.

He inclined his head slightly in greeting. “As do you. So what is this about?”

“Oooh. All business? Nothing but? You can’t tell me my message didn’t stir other images for you.”

“Agent Cady—”

“Wish, you’d think we never had those weeks together. Do you remember nothing I taught you?”

He allowed himself a small smile. “I do remember one particular knot.”

She smirked. “Show me.” She reached for his tie.

He grabbed her wrist and she countered by stepping closer and reaching for his throat with her free hand. He moved sideways, away from her, too far inside her grasp to allow her take-down to work, and she simply shifted her weight, preparing to take him down the other way.

“My dear Agent Cady,” he said, avoiding the second throw as well. “Perhaps you should have arranged this meeting at the nearest dojo. We could have used the mats.”

“Who needs a mat?” she whispered. “We have a bed.”

She turned so that they were now forehead to forehead and Pendergast found he was breathing a little heavier than he should have been. Her familiar fragrance, something both spicy and floral, triggered an express train of images and memories for him, now that he was so close to her. “This is quite awkward,” he said, still keeping a tight grip on her arm.

“Only if you want it to be.” She gave him her playful smile. “But if you don’t do something about it, I’m not about to stop.” She made good her word by slipping her other arm up and around his shoulder, prepping to put him onto his head.

“As you like,” he answered wickedly. He slipped her grasp and moving at his usual nearly invisible speed had suddenly turned her around, back to him, and pulled her arms behind her.

“Oh,” she said. “Don’t stop now.”

He took the scarf from around her throat and used it to bind her wrists quite firmly. Then he sat her down on the bed and turned the chair to sit opposite her. “Now,” he said. “Tell me what this is about.”

“Wish, I let you take care of my hands. But you left my legs. I have a kick like a mule, I promise.”

“What, forewarning?” He raised his eyebrows at her even as he was removing his belt.

She raised her own eyebrows at him and positioned herself to kick him. He skirted the bed widely and came at her at an angle, pushing her sideways and wrestling her into submission. When she capitulated, simply from having no choice as opposed to giving in, he belted her legs together just above the ankles. “Are we quite ready to talk now?” he asked, resuming his place in the chair.

She smiled. “Talk about what?”

He waited a beat, staring at her. The flush coming up in her cheeks was even more becoming than he remembered, soft against the masses of dark hair that framed her face. “Agent Cady...”

“Sorry, Wish. You’re going to have to work for it.”

“Ah. And what kind of work did you have in mind?”

She raised her bound legs and placed her feet brazenly between his thighs. “Three guesses and the first two don’t count.” She wiggled her toes against him and laughed. “Why, I do believe you are quite happy to see me.” She leaned forward on the bed, squirming against her bonds just enough to attract his attention. “So come on. Give me your best. Betcha I can hold out against any Pendergast bedroom interrogation technique you’ve got.”

He got and up and joined her on the bed. “That is not my recollection from our last assignment together. It seems to me you were quite happy to give me anything I asked for.”

“Yeah. After you roped me to the curtain rod in the shower, completely soaked my slip, and then put your mouth on my—”

“And you’re prepared to resist this time, are you?”

She tilted her head back to look at him. “Are you?”

For answer he shoved her backwards onto the bed, his mouth against hers hard enough to cause both of them just the right amount of pain even as his arms cushioned her down to the mattress. She moaned as he kissed her and he responded with a fierceness that was leading them along at a speed he didn’t choose. Abruptly, he stopped and pulled away, looking down at her. Her blouse was tugging open and he helped it, slipping the buttons free and then parting the material slowly. The camisole she had on today was black, and it rose and fell invitingly with her breathing. He ran a finger down her center, between her breasts, down her belly, stopping at the waist band of her skirt. She wiggled at his touch. “C’mon,” she whispered. “Interrogate me.”

“As you request.” He sat up, pushing her back down onto her bound hands when she tried to follow suit. “I got your message this morning, close to eight o’clock.” He began stroking the back of his fingers across her right nipple, not varying speed, not varying intensity, just back and forth. “You wanted this meeting.”

She bit her lip against the moan he knew was catching in her throat. “I needed to see you,” she said.

“Why?” He turned his hand around and began to finger her breasts softly, the silky fabric of her camisole whispering at his touch. She was beginning to squirm invitingly under his caress.

“What do you think?” She managed a breathy laugh. Her eyes never left his and he could see the desire framed in them.

“You invited me here just for a tryst?”

She was silent a moment, her breathing getting more rapid as his hand slipped beneath the fabric and touched her bare breasts. “Okay, I admit it. In bed, you are all that. I wanted to have you again. And again.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him mockingly.

He leaned closer and smiled cruelly. “Agent Cady, you are quite a liar.” He bent his head down and kissed her deeply, pulled away as soon as she began to respond with more enthusiasm. “And a tease.”

“Tease?” She repeated, trying to follow his lips. He pushed her flat again. “Talk about the pot and the kettle.”

“Oh, but I do remember you being a tease. I remember specifically the day you used that tie on me. And your scarf was quite delicious, but I wouldn’t have chosen to have, ahem, held it in my mouth for quite that long.”

She smiled. “You look infinitely appealing with a blue scarf in your mouth, Wish. A pity I couldn’t hold out any longer.”

“Hmmm. We are digressing, dear lady.” He brought his hand out from her camisole, removed her skirt over her fettered legs, and slid his fingers up to her thighs. She struggled to part her legs further, but the belt wouldn’t allow that. He smiled at her struggles, slipping his hand in and bringing his thumb to rest just against the warm silk of her thong. He let the weight of his hand press against her for just a few seconds, then began to caress the insides of her legs, returning up to her center only occasionally. In a matter of seconds, she was squirming actively.

“Wish,” she said. “Touch me.”

“Ah, but I am. See? Just so, like that. Just a little. The way you like. Besides, you are hardly forthcoming with information. Didn’t you tell me you could hold out against anything?”

“Oh, and I will.”

He smiled. “We’re just beginning, my dear woman.” He rose suddenly and stripped off his jacket and shoulder holster, watching her as she watched him. She was incapable of lying still, even when he wasn’t touching her. She twisted on the bedspread, and from the way her arms and shoulders moved, he knew she was trying to free her hands. Not likely. He continued to undress in front of her, unfastening his pants and taking them off, removing his tie and looking at it for a moment. “We may have a use for this,” he remarked. He took the silk handkerchief from his pocket.

“And this,” he added. He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, sitting down beside her when he was wearing nothing but his boxers.

She looked longingly at his torso, his shoulders, his arms. “I want to touch you,” she said.

“I would like that also,” he admitted. “Pity. Now where was I? Ah, yes. You were just about to tell me why you wanted to meet with me.”

“Not hardly,” she said and ended in a squeal. He had put his head to her breasts and was mouthing her nipples through the camisole, lipping, nibbling, sucking. She was frantic beneath him. “Between my legs,” she pleaded. “I need—”

He stopped and looked at her. “You need to tell me what I want to know.”

She said nothing.

Part 2

“Stubborn to the last. I like that. Well, perhaps I ought to give you just a tiny crumb of information. Maybe a little tit for tat?” He smiled at the phrase.

“I looked you up again, Agent Cady. It appears that you are currently working as part of a team under Agent Coffey?”

She didn’t say a word and her face revealed nothing.

“So,” he said. “Agreeing with me would give me nothing useful. After all, I pulled the information out of the computer.”

“Hacking,” she said.

“That’s one word for it. And what are you and Agent Coffey up to?”

Again she said nothing.

“Shall we pull out the big guns? This has been diverting, I admit, but surely we can arrive where we need to go a little more quickly.” He pulled her up and brought her to a standing position, taking the time to roll her camisole up and tuck it into itself at the top, leaving her breasts exposed. “I know you are quite loud, sometimes, Agent Cady. So I need to take precautions.” He took his handkerchief, wadded it up, and pressed it against her mouth. “Open.”

She shook her head.

He pulled her to him, ignoring her efforts to twist away, and kissed her, softly at first, then more and more aggressively until her lips opened to him. Then he abruptly broke the kiss and shoved the handkerchief into her mouth. “Fair is fair,” he remarked. “And if your scarf looked appealing in my mouth, do understand that my handkerchief is equally appealing in yours.” Her eyes widened above the gag when he picked up the necktie. “Oh, no,” he said. “The tie isn’t for your mouth.” He kissed her through the silk, felt her straining against the barrier with her tongue, her jaws, but the cloth didn’t budge. “This, my dear, is the straw to break the camel’s back.”

He slipped it between her thighs and brought it up snug against her. “Now, do pay attention,” he said. “If I grasp the tie at each end with my hands, one in front of you, one behind, and then bring it back and forth so that it rubs against you like so...” He slipped the tie to and fro against her in a gentle, upward sawing motion and watched with satisfaction as her eyes widened further. Then, still working the tie, he bent his head to her bare breasts and began to nuzzle her hardened nipples with his mouth.

She squirmed against him, crazed, a frenzy of moans escaping from her filled mouth. Her whole body was trembling, shaking, and still he continued, again not varying speed or intensity, simply tormenting her into a state of pure need.

After a long minute, he stopped. “Are we ready to talk?”

She moaned pleadingly, thrusting herself against him, rubbing her breasts against his rock hard abdomen.

“That hardly seems like acquiescence, Agent Cady.” He pushed her upright and resumed the motion with the neck tie, slightly slower, slightly gentler. She wriggled at it, as if trying to grind against the fabric. The more she struggled at it, the looser he let it become. “You do have a need, don’t you?” he whispered. “All you have to do is tell me what I want.” He kissed her forehead softly and looked at her inquiringly.

She stared at him unflinchingly and again shook her head.

“Well, then, back to the torture,” he said, sounding anything but regretful. Now he ran the tie against the insides of her thighs, then slipped it up against her, then slid it back down against her legs, watching as the tension in her rose, timing the delicate torment he used upon her. The muffled noises she made grew louder, and she worked her arms up and down behind her, twisting her shoulders, frantic for release. “Ready to talk yet?”

She moaned, trying to form words, baffled by the gag, still struggling to gain freedom. She was shaking harder and at last Pendergast stopped. He sat her down gently on the bed, where she ground her bottom against the spread in restless agony, and knelt down to free her legs, removing her thong and allowing himself to stroke her once or twice, his touch firm despite her writhing. He kept her waiting yet longer, squirming with need, as he removed his boxers. Then he pushed her backwards and mounted her, entering her slowly, deliberately. She pressed desperately up against him, wrapping her legs around him, frenzied and loud sounds of urgency coming from her stopped mouth. He looked down at her, took a deep breath to regain control, and began to thrust very slowly. She lifted her face repeatedly up to his, then let her head drop again as she writhed beneath him.

“Sorry,” he shook his head. “If I remove that gag now, your cries will bring security here. I know you, Agent Cady.” He smiled. “But I’ll tell you what,” he said after a moment, continuing to rock her at the same maddeningly slow pace, ignoring her wriggling and thrusting and her quite understandable, if incoherent, demands for him to push harder, push faster, simply push. “If you agree to tell me what I need to know, I will give you what we both want. And I’ll take the gag out as well. Do you finally agree?”

She was breathing hard and her body was moving to its own rhythms, so great was her need. With a small strangled noise of defeat at last she nodded. Pendergast brought his hand up and gently tugged the cloth from her mouth.

“Wish,” she began.

“Shhh.” He put his mouth over hers and then began pumping in earnest. She couldn’t grab him with her hands bound, she couldn’t scratch him as she had been known to do, or pull his hair, or drag his hips tight against hers, palms strong against the curve of his buttocks. All she could do was move against him the best she could. It was enough.

In a matter of seconds she was screaming into his mouth, and he held the kiss firmly, quieting her with his tongue, bracing her with his body as she arched against him. His arms were tight around her, holding her fast even as he granted her release.

It was stronger than he had remembered. The scent of her damp skin, the fragrance that she wore now triggered by her heat and her exertion, filled every breath he took. He let the full sensation of her against him, the velvet and silk of her, the whipcord tension in her straining muscles, the very taste of her in his mouth, overwhelm the last of his self-control. He felt as if he were drifting away from himself, simply disintegrating, even as his rocking grew more forceful with his own desire. And then he himself was exploding. His breath came in ragged gasps and he knew if he opened his eyes the entire room would be spinning. Nothing was ever quite like it was with Agent Cady.

After a while her loud noises had diminished to whimpers, and he broke the kiss, raised his head away from hers, still moving gently within her. “Now tell me what I need to know,” he said softly in her ear. “Or I will start on you all over again. You have my word.”

“Jeez, Wish—”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he admonished. He picked up the sodden handkerchief and let her see it. “You know what I’m capable of. You know it.”

She sighed. “Yes, I do know. And actually, I kind of want it. But wait!” she added hastily as he brought the cloth back to her lips.

“I will tell you. And then you have to untie me. I lost the feeling in my arms ages ago.”

“That depends on what you tell me.”

She looked at him. “Coffey is investigating you.

I’m supposed to help him do this.”

Pendergast stopped moving and raised one fine, pale eyebrow. “Investigating me? What on earth for?”

“Something to do with an old case back in New York. Something about things not adding up, or information left out of reports. You name it, he has a complaint about it. He got the leeway to do it from some muckety-muck who doesn’t like you either—”

“Plenty of them to go around,” he muttered.

“Exactly. And then he assembled a group of agents who have worked with you. Most of them feel the same way about you that he does. I’m noncommittal and I told him that. He said it was good enough.” She smiled slyly at him. “If he only knew.”

Pendergast rolled off of her and then turned her face down, untying her hands and helping her to a sitting position, massaging her wrists and arms to ease her back to mobility.

“So what will you do?” she asked, at last able to touch the alabaster of his bare skin, run her hands along his arms, his belly, his thighs. His skin was as smooth and warm as she remembered, the hair on his thighs as fine, the muscles as hard and taut. For old time’s sake she leaned forward and bit his shoulder.

He smiled at her. “Do? I will do nothing. He is free to investigate away. I don’t know what he hopes to find, but there is nothing there.” He touched her face, stroked the curve of her cheek, smoothed her hair away. “Was I too rough on you?” he asked after a moment.

“No. You know me better than that.” She grinned up at him. “But I think you owe me.”

“I? Owe you? In what manner? You told me I had to work for it and I did.”

“I suppose that’s true. But the information was good, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, I admit that. I thank you for the warning.”

“So I think you owe me. Keep me happy and I’ll give you progress reports on our investigation. C’mon, Wish. We see each other like every year or two.”

“What did you have in mind, Jemimah?” He used her name at last.

She got up and went to her suitcase, coming up with handfuls of scarves. “Oh, Wish, if you only knew.”

He looked at her for a moment and then smiled ruefully. “I have no information to give you.”

“It doesn’t matter. Your surrender will be quite enough. I have my gun. I have my badge.”

He looked at her inquiringly. “Gun? Badge? My dear Jemimah, remember what happened the last time you tried to arrest me and take me in?”

“Back when we were on stake-out together and I wanted to use the handcuffs? Believe me, I’m no longer that stupid. But you did teach me a thing or two. And look! I even have our favorite blue scarf.” He groaned at the sight of it and she smiled mischievously at him and nodded. “Oh, yes,” she said.

“I don’t think so,” he answered warily.

They regarded each other for a tense minute or two, gauging, reading, analyzing. This time, she moved before he did. It wasn’t much of a lead. But it was all she needed.